Abdul Hakeem motioned at the plate nearest her on the table. A luxuriant feast lay spread out before her.
“Eat, slave.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Starving, Keiko ate. The fare here was far better than the meager bits of corn, refried beans, and vegetables that the guards put in her dog bowl in her cell. She reached for a bratwurst. The smell of actual meat made her salivate. She could hardly believe her good fortune as she wolfed down not one, but two of the sausages on her plate. The following few minutes were marked by a surprisingly companionable silence as she and Abdul continued to eat.
Then, the enigmatic black man finally pushed away the last of his food. He gave her an appraising stare.
“You must have many questions, slave.”
Keiko wasn’t sure what to say. It was hard to know where to begin.
“Where am I?” That seemed as good a place as any. “What is this place?”
Abdul adjusted the dark-rimmed glasses on his face. His somber eyes were the opposite of sunny. A darkness and sadness clung to the lines of his mouth too no matter his facial expression.
“You might call this a way station of sorts.”
“A way station?” She pushed aside her plate. Curiosity now eclipsed Keiko’s hunger. “Can you… can you get me out of here?” she blurted, reverting to the most primal instinct of all – fear and the need to escape.
Abdul Hakeem gave her a long look. It maddened her how unreadable he was. It was like she had met the man with the ultimate poker face.
“If you wish to survive in a place such as this, Slave Keiko, I suggest you learn better discipline. Do not waste a single act. Do not waste a single word. Do you understand?”
She wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded, held her tongue, and waited for him to continue.
“This place is one of dozens on the outskirts of Tokyo. The man who owns it is the son of a powerful yakuza. His name is Takashi Saito. He collects young Japanese girls, trains them, and sells them to the highest bidder.”
“Trains them?” Keiko couldn’t resist. She hoped her outburst wouldn’t anger Abdul, but the man let it pass.
“He takes them to places like this to first break them in. Clients of every ilk, from dirt-poor to the wealthiest 1%, come to ‘sample the goods.’ After a month or two, the more promising girls who haven’t been sold yet are taken elsewhere for training. Some will be trained to be high-priced call girls and ‘escorts’ serving crime bosses and corrupt politicians the world over. Others will be sold to… well, one might say ‘men of means with unconventional tastes.’ Some don’t survive the training,” he noted darkly. “And some don’t survive their owners.” Abdul seemed to pause to let that sink in.
Keiko felt her heart skip a beat.
“Are you… are you one of these men?” she asked, afraid to hear his answer.
The black man took a sip of his wine, then put the crystal goblet back in its place.
“Yes and no,” he murmured. Abruptly, though, his attention now diverted elsewhere. The rear double doors to the banquet hall were just starting to open. Keiko followed his gaze to the newcomer. A slightly overweight Arab man walked in. He was naked, just like Abdul, and he wore a heavy golden chair around his neck. He walked with a Japanese girl behind him. She was naked too, her wrists cuffed behind her.
“The one you see there, his name is Sheikh Muhari. He is such a man.” Keiko noted the way the bald Sheikh approached a table nearby. The Japanese girl he had with him wore a metal collar around her neck. From it a chain dangled. He had been leading her on it as a leash, dragging the girl behind him. Now, pulling up a simple stool and shifting the chair aside, he took a seat at the table. The girl stood beside him as he ate, her eyes downcast.
Keiko took the time to take a good look at her. She was more lithesome than Keiko yet somehow more voluptuous too, her body proportions a study in contrast. The girl was much paler than Keiko too, with impressive bubble-like breasts, and the areolae of her nipples sported a color of lightest pink. Those innocent, expressive brown eyes matched her furtive, shy-seeming face. Her black hair flowed down to the middle of her back. None of those qualities were what fixated Keiko’s attention and stoked her fears though.
The girl’s ‘adornments’ did that. The Japanese slave girl standing beside Sheikh Muhari had a silver hoop dangling from each of her pierced nipples and another silver hoop dangled from the girl’s pussy – a horizontal clitoral hood piercing.
Abdul’s voice intruded on Keiko’s horror.
“The girl you see standing there, her name is Chiyoko. She came a few weeks before you did. It’s been maybe a month and a half since Saito’s people brought her in. Sheikh Muhari last night chose her as one of his new purchases. Tomorrow he will leave with the girl as his property.”
It took all her effort to stop from shivering, but Keiko managed it. That poor girl. What would happen to her? As if Abdul had read her thoughts, he continued on.
“Sheikh Muhari has a reputation for brutality. He expects complete obedience from his girls and he enjoys demeaning them.”
Keiko nearly jumped out of her skin as Sheikh Muhari now barked at Chiyoko.
“Get down here and suck my balls, bitch.” Chiyoko hurriedly knelt between the fat man’s legs. She began to suck gently on his ball sac, switching back and forth, the sounds of her slurping and softly sucking soon filling the banquet hall. The Sheikh continued to eat, oblivious to the girl’s attentions, as if it were the most mundane thing to have a girl sucking one’s balls in the middle of a meal. His cock turned rigid, engorged with blood – but still the Sheikh ignored the slave ministering to his testicles. Those same testicles, hairy and covered in sweat, looked anything but appetizing.
At last, he grabbed Chiyoko by the hair and thrust her head away.
“Enough, bitch. Your ball-sucking skills could use some work. Now tongue my asshole.”
Keiko blanched. She wanted to look away, but out of morbid fascination she continued to stare. The Sheikh pushed his stool away, stood beside the table and kept eating. She watched as Chiyoko now knelt behind him. Pressing her face between the Sheikh’s ass cheeks, she began to flick her tongue into his wrinkled opening. It was appalling. Disgusting. Words could hardly describe the demeaning reality of the scene unfolding. Keiko looked away. The soft sounds of Chiyoko’s ass-licking still drifted to their table though.
“Will that be my fate?” Keiko asked bitterly.
Abdul looked at her steadily. “That depends on you. I can give you a way out of sorts, but you must do exactly as I say.”
Keiko looked at him carefully, trying to detect any sign of deception.
“Anything. I’ll do anything you ask.” What did she have to lose?
“Good,” Abdul said. “Consider this a test. Follow my lead and obey me without question. Understood?”
Keiko nodded. She knew nothing of this man. Could she trust him? Given the kind of men who would frequent a sex slave ring, she seriously doubted it. And yet there was a sincerity in his tone and in his eyes that somehow coaxed out that desire to trust him nonetheless.
Abdul rose up and walked over to the Sheikh’s table. Keiko followed. He then took a place standing beside the Sheikh.
“May I join you, Sheikh?”
Muhari nodded. “Of course, my young friend.”
No sooner had Abdul begun to take a sip from a goblet of wine at hand, he motioned at Keiko.
“Get behind me, slave. My ass requires your tongue.”
Keiko gaped, barely hiding her outrage. Was the bastard actually telling her to eat out his ass? She thought about slapping him. She thought about running. Keiko thought about doing anything except for the vile thing he had just demanded of her. In the end, though, she chose to play the long game. Practicality won out. With a shuddery breath, the naked Japanese girl knelt behind the imposing black man. Ever so tentatively, she began to flick her tongue into his anus. To her relief, he had showered recently judging from the smell of soap and body wash, but the task remained difficult to stomach. As Keiko’s tongue caressed Abdul’s asshole, she tried to listen in on their conversation.
“I see you’ve found a prospect, Hakeem. Is the cunt for you or for your father?” the Sheikh asked with amusement.
“For my father,” Abdul replied.
“Pity,” the Sheikh rumbled. “It is about time that you claimed a slave girl of your own, is it not?” The Sheikh laughed, a thunderous chuckle that shifted his bulky frame. “You are too much the Boy Scout, Hakeem. You do not have your father’s streak for cruelty or his penchant for doing the harsh things that need to be done to succeed in this business.”
“I would not be so sure,” Abdul countered. “The girl behind me, though I may buy her with my father’s funds, will serve as my own de facto slave. The old man has plenty of slaves to occupy him, so many that he will hardly notice. Besides, why spend money I don’t have to?”
Keiko’s heart nearly stopped.
Sheikh Muhari frowned as if he’d just tasted curdled milk. “Were you my own son trying to take advantage of your position like that, I would have you flogged.” The Sheikh’s disapproving frown now morphed into a teasing grin. “But then again, in the Kingdom we follow a harsher, purer code than you Westerners.”
“Perhaps,” Abdul conceded. “When it comes to instilling fear to keep slave cunts in line, there is much I can learn from you. On that note, I wanted to ask you something, if I may be so bold…”
“About?”
“Last year you bought three slaves from Saito, three women. Whatever happened to them?”
Sheikh Muhari went suddenly quite still. He snapped his fingers. A servant came up to him with a covered silver platter. He removed the lid, took the cell from its place on a red silk napkin. He pulled up a video and turned his phone toward Abdul.
At the same time, Abdul shooed Keiko back. “That’s enough ass-licking, slave. Just stay and kneel where you are.” Grateful, Keiko pulled back from Abdul’s ass. She watched as Muhari showed Abdul the start of the video.
“You mean these slaves?” the Sheikh added, his tone filled with gloating.
Keiko watched with deepening dread the scene now unfolding. There were sounds of moaning and bodies smacking together. A naked man lay on a carpet with a skinny Japanese girl straddling him, her pubic hair grinding against his crotch as she humped his cock. Her melon-shaped tits jiggled with the zeal of her fucks, her face contorted in an exaggerated display of arousal.
“I feel you so deep,” she crooned. “Yes, yes! Fuck me!”
Meanwhile a second man laid back on a couch while a slightly darker-skinned Japanese girl pumped the tight seal of her cunt lips up and down his length. He sucked on her breasts while his hands cupped her ass cheeks. He grunted and groaned happily beneath her.
“Yes, please suck my nipples Sir!” the second girl cooed.
Finally, a third Japanese girl, pale and on all fours on the room’s only bed, moaned loudly as a third man fucked her from behind. Her body shook from the force of the impalements, his balls tapping against the backs of her creamy thighs.
“AAAHHHH!!!!” The girl’s long, drawn-out moans continued as he drilled her.
But now in the background a harsh voice lashed all three women like a merciless whip.
“You call that FUCKING? You worthless cunts can do better than that. I want a true fuck-show. I’ve had you practicing daily orgies for me for more than six months now and STILL your enthusiasm reminds me of nothing more than a pathetic B-movie porn film. Why should I even keep you alive? Show me some genuine enthusiasm, you big-titted sluts, or I’ll retire you right here and now!”
The Sheikh stopped the video and put down the phone. He spun it idly with his hand. “Do you know what I just showed you, my young friend? The last fuck-show those three ever gave me. I retired Hiroko, Suzume, and Ayame the very next day.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the looks on their faces. I had all three of those bitches kneeling and polishing my balls and cock with their tongues before I gave them a group facial and then double-tapped each and every one of them.”
Keiko felt a chill touch the very marrow of her bones. Surely the man had just made some sick, twisted joke. He hadn’t killed those girls… had he?? She wanted to vomit. These men who came here… their tastes were not just ‘unconventional.’ Some of them were monsters. Keiko had always been taught by her father that monsters weren’t real.
But they were.
Why had Abdul brought her over to hear and see this? Did he mean to ramp up her terror even further? Had he just been toying with her all along?
“I see your standards remain high and exacting, as always, Sheikh,” Abdul observed. “Will you excuse me?” The Sheikh nodded and Abdul pulled Keiko up and took her back to their table. He pulled up a stool and sat down.
Keiko felt rage bubbling up through the sensation of her helplessness.
“Why did you show me that?” she demanded, voice laced with anger.
Abdul slapped her – not a harsh slap, but a slap designed just to startle.
“Jump on my cock, slave, and I’ll explain.” Still clutching her stinging cheek, Keiko slid onto his lap on the stool. Straddling him, she lowered her pussy onto his waiting shaft. She bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning as the girth of that impressive black cock drove up into her body. God, he was huge. She rested both hands on his shoulders and began to fuck him. Meanwhile she noticed that the Sheikh was watching her each time she bottomed out her pussy on Abdul’s manhood. The Sheikh now had Chiyoko move around to start slurping on his cock. He held Chiyoko by the hair and skull-fucked her, but his eyes remained laser-focused on Keiko instead.
Abdul looked at Keiko with a face deadly serious.
“You need to understand the world you’re in now, Keiko. Listen carefully. I took you over there just now to show you what kind of man comes to a place like this… So you would know the part I have to play while I’m here just to fit in. You aren’t just surrounded by wolves; you’re surrounded by monsters. Never forget that. I’m here at the behest of a monster – yes, my own father. He collects Japanese girls for his dungeons, and yes, he sends me to do his bidding. I do what he tells me because I have no choice. In that small way, I suppose our current predicaments aren’t all that different. Neither of us has a choice in our future. But maybe we can help each other.”
“Help each other how?” Keiko murmured, her cunt sliding down his shaft once more.
He pinched her nipples lightly, watching them pebble up into two pink peaks. He licked at them. She shivered.
“If I ask for you as a gift, my father will probably grant it. I cannot buy you outright or grant you your freedom, but I can offer you this – a home of sorts. You would be my father’s property and not my own… not directly. But I could promise you a life at the very least. A life free of the danger and abuse most girls in your situation will be destined to suffer.”
“Why are you even asking me then? What choice do I have?” Keiko hissed bitterly. She ground her pussy against him aggressively, almost angrily, while she glared. Now that she knew just how hopeless her situation was, it seemed to Keiko that she had nothing left to lose.
But what Abdul said next took her breath away.
“Because… I feel something for you, Keiko. I can’t dare show you that softness or tenderness, though, not here. These men sense weakness a mile off. If they see me treat you well, they will insist on ‘sampling’ you just to put you in your place. I dare not risk it for your sake. If you are patient, though, I will contact my father and ask him for permission to buy you. I will give you a life in some ways better than any you could hope for. I may not have freedom to offer, but I have access to wealth and luxury. Some things I can give you. Will you let me try? I won’t force you, Keiko. I won’t buy you unless you agree to it.”
Keiko’s thoughts clashed and swirled. Did the man appreciate the irony in what he’d just said? She couldn’t believe this was even happening. Less than four weeks ago she was a Japanese-American college graduate going to visit her mother’s family in Tokyo. Now, one ill-chosen party and one ill-chosen drink later, she was a human trafficking victim. How quickly a person’s fortunes could change…
She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t ready to accept this fate for her life, after all. A stubborn will to resist rose up, a defiant and enduring spirit that surprised her. So she said the only thing she could – what that defiance now urged her to say.
“Go fuck yourself,” Keiko growled. Even as she said it, though, pleasure coursed through her body, his cock sliding against the walls of her sensitive cunt. He slapped her, made her nearly fall back off the stool, but then his hands clasped the sides of her face and brought her mouth to his for a brutal yet passionate kiss. She kissed him back on instinct. Keiko trembled as his cock impaled her, the girl’s pussy coating her rapist’s shaft with libido-fueled nectar. He kept her there bouncing on his cock for some time as they made out like genuine lovers.
‘You fucking bastard,’ she thought. Yet her nipples had hardened with arousal and her hands cupped the nape of his neck as they made out. Soon he was groaning and spewing his massive load deep in her young fuckhole. She nipped at his bottom lip and kept kissing him even as his manhood shot its thick ropes of sperm inside her.
At last, feeling the taint of his cum filling her pussy, Keiko sagged in his arms. She wanted to hate this man. She wanted to hate all men now. Yet she couldn’t quite erase that tiny flutter in her heart that came when Abdul’s hands gently stroked her back. She sat there, his cock softening inside of her, dimly aware of his words.
“It’s all right, slave. I know this isn’t easy. I’ll give you time to think over my proposal.” Abruptly the tall black man shoved Keiko to the floor and called for the guards to take her back to her cell.
Bewildered, her heart fractured by grief, Keiko tried to wrap her mind around the unthinkable.
‘Is choosing a kinder owner the best of all the options out there? Am I truly doomed to be a sex slave?’
Still in a daze, she felt the guards re-cuff her hands behind her back and start to lead her away. Abdul’s excess jism seeped from her sore pussy. Looking back at Abdul over her shoulder, Keiko had so many more questions.
‘Abdul Hakeem, who are you really? Who is this cruel monster you call father? Why can’t you find the will to break free of him?’ All those questions swirled and melded in her mind. Abdul was the key to her freedom. She sensed it. But to use that key to unlock her future, first she had to make him see that he didn’t have to be the same monster as the others, or a pawn of the monster his father was either. Could she get him to see that?
Now it dawned on Keiko. There was only one way forward. To survive, she would have to play the long game. If his feelings were genuine, she had to use them. She had to make him HER pawn somehow.
Meanwhile, as the guards led her away Keiko snuck one final look at Sheikh Muhari at the other table. The monster had Chiyoko bent over the table now, his cock lancing into her cunt from behind at a frenetic pace. He seemed to fuck her with a fury, his hefty bulk slamming into her again and again. The Arab’s hand pushed the Japanese slave girl’s head down sideways, her cheek pressed into the tablecloth. The sound of his body smacking into hers was like a deafening crime against decency while the table shook and the plates and glasses rattled.
“Don’t just lay there, you worthless bitch. Move those hips and fuck me back! Are you stupid?”
With her wrists cuffed behind her, it was all Chiyoko could do to nudge her hips back to meet her rapist’s thrusts. Chiyoko’s pierced nipples were crushed against the table. Keiko wondered how it felt, having that clit piercing withstand the friction of that sliding cock. She shuddered. Chiyoko continued to moan in time to her savage rape. The moan contained both shame and pleasure. The Sheikh’s tanned body slammed against Chiyoko’s lily-white ass, that hard cock filling the poor girl to the hilt with each and every thrust. Chiyoko’s forlorn eyes met Keiko’s gaze for just a moment. Keiko’s heart reached out to her. Then it happened – the Arab bastard shouted the euphoria of his release, his pelvis grinding against his captive, consummating the rape as his testicles stiffened, emptying their precious load deep inside his property.
‘That could soon be my fate,’ Keiko thought. ‘My body owned, just a pair of tits and a pussy to abuse at whim, just a cock-sleeve receptacle for my owner’s cum.’ Whatever Abdul was, she had to hope that he was telling the truth… That he might buy her and offer her a better life. Perhaps while she lived as his slave, if he was lax enough, the opportunity to escape would finally come.
But that meant her only hope was that Abdul was not another Sheikh Muhari. It meant praying that Abdul Hakeem wasn’t deep down just another monster too.
******
END OF PART 2