Beatrix

Beatrix Thomson came from humble beginnings, born and
raised on Bubba Jim’s Mobile Home Resort. The young girl was
known as Trixie to some but to others she was simply TPT –
‘Trailer Park Trash’. Through sheer determination Trixie
dragged herself up and out of her hometown of Branchwater,
Alabama, and, via the Foreign Service Institute (FSI) at
Arlington, Virginia, she graduated as a fully qualified legal
secretary.
Her first and only posting was to the US Embassy in
Singapore where Ms Thomson’s past finally caught up with her
and brought her nothing but trouble. The full story of Trixie’s
upbringing, education and posting can be found in these two
superb tomes by our late lamented friend, the esteemed
Praefectus Praetorio (PrPr) …
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment, Part I
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment, Part II
I would like to thank the close friends of PrPr, @Barbaria1,
@Eulalia and @Loinclothslave, for trusting me with one of his
favourite characters and allowing me to present the concluding
part to her trilogy …
Trailer Park Trixie's Torment - Part III - Turkey
Following her sudden and robust departure from the US
Embassy in Singapore, we join Trixie at Changi Airport, where,
unbeknown to the hapless girl, the Singapore CNB (Central
Narcotics Bureau) has made a call to their colleagues at the
airport, warning them of Trixie’s imminent arrival. It is here
where we pick the story up.
6
01
Singapore Changi Airport, Monday April 8th 2019
at 10:45 PM
The two Marines had taken Trixie's arms and gently but
firmly ushered her from Minister Bob Burnside’s office. Tears ran
down the young girl’s cheeks as she accompanied the guards to
her desk, and she was forced to swallow down a quiet sob as they
handed her a canvas bag to carry her belongings.
The young girl looked longingly at the door to Jeffrey's office
and turned to the guards to ask if she could say goodbye to her
boss, Mr. Hodges.
"No, Miss,” The head Marine replied, “… We were told that he
does not want to be disturbed by you. Now let's go get your things
at your flat." The man wasn't nasty, just following his orders.
To the traumatised Trixie, the airport seemed so stark as she
sat on a hard, plastic seat, gripping her ticket and dismissal
papers in one hand and her little 'Trix’ doll in the other. On her
eleventh birthday, one of the few times her mother had been
sober enough to remember it, she had been given the little troll
doll with red hair like hers. It had been her companion and
comfort ever since – a reminder of a single flash of maternal
affection that had been bestowed upon her. Trixie remembered
how proud she had been when she went to work for Hodges to
place it on the corner of her desk, The first workplace that had
been hers with dear old Trix watching over her. Now, holding the
little doll provided only a slight amount of comfort as her whole
world fell apart.
Trixie sat gently weeping between the two unemotional
Marine guards. She still wore the clothes she had put on sixteen
hours earlier for work that morning. In one hand she held her
boarding pass and luggage ticket, and gripped in the other were
several pages of crumpled paper. Whilst being railroaded
7
through her own apartment, Trixie had hurriedly packed
whatever she could under the watchful and impatient eyes of the
Marines. They then drove her to the airport, checked in her one
suitcase, containing everything that she now owned in the whole
world, and entered the waiting area for her flight: Turkish
Airlines, via Istanbul to Atlanta, 30 hours total. Then she had a
three-hour layover and an almost two-hour flight to Evergreen,
the county seat where Branchwater was located. That was as far
as the State Department would pay to take her. Trixie was on her
own to get home from there.
Since being hustled out of the Embassy at 2:30, she had not
had anything to eat and only sips from the airport water fountain
to drink. The Marines had bought themselves special burger and
bacon stack meals at the airport on the Embassy dime, but Trixie
had only $48 and a little change in her purse for the whole trip
home. She had been stretching her funds until she received her
first salary as a government employee, and she’d maxed out her
one credit card with the yet to be reimbursed expenses of getting
to Singapore.
Trixie had been called into Minister Burnside’s office and
told, without any preparation, that she was being summarily
dismissed and sent home. He said her work was unsatisfactory,
and the State Department had no further need of her services.
The Minister refused to explain beyond that and immediately
called in the guards to escort her from the building. As she’d left
the office, Burnside’s secretary, with a look of great sadness, had
handed her the papers, the ones that Trixie now held in hr hand.
On the ride back to her apartment, she had looked at them.
There was no detail whatsoever giving the reason for her firing,
although there was extensive boiler-plated information about her
rights (which, as a short-term, probationary employee, were
basically none!). There was an obscure passage referring to her
"forfeiting all undisbursed pay, benefits, reimbursements, and
8
emoluments." At the bottom of the last sheet, she read this,
added in bold handwriting.
… “Due to this employee’s inferior performance having caused
significant embarrassment to the State Department, she is
hereby forbidden to ever work again for the US government or
any agency thereof!” …
Trixie read the paragraph again and sobbed. All of her
dreams of a government career were destroyed. She was sure this
was all because she’d slept with Jeffrey. God! How stupid could
she be! The men always got what they wanted, and the girls got
screwed. It was just like being in Branchwater
A voice came on the loudspeakers announcing in an echoing
tone that was somehow both sing-song and monotonic …
“Passenger Beatrice Thomson, on Turkish Airlines flight 1867 to
Istanbul, please report to Inspection station at Gate C53.”
The Marines escorted Trixie to the Gate and the door marked
“Special Inspection”. They knocked, and a uniformed security
9
officer appeared. Several other men were already in the room.
The Marines showed Amanda’s boarding pass, and the man
nodded.
“You can go,” he said. “We’ll take it from here, but don’t
worry we will make sure that Miss Thomson makes her flight on
time.” The Marines left, and Trixie was taken into the room.
10
02
Turkish Airlines flight TK55 Singapore to Istanbul,
Tuesday, April 9, 2019 at 5 AM Singapore Time
Trixie had given up trying to get comfortable wedged into the
centre seat between two fat and repugnantly odorous Turkish
Businessmen. Already five hours into the eleven-hour overnight
flight to Istanbul, yet she had been able to sleep for only a few
minutes.
What mostly kept her mind racing was the traumatic
experience in the “Inspection Room” at Changi Airport …
Several hours earlier …
Yong Tan had been a disturbed c***d. Moreover, he was also,
now, twenty years after leaving the custody of the Singaporean
c***d Welfare Services, a troubled adult. When he was eighteen
years old, his entry into National Service had served only to fuel
his agitated appetite for v******e. His conscripted time turned
into eight subsequent professional years in uniform ‘keeping
Singapore safe’ during which time he rose to the rank of Staff
Sergeant. The desire to bully and control were easily satiated in
that role, but when he left the service after one serious bullying
incident too many, Yong Tan had found it harder to contain his
ever burgeoning need to mete out discipline.
So now, as a member of the Changi Airport Security staff,
Tan’s desire was being unnaturally fuelled as he ushered this
stunning and vulnerable red-headed beauty into an Inspection
Room, which already contained an enthusiastic contingent
awaiting her arrival. Two of the other men were uniformed
security with Turkish Airlines, whilst the other pair were
plainclothes agents of the Singaporean “CNB,” an acronym that
still remained a mystery to Trixie.
They proceeded to sit her in a chair, shine two bright lights in
her face, and then took turns asking an endless series of
11
questions. They wanted to know her purpose in Singapore, her
reason for leaving so soon and so abruptly, her business in
Istanbul, and whether she used d**gs, and all of the time she felt
their gaze on her body, undressing her, imagined fingers groping
her … even penetrating her and it forced her to squirm more than
a little in her seat.
Trixie answered as best she could, including admitting the
embarrassing facts of her sudden dismissal. Her claim that there
was no reason given for the firing was received with great
scepticism by the questioners.
Why was she dismissed? What had she done wrong?
“Are you a professional whore?”
“Are you working as a dissident for someone?”
“Do you always dress like a slut,” Yong Tan smirked as he
actually reached out and let his fingers brush the recoiling
Trixie’s breasts.
Over and over, the questions came, with the agents becoming
ever more impatient and abusive with their language.
“Are you taking i*****l narcotics? Is that why you were fired,
you dirty little skank?” Yong Tan sat back and smirked at his use
of the derogatory English term.
Trixie, even as tears were welling up in her eyes, vehemently
denied all d**g allegations.
Then, much to the delight of both the Singaporean and
Turkish Airline Security present, one of the CNB agents started
down another tack.
“Were you fired for sexual improprieties? Did you sleep with
men at the agency? Were you fired for being a slut?”
The questions felt like he was sliding a knife into her heart!
Trixie’s guilt and embarrassment was overwhelming! It was as if
her Trailer Trash past had followed her all the way over here
from Branchwater, Alabama, and was now jumping up and
yelling out in order to make itself known.
12
“No, no, no I was not. I already told you that I have no idea
why I have been fired.”
The questioners immediately picked up on her evasion. Now,
question after question honed in on her sexual conduct in
Singapore. An ever more rude and suggestive tone came into
their voices. Trixie tried to evade answering for a while, but the
men’s insistent and increasingly hostile tone eventually forced
her to confess to her affair with Jeffrey Hodges, her boss.
With smirks on lips and like sharks smelling blood in the
water, the men now zoomed in on her affair. The refused to let
the subject go until Trixie fully described her relationship with
Hodges. Methodically, they drew out all the details of the sexual
activity.
“So, you let him fuck you?”
“Y … yes,” the poor girl whispered, her head hung low, her
voice masked somewhat by the curtain of red hair that now
shrouded her upper body. Sobbing uncontrollably as the men
hounded her, Trixie eventually confessed to receiving a hard
spanking from the lawyer. That just provided the men with an
opportunity to explore her sexual preferences and kinks.
“Get up against the wall girl,” Yong Tan was in his element
now, as poor Trixie, confused and disoriented simply stared
aimlessly back at him.
“Now!” He yelled as if her was back on the parade ground.
And so, looking totally shellshocked, Trixie rose slowly to her feet
and moved, as ordered to the wall.
All five men crowded round her as she felt her lower back
pushed forward, crushing her breasts and face against the white
plaster.
“Look at the Xiǎo jìnǚ (Little Whore) …” Tan, reverting back
to his local dialect for the latest round of verbal abuse, had
already gripped the flimsy fabric and pulled Trixie’s skirt high to
reveal the firm naked cheeks of her ass and the thin lace-line of
13
her black thong between them. Appreciative noises came from
the small crowd around the humiliated girl, as she wished for the
ground to open up and swallow her.
“Pl … please,” she begged, not really knowing what she was
begging for, but fearing a repeat of the treatment handed out to
by Tom Watson and Simon Reedy at the Foreign Service Institute
before she graduated.
As hands roamed her bottom, sliding higher upwards over her
bare flanks and towards her firm vulnerable breasts, they
repeatedly asked if she enjoyed being hurt during sex. With tears
running down her cheeks, the girl answered, “Maybe.” At that,
the men laughed loudly. They knew that they had broken her.
Trixie Thomson had been reduced to a state of near hysteria.
Then the questioning stopped, and as suddenly as she had
been brought into the room, Trixie was being ushered out of it.
“Time for your flight, Miss Thomson,” one of the CNB officers
said. The two Turkish Airlines officers stood her up and returned
her boarding pass and papers and handbag. “We will keep your
passport for now. It will be returned to you when you get to
14
Istanbul.” It made Trixie uncomfortable without that secure
document from her government, but she had no way to object,
and so instead nodded and concentrated on straightening out her
clothes after the uncouth fondling she had just endured.
The men each grabbed an arm and steered her out of the
room and toward the gate. Trixie was surprised when they
arrived, and no other passengers were waiting. The gate
attendant scanned her boarding pass, and the machine beeped
and then started chiming.
“There’s an alert,” she said. One of the guards swiped his
badge on the scanner, and the chime stopped.
“Okay, that’s fine. Thank you. Miss Thomson may board.”
They went down the walkway and entered the plane. When
the group arrived at Trixie’s row, she had to get the aisle
passenger to get up to let her in. He struggled to lift his enormous
bulk and swore under his breath. The guards turned and left
without another word.
It was more than twenty minutes before Trixie stopped
crying.
15
03
Turkish Airlines flight TK55 Singapore to
Istanbul, Monday, 8th April 2019 at 23:55 PM
Singapore Time
Emre Sukar was feeling tired. His business trip to visit the
new office complex located in the Changi Business Park had not
gone well. He was expecting his new Singaporean colleagues to
relieve him of some of the burden he carried by running the sales
operation in the Far East from his desk in Istanbul, but he had
discovered that was not their intention at all. At first, when Emre
had taken on the Far East as his own, he relished the trips
abroad. Leaving his less than attentive, somewhat matronly, wife
of 34 years behind, he made sure to enjoy all the happy endings
he could whilst out and about in the evenings. But those whiney
little Asian girls simply annoyed him now, and he had hoped that
these trips to Singapore would be consigned to history, but it was
clear now that was not to be.
The large Turkish man was about to pop enough pills to make
him sleep for the entire journey when the gorgeous red-head,
seeming somewhat flustered, excused herself with a worn smile,
more of a grimace really, and took her seat right next door to a
delighted Emre.
Things were looking up, and when she twisted her body a
little and the firm ass, barely covered by short, tight fabric,
appeared before him, Emre felt himself stir.
Placing the pills back into their container, the Turkish
business man glanced surreptitiously to his side. “Küçük
Sevgilim,” he whispered, ‘My Little Darling’. He watched as,
with a large sigh, the girl finally settled herself down. From his
vantage point he could see down the front of her top. Oh man,
the cleavage, the swell of her body, the firm flesh that would
simply mould like jelly under his touch …
16
******
An hour or so into the flight, as the girl slept, and despite it
being obvious from her red eyes and worn demeanour that she
was under some form of stress, he could not resist.
Moving slowly and cautiously, making sure no one else could
see him, Emre placed his hand lightly onto the girl’s chest. Oh
yes, this felt so good. Much better than those yelping sluts back in
Singapore. Then, from the corner of his eye he saw another hand.
One that wasn’t his own, and this one was on her thigh. He
looked across and met the gaze of the male passenger to the girl’s
other side. Fuck, now this was hot, really hot. Two of them ready
to exercise their control over one helpless little girl. The very
thought made him hard. No words were spoken as the other
man’s hand crept higher, whilst his own cupped fingers curled
just a little more tightly until he could feel the red-head’s nipples
harden into his palm.
Oh, you are going to be fucked so hard little miss … he played
these words over and over in his mind. But then something
happened to destroy this fantasy completely … the red-head,
woke up to feel a hand on her breast and another creeping higher
and higher up her leg.
Opening her eyes, she saw the one man was rubbing her
nipple through the snug fabric of her dress while the other had
his hand on her thigh, sliding ever upwards. When she stirred,
they both immediately removed their hands and looked away like
naughty schoolboys, as if nothing had happened. Trixie felt like
vomiting! Now she had to stay awake.
***
Tuesday, 9th April 2019 at 8:10 AM - Singapore; 3:10
AM - Istanbul
Over eight hours into the flight, thought Trixie with anguish;
almost four hours still to go! Wedged between the smelly bulk of
her fellow passengers, she struggled to endure.
17
***
Tuesday, Noon on 9th April 2019 - Singapore; 7 AM -
Istanbul
A voice spoke loud and clearly over the airplane loudspeakers.
“This is your pilot, Abdullah Demir. We have begun our
descent into Istanbul Airport. The new facility is the best in the
world, comfortable and welcoming! I hope you have enjoyed your
flight from Singapore on Turkish Air. The weather in Istanbul is
currently 61°F or 16°C with broken clouds. Winds are light, so we
should have a smooth touchdown, inshallah. Again, we thank
you for choosing Turkish Airlines. We live to serve you.”
Thank God! thought Trixie. I can get out and away from these
pigs and walk around. The idiots at the Embassy had booked
separate tickets for her. A single on the TK55 out of Singapore to
Istanbul, a layover of nine hours, before the TK31 took her
onwards to Atlanta. The thought of such a long time to hang
18
around, not to mention retrieving and then rechecking in her
luggage, exasperated the poor girl, but anything would be better
than the flight she had just endured!
19
04
Istanbul International Airport, Tuesday 9th April
2019 at 7:25 AM
The wait for the passengers in front of Trixie to exit the plane
seemed interminable. It appeared that every person had packed
their entire belongings in carry-ons. These were jammed so
tightly in the overheads that a second person was often needed to
pry the case out.
While waiting, Trixie was standing in the aisle, wedged
between multiple passengers all of whom, seemed equally as ripe
as those pigs sat either side of her. Don’t any of these people take
baths, she wondered?
There was a quick pinch on her ass. By the time she could look
back, the three men around her were all looking away innocently.
Before the line got moving, she suffered two more pinches and a
grope at her right breast. ‘Oh my God, please! Get me out of
here!’ – Did she actually just say that out loud?
When she finally made it down the aisle, off the plane, up the
jetway and out to the gate, Trixie began to wonder about how she
would get her passport back. But as she passed the gate and the
sign which said, ‘Thank you for flying Turkish Air, please come
again!’ – yeah, right … two security men, uniformed like those in
Singapore, approached her.
“Are you Beatrix Thomson?”
20
“Yes, I am. Do you have my passport?”
“We do and we will give it to you in due course. Please come
with us.”
They gently, but firmly, took hold of Trixie’s arms and guided
her out of the gate area.
The trio walked along several long corridors using the moving
walkways until they turned and entered an area with a large sign
announcing, ‘Passport Control.’
“What is all of this about?” asked Trixie. “I’m not staying in
Istanbul; I’m just passing through on my way back to the States.”
“Sorry Miss, but this is necessary,” replied the one guard.
Trixie was surprised to see the extent of the immigration area
at the airport. There were over 60 booths (a fact that she did not
know was that there are almost 300 at this new mega airport).
21
The security men steered her to a set of a half-dozen small rooms
labelled ‘Special Services.’
“This is Beatrix Thomson. Her passport was confis**ted by
our agents in Singapore and sent along in this envelope with an
explanatory letter,” the security man enlightened the man at the
open doorway, handing him a manila envelope.
The seemingly officious man looked sceptically at Trixie and
opened the envelope. Out came a typed sheet and her passport.
Trixie reached for it, only to have her hand slapped by the agent.
“Please, genç bayan (young lady). Do not do what you have
not been told!”
He proceeded to read the note. He must have been a slow
reader, thought Trixie, because he took forever with the one
paragraph.
“Why you in Singapore?”
“I have … sorry, I mean had a job there with the US
Embassy.”
He thumbed through the passport, again taking what seemed
forever to read the few stamps on the official document.
“If job, why leaves so soon? Why come to Turkey?”
“I … I lost my job, and I’m going back to the US.”
The man held up a page of the passport to the light, cynically
examining it. “Very new passport.” He fixed her with a
penetrating gaze and suddenly asked, “Is it real?”
“What? Erm … yes, of course.”
“We shall have to check.” He turned to the security men.
“Onun bagajı? (her baggage)”
“Already taken from the plane’s baggage hold and delivered to
the inspectors’ room #8.”
“Çok iyi (very good). Take the fahişe (whore) there.” He
handed the passport and note to the security guard, ignoring
Trixie’s outstretched hand.
“Come with us.” The man said. Before Trixie could ask where
22
they were going, they had taken her upper arms in their grip,
more firmly now, and moved her to a wall with several doors,
over which a sign read ‘Inspection Rooms.’
They knocked and opened the door labelled SEKIZ (#8).
23
05
Inspection room #8, Istanbul Airport, Tuesday 9th
April at 7:35 AM, Istanbul Time
The room contained a large table in the centre, a desk with
chairs in front and behind, and four more men, consisting of two
uniformed security guards, a man in a navy-blue uniform and a
silver star on his shoulder, and an older, paunchy man in a
crumpled grey suit.
Immediately Trixie had a menacing sense of déjà vu from the
scene that she was presented with before the flight, back in the
detention rooms at Changi Airport. The guard handed the papers
to the man with the star who was clearly in charge. He glanced
through the documents and then greeted Trixie in perfect British
English.
"Good afternoon, Miss Thomson. I am Lieutenant Tekin of
the Anti-Smuggling & Organised Crime Department, known as
the KOM. It is similar to the organisation you knew in Singapore
as the CNB. This man,” indicating the older gentleman, “… is the
honourable Justice Yıldırım an esteemed Prosecutor of the
Republic. He is here to ensure that everything is done according
to the law.”
Trixie was too confused and frightened to take it all in. She
had no idea what the KOM or the CNB were. Then she saw that
her suitcase was lying on the central table. When she stepped
toward it, one of the uniforms stopped her in her tracks.
And then realisation hit her.
“Huh? What?”
The words were just spoken were beginning to sink in.
“Make sure exactly what is done according to the law?”
Trixie’s voice waivered as the concern she felt began to seep into
her words.
“Please, Miss Thomson,” cautioned Tekin. “Do nothing unless
24
instructed. Is that your suitcase?”
She recognised the pink fluffy tie on the handle that she used
to find the bag on a luggage conveyor, “Yes.”
“Did you pack it or did someone else?”
“I did.”
“So, you placed everything in it?”
“Yes.”
“Was it in your possession and sight from the time you packed
it until you checked it at the Turkish Air counter?”
“Yes.”
He nodded to the two men by the table. They opened the
suitcase and began carefully examining the contents. Trixie
blushed when she saw the lust-fuelled smirks appear on the faces
of every man in the small room as they held up her sheer lavender
teddy.
Then one of the men stopped and said something in Turkish
to the Lieutenant. He, in turn, drew Trixie with him to the table.
The man pointed out something buried deep in the case,
wrapped in a sweater. He lifted it and began removing the
garment. When he did, he revealed a brick-shaped object about
six inches long by four by two. It was wrapped in white butcher
paper that, in turn, was covered with clear plastic wrap.
“That’s not Mine!” Trixie interjected.
25
“But Miss Thomson. You just told me you packed the bag, and
it was not out of your sight from then until you checked it with
the airline.”
Yes, but … that isn’t mine! I never saw it before! You must
believe me.”
“Am I to believe what you said before? Or what you say now?
I’m afraid you are not doing a good job of convincing me of your
honesty.”
“Oh, God! I don’t know. But I never saw that before!”
26
“Let’s see what you wrapped so carefully and hid in your bag.”
He gestured to the man holding the brick. He, in turn, began
to unwrap the plastic carefully and then loosen the white paper.
With that off, he held up the brick for all to see. They saw a clay
or resin-like substance, black and shiny, with a gold stamp on the
middle of the top.
“Congratulations, Miss Thomson, “said the Lieutenant, “It
seems you carry only the best. ‘Afghan Gold’ hashish. I’d guess
about a kilo.”
Trixie simply stared at him. It wasn’t hers … she’d never seen
it before in her life!
But then suddenly everything became sickeningly clear. The
men at Changi Airport. That brute who had lifted the hem of her
dress to display her ass to everyone. They had planted it. The way
the check-in desk security beeped when she passed through, only
to be overturned by the pass from the security official, that all
now added up. How could she have been so stupid …
But why? Who had ordered them to put it in there?
Burnside, Hodges, John Alberts the second Minister, their
Aides … they were all in it together to make sure that she never
darkened their offices again. Trixie could partly understand why
they didn’t want Trailer Park Trash around their workplace, and
she knew that’s what she would always be to people like that, but
why did they have to do this to her?
What was the d**g possession law in Turkey, anyway?
Trixie Thomson from Branchwater, Alabama was about to
find out.
27
06
Inspection room #8, Istanbul Airport, Tuesday 9th
April 2019 at 8:45 AM, Istanbul Time
Working in Customs Security at the international airport
could be a drag at times. Nobody knew this better than Nevin
Yanit. He had gone through enough bags and purses in his shift
already to cover a lifetime, all with no results. Nevin's job was to
search for any d**gs that might be i*****lly entering the country.
More than often though, he found nothing.
But he would be the first to tell you this job also had its perks,
and today the sweetener would be the American women who
came through the checks, the one they had received the call
about. In the past Nevin had occasionally used his authority to
strip search some of the suspect passengers in the private
inspection rooms. Now he had seen the girl, with her wild mane
of red hair, he hoped that today would present another such
opportunity.
Lieutenant Tekin held up the Hash packet and said,
"Possession of i*****l d**gs is a very serious crime in Turkey.”
Trixie glanced round the room and noticed the way that each
man was ogling her, but what scared her even more was the way
that their jackets were pushed open with firing hands resting on
the grips of their pistols.
Trixie heard the door latch behind her. At a nod from Tekin,
Nevin Yanit, his face consumed by a beaming grin, stepped
forward. "I will need to search you for more contraband Miss."
As he placed a plastic box on the table, one of the other
officers strolled over to the table and started searching through
Trixie's purse.
“We already have her passport,” the Lieutenant confirmed,
and the searching officer nodded.
Trixie looked around in a panic at the group of men and said,
28
"Wh … what do you mean search me. And does it have to be here?
Can't we do it more in private, and maybe with a female guard?"
Nevin Yanit, his expression one of pure Turkish delight,
replied gleefully, "There is no other place, just here ... with me,
and I need these officers to observe as witnesses." He twisted his
head to look at Justice Yıldırım, seeking authorisation to
proceed. Yıldırım in turn nodded his assent.
Yanit turned back to look at Trixie, his gaze already stripping
the clothes from her body. "Now please take off your jacket Miss
Thomson.” Tears welled up in Trixie's eyes as she looked from
officer to officer, but saw no hint of pity in their faces.
She slipped her short jacket off and handed to the officer,
who looked it over, then folded it and put it in the plastic box.
"Top ... off."
With a gulp, and a resigned acceptance Trixie slowly pulled
down the zipper at the side of her dark top and wriggled her
arms out of their holes. Gripping the snug fabric at each side she
pulled it up and over her head. Immediately the captive girl
could feel staring eyes pouring over her partly exposed body and
began to tremble.
“Off … lütfen (please).” Yanit, nodding his head at her lower
body, was in his element now. Never before had he had a subject
this gorgeous to play with.
“Oh God,” Trixie whispered to herself as she squirmed her
way out of the tight skirt and handed that to the waiting hands of
Nevin Yanit, who shook it out and then placed it along with her
other clothes into the plastic container.
"Shoes." The detained girl kicked her heels off and bent over
to pick them up, very aware of the eyes of the other officers on
her virtually naked ass, covered only by the skimpy black lace
thong. A chill from the cold floor spread up through her feet as
the officer tossed the footwear into the plastic bin.
"Sutyen …” Trixie didn’t know the word but understood what
29
he meant … Lieutenant Tekin offered clarification all the same.
“Brassiere ... remove it please!"
She hesitated but, when she saw the look in the man’s eyes,
Trixie forced herself to reach behind and unclasp her black lace
bra. She covered her breasts with one hand and handed it over
with the other.
"Panties."
Trixie paused, unable to remove her arms from around her
breasts. Once again Tekin cut in. “Please Miss Thomson, you
must do as we say or I will have to instruct one of the officers to
assist if you won’t …”
The poor, hapless girl fought back tears as she hooked both
thumbs in the sides of her brief thong-panties, and in doing so
exposed her delicious breasts to the officers’ gaze, who in turn
made no effort to hide their enjoyment of her embarrassment
and humiliation. The firm mounds of flesh hung from her chest,
swaying along with the movements of her nubile, and now naked,
body as she pushed her underwear down over her knees.
Trixie could see out of the corner of her eye that one of them
was leaning over to get a closer look at her ass and a peek at the
slightly swollen labia winking out from between her thighs. She
stepped out of the panties and handed them to the delighted
Yanit.
Trixie couldn't help but cover her breasts with one arm and
her exposed pussy with her other hand, hunching her body as if
somehow it would help her to seem less exposed. She knew what
was about to happen, but she also knew how futile any protest
would be. Those awful men in Singapore had set her up and
there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
As the room darkened a little leaving the spotlight on the now
naked Trixie, Nevin Yanit turned to his colleague standing idly,
leaning against the plain white plaster wall, and said, “I need
lubricant and gloves.”
30
31
07
Inspection room #8, Istanbul Airport, Tuesday 9th
April 2019 at 8:45 AM, Istanbul Time
This was Nevin Yanit’s moment in the spotlight, and as he
stepped towards the girl, he barked his orders. "Hands at your
sides! And stand up straight!"
“Sorry Nev, we don’t have any gloves in the cupboard, let me
call supplies.”
Without so much as a glance at his colleague Yanit nodded.
Seeing Trixie still covering up he yelled at her again, only louder
this time. "Stand up straight! Hands at your side!"
Trixie did so, this time jumping to attention, aware of all eyes
being on her denuded body. Moments later, the door swung open
and a small grunt of a man slumbered sloppily in with a quantity
32
of disposable rubber gloves gripped in his stubby fist. The
supplies man clearly had no interest at all in his job, none that
was until his eyes saw the naked red-head standing in the room,
and his pupils dilated as he stared, slack-jawed at the sight
before him, which was very much to behold.
The girl instinctively covered herself with her arms again.
Now it was the Lieutenant’s turn to contribute his
instructions. “Cuff her,” he ordered.
“What? No, you don’t need to …” but Trixie’s pleadings fell
upon deaf ears as one of the KOM team present, strode over and
grabbed both of the girl’s delicate wrists and forced her arms
behind her back. After locking the cuffs tight with a loud click, he
then, with one hand on her shoulder and one on her ass, forced
Trixie to stand up straight once again.
She was in shock, now unable to cover her nudity, as everyone
in the room delighted in the sight of her breasts exposed under
the duress of her forced positioning.
Nevin Yanit took the lube and gloves from the supplies man,
who was still staring at Trixie.
“Don’t you have any other work to do?” She asked him, feeling
compelled to speak out.
She spoke English, but the grunt understood.
“I’m on my break,” the greasy and odious little man
responded with a smirk.
Yanit chuckled as he slipped on the gloves, muttering “Of
course you are.”
He walked behind Trixie and nodded to his colleague. “Put
her across the table.”
“No, no, no please.” A frantic Trixie stared at the
expressionless face of the Prosecutor, who remained entirely
impassive.
The male KOM officers approached her from either side. As
they got closer, Trixie panicked.
33
"What are they doing?" Each grabbed an arm and then
reached down to Trixie’s ankles. Taking her into the combined
grip they easily hoisted her onto the table, making her bend her
legs so she was kneeling on the smooth surface. The officer on her
right pulled the chain on her cuffs away from her body, raising
her arms so that she leaned forward. Then he placed his hand on
the back of Trixie’s head and pushed until her forehead touched
the table.
As the small audience gathered behind the prostrated girl to
watch, Trixie closed her eyes tight and started to sob, "Please
don't!" She cried. But Yanit had already lubed a gloved index
finger and moved to part Trixie’s exposed, and now very easily
accessible, labia.
As he slid his finger along the length of her swelling pussy
lips, Trixie began to whimper and tremble.
“She’s too tight,” Yanit grumbled, before applying more lube
to his thumb. He placed it on Trixie's clit and began rubbing it in
tiny circles as he pressed his finger in between the soft folds of
flesh. Trixie let out a loud gasp and a short moan, causing much
merriment for everyone in the room.
She bit her lip and tried to suffer in silence.
Nevin Yanit worked his finger inside Trixie’s body and circled
it around. The poor girl tried to remain still as the long digit
violated her, not wanting the onlookers to know she was in any
way aroused by it … but the truth was that his damn touches
were beginning to unwittingly stimulate her.
“This little girl is very wet,” the security man said, the stark
nature of his words causing even more embarrassment to the
naked, kneeling girl, as more laughter swept through the room.
Yanit pulled his finger free of Trixie’s pussy and began to
apply lube around the puckered asshole.
"No. please don't ..." The former legal secretary pleaded, as
flashes of her treatment at the hands of Watson and Reedy came
34
flooding into her addled mind. Trixie tried not to react as the
man's finger pressed relentlessly into her, but in spite of herself,
she arched her back to accommodate his penetrative invasion.
With the tight ring of her sphincter muscle breached, and her
ass filled by what seemed like a fistful of invasive digits, Trixie
tried hard not to moan as she continued to plead, but her words
only highlighted the beseeching nature of her condition.
Eventually Nevin Yanit’s work was done. He was satisfied
there was nothing more to be found and removed the finger from
Trixie's ass. “I need a towel,” he said with a gruff tone to his
words.
“You could make the little bitch suck you clean,” the words
made everyone in the small room laugh, but the security officer
was not amused.
“Towel, I said, now … please.”
The supplies man, who had remained for the entirety of the
‘show’, handed Yanit a dirty rag from his pocket, which the
Customs Security man used to wipe the lube away from Trixie's
ass and pussy, before removing the gloves and wiping any residue
from himself.
Two officers grabbed the nubile red head and pulled her off
the table, whilst another uncuffed her wrists and handed her a
blue hoody and matching yoga pants. It was the only clothing
that Trixie would be allowed for the time being.
“Okay everyone,” Lieutenant Tekin spoke, “… the show’s over.
Get back to work.”
35
08
Problematic Passengers Room #4, Istanbul Airport,
Tuesday 9th April at 9:50 AM, Istanbul Time
‘Problematic Passengers Room’ was what the sign on the door
had said, and from the corridor of entry points it wasn’t the only
one of its kind at Istanbul Airport. Trixie sat in the small space,
wearing nothing but her blue hoodie and matching baggy yoga
pants. She sat with her arms folded on the metal table and her
head resting upon them, sobbing. After a long wait, the door
opened and a somewhat non-descript, disheveled man in a
wrinkled grey suit entered. He placed a laptop on the table across
from her and said in heavily-accented English, "Hello again, I am
Justice Hakan Yıldırım, Prosecutor of the Republic."
He hadn’t needed to reintroduce himself because Trixie
recalled that this was the same man who had overseen that
façade of a cavity search in the Inspection room. Without looking
up, her words tinged with resignation, "You’re a prosecutor. Does
that mean I'm going to be put on trial?"
Justice Yıldırım momentarily paused, and then looked at the
tousled young girl. Speaking slowly and in perfect English, he
said. “Listen to me Miss Thomson, and listen very carefully. In
Turkey, almost all d**gs are considered i*****l and there is no
legislation that allows the medical use of any nonpharmaceutical
d**gs. So, you, young lady, will be automatically
charged with possession.”
Trixie stared back at him, her eyes red from ceaseless
sobbing. “Please Mister Hakan … I did not know the d**gs were
there, in my bag, I swear ...”
Hakan Yıldırım sighed long and loud, as if he was a teacher
demonstrating his impatience with a recalcitrant pupil. “So, you
say that you were not in possession of the d**gs which were
found in your baggage?”
36
“Correct,” Trixie replied with a new found vigour, sensing
that this man might just listen to her.
“But yet the d**gs were there, were they not Miss Thomson?”
“Yes,” the girl replied a little more chastely.
There was another pause before the prosecutor spoke again.
“A kilo of Hash has a value of approximately thirty-two thousand
Turkish Lira …”
Trixie shook her head as if to indicate that she had no idea
what that meant.
“Around three thousand of your American Dollars.”
Now the girl raised her eyebrows, “So … so that’s not a lot is it
… Sir,” she said sounding enthused despite her argument lacking
logic given her predicament, “… And I mean there is no way I
could personally use that amount, even if I needed it for my
health, in like an age …”
Hashish was a staple at Bubba Jim’s Trailer Park and even
though Trixie had never inhaled a whiff of anything i*****l, she
knew something about the subject in hand.
Prosecutor Yıldırım nodded before he once more spoke,
slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Miss Thomson, in your
luggage we have found i*****l d**gs that upon your own
admission exceeded any amounts you could possible require for
personal use in the foreseeable future …”
Sensing that he was trying to help her find a way out, Trixie
nodded her head with once more renewed enthusiasm. But alas,
that was not his intention.
“And so therefore I have no option but to charge you, not with
possession of i*****l narcotics for personal use, but the far more
serious crime of possessing d**gs with the intent to traffic and
supply.”
“What! No, no, no …” Trixie started to rise up, but was soon
resecured back into her seat by a pair of helping hands.
“… the sentence for which could be a custodial one of between
37
twenty and thirty years, in addition to which the Judge will
reserve the right to administer a further punitive fine of up to
another twenty days in prison.”
Trixie felt the nausea rising as bile drifted into her throat. She
could not survive the twenty days locked away in a Turkish hellhole,
never mind thirty years!
“Miss Thomson,” Trixie heard the prosecutor’s voice only as a
vague sound as her mind gave way to the descending blackness
and the vomit spewed forth all over her blue yoga pants.
Jeffrey Hodges Office, U.S. Embassy, Singapore, Monday 8th
April 6:30 PM Singapore time
Jeffrey Hodges knew that he should go home. His wife, Kathy,
thirteen, almost f******n, weeks into her pregnancy, needed him.
They were supposed to be the ‘Poster-couple’ for the US
Government abroad … and Lord knows, Kathy’s well-connected
family back home would make hell pay if he did anything to
screw with their precious daughter. All that, and, to boot, he had
unearthed her darker side. Even in her confined condition, Kathy
had recently explored serious bondage sex with him …
So, damn, what was eating him so much that forced him to sit
alone, in his office at the Embassy, drinking whisky and avoiding
going back to see his ‘perfect’ wife?
"It’s too late, Jeffrey. Your concern speaks well of your
altruism, but it's been decided. She's already been terminated.
Before the day is out, she will be on a plane back to Alabama.
You should thank us, Hodges, rather than defending that...that
tramp …"
Minister Robert ‘Bob’ Burnside’s words echoed in his mind.
Trixie … Trixie … Trix … Beatrix … the thought of her name
sent a shiver up and down his spine. The girl had got under his
skin in the best way. Her naive innocence, her desire for fun, her
passion for making love …
38
God, it was too much for him … He had spent the best night of
his life with her and now she had been unceremoniously dumped
from the service and sent packing back to the States. Hodges felt
tears well up in his eyes, and he knew exactly why he could not go
home.
Trixie … Jeffrey had always had a roving eye ... but this time it
was different, he was in love with Miss Beatrix Thomson, and it
was too late to do anything about it.
Draining his whisky glass he picked up his brief case and
headed out. A few more drinks at the Lotus Bar and then home to
take out his frustrations on the ever-suffering Kathy.
39
09
Problematic Passengers Room #4, Istanbul Airport,
Tuesday 9th April at 10:40 AM, Istanbul Time
“Welcome back Miss Thomson.” Justice Hakan Yıldırım, the
Turkish Prosecutor smiled as Trixie re-entered Problematic
Passengers Room #4, accompanied by the same female airport
official that had arrived to take her away to be cleaned up after
the poor girl had puked the meagre contents of her stomach all
over her clean yoga pants.
“Did they make you walk through the airport like that?”
Yıldırım asked, knowing full well what the answer was. Trixie
stared down at her bare legs and nodded. She had been given a
pair of white cotton panties to put on, and so now, along with the
blue hoody, they were all she wore.
“Will there be anything else?” The female airport official
asked.
“No, you can go. Thank you,” the Prosecutor replied giving
her permission to leave him alone with the young girl once more.
40
“Would you like a glass of water Miss Thomson?”
Slowly raising her head to look into the eyes of this man who
had already sanctioned her to be stripped naked and witnessed
her extreme humiliation, Trixie nodded, adding quietly, “Yes …
please.”
Presenting her with a glass of chilled water from the cooler,
the Prosecutor waited until the girl was once again as composed
as could be expected.
“What happens now?” She asked, maintaining the quiet tone
of her voice, her demeanour now submissive in deference to the
trepidation of her situation.
[Redacted Location] The Hodges Condo Complex, Singapore,
Tuesday April 9th 2019 at 07:30 AM Singapore time
Jeffrey Hodges stood at the window of the master bedroom
shared by him and his wife, Kathy. He heard her stir, still mired
in slumber, which was hardly surprising given the fucking she
had received when he finally arrived home the previous evening,
smelling of whisky.
“Are you going?” Kathy’s voice was husky, her jaw still aching
from the large rubber ball-gag that Jeffrey had forced inside her
mouth once her wrists were chained to the bed.
“I have a meeting with the Ambassador at 9 am sharp, so yes I
need to leave very soon.”
The mention of the Ambassador’s name sent a shiver through
Kathy’s body. Scot Walkerson had called on her several times
since that first highly ‘unfortunate’ occurrence at the cricket club
dinner when he had somehow cajoled her to expose her naked
breast, not just to him, but to the entire room. She knew what
Scot, as she now called him, wanted, that much was plainly
obvious, though as yet he hadn’t actually fucked her …
Jeffrey too knew what it was that the Ambassador wanted
from his wife. If she was happy to be his plaything then Jeffrey
would enjoy a meteoric rise in his career. He hated the fact that
41
Kathy was doing this, and found it hard to accept that whoring
out his wife was all for his own good. He had failed Barbara
Moore and Amanda Jones and, of course, the lovely Trixie, and
so failing his wife was simply par for the course.
Jeffrey Hodges should be enjoying his life right now, but he
wasn’t. He had never hated himself so much.
Problematic Passengers Room #4, Istanbul Airport, Tuesday
9th April at 11:15 AM, Istanbul Time
Hakan Yıldırım smiled and leaned in to the table. “You want
to know what happens now Miss Thomson?”
Moving her head slowly, Trixie nodded.
“I shall apply for a postponement of any public prosecution
under the terms of the TPC (Turkish Penal Code), for up to
twelve months, the granting of which should be a formality given
that you have no previous criminal records.” They had already
checked that fact through Interpol.
Trixie sighed. She had no idea what all of this meant, a
disposition that became clear to the man sitting opposite her.
“This means that we get twelve months to investigate your
crime Miss Thomas, during which time you will be released on
strict probation.”
“You mean you will let me go?”
“It’s not quite that simple. It means that I can now release you
from my custody and hand you back over to Lieutenant Tekin
who has seven days to question you about your distribution
network, your suppliers and your contacts, before we have to
decide upon your immediate future. Postponing any formal
proceedings simply buys us both some time, Miss Thomson.”
“What?” Trixie was once again on the verge of tears. “But I
have no network, or contacts or whatever it was that you said.
I’M INNOCENT!” The poor girl was beside herself and the final
words were yelled.
“Please Miss Thomson, you are not helping yourself at all.
42
Keep calm and if, as you say, you are innocent then I am certain
that ultimately justice will prevail.”
Yeah right, but not before I have been ****d by every last one
of those awful men … this was the thought that the tormented
girl kept inside her head.
“So, I have to stay in some sort of jail for up to seven days,
where exactly?”
“You will be taken to Silivri Prison on the outskirts of
Istanbul, and held there in isolation.”
“Oh God, please no. Make this all stop, please, I’ll do anything
…”
Momentarily Justice Yıldırım looked at the frightened young
girl before him. Her tousled red hair, the way her breasts and the
outline of her nipples pushed against teh blue fabric of her hoody
… he began to imagine what the word ‘anything’, as used by this
provocative little slut just seconds ago, could actually mean.
Shaking his head to rid it of the tempting fantasy, he closed
his laptop and made as if to stand. This triggered another round
of panic to shudder through Trixie’s nubile body.
"Oh my God! Please, sir, you have to let me call the American
Embassy!"
The Prosecutor smiled at the fact that this poor little thing
actually believed she still had any rights at all. "That won't be
possible," he replied.
He paused while she burst into tears, and then he continued.
"Here, in Turkey, we have an uncompromising policy to crack
down on d**g traffickers and other decadent Westerners."
Reopening his laptop, the Prosecutor clicked a few keys on his
laptop and then turned it around for Trixie to see.
"My government requires me to show you this." There was a
video of a young man standing in front of a firing squad. "This is
what can happen in other, less refined, countries. It is what some
of our citizens want to see happen here too. I show you these
43
pictures so that you realise how lucky you are Miss Thomson.”
Trixie jumped as the rifles on the screen fired and the man
dropped.
The video then switched to a naked young woman standing on
gallows weeping.
"This young woman was caught with the same quantity of
d**gs as you were."
A man slipped a black hood over her head and moments later
pulled a lever. The girl fell through the opened trap door and her
sobbing stopped as she bounced at the end of the rope.
Trixie put her head in her hands and cried uncontrollably.
The Justice looked at her for a few moments and then stood.
Picking up his laptop he made for the exit and left her alone,
sobbing in the room.
44
10
En-route to Silivri Prison on the outskirts of
Istanbul, Tuesday 9th April 2019 at 11:35 am
Trixie sat shivering alone in the backseat of a Turkish police
car. The early rain had given way to sunshine and a beautiful
rainbow bridged the air ahead of them. But the idyllic scene
outside was well and truly ridden roughshod over inside the
leaking car. She was sitting in a wet sheen of dirty water on the
plastic covered seat, her wrists now secured with tight plastic ties
that burned into her delicate skin.
Her blue hoodie, still the only item of clothing that Trixie had
been allowed other than the white cotton panties, was soaking
wet around the bottom and clung to the naked skin underneath.
The hem of the garment had had ridden up exposing most of her
tanned, lean legs.
She was in shock. How had everything gone this bad so fast?
Only a few days earlier she had been royally entertained by her
boss, Jeffrey Hodges. Wined, dined and then well and truly sixtynine’d,
at the luxurious Sands hotel, life could not have been
better. And then, all of the shit in all of the world well and truly
hit Trixie Thomson’s fan …
The poor girl didn’t understand any of it, unless she had
stepped on some serious toes by becoming so familiar so quickly
with her boss. The young, hapless red head tried to concentrate
her addled mind, but she knew that trying to make any sense out
of this nightmare right now was not going to work. She had to
focus on the outrageous allegation being levied against her.
However, even though Trixie had been apprehended by the
police, her thoughts could not help but to stray to other people.
Those poor girls back in Singapore, Barb and Amanda –
sentenced to death, tried summarily and without even their
lawyer being present. Poor Jeffrey. In her heart Trixie knew that
45
he would have helped her if only he could, and she also knew that
he cared about those girls and she could sense how much he
would be suffering in the knowledge of their impending fate …
but where there’s life there’s hope was Trixie’s motto.
She repeated the words out loud, but very quietly, to herself,
“Where there’s life there’s hope …”
“Please be quiet Miss Thomson otherwise I will be forced to
gag you.” Lieutenant Tekin sitting by her side, on the dry seat,
glanced in her direction, his expression impassive, yet he could
not help but take a glimpse down at the bear expanse of slender
thigh that was on display.
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Tuesday 9th April
2019 at 19:00 pm
An overpowering stench hung in the air, so thick that Trixie
could taste it, and she wondered if the odour was coming from
her own unwashed body. Pressing her face against the jail cell
bars, she searched for signs of life; another prisoner, a guard,
anyone. She was nauseous, and her heart pounded in her ears.
Looking around for a place to throw up, she found nothing – no
toilet, no bucket ... nothing. If she got sick on the floor, she
realised it would just be another burden for her to bear, another
disgusting stench in this already repulsive pit.
Trixie needed to fight the nausea. She needed to regain
control. Calming down a little, she peered out along the corridor
again, and still could not see a soul. A distant sound was
reverberating through the stone walls, and she strained her ears
to see if she could make any sense of the noise. This left her
feeling even more disoriented.
46
To take her mind off her fears, the stink, and her still growing
revulsion, Trixie studied the small part of the prison that she
could see – her own cell and the few surrounding areas within
her line of vision. The place looked ancient, or at least this part of
it did. Its crudely poured cement walls were coarse, unfinished,
and cold. Its paint-chipped steel bars had been worn to the metal
in several places. Trixie shivered to think how a captive’s hands
must have worn them bare, and she wondered if she too would be
begging through them in the years to come.
Once again, the stink surrounded her like a foul descending
mist, and the poor girl, still wearing only the filthy blue hoody
and the pair of still damp cotton panties, gagged in response.
Trixie had been led here straight from the police car. That must
47
have been several hours ago, and so far, she had not seen nor
heard anyone. At first, she prayed that her senses would dull so
the stench might become tolerable, but then she realised the folly
of that wish. God forbid that she might ever become comfortable
here. The idea that she might spend days, weeks, or even years in
this horrible place brought another surge of panic, and Trixie
pulled at the bars in frustration.
God, how can this be happening to me?
48
11
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul,
Wednesday 10th April 2019 at 03:30 am
Lieutenant Tekin was attempting to unravel his aching limbs
when one of the prison guards arrived carefully holding a curved
see-through glass filled with steaming hot tea.
“Teşekkürler …” Tekin smiled, (thank you).
Silivri prison was not his normal place of work. Ordinarily he
would be ensconced in the relative comfort of the Foreigners’
Department at Istanbul Police HQ. But this girl, Miss Trixie
Thomson, was a foreigner that now came under his jurisdiction,
and given the focus currently being given to outside influences on
the d**g trafficking trade in Turkey, he knew that he had to do
whatever it took to make sure the girl told him everything he
needed to know.
After having her put into an isolation cell several hours ago,
Tekin had decided to let the girl stew for a while, giving him a
chance to catch up on some necessary sleep. But now he was
awake and ready to begin.
******
Extract from the Torture in Turkey report,
Amnesty International October 2001
“… In Turkey, torture mainly occurs in the first days of
police or gendarmerie custody, when detainees are held without
any contact with the outside world. Detainees are routinely
blindfolded during interrogations and some are held
blindfolded throughout their entire police detention. Other
methods of torture and ill-treatment regularly reported include
heavy beating, whipping, being stripped naked, sexual abuse,
death and **** threats, other psychological torture, and
deprivation of sleep, food, drink and use of the toilet. Some
detainees are also exposed to electric shocks, hanging by the
49
arms, spraying with cold pressurized water and falaka
(beating of the soles of the feet). Local human rights defenders
stated that security officers mainly use rough methods when
they expect the detainees to be remanded to prison and
therefore would have little chance of a comprehensive medical
examination which would secure medical evidence …”
Despite platitudinal efforts, in truth here had been little
improvement in such methods in the eighteen years since this
report was issued …
******
After taking the tea from the burley guard, Tekin swung his
legs off the raised pile of blankets acting as his make-shift bed
and said to the guard that had been assigned to him, the one who
had brought the tea, "Get the interrogation room ready, and I'll
get the girl."
Davor Tekin came from a family of uniformed personnel. His
grandfather had belonged to the PÖH (Polis Özel Harekât),
which is the tactically deployable unit of the General Directorate
of Security, and his father was in the Turkish Special Forces. As a
schoolboy, following in their footsteps was all that Davor had
ever wanted, and so now, as a Senior Operational Officer in the
Foreigners’ Department at HQ he had realised his dream. If this
ignorant Western Slut had dared to abuse the welcoming arms of
his great Republic, she must be shown the error of her ways, and
made to pay …
Trixie was asleep in her cell when Tekin arrived, curled up in
the corner of the stark stone-walled room, and she didn't move
an inch when the Lieutenant called her name. He entered the
room and shook the slumbering girl by the arm. She moaned and
stretched her body from the foetal position she had been sleeping
in, and then gasped as her eyes flickered open and she saw the
man standing over her.
50
Memories of the previous night came flooding back.
"Miss Thomson, you need to get up and come with me."
Trixie looked around the cell as she stretched out her folded
legs and sat up. She was disoriented and shivered as she hugged
the hoody to her body, and then hung her head as she whispered,
"I need to pee."
Tekin pointed to a dark hole in the cell’s corner, a slimy
aperture that Trixie hadn’t seen in the dark, and one that most
probably accounted for a good amount of the constant stench.
"Go right ahead. I'll wait."
She opened her mouth to protest but saw no sympathy in his
eyes.
"I have to stay,” Tekin said offering up a modicum of
explanatory verbal compassion.
Her bladder was painfully full, she had to go, there was no
choice in the matter. Trixie stood with a groan and walked to the
uncovered toilet. She only had to raise the hoody a couple of
51
inches before pulling down her water-stained panties to squat on
her haunches over the hole whilst the monstrous Lieutenant
watched. He stared at her, refusing to look away, causing the girl
to sob quietly as she realised how dire her predicament was.
Trixie had worked so hard to leave Branchwater for a new
and better life, but this existence was much worse than Bubba
Jim’s trailer park. At least there she had a flushing toilet to use.
She was finishing off when a new wave of intense nausea
overwhelmed her, and the poor girl barely had time to reverse her
position and kneel in front of the hole before she dry-heaved her
empty stomach, spewing thick globs of saliva and bile into the
smelly aperture.
She was still kneeling in front of the opening when a second
man entered the cell. " Lieutenant, what's taking so fucking
long?" It was, Dündar Kılıç, a Senior Guard at Silivri Prison,
assigned to Tekin … the one who had brought the tea and
prepared the interrogation room.
"Sorry, she just puked. I think she's got it under control now."
The police officer helped the wretched girl to her feet and began
to lead her out of the cell.
"Wait, Lieutenant. We need to secure her wrists before she
can leave the isolation cells,” Kılıç prompted, before reaching
into his pocket to take out a number of plastic cable-ties. He
looped one around each of Trixie’s wrists, and then took a third
tie and threaded it through the fastening on each wrist to secure
her hands together at the front of her body.
"Now we can proceed."
On the way to the interrogation room, Tekin grabbed a bottle
of water from a refrigerator and offered it to Trixie. Using both
hands she gratefully took the chilled bottle and rinsed her mouth
before swallowing.
"Thanks." She whispered, forcing a weak smile.
The interrogation room was bare except for a table and four
52
chairs. Kılıç led the girl to a seat and fastened her wrists to a
metal loop set in the top of the table. He already had a laptop
setup, and once they were all seated, he deferred to the Senior
Police Officer, who proceeded to ask Trixie her name, address,
date of birth and a few other details ‘for the record’. He then sat
back in his chair and simply looked at the girl.
“What about my rights?” Trixie finally managed to say.
Her question was simply ignored, treated with disdain as if,
right at this moment in time, she had no rights at all.
Bizarrely, in the brief silence that ensued, Trixie thought once
again about her life back home in Alabama. She had hated it,
couldn’t wait to get away from the uncaring Mother, the absent
Father and the staring, leering eyes of every boy or man she ever
met. But right now, being tucked up warm in her small single
pull-out bed in that rough, rented trailer, had never seemed so
welcoming … she almost yearned for it.
With an unexpected movement Kılıç left the room but soon
returned with a small cardboard box in which the sole item was
her small clutch purse.
"We found this in your jacket,” Kılıç showed Trixie the item in
question, then added, ”Is it yours?"
53
12
Deputy Director’s Office, CNB Headquarters, Friday
12th April 10:15 AM Singapore time
Deputy Director Keefer Williams let a smug, self-satisfied grin
break out on his face. His planned hounding of that cowardly
American lawyer, Jeffrey Hodges, had been curtailed, at least for
the time being. The deporting of the red-haired slut together with
the fact that Hodges seemed to have been taken under the wing
of Ambassador Walkerson himself, meant that getting to Hodges
and making him pay for the part he played in the death of
Lieutenant Jimmy Rogers, his respected colleague accused of
r****g Hodges’ previous assistant, Amanda Jones, would be
difficult.
“Ho, come here and see this.” Williams touched a key on his
keyboard and the display lit up again as his colleague, Lieutenant
Ho Ming, leaned in over his shoulder. “You recall that red-haired
Jìnǚ (whore), the one who was deported recently …”
“Yes Sir, very much so …” Lieutenant Ho Ming replied.
“Well, I understand that they detained her in Istanbul, and
you will never guess what Ho?”
“Erm, did they by any chance find a kilo of Afghan Hash in
her baggage …”
“Not just that, they then discovered a small white packet of
powder in her purse.”
“Did they really sir?” The two officers shared a knowing smile.
“And so now,” Williams continued, “… Miss Trixie Thomson
has been detained at their pleasure and will remain so whilst they
‘investigate’ her crimes.
“You mean she hasn’t been given probation?”
“That’s correct Ho. I mean they couldn’t very well risk letting
her out onto the streets once they had found cocaine in addition
to the hash, could they.” The Deputy Director’s words were filled
54
with relish.
“So, you mean that little slip of a thing is being held inside a
Turkish prison alongside all those big burley guards and sexstarved
inmates?”
“That’s exactly what I mean Ming.” Williams’ voice
manifested the lust that tingled inside his stomach. “Our Turkish
Colleagues have just updated me.”
“Oh, erm, right …” Ming stumbled over his words. “I don’t
suppose they’ve sent you any graphic proof, by any chance?”
Keefer Williams laughed. “You mean did they send pictures?
Damn right they did.”
The two men settled down to enjoy a viewing of Trixie
Thomson being intimately searched and routinely humiliated
inside the secure walls of Silivri Prison.
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Wednesday 10th
April 2019 at 11:30 am
It had only been a few days since Trixie found any chance of
probation taken cruelly away from her. Instead, she had been
incarcerated here in this stinking hell-hole of a prison, but that
did not stop a team of four over-zealous guards from rampaging
into her cell and conducting a surprise, inspection of her derisory
cage.
“What, the … what are you …?” Trixie was so taken by
surprise when they burst in that she couldn’t form a coherent
word. While one of the guards cuffed Trixie’s wrists and held her
pressed against the heavy closed iron-barred door, the other
three tore her cell apart. With the meagre blanket trampled
under their heavy boots, the squalid mattress was tossed aside so
that the guard she had come to know as Kılıç could reach down
under it and emerge holding a prison shiv, a toothbrush
sharpened by rubbing the end against the stone walls.
Trixie's mouth opened in confusion a state of mind that
immediately turned to dread. "No, no that isn't mine!" she
55
exclaimed. "I've never seen it before. It isn't mine … you have to
believe me!"
"It's your cell and your bunk, bitch. That makes it yours",
Kılıç said with a sly smile.
She had been set up again …
"Tomorrow after first head-count you will be taken to the
yard and punished. Twenty lashes across your back." Kılıç
deliberately scheduled the cruel discipline for the morning so she
would have the entire long and no doubt sleepless night to think
about it, filling her anxious mind with fearful anticipation.
***
Carlton Hotel, Bras Basah Road, Singapore at 12:20
PM
The Carlton Hotel in Singapore was an opulent feast of fivestar
luxury. A stone’s throw from the esteemed and renowned
Cricket Club, its website told of how the hotel was committed to a
more sustainable future by launching their “Go Green, Stay
Sustainable” initiative. However, it was the discretion afforded
by its sheer size, and willingness to offer endless credit to foreign
embassy staff that held the real allure of this hotel.
In room number 823, a Carlton Club Room in the Main
Tower, it was nothing to do with the hotel’s Green Policy that was
stimulating its occupants right at that moment.
The room service lunch was still under wraps on the hotel
trolley, although the chilled bottle of Cheval Blanc had been
opened and two glasses poured which, as yet, remained virtually
untouched.
The man, naked save for a pair of tight boxers that fought to
keep his middle-aged paunch in check, rubbed the naked girl’s
ass again. He then retrieved the belt he'd purposely made her
leave on the bed following the fortieth lash of hard leather across
her bare buttocks. Now, once again, enjoying the feel of it in his
hands, Ambassador Scot Walkerson folded it in half and cracked
56
it, watching as Kathy’s head snapped back to look at him.
His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her, watching her cringe
and shudder. He drew the folded belt back and delivered a wellaimed
smack to Hodge’s wife’s bottom, enjoying the delicious
sound of the pregnant girl yelping loudly, her back arching upon
feeling the impact.
"Forty-one, thank you Sir."
Their Friday lunch dates had evolved from a simple meal and
flirtatious conversation, with the odd grope thrown in for good
measure, to this … naked bondage at the Carlton Hotel. He knew
it was dangerous, and that if the nature of this affair ever came
out, he would be finished here in Singapore, but Kathy Hodges
was such a sexy little vixen, that once she had responded
positively to his ‘suggestions’, having her like this was the
inevitable outcome.
He delivered the last nine belt strokes to Kathy’s red and
welted ass and the backs of her thighs, until he heard her cry out,
"Fifty, thank you, Sir!"
Walkerson tossed the belt away into the corner of the room,
57
and said, "Good girl, now relax and prepare that sexy little
mouth of yours for me.”
Kathy collapsed onto the bed, her ass stinging, tears welling
up in her eyes. She was proud of herself for enduring the pain
that Scot had delivered, because she knew what a boon it would
be to her husband’s ever burgeoning career … but still she
couldn’t stop herself from crying.
58
13
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul,
Thursday 11th April 2019 at 09:30 am
Trixie didn't sleep at all the night before her punishment.
Promptly at 9:00 am, with the head count call over, she stood,
shivering with fear … waiting. It was only a few minutes after 9
o’clock when two guards, not Kılıç on this occasion, escorted her
to the yard, each holding an arm. Behind her, several lines of
other inmates were marched out. It was the most she had seen of
other people since her arrival here … and they were all being
readied to watch her being whipped.
As she emerged from the door she stopped and tried to back
away when she saw what awaited her there.
“Oh God please, no, this is not right, please … PLEEEEEASE!”
For the first time in her young life Trixie Thomson wanted her
mummy!
In the centre of the yard stood a wooden frame, a sturdy
upright with a horizontal plank at the top. Fighting the
approach, Trixie had to be dragged forward to it. As she got
closer, she saw that the plank had three holes, two small ones at
the end and a larger one in the middle. Another guard, once
again not Kılıç, stood beside it.
When she was nothing but a few feet away, with a clear view
of the scaffold structure, the guard pulled the front of the board
away and Trixie immediately understood. It was a horizontal
pillory, a thing out of the Dark Ages, like she had seen in
historical movies on cable TV back home. Except this was no
movie, this was her fate.
Kılıç turned to the prison’s appointed whipmaster.
"Corrections Officer Ergin Ataman, you will administer the
discipline. Prepare the prisoner."
One of the other guards approached from the rear and Trixie
59
felt her prison shirt, the new one she had been given only the
previous day, being cut up the centre allowing the sides to be
yanked apart in order to expose her back. The large shears then
sliced through the middle strap of the plain uniform bra, which,
along with the blue-grey top, was torn from her body, leaving her
almost naked and very vulnerable. When her white cotton
panties were ripped away then her denuding was complete.
With three powerful guards for the job, it was only a few
seconds before her wrists were placed against the smaller holes
and her neck into the middle one. The other half-board was
returned into place and locked so that she stood helpless with her
head fastened inside and her arms out at right angles to either
side. The rest of the assembled inmates, both male and female,
gathered in two lines either side of the pillory. This wasn't the
first time they had witnessed a beating and they were looking
forward to seeing this new bitch taught a lesson.
From behind her Trixie heard a familiar voice. Now Kılıç was
here. She couldn’t turn her head but she could hear the man
clearly enough. "Prisoner Number 2879, Miss Beatrix Thomson,
60
was found in possession of an i*****l weapon during inspection.
This is a serious offense that endangers all of you. The
punishment is twenty lashes on her bare back."
The poor girl was terrified already, but her terror grew much
worse when the muscular Ergin Ataman walked around to her
front. He raised one hand before her face causing Trixie to squeal
in panic when she saw what he held. It was a whip, nine feet of
braided black leather that tapered to a split tip – a lash they
called the ‘Blacksnake’ back home.
"You have a right to be afraid, prisoner Thomson," he said
with a soft malevolence. "This is your first taste of the lash so I
will make sure you remember it. You go ahead and scream all you
want, but that won't make it hurt any less or make me go any
easier on you.”
Ataman moved away, to her left and several feet behind. As he
dropped the end of the blacksnake and shook it loose, a deathly
silence fell eerily throughout the entire yard. He looked at the
expanse of bare skin before him, choosing his target, then swept
his arm forward with a twist of his shoulders to increase the force
of the impact.
“CRACK!” The whip exploded across the middle of her back.
Perhaps two seconds passed, then a full-throated bellow of
suffering ripped from the Trixie's throat. Her feet danced and
her body jerked wildly, but she was helpless trapped inside the
wooden pillory.
Ergin gave her thirty seconds to fully experience the feeling,
the optimum gap to maximise the recipient’s suffering, before
launching another full-arm stroke that landed a perfect inch
above the first.
Again, Trixie wailed her agony, a pitiful mourn that echoed
throughout the entire yard. Thirty seconds later, a third angry
line of leather infused agony crossed her torso drawing yet
another screech from the beaten girl.
61
The pattern of the flogging continued in this way until the
whip had struck ten times. For Trixie the ordeal was especially
harrowing since she couldn't see the man who was lashing her so
hard and without an ounce of mercy. There was no warning
when the next impact would strike her body; just a split second
when she heard the hissing sound fly through the air, quickly
followed by the hideous explosion of pain.
Ataman paused at this point so that he could approach his
victim and inspect his work. He was extremely experienced and
had, once again, been precise with his aim, such that the once
smooth skin was now criss-crossed with rising red lines.
Trixie’s body was heaving as she sucked in air and he could
see a layer of sweat emerging between the welts. Good, that will
add to her pain. He reached out and ran his fingers across several
of the brighter, most raised stripes, those inflicted at the start of
the process, relishing how the bruised flesh rose up under his
touch. The miserable girl whimpered. Even such a gentle caress
was painful. Ergin leaned forward until his head was close to
hers.
"Halfway through," he whispered. " Now I'm going to get
down to the really severe beating."
He returned to his place, but this time a foot or so further
away. Focussing on Trixie’s captive body he launched the
Blacksnake for the eleventh time, and this time it was a smaller
but more impactive section of whip that cut into her lower back.
"Nooooooooooooooo!” Trixie wailed. There was still no other
sound to be heard, save for the poor girl’s cries and the whistling
of the whip, as the braided devil drew blood for the first time.
Five minutes later, the ghastly torture finally came to an end.
The long, tanned, slender legs that had danced so delightfully at
the beginning of the beating, now sagged, bent at the knees. But
for the immovable pillory holding her body erect, Trixie would
have collapsed to the ground.
62
As it was, she was barely conscious, aware of nothing but the
withering agony that consumed her brain.
Before she was freed from the frame, however, there was one
final assault. While Ergin coiled the bloody whip into its position
of rest, Kılıç approached Trixie carrying a bucket. He threw the
contents, a strong brine, against the girl’s inflamed and bleeding
body.
"Ahhrggggggggggh!" The wretched girl screeched, revived by
this fresh violation to her senses. Trixie writhed against the
unyielding pillory, her feet once again prancing vigorously
beneath her. Finally, the contortions weakened and stopped.
Kılıç and Ergin Ataman unlocked and removed the back of the
plank. The beaten red head’s broken body crumpled towards the
ground, but Ataman was there to catch and hold her in his
intrusive grip, whereupon he took the opportunity to reach
around to the front of her body and fondle her breasts … he could
feel clearly how soft and yielding Trixie’s flesh was in his hands
and he felt his cock immediately stiffen.
It was only then that Kılıç called the original guards over and
ordered them to return the beaten girl to her cell. So weak was
Trixie from the vicious whipping that the two men had to d****
her arms over their shoulders and carry her between them, her
feet dragging across the hard floor of the yard.
63
14
[Redacted] Hodges Condo Residence, Singapore,
Friday, May 3, 2019, 10:05 am
(Three weeks after the time of Trixie’s whipping in the yard at
Silivri Prison)
Kathy Hodges sat at her vanity and sobbed. Another Friday
horror awaited her. Over and over, she asked herself how she had
become so entrapped in this nightmare. She always traced it
back to being her own fault for drinking too much at that Cricket
Club dinner. She had become completely uninhibited and
responded much too willingly to Scot's playful suggestion that
she bare a breast. Now both Scot and her husband insisted that
she needed instruction in how to be a proper wife for a rising
diplomat/politician.
At first, Kathy had revelled in the manner in which her
sacrifice was helping her husband’s career, but now it seemed
that Scot Walkerson had her on the end of his leash, both literally
and metaphorically, and Jeffrey’s new found success under Scot’s
wing was making him more and more assertive towards her!
Each week, Scot pressed her further as he emphasised how
much she must be willing to sacrifice, whilst at the same time
Jeffrey sternly warned her that she must earn a favourable report
from his boss or dire consequences would ensue.
Once, when she had tried to raise the sexual nature of Scot's
demands, Jeffrey refused to hear a word of it and threatened to
take off his belt to silence her. His punishment of her as his
submissive-wife, along with his developing sadistic inclinations,
seemed only to be heightened by his satisfaction at work. Kathy
dreaded doing anything to disturb his mood.
The young wife dried her eyes and applied foundation to
cover any redness or swelling. I have to be brave for Jeffrey, she
thought. As she got up and went over to the bed to get dressed,
64
she could not suppress another sob at the sight of the outfit Scot
had specified. She knew that the limo driver would ogle her in it,
especially as Scot demanded that she wear very little over it while
she was transported to him. The perks of being an ambassador’s
driver she guessed.
Kathy took a deep sigh and began to put on the skimpy and
revealing underwear.
65
***
US Ambassador’s Residence, Singapore, Friday,
66
May 3, 2019 11:30am
Scot Walkerson waited eagerly for the arrival of his regular
Friday lunch date. Kathy Hodges had proven to be deliciously
submissive to the desires of her husband's boss. While Scot had
yet to fuck her, he certainly had succeeded in fucking with her
mind. Walkerson found the process of bending the sweet, pretty
girl to his will at least as enjoyable as the eventual coitus would
be.
Their ’special’ dates at the Singapore Carlton had proven to
be a huge success, for him at least, and the way Kathy then
satisfied him with her mouth was a pleasure to behold. Last
week, he had convinced her to sit through their entire lunch in
front of the large window in their Carlton Club room, topless.
Her pregnancy-swollen breasts, showing some marks of his
penchant for discipline, had looked so damned tempting, her
nervous breathing causing them to rise and fall provocatively
onto her chest.
The allure of her narrow waist and the still deep navel on her
ever so slightly rounded tummy were enchanting, and made Scot
think about how much further he would press the helpless girl
today.
***
Jeffrey Hodges Office, US Embassy, Singapore,
Friday, May 3, 2019, 11:55 am
As Jeffrey sat at his desk his mind drifted and a vision of her
mop of delightfully tousled red-hair came into his mind. Trixie
Thomson.
It was too bad that his bosses had insisted on sending her
away. He had only just begun to explore the possibilities of her
body.
Her body … damn … what a body that was.
He wondered why she hadn't contacted him once she had
arrived home. After all, he had been so thoughtful about aiding
67
her in her job and personally instructing her. Maybe her
upbringing at that place, what was it … Bubble Joe’s Park or
something, has left her unaware of the need to show gratitude.
But yet, he was certain there was more to Trixie Thomson than
that. He was surprised, shocked almost, that he had heard
nothing from her. Did she arrive safely back in the States? Had
she found new employment? Where was she living now? It had
been almost a month since her sudden departure and he would
dearly love to know where Miss Thomson currently was and what
she was doing. Maybe she was angry with him? He sincerely
hoped that wasn’t the case.
His thoughts drifted to her amazingly nubile shape; the long
slender limbs, ruffled and wild red hair and her full, sensuous
lips that were moist enough to keep on kissing for ever and a day.
Jeffrey could not supress a quiet groan.
Opening up the calendar attaching to his email he typed a
note to himself for Monday morning May 6th.
‘Call the Ambassador’s Office and find out if we ever heard
anything more from Trixie Thomson.’
68
15
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Friday
May 3rd, 2019
(representative of pretty much every day since the appalling
whipping had taken place several weeks ago)
Following the brutal treatment that Trixie received when the
terrible flogging had been meted out with such violent savagery
upon her bare back, the young girl had been taken out of
isolation and, following two days to rest and recuperate in the
infirmary, she had been moved into a more mainstream cell
block.
Trixie was not sure how to regard this development. On the
one hand it was certainly better to at least be near to others, but
the less comforting thought was that such a move felt like she
was being catered for on a much more permanent basis. At least
the stench was a little less in this part of the prison, and she had a
proper prison grey-blue jump suit to wear, although with no
underwear being provided and the guards insisting that the front
zippers were lowered at all times, she hardly felt protected.
69
Every day was very much the same. Woken by an alarm at six
in the morning, a high-pitched beeping sound that would
resonate continually for three minutes precisely, a perfunctory
wash using the small hand basin and cloth provided, teeth
brushed, hair tied up and then move to the door and stand,
hands behind back, waiting for the guards.
From there, the female inmates, and yes this was a female
only cell block, would be led individually by no less than two
warders each to the bathrooms and given zero privacy to perform
their morning toilet; often the girls were m*****ed at the same
time by one or both men but for the most part, they were left to
complete the task without too much hindrance.
Breakfast, a very simple affair, would be spent sat at small
dining tables drinking a bland tasting protein shake and water
from clear plastic cups, the latter leaving an aftertaste indicative
of something having been added to it; Trixie assumed more
70
vitamins, or at least that’s what she hoped.
The rest of the morning was spent in exercise, or performing
oral sex; this was normally random. A warder or guard would
approach, point to the floor in front of him indicating where
Trixie should kneel. She knew enough now to open her mouth
and suck whatever cock was presented to her until its owner
came. Invariably and somewhat monotonously, the satiated man
would comment on having given her a little more protein for the
day and walk off chuckling to himself whilst tucking his
manhood away. If ever Trixie thought of refusing or threatening
to blow the whistle on this abuse to the outside Authorities, she
recalled the agony of her whipping that day in the yard, and
simply got on with the task being demanded of her.
Lunch, a repeat of breakfast, identical in almost every way;
dinner, the same. Throughout the day if she needed to use the
bathroom Trixie was to present herself, kneeling, at the door
leading out from the main communal area and wait until two
warders, it was always two warders, could escort her. She would
be watched throughout then returned to the captive throng.
The inmates were expected to follow every rule to the letter;
no speaking unless spoken to, not to anyone other than the
warders or guards, not in private, not in public; to obey, no
questions asked, the better behaved they were, the easier it was
meant to be for the girls. When permitted to speak to the Warden
or any of the warders, the girls were to address them as Sir. The
prisoners were expected to finish whatever meal was presented to
them and to maintain the cleanliness and neatness of their cells.
All of this might have appeared simple and easy to someone
on the outside, but from within, and even though it had only
been a few weeks, Trixie was beginning to feel the strain and
doubted her ability to last much longer.
Inmates rarely spoke and even then, only when spoken to, but
even the warders limited their conversations and frequently used
71
gestures or hand signals to communicate instead of speech. This
meant that any other sound appeared amplified, the normal
white noise of life was absent thus enabling Trixie to hear soft
footsteps approach or the shuffle of bodies when warders moved
about, but worst of all, in meant she could clearly discern the
distant echoes of women crying out in pleasure or pain.
Each cell, an exact duplicate of all the other cells, held several
immovable features, bed, mattress, wash basin and a shelf. The
flat surface of each shelf and basin was inlaid with engraved
markings to denote where items should be placed. So, every item
provided in its generic state had a place; Trixie had been
informed of this as soon as she was moved here, the day after her
brutal flogging.
On the basin surface, the girls were permitted one tube of
toothpaste, a toothbrush and a wash-cloth made up of plain grey
towelling material. The shelf held other items, a hair-brush, a
clear plastic cup and a standard sized butt plug which could be
utilised at any time the visiting warders desired.
The floor, similarly marked, matched the rest of the facility;
industrial grey and lined in much the same way as the corridors,
to ensure that the inmates were not confused about where they
were supposed to be at any given time.
It was a hell-hole and Trixie needed to get out as soon as
possible …
There had been little further interaction with Lieutenant
Tekin, although the brute of a guard, Dündar Kılıç certainly
made sure his perversions were satisfied by the helpless inmates!
Trixie was beginning to lose hope of any progress been made,
whether good or bad, with her own situation. Hearing anything
would be better than simply being left here to rot. Surely there
had to be some sort of accountable due-process in Turkish Law?
Oh, if only Jeffrey was here to help her …
Jeffrey Hodges. It had been a while since she had thought of
72
the handsome young lawyer, but now that he was in her mind
Trixie felt a sob emanate from her throat. He had been so lovely
throughout that entire night. The gorgeous meal at the CÉ LA VI
restaurant followed by a wonderful night of making love at the
Sands Hotel … and then just a day or two later she was being
deported. What had she done? The sob turned into tears as she
whispered to no one but herself, “Oh Jeffrey, why did you
abandon me?”
73
16
Jeffrey Hodges Office, US Embassy, Singapore,
Monday, May 6th, 2019, 10:30 am
Jeffrey had been holding on the call for several minutes which
was particularly frustrating when he considered how much time
Ambassador Walkerson was spending with his with wife. Oh, he
was appreciative of the helping hand up the political ladder
Kathy’s attention to Scot Walkerson gave him, but it was at times
like this that Jeffrey felt that he was still just a nobody in the
Ambassador’s mind.
Five minutes became ten and then, just as he was about to
begin shouting down the phone to make sure the call was still
live, he heard a quiet rustle followed by … “Jeffrey, Jeffrey I’m so
sorry …”
As Walkerson was about to launch into his excuse for making
his ‘protégé’ wait, an image of Kathy Hodges’ naked ass, with her
on all fours came flying into his head momentarily distracting the
Ambassador. Last Friday had been the day. For several weeks
now he and Kathy had taken lunch together on the last day of the
week, their meetings had even evolved into quite intense bondage
sessions where Mrs Hodges had used her succulent lips to draw
out his pent-up climax. But last Friday he had finally fucked her
… oh how he had fucked her.
He screwed her in the pussy, then he slipped easily from one
hole to push himself forcefully into the smaller, tighter opening
before moving straight from her ass to her mouth so that she
could finish him off by sucking him dry. Mrs Hodges was a slut,
more so than he would ever have believed possible. It’s a pity that
her husband was still so wet behind the ears when it came to
matters of political legality, but despite that he would need to
keep Hodges happy and close so that his wife didn’t take her
affections elsewhere, or worse, spill the beans! Imagine the
74
political mileage that would be made out a public exposé of his
kinky inclinations!
“That’s not a problem …” lied a thoroughly pissed off Jeffrey,
“I know you’re a busy man Ambassador.”
“Well, that much is true for certain Jeff, now, how might I
help you?”
“Erm … I … was … erm …” Jeffrey hadn’t thought through
exactly how was going to express an explicit interest in the
welfare of a young girl that the Ambassador himself had called a
‘tramp’ and personally arranged her immediate deportation back
to the States.
“Well, what is it, Jeff?”
“Miss Thomson, Trixie …”
“Oh, the Trailer Park whore that masqueraded as a legal
secretary to find employment with us just so that she could bring
disrepute upon us all, you mean that Trixie Thomson?”
Fuck.
”Erm, yes Sir, the very same.”
“Oh, dear me Jeff, has something she did come back to bite us
75
on the ass? I knew that we should have axed her sooner …”
“No, no it’s nothing like that, it’s just that …” Think Jeffrey,
think! “… She left a number of personal effects in my office Sir,
and I would like to have them returned to her.”
“What? Just throw them in the trash Jeff, they can’t possibly
be valuable.”
“I would Sir, it’s just that one or two of the things seem …
well, quite personal.”
Please don’t ask what they are, please don’t ask …
He didn’t ask, because Ambassador Walkerson was already
bored.
“Okay then just send them onto her why don’t you.”
“That’s what I want to do Sir, and it’s also why I’m calling. I
have no idea where she went to when she landed back in the US
or what flight she was on. In short, I don’t know where she is
Sir.”
“Okay Jeff, look …” The Ambassador was now very clearly
losing any interest in this entire conversation. “… I’ll have my PA
drop you an email with Thomson’s flight details in. That way at
least you can make sure that she arrived safely back Stateside.
Okay …”
“Yes Sir, thank you Ambassador, that would be very much
appreciated.”
Walkerson laughed, “Well you can show your appreciation by
allowing your wife to accompany me to a dinner on Friday night.
I wouldn’t of course require her for lunch also on that day, but it
will mean that she gets to stay out all night.”
“All night Sir?”
“Is that a problem Jeffrey?”
Jeffrey Hodges paused – ‘Yes you bastard, it’s a huge
problem, because I know that means you are fucking her’ …
“No Ambassador, it’s no problem at all …”
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17
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul,
Thursday May 9th, 2019
Metallic clinking, rustling, shuffling and the distant noise of
prison could be heard as two large and impressively muscled
armed guards, fine examples of the type of man The General
Directorate of Prisons and Detention Houses employed, escorted
Trixie along a corridor lit only by sporadically working strip
lights.
When the two men had first approached her, the young girl
with the wild red hair had dropped to her knees, raised her head
and prepared her mouth to receive whatever it was they wished
to offer her. So it was with a shock that she was pulled to her feet
and ushered away from the main prison atrium.
She was taken into the administration block and by the time
that one of her sentinels had knocked on the closed wooden door
before them, Trixie was feeling confused and more than a little
nervous.
77
“İçeri gel”, (come in) a voice shouted, and the small party
entered the room. Inside was a desk and three chairs. A flat
screen, keyboard and mouse sat on the wooden surface waiting to
be used. Behind the desk was a woman, perfectly coiffed and
suited, and with several piles of paperwork laid out in front of
her.
“Ah, you’re here,” she spoke in English, and smiled at Trixie in
a manner that actually began to relax the young girl. “Miss
Beatrix Thomson, I presume?”
Trixie, still a little non-plussed, nodded, but quickly felt one
of her guards squeeze her arm, hard. Bastard.
“Answer the lady.”
“Y … Yes, that’s me.”
“Good. I am Fatma Tatar and I have been appointed as
Avukat for the Prison Service…” Ms Tatar looked at the confused
young inmate and added further clarity. “I am a lawyer, Miss
Thomson.” As she said this the Avukat was scribbling notes then,
reaching for a folder, she opened it in front of Trixie.
“You are being given an opportunity, a unique opportunity,
Miss Thomson. Listen closely, I am going to explain this only
once. You will have time to look through this document after I’ve
spoken, then make a decision.”
Trixie already hated this woman’s voice, so nasally and
whining, but she nodded to show that she understood the
conversation so far … An opportunity? What did that mean?
Fatma pointed to the opened folder and the paper within
displaying a lot of small print in a font that, although it was
typed in English, Trixie found difficult to read without getting
closer.
“This document, once signed, gives consent for the Turkish
Authorities to administer a one-time punishment to you.”
Trixie’s head had suddenly exploded in confusion. “Wh …
what does that mean?” The young girl stuttered her immediate
78
response.
“Miss Thomson …” Fatma Tatar lowered her voice, softened
her tone, probably to what she might believe to be subtle and
persuasive. To Trixie she came across as condescending and
smug.
“You have been charged with possession of serious narcotics
and added to that is the charge of intention to deal and traffic. So
far you have failed to reveal any of your sources or contacts …”
“But I have no contacts or sources or whatever it is that you all
keep trying to get me to tell you. I’m innocent …”
“If you say so, Miss Thomson. However, that’s not how a court
would see it.”
“Why can’t I have a lawyer, if the Prison has one?”
Completely ignoring the hapless young girl’s words, the
Avukat continued uninterrupted. “… The Prosecutor has
successfully postponed the public trial, but given the grave
nature of your crimes, that simply means that you will be inside
this prison for up to twelve months before the trial even begins
…”
“B … but he said I could get probation?”
The Avukat simply smiled a disdainful smile to acknowledge
this stupid girl’s naivety. Trixie looked down at the tiny lettering
again, bringing her face as close as possible to read it. Certain
words and phrases jumped out at her which she read out loud
“public punishment” and further down the page “naked” then
“pain and humiliation”. Her face paled. Trixie felt light headed
and nauseous.
“Miss Thomson this offer means that you will be taken before
an invited and select audience to be punished, with them as your
witness. Following this you will be free to go and continue your
journey home.”
Oh God. What should she do? “But these words … naked,
agony, humiliation … what will they do to me?”
79
“That I cannot tell you Miss Thomson, the authorities have a
variety of punishments they could choose to administer.”
“But why would they …”
“… Offer this to you?” The Avukat cut it. “Because the truth is
that our government does not want an annoying little girl like you
causing a huge administrative overhead with the Americans.
They could, of course, allow the US to simply extradite you, but
that would be unacceptable to the Turkish public, who see the
West as the main cause for our d**g problems. So, you see that if
they can be seen to be making an example of you, and then
sending you on your way out of our country, that will be better
than paying to keep you holed up inside here whilst investigating
your crimes and fighting the extradition process.”
Trixie felt sick. What did they call this … ‘Hobson’s Choice’?
“Take it or leave it Miss Thomson, I don’t have all day, I have
other clients.”
With a reluctant sigh Trixie reached forward for the pen that
was being offered to her. Holding the point onto the proverbial
dotted line, the young red head paused and looked at Miss Tatar.
“I get out of this alive and will be free to leave, right?”
“Miss Thomson. Just sign.” The Avukat’s hand flicked,
gesturing toward the document with obvious irritation.
Momentarily closing her eyes, Trixie then opened them and
scribbled out her signature consenting to the deal.
“Excellent. Now, a few words of warning.” Fatma smiled at
the young girl.
“You’re warning me now? After I signed?” Incredulous, Trixie
snatched for the paper ready to tear the thing up but, too late, it
was already being filed away neatly into its folder.
Fatma Tatar looked smug, so very pleased with herself, that
Trixie, totally out of character, very nearly lunged for her. But
before she could make a move, as though anticipating her intent,
two sets of strong fingers pressed into her shoulders and dug in
80
hard, a coercion that Trixie could not ignore.
Fatma waved off the guards and sighed, moving around the
desk to perch on its edge. “Miss Thomson, I can assure you that,
whilst this might cause you a very disconcerting few days, it will
be far better than opting for the alternative. Trust me.”
Trixie didn’t trust her, not as far as she could throw the bitch,
but it was too late now anyway so the young inmate slumped in
her chair, guard one and guard two having relinquished their
grips and backed away once more. Taking Trixie’s silence and
apparent submission as acquiescence, Fatma packed away her
things while speaking.
“You’ll go from here straight back to your cell, but expect to
receive a date in the near future scheduling your punishment
within the next week or two, as soon as a suitable venue and
audience can be secured.”
Snapping the buckles shut on her briefcase and pushing a
loose tendril of hair behind one ear, the Avukat smiled, “… who
knows, you might even enjoy it.”
Trixie hissed, drawing air through gritted teeth, eyes
narrowed to mere slits, and she said “Why are you looking so
smug, What’s all of this to you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say
you were earning a commission for setting this up.”
Fatma Tatar laughed and replied without pause “I am.”
With that simple shocking corroboration, the Turkish lawyer
exited, leaving Trixie alone with the guards. Minutes later the
young girl was pulled up and pushed back out into the corridor
to be returned to her cell, her immediate fate now decided.
81
18
[Redacted] Hodges Condo Residence, Singapore,
Saturday, May 11th, 2019, 11 am
Jeffrey Hodges sighed. Was he angry? Or frustrated? Maybe
frightened? He didn’t know. What he did know however was that
his wife was still not back from the dinner that she had
accompanied Scot Walkerson to last night.
That Walkerson was fucking his wife was plainly obvious,
although it wasn’t a conversation that Jeffrey had had with the
Ambassador, but the marks on Kathy’s body, belt welts, bruising,
little cuts, all served to make it clear that she was not just having
simple, plain vanilla sex with Scot Walkerson.
Anger, that’s it. He felt angry that another man was treating
his wife with such disdain. Although having said that, maybe
Kathy wanted the Ambassador to treat her like that, after all
their liaison had gone way beyond her having lunch with Scot
Walkerson just to prove that she could be the perfect politician’s
wife!
Just then Jeffrey’s phone pinged. An email. He swiped the
screen open.
***
Airline booking details for Thomson, Trixie
Inbox Sat, 11th Mar 11:03 (Today)
From: Mindy Hathersage <[email protected]>
To: Hodges, Jeffrey bcc: Walkerson, Scot
Jeffrey,
As requested, please find the airline booking details for
Trixie Thomson attached to this email.
Regards
Mindy
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Attachment: ThomsonTrixieTickets.pdf
***
Jeffrey smiled ruefully. Walkerson had obviously told his PA
to wait until the morning after the dinner before sending the
information through, information that he had been promised at
the beginning of the week. He shook his head. Where was all this
heading. Kathy was 16 weeks pregnant with their first c***d, and,
in order to give him the career he wanted she was now
conducting a full-blown affair with the Ambassador!
Fuck … he thought.
“FUUUCKKKKKKK” he shouted in frustration. Then he sat
down to open up the mail attachment.
***
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul, Saturday
May 11th, 2019, 11am
The looming figure of Lieutenant Tekin stood in the doorway
of Trixie’s cell. She knew that they had started to keep her locked
up on her own again so that no one could record how many times
she was ‘visited’. So far, the visits hadn’t gone beyond her being
forced to provide blow jobs upon request, but she knew that in
reality they could do whatever they liked to her.
“So, Trixie Thomson, you’ve been offered a way out of here I
understand.” Tekin’s voice was tinged with annoyance, as if the
knowledge that he was going to lose his toy was making him
angry.
Trixie nodded, slowly, cautiously, knowing that one wrong
move or word from her and he could easily make her life hell,
even more so than it already was.
Tekin stood, leaning against the frame of the door, arms
folded. And smiled.
Trixie dare not look directly at him and so she fell to her
knees, placed her hands behind her back and opened her mouth.
83
The Lieutenant laughed.
“What a slut you have become inmate Thomson, but I’m here
to show you something else that we found in your luggage case.”
Now Trixie looked up, eyes wide with fear. “Please no there
was nothing else other than my clothes. I’m innocent, I’ve told
you this so many times …”
Again, Tekin laughed and, reaching into his jacket pocket, he
pulled out a small Troll Doll.
“Trix!” The young red-haired girl yelped with c***d-like
delight.
“You want this?” Tekin smirked.
“Yes, yes oh yes please Lieutenant Tekin, Sir. Yes please.”
“Well little Miss Trixie Thomson you need to earn it.” He
smirked, before adding, “… get naked, you know what to do.”
She did as Tekin instructed.
With her skimpy, meagre clothing laying in a small heap on
the cell floor, and as the expectant officer moved closer to her
prostate position, the young inmate began grasping at his belt
buckle. Tekin broke away from her and stood to undo the buttons
84
himself. Trixie rose to her haunches before him and nestled her
head into his thigh while he exposed himself to her. Her hands
reached behind to grasp his buttocks while she rubbed her face
into his jeans, nuzzling against the bulge. He slipped the denim
down his legs, revealing a short pair of black boxers with the
outline of his package straining against the material.
Trixie pushed her head against his underwear, feeling him
grow harder. She began to lick at the fabric covering his balls,
running her lips along the cotton, wetting it, soaking it, before
reaching up and sliding his boxers down over his thighs. She
swallowed hard as she watched his rigid cock straining against
the waistband.
Finally, the b**st leapt forward, flipping out of the elasticated
band to hang, a little more than semi-hard, in front of her. Trixie
swallowed and sighed. Advancing her lips, the young red-haired
inmate knew what was required. She kissed gently along the
sides of the stiffening shaft, flicking her tongue ever further
upwards until she reached the head, before licking purposefully
around the swollen purple flesh and finally, without using her
hands, she took him into her mouth.
Lieutenant Davor Tekin's hand traced her cheek. Trixie
worked her oral embrace down his shaft to kiss the base of his
penis, and then glided her tongue around the surface of his balls
before pulling one into her mouth and sucking gently at it.
"That feels so good" Tekin moaned, “You really have become
the proper little cocksucker Thomson.”
Once Trixie had coated his cock with her saliva, she relaxed
her jaw and opened it wider to allow his pulsing shaft deeper into
her throat. Her eyes rolled back as Tekin groaned long and loud.
She held him inside for several seconds, mouth wrapped around
him, feeling him pulse against her lips, tongue and throat. Then
she slowly eased him out before once again taking him inside the
warmth of her wet seal, feeling the now solid mass push against
85
her tongue.
Trixie brought her fingers back into play, and Tekin squirmed
as she skilfully sucked his cock whilst at the same time jerking
him off.
Then she felt the stiff length pulse, his juices were rising and
Trixie knew what to do. Releasing him from her oral grip she sat
back on her heels with her head angled upwards looking at the
man before her, placed her hands behind her back, opened her
mouth and pushed out her tongue.
“Oh, you dirty little cunt!” Tekin cried out as he took himself
in hand and sprayed thick ribbons of sperm all over her face.
It was only a minute or two later that Trixie lay curled up on
her bunk with Trix the red-haired troll tucked into her body. She
hadn’t even bothered to wipe her face clean.
“Why is this happening to me mummy,” she whispered as the
tears began to fall.
86
19
[Redacted] Hodges Condo Residence, Singapore,
Saturday, May 11th, 2019, 3pm
Jeffrey Hodges was stewing in his own juices. Boiling with
rage. His wife Kathy had still not returned home, nor had she
even acknowledged any of his messages. But moreover, the few
calls he had made to a variety of contacts had quickly made it
clear that Trixie Thomson boarded her flight in Singapore,
landed in Istanbul but has not been heard of since. How could
she not yet have left Turkey? But equally there was no formal,
accessible record of her being detained in Istanbul. Where was
she? Hodges sensed foul play, but he could not be sure. What
should he do?
His thoughts were distracted by the front door to their upmarket
condo being opened. His head turned from his place at
the desk in his home office to stare out through the open door
and into the entry hallway.
Kathy stood looking at him. Her hair was loose and unkempt
and, whilst she seemed to be fully dressed, the buttons on her
blouse were fastened in the wrong order leaving a gaping space
at her cleavage which revealed enough skin to show that she no
longer wore a bra.
His rage boiled over.
“Jeffrey …” Kathy managed to speak first, “I’m sorry that I’m
…”
“Shut the fuck up Kathy,” Hodges rose from his seat and
made towards her.
“Jeffrey?” His wife repeated, but this time her voice wavered a
little when she saw the rage in his eyes.
“In there, bitch,” he said, gripping her hair in his fist and
pushing his wife into the living room.
“Please Jeffrey, let me expl …”
87
“Strip.” His word was simple, clear and unambiguous.
“What?”
“You heard me Kathy, I said strip. Take off your clothes, every
last stitch. NOW!” He shouted the final word at his wife who
jumped out of her skin and dropped her purse, out of which fell a
small crumpled pile of red lace. Her panties.
Kathy stared hard at him for a moment. "Fine," she said, and
kicked off her heels. With a sigh she flicked loose the buttons on
her blouse and slipped it away from her shoulders. Jeffrey
gasped. Her exposed breasts showed the tell-tale signs of a night
spent with Scot Walkerson. Her nipples were swollen and
marked with bites and bruises. Jeffrey nodded to indicate he
wanted her naked.
With a wriggle of her hips Kathy’s skirt fell to the floor,
confirming that this garment and the blouse were the only
clothes she wore. She looked away, staring at the ceiling because
she knew exactly what her husband’s eyes were focused upon
right now. After hovering briefly upon the clearly distended skin
of his wife’s taught and pregnant stomach, Hodge’s gaze fell
upon his wife’s thighs, where she bore the marks of a cane. Red
welts raised upwards from the base of her skin, criss-crossing
everywhere. As Jeffrey moved his eyes lower, he saw how the
wrinkled lips of her well-used labia were hanging prominently
between his wife’s legs.
“Turn round.” Jeffrey whispered. Closing her eyes Kathy did
as her husband instructed to reveal even more lash marks across
her buttocks, but it was the still open nature of her puckered
anus that really knocked Jeffrey back.
88
“You let him fuck you in the ass?”
“Jeffrey please,” Kathy implored turning back to face her
husband.
“Shut your fucking mouth bitch and get onto your knees.”
Hers eyes opened wide, but she could see that her husband
had never been more serious. Kathy sank gracefully to the floor
without a word. She looked up at Jeffrey's face, and saw that he
was already unfastening the belt of his jeans. Kathy’s eyes bulged
at the sight of how hard her husband had already become since
she took off her clothes for him.
“Suck me bitch.” His instruction was simple and
unambiguous.
Jeffrey seized Kathy by the hair, tilted her head back, and slid
his rigid length deep into her throat. Her eyes welled with tears
as his substantial erection grazed her tonsils. She flexed her jaw
to stretch her small mouth as wide as she could to accommodate
him.
"That's a good girl," Jeffrey droned, sliding his slick member
back and forth before pushing it deeper. "Open wide for me."
89
He bucked his hips, thrusting against her tongue and throat,
her hair grasped tight in his fist, pumping his cock into her
mouth. Kathy moved her head as far as her husband’s grip would
allow, frantic in her desire to be given air, until he pulled out
leaving thick globs of spit and pre-cum hanging from his gasping
wife’s chin.
She rested her forehead against Jeffrey's thigh, breathing as if
she needed oxygen like never before.
"My God," she panted, "… take it easy Jeffrey, please."
"What's the matter, huh?" Jeffrey said, his voice mocking, his
eyes dull with fury fuelled lust. "Too much man for you to
handle?" He pulled her back by the hair and thrust into her
mouth again.
His cock was now rock solid and scoured hard against the
tender, sore flesh in her throat, gagging her, choking her. He
drove in deeper, holding his wife still by the hair as his thrusts
became faster, more urgent.
"Come on Kathy, work harder," he urged, looking down to
watch his wife work the erect length of muscle with her hands
and mouth, slicking it with spit, taking it in to her throat as deep
as she possible could.
Then he arched his back, groaned long and loud before
pushing her face into his abdomen and shooting load after angry
load of his seed between his wife’s swollen lips.
******
“Call him.”
“What?”
“Call Walkerson. You’ve got his personal number I presume?”
“Well yes, but …” Still naked and laying on the couch, Kathy
looked incredulous at the demands of her husband.
“Call the bastard and then pass the phone to me.” Jeffrey,
who was fully clothed, his satiated cock now tucked away once
more, sat away from the couch in a comfy black leather chair. He
90
watched his wife as she attempted to regain her breath following
her husband’s assault, and now he made it clear through his tone
that he was deadly serious.
With a groan Kathy unwound her stiff limbs and moved to
where her purse had dropped. Picking up the scrap of red lace
she picked out her phone and swiped the screen several times
before looking across at her husband, who held out his hand into
which she placed her phone just as the call connected.
“Kathy, my sweet little slut …” Were the first words that
Jeffrey heard as Walkerson addressed the call.
“It’s me Ambassador.”
Scot Walkerson was a career politician. A man who was used
to controversy and confrontation, but he was never more taken
aback than he was at this moment. “J … Jeff?” He stammered
uncharacteristically.
“Listen to me Ambassador. I know you’re fucking my wife,
and not just fucking her but tying her up and beating her.”
“Jeffrey, I don’t know what …”
“Shut up Walkerson and just listen.” Jeffrey’s heart was in his
mouth, his heart almost bursting through his chest. He had never
felt so scared, but also never more alive as he addressed the
Ambassador in the manner that he had been so desperate to do
for weeks. “I know enough about my slut of a wife to know that
she would most probably let you do this, and enjoy it …”
“Jeffrey!” his affronted wife called out
“Jeff,” The Ambassador cut in, “You knew that we were …”
“I knew that you and she had lunch every week, and yes, of
course I knew that you had taken things further. But this? You tie
her up, cane her and then fuck her in the ass … she’s pregnant for
fuck’s sake” The young lawyer’s dander was rising.
“Okay Hodges, calm down. What do you want?” Walkerson
sensed defeat and cut straight to the chase.
Jeffrey paused to consider his next words carefully.
91
“Two things Ambassador. Firstly, you will stop seeing my
wife, unless she is accompanying me to an event where you too
are present.”
Walkerson sighed, before asking, “And the second?”
“You will setup a visit for me to visit Istanbul, and arrange for
me to meet the US Ambassador to Turkey. I want to travel as
soon as possible and see the Ambassador over there as my first
port of call.”
“I can’t do that Jeffrey, you will need to talk to Bob Burnside,
he’s your immediate boss.”
“Fuck him, Ambassador, you can do whatever you like, and
that certainly includes overriding Minister Burnside.”
“You’re going to look for that red-headed piece of shit from
the Trailer Park? Are you mad Hodges?”
Jeffrey held his fury in check. “That piece of shit, as you call
her, is worth ten of you Ambassador. Now do we have a deal.”
“And what do I get?” Scot Walkerson asked.
“My silence.” Was all Jeffrey replied as the scent of victory
filled his nostrils.
92
20
US Embassy Ankara, Turkey Monday May 13th
2019, 10:30 am
Joseph R Bass was an American Diplomat who had served as
the US Ambassador to Turkey since October 2014. Originally
from upstate New York, Bass graduated from Columbia in 1985.
Based in Ankara, Joseph Bass had plenty of experience and knew
just how to work the Turks to his advantage …
Picking up the phone he dialled the number his secretary had
provided for the Adalet Bakanlığı (The Ministry of Justice). It
took several rings before a voice answered.
“Get me Bekir Alkac please.” The Ambassador said in the
aggressive manner of someone who was used to getting their own
way. Alkac was the Director General of Prisons and Detention
Houses across the whole of Turkey and Bass needed to speak with
him urgently.
“Mister Alkac, it’s Joseph R Bass here …” Bass always used his
middle initial. Rogerson, was a proud family name, and he spoke
as if everyone already knew who he was. However, on this
occasion he was forced to add, “… the US Ambassador to your
Goddamn country man.” Bass was on the offensive.
93
“What can you do for me? You can start by telling me what
the fuck is going on with this girl. The American Citizen you seem
have incarcerated inside one of your prisons.”
“You what? She’s what?” Alkac explained that the girl had
been found with a serious quantity of i*****l narcotics in her
possession and was effectively bang to rights. However, they had
very recently done a deal with her such that she was to be
publicly punished in front of a select committee and invited
audience this coming weekend, on Saturday the 18th May at 10
am precisely.
“Really, is that so …” The Ambassador replied, and where is
this ‘event’ taking place?” There was a slight pause before Bass
repeated “Oh, the Shangri-La Bospherous in the main Ballroom,
very nice.”
There was another pause at the Ambassadors end whilst he
listened. “So, you say I’ve no need to worry because you have it all
under control? Well, that’s easy for you to say Mister Alkac, but I
have some wet-behind-the-ears lawyer who’s based at the US
94
Embassy in Singapore, coming over here to look for this girl, and
he’s visiting me on Wednesday morning!”
“Oh … I’m on the invited audience list, am I?” The
Ambassador sat back in his leather upholstered chair, his mood
immediately becoming more affable. “Are you able to book me a
suite at the Shangri-La?”
Another brief pause, and then … “You are, well that’s very
good of you Mister Alkac. Tell me what does this girl look like?”
In seconds the Ambassadors email pinged and the most
beautiful red-headed girl stared back at him from the picture.
“Well now, she really is something. And during this
punishment will she be unclothed? What, totally naked you say?”
Joseph R Bass was now almost salivating.
“Yes, yes Mister Alkac, I am sure that I can think of a story to
throw this lawyer, Jeffrey Hodges, off the scent and keep him
sweet. Just leave that with me. Send me the details of this event,
and I will see you on Saturday …”
The Ambassador smiled into the phone, “No, sir, thank you,
and thank you also for your continued great work with the
Prisons and Detention Houses." The call ended.
Bass was excited. This young bitch was a picture and that’s
for sure. Seeing her naked and punished, then deported back to
the US, would allow him to enjoy the perverted spectacle before
stepping in to make it seem like he had secured her release and
successfully negotiated her extradition back to the States.
He would need to travel to Istanbul on Friday evening to be
assured of not missing a single second on the Saturday morning.
Jeffrey Hodges' Office, US Embassy, Singapore, Monday May
13th, 10 am
Jeffrey was still waiting for his new secretary to join him. The
Embassy had promised him someone else, another girl that had
graduated FSI, but in all honesty the young lawyer was having
doubts about whether they would actually send him a
95
replacement for Trixie after the way his last two assistants had
ended up.
So, for now, he was using Mindy Hathersage, PA to the
Ambassador, for his essential admin needs. This included
booking his travel to Istanbul. He knew that he had no time to
lose, Turkey was not the best place in which to become ‘lost’, far
from it.
Clicking to Mindy’s most recent email he opened the
attachment and downloaded his e-tickets. He flew that very night
out of SIN on Turkish Air flight number TK1771 and, via a one
hour forty-five-minute stopover in Istanbul, he would arrive in
Ankara at 09:00 on Tuesday morning. Jeffrey was booked into
the three-star ‘luxury’ of the Ankara Gold Hotel where he could
prepare for his meeting with Ambassador Joseph Bass the
following day.
The young lawyer’s mind was in a state of perpetual flux. He
had the upper hand in his marriage, though his wife now hated
him, and he held a similar status in his job but knew that his boss
detested him. The one person who had shown him undying
loyalty was now missing in a perilous country like Turkey!
Oh, how he hoped he could find her …
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21
Silivri Prison on the outskirts of Istanbul,
Wednesday May 15th 2019, at 05:30am
Trixie screamed as she felt Lieutenant Tekin buckle the
leather collar about her neck, despite knowing how it added to
his perverted pleasure she just couldn’t help herself. He adjusted
it, making sure it was tight enough to hold her, yet loose enough
not to hinder her breathing. Even so, she felt a wave of
claustrophobia overcome her, and she reached for the collar in
panic.
“Hands away, girl!” barked the Lieutenant. With great effort,
Trixie managed to obey, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. He
was treating her like an a****l, collaring her in such a
demeaning manner. The young girl heard the sound as a lock
clicked home and she knew that she couldn’t undo the buckle if
she was to try.
“Now, take off your clothes, Thomson. We need you naked.”
“N …need me?” Trixie uttered in a barely audible manner.
There was no point in refusing, and Trixie knew this only too
well from her experience’s so far in this hellish excuse for a
prison. Trembling and defeated, she pulled the zipper down the
front of her prison top and removed it, baring her breasts for
him. As she slid her panties down her slender thighs, she
wondered what he had meant by ‘need me naked’. What did they
need her for?
Flushed with humiliation, she stepped out of the flimsy
underwear.
“Yes,” whispered Davor Tekin, “They are really going to love
you, little lady.”
Trixie glanced at him, her fear rising even more. ‘They?’ she
wondered to herself. ‘Who were they?’
“Lift your head again, girl.” The click as the Lieutenant
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attached the chain leash to her collar made Trixie moan in
misery, while, at the same time, she felt an unwanted tingling
sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“Now, step back. Let me look at you, my little bitch. Very nice.
The collar and chain suit you.” He tugged on the leash, forcing
her to follow him along a dingy corridor and through a door that
led them into a large square hall-like area. Facing inwards
towards the centre of the space were a dozen or so cells, similar
to the one that was being used to incarcerate Trixie. She recoiled,
tugging against the pull of the leash, as it dawned on her where
they were. He had brought her to Cell Block Z1, the place where
Silivri Prison housed its most hardened male inmates.
And now here she was, naked with cell doors facing her from
all sides. The only thing that prevented her from screaming was
the silence. Perhaps nobody was here? Perhaps this was all some
kind of sick prank to try and scare her?
Tekin laughed cruelly. “Time to meet your fellow prisoners,
Thomson. It’s still a bit early, and they are probably not awake
yet, but I am sure they will not mind being disturbed seeing as
they have such a special guest to greet.”
“No … please,” whispered Trixie, doing her best to remain
quiet, and not awaken any of the cell-dwellers. “Please don’t.”
Continuing to chuckle, Tekin dragged the struggling girl to a
central place where her denuded state could be viewed by all.
Ignoring his captive’s pleas, the guard took his night stick and
walked around the perimeter of the block and rattled each cell
vigorously. Loud echoes reverberated around the chamber,
followed by a chorus of angry exclamations from the occupants
of the cells as they arose from their bunks.
Faces began to appear, staring quizzically through the bars,
demanding a reason as to why they were being awakened at such
an early hour.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” called Tekin, continuing to
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speak in his broken but relatively eloquent English, definitely for
Trixie’s benefit, as most of the men probably wouldn’t have a
great deal of knowledge of the language. “I am sure you all have
heard rumours of a special prisoner having arrived? Well, this is
her. This is the western girl who has been found guilty of
bringing d**gs into our glorious country.”
Trixie, both terrified and mortified, attempted to hide herself
behind the speaking Officer, cowering in his shadow, but he
dragged her to the fore with a harsh tug of the chain. “Let them
see you, girl. Don’t be shy.” Trixie whimpered, trying to cover her
nudity with her hands. Tekin lapsed into his own native language
for a few minutes, drawing comments and lewd laughter from
his rapt audience. Then, satisfied with the reactions, he returned
his attention to Trixie.
“Stretch your arms above your head as high as they will go,
girl, and cross your wrists.”
Trixie looked at him perplexedly, remaining as she was. “Do
it, girl. Do it or I will beat you like you have never been beaten
before! Now, do as you are told.”
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Feeling mortified under the amazed and delighted stares of
the other prisoners, Trixie struggled to comply. She had no idea
what all of this was about, but she knew that, when she adopted
this new position, her naked body would be exposed even more.
The young inmate reached upwards with her hands, horrified as
her exposed breasts stretched in response.
“Higher, girl!”
“I can’t …”
“Higher, I said! Do it now!”
Trixie forced her arms as high as physically possible, and on
the tips of her toes felt every muscle in her young body becoming
tense.
“Good. Now, cross your wrists again, girl.” Looking upwards,
she did as she was told. Tekin once again addressed the men in
the cells, emphasising certain words for effect. His words were
met with excited comments and gasps. Doing her best to hold the
uncomfortable position, Trixie just about managed to catch the
expressions on the leering faces. Some of the men were wideeyed,
as they jabbered in enthusiasm. Others were licking lips …
almost drooling. One even appeared to be caught in a display of
uncontrolled lust, his fist working with ever increasing pace at
his groin.
Suddenly, it struck her what the guard was doing, and she felt
her blood run cold. As if to confirm her fears, Tekin began to
speak in English once again.
“This girl is to be bound and presented for punishment,
before a public committee and invited audience this coming
Saturday at 10am.”
Trixie gasped. This was the first she had heard about the date
and time for her punishment. Three days away, that was all.
“I know you would all like to be there to watch,” Tekin
continued to address the male prisoners, but you have only
yourselves to blame for being locked up in here.”
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The men groaned in unison. “However,” continued the callous
officer, “… by posing for you like this, you can all begin to
imagine what she will look like, and you should keep those
images in mind tonight when you’re jerking off in your cells.”
Trixie moaned pitifully, and shook her head in denial. ‘This
can’t be happening,’ she thought.
“Arms up, girl! I didn’t say you could lower them,” barked
Tekin, smacking her ass sharply. Crude laughter echoed around
the enclosure. “I am sure your fellow inmates would love us to
stay a little bit longer, but time is moving on. I need to get you
back.”
Once more, he spoke to the men in their own language,
explaining what was happening. Then, taking a firm grip of
Trixie’s leash, he tugged her forward. Dragging her reluctantly
behind him, he made a circuit of the area, passing in front of
each of the cell doors as if showing off a prize a****l. Whistles
and comments greeted the naked girl as she was displayed to one
after another of the delighted men. Wave upon wave of
humiliation assaulted her, and she wished the ground would
open up and swallow her. Blushing in deep shame, her nipples
stood hard and erect.
Suddenly, hands reached around from behind her, and her
breasts were grasped and lifted. She screamed as Tekin pinched
her throbbing nipples, pulling on them agonisingly. Catcalls and
jeers met her yelp, but the sickening voice of Tekin cut through
all else.
“See what a tease she is, men? See how your gazes arouse her?
I wonder how the docile little bitch will feel after her punishment
is complete.”
Finally, feeling more degraded than she ever thought possible,
Trixie was led by her collar and leash out of the chamber.
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22
US Embassy Ankara, Turkey, Wednesday May 15th
2019, 10:18 am
Jeffrey looked up at the girl at the desk guarding the entry to
Ambassador Bass’s office, and gave her a ‘how long will he be’
look. Maybe she understood and maybe she didn’t but either way
her reciprocal smile was bland to say the least, offering no clue as
to the answer to Jeffrey’s unspoken question.
He had arrived at 9:55. Not really early and definitely not late,
but having been asked to take a seat in the ante-office he was still
stuck here more than twenty minutes later. Having dispensed
with his trademark light, crinoline suits and white shoes, in
favour of a more formal dark two piece and shiny black shoes,
the young lawyer was ready for business. But slowly and most
definitely surely, the assertive edge that he had built up inside
himself was giving way to a frustrated exasperation.
“Mister Hidges?” The girl spoke.
“It’s Hodges.”
“Yes of course it is. You may go in now.”
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His smile as he passed the girl contained no little sardonic
overtone.
“Mister Hodges I presume?” The man behind the desk was of
medium height, medium build and unremarkably medium looks,
save for a well-established goatee than garnished his top lip and
chin.
“Yes, Sir …” Jeffrey replied feeling it unpolitic to ask Bass, in
turn, to confirm who he was.
“Good, good, well Mister Hodges …”
“Oh, please call me Jeffrey.”
Bass smiled and nodded, “Jeffrey, you’ve come a long way so
what is it that I can do for you?”
With a sigh that was intended to imply a building up of inner
strength but came out more as a mark of impatience, Jeffrey sat
forward in his chair.
“Mister Ambassador Sir …” Bass did not reciprocate with the
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offer to use his Christian name. “My former assistant, Miss Trixie
Thomson, having been released by the Embassy was due to fly
home to the US via Istanbul … and it has come to my attention
…”
“Coffee Ambassador?” With impeccably bad timing for
Jeffrey, the door opened and a pretty face wearing a large smile
came into view.
“Oh, yes please Marie, thank you. For you too, Jeffrey?”
With his entire momentum and some of his bravado lost,
Hodges nodded. “Yes, please. White with no sugar. Thank you.”
The door closed and the Ambassador nodded for Jeffrey to
continue.
“I have reason to believe that she is being unofficially
detained in Istanbul Ambassador,” Jeffrey somewhat blurted
these final words out to quickly finish narrating why he was here.
The Ambassador sat back in his large leather chair and looked
Jeffrey in the eye.
“You say she was released by the Embassy?”
“Yes Sir.”
“And why was that?”
Shit. The truth was that Jeffrey really had no idea. As far as
he was concerned Trixie’s performance was way above that
deemed acceptable. If he had any clue at all it was because his
own liaison with her had been spotted by Scot Walkerson and so
she had to go, but he couldn’t very well say that.
“It was, erm, because she brought disrepute to the Embassy in
Singapore Mister Ambassador Sir, with her lack of breeding and
bad manners, not to mention her error strewn performance.” It
hurt him to lie like this, but what choice did he have.
Joseph Bass widened his eyes and raised his brows. “Sounds
like a good enough set of reasons to fire the girl, so tell me Mister
Hodges, why would you deem it necessary to follow her all these
miles to discover her whereabouts?”
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“Well, Sir …” Fuck, this wasn’t going well at all, “I still have
some of her things, her possessions, given that she had to leave so
quickly.”
Bass nodded sagely, “I see. Tell me what makes you think that
she is being unofficially detained here in Turkey?”
“Well Sir, she had a flight from Singapore to Istanbul. I
checked to make sure that she got on that flight and also
disembarked as expected, which she did. However, that is the
last I can trace of her. She seems to have disappeared into a black
hole …”
‘I can’t wait to see something disappearing into her black
hole’ Joseph Bass thought to himself.
“I see Jeffrey,” the Ambassador said in a patronising tone.
Then he paused and looked the young lawyer in the eye. “You say
she can be traced onto Turkish soil?”
“Yes Sir, she can.”
“Okay, well in that case I’m sorry to say, she becomes my
problem. So, my guidance to you Jeffrey, is that, despite your
commendable behaviour towards a girl who hardly seems worth
the bother, you get the next flight back to Singapore and leave
the matter in the hands of my Embassy. I shall have it looked into
and rest assured that if she is here then we will find her.”
Fuck. He was being given the brush off.
“But Mister Ambassador Sir, I think it would be best if …”
“That will be all Mister Hodges, this meeting is over. I need to
move on to my next conference.”
He hadn’t even had his hot drink!
As Hodges trooped out of the smaller ante-office, shoulders
hunched, having being totally blind-sided, the Ambassador
closed the door and turned back towards his secretary.
“Marie, if he calls or visits again then do not let him come
anywhere near me. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir, of course Sir.”
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“Good girl. Now, I will have my morning coffee if you please.
Oh, and did you manage to book the flights and hotel for my visit
to Istanbul this weekend?”
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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
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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 facefirst,
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
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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 …
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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 asshole.
“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
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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
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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
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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 i*****l 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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.
117
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.
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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.
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“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.
120
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.
121
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!
122
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.
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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.
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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
125
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 earpiercing
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.
126
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
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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.
128
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 i*****l 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
129
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
c***dren, handsome Alexander and beautiful Stacey, the image of
her mother, were the perfect representatives of their home
country abroad.
130
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
131
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 thirtyfive
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
132
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 …