This is the seventh instalment in the continuing story of Tina Featherstone's struggle against the criminal gang who have abducted her with the intention of training her as a sex toy before selling her on into the worldwide sex trade. Before you dismiss the story as being beyond belief, know that this kind of thing is happening today in many countries of the world. But remember also that it is a work of fiction.
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Tina followed Henson's advice, but only after finding herself something to eat and drink. A small omelette, laced with mushrooms and tomatoes, along with a slice of buttered toast, washed down with two glasses of fresh chilled orange. It was the first food she'd eaten since being brought to this dreadful place and, with something solid in her stomach, she felt free to look after her appearance, a process that began with yet another long, hot shower.
As well as cleansing her body, it also gave her an opportunity to apply some much-needed logic to her situation. Once she'd towelled herself down, and fastened the collar round her neck she began to explore. The results were hardly encouraging.
The cellar complex comprised four rooms, the largest of which was the central, main room. Leading off it, three smaller rooms housed the kitchen, bedroom and shower room. There were no windows, and the only way in and out of the complex was the door she'd been shoved through when they'd first arrived. A solid, high-security door, fitting flush to the wall and secured by a large Yale type lock that wouldn't have looked out of place on a prison cell.
Ten minutes was all it took to convince her the door was her only way out, and she switched her attention to the array of cameras dotted around the four rooms. They'd been well sited, there wasn't a corner anywhere that allowed her any privacy, and she just knew someone would be out there watching her all the time.
The same questions kept coming back to haunt her. Why, had she really been brought here? What had become of the other girls who'd been locked in the cellar before her, and what would her captors do with her when they'd finally had their 'bit of fun'; when they tired of her as they surely would, and turned their eyes towards finding a new plaything?
The more thought she gave it, the more likely it seemed that she'd never be allowed to leave this place. Since removing her mask, they'd made no effort to conceal their identities from her. They must know she'd go straight to the police if she ever did get out, with a detailed description of all five of them. And yet they seemed untroubled by that fact and slowly Henson's promises developed a hollow ring to them. They'd no intention of letting her go; they couldn't, and slowly the fear inside her began to grow.
Once the rooms were tidy, she made herself a coffee before sitting on the sofa and picking up the list of rules they'd left for her to read. 'A hundred rules to remember', the bearded one had told her. Actually it was closer to forty and, down near the bottom she found the one she was looking for. 'Guests are not permitted to eat whilst entertaining clients, unless given prior permission.'
Tina shook her head and laughed. So she was a guest was she? Entertaining clients? 'Some guest,' she thought, no hotel she'd ever been to had treated its guests in the way she'd been treated. The last rule on the list was a catch-all. 'Anything else that clients consider an infringement of their right to enjoy the guest in any way they choose.' In other words, as the bearded one had also pointed out on that first night, they could do what the fuck they wanted to her. Well, that was one rule they'd certainly obeyed.
Time had already become meaningless to her and in a way that was probably for the best. If there'd been a clock to watch, time would have crawled by, as it was there was nothing she could do apart from wait, worry and wonder what they had planned for her next time the bell rang. Unable to settle, she wandered aimlessly around the rooms for what seemed like hours before finally ending up in bed.
How long she slept for she couldn't tell, but it must have been a deeper sleep than she thought. When she woke and walked out into the main room again, it soon became clear that she'd had a visitor. A pile of magazines, and several books had been left on the table. They were a strange mixture, from Harry Potter to Barbara Taylor Bradford, but they would at least help her pass the time. But it was the photographs they'd screwed up on the wall that really troubled her.
They were of good quality, the ones they'd taken the night she'd arrived and been fucked for the first time. They showed Tina lying on the bed with a hardened cock in each hand, her legs spread and two fingers deep in her cunt. She was smiling; from the look on her face she seemed to be enjoying the experience immensely. As she stared at them in disbelief, the speaker crackled briefly into life.
"Came out nicely didn't they Tina. Just wait till you see the others, the ones of you being double-teamed on the table. Boy are they hot." The speakers crackled again, and the voice exuded menace. "Try and get some rest while you can sweetheart, you're certainly going to need it." A brief laugh was followed by silence.
All next day she waited for them, going through the same routine. A shower and a rub down with a towel before slipping the collar back around her neck. The fridge had been restocked and she ate enough to keep her alive, but no more. The knowledge that she was likely to be raped at any moment didn't do a lot for her appetite. Only again it didn't happen and eventually she slid back into bed. It took her a long time to get any sleep, worried as she was about what could happen if she slept so deeply that she didn't hear the alarm She needn't have bothered because this time they didn't give her a warning at all. What was the point? This was to be Tina's judgement day, and the first she knew of its arrival was the bedclothes being dragged from her body and the bearded one's voice grating harshly in her ear.
"Wake up you little cunt, it's time you learnt the price of disobedience."
This time a couple of hand held video cameras recorded every moment of their assault, and a very professional job they made of it too. Inventive, up close and very, very personal. This was no second rate rape simulation; this was the real deal, right down to the shrieking cries of their victim.
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Five days later, Tina's Ma was dusting around the front room in Walpole Road when the morning post dropped onto the mat. There were three items. An electricity bill, an offer of a free credit card she'd never asked for, and an interesting looking brown bubble envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Featherstone in neat, but unremarkable block capitals.
Curiosity made her open the latter first, sliding its contents onto the dining room table. It was videotape; home made by the look of it. Written along the spine in the same, careful block capitals were the words 'TINA's NEW CAREER.' Something about it made her feel uneasy, so she rang her husband at work and asked what she ought to do about it. The police hadn't taken Tina's disappearance seriously, so he agreed to come home, and they'd watch the video together.
