This is a story about two people trying to escape a sadistic Human Sex Trafficker.
There are some scenes of violence and non consensual sex. If you don't like this type of erotica please don't read it.
If you do like it, read on. Please enjoy and give feedback, as I am still writing later Chapters and as always I like to incorporate some of your suggestions for what will happen to the characters in to the story.
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John came around as he felt the kick in his stomach, the pain radiating out from his bruised gut. Throwing up he lay on his side as hands grabbed at his arms hauling him to his knees, a fist in his hair pulled his head back and looking up through smoke filled red raw eyes he saw the man standing in front of him, tall, blond with a look of pure evil in his eyes.
"Where's the fucking girl?"
Coughing he answered "What girl?" just before the fist hit him across his chin causing him to fall sideways, lip split, blood filling his mouth.
Rough hands pulled him back up, and the deeply accented voice said again, "Where's the fucking girl?"
Looking up, his tongue running over the cut inside his mouth feeling it sting, he just shook his head, resigned to the beating he was about to get. Alexei nodded to Konstantin, who stepping forward told the two men holding John on his knees to get him standing. Feeling the hands under his arm pits he decided to at least go down fighting, and as he moved up to standing position he swung his right leg out hard, catching the bald thug between his thighs and getting his balls with a hard and vicious kick.
Konstantin crumpled, screaming in agony, his hands clutching his badly bruised and throbbing scrotum, the men around John had their attention momentarily taken from the man in their hands to their hurt colleague, and instantly John swung around hitting one of his captors with the side of his hand, a vicious karate type chop to the mans throat, cutting off his air, and then started to run into the area around the farm where there seemed to be a big gap between the many men standing around watching.
Shouts erupted behind him as he ran, dodging bullets, into the trees, into the dark night, as far away as he could place between him and the men now running chasing behind him.
*
At the local Police Station Sergeant Roberts put down the phone and called over to the young officer who was sitting at a desk filling in the multiple forms needed to be completed reporting about the motor bike accident he had attended earlier that evening.
"Darren get yourself over to the Sunny Nook Bed and Breakfast just on the edge of Brightstone and keep guard. I'll sort out some relief for you in a couple of hours. Apparently there are some people there that we need keeping an eye on. Make sure they don't leave, and no one goes in until you're told different."
"Yes Sarge!"
"Oh and you had better introduce yourself to the owner, he's an old friend of ours, retired copper from the Met. Let him know you're there and that were on the case."
Getting up, the young officer, only six months out of training grabbed his hat, put on his jacket and walked out towards his car, totally unarmed as all British coppers on the beat are, their only defence against the world their folded up metal stick and a lot of guts.
*