European Nightmare Part VI - Sex Stories

European Nightmare Part VI

... them, make them feel powerless and, most of all, enjoy himself. Early on he hadn’t understood this, merely obeying orders, fucking a long line of beautiful women and taking increasing pleasure in inflicting pain. Now, though knowing these girls were always changed here, he chose not to think about it. But now, walking up the stairs, he puzzled over what Olivia thought. Carrying her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, an arm across her pert little bottom, he wondered. Did she despair? Did she have an inner strength and determination to resist? And now he was suddenly troubled by thoughts of why he was worrying about what this bitch thought. He hadn’t worried about others nor had his feelings made him any easier on her than them. He’d fucked and abused them all. On going through the door, he veered right then into another room. Olivia was out of the dungeon for the first time but didn’t care. Though fearful of the future, it couldn’t be worse than the past. Indeed when Mehmet slung her on his shoulder, she tried to enjoy it as a brief respite from crippling agony. “Respite” was relative of course since her pussy throbbed painfully from Greta’s battering, her legs ached from hours of cramp and her elongated tongue felt strange and alien. Still, Greta’s absence was a plus for if the two Turks had been unbelievably cruel, she was worse. Another plus was leaving Holly. The two had been friends for years, virtually inseparable since primary school and doing everything ...

... together. To see and hear Greta abuse her, both physically and verbally, was like being abused herself. The cruelty wouldn’t stop but at least she wouldn’t have to see or hear it. The room differed from the dark and dingy basement since it had the basic fittings of a prison cell: a small bed and a chair, a space for a toilet and shower. Kicking the door shut, Mehmet put her on the mattress and silently dragged a chair to the middle of the room. Plonking himself down facing the bed, he stared at the girl curled in misery, her legs up to her chest, covering her breasts as best she could and turning her hips toward the wall to hide her arse and pussy from his gaze. Despite the hours of tears, she still looked beautiful. Mehmet could have just sat and watched her but he had a deadline. Clicking his fingers loudly to get her attention, he spoke in his softest voice. “No time to sleep, baby,” Mehmet whispered, “you must be ready to work. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you but I have to clean you up.” He tailed off as he realised he shouldn’t be talking, reassuring her or anything. The whole point was to grind down these girls’ self esteem and courteously talking to her shattered the illusion. Looking at the blinking camera in the corner, he knew that if Greta investigated, she would catch his unprofessional moment and potentially detect his weakness for this girl. The consequences of this weren’t clear but he didn’t want to find out – Greta was not one to get on the wrong side of. But he could ...