Mark Townsend - Slavetrader's captive

Almost without hesitation, the impassioned young husband had then begun to make long sliding strokes in and out of his new wife's tortured cunt, groaning with each inward thrust as though he wanted to pierce her through and through. Then almost as abruptly as it had begun, just at the point when she had felt her vagina lubricating its passage and easing its smooth strokes, she had felt his cock begin to jerk wildly inside her as he pumped vigorously up into her wide-stretched loins. He mumbled incoherent obscenities above her as his spewing cock exploded, filling her with hotly spurting sperm, finally sinking its ejaculating length in to the hilt and holding it there. It throbbed and quivered like a wounded animal for a long time, while Robert slowly and painfully ground his pelvis in close circles against hers as she felt his full load of cum emptying into the inner softness of her belly. Finally his hardness was depleted – she felt his penis begin slowly deflating inside her as he collapsed in exhaustion over her nearly lifeless young body.

The ravaged young bride had felt him gradually regain control of his breathing, and then, without warning, he had raised himself up away from her, his now limp penis slipping wetly out of her sore stretched cunt with a slight sucking sound, a thin trail of hot sticky sperm trailing after it to seep down the smooth interior of her thighs.

Penny groaned in mortification in the taxi as she remembered what had happened next. Robert had stood up away from the bed and had looked down at her with nothing but uncaring disdain in his eyes.

"I don't know why I waited so long," he had spat the words out. "It wasn't even worth the trouble." With that he had hurriedly begun to get dressed, starting for the door as he put his jacket on again. "I'm going out to find myself a good piece of ass," he had hissed brutally at her. "Somebody who knows how to fuck."

And then he was gone, leaving her lying there to feel used and useless in her ravaged nakedness.

She had cried to herself for an hour or more after he had left, and then she had pulled herself weakly from the bed to take the shower he had prevented before.

It was while she stood weeping under the stinging streams of hot water that she had come to her decision to leave the hotel before he could return and subject her to still further humiliation. She had dressed and packed her things back into the suitcase she had so recently emptied.

On a sudden impulse in the lobby she had leafed through the brochures lying on the counter and decided to go to a motel she saw pictured in one of them, close to the historical site of ancient Troy. She had ignored the leering laughter hovering in the eyes of the night porter, finally getting into this taxi in which she now rose through the mysterious looking city toward the ferry to take them to the other side.

Though she had no idea what she would do after she had arrived at the motel, she was certain that she was doing the right thing. If she ever decided to let Robert know where she was, he would realize that he had to treat her with more respect and tenderness than he had so far. He would have to learn that she had feelings too, and when that happened she was sure she would be able to give him as much pleasure as any of those street whores he had gone out to find.

Meanwhile she would just go right on and enjoy seeing the strange new country she was in – she would try to forget everything that had occurred. Then they might be able to start all over again.

Penny felt the bump and lurch of the taxi as it passed from the hard asphalt surface onto the ramp of the ferry, and when they had stopped in the depths of the boat, she got out to see if she could find some coffee on one of the upper decks. When she reached the top of the steps leading up from where the cars were, she glanced back at the hazily silhouetted city. Something struck her as strange and then it finally dawned on her. The minarets thrusting up all over the place from the hundreds of mosques were like so many erect penises aiming at the moon. She laughed to herself, remembering that only a few hours before they had seemed like missiles aiming at the moon.

I'll show him who's sexy when we get together again, she whispered softly to herself.

She suddenly heard a light cough near her in the darkness and turned to see a Turk with a dark mustache running his eyes up and down her figure. Than she noticed a lighter patch on his black suit, and looking more closely, she realized with a start what it was.

He had unbuttoned his fly for her benefit! With a crawling sensation of horror running up and down her back, she discovered that he was holding his thick penis in his hand, slowly masturbating as his eyes roamed over the contours of her young body. She cried out in disbelief and hurried back to the taxi below. There she rolled up all the windows and locked the doors from the inside, not daring to move again until the ferry reached the other side and they were speeding off toward the distant motel on the Dardanelles.

The taxi entering the long driveway into the motel was visible from the night manager's office. Osman, on duty alone in the nearly deserted motel, was surprised to see the car and wondered who could be arriving at this time of the night. He had been bored by the lack of activity, but now his interest was aroused. He quickly slipped on his maroon blazer and stepped briskly out to meet the car now pulling to a halt outside his office. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the young girl sitting all alone in the back seat and his blood began to pound in his temples. Even if this young innocent-looking girl was some rich man's mistress coming to wait for him here, it could prove to be an interesting evening.

When he learned from the driver that she was American and would be alone, it was all he could do to keep from showing the excitement in his face, but he maintained his calm, efficient manner.

"Good evening, Madame," he said in an obsequious voice. "Osman, at your service." He bowed deeply as he opened the door of the taxi, offering his arm to assist her. Penny deliberately ignored his gesture and stepped out of the car on her own, casting an aloof glance in his direction, which was not lost on Osman, although he swallowed his pride and kept smiling at her. There would be plenty of time for him to even the score for her completely unwarranted rejection of his attentions if he had his way.

"Madame wants a cottage to herself? With a view?" He suggested in his senile way. He knew her type very well. As long as he pretended to bow and scrape to her, she would be satisfied.

"You have a vacancy then?" she asked. "They told me in Istanbul that you were hardly ever full. I guess they were right." Secretly the young fugitive wife was wondering why the motel was not jammed with people. Even in the dark she could see that it was a magnificent place to stay. The cabins were scattered about in a pine wood overlooking the water, with a lovely view of the islands scattered in the Dardanelles below. But she knew from her reading previous to the trip that the way to treat foreigners was to keep them off-balance by being haughty and disdainful. It would never do to let them think they had the upper hand, especially if you were an American.

"I suppose that will do," the lovely blonde said as though to nobody in particular, glancing around the office they had now entered as if expecting it to be infested with vermin. "You can get my bags from the taxi."

Without another word, Osman returned to the taxi and told the driver to put the bags in cabin number fourteen. He waited outside the door until the taxi driver returned ready to leave. Reaching through the window, Osman gave the one-eyed driver five hundred lira.

"You didn't bring the Madame here, do you understand?" he whispered in a harsh voice. "She changed her mind, and you took her to the airport."