Blossom - Part 3 of 3: Lost

[trio]

Teaser: I couldn't help but zoom in on the image, my stomach twisting in a tornado of anger and despair. Her nipples were hard, almost tearing through the fabric. It was a clear sign of arousal. The sight of her in his arms, her body betraying her. I just knew was playing with her unprotected pussy right there, for all to see, and she was powerless to stop him.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Blossom - Part 3 of 3: Lost
Author: Trio
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This is Part 3 of a trilogy. A story centred around a sex slave called Blossom. The parts are numbered in the succession they were written, but you can read them out of order. The story is scripted in such a way that each part can be read as a single story, but each part gives insides into details described in the other two.

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Blossom - Part 3 of 3: Lost

"These last six months were the best of my life," I said to myself, savouring the cool breeze that danced through the palace courtyard. The sweet scent of jasmine filled the air, a stark contrast to the harsh desert beyond the high stone walls. I watched as Blossom, my heart's silent beacon, walked gracefully across the marble tiles, her soft laughter echoing through the archways. Her eyes sparkled with a light that could only be found in the purest of oases.

But as the weeks turned into months, the warm glow of our moments grew dimmer. The Sheik's calls for her grew more frequent, and her smiles grew weaker. Her eyes, once so vibrant, now held the weight of a thousand secrets she dared not share. The tide of our happiness was indeed shifting, retreating like the sands of the desert under the relentless moon.

Last year, when I first stepped onto the soil of this peculiar Middle Eastern kingdom, I had been a man blinded by ambition. The Sheik had extended his hand in friendship, offering not just his wealth but his guidance and protection. His country was a bastion of modernity amidst a landscape steeped in ancient tradition, and it was here that I had met Blossom.

Her skin, as pale as moonlit sand, and her eyes, the colour of the clearest sky, had captivated me from the moment she was presented to me. The way she lowered her gaze demurely, the tremble in her voice when she spoke, the way her body would yield to my touch—these were the trappings of a well-trained sex slave, yet she had captured my heart. Each night, she lay with me, her soft curves melding to my body, her lithe limbs wrapping around me as if she were made solely for my pleasure. Her blue eyes, though filled with a sadness that pierced my soul, reflected a passion that burned as fiercely as the desert sun.

But it was all a façade, a cleverly constructed illusion. The Sheik had played me like a fiddle, orchestrating every encounter, every shared smile, and every whispered word between us. He had seen the hunger in me, the yearning for something real amidst the desert of shifting alliances and power plays. Blossom was the bait, the key to my undoing, and I had swallowed it whole, hook and line.

The Sheik had shown me evidence of her training, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and something darker, something akin to sadism. "Look," he said, his voice as smooth as a serpent's hiss, "behold the fruit of my labor." He presented a collection of images and documents, a timeline of Blossom's life before me.

The first few months of our arrangement had been a whirlwind of passion and power, a dance of desire and control. I had moved my head office to this little kingdom, so I could be close to her. Blossom was never far from my side, dressed impeccably in the finest silks and satins, a vision of beauty and submission that stirred something primal within me. Yet, amidst the opulence and the whispers of pleasure, there was a sadness to her predicament that tugged at my conscience.

My days were spent building my empire, forging alliances with the Sheik's connections and expanding my dream company into a reality. The boardroom was my stage, and I played the role of the charismatic leader with ease. Yet, the nights were reserved for her, for the silent confessions our bodies whispered as we tangled in the silk sheets. Her touch was like cool water in the desert, a reprieve from the scorching sun of political manoeuvring that ruled my waking hours.

We had to spend most of last investment round keeping our competitors at bay. The market was a battlefield, and every victory was a step closer to ensnaring us in the Sheik's web of power. Everything was going great, at least I thought so.

Then, last week, I stumbled upon a piece of intel that shook me to my core. The Sheik had been secretly underwriting my biggest competitor's latest investment round. Their CEO, a man whose smile could cut glass, was the last person I would expect to be in cahoots with the Sheik. The betrayal stung like a scorpion's tail, leaving me questioning every move I had made since setting foot in this sandy realm.

Starting last month, Blossom kept staying out longer and longer, sometimes a whole night. One time she came home after three nights away. Her eyes were shadowed, haunted by something she could never tell me. But she was forbidden to talk about her absences. The only explanation she could offer was a weak smile and a whispered, "It is the Sheik's will." Her necklace and bracelets, so intricate and beautiful, were the silent sentinels of her enslavement. They were not mere adornments but a sophisticated technology, a prison that wrapped around her slender neck and wrists. An AI system lay hidden within, monitoring her every word, her every move. Every sound, every sigh, every step she took was recorded and analysed.

I knew I couldn't ask, we both understood the consequences of challenging the Sheik's authority. I still remember those five days she was pulled away from me. The Sheik told me she was being punished because she had disappointed him. She had tried to write me a note to tell me something personal, but the AI system had caught that immediately. She could never tell what happened to her those five days, but I felt something had changed deep inside of her. On top of the cruelty she had endured during her training. Those pictures still haunt me every day.


—


Yesterday, as I sat in my new office, a heavy burden on my shoulders, one of the Sheik's most trusted advisors, who he made me hire as my security chief, left his iPad unlocked on my desk. The screen was turned towards me, displaying an image that almost stopped my heart. It was Blossom, my Blossom, in the arms of my competitor, that snake-like man who had been trying to ruin me from the shadows. She wore that blue dress that I knew so well, a garment so tightly tailored that it was impossible to wear underwear beneath. Her smile was small, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes, a smile that masked a deep, hidden pain. I couldn't help but zoom in on the image, my stomach twisting in a tornado of anger and despair. Her nipples were hard, almost tearing through the fabric. It was a clear sign of arousal. The sight of her in his arms, her body betraying her. I just knew was playing with her unprotected pussy right there, for all to see, and she was powerless to stop him.

The security chief had timed his return perfectly. He strode into my office, the smugness in his gait revealing that he knew what I had seen. His eyes met mine, and in them, I read the silent message of his victory. He reached for the device, his grin stretching from ear to ear like a predator that had cornered its prey. "She is such a great fuck, isn’t she?” he said, his voice thick with malice when he walked out.

My blood boiled. The room felt too small, the air too thin to breathe. The walls of my sanctuary had crumbled in an instant, exposing the treachery that lay beneath. I felt like a fool, a pawn in a game of power and lust that had been played out on a board I didn't even know existed. The thought of Blossom with that vile man was a knife twisting in my gut. I could feel the heat rising to my face, a mix of rage and embarrassment.

The night before, she had been in my arms, showing me the seven sides of paradise. Her body had been a canvas of passion, her moans a symphony that had played directly into my soul. The way she moved, the way she took me inside her, her legs wrapping around me as she rode the waves of pleasure—it had all felt so real, so genuine. We had spent hours exploring every inch of each other, our bodies speaking a language that transcended the barriers of our circumstances. Her eyes had been locked on mine, a silent promise that she was mine, that she felt the same fiery connection that I did. And now this.

The betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow, but the anger was a balm to my soul. It was time to take control of the game. I had to activate my escape plan. I knew a woman, a lawyer of unparalleled skill and reputation. She had a history of bringing down giants, of making the most powerful men in the world tremble before her. My old colleague had whispered her name to me once, a desperate plea for salvation that had come too late for him. But he had believed in her, and now, I had to as well.

My old colleague's story echoed in my mind as I picked up the phone to make the call that could change everything. His words had been etched into my memory, a cautionary tale of the Sheik's capricious nature and the depths of his cruelty. The green-eyed blond he had spoken of had been a gift from the Sheik, a prize for his loyalty and success. Yet, when the winds of fortune had shifted, so too had the Sheik's favour. When his company began to falter, the Sheik had turned on him without a second thought, allowing his men to violate her in the most heinous of ways. He was charged with her assault, a mockery of justice in a land where the truth was as shifting as the sands beneath our feet. They deported him after he spent twelve hell months in prison.

For months, I had been laying the groundwork, speaking to the lawyer in coded whispers and encrypted messages. She was British, a woman who had built her career on the bones of men like the Sheik. She had a sharp mind and a heart as cold as the steel she wielded in the courtrooms of the world. I had hoped we would never have to use her services, that the Sheik's game would have a peaceful resolution. But now, I knew that hope was as fleeting as a mirage.


—


When I pressed the elevator button to go to her office, my heart pounded like a drum in my chest. The doors slid open, and two men dressed in black, faces as unreadable as the desert sands at midnight, stepped out. They moved with the swiftness of shadows, and before I could react, they were upon me. They zip-tied my wrists, the plastic biting into my skin, and shoved me into the back wall of the elevator. The button with the number 8, the floor where I was meant to find solace, now felt like the gateway to my doom.

Their grips were like steel, unyielding and unforgiving, as they pushed me into the corner and forced a gag into my mouth. The bitter taste of the fabric filled my mouth, and the duct tape sealed it shut, silencing my voice as effectively as the desert swallowed screams. Panic bubbled up inside me, a cocktail of fear and anger that threatened to overwhelm my senses.

The elevator dinged, signalling our ascent to the 8th floor. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the dread that grew within me. The doors slid open, revealing a hallway. They pushed me forward. I could feel the weight of a headset being lowered onto my head, the cups of the earphones sealing off my world, filling it with the cacophony of loud screams. A hood was pushed over my head. The dragged me further, no idea to where.

I was pushed into a chair. The zip-tie was removed, my arms secured to the chair's handrails. The sudden release of tension was jolting, but the firm grip of the men's hands on my shoulders kept me from doing anything more than thrashing futilely. My pants and underwear were roughly yanked down to my ankles, exposing my bare skin to the cool air. My hips pulled almost of the chair, my head hitting the low backrest.

And then, it began. A warm, soft pressure pushed my knees apart, a sensation that was both terrifying and eerily familiar. I felt a pair of hands, delicate and practiced, cup my testicles before a mouth, eager and skilled, engulfed my cock. The sensation was starkly contrasted with the chaotic symphony of screams that filled my ears from the headset. Was it Blossom? Had they forced her to do this to me, to break me further? The thought was a dagger twisting in my gut.

The mouth on my cock was a masterpiece of manipulation, moving with a rhythm that was both gentle and insistent. It was a dance of seduction and control that mirrored the one we had performed countless times in the privacy of my chamber. The wetness, the heat, the softness of the lips—it was a sensation I knew all too well.

As the hood and headphones were ripped away, I was greeted by a world of stark white light from a floodlight aimed at my face, and the discordant symphony of moaning and skin slapping against skin. The cacophony of sound was overwhelming, my ears still ringing from the recorded screams that had filled my world moments before. Yet, amidst the chaos, I found myself looking down at the woman who had brought me such pleasure and such despair. It was the brunette, the one I had fucked during Blossom’s time away from me, another gift from the Sheik, her eyes now locked with mine in a silent, desperate apology.

Her deep brown eyes searched mine, filled with a sorrow that mirrored my own. I knew she was not here by choice, another pawn in the Sheik's twisted game of power and control. Her mouth moved around my cock with the precision of a maestro, her eyes never leaving mine as if trying to communicate a silent message of solidarity. But in this world of deceit, trust was as fleeting as a mirage.

The floodlight's sudden extinguishment plunged the room into a stark, shadowy relief that took my eyes a moment to adjust to. The world swam into focus, and my stomach lurched at the sight before me. There was the Sheik, a monstrous figure in the dimness, his naked form a grotesque silhouette. His cock was buried to the hilt in Blossom's ass, her body bent over a low table, her hands tied behind her back. A sadistic grin stretched across his face, his eyes glinting with the malicious delight of watching me squirm in the chair.

As my vision cleared, the scene grew more vivid, more horrific. Blossom's face was a canvas of pain and guilt, her makeup streaked with tears and sweat. Her eyes, usually filled with the gentle light of our secret world, were now a tempest of despair, locked onto mine as if pleading for salvation. The sight of her suffering was like a dagger to my heart, twisting with every sickening thrust the Sheik made.

Her mouth, open in a silent scream, was a stark contrast to the delicate, submissive pouts she had given me in passion. The security chief had just pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her saliva and her pain, just long enough for her to see my reaction. The sadistic grin on his face spoke volumes, revealing the depth of his enjoyment in my torment. He knew the power he held in this moment, the power to shatter my world with a single image. He pushed his dick past her lips again.

The other side of the room another scene of other horror, my vision a blur of rage and disbelief. Yet, amidst the chaos, I could not tear my eyes away from the scene before me. My lawyer, the woman I had hoped could be my saviour, my confidante in this twisted game, was now a pawn herself, her dignity and strength stolen from her. The two men, their faces a blur of brutality and lust, held her legs apart, exposing her to the world. One had his cock buried deep in her throat, her eyes watering as she struggled against the intrusion.

Her eyes were wild, her pupils dilated with fear and defiance. She had been so confident, so untouchable in our secret meetings. Yet here she was, her pristine office transformed into a chamber of horrors, her body a battleground for the Sheik's twisted amusement. Her blouse was torn open, her breasts exposed to the cold air, nipples hard with fear and arousal. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, revealing her black lace thong, now torn and discarded on the floor.

The Sheik's grunts grew louder, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. I could see the sweat beading on his brow as he took his pleasure from her, his body moving in a rhythm that was as brutal as it was precise. Her cries grew muffled, the cock in her mouth stealing her voice, leaving her only with the power of her eyes. They pleaded with me, a silent scream for help that tore at my very soul.

The brunette between my legs was relentless, her movements a masterful blend of passion and pain. Her eyes never left mine, a silent apology, a silent promise that she knew how I felt, or so I thought. She was a maestro, playing my body like a fiddle, bringing me to the brink of ecstasy only to pull back at the last second. The agony of being so close and yet so far was a cruel mirror to the emotional torment I was enduring.

The Sheik's pace grew frenetic. He pulled out a small cane and let it crack against Blossom's back with a ferocity that sent shudders through the room. Each strike painted a crimson streak across her porcelain skin, a stark reminder of the power he held over us all. Her eyes never left mine, a silent scream for salvation, a plea for understanding that she had no control over her own body. The security chief's grunts grew louder as he thrust into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with the force of his invasions.

My own body betrayed me, responding to the scene before me. The brunette's skilled mouth and hands coaxed a reaction I didn't want to give them. Yet, the anger and the arousal were intertwined, a volatile mix that left me trembling on the edge of a precipice. I knew that my pleasure was their power, their victory in this sickening game. But I was trapped in the cycle, unable to resist the primal pull of the situation.

Blossom's eyes grew wetter, her screams muffled by the cock in her mouth. Sending waves op please through it. Each cry was a dagger in my heart, each stroke of the cane a reminder of the Sheik's control. I watched as the two men who dragged me in earlier approached the struggling form of the lawyer, their eyes alight with anticipation. They were going to make her suffer, to show me what happened to those who dared to oppose the Sheik. The room was a tableau of depravity, a portrait of power and submission painted in the starkest of strokes.

After, what seemed hours, the cane fell on last time, its crack echoing through the room like the aftermath of a gunshot. The Sheik's body tensed, his grip on Blossom's hips tightening like a vice as he reached his climax. His seed spurted into her, a vile assertion of his dominance that made me want to retch. Her scream was a sound that will haunt my dreams for a lifetime, a shattering of soul that pierced the very fabric of the room.

The Sheik stumbled away from her, his chest heaving with exertion. He wiped his cock with a dismissive gesture before strolling over to where I sat, bound and helpless. He leaned in close, his hot breath a foul whisper close to my ear, he looked at the brunette. "Come, darling," he said, his voice a parody of affection, "my work here is done for now, time for a break and a coffee.” The brunette released me with a sigh, and I felt the coldness of my own failure wash over me as she retreated to his side. She straightened her dress with trembling hands, avoiding my gaze. The Sheik's smile was a knife in my soul, a twisted grin that promised more pain to come. He looked at me and smiled, "See you in a bit." Words I then did not understand.

My security chief, his own lust barely concealed, pulled Blossom from the table. She was too weak to stand, her legs wobbling like a newborn foal's. He dragged her over to me, and the sight of her juices trickling down her legs made me want to weep. A vibrator in her pussy buzzed away, a testament to the depravity of the scene. He pushed her into my lap, and she looked at me with eyes that were once filled with passion, now devoid of any spark of life. It was clear for her what was expected. She lowered her head and began to suck my cock, her movements forced and mechanical, not the expert moves I was used to. Each stroke was a silent scream of her own degradation, and my own heartache. I could feel the weight of her breasts against my thighs, the softness of her skin that had once brought me such pleasure now a prison of despair. The room's air was thick with the scent of sex and fear, a miasma that clung to my soul like a shroud.

The security chief, his own cock thick and angry, kneeled behind her. His grin was a grotesque reflection of the Sheik's earlier in the evening. He pushed the tip of his massive cock against her ass, the slickness of the Sheik's cum acting as a lubricant. With a cruel laugh, he pushed forward, the head of his cock parting her tight sphincter. The sound of her muffled scream, my cock deep in her mouth, was a symphony of pain and degradation that I never wanted to hear again.

The sound of it sliding in and out of her ass, the sickening squelch of the Sheik's cum mixing with her own wetness, filled my ears. Her eyes grew wider, the pain and horror in them a silent scream that I could feel resonating through my soul. Yet, she never broke her rhythm, never stopped her forced seduction of my cock. Her eyes searched mine, desperately seeking a spark of understanding, of redemption.

"How does that feel?" the security chief taunted, his voice a sadistic echo in the room. “How does it feel, knowing she isn’t yours and now she's giving it all to me?"

He withdrew almost completely, the tip of his cock teasing the tight ring of her anus before slamming back in with a vicious force that sent her body jolting into mine. Her muffled scream was a symphony of agony, the sound waves crashing over me like a tidal wave of despair. Yet she never stopped her forced ministrations, her eyes pleading with me, her mouth a silent scream around my cock.

The security chief's smile grew wider with each thrust, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph as he watched me, bound and powerless. "You know," he growled, "I used to save her ass for special occasions, for when you had really pissed off the Sheik. But she was just so... irresistible. Like a fine wine that you can't help but drink before its time."

He laughed, the sound a vile caricature of mirth. "Do you remember the weekly conference calls you used to take, when you thought she was in the bedroom, waiting for you to return to her? Oh, how wrong you were." He pulled out of her, and she gasped, her body trembling with the sudden emptiness. He stepped aside, revealing the glistening mess that coated his cock. "Every single time," he continued, his voice a sneer, "I had her bent over your kitchen table, her sweet ass taking all of me."

The room grew colder, the air thick with the scent of betrayal. I could feel the rage building within me, a volcano threatening to erupt. "And those 'tears' you tasted on her lips," he chuckled, "those were the remnants of my cum, mixed with the sweat of the other men she had to pleasure for me." He gestured to his crotch, where his cock still stood proudly, "Do you want a taste of what you've been missing now?"

"We once had her suck every cock in the office," the security chief continued, his voice a serrated knife that cut through the silence. "A little office party trick, if you will. She was a sticky mess when she was finished, wasn't she?" He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving mine. The thought of her sweet, delicate mouth being used in such a vile way was almost too much to bear..

My body betrayed me again, my cock still hard in her mouth despite the horror unfolding before my eyes. Her movements grew weaker, her body trembling with each thrust, but she never ceased her efforts to bring me to climax. I felt it building, the pressure mounting, a storm that I knew would break at any moment. And when it did, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before—a mix of pleasure and pain that seemed to go on forever.

Blossom's eyes widened in panic as she realised what was happening. But she had lost her rhythm, her mouth full of my cum, unable to swallow fast enough, the moment she took a big breath, almost drowning in my seed. The security chief took advantage of her distress, gripping her hair and pushing her head down onto my still-throbbing cock. Her muffled chokes and gags were a symphony of despair, her eyes bulging with the effort to breathe. The room grew fuzzy around the edges, and I felt a strange mix of power and helplessness as I pumped my seed into her.

Her body writhed in my lap, a silent dance of pain and submission that was both erotic and horrific. Each spurt of my cum seemed to fuel the security chief's sadistic delight, his grunts growing louder as he watched her struggle. I could feel her throat convulsing around me, a desperate attempt to keep from choking. Her eyes were pleading, begging for mercy, but all I could do was watch in horror as she was degraded before me.

Suddenly, he pulled her off of me. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as she fought to fill her lungs. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, her mouth a mess of saliva and cum. The room spun, a kaleidoscope of anger, betrayal, and despair that threatened to consume me. Coughing, trying to expel my juices from her lungs. I felt the warmth of her spit and my own release splatter across my face, a grotesque reminder of the power they held over us.

The two men who had been abusing the lawyer moved closer, the woman's limp body hanging between them. Her once crisp shirt was in tatters, her face a mask of agony. "Say bye bye," they said in unison, their voices a chilling harmony. The woman's head lolled back, eyes glazed over, her mouth open in a silent scream. Sperm was dripping from her chin, a pool of spent male pleasure, mixed with her juices forming on the ground between her legs, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their abuse. "She's going to take a little trip," one of them said, his voice a casual dismissal of the human wreckage before him. "A slow boat to Africa, where she can practice her... skills on some of our less discerning clients." The realisation hit me like a ton of bricks. It was my fault, I had brought her into this.

My security chief, his face a twisted mask of pleasure and malice, slammed Blossom onto the small low table a few feet from where I sat, bound and broken. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping for breath, as his cock remained buried deep inside her ass, my seed dripping from her lips. The sound of wood cracking under the weight of their combined bodies was a symphony of pain that filled the room.

His one hand reached around her waist, finding her clit with a cruel precision that spoke of countless rehearsals of this very act. He began to rub it in quick, merciless circles, the slickness of her juices mixing with the Sheik's cum to ease his way. The other hand found her nipple, twisting and pinching it until she whimpered, the pain a stark counterpoint to the pleasure he sought to coerce from her. "Please, darling," he purred, his voice a vile imitation of affection, "please come for me one more time." His eyes never left mine, his grin widening with every gasp she couldn't suppress.

Her mind had retreated to some distant corner, seeking refuge from the unbearable reality of her body's use. The vibrator, once a buzzing and insidious accomplice to her pleasure, had gone silent, its batteries drained, leaving her filled only with the emptiness of violation. Yet, the security chief's merciless strokes continued, pulling her ass apart with a ferocity that made me want to look away, but I couldn't. Each thrust was a declaration of his victory, a testament to the Sheik's dominion over us all. "Look at her," he jeered, his voice a cacophony of malice. "I am destroying her ass, and she is still coming. She her pussy pulse around her plastic companion”. He laughed as demon, just risen from the deepest pits of hell.

The room grew quiet, the only sounds the slap of his body against hers and the occasional wet gasp she couldn't suppress. Her moans had turned to whimpers, each one a nail in the coffin of my hope. Her eyes had rolled back, showing only the whites, and her body had gone slack, her arms hanging from the ropes that bound her.

"Look at her," the security chief sneered, "so pretty, isn't she?" He was playing with me, enjoying every second of my torment. "But let's not forget who's in charge here," he added, and with a cruel twist of his hips, he emptied himself deep in her ass. He grunted like an animal in heat.

The vile mix of his seed, blood, and feces coated his shaft as he pulled out, a gruesome testament to the depravity of the scene. "Cleanup time," he announced, and without waiting for a response, he stumbled over to Blossom. Her eyes were open but unseeing, her body a broken doll discarded by a cruel child. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so that she was looking up at him, and then at me. He made sure I had a good view.

With a grin that was more of a snarl, he slammed his cock into her mouth, the force knocking the last remnants of consciousness from her eyes. She was nothing more than a receptacle for their lust, a tool for their depraved entertainment.

The goo from the security chief's cock stained her lips, a grotesque parody of the tender kisses we had once shared. He pulled out, and she remained there, suspended in his grip, a marionette with no will of her own. Her once vibrant hair, a cascade of gold, was now a tangled mess, sticky with sweat and semen. He used it to clean his cock, a clear sign his conquest.

When he finally let her go, she crumpled to the floor like a rag-doll, the last vestiges of her strength gone. A pool of blood began to spread beneath her, a stark contrast to the opulent carpet beneath her. Her breathing was shallow, a soft rasp that spoke of unspeakable pain. I could see the blood trickling from her anus, a crimson river that was flowing towards me..

The Sheik walked back in the room. "Don't worry about her," he said, his voice a chilling purr. "They'll fix her up. You saw the photos, didn't you? They've done this before." His words were a knife to my gut, a reminder of the twisted games he played. The brunette who had once brought me such pleasure was now a silent witness to Blossom's degradation, her eyes filled with a horror she dared not show. She remained at the Sheik's side, her arm entwined with his, a silent testament to her fear and submission. A small frightened little smile on he touched up lips. A vision of outward perfection.

"One last thing on the agenda," he said, his tone a cold snap that brought me back to reality. He freed my right hand, placing a stack of papers and a pen before me. "Sign," he commanded, his eyes a bottomless pit of triumph.

The Sheik's victory was complete, and he revelled in it, watching as I, his pawn, scribbled my name across the dotted lines. The papers were a blur, but I knew what they meant. I had signed away everything—my company, my life's work, my future. My old company in a merger with my competitor, a partnership sealed in blood and betrayal, would dominate the market for the next decade. And for what? A fleeting taste of love in a desert of deceit.

When I finished signing, he took the papers with a flourish, a wolfish smile playing on his lips. He had won, and he knew it. "Ah, the sweet taste of victory," he said, almost to himself, "and the bitter taste of defeat." His eyes swept over me, a cold appraisal of his conquest.

"My friend," the Sheik announced, his voice a mockery of warmth, "you are going to get deported now. I've reserved a one-way ticket in coach back to the States for you. Your flight leaves in fifty-five minutes."

"Really, don't worry about our Daisy," the Sheik said, his tone a cold dismissal of the human wreckage at our feet. "oh, yeah that was her name before I changed it to Blossom, you know," he continued.

"Mr. Lee will take good care of her," the Sheik's voice was a serene river of lies. "He's quite the artist. After a week or two with him, she'll be begging for cock again." The Sheik smiled. "He has to do a good job,"he continued with a sneer, "because she's going to be servicing a very... particular clientele. I sold her to a brothel in the tribal region of Iraq." His words were a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the fate that awaited my sweet Blossom. Her eyes met mine, filled with a mix of fear and resignation, as a burly man dragged her from the room. I still don’t know if he really sold her or not. Maybe she is still a part of his stable, playing a new part in one of his twisted games.

That was the last time I ever saw her, my sweet Blossom. The door slammed shut, leaving me with the echoes of her sobs. The Sheik's advisor stepped forward, a smug look on his face. "You see," he said, "you had no idea how much we knew about you. Your love for her was your greatest weakness, and we exploited it. She was never yours to begin with. She was merely a tool." His words were a cold slap of reality, a reminder of the Sheik's grand scheme that had played out before my very eyes.

Five minutes later, the harsh reality of the situation sunk in as the cold metal of the handcuffs dug into my wrists. The Sheik's advisor had a cruel glint in his eye as he shoved me into the backseat of the police car, the only personal space I had left in this twisted world. The fabric of the seatbelt felt like a noose around my neck, a grim reminder of the tightening grip of the Sheik's power. The car's engine roared to life, the vibrations resonating through my body as we sped towards the airport. All I had to my name was the suit on my back and the passport in my shirt pocket. They had even taken my phone, deleted my digital archives and wiping the device clean. No evidence of our love exist anymore.

It dawned on me, my life was over. And my Blossom, my sweet Blossom, gone.

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I write in a style that does not explain everything, some details intentionally left vague, leaving room from for your imagination. Certainly with the women in my stories, you get the broad strokes, so your mind can fill in the details. My favourite movie is “The Usual Suspects” and I use some of the movie’s techniques in my writing.

My stories are based on my own (sometimes twisted) imagination and experiences from my own life, all consensual, I promise. Please let me know what you think.