Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
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Trailer Park Trixie's Torment, Part III - Istanbul, Turkey
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (23)
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Friday 17th May, 2019 at 09:35 am
There was just one day to go before the public punishment of Trixie Thomson was due to commence. Less than twenty-Four hours from now she would be … what would she be? Where would she be? The young girl had no idea what her sentence consisted of … but she knew that whatever it was it would be painful and humiliating.
Since the degrading display in front of the male high-security inmates two days ago, Trixie had been pretty much left alone. It was if the guards and officers knew was how she would suffer this coming Saturday and had decided to give her time and space to think about that.
But that short lull in attention was over when, unannounced, the brute of a man, Dündar Kılıç, entered her cell.
Without a word he grabbed Trixie by her long red locks and threw her from her bunk into the middle of the floor, causing her to lose her grip on Trix the troll, who went flying into a dusty, dirty corner.
“… şerit kaltak,” (Strip bitch) – Trixie understood enough by now to know what he wanted.
Stripped naked, and cuffed with rough steel manacles, Trixie was led to the shower room. The room itself was bleak in appearance, containing several wall-mounted shower heads, with hoses leading to a pair of old faucets, on one wall. Along the opposite wall was a metal urinal, and two water closets in cubicles. Everything was grubby and old, and the entire place reeked of something very unpleasant.
“Over there,” barked Kılıç, pointing at one of the dilapidated shower points. Trixie did as she was told, expecting the guard to turn on the water, but instead he raised her arms above her and attached the manacles to the shower head itself.
Grinning, the man stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Kusursuz,” (perfect) he commented, eyeing the nubile nudity of the stretched girl. “Much easier to wash you down like this.”
He turned on the faucet, and a spray of cold water began to soak Trixie from head to foot. She jumped, gasping and hissing as she exhaled every last gasp of air from inside her lungs.
“I … it … it’s fr … freezing!” She wheezed, as if expecting the man to somehow adjust the temperature.
“What do you expect, bitch? This is a prison … not a fucking hotel. Get used to it.”
Trixie squirmed, goose bumps rising on her flesh. There was no escaping the spray, chained as she was. She screwed her eyes closed against the stream, opening them moments later just in time to see Kılıç approach with a hose that she hadn’t previously noticed.
“No! Please …” she began, but it was pointless. The jet of water was forceful enough to spin her around and push her face-first, hard against the tiled wall. Momentarily, she lost her footing, but she managed to stay standing only by virtue of the fact that her manacled wrists held her aloft.
“Now you will be properly cleansed, girl,” laughed the brutish guard, as he began to angle the hose into her body. Trixie twisted and turned, trying to avoid the water’s more intimate searching, but she was defenceless. The lecherous monster aimed the spray upwards between her thighs, running the forceful jet across her exposed ass and hosing between her buttocks.
Trixie wailed as the probing power of the water tormented her, thrashing about in horror and shame. On and on went the soaking, accompanied by the lewd comments of her tormentor, until she thought she must surely pass out.
Finally, Kılıç withdrew the hose, but only so he could take her by the shoulder and turn her so that her back was to the tiles. The hosing recommenced. This time, his main targeted were her soft, raised breasts. The vigour of the water stung, painfully teasing the stiffened nipples with its force. He seemed to concentrate on her erect teats, as if trying to inflict as much torment upon them as possible.
Trixie wailed, gyrating in her shackles as she attempted to shield herself, but all she succeeded in doing was to perform an extremely provocative dance for her captor to enjoy. This, in turn, urged him to increase her suffering, and he began to alternate the jet between her breasts and her exposed pussy.
Much to her ultimate humiliation, Trixie’s stretched body began to respond to the unsolicited attention. Her aching nipples stood hard and firm, and tingling sensations began to manifest in her groin. It was the very last thing she wanted, but her body’s uninvited reaction was banishing logical thought to the background.
“Look at you, little whore,” exclaimed the guard triumphantly. “Just as I always say, you sluts from western countries cannot control yourselves, can you? You are nothing but dirty little bitches.”
Trixie wailed in abject misery, fighting the spasms that heralded the unwanted orgasm. She could not allow this to happen in front of this evil devil.
But it did … and Trixie climaxed as the water jets continued to fuck her all the way through her degrading ordeal, until one orgasm gave way to two and the hose jet was left to its own invasive pleasure. When every last after-shock had left her denuded and humiliated body Trixie hung gasping from her manacled wrists until the monstrous guard unhooked her, allowing the hapless girl to fall exhausted to her knees …
To Be Continued …
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Friday 17th May, 2019 at 09:35 am
There was just one day to go before the public punishment of Trixie Thomson was due to commence. Less than twenty-Four hours from now she would be … what would she be? Where would she be? The young girl had no idea what her sentence consisted of … but she knew that whatever it was it would be painful and humiliating.
Since the degrading display in front of the male high-security inmates two days ago, Trixie had been pretty much left alone. It was if the guards and officers knew was how she would suffer this coming Saturday and had decided to give her time and space to think about that.
But that short lull in attention was over when, unannounced, the brute of a man, Dündar Kılıç, entered her cell.
Without a word he grabbed Trixie by her long red locks and threw her from her bunk into the middle of the floor, causing her to lose her grip on Trix the troll, who went flying into a dusty, dirty corner.
“… şerit kaltak,” (Strip bitch) – Trixie understood enough by now to know what he wanted.
Stripped naked, and cuffed with rough steel manacles, Trixie was led to the shower room. The room itself was bleak in appearance, containing several wall-mounted shower heads, with hoses leading to a pair of old faucets, on one wall. Along the opposite wall was a metal urinal, and two water closets in cubicles. Everything was grubby and old, and the entire place reeked of something very unpleasant.
“Over there,” barked Kılıç, pointing at one of the dilapidated shower points. Trixie did as she was told, expecting the guard to turn on the water, but instead he raised her arms above her and attached the manacles to the shower head itself.
Grinning, the man stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Kusursuz,” (perfect) he commented, eyeing the nubile nudity of the stretched girl. “Much easier to wash you down like this.”
He turned on the faucet, and a spray of cold water began to soak Trixie from head to foot. She jumped, gasping and hissing as she exhaled every last gasp of air from inside her lungs.
“I … it … it’s fr … freezing!” She wheezed, as if expecting the man to somehow adjust the temperature.
“What do you expect, bitch? This is a prison … not a fucking hotel. Get used to it.”
Trixie squirmed, goose bumps rising on her flesh. There was no escaping the spray, chained as she was. She screwed her eyes closed against the stream, opening them moments later just in time to see Kılıç approach with a hose that she hadn’t previously noticed.
“No! Please …” she began, but it was pointless. The jet of water was forceful enough to spin her around and push her face-first, hard against the tiled wall. Momentarily, she lost her footing, but she managed to stay standing only by virtue of the fact that her manacled wrists held her aloft.
“Now you will be properly cleansed, girl,” laughed the brutish guard, as he began to angle the hose into her body. Trixie twisted and turned, trying to avoid the water’s more intimate searching, but she was defenceless. The lecherous monster aimed the spray upwards between her thighs, running the forceful jet across her exposed ass and hosing between her buttocks.
Trixie wailed as the probing power of the water tormented her, thrashing about in horror and shame. On and on went the soaking, accompanied by the lewd comments of her tormentor, until she thought she must surely pass out.
Finally, Kılıç withdrew the hose, but only so he could take her by the shoulder and turn her so that her back was to the tiles. The hosing recommenced. This time, his main targeted were her soft, raised breasts. The vigour of the water stung, painfully teasing the stiffened nipples with its force. He seemed to concentrate on her erect teats, as if trying to inflict as much torment upon them as possible.
Trixie wailed, gyrating in her shackles as she attempted to shield herself, but all she succeeded in doing was to perform an extremely provocative dance for her captor to enjoy. This, in turn, urged him to increase her suffering, and he began to alternate the jet between her breasts and her exposed pussy.
Much to her ultimate humiliation, Trixie’s stretched body began to respond to the unsolicited attention. Her aching nipples stood hard and firm, and tingling sensations began to manifest in her groin. It was the very last thing she wanted, but her body’s uninvited reaction was banishing logical thought to the background.
“Look at you, little whore,” exclaimed the guard triumphantly. “Just as I always say, you sluts from western countries cannot control yourselves, can you? You are nothing but dirty little bitches.”
Trixie wailed in abject misery, fighting the spasms that heralded the unwanted orgasm. She could not allow this to happen in front of this evil devil.
But it did … and Trixie climaxed as the water jets continued to fuck her all the way through her degrading ordeal, until one orgasm gave way to two and the hose jet was left to its own invasive pleasure. When every last after-shock had left her denuded and humiliated body Trixie hung gasping from her manacled wrists until the monstrous guard unhooked her, allowing the hapless girl to fall exhausted to her knees …
To Be Continued …
Doragon
Tribune
Excellent scene.
Not all of us! I mean there’s Southern Trash like Trixie. But on the other hand, there are good wholesome blue state girls … like me.
Great chapter, Fossy.
I thought that cold showers had the opposite effect....
You know how to give a girl a good time, Fossy!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (24)
Blackcup Coffee House, Beşiktaş/İstanbul, Turkey, Friday 17th May, 2019 at 10:40 am
Ismail Avluca had owned his own café on this spot in Beşiktaş for as long as he had been old enough to work. His father before him had been in the restaurant business, but all Ismail had ever wanted to do was serve coffee and pastries. During his many years of service he had seen all types of people eat and drink in his well regarded establishment, and so it was easy to spot the mood of the American gentleman who had just ordered coffee and baklava. He was clearly not happy, depressed is how Ismail would have interpreted the man’s disposition. However, it was not the café owner’s business to become his ‘shoulder upon which to cry’, but it was down to him to make sure this man received the nicest coffee and cream-covered baklava that he could provide.
A casually dressed Jeffrey Hodges looked up and smiled when the steaming cup and the sweet-smelling dessert was place before him.
“Thank you,” the young lawyer said, making no allowance for the fact that he was speaking English. Nonetheless his sentiment seemed to be understood.
Just then his phone rang. Kathy …
“Hello.” His greeting was curt because every time he thought about his nubile, young, not to mention pregnant, wife, he saw Ambassador Walkerson balls-deep inside her naked, open ass-hole.
“Jeffrey, are you still …”
“In Istanbul? Yes I am.”
“When are you coming home … we miss you.”
“We?”
“The baby and I?”
Jeffrey shook his head slowly. “The baby is nowhere near to being born yet, Kathy, so it certainly didn’t miss it’s father.”
“It?” Mrs Hodges said with an equally brusque word. “It is a boy Jeffrey, we know that already so please do not call him, ‘it’.”
Jeffrey wanted to apologise but couldn’t bring himself to be so courteous.
“So, when will you be home?”
“I don’t know. I still have work to do over here.”
“But Scot … I mean Ambassador Walkerson, wants to know …”
“You saw him?”
“Jeffrey, that’s not my point …”
“Well, it is mine. I’ll be home when I’m home Kathy, goodbye.” Jeffrey closed down the call. The Ambassador had also called him, several times, but Jeffrey was ignoring the ring whenever Walkerson’s name lit up his screen.
What a fuck up this trip was turning out to be. It was two days since Joseph Bass had given him the brush off, and every call he had made to the man’s office since had been screened by that damn personal assistant of his, keeping Jeffrey at arm’s length.
He had arrived in Istanbul on the afternoon of the same day as his meeting with Bass, and that was two days ago. Checking out of his three star ‘luxury’ in the capital city, Jeffrey had booked himself into an identical hotel here in Istanbul.
But he had no more luck, not a sniff of a lead … what the fuck had happened to Trixie Thomson? Looking around he could see that the Blackcup Coffee House was filling up. The sound levels grew and, in his attempts to make the white noise fade into the background, he actually began to pick up small snippets of the conversations going on around him, and one in particular piqued his interest.
“Kızı duydun mu? Amerikalı hapiste. Yarın burada, İstanbul'da alenen cezalandırılacak. Resmi Daily Sabah'taydı ve adam ateşli sigara içiyor. Adı Trixie Thomson...”
Hearing words that sounded like Trixie’s name he stood and approached the table where the two men were talking. Pausing their conversation, both pairs of eyes looked up at him.
“Afedersiniz, ikinizden biri İngilizce biliyor mu?” (Excuse me do either of you speak English), Jeffrey said, reading from the appropriate page of his English-Turkish-English phrase book.
The man who had originally said Trixie’s name nodded, “Yes, I do, why?”
Jeffrey felt a surge of hope in the pit of his stomach. “You said the name Trixie Thomson. Do you know her?”
The man laughed. “I wish I did mister, she’s a real hot piece of ass.”
Jeffrey nodded, “So why did you say her name?”
The man became suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”
Shit. Think Jeffrey, think. “Because she is my cousin and I am looking for her.”
“Really,” the seated man replied, “Well she is in prison.”
“Prison?”
“Yes, until tomorrow, then she is to be punished in public.”
Jeffrey felt sick. This was déjà vu – Barbara Moore and Amanda Jones all over again.
“What? Why? Where?” Jeffrey gabbled out the three words so quickly that they sounded like one.
The young lawyer was told to go and buy the Daily Sabah newspaper from the café’s counter. Sitting back down with the daily rag in question, Jeffrey turned to the page where Trixie’s name was staring at him in a large black type face. Using the keywords dictionary at the back of his phrase book, he was able to determine that … ‘Miss Trixie Thomas, 21 years old from the USA, has been convicted of possessing illegal narcotics with the intent to deal and traffic.’
What the fuck …
‘… Rather than becoming a drain on a country which she has already seriously affronted, the girl had accepted a one-off public punishment, before being summarily deported back to US where she will face the charges made against her in her own country.’
Where … where … where … is this happening?
Smaller print, at the end of the article … “At the Shangri-La Bospherous hotel, right here in Istanbul,” the young lawyer said, repeating the words on the page quietly to himself.
“They’re going to publicly punish Trixie at 10am in that hotel?” He did not know what the punishment awarded was, but he knew what it could be, and with appalling images of Barbara and Amanda rushing through his mind he dashed to the café’s men’s room to throw up.
To Be Continued …
Blackcup Coffee House, Beşiktaş/İstanbul, Turkey, Friday 17th May, 2019 at 10:40 am
Ismail Avluca had owned his own café on this spot in Beşiktaş for as long as he had been old enough to work. His father before him had been in the restaurant business, but all Ismail had ever wanted to do was serve coffee and pastries. During his many years of service he had seen all types of people eat and drink in his well regarded establishment, and so it was easy to spot the mood of the American gentleman who had just ordered coffee and baklava. He was clearly not happy, depressed is how Ismail would have interpreted the man’s disposition. However, it was not the café owner’s business to become his ‘shoulder upon which to cry’, but it was down to him to make sure this man received the nicest coffee and cream-covered baklava that he could provide.
A casually dressed Jeffrey Hodges looked up and smiled when the steaming cup and the sweet-smelling dessert was place before him.
“Thank you,” the young lawyer said, making no allowance for the fact that he was speaking English. Nonetheless his sentiment seemed to be understood.
Just then his phone rang. Kathy …
“Hello.” His greeting was curt because every time he thought about his nubile, young, not to mention pregnant, wife, he saw Ambassador Walkerson balls-deep inside her naked, open ass-hole.
“Jeffrey, are you still …”
“In Istanbul? Yes I am.”
“When are you coming home … we miss you.”
“We?”
“The baby and I?”
Jeffrey shook his head slowly. “The baby is nowhere near to being born yet, Kathy, so it certainly didn’t miss it’s father.”
“It?” Mrs Hodges said with an equally brusque word. “It is a boy Jeffrey, we know that already so please do not call him, ‘it’.”
Jeffrey wanted to apologise but couldn’t bring himself to be so courteous.
“So, when will you be home?”
“I don’t know. I still have work to do over here.”
“But Scot … I mean Ambassador Walkerson, wants to know …”
“You saw him?”
“Jeffrey, that’s not my point …”
“Well, it is mine. I’ll be home when I’m home Kathy, goodbye.” Jeffrey closed down the call. The Ambassador had also called him, several times, but Jeffrey was ignoring the ring whenever Walkerson’s name lit up his screen.
What a fuck up this trip was turning out to be. It was two days since Joseph Bass had given him the brush off, and every call he had made to the man’s office since had been screened by that damn personal assistant of his, keeping Jeffrey at arm’s length.
He had arrived in Istanbul on the afternoon of the same day as his meeting with Bass, and that was two days ago. Checking out of his three star ‘luxury’ in the capital city, Jeffrey had booked himself into an identical hotel here in Istanbul.
But he had no more luck, not a sniff of a lead … what the fuck had happened to Trixie Thomson? Looking around he could see that the Blackcup Coffee House was filling up. The sound levels grew and, in his attempts to make the white noise fade into the background, he actually began to pick up small snippets of the conversations going on around him, and one in particular piqued his interest.
“Kızı duydun mu? Amerikalı hapiste. Yarın burada, İstanbul'da alenen cezalandırılacak. Resmi Daily Sabah'taydı ve adam ateşli sigara içiyor. Adı Trixie Thomson...”
Hearing words that sounded like Trixie’s name he stood and approached the table where the two men were talking. Pausing their conversation, both pairs of eyes looked up at him.
“Afedersiniz, ikinizden biri İngilizce biliyor mu?” (Excuse me do either of you speak English), Jeffrey said, reading from the appropriate page of his English-Turkish-English phrase book.
The man who had originally said Trixie’s name nodded, “Yes, I do, why?”
Jeffrey felt a surge of hope in the pit of his stomach. “You said the name Trixie Thomson. Do you know her?”
The man laughed. “I wish I did mister, she’s a real hot piece of ass.”
Jeffrey nodded, “So why did you say her name?”
The man became suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”
Shit. Think Jeffrey, think. “Because she is my cousin and I am looking for her.”
“Really,” the seated man replied, “Well she is in prison.”
“Prison?”
“Yes, until tomorrow, then she is to be punished in public.”
Jeffrey felt sick. This was déjà vu – Barbara Moore and Amanda Jones all over again.
“What? Why? Where?” Jeffrey gabbled out the three words so quickly that they sounded like one.
The young lawyer was told to go and buy the Daily Sabah newspaper from the café’s counter. Sitting back down with the daily rag in question, Jeffrey turned to the page where Trixie’s name was staring at him in a large black type face. Using the keywords dictionary at the back of his phrase book, he was able to determine that … ‘Miss Trixie Thomas, 21 years old from the USA, has been convicted of possessing illegal narcotics with the intent to deal and traffic.’
What the fuck …
‘… Rather than becoming a drain on a country which she has already seriously affronted, the girl had accepted a one-off public punishment, before being summarily deported back to US where she will face the charges made against her in her own country.’
Where … where … where … is this happening?
Smaller print, at the end of the article … “At the Shangri-La Bospherous hotel, right here in Istanbul,” the young lawyer said, repeating the words on the page quietly to himself.
“They’re going to publicly punish Trixie at 10am in that hotel?” He did not know what the punishment awarded was, but he knew what it could be, and with appalling images of Barbara and Amanda rushing through his mind he dashed to the café’s men’s room to throw up.
To Be Continued …
You end up feeling nearly as sorry for Jeffrey as Trixie!
Wow, what a detective Jeffrey is turning out to be. He must have gone to @thehangingtree ’s Arkansas School for third rate detection! In the bloody newspaper ffs! 
Given his great track record with saving Barb and Amanda I’m not holding out much hope for his triumph, Moore likely he’ll complete his hat-trick of failure!
Good, I’m looking forward to Trixie’s public humiliation, but typical American judicial system waiting to punish her a second time for a crime she didn’t commit. High time to declare the so-called “War in Drugs” the blatant failure it clearly is… sorry, no more politics here…
Great chapter again, @Fossy , definitely see your influence here.
Given his great track record with saving Barb and Amanda I’m not holding out much hope for his triumph, Moore likely he’ll complete his hat-trick of failure!
Good, I’m looking forward to Trixie’s public humiliation, but typical American judicial system waiting to punish her a second time for a crime she didn’t commit. High time to declare the so-called “War in Drugs” the blatant failure it clearly is… sorry, no more politics here…
Great chapter again, @Fossy , definitely see your influence here.
twonines
LIMERICUS
It just goes to show, even the terminally incompetent can have a stroke of luck occasionally. Another fine chapter, Fossy.
What a cad Jeffrey is!!!!
Wait a minute! How did I get in this?
You’re telling me that Jeffrey really cares about anyone? I doubt Kathy would buy into that!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (25)
A Holding Cell at Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Saturday 18th May at 7:35 am
Time seemed to pass with incredible slowness. Trixie closed her eyes, longing for sleep that would not come. This is not real, she thought. All a dream ... but the reality of this small, stark cell pressed upon her nerves. Things were harder to bear in the darkness, and her mind grew febrile with thoughts of what was to come.
Could she escape? No more than an elaborate cage, the holding cell was deathly dim with only a minimum of illumination from a single small bare bulb hanging high over her head, barely enough to see beyond the bars and the ceiling above. It was designed to exacerbate a prisoner’s feelings of helplessness, and this it achieved well. The walls confining her were as thick as her body ... as if, she mused bitterly, they were afraid she might break through anything less bulky with her small, bare hands.
Resting her head on the crook of her arm, Trixie squirmed as she shifted her body across the tiny, hardwood cot. She knew well what was ahead of her, and was now thinking that the faster she got it over with, the better. She wondered how many prisoners before her had laid here, bound for punishment.
Her entire body heaved. No, this wasn’t going to happen. They would stop it. The Turkish Government could not do this. Not to her, a citizen of the United States of America. Surely it was a trick to frighten her. Naive though these hopes were, they helped to dilute the considerable strain of waiting.
Anticipating whatever it was they were about to do to her was the hardest part … a punishment in itself. Trixie shuddered, feeling her eyes water in fear and shame. Despite her own peril, she had passed much of the night thinking about other people. Those poor girls back in Singapore, Barbara and Amanda, her friends from FSI, Dolly and Susan … and Beatrice Sullivan, her Guidance Councillor, her mentor and her lover.
“Beatrice …” the hapless red-head sighed. She would give anything now to have the older woman here with her, comforting her, placing her arms around her slender body whispering into her ear that everything would be okay. Then she moaned out loud at the thought of how those awful men at the FSI, Tom Watson and Simon Reedy had made her confess to having an affair with Doctor Sullivan … she had never heard from Beatrice again.
Trixie closed her eyes once more desperate for just a little sleep to take her away from this nightmare, even if just for a few minutes.
She was not religious, it had never really been a thing at Bubba Jim’s Trailer Park, but now she mumbled an earnest prayer, and in her grainy half-dazed state, she felt a thread of sunlight warming her hair. She raised her head, and looked up at the small barred window high up in the back wall, and saw the dawn coming, heralding the morning of her punishment.
There would be no more waiting. Things would move fast from now on, leaving little time for thought or hope. Straining to see outside her cell, her eyes shifted anxiously across the bars to the jangling of keys, the clacking of footsteps growing slower as they approached.
Two prison guards, familiar in face but nameless to her, assumed positions outside the cell. The darker skinned one spoke first. “It’s time.”
Hearing a key inserted into the cell-door lock, Trixie backed up against the far wall of her cell, trapped. The skin of both thighs rubbed nervously together; the warm, trembling flesh of her buttocks cold against the chill of the stone.
With one savage twist, the two locking bars were withdrawn, a sound shockingly loud in the deathly silence. The imposing door screeched open. Defiantly, she eyed the silhouettes of the approaching guards ... and in dismay felt the soft, pliant flesh between her legs hot and a little damp beneath the skimpy thong, as her nipples thrust hard and erect beneath the baggy blue top, her only other item of clothing.
The brutish pair seized her arms, wrenched her outside, and her stoic demeanour collapsed, her spirit crushed thoroughly as her fatalistic journey began. A tall silhouetted form entered her line of vision. Lieutenant Tekin raking his dispassionate gaze over her entire, barely covered body. Trixie choked on her own breath as he stared unabashed at her, noting every muscle, every little movement. She felt her face twist and crumple but could not stop the tears from falling.
She closed her eyes, shivering at the memory of the cruelty shown to her when they had first whipped her before a gathered audience of inmates. When she remembered how unfair all of this was, Trixie let her fury consume her. The cords on her neck stood out as she stared back at the Lieutenant, and then she released a thick globule of saliva into his face.
Instantly the officer’s eyes glowed with indignant rage. After wiping his face clean, he drew back his shoulder and slapped her full across the face with such vicious force that it threw her whole body sideways. Trixie flinched at the blow, her cheek throbbing with pain, and glared back at him, quivering in stunned silence as he addressed the guards.
“Take her, let’s get this bitch delivered.”
At this final intonation of her fate, Trixie’s heart began pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode. Dragged inexorably on towards her punishment, she bucked and thrashed in tear-filled hysteria, arms held tight. But, collared, leashed and manacled at the wrist, the young inmate was easily bundled into the back of a small black van to be transported to the place of her impending demise.
To Be Continued …
A Holding Cell at Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Saturday 18th May at 7:35 am
Time seemed to pass with incredible slowness. Trixie closed her eyes, longing for sleep that would not come. This is not real, she thought. All a dream ... but the reality of this small, stark cell pressed upon her nerves. Things were harder to bear in the darkness, and her mind grew febrile with thoughts of what was to come.
Could she escape? No more than an elaborate cage, the holding cell was deathly dim with only a minimum of illumination from a single small bare bulb hanging high over her head, barely enough to see beyond the bars and the ceiling above. It was designed to exacerbate a prisoner’s feelings of helplessness, and this it achieved well. The walls confining her were as thick as her body ... as if, she mused bitterly, they were afraid she might break through anything less bulky with her small, bare hands.
Resting her head on the crook of her arm, Trixie squirmed as she shifted her body across the tiny, hardwood cot. She knew well what was ahead of her, and was now thinking that the faster she got it over with, the better. She wondered how many prisoners before her had laid here, bound for punishment.
Her entire body heaved. No, this wasn’t going to happen. They would stop it. The Turkish Government could not do this. Not to her, a citizen of the United States of America. Surely it was a trick to frighten her. Naive though these hopes were, they helped to dilute the considerable strain of waiting.
Anticipating whatever it was they were about to do to her was the hardest part … a punishment in itself. Trixie shuddered, feeling her eyes water in fear and shame. Despite her own peril, she had passed much of the night thinking about other people. Those poor girls back in Singapore, Barbara and Amanda, her friends from FSI, Dolly and Susan … and Beatrice Sullivan, her Guidance Councillor, her mentor and her lover.
“Beatrice …” the hapless red-head sighed. She would give anything now to have the older woman here with her, comforting her, placing her arms around her slender body whispering into her ear that everything would be okay. Then she moaned out loud at the thought of how those awful men at the FSI, Tom Watson and Simon Reedy had made her confess to having an affair with Doctor Sullivan … she had never heard from Beatrice again.
Trixie closed her eyes once more desperate for just a little sleep to take her away from this nightmare, even if just for a few minutes.
She was not religious, it had never really been a thing at Bubba Jim’s Trailer Park, but now she mumbled an earnest prayer, and in her grainy half-dazed state, she felt a thread of sunlight warming her hair. She raised her head, and looked up at the small barred window high up in the back wall, and saw the dawn coming, heralding the morning of her punishment.
There would be no more waiting. Things would move fast from now on, leaving little time for thought or hope. Straining to see outside her cell, her eyes shifted anxiously across the bars to the jangling of keys, the clacking of footsteps growing slower as they approached.
Two prison guards, familiar in face but nameless to her, assumed positions outside the cell. The darker skinned one spoke first. “It’s time.”
Hearing a key inserted into the cell-door lock, Trixie backed up against the far wall of her cell, trapped. The skin of both thighs rubbed nervously together; the warm, trembling flesh of her buttocks cold against the chill of the stone.
With one savage twist, the two locking bars were withdrawn, a sound shockingly loud in the deathly silence. The imposing door screeched open. Defiantly, she eyed the silhouettes of the approaching guards ... and in dismay felt the soft, pliant flesh between her legs hot and a little damp beneath the skimpy thong, as her nipples thrust hard and erect beneath the baggy blue top, her only other item of clothing.
The brutish pair seized her arms, wrenched her outside, and her stoic demeanour collapsed, her spirit crushed thoroughly as her fatalistic journey began. A tall silhouetted form entered her line of vision. Lieutenant Tekin raking his dispassionate gaze over her entire, barely covered body. Trixie choked on her own breath as he stared unabashed at her, noting every muscle, every little movement. She felt her face twist and crumple but could not stop the tears from falling.
She closed her eyes, shivering at the memory of the cruelty shown to her when they had first whipped her before a gathered audience of inmates. When she remembered how unfair all of this was, Trixie let her fury consume her. The cords on her neck stood out as she stared back at the Lieutenant, and then she released a thick globule of saliva into his face.
Instantly the officer’s eyes glowed with indignant rage. After wiping his face clean, he drew back his shoulder and slapped her full across the face with such vicious force that it threw her whole body sideways. Trixie flinched at the blow, her cheek throbbing with pain, and glared back at him, quivering in stunned silence as he addressed the guards.
“Take her, let’s get this bitch delivered.”
At this final intonation of her fate, Trixie’s heart began pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode. Dragged inexorably on towards her punishment, she bucked and thrashed in tear-filled hysteria, arms held tight. But, collared, leashed and manacled at the wrist, the young inmate was easily bundled into the back of a small black van to be transported to the place of her impending demise.
To Be Continued …
That was absolutely chilling, dripping with dreadful portent, and every word reminding me of just how invested I am in this vexatious little vixen of a character! Amazing, just like PrPr did, you have my heart breaking for Trixie while also intoxicated by the lustful thoughts of what is about to happen to her!
I’m breathless!
I’m breathless!
A little of B. Moore appears to have rubbed off on Trixie.
twonines
LIMERICUS
The only downside is that we all know what usually follows Barb`s defiance.A little of B. Moore appears to have rubbed off on Trixie.