Not to mention humiliation, which I figure is the central theme of the entire story…
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Trailer Park Trixie's Torment, Part III - Istanbul, Turkey
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (10)
En-route to Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Tuesday 9th April 2019 at 11:35 am
Trixie sat shivering alone in the backseat of a Turkish police car. The early rain had given way to sunshine and a beautiful rainbow bridged the air ahead of them. But the idyllic scene outside was well and truly ridden roughshod over inside the leaking car. She was sitting in a wet sheen of dirty water on the plastic covered seat, her wrists now secured with tight plastic ties that burned into her delicate skin.
Her blue hoodie, still the only item of clothing that Trixie had been allowed other than the white cotton panties, was soaking wet around the bottom and clung to the naked skin underneath. The hem of the garment had had ridden up exposing most of her tanned, lean legs.
She was in shock. How had everything gone this bad so fast? Only a few days earlier she had been royally entertained by her boss, Jeffrey Hodges. Wined, dined and then well and truly sixty-nine’d, at the luxurious Sands hotel, life could not have been better. And then, all of the shit in all of the world well and truly hit Trixie Thomson’s fan …
The poor girl didn’t understand any of it, unless she had stepped on some serious toes by becoming so familiar so quickly with her boss. The young, hapless red head tried to concentrate her addled mind, but she knew that trying to make any sense out of this nightmare right now was not going to work. She had to focus on the outrageous allegation being levied against her.
However, even though Trixie had been apprehended by the police, her thoughts could not help but to stray to other people. Those poor girls back in Singapore, Barb and Amanda – sentenced to death, tried summarily and without even their lawyer being present. Poor Jeffrey. In her heart Trixie knew that he would have helped her if only he could, and she also knew that he cared about those girls and she could sense how much he would be suffering in the knowledge of their impending fate … but where there’s life there’s hope was Trixie’s motto.
She repeated the words out loud, but very quietly, to herself, “Where there’s life there’s hope …”
“Please be quiet Miss Thomson otherwise I will be forced to gag you.” Lieutenant Tekin sitting by her side, on the dry seat, glanced in her direction, his expression impassive, yet he could not help but take a glimpse down at the bear expanse of slender thigh that was on display.
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Tuesday 9th April 2019 at 19:00 pm
An overpowering stench hung in the air, so thick that Trixie could taste it, and she wondered if the odour was coming from her own unwashed body. Pressing her face against the jail cell bars, she searched for signs of life; another prisoner, a guard, anyone. She was nauseous, and her heart pounded in her ears. Looking around for a place to throw up, she found nothing – no toilet, no bucket ... nothing. If she got sick on the floor, she realised it would just be another burden for her to bear, another disgusting stench in this already repulsive pit.
Trixie needed to fight the nausea. She needed to regain control. Calming down a little, she peered out along the corridor again, and still could not see a soul. A distant sound was reverberating through the stone walls, and she strained her ears to see if she could make any sense of the noise. This left her feeling even more disoriented.
To take her mind off her fears, the stink, and her still growing revulsion, Trixie studied the small part of the prison that she could see – her own cell and the few surrounding areas within her line of vision. The place looked ancient, or at least this part of it did. Its crudely poured cement walls were coarse, unfinished, and cold. Its paint-chipped steel bars had been worn to the metal in several places. Trixie shivered to think how a captive’s hands must have worn them bare, and she wondered if she too would be begging through them in the years to come.
Once again, the stink surrounded her like a foul descending mist, and the poor girl, still wearing only the filthy blue hoody and the pair of still damp cotton panties, gagged in response. Trixie had been led here straight from the police car. That must have been several hours ago, and so far, she had not seen nor heard anyone. At first, she prayed that her senses would dull so the stench might become tolerable, but then she realised the folly of that wish. God forbid that she might ever become comfortable here. The idea that she might spend days, weeks, or even years in this horrible place brought another surge of panic, and Trixie pulled at the bars in frustration.
God, how can this be happening to me?
To Be Continued …
En-route to Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Tuesday 9th April 2019 at 11:35 am
Trixie sat shivering alone in the backseat of a Turkish police car. The early rain had given way to sunshine and a beautiful rainbow bridged the air ahead of them. But the idyllic scene outside was well and truly ridden roughshod over inside the leaking car. She was sitting in a wet sheen of dirty water on the plastic covered seat, her wrists now secured with tight plastic ties that burned into her delicate skin.
Her blue hoodie, still the only item of clothing that Trixie had been allowed other than the white cotton panties, was soaking wet around the bottom and clung to the naked skin underneath. The hem of the garment had had ridden up exposing most of her tanned, lean legs.
She was in shock. How had everything gone this bad so fast? Only a few days earlier she had been royally entertained by her boss, Jeffrey Hodges. Wined, dined and then well and truly sixty-nine’d, at the luxurious Sands hotel, life could not have been better. And then, all of the shit in all of the world well and truly hit Trixie Thomson’s fan …
The poor girl didn’t understand any of it, unless she had stepped on some serious toes by becoming so familiar so quickly with her boss. The young, hapless red head tried to concentrate her addled mind, but she knew that trying to make any sense out of this nightmare right now was not going to work. She had to focus on the outrageous allegation being levied against her.
However, even though Trixie had been apprehended by the police, her thoughts could not help but to stray to other people. Those poor girls back in Singapore, Barb and Amanda – sentenced to death, tried summarily and without even their lawyer being present. Poor Jeffrey. In her heart Trixie knew that he would have helped her if only he could, and she also knew that he cared about those girls and she could sense how much he would be suffering in the knowledge of their impending fate … but where there’s life there’s hope was Trixie’s motto.
She repeated the words out loud, but very quietly, to herself, “Where there’s life there’s hope …”
“Please be quiet Miss Thomson otherwise I will be forced to gag you.” Lieutenant Tekin sitting by her side, on the dry seat, glanced in her direction, his expression impassive, yet he could not help but take a glimpse down at the bear expanse of slender thigh that was on display.
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Tuesday 9th April 2019 at 19:00 pm
An overpowering stench hung in the air, so thick that Trixie could taste it, and she wondered if the odour was coming from her own unwashed body. Pressing her face against the jail cell bars, she searched for signs of life; another prisoner, a guard, anyone. She was nauseous, and her heart pounded in her ears. Looking around for a place to throw up, she found nothing – no toilet, no bucket ... nothing. If she got sick on the floor, she realised it would just be another burden for her to bear, another disgusting stench in this already repulsive pit.
Trixie needed to fight the nausea. She needed to regain control. Calming down a little, she peered out along the corridor again, and still could not see a soul. A distant sound was reverberating through the stone walls, and she strained her ears to see if she could make any sense of the noise. This left her feeling even more disoriented.
To take her mind off her fears, the stink, and her still growing revulsion, Trixie studied the small part of the prison that she could see – her own cell and the few surrounding areas within her line of vision. The place looked ancient, or at least this part of it did. Its crudely poured cement walls were coarse, unfinished, and cold. Its paint-chipped steel bars had been worn to the metal in several places. Trixie shivered to think how a captive’s hands must have worn them bare, and she wondered if she too would be begging through them in the years to come.
Once again, the stink surrounded her like a foul descending mist, and the poor girl, still wearing only the filthy blue hoody and the pair of still damp cotton panties, gagged in response. Trixie had been led here straight from the police car. That must have been several hours ago, and so far, she had not seen nor heard anyone. At first, she prayed that her senses would dull so the stench might become tolerable, but then she realised the folly of that wish. God forbid that she might ever become comfortable here. The idea that she might spend days, weeks, or even years in this horrible place brought another surge of panic, and Trixie pulled at the bars in frustration.
God, how can this be happening to me?
To Be Continued …
Poor Trixie needs some company, isn’t there a friendly guard somewhere to give her a taste of leather to take her mind off things?
You'll be waiting a while for a friendly guard. I fear!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (11)
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Wednesday 10th April 2019 at 03:30 am
Lieutenant Tekin was attempting to unravel his aching limbs when one of the prison guards arrived carefully holding a curved see-through glass filled with steaming hot tea.
“Teşekkürler …” Tekin smiled, (thank you).
Silivri prison was not his normal place of work. Ordinarily he would be ensconced in the relative comfort of the Foreigners’ Department at Istanbul Police HQ. But this girl, Miss Trixie Thomson, was a foreigner that now came under his jurisdiction, and given the focus currently being given to outside influences on the drug trafficking trade in Turkey, he knew that he had to do whatever it took to make sure the girl told him everything he needed to know.
After having her put into an isolation cell several hours ago, Tekin had decided to let the girl stew for a while, giving him a chance to catch up on some necessary sleep. But now he was awake and ready to begin.
******
Extract from the Torture in Turkey report,
Amnesty International October 2001
“… In Turkey, torture mainly occurs in the first days of police or gendarmerie custody, when detainees are held without any contact with the outside world. Detainees are routinely blindfolded during interrogations and some are held blindfolded throughout their entire police detention. Other methods of torture and ill-treatment regularly reported include heavy beating, whipping, being stripped naked, sexual abuse, death and rape threats, other psychological torture, and deprivation of sleep, food, drink and use of the toilet. Some detainees are also exposed to electric shocks, hanging by the arms, spraying with cold pressurized water and falaka (beating of the soles of the feet). Local human rights defenders stated that security officers mainly use rough methods when they expect the detainees to be remanded to prison and therefore would have little chance of a comprehensive medical examination which would secure medical evidence …”
Despite platitudinal efforts, in truth here had been little improvement in such methods in the eighteen years since this report was issued …
******
After taking the tea from the burley guard, Tekin swung his legs off the raised pile of blankets acting as his make-shift bed and said to the guard that had been assigned to him, the one who had brought the tea, "Get the interrogation room ready, and I'll get the girl."
Davor Tekin came from a family of uniformed personnel. His grandfather had belonged to the PÖH (Polis Özel Harekât), which is the tactically deployable unit of the General Directorate of Security, and his father was in the Turkish Special Forces. As a schoolboy, following in their footsteps was all that Davor had ever wanted, and so now, as a Senior Operational Officer in the Foreigners’ Department at HQ he had realised his dream. If this ignorant Western Slut had dared to abuse the welcoming arms of his great Republic, she must be shown the error of her ways, and made to pay …
Trixie was asleep in her cell when Tekin arrived, curled up in the corner of the stark stone-walled room, and she didn't move an inch when the Lieutenant called her name. He entered the room and shook the slumbering girl by the arm. She moaned and stretched her body from the foetal position she had been sleeping in, and then gasped as her eyes flickered open and she saw the man standing over her.
Memories of the previous night came flooding back.
"Miss Thomson, you need to get up and come with me."
Trixie looked around the cell as she stretched out her folded legs and sat up. She was disoriented and shivered as she hugged the hoody to her body, and then hung her head as she whispered, "I need to pee."
Tekin pointed to a dark hole in the cell’s corner, a slimy aperture that Trixie hadn’t seen in the dark, and one that most probably accounted for a good amount of the constant stench.
"Go right ahead. I'll wait."
She opened her mouth to protest but saw no sympathy in his eyes.
"I have to stay,” Tekin said offering up a modicum of explanatory verbal compassion.
Her bladder was painfully full, she had to go, there was no choice in the matter. Trixie stood with a groan and walked to the uncovered toilet. She only had to raise the hoody a couple of inches before pulling down her water-stained panties to squat on her haunches over the hole whilst the monstrous Lieutenant watched. He stared at her, refusing to look away, causing the girl to sob quietly as she realised how dire her predicament was.
Trixie had worked so hard to leave Branchwater for a new and better life, but this existence was much worse than Bubba Jim’s trailer park. At least there she had a flushing toilet to use. She was finishing off when a new wave of intense nausea overwhelmed her, and the poor girl barely had time to reverse her position and kneel in front of the hole before she dry-heaved her empty stomach, spewing thick globs of saliva and bile into the smelly aperture.
She was still kneeling in front of the opening when a second man entered the cell. " Lieutenant, what's taking so fucking long?" It was, Dündar Kılıç, a Senior Guard at Silivri Prison, assigned to Tekin … the one who had brought the tea and prepared the interrogation room.
"Sorry, she just puked. I think she's got it under control now." The police officer helped the wretched girl to her feet and began to lead her out of the cell.
"Wait, Lieutenant. We need to secure her wrists before she can leave the isolation cells,” Kılıç prompted, before reaching into his pocket to take out a number of plastic cable-ties. He looped one around each of Trixie’s wrists, and then took a third tie and threaded it through the fastening on each wrist to secure her hands together at the front of her body.
"Now we can proceed."
On the way to the interrogation room, Tekin grabbed a bottle of water from a refrigerator and offered it to Trixie. Using both hands she gratefully took the chilled bottle and rinsed her mouth before swallowing.
"Thanks." She whispered, forcing a weak smile.
The interrogation room was bare except for a table and four chairs. Kılıç led the girl to a seat and fastened her wrists to a metal loop set in the top of the table. He already had a laptop setup, and once they were all seated, he deferred to the Senior Police Officer, who proceeded to ask Trixie her name, address, date of birth and a few other details ‘for the record’. He then sat back in his chair and simply looked at the girl.
“What about my rights?” Trixie finally managed to say.
Her question was simply ignored, treated with disdain as if, right at this moment in time, she had no rights at all.
Bizarrely, in the brief silence that ensued, Trixie thought once again about her life back home in Alabama. She had hated it, couldn’t wait to get away from the uncaring Mother, the absent Father and the staring, leering eyes of every boy or man she ever met. But right now, being tucked up warm in her small single pull-out bed in that rough, rented trailer, had never seemed so welcoming … she almost yearned for it.
With an unexpected movement Kılıç left the room but soon returned with a small cardboard box in which the sole item was her small clutch purse.
"We found this in your jacket,” Kılıç showed Trixie the item in question, then added, ”Is it yours?"
To Be Continued …
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Wednesday 10th April 2019 at 03:30 am
Lieutenant Tekin was attempting to unravel his aching limbs when one of the prison guards arrived carefully holding a curved see-through glass filled with steaming hot tea.
“Teşekkürler …” Tekin smiled, (thank you).
Silivri prison was not his normal place of work. Ordinarily he would be ensconced in the relative comfort of the Foreigners’ Department at Istanbul Police HQ. But this girl, Miss Trixie Thomson, was a foreigner that now came under his jurisdiction, and given the focus currently being given to outside influences on the drug trafficking trade in Turkey, he knew that he had to do whatever it took to make sure the girl told him everything he needed to know.
After having her put into an isolation cell several hours ago, Tekin had decided to let the girl stew for a while, giving him a chance to catch up on some necessary sleep. But now he was awake and ready to begin.
******
Extract from the Torture in Turkey report,
Amnesty International October 2001
“… In Turkey, torture mainly occurs in the first days of police or gendarmerie custody, when detainees are held without any contact with the outside world. Detainees are routinely blindfolded during interrogations and some are held blindfolded throughout their entire police detention. Other methods of torture and ill-treatment regularly reported include heavy beating, whipping, being stripped naked, sexual abuse, death and rape threats, other psychological torture, and deprivation of sleep, food, drink and use of the toilet. Some detainees are also exposed to electric shocks, hanging by the arms, spraying with cold pressurized water and falaka (beating of the soles of the feet). Local human rights defenders stated that security officers mainly use rough methods when they expect the detainees to be remanded to prison and therefore would have little chance of a comprehensive medical examination which would secure medical evidence …”
Despite platitudinal efforts, in truth here had been little improvement in such methods in the eighteen years since this report was issued …
******
After taking the tea from the burley guard, Tekin swung his legs off the raised pile of blankets acting as his make-shift bed and said to the guard that had been assigned to him, the one who had brought the tea, "Get the interrogation room ready, and I'll get the girl."
Davor Tekin came from a family of uniformed personnel. His grandfather had belonged to the PÖH (Polis Özel Harekât), which is the tactically deployable unit of the General Directorate of Security, and his father was in the Turkish Special Forces. As a schoolboy, following in their footsteps was all that Davor had ever wanted, and so now, as a Senior Operational Officer in the Foreigners’ Department at HQ he had realised his dream. If this ignorant Western Slut had dared to abuse the welcoming arms of his great Republic, she must be shown the error of her ways, and made to pay …
Trixie was asleep in her cell when Tekin arrived, curled up in the corner of the stark stone-walled room, and she didn't move an inch when the Lieutenant called her name. He entered the room and shook the slumbering girl by the arm. She moaned and stretched her body from the foetal position she had been sleeping in, and then gasped as her eyes flickered open and she saw the man standing over her.
Memories of the previous night came flooding back.
"Miss Thomson, you need to get up and come with me."
Trixie looked around the cell as she stretched out her folded legs and sat up. She was disoriented and shivered as she hugged the hoody to her body, and then hung her head as she whispered, "I need to pee."
Tekin pointed to a dark hole in the cell’s corner, a slimy aperture that Trixie hadn’t seen in the dark, and one that most probably accounted for a good amount of the constant stench.
"Go right ahead. I'll wait."
She opened her mouth to protest but saw no sympathy in his eyes.
"I have to stay,” Tekin said offering up a modicum of explanatory verbal compassion.
Her bladder was painfully full, she had to go, there was no choice in the matter. Trixie stood with a groan and walked to the uncovered toilet. She only had to raise the hoody a couple of inches before pulling down her water-stained panties to squat on her haunches over the hole whilst the monstrous Lieutenant watched. He stared at her, refusing to look away, causing the girl to sob quietly as she realised how dire her predicament was.
Trixie had worked so hard to leave Branchwater for a new and better life, but this existence was much worse than Bubba Jim’s trailer park. At least there she had a flushing toilet to use. She was finishing off when a new wave of intense nausea overwhelmed her, and the poor girl barely had time to reverse her position and kneel in front of the hole before she dry-heaved her empty stomach, spewing thick globs of saliva and bile into the smelly aperture.
She was still kneeling in front of the opening when a second man entered the cell. " Lieutenant, what's taking so fucking long?" It was, Dündar Kılıç, a Senior Guard at Silivri Prison, assigned to Tekin … the one who had brought the tea and prepared the interrogation room.
"Sorry, she just puked. I think she's got it under control now." The police officer helped the wretched girl to her feet and began to lead her out of the cell.
"Wait, Lieutenant. We need to secure her wrists before she can leave the isolation cells,” Kılıç prompted, before reaching into his pocket to take out a number of plastic cable-ties. He looped one around each of Trixie’s wrists, and then took a third tie and threaded it through the fastening on each wrist to secure her hands together at the front of her body.
"Now we can proceed."
On the way to the interrogation room, Tekin grabbed a bottle of water from a refrigerator and offered it to Trixie. Using both hands she gratefully took the chilled bottle and rinsed her mouth before swallowing.
"Thanks." She whispered, forcing a weak smile.
The interrogation room was bare except for a table and four chairs. Kılıç led the girl to a seat and fastened her wrists to a metal loop set in the top of the table. He already had a laptop setup, and once they were all seated, he deferred to the Senior Police Officer, who proceeded to ask Trixie her name, address, date of birth and a few other details ‘for the record’. He then sat back in his chair and simply looked at the girl.
“What about my rights?” Trixie finally managed to say.
Her question was simply ignored, treated with disdain as if, right at this moment in time, she had no rights at all.
Bizarrely, in the brief silence that ensued, Trixie thought once again about her life back home in Alabama. She had hated it, couldn’t wait to get away from the uncaring Mother, the absent Father and the staring, leering eyes of every boy or man she ever met. But right now, being tucked up warm in her small single pull-out bed in that rough, rented trailer, had never seemed so welcoming … she almost yearned for it.
With an unexpected movement Kılıç left the room but soon returned with a small cardboard box in which the sole item was her small clutch purse.
"We found this in your jacket,” Kılıç showed Trixie the item in question, then added, ”Is it yours?"
To Be Continued …
That girl has such a big heart. Forever sweet!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Perhaps when they are all old ladies they will have reunions, to reminisce about their experiences of the various penal regimes in which they were incarcerated.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (12)
Deputy Director’s Office, CNB Headquarters, Friday 12th April 10:15 AM Singapore time
Deputy Director Keefer Williams let a smug, self-satisfied grin break out on his face. His planned hounding of that cowardly American lawyer, Jeffrey Hodges, had been curtailed, at least for the time being. The deporting of the red-haired slut together with the fact that Hodges seemed to have been taken under the wing of Ambassador Walkerson himself, meant that getting to Hodges and making him pay for the part he played in the death of Lieutenant Jimmy Rogers, his respected colleague accused of raping Hodges’ previous assistant, Amanda Jones, would be difficult.
“Ho, come here and see this.” Williams touched a key on his keyboard and the display lit up again as his colleague, Lieutenant Ho Ming, leaned in over his shoulder. “You recall that red-haired Jìnǚ (whore), the one who was deported recently …”
“Yes Sir, very much so …” Lieutenant Ho Ming replied.
“Well, I understand that they detained her in Istanbul, and you will never guess what Ho?”
“Erm, did they by any chance find a kilo of Afghan Hash in her baggage …”
“Not just that, they then discovered a small white packet of powder in her purse.”
“Did they really sir?” The two officers shared a knowing smile.
“And so now,” Williams continued, “… Miss Trixie Thomson has been detained at their pleasure and will remain so whilst they ‘investigate’ her crimes.
“You mean she hasn’t been given probation?”
“That’s correct Ho. I mean they couldn’t very well risk letting her out onto the streets once they had found cocaine in addition to the hash, could they.” The Deputy Director’s words were filled with relish.
“So, you mean that little slip of a thing is being held inside a Turkish prison alongside all those big burley guards and sex-starved inmates?”
“That’s exactly what I mean Ming.” Williams’ voice manifested the lust that tingled inside his stomach. “Our Turkish Colleagues have just updated me.”
“Oh, erm, right …” Ming stumbled over his words. “I don’t suppose they’ve sent you any graphic proof, by any chance?”
Keefer Williams laughed. “You mean did they send pictures? Damn right they did.”
The two men settled down to enjoy a viewing of Trixie Thomson being intimately searched and routinely humiliated inside the secure walls of Silivri Prison.
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Wednesday 10th April 2019 at 11:30 am
It had only been a few days since Trixie found any chance of probation taken cruelly away from her. Instead, she had been incarcerated here in this stinking hell-hole of a prison, but that did not stop a team of four over-zealous guards from rampaging into her cell and conducting a surprise, inspection of her derisory cage.
“What, the … what are you …?” Trixie was so taken by surprise when they burst in that she couldn’t form a coherent word. While one of the guards cuffed Trixie’s wrists and held her pressed against the heavy closed iron-barred door, the other three tore her cell apart. With the meagre blanket trampled under their heavy boots, the squalid mattress was tossed aside so that the guard she had come to know as Kılıç could reach down under it and emerge holding a prison shiv, a toothbrush sharpened by rubbing the end against the stone walls.
Trixie's mouth opened in confusion a state of mind that immediately turned to dread. "No, no that isn't mine!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen it before. It isn't mine … you have to believe me!"
"It's your cell and your bunk, bitch. That makes it yours", Kılıç said with a sly smile.
She had been set up again …
"Tomorrow after first head-count you will be taken to the yard and punished. Twenty lashes across your back." Kılıç deliberately scheduled the cruel discipline for the morning so she would have the entire long and no doubt sleepless night to think about it, filling her anxious mind with fearful anticipation.
Carlton Hotel, Bras Basah Road, Singapore at 12:20 PM
The Carlton Hotel in Singapore was an opulent feast of five-star luxury. A stone’s throw from the esteemed and renowned Cricket Club, its website told of how the hotel was committed to a more sustainable future by launching their “Go Green, Stay Sustainable” initiative. However, it was the discretion afforded by its sheer size, and willingness to offer endless credit to foreign embassy staff that held the real allure of this hotel.
In room number 823, a Carlton Club Room in the Main Tower, it was nothing to do with the hotel’s Green Policy that was stimulating its occupants right at that moment.
The room service lunch was still under wraps on the hotel trolley, although the chilled bottle of Cheval Blanc had been opened and two glasses poured which, as yet, remained virtually untouched.
The man, naked save for a pair of tight boxers that fought to keep his middle-aged paunch in check, rubbed the naked girl’s ass again. He then retrieved the belt he'd purposely made her leave on the bed following the fortieth lash of hard leather across her bare buttocks. Now, once again, enjoying the feel of it in his hands, Ambassador Scot Walkerson folded it in half and cracked it, watching as Kathy’s head snapped back to look at him.
His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her, watching her cringe and shudder. He drew the folded belt back and delivered a well-aimed smack to Hodge’s wife’s bottom, enjoying the delicious sound of the pregnant girl yelping loudly, her back arching upon feeling the impact.
"Forty-one, thank you Sir."
Their Friday lunch dates had evolved from a simple meal and flirtatious conversation, with the odd grope thrown in for good measure, to this … naked bondage at the Carlton Hotel. He knew it was dangerous, and that if the nature of this affair ever came out, he would be finished here in Singapore, but Kathy Hodges was such a sexy little vixen, that once she had responded positively to his ‘suggestions’, having her like this was the inevitable outcome.
He delivered the last nine belt strokes to Kathy’s red and welted ass and the backs of her thighs, until he heard her cry out, "Fifty, thank you, Sir!"
Walkerson tossed the belt away into the corner of the room, and said, "Good girl, now relax and prepare that sexy little mouth of yours for me.”
Kathy collapsed onto the bed, her ass stinging, tears welling up in her eyes. She was proud of herself for enduring the pain that Scot had delivered, because she knew what a boon it would be to her husband’s ever burgeoning career … but still she couldn’t stop herself from crying.
To Be Continued …
Deputy Director’s Office, CNB Headquarters, Friday 12th April 10:15 AM Singapore time
Deputy Director Keefer Williams let a smug, self-satisfied grin break out on his face. His planned hounding of that cowardly American lawyer, Jeffrey Hodges, had been curtailed, at least for the time being. The deporting of the red-haired slut together with the fact that Hodges seemed to have been taken under the wing of Ambassador Walkerson himself, meant that getting to Hodges and making him pay for the part he played in the death of Lieutenant Jimmy Rogers, his respected colleague accused of raping Hodges’ previous assistant, Amanda Jones, would be difficult.
“Ho, come here and see this.” Williams touched a key on his keyboard and the display lit up again as his colleague, Lieutenant Ho Ming, leaned in over his shoulder. “You recall that red-haired Jìnǚ (whore), the one who was deported recently …”
“Yes Sir, very much so …” Lieutenant Ho Ming replied.
“Well, I understand that they detained her in Istanbul, and you will never guess what Ho?”
“Erm, did they by any chance find a kilo of Afghan Hash in her baggage …”
“Not just that, they then discovered a small white packet of powder in her purse.”
“Did they really sir?” The two officers shared a knowing smile.
“And so now,” Williams continued, “… Miss Trixie Thomson has been detained at their pleasure and will remain so whilst they ‘investigate’ her crimes.
“You mean she hasn’t been given probation?”
“That’s correct Ho. I mean they couldn’t very well risk letting her out onto the streets once they had found cocaine in addition to the hash, could they.” The Deputy Director’s words were filled with relish.
“So, you mean that little slip of a thing is being held inside a Turkish prison alongside all those big burley guards and sex-starved inmates?”
“That’s exactly what I mean Ming.” Williams’ voice manifested the lust that tingled inside his stomach. “Our Turkish Colleagues have just updated me.”
“Oh, erm, right …” Ming stumbled over his words. “I don’t suppose they’ve sent you any graphic proof, by any chance?”
Keefer Williams laughed. “You mean did they send pictures? Damn right they did.”
The two men settled down to enjoy a viewing of Trixie Thomson being intimately searched and routinely humiliated inside the secure walls of Silivri Prison.
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Wednesday 10th April 2019 at 11:30 am
It had only been a few days since Trixie found any chance of probation taken cruelly away from her. Instead, she had been incarcerated here in this stinking hell-hole of a prison, but that did not stop a team of four over-zealous guards from rampaging into her cell and conducting a surprise, inspection of her derisory cage.
“What, the … what are you …?” Trixie was so taken by surprise when they burst in that she couldn’t form a coherent word. While one of the guards cuffed Trixie’s wrists and held her pressed against the heavy closed iron-barred door, the other three tore her cell apart. With the meagre blanket trampled under their heavy boots, the squalid mattress was tossed aside so that the guard she had come to know as Kılıç could reach down under it and emerge holding a prison shiv, a toothbrush sharpened by rubbing the end against the stone walls.
Trixie's mouth opened in confusion a state of mind that immediately turned to dread. "No, no that isn't mine!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen it before. It isn't mine … you have to believe me!"
"It's your cell and your bunk, bitch. That makes it yours", Kılıç said with a sly smile.
She had been set up again …
"Tomorrow after first head-count you will be taken to the yard and punished. Twenty lashes across your back." Kılıç deliberately scheduled the cruel discipline for the morning so she would have the entire long and no doubt sleepless night to think about it, filling her anxious mind with fearful anticipation.
Carlton Hotel, Bras Basah Road, Singapore at 12:20 PM
The Carlton Hotel in Singapore was an opulent feast of five-star luxury. A stone’s throw from the esteemed and renowned Cricket Club, its website told of how the hotel was committed to a more sustainable future by launching their “Go Green, Stay Sustainable” initiative. However, it was the discretion afforded by its sheer size, and willingness to offer endless credit to foreign embassy staff that held the real allure of this hotel.
In room number 823, a Carlton Club Room in the Main Tower, it was nothing to do with the hotel’s Green Policy that was stimulating its occupants right at that moment.
The room service lunch was still under wraps on the hotel trolley, although the chilled bottle of Cheval Blanc had been opened and two glasses poured which, as yet, remained virtually untouched.
The man, naked save for a pair of tight boxers that fought to keep his middle-aged paunch in check, rubbed the naked girl’s ass again. He then retrieved the belt he'd purposely made her leave on the bed following the fortieth lash of hard leather across her bare buttocks. Now, once again, enjoying the feel of it in his hands, Ambassador Scot Walkerson folded it in half and cracked it, watching as Kathy’s head snapped back to look at him.
His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her, watching her cringe and shudder. He drew the folded belt back and delivered a well-aimed smack to Hodge’s wife’s bottom, enjoying the delicious sound of the pregnant girl yelping loudly, her back arching upon feeling the impact.
"Forty-one, thank you Sir."
Their Friday lunch dates had evolved from a simple meal and flirtatious conversation, with the odd grope thrown in for good measure, to this … naked bondage at the Carlton Hotel. He knew it was dangerous, and that if the nature of this affair ever came out, he would be finished here in Singapore, but Kathy Hodges was such a sexy little vixen, that once she had responded positively to his ‘suggestions’, having her like this was the inevitable outcome.
He delivered the last nine belt strokes to Kathy’s red and welted ass and the backs of her thighs, until he heard her cry out, "Fifty, thank you, Sir!"
Walkerson tossed the belt away into the corner of the room, and said, "Good girl, now relax and prepare that sexy little mouth of yours for me.”
Kathy collapsed onto the bed, her ass stinging, tears welling up in her eyes. She was proud of herself for enduring the pain that Scot had delivered, because she knew what a boon it would be to her husband’s ever burgeoning career … but still she couldn’t stop herself from crying.
To Be Continued …
I’m charging up my loathometer again!
Mmmm, Kathy sure does become more interesting the more I learn of her… mmmmm, I know that feeling, 50 on the backside before erotic play, sounds like great warm up to me! A pity there seems no place in MI6 for masochistic males!
Great read, @Fossy , you’re turning up the heat very well. I can’t help but feel Trixie’s deep humiliation, and her approaching corporal punishment makes me salivate! I hope they use a whip! Serves her right for letting them hide a shiv in her stained mattress!
Great read, @Fossy , you’re turning up the heat very well. I can’t help but feel Trixie’s deep humiliation, and her approaching corporal punishment makes me salivate! I hope they use a whip! Serves her right for letting them hide a shiv in her stained mattress!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
Hear. hear. I particularly liked the CNB HQ sequence-----those bastards!
Sounds positively Wodehouseian!
In that vein:
I say, dashed fine chapter, Fossy, old bean! What?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (13)
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Thursday 11th April 2019 at 09:30 am
Trixie didn't sleep at all the night before her punishment.
Promptly at 9:00 am, with the head count call over, she stood, shivering with fear … waiting. It was only a few minutes after 9 o’clock when two guards, not Kılıç on this occasion, escorted her to the yard, each holding an arm. Behind her, several lines of other inmates were marched out. It was the most she had seen of other people since her arrival here … and they were all being readied to watch her being whipped.
As she emerged from the door she stopped and tried to back away when she saw what awaited her there.
“Oh God please, no, this is not right, please … PLEEEEEASE!” For the first time in her young life Trixie Thomson wanted her mummy!
In the centre of the yard stood a wooden frame, a sturdy upright with a horizontal plank at the top. Fighting the approach, Trixie had to be dragged forward to it. As she got closer, she saw that the plank had three holes, two small ones at the end and a larger one in the middle. Another guard, once again not Kılıç, stood beside it.
When she was nothing but a few feet away, with a clear view of the scaffold structure, the guard pulled the front of the board away and Trixie immediately understood. It was a horizontal pillory, a thing out of the Dark Ages, like she had seen in historical movies on cable TV back home. Except this was no movie, this was her fate.
Kılıç turned to the prison’s appointed whipmaster. "Corrections Officer Ergin Ataman, you will administer the discipline. Prepare the prisoner."
One of the other guards approached from the rear and Trixie felt her prison shirt, the new one she had been given only the previous day, being cut up the centre allowing the sides to be yanked apart in order to expose her back. The large shears then sliced through the middle strap of the plain uniform bra, which, along with the blue-grey top, was torn from her body, leaving her almost naked and very vulnerable. When her white cotton panties were ripped away then her denuding was complete.
With three powerful guards for the job, it was only a few seconds before her wrists were placed against the smaller holes and her neck into the middle one. The other half-board was returned into place and locked so that she stood helpless with her head fastened inside and her arms out at right angles to either side. The rest of the assembled inmates, both male and female, gathered in two lines either side of the pillory. This wasn't the first time they had witnessed a beating and they were looking forward to seeing this new bitch taught a lesson.
From behind her Trixie heard a familiar voice. Now Kılıç was here. She couldn’t turn her head but she could hear the man clearly enough. "Prisoner Number 2879, Miss Beatrix Thomson, was found in possession of an illegal weapon during inspection. This is a serious offense that endangers all of you. The punishment is twenty lashes on her bare back."
The poor girl was terrified already, but her terror grew much worse when the muscular Ergin Ataman walked around to her front. He raised one hand before her face causing Trixie to squeal in panic when she saw what he held. It was a whip, nine feet of braided black leather that tapered to a split tip – a lash they called the ‘Blacksnake’ back home.
"You have a right to be afraid, prisoner Thomson," he said with a soft malevolence. "This is your first taste of the lash so I will make sure you remember it. You go ahead and scream all you want, but that won't make it hurt any less or make me go any easier on you.”
Ataman moved away, to her left and several feet behind. As he dropped the end of the blacksnake and shook it loose, a deathly silence fell eerily throughout the entire yard. He looked at the expanse of bare skin before him, choosing his target, then swept his arm forward with a twist of his shoulders to increase the force of the impact.
“CRACK!” The whip exploded across the middle of her back. Perhaps two seconds passed, then a full-throated bellow of suffering ripped from the Trixie's throat. Her feet danced and her body jerked wildly, but she was helpless trapped inside the wooden pillory.
Ergin gave her thirty seconds to fully experience the feeling, the optimum gap to maximise the recipient’s suffering, before launching another full-arm stroke that landed a perfect inch above the first.
Again, Trixie wailed her agony, a pitiful mourn that echoed throughout the entire yard. Thirty seconds later, a third angry line of leather infused agony crossed her torso drawing yet another screech from the beaten girl.
The pattern of the flogging continued in this way until the whip had struck ten times. For Trixie the ordeal was especially harrowing since she couldn't see the man who was lashing her so hard and without an ounce of mercy. There was no warning when the next impact would strike her body; just a split second when she heard the hissing sound fly through the air, quickly followed by the hideous explosion of pain.
Ataman paused at this point so that he could approach his victim and inspect his work. He was extremely experienced and had, once again, been precise with his aim, such that the once smooth skin was now criss-crossed with rising red lines.
Trixie’s body was heaving as she sucked in air and he could see a layer of sweat emerging between the welts. Good, that will add to her pain. He reached out and ran his fingers across several of the brighter, most raised stripes, those inflicted at the start of the process, relishing how the bruised flesh rose up under his touch. The miserable girl whimpered. Even such a gentle caress was painful. Ergin leaned forward until his head was close to hers.
"Halfway through," he whispered. " Now I'm going to get down to the really severe beating."
He returned to his place, but this time a foot or so further away. Focussing on Trixie’s captive body he launched the Blacksnake for the eleventh time, and this time it was a smaller but more impactive section of whip that cut into her lower back.
"Nooooooooooooooo!” Trixie wailed. There was still no other sound to be heard, save for the poor girl’s cries and the whistling of the whip, as the braided devil drew blood for the first time.
Five minutes later, the ghastly torture finally came to an end. The long, tanned, slender legs that had danced so delightfully at the beginning of the beating, now sagged, bent at the knees. But for the immovable pillory holding her body erect, Trixie would have collapsed to the ground.
As it was, she was barely conscious, aware of nothing but the withering agony that consumed her brain.
Before she was freed from the frame, however, there was one final assault. While Ergin coiled the bloody whip into its position of rest, Kılıç approached Trixie carrying a bucket. He threw the contents, a strong brine, against the girl’s inflamed and bleeding body.
"Ahhrggggggggggh!" The wretched girl screeched, revived by this fresh violation to her senses. Trixie writhed against the unyielding pillory, her feet once again prancing vigorously beneath her. Finally, the contortions weakened and stopped. Kılıç and Ergin Ataman unlocked and removed the back of the plank. The beaten red head’s broken body crumpled towards the ground, but Ataman was there to catch and hold her in his intrusive grip, whereupon he took the opportunity to reach around to the front of her body and fondle her breasts … he could feel clearly how soft and yielding Trixie’s flesh was in his hands and he felt his cock immediately stiffen.
It was only then that Kılıç called the original guards over and ordered them to return the beaten girl to her cell. So weak was Trixie from the vicious whipping that the two men had to drape her arms over their shoulders and carry her between them, her feet dragging across the hard floor of the yard.
To Be Continued …
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Thursday 11th April 2019 at 09:30 am
Trixie didn't sleep at all the night before her punishment.
Promptly at 9:00 am, with the head count call over, she stood, shivering with fear … waiting. It was only a few minutes after 9 o’clock when two guards, not Kılıç on this occasion, escorted her to the yard, each holding an arm. Behind her, several lines of other inmates were marched out. It was the most she had seen of other people since her arrival here … and they were all being readied to watch her being whipped.
As she emerged from the door she stopped and tried to back away when she saw what awaited her there.
“Oh God please, no, this is not right, please … PLEEEEEASE!” For the first time in her young life Trixie Thomson wanted her mummy!
In the centre of the yard stood a wooden frame, a sturdy upright with a horizontal plank at the top. Fighting the approach, Trixie had to be dragged forward to it. As she got closer, she saw that the plank had three holes, two small ones at the end and a larger one in the middle. Another guard, once again not Kılıç, stood beside it.
When she was nothing but a few feet away, with a clear view of the scaffold structure, the guard pulled the front of the board away and Trixie immediately understood. It was a horizontal pillory, a thing out of the Dark Ages, like she had seen in historical movies on cable TV back home. Except this was no movie, this was her fate.
Kılıç turned to the prison’s appointed whipmaster. "Corrections Officer Ergin Ataman, you will administer the discipline. Prepare the prisoner."
One of the other guards approached from the rear and Trixie felt her prison shirt, the new one she had been given only the previous day, being cut up the centre allowing the sides to be yanked apart in order to expose her back. The large shears then sliced through the middle strap of the plain uniform bra, which, along with the blue-grey top, was torn from her body, leaving her almost naked and very vulnerable. When her white cotton panties were ripped away then her denuding was complete.
With three powerful guards for the job, it was only a few seconds before her wrists were placed against the smaller holes and her neck into the middle one. The other half-board was returned into place and locked so that she stood helpless with her head fastened inside and her arms out at right angles to either side. The rest of the assembled inmates, both male and female, gathered in two lines either side of the pillory. This wasn't the first time they had witnessed a beating and they were looking forward to seeing this new bitch taught a lesson.
From behind her Trixie heard a familiar voice. Now Kılıç was here. She couldn’t turn her head but she could hear the man clearly enough. "Prisoner Number 2879, Miss Beatrix Thomson, was found in possession of an illegal weapon during inspection. This is a serious offense that endangers all of you. The punishment is twenty lashes on her bare back."
The poor girl was terrified already, but her terror grew much worse when the muscular Ergin Ataman walked around to her front. He raised one hand before her face causing Trixie to squeal in panic when she saw what he held. It was a whip, nine feet of braided black leather that tapered to a split tip – a lash they called the ‘Blacksnake’ back home.
"You have a right to be afraid, prisoner Thomson," he said with a soft malevolence. "This is your first taste of the lash so I will make sure you remember it. You go ahead and scream all you want, but that won't make it hurt any less or make me go any easier on you.”
Ataman moved away, to her left and several feet behind. As he dropped the end of the blacksnake and shook it loose, a deathly silence fell eerily throughout the entire yard. He looked at the expanse of bare skin before him, choosing his target, then swept his arm forward with a twist of his shoulders to increase the force of the impact.
“CRACK!” The whip exploded across the middle of her back. Perhaps two seconds passed, then a full-throated bellow of suffering ripped from the Trixie's throat. Her feet danced and her body jerked wildly, but she was helpless trapped inside the wooden pillory.
Ergin gave her thirty seconds to fully experience the feeling, the optimum gap to maximise the recipient’s suffering, before launching another full-arm stroke that landed a perfect inch above the first.
Again, Trixie wailed her agony, a pitiful mourn that echoed throughout the entire yard. Thirty seconds later, a third angry line of leather infused agony crossed her torso drawing yet another screech from the beaten girl.
The pattern of the flogging continued in this way until the whip had struck ten times. For Trixie the ordeal was especially harrowing since she couldn't see the man who was lashing her so hard and without an ounce of mercy. There was no warning when the next impact would strike her body; just a split second when she heard the hissing sound fly through the air, quickly followed by the hideous explosion of pain.
Ataman paused at this point so that he could approach his victim and inspect his work. He was extremely experienced and had, once again, been precise with his aim, such that the once smooth skin was now criss-crossed with rising red lines.
Trixie’s body was heaving as she sucked in air and he could see a layer of sweat emerging between the welts. Good, that will add to her pain. He reached out and ran his fingers across several of the brighter, most raised stripes, those inflicted at the start of the process, relishing how the bruised flesh rose up under his touch. The miserable girl whimpered. Even such a gentle caress was painful. Ergin leaned forward until his head was close to hers.
"Halfway through," he whispered. " Now I'm going to get down to the really severe beating."
He returned to his place, but this time a foot or so further away. Focussing on Trixie’s captive body he launched the Blacksnake for the eleventh time, and this time it was a smaller but more impactive section of whip that cut into her lower back.
"Nooooooooooooooo!” Trixie wailed. There was still no other sound to be heard, save for the poor girl’s cries and the whistling of the whip, as the braided devil drew blood for the first time.
Five minutes later, the ghastly torture finally came to an end. The long, tanned, slender legs that had danced so delightfully at the beginning of the beating, now sagged, bent at the knees. But for the immovable pillory holding her body erect, Trixie would have collapsed to the ground.
As it was, she was barely conscious, aware of nothing but the withering agony that consumed her brain.
Before she was freed from the frame, however, there was one final assault. While Ergin coiled the bloody whip into its position of rest, Kılıç approached Trixie carrying a bucket. He threw the contents, a strong brine, against the girl’s inflamed and bleeding body.
"Ahhrggggggggggh!" The wretched girl screeched, revived by this fresh violation to her senses. Trixie writhed against the unyielding pillory, her feet once again prancing vigorously beneath her. Finally, the contortions weakened and stopped. Kılıç and Ergin Ataman unlocked and removed the back of the plank. The beaten red head’s broken body crumpled towards the ground, but Ataman was there to catch and hold her in his intrusive grip, whereupon he took the opportunity to reach around to the front of her body and fondle her breasts … he could feel clearly how soft and yielding Trixie’s flesh was in his hands and he felt his cock immediately stiffen.
It was only then that Kılıç called the original guards over and ordered them to return the beaten girl to her cell. So weak was Trixie from the vicious whipping that the two men had to drape her arms over their shoulders and carry her between them, her feet dragging across the hard floor of the yard.
To Be Continued …
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (14)
[Redacted] Hodges Condo Residence, Singapore, Friday, May 3, 2019, 10:05 am
(Three weeks after the time of Trixie’s whipping in the yard at Silivri Prison)
Kathy Hodges sat at her vanity and sobbed. Another Friday horror awaited her. Over and over, she asked herself how she had become so entrapped in this nightmare. She always traced it back to being her own fault for drinking too much at that Cricket Club dinner. She had become completely uninhibited and responded much too willingly to Scot's playful suggestion that she bare a breast. Now both Scot and her husband insisted that she needed instruction in how to be a proper wife for a rising diplomat/politician.
At first, Kathy had revelled in the manner in which her sacrifice was helping her husband’s career, but now it seemed that Scot Walkerson had her on the end of his leash, both literally and metaphorically, and Jeffrey’s new found success under Scot’s wing was making him more and more assertive towards her!
Each week, Scot pressed her further as he emphasised how much she must be willing to sacrifice, whilst at the same time Jeffrey sternly warned her that she must earn a favourable report from his boss or dire consequences would ensue.
Once, when she had tried to raise the sexual nature of Scot's demands, Jeffrey refused to hear a word of it and threatened to take off his belt to silence her. His punishment of her as his submissive-wife, along with his developing sadistic inclinations, seemed only to be heightened by his satisfaction at work. Kathy dreaded doing anything to disturb his mood.
The young wife dried her eyes and applied foundation to cover any redness or swelling. I have to be brave for Jeffrey, she thought. As she got up and went over to the bed to get dressed, she could not suppress another sob at the sight of the outfit Scot had specified. She knew that the limo driver would ogle her in it, especially as Scot demanded that she wear very little over it while she was transported to him. The perks of being an ambassador’s driver she guessed.
Kathy took a deep sigh and began to put on the skimpy and revealing underwear.
US Ambassador’s Residence, Singapore, Friday, May 3, 2019 11:30am
Scot Walkerson waited eagerly for the arrival of his regular Friday lunch date. Kathy Hodges had proven to be deliciously submissive to the desires of her husband's boss. While Scot had yet to fuck her, he certainly had succeeded in fucking with her mind. Walkerson found the process of bending the sweet, pretty girl to his will at least as enjoyable as the eventual coitus would be.
Their ’special’ dates at the Singapore Carlton had proven to be a huge success, for him at least, and the way Kathy then satisfied him with her mouth was a pleasure to behold. Last week, he had convinced her to sit through their entire lunch in front of the large window in their Carlton Club room, topless. Her pregnancy-swollen breasts, showing some marks of his penchant for discipline, had looked so damned tempting, her nervous breathing causing them to rise and fall provocatively onto her chest.
The allure of her narrow waist and the still deep navel on her ever so slightly rounded tummy were enchanting, and made Scot think about how much further he would press the helpless girl today.
Jeffrey Hodges Office, US Embassy, Singapore, Friday, May 3, 2019, 11:55 am
As Jeffrey sat at his desk his mind drifted and a vision of her mop of delightfully tousled red-hair came into his mind. Trixie Thomson.
It was too bad that his bosses had insisted on sending her away. He had only just begun to explore the possibilities of her body.
Her body … damn … what a body that was.
He wondered why she hadn't contacted him once she had arrived home. After all, he had been so thoughtful about aiding her in her job and personally instructing her. Maybe her upbringing at that place, what was it … Bubble Joe’s Park or something, has left her unaware of the need to show gratitude. But yet, he was certain there was more to Trixie Thomson than that. He was surprised, shocked almost, that he had heard nothing from her. Did she arrive safely back in the States? Had she found new employment? Where was she living now? It had been almost a month since her sudden departure and he would dearly love to know where Miss Thomson currently was and what she was doing. Maybe she was angry with him? He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.
His thoughts drifted to her amazingly nubile shape; the long slender limbs, ruffled and wild red hair and her full, sensuous lips that were moist enough to keep on kissing for ever and a day. Jeffrey could not supress a quiet groan.
Opening up the calendar attaching to his email he typed a note to himself for Monday morning May 6th.
‘Call the Ambassador’s Office and find out if we ever heard anything more from Trixie Thomson.’
To Be Continued …
[Redacted] Hodges Condo Residence, Singapore, Friday, May 3, 2019, 10:05 am
(Three weeks after the time of Trixie’s whipping in the yard at Silivri Prison)
Kathy Hodges sat at her vanity and sobbed. Another Friday horror awaited her. Over and over, she asked herself how she had become so entrapped in this nightmare. She always traced it back to being her own fault for drinking too much at that Cricket Club dinner. She had become completely uninhibited and responded much too willingly to Scot's playful suggestion that she bare a breast. Now both Scot and her husband insisted that she needed instruction in how to be a proper wife for a rising diplomat/politician.
At first, Kathy had revelled in the manner in which her sacrifice was helping her husband’s career, but now it seemed that Scot Walkerson had her on the end of his leash, both literally and metaphorically, and Jeffrey’s new found success under Scot’s wing was making him more and more assertive towards her!
Each week, Scot pressed her further as he emphasised how much she must be willing to sacrifice, whilst at the same time Jeffrey sternly warned her that she must earn a favourable report from his boss or dire consequences would ensue.
Once, when she had tried to raise the sexual nature of Scot's demands, Jeffrey refused to hear a word of it and threatened to take off his belt to silence her. His punishment of her as his submissive-wife, along with his developing sadistic inclinations, seemed only to be heightened by his satisfaction at work. Kathy dreaded doing anything to disturb his mood.
The young wife dried her eyes and applied foundation to cover any redness or swelling. I have to be brave for Jeffrey, she thought. As she got up and went over to the bed to get dressed, she could not suppress another sob at the sight of the outfit Scot had specified. She knew that the limo driver would ogle her in it, especially as Scot demanded that she wear very little over it while she was transported to him. The perks of being an ambassador’s driver she guessed.
Kathy took a deep sigh and began to put on the skimpy and revealing underwear.
US Ambassador’s Residence, Singapore, Friday, May 3, 2019 11:30am
Scot Walkerson waited eagerly for the arrival of his regular Friday lunch date. Kathy Hodges had proven to be deliciously submissive to the desires of her husband's boss. While Scot had yet to fuck her, he certainly had succeeded in fucking with her mind. Walkerson found the process of bending the sweet, pretty girl to his will at least as enjoyable as the eventual coitus would be.
Their ’special’ dates at the Singapore Carlton had proven to be a huge success, for him at least, and the way Kathy then satisfied him with her mouth was a pleasure to behold. Last week, he had convinced her to sit through their entire lunch in front of the large window in their Carlton Club room, topless. Her pregnancy-swollen breasts, showing some marks of his penchant for discipline, had looked so damned tempting, her nervous breathing causing them to rise and fall provocatively onto her chest.
The allure of her narrow waist and the still deep navel on her ever so slightly rounded tummy were enchanting, and made Scot think about how much further he would press the helpless girl today.
Jeffrey Hodges Office, US Embassy, Singapore, Friday, May 3, 2019, 11:55 am
As Jeffrey sat at his desk his mind drifted and a vision of her mop of delightfully tousled red-hair came into his mind. Trixie Thomson.
It was too bad that his bosses had insisted on sending her away. He had only just begun to explore the possibilities of her body.
Her body … damn … what a body that was.
He wondered why she hadn't contacted him once she had arrived home. After all, he had been so thoughtful about aiding her in her job and personally instructing her. Maybe her upbringing at that place, what was it … Bubble Joe’s Park or something, has left her unaware of the need to show gratitude. But yet, he was certain there was more to Trixie Thomson than that. He was surprised, shocked almost, that he had heard nothing from her. Did she arrive safely back in the States? Had she found new employment? Where was she living now? It had been almost a month since her sudden departure and he would dearly love to know where Miss Thomson currently was and what she was doing. Maybe she was angry with him? He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.
His thoughts drifted to her amazingly nubile shape; the long slender limbs, ruffled and wild red hair and her full, sensuous lips that were moist enough to keep on kissing for ever and a day. Jeffrey could not supress a quiet groan.
Opening up the calendar attaching to his email he typed a note to himself for Monday morning May 6th.
‘Call the Ambassador’s Office and find out if we ever heard anything more from Trixie Thomson.’
To Be Continued …