That's odd. Mine's doing that, too!
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Trailer Park Trixie's Torment, Part III - Istanbul, Turkey
- Thread starter Fossy
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (26)
The Shangri-La Bospherous Hotel Sinanpaşa, Beşiktaş/İstanbul, Turkey, Saturday 18th May at 9:40 am
Jeffrey Hodges had woken early on the Saturday morning. Truth was that he had hardly slept at all. This morning he would be attempting to see Trixie again, but in what state would she be?
Over the past 48 hours he had tried everything he could to get hold of Joseph R Bass, but the Ambassador would not take his call nor communicate with Jeffrey in any way at all. The young lawyer smelt a rat, but he could not put his finger on even the smallest shred of evidence.
But yet here he already was, in the lounge at the place at which his former assistant was to be publicly punished. He knew about such events from Singapore. Young girls, usually nubile, always naked and exposed.
Picturing those words in his mind made Jeffrey squirm just a little as he recalled Trixie’s tight, tanned body wrapped around his own, as they made love following the most marvellously romantic evening. He supposed that he must have had similar nights with Kathy, it was just that, at this moment in time, he was struggling to recall any.
Ballroom 1. It hadn’t been difficult to determine the exact location of the event, the hotel seemed proud to be the host.
“THE DIRECTOR GENERAL OF PRISONS AND DETENTION HOUSES AND HIS GUESTS THIS WAY …”
There was even a damn sign, and there was a pair of girls in white blouses and tight dark skirts taking names, checking the arrivals off on their pre-printed lists as if they were arriving for a Gala Dinner. He approached the entrance to Ballroom 1 and addressed one of the name takers.
“Hi.” He took a chance speaking English but these girls were well trained, and it was fine. “… I am Jeffrey Hodges, an attaché to Ambassador Joseph Bass …” he lied. “… I am a lawyer, here to make sure proceedings are suitably noted down for the record back home,” Jeffrey fabricated his story with uncharacteristic aplomb.
“Welcome Mister Hodges. Ambassador Bass you say?” Said the girl flicking through the typed page on her clip board, “I’m sorry but …”
“Ambassador, hi it’s good to see you …” Jeffrey shouted looking over the girl’s shoulder at no one in particular, as if he was addressing some imaginary manifestation.
“Sir, Mister Hodges, please …” The girl’s attempt at remonstration was feeble and she soon was focused on checking the next name from the list … Jeffrey was inside!
The ballroom was large, and the chairs set out for the guests were plastic, but cushioned, like you might get in a village hall back home. It seemed that there would be maybe a hundred people here to witness whatever it was that this abhorrent spectacle produced.
Apart from the VIP ones at the front, the seats did not seem to be pre assigned and so hopefully, if he waited until a few more people had arrived, he could simply take his place unnoticed and watch what unfolds. Unlike Singapore, where the planned public execution of Barbara and Amanda, and oh yes, Josephine Shanmugam, had been conducted amidst a carnival like atmosphere, the atmosphere seemed more sedate here, business like almost … Momentarily Jeffrey reflected upon how he had lusted after all three of these unfortunate girls. Had that maybe reflected in the distracted way he had handled their individual cases? He knew he had failed them, despite the fact that all three were still alive, incarcerated in a labour camp albeit, but alive nonetheless.
He needed to do something to ‘save’ Trixie. But he feared it was too late … the time was very much nigh.
Looking up, Jeffrey did a double take. A most unremarkable man had entered the Ballroom, looking very conspicuous with a young blonde girl in a very short skirt on his arm … Ambassador Joseph Rogerson Bass!
“The bastard,” Jeffrey whispered to himself, “… he knew about this all the time! No wonder he wanted rid of me.”
The young lawyer slunk back into the shadows and waited until Bass and his guest had taken their seats. This was not Singapore … there was far less fanfare here. No skimpily clad girls serving drinks, no paraphernalia on sale to mark the ‘occasion’. But a single glass of champagne, or fruit juice, was on offer, and Hodges watched as Bass took bubbling fizz for both himself and the girl.
“Bastard!” Jeffrey repeated quietly to himself.
The chairs were filling up. Government Officials and Detention Service Directors were at the very front, Joseph Bass sat just behind that inaugural set of rows, and so must be quite high on the list of dignitaries.
Jeffrey took a seat at the side, about half way down, one with a good view of proceedings but that also allowed him to remain relatively inconspicuous.
Whatever was going to be done to Trixie was sitting on a raised platform, currently blocked from general view by a front curtain. The covering was large, red and velvet, like a main stage curtain in a large theatre.
The young lawyer was on edge as the hall filled up and the lights dimmed. He felt scared, anxious and, he had to admit … just a little excited!
To Be Continued …
The Shangri-La Bospherous Hotel Sinanpaşa, Beşiktaş/İstanbul, Turkey, Saturday 18th May at 9:40 am
Jeffrey Hodges had woken early on the Saturday morning. Truth was that he had hardly slept at all. This morning he would be attempting to see Trixie again, but in what state would she be?
Over the past 48 hours he had tried everything he could to get hold of Joseph R Bass, but the Ambassador would not take his call nor communicate with Jeffrey in any way at all. The young lawyer smelt a rat, but he could not put his finger on even the smallest shred of evidence.
But yet here he already was, in the lounge at the place at which his former assistant was to be publicly punished. He knew about such events from Singapore. Young girls, usually nubile, always naked and exposed.
Picturing those words in his mind made Jeffrey squirm just a little as he recalled Trixie’s tight, tanned body wrapped around his own, as they made love following the most marvellously romantic evening. He supposed that he must have had similar nights with Kathy, it was just that, at this moment in time, he was struggling to recall any.
Ballroom 1. It hadn’t been difficult to determine the exact location of the event, the hotel seemed proud to be the host.
“THE DIRECTOR GENERAL OF PRISONS AND DETENTION HOUSES AND HIS GUESTS THIS WAY …”
There was even a damn sign, and there was a pair of girls in white blouses and tight dark skirts taking names, checking the arrivals off on their pre-printed lists as if they were arriving for a Gala Dinner. He approached the entrance to Ballroom 1 and addressed one of the name takers.
“Hi.” He took a chance speaking English but these girls were well trained, and it was fine. “… I am Jeffrey Hodges, an attaché to Ambassador Joseph Bass …” he lied. “… I am a lawyer, here to make sure proceedings are suitably noted down for the record back home,” Jeffrey fabricated his story with uncharacteristic aplomb.
“Welcome Mister Hodges. Ambassador Bass you say?” Said the girl flicking through the typed page on her clip board, “I’m sorry but …”
“Ambassador, hi it’s good to see you …” Jeffrey shouted looking over the girl’s shoulder at no one in particular, as if he was addressing some imaginary manifestation.
“Sir, Mister Hodges, please …” The girl’s attempt at remonstration was feeble and she soon was focused on checking the next name from the list … Jeffrey was inside!
The ballroom was large, and the chairs set out for the guests were plastic, but cushioned, like you might get in a village hall back home. It seemed that there would be maybe a hundred people here to witness whatever it was that this abhorrent spectacle produced.
Apart from the VIP ones at the front, the seats did not seem to be pre assigned and so hopefully, if he waited until a few more people had arrived, he could simply take his place unnoticed and watch what unfolds. Unlike Singapore, where the planned public execution of Barbara and Amanda, and oh yes, Josephine Shanmugam, had been conducted amidst a carnival like atmosphere, the atmosphere seemed more sedate here, business like almost … Momentarily Jeffrey reflected upon how he had lusted after all three of these unfortunate girls. Had that maybe reflected in the distracted way he had handled their individual cases? He knew he had failed them, despite the fact that all three were still alive, incarcerated in a labour camp albeit, but alive nonetheless.
He needed to do something to ‘save’ Trixie. But he feared it was too late … the time was very much nigh.
Looking up, Jeffrey did a double take. A most unremarkable man had entered the Ballroom, looking very conspicuous with a young blonde girl in a very short skirt on his arm … Ambassador Joseph Rogerson Bass!
“The bastard,” Jeffrey whispered to himself, “… he knew about this all the time! No wonder he wanted rid of me.”
The young lawyer slunk back into the shadows and waited until Bass and his guest had taken their seats. This was not Singapore … there was far less fanfare here. No skimpily clad girls serving drinks, no paraphernalia on sale to mark the ‘occasion’. But a single glass of champagne, or fruit juice, was on offer, and Hodges watched as Bass took bubbling fizz for both himself and the girl.
“Bastard!” Jeffrey repeated quietly to himself.
The chairs were filling up. Government Officials and Detention Service Directors were at the very front, Joseph Bass sat just behind that inaugural set of rows, and so must be quite high on the list of dignitaries.
Jeffrey took a seat at the side, about half way down, one with a good view of proceedings but that also allowed him to remain relatively inconspicuous.
Whatever was going to be done to Trixie was sitting on a raised platform, currently blocked from general view by a front curtain. The covering was large, red and velvet, like a main stage curtain in a large theatre.
The young lawyer was on edge as the hall filled up and the lights dimmed. He felt scared, anxious and, he had to admit … just a little excited!
To Be Continued …
That’s a fair description of how I feel too! Scared for poor little Trixie, but salivating in anticipation of her immediate fate!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
........but now he's got some dirt on this ambassador, can he clear his head of lust long enough to plan a deal to his advantage?
Takes one to know one.
He had indeed failed them. And the Great PrPr once told this reader that he had plans to extend his writings to deal with what exactly happened to Barbara, Amanda, and Josephine Shanmugam in that horrible labor camp. Someone should consider taking this on, I think.
CLIFFHANGER!!! Fossy has us all on the edges of our seats and a little excited.
twonines
LIMERICUS
PrPr was contemplating chronicling the unfortunate ladies experiences in the labour camp, but said he had other stories he wished to write first. Unfortunately, he never managed to complete all of them.Takes one to know one.
He had indeed failed them. And the Great PrPr once told this reader that he had plans to extend his writings to deal with what exactly happened to Barbara, Amanda, and Josephine Shanmugam in that horrible labor camp. Someone should consider taking this on, I think.
CLIFFHANGER!!! Fossy has us all on the edges of our seats and a little excited.
It is great that Fossy has stepped into the breach and concluded Trixie`s story. The tribulations in the camp and the girls interactions would make exciting reading.
undoubtedly
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (27)
The Shangri-La Bospherous Hotel Sinanpaşa, Beşiktaş/İstanbul, Turkey, Saturday 18th May at 9:58 am
Trixie was led out of the underground car park and into the main hotel. Each time she stumbled on her way up the stone steps of the hotel’s less public back entrance, the guard dragging her by the leash pulled a little harder.
It left Trixie no other choice but to focus all her strength on completing the walk to the place of her punishment which she now knew to be Ballroom Number 1 … a location that would be forever etched into her mind.
From behind the imposing set of double doors she heard the sounds of quiet laughter, along with background music ...and then, when the doors swung open leading to the back of the raised platform and the curtain parted, the shocked red-head looked out at a host of leering, expectant faces.
The chairs were full, her audience assembled, and they weren’t all strangers. Lieutenant Tekin was seated, his expression sporting a self-satisfied smirk, and that bitch of a so-called lawyer, Fatma Tatar smiled up at her, as did Justice Hakan Yıldırım, the Turkish Prosecutor whom she had seen when she first arrived in Istanbul. All eyes glued to the stage, sipping champagne. Trixie felt sick.
The guards twisted the young girl to face the implement of her torture and she gasped with fright. When her eyes fell upon the device, Trixie found herself staring at a wooden trestle, but the cross beam, upon which she would no doubt be mounted was angled so that a sharp edge was upturned designed to split her in two. It was fitted with shackles and restraining straps, and then she knew … this wasn’t just a punishment; it was to be total degrading humiliation at the hands of these monsters.
Jeffrey Hodges watched from his seat both appalled and entranced. My God she looked beautiful, and if he had forgotten for just a second why he had travelled all this way to find this bewitching creature, then he surely remembered now. The pit of his stomach was filled with butterflies … he had to save her, but what could he do?
“Strip” Came the order, barked by the guard to the captive girl’s left.
Trixie closed her eyes and felt the tears squeeze out to run down her cheeks. This was it. As the manacles around her wrists were freed and the collar removed, the young prisoner felt her hands shaking. Slowly she lowered the zipper on her baggy top and heard the buzz of excitement as the sides of her breasts were exposed.
The young American lawyer held his breath. The girl on the stage was so damn entrancing.
Trixie.
His Trixie … he watched captivated as she slipped the prison top from her shoulders and stood covering her chest with her forearms, wearing nothing but a small, dark thong. He felt his groin stiffen.
“Naked.” The same guard clarified the meaning of his instruction.
With a gulp she took the sides of the thong into her trembling fingers and peeled it away from the perspiration coated skin of her pussy and ass. Then, bending a little at the waist, she flicked the skimpy underwear over her heels.
The young, degraded girl stood naked before her audience.
There was no more applause. No frivolous chatter … just an awed silenced as the freshly denuded victim was led towards the wooden edged torture device. Trixie was positioned so that she could mount the device like she would a horse. It was sideways on to the audience and so she knew they would get to see her whole tormented body. What Trixie had not seen were the cameras at her head and ass beaming back close up views of her suffering to large screens positioned above the stage. Not one angled shot of her suffering would be missed.
“Step onto it, prisoner Thomson ...” The instructions came in English.
Spreading her legs over the angled beams involved her first bending slightly backwards before settling into such a position that the guard could buckle thick leather straps high around each thigh. Trixie then felt her ankles being snapped into the lower shackles.
“Fuck … that wood will cut up into her …” Jeffrey Hodges whispered to himself as he saw how Trixie was then pulled forward towards the ‘head’ of the device to have her wrists manacled in place.
“Ohhhhhh pleeeeease!” Trixie wailed as the wooden edge now split the soft flesh of her labia and bit deep into her pussy. Excited chatter rose from the audience … they wanted to see pain and now they were getting it.
Trixie’s slender, naked back was stretched and tensed, ready and waiting, her engorged clitoris now squashed against the sharp timber frame. Her bare buttocks tightened involuntarily, and hot blood rushed to her cheeks. The young girl’s head dropped between her extended arms, her face burning with shame. Bending over like this only accentuated her curves, her rounded breasts hanging pendulously from her chest and her firm ass, which she was certain would be the target of the whip, because surely, she was being readied for the lash, wasn’t she? A certainty confirmed when her wild, tousled red hair was taken up into a tie … access to her body was now unobstructed.
Despite being indoors a chill crept up the backs of her legs and over her ass and Trixie began to shiver. Then she heard more applause and, turning her head sideways, she saw Dündar Kılıç, that brute of a guard, approach holding a coiled blacksnake whip. His dark eyes grew wild when he saw the fear in Trixie’s eyes, when saw her wince as he approached.
He was going to be the one to whip her!
And then Kılıç, with shoulders locked and wrists loose, hurled the whip against the timber base of the trestle with an ear-piercing whack. A great, guttural cry exploded from Trixie’s chest. She jerked wildly in the restraints, recoiling in horror, the blow so violent that everybody in the audience jumped, shocked. Many of the audience covered their mouths involuntarily such was the impact of Kılıç’s introduction.
This was not the first time that Dündar Kılıç had wielded the lash, and he enjoyed tormenting the poor girl unmercifully, bringing horrible anticipation to their impending encounter.
Jeffrey Hodges was ashamed to admit that was erect. The hard-on had started to burgeon when Trixie had removed her clothing and now, seeing her treated as unmercifully as this excited him and heightened the lust that pumped the blood around his body as he sat staring at the stage.
Unmoved by his victim’s tear-stained beauty, the large guard merely grinned back at the bound girl who now looked scared out of her wits.
“Begin.” The instruction to commence rose up from the front row. Trixie held her breath, and closed her eyes just as the lights went down, leaving only a single spotlight highlighting Kılıç and herself. As the spectators fell completely silent, motionless and attentive, terror consumed the bound girl making her want to scream. But she did not.
Dündar Kılıç had circled around into position behind her, touching the taught flesh of her buttocks lightly with the hard, braided leather, assessing his target. Then, as the familiar swish of the leather sliced the air behind her, Trixie clenched her teeth, her body rigid.
CRACK! The blacksnake made solid contact with her ass, diving deep into the two mounds of smooth, quivering flesh. Her head snapped upwards, the blow driving her shackled body violently forward, causing her divided to labia to rasp against the wood. White searing pain exploded through every sinew and fresh tears gushed from her eyes as she cried out in a failed attempt to release the agony.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” She yelled, her body contorting in response to the onslaught, grating her pussy against the biting frame between her thighs.
“Please no more, you’ll kill me …” Her breath was wasted.
“CRACK!” A short pause and then …
“CRACK!” Once more. In a frenzy of pain Trixie pulled at the chains holding her manacled wrists with whitened knuckles as the lash flew through the humid Ballroom air once again. Another burning line of agony was imprinted onto her tender flesh, leaving a criss-cross of raised bright red welts to emerge across her beaten body.
Forty times in all Kılıç brought the lash down on her back and bottom. By the time the final stroke landed on the barely conscious young girl, a pin drop could be heard around Ballroom 1 of the Shangri-La Bospherous hotel, as the one hundred witnesses, including Mister Jeffrey Hodges, stared open-mouth at the atrocious scene before them.
Tomorrow’s post brings with it not just the conclusion to Trixie’s Turkish Nightmare PART III but the trilogy as a whole. Whether you have followed this tale in detail or not, if you have dipped into any of the stories, PrPr’s PARTS I and II or my PART III, then make sure not to miss tomorrow’s chapter so that you can see what fate has in store for each of our main characters …
The Shangri-La Bospherous Hotel Sinanpaşa, Beşiktaş/İstanbul, Turkey, Saturday 18th May at 9:58 am
Trixie was led out of the underground car park and into the main hotel. Each time she stumbled on her way up the stone steps of the hotel’s less public back entrance, the guard dragging her by the leash pulled a little harder.
It left Trixie no other choice but to focus all her strength on completing the walk to the place of her punishment which she now knew to be Ballroom Number 1 … a location that would be forever etched into her mind.
From behind the imposing set of double doors she heard the sounds of quiet laughter, along with background music ...and then, when the doors swung open leading to the back of the raised platform and the curtain parted, the shocked red-head looked out at a host of leering, expectant faces.
The chairs were full, her audience assembled, and they weren’t all strangers. Lieutenant Tekin was seated, his expression sporting a self-satisfied smirk, and that bitch of a so-called lawyer, Fatma Tatar smiled up at her, as did Justice Hakan Yıldırım, the Turkish Prosecutor whom she had seen when she first arrived in Istanbul. All eyes glued to the stage, sipping champagne. Trixie felt sick.
The guards twisted the young girl to face the implement of her torture and she gasped with fright. When her eyes fell upon the device, Trixie found herself staring at a wooden trestle, but the cross beam, upon which she would no doubt be mounted was angled so that a sharp edge was upturned designed to split her in two. It was fitted with shackles and restraining straps, and then she knew … this wasn’t just a punishment; it was to be total degrading humiliation at the hands of these monsters.
Jeffrey Hodges watched from his seat both appalled and entranced. My God she looked beautiful, and if he had forgotten for just a second why he had travelled all this way to find this bewitching creature, then he surely remembered now. The pit of his stomach was filled with butterflies … he had to save her, but what could he do?
“Strip” Came the order, barked by the guard to the captive girl’s left.
Trixie closed her eyes and felt the tears squeeze out to run down her cheeks. This was it. As the manacles around her wrists were freed and the collar removed, the young prisoner felt her hands shaking. Slowly she lowered the zipper on her baggy top and heard the buzz of excitement as the sides of her breasts were exposed.
The young American lawyer held his breath. The girl on the stage was so damn entrancing.
Trixie.
His Trixie … he watched captivated as she slipped the prison top from her shoulders and stood covering her chest with her forearms, wearing nothing but a small, dark thong. He felt his groin stiffen.
“Naked.” The same guard clarified the meaning of his instruction.
With a gulp she took the sides of the thong into her trembling fingers and peeled it away from the perspiration coated skin of her pussy and ass. Then, bending a little at the waist, she flicked the skimpy underwear over her heels.
The young, degraded girl stood naked before her audience.
There was no more applause. No frivolous chatter … just an awed silenced as the freshly denuded victim was led towards the wooden edged torture device. Trixie was positioned so that she could mount the device like she would a horse. It was sideways on to the audience and so she knew they would get to see her whole tormented body. What Trixie had not seen were the cameras at her head and ass beaming back close up views of her suffering to large screens positioned above the stage. Not one angled shot of her suffering would be missed.
“Step onto it, prisoner Thomson ...” The instructions came in English.
Spreading her legs over the angled beams involved her first bending slightly backwards before settling into such a position that the guard could buckle thick leather straps high around each thigh. Trixie then felt her ankles being snapped into the lower shackles.
“Fuck … that wood will cut up into her …” Jeffrey Hodges whispered to himself as he saw how Trixie was then pulled forward towards the ‘head’ of the device to have her wrists manacled in place.
“Ohhhhhh pleeeeease!” Trixie wailed as the wooden edge now split the soft flesh of her labia and bit deep into her pussy. Excited chatter rose from the audience … they wanted to see pain and now they were getting it.
Trixie’s slender, naked back was stretched and tensed, ready and waiting, her engorged clitoris now squashed against the sharp timber frame. Her bare buttocks tightened involuntarily, and hot blood rushed to her cheeks. The young girl’s head dropped between her extended arms, her face burning with shame. Bending over like this only accentuated her curves, her rounded breasts hanging pendulously from her chest and her firm ass, which she was certain would be the target of the whip, because surely, she was being readied for the lash, wasn’t she? A certainty confirmed when her wild, tousled red hair was taken up into a tie … access to her body was now unobstructed.
Despite being indoors a chill crept up the backs of her legs and over her ass and Trixie began to shiver. Then she heard more applause and, turning her head sideways, she saw Dündar Kılıç, that brute of a guard, approach holding a coiled blacksnake whip. His dark eyes grew wild when he saw the fear in Trixie’s eyes, when saw her wince as he approached.
He was going to be the one to whip her!
And then Kılıç, with shoulders locked and wrists loose, hurled the whip against the timber base of the trestle with an ear-piercing whack. A great, guttural cry exploded from Trixie’s chest. She jerked wildly in the restraints, recoiling in horror, the blow so violent that everybody in the audience jumped, shocked. Many of the audience covered their mouths involuntarily such was the impact of Kılıç’s introduction.
This was not the first time that Dündar Kılıç had wielded the lash, and he enjoyed tormenting the poor girl unmercifully, bringing horrible anticipation to their impending encounter.
Jeffrey Hodges was ashamed to admit that was erect. The hard-on had started to burgeon when Trixie had removed her clothing and now, seeing her treated as unmercifully as this excited him and heightened the lust that pumped the blood around his body as he sat staring at the stage.
Unmoved by his victim’s tear-stained beauty, the large guard merely grinned back at the bound girl who now looked scared out of her wits.
“Begin.” The instruction to commence rose up from the front row. Trixie held her breath, and closed her eyes just as the lights went down, leaving only a single spotlight highlighting Kılıç and herself. As the spectators fell completely silent, motionless and attentive, terror consumed the bound girl making her want to scream. But she did not.
Dündar Kılıç had circled around into position behind her, touching the taught flesh of her buttocks lightly with the hard, braided leather, assessing his target. Then, as the familiar swish of the leather sliced the air behind her, Trixie clenched her teeth, her body rigid.
CRACK! The blacksnake made solid contact with her ass, diving deep into the two mounds of smooth, quivering flesh. Her head snapped upwards, the blow driving her shackled body violently forward, causing her divided to labia to rasp against the wood. White searing pain exploded through every sinew and fresh tears gushed from her eyes as she cried out in a failed attempt to release the agony.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” She yelled, her body contorting in response to the onslaught, grating her pussy against the biting frame between her thighs.
“Please no more, you’ll kill me …” Her breath was wasted.
“CRACK!” A short pause and then …
“CRACK!” Once more. In a frenzy of pain Trixie pulled at the chains holding her manacled wrists with whitened knuckles as the lash flew through the humid Ballroom air once again. Another burning line of agony was imprinted onto her tender flesh, leaving a criss-cross of raised bright red welts to emerge across her beaten body.
Forty times in all Kılıç brought the lash down on her back and bottom. By the time the final stroke landed on the barely conscious young girl, a pin drop could be heard around Ballroom 1 of the Shangri-La Bospherous hotel, as the one hundred witnesses, including Mister Jeffrey Hodges, stared open-mouth at the atrocious scene before them.
Tomorrow’s post brings with it not just the conclusion to Trixie’s Turkish Nightmare PART III but the trilogy as a whole. Whether you have followed this tale in detail or not, if you have dipped into any of the stories, PrPr’s PARTS I and II or my PART III, then make sure not to miss tomorrow’s chapter so that you can see what fate has in store for each of our main characters …
twonines
LIMERICUS
Indeed!Somewhere PrPr must be smiling. Well done!
Oh my Ghod, @Fossy , I’m again in danger of running out of superlatives! Heartrending , Harrowing, Erotic, brutal, devastating…
I’m so invested in Trixie by now that I am terrified for her, I empathize so strongly with her, yet entranced and intoxicated by my lust for her agony!
I recall saying to PrPr when he first kicked this off, supposedly as a shortish vignette, and as he became more detailed about her character warning me he’s going to wind up with a novella I said “don’t worry, you had me at ‘Trixie’s Torment in a Turkish prison’ and I’m here until the finale”. Nearly a year in the making, you have faithfully produced the kind of finale that is so well worth the teasingly lengthy delay and further development of the main theme of Shame.
Poor Trixie, fuck she’s so hot under that beastly whip, I can see a disturbing picture that speaks directly to my personal kink. I am her, I will imagine each and every stroke as her pussy suffers in the horse contraption! With appropriate guilt for enjoying her shame, and imagining myself in her stead.
Meanwhile Jeffrey is revealed as a cad- I’m sure Trixie would have been comforted to have heard his voice before the brutality broke out but he’s too cowardly to say anything, and secretly fantasies that he was the one wielding that horrible instrument of pain. Not even the wit to tell her that he’s here, will he actually do anything or will he just slink back to Singapore to continue his cuckoldship with Kathy, leaving Trixie to her fate under the USA’s most generous drug laws and double jealordy?
Thank you, I agree with Barb, somewhere PrPr should be very pleased indeed, I know I am!
I’m so invested in Trixie by now that I am terrified for her, I empathize so strongly with her, yet entranced and intoxicated by my lust for her agony!
I recall saying to PrPr when he first kicked this off, supposedly as a shortish vignette, and as he became more detailed about her character warning me he’s going to wind up with a novella I said “don’t worry, you had me at ‘Trixie’s Torment in a Turkish prison’ and I’m here until the finale”. Nearly a year in the making, you have faithfully produced the kind of finale that is so well worth the teasingly lengthy delay and further development of the main theme of Shame.
Poor Trixie, fuck she’s so hot under that beastly whip, I can see a disturbing picture that speaks directly to my personal kink. I am her, I will imagine each and every stroke as her pussy suffers in the horse contraption! With appropriate guilt for enjoying her shame, and imagining myself in her stead.
Meanwhile Jeffrey is revealed as a cad- I’m sure Trixie would have been comforted to have heard his voice before the brutality broke out but he’s too cowardly to say anything, and secretly fantasies that he was the one wielding that horrible instrument of pain. Not even the wit to tell her that he’s here, will he actually do anything or will he just slink back to Singapore to continue his cuckoldship with Kathy, leaving Trixie to her fate under the USA’s most generous drug laws and double jealordy?
Thank you, I agree with Barb, somewhere PrPr should be very pleased indeed, I know I am!
I won't tell if you don't, Jeffrey. Oh! You already did!
Not that I blame you! @Fossy's writing is, um, arousing enough, and you're watching in real life!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey (28)
What happened in the immediate aftermath of Saturday 18th May, 2019.
Following such a violent and vicious whipping, young Miss Trixie Thomson, the hapless innocent from Branchwater, Alabama was taken away to spend the next forty-eight hours in the prison infirmary.
For two days Miss Thomson was cared for in the most basic manner befitting a disgraced felon who was due to be deported. However, her treatment was enough to see the scars and welts on her nubile body begin to heal, though the memory of her appalling ordeal would not disappear quite so easily.
Upon her ‘release’ she was surprised to be met by Jeffrey Hodges, although ‘surprised’ wasn’t quite the word. Shocked, confused, angry, relieved, grateful … How had he found her? Had he come to be with her? But wasn’t he married, and his wife Kathy, she was pregnant, right?
Jeffrey had become more street-wise in the past few weeks than in his twenty-seven years of previous life, and he used his new found knowledge wisely. A very clear threat was issued by him firstly to Ambassador Joseph R Bass, and then immediately repeated to Ambassador Scot Walkerson. Bass had been openly aware of this illegal punishment, agreed to and signed for under extreme duress by its victim, and what Jeffrey knew about Walkerson’s predilections made the US Ambassador to Singapore very vulnerable indeed. These intimidations saw Jeffrey secure Trixie Thomson a first-class seat all the way home to the good old US of A, and a completely exonerated pardon of all the trumped-up charges that had been levied against her. Trixie was a free woman …
However, the young lawyer hadn’t come all the way to Istanbul to be with Trixie, as much as his attraction to her was as strong now as it had been on that wonderful night they spent together. No, Jeffrey had spent all of his short adult life being a philanderer. Lusting here, there and everywhere. So, this time he would do what was right. He went back to Kathy, who was of course delighted to welcome home the ‘Jeffrey she married’.
Alexander Jeffrey Hodges was born on the 22nd October 2019, he weighed 7lbs 8oz, and both the radiant mother and the beautiful baby were fit and healthy. By this time, using his continued new found ‘wisdom’ in a commendably discerning way, Jeffrey had replaced Bob Burnside as First Minister and deployed his influence and power to secure formal extradition for Barbara Moore and Amanda Jones back to the States. Although they had already suffered abominably at the hands of the labour camp guards, they were nonetheless filled with gratitude when they found out about their return home, where their respective cases would be considered; certainly more carefully and hopefully more leniently.
Jeffrey Hodges was the youngest first Minister in the history of the political relationship between Singapore and the USA, and he was destined to become the youngest Ambassador a few years hence, when Scot Walkerson retired through ill-health (his heart was never the strongest apparently). Jeffrey and Kathy Hodges served their country with distinction for many years, and their children, handsome Alexander and beautiful Stacey, the image of her mother, were the perfect representatives of their home country abroad.
It would have been preferable also to have been able to report a dishonourable ending for the likes of Lieutenant Tekin, and that monstrous prison guard Dündar Kılıç or the corrupt so called Avukat, Fatma Tatar and of course, the highly unremarkable weasel, Joseph Rogerson Bass. But Turkey is Turkey and part of Jeffrey’s worldly insight had told him only to fight battles he could win.
But what about our heroine …
When she landed at Hartsfield-Jackson, Atlanta’s International Airport, Trixie felt lost. What should she do now? Yes, Jeffrey had finally come to her aid, and she was a free woman. But the way she had been treated, both at the Singaporean Embassy and in Istanbul, haunted her every minute of every day. The thought of returning to Branchwater, and Bubba Jim’s Park with her tail between her legs appalled her.
Taking Trix the Troll out of her baggage, which amazingly had been returned to her following her stay in the prison infirmary, she held the little doll up and smiled at it.
“Y’know what Trix,” she said suddenly feeling more hopeful than she had in a long while, “There’s only one thing we can do, right?”
The Brando Luxury Vacation Resort, Tetiaroa Island, French Polynesia, March 31st 2022
“Yes Ma’am, this is Marlon Brando's resort. We have thirty-five beachfront villas all with thatched rooves, surrounded by ironwood trees and acres of space.” There was a pause in the call whilst the voice on the other end thought things through, then the conversation continued. “… All our rates are in Euro’s Ma’am, and a one-bedroom villa costs three thousand seven hundred per night. Yes, that’s right, three thousand … okay Ma’am that’s absolutely fine, thank you for your call.” As the Hotel’s main reception booking agent put down the phone, she smiled at the passing handsome young man delivering two cocktails on a tray to the outside patio.
He walked carefully towards the Villa complex, making sure to hold the tray steady upon the palm of one hand. He walked around the oval shaped pool towards where the two girls lay baking in the sunshine … even in March the temperatures in French Polynesia were hot.
As he transferred the two Bahama Mama’s from his tray onto the tiled floor by the sun loungers, he couldn’t help but ogle the younger of the two females. Her red hair was wild, but wild in an oh-so-sensual way, he could have stared at her all day. The older woman was not quite so eye-catching, but then compared to the younger beauty who would be.
“Look, I said that a second book would be coming later …” The red-haired girl said into her cell phone whilst pulling up her top to cover her naked breasts when she saw the cocktail waiter staring at her. “Thank you,” she mouthed at the young man as if to say ‘you can go now’.
“No, the book will come after the series. Yes, Netflix, ten parts, all streamed … The Torment of Trailer Park Tracey … it’s being filmed as we speak, and I have co-written the screenplay and will be on set too often to even think about the second book for a few months yet. Okay, that’s fine, bye …”
Trixie put down her cell phone just as Beatrice Sullivan opened her eyes.
“Are they hassling you for the sequel baby?”
“Oh, aren’t they always, but it’s cool.”
Trixie had made the best decision of her young life when she called Beatrice Sullivan, whose number she could still recall from the time before her ‘experiences’ in Singapore and Turkey, from the arrivals lounge in Atalanta Airport back in 2019. The two women were made for one another and Trixie’s rehabilitation was taken care of by the friend who once again, became her lover.
Six months after her return to the US Trixie Thomson had written and released the book detailing her ‘adventures’, but in the guise of the fictional heroine, Tracey Thomas. The world loved it, partly because it was written by such a stunning authoress, but also because Trixie’s writing style was a mirror of her personality; charming, disarming and oh so sensual.
The book sold millions of copies, had just been turned into a Netflix streaming series and now she was been harassed by her agent to start the sequel … well I suppose they had a right to hassle her just a little, after all she had received a million-dollar advance from them.
“Turn over baby.” Beatrice moved to the lounger where her nubile lover lay, and watched as the younger girl stretched her almost naked body out so that she could slide onto her stomach.
As she reached for the massage oil Beatrice stared down at the faded white marks adorning the otherwise smooth flesh of Trixie’s buttocks and back. A reminder of a time that will never be forgotten …
Trixie Thomson was one of the esteemed PrPr’s, favourite characters. It was, in a large part, for this reason why I wanted to see PrPr’s planned trilogy brought to a conclusion. PrPr wrote in such a way that it was easy to fall for many of his girls … but Trixie is one of my favourites too.
I could have continued writing about the gorgeous red-head’s life for ever and a day, but I felt that after the punishment in Istanbul we had reached a kind of Nadir, from where the future could be easily summarised.
So, thank you for letting me take care of this adorable girl for just a little while. I hope you enjoyed my efforts to tell the remainder of her story, and thank you all for your wonderfully inspirational support.
Fossy.
What happened in the immediate aftermath of Saturday 18th May, 2019.
Following such a violent and vicious whipping, young Miss Trixie Thomson, the hapless innocent from Branchwater, Alabama was taken away to spend the next forty-eight hours in the prison infirmary.
For two days Miss Thomson was cared for in the most basic manner befitting a disgraced felon who was due to be deported. However, her treatment was enough to see the scars and welts on her nubile body begin to heal, though the memory of her appalling ordeal would not disappear quite so easily.
Upon her ‘release’ she was surprised to be met by Jeffrey Hodges, although ‘surprised’ wasn’t quite the word. Shocked, confused, angry, relieved, grateful … How had he found her? Had he come to be with her? But wasn’t he married, and his wife Kathy, she was pregnant, right?
Jeffrey had become more street-wise in the past few weeks than in his twenty-seven years of previous life, and he used his new found knowledge wisely. A very clear threat was issued by him firstly to Ambassador Joseph R Bass, and then immediately repeated to Ambassador Scot Walkerson. Bass had been openly aware of this illegal punishment, agreed to and signed for under extreme duress by its victim, and what Jeffrey knew about Walkerson’s predilections made the US Ambassador to Singapore very vulnerable indeed. These intimidations saw Jeffrey secure Trixie Thomson a first-class seat all the way home to the good old US of A, and a completely exonerated pardon of all the trumped-up charges that had been levied against her. Trixie was a free woman …
However, the young lawyer hadn’t come all the way to Istanbul to be with Trixie, as much as his attraction to her was as strong now as it had been on that wonderful night they spent together. No, Jeffrey had spent all of his short adult life being a philanderer. Lusting here, there and everywhere. So, this time he would do what was right. He went back to Kathy, who was of course delighted to welcome home the ‘Jeffrey she married’.
Alexander Jeffrey Hodges was born on the 22nd October 2019, he weighed 7lbs 8oz, and both the radiant mother and the beautiful baby were fit and healthy. By this time, using his continued new found ‘wisdom’ in a commendably discerning way, Jeffrey had replaced Bob Burnside as First Minister and deployed his influence and power to secure formal extradition for Barbara Moore and Amanda Jones back to the States. Although they had already suffered abominably at the hands of the labour camp guards, they were nonetheless filled with gratitude when they found out about their return home, where their respective cases would be considered; certainly more carefully and hopefully more leniently.
Jeffrey Hodges was the youngest first Minister in the history of the political relationship between Singapore and the USA, and he was destined to become the youngest Ambassador a few years hence, when Scot Walkerson retired through ill-health (his heart was never the strongest apparently). Jeffrey and Kathy Hodges served their country with distinction for many years, and their children, handsome Alexander and beautiful Stacey, the image of her mother, were the perfect representatives of their home country abroad.
It would have been preferable also to have been able to report a dishonourable ending for the likes of Lieutenant Tekin, and that monstrous prison guard Dündar Kılıç or the corrupt so called Avukat, Fatma Tatar and of course, the highly unremarkable weasel, Joseph Rogerson Bass. But Turkey is Turkey and part of Jeffrey’s worldly insight had told him only to fight battles he could win.
But what about our heroine …
When she landed at Hartsfield-Jackson, Atlanta’s International Airport, Trixie felt lost. What should she do now? Yes, Jeffrey had finally come to her aid, and she was a free woman. But the way she had been treated, both at the Singaporean Embassy and in Istanbul, haunted her every minute of every day. The thought of returning to Branchwater, and Bubba Jim’s Park with her tail between her legs appalled her.
Taking Trix the Troll out of her baggage, which amazingly had been returned to her following her stay in the prison infirmary, she held the little doll up and smiled at it.
“Y’know what Trix,” she said suddenly feeling more hopeful than she had in a long while, “There’s only one thing we can do, right?”
The Brando Luxury Vacation Resort, Tetiaroa Island, French Polynesia, March 31st 2022
“Yes Ma’am, this is Marlon Brando's resort. We have thirty-five beachfront villas all with thatched rooves, surrounded by ironwood trees and acres of space.” There was a pause in the call whilst the voice on the other end thought things through, then the conversation continued. “… All our rates are in Euro’s Ma’am, and a one-bedroom villa costs three thousand seven hundred per night. Yes, that’s right, three thousand … okay Ma’am that’s absolutely fine, thank you for your call.” As the Hotel’s main reception booking agent put down the phone, she smiled at the passing handsome young man delivering two cocktails on a tray to the outside patio.
He walked carefully towards the Villa complex, making sure to hold the tray steady upon the palm of one hand. He walked around the oval shaped pool towards where the two girls lay baking in the sunshine … even in March the temperatures in French Polynesia were hot.
As he transferred the two Bahama Mama’s from his tray onto the tiled floor by the sun loungers, he couldn’t help but ogle the younger of the two females. Her red hair was wild, but wild in an oh-so-sensual way, he could have stared at her all day. The older woman was not quite so eye-catching, but then compared to the younger beauty who would be.
“Look, I said that a second book would be coming later …” The red-haired girl said into her cell phone whilst pulling up her top to cover her naked breasts when she saw the cocktail waiter staring at her. “Thank you,” she mouthed at the young man as if to say ‘you can go now’.
“No, the book will come after the series. Yes, Netflix, ten parts, all streamed … The Torment of Trailer Park Tracey … it’s being filmed as we speak, and I have co-written the screenplay and will be on set too often to even think about the second book for a few months yet. Okay, that’s fine, bye …”
Trixie put down her cell phone just as Beatrice Sullivan opened her eyes.
“Are they hassling you for the sequel baby?”
“Oh, aren’t they always, but it’s cool.”
Trixie had made the best decision of her young life when she called Beatrice Sullivan, whose number she could still recall from the time before her ‘experiences’ in Singapore and Turkey, from the arrivals lounge in Atalanta Airport back in 2019. The two women were made for one another and Trixie’s rehabilitation was taken care of by the friend who once again, became her lover.
Six months after her return to the US Trixie Thomson had written and released the book detailing her ‘adventures’, but in the guise of the fictional heroine, Tracey Thomas. The world loved it, partly because it was written by such a stunning authoress, but also because Trixie’s writing style was a mirror of her personality; charming, disarming and oh so sensual.
The book sold millions of copies, had just been turned into a Netflix streaming series and now she was been harassed by her agent to start the sequel … well I suppose they had a right to hassle her just a little, after all she had received a million-dollar advance from them.
“Turn over baby.” Beatrice moved to the lounger where her nubile lover lay, and watched as the younger girl stretched her almost naked body out so that she could slide onto her stomach.
As she reached for the massage oil Beatrice stared down at the faded white marks adorning the otherwise smooth flesh of Trixie’s buttocks and back. A reminder of a time that will never be forgotten …
THE END
Trixie Thomson was one of the esteemed PrPr’s, favourite characters. It was, in a large part, for this reason why I wanted to see PrPr’s planned trilogy brought to a conclusion. PrPr wrote in such a way that it was easy to fall for many of his girls … but Trixie is one of my favourites too.
I could have continued writing about the gorgeous red-head’s life for ever and a day, but I felt that after the punishment in Istanbul we had reached a kind of Nadir, from where the future could be easily summarised.
So, thank you for letting me take care of this adorable girl for just a little while. I hope you enjoyed my efforts to tell the remainder of her story, and thank you all for your wonderfully inspirational support.
Fossy.
Hard to fathom this turnabout but I’m buying it.
A delightful epilogue, Fossy. I’m sure PrPr would approve, Thanks so much for taking this project on and doing such a faithful and awe-inspiring job of it.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
It truly was a labour of love Barb ... thanks for your unstinting support ...Hard to fathom this turnabout but I’m buying it.
A delightful epilogue, Fossy. I’m sure PrPr would approve, Thanks so much for taking this project on and doing such a faithful and awe-inspiring job of it.