ADDICTED and ABUSED (6)
The Wellington Private Hospital, St John’s Wood, London.
Grace woke in the middle of the night, sweating, shaking, knowing she was about to vomit, she got out of bed quickly and knocked over the drip stand with her still splinted fingers as she ran over to the sink to puke.
Jason was there, picking it up and rubbing her back. Grace should have taken comfort from his presence, but instead it actually made things worse, because he could see her like this, in this state. She looked away and he frowned. She didn’t want him to see her, she didn’t want anyone to see her like this and part of her was tempted to ask him to leave, to shut herself away, like before, to ride it out alone, ride out not only the withdrawal but the shame, the humiliation of it.
“Let’s get you back into bed.” He said quietly and she nodded letting him, but shutting her eyes all the same. She was shaking again, more violently than before and he practically had to lift her into the bed. He pulled the covers over and she started shaking even more violently and he thought her teeth might shatter.
“Grace?” He asked but she didn’t respond. Something about it, something about the way she was, told him he needed to get a doctor and he ran out of the room yelling. The medic ran in checking her vitals, checking her pupils, and shaking his head.
“This is why we don’t do it this way. Cold turkey like this is so very dangerous.” He said and Jason could hear the edge to his voice.
“Can you give her anything?” Jason asked.
“Yes, Naltrexone.” He replied and Jason narrowed his eyes.
“Anything else?” Jason asked and the medic actually huffed.
“I can give her something to calm the seizures but if she gets any worse, then we won’t have a choice.”
“Fine.” Jason muttered. A nurse came in and administered the drug and Jason watched as his girl stopped shaking, stopped convulsing. Suddenly she looked like she was sleeping. He sighed pulling his phone out and messaged their boss an update.
An Edwardian terraced home in the Dyke House Town of Hartlepool, Northern UK
The Edwardian terraced home in the Dyke House area of Hartlepool could best be described as dilapidated. Situated on a grim-looking street of boarded-up houses and properties with smashed windows, its neighbourhood is said to be in the bottom 2 per cent of the most deprived areas in the UK. Yet behind the curtains at No 18 York Road, business was good.
Upstairs in the bedrooms and attic young girls were housed, being readied for deployment as reluctant sex workers. Downstairs, in the cellar, a girl, no more than nineteen herself, was chained, virtually naked to ceiling.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dani saw the man called Omar pick up the whip that was to be used upon her body. He shook it loose, examining its weight and length, nodding in approval as he did so. The instrument was around four feet long, made of braided leather, and attached to a wooden handle. Nine inches from its end the braiding split into three loose strips, from which the bulk of the punishment would be delivered.
Her eyes went wide, and she began to struggle pointlessly against her bonds. She knew what these bastards did to the girl’s they did not want … and now it was her turn.
“Yes,” hissed the other man, whose name she did not know. “Nice, isn’t it, you cunt? Just what the likes of you needs.”
She had been taken from Brick Lane by Markus and, with her head bagged, she had been handed to these guys somewhere after the van she had been cuffed and tied in had driven quite a distance. She had no idea where she was now … this was a place to which she had never been. And now Dani was convinced that she would never leave … not alive.
Taking his time, he unclasped Dani’s bra and brusquely pulled it from her. Her soft breasts, raised as they were, jiggled with the roughness of the act, and she gasped. She knew they were going to strip her and she pleaded.
“Please, don’t do this, I don’t know anything please …” For some reason, Dani had imagined they would leave her with the little bit of protection the skimpy garments afforded, but she had been wrong. The cruelty of these monsters knew no bounds. They fully intended to have her naked for the lash, displayed as she was. The bound girl squirmed away from the man, pressing her back against the wall, twisting left and right in an attempt to avoid his groping hands.
Her nipples, hardening as her body reacted to the humiliating treatment, stared him in the face as she struggled, drawing lewd laughter from her assailant.
“Look at you, you fucking little slut,” he whispered.
Dani wailed, shaking her head vigorously in despair, yet knowing how she looked to these vicious, brutal men.
Hands reached down, trailing slowly along her flanks, and gripped the flimsy material of her lace panties, which, in one swift motion he tore from her body. The man took the opportunity to cup Dani’s mound, sliding his long finger between her thighs, before leaving the hapless girl totally naked, and at their mercy.
The ensuing laughter from Omar’s mouth cut Dani to the core. What was wrong with these people? She stood now, chained, arms stretched high and on the tips of her toes. She trembled uncontrollably, naked and presented as they wished her to be, Dani now knew that the time for her flogging was near, and fear forced her again to struggle with all her might.
She tugged madly against her bonds, trying to break free. She kicked out in her efforts, doing her best to gain some kind of useful purchase for her feet so she might exert more pressure on the chains. Her pointless attempts drew more laughter.
“Can’t have you carrying on like that, little whore,” growled Omar, “… Raise her”.
The other man placed a wooden upturned bucket by Dani’s feet. “Stand on it, cunt.”
With a gulp, Dani obeyed, and as she did, the man pulled on the now loose end of the chain and stretched her arms even higher and immediately re-secured her in this more elevated position.
Dani groaned long and loud.
“Much better!” Omar was pleased. He reached out and twisted her left nipple, hard.
The shackled girl cried out, looking up at her cruelly manacled limbs, her arms now stretched high. She fought to maintain some kind of balance in order to relieve the pressure on her arms, but it was virtually impossible as she was all but hanging. Any real movement would cause her to slip from the meagre purchase her toes still retained on the small surface of the bucket, and send her swinging by her wrists.
Omar looked at his victim and smiled.
“Markus tells us that you have been informing on his operation to MI6? What exactly did you tell them Danielle?”
The poor girl just shook her head as the lash hissed through the air and sliced across her exposed breasts.
End of PART II. To be continued and concluded in the shocking PART III - DESTINY
We will take a short one day break now to take stock and give anyone who needs to the chance to catch up. Thank you, as always, for your wonderful support. Sexpionage will return on Thursday.