Chapter 37

“That fucking rich nonce, I hope he rots in hell.”

Jenny Yildiz listened to her mother, sitting beside her on the TV, as the news covered police digging up the grounds of Sr Stanley Bridgerton’s mansion searching for Sophie’s body.

The newspapers and media had been awash with the latest gossip about the missing girl case. Details had dripped out, but it turned out that the respected academic and politician had been ‘seeing’ Teresa Yildiz, the mother of Sophie. How or why was the cause of much speculation, but Jenny was not an idiot and soon saw through her mother’s vague protestations that she had met this famous man on the street.

“You work as a fucking prostitute, mum, everyone knows it. And the only evidence this man took Sophie is some note that fell out of his pocket when he went to fuck you?”

“He said horrible things about Sophie before that Jenny.”

“You sure you haven’t tried to frame him? Are you trying to make money out of this whole thing?”

“I am trying to find our Sophie!”

“By fucking old men for money?” Jenny was angry at the shame her mother was bringing on her. She was tired of being known as the sister of a missing girl, and now the daughter of a famous prostitute.

Unfortunately for Sir Stanley, he had no firm alibi for the day Sophie disappeared. And, his private life of sleeping with prostitutes and going to sex clubs at home and abroad was being dug up as thoroughly as the grounds of his mansion.

“It is ridiculous that this lady can just invent a written note, say it came from my pocket and just say I murdered her daughter, I mean what are the chances? I’ve never heard of such a ridiculous case, it’s my enemies that are behind this, I will sue the police for every penny they have.” Sir Stanley was also furious at the incompetence of his lawyers, though they reminded him that his frantic attempts to cover up his meeting with Teresa and lies to that effect had been used as justification for his arrest when they found he had been lying.

Edward Pembroke found the saga hilarious and was also grateful for the diversion onto an innocent party. He was lying in bed in the basement, fondling Sophie’s breasts as they both lay naked in the afterglow of some passionate sex, as he put on the video of Sir Stanley’s exposed past as a sex pest and degenerate.

“Filthy, horrible man, it is a good thing that your mother exposed him. We should not have such perverts in positions of power!” he said, as he kissed Sophie’s shoulder and absent-mindedly played with her hair.

Sophie watched like it was a dream, this outside world portrayed on the screen. Her note, which she remembered writing, had instead led the police on a wild goose chase, months later, to someone else.

“Perhaps, Sophie, Sir Stanley was such a pervert that your note did some good! So rather than help yourself, you may have helped some other poor girls from that awful man” he giggled, as he bit her earlobe, then stuck his tongue into her earhole. He pressed a button on the remote, and the screen changed back to lesbian porn. The footage of Sir Stanley and a male news presenter had been the only males Sophie had been allowed to glimpse for months since her capture. As she watched the sweaty feminine bodies grind against each other, she felt normality return. This was real life, sex, serving her captor, playing with her body and being used. It wasn’t this weird, colorful outside world she had just seen. Was she becoming institutionalized? Without thinking or waiting to be told, she moved upside down on the bed, and placed her mouth opposite Pembroke’s crotch, as he pulled her on top of him, and they began a 69 session, her mind eased by his tongue working on her as she sucked on his familiar organ.

“I cannot believe it. You are telling me you can’t prove anything?”

Teresa was crestfallen. After Rodney Jackson, she had dared get her hopes up again but was now being told that they had no evidence against Sir Stanley for Sophie’s disappearance. Despite finally proving he could not have been in the area at the time, suspicions had remained he had paid some other gang to do his dirty work. But analysis of the note found it had been written on paper found in Sophie’s bedroom. So it was very unlikely that Sophie had written it months later in captivity.

Teresa was crushed. One explanation, the truth, was that the note was written by Sophie on the morning of her disappearance and put into her coat then and there, and Teresa had only found it months later. But the other explanation was that Teresa had either forged it, or found it and planted it on Sir Stanley after finding it.

Teresa’s wild lifestyle before and after Sophie’s disappearance now made the police think there was something to the suspicions that Teresa was involved with her disappearance. The police arrested her old friend, Tommy Petrakis as well and found he had used underage girls as prostitutes. They found no trace of the punter known as “Geoff” that Pembroke had pretended to be.

Pembroke was delighted with how the investigation was turning out, and enjoyed sitting in Jenny’s cafe at the weekends, looking at her pretty, stressed face, as she tried to cope working with worrying about the complete collapse of her family. Taking her now was out of the question, so he could simply window shop at ease, admiring her firm backside in her tight black trousers as she bent over to clean the table in front of him. Suddenly she turned around :

“Are you a journalist or something?”

Pembroke’s easy smile disappeared and he became very nervous when face to face with the assertive, and angry, older Yildiz sister.

“Err ... no I just like having my coffee here...”

“You followed me the other day, and you are here every other Saturday. Look I don’t know if that Sir Stanley whatthefuck is paying you, or what you are, but just fuck off and leave me alone. I will call the police if I see you here again.”

Pembroke became flustered and left quickly. Goodness, what a rude young girl! Her younger sister would pay for that later, with a sound spanking and thrashing of the hands. He was, however, grateful that Sophie had little of the fire that her older sister had.

This was a wake up call though, imagine if she had called the police? He had done nothing wrong, yet neither had Sir Stanley! And his mansion had been dug up! Pembroke was sweating as he walked away. And all for perving on Sophie’s sister’s ass, and enjoying her displeasure while making coffee?

Such a silly thing to do, he reflected. Why stare at one sister when you can fuck the other? He resolved to go home, give Sophie a sound thrashing on account of her sister’s rudeness to make himself feel better, and then fuck her to within an inch of her life.

Sir Stanley’s life had been ruined by one piece of bad luck with a hooker. He could declare himself innocent of Sophie’s disappearance but not the scandal that had ruined him. He sued the police and the taskforce searching for Sophie had to be taken apart.

Many people and police officers still believed she had been taken or murdered, and there was still the mystery of who had taken her images and videos and possibly blackmailed her, but her files started to gather dust and she just became another sad case of a girl who had probably killed herself and had gone out to sea.

Pembroke contineud to take Sophie out to his back garden every now and then for some sun, under extreme bondage. On one such morning, Sophie was propped up, tied into her special wardrobe, gagged and naked, as Pembroke’ mother gazed at her like she was an exotic stuffed animal. “Don’t mind my mother, its chilly outside! It’s warm here in the conservatory, and you will get some UV light, but in a while I will take you in the real air. Those nipples of yours will stand out like mountain peaks you’ll be that cold!” He sniggered as he tweaked her nipples as she moved uncomfortably within the confines of her binds.

Pembroke had figured out that the visions of the blue sky outside might give Sophie some ideas of freedom, and so he made sure that her trips outside were always as uncomfortable and unpleasant as possible, something to dread rather than look forward to.

He had carefully arranged ropes tied to various well-chosen spots and from Sophie’s bound position was able to tie each of her limbs to each of the four ropes, then pull her spread eagled. When she was on her back, he placed a cushion under her bottom. He could have put a more substantial covering under her for comfort, but comfort was not his aim, but wanted her hips thrust upwards so her legs and arms pulled her body down to the four corners where the ropes originated from.

Pembroke was ever ready with a covering blanket in the unlikeyl event he was disturbed, theough he took the time to admire Sophie’s form under the sunlight, her pristine white skin soaking in the sun like a plant in the desert receiving rain, her pelvic bones sticking out and her tight skin stretched across her stomach like an elastic band, the skin moving gently with her breathing as he ran his hand across it.

When turned on her stomach, he removed the cushion underneath and instead placed items under each of the four ropes, affecting the ropes’ trajectories and pulling her legs and arms upwards. He admired her firm sinewy thighs and buttocks as they handled the strain, despite the protestations of pain coming from behind her gag. Her ass cheeks were parted and her privates were open to the cold November sun. “You are getting an all over tan, Sophie, not many people suntan their assholes!”

After the outside torture had finished and Sophie was safely back in her basement, Pembroke asked her for any advice she could give about security.

“No daddy, I did not see the codes and I don’t think I can get past the thumbprint screens now. I wasn’t looking around your garden, honest. I can’t think of any way to escape.” Pembroke smiled, previously he had whipped her hands with the birch branch when she had been unable to think of a way she could escape, to test both her and the security, but now he was happy to believe her. He rubbed her palms, now as marked with scars as an African tribesman with tribal markings, the only part of her body currently marked. A slight cut above her eye, an unfortunate result of Pembroke’s anger at her not hearing his command to move from sucking his cock to licking his nipples, had now healed, he was pleased to see.