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In search of Sophie 12

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Sophie and Darya continue their hellish torment in Edward Pembroke’s lair

Chapter 53
Darya and Sophie giggled as they went through their lines.

“Daddy is so weird to make us do this haha.”

“Sophie, don’t call him daddy when he’s not around, he’s that man, or something, he’s not daddy.”

“All right then, I still … hate him, you know.”

“Do you?” asked Darya. Her Arabic accent had now gone, and she had almost fully adopted Sophie’s accent and vocabulary.

“Of course. And anyway, he will still punish us if we don’t get this right, so come on, let’s try again…”

Pembroke’s latest wheeze had been to get his girls to act in a play for him. It was an obscene adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, matched for two lesbians. Pembroke had rewritten it, in the way of a horny 13-year-old boy. It was nothing but love scenes, with updated language, and after some lines in which they acted, the directions stated “now kiss, take clothes off, get naked, and sixty nine for about five minutes, then go and get changed into the netball costume for next scene”

Darya thought this was awful, but Sophie secretly found it kind of cute. The plot was romantic if corny and she didn’t mind changing and acting and learning lines. It felt fun and different, and she certainly did not mind acting out the numerous different sex scenes with Darya.

“Sophie, why do I have to lick your feet after you rescue me from pirates and tell me my father is dead?”

“I don’t know, the same reason I have to suck on your nipples before the battle.”

The two girls collapsed in fits of giggles. Pembroke had been drunk when he wrote it, he just wanted to see the girls make out and have lesbian sex while acting. He had two girls who had to do everything and anything he wanted, so who cares if this was weird?

“Oh Sophie. He is such a loser. He really is. I cannot believe I am a slave of a loser.”

“He is not a loser, I mean he is an asshole, but, well, he should get some respect, that’s all.” She spoke with a defensive tone, as if she didn’t want to be defending him but felt compelled to acknowledge some level of respect.

Darya shot her a glance. “OK don’t start, right well he can still shock us, so let’s go through this again…

Pembroke enjoyed the performance, which was nonsensical, and acted terribly. He gently shocked the girls several times when they forgot their lines or did not do what he thought they were supposed to do.

“But Daddy, I am supposed to have no knickers in this scene!” Sophie had bawled.

“Sorry my darling, that was my fault, carry on!”

The trio laughed at the farce. It was a bizarre scene as the director sat shocking the two teenage girls, forcing them to have sex, all the while in a seemingly jovial atmosphere.

The girls did not mind the gentle shocks and spent most of the time snogging and kissing in front of him, exploring their bodies for the thousandth time. He envied their deep love for each other. They were not acting on that part. Now he just saw two young girls in love.

He spent more time spying on the girls in the webcam monitor than in the basement now. He enjoyed listening in on their conversations. He did not mind the abuse he got from Darya, but was always heartened when Sophie somewhat stuck up for him.

It was January 2019, when Inspector Gerald Murphy met up with Afshan Bharwani. Afshan had been assigned the case of Sophie Yildiz, the tragic case of a girl driven to suicide. She had spent months in the office poring over the details of the case and trying to find more clues. It had been a cause celebre and Murphy was sure there was more to it.

Afshan began her presentation to Murphy and some other junior detectives. “I first looked into the investigation in 2013. We spent a lot of time examining the phone number that had been calling Sophie in the weeks before her disappearance and the websites where her material was uploaded. Unfortunately, whoever did this covered their tracks too well. They wouldn’t be able to do that today, especially with those horrible dark web sites, but I don’t think there’s any mileage in going over that, especially since her laptop and phone were never recovered.”

“Damn shame. Her mother ordered her to bring it with her, she said, so she wasn’t even supposed to have the laptop.” Gerald Murphy said, drinking his tea.

“Yes, well, the mother doesn’t seem to have been winning any Mother of the Year contests. She was out of the picture for over 36 hours since Sophie disappeared because she was with another man. She was also working as a sex worker afterwards, but I think the original investigation blamed her too much. There was no reason to suspect her.”

“God, that woman. What about Jackson then?”

“I’ll come to him. It seems clear he was innocent; his alibi was checked out. The main thing was that he almost certainly met Sophie on the road out to the motorway past the Blue Lotus Resort. I’ll come to that later. Poor guy. Yes, Teresa did not help anyone.”

Afshan paused for effect. “The one thing the investigation didn’t seem to consider seriously was that her phone’s last location was in Liverpool Street, London. We seem to have assumed this was a mistake or that it simply hadn’t updated to its last location, presumably Rosevale-on-Sea. But phones are very accurate like this. If it was turned on during her train journey and while she walked through Rosevale, the location would be recorded there. So it means she left her phone at Liverpool Street.”

“But witnesses all said they saw her on her phone, and we see her on her phone on CCTV.”

“Well, what I think happened is similar to the Rosemary Jenkins case I shared with you. Remember the case of the burner phone, which can only be used to call the person controlling the phone? Not only do I think this happened here, but I also believe it was orchestrated by the same person.”

“Why wasn’t this flagged?” Murphy was genuinely curious why the Rosemary Jenkins case in Liverpool was not more well-known.

“Because at the time, it wasn’t suspected as an attempted kidnapping. Attempted kidnappings rarely make the news. It was thought that this person only wanted to blackmail Rosemary into having sex with him. A crime, but not a kidnapping.”

“So this person was blackmailing Sophie, not to meet him, but to be a kidnapping victim, you think?”

“Yes, and in fact, I think there is a chance that the note that Teresa ‘found’ on Sir Stanley Bridgerton was genuine. I think Teresa found it in her coat; it was October, and Sophie went missing in July. Maybe Sophie put the note there, and it took Teresa three months to check the pocket, then she put two and two together and made seventy?”

“But that said Liverpool Street.”

“Rosemary was the same, ‘meet me here, no, now come here instead.’ Lead them on a chase, making it harder to follow. I think he called her on her phone when she was at Liverpool Street and said, ‘take the train to Rosevale,’ and she took it.”

“But … he kept in touch through the burner phone? How did she get that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he posted it to her, or maybe he left it somewhere for her to find. Maybe in Liverpool Street itself. But it seems clear she ditched the phone in Liverpool Street for whatever reason, or turned it off and never turned it on again.”

“But we interviewed dozens of people. There was nobody following her on the train, and nobody met her at the station. There was no meeting place. She just vanished.”

“I read the statements, and I think some were mistaken. It seems much more likely she left the station and was directed out on the road towards the Blue Lotus, which seemed like a plausible meeting point, but she never reached there.”

“You sure she never reached there?”

“I looked at the CCTV footage, hours of it. But most people agree they passed her on the road to the motorway. Some people likely got confused, like Rodney, but he had no reason to be on the road to the sea. Crucially though, I saw one thing that no one seemed to have noticed. A witness said they had noticed a white van parked on the country road near the Blue Lotus, and they had to overtake it, which they said was unusual.”

“A white van theory then. Come on Afshan, we can’t just rely on white van mysteries.”

“Well, I checked the Blue Lotus CCTV footage. They had no footage of Sophie walking past, suggesting she never took that road, which I don’t think is true, or that she cut across fields to get to the other road to the sea, which I don’t think she would have done. She would have just turned back, or she was picked up by someone. That someone was not Rodney Jackson but could have been someone else. Now look at this…”

Afshan showed the footage on the screen. “Look, this is twenty-four minutes after Sophie leaves the train. It would take someone a little over twenty-four minutes to walk from the station to the Blue Lotus, and you can see this white van drive past the Blue Lotus. Now … look at this, twenty-nine minutes after Sophie leaves the train, the same van, driving the opposite direction.”

“Are we sure it’s the same van?” asked Murphy.

“It has the same blue markings, it matches with the statement that says a van was parked nearby. Why would a van drive down there and turn back five minutes later? Was it lost? It must have turned into some country road.”

“What about the mystery cyclists?”

“No trace of them, I’m afraid,” laughed Afshan gently.

“Very interesting, Afshan, but this is conjecture, and all we have is a white van theory. How could we trace it?”

“I don’t think we can. But it matches perfectly with the Rosemary Jenkins case. A white van nearby, with fake number plates, the same kidnapper, burner phones, blackmail, wild goose chase, cybercrime.”

“That is just one other case, in Liverpool.”

“Well, there are more than that.” Afshan drew her breath. “You see, the police database, for some reason, threw up the suggestion of this missing girl – Darya Talebani, when I typed in Sophie Yildiz. Darya Talebani was a refugee from Syria, who flew from Istanbul to London on a stolen passport in March 2016. She was 14, the same age as Sophie. She and her poor mother were supposed to fly on fake passports, but her mother was stopped and deported back to Syria. Darya was allowed on; we have her passport used here.” – she turned the screen to a shot of Linda Hillal’s passport.

“She traveled on Linda Hillal’s passport. Linda Hillal had her passport stolen several months beforehand. And by an incredible coincidence, Linda Hillal is the first cousin of Sophie Yildiz.”

“Sounds very tenuous. Where are you taking us with this?” said Murphy.

“I couldn’t see any connection beyond just random chance. But then I looked into the investigation into Darya’s disappearance. She and her mother were deceived by a slick online appearance of a refugee charity, of which we have never been able to trace since the mother lost her phone and her records. The mother, by the way, has since arrived in the UK and has claimed asylum. So, there is the cyber element, but also, look at Darya, the last known footage of her at Heathrow airport.”

Everyone in the room looked at the little girl in the dark robe, walking towards a man holding a sign. He was in a suit, wearing glasses with a beard. A rotund, tall white man of about sixty.

“She meets this man, who the mother says resembles the man who had spoken to them on webcam before the flight, and they go out of the airport, again, walking here, and they go … into a white van. And the number plates of that van are … unregistered, fake.”

“Wow. Well, it’s another white van, and it’s her cousin’s stolen passport. Could all be a coincidence.”

“Well, let’s go back to Sophie and the train. I looked at where she was sitting. I saw that she had been looking at seat numbers. The train was empty but it seemed she had a reserved seat. Why would she have bought a reserved seat? Then I thought, maybe someone else bought the seats for her, maybe she picked up the tickets from somewhere, the same place she picked up the burner phone.”

Afshan drank some water.

“So I looked at the ticket bookings for the train, which were still available. Someone booked the tickets with a card number that is untraceable, as in pre-paid. They booked Sophie’s seat and the one next to it. Within the same few minutes of that booking, a different card booked four other seats. This is days in advance of the train. I checked this out; it was in first class. And I looked at the seats in the first-class carriage.”

For the first time, there was a murmur of appreciation as the image of a man in a suit, with a similar-looking beard, and trilby hat sat in first class.

“He was the only one of the four who showed up apparently. Tell me that is not the same man as walked off with Darya Talebani?”

“He looks similar, but you can’t say for sure, and unless you have clear footage, I don’t think you could identify him. There must be tens of thousands of men who look like him. In fact, I can think of a few in this office!”

Laughter erupted around, but Afshan was used to dealing with boisterous males.

“This man got off at the next stop a few minutes away at Mallowby. The last we see of him is him working on a laptop. Why would a businessman be working on a laptop going to a seaside town on Friday morning dressed like that?”

“I think you have something here, I’m impressed,” Murphy admitted, furious with himself for overlooking so much of this at the time. “But our problem is, we can’t prove it beyond conjecture, and we cannot identify this man if this is all we have, especially as all this was years ago.”

“Well, this is going to be a bit awkward, but there is more to it…” Sopheiie took another drink of water.

“You see, I always gave you a folder on an informal invetigation carried out among various victims of revenge porn. Many girls were blackmailed using the same techniques, and while we cannot be sure it was the same person, there is corroboration of the same person behind two attacks.”

“Well, this is going to be a bit awkward, but there is more to it…” Sophie took another drink of water.

“You see, I always gave you a folder on an informal investigation carried out among various victims of revenge porn. Many girls were blackmailed using the same techniques, and while we cannot be sure it was the same person, there is corroboration of the same person behind two attacks.”

Afshan breathed deeply. “As you know, I have publicized it; I was a victim of revenge porn. I had to have sex with a man who blackmailed me. Well, someone else has corroborated this with me; we both agree it was the same man. Believe me, it is eyewitness testimony, but I saw him a lot more clearly than that CCTV footage. And I am sure that the man with Darya Talebani is the man on the train with Sophie, and that he is the man who forced both myself and Molly Streathan to have sex with him. We made this identikit sketch.”

An image appeared on the screen of a white man, double chin, large features, balding.

The room fell silent. “This is very impressive, Afshan. I wish you were with us back in 2013. But do we have anything else to go on?”

“I am afraid not. But I am positive that Sophie is a missing person case, probably a kidnapping or murder. And that man is responsible.”

“What about the clothes washed up on the beach?”

“It was very convenient that Sophie wore a T-shirt she didn’t even own, that ended up in the sea. No body was ever found, remember. It’s possible her body washed out to sea, but it was more than likely that if she had drowned, her body would have been found onshore eventually, and it wasn’t. I think the T-shirt was a diversion, I think it was put on the beach to be seen.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Murphy. “But what are the next steps? What can we do?”

“I’m working on it,” said Afshan. “The more publicity, the better, like #metoo. The more girls hear about it, the more likely they are to come forward.”

Chapter 54
Darya’s constant harking to life outside, and implied thoughts of escape, were always an unwelcome intrusion for Sophie. Deep down, Sophie felt a secret shame about her acceptance of their predicament. She knew she should want to escape and dream of a life outside, but she never wanted to act on it. Instead, she had found a strange contentment in the routine and the closeness she shared with Darya. The occasional sex and games with their captor had grown tolerable, and at times she even found herself dreaming of him.

The first time it had happened she had dreamt she was sucking his cock, looking up at his grinning face, his sagging jowls quivering, his double chin swallowed by his neck, and his eyes full of crazy lust under his furrowed brows.

She had woken up in Darya’s arms and immediately admitted with a purr that she thought she was having sex with ‘daddy.’ Darya’s initial amusement had curdled into concern as she saw the lingering happiness on Sophie’s face. “You’re not actually…” Darya’s voice hitched, the accusation hanging heavy in the air. “You can’t be falling for that monster, can you?”

Sophie had quickly laughed at the suggestion and brushed off the dream, curving her arms around Darya as they spooned to try and get back to sleep. But both Darya and Sophie lay awake, thinking.

Darya was now seventeen. She could bear a childhood lost, but a whole life? Could she kill herself, or would she end up like Sophie?

Sophie hated to admit that she did not dream of freedom anymore. She felt sadness for her mother and sister, but there seemed to be an invisible barrier that had grown around her, even more than the cell and basement doors, that made her think escape and freedom were just not real possibilities anymore.

A few days later, the two girls were in their pyjama vests and pants in their cell, eating mashed-up potatoes, turnips, and chicken with their hands. Pembroke had long since stopped giving them knives and forks for fear either might do something with them, and the girls were long used to eating with their hands.

“Sophie, what is the first thing you will want to eat when you get out of here?”

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, flustered. She hated talking about the outside and escape.

“You know, I really miss the food from home,” Sophie said wistfully to her friend. “There’s this dish called kubba, which is like stuffed meatballs made with onions and minced meat, and they’re fried until they’re crispy and golden. They’re so good! All that man gives us is boring, disgusting mush.”

“It’s healthy, that’s why Daddy gives it to us. Neither of us gets ill or fat.”

“Yeah, great for him. He doesn’t look like he eats healthy, let’s face it. He wants us nice and slim for his fat, disgusting body.”

Sophie didn’t say anything.

“Come on Sophie, tell me what you want to eat.”

“Well, before I was taken, I used to love McDonald’s, ice cream that sort of thing. But it would be weird to eat it down here.”

“Yeah it would be weird, that’s why I asked what you want to eat when you get out of here.”

Sophie nibbled on her remaining food. “I don’t know”

Darya put her food on the tray, refusing to eat anymore. “You have to dream of the outside Sophie. You can’t just surrender to this.”

“If you don’t finish your food, daddy will get angry” Sophie simply responded.

“Fuck daddy!”

“Darya, please, he can hear us! You’ll get yourself in trouble again!”

“I don’t care. I want to get out of here. I want to see my mother again. I want to see other human beings.”

Sophie finished her food. “What’s wrong with seeing me?”

Darya gave Sophie a pointed look, her eyes blazing with anger. “You know, Sophie, all that talk about how you got bullied at school and I felt sorry for you. Three years my senior, yet here you cower like a frightened child. But I’m no servant like you. I have courage, something you lack! It’s humiliating to stoop to your level.”

Her voice trembled with frustration. “My sister died a hero, and I? I waste away here with you, my potential rotting alongside this miserable existence!” Tears welled in her eyes. “My sister died helping others, and here I am, stuck with you, doing nothing! My life is slipping away, and you’re content to wallow in this fucking filth!”

With a shriek, Darya flung her plate at the wall, scattering food everywhere.

“Darya! Alright, I’ll clean it up, just calm down!” Sophie pleaded.

Darya slumped to the ground in tears. “That bastard, I have to kill him. I don’t care if I die. God, I only pray that my mother doesn’t ever find out what happened to me. If he kills me for trying to kill him at least it will put me out of my misery.”

“Darya, please, I love you. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Love you? Don’t be ridiculous, Sophie. You’re just the only other human here. Nearly three years cooped up in this cell and this dungeon! If we ever get out, I swear I’ll never speak to you again!”

“Darya, you can’t mean that!”

Darya’s eyes burned with hatred. “Why would I want to be with a pathetic coward like you? He fancies you a lot more than me, you know. If something happened to you…” A dark thought festered in her mind. Perhaps getting rid of Sophie would be the answer. The monster would be enraged, eliminating Darya in the process, freeing her from this torment, and he would have no more playthings.

Sophie recoiled in fear. “Darya, please, don’t be like him!”

Darya spat at her feet. “Being a monster is preferable to being your useless slave.”

Darya’s rage subsided as quickly as it flared. She slumped against the wall, defeated. “But why am I here? Why have I let myself be a prisoner for three years? I am nothing but a loser.”

Fresh sobs wracked her frail body.

“You’re not a loser, Darya,” Sophie stammered, reaching out in comfort. Darya flinched away.

The two young women sat in silence for hours, slumped in opposite corners of the cell, lost in their own thoughts and despair.

Afshan Bharwani stood in the confines of Sophie Yidiz’s childhood bedroom. The air hung heavy with the passage of time. Afshan tried to imagine what it must have been like for Sophie all those years ago. The fear of being blackmailed, the violation … could Sophie have been forced to perform on a webcam, just like Afshan herself had been?

The room remained untouched, a snapshot of a teenage girl’s life frozen in 2013. Teresa stood in the hallway, looking at this young Asian police officer, wondering what the police may have found.

“So do you think she was murdered or killed herself?”

“We cannot say for sure about that yet. But I am here not directly about what happened to her on that day, but beforehand.”

Teresa shifted uncomfortably. Was she going to be blamed again?

“As you’re aware, we suspect she was being blackmailed by someone before her vanishing.”

“That monster,” Tracey, Sophie’s mother, choked out, tears welling in her eyes. “Whoever did it … if they didn’t kill her, they still drove her to her death! How can they live with themselves?”

Teresa, with a touch of empathy in her voice, offered, “Actually, Tracey, something similar happened to you, didn’t it?”

Tracey dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Oh yes,” she whispered, the pain etched on her face.

Teresa opened up about meeting the man as a sex worker in the hotel and her shock at the footage appearing online. In the excitement of Stanley Bridgerton she had not mentioned him to police, not thinking him important.

The hidden cameras and her description of him made Afshan’s skin crawl. She was sure they had slept with the same disgusting monster. And she had a feeling he had done something to Sophie and Darya as well.

“Would you be prepared to speak to a sketch artist? Your case sounds very similar to a few other cases and if the sketch matches then we can maybe build a clearer description and find him.” She didn’t mention that she herself had been a victim of the same man.

Yasmin barely heard the lawyer drone on about her asylum claim. “Have the police found anything?” she burst out, her voice raw with barely contained panic.

The lawyer’s sympathetic answer was a fresh stab of agony. “Nothing yet, Yasmin. Are you sure there’s no one in your family or community who might know something?”

London, this foreign land she’d desperately hoped for, felt like a prison. Her cramped flat was a monument to her misery, shared with a volatile Nigerian flatmate who’d nearly set the place ablaze and an Iraqi woman, her face horrifically scarred by her husband’s cruelty. All Yasmin could think about was Darya, her missing daughter.

Darya remained a ghost. No word from the police. No sign of the people who’d posed as refugee lawyers, stealing not just her money but a piece of her soul. Shame burned alongside the frustration. Her other husband and children had died, but it had been out of her control. But Darya…

The men she’d fucked, the leers and gropes she’d tolerated, all to scrape together the funds Farquhar demanded – a desperate attempt to give Darya a better life. Now, looking at the four walls of her tiny room, the picture of her smiling daughter the only splash of color, Yasmin felt the crushing weight of failure.

“Good evening girls.” Pembroke strolled in through the basement door, his face a grotesque parody of cheer. Sophie and Darya sat up in unison, Sophie fully attentive and Darya with a flicker of defiance quickly, quickly snuffed out by weariness.

Darya watched him, a fresh wave of frustration gnawing at her. He used his thumb for the fingerprint identification pad, as well as pressing the ever changing code. It was so infuriatingly simple for him, a stark contrast to the prison they inhabited. He swaggered around the basement like a king surveying his domain.

Sophie and Darya hardly ever got out of their cell to explore the basement, it was usually only to ‘play’ with Pembroke. They stayed within the clear glass doors of their now ten feet by thirty feet cell which occupied only about a fifth of the total space, with their only view being the grotesque sight of horrors, of bondage equipment, obscene posters of the girls themselves, and Pembroke’s own workstation.

Darya’s eyes fixated on the cage door, then flicked to the heavy metal door beyond it that sealed them within the basement. It was a constant, agonizing reminder. Freedom. So close, it felt like a cruel joke. Just a few feet, a flick of Pembroke’s smug thumb on the keypad, and that door would swing open. Yet, for them, it might as well be a mile-thick steel barrier.

“Now girls, I only have an hour, hope you enjoy your breakfast, but finish quickly because I fancy a blowjob. Don’t worry about shaving if you’re not smooth, just eat up, shower and be ready in a few minutes!”

Pembroke was talking like he was talking to a pet cat. He barely looked at them, just shrugged off his dressing gown, and showered himself under the main basement shower, then dried himself and lay on his bed, the picture of casual dominance, stroking his cock as he looked at the cell and his two pets inside.

Darya had finished her sparse breakfast and she and Sophie were now taking their clothes off. The routine was ingrained a years-long dance of humiliation. Sophie, with a vacant expression, peeled off her vest, and then her panties. Shame gnawed at Darya as they showered together, soaping each other’s bodies.

“You on your period, Darya?” Pembroke quizzed her.

Blood poured down Darya’s legs on the shower, as she steeled herself to answer him. “Yes daddy.”

“OK, so I will fuck you in the ass then. Sophie, you get her insides clean, you’ll be sucking my cock after its been in that hole, and I don’t want to taste anything unpleasant when I kiss you afterwards.”

Darya flinched involuntarily. She could not bear to look at him as he gazed at them like she was a toilet utensil.

Sophie barely reacted at all to his request, as if it were pefectly normal. She placed her hand on Darya’s shoulder, then another on her hips, to bend her over, and then brought her finger to her asshole to loosen it for the shower head.

Darya sighed as the water came gushing into her rectum, as Sophie checked on her face, turning it towards her and raising her eyebrows in a concerned manner as if to check she was OK.

The girls hated the next part as Darya sat on the toilet bowl to expel all the shit from inside her. After several cleanings, Pembroke called out.

“Sophie, is her ass clean now? Come on I want to get started and then out of here!!”

“Yes, daddy, let me check.”

Sophie put her face to Darya’s ass crack, and spread her cheeks. She poked her finger in as far as it would go and then licked it to taste her. She then put her nose and tongue to her ass, knowing that not only would she be sucking anything that went in deeper than her finger, but that she would probably get a mild beating if her daddy found anything ‘distasteful’ after some hard anal sex.

“Yes, daddy, she is clean. Can we join you now?”

“Certainly, my horny young bitches! Darya put this thong on, I don’t want your blood everywhere, keep it on OK?”

Pembroke strode towards, them his cock now fully erect, as he opened the cell door.

The first position was one that Pembroke loved. He was lying on his back, with Sophie 69ing him. He loved the taste of her pussy and enjoyed licking the insides of her thighs that he knew made her extra ticklish.

Sophie was definitely the better cock sucker of the two. Darya had spent many, many hours on the cocksucking trainer with maximum shock punishment as he watched her, and he was satisfied she was doing her best. Darya hated it but after endless training, threats, a few black eyes, and other painful experiences, she had pushed herself to suck just as thoroughly as Sophie. But Sophie just seemed to have either more talent or more love for it. Pembroke reflected on their differences as he munched on her pussy, thinking that Darya sucked cock like an engineer, Sophie like an artist. Yes, he smiled that was a good comparison.

Darya was on her knees on the floor at the foot of the bed, leaning over the bed to reach between Pembroke’s spread legs. She was licking at this asshole and balls, constantly having to wave Sophie’s hair out of the way as she sucked on the cock above her.

Before long, the sweat and saliva had coated both their faces. Darya had grown used to this wrinkled hairy anus so much now, she could almost draw it from memory. “Come on Darya, try and get your tongue inside it!”

Darya pushed with her tongue, thinking it would soon be over. She hoped Sophie would make him cum.

Sophie often boasted of how quickly she could make daddy cum with her mouth. Darya could not argue it did not have its benefits, it made him less likely to beat them and it ended sex sessions more quickly. But it was so pathetic. She looked up and saw Sophie’s eyes smiling at her, as the drool from her mouth cascaded down his cock and balls onto Darya’s nose.

“Fuck! OK Sophie, stop, get off me, I want to cum in Darya’s ass not your mouth. Christ is that the time? OK Sophie get off, Darya, keep that thong on, I don’t want to see your disgusting bloody cunt, get on all fours here, come on!!”

Darya moved on to the now empty bed and adopted the pose. On her knees and elbow’s arching her back and sticking her ass in the air as high as she could. She gasped as Pembroke hit her as hard he could with an open-palmed spank on her ass cheek.

“What a fucking ass! God I’m so lucky I have two, I love your ass Sophie but this one is better, fuck me, so curvy and hot!”

Darya sighed as she felt the string of her thong pulled to the side exposing herself, and Pembroke’s cock pushing against her asshole.

“Fuck yeah! “Pembroke slapped her ass again, marvelling at the firm flesh jiggling after each hit. He leaned with his weight, trying to force himself inside her.

Darya could feel the pain starting as the fissures of her asshole were breaking at the intruder. She tried to breathe out and push her sphincter out, to accommodate his cock. Suddenly, she felt his cock rush inside her expanding inside her. She bucked her head up in pain. She never got used to anal sex, and never liked it.

“Yes, I’m in baby, that’s it, hey Sophie, get in front of Darya, let her lick your pussy while I fuck her asshole. I want to look in your eyes, so don’t look away!”

Sophie climbed on the bed in front of Darya’s face. Darya’s eyes were squeezed shut, the lids bunched tight. Beneath them, teeth were clenched hard enough to make the muscles in her jaw stand out starkly.

She shuffled forward and moved her pussy against her face, inviting her to start licking, then looked at Pembroke.

Pembroke’s face was a picture of contented pleasure, his eyes half closed, and his mouth open in ecstasy, as he pummelled the poor young girl in front of him. He smiled at Sophie as if sharing a secret with her, Sophie smiled back.

“Is she licking you yet? Come on Darya, lick Sophie don’t be lazy!”

Darya felt Sophie’s moist pussy rub on her face but was too preoccupied with the pain from Pembroke’s cock in her ass to want to stick her tongue out. She was ass fucked regularly, but on each occasion, it was like her asshole closed up afterwards once healed, and she was a virgin for the pain of every new violation.

Pembroke spanked Darya again. “Lick, you little bitch!”

Darya raised her head slightly, and Sophie pushed herself into the void stuffing her mouth with he pussy. Darya lapped at her pussy lips, breathing hard into her, the sucked on her clit as hard as she could, trying to avoid the temptation to clamp her teeth down.

Sophie’s eyes widened with pleasure as she stared at Pembroke, feeling her tongue. This drove Pembroke over the edge and he came with a yell.

Darya sighed with relief as she felt his cock slide out of her ass.

“OK Darya, stay there, Sophie come round and lick your friend’s ass.”

Sophie obediently went straight to Darya’s asshole. She could see traces of blood as it winked at her. ‘Poor Darya’ she thought. Saliva was always a good disinfectant, Pembroke had taught them, and she roled her tongue around Darya’s pained sphincter, hoping it would ease the pain, as well as give her pleasure.

“OK Darya, you lick my cock, then seeing as Sophie’s mouth is busy.”

Darya sucked on him, tasting the blood and other juices from her ass as well as the remnants of his cum.

“Good, well I would love to stay, but one of us has a life to live!” Pembroke laughed and put on his dressing gown. “Come on, let me get you back in the cell.”

As he pushed them back in, he handed Sophie a new present. “Oh Sophie, I forgot, here is that book “Silas Marner” I hope you might like it. I know you’re nearly finished with your old one and you like that author…”

“Oh thank you daddy!” Sophie beamed and hugged Pembroke, taking the book and turning around. Pembroke playfully slapped her bottom before locking the cell door.

“Have a nice day in there, girls!” He chuckled and left.

Sophie sat on the bench, a contented hum escaping her lips. She needed to finish “The Mill on the Floss” as soon as possible, she thought, looking at her new book. Wrapped in her own thoughts about books, she did not notice Darya until she pushed her violently off the bench.

“How the fuck can you sit like that, day after day! He just raped me, he raped you, and this is how you react?”

Sophie was perplexed. “No he didn’t!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter that it happens every day, he still raped me! After nearly three fucking years of this, I cannot stand this! My ass is so sore, I have nothing to live for but to be a toy for that rancid cock of his!”

“Darya, its your period, it’s…”

“Its not my period, this is so bad … Oh my God I dreamt of my sister last night…”

Darya sobbed. What bothered her the most was not the brutal ass-raping, or the sickening analingus she had just had to perform. It was Sophie’s nonchalant acceptance of it all.

“I’ve been here five years, but I don’t think about the future anymore. I just live in the moment. That is all I can do.”

Darya shouted back at her. “Live in the moment?? How can I do that when my ass is burning, when I have to think about what his body looks like. This is worse than hell!”

Darya suddenly ran at the glass door and charged at it. She bounced off it. She tried to open the door, pulling at the handle with all her weight, but failed. She screamed and banged at any surface she could touch. “LET ME GO!! LET ME GO!! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!!”

“Darya stop, he will hear you! You will hurt yourself!”

Darya didn’t care, she punched the walls of the cell, till her hands bled, and headbutted it. She waved her head around screaming, then pulled at her hair.

Huddled in the corner, Sophie watched, transfixed by the horrifying spectacle. Darya wasn’t a human anymore. She was a caged tigress, a whirlwind of claws and shrieks, flinging herself against the unyielding glass walls.

Suddenly, Darya stopped and looked at Sophie. There was blood on her face, hands, and knees from hitting the glass walls. Her hair was wild and tangled. The athletic lines of her body, stripped to her black thong, coiled tight with a predator’s focus. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her breasts rising and falling with a primal hunger that wasn’t for food.

“You bitch, you help him!”

“Darya, no I don’t I am his prisoner too…”

With a fierce cry, Darya lunged at Sophie. Their screams filled the cramped cell as they grappled, pulling at each other’s hair, scratching, and clawing. Sophie fought back desperately, trying to shield herself from Darya’s onslaught.

As the struggle reached its peak, Sophie found herself curled into a ball on the ground, whimpering and pleading for mercy. Darya’s rage seemed uncontainable, her fists raining down upon Sophie’s defenseless naked body.

But then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fury ebbed away from Darya. She stood there, panting heavily, staring at the trembling figure before her, her own hands trembling with the aftermath of her outburst.

Darya couldn’t bring herself to utter an apology. With tears streaming down her face, she retreated to the farthest corner of the cell, and sobbed.

Sophie felt held her stomach and back, aching from the kicks, and wiped blood from her face from the scratches and punches Darya had visited on her. Four long scratch trails were etched along her rights breast where she thought Darya would rip her tits off her. Sophie remained silent and slouched on the bench. Her main fears were how they would explain each others’ marks to daddy, and how much more pain they might have to endure for Darya’s outburst.

Pembroke was at that moment beginning his first class. He walked to the classroom feeling refreshed after the morning sex session, but still horny, watching the girls in their short skirts giggling. One girl caught his eye, young Carrie Atkinson. Shy, cute and very petite, she was just his type. She grew nervous every time he looked at her, seeming to shrink in fear, which pleased him immensely. He caught her walking quite quickly.

“Now Carrie, no running in the corridor.”

“Sorry sir I wasn’t running, I was…”

“You were running, don’t lie to me girl!”

Pembroke took pleasure in intimidating the sweet little girl. She had green eyes that sparkled like emeralds under her blonde, curly locks. Her petite frame seemed almost fragile as she stood there, nervously twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Her soft-spoken voice carried more than a hint of hesitation, betraying her nervousness as she shifted from foot to foot.

“If I catch you lying again, that is detention, understand?”

“I … I’m sorry sir…” She shrank further, her eyes wide with fear. She was like a little flower, thought Pembroke, ready to bloom. Maybe one day she might make a useful addition to his basement…

“Go on, you are late for class. I will see you later and you better have done your homework!”

Pembroke smiled at the departing girl, her cute slim legs rising up into her short skirt, twitching as she walked away. By now, he knew which girls he should leave alone, and which girls he could intimidate, like Carrie. They were the ones who would not say anything to their friends and family, who would bottle it all up, like timid little ants. He had even been tempted to break his own rule and had checked Carrie’s background, but been disappointed to learn she came from a stable home with no potential for a mysterious but plausible disappearance or suicide.

With a contented sigh, he gathered his thoughts and stepped forward to begin his class. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted them warmly. With a gentle demeanor, he embarked on the day’s lesson, guiding his pupils through the intricacies of computer science.

Pembroke had been shocked at the state of the girls when he brought them dinner that evening, but also very intrigued. He then watched the footage with interest. He was pleased that Sophie seemed to be firmly accepting her place in the world, but was concerned about Darya. Someone like little Carrie would have been a much better candidate for long-term sex slavery, he reflected. He was impressed by the anger of Darya, and turned on at the evil thought of how he had so wrecked the life of such a beautiful young girl. But it was playing with fire to keep her here.

That evening, he had interviewed them separately while the other was wrapped up in the sack, with headphones. Sophie had spent the time begging him for mercy, and that it was her fault that Darya had attacked her.

“Please daddy, Darya was on her period, please don’t hurt her she doesn’t mean it, I can teach I can train her to be a good slave for you.”

“Oh Sophie, you are an excellent slave, but I am not sure about Darya. It is going to be her third Capture Day soon, and she is still being troublesome, she may only cause more problems and I do not want her to do anything to you. I am afraid she may need to be disposed of soon.”

“No daddy, please I will do anything!”

“Haha Sophie, you already have to do everything!” Pembroke chuckled.

Sophie looked crestfallen and begged him with puppy dog eyes.

“Look I tell you what. As I said before, disposing of you girls is going to take a bit of organization, getting rid of all that sexy flesh and that without any trace. So we have a bit of time. I think I would need about a week to get things like saws and freezers sorted for example, so why don’t you use that time, to get Darya to behave? If we can have a pleasant Capture Day I will forget about all this, and we can go back to what is was like before.”

Sophie felt sick at the threat of killing Darya and the offhand way in which he talked about getting rid of her body. But she knew she had to convince her friend to behave.

Darya had been monotone and morose. “I am just sad, you cannot make me be happy by imprisoning me here. Daddy, do you even want me to be happy?”

“It’s not my primary concern” added Pembroke dyly. “But it would not be an unwelcome side effect. I cannot let you go, you know that. It is up to you to make the most of it. I do not think I am a monster, I don’t hurt you unless you misbehave.”

“I miss my family” Darya swallowed as she said it, with cold eyes.

“That is your problem. I suggest you put them out of your head.”

“Then daddy, why did you put up pictures of my sister. You taunt me about it…”

Pembroke smiled, she was right. He did not want her to put her family out of her head. He loved the fact she was missing her mother every day, it turned him on. Was it too much to just admit he was a monster?

“Embrace the fact that you won’t see your family again. You are a sex slave down here, yes you will feel miserable but, well you just have to deal with it. Just know that there is only one way you will ever leave here, and that is in tiny little pieces, about to burned and thrown away in twenty different places. Between then and now, just try and enjoy yourself, and if you misbehave anymore, I will hurt both you and Sophie.”

“Sophie is loyal to you, you don’t have to hurt her.”

“If it helps me motivate you, I absolutely will hurt Sophie. Darya, you are ruining the mood down here. I want you to empty your head of hope, that is what is driving you mad. Just accept I am going to be fucking you every day until the day you die, and everything will be better.”

From then on, Sophie tried to coax Darya into obedience. Darya did not want Sophie to be harmed and Sophie did not want to lose her best and only friend.

Meanwhile, Afshan Barwhani and Gerald Murphy continued to work on the case based on her findings. But everything stayed cold, all the CCTV and cyber evidence was already there and nothing new could be gleaned after 6 years.

Then they got a breakthrough but not a pleasant one. They had many examples of the face of Darya Talebani from social media and ran it through a facial recognition system. By 2019 the technology was sufficiently advanced that their system found a match.

The match was a video found on numerous websites of a dark haired tan skinned girl, crying and in pain, tied to a X-shaped cross, naked. She was being licked all over by a taller white girl wearing an obscene red mask covering her entire head, with red hair coming out of the top.

The video was hard to watch, the girl tied to the cross looked to be fourteen or fifteen and spent the entire time in tears, moaning words in English and Kurdish. The girl licking her looked to be taking direction from an unseen director. Later in the video, which was edited, the roles were reversed, the masked girl tied to the cross and the darker girl licking her. It seemed like it was strawberry jam and chocolate smeared over both of them.

Both Murphy and Bharwani were in tears after watching it. Afshan had to leave several times to throw up in the bathroom.

“Can we be sure that is Darya?”

“I am not sure it would stand up in court alone,” said Afshan “but it looks like her all right. And the horrible thing is, that red hair, the white girl? There is a good chance that is Sophie Yildiz.”

“Fucking hell” said the older detective. “I would rather she was dead than this. Why upload this?”

He probably knew he should hide Sophie, but maybe though Darya would be a complete disappearance, no one would care. I guess maybe he noticed she had been reported missing and so decided not to release any more.

This was almost true. Pembroke had wanted to release everything. The thought of tormenting Teresa and Yasmin about their daughters was often in his mind as he watched their daughters sucking him. But Sophie’s death was too good a story to ruin. And after deleting everything, he had no way to reach Yasmin especially after her phone was taken by the Turkish police.

With no one to taunt, he had figured there was no upside to releasing footage of either Darya or Sophie. He was also paranoid about his footage being traced by some new technology. His one exception had been this video, Sophie in a mask, and Darya looking so cute and terrified. He had changed his mind soon afterward, but not before someone else had seen it, downloaded it, and then spread it around themselves, completely oblivious to who was in the video.

“If we cannot use this to find them, what is the point of this?” asked Gerald Murphy.

“I think it confirms that they are being held together if that is them. And they are still alive,” replied Afshan.

“How can we be sure that is Darya? We obviously cannot tell if it is Sophie beyond circumstantial guessing.”

“Maybe we could ask the mother…” suggested Afshan.

“Christ, show this to her mum? My God, I don’t envy doing that…” Murphy was appalled at the thought.

Afshan visited Yasmin at her flat, asking about her daughter Darya and for more photos. Yasmin, who had spoken with Afshan before, was very curious about how their investigation was going.

“Why, do you need more photos? Have you found something?”

“Not exactly,” said Afshan nervously.

“Come on, tell me, please. I think of nothing but my daughter. She is all I have left. If she is dead, then I can know that all my children are dead, and I will be at peace. But it’s the thought of her being alive that kills me.”

Afshan bit her lip. Should she do this?

“Well, there may have been a sighting of her. We have one photo of her face. It’s a bit grainy…”

She showed Yasmin one still from the video. It was tightly cropped, and one could not see that Darya was naked or in too much pain or stress. It had taken Afshan an hour to find a decent still that did not convey that Darya was crying and in agony.

“Yes! Yes! This is Darya!” Yasmin exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears.

“OK, that is great news! Well, this was from a location that we are still trying to find, and we will hopefully get that information soon.”

“What?” Yasmin’s English was still quite bad, but even she knew this made no sense.

“Well, we don’t know where exactly it came from, but we will soon.”

Yasmin shrugged her shoulders. “OK, I trust you. You seem like a kind person.”

Yasmin looked at the photo again before handing it back. “She looks happy here, I think,” she said hopefully. “I pray she is safe and not in danger.”

“Excuse me, I need to use your bathroom,” Afshan said hurriedly, rushing to the bathroom and throwing up into the toilet.

The still had been taken when Darya just had orgasmed from the red-masked girl licking her pussy. Just half a second later, Darya’s mouth would be open in ecstatic orgasm and pleasure, before reverting back to an expression of pain and discomfort. The memory of the video, the fact that Darya had looked in terror and despair for 99.9% of the video apart from that still, coupled with Yasmin’s naivete, made her insides heave.

Meanwhile, Yasmin grew suspicious and went through the papers Afshan had left on her table in a hurry.

She took some photographs with her phone, and quickly hid it and put the papers back when Afshan returned.

“That’s all for now, Mrs Talebani. I promise you, we will do everything we can to find your daughter if she is still alive.”

Later that evening, Yasmin went through the photos of the text. She did not understand much, but understood police thought there was a video of her daughter, and found mention of the website address.

She tried to type it into her phone but could only find porn sites coming up. Annoyed, she tried to close them down, and re checked the website address.

Her blood ran cold as she realized she had the correct address. She prayed silently, then typed it in again and saw a video come up. It was her daughter, looking about the same age as she was when she disappeared, in the video.

Tears cascaded down Yasmin’s cheeks, her heart clenched as she stared transfixed at the ghastly scene unfolding before her. There, on the screen, her precious Darya stood stripped naked, crying and in terror. Bound to a cross, she resembled a sacrificial offering to some unseen malevolence.

Yasmin’s mind reeled in disbelief, unable to comprehend the nightmarish tableau before her.

As if summoned from the depths of her darkest fears, another figure emerged a naked white girl, or thing. Taller, pallid, and equally unclothed, it bore the mark of grotesque deformity—a hideous mask twisted into a mockery of humanity. With deliberate steps, it approached Darya.

Yasmin’s pulse quickened, her breaths shallow and ragged, as the figure knelt before her daughter.

She watched the masked head move between her daughter’s legs, and in that moment, Yasmin realized the true horror of her plight. She threw the phone across the room and screamed at the depravity she had seen happening to her own daughter.

She started to shriek and her housemates came rushing in, in concern. Yasmin was tearing at her hair, just as Darya had done in her cell. The thought this had been happening to her daughter for all these years was tearing her mind apart.

Her flatmates wrestled her to the ground, but could not get any sense out of her as she thrashed around like a madwoman. “DARYA! DARYA!” Yasmin just screamed at the top of her lungs until she was hoarse. She was out there, somewhere, maybe begging for her mother, who could do nothing for her.

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