Mark Townsend - Slavetrader's captive

"It's a pleasure to do business with you, Madame Afet," he tormented her, smiling obscenely down at her still wantonly sprawling body. Then he stood up and dressed quickly, running his eyes over the length of her abandonedly spread legs, the tatters of her torn panties bunched up around her slowly heaving belly. Her stockinged knees were bent outward away from each other on the bed and he could see the sticky pool of their mingled cum-juices forming beneath her buttocks. Her mouth hung slackly open in exhaustion, and her hair was matted on her forehead and lay in tangles under her face turned to one side.

He directed a final triumphant grin at her. She had been really fucked and they both knew it. Weakly she raised herself from the bed to dress and follow him to get the American girl she had paid so dearly for. It seemed to her that he had hardly gone out the door when she heard his footsteps returning at a fast running pace.

Hurriedly she slipped her dress down over her head, wondering what had gone wrong.

Nisli Bey was a dark-haired, dark-eyed man in his late thirties. He had been wealthy for most of his adult life, having made his money in all kinds of illegal endeavors, and he liked to live well. This showed in his elegant tailor-made clothes and in the slight paunch that was beginning to betray his liking for good food. One of his prime enjoyments in life was to find new innocent girls, preferably blondes from other countries, and to gradually lead them into a life of degradation and humiliation.

His usual way was to get his hands on them first and use their bodies in any way that appealed to him, before finally auctioning them off to the highest bidder. There were plenty of men with money to enable Nisli to live well on what he earned from this alone. But the money was not the main thing. The principal joy was the humiliation itself.

When he had received the late phone call from Osman at the motel, he had ordered his car to be brought around. Osman sometimes made mistakes in choosing girls for him, but not often. Now as Nisli sat in the black limousine on his way to the motel to view his prospective victim, he smiled to himself in anticipation. The reflecting headlights of passing cars caused the gold teeth in his mouth to flash when he grinned. It made his face seem much more sinister than it usually did, and the evil glint in his eyes as he thought about the new girl gave him an even more depraved look.

He lit up an aromatic oval cigarette, the brand specially made for him, and contentedly sucked in its rich smoke as he sat comfortably back in the seat. In his hand was a glass of milky white Turkish raki, and he sipped occasionally at the licorice-like drink, absentmindedly listening to the record he had put on the phonograph in the back of the driver's seat. He luxuriated in all these expensive toys, feeling warm and complacent in the knowledge that he was on his way to purchase still another one – this one of flesh and blood, his favorite now that the other pleasure of life had begun to bore him a little.

He saw the entrance to the motel ahead, and leaned forward as the driver turned in. He saw the car parked outside the office and, without a moment's hesitation, he spoke into the microphone connecting him to the driver.

"Stop the car, Mahmet," he ordered in a cold voice. "And turn out the lights."

Silently Nisli opened the car door and stepped onto the gravel driveway, standing up and heading immediately for the grass beyond. His highly polished black leather shoes glistened in the moonlight, betraying no sound as he made his way carefully toward the parked car ahead. Suddenly he stepped into the shadow of the nearby shrubbery. A man came out of the office and got into the car. He looked as if he were waiting for someone, lighting a cigarette and taking a few puffs before hanging his hand out the window in a relaxed way.

Nisli approached the car from the side and waited at a distance of a few yards to make sure his first impression was correct. Then the man turned his head to the side so that the light from the office shone directly on it, and Nisli knew. He cursed under his breath.

It was Madame Afet's driver!

That meant that Osman had called her about this girl too. Nisli was very sensitive about this kind of thing. First of all, he never admitted to anyone, not even Madame Afet, that he was in the white slave trade, and second, he never liked to be forced to compete with anyone else for a prospective girl. And Madame Afet was one of the most notorious operators of all the Istanbul houses of prostitution. She would only too gladly spread the word if she knew that he had been dealing with this low-life Osman.

Nisli hesitated a moment in the dark, and then on sudden impulse, he darted unseen across the driveway and made his way toward cabin number fourteen. At least he could observe what this pig Osman had thought worthy of his attention.

As he passed the cabin adjacent to number fourteen, he heard unmistakable sounds coming through the closed windows. He smiled grimly to himself, knowing what it meant. Osman had driven a hard bargain for the girl, and must have forced Afet to screw him first. The fact that Afet was actually going through with it meant that she too thought the American worth so heavy a price.

His interest now was even keener than before. He slipped into the observation storeroom, put his eye to the peephole, and nearly gasped out loud.

The American girl was truly a Goddess!

He could tell that she had been drugged by the manner in which the blonde young innocent was desperately trying to satisfy herself as her fingers massaged her clitoris and slipped wetly in and out of her openly exposed cunt. Nisli licked his lips at the sight of the long tapering legs, rounded white ass-cheeks, firm pink-tipped breasts. He strained to make out the girl's face, but though the outline was promising, he couldn't quite see her individual features.

As he watched her body thrashing and writhing on the bed as though being fucked by an invisible man mounted over her bucking torso, he felt his cock jerk inside his shorts, the beginning of an erection already making his balls ache with lust.

He had made up his mind. If this girl's face matched the rest of her, he had to have her. And there was only one way to find out, risky as it was. He closed the peephole and went out of the observation room toward the door into the cabin.

Luckily, he thought, the key is here. Making as little noise as possible, he let himself in and edged his way carefully toward the bed.

Inside the room, the moaning noises the drugged young bride was making filled the air as she strained in her semi-conscious state to satisfy the craving heat of her wide-splayed loins. The sense of desperate longing in her voice made Nisli's cock lurch heavily and thicken into a protruding bulge in his pants. He leaned over her thrashing form on the bed and looked down into her lust-contorted face.

Her eyes were tightly closed and her lips compressed into a narrow smile of sensuality, but he could tell that she was the most beautiful young woman he had seen for a long time. By now his expanded cock was throbbing painfully from the sight of the lewdly masturbating young blonde, and he unzipped his fly and squeezed its heavy pulsating length in his hand. This somewhat eased the aching, but he knew that there was only one way to rid himself of the bloated feeling building in his swollen testicles. He pushed the waistband of his shorts down inside his pants allowing his blood-distended cock to stand out in front of him, protruding over the naked girl on the bed below.

Slowly and experimentally he stroked the loose outer skin up and down over the blunt tip-end, considering whether or not to cum that way on the heaving white breasts of the young woman so wantonly lost in the throes of passion beneath him.