Blackmailed in Turkey

"Number 23. When I got back it was unlocked. It had been robbed. All my things have been stolen..."

"Which things?"

Emma looked up petulantly. "Everything! Money, credit cards, my passport, air tickets. My phone, camera."

"But you say your room was unlocked?"

"Well, yes. But it wasn't when I left."

"But you are not sure you locked it?"

"Yes! Well, I'm sure I did."

"But you are not certain?"

"Well, not absolutely certain. I mean, I am sure..."

"So it is very possible you left without locking your room?"

"Look. However the person got in, they stole everything. That is what matters!"

"Hmm... But there is the issue of responsibility to consider."

Emma's irritation surfaced. "Look, I don't care who is responsible - the bastard thief is responsible! I just want to get something done about it."

The hotel manager looked down and pondered for a time. Then he looked up.

"So...you cannot pay the bill for your stay?"

"I beg your pardon!" Emma replied sharply. "No! Of course not. Not at the moment, anyway. Like I said: my money and credit cards have gone." Emma could not believe that the bill was the most important thing on the fat bastard's mind.

"Yes, you have told me. And your passport, air tickets and..." He waved a dismissive hand, "...and so on."

"Yes. What are you going to do about it?" Emma shrieked.

The manager lent back, raised his elbows and placed his hands, fingers knotted, behind his neck. Emma noted with revulsion the sweat stains on his shirt under his armpits.

"I am surprised that you think this a matter for my hotel."

As Emma stared incredulously he added:

"What is a matter for my hotel is the issue of your bill."

For a moment, Emma was speechless. Eventually she managed to say:

"This is stupid. Completely stupid..."

The hotel manager simply shook his head.

Emma waived her arms, dismissively. "That's it. I've had enough. I want to report this to the police."

"Indeed. Indeed it might well be. But the matter for the police will be that – and not for the first time, I am disappointed to say – a western tourist has stayed in my hotel, enjoyed my hospitality and then been unable to pay, expecting that some dubious story about 'having been robbed' is enough of an excuse."

Emma's anger forced each word with spleen:

"I...just...don't...fucking...believe...this!"

The hotel manager shook his head with an expression of forced disappointment.

"I understand that you are upset, my dear. But you must also understand my position." With that he stood. He moved around the desk to the ottoman and sat beside Emma. As his bulk settled beside her, she slid away. Turning to her he said:

"Look. This matter is quite unfortunate. But it need not become..." he paused monetarily and narrowed his eyes, "...any more unfortunate than it need be."

"Unfortunate?"

"Yes, my dear. Staying in a hotel, knowing you are unable to pay is a serious matter in my country. Is it not in yours?"

"Look. I can't pay the bill at the moment. But as soon as I get my stuff back, or at least the cards cancelled and replaced, I will be able to pay your goddamn bill." She punched out each word.

"That could take some time. But for the time being, you cannot pay. We are clear on this, yes?"

Emma threw her head back. "Fine, don't worry. I'll contact the police." She said haughtily.

"As I have suggested, this might well become a matter for the police. But I will, of course, insist that you are held in a police cell until the matter of your dept to me is sorted out."

Emma shook her slowly head in disbelief. "What...?"

"That would be a very unfortunate way to deal with this matter, to say the least. I think that we should discuss an alternative." The lecherous grin that spread across the hotel manager's face left Emma in no doubt as to what he had in mind. She stared at him incredulously as he continued:

"You are very beautiful. I would be happy to take a little pleasure in way of payment."

She felt his palm land on her leg, just above the knee. His hand slipped under her sun dress and began to slide up her thigh. She grabbed his wrist and pulled it away as she darted to stand.

"No way! No fucking way!" She cried. The hotel manager looked up at her.

"You surprise me. Many female guests in your position seem quite eager to whore for their bill."

It dawned on Emma that she was being set up. Had he robbed her room? How many times had he...?" Emma dismissed the thought as too bizarre. Angrily she spat:

"You dirty old bastard! Do you think I'd...That I would want to...With you?"

"Well then, there is always the police. The choice is yours. But before you make it, let me tell you a little about our police prison here. Not to the standards you might find in your own country, I am afraid. The guards are poorly paid. One of the few – I think you use the word 'perks' - they have is free access to the female prisoners. I do not think I need add that a beautiful young western girl would be a rare prize for them. I can assure you that you will be gang-raped with utmost vigor. You would be fortunate if they were able to discipline themselves to violating you just one at a time."

Emma's jaw dropped. She could make no words, just a strangled gasp.

I might add that the only thing the guards at the police-prison are known for more than their rapacious sexual appetite is their corruption." The hotel manager grinned. "I think after a few days in their hands you would be begging me to pay for you to be delivered back to me. And that then serving my satisfactions would come as a relief."

Emma let out a gasp of incredulity. "This is disgusting. You are a creepy - old - pervert!" Emma turned and looked towards the elevator. It suddenly dawned on her that without the key that operated it, she was trapped.

He dismissed her insult with a casual wave. "So be it. But be in no doubt, my dear. My influence with the police is high. If you deny me, I will have you taken into custody. They would be very eager to begin your interrogation." Casually, he added, "I hear a strip search is how they usually start..."

Emma stared at him incredulously.

Sharply, he added: "Now sit down!"

She did so, her legs folding as the energy drained from them.

He angled over her. "That's better. I see you are going to be sensible."

Emma knew the dirty old goat had her. That she could not get out of his office and that he could have her taken to prison. She knew enough about the country that once in prison repeated rape by the guards was inevitable.

His next touch paralyzed her with fear. He reached his hand up to her neck, which he began to stroke, quite gently. Then his hand drifted to the top button of her sun dress. Agile fingers swiftly flipped it open. Then the next. He paused to pull the dress open over her shoulders. His eyes fixed on her plump breasts, now so precariously covered by her revealing bikini top.

"No, please, don't...Not this...," she moaned.

"Ahh... So convenient," he sighed as he noticed the string tie holding her bikini top in place. The tip of a plump, brown finger trailed down her breast bone to the thin cord hung in a simple bow between her firm breasts. A quick tug freed the tie. After that, flipping the loose cups to one side to expose her breasts was trivial. Gravity defying, Emma's young ample breasts didn't sag one bit as they stood out proud from her chest. Slightly tanned, with small pink nipples on the soft young orbs complete the teenagers beautiful breasts.

"Oh! Allah has certainly rewarded me today", he giggled as he took her breasts in his palms and moulded her firm flesh like a potter shaping clay. He pinched her nipples hard between thumb and forefingers, forcing them to involuntarily ripen and harden. Emma looked down. His hands looked almost black in contrast to her lightly tanned above and below her tan line creamy, pale flesh. She began to sob.

"Please. Please. Stop now. Stop and I won't tell anyone about this," Emma pleaded.

The hotel manager just laughed and intensified his lustful exploration of her teenage body.

"And say what? Who would believe the lies of a white whore? I would just make sure slander was added to your crimes on the list for the guard's fuck-sentencing."

Tears began to role down Emma's face.

He now reached down with his sweating ugly face, opening his mouth and showing his rotten yellow teeth. Emma almost fainted realizing what his next move was. Pulling her bra further from Emma's tits he took the opportunity of his life en sucked in as much breasts as he could handle. The disgusting feeling of her young breasts getting slobbered by this hideous old man almost paralyzed her as she she stared glassy to the ceiling as the hotel manager sucked ravenously at her nipples, kneading the soft flesh around it. The room got filled with the sound of his licking and sucking at the firm teenage tits, biting her nipples and lapping his tongue all around Emma's soft melons.

"Hmmm so big...so soft...and so firm.. I jerked off at these puppies the moment you stepped into my hotel.."

Emma didn't even hear him, trying to shut herself of as her upper body gets molested by a fat old man.

Pushing his fingers deep into the young flesh, he know let her nipple slip from his mouth and kneads her ripe melons even harder till they started to get soar..

Suddenly he stopped fondling her.

"It looks as if I am doing all the work. I expect more than this as payment for your debt."

With that he reached down under the gut overflowing the waist of his pants, undid the buttons of his fly and, raising his rump slightly, slid then down to his calves. So freed he was able to spread his knees.

Emma saw the straining, olive brown cock spring up like a grotesque, carnal jack-in-the-box. Emma was not experienced, but it was much bigger than any of her boyfriends'. Thick knotted veins ridged its slightly curved shaft. A bloated purple glans, tipped by a raw looking eye completed the monstrous rape-tool. She knew he planned to put it inside her. And with that the contents of the pendulous, wrinkled scrotum now sagging under the weight of his ready sex fluids. Bile rose in her stomach.

"Now, your turn to do a bit of the work."

Emma knew she now had no alternative. Whatever doubt that remained that the dirty old bastard was serious had evaporated. Her mind filled with anticipation of the fate that awaited her in the hands of the guards in a local police cell. She weighed the vile alternatives in her mind. She made a decision. She gripped the shaft in her fingers and started stroking it.

"OK. I'll wank you off, if you want. But only if you'll let me go after."

Emma hoped that this would sate him. Wanking him off was disgusting. But it was better than having him inside her. She had reluctantly masturbated a couple of boyfriends as a consolation prize after denying them full sex while making-out. They had all complemented her on her touch. Remembering the technique she had quickly learned, she built up her pace. Then slowed it, squeezing and slightly twisting the shaft. Then fast again. She repeated the cycle of her pleasure-massage. Soon a thin trickle of liquid began to flow from the eye. Seeing his pre-come start made Emma feel sick; but at least it meant he wouldn't be long now. Her ordeal would soon be over. She steeled herself for the ejaculation she knew (hoped?) would soon splash over her fingers. Now she had to finish it. She hated the idea of freely initiating any part in his use of her, but it had to end. She reached her free hand under his balls, cupped them and began to roll them in her palm. The hotel manager groaned in appreciation at her added attention.

"Good. Very good. You are skilful," he sighed. "Now let us see if your whore-skills are good enough to settle your bill." Emma stopped her strokes suddenly.

"No...," she moaned as the realisation of what he now wanted crystallised.

The hotel manager placed his palm to the back of her neck. He pulled her down, gently, but firmly.

"Suck me," he demanded. "Suck me like the pretty Miss America whore you are!"

Emma's jaw dropped in horror. He pushed her neck harder.

"No...," she groaned softly. "I said I would wank you."

"And I said: Suck it!"

Emma felt nausea well in her stomach. But she knew she had no choice. Catching his eyes, heavy with lust, she gave him a final pleading glance as she reluctantly submitted to him guiding her head to his crotch. Pre-come smeared her lips as she spread them around the swollen head. She began to work it with a smooth, short sucking motion. It was not enough for him. Impatiently he pushed her neck down, hard, and his pulsing shaft filled her mouth until the head pushed to the back of her throat. Her tong caught a salty, sweaty tang. But he filled her throat so much she could not even gag.

As she sucked, she felt him reach back. His hand contacted her thigh and he pulled her legs fully onto the ottoman. He now reached over her back and slipped his hand up her dress. After flipping it up over her waist, his fingers slid along the inside of her thigh and then, with his palm resting over her bum pushed their way between her legs. After a short spell stroking her vulva through the thin fabric of her bikini briefs she felt the fingers slip under the edge of the material. Any moan she made as a chubby finger teased its way into her vagina was strangled by the thick cock in her throat. As she continued to suck, she used her free hand to adjust her open dress top back over her breasts in a futile but determined act of modesty.

"Keep up the hand work as well," he ordered. She did so, now desperate to get her ordeal over with. Even though submission was now beginning to overwhelm Emma, a distant glow of rationality remained. His length meant that even forced to the back of her throat, sufficient man-flesh remained below her lips for her to pump it eagerly with her slim fingers. If she took some control, she might be able to pull her head back as he came. She would get his sperm in her face. But better that than in her mouth.

He began to buck his hips. Holding her neck firm he fucked into her mouth. She felt his muscles tense and knowing he was imminent, she tried to pull her head back. But he had anticipated her. His fingers gripped her neck harder. Her hope of evading his seed fill her mouth vanished as his cock started to pulse; flesh waves forcing her already stretched lips wider. She offered no more resistance as what seemed like endless bursts of sperm fired straight into her throat. For some reason a childhood memory of being forced to swallow a vile tasting medicine shocked its way to the front of her mind.

He relaxed his grip on her neck and Emma was finally able to lift her head up. Her tear stained face was locked in an expression of retching disgust. She forced herself to speak through her now heaving stomach.

"You've had what you want. Now, please...Please, let me go."

"In time. Perhaps when your debt is fully paid." The realisation that her violation was not yet over caused Emma let out another wrenching sob.

"Now, if you would stand, please, miss," he said casually.

Emma felt the little remaining strength she would need for any new resistance slip away from her. She had now given up any hope of denying him his full pleasure. Quietly, she stood and faced him. The partial flaccidness that had immediately followed his servicing of her mouth was brief. His cock was rigid again.

"I think a little entertainment is called for, Miss America!" His face split into a smug grin. "A strip show, if you please!"

Emma would not let him see any more tears. She looked at him defiantly as she stood. Trembling fingers reached down to unfasten the remaining buttons of her sun dress. She opened it, slipped it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her already unfastened bikini top quickly followed. Her breasts still full of his saliva again revealed to his gazing eyes full of lust. She raised a leg and reached for her pump.

"No! Leave your shoes on," he barked.

Emma placed her foot down. Her arms fell limply to her side. What remained of her modesty was now covered by just her bikini briefs.

"Now your panties," he gasped.

Emma reached down to the thin tie-cords that held her briefs in place over her hips. Numb fingers tugged the cords open - left then right. The bikini briefs joined the top and sun dress on the floor. The ghost-V of her panty tan line guided his gaze down to her ripe, young labia. His eyes widened with glee. Emma had only fine, fair pubic hair. But she always shaved completely to wear a bikini. Now her grooming was just a bonus to this animal's lust.

"Allah's rewards are bountiful today! He has prepared you well for me! Now show yourself fully to me."

Emma raised her arms to the top of her head and robotically swivelled her hips for him. To Emma's disgust he started to masturbate, his eyes fixed on her big globes now even more roundly shaped as before with her arms raised above her head. Her firm D cup tits, the conversation starter of all the boys at school, now bare and displayed to the perverted gaze of an old hotel manager.

"Ah...," he sighed, "you do a good whore-dance!"

The hotel manager took his hand from his rigid penis and stood, straining his weight up with his arms. He moved behind her. He placed his hand on her butt, splayed fingers dug into her flesh.

"Now, to the couch."

He pushed her forward. The edge of the ottoman met the front of her calves. She raised her ankles to keel on it. He attended her to his preferred positioning. He pushed her shoulders forward so she leant against the raised back. He reached and grabbed her wrists. Pulling them away from her torso he arranging arms fully stretched along the wooden edge. His hands grasped her hips and pulled them up towards him. For his finale, he pushed her knees under her so her exposed womanhood was fully presented.

The sting of a sudden, slicing blow to her right buttock caused her to squeal. Then his palm delivered another. Then another.

"Come, now. If you want to whore my bill with that pretty white cunt, Miss America, I deserve a good look." Another stroke.

Emma raised her butt. "Good. Now spread your legs wider." Emma did so. Another, harder, slicing stroke caused her to arch her back.

"That is good. Very good." He gasped. Emma could feel his eyes burning into her delicate flesh. She knew what was coming next. She felt him approach her. Her labia were parted as his cock-head eagerly searched for her vaginal opening. It found its moist prize quickly and he slid into her with a single thrust. As he settled into his rhythm, she felt the weight of his gut settle on the small of her back and the dampness of his sweat as he folded himself over her.

Emma soon realised that the one small mercy his sating in her mouth had offered - his quickness - was not to be reoffered. Now he was taking his time. His fuck strokes deep, but leisurely. Better to fully appreciate the unique pleasure of a teenage white girl. His hands now found her butt cheeks. He massaged them roughly. Then his fingers spread and parted her cheeks. The sudden coolness of evaporating sweat told Emma that he was helping himself to a good look at her now fully exposed anus. She groaned as she felt his thumb stroke over her puckered sphincter. No, she thought. Not there! She had never even allowed her boyfriend to touch her there. He had not even tried. After making sure it was moist with her juices his thumb forced its way into her rectum.

Oh, God. Please. Not there. Please, don't let him fuck me there...was the only thought that raced through her mind as he worked her tight ass with his thumb. She almost felt relief as his thrusts into her vagina became more urgent and then, grunting with effort, he finally emptied a fresh load of man- juice deep into her womb.