Chapter 7

The scenes of debauchery on the private jet flying into Ibiza Airport in Ibiza were almost expected—after all, Ibiza had a reputation to uphold. But the scandalous activities inside Edward Pembroke’s plane exceeded even the wildest expectations.

On the floor of the plane lay discarded wrappers of cocaine and empty alcohol bottles, evidence of the debauchery that had taken place. At the back of the plane, within the hold, were two large black boxes, now opened, their once-secure contents displayed carnally on the main deck.

The pilot, Nadim Darwish, glanced back with a laugh, caught in the haze of drink and drugs, barely able to focus on the chaotic scene. The four naked passengers were entangled in an orgy of sexual affray.

Behind the cabin, Pembroke was on his knees, naked, thrusting into the woman in front of him who was positioned on all fours. Unlike him, her participation was far from voluntary. Her arms were cruelly restrained, with her hands tied to each elbow behind her back, rendering her completely powerless.

Pembroke grunted and sweated like an animal, one hand digging into her hips, the other pulling her curly brown hair so her back was arched and her face was forced upwards. Her breasts shook violently from side to side, her face was red with tears and screams, and her teeth were clenched. Her bloodshot eyes, filled with tears, stared straight ahead, catching the gaze of Nadim as her buttocks jiggled with each powerful intrusion from Pembroke.

The girl’s name was Giulia Rossi, a twenty-year-old Italian student spending a semester in Lisbon. Passionate about the outdoors, she had written a blog where she detailed her love for nature and her desire to disconnect from technology, avoiding phones, the internet, and screens as much as possible. In one entry, she mentioned her plans for a three-day hike without contact, assuring her readers that her parents were supportive of her decision. Unfortunately, this post caught the attention of Pembroke’s network, leading to her downfall.

Giulia, with her dark eyes and brunette hair, was curvy yet fit from a life spent in outdoor activities. She had barely begun her hike when she was suddenly and decisively waylaid.

Her screams now were not just from despair and the brutal thrusts of her rapist and kidnapper. Her heavily swollen left ankle told the story of her desperate attempt to escape. She had initially fought off her attackers, running for her life across the foothills, pleading and screaming for help. She had scratched, kicked, and fought like an animal, knowing that these three men intended to do her harm. At one point, Pembroke and his accomplices had nearly given up; they were ready to flee Portugal empty-handed. Giulia had been on the verge of safety—had she only looked back, she would have seen that they had stopped chasing her. But tragically, she kept running at full speed until she tripped over a rock, twisting her ankle and tumbling into a gully. Her screams were answered not by help, but by her relentless pursuers, who spent a chilling five minutes descending to capture her. They assaulted her, stripped her, and bound her.

Now, she was being used as nothing more than a piece of meat, as Pembroke savored his twisted sense of victory and ownership.

Behind them, Dmitri was brutally assaulting another woman, bound in the same helpless manner as Giulia, bent over with her buttocks shaking violently with each of his thrusts. Earlier, he had snorted cocaine directly from her asshole. Her large, surgically enhanced breasts barely moved, revealing their artificial nature. Her name was Claudia Lopez, a Colombian with long black hair that whipped around as she shook, screamed, prayed, and cried, her dark coffee-colored skin and stunning figure caught in the violent scene. After securing Giulia, the men had found time to capture Claudia, who had unsuspectingly responded to a fake 2,000-euro booking. Now, she too would never see freedom again.

“Ten minutes to landing!” Nadim shouted.

The men intensified their thrusts, driving harder and faster, until they both climaxed inside their female victims, the air filled with a cacophony of grunts, howls, and screams. Filled with cum, both girls were then secured and folded into one of the black boxes, slightly larger than usual. They were forced into fetal positions, curled tightly against each other, with each girl’s face pressed between the other’s thighs.

The top was screwed on tightly, with the airways checked before the lid was securely fastened. The box became a silent, passive void, giving no indication that humans were trapped within it. Each girl was blind, deaf, and gagged, able only to smell and feel the other’s skin and the intimate press of her genitalia against their nose.

Walking around Ibiza and riding the motorbike was enjoyable, especially with the beautiful people all around. But they were there on business. The tracker worked perfectly, and before long, Pembroke found himself on a hill overlooking a small, sparsely attended beach where Alice and Victoria were sunbathing.

“Mummy, this barely covers anything,” Alice gasped. Alice’s hands glided over her skimpy swimwear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The tiny red string top barely concealed her nipples, leaving her underboob and midriff on full display. The low-cut bikini bottoms hugged her hips and allowed a tantalizing glimpse of her waxed skin. Her ass was practically swallowing up the thong back of the bottoms.

Victoria couldn’t help but admire her daughter’s body - taut, supple, and fair-skinned, with perky breasts that defied gravity. She felt proud of her own curves in the yellow thong bikini, her ample cleavage boosted by plastic surgery and the top. “You’ll have bigger boobs soon enough, Alice. It’s all about knowing how to use them,” she purred.

Fidgeting with her bikini, Alice hesitated before finally giving in to Victoria’s coaxing. “Fine, let’s go into the water.”

“Great” Victoria took her daughter’s hand and they raced into the waves together.

After a few days, finally, a breakthrough. A bug planted under their sun lounges had picked up a conversation about what the girls would like to do early the next morning, and plans were made.

Alice was angry that her mother had no interest beyond drugs, drinking, and dancing at night, leaving her to wander alone by the cliffs. Victoria had gone clubbing on her own and brought home a much younger man. Alice had been forced to sit in her hotel room, listening to the sounds of her mother’s loud sex with the man next door as Victoria climaxed again and again, her body having been awakened by her recent affair with Philippe, the enigmatic Frenchman.

Trying to drown out the sounds of her mother being ravaged in the room next door, Alice fled the hotel for a 4 a.m. stroll. The beachfront outside her hotel was deserted, giving her a false sense of safety as she strutted along in nothing but a barely-there t-shirt and shorts that hugged every curve and crevice of her luscious body. Her perky little butt cheeks peeked out from under her shorts, teasing any onlooker with their perfect shape.

Little did she know, she was being watched with hungry eyes, eagerly awaiting the chance to claim her as their own.

Pembroke was getting impatient. He enjoyed Ibiza, but it wasn’t quite as debauched as he preferred, and the company of Dmitri and Nadim was starting to grate on him. The money and time spent on Alice were considerable, and he was determined to avoid the sunk cost fallacy. He wondered ... it was 4 a.m. He could snatch Alice now, bring her to the plane, and take off early in the morning. Victoria might sleep in or simply ignore her mother’s absence that early in the day. Mentally, he calculated that they could be halfway over the Mediterranean before Victoria even realized her mother was missing.

It was torture for him to watch his pretty, beautiful target sitting there, oblivious, her limbs so inviting, her slim figure and blonde hair almost glowing in the moonlight. He watched as she dangled her slim thighs, swinging them out from the bench, gazing out at the moonlit sea. He wondered what she was thinking—perhaps about her future dreams, making promises to herself. It only made him want her more. He would ask her about those thoughts later, when he had her. She would never realize those dreams, he smiled to himself. She would think of this last beautiful moonlit night perhaps for the rest of her life if all went to plan.

His eyes lingered on her, tracing the line of her thighs as they curved into her buttocks, bursting out from her tiny shorts. The expanse of flesh around the shorts, the bare lower back, and the little dimples at the small of her back captivated him. He was certain her mother had her waxed, having watched her in tiny thongs and bikinis over the past few days. He smiled as he imagined how the media might deal with Victoria once this and other things became known. It would reflect badly on her and help his plans to cover up the kidnapping as the result of a negligent, selfish, whoreish mother, helpfully directing attention elsewhere.

He remembered the smell and taste of her Victoria and of Alice’s pink little panties—a brief taste of heaven that he had prudently left behind in her dirty laundry. Patience, he told himself. Soon, he would have his face between those pretty little thighs and taste that sweet pussy for real.

“Mummy!” Alice finally barged into her friend’s hotel room at 9 a.m., furious, only to find her lying passed out next to a tall, muscular man who looked thirty years younger than her.

“What?” The man got up, completely naked, and Alice was shocked to see his large, erect cock below his sculpted, smooth six-pack and pectorals. He looked at her hungrily, a recognition flashing in his eyes.