Chapter Tweenty-Eight

The Turk’s Remorse

The Turk was sitting in an overstuffed easy chair. His eyes were glued to the activity of the naked young woman kneeling on the bed in front of him. Her ass was raised and her legs were spread. At the Turk’s instructions, she was busily stroking her hairless cunt, probing it’s now juicy interior with her fingers. Her breath was labored. But the Turk’s mind was somewhere else.

His mind was on Cheryl. For all that he had tried, he could not shake the memory of her, the tender moment he had share with her in her apartment, the moment before he cruelly boxed her and sent her to her fate. He had viewed the tape he made of her many times since that evening along with the still pictures he had made. He had, as usual, added them to his collection, locked and stored away in a self-destruct program on his computer. He knew he shouldn’t keep them, but if he ever got caught, it would be in the act and he would be up shit’s creek anyway. He was haunted by the poses of the young woman Cheryl, poses he had forced her into, the look of distress in her eyes, the tears that glistened there.

For the fourth time this month he was visiting the cathouse belonging to Nora. She was known to the world only as Nora, last names being an unnecessary risk for all in their profession. It was located in the Nevada desert, about two hours outside of Reno. The building was a three story house, large enough for the ten or so “bedrooms” necessary for her trade. But the basement portion of the premises was something else indeed. In the basement were ‘workers’ who catered to a special clientele. Men like Turk. Men who wanted only the services of an abject female and the right to do with her body what they wished. In this basement, all was permitted.

Normally, Nora kept three or four girls down there. Some were whores who had been duped into working at Nora’s whorehouse, only to find themselves prisoners kept under lock and key. Some were strays, picked up in bars or hitchhiking by Nora’s ‘agents’, who cruised for them. Some, like the girl on the bed kneeling before the Turk, had been kidnapped especially for the purpose of serving here.

Turk did not know, or care to know, her name. He had shown up at Nora’s, morose and angry. His was angry at himself for permitting himself to have an emotional moment with a piece of merchandise. He was angry at Cheryl, too, for drawing this feeling out of him. Now, he was angry at this girl for existing here in bondage.

Suddenly, as if having been awaiting a cue, Turk stood up from his chair and approached the whore on the bed. Since he too was naked, he was able to quickly address his cock to the tiny puckered star of her rear end. As he expected, the girl relaxed her muscles and allowed him entry.

“Keep stroking your pussy,” he commanded as he began to push in and out of the tight hole with abandon. Each forward thrust resulted in a grunt from the girl below him, as his thighs slapped fiercely against her ass. The tight ring of her sphincter rode up and down his cock like a pair of pursed lips, while his cock reveled in the floating warmth of her bowels. Turk began to cry out as his moment of release quickly approached.

“Arghhhh…” he cried out, his voice deep, his rage evident. “Arghhhh…”

Finally he could hold back no more and he shot his fluids deep into the young woman’s body. Her grunts now became soft cries now as she too crested the wave of passion. Turk called out one last time, raising his voice to a roar, “Arghhhhh!”

He was spent now. Drained. The anger was sated, for now. He pulled his cock from its warm embedment and gave the woman a curt order, “Clean me.”

The young woman quickly circled around and placed her mouth on Turk’s diminishing manhood. The determined, hot force on his cock was in sharp contrast to the expansive warmth of the girl’s rear end. Her tongue moved over the head of his penis and then her mouth descended to the base of his shaft. Turk felt himself rising again. But he put a stop to that. He’d had enough for now.

He pushed the woman’s head off his cock and began to look for his clothes. He donned them quickly, silently. The whip he had used on the girl earlier was lying on the floor. He grabbed it to place it back on the mounting on the wall. Seeing the whip again in this brute’s hand made the girl cringe. A little whinny escaped her mouth. She knew better than to beg to be spared the lash or the cane. She had been taught well by Nora, who had a mean streak of her own.

The Turk ignored the girl as he placed the whip on the wall. He then grabbed the girl by her hair and pulled her off of the bed. He locked the bracelets she was wearing together in front of her and affixed them to her collar. He then, in turn, affixed the collar to a small chain that descended from the ceiling in the corner of the room. He stood back, observing the girl, as if for the first time. She was pretty. Lovely curves, plump, firm breasts. Only the dried tears on her cheeks spoiled the picture of a young woman at prayer. Her eyes bored into him, asking, “Was I good? Did I satisfy?” For she knew that a complaint about her subservience or her enthusiasm would bring a long, excruciating punishment.

She was good. A good slave. A good whore. Turk absentmindedly stroked her hair. “Good, good,” he cooed. The girl’s eyes melted a little in gratitude. She would not be punished. Turk left.

Using his club member key, he let himself into the elevator that was the only ‘public’ means of entry and exit from this dungeon. He stepped out on the first floor, and walked into the ‘client’ area. Two cowboys were ogling three hookers dressed in teddies. A blonde, a redhead and a brunette, one white, one Hispanic, one black. Variety was the spice of life. These urban cowboys were typical of Nora’s upstairs clientele, mostly eager young kids looking for a moment or two with a comely lass so they could push a little and then squirt. Fastest cock in the West. They had bottles of beer in their hands.

Turk wondered briefly at what the regular girls thought about Nora’s downstairs club. They must have noticed men coming and going on the elevator. Meals had to be served to the inmates, bedclothes cleaned, female necessities taken care of. But then, Nora’s reputation as a mean, rabid enforcer was probably enough to stifle any questions that these girls had. And quite right too.

Nora espied Turk passing through the hallway and motioned for him to join her in her suite. Turk crossed the room and passed through a door marked ‘Private’. The door led to a large, sky blue carpeted room, white walls, with two sofas and two easy chairs. The suite had a bedroom in the back and a small kitchen. The walls were decorated with various prints of nude women, mostly by famous artists. There were a few originals from lesser known lights. Nora loved her work and worshiped the female form. The only clue, however, to her deeper, darker sympathies was a small statuette of a young woman in submissive pose, naked, her arms folded behind her, her eyes looking up, pleading.

“Turk, why the glum look? Everything satisfactory downstairs? You didn’t leave my little girl all messed up now, did you? If you did, it’ll cost you more you know.”

Turk chuckled lightly. “No, she’s all in one piece. She was fine, a nice piece of ass. Very enthusiastic.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a complement to my training. Sit down, have a drink.”

The Turk sat down on the sofa facing the door, an old habit from his days as an enforcer. It’s hard to shoot a man in the back when he was looking at you. Nora brought over a large gin on ice. “The usual, Turk?”

“Sure,” Turk replied. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad you liked Molly. She’s a good piece of meat. Her boyfriend turned her over to us because he found out that she was cheating on him. I didn’t have to pay even a nickel for her. In fact we charged the asshole $15,000 to dump her where no one would ever find her. He thinks she’s dead.” Nora laughed in obvious glee over her little coup.

“I’ve got Carlos coming up next week to take a look at her,” Nora continued. “I think she’ll do well in a Mexican whorehouse, don’t you?”

Turk bridled at the reference to the girl’s future. “Frankly, Nora, I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to that slut, no offense.” He voice had begun large, but ended calmer, more in control. But Nora had spotted it.

“I thought I saw something when you came in. Four times this month you’ve been here. And I must say that the last time you really left that black haired beauty down there in quite bad shape. I know you paid for the privilege, but that’s just not you.”

Turk replied, “Well, yeah, I’ve got something on my mind. A girl I packaged a few weeks ago. I can’t get her out of my head.”

“Did you fuck her?”

“No. You know me better than that. I don’t fuck the ones meant for the high rollers. They want them pristine. Not like you, who’ll take anything with two legs and a cunt.”

“Oh, cut it out, Turk. You know my standards are a little higher than that. I did reject those two that Paulie sent me a couple of weeks ago. Too broad in the hoof, you know. He didn’t want them back either so right now they’re on a slow boat to China.”

Turk took a large gulp of his gin. “Profit where you can find it,” he muttered.

“Oh, cut the crap, Turk. So you got a little hooked on one of the products. You’re only human. These things happen. Everyone gets a pang now and then. Even I, well, almost, once…”

“Listen I don’t want any psychotherapy,” Turk interrupted her reverie. “I just gotta get this cunt out of my head, that’s all.”

“Listen, what I think is that you need a new project, something to fill your mind. Once you see a new girl bagged and sold, you’ll begin to think of this one like all the rest, merchandise. Foolish women who didn’t know how to protect themselves.”

“Yeah, a new project….that sounds right. I’ve been avoiding it, but a new job might just do the trick,” the Turk responded.

“I’ve got a job you can do for me. There’s a cutie in Tulsa who’s ripe for the picking. I’ve had a man watching her for a while. Lives alone, goes to work and back home every day. She studies part-time at college. No time for a social life. No boyfriend. And her parents are dead. A simple set up. How about it?”

“You know I work alone.”

“So, make an exception. You’ll have some fun, make a little dough and get this other bitch off of your mind,” Nora said. “And when you get her here, I’ll let you fuck her any which way you like. It’s fun to get them started.”

In the end, Turk agreed. Maybe this was just the thing. To have a new face cringing at his would be a good thing. Good for him.

Two days later, Turk flew in to Tulsa. He was met at the airport by a mousy looking guy, short, balding, dressed like a schnook. He knew this schnook. He was goofy outside, but was down and dirty inside. No wonder Nora didn’t want this guy to make the snatch alone. The girl probably wouldn’t ever make it to Nevada, or if she did, she would be quite used merchandise.

“Heya Turk. How’s it goin’?”

“Cut the chit chat, Lenny. Let’s get out of here and go somewhere we can talk.”

“Sure thing. I got a car in the lot. We can go to this little motel I’ve been staying at. I’ll show you the reports on the girl.”

Lenny was a schnook, but an efficient one. He knew the dangers of getting caught at this game. If you talked, someone soon would slip you a blade in your stomach. If you didn’t, someone would slip a blade in your stomach. Getting caught was a death sentence.

When they reached the motel, they went to Lenny’s room. Turk didn’t book a room there because he didn’t want to highlight that he and Lenny were together. If they caught Lenny, the motel clerk would not be able to identify the guy who was hanging around with him. One visit was fine, but no more than that.

Lenny had the job well scoped out. The girl was very attractive. She had a slim figure, almost dainty. She was on the short side, wavy, mid-length, blond hair, a wide, pouty smile. Her blue eyes had that sparkle in them that some of the top models had. She was not first class, however, as her eyes seemed just too close together, her face just a little too broad. Whoever had shopped her to Nora had known what they were doing. This one was not for the high priced market. But she was good to look at and could probably scream and beg with the best of them. And she had a mouth, an ass and a cunt.

Turk spent the evening stalking the girl. He was an expert at it and the risk of exposure was minimal. Lenny had assured him that everything was fine and that the snatch could go ahead that night, but Turk wanted to scope it out for himself first.

The girl left her work at about 4:30 and drove north on Rte. 73 to the outer suburb where her college was. He noted her leaving for class and then returning to her car around 7:45. No one walked with her. She seemed all to herself. She drove directly home.

“Ya see,” Lenny expostulated later, “ya see what I told ya? She’s ready to go. Ripe.”

“Ok, ok,” Turk replied. We’ll get her tomorrow. Is the truck all ready?”

“Yeah, a deep blue Ford Econoline, with a load of junky old furniture. And an old trunk, just big enough.” Dark blue was better than black for inconspicuousness. People remembered a sinister black van, but a dark blue one was innocuous, just part of the scenery.

“Good,” the Turk replied.

“By the way, her name is Heloise.”

“I don’t give a fuck what her name is,” the Turk replied.

Heloise had a late class the next night. She was due home about 9:45. It was early fall, so it got dark around 6:30. Turk arrived with the van and parked it about two miles away. Lenny picked him up and dropped him two blocks from the girl’s apartment.

She lived on the second story of a three family house. There was a fire escape out the back. A bus driver lived upstairs and he worked nights. On the first floor was the aged owner of the house and his ancient wife. They went to bed around 8 p.m. The house was set back from the road about 50 yards, with a long, winding driveway. The neighbors on both sides were an equal distance away. None of the yards were lit. The property was heavily treed and there was no moon. It would be dark across the lawn where the Turk would have to carry the sleeping body of the girl to the van. They dared not drive the van up the driveway as that might disturb the oldsters or the neighbors, representing a break from the routine.

At 8:45 p.m., Turk worked his way up the fire escape. He reached what appeared to be a bedroom window on the second floor and delicately jimmied the lock. He entered the apartment without making a sound.

The Turk would hold the girl until 3 a.m. and then Lenny would drive by. If Turk gave a signal from the window, a short flash from a pencil flashlight, he would go get the van and drive back. Turk would bring the girl down the fire escape and then look for the van to dim its lights and stop. The less time that the van was stopped in front of the house, the better.