Nordic Bound

by Henry Morgan

  She peeled back his foreskin and took his prick between her lips. Even in the rank hellhole of Lubyanka she could smell his unwashed genitals. Hygiene was obviously not one of his strong points – but sex evidently was.

  His cock grew rapidly and to an enormous size. Sabrina sucked avidly, desperate to end the ordeal. In return he bent and roughly squeezed her breasts, and she responded by increasing her action, hoping to bring him off quickly. She felt him tense and his cockhead swell, but he pulled out of her mouth in order to pick a lump of bread. She wondered at his behaviour, but he pulled her face back towards his prick and she was forced to continue fellating him.

  A few moments later she sensed the familiar swell and again she was pushed away, but this time the monster continued to stroke himself until he ejaculated strings of gluey sperm onto the bread. Immediately understanding his intent she looked at him with contempt, but was forced to accept it. The leering brute indicated for her to eat it, reluctantly she pushed it into her mouth, and he grinned broadly as he watched the new prisoner chew on the coated dough, then he put his hand behind her neck and pushed her head to the floor.

  As Sabrina continued to eat with her bottom raised he took a lump of cheese out of the bucket and pushed it into her vagina. He then left a steel cup of water on the floor, stepped back to admire his sculpture, and left.

  Sabrina removed the cheese and sat back against the wall. It wasn’t the best dinner she had been served, but it was probably the most welcome. She scraped away some mould from the cheese, placed it on the sperm-soaked bread, and ate it. In a few more days, she thought to herself, she would have the brute eating out of her hands, just as she had done with Justin. She would suck and fuck him like he’d never been sucked and fucked before. She would become his favourite, and for the second time since arriving at Lubyanka she smiled, then drank to wash down her meal.

  Only then did she realise that the brute had pissed in the water.

  The click of the door echoed through the apartment, waking Justin and startling him enough that he contemplated hiding, but the sight of Catherine entering the bedroom allayed his fear. In the light from the passageway he saw that she had already removed her skirt and was wearing just a pair of knee length boots, a mohair jumper and a pair of black knickers; not a particularly sexy pair, but on Catherine any item of clothing became erotic. She saw he was awake and dropped onto the bed, where she sat against the headboard and lit a joint of marijuana.

  ‘Where did you get that from?’ he asked.

  ‘Viktor.’

  ‘You’ve been to the club?’

  ‘Of course.’ She took another hit and slumped down before handing Justin the spliff. He took it from her, propped himself up on one elbow and sucked. The smoke was relaxing.

  ‘I made dinner,’ he sulked.

  Catherine looked at him. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘Nice?’

  ‘Not really.’ He returned the joint after another hit. ‘Anything happening in the great outdoors?’

  She blew a smoke ring towards the bedroom ceiling and pushed her finger through the middle of it before wafting it away with her hand. ‘They look for you still. Gorky said to police that there was a man and a woman. I see they look for you. There are men I haven’t seen before. They want us to think they are here for the festival but they do nothing but walk and watch.’

  Justin flopped onto his back and entwined his fingers behind his head. ‘Shit, how am I going to get out of here?’

  She took a last draw out of the joint and stubbed it out, and then she lifted her leg into the air and unzipped her boot. ‘You stay here until they are fed up. Then I will get you home.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Viktor will do it,’ she answered, and pulled off her top.

  He admired her breasts and added sarcastically, and not a little jealously, ‘Yeah, I bet he will.’

  ‘He has many friends,’ Catherine continued. ‘And he is very powerful. He is trying to find out what has happened to your friend Sabrina.’

  ‘Why should he do that?’

  Catherine turned over to lie on her tummy, picked up another joint from the bedside table and lit it. ‘Because I asked him to, and because he likes me.’

  Justin grew concerned. ‘You don’t have to do anything for me. You’ve already done more than I should ask.’

  She swung her feet in the air in an almost childlike manner and continued to smoke. ‘I know I don’t have to,’ she told him. ‘But I want to. I like you. But you won’t be here forever. So I do this thing for you now. And Viktor will help.’

  ‘I know his sort. He’ll want something back in return.’ Justin reached for the joint and hoped she recognised the sincerity in his voice.

  ‘What do you think, that Viktor is a monster?’

  Justin sat up in the bed. ‘I know he sells drugs. I know he has apes for bodyguards, so he’s obviously up to no good.’

  Catherine laughed and kicked her feet again. ‘And you,’ she said. ‘You who have chased a friend – not an enemy, a friend – to Russia, tricked a Russian captain, and no ordinary one at that, to give you a truck, and shoot at people in the street. You… you are a good man?’ She destroyed him with logic.

  ‘But I am a good man,’ he insisted.

  ‘Do I say again?’

  Justin shook his head. ‘Point taken. But it doesn’t stop me being uneasy about you asking for favours on my behalf.’

  Catherine pulled the sheets down just past Justin’s groin. His cock reclined there, limp and without intent. ‘I think you are jealous of Viktor,’ she told him. She flicked his penis with a finger. It jumped to rest on his right thigh before slowly returning to its natural position on his left. She flicked him again. ‘You think Viktor wants to fuck me? You think I should not fuck him back, don’t you?’

  Justin knew he was on dodgy ground and had no right to demand anything. ‘It’s not for me to say,’ he answered meekly. ‘I hardly know you.’

  Catherine took the joint away from him and sucked on its root. ‘That is right,’ she said indignantly. ‘You hardly know me and yet I help you. I ask for nothing from you. But you… you take my help and want to control me.’ She rolled over onto her back and Justin marvelled at her slim frame, her flat tummy and her lovely breasts. ‘You are not fair, Justin.’

  He had gone too far and he knew it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I have no right—’

  ‘But I like the way you worry,’ she interrupted him. ‘It makes me feel wanted.’ She stared dreamily at the ceiling. ‘But I must not be a fantasy.’

  Justin smiled at her choice of words. ‘Too late for that,’ he told her, and she looked at him with a confused expression. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was just being silly.’

  ‘I know you will go and I will still have a life here, so I must remember to keep my friends, or I will end up alone.’ Once again her logic was flawless. She extinguished the second joint, stood up shakily and removed her knickers. She was a beautiful sight and Justin knew that among all the trouble he was in, he was still with the most gorgeous girl in the Arctic and for that he counted his blessings. He moved across the bed and pulled back the sheets so that Catherine could join him.

  ‘Mmm,’ she purred. ‘You are nice and warm.’

  ‘And you,’ said Justin, ‘are so fucking hot.’ He lifted the bedclothes and ducked underneath them in search of her neatly trimmed sex. He loved the way she had shaved off all but the smallest line of pubic fur while underneath, between her slim and smooth legs, she was completely denuded. He found her familiar lips and poked gently with his tongue. She was wet, and there was a definite wave of heat emanating from her. He moved his nostrils closer and breathed in the musky odour of her, and when his head was swimming with the sweet scent of her vagina he lifted his head and spoke.

  ‘You know, I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known. Be
autiful, yes, but not just in that good-looking sort of way,’ he continued. ‘I mean, beautiful inside.’ He patted his chest, just above his heart.

  Catherine accepted the compliment with a smile, then pushed his head beneath the sheets. ‘Shhhh,’ she cooed. ‘No talk… you are busy.’

  Chapter 9

  The constant lap of the water on the hull of the Piroshka seemed to David to be as cruel as any Chinese water torture. He had endured it for many nights as the small boat traversed the North Sea, bobbed across the Skagerrak and pitched, rolled and yawed its way over the Kattegat and into the Baltic.

  Some of the storms had been terrifying for David, chained as he was below decks. On more than one occasion he had felt the boat roll so far over he never expected it to right itself. But every time it did and a great sense of relief washed over him as powerful as the very waves surging against the sides of the old trawler.

  The few times Sabrina had ordered Justin to give David some exercise he had felt like a condemned man reprieved as the axe began to fall. As wonderful as it was to walk the decks and see Copenhagen fade in the dying light of a northern sky, he had considered throwing himself into the black icy waters to escape the clutches of his tormentors. Sabrina, though, had seemed to read his mind; maybe she had seen him staring at the waves, waiting to choose the one that would take him to the mud in one great sweep of spray and foam. She had barked out her orders again and Justin brought up a small chain that she connected to the guiche ring just behind his balls. The other end she connected to a cleat and David was left in fear of losing his feet and tearing his scrotum. As he concentrated on timing his body to move with the boat he saw Sabrina with a triumphant grin that said she had beaten him; that she was his mistress; that he was broken.

  ‘Bitch!’ he screamed through the leather strap covering his mouth. ‘Bitch! You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch, you fucking bitch! You…’

  ‘Wake up. Wake up, plish. You are dreaming.’ Teena began to shake him, slowly at first because she didn’t want to irritate him. But as his distress grew she decided to risk his anger and shook him violently. David sat up with a start, his face streaming with sweat. Teena draped her arms around his neck and held him tight. He appreciated that.

  ‘You dream again,’ she told him. ‘You always dream. Bad dreams.’

  David squeezed his Lapp girl and Mishka joined the two in a three-way embrace.

  ‘No more dreams,’ Teena added.

  David stared at the porthole. It was a black circle; nothing shone through it, no distant lights, no moon, no stars. Nothing to say they weren’t floating in space, except the familiar lap of the water.

  The door opened and interrupted the moment. It was Leonid. ‘We are clear,’ he said. ‘No more worries.’ He indicated for them to follow him. ‘Come with me. My brother Nicholas, he wants to see you.’ David stood and Leonid added, ‘bring the girls.’

  As they made their way forward David mentioned his concern that Leonid had joined his brother’s ship.

  ‘My ship is in dry dock,’ Leonid answered. ‘We don’t sail for two, maybe three weeks. So I come along for the ride with my brother, the captain.’ He smiled broadly and put his arms around the girls. ‘Up the steps,’ he continued. ‘The bridge is there.’

  Nicholas was waiting when they entered the bridge, a shadowy figure sitting motionless on a high chair and wrapped in a large serge coat despite the warmth that was being generated by the numerous instruments. It was the light from various dials and screens that illuminated the room; outside it was pitch black, but occasionally a flurry of foam spat against the windows that ran the width of the ship. Leonid said something in Russian and Nicholas replied, before rising from his chair and pulling his staring eyes away from their search of the darkness.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said. He extended a hand of greeting but remained in front of his chair, and resumed his scan over the sea. David moved across and took his hand, and then joined the captain in surveying the water without knowing why.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Very good,’ answered Nicholas. ‘I am watching for the Northern Fleet. They are exercising in the area. The subs have hit more than one ship in my time on the seas. Some have come up right under the boat and turned her over.’

  ‘That’s a comforting thought for bedtime,’ David said, with a grim smile.

  The captain smiled back and added, ‘If the sea has a special time for you then she will come one day, and you must go.’ He returned to his seat and picked up a mug of hot chocolate. ‘Until then it is best to keep an eye open and not steal someone else’s place.’

  A quiet moment of contemplation descended and all eyes on the bridge peered out through the thick glass. No one was even aware that just fifty feet below them and a hundred yards behind, hidden in the cavitation of the Olga’s propellers, the typhoon class Kudryavtsev was trailing and using them as a training target.

  Leonid took the girls to the map area at the rear of the bridge and poured everyone a mug of chocolate. The girls handed one to David and a fresh one to Nicholas, then they collected their own and went to stand near the windows. It was the first time the two had been on such a large ship, apart from the wreck they used for a camp on their way to Murmansk.

  ‘You have something for me?’

  David pondered for a moment, and then realised Nicholas meant money. He pulled out the fat wad of roubles he had taken from the sailors at the Engels club and divided it up. He gave the one half to Nicholas and returned the rest to his pocket.

  ‘Thank you. And the rest.’

  Those were the words David was dreading, if expecting. He shrugged and pulled out the now smaller roll of notes.

  ‘Please,’ said the captain. ‘You misunderstand.’ He nodded towards the unsuspecting girls, who were looking silently out at the sea. ‘Leonid told me you had such fun in Murmansk. You shared the girls with other sailors. That was very good.’

  David sighed with relief. The Barents Sea on a stormy night is no place to discover your captain is no more than a pirate. ‘I see,’ said David. ‘Do you have a preference?’

  ‘A preference?’

  ‘One or the other.’

  The captain surveyed the girls’ bottoms and allowed his eyes to travel the strong curves of their backs. ‘Perhaps both,’ he said.

  David would have smiled had he not been so tired. Instead, he gave a nod to indicate he understood and called the girls over. They responded immediately and gathered in front of the captain, where they seductively sipped their chocolate. He was pleased and spoke to Leonid.

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Both,’ was the reply.

  The captain rose from the chair that dominated the bridge and wrapped an arm around each girl’s waist. He pulled them close and the sisters held hands behind his back. Nicholas walked them to the window and all three stared out into the blackness, and the quiet was broken by a plume of spray breaking against the window like some enormous ejaculation. The girls jumped at the power and sound of the water thumping against the glass, and a second later it had all run away in tiny rivulets of foam and the darkness returned. Teena and Mishka squeezed the captain tighter, and he responded by smoothing his hands over their tight curves until he reached the perky swell of their buttocks.

  Looking at the flickering lights from a small fishing village on Ostrov Kolguyev, Nicholas spoke. ‘The men know you are aboard.’

  ‘Is that bad?’ David asked.

  ‘It might be. They have heard the rumours about an incident in Murmansk. The police are after some people. They speak English. You speak English. The men think there may be something in it for them.’

  ‘I have very little money left,’ said David.

  ‘Then you must find some other way to pay them.’

  ‘With what?’ The captain squeezed the warm flesh in his hands, and David smiled, wondering wh
y he even needed to have asked such a pointless question.

  ‘I shall send them down to the crew’s mess when I have finished with them,’ Nicholas decreed. ‘Now you may leave the bridge.’

  A piercing scream followed by a terrifying laugh prompted Sabrina into the position she thought best to greet the brute. Lubyanka’s most infamous gaoler was doing his morning rounds, and that included pleasing himself with the female prisoners.

  Disgusted and frightened by him though she was, Sabrina knew she had to find a way to get through to him. The door of the adjoining cell closed with a loud clang and was followed by a stream of shouting and screaming; no doubt the woman was hurling obscenities at what he had just done. Sabrina had no way of knowing and she couldn’t understand the language, but what she did understand was the sound of the key in her cell door.

  The loathsome brute appeared in the doorway, blocking it completely with his massive bulk. His presence was made all the more frightening by his menacing stance. He was hunched over, and his face carried with it the promise of violence.

  Despite this, Sabrina pulled the mattress in front of him and laid back, naked, her knees apart. The brute released a low guttural groan and descended upon her like some feasting Nosferatu. He had no fangs with which to penetrate, having lost most of his teeth to poor dental hygiene, but what he did have was a cock that was comparable in size to his massive bulk.

  His shapeless mass crushed her breasts and he made no attempt to support his own weight. He liked to see and feel the girls struggle beneath him, gasping for air as he pounded into them. Sabrina spread herself as far as her legs would allow, granting him deeper access, which his turgid penis took with increasing presence.

  ‘You feel great,’ she said straight into his face, and ignoring his foul breath she added, ‘you feel like a real bull.’ His lips sagged in a wet grin and he increased his efforts, and as uncomfortable as Sabrina was on the torn, soiled mattress, and as disgusting as the man-mountain was grinding on top of her, she managed to feign pleasure, hoping to please him. ‘You fuck like an animal,’ she whispered, smiling grimly. ‘And you stink like one.’ He kept grinning. ‘You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you? You stinking shit of an excuse for a human.’