Sophie slowly closed the big, heavy wooden door behind the last customers of the evening. She had been trying to ignore the wetness between her legs for the past three hours, but the tension was building. When she saw Mehmet guide his Turkish business associates up the stairs to the massive house above the restaurant, her lower abdomen felt like liquid fire was pooling up. Since Mehmet had gently asked her if she was prepared to be a show pony for some potential investors, she had slowly become more and more aroused at the thought of performing on demand. She tried to tell herself she had no choice – that she was only doing what she had to in order to save her job. She was lying to herself. She had fantasised about the Turkish owner and his brother more times than she could count. Working as late as she could just to stare at their broad, muscular backs and burnt sienna coloured skin. Rushing home to shove her fingers in her greedy sopping wet cunt over and over again until she brought herself to crashing orgasm imagining being forced to service their large cocks. Once, the need had been so great she had actually got home and straddled the sofa arm, grinding her clit hard against the furniture and moaning softly into the cushions. With these thoughts swimming around her confused but dopamine filled brain, she carefully arranged some refreshments on a tray and made her way upstairs.
Sophie knocked tentatively on the door. Mehmet had changed out of his chef whites into a simple white shirt and jeans. He looked absolutely sensational and for a moment Sophie was speechless. He smiled gently, he knew the effect he was having on this girl. She was almost too ripe for the plucking, she would be eating out of his hand before the end of the night.
“Sophie, my beautiful darling, you are so wonderful and kind to come up here and help. Please come in, remove your shoes, relax. I have spoken to the men and they do not want you to be uncomfortable, we are all going to just have some talks and some drinks together.”
Sophie looked into his kind brown eyes and felt her heart surge. He was a true gentleman – she wasn’t going to have to debase herself after all. How funny that she actually felt a bit deflated now, almost as though she was looking forward to it. She entered the room and placed the tray down on the table in front of her. Sophie had never been up here before, it was a beautiful room. As old as the huge building, it had large windows set in deep wooden sills, the wood dark and roughly hewn. There was a burgundy leather sofa against one wall and several Chesterfield chairs occupying the space. There was an wall-to-wall bookshelf to the right of her against the back wall, opposite end of the room to the traditional huge fireplace with a real fire burning. The volumes looked dusty and were clearly very old, a mixture of Greek, Arabic and Latin texts. Few titles were English from what she could tell. Standing imposingly on the wall to the left of her was a wrought iron wine rack, with over 200 bottles of the finest wine in there. Opposite the wine rack was a huge and immaculate mirror, big enough to take in the entire room. Mehmet directed her to the leather sofa that was side on to the mirror and bid her sit down.
She looked around for Mehmet’s business associates; he clarified that they were in another part of the house watching something they couldn’t miss – they may join us later, he said. Sophie relaxed instantly. Mehmat picked up two brandy glasses and handed one to her.
“Oh, erm, thank you, I don’t really, I mean I’ve never had, brandy is quite strong isn’t it? I’m not sure I should”
Mehmet looked directly into her eyes, deliberately touched his glass to hers, and drank his without breaking eye contact while standing over her. Sophie got the message. She managed a tight smile and thought, what the hell. Down the hatch. The fiery liquid burnt her throat but did calm her nerves somewhat. Mehmat sat next to her on the leather sofa, incredibly comfortable and at ease. He had assumed his position from earlier, his right ankle resting on his left knee, crotch splayed wide, arms stretched out reclining on the sofa. He allowed himself a leisurely gaze over Sophie’s nubile and tensed body, here in his house, all his to play with. She was like a scared little bunny rabbit faced with a wolf. He looked at her with a wolf’s hunger. She was still wearing her white blouse, tight black pencil skirt and bare legs. He reached over slowly, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers sending shivers down her spine. She looked nervously at him while his fingers buried themselves into her dark curls and released them from the clip they were held in.
“There my darling. Now you are comfortable.” He murmured, almost as an afterthought. He still wasn’t looking at her – he was idly stroking one particular ringlet round his big, strong, brown finger. Sophie had a sudden feeling of being held on a leash, like a dog. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Mehmet looked directly at her and then released her hair. Her breathing was coming in quick, short bursts and her pussy felt like it was on fire. Being in this close proximity to Mehmet, in his home, when he looked like a God, was doing unacceptable things to her body. Her nipples were hard, tight little bullets poking through the thin lace of the white bra she wore. Her buttocks were clenching and unclenching and she could feel the inner walls of her pussy convulsing with desire. Her moist lips parted and she moved her tongue over the top one, biting gently to stop herself saying something.
“Go into that wooden dresser. Third drawer down. Bring back what you find.”
Sophie stood, slightly shakily, and followed Mehmet’s orders. She found an antique looking box of long, dark brown, thick cigars. In her hands they looked obscene – when she handed one to Mehmet it looked like a thin stick in his huge manly hands. He laughed and handed it back to her.
“You don’t know how to give a man his cigar properly? Your Father never taught you?” He asked amused, laughing at her discomfort. She reddened instantly and looked down and started mumbling about being a strictly non-smoking family. Mehmet enjoyed her unease, and then gave her the instructions she needed while she stood in front of him.
“You put it in my mouth – here, you see, and then get the matches and you light it for me. Keep the light there until it is good. Then you thank me.” Sophie did as she was told. She placed the end of the cigar in his mouth – being that close she could smell his aftershave mixed with his sweat on his stubbly jawline. It was intoxicating. Musky, manly, and very overwhelming. Sophie’s trembling fingers picked up the box of matches and managed to light one. She leaned down and held the light to the end of his cigar, waiting while he drew the smoke deeply into his lungs and then lazily blew out a stream. She felt his warm breath and the smoke completely envelop the top half of her body. Unsure what to do now her task was complete, Sophie stood there. Then she remembered.
“Uh, thanks…thank you.”
Mehmet looked steadily at her, she was still standing in front of him while he leaned back and relaxed with his brandy and cigar.
“Is that how you say thank you?” he asked dangerously softly.
Sophie felt her pussy tingle. She was terrified some of her juices would run down the inside of her thighs and he would smell her.
“No Sir. Sorry Sir. Thank you for teaching me how to light a man’s cigar Sir.” Mehmet nodded slowly in approval. She was a fast learner.
“You may sit back down next to me, little girl. After we play a little game. Do you like games, Sophie?” he asked. Sophie said, “I used to Sir. When I was a little girl. I used to like hide and go seek.” She blushed again.
“Ah I see. Well this game is slightly different. I am concerned that you do not properly respect men, I am concerned that since your Father left you have had no role model to help you. Your safety is very important to me Sophie my darling, and you are a beautiful woman. I would not like to see you get taken advantage of.”
Sophie said “I agree Sir it has been difficult. I have tried my best.” She looked down again, uncertain as to what was next.
Mehmet was not unsure. He said,
“The first thing you need to do is realise who you are, and what you have to offer. I think a simple question and answer game would work for this my darling. But I do not want you to get tired. You may kneel.”
Sophie said “Thank you Sir” and gingerly knelt down on the wooden floor in front of him. She said “The floor is very hard, please can I have a cushion?” Mehmet’s response was swift and unexpected. He reached down and pulled Sophie’s bottom lip with two fingers, stretching it out so she couldn’t speak. She looked at him with frightened eyes and her hands automatically flew up to his wrist. He was far too strong for her and barely noticed her attempts to wrest his fingers away from her pouting lip. She could smell the cigar smoke and brandy on his breath as he leant forward and menacingly whispered,
“You ungrateful bitch. I am giving up my time to help you – and you want to put one of my beautiful expensive cushions on the dirty floor where my feet go? All because your knees hurt? And you forgot to address me properly – do not make me change my mind about handing you over to my associates Sophie. I assure you they are not nearly as patient with stupid English sluts as I am.” He looked her in the eyes and the hard set of his mouth told her he was not playing around.
Sophie gasped and tried to think rationally. Her pussy felt like it had 10,000 volts of electricity coursing through it. She could barely breathe she was so aroused.
“Now, I will allow you to apologise and we will continue with your education.” Mehmet said softly and released his grip on her lip. It pinged back to her face throbbing with pain and the rush of blood. It felt a but numb and she wasn’t sure she could speak properly.
“Yeth thir, thorry shir. I will try to be a good girl thir.” Sophie managed. Mehmet’s cock was like a rod of steel looking into her beautiful blue eyes that were already tearing up as pathetically thanked him through the lisp he’d given her for making her feel shit about herself. She was almost too easy.
“First, we will start with the basics. I am Sir. You are whatever I like to call you. Mostly you are slut. But it is important to me that you understand I will call you only the names I know will help you my honey. It will be good for you to hear how much of a whore you are, what a dirty slut you are and what a needy cockhungry cumwhore you are. The sooner you accept your subservient position as a mindless English slut addicted to having a superior Turkish prick rammed down your throat, the easier this will be my darling. Do you understand, slut?”
Sophie nodded breathlessly through tear filled eyes. Her mascara was starting to smudge already, her lips bitten and her face felt numb. “Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”
Mehmet leaned down and stroked her cheek softly. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Suddenly, he slapped her hard across the face. She cried out and grabbed her stinging cheek. She looked at him with fear and mistrust in her eyes. But then;
“Thank you Sir.”
“You are welcome. A good lesson for you to learn is that your body is secondary only to what men want to do with it. Sometimes we will have stressful day, we will be angry. We need a punchbag. You are that punchbag darling. Sometimes we will hurt you for sexual pleasure, sometimes we will simply hurt you because we are angry. A good whore will always be grateful for the attention and thank her Master accordingly afterwards. Yes?”
She nodded submissively – incredibly turned on by what she was hearing. Mehmet looked satisfied.
“Ok, good. Now, you will humiliate yourself for my entertainment my darling. Crawl on your hands and knees like a dog to that cupboard. In the bottom shelf you will find a red pen. Bring it back between your teeth, like a puppy.” “Yes Sir”
Sophie obeyed without thinking about her. Her gushing pussy at this point was squelching in her knickers, and she was sure he could hear or smell it. Sophie crawled to the drawer, and returned with the pen in her mouth.
“Ok, now remove your shirt. Write ‘whore’ on your chest. “
Sophie removed her shirt quickly, discarding it next to her. She felt like her breasts might strain out of her bra she was so aroused. Taking the pen, she carefully wrote the word ‘whore’ inbetween her breasts. Mehmet smile at what she had done. He said,
“Face the mirror, whore.” He knelt behind her and removed her bra. The cold air hit her nipples like ice and she shivered. Mehmet reached around with both hands, looking at her in the mirror. He began to manipulate both nipples at the same time. His thumb was three times the size of one of her pink rosy buds. Sophie gasped looking at the stark contrast of his huge, hairy and dark skinned hands mauling her pale, firm breasts. He whispered in her ear,
“These tits are slut’s tits. These are the titties that English women have when they want to be treated like a slut. You want these tits to be twisted, tortured, slapped, bitten and suckled. Your tits now belong to the restaurant my honey. They are our property as much as the furniture. If a customer comes in and has a bad day, you will present your slutty worthless white tits to him and beg him to abuse them until he feels more relaxed. You will repeat to him that he is a God and you are a worthless piece of shit. You will thank him for even looking in your direction. Isn’t that right slut?”
Sophie was openly moaning and gasping at this point, her swollen breasts responding to Mehmet’s expert touch. He had clearly fondled a lot of young women’s breasts in his time. He was controlling them perfectly, flicking the nipples, squeezing and touching the underside of her tits and pinching the nipples outwards from the breast. Sophie thought she was going to cum when he leaned over her shoulder and slowly and deliberately spat on her left nipple. He whispered in her ear,
“You disgusting, perverted whore. You are a worthless cock-hungry slut and your tits are mine. I am going to pass you around the entire restaurant on a platter and allow men to cum all over your tits. You’d like that, wouldn’t you whore?”
Sophie was moaning loudly and squirming at this point, looking directly into the mirror and watching Mehmet abuse her tits that had the word whore scrawled across them in red pen. She didn’t know if it was possible to cum just from having her nipples played with but she didn’t think she was far off. Her black skirt had ridden up to her thighs, and her hair was bouncing around her exposed shoulders. With one hand, Mehmet gripped the front of her throat, his strong muscular tanned arm practically covering her entire torso. Her creamy pale tits jiggled as he slowly choked her, gripping her neck with one hand, and slapping alternate breasts with the other. Sophie was gasping for air at this point and trying to grab his hand away from her neck. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt a mini orgasm rush through her as Mehmet choked her and slapped her abused titflesh harder and harder.
“Cum for me now Sophie. Cum for me like the English slut whore you are. Cum for my while I abuse your slutty tits and choke you like you deserve. Make yourself cum while you look at whore written on your tits and a man 15 years older treats you like a ragdoll. Cum now you filthy fucking whore”
Sophie shook with emotion as she ground her legs together and squeezed her clit with her thighs – it was happening. She was cumming and he hadn’t even touched her there. Sophie screamed out and shook, her entire body went limp and she fell back into him. Her senses returned and she could smell his aftershave and his sweat, and feel his breath on her neck. Mehmet gently released his grip on her and carried her over to the sofa. He lay her down on her side, the cool leather felt nice against her burning skin. Her colour was starting to return and while she felt overwhelmed with what had just happened, her body was still adjusting to all the endorphin’s rushing around thanks to her orgasm. Mehmet went to get a large glass of water, a blanket and a cushion. He came back to where Sophie was laying on the sofa, kissed her gently on the forehead and stroked her hair behind her ears. He said,
“Lift your hips up for me Sophie. We are going to take off your skirt and then wrap you up in this blanket. You need to feel safe now.”
She obediently raised her hips and wriggled out of the useless and soaking wet garment. Mehmet’s warm strong hands rubbed her trembling legs up and down and instantly comforted her. He placed the cushion beneath her head and brought the water to her lips.
“Please drink some of this Sophie. I am going to go into kitchen downstairs and make you favourite food my darling. I will leave this water here and you must drink it all by time I come back. I bring very sweet tea with me when I do. You have been a very, very good girl and I am very pleased with you.”
Sophie snuggled into the blanket, sleepily nuzzling into the soft cushion he had brought her. She felt completely satisfied, and very safe. As she lay there, she could hear Mehmet grilling a steak just how she liked it and making up a plate of meats and cheeses. She felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world.