Chapter 2

A few days had passed, and Edward Pembroke was back at his base in southern Turkey, near the Syrian border, almost a two-hour drive from Adana. Amid the arid hills lay an agricultural-industrial complex, guarded by barbed wire, AI-controlled traps, sensors, and two local guards who had no clue about the true nature of the business within. The facility, known as the home of “Bereketli Yemcilik,” was ostensibly a producer of rare, refined, exotic high-performance animal feed, though few trucks ever came or went. Only five or six permanent employees were ever seen entering or leaving the complex, each of whom looked thoroughly menacing, but the pay was good enough that none of them ever questioned anything.

Inside the complex, deep within its confines, lay a set of living quarters. Within these quarters was a large, soundproofed hall, designed to be impervious to the outside world. Even the sloped skylights were fitted with nets to block any prying eyes from drones above. Along one side of this otherwise empty hall stood a large prison cell, its clear plexiglass walls stretching about twenty meters by five meters, offering no privacy to its occupants. Inside, fifteen human bodies were packed together, with only a basic shower, a toilet, benches, and simple mattresses to serve them.

Each inmate was a young, beautiful, naked human female. The only item of clothing they wore was a tight collar around their neck, embedded with tiny electric charges and recording devices. The collars monitored and controlled their speech, limiting their communication and ensuring every word was recorded, transcribed, and translated by AI, with daily reports sent to their Master. Each woman lived in a state of permanent misery, their every movement and utterance meticulously tracked.

The tattoos “پ P П” on the insides of the right wrists of the girls symbolized their sinister ownership and exploitation by Mr. Edward Pembroke, or ‘PPP in the separate Arabic, Latin and Russian scripts.

The wealth, satisfaction and perverse sexual pleasures enjoyed by Pembroke and his accomplices contrasted sharply with the immense suffering inflicted on their victims and the victims’ loved ones. The friends and families of the disappeared had been left devastated, some even losing their lives during the abductions. The girls themselves endured unimaginable trauma, marked both physically and emotionally by their experiences.

The fluorescent lights flickered incessantly, casting a sickly glow over the room. The cameras never stopped recording, capturing every moment of the girls’ misery. Their lifeless eyes held no hope, their bodies adorned with scars and bruises from daily beatings and lashings. In the corners of the room, ancient Persian rugs hid boxes filled with squirming creatures - rats, snakes, and insects that were used to threaten, torture and terrify the girls. Everywhere one looked, there were instruments of pain - benches, restraints, as well seating for the men and overseers who came to watch the atrocities unfold.

On this particular night, one girl stood out—unmarked, but with wide, terrified eyes and trembling movements. It was Elena Mazzolo’s first night in a nightmare she could never have imagined. At twenty years old, she had been walking home from her shift at an Oktoberfest festival in Munich, her mind heavy with the sexual assault she had suffered at work. She had been lost in thoughts of her family, yearning to escape and return home to Italy for good. But that fleeting moment of distraction became her undoing.

She had heard a voice—cold and menacing—whisper, “Hello, Elena.” Before she could react, a hooded figure loomed before her, and in an instant, a brutal punch to her stomach knocked the wind out of her. Pain flooded her senses, and she was violently lifted off her feet, thrown into the back of a van. It happened so fast—just five seconds—and she was on the hard, cold floor, struggling helplessly as rough hands wrestled her into submission. They tied her up, gagging her cries, and forced her body into a cramped, agonizing position inside a boxed container.

The world around her faded into suffocating darkness, and when she finally saw light again, it wasn’t the familiar streets of Munich—it was a place of horrors, a thousand miles away from anything she knew.

She had been stripped of her clothes, her dignity torn away, and forced to meet her captors. At the center of this twisted gathering was her new “Master,” Mr. Pembroke, a man she vaguely recognized from months earlier when she had served him at a restaurant. Then, he had been tall, dark, and charming—a far cry from the cold, violent figure standing before her now. The warmth in his eyes was replaced by a harsh, menacing glare that sent chills down her spine.

Surrounding him were men who looked as if they had been plucked straight from the depths of hell. A large Syrian man loomed nearby, one eye missing, his face a disfigured mess with half of his lower jaw grotesquely absent. This was Mr. Haddad. Beside him stood a shorter Syrian man, Mr. Darwish, whose face was twisted into a cruel, perverted sneer. Then there was Mr. Ruskov, a Russian thug who eyed her with a hunger that made her skin crawl, as though she were nothing more than prey. Finally, there was Mr. Fischer, a tall, lunatic-looking German with long greying hair, bulging eyes, and a deranged smile that hinted at a deep, sadistic pleasure.

Two women also stood in the room, submissive to the men but exuding a sinister authority over Elena. Mrs. Al-Haraz, a Yemeni woman, had half of her face and head marred by melted flesh, yet she was dressed in garish makeup and a tight PVC dominatrix outfit. Her leering gaze radiated pure evil, more chilling than any of the men’s. The other woman, Mrs. Parker, was an English blonde in her forties, clad in a black PVC mini dress that clung to her voluptuous figure. Her superficially kind face betrayed a sinister interest in the naked, vulnerable Elena, her mouth curling into a lecherous smile.

They wasted no time in telling her the brutal truth. She had been taken as a slave, never to see her family again, her life now reduced to nothing more than a commodity to be trained, abused, and sold to the highest bidder. The instructions were clear, and they rang in her ears like a death sentence: Obey without question. Speak only when spoken to. Never hesitate, never resist. And above all, perform every degrading task with the utmost skill and willingness, no matter how revolting.

Strapped down on a table, Elena’s body was violated in more ways than she could have imagined. The sharp sting of the needle as they tattooed her felt like a branding iron. Her body hair was brutally lasered off, leaving her skin unnervingly smooth and exposed, a twisted effort to make her even more desirable to the monsters who owned her. The brunette, with her slim figure, perky breasts, smooth stomach, strong thighs, wide hips, and small waist—once attributes of her youthful beauty—were now mere tools in her captors’ cruel game. Her dark eyes, once full of life, were now filled with tears of desperation.

She had tearfully begged for help, for mercy, for any information that might offer a glimmer of hope. But the worst part was the look in the eyes of the other girls—those who had been there longer, who had endured this same torment. Their faces were etched with sadness and resignation, a silent message that pierced her heart. Some placed a finger to their lips, a quiet warning: Don’t speak. Don’t resist.

A few of the other girls had tried to console her, their voices hollow and filled with despair. They told her there was no escape, no hope of rescue. The only way to survive this living hell was to accept her fate, to submit, and to perform well—to avoid the endless pain and misery that awaited those who dared to fight back.

As if the horror of her situation wasn’t enough, Elena’s heart sank further when she recognized one of the other girls—a gaunt, haunted figure who was once Heidi Weber. She had vanished from Munich months earlier, her face plastered on missing person posters all over the city. Elena’s mind reeled as she recalled seeing Heidi with Edward Pembroke, dining together in the same restaurant where Elena had served them. Fate had indeed been cruel, weaving their lives together in a twisted, merciless pattern.

The girl standing before her now was a mere shadow of the bright, pleasant person shown in those missing news reports. Her eyes, once full of life, were now hollow, and her spirit seemed shattered beyond repair. When Heidi spoke to Elena, her voice was laced with sorrow and resignation. She confessed that the months she had spent in this hellish place had stripped her of all hope, and now, her time here was nearly over—but not in a way that offered any relief.

She was to be sold, like a piece of meat, to an owner who had pre-ordered her kidnapping, someone who would now claim her as their possession. She admitted she had no idea who this owner would be, or what horrors awaited her in the hands of a new master.

Elena’s shattered mind held no more delusions. She had been brutally raped by the five sadistic men the moment she walked through the door. Her body throbbed with pain from their violent penetrations. She could still feel the sticky evidence of her violation between her legs, as cum continually leaked out from her, a constant reminder of the rapes.

Enveloped in a sea of naked females, her eyes could not avoid the sight of exposed flesh - heaving breasts topped with hard nipples, full round bottoms, long sleek legs, and cascading locks. The sensation of skin on skin, coupled with the musky smell of vaginal discharge and sweat, sent her senses into overdrive. Yet amidst all the beauty in the cell, it was clear they were nothing but slabs of raw meat. She was just another piece in this depraved butcher’s shop, ready to be consumed in every way imaginable.

In another corner of the sprawling complex, Edward Pembroke had his own lavish chamber. Thick walls and sound-absorbing materials kept the outside world at bay, but inside was a different story. His male associates had their own private quarters where they would often indulge in the most diabolical of pleasures with the young women who were brought to them, resulting in nights filled with blood-curdling screams and twisted moans.

Tonight, he reflected on a busy and productive few days, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. Lying back with his hands behind his head, he was a far cry from the suave figure he presented to businessmen and diplomats. Here, he felt more natural, more at ease. His naked body sprawled comfortably, legs spread wide, with his strong, muscular thighs splayed apart. His cock pointed towards his belly button, pulling his balls up slightly as he enjoyed the attentions, between his legs, of a young slave girl.

Rania Darwish, until a few months ago, had been a happy, shy sixteen-year-old in Damascus, attending school, spending time with friends in cafés, helping her family, and dreaming of a future filled with possibilities. Then, her uncle Nadim had returned from abroad, stirring a disgust in her family that she didn’t fully understand. Ignoring the whispers about him being a “pervert” or “depraved,” Rania secretly met with Nadim, eager for a glimpse into what seemed like an exciting life before he left again.

Unfortunately for her, this secret meeting led to her being taken to the complex. Nadim Darwish, eager to please his new employer and exact revenge on his own family, saw procuring young Rania as the perfect opportunity.

Pembroke purred with satisfaction as he watched the beautiful young Syrian struggle to comply with his degrading demands. “Come on, Rania, use your tongue better! You should be able to squeeze it up my ass; use your fingers if you need to!” he urged, his voice dripping with cruel delight. Her black hair cascaded over his cock, its soft texture tickling his helmet. Her delicate features—beautiful eyebrows, graceful nose—were partially obscured, her eyes tightly shut as she tried to mentally distance herself from the repulsive act. Her bronze spine arched into a graceful curve, the twin peaks of her buttocks lifted high in the air as Pembroke reveled in the sensation of her hot little tongue moving side to side inside his anal opening. For Rania, this was a million miles away from her once happy adolescence in Damascus, now replaced by a living nightmare.

In a mirror on the wall, Pembroke enjoyed the sights of her ass, cheeks spread white, and a mat of red lines and ridges across them. Like all the girls, Rania had needed discipline.

“Now, back to my cock, get it wet, come on, suck on it ... yeeeessss” Pembroke moaned, as she wordlessly moved her mouth to his large manhood, swallowing it and pressing her nose down to his pubic hair, working her lips and tongue expertly. Her finger still teasingly dipped in and out of his tight asshole as she worked her neck to give him maximum pleasure.

“Now, climb on top of my cock and ride me, Rania,” he commanded, his voice edged with urgency. Rania obeyed, raising her smooth, perfect thighs over his hips, and positioning herself above him. Squatting down, she placed one hand on his hairy stomach for balance and used the other to grip his cock, holding it upright as she slowly lowered herself onto it. Her black hair tumbled down, partially hiding her face as her features contorted with the effort of accommodating his large cockhead, which began to disappear into her tender pussy petals. Soon, she was moving rhythmically, pumping up and down, her breasts heaving in time with her movements, nipples pointing up and then down as her ass rose and crashed down on his hips, the sound of her crotch meeting his filling the room.

Soon, Pembroke was gushing cum inside her, grunting with satisfaction as he reached his peak. In a sudden, rough movement, he yanked her down by her hair, pulling her into a forceful kiss on her soft lips, his fingers gripping her hair in thick, possessive bunches.

“Well done, Rania, but next time, remember to smile more and look me in the eye,” Pembroke instructed, his tone a mix of satisfaction and warning. “You’ve been here for several months now, and soon you’ll be sold.” He pulled her into his arms, and she lay against his chest, nestled in the crook of his armpit. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her black hair. “The proudest moment of a slave’s life should be receiving praise from her owner and knowing that such praise will get back to me. My products are my reputation, and my clients demand hot, sexy, obedient slave girls. Don’t let me down after you’re sold!”

“Master, please tell me, who are you selling me to?” Rania’s large, frightened brown eyes looked up at him, glistening with fear as they peeked out from beneath her long eyelashes.

“Not your concern, darling,” Pembroke replied coolly, a smirk playing on his lips. “But I’ll tell you this—the competition is driving up your price. I don’t do refunds, Rania, or swaps, so if your new owner is unhappy with you, it’s bad and fatal news for you. And word about imperfect slaves gets around, and that’s bad business for me.” He raised an eyebrow at her, his gaze hardening. “Remember, it’s not just you who will suffer if you perform poorly. Damascus is only a few hours away, and the Darwish clan seems to have an infinite supply of pretty young girls. My associate, your uncle Nadim is all too eager to help me pluck another from their happy homes.”

“Please, Master, don’t hurt my family—they’ve already suffered so much. They must be beside themselves, wondering what happened to me!” Rania wailed, tears streaming down her face.

Pembroke chuckled darkly, ruffling her hair. “Yes, it must be quite the mystery,” he laughed. “But don’t worry, there will be plenty more mysteries in the future. I’m afraid I can’t promise that your female relatives will be left alone. Even if you behave perfectly, I still have an interest in your cousins and sisters—they’re as pretty as you are, and your Uncle Nadim seems eager to help me bring more of them here.”

He paused, his tone growing colder. “But I can promise this: if you, and hopefully your future kin, don’t behave well, I will target your other family members for more straightforward, easy, and—well—fatal revenge. So, do your best to keep me and your future owner pleased, Rania, because your family’s lives depends on it.”