I’m lucky. Unlike thousands trapped in slavery I got away

“Then I saw the little red lights on the cameras and heard the soft grinding of the tapes and I realised her killing was being filmed.

“I see her often in my dreams – my nightmares. I see again the look of uncomprehending panic in her eyes as the man raises the gun and the sticky, warm bit of flesh and bone explode from her shoulders as the bullet tears into her head.

“I even hear clearly through the ensuing silence the sound of a single empty cartridge clattering on the stone floor of the warehouse.”

Sarah, now 42, is one of thousands of British women forced into the sex trade every day.

Yet she was one of the first to tell the world what had happened to her.

Her horrifying ordeal is chronicled in her memoir Slave Girl, which is reissued this month.

The Thai girl’s murder is far from the only harrowing scene burned in Sarah’s memory from those terrifying days in the late 1990s.

She remembers seeing the severed head of a pimp’s rival lying metres from his body after a bitter dispute over control of women forced into prostitution like her.

Some nights, the men would force the girls to play Russian Roulette so t hey could snigger at the terror on their faces as they were made to pull the trigger.

Sarah would later give evidence against her captors. Yet during those deadly games, rather than hoping for justice she simply prayed for death.

“Each time I brought the revolver up to my head and the trigger clicked on an empty chamber I felt cheated,” she said. “Why did the gun not fire, emptying its little load of lead into my temple? Why couldn’t my brains be spewed all over the warehouse floor? Why couldn’t I have the blessed relief of instant death?” Sarah travelled to Amsterdam in the mid 1990s after replying to a newsp newspaper ad for a qualif qualified nursery nurse to w work in the city.

In fact, it had b been placed by h hardened UK criminal John Reece.

He met her at S Schipol Airport, st stole her passport an and within minutes pu put a gun to her mouth mouth.

“Th “The moment I walked off the plane and into the arrivals hall something didn’t feel quite right,” she said. “The words ‘Don’t do this!’ screamed soundlessly inside me.

“John told me if I made one wrong move I’d be dead.”

Within weeks he had forced her to work in a brothel. She explained: “After the first time, I started to shake uncontrollably.

“My whole body shuddered in great heaving waves and I felt as if I was falling off the world and into some dark, endless void.

“I wasn’t Sarah Forsyth any more. That Sarah was dead and gone, smothered by the shame of the new Sarah I was becoming – Sarah the hooker.”

The girls survived on a handful of M&M’S a day for food and clung to each other crying tears of hunger.

A month later, Reece sold Sarah to a notorious Yugoslavian pimp who kept her in a house full of dogs and expected her to see 18 men a night.

The only thing which numbed the pain was crack cocaine.

Soon she developed a crippling addiction which cost hundreds of pounds a day.

It made her even more reliant on the men who enslaved her.

She said: “My first real love affair – the first time I’d given myself totally to anyone or anything in my