That was just what the Turk was waiting for. He rammed his cock home all the way into Denise’s ass. She screamed again as the pain tore through her. The Turk pumped mightily, slamming his thighs against the sobbing woman’s red striped globes. As he came he roared, pulling her hips back, pumping his hot seed deep into her.
As he regained his senses, the Turk withdrew his flaccid cock from the narrow passage. He pushed Denise forwards so that she lay again flat on the bed. Rising from the mattress, Turk went into the bathroom to wipe his cock clean of Denise’s wastes. He washed and dried himself with toilet tissue and flushed it away. When her returned to the bedroom, Denise was moaning softly.
She was crushed, defeated. She would resist no more. She had no way to communicate her surrender other than to lie in place, awaiting this cruel man’s next act against her. Turk dressed quickly. This is getting out of control, he thought to himself. He would have to secure her tightly, watch her all the time. And he needed a plan for securing her when it came time to go get the van.
One look at Denise, however, told him that she would offer no more resistance. He pulled her to a sitting position on the bed. He grabbed her cheeks and turned her head towards his. She looked piteously back at him.
“Look,” he said to her calmly. “I am taking you out of here. I am going to wait until it is dark and then you and I are going to leave. If you obey me, you will suffer no more harm. But if you resist again, I will hurt you again. And there are ways of hurting you that would make our little tussle here seem like child’s play.”
Denise nodded slowly. She knew he meant it. She knew that this beast of a man was capable of all that he said. She could not escape him. She would not resist.
Many hours later, Denise still lay hogtied in the middle of the living room. She had been there ever since the Turk’s rabid assault on her rear passage, except for two breaks when the Turk had allowed her to go to the bathroom and take small drinks of water. She listlessly permitted him to manhandle her. Even when the tape was removed so that she could drink, she did not try to speak. She had a thousand questions. Where was he taking her? Would she see her sister there? What would happen when he got her to where he was taking her? But fear, exhaustion and despair kept her quiet.
Lying on the floor, a pillowcase over her head to obscure her vision, Denise had plenty of time to bemoan her fate. And the Turk, sitting in a dining chair, his eyes pinned on the delicate female flesh before him had much to contemplate. He remembered Cheryl lying there. Was taking her sister really going to break Cheryl’s spell over him? What would he tell his new captive about Cheryl’s fate? How long could he keep her his prisoner?
The Turk owned a small island in one of the finger lakes of upstate New York. It was isolated, surrounded on all sides by state park land, accessible only by boat. He had a couple living there who took care of the place. They would not ask questions when he brought a bound, naked female to live with him. They had cared for his prisoners before. But then he had held girls just long enough to break and abuse them. They all took journeys afterwards to new owners, to ply their new trades as abject whores.
He looked at his watch. 1:45 A. M. It was time to move. He had thought carefully on how to restrain Denise while he got the van and the special carrying case he had brought with him to the city. He stepped over to the motionless girl and undid the rope connecting her hands and her feet. Turk had remembered the hook he had placed in the ceiling the night Cheryl did her little dance before his camera. He slid the girl’s body over to the center of the room and tied a doubled piece of Venetian blind cord around the bindings on her ankles.
Denise had been startled out of her lethargy by the Turk’s actions. For a moment, she thought that she was going to be beaten again. But no, she felt her ankles being pulled into the air. Turk’s arms were around her legs, raising her as he pulled on the doubled cord that ran through the hook. When he had Denise fully lifted off of the floor, he tied off the cords around her wrists.
The girl dangled from her feet, her head about a foot off of the floor. The pillow case was still covering her head as Turk had bound it loosely around her neck. Denise felt herself swinging back and forth helplessly. What torment had her cruel captor devised for her now?
Turk leaned over to the girl’s ear and spoke softly to her. “I am going to leave you here for about five minutes. Do not struggle. It will only cause you pain. After I return, we will get ready to leave. If I find that you have tried to get free when I come back, I will beat you again. Do you understand?”
Denise murmured her understanding as best she could from beneath her hood and through the tape over her mouth.
Quickly, the Turk let himself out of the apartment. He looked down the hallway carefully to make sure that he would not be seen. Five minutes he had told her. It would take more like 20. But he had tied her securely, checking all the knots before he left, and he had tested the strength of the hook and satisfied himself that it would hold her weight.
He strode quietly down the hallway after locking the three locks of the apartment door carefully. He would have to hurry.
Denise heard the door shut and locked. At first, she was struck by the utter silence of the room. Turk had turned off all of the lights so that while before she had been able to detect a soft glow of light through the pillowcase knotted around her head, now there was utter blackness. The only sensation was the disconcerting effect of rocking gently in her ropes. She had been warned about trying to free herself and she took the warning seriously. After all, he would only be gone five minutes and she would have little time to effectuate an escape.
But Denise couldn’t help squirming in her tight bonds as they settled in around her. The Turk had wrapped the cord all around her torso, over her shoulders, across her breasts and around her waist. Thus, her weight was distributed evenly between her body, her hands and her feet. When she finally came to rest, it was an odd, but strangely peaceful feeling. For the last fourteen hours she had been acutely aware of the Turk’s movements around the apartment. He had gotten up from his chair several times either to use the bathroom or to get a drink. She heard him open the refrigerator and heat up the leftovers she had stored there. Each time the Turk moved, she had anticipated another assault on her person, some additional and progressively worse abuse.
Now that the Turk had left, her apprehension dimmed somewhat. Under her current circumstances, she could think only of the present. The future was too dark to contemplate. And so, Denise allowed herself to be comforted by the calming sensation of floating in the darkness. After a short while, the relative silence gave way to faint sounds from the streets below. She could hear movement within the apartment building. Movement by people who would surely have found it strange had they known that there was an upside down, naked, dangling prisoner mere feet away from them.
Meanwhile, the Turk was hurrying to his goal; his van and the equipment inside it. He dared not run. In New York, people who ran at 2 o’clock in the morning got stopped by the police. Even walking quickly was a danger since it would draw the attention of passers by. And so, he walked fast, but not hurriedly, along the almost deserted sidewalks.
He had estimated fifteen minutes to get to the van and then five minutes to drive back. Heaven help him if it had been towed or stolen. When he turned the corner of 4th Street and Houston, it was there. But it had taken him closer to twenty minutes to make the walk. There was still traffic on the streets and he had to wait several times at corners for the lights to change. Finally, he was able to get in the van and drive off.
By now, Denise was fully aware that the Turk had been gone for more than five minutes. The time had passed slowly and the rush of blood to her head made her dizzy. But she was sure he had been gone for longer than five minutes. What did that mean? Had he left for good? Or would he burst through the door at any moment? If he had left, how long would it take for her to be discovered? A day? A week? By then she would surely suffocate on her own weight, not unlike a crucified slave, for ultimately, her diaphragm would become too heavy to lift.
When Denise heard the key enter the lock on the door, she was startled. She was, at first, relieved that she would not die, a suspended trophy of this bastard’s conquest. But then she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized that this cruel man had returned to claim her, to make her disappear from her own life just as Cheryl had disappeared from hers.
The Turk was relieved to see that his efforts at securing the girl had been successful. He wheeled in his case and shut the door, turning on the living room light. The sounds of his movement across the room seemed loud and abrasive to Denise in comparison to the relative quiet that she had experienced for the last thirty minutes. While she had been content to sway gently at the end of the ropes during the Turk’s absence, now she squirmed and shuddered with fear. As she felt the ropes being carefully untied around her and her body slowly lowered to the floor, she began to cry. She had lost all control of herself. She was at this man’s mercy. He had already treated her more cruelly than she had ever experienced. What would he do to her when he had her sequestered in whatever remote and secret place they were going?