🔒 Share once to unlock this and all stories for 7 days.
Dark Secrets and Sinister Obsessions: A Descent into the World of Human Trafficking Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. Contains adult themes. The author does not condone any of the actions depicted in this work. Please do not read if you are easily offended, or find it difficult to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Author’s Note: I would greatly appreciate any feedback whatsoever, any suggestions or ideas for the continuation of the story or the characters would also be much appreciated. My email is joshuajonesxxx@gmail.com so please don't hesitate to get in contact. Enjoy. The smoke from the stubbed out cigarette curled into the air in thin blue wispy tails. As he pored over the documents, the greying detective's furrowed brow sweated slightly. Years of working on this case had consumed him, costing him his wife, his family, his house and most of his friends. All he had left was work and work was this case. Despite repeated calls from the top to leave it and move on, he kept coming back, obsessively intent on solving it. He woke thinking about it, went to sleep thinking about it, even thought about it while taking a shit. He knew he was a stereotypical detective consumed by a case but the cliché was lost on him. For years it had been a dead end, mysterious disappearances inevitably ending as cold cases, allegations of people trafficking and high level corruption, as well as a distinct lack of interest from his superiors who he thought were supposed to care about cases like these. …the next moment changed everything
👆 Tap to continue…
Dark Secrets and Sinister Obsessions: A Descent into the World of Human Trafficking
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental. Contains adult themes. The author does not condone any of the actions depicted in this work. Please do not read if you are easily offended, or find it difficult to distinguish between fantasy and reality.
Author’s Note: I would greatly appreciate any feedback whatsoever, any suggestions or ideas for the continuation of the story or the characters would also be much appreciated. My email is joshuajonesxxx@gmail.com so please don't hesitate to get in contact. Enjoy.
The smoke from the stubbed out cigarette curled into the air in thin blue wispy tails. As he pored over the documents, the greying detective's furrowed brow sweated slightly. Years of working on this case had consumed him, costing him his wife, his family, his house and most of his friends. All he had left was work and work was this case. Despite repeated calls from the top to leave it and move on, he kept coming back, obsessively intent on solving it. He woke thinking about it, went to sleep thinking about it, even thought about it while taking a shit. He knew he was a stereotypical detective consumed by a case but the cliché was lost on him. For years it had been a dead end, mysterious disappearances inevitably ending as cold cases, allegations of people trafficking and high level corruption, as well as a distinct lack of interest from his superiors who he thought were supposed to care about cases like these. His drinking and smoking had spiralled out of control in the last couple of years and the few people who still cared about him had been very concerned about his health.
And now it was back again. That afternoon, Detective Daniel Hanneman had received a call from Berlin about three British schoolgirls missing in Munich. Britain was pressuring German law enforcement to find them and catch those responsible. Given how similar this disappearance was to his many others, his superiors had given him the case, though his district commissioner had seemed curiously uninterested in such a top priority case. Before him were all his files from the previous cases, his laptop open with the files he had just been sent. Lighting another cigarette, he gazed absently at the pictures of the three missing British girls. They fitted the profile of the others he had been looking for; young and gorgeous. He was riled that it took a few precious English bitches to go missing before his superiors were even slightly interested in his work. Still, at least it was finally being taken seriously. Cradling his coffee cup, he took a long drag and contemplated the display in front of him. Another night of very little sleep, searching for some crucial elusive clue, awaited him.
There must be something, he thought, to connect the victims. Maybe they had gone somewhere where they were spotted and taken. Ten girls had gone missing in the last two years, all in the same area. Daniel looked at the map he had created, red circles showing the places tourists and young people might go; bars, nightclubs hotels, parks. Looking at the girls’ files and then his map, he spotted something. When the faces of the three girls were published, they had received few calls, mostly from perverts saying what they hoped happened to them. But one claimed to have seen them walking down a street lined with a dozen or so bars, very close to their hotel and in the right area. Daniel cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, probably a result of his lack of sleep over the last few days. He looked at the time – 01:20. If he hurried he could canvass a few places before they closed. It would be more useful than sitting here staring at the same documents for hours on end. Feeling old and a little worse for wear but with a slight spring in his step, Daniel prepared to leave.
---------------------------------------------------
Examining the two women like cuts of meat or prints of wallpaper, Greta frowned in concentration. Her customer was of many years standing with very specific and very high standards. Though this was one of his less eccentric requests, she was still keen to get it absolutely right and wasn’t rushing her decision. Looking from one female body to the other, she sized them up, her experience picking up details the untrained eye might miss to compare how they stood, their facial expressions, the tone of their muscles, even their nails and haircuts with the requirements. One woman especially troubled her, a tear rolling down its cheek. Without the two naked women, this could have passed for just a normal business meeting, a sharply dressed women in an expensive suit addressing two similarly well dressed men in an office both unremarkable and expensive. But this was clearly a very different encounter. The two men firmly held their charges upright as the stern blonde woman, her eyes fixed on the body of the woman troubling her, came around the desk for a closer look.
“Stand her up properly,” Greta impatiently snapped at the man holding the woman. He immediately pulled up the woman's arms, forcing her to straighten even more. Greta’s piercing stare moved over every inch of black skin as the woman stood trembling before her. With a brusque stride designed to instil fear, Greta stalked round the woman, checking her curves and skin for any blemishes that would make her unsatisfactory for her client. She ran her hand down the cleft of the woman’s buttocks, her white hand sharply contrasting the deep mahogany of the smooth skin. Keeping touching to a minimum as her client had requested yet she had to feel this girl's rump. To almost everyone else the girls were stunningly attractive; slender yet curvy, both with toned bodies, proud and pert breasts standing on their chests, unblemished skin and soft but sexy and feminine features. But Greta saw girls like this almost daily and had to look deeper. Giving a buttock a firm squeeze, she appeared satisfied for she went back to her chair and looked at the paperwork. On receiving the request several weeks ago, she had immediately set out to procure the items for her client. Some extensive searching had delivered results and Greta had narrowed the shortlist to just these two, a black from the Parisian suburbs and an Asian from a boarding school in Macau. In truth it didn’t matter to Greta where they came from, only that they were up to scratch. These two were.
“Yes, they’ll do just fine,” Greta said without looking at the two men, “send them on.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the two repeated in unison before frogmarching the two women out of the office.
Greta sat back and relaxed. The stress of this assignment had weighed heavily on her for the last few days and finally resolving it was a huge relief. She had done her job brilliantly, meeting the request exactly. Admittedly the two she had chosen would have made a welcome addition to her own collection let alone his much smaller but growing one. The girls she had supplied him over the years had been almost exclusively white Europeans and she knew from experience that some diversity was always good. In fact, when her thoughts turned to her own collection, she realised it only had one properly dark one and a few mixed raced ones, though it was well stocked with Asians. To that end she made a diary note to send her scouts to look for some suitable specimens. Returning to the present, she brought up the webcams surveilling the basement and looked with pleasure at each of her new toys. The last few days could hardly have gone better but she was still worried. In a few days she had some very special guests coming, very loyal customers, and they would expect quality. While the new acquisitions would be perfect for them, Greta was worried they would still be too raw. It was a race against time with none to lose so Greta switched off the monitor and gathered her things. Another long day. Though not as long as it would be for her new slaves.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lucy was woken this time not by the dreaded alarm clock but by a mechanical click and a whir as the electronic door slowly swung open. The dark corridor meant Lucy couldn't clearly see the figure standing at the entrance. It wasn’t Mehmet or Hasan and though it looked like a woman, something about its elegant posture made her think it wasn’t Greta. She strained to make out the details but soon didn’t have to try when it stepped into the half light of the room. Moving her eyes slowly up from dainty feet to silken black hair, the prone girl’s face was a picture of both surprise and wonder intermixed with some fear. In front of her was a classic Oriental beauty. The nails of her feet were beautifully maintained and painted a dark shade of vivid red, mounted on a pair of stupendously high heels which shaped her long golden brown legs fabulously or at least the one visible through a long black patterned cheongsam hanging to just below her knee, a large slit in one side running up almost to her hip. Lucy’s eyes continued the long journey up the woman’s elegant body, the figure hugging dress accentuating the athletic body lying beneath, the tight fabric tantalisingly tracing while concealing the woman’s bosom. Her neck seemed to go on forever, adding to the grace oozing from every pore. Her face was like the most exquisite figure on some priceless Chinese porcelain, her features soft and nuanced but emotionless. With her jet black hair tied delicately, a single jade pin holding the luscious black locks in place, the woman's beauty and sheer presence was mesmerising.
“Come.”
The voice matched the face perfectly, spoken with a practiced grace which covered up almost entirely an accent just hinted at. With that single word, in one fluid movement the woman turned and left, only her perfumed scent lingering in the dark room. Lucy was nervous. She and her friends had experienced nothing but horror in this wretched place and she expected this to be no different. That she hadn’t been personally tortured by this woman yet didn’t mean that by following her she would not be. Yet despite her misgivings, Lucy knew nothing was gained by disobeying. So she staggered to her feet, the lack of sleep and physical exertions of the last days making her weak and stiff, and left, to follow the perfumed trail of the exotic visitor. Her walk was ungainly, the prolonged masturbating of the last few hours making her pussy lips red and sore. She crossed one arm over her chest and placed the other at her crotch, trying to protect what little modesty she had. Turning the corner, Lucy saw the woman standing at THE END
Author’s Note: I would greatly appreciate any feedback whatsoever, any suggestions or ideas for the continuation of the story or the characters would also be much appreciated. My email is joshuajonesxxx@gmail.com so please don't hesitate to get in contact. Enjoy.
The smoke from the stubbed out cigarette curled into the air in thin blue wispy tails. As he pored over the documents, the greying detective's furrowed brow sweated slightly. Years of working on this case had consumed him, costing him his wife, his family, his house and most of his friends. All he had left was work and work was this case. Despite repeated calls from the top to leave it and move on, he kept coming back, obsessively intent on solving it. He woke thinking about it, went to sleep thinking about it, even thought about it while taking a shit. He knew he was a stereotypical detective consumed by a case but the cliché was lost on him. For years it had been a dead end, mysterious disappearances inevitably ending as cold cases, allegations of people trafficking and high level corruption, as well as a distinct lack of interest from his superiors who he thought were supposed to care about cases like these. His drinking and smoking had spiralled out of control in the last couple of years and the few people who still cared about him had been very concerned about his health.
And now it was back again. That afternoon, Detective Daniel Hanneman had received a call from Berlin about three British schoolgirls missing in Munich. Britain was pressuring German law enforcement to find them and catch those responsible. Given how similar this disappearance was to his many others, his superiors had given him the case, though his district commissioner had seemed curiously uninterested in such a top priority case. Before him were all his files from the previous cases, his laptop open with the files he had just been sent. Lighting another cigarette, he gazed absently at the pictures of the three missing British girls. They fitted the profile of the others he had been looking for; young and gorgeous. He was riled that it took a few precious English bitches to go missing before his superiors were even slightly interested in his work. Still, at least it was finally being taken seriously. Cradling his coffee cup, he took a long drag and contemplated the display in front of him. Another night of very little sleep, searching for some crucial elusive clue, awaited him.
There must be something, he thought, to connect the victims. Maybe they had gone somewhere where they were spotted and taken. Ten girls had gone missing in the last two years, all in the same area. Daniel looked at the map he had created, red circles showing the places tourists and young people might go; bars, nightclubs hotels, parks. Looking at the girls’ files and then his map, he spotted something. When the faces of the three girls were published, they had received few calls, mostly from perverts saying what they hoped happened to them. But one claimed to have seen them walking down a street lined with a dozen or so bars, very close to their hotel and in the right area. Daniel cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, probably a result of his lack of sleep over the last few days. He looked at the time – 01:20. If he hurried he could canvass a few places before they closed. It would be more useful than sitting here staring at the same documents for hours on end. Feeling old and a little worse for wear but with a slight spring in his step, Daniel prepared to leave.
---------------------------------------------------
Examining the two women like cuts of meat or prints of wallpaper, Greta frowned in concentration. Her customer was of many years standing with very specific and very high standards. Though this was one of his less eccentric requests, she was still keen to get it absolutely right and wasn’t rushing her decision. Looking from one female body to the other, she sized them up, her experience picking up details the untrained eye might miss to compare how they stood, their facial expressions, the tone of their muscles, even their nails and haircuts with the requirements. One woman especially troubled her, a tear rolling down its cheek. Without the two naked women, this could have passed for just a normal business meeting, a sharply dressed women in an expensive suit addressing two similarly well dressed men in an office both unremarkable and expensive. But this was clearly a very different encounter. The two men firmly held their charges upright as the stern blonde woman, her eyes fixed on the body of the woman troubling her, came around the desk for a closer look.
“Stand her up properly,” Greta impatiently snapped at the man holding the woman. He immediately pulled up the woman's arms, forcing her to straighten even more. Greta’s piercing stare moved over every inch of black skin as the woman stood trembling before her. With a brusque stride designed to instil fear, Greta stalked round the woman, checking her curves and skin for any blemishes that would make her unsatisfactory for her client. She ran her hand down the cleft of the woman’s buttocks, her white hand sharply contrasting the deep mahogany of the smooth skin. Keeping touching to a minimum as her client had requested yet she had to feel this girl's rump. To almost everyone else the girls were stunningly attractive; slender yet curvy, both with toned bodies, proud and pert breasts standing on their chests, unblemished skin and soft but sexy and feminine features. But Greta saw girls like this almost daily and had to look deeper. Giving a buttock a firm squeeze, she appeared satisfied for she went back to her chair and looked at the paperwork. On receiving the request several weeks ago, she had immediately set out to procure the items for her client. Some extensive searching had delivered results and Greta had narrowed the shortlist to just these two, a black from the Parisian suburbs and an Asian from a boarding school in Macau. In truth it didn’t matter to Greta where they came from, only that they were up to scratch. These two were.
“Yes, they’ll do just fine,” Greta said without looking at the two men, “send them on.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the two repeated in unison before frogmarching the two women out of the office.
Greta sat back and relaxed. The stress of this assignment had weighed heavily on her for the last few days and finally resolving it was a huge relief. She had done her job brilliantly, meeting the request exactly. Admittedly the two she had chosen would have made a welcome addition to her own collection let alone his much smaller but growing one. The girls she had supplied him over the years had been almost exclusively white Europeans and she knew from experience that some diversity was always good. In fact, when her thoughts turned to her own collection, she realised it only had one properly dark one and a few mixed raced ones, though it was well stocked with Asians. To that end she made a diary note to send her scouts to look for some suitable specimens. Returning to the present, she brought up the webcams surveilling the basement and looked with pleasure at each of her new toys. The last few days could hardly have gone better but she was still worried. In a few days she had some very special guests coming, very loyal customers, and they would expect quality. While the new acquisitions would be perfect for them, Greta was worried they would still be too raw. It was a race against time with none to lose so Greta switched off the monitor and gathered her things. Another long day. Though not as long as it would be for her new slaves.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lucy was woken this time not by the dreaded alarm clock but by a mechanical click and a whir as the electronic door slowly swung open. The dark corridor meant Lucy couldn't clearly see the figure standing at the entrance. It wasn’t Mehmet or Hasan and though it looked like a woman, something about its elegant posture made her think it wasn’t Greta. She strained to make out the details but soon didn’t have to try when it stepped into the half light of the room. Moving her eyes slowly up from dainty feet to silken black hair, the prone girl’s face was a picture of both surprise and wonder intermixed with some fear. In front of her was a classic Oriental beauty. The nails of her feet were beautifully maintained and painted a dark shade of vivid red, mounted on a pair of stupendously high heels which shaped her long golden brown legs fabulously or at least the one visible through a long black patterned cheongsam hanging to just below her knee, a large slit in one side running up almost to her hip. Lucy’s eyes continued the long journey up the woman’s elegant body, the figure hugging dress accentuating the athletic body lying beneath, the tight fabric tantalisingly tracing while concealing the woman’s bosom. Her neck seemed to go on forever, adding to the grace oozing from every pore. Her face was like the most exquisite figure on some priceless Chinese porcelain, her features soft and nuanced but emotionless. With her jet black hair tied delicately, a single jade pin holding the luscious black locks in place, the woman's beauty and sheer presence was mesmerising.
“Come.”
The voice matched the face perfectly, spoken with a practiced grace which covered up almost entirely an accent just hinted at. With that single word, in one fluid movement the woman turned and left, only her perfumed scent lingering in the dark room. Lucy was nervous. She and her friends had experienced nothing but horror in this wretched place and she expected this to be no different. That she hadn’t been personally tortured by this woman yet didn’t mean that by following her she would not be. Yet despite her misgivings, Lucy knew nothing was gained by disobeying. So she staggered to her feet, the lack of sleep and physical exertions of the last days making her weak and stiff, and left, to follow the perfumed trail of the exotic visitor. Her walk was ungainly, the prolonged masturbating of the last few hours making her pussy lips red and sore. She crossed one arm over her chest and placed the other at her crotch, trying to protect what little modesty she had. Turning the corner, Lucy saw the woman standing at THE END
Comments
