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#Incest #Pregnancy #Rape #Teen
By Edward Pembroke
Kate McAllister has a handsome husband and a beautiful teenage daughter Maddie, but it all falls apart when the evil Edward Pembroke encounters them
Edward Pembroke could hardly believe it. He didn’t feel sick—at least not physically. Sick in the head? Absolutely. But the news about the cancer hit him like a train. He still felt healthy, yet the doctor’s cold, clinical delivery had shattered him.
“Terminal cancer.” The words echoed in his mind, the sterile room seeming to close in around him as the weight of the diagnosis sank in.
Not that his life had amounted to much anyway. The label he carried—a convicted sex offender—had stripped him of friends, family, and any semblance of a normal existence.
He had considered telling his mother about the diagnosis, the only family he had left. But what was the point? She’d likely only celebrate the news. Her last words to him after his most recent conviction still rang in his ears: “A disgusting piece of slime I wish I could never have said came from my body.” She hadn’t spoken to him since.
Oh well, Pembroke thought bitterly. Six months. That was all the doctor had given him. He might as well spend it alone, in anonymity, hidden in the East London hovel he called home he shared with other ne-er-do-wells who hated him. He would die as he had lived: unloved and unmissed.
At fifty-five, Pembroke still looked deceptively fit and strong. Standing well over six feet tall, his broad shoulders and large hands were overshadowed by a protruding belly that jiggled with every step. His head was bald, save for tufts of unkempt grey hair sprouting over his ears, and thick, bushy eyebrows hung low over his deep-set eyes. A large, crooked nose dominated his face, framed by sagging jowls and a double chin that wobbled whenever he moved. He was reminded of his repulsive appearance several times a week by yobs on the street, and by the expressions of disgust from many who came across him.
As he shuffled home, his mind churned with dark thoughts. Over the next six months, his body would break down and soon he might be unable to do anything other than lie in bed. Maybe he should go out on a high note, but how? He had no money, no prospects, and a desperate, joyless existence that no one envied.
He glanced at his cheap watch. Just after three in the afternoon. There was one place he could go where, for a brief moment, he might escape the terrible news—a place he was technically forbidden to visit. But what the hell, he thought. What difference did it make now?
________________________________________
Meanwhile, in Edinburgh, the McAllister family sat around their kitchen table, excitedly discussing their upcoming holiday around Loch Ness. All except for Maddie, their fourteenyear-old daughter and only child, who seemed far less enthused.
“Mummy,” Maddie groaned, slumping back in her chair, “why are we going hiking and swimming in Loch Ness? It’s going to be freezing and dirty.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Kate replied with a patient smile, “it’s going to be so good for the environment. We shouldn’t be flying everywhere.”
“Yes,” Gerry chimed in enthusiastically. “We’re doing our bit for the planet, and the campervan will make it such an adventure! It’s going to be fun.”
“Daddy,” Maddie moaned again, rolling her eyes, “why can’t we go to Italy or France like everyone else? They don’t have to sleep in a van.”
“Maddie, where’s your sense of adventure?” Kate countered, her tone teasing but firm. “Besides, you’ll love swimming in Loch Ness.”
“Mummy, you know I can’t swim!” Maddie huffed, crossing her arms in protest.
“Nonsense! A bit of wild swimming will sort that out,” Kate laughed, brushing off her daughter’s objections with the cheerful confidence of someone who had blazed her own path in life and did not want to molly coddle her daughter.
Dr Kate McAllister, in her late thirties, was the picture-perfect image of the modern, active mother. Dressed in sleek yoga pants and a loose hoodie, her toned figure attracted from other women and longing from men. Her blonde hair framed her face flawlessly, with barely a wrinkle on her confident face.
With dark hair and striking blue eyes, her husband, Dr Gerry McAllister, was tall, handsome, and effortlessly charming. Together, they made a picture-perfect couple.
Maddie, on the other hand, was still finding her place. At fourteen, she had inherited her father’s dark, curly hair and his piercing blue eyes. Petite and slim, just shy of five feet tall, she was on the cusp of adolescence, her cute, elfin features hinting at the beauty she would grow into. She was still so shy, intimidated by her parents’ success, and by the other girls at school who were bigger and more confident. Both parents had decided that Maddie needed to stand on her own two feet and this adventurous holiday might bring that out.
Maddie sighed, shifting in her chair and crossing her legs in her snug netball shorts. Her loose T-shirt, oversized and draped awkwardly over her petite frame, seemed to engulf her entirely, emphasizing her elfin build. She couldn’t help but wonder how many strangers might see her in a swimsuit at Loch Ness. At least it wouldn’t be anyone she knew— she was self-conscious about her skinny, undeveloped figure. The thought of showing off her body made her cheeks flush slightly.
Resigned to the fact that no amount of protesting would sway her parents’ enthusiasm, Maddie slumped back into her chair, the picture of teenage frustration, arms crossed and face scrunched into a pout.
It was going to be a long holiday.
________________________________________
School was out at the local comprehensive in East London, and the streets buzzed with life. The air was thick with the sound of excited chatter, a symphony of giggles and laughter as groups of schoolgirls poured out of the gates.
Their rebelliously short plaid skirts swayed in the breeze, the hemlines daringly high as their legs caught the eyes of one Edward Pembroke, who in breach of his court order, was enjoying the sights. Why not treat himself?
From a discreet vantage point, he looked at not their bodies but their expressions with a reptilian precision. He studied their faces, searching for signs of vulnerability: the lowered eyes, the nervous gestures, the hesitant smiles that marked the shy and the cowed. He lingered on those who seemed the least likely to stand up for themselves, the ones whose shame would silence them, whose fear would keep them from shouting, screaming, or reporting anything.
The excited chatter of the girls faded into a dull hum as his focus narrowed on one in particular. She was a small, delicate Chinese girl, her slight frame and skinny limbs making her seem even younger than the others.
When someone threw a sharp comment her way, her fragile smile faltered, and her eyes glistened with the threat of tears. She quickly turned away from the group, her hunched shoulders betraying her nerves and fear.
Pembroke watched her intently, his mind calculating. This one, he thought, was perfect. Vulnerable. Isolated. An easy target.
Was he crazy? His legs moved automatically, following the small girl as she walked ahead, her steps hurried and uncertain. He willed her silently to take a turn, to veer off from the busy street into a quiet, secluded alley. When she did, he almost cheered aloud.
But then he hesitated. Plenty of witnesses had seen him, strolling in the throng of schoolchildren. If anything happened here, if she reported it, surely others would remember him—his distinctive, ungainly frame and unpleasant features. He wasn’t someone who faded into the background. And worse, his name was already on a list, just being here among these schoolgirls could get him thrown back in jail.
Fuck it, he thought. He was dying. The cancer was eating away at his time, and he might not be able to do this in a few weeks, let alone months.
He told himself his instincts had always been good, sharp, reliable. It had just been bad luck last time. The girl had gotten pregnant and she had been forced to open up to her parents months later and the DNA was still available to convict him.
He glanced up and down the alley he knew so well. It was quiet, just as he had hoped. No cameras, no prying eyes, and plenty of warning if anyone happened to wander by. Perfect.
“Hello, miss! Sorry, I think you dropped something,” he called out cheerfully, his tone disarming, almost friendly.
The girl stopped and turned, her red backpack shifting on her small shoulders. Her dark eyes blinked at him, unguarded, filled with youthful, innocent curiosity.
“Umm, sorry, did I?” she asked meekly, her voice barely audible.
Pembroke smiled. Her immediate apology, her timid demeanor—this girl was perfect. A good target.
“Yeah, I think it was a pen or something,” he lied smoothly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an old biro. He held it out toward her, his tone casual. “Just back there on the pavement. Looked like it might’ve fallen out of your bag.”
She hesitated, her gaze darting between the pen and his face.
“Oh, and by the way,” Pembroke added, his voice adopting a friendly but authoritative tone, “I used to teach at your school. I might have to have a word with your headmaster if you can’t tell me your name. Just to make sure everything’s alright.”
The girl shifted nervously, one foot stepping backward as uncertainty flickered across her face. But she didn’t run. Instead, she gingerly reached out and took the pen, her small fingers trembling slightly. She knew it wasn’t hers—she hadn’t dropped anything—but still, she didn’t argue, didn’t curse him, didn’t shout or call him a “pedo” like the more defiant ones might. Instead, her face had gone pale, her nervous energy palpable.
Excellent, Pembroke thought, his heart beating faster. She was quiet, timid, and easily manipulated. Perfect.
“What’s your name?” Pembroke asked.
“L-Lucy Wu,” the girl stammered. Her dark eyes glistened, and her small frame seemed to shrink even further under his gaze. “Wh-what do you want?”
“It’s about your skirt, young lady,” Pembroke said suddenly, his tone shifting to one of stern authority.
“It’s much too short,” he continued, his voice tinged with feigned disapproval. “In my day, girls were more respectable. They knew how to dress appropriately.”
“Oh…” Lucy murmured, her voice small and unsure. She instinctively brought her legs closer together. Her gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding his piercing stare. “Sorry.”
“Is that halfway up your thighs,” Pembroke said, his tone laced with a mock curiosity, “or is it just a few inches further down from your crotch?”
Lucy’s cheeks flushed a deep red, and she gripped her backpack tighter, her knuckles whitening. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground.
“I … I don’t know,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible, as though wishing the ground would swallow her whole.
“I can only hope that you’re wearing proper underwear under that skirt,” he chastised, his tone feigning moral indignation.
Lucy’s face turned crimson, her eyes widening in a mix of shock and humiliation. She instinctively pulled at the hem of her skirt. “O-of course I am,” she said.
“I don’t believe you,” he said curtly. “It’s important for young ladies to be decent, especially in public. I think the headmaster and your parents would be disappointed to know yours had to be checked, but I think that is what I need to do now. Raise your skirt and let me see.”
“I … I’m wearing knickers, sir. P-please, I just need to g-go home…” she stammered, her voice trembling, but too soft for anyone to hear.
“There’s no need to make a scene,” he said sharply. “Just be quiet, and now take your skirt by the hem and raise it a little.”
Lucy shyly raised her skirt ever so slowly, staring distraughtly at the ground, until her skirt bunched up at her waist.
She was, indeed, wearing white knickers. Her tanned legs led to a pair of white, full cotton panties with a floral pattern, sitting below a tight, toned stomach.
“Let me check,” Pembroke said, his voice still authoritative. As he stepped forward to cup her between the legs with his hand, his expression was now full of lust and uncontrollable desire, his lips salivating.
Lucy had never been touched there, ever, by anyone. She looked to the side as she felt his huge frame bear down on her, and his hand between her legs, cold like ice, brushing against her inner thighs, the touch of his fingers seeping through the fabric to her most delicate, private place.
“Yeah, yeah, that is nice,” slavered Pembroke, his fingers stroking her hot little pussy as he stole a glance at her cute little face and petrified expression. “Now, take them off. I am going to keep them; I think I need them for a sample, for the school.”
Lucy mechanically slipped her thumbs under the waistband and slowly bent over as she slid them down her thighs. She awkwardly pulled them over her shoes.
“Give them over, girl” he said, hungrily.
Lucy kept her eyes on the ground as she handed over her panties.
“Hmmm,” Pembroke murmured as he brought them to his mouth and nose. “They smell nice, but dirty. I think you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? You have dirty thoughts at school, don’t you?”
Lucy just shook her head, tears now flowing. She did not have the courage to run, only to pray someone else would come and rescue her.
“Let’s check,” Pembroke said. He brought his hand back under her skirt and between her legs. “Spread your legs, girl!”
Lucy obediently pushed her shoes further out as she spread her legs, her hands still gripping the bag, her eyes turned to the side. Her small chest heaved with shallow breaths, her eyes glazed over in terror.
“Yes … yes I think you are a dirty girl … very wet here now…” He ran his fingers over and then inside the undulating folds, which were soft, moist, and pliable. They opened gently like delicate petals, with a slightly sticky texture.
Pembroke kept his eye on the girl, sure she would not scream for help. He slipped a finger inside her hole, watching her gasp, her eyebrows shoot up, then her eyes clench in pain, but she did not scream. Good.
His finger felt good, it was so tight, like being tightly sucked by her virgin pussy as he pushed it up inside her.
Pembroke weighed his options. He could rape this girl now, there was a small bench, to the side. He could bend her over it, order her to keep quiet, maybe bite down on her blazer, and then stick his cock inside her. His penis was about to burst within his trousers, a few gobs of spit on it and on her cunt and he should be able to force it inside her.
But this girl was so petite, she might not be able to resist the urge to scream. He was playing with fire, someone could come at any second. Better to end it now before someone comes.
“Okay, girl. Okay, Lucy Wu,” he said, withdrawing his fingers from her. “I’ll keep your panties as evidence of your … filth,” he added with a twisted smile. “Now, this is just a private matter between you and me. You had better keep your mouth shut and not tell your parents, or you will be in a lot of trouble. I’m sure your parents will not be happy about a young lady like you giving away her panties and running home with nothing on under her skirt, will they? Nor will they be happy about…” he sniffed her knickers again, “your … naughtiness. The shame it will bring on them to have to discuss your dirty knickers.”
“OK, Sir, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Just … please, let me go home,” Lucy pleaded, her voice breaking as quiet sobs escaped her lips.
“Good, because remember, I know who you are and where you live, Lucy,” said Pembroke, slipping her white panties into his pocket. “Now, get lost.”
Lucy ran as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face, her hands tugging at the hem of her skirt, mindful that she had no underwear. When she got home, she avoided her parents, slipping past them and rushing to her room. She threw herself onto her bed, relieved to be safe but overwhelmed by trauma. Hugging her pillow tightly, she let her tears soak into it, muffling her quiet screams and cries.
________________________________________
Maddie McAllister was alone in her bedroom, ensuring the door was firmly shut. She slipped off her netball shorts and T-shirt, standing naked in front of the mirror. She examined her reflection, disappointment flickering across her face as she picked at her body. Her hands traced over her chest, waist, hips, and pelvis, wondering when she would finally develop the womanly curves she longed for.
She reached for her swimsuit—the one her mother had bought her—and began pulling it on. It was tight, so snug that she had to tug it over her shoulders. The fabric snapped into place, clinging to her body like a second skin.
The cut of the swimsuit was revealing, riding high on her hips and exposing her prominent hip bones. Through the material, she could count her ribs, the dark fabric stretching taut over her concave stomach as she breathed in. Her pale, porcelain skin seemed even whiter against the deep color of the swimsuit.
The material pressed tightly between her legs, forcing her to use her fingers to adjust it and pull it out of her pussy lips. Turning around, she caught her reflection again, her blush deepening as she saw how snugly it fit over her buttocks. She tugged at the fabric, trying to cover herself, but it refused to stay in place, her ass crack hungrily devouring it.
Her cheeks burned as she imagined how she would look wearing this swimsuit in front of others.
________________________________________
Edward Pembroke lay on the single mattress in his cramped, squalid room, surrounded by the filth of empty beer cans, cigarette packets, and scattered porn magazines. Over his face, he held Lucy Wu’s panties, inhaling the lingering fragrance, reliving the cruel assault he had inflicted on her. He might be dying, but at least he could still live a little until then and have some fun.
________________________________________
Lucy Wu barely slept that night, and would not have a decent night’s sleep for months. Her mother had asked her why she had spent so long in the shower, and why she was even more withdrawn than usual, but she just mumbled about schoolwork. She would never see the horrible, disgusting tall fat man ever again, but her interaction with him would live with her forever.
———-
Edward Pembroke sat motionless in the dingy living room of his halfway house. The phone was on the ground, his eyes vacant as he processed his mother’s words to him.
“It’s about time,” she had hissed, her voice full of disgust. “You think I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? You’re a degenerate, Edward, a stain on my life! Do you know how many people whispered behind my back because of you? The things they said? And now you call me to share this—this news, expecting pity? No, Edward. You don’t deserve pity. You deserve exactly what you’re getting. I hope you go to hell!”
Pembroke had barely got the chance to say anything after providing her with his diagnosis.
“I’ll tell you what I feel,” she continued. “Relief. Relief that I’ll finally be free of you before I die. You don’t get to outlive me. That’s the one thing I prayed for, Edward. And now it’s happening. Thank God.”
Pembroke looked at the used pair of knickers he had taken from the terrified schoolgirl just a few days ago. What a repugnant creature he was. It was as if the devil himself had shaped Pembroke, crafting a grotesque figure to shuffle through life leaving behind no legacy but the stench of his crimes.
________________________________________
Maddie stood on the edge of the chattering group of girls, warm rays spreading over the schoolyard. Maddie tugged at the hem of her plaid skirt, painfully aware of how tightly it clung to her waist. The fabric stretched snugly, and the gentle curve of her hips and bottom caused the pleats to flare slightly, making her feel exposed in front of the boys and glad she had chosen full white panties that day.
She wished she had the confidence of her so-called-friends whose skirts were so high they flashed her small triangles of pink, red and white fabric between their thighs as they leant back against the railings, loving the attention from the boys.
The other girls were in high spirits, laughing and joking as they debated the best places to spend their holidays.
“Greece is so nice this time of year,” gushed Claire, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. “We’re staying in a villa with a private pool.”
“Oh, that sounds amazing!” added Olivia, her buxom breasts things that Maddie could only dream of having. “We’re going to Disneyland Paris again. It’s tradition for us.”
Maddie shuffled her feet, her black sandals scuffing against the pavement. She knew it was her turn to speak, but her mouth felt dry.
“What about you, Maddie?” one of them asked, turning toward her with a knowing smile.
“Um…” Maddie hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “We are going hiking, in and around Loch Ness.”
“Your parents are doctors,” scolded Olivia, her hands waving dramatically. “Why are they so tight with money?”
“I don’t know,” Maddie mumbled, staring at her shoes. “They don’t like flying.”
“Ugh, boring,” Claire interjected, rolling her eyes before swiftly changing the subject to something she deemed far more exciting—how many boys they planned to kiss this summer. The group erupted into giggles and playful boasts. Maddie shifted uncomfortably. She hadn’t kissed a boy, not even close. The idea of it filled her with a mix of curiosity and dread. She could only dream of the boys in her class, the ones she secretly admired from a distance
Walking home from school with her satchel over her shoulder, as Maddie thought about boys, friends and a summer of listening to her parents having sex in the small camper van, she forgot about the breeze that had wafted under her skirt gently lifting the hem and treating onlookers to tantalizing glimpses of her tiny white panties.
“Hi, luv, give me a kiss, and I’ll give you some of this vodka!”
Out of nowhere a homeless man slurred at her, his voice raspy, his visage disgusting and unkempt. Maddie jumped, her heart jolting with fright and panic. This revolting figure was a grotesque invasion into her otherwise pleasant, sheltered middle-class life. She tugged her skirt down hastily, her cheeks burning with humiliation, and ran off without looking back.
She hated being female, she thought. She wished she could turn her body off, or better yet turn off all these disgusting men who leered and watched her every day. She only hoped that her hiking holiday would not have these kinds of men watching her all the time.
________________________________________
Pembroke was the picture of twisted happiness, his grotesque form hunched over a pint in the corner of the local Wetherspoons. His thick, gnarled fingers gripped the glass as he took a long sip, a smug grin stretching across his sagging face. The life insurance payout had come through early—a tidy little sum that erased his financial worries and gave him the rare satisfaction of knowing, for once, life had thrown him a bone.
What to do with the time and the money? The pair of knickers he kept in his pocket were now a token of fun and hedonism, not the depravity and filth he had thought of them earlier. He was fifty five and dying, no point changing now, he guffawed. As he drank, he eyed the barmaids. Just students, he thought. Maybe they might be tempted for a quick fuck, or blowjob for a little extra quid.
He watched one girl, who had avoided his eyes as he ordered his drink. Septum ring, vest top displaying her ample bosom, black girl. Yeah, she’ll do, he thought.
Nah, he thought. Better just go professional. He would get a hooker on the way back. He was always disappointed at how old they were. He got his cheap phone out and started checking the age of consent of various countries. Colombia, Angola, Vietnam … nice poor countries all ripe for exploitation by a tourist like him. What a good way to spend his last few months.
________________________________________
Maddie lay sprawled across her bed, her headphones snug over her ears as Olivia Rodrigo’s lyrics washed over her. The tight skirt that had confined her waist all day was draped carelessly over the back of her chair, her blouse tossed haphazardly over the top of the wardrobe. She had kicked off her shoes without a second thought, leaving her in just her knickers, bra, and socks, and the bedsheets cool against her skin.
Eyes closed, Maddie let the music carry her to a daydream, imagining herself meeting a boy over the summer. What would he look like? She pictured someone tall, with kind eyes and a shy smile, his voice soft but steady, the way he might laugh at her jokes or look at her when he thought she wasn’t watching.
Her thoughts wandered, lingering on what it might feel like to kiss him—how it worked, exactly, and if she’d even know what to do. She blushed slightly at the thought but let her mind drift further, wondering what else they might try to do together. Would she let him? The idea both thrilled and scared her, she ran her fingers over her chest, around her bra, and down her stomach, and over her panties.
The other hand went under her bra and softly tweaked her right breast, feeling the little bumps within her small aureola, and the erect, firm nub of her nipple, rubbing it between her fingers.
Her other hand slipped down the waistband, over the slight downing hair she had, and her middle finger dragged itself over the slim film of her labia feeling its rising height in response to her touch. Her finger rested on the little folds at the top of her pussy, as her fingertip jostled the tiny folds of skin to find the pleasure button she had only recently discovered.
She bit her lip, lost in her thoughts, when suddenly, through the music came a muffled shout:
“Maddie, your tea’s ready!”
Her eyes flew open just as her bedroom door creaked open, revealing the familiar, cheerful face of her mother.
“Mummy!” Maddie exclaimed, snatching her hands away from her naughty regions and sitting up abruptly, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Can you just knock next time?”
Her mother raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Alright, Maddie, whatever you say!” she replied with a laugh, turning and heading back to the kitchen, humming as she went. Her little girl was growing up fast.
Maddie groaned and flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment. “I really need to behave,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. These naughty thoughts were getting the better of her, but deep down, all she truly wanted was something simple, something innocent—a kiss. Just one perfect, magical kiss, with a perfect boy, who probably didn’t exist, she sighed.
________________________________________
“I don’t give a fuck how much money! You take a fucking shower, or you leave!” shouted the Estonian prostitute, her voice sharp with disgust and frustration.
Pembroke stood there, unbothered by her fury, his trousers sagging around his ankles. He swayed slightly, the stale stench of sweat and unwashed skin radiating from him. His hideous, unkempt face twisted into an ugly grin as he slurred, “Come on, I don’t have time for that, darling.”
His reputation preceded him—his grotesque looks, and revolting hygiene were infamous enough that his profile and face had been shared among brothels as a problem client. Not just his unattractiveness – word had spread of his appalling demands and the way he pushed boundaries, leaving several working girls shaken and traumatized.
“Last warning!” she snapped, jabbing her finger toward the door. “Shower or get the fuck out!”
The Estonian woman, a hardened escort with fifteen years in the trade, stood her ground. Dressed in black stockings and suspenders, a matching brassiere, high heels, and a sleek black wig, she looked anything but alluring. More like a diseased old hag. Yet, as her sharp eyes raked over Pembroke’s grotesque figure—the hairy body, bloated belly, sagging jowls, foul breath, yellowed teeth, furrowed brows, and shiny bald head—she herself felt a wave of revulsion. The stench of alcohol and body odor that clung to him made her want to throw up.
How had it come to this? she thought bitterly. Moments like this always reminded her of the lows in her line of work.
She watched gratefully as he ran soap over his hairy body in the shower, watching keenly to make sure it went everywhere, in all the nooks and crannies she would soon have to deal with.
Later, on the bed, she made sure she was in control. When he had demanded one of the younger, more vulnerable girls, she had stepped in firmly, insisting that she handle him herself. Now, as she straddled him and rose up and down on his large penis, she maintained a steely demeanor, suppressing the disgust that churned in her stomach.
Pembroke greedily grasped at her low hanging breasts, grinding his fingers into them, wishing he could do it to the fresher girls, who would go quiet and wince. He closed his eyes and thought of sunnier climes and cute, light young things that he would soon be fucking.
———-
The last few days had been a blur of drink, drugs, and hookers, leaving Pembroke wallowing in a self-made pit of depravity. It was nine o’clock in the morning, and he stood naked in his dingy single bedroom, staring out of the window at the passersby below. The room reeked of stale sweat, cigarette smoke and alcohol. Porn magazines were strewn across the floor, drug paraphernalia cluttering the chair and desk, half-empty bottles rolling precariously on the carpet, and piles of unwashed clothes festering in the corners.
His pale, fat, sagging body stood starkly against the dull light filtering through the grimy window, his bloated belly pressing against the glass as he squinted at the young schoolgirls walking on the pavement below. His right arm was moving vigorously, pulling at his nine inch penis as he pleasured himself, enjoying the sights of the lovely thighs, flowing hair and happy smiles that he just wanted to grab by the throat.
Just as he was about to come, there was a loud knock on the door. Pembroke cursed – “I’m having a fucking wank, for fucks sake!”
“Whatever,” laughed the raspy voice of Pete the Thief, a petty burglar and longtime companion of the gutter. His long, dark hair hung in greasy strands around his gaunt face, and he wore his signature uniform of black—skinny jeans clinging to his stick-thin legs and a battered black jacket that looked like it hadn’t seen a wash in years.
Pete grinned, revealing yellowed, uneven teeth, and scratched at his forearm absently. “There’s someone at the front door for you,” he added with a shrug.
Pembroke turned from the window, his face darkening with irritation as he barked, “Who the hell is it at this hour?”
Pete did not reply, he just melted into his own room and his own sad little world of depression.
Pembroke threw on a vest, a pair of underpants and his dressing gown and went downstairs. He was horrified to find two police officers there.
Pembroke almost had a heart attack there and then. He had breached his court order so many times, that alone might get him sent to prison. Not to mention his little encounter with Lucy Wu, whom he had begun to follow again, hoping to get even more from her this time. And all the alcohol fueled benders which he couldn’t even remember. He was fucked.
The officers tried to hide their disgust at this specimen of fallen humanity. They just wanted to get out of there. One of the officers, a woman, was aware of his record and had to fight to keep her feelings of anger against him rising to the surface. She had dealt with a young girl, begging her to bring charges against Pembroke and give evidence after he had tried to rape her, but she had not wanted to relive it, and so Pembroke had got off.
“Mr Pembroke, would you like to sit down?” said the male officer “I am afraid we have some bad news…”
________________________________________
The young Latvian girl froze as she saw Edward Pembroke’s hulking figure shuffle through the doorway of the brothel. Her heart sank, a cold wave of dread washing over her. She had made a stupid mistake—agreeing to a meeting without double-checking the client’s identity. Now, she realized her error too late.
Wioleta and Anna, the two seasoned women who usually managed the clients, weren’t here tonight. She was alone, and Pembroke, with his grotesque features and menacing air, had arrived.
“Hello, Mr. Pembroke,” the young girl stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She shifted uneasily, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her skirt. “Sorry, I—I thought you said you were an American on holiday. Why … why did you pretend?” Her words were quiet, almost swallowed by the tension in the room.
Pembroke’s face split into a broad, leering grin displaying all his yellowing teeth. “Oh, darling,” he drawled, “what does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I?”
The young Latvian girl looked like a delicate porcelain doll, her snow-white blonde hair falling in soft waves around her baby-blue eyes and flawless, pale skin. Her features were soft and innocent, a stark contrast to the outfit she wore—a tight black leather skirt and a red vest top that clung to her slender frame, paired with Ugg boots that seemed both sleazy and absurd against her youthful, angelic face.
Her wide eyes glistened with trepidation as she stood. She looked like someone who didn’t belong in this world, too innocent.
“So, it’s Yulia, isn’t it?” Pembroke asked, as he licked his lips. His leering gaze roamed over her, taking in every detail.
Yulia hesitated, her voice barely audible as she replied, “I’m … I’m twenty.”
Pembroke chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Twenty, huh?” he said, his tone mocking and disbelieving. “You don’t look a day over fifteen. We in here, right?” He brushed past her into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt, and taking his jacket off.
“Emm … I think we should…” Yulia stammered, her mind a blur of confusion. She had begged and been promised that she would never have to deal with this man.
Pembroke, however, was already steps ahead, completely ignoring her unease. He stood there, his grotesque, hulking form almost entirely naked now, a leering grin plastered across his face. “It’s good those busybodies aren’t here, and it’s just us!” he said, his tone gleeful and unrestrained. “Too many rules! Let’s have some fun!”
He threw himself onto the bed with a heavy thud, his huge, hairy body sprawled out shamelessly. His legs were spread wide, his arms folded lazily behind his head. His sagging jowls and chin seemed to melt into his chest, pooling onto the mattress like a blob.
Yulia’s stomach churned violently as she stared at him, her hands trembling at her sides.
“Don’t worry darling, I will give you a good tip. Now get those clothes off, let me see what you are like naked, I want to see the product and I want to take some photos, before and after the action.”
“No,” Yulia said, her voice shaking but trying to sound firm. “No photos, no videos—it’s the rules…”
Pembroke waved her off with a cheerful laugh. “No rules today!” he declared, pulling his phone out. Before Yulia could react, he raised it and snapped a photo, the click of the shutter echoing in the room.
Her face froze in a mask of fear and disbelief, her wide eyes locked on the phone in his hand.
“Now, we had an agreement,” Pembroke said, his tone turning sharper, impatience flickering across his grotesque face. “So hop to it. Clothes off—I’ve paid for you.” His left hand was holding the phone and his right hand was now manipulating his large nine inch angry looking penis, now almost starting at Yulia.
Yulia thought of running out of the flat, but that would just make her bosses angry. Maybe she should try this guy, if she could fuck him she could fuck anyone. She had only been doing this for three weeks, after being desperate having lost all her boyfriend’s money and money her parents had lent her in a crypto scam.
Yulia shyly took off her top, folding it tidily to hide the turmoil inside her.
“Great tits” snarled Pembroke. “I don’t know why they don’t put your photos on the website, I’m so tired of getting nasty old bags. Nice to finally get some tight young cunt finally, well, I can only hope a little whore like you has a tight pussy, let’s see when we get there. But I’m sure your asshole will a good fit.”
“No!” Yulia squeaked. “No anal! That’s not allowed!”
Pembroke’s grin faltered for a moment, his thick brows furrowing in annoyance. “I fucked Wioletta up the ass yesterday! One rule for her and one for you eh? Nah, you’re getting it up the ass, young lady. Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re a prostitute, I paid for your ass, I get to stick my cock in whatever hole I want!” he spat.
“I … I am new to this, sorry” said Yulia, hoping for mercy. Almost all the clients had some shred of humanity.
“Great, then I get to break you in properly! Why do you think they let you alone anyway, those old whores need someone like me to break you in, this is your education, now come on, get those knickers off!” Pembroke’s face was now full of glee.
Yulia swallowed and peeled off her knickers and pushed them to her ankles, kicking them off, and looking up, and covering her breasts and her pussy as she saw she was being filmed.
“You shaved right?” Pembroke asked curiously. Take your hands away, let me get your tits and cunt.”
Yulia winced at this man’s detached manner. She could only hope she would escape alive without an injury or an STD now. She moved her hands.
“That’s good, yeah, lovely body, no tan lines eh! So soft and white, now turn around, what an ass! So skinny! Wow I can see your pussy lips through your cheeks, even your butthole, girl you need to eat! But so firm, I gotta feel that…” Pembroke waved her over impatiently, still filming, as Yulia clambered on to the bed, her soft, milky breasts, topped with light pink cherry tops for nipples, brushed on his belly as she came up to him.
Pembroke put the phone down, and with both hands and a loud cracking sound, clapped his huge hands on her firm young buttocks. He savoured the warm smooth flesh, kneading the cheeks, then brought a hand to the back of her head, and pulled her down so he could kiss her violently on the mouth.
“No … no kissing… “ she mumbled trying to extricate her lips from his. Instead, she had to endure his large slabbery tongue fighting its way inside her mouth, jabbing and swinging its way inside, exploring every tooth and crevice of her mouth.
Pembroke let his hand slip from her ass cheek to her crack and his fingers ran along it, feeling the dry little wrinkly crater of her asshole and down to the thin material of her labia along her vagina, feeling the inner folds of skin within the vulva.
Pembroke shoved Yulia up the bed with force, her head slamming against the wall as he yanked her into position, her breasts now dangling down over his face. He bared his teeth and sank his fangs into one of the delectable mammaries in front of his mouth, sucking hard on the tit and chewing the soft flesh.
“Ahhhhh!” Yulia cried out, clutching her head and wincing at the sharp pain in her breast from his biting. “Not so rough!” she pleaded.
Pembroke didn’t care, he just switched tits and loudly slurped and grunted as he bit into her breast, and nibbled on the tips of her nipple. Yulia sat up on all fours looking ahead, feeling her breasts almost being drained, stretched and sucked into his mouth. Again, another sudden jerking movement and Pembroke’s hands grabbed her waist and pushed her off him, dragging her back when she nearly fell of the bed, moved himself down the bed to bring his face between her legs, pushing the thighs open wide with his hands.
Pembroke inhaled and savored the sight of her pussy. Her smooth, snow-white skin served as a stark backdrop to the raw, violently dark pink of her most intimate area. She smelled lovely, the rosy folds of her labia gently pulsed and flowered as if held together with the slick moisture leaking out from her lips.
“Fuck, you love lovely. Like a virgin, almost forgot you’re a whore!” laughed Pembroke, before launching his mouth inside her lips, sucking on the undulating layers of labia and licking along her innards, drinking in her juices.
Yulia scrunched her face in a mix of tension and pleasure, her breath hitching as the sensations of his mouth exploring her sent waves through her body.
Pembroke brought his finger below her pussy, as she brought her hips up to meet his mouth, and he found her dry round asshole, so tight and wound up in response to the touch of his finger.
“No … not my … ass” sighed Yulia. But she offered little resistance as his finger pressed against the tightly constricted ring of her sphincter, and eventually wormed its way inside.
Pembroke moved his finger around inside her ass, massaging her walls, pressing his tongue within her pussy against the other side of her inside wall.
“Come on, 69, bitch, I’m doing all the work!” gasped Pembroke, clicking his fingers, lifting her petite body up as he lay down and pulled her over him, trying to spin her around.
“No … no blowjob without a condom…” she murmured wearily, her voice trailing off as she sighed, still overwhelmed by the sensations between her legs.
“Fuck that, you don’t want plastic on your mouth, sounds like another stupid rule. Suck it.” He moved her ass on top of his face, his hands gripping her buttocks tightly, and began munching on her lips again, his tongue running up and down her lips and straying up to her asshole now and again, pulling her cheeks further and further apart to stretch her holes wider to get more traction for his tongue to get inside her.
Yulia got a rude awakening from staring down and smelling the large hard cock and balls, covered in grey messy coarse hair. The passion between her legs eased her objections however, and she raised his penis with her hand and brought her neck up, opened her mouth, and began sliding her head up and down, sucking on the thick manhood, as his tongue explored her insides further down her body.
“Fuck, girl, you’re cumming into my mouth! Time for you to get cock in there!” Pembroke pushed her off again slapping her ass, and grabbed her tits from behind, as he licked her neck and side of her face, then ran his hand all the way down her body.
Abruptly, he forced her head down against the mattress and delivered a loud slap to her ass. Grabbing her legs, he spread them wider, pressing firmly on the small of her back. His hands gripped her buttocks, pulling them apart, before he leaned in and spat on the glistening openings between them.
As he pressed the tip of himself against her warm folds, her panicked voice broke the moment. “No … condom … absolute rule!” she cried, her voice trembling.
“No condom?” Pembroke chuckled darkly. “Sure!” He began to push himself inside her.
“No! You must wear a condom, please!” she pleaded desperately.
Pembroke didn’t respond; he simply grunted, driving himself deeper inside her until he felt a satisfying, faintly audible pop as he forced his way in.
“No … please…” she cried, her mind racing with fears of the diseases this creep might carry.
Pembroke ignored her pleas and began thrusting, each stroke driving his full length inside her. He groaned at the sensation of her wet warmth, her inner walls gripping tightly around him with every movement.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you were fifteen with a tight little cunt like this. Aaaaah.”
His index finger slid into her asshole once more as he felt the familiar tension building—he was close to finishing in her pussy. Yulia’s body rocked back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Her hands gripped the mattress tightly, her breath ragged as she struggled to endure the overwhelming sensation of his massive cock pressing against her cervix.
Pembroke withdrew, gripping his cock firmly as he aimed it at her winking anus. Repositioning Yulia’s buttocks and hips, he pressed against the tight opening with determined force.
“No … not anal … and not without a condom!” she cried out desperately, but knowing it would be in vain.
“NNNNNNN!” she screamed into the mattress, her face flushed deep red, neck strained, and veins bulging as Pembroke relentlessly pressed forward. He could feel his cock forcing against the tight walls of her asshole, gradually stretching and expanding it as he slowly worked his way inside.
“Aaaaaagh!” Yulia’s eyes flew open now, wide with shock and pain, as she felt the walls of her rectum stretch to their limit, a searing sensation like fire coursing through her. His length relentlessly pushed deeper along her back passage, probing as though searching for her very core, until he finally buried himself to the hilt, reaching his limit deep inside her.
“Fuck me, what an ass!” Pembroke yelled as he climaxed with a roar, releasing deep inside her. He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily.
Yulia lay beneath him, utterly exhausted, her body slick with sweat that mingled with his, the smell of his overheated, musky body filling the air. His cock remained buried in her ass, the weight of his massive frame pressing her into the mattress, leaving her unable to move.
“That was amazing, Yulia. You’ll get a good tip,” he sneered into her ear, his breath warm and invasive against her skin. “See? You just needed a good cock in you—your ass loves it.” He kissed her roughly, his tongue trailing over the sweat and tears on her cheeks, savoring her pain.
“You know,” Pembroke murmured breathlessly, his cock softening and slowly slipping out of her, “this is a bit of a celebration.”
Yulia blinked, confused by his sudden change in tone.
“My mother died yesterday,” he continued, his words sharp and matter-of-fact.
She stiffened, caught off guard by the revelation, her exhausted mind struggling to comprehend.
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. “The old bitch had it coming. Eighty years old, ran over by a bus trying to make it to Bingo. Thought she’d outlive me. And here’s the kicker—she never got around to certifying her will. Wanted to cut me out, give everything to some bloody cat charity. Joke’s on her though. Now, it’s all mine.”
He chuckled, the sound cold and callous, as Yulia lay there, her body aching and her mind spinning, unsure whether to process his cruel words or the physical torment she had just endured. One thing was clear—she would need several STD tests, a scorching hot shower to scrub away the filth she felt inside and out, and several days off to recover from the bruises she could already feel forming deep beneath her skin.
________________________________________
Kate McAllister adjusted the sunglasses perched on her blonde head and scanned the racks of bikinis. She picked up a vibrant red thong bikini, holding it up to admire it. “Now this is something that will show off my ass,” she said, grinning. “I might grab one for myself. What do you think, Maddie?”
Maddie froze, her eyes wide. “Mum, you’re not serious.”
“Of course I am!” Kate replied, undeterred. She smoothed the fabric between her fingers and turned toward the mirror. “I’ve worked hard for this body, and I’m not about to cover it up like some Victorian grandma. What’s the point of a beach holiday if you’re not going to turn a few heads?”
Maddie’s cheeks turned pink as she shifted uncomfortably. “It’s Loch Ness for God’s sake, and how can you wear that.
Kate sighed, exasperated. “Maddie, you’ve got the kind of figure you’ll wish for in twenty years.” She laughed as she playfully pinched her daughter’s midriff, her fingers finding nothing to grab. “Not a bit of fat! Come on now, don’t be shy.”
“It’s not about that,” Maddie muttered shyly. “It just doesn’t feel … right … I don’t want people to see my … bum.”
Kate crossed her arms in frustration. “Honey, I’m not saying you have to wear a thong or anything. But you’ve got to own what you’ve got! If you don’t start now, you’ll spend your whole life hiding behind boring one-pieces!”
Maddie stared down at the floor, twisting the tiny triangle of the thong nervously in her hands. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
Kate let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Ready? Sweetheart, there’s nothing to ‘get ready’ for. You’re beautiful.”
She grabbed some more bikinis while Maddie shyly grabbed some more conservative outfits.
A few moments both ladies were in the changing rooms. Kate smoothed down her thighs, twisted to check her reflection, and ran her hands over her yoga-sculpted buttocks, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Maddie, are you changed? Let me see!” she called out. Peeking out from her own curtain, she suddenly swished open the door to Maddie’s cubicle without warning.
“Jesus, mummy!” Maddie yelped, hurriedly pulling the straps of a one-piece swimsuit over her shoulders. She crossed her arms over her chest, blushing furiously as she glanced at her mother standing confidently in the revealing bikini.
“We already know what you look like in a one-piece! Come on, you said you tried on that bikini,” Kate teased.
“Eww, Mummy! That’s unhygienic to try it here,” Maddie shot back, her face scrunching up in disgust as she looked at the tiny yellow fabric.
“Keep your voice down,” Kate giggled, her tone light but insistent. “And take that off darling, come on.”
“Mummy!” Maddie protested, whispering, terrified that someone would come in and see a mother and daughter almost naked and arguing. “Why don’t we just buy it and take it home?”
“No, Maddie,” Kate replied with a playful grin. “Come on, let’s get this boring thing off you.”
Maddie cringed, her cheeks flushing red, as she reluctantly let her mother peel the swimsuit off her. She instinctively crossed her arms over her nipples and clasped her hands between her legs while Kate knelt down, tugging the fabric down.
“Now,” Kate said, holding up a tiny yellow thong with a playful smirk, “this one. Come on, put it on.”
Maddie’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as her gaze darted to the tiny yellow thong. For a moment, her hands remained instinctively shielding her modesty, but with a quick, embarrassed breath, she let them drop. Her fingers snatched the fabric from Kate’s hand, and she bent down hurriedly, tugging it up over her hips. The thong slid into place as she fidgeted, her face glowing with mortification. She quickly flung her hands back to over her nipples.
“That looks great Maddie” Kate purred adjusting her daughter’s thong herself, pulling it out.
“Mummy,” Maddie tried to stop her, now almost inaudible and visibly humiliated. “Please … just … let’s—”
“Now the top,” Kate interrupted, undeterred. “Come on, you haven’t got much going on there. Let me do it.” With an air of authority, she slipped the bikini top over Maddie’s arms, her eyes briefly taking in the small curves of her chest and the delicate strawberry-colored nipples.
“This will enhance it,” Kate said reassuringly, adjusting the straps with a practiced hand. “Don’t worry. It’s all part of your figure. You’ve got the elf look—slim, petite—it’s the style everyone wants now. Lord knows, these tits of mine can be a pain” she giggled.
Maddie tried to look away from her mother’s jiggling breasts as she pulled on Maddie’s top. The sight of Kate’s ample, freckled chest, snug in her red bikini, stirred both envy and a quiet fear of the woman she might one day become.
“There,” Kate said with a satisfied smile, her eyes scanning Maddie’s slim, athletic frame—narrow hips, flat stomach, and boyish figure. “You look amazing. Now, turn around?”
“No,” Maddie muttered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Come on, darling,” Kate urged, gently turning Maddie by the shoulders. She let out a soft murmur of approval as her gaze fell on the thong from behind. “Absolutely perfect!” She gave her daughter a playful pat on her buttocks, then lingered her hand a little too long.
“Mummy, stop!” Maddie protested, her discomfort growing obvious, her voice rising. “Okay, let’s just buy it. I want to change back. Why don’t you go back to your changing room?”
“Ha! Okay, sweetie,” Kate laughed, feeling a little … frustrated.
A few minutes later, Maddie stood morosely beside her mother as she paid for the collection of swimwear, her reluctance plain on her face.
“Can we go home now mummy?” Maddie asked, her tone weary.
“Not yet, Maddie,” Kate said with a mischievous giggle. “There’s one more important thing—our first-ever mother-and-daughter bikini wax session. I just booked it! Come on!”
Maddie groaned, this was going to be a long summer.
———-
Pembroke stepped off the boat with a nervous grunt, his bulky frame teetering as he avoided falling into the freezing waters of the tiny harbor. His new trainers sank into the mossy ground as he steadied himself, adjusting his new sports shellsuit, which did little to mask the stale smell of cigarettes and alcohol.
He surveyed the desolate Scottish island with a sneer. “What the hell is this place? I thought she just had an old cottage,” he muttered, scanning the barren cliffs and sparse trees.
Gregor, the wiry property agent, hesitated. “It’s … secure. Only accessible by a boat this size through the small harbor here. Otherwise, the rocks make landing impossible. The cottage is just up the path.”
The boat ride had been silent and awkward, and Gregor’s unease around Pembroke only grew as they climbed the rocky trail. Pembroke’s hulking figure, jowls wobbling with each step as he struggled for breath, cast an imposing but ungainly presence. Gregor could only wonder at the menace behind the man, he had checked his records and he knew he was a convicted sex offender and had a violent past.
The island, 20 acres of rocky isolation, had belonged to Pembroke’s late mother, who’d inherited it from her American survivalist ex-husband. Now, it was Pembroke’s.
“So, the old Yank built a fortress?” Pembroke sneered. “Typical doomsday nonsense. He was mad enough to marry my mother—more money than sense I suppose.”
Gregor held his tongue as they marched on. Ahead stood a squat stone structure, its reinforced steel door gleaming in the pale light. A solitary wind turbine spun lazily nearby.
Pembroke’s lips curled into a grin. “Now this is interesting. Looks like Mother didn’t tell me everything.”
Gregor unlocked the heavy door with the keys and typed in the code from his paper notepad. “Shall we go inside? It’s finished but empty. You’d need to stock it with food and supplies. There’s solar and wind power and a backup generator, but no internet or TV. Just an emergency radio to contact the nearest island. It’s … remote. A place for a long retreat, really.”
Pembroke sighed as he looked inside. It was bare. No valuables, just a series of locked doors, secure walls, and then stairs into a basement, which was also filled with nothing but clean sterility. It might be worth something, but by the time he sold it and got the money, he might be dead. Then again, would anyone buy this? It was an island in the middle of nowhere with nothing on it but a locked up house, with nothing in it.
“I suppose I might put it on AirBnb” scorned Pembroke. #
“Ha, well, I think you might find some buyer, Perhaps it might interest people interested in escaping humanity for a few weeks or months, maybe a yoga retreat?” said Gregor.
Darker thoughts flickered through Pembroke’s mind as he thought of women in yoga pants on the island, in the house.
“And this is it? Just this island, and the ten grand and nothing more?” said Pembroke incredulously.
“Yes, Edward” said Gregor, bored of repeating himself. “I guess she just wanted to give all her belongings away before she died, maybe to liberate herself.” It struck Gregor as ironic—if not deliberate—that Pembroke’s mother had ensured her son only remaining family was left with nothing but a small sum of money and this desolate, useless island, even without having left any will.
Dr Kate McAllister loved her job. She loved interacting with the teenage girls she had to examine as part of her work as a peadatrician. Even the troubled ones—in fact, especially the troubled ones.
Kate was dressed impeccably. Her black heels clicked softly against the polished floor, as she adjusted her position on the sleek leather chair. The sheer, dark pantyhose clung perfectly to her long, toned legs. Her short black skirt was daringly cut with a slit that teased its way high along her thigh. Her white shirt hugged her figure, neatly tucked in adorned with a bow. Her blonde hair was swept up into a bun, and she adjusted her glasses and chewed her pencil as she considered her last patient of the day.
Gillian Wright, 16, here for an appointment. Kate sighed softly. A troubled young girl—drugs, broken home, suicide attempts, and dodgy boyfriends.
Gillian was a goth, hair dyed black, with a face painted with black mascara and black lipstick. She wore a long black dress with slits showing off her black stocking tops. Despite being 25 years younger, she was heavier and less attractive than Dr Kate, and the younger girl resented it.
“Hi, Gillian, how are you today?” Kate’s voice was smooth and kind.
Gillian offered a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Aye, fine. Just here ‘cause my mum’s on my case about check-ups and all that.” Her working class accent was a sharp contrast to Kate’s polished lilt.
Kate nodded, scanning the girl’s file. “Alright, let’s get started. Any health concerns recently?”
As Kate launched into her routine questions, Gillian’s thoughts turned inward, her polite mask hiding a storm.
Look at her, Gillian thought, her eyes flitting over Kate’s flawless skin, expensive watch, and the diamond ring glinting on her finger. “Blonde, perfect teeth, a posh voice—bet she’s got the perfect husband and a couple of wee brats in private school. Probably drives a bloody Range Rover. And here I am, skint, trying not to look like I’m shaking ‘cause I’ve not had a line since yesterday.”
Her gaze dropped to Kate’s black Manolo Blahniks, the delicate straps hugging her flawless feet, and then traced upward, lingering on those impossibly beautiful legs that seemed to go on forever. Envy tortured her. ‘What’s it like to just float through life like that, eh?” she thought bitterly. “Never wondering if your next tenner’s going to pills or food?”
Everything about Kate screamed perfection—untouchable, effortless, intoxicating.
“Perfect bitch.” The words burned in her mind, but outwardly, she only offered a polite smile.
“You’ve got a lovely voice, Doc. Bet the patients love you. Must be nice, having a job like this, helping folk.”
Kate beamed and blushed. “Thank you, Gillian. I do enjoy my work.”
Gillian smirked inwardly. “Bet you bloody do.”
When the appointment ended, Kate rose to leave. “You’re in good health, Gillian. Just try to cut back … on those bad habits.”
As they walked to the reception area, Gillian hesitated by the door, glancing at Kate with a sickly sweet smile. “Hey, uh, could you walk me outside? I get a bit nervous in places like this.”
Kate’s instinct was to decline—guidelines discouraged unnecessary contact—but the vulnerable look in Gillian’s eyes softened her resolve.
“Of course,” she said, laughing lightly. “It’s not exactly in the handbook, but I’ll make an exception.”
They stepped into the crisp Edinburgh air, Kate shivering against the chill. Gillian lingered awkwardly before turning to her.
“Could I … could I get a hug? Just … I dunno, makes me feel less rubbish.” Her tone was almost shy, though her eyes glinted with something more calculating.
Kate hesitated for a moment. “It’s not really…” she began, then relented. “Alright, just this once.” She chuckled and gave Gillian a brief, professional hug.
Gillian’s arms tightened around her. “Thanks, Doc. Means a lot.”
Kate nodded, brushing it off as an unusual but harmless request, and watched as Gillian disappeared down the street.
Around the corner, Gillian’s boyfriend, Bashir, leaned against a wall, phone in hand. “Did you get it?” Gillian asked, her voice sharp now.
Bashir grinned, holding up his phone. “Crystal clear. Could even hear her laughing.”
Gillian’s lips curled into a smirk. “Perfect. Think we’ve got enough to make a case?”
“Depends how far you wanna go,” Bashir said. “Might be able to get some cash outta her, though. Settle out of court if we push hard enough.”
Gillian’s grin widened. “Fuck it, worth a go. Nothing to lose for us, everything to lose for that bitch!”
Edward Pembroke was enjoying his time back in London after his break in Scotland. He still felt oddly healthy despite his terrible prognosis. Maybe the Scottish air had done him good. Could he live out his days on the island by himself, bring over some alcohol some food, and what else? Did he need people?
Other people were horrible bastards and stuck-up cunts, and he should know? He’d spent a lifetime being one himself. If there was a back to be stabbed, a trust to be broken, or an opportunity to take without asking, Pembroke had been there, knife in hand.
He hated them, every last one. The ones who’d refused to let him have his way, who’d pushed back when he overstepped the mark, punished him, or worse – ruined his ugly fun just when things were getting interesting. They were all so infuriatingly righteous, so smug, with their morals and their limits.
Urban living had its perks, especially in London. The city offered anonymity, a vast, faceless crowd to disappear into, for a pervert like Pembroke. Among them were the thousands of beautiful young women and girls, moving through the streets, their presence a constant fascination for Edward Pembroke. He could watch them all day, waiting for the right moment to act, to turn observation into opportunity.
A bump of cocaine and several beers had bolstered his nerve. Today, he felt bold, ready to take his chances amid the throngs of people after the days of seeing hardly anyone in Scotland.
He leered at the young schoolgirls through the schoolgates, searching for Lucy Wu. She was there, somewhere. Perhaps he should just wait for her outside, and follow her again? It had been a while now, her guard might be down now. He cursed himself for not going further, if he got he alone next time, he would go the whole way. He pictured her meekly bending over a bench, as he ordered her to, his cock sliding into her … Impatient and horny, Pembroke made his way to his favorite brothel, eager to ease his frustration. As he arrived and pushed open the door, he was greeted by Wioleta, the senior madam. She stood in the doorway, her dressing gown loosely tied, revealing cheap, tacky lingerie underneath. Her hardbitten expression did not betray that she had already been fucked on three separate occasions previously by Pembroke.
“Fuck off,” Wioleta spat, furiously. “That girl—you injured her. She had to go to the hospital. You forced her.”
“Come on,” Pembroke sneered, his tone thick with entitlement. “You’re all whores. I just need to wet my dick. Got any other young ones?” His vile words hung in the air as Wioleta studied him with a cold, calculating expression.
“Come in,” she said, her voice suddenly calm. “We have a new girl—nineteen, from Italy. I’ll tell her to get ready.”
Pembroke grinned, his lust swelling as his gaze lingered on Wioleta’s ass, her sheer dressing gown showing it off as she disappeared up the stairs. He stepped inside, throwing himself onto the worn-out sofa with a sense of entitlement.
The living room’s only other occupant was a dead-eyed East Asian woman in her forties, smoking a cigarette with vacant disinterest. She sat across the room in a teddy lingerie set that hung awkwardly on her. Pembroke quickly dismissed her. She was too old, too lifeless. He would wait for the teenager.
Minutes passed in silence. Then, suddenly, the front door burst open, and two brutish looking men strode in—broad-shouldered, skinheads, clad all in black and both almost as tall as Pembroke. They were each about twenty years younger than him, leaner and meaner.
“This is the guy?” The first asked in broken English.
“Yes, this bastard!” Wioleta’s voice rang out from halfway up the stairs, sharp and furious. “Kick his fucking ass! Edward, you come back here again, your dick will be cut off!”
“Sorry … what’s happening?” Pembroke stammered, his usual arrogant demeanor crumbling into dust as he faced the two men, their intent written on their faces. He shifted awkwardly, glancing between them, his bravado replaced by a rising wave of fear. “Please … please don’t hurt me!”
“This is payback,” the second man said with a cold smile before stepping forward. His fist shot out in an instant, connecting with Pembroke’s face with a sickening thud.
Pain burst through Pembroke’s jaw as he staggered back, clutching his face. Blood trickled from his split lip as the room spun. This wasn’t a threat—it was punishment.
Pembroke barely remembered what happened next. He recalled being dragged along the floor, his limbs limp, then out the door and onto the street. Through a haze of pain, he saw a black boot coming toward his face in agonizing slow motion before it connected with his head. More kicks followed—his stomach, his legs—each blow blurring his senses further.
He vaguely remembered hearing Wioleta screaming at him, the men laughing, as he staggered to his feet and tried to walk away. He tried to walk away, clutching his sides and wondering if he’d been injured internally. His right eye was swollen shut, and hot blood trickled down his face. His tongue even found a gap where the bastards had kicked or punched out one of his teeth.
He had to get home, he wondered how he might have to explain this to the hospital or his probation officer. Everything hurt, and eventually he had to stop, cradling his sides, as he sat on a park bench. He ran his finger over his face, tracing the jagged gaps where teeth were missing, the swelling, the sticky blood. He looked monstrous, and passersby avoided his gaze, quickening their pace to get away.
No one stopped to help him. No one, that is, except a young girl stepping out of a nearby school. A vision of innocence, she had golden blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and delicate limbs that peeked from beneath her short skirt and blouse.
“Oh my God,” she cried, her voice filled with genuine concern. She hurried over, pulling a napkin from her bag and gently dabbing at the blood on his battered face.
Pembroke was momentarily stunned, overwhelmed by her unexpected kindness. The pain seemed to dull under her touch. As he caught up his breath, he appreciated her delicate hands and her gentle face with its childlike innocence. Something else stirred as the pain subsided, in his groin. Maybe she was on the spectrum? They were always good targets, he smiled.
“How old are you darling?” asked Pembroke “you’re a good nurse.”
The girl hesitated for a moment, her hands stilling briefly as she dabbed at his face. “Twelve,” she said, her tone light, as though unaware of the weight her answer carried.
Pembroke was now struggling to reach out and touch her as she was touching him. The cocaine and the beer were still there, and it felt like this girl was an offering to him, in exchange for the beating.
“And your name?” Pembroke gently brought his fingers to her wrist, marvelling at how tiny it was…
The girl’s eyes suddenly widened, as Pembroke’s hideous face now switched from injured passer by to hideous predator. She looked around nervously, and as luck would have it, around the corner came her big sister. Their eyes locked on each other straight away. Her sister was with three friends, and all she saw was the fat hideous man that had been seen hanging around the school recently, holding her sister’s hands as she had her hand on his face.
“Alice! Oh my God!” The girl started screaming. “It’s that paedophile Edward Pembroke! Help, my sister is being raped!”
“No! No!” Alice cried. “I was just helping him!” she insisted, her hands clutching the bloodstained napkins.
Pembroke’s heart pounded as he tried to speak, to explain, but his words caught in his throat. There was nothing he could say, he had to get out of there.
Others began to gather, drawn by the commotion and the girl’s panicked cries. All they saw was the bloodied, battered figure of Edward Pembroke—his hulking, unkempt frame next to the screaming schoolgirls forty years his junior. To them, he wasn’t a victim of an attack but a menacing, grotesque figure that radiated danger.
Whispers spread through the small crowd like wildfire, growing louder with each passing second.
“Who is Edward Pembroke?” one murmured.
“Fucking paedo!” another boy shouted, and soon Pembroke felt spits and kicks raining down on him as he tried to push his way through the crowd, desperate to get home.
Suddenly, a bigger boy in a hoodie emerged, brandishing a knife. His movements were wild and erratic, fueled by rage. Pembroke raised a trembling hand in terror as the knife sliced into his forearm, leaving a deep gash. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the boy’s young face, twisted with pent-up fury beneath the hood. The boy swung again, and this time, the blade grazed Pembroke’s face with brutal precision.
Screams erupted, and the crowd scattered like startled birds. Pembroke was left alone, blood pouring from his arm and the fresh wound on his face. Hobbling and disoriented, he scrambled to get home, his body wracked with pain as blood dripped onto the pavement. His lips and cheeks throbbed with agony, the knife having carved through the skin of his face.
A few minutes later, he made it home, stumbling up the stairs to his bedroom. He grabbed some toilet paper and a bottle of vodka, frantically swabbing the wounds. The cut across his face had torn through his lips and along his cheek, nearly reaching his ear. His arm bore a deep, jagged gash, and his blood had drenched the stairs and carpet. Reluctantly, Pembroke reached for his phone and dialed 999.
Pembroke hated his probation officer, and the feeling was mutual. Angela Houghton was a middle-class do-gooder, and Pembroke disgusted her.
“It’s pretty bad, Edward, that you were subjected to two different attacks, and you don’t recognize who it was that attacked you the first time?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.
“I’m victimized!” Pembroke snapped. “I’m trying to pull my life together. I’m dying, but those people out there”—he gestured toward the window—”those intolerant assholes, they won’t let me live! It’s discrimination! I should get a payout!”
“Well, maybe, Edward,” Angela sighed, unimpressed. “What would you do with the money? By the way, Class A drugs are a breach of your probation. You’re lucky we’re taking mercy on you.”
Pembroke swallowed his anger, glaring at her. He loathed this stuck-up, self-righteous woman.
“I think I’ve had enough,” he said finally, his voice bitter. “I don’t want to die in this God-forsaken country. I want to die somewhere sunny.”
Angela stared at him, her face unreadable. They both knew exactly what he meant: a poor place, full of desperate young women and girls who could be exploited by a depraved sex tourist looking to squander his final payday. Someone like Edward Pembroke.
“I must remind you, Edward,” Angela said firmly, “that under the terms of your probation, you are not allowed to leave the UK. In fact, your passport is flagged. If you attempt to leave, you’ll be brought back to serve the remainder of your sentence.”
Pembroke’s shoulders slumped, his bravado draining away. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, unable to hold it back.
So, this was it—the rest of his miserable life spent in London, in the UK, cowering in his shithole of a bedroom. No escape, no sunny place, no last hurrah.
———-
Maddie’s bedroom was a lively chaos of laughter and playful shrieks as she and her friends enjoyed their night in having a pyjama party. She wore a floral-patterned teddy. The garment was snug up her crotch, the hem riding high on her hips and revealing more of her legs than she was used to showing. The midriff ended just below her breasts, leaving her stomach and belly button exposed.
She and her friends were chattering and discussing boys and the coming holidays, giggling in their underwear.
“I’m going to snog some Spanish boy this summer, I reckon,” Susan declared confidently, running her hands through her dark brown hair. She wore a bold pair of blue panties that sat low on her hips, exposing her navel so much the others wondered that she must be shaving herself to wear them. “No local boys for me,” she added with a mischievous grin.
Anna, her raven-black hair shining under the soft light, pouted “I reckon Danny will ask me out soon.” She wore a flowing nightie that occasionally revealed glimpses of her white underwear as she shifted, unbothered by the casual exposure. He’s been staring at me in class all the time.”
“God, I have to pee. Maddie, where’s your bathroom?” Susan asked, jumping off the bed and smoothing down her tiny crop top.
“Just down the hall, second door on the left,” Maddie replied quickly, grateful for the sudden interruption. She let out a small breath of relief, she hated these kinds of conversations.
Susan made her way down the corridor, only to nearly collide with Dr Gerry McAllister emerging from the bathroom.
“Hello, miss,” Gerry greeted with a beaming smile. He was clad in a loosely tied dressing gown that swayed as he moved, offering a glimpse of his bare chest, and maybe something else beneath. Susan’s cheeks flushed instantly as her eyes darted away.
“Err … hello, Dr. McAllister,” she stammered. Her crop top and tiny blue panties suddenly felt like the most inappropriate outfit in the world.
Gerry’s eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long as he quipped, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten your clothes.”
Susan’s face burned even hotter. “Sorry, no … I’m … er, okay,” she mumbled, fumbling over her words as she quickly brushed past him into the bathroom. ‘What a creep’ she thought.
Meanwhile, back in the bedroom, the girls were talking about their parents’ punishments.
“My dad just calls me a brat and stops my pocket money,” Sarah, the tallest, said, twirling a lock of her frizzy hair.
“My mother’s worse,” Maddie chimed in with a nervous giggle. “She … uh … still spanks me sometimes.”
“What?” Anna and Sarah blurted out in unison, their heads snapping toward Maddie in shock.
Maddie hesitated, realizing too late that she’d opened a can of worms. “It’s not like … all the time,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing crimson. “Just, you know, when I’ve eaten loads of sweets or chocolates. She says she doesn’t want me getting fat. Stuff like that.”
The room fell silent for a beat, her friends staring at her with wide eyes. Maddie squirmed under their scrutiny, wishing she could take the words back.
“Maddie, that is so weird,” Anna finally said, breaking the silence with a bluntness that made Maddie cringe.
“Yeah, seriously,” Sarah added, her tone incredulous. “That’s, like, illegal, isn’t it? And for eating sweets? You’re as skinny as a rake!”
Maddie shrugged, staring at the floor, her face burning with embarrassment.
Just then, Susan walked back into the room, her usual bubbly energy gone. She was quiet now, her gaze fixed on the floor.
“What’s up with you?” Anna asked, raising an eyebrow as she noticed Susan’s change in demeanor.
“Nothing,” Susan mumbled, avoiding eye contact as she plopped down onto the bed.
Maddie sighed. This was getting awkward, and she wasn’t sure how to make it better. “Hey,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone, “why don’t we play some music?”
The girls murmured their agreement, and soon they were all humming along to Billie Eilish.
Maddie leaned back against her pillows, letting the music fade into the background as her thoughts wandered. What if she had a sweet romance this summer? she mused, imagining a sunny beach and a cute boy with curly hair and a warm smile. She pictured him charming and funny, leaning in close for her first kiss, making her heart race. Hugging a pillow, she smiled to herself, her cheeks flushing at the thought of finally having a story worth sharing with her friends.
________________________________________
At that moment, Edward Pembroke was naked, lying on his bed, masturbating furiously, his eyes bulging as he entertained his sick thoughts, staring at the ceiling. His huge, hairy belly jiggled as he worked himself with relentless intensity.
He was close to climaxing when, suddenly, a loud crash shattered the moment—a brick came hurtling through his window, smashing the glass and startling him into a stunned silence.
A moment later, a second object followed—a bottle with a flame, flying through the broken window and igniting on impact. Flames erupted, and Pembroke jumped out of bed and out of his room.
“Fucking hell!” Pembroke screamed, bolting down the stairs, stark naked, and bursting out the front door, only to be greeted by a small mob of hooded youths.
“Jesus Christ, looks like King Kong let himself go!” one of them laughed.
“Help! Please—please, you can’t hurt me! Help, police!” Pembroke pleaded pathetically, his voice trembling.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” one man shouted, noticing the flames roaring in the flat.
The youths scattered into the night as Pembroke, panicked and desperate, ran back inside, still naked. He reached his room to find his flatmates frantically battling the fire.
“You fucking fat cunt!” one of them screamed. “You didn’t even warn us! Were you gonna let us burn alive?”
Pembroke stood there, frozen and absurd in his nakedness, watching as the fire was finally extinguished. But it was too late—his belongings were little more than a pile of smoldering ashes.
“For fuck’s sake, Pembroke! Here, put this on—I’m going to be sick just looking at you!” shouted another flatmate, tossing a tattered blanket in his direction. Even though the man himself was a foul-looking, decrepit down-and-out, the sight of Pembroke’s naked, jiggling body seemed enough to make him retch. He turned away, gagging, muttering, “Jesus, that’s a sight I’ll never unsee.”
________________________________________
The following day, Edward Pembroke found himself homeless. His possessions had been reduced to ashes, his flatmates had thrown him out in disgust, and his life was no longer safe in the neighborhood. All he had left was the cash in his account from the insurance payout and his dead mother, and the desolate Scottish island.
“Maybe it’s time for a break,” he muttered to himself. He rented a car and began the long drive north, winding his way toward the rugged Scottish coast, looking forward to some solitude and a break from the chaotic turn his life in London had taken.
———-
Pembroke hadn’t seen another human in three days since returning to the island. The boat, which he now realized came with the property, was still moored in the small harbor. It looked ever so frail and inadequate for the five-mile journey to any other inhabited island. The isolation gnawed at him, feeding his dark imagination.
It didn’t help that his only entertainment consisted of some horrific porn DVDs and a handful of poor-quality movies he’d already seen. He had brought books but couldn’t bring himself to read them. Alcohol and trash food was the only other physical distraction.
The house remained cold and empty, devoid of any semblance of home—not that Pembroke had any experience in turning a house into one. It was all secure doors, thick walls, reinforced steel, and sterile efficiency. The kitchen was practical but joyless, the lone TV outdated. There was no internet, nothing to do. Outside, the relentless wind and surf howled.
The basement was even more fortified than the rest of the house. It was like a fortress, with layers of electronic security. Pembroke had set it up so that only he could access it, using a combination of his thumbprint, eye scan, and a code. He laughed at the absurdity of it. Who on earth was going to invade this godforsaken place?
But soon his thoughts shifted, darker now. He began to wonder less about who might try to break in and more about who might try to break out. He ran his fingers along the cold steel rails bolted to the walls, imagining them not as lifeless infrastructure but as instruments of restraint. A vision flickered in his mind: a slender wrist, pale and trembling, shackled to the rail with handcuffs.
He envisioned an obscene dildo, protruding from the wall, marked with teeth marks and desperate scratches left behind by a prisoner. The thought thrilled him, the idea of struggle, submission, and despair.
He stepped outside to smoke. He considered how even a scream would dissolve into the void, swallowed by the endless grey sea. No one would see anyone waving for help, no one would hear a cry.
This place had potential—not just for him, but for someone else. Someone weak. Someone he could control. The thought began to blossom into vivid, detailed scenarios: a female, terrified and utterly alone, her spirit gradually crushed beneath the weight of his malice.
He would be her captor, her tormentor, her god.
________________________________________
“Dr McAllister, we’re sorry it has come to this. We just need to investigate further. There’s no suspicion yet, but from now on, a supervisor will have to be present whenever you see any patients, at least until we reach the next step.”
Dr Kate McAllister was devastated. Gillian Wright’s complaint against her was now under formal investigation. All it took was one spiteful little bitch, and suddenly, her entire career was on the line.
“Surely you don’t believe this!” Kate cried, her voice tinged with desperation.
“We must conclude our investigation,” the panel replied curtly, their tone devoid of sympathy.
Kate stormed out of the meeting in tears. How could they believe some druggy little whore who was only after money? Her? A predatory lesbian?
———- After nearly a week on the island, the crushing loneliness was pushing Pembroke to the edge. The stitches across his face—a vivid reminder of the stabbing—were ready to come out, and that alone gave him the excuse he needed to leave.
The boat journey back to the mainland was a trial in itself. The rickety craft groaned with every wave, its ancient engine spluttering and threatening to peter out constantly. Each swell made him wonder what would happen if he capsized—how quickly he would vanish beneath the waves, forgotten. But he knew just enough to work the boat, steering it toward the harbor where he secured it among the other weathered vessels and set off to find another rental car.
As he drove, Pembroke deliberated on where to get the stitches removed. Eventually, he decided on a detour to Edinburgh. He figured he might as well take in the sights while taking care of the stitches.
———- The girl at the hospital desk had seen her fair share of unsavory and downright horrific patients over the years, but Pembroke was in a league of his own. The tall, bulky, ungainly figure standing before her was a spectacle of disarray—unkempt hair, a scruffy week-old stubble, and the brutal knife wound stitched crudely across his face. He looked every bit of sixty, though she suspected he might be younger. To her, he was a walking embodiment of misery, and it was hard to look at him without wincing.
For Pembroke, the girl at the desk was a welcome reprieve after a week of isolation. He studied her intently—a short south Asian girl with long black hair, and voluptuous breasts rising from underneath a woollen sweater, with a short black skirt and tights. His animalistic urges returned straight away after a week with nothing but images on a screen and the waves and grass of the island.
“What about tomorrow at 2 p.m.? Is that okay, Mr. Pembroke?” asked the woman, her tone polite but brisk.
“For a drink? Well, of course,” Pembroke replied with a grin, leaning in slightly as if his comment were charming.
The receptionist recoiled in disgust, his yellow teeth of his smile just adding another layer to how repulsive this man was.
“Sir, please don’t say things like that. This is my place of work, and I am a professional,” she said firmly, her tone calm but with a sharp edge. She kept her focus on the paperwork in front of her. “Your appointment will be with Dr McAllister.”
Pembroke scowled at her, his mood souring as he begrudgingly finished the formalities. Stuck-up bitch, he thought bitterly. Who did she think she was?
Leaving the hospital, Pembroke remembered who and what he was. An ugly dirty old man. All these females would run a mile from him. None of them wanted to exchange a word with him unless their job demanded it. Which was why prostitutes and lap dancers were the only females he could spend more than a passing moment with.
With that in mind, Pembroke walked into the nearest strip club he could find. It was the middle of the afternoon, dark, and not very busy. Pembroke smiled as he saw the scantily clad, lovely young women, admiring the bare asses, breasts, and skimpy underwear on display. So easy to see it here, and so impossible to see it in any other situation.
But even these girls found it hard to disguise their revulsion at Pembroke. The fat old man with the facial scar and stitches, coming into focus gradually in the dim light, only scared them more.
Pembroke settled down with a beer by the stage, his eyes fixed on the girl dancing at the pole. Beside him sat another man, engrossed in the private dance he was receiving from a scantily clad young woman.
He felt his own cock stir in his pants as the dancer on stage gracefully leaped onto the pole. She slid down with practiced ease, wearing only a thong and bra—until, with a dramatic flourish, she tossed the bra aside, baring herself to the room.
There was something about seeing tits and ass in the flesh, he thought. It just beat the porn he had been watching on the island. But then he realised, he missed the touch of it, just watching was torture after a while.
He glanced to his side again. The dark-haired man beside him was clearly enjoying himself, smiling and chatting effortlessly with the girl straddling his lap. She looked young, perhaps eighteen or twenty, dressed in a white thong that sat high on her hips. The thin straps of the thong bit noticeably into her skin, pressing deeply enough that the flesh on either side bulged slightly, amid the smooth curve of her hips. Her buttocks were round and prominent, her back arched as she perched on his lap, arms draped loosely around his neck. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, and she giggled and smiled as the man gazed at her, his hands moving freely over her thighs and hips.
Pembroke was surprised—so they allowed touching here?
“Hey, you, give me a dance!” he called to an East Asian girl who looked up, surprised. She had been on her phone and appeared young and nervous, looking a bit unprepared despite being in lingerie—stockings, black and purple knickers, and a bra.
She had to pay the club twenty pounds just to be there and hadn’t done a single dance yet today. She was nervous, and her anxiety doubled when she saw how unattractive he was. As she walked over and got closer, she noticed the stitches on his face. Ugh, she thought, but a dance was a dance.
“How old are you, my darling?” Pembroke practically salivated as he leaned back, his gaze fixed on her. He barely looked at her eyes, instead drinking her in from her feet, up her slim legs and stockings along her panties and smooth stomach to her small breasts under her bra.
“I’m eighteen,” the woman lied smoothly, though she was actually twenty-seven. She had learned quickly that perverts like this man loved them young.
“Fuck me, you should be at school, but I’m glad you’re here!” winked Pembroke, spreading his legs and letting her dance between his thighs. The woman kept a straight face, dancing without emotion as Pembroke looked hungrily at the skin in front of him.
Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer and reached out, placing his hand on her hips before leaning in to kiss her belly button.
“Hey! No touching!” she snapped, pulling back sharply, glaring at him.
Pembroke sighed heavily, his frustration mounting. He glanced to the side again and saw the dark-haired man now laughing, standing up, and walking hand in hand with the girl in the thong toward a private table tucked away in a dark corner. She looked utterly captivated by him, her giggles and glances making it clear she enjoyed his attention.
Pembroke studied the man more closely. He was undeniably good-looking, sharply dressed, and at least fifteen years younger than him.
“That cunt over there!” Pembroke grumbled loudly, his tone bitter. “That blonde bint let him touch her up, so why can’t I feel your ass?”
“I don’t care about those two,” she shot back sharply. “Touching isn’t allowed here, and you don’t get to touch me.”
“So how much am I paying just to look at the meat and not eat it” he moaned, his frustration bubbling over as he leaned back with a scowl.
“I’m not a piece of meat,” the Asian woman snapped, trying to maintain her composure even as she wriggled her ass in front of him, fulfilling her role despite the disgust crawling up her spine.
Maybe outside then?” Pembroke suggested, his tone low and insistent. “I’ve got a car. We can go somewhere quiet—a blowjob, and I get to touch you all over?”
“Fuck it then, I’m off. How much is this?” he barked, his irritation spilling over.
“Thirty,” the woman replied, grateful the ordeal was coming to a premature conclusion.
“Here, whore, have it,” he sneered, tossing a few crumpled notes onto the floor.
The woman sighed, turning and twisting as she bent down to pick them up. Her plush panty clad derriere, now directly in Pembroke’s line of sight, proved too much for him to resist. Without thinking, he reached out, sliding his hand between her legs and squeezing her firmly, trying to get his fingers pushing through the material into her holes.
“Security!” she yelled, her voice sharp and filled with panic, stepping back and glaring at him with a mix of fury and fear.
“All right, Frankenstein, get the fuck out,” barked a burly bouncer, striding over with purpose. He was as tall as Pembroke but built like a tank, clad in all black with muscles straining against his shirt. His expression was cold and disdainful as he glared at Pembroke, as if he were nothing more than a piece of filth that needed to be removed.
“Don’t touch me, or I’ll call the police! I know my rights!” squeaked Pembroke, his bravado crumbling into panic. He backed away, his voice trembling as he added, “Let me leave!”
The woman and the bouncer watched with disgust as the heaving, fat bulk of Pembroke scurried out of the club like a giant worm. As Pembroke shuffled toward the exit, he cast one last glance at the good-looking man and his blonde companion. They hadn’t even noticed the commotion, too engrossed in each other to spare him so much as a glance.
———- Badly shaken, Pembroke got into his car and decided to drive aimlessly around the city, finding comfort in the safety of his vehicle. From behind the wheel, he could observe his objects of desire—girls walking the streets, unaware of his lingering gaze.
Edinburgh wasn’t a big city compared to London, and it didn’t take long for Pembroke to find the schools. Knowing when they would empty was second nature to him, like a predator’s instinct. He parked his car across the street from the exit and enjoyed the sights of the schoolgirls spilling onto the streets, their chatter and laughter carrying in the crisp afternoon air, blissfully unaware of the sick pervert watching them.
Pembroke’s penis was still slightly engorged from the strip club and the sight of the short skirts, their slim bare legs and the cute smiles made more blood rush to his cock.
Carefully looking around, he slipped his hand down his trousers and massaged himself. This was so much better than that Chinese whore. It was free, and the girls were so much prettier. And he couldn’t touch any of them so what was the difference there?
One girl caught his eye. A sweet looking brunette with wavy hair, standing just under five feet tall, her frame thin and slight. Her face was tilted downward, her eyes avoiding the crowd, giving her the look of a loner. Her skirt wasn’t as short as the others, but it still revealed enough flesh above the knee to hold his attention. The plaid fabric fluttered in the wind, making him pray for a stronger gust. She picked at the sleeve of her blazer nervously, her small gestures only adding to her shy demeanor. She was his favorite kind of girl—quiet, cute, and isolated.
Maybe she was waiting for a lift, he thought. He could offer her one—she might decline, but she seemed timid enough to hesitate, and that was all he needed. It could be a bit of fun. After all, he was leaving the city tomorrow anyway. The thought of having a lovely little thing sitting next to him was enticing. Perhaps he could rest a hand on her thigh, maybe even see how far he could push it…
Pembroke started the car and drove out, keeping his gaze fixed on the little brunette standing apart from the others. She seemed lost in her own world, unaware of the attention she was drawing as he slowly rolled up alongside the group of girls.
But alas, the car in front of him—a sleek black Porsche—seemed to have the same idea! Pembroke watched in frustration as the brunette’s face lit up with a shy smile. The Porsche slowed to a stop in front of her, and without hesitation, she opened the door and climbed in.
Damn it! he thought bitterly. Who had just claimed his prize? His curiosity and frustration got the better of him, and he decided to follow the car for a while. As they navigated a roundabout, Pembroke caught a glimpse of the driver through the window. It was the handsome man from the strip club!
“Fucking bastard,” Pembroke spat, slamming his hands on the steering wheel of his cheap rental car. “Some men just have everything. The greedy bastard—at least leave some for me!”
His mind raced with frustration and envy as he trailed behind the sleek Porsche. Where was he taking her? he wondered. What could he possibly have planned for that girl? A twisted thought crept in—perhaps he might learn something, gain some tips. He tightened his grip on the wheel and kept following, his eyes locked on the car ahead, determined not to lose sight of them.
Pembroke’s anticipation soured into disappointment as he watched the car pull up to an expensive-looking house in an upscale neighborhood. The man stepped out, radiating confidence and pride. Of course, Pembroke thought bitterly. He’s probably her father, just taking her home.
The envy burned hotter in his chest. Canoodling with strippers, driving a flashy car, and now living in a place like this? he fumed. Another thing this bastard has—a perfect life.
But then the girl stepped out of the car, and Pembroke’s disappointment quickly turned to a twisted thrill. As she swung her legs wide to get out, her plaid skirt lifted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the white triangle of panties between her thighs. His pulse quickened, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, fixated on the sight. He wished he had a daughter, who looked like that, they would make the perfect victim.
The man and his daughter entered the house.
“Daddy,” said the girl, her voice soft and tinged with worry. “How is Mummy doing?”
Gerry smiled gently and ruffled Maddie’s hair. “Oh, well, Mummy is OK. I’m sure these allegations against her will go away. Just remember, let’s not trouble her, OK? Let’s just focus on being there for her this week. She’ll get through it, and then we can enjoy our holiday!”
“OK, Daddy,” Maddie said, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She adored her father and wanted to help in any way she could. She promised herself she wouldn’t add to her mother’s worries, even though the bullying from the other girls at school weighed heavily on her mind. For the next few days, her focus would be on helping Mummy get better.
Neither of them noticed the revolting pervert who had followed them and was now masturbating furiously to the memory of Maddie in his car opposite the house.
———-
Dr Gerry McAllister was a natural flirt. As he passed by Nurse Sophie, he gave her a playful slap on the backside, drawing a giggle from her.
“I’m not wearing any underwear today, doctor,” Sophie teased, her voice light and mischievous as she adjusted her tight blue nurse’s pants, pulling them up and wiggling her bum at him showing off the crack.
“I think I need to put my stethoscope up there,” he grinned, sliding his fingers between her legs.
“Ooooh, yeah…” Sophie cooed, before smirking. “And you’ve got to protect me from the patient coming in. He’s a fucking Frankenstein freak with those stitches across his face!”
She laughed, biting her lip as Gerry’s hands lingered a moment longer.
“Enough,” Gerry said with a smirk, pulling back. “Later,” he winked. “Let’s see this freak first.”
The door had been slightly ajar, and Pembroke, who had been waiting for fifteen minutes, had heard everything. His face burned with fury—not just at the time wasted by their shameless flirting, but at the descriptions of him.
As Pembroke stepped into the room, his anger momentarily gave way to shock. Standing there, smirking with a stethoscope slung around his neck, was the same handsome man he’d seen at the strip club—and the one he’d followed yesterday, meeting his daughter.
“Hi, Edward, I’m Dr. McAllister, and this is my colleague Sophie,” the doctor said smoothly, his charming demeanor unchanged. “Now, let’s get those awful stitches out, shall we?”
Pembroke didn’t say much. He lay down on the examination table with a grunt, his jaw clenched. His eyes, however, drifted away from Dr. McAllister and settled instead on the nurse as she moved around the room. Her tight uniform hugged her figure as she bent over to gather the equipment. His jealousy of the doctor was going to explode.
“Bit old for getting into knife fights, aren’t we, Edward?” joked Dr. McAllister as he worked on Pembroke’s face, his tone light but faintly condescending.
“I was the victim of a crime, actually,” Pembroke replied petulantly, his voice sharp with defensiveness.
“I wonder what you did to deserve it” thought Gerry in to himself. He had read this man’s patient records, he also had suffered previous stabbing injuries in prison.
The work continued in silence, though Pembroke’s attention was drawn to a picture on the far desk. It was a family photograph of the doctor, a blonde woman—his wife—and their brunette daughter. Pembroke recognized the girl from the previous day, the one he had followed. They looked like the picture-perfect family, the wife stunning and radiant, her beauty almost infuriating in its flawlessness.
“There you go, all done,” said Dr. McAllister, smiling as he stepped back. “That’s a nasty scar, but who knows? Maybe women will like it.”
Pembroke caught sight of the nurse stifling a giggle out of the corner of his eye. His outrage flared, but he bit his tongue, his face flushing with humiliation.
After leaving the room, he lingered in the hallway, his ears pricking up as he heard muffled laughter from inside.
“What a freak,” came the nurse’s voice. “I thought I’d collapse from the smell of him.”
“He’s probably been in prison for being a nonce,” the doctor added, his tone dripping with disdain. “God, couldn’t happen to an uglier man. To be honest, the scar improves him.”
The sound of laughter echoed through the door, punctuated by the sharp smack of flesh, then the unmistakable sound of kissing. Pembroke’s fists clenched at his sides, his face burning with fury and shame. With a loud harrumph, he turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy as the bandage on his face absorbed the faint oozing from his freshly removed stitches.
Pembroke walked through the hospital, his footsteps echoing faintly in the corridors. Suddenly, he heard a voice call out, “Dr. McAllister,” and instinctively glanced back, expecting to see the male doctor respond.
To his surprise, it wasn’t the doctor he’d seen earlier. Instead, a blonde woman turned toward the call, and then engaged in conversation with a man in a suit. Pembroke recognized her instantly from the photograph in the doctor’s room. She must be his wife.
She was even more glamorous in person—stunning, with an effortless elegance that turned heads in a short but smart skirt, heels and jacket. Yet, as she spoke with the suited man, she seemed tense, her expression strained. Pembroke lingered for a moment, watching their interaction curiously, noting the contrast between her polished appearance and the stress etched across her face.
Kate was visibly distraught as she spoke with her union representative. She had reluctantly agreed that the best course of action was to make a payment to the teenage girl who had lodged the complaint. Though the representative framed it as a pragmatic solution to make the issue go away, to Kate, it felt like an admission of guilt—people would think she was some sort of child sex predator!
She walked up the stairs, trying to stay positive. “Hopefully, this will make things go away,” she thought, “and I’ll just be more careful in the future.” Her focus was broken when suddenly she heard a sharp “snap” sound, unmistakably that of a phone camera.
She instinctively turned her head, but behind her, Pembroke froze, caught in the act. He had been following her, snapping photos and recording videos up her skirt. The loud shutter sound from his phone sent a jolt of panic through him as he scrambled to shove it into his pocket before she could fully turn around.
Kate spun around, appalled by the sight of the disgusting, fat, old man with bandages across his face, caught red-handed in his vile act. The realization that he had been recording up her skirt filled her with fury.
“You fucking pervert!” she spat, her voice sharp and filled with disgust.
Pembroke’s face drained of color. His mind raced with panic, imagining the consequences. He could go back inside for this, maybe for the rest of his life.
He stammered out a pitiful response under Kate’s searing gaze, his words reeking of desperation.
“I’m so sorry, please, please don’t tell the police! I just … I had an operation, look,” he pleaded, pointing to the bandage on his face. “I don’t know, maybe it was the stress … I wasn’t thinking straight. Please, I’ll leave—I’ll go, and I won’t bother you again. Please, have mercy.”
His voice cracked as he spoke, his hunched posture and shaking hands betraying his terror.
Kate weighed her options. This man was clearly a predator, and the thought of what he might do to other vulnerable girls made her retch. She thought of her own daughter, horrified at the idea of someone like this lurking near her. If he was bold enough to do this in a hospital, what might he do elsewhere?
But then, another thought surfaced—reporting this would mean getting involved in yet another ordeal, right after dealing with her own set of allegations. Even if she was the victim this time, it might dredge up everything she desperately wanted to leave behind.
Her jaw tightened, and she fixed Pembroke with an icy glare. “If your operation’s over,” she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding, “then fuck off out of this hospital.”
She watched as the pathetic man fumbled to leave, her disgust outweighing any lingering indecision.
________________________________________
“Fucking bitch!” Pembroke seethed as he stormed out of the hospital. “Cunt!” he spat internally, his humiliation boiling over into rage.
By the time he reached his car, the fear that had gripped him earlier had given way to a simmering fury. “If I ever see her outside, and I think I can get away with it…”
———– That evening, the McAllister family sat down together for dinner. Kate took a deep breath and explained to Maddie how her troubling claim was finally being resolved. She sighed inwardly, deciding not to mention the unsettling encounter with the tall, overweight man in bandages. She didn’t want to burden her husband or daughter with yet another upsetting incident.
Gerry, for his part, refrained from bringing up the same man, who had come in earlier to have his stitches removed. The thought of mentioning it was complicated—he’d been with Nurse Sophie at the time, the woman he was secretly having an affair with. He certainly didn’t want to bring that into the conversation.
And so, Pembroke didn’t enter their thoughts at all that evening. As the meal went on, the mood gradually lightened. Laughter filled the room, and Maddie felt relieved to see her parents becoming more cheerful. For the first time in weeks, it felt like things were starting to get back to normal.
________________________________________
The next day, Pembroke awoke in his hotel room to a painful, relentless throbbing in his face. Groggily, he sat up, only to notice his pillow was smeared with blood and pus. The dressing had come off. He really shouldn’t have got so drunk last night!
Now, he was paying the price. The thought of returning to the hospital filled him with dread, but he couldn’t avoid it. The dressing needed to be changed, and the risk of infection was too great. Grumbling to himself, he dragged his aching body out of bed and began preparing to face the humiliation of going back.
He nervously asked at the desk of A and E, hoping it would just get treated quickly. But an hour later he was called through and was horrified to be directed to Dr McAllister.
“Hello again, Edward! Were you drinking after I specifically told you not to?” the doctor said cheerfully, wagging his finger in mock disapproval.
Pembroke didn’t respond much, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. He was too embarrassed—about the dressing coming off, the alcohol still lingering in his system, and the prospect of being chastised by this overly friendly doctor once again. But above all, his attention was fixed on the family photo across the room. The blonde woman in the picture, the one he’d humiliated himself in front of the day before.
As the consultation continued and the doctor remained lighthearted and cheerful, Pembroke began to relax, if only slightly. Maybe his wife hadn’t mentioned it to him after all, he thought, a flicker of relief starting to push through his unease.
The doctor struck up a conversation with the nurse Sophie, who seemed to hang on his every word.
“ … Yeah, so on Tuesday, Kate and I are taking Maddie on a two-week hiking trip through the Highlands,” he said, his tone warm and animated. “The wilderness, the fresh air—it’ll be good to get out into nature. Just the car and the campervan, no distractions. I’m sure Maddie will love it. She needs to open up a bit … so shy, so scared sometimes…”
Pembroke, hearing the exchange, couldn’t help but stiffen, his ears tuned to every word. He was imagining the doctor’s wife and daughter out in the open, far from civilisation, vulnerable, alone … Meanwhile nurse Sophie was also brimming with a different sort of jealousy over the doctor’s wife Kate, a woman she despised and hated. She wished Gerry’s family would just disappear so she could have him for herself.
“Have to pick Maddie up after hockey practice this evening,” Gerry mentioned casually to Sophie as he dabbed at Pembroke’s face.
“Oh … why not let her wait a little while?” Sophie teased
“Hmmm, it’s pretty dangerous. It gets dark early, and those pitches are isolated. She’ll be all by herself,” Gerry replied, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.
“Come on, Gerry,” Sophie said with a playful grin. “She’s going to be in the Highlands for two weeks—she needs to get used to being by herself for a bit. Letting her wait twenty minutes isn’t going to harm her. It’s a safe area—no estates or anything sketchy around there…”
She leaned in closer, smirking. “Besides, she has you for two whole weeks. I only get you for twenty minutes.” Sophie giggled as she brushed her hand against his arm.
Pembroke sat silently, feeling a swell of rage at the lack of professionalism. “They don’t even care I’m here,” he thought bitterly. “I’m nothing to them. Just a joke.”
But another thought soon overtook his anger. The mention of the holiday intrigued him, yes, but what truly caught his attention was the detail about little Maddie waiting alone by the hockey pitches that evening, presumably near her school.
He lingered in the room, listening carefully as the conversation shifted. “OK, I’ll pick her up at seven-twenty. I’ll just tell Maddie I got stuck in traffic for twenty minutes” Gerry laughed.
Pembroke smiled grimly as he left the hospital, his fresh dressing itching against his face. Fuck it, why not take a look, much more interesting than doing another tourist pub crawl, he thought.
________________________________________
Maddie stood by the shelter near the hockey pitches, her black-and-white uniform fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. Her skirt and t-shirt offered little protection against the cold, and she pressed her knees together for warmth, clutching her hockey gear tightly. Her brown hair waved in the wind as she scanned the darkening surroundings with a cheerful patience.
“Sure you don’t want a lift, Maddie?” Susan’s mother called from her car, her voice kind but concerned.
“No, don’t worry, my father’s coming soon,” Maddie replied brightly, flashing a polite smile.
With a small wave, Susan climbed into the car with her mum, and the two drove off, their taillights disappearing into the distance. Maddie was left alone now, the last girl standing by the deserted pitches. She glanced at her phone, still confident her father wouldn’t be long.
A car pulled up, its headlights cutting through the growing darkness around the deserted hockey pitches. Maddie smiled with relief—she had started to feel a little worried. But the smile quickly faded as she realized it wasn’t her father’s car.
It rolled up slowly, stopping directly in front of her. Maddie’s grip on her hockey gear tightened, a faint unease creeping over her as she stared at the car, unsure of what to do.
A man stepped out, unfolding himself slowly, his enormous frame looming taller and broader with every movement. He was even bigger than her father—taller, fatter—his bare belly hanging out from beneath an oversized, ill-fitting t-shirt. He wore cheap tracksuit bottoms and scuffed trainers.
But it was his face that left her utterly disoriented. Layers of fat jowls and a bald head were partially obscured by a swathe of bandages, giving him an almost monstrous appearance. Maddie stared, completely taken aback, unable to process what was happening or how to react.
“Oh, hello Maddie,” Pembroke said, his English accent disarmingly friendly. “Fancy seeing you here. How was hockey practice?”
Maddie blinked, still taken aback. “Erm … sorry, I don’t remember you,” she said cautiously, clutching her gear a little tighter.
“Oh, you were only a wee girl back then, I suppose,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now look at you—all big and grown up.”
“Erm … thanks, I guess,” Maddie mumbled, her unease growing.
Pembroke watched her closely, testing the water. She seemed meek, timid—just as he had hoped. So far, so good. He decided to push further.
“Do you mind if I wait for your daddy with you?” he asked, keeping his tone light and casual.
“Wh—why?” Maddie stammered, her confusion evident. “Do you … know Daddy?” She was so confused, what was going on, where was her father? He should be here by now.
“Oh … yes,” Pembroke said, his smile widening as he leaned slightly closer. “You know, your daddy likes to have fun, doesn’t he? Hehe, he’s a bit naughty.”
Maddie’s brow furrowed, her unease deepening, but before she could respond, he continued.
“Maybe … maybe he’s a bit naughty with you too, though?”
Her body froze. She finally managed to take a step back, her grip on her hockey stick tightening as her instincts screamed that something was very, very wrong.
“You see,” Pembroke said, his voice taking on a mocking, sinister edge, “your daddy likes to see girls like you dance … in naughty clubs. Some of them dress just like you, then take their clothes off for him. Yes … very naughty indeed.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head as if scolding her, his mocking tone dripping with malice.
He took a deliberate step closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. His heart raced with elation as he saw her reaction—she just stood there, frozen in place, her large, frightened eyes staring up at him. She didn’t say a word, didn’t move, offering no resistance or retort.
“Hmm—he … he’s coming soon,” Maddie stammered in a small, shaky voice, her body visibly trembling now.
“Oh, I know he is,” Pembroke said with a slow, unsettling smile. His eyes scanned her from head to toe. “That’s a nice outfit. You look very pretty in it.”
“Th-thanks,” Maddie stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She forced a weak smile, trying desperately to make herself believe this was a normal conversation.
Inside, she was praying he would leave her alone, her mind racing with fear and self-recrimination. Why can’t I do something? she thought. Scream, run, hit him—anything! But her body refused to move, paralyzed by the weight of his presence and the terror he exuded.
“What you got there?” Pembroke asked, pointing toward a spot between her legs.
Maddie blinked in confusion, her grip tightening on her hockey stick. “Erm … what? It’s my hockey stick,” she said hesitantly, unsure what he meant.
“Best put that down, Maddie,” he said cheerfully. “But I wasn’t talking about that. I meant what you’re wearing there.”
She hesitated, her brow furrowing. “It’s—it’s my skirt,” she replied, unsure of where this was going, though a knot of dread was already forming in her stomach.
“Haha!” he bellowed, his laughter echoing in the empty space around them. His belly shook under his too-small t-shirt, the hairy, flabby skin spilling out over the waistband of his ill-fitting tracksuit bottoms. The grotesque sight made Maddie’s stomach churn.
“No, silly,” he said, his laughter stopping abruptly as his tone turned serious. “I mean, what do you have under your skirt? I can’t see.”
Maddie’s eyes widened, her mind blank. “Bu-but you’re not supposed to see…” she stammered, her voice barely audible.
“That’s not very fair, is it?” Pembroke said grimly, his expression darkening. “What are you hiding? Maybe you and your family are up to something bad, and you’re trying to keep it a secret. Is that it?”
“What? I— you don’t make sense…” Maddie mumbled, her words tumbling out in a rush as her mind raced a mile a minute.
“It’s OK, I’m a doctor too,” Pembroke said suddenly, his tone shifting to something unnervingly friendly. “I’m just curious, and a little concerned about it. Trust me, your daddy sees girls in their underpants all the time—for fun and for work—and so do I. It’s normal!”
He sighed, adopting a faux-professional demeanor, as if he were discussing something routine. “Now, please, just roll up your skirt and let me have a quick peek. I’ve just got to see, that’s all,” he added, as though this were a harmless medical matter.
Maddie stared at him. The absurdity and wrongness of his request made her head spin, but his calm, practiced tone added to her confusion and fear.
“Good girl,” Pembroke said softly, his smile widening as he leaned in slightly. “Now come on, lift that skirt up, all the way to your waist.”
This was always the critical moment, the point where he could tell if he had chosen his target well. There were times when the girls would scream and run, but if he got past this stage, he knew he had struck gold—someone too timid, too afraid of upsetting him, and too conditioned to be polite and compliant.
Maddie told herself her father would be here soon, and then this would be over. Until then she would just … do what he said. After all, he wasn’t doing anything … yet. His polite tone even made it seem … OK.
She gingerly pulled at the skrit of her hockey skirt, looking down, avoiding his eyes, and pulled it slowly up. Pembroke’s eyes greedily drank in the opening up of the flesh of he upper thighs as the material went higher, higher, then her thighs met in a gap covered by some white tight sports knickers.
“Keep that skirt up, Maddie, that ‘s a good girl” Maddie felt she would throw up, her guts clenching and her knees starting to knock together.
“No need to worry, Maddie,” Pembroke said with a disarming smile, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “Remember, your father is on his way. I have to say, those are very pretty knickers you’re wearing. Do you just wear them for hockey?”
“Y—y-yes,” Maddie stammered, her voice barely audible. Her entire body was shaking now, her mind a chaotic mess. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t move.
“Hmmm,” Pembroke murmured, his smile widening as he took another step closer. “Let me inspect you here. These hockey knickers really fascinate me.”
He tilted his head, his tone still soft. “Now, don’t worry. I’m just going to touch you a little. It’s nothing to be scared of. After all, I’m sure a doctor’s daughter will understand, won’t you? You’ll be a good girl for me.”
Tears streamed down Maddie’s cheeks, her large, frightened eyes glazed over as if she were somewhere else entirely. Her body remained frozen, like a statue, staring straight ahead, unseeing. Her small hands still held up her skirt, as she felt his giant hands cup her between her legs and pass them over her soft inner thighs.
He knelt down, his bulky frame lowering with a disturbing deliberate slowness. Pressing his nose close to the cotton fabric at her crotch, he inhaled loudly, his breath hot and heavy. “Nice,” Pembroke muttered.”
Then, with a wicked grin, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her knickers and began to slide them down, savoring every moment. As the garment slipped down her legs, he paused, surprised to see another pair tiny grey tanga panties underneath.
“Hmm,” he mused, tilting his head as he studied the second layer, his fascination growing. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Now step out of your knickers, Maddie, we don’t want to get your trainers to step on them do we?”
Maddie wobbled unsteadily, nearly losing her balance as Pembroke slid the knickers down to her ankles. Instinctively, she placed a trembling hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Her legs felt weak, as if they might give out at any moment.
Her tear-filled eyes darted downward, at his bald head and the patches of gray tufts at the sides, making him look more monstrous than human. Is this a nightmare? she thought desperately, her mind spiraling into panic. Where is Daddy? Why isn’t he here yet?
Pembroke brought the white knickers to his nose and inhaled deeply, remaining on his knees. “God, Maddie, you taste nice. You’ve been sweating, haven’t you, girl? Was it a hard training session?”
“Y-yes,” Maddie whispered back.
“And I can smell a little bit of piss,” Pembroke sniffed and looked up at her. His face—grinning, full of yellow teeth, the hideous bandages, the wrinkles, the stubble, the fat jowls, the heavy, hairy brows—it all looked so evil and wrong between her bare legs. “Do you wet yourself often, Maddie?”
“No—no— I don’t know…” Maddie’s tears now fell on his bald head.
“Haha it’s ok I like it!” Pembroke kept his eyes on hers, gleaming up at her. “Its’ natural for lovely young girls like you to wet yourselves when you are excited.” He brought the knickers back to his nose, sniffed, then ostentatiously licked the gusset, keeping his eyes on hers, relishing her petrified face looking down at him.
He slipped the white knickers into his pocket with a smirk. “Now, you’re a good girl for keeping your skirt up. I think your father has trained you well!” he sniggered.
Leaning forward, he brought his face back between her thighs, his grin widening as he inhaled deeply once more with his nose pressed against the fabric. “Hmm, these panties are very pretty, I think I need to inspect these two though.”
He slowly slipped the grey panties down her hips and legs, his eyes lingering on the smooth mons and delicate slit revealed as the fabric slid away. Taking his time, he carefully lifted each ankle, slipping the panties off without letting them touch the ground, mindful to avoid any dirt from her trainers. Once free, he held them up to his face again.
“Hmmm, Maddie,” he murmured. “This tastes much stronger. You’ve got such a lovely musk, and I’d say you definitely wet yourself a lot, don’t you?” He grinned up at her, holding her eyes. “Methinks you’re a little … dirty girl.”
“I … no … I … sorry, I can’t help it,” said Maddie.
“It’s OK, Maddie darling, I don’t mind. I find it quite endearing.”
Suddenly, his gaze shifted to the little slit between her legs. He slipped the panties into his pocket and moved his face in between her legs, kissing the fleshy space passionately.
Maddie’s eyes flew open wide, her eyebrows shooting up as shock rippled through her body. Her hands clung desperately to the hem of her skirt. The force of the man’s head pressed hard between her legs, and she felt the hot, invasive rush of his breath. Then came his tongue—angry, forceful, and violating—attacking the most private part of her, a place no one had ever seen or touched before.
Pembroke lost himself, frantically quenching his desire, his lips pressing, kissing, licking, and sucking with an almost feral intensity, worming his tongue into every little fold and opening it could find. His hands gripped the pert buttocks of the teenager firmly, his fingernails digging into her skin.
“Ohh—ughh—oohh,” Maddie gasped, her body violently vibrating as her hair fell in front of her eyes. It felt like a relentless pneumatic drill pounding between her legs—the man’s giant, beastly head pressing into her with unyielding force. The hot tongue inside her moved with precision, as if operating her like a machine, sending waves of sensation radiating through her body. She called out, but no one could hear, no one could see. What was this? A kiss? Here, of all places on her body? It felt so strange, so foreign, yet her body convulsed with uncontrollable intensity, she couldn’t help herself.
“Hmmm,” Pembroke murmured, smacking his lips as if savoring a fine meal. Maddie stood trembling, her body teetering on the brink of … something. She didn’t understand what was building within her, an unfamiliar pressure radiating from deep inside.
“Tasty, nice, and so smooth,” Pembroke said with a wicked grin. He traced his fingers slowly along her mons and lips.
“How old are you, Maddie?” he asked.
“Fourteen,” she whispered, as she tried to steady herself, her legs shivering with fatigue, his hands on her buttocks the only things holding her up.
“Then you should have some hair here, but you are as smooth as a ten year old,” remarked Pembroke. “Let’s check your bottom too.”
Pembroke pushed himself between her legs, spreading them further in doing so, and turned around, his hands firmly gripping her buttocks again. Lowering himself onto his now-muddy knees, he positioned himself, his eyes fixated on her slender, tight buttocks and the crack between them.
“That’s it,” he murmured softly, his tone unnervingly calm. “Bend over now, Maddie. Be a good girl.”
Maddie took a look out at the road, still empty, cars out in the distance. She almost didn’t want her father to come now, what would he say? She would be in so much trouble. But then, what was going to happen? She had no idea what this man wanted or what he would do next. He had kissed … between her legs … on her vagina? And now she was bent over, exposing her even more private area to him…
“Smooth here too!” He ran his tongue up her ass crack tenderly, taking his time, savoring the taste as his tongue moved from the tips of her labia to the musky entrance of her vagina, around her puckered anus, and nudging against the ring, poking inside.
“Wh—what are you going?” asked Maddie, as she tried to turn around, her hair hanging down from her head and brushing against the grass.
Pembroke ignored her. “You have been waxed, Maddie. That’s unusual for a girl your age. It would be the king of thing your daddy likes though. Who waxed you?”
“Wh—what?” Maddie flinched as his tongue brushed against her pussy again, part of her wanted it deeper inside her again, the sensations still stuck somewhere within her.
“Now, Maddie, you’ve been a very good girl so far, but you don’t want to see me angry.” Pembroke gently tapped her buttocks, his tone a mix of threat and teasing. “Who waxed you?”
“It was my mot—my mother’s idea” blurted out Maddie.
“Oh … so not just your daddy is into kinky things!” laughed Pembroke.
“No—not like that…” interjected Maddie, feeling ridiculous, defending her families honour while bent over her ass in this pervert’s face.
“It’s okay, Maddie, it’s okay. I think your mummy and daddy are on the same page as me—I like them!” Pembroke stood up, his bulk heaving as he pulled out his phone. “Stay bent over, just a little longer…”
He quickly snapped the young teenager in her comprising position with his phone camera. He moved to her front and gently pushed her upright from her bent position. She was confused, having not realized he’d already taken several photos before she understood what was happening.
“Too late, Maddie,” he laughed. “I got a few of that lovely smooth pussy of yours too!”
Maddie was frightened this could leak, and others could see!
“Don’t worry, Maddie. If you can keep a secret, so can I,” Pembroke whispered conspiratorially. “But I do think it would be interesting for your friends to know about your wax and your naughty parents.”
Maddie had now pulled down her skirt, but the gusts of wind flowing into her bare pussy, slick with his saliva and other juices kept her mind on what had happened.
“What do you mean?” She was terrified, this man held her life in he hands now she thought, as her teenage world could envisage nothing worse than her friends seeing her naked and worse, being ‘dirty’ as he called it.
“If you are a good girl and keep our little meeting a secret, then nobody else needs to know about how dirty you were” he grinned. He leaned in, his breath hot against her face. “Now, why not give me a goodbye kiss.” He pointed to his cheek.
Maddie was peaked at the word ‘goodbye’ and moved her mouth forward to kiss the stubbly wrinkled side of his face that seemed to melt into his neck.
“Other one now Maddie” he cooed turning his other cheek to her.
Maddie thought of what disgusting thing he might do now, but pecked his other cheek anyway.
“Now, on the lips. I’ve been kissing your dirty bits, so I think I deserve a nice little kiss from such a pretty girl like yourself. It would make me so happy.”
“No … please … I have never … kissed anyone…” Maddie was starting to sob. This was too much.
“Well, first time for everything then,” Pembroke said casually and bent down, gripping her firmly with one hand cupping her bottom, his huge hand holding almost her whole backside like a peach, the other against the back of her head, pressing her mouth against his.
Maddie thrashed against him, her arms flailing in vain, her hands barely grazing the solid expanse of his back as she struggled to break free. His mouth covered hers, overwhelming her lips, his tongue forcing past her teeth, driving hers aside as it explored deeper, as relentless as it had been between her legs. His breath, sharp and acidic, flooded her senses, pushing into her throat, choking her with its intensity.
“Hmmm, how about that for your first kiss?” He giggled, his breath still washing over her. “Bet you didn’t think you’d be kissed on your pussy before your mouth.” A strand of saliva hung between them, which Maddie looked at, finding it less disgusting than the features of his face.
Pembroke checked his phone and the time. Christ, her father should be here by now! He had been lucky, he shouldn’t push his luck.
But … his cock overrode his thoughts. He slipped his hand down his tracksuit bottoms and easily whipped out his rock hard nine inch cock, and began pulling on it, keeping his eyes firmly on Maddie’s.
“What … you said you were going to…” Maddie’s voice faltered, her teary eyes widening as she caught sight of the thing between his legs. It loomed before her like something from her nightmares—long, thick, and purple, its shape menacing, as if it were designed just to hurt her.
“Just keep your mouth shut Maddy, that’s a good girl” Pembroke grunted, his right arm wanking furiously as his left arm lifted her skirt again, then his hand went between her legs and his fingers gently played with her wet pussy, sliding up and down the slippery tight groove.
“What are you doing?” Maddy asked, her gaze flickering back and forth between his beet-red face and bulging eyes, looking at her like a monster out of a nightmare. His jowls jiggled as he concentrated on her, his focus intense as if his face would explode all over her. Her eyes slowly drifted downward to the even more brutish monstrosity of his hand going up and down like a blur, the huge purple helmet looking up at her like a snake and the clucking sound of his masturbation reaching a crescendo.
Her hands flailed weakly, struggling to shove his other massive arm away, but it didn’t budge. She squeezed her thighs together with all her might, yet it was useless—his hand pressed firmly between her legs, his fingers unrelenting as they tweaked her innards. She closed her eyes, praying that this would come to an end, trying to shut out the sensations sounds and smells.
Without warning, a hot splash of something thick struck her face. It smeared across her skin, crawling into her eyes. As she opened them, the sting hit—sharp and unbearable. The substance was sticky, coating her face, its warmth leaving an uncomfortable trail as it clung to the side of her face.
“Aaaahhh,” Pembroke sighed, tucking his leaking cock back in his trousers. In a flash, he grabbed his phone and snapped a shot of Maddie’s cum-smeared face, her right eye still squinting reflexively as it hung off her eyelashes.
Pembroke wanted to roar in triumph at the sight of her. His only regret was that he did have more time. He wished he could have just pushed her down on the ground, spread her legs, and raped her. But that would probably have injured her too much, his cock was too much for a young virgin, she would have needed medical treatment, especially as he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back. Anyway, he knew where Maddie was in future, he smiled to himself.
“See you around, Maddie,” Pembroke smirked. “Oh, and I think you need to be paid.” He pulled out a few coins, tossing them at her feet with a sharp flick of his wrist. “This is what your daddy likes to do to girls too, you know. Pays them when he’s done using them,” he added with a dark wink.
Pembroke turned and slid into his car, his low-hanging trousers exposing the ugly, hairy crack of his backside to the shell-shocked girl. She stood there, face smeared with cum, her hands fumbling as she tried to wipe it off, the humiliation sinking in after the shock.
As his car sped away, Maddie remained where she stood, the reality crashing down on her. He had assaulted her, taken her underwear, touched her in ways that were too vile to even process yet, kissed her, taken pictures, and degraded her in ways she wasn’t even sure she could remember minutes later.
Her mind raced in horror as she shakily wiped the sticky remnants of his actions from her face. It felt like hours had passed since she had, fatefully, declined Susan’s mother’s offer of a lift home. Now, she found herself violated in ways she could never have imagined when she had waved them away just twenty minutes ago.
Suddenly, a car pulled up. Maddie flinched, her heart pounding in terror—was he back again? She knew there were even worse things he could have done, with that vile thing between his legs and her private parts.
But then, she saw him. It was her father.
“Hey, Maddie!” Gerry called out, smiling through the open window. “Get in! Sorry I’m late—traffic was a nightmare!”
Maddie said nothing and got in, being extra careful with her skirt, mindful she had no underwear now. She quickly rubbed her hand over her face and her hair, anxious to avoid showing off her shame.
“Maddie is everything OK?” asked Gerry, a little concerned.
“Daddy, why were you so late?” Maddie wailed looking at him accusingly, Gerry was taken aback. Maddie’s face was flushed, her eyes rimmed with red—she had been crying.
“Maddie, did something happen?”
“No,” she replied quietly. “You were supposed to be here at seven! I waited!”
“I told you, the traffic—”
“You promised me,” Maddie sobbed now, her voice breaking.
Gerry fell silent. Maybe Maddie had picked up on something. Did she suspect he was having an affair with Nurse Sophie? Was this her way of accusing him? He decided not to press further.
Maddie gazed out the window, relieved to be in her father’s car, but overwhelmed by the feeling that either she or her father was somehow responsible for what had just happened. She crossed her legs, feeling the absence of her underwear, to prove to herself that it hadn’t all been a nightmare.
Then, her mind flashed back to what that awful man had said about her father—that he liked to see girls naked, in their underwear. She remembered her mother shouting at her father, accusing him of going to clubs where women danced naked for men. She looked sideways at her father, wondering why he was really late, there was no traffic, why did he lie?
———-
That night, Kate was relieved to put her trouble behind her, and after a few glasses of wine was making passionate love to Gerry, relieved to know that at least his wife did not suspect anything.
Maddie had to listen, again, to her parents having sex. As she heard her father grunting and her mother screaming in ecstasy, she could not get sex out of her head. Maybe her family, and by extension her, were just dirty and filthy.
She had taken four showers in a row, her delicate pussy lips sore from the constant scrubbing, the stinging soap only adding to the burn, but she needed to wash the feeling of filth away. She brushed her teeth for twenty minutes, scrubbing her tongue, the roof of her mouth, trying to rid herself of everything, desperate to feel clean again.
She lay in bed in a foetal position, wishing she could get that man out of her head. She cried into her pillow, knowing that if she closed her eyes she could only see his horrible fleshy body, his repulsive face, haunting her in her dreams and in waking hours.
She made an entry in her diary trying to process what had happened :
“A MONSTER VIOLATED ME TODAY. I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME. I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING PURE ANYMORE; NOW I’M JUST A FILTHY SLUT. THIS MAN TOOK ALMOST EVERYTHING FROM ME, HE TOUCHED ME THE WAY NO MAN SHOULD EVER TOUCH A CHILD BUT I FEEL I’M TO BLAME, AND I BELIEVE I AM.
I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN TRUST MY FATHER TO HELP ME. AFTER TODAY, I DON’T THINK I’LL EVER THINK OF HIM THE SAME WAY AGAIN.”
———-
Pembroke had taken an early night, and was naked in bed, two pairs of Maddie’s panties draped over his face, licking and sucking on the gussets trying to get the last bit of flavour from them. The day had turned out wonderfully well, as he looked at some of the photos on his phone, of Maddie’s shocked cum covered face, and her mother Kate’s knickers up her skirt on the stairs. He felt confident he had gotten away with violating both the McAllister females.
He grinned when he thought of Maddie, and how she must be feeling in bed right now. No matter how accomplished that little bitch might grow up to be, she would always have to remember her first kiss, her first sexual experience, and he would be in her mind, always there.
But as he thought about the McAllisters, rand allowed the flavour of Maddie’s pussy juices to sit on this tongue, enjoying the aftertaste, he was already thinking what else he could do to this beautiful and perfect family.
———-
Pembroke was back on the island, and for once, he felt clear-headed. In a moment of madness—or perhaps clarity—he had decided not to bring any alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs with him. This time, he wanted his mind to be sharp, free from the haze that had clouded so many years of his life.
As the days passed, he realized just how much sharper he felt. Fresher than he’d been in years, his thoughts more focused. He didn’t feel like a dying man at all.
He spent hours assessing the house’s potential, inspecting its locked doors, fiddling with the electronic locks, and tracing the power supply through the walls. The secure perimeter, the basement—everything hinted at possibilities.
Beyond the house, he strolled through its twenty windswept acres, braving the biting gusts that rattled the few stubborn trees. Just that and a small abandoned stone wall was all that marked the land other than the house.
There was only one way in or out of the island: the little quay where his boat was moored. Most days, he took the boat out, learning to navigate the waters surrounding the island. He tested it in the dark, pushing himself to master its controls even when visibility was nearly nonexistent.
In the evenings, he read voraciously, a habit he hadn’t indulged in years. Books replaced the endless parade of porn and trashy movies. He skipped through Lolita, devoured The Story of O, and lingered over a true crime book about unsolved kidnappings.
The idea had already taken root and was now blossoming. Why not? Why couldn’t he pull it off? He had gotten away with so much already: rapes, robberies, frauds, assaults. The times he’d been caught were so rare that statistically, he should get away with it if he planned properly.
The island, he realized, was perfect. The isolation, the secure walls, the locked doors. It had everything he needed.
He had already, impulsively, taken a first step. Following his meeting with all three McAllisters back in Edinburgh, he had woken up the next morning, But Pembroke wasn’t just theorizing anymore. He had already taken a first step.
Following his meeting with the three McAllisters back in Edinburgh, he had woken up the next morning, restless. Pondering his next move, he decided, on a whim, to visit a large retailer.
“I’m looking for a GPS tracker,” he had told the clerk, scratching his double chin. “It’s for my dog. We’re going hiking in the Highlands, and he tends to wander.”
The clerk was cheerful, helpful. Pembroke left with a tiny, cheap tracker that fit in the palm of his hand. It had been almost too easy.
By early afternoon, he had arrived at the McAllisters’ residence. Gerry’s Porsche gleamed in the driveway. Pembroke, adjusted his dark glasses, pulled the brim of his baseball cap low, and smoothed his sports jacket. He carried a plain cardboard package, the perfect prop for his role as a delivery driver.
He approached the car casually, rehearsing his excuse in case anyone questioned him. But before he reached it, the front door opened.
Out stepped Kate McAllister, earbuds in place, dressed in tight running pants and a snug top. She glanced at him briefly—dismissively—and set off on her run without a second thought.
Pembroke bit his lip, suppressing a smile. She hadn’t recognized him. The dark glasses and absence of the facial bandages had done their job. To her, he was just a fat, middle-aged delivery man, someone too insignificant to notice.
He watched her jog away, his gaze lingering on her ass, which just added to his motivation. He crouched near the Porsche, pretending to check the package in his hands. A quick movement, and the tracker was secured to the inside of the wheel well. Pembroke straightened, brushing off his jacket. It had been almost laughably simple.
Pembroke smiled to himself as he took a break from reading about kidnappers in France and how they were caught, trying to avoid their mistakes. The McAllisters had no idea they were being tracked.
On the other hand, he was a known quantity, a registered sex offender, and if little Maddie reported him, he was in serious trouble if recognised. Well, life was not without risks. A man like him would never get a woman in his life without taking any, and his life was, if he still believed his doctors, about to end soon anyway, so why not go out with a bang?
———- After nearly a week Pembroke decided to re enter civilisation and he took his boat back to the mainland, navigating the choppy waters with growing confidence.
Once docked, he lingered for a moment, staring at his phone. Turning it on filled him with trepidation. Would there be messages from the police? A barrage of missed calls from his probation officer? He doubted it, but still, the thought gnawed at him. He pressed the power button.
The phone buzzed to life, but there were no messages. Not even his probation officer seemed to care anymore. Perhaps the man had finally given up on him—on a terminally ill dropout who had lived on the streets in London, flitting in and out of jail like a moth drawn to flame.
Scrolling through news apps, he found no mention of any sexual assault in Edinburgh, nothing linking to the area where he’d been with Maddie. Everything seemed quiet.
Pembroke checked his tracker app to see where the McAllisters were. The small dot on the map showed they were at a picnic site near Ben Nevis. He smirked, imagining them sitting together, enjoying their blissful ignorance.
The thought of climbing Ben Nevis himself was laughable. He might be feeling sharper and healthier after his time on the island, but scaling a mountain was out of the question. He’d wait. They would move eventually, likely to a more accessible location, and when they did, he’d be ready.
With that thought settled, he rented a car and drove to a quiet pub on the edge of town. It was the kind of place where nobody cared who you were or what you were doing, as long as you didn’t cause trouble.
Inside, he chose a corner table away from the main bar, ordered a pint and a hot meal, and settled in. He pulled out his notebook, flipping to the page where he’d scrawled his plans. His eyes skimmed the list of items he’d carefully compiled over the past few days: Heavy-duty chains Nylon ropes (in varying lengths, for versatility) Padlocks (keyed alike, to keep things simple) Collapsible metal cages (flat-packable and sturdy enough to contain any resistance) Hooks (ceiling-mountable, for suspension and restraint) Anchors and a power drill Bondage restraints (ankles, wrists, neck, ankle spreaders, single sleeve for arms) Gags and blindfolds Carabiners These were the important items and Pembroke quickly went online and ordered them all, pleased that they would arrive soon. Other items were a little more specialist. Neck collars that could be shocked remotely were ordered from a retailer in Germany.
Pembroke reflected on everything else. The house was self-sufficient in its water supply, with a rainwater reservoir providing water for washing, showers, and the toilet. There was a filtration for drinking water, but Pembroke preferred to bring in gallons and gallons of drinking water.
He had stocked up on basic medicines—nothing elaborate, just enough to keep things manageable. If his prisoner got too ill, seeing a doctor was out of the question. Not that he’d care; with his own terminal condition, he had little sympathy for a younger female’s ailments. It was that same cold practicality that made him order another item: a roll of heavy-duty metal netting. If things went wrong, he needed a way to ensure no trace was left behind. Weighted with rocks and tied securely, the net would take a body straight to the bottom of the sea, out of sight and out of mind.
“Would you like anything else?” asked the pretty barmaid, smiling as she approached his table. “Seems you’re doing quite the online shopping,” she added with a playful grin, glancing at the screen of his phone.
“Another pint, please,” he replied smoothly, his voice calm, almost warm. He smirked as he perved over her ass in her tight black pants as she walked away. “Maybe you might end up in that net yourself, you sexy bitch” he mouthed to himself.
Next, he turned to a shopping experience he found marginally more pleasant, though he was even more cautious to conceal it. Browsing through female clothing, he started with the distasteful yet practical task of purchasing sleeping bags—just in case the prisoner became too cold. He had no interest in buying shoes, trousers, or sweaters; those items were unnecessary. If the prisoner was too cold, then they should not be outside. If they were too cold inside, they would, probably, still survive. He was not going to the trouble of kidnapping a girl to look at her in a hoodie.
Chinese websites were the best, though they were a little slower. It was however much easier to order lingerie and underwear for the particular sizes and ages he was interested in. He licked his lips as he looked at the skinny little Chinese models, their delicate frames teasing his imagination as he licked his lips. He could almost picture them on his island.
“Here you go!” The barmaid’s cheerful voice snapped him back to reality as she placed his pint on the table.
Pembroke thought of the barmaid’s tits and ass, but she was also nearly five feet ten and might be a trickier preposition than some skinny five foot adolescent. Can’t have everything, he shrugged.
“Excuse me, can we join you?”
The voice pulled Pembroke’s attention from his phone. The man asking was short, blond, and spectacled, with a weedy, polite demeanor. He was about five foot seven, his skinny frame almost swallowed by a slightly oversized jacket. He gestured toward his wife, a short, dumpy blonde woman who offered Pembroke a timid smile.
“Err … of course,” Pembroke replied, masking his irritation with a strained smile. He quickly locked his phone and tucked it into his pocket. Drawing attention by being surly was the last thing he needed.
The couple, as it turned out, were German tourists—a religious pair planning to spend a few days on an island not far from his own. The man spoke eagerly, explaining their plans for quiet reflection and solitude, while his wife nodded along, offering the occasional shy smile.
Pembroke listened with forced politeness, nodding at the right moments and feigning mild interest. At least they were tourists, passing through with no connection to his world. But he had no intention of revealing anything about his own island. The less they knew, the better.
That all changed when their young daughter appeared. She stepped hesitantly into view, a vision of innocence with blonde curls that framed her face, glasses perched delicately on her nose, and bright blue eyes that sparkled behind them. Her shy smile was timid but endearing, and her slight frame, no taller than five feet, gave her an almost ethereal quality.
“Rita, come say hi! Don’t be shy!” her father encouraged, his voice warm and beckoning.
Pembroke’s eyes lingered on her. She was gorgeous, he thought, her petite figure and delicate features well contained in a Mickey Mouse sweater and loose jeans.
Rita offered a small wave, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at Pembroke. “Hi,” she said softly.
Pembroke forced a smile, leaning back slightly in his seat to appear unassuming. “Hello there,” he replied, his tone carefully neutral.
Pembroke grew more interested in the couple, Jan and Heidi. His mind raced through the underwear he was in the process of ordering, and even made a point to remember to get some Mickey Mouse panties. How he would enjoy explaining to little Rita, when he would force her to put them on, that is when he had decided to order them.
All three Germans wore glasses. Rita’s would go in the sea, he thought to himself. He didn’t like them, and there was no reason for her to see properly in her new life. If she was blind, then all the better to control her.
Pembroke forced himself to listen to the Germans drone on, each seemingly in their mid-thirties and excruciatingly dull. They spoke with pious enthusiasm about giving away half their salaries to charity, believing it was their duty to help poorer families since they couldn’t have more children of their own.
Any fleeting regret he might have felt about taking their only child vanished as they rambled on. They didn’t deserve Rita, she was too perfect, she was meant for him.
“Maybe we could set up a refugee town on one of these islands,” Heidi enthused, her plump little face lighting up with misplaced excitement.
“Yes,” Jan agreed earnestly. “I think these islands could be really useful, especially with climate change…”
Pembroke tried not to let his displeasure show as he listened to the pair of idiots. He wondered briefly if Rita would end up like her mother—dull, plump, and insufferable. Then it struck him: she wouldn’t. He had no intention of letting her live long enough for that to happen.
The thought, dark and twisted, prompted an audible laugh to escape his lips.
“Haha, yes! You see, you agree as well,” Jan said, misinterpreting Pembroke’s laugh as approval.
“Err … yes,” Pembroke replied, forcing a weak smile, having no idea what Jan was rambling about. Turning to Rita, who looked equally bored, he leaned forward slightly, his tone softening.
“So, Rita,” he said, fixing her with a friendly smile, “I have a niece about your age, and I need some advice for a family game we’re playing next week. Tell me, what’s your favorite animal? And your favorite food? She’s tricky to figure out, so I thought you might be able to help.”
Rita perked up a little at being addressed directly. She glanced at her parents, then back at Pembroke, shyly brushing a blonde curl from her face. “Um … my favorite animal is a fox,” she said softly, her blue eyes flickering with a hint of interest. “And my favorite food … probably spaghetti.”
Pembroke nodded, pretending to mull over her answer. “A fox and spaghetti—great choices,” he said with a smile. “Thank you, Rita, that’s really helpful.”
Pembroke silently added a few new items to his mental shopping list: bikinis, panties, and vest tops with fox patterns, all tailored to the information Rita had just given him. He’d even look for a fox-themed mask—something to cover her head and complete the twisted imagery he had in mind.
He promised himself one more thing: for the first few days, she would eat nothing but spaghetti served in a dog bowl. He wanted her to understand, from the very start, that she had unknowingly sealed her fate in this moment.
The conversation took an unexpected turn when the couple mentioned their plans. They, too, had hired a boat to travel to a slightly larger island, one with a small community living on it. Jan described it as peaceful and perfect for reflection, and Pembroke, feigning casual interest, mentioned his own boat. “Your destination sounds fascinating,” he said. “Maybe I could join you sometime?”
Jan’s face lit up. “Of course! Everyone there is very welcoming.”
As they talked, Pembroke learned more, including their strict no-internet rule. “We don’t use it, and we forbid Rita from it as well,” Heidi said firmly. Rita’s sullen expression said everything about how she felt about that. Pembroke smiled politely, thinking that Rita would not get much internet in her new life either.
Plans began to take shape in Pembroke’s mind. Perhaps the McAllisters were more trouble than they were worth, especially when this family had so kindly presented their own daughter on a tempting platter. Rita was perfect, and her sheltered, disconnected life made her an even easier target. He couldn’t turn them down—it was practically fate.
Still, he had to consider something else. For his plan to succeed—securing Rita without a trace—he would need to do more than just take her. Her parents would have to die. It was the only way to ensure no one came looking for her, or looking at him.
On the other hand, a boating accident might offer a cleaner solution. If two out of three bodies turned up in the sea, it would raise no suspicions, especially if poor Rita’s body was presumed lost to the depths. A tragedy, neatly wrapped, and one that would ensure no relentless search parties or probing questions followed him. It was almost too perfect.
Could he do it? He sipped his pint slowly, letting the idea settle as the weight of it pressed down on him. Across the table, the insufferable Jan droned on, now wittering about his plans to donate a kidney to some faceless stranger.
Yes, he decided. He could do it. It wasn’t just about necessity anymore—it was about the experience. Another thing to cross off his list before his own life reached its inevitable end.
As they all prepared to leave, Heidi nudged her daughter gently. “Say goodbye to Edward, Rita,” she encouraged.
“Bye, Edward,” Rita said softly, waving shyly from behind a curtain of blonde curls.
Pembroke’s smile widened, his tone warm and reassuring. “Bye, Rita. Lovely to meet you. See you all soon.”
As the family walked away, Pembroke’s smile lingered, though his thoughts darkened as he watched little Rita, already imagining her naked, on his island.
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By Edward Pembroke
#Incest #Pregnancy #Rape #Teen
