Chapter 7

EPILOGUE

There was not much hassle, thanks to Mr. Carnot, with the delivery of two air conditioning units on board the plane at Munich Executive Airport. By nightfall, Nadim, Dmitri, and Pembroke were in the air, with Nadim at the controls. In the hold, the two air conditioning units sat quietly—one concealing the lifeless body of a dead man, the other containing a beautiful eighteen-year-old captive, her fate sealed within the cold, metallic walls.

Meanwhile, Eldar Hasanov had a busy day dealing with other business associates and only ‘noticed’ his wife and stepdaughter were missing late that night. Concerned but careful not to raise alarm too quickly, he made a few discreet calls to various friends and acquaintances. However, when none of them had any information, his concern deepened, and he eventually called the police.

The police, following standard procedure, informed him that no missing persons reports could be filed within the first 24 hours. Despite his growing anxiety, there was little they could do. They attempted to trace Frieda’s last known whereabouts, but there was no sign of her. As for Heidi, she had last been seen heading towards the Giling district, a notoriously rough area of the city.

Two days later, the grim reality came to light. The corpse of Frieda Hasanov was discovered in a dumpster outside a Kurdish restaurant in the same Giling district. The discovery sent shockwaves through the community, especially when it was revealed that the restaurant’s owner, Bazaran Sherhad, was a known associate of one of the city’s most notorious criminal families. However, by the time the police arrived, Sherhad had vanished without a trace, leaving behind more questions than answers.

Bazaran’s body was quickly disposed of at an incinerator within Pembroke’s secluded complex in southern Turkey, ensuring that no trace of his existence remained. Meanwhile, Heidi was violently thrust into her new life of slavery, subjected to a brutal regimen of conditioning and training.

As part of her grim transformation, the symbol ‘پ P П’, Pembroke’s brand, was permanently tattooed onto her right wrist, marking her as his product. Her body was stripped of all hair through laser treatments, rendering her entirely smooth.

Despite the horrific circumstances, her oral, vaginal, and anal virginity were meticulously preserved, as per the explicit orders of the buyer. However, this did not spare her from other forms of abuse. Dildos were regularly forced into her mouth, and the tongues of other prisoners were commanded to explore her most private areas—actions not just permitted, but actively encouraged by her captors.

Heidi had swiftly been ripped from a life of privilege, where she had once been carefree and hopeful about the future. Now, her existence had devolved into a desperate struggle for survival, living hour by hour in a nightmarish reality. The stark contrast between her past and present was unbearable, yet there was no escape from the horrors that had become her new normal.

She was not alone in her suffering. The other girls she was held with, once vibrant and full of life, now appeared hollow and broken, their eyes vacant and devoid of hope. They rarely spoke, as if the act of communication had been beaten out of them long ago. Together, they endured the same brutal physical, mental, and sexual torture, day in and day out, often for up to 18 hours at a time. The relentless abuse was designed to strip them of their humanity, reducing them to mere objects in the eyes of their captors.

Heidi was always kept naked, her vulnerability on full display. The compact glass cell they were confined to offered no privacy, forcing her into constant proximity with the other girls. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and fear, and their bodies, equally beautiful and equally violated, were often pressed against one another in the cramped space. Even sleep provided no relief; it was impossible to rest without being uncomfortably tangled with the others, their warm, trembling flesh a constant reminder of the shared nightmare they were all living.

Mrs. Parker, one of the female overseers, was the closest thing to a humane presence within the complex—a faint glimmer of kindness in an otherwise hellish environment. Unlike the other staff members who ruled with terror and brutality, Mrs. Parker didn’t evoke the same fear in Heidi. But beneath her veneer of gentleness lay a broken soul, a woman who had long been corrupted by the perverse world she was trapped in. Though she didn’t openly terrify Heidi, Mrs. Parker’s barely concealed lust for the girls was evident, although at least none of the girls who spent the night with her returned with black eyes, whipped backs, or other ailments, as happened with the other guards and overseers.

In a desperate bid to escape the suffocating confines of the glass cell, even if just for a single night, Heidi reluctantly accepted Mrs. Parker’s invitation to spend the night in her own bed. She was glad for the opportunity to wear clothes, a rare luxury in this twisted place, though the garments Mrs. Parker provided were hardly comforting. The overseer had handed her a pair of tiny white panties adorned with little strawberries, along with a cute, see-through negligee that offered little in the way of modesty.

“Have you recovered from the caning you got the other day yet?” Mrs. Parker asked, her voice soft but laced with a twisted kind of concern. She sat up in the bed, her eyes drifting over Heidi’s trembling form as she reached out with a hand that was both tender and possessive.

Before Heidi could respond, Mrs. Parker gently lifted the delicate negligee that barely covered her, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her back. As her fingers traced the faint, angry lines crisscrossing Heidi’s skin, Mrs. Parker’s gaze darkened with a mix of pity and something far more perverse.

The marks were the result of a so-called “fun” game of Twister, but this version had been far from innocent and had involved a lot of oral sex and electric shocks in very private and sensitive areas.

“You poor thing,” she murmured, though there was an undercurrent of satisfaction in her voice. “They were too harsh with you. Let me kiss it better.” She kissed her back, lowering down to her bottom and kissed all over her panty clad cheeks, around her hips and over her crotch. Heidi did not bother telling her the cane marks were not there.

“I love your little girl panties” cooed Mrs Parker, as ran a finger over her slit through the cotton fabric, then her tongue. “You taste like strawberries too!” she giggled.

“Madam Parker” Heidi sighed. What is going to happen to me do you know? Have any girls here returned, or escaped? What do you think happened to my mother?”

“Oh, my poor dear,” Mrs Parker whispered, her voice heavy with sorrow. She pressed a kiss to Heidi’s lips, a gesture that felt more invasive than comforting, but Heidi was too drained to resist, knowing now that resistance to any kind of sexual overtures from the overseers resulted in punishment. ““Me, I had a life outside before ... before all of this.” Her voice trailed off as she turned away, lost in the memories of a past that now seemed distant and unreachable. “But they never gave you girls a chance at a life, just a glimpse of what could have been before they took it all away.”

For a moment, Mrs. Parker seemed on the verge of breaking down. But just as quickly, she forced a smile, her demeanor brightening in an unsettling display of forced optimism. “But no matter,” she chirped, her voice unnaturally cheerful. “One must always be positive!”

She cupped Heidi’s face in her hands. “Darling, you mustn’t think or hope that you’ll ever see your family or friends again. I know all this sex, all this ... submission, is overwhelming now, but it’s your life now. You must focus on that—on enjoying being a submissive slave and pleasing your future owner. Please, don’t hope for anything better. It will only bring you more pain.”

Heidi’s heart sank at Mrs. Parker’s words. The older woman stroked her face maternally, her fingers brushing against Heidi’s cheek with a softness that was rare in this brutal, violent place. For a fleeting moment, Heidi was reminded of her own mother—Mrs. Parker had a similar height, figure, and even the same blonde hair. The resemblance was uncanny, and for a moment, it was as if she were being comforted by Frieda.

But the revealing lingerie Mrs. Parker wore—a basque that barely covered her ample breasts and accentuated her fleshy hips— and her wandering hands down her face and over her breasts, was far from the innocent loving relationship Heidi had previously enjoyed with her mother. Instead, it just made Heidi realise that she could barely think of her mother anymore without being transported to the restaurant and the disgusting incestuous acts they had been forced to perform with each other.

“He stole the memory of my mother, the bastard,” whispered Heidi, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. “If only ... if only I had not gone into that restaurant.”

Mrs. Parker’s expression hardened at Heidi’s words, her eyes flicking to the collar around Heidi’s neck—a constant reminder that every word spoken was recorded, every thought potentially punishable. “Now, Heidi...” Mrs. Parker’s voice took on a stern tone as she narrowed her gaze. “Please do not insult the Master here. Or I will have to give you a spanking on your bottom!”

The warning in her voice was clear, and Heidi could see the seriousness in her eyes. Mrs. Parker leaned in closer, her demeanor softening only slightly as she continued, “You know, I get punished too, and I deserve it when I do. Feel here.” She took Heidi’s hand and guided it to her own buttocks, pressing Heidi’s fingers against the raised ridges of scars that marred her skin—scars from a previous whipping.

Heidi’s stomach twisted with disgust, but she didn’t pull her hand away. Mrs. Parker’s voice was laced with a sense of reluctant admission as she continued, “I was not proficient at training you girls for a task, and I was unthinkingly disrespectful to Mr. Darwish.” There was a note of resignation in her words, as if she had come to accept the brutal consequences of her failures. “It was painful, but they have every right to hurt me.”

Mrs. Parker slowly drew Heidi’s hand upward, guiding it over the smooth material of her basque, and then over her breasts. Her gaze locked onto Heidi’s. “But I am lucky enough to have a girl like you in my bed,” she murmured, her voice lowering to a whisper. “So one must always look for pleasure within the boundaries set by our Masters.”

Heidi opened her mouth to receive the kiss, and thought again of her mother, but this time, her breasts, her hips, her taste, in that restaurant, as Mrs Parker’s fingers played with her panty elastic and slipped inside. She kissed back more strongly and brought her own hands inside her basque and fondled the large breasts of the older woman.

“Mmmm, good girl,” Mrs. Parker whispered with a giggle. “I must be careful with my fingers when it comes to you. You’re meant to be a sweet, flawless package for your owner. But I can still use my tongue.” She playfully stuck out her tongue and dragged it down Heidi’s stomach under her negligee, flashing her a smile before moving it onto and over the now damp cotton panties.

As Heidi closed her eyes and relished the feeling of Mrs. Parker’s expert tongue, she couldn’t help but ponder on who her future owner would be. Being “pre-ordered” was uncommon among the other girls, and she couldn’t stop wondering about the person who had paid a hefty sum to have her snatched, trained, and enslaved. Would she even recognize them? The thought terrified her and kept her awake at night, because this owner would be the only human being she would ever see again once she was sold to them.

Months had passed since the tragic murder of Frieda Hasanov and the mysterious disappearance of her daughter, Heidi. The case had dominated the headlines, and Eldar Hasanov, Frieda’s husband, had been under intense media scrutiny. Despite this, the police investigation had yet to uncover any evidence linking him to the death of his wife and the disappearance of his stepdaughter. Eldar had maintained a public facade of sorrow and grief, even offering a one million euro reward for any information leading to the capture of those responsible for the brutal crime that had shattered his family.

Meanwhile, investigations revealed that Bazaran Sherhad, the main suspect, had been involved in criminal activities and money laundering for years. In recent months, it appeared that he had accumulated unsustainable debts, possibly due to gambling or having to support other criminal enterprises of his extended family. Although detectives had not located his hard drive, they discovered evidence suggesting that Sherhad had plans to extort the wealthy Eldar Hasanov and possibly kidnap his wife and stepdaughter for ransom. While the circumstances surrounding how Frieda ended up at Sherhad’s restaurant remained unclear, multiple witnesses reported seeing Heidi willingly enter the establishment, which Sherhad had suspiciously closed to the public on that specific day.

Frieda had been brutally beaten and raped, with DNA analysis confirming that Sherhad’s sperm was found in her body. The cause of her death was determined to be the result of blunt force trauma to the head. Investigators presumed that Sherhad, in a moment of uncontrollable violence, had accidentally killed Frieda, then panicked, taken Heidi to another location, possibly killed her as well, and subsequently vanished.

Sherhad’s family vehemently protested this version of events, though they could not deny his criminal history, nor their own involvement in illicit activities. What baffled them—and the police—was how Sherhad could disappear so completely, leaving no trace, no communication with his family, as if he had become a ghost. The case captivated the media, feeding into a sensational narrative that heightened political tensions, particularly with the story of two blonde women meeting a tragic fate at the hands of a man with an immigrant background.

Eldar Hasanov had declared that he could no longer bear to live in Germany. After a period of public mourning, he moved back to Azerbaijan, where he commissioned the construction of a new palatial complex. Above ground, the estate was designed for opulent gatherings, where he could entertain guests, enjoy the company of girlfriends, and eventually, he hoped, find a new wife.