by Dan Bruce
“Perhaps this might be interesting,” replied Dimitri, holding up a rather strange looking tool.”
“My wife has something like that in the kitchen,” declared David Flashman.
“A meat tenderiser! Yes, it is based on the design, only this version is much larger than the one your wife would use,” enthused Dimitri. “I had it made to my own specifications. As you can see it has a multitude of small pyramids carved on the surface. This is the first time I have used it. Shall we see how well it works?”
“I am impressed, Dimitri, you really are taking to this project like a true devotee of the State – I am proud of you,” said Yuri, flourishing his cigar and Cognac in celebration of his nephew’s ingenuity. “Please proceed and test out the implement on this wretched girl.”
Dimitri puffed out his muscular bare chest at this wonderful praise from his hero, his mentor, his beloved uncle. Then he drew the paddle back and aimed it straight at the middle of the girl’s buttocks. The hundreds of pyramids bit into her already bruised flesh. The girl bucked on David Flashman’s lap and howled out loud, the agony almost too much to bear.
“Yeah gods! That hurt the bitch,” chortled David Flashman. “Do it again, young man – do it again!”
Dimitri was awash with delight and he brought the designer paddle down again and again, smacking one buttock then the other then crashing down on her glistening crack. He paused to allow his uncle’s guest to look down on the effect - her ass was a mess of tiny pockmarks. Dimitri looked at the face of David Flashman. The man was totally enthralled, his eyes transfixed to the ass on his lap. Dimitri brought the paddle crashing down again and again and the girl screeched in utmost agony.
Dimitri looked over to his uncle who gave him a nod.
Enough!
Yes, perhaps that was enough.
“You must excuse me, my dear friend,” announce Yuri as he stood up and patted David Flashman on the back. “Important matters of state demand my attention. I must leave you now, but please, stay here a while. I am sure your report can wait for a few more minutes... or hours! I know what studs you Englishmen are. Take your pleasure of this bitch in whatever manner you choose. Then return to your embassy and do what you must. Personally I would wait for a few days before concerning the ambassador with any details. Everything may get resolved without the need for fuss. Goodbye, my friend - till we meet again.”
Chapter 6
The two Mordavian policemen came for Vicky a few hours after she had been returned to her cell. It would be fair to say that when they arrived, she was a mixed up bag of emotions!
The day had brought at least one silver lining - Natalie was safe and well. It was such a relief to Vicky when she saw her younger sister and heard her say she was being treated properly. Vicky had feared the worst after her own ordeal – sure that poor Natalie would be traumatised if she had received similar treatment.
But that relief was drowned by the fury that raged over her meeting with David Flashman, who had questioned her integrity and basically accused her of lying, when it was only economy of truth she was guilty of. Vicky thought he was a pathetic little man – an embarrassment to Britain as one of its representatives abroad, and hardly the person you’d want in your corner when facing someone like Yuri Karinov.
Then her fury turned to a sense of impotence as she absorbed the reality of her situation. Her story did sound ridiculous, and whilst she was sure her family and friends would believe her, those people in power, both in Mordavia and the United Kingdom, would find it difficult to accept her word against that of the chief of police. Even Natalie had looked at her incredulously when Vicky had disclosed the details of her oral violation – and quite rightly so – it did sound far-fetched. Although not quite the ordeal she had made it out to be – and there lay the real emotional conundrum.
It was wrong! No line of argument could ever be made to convince Vicky that what they did wasn’t a hideous crime. But there could be no denying either that it had been one heck of an experience: to be used and abused by the Karinov men. Vicky couldn’t get it out of her head. Fury raged at the injustice that was being done; and impotence mocked at the inevitability of it all. But cutting through this was the unquestionable fact that despite being so wrong, it was an amazing event – fantasy sex made scarily real, and all the more intense as a consequence.
God what a pair those bastards were! Forget the other guy who was no more than a bit player – it was all about the Karinovs, in particular the uncle, Mordavia’s chief of police. Vicky tried to blank it out, but alone in her cell, memories ran riot: the authority they yielded and power exuded; the physical splendour of the two big brutes; the ability to pleasure and the climaxes they gave. It all added up to an intoxicating mix – if only the circumstances were different then she might have truly revelled in it all.
But they weren’t! She was held in prison, wrongly accused – accused of a crime that carried a death penalty. The Karinov men might be sexual gods, but they had to be seen in context. And where Vicky was concerned – that was mightily disturbing. Her future was looking very bleak.
Fortunately she was not left to contemplate this for very long before two policemen came for her.
The Mordavian officers, gentlemen that they were – two brutes with simian faces and probably brains to match, held Vicky roughly by the arms and dragged her out of the cell. Determined to resist and not act like a slut again, Vicky screamed and kicked but to little effect, as they bundled her along the dank dark corridor past the other pitiful prisoners that were held captive in the cells. Then still impotently fighting, she was ushered down a flight of stone steps that led to the dungeon – a scary place seeped in the history of pain.
Dressed in a fresh uniform, the chief of police was waiting at an old oak door - a smug smile sitting on his mature rugged face. Unable to resist, Vicky took on board again his impressive size. He was a tower of a man, at least six feet four in height and as impressively broad as he was tall. His face was stern and foreboding, chiselled Slavic features, the blackest of black eyes and the cruellest of pink lips – infuriatingly fine in Vicky’s opinion. As was the thing he packed in his pants – everything about the man screeched raunchy virility – frightening, yet so enticing – even to a girl who he threatened to legally kill.
Standing beside the chief stood the equally impressive young lieutenant. Rather vainly, he had stripped to the waist for today’s encounter - and despite her annoyance, Vicky couldn’t help but admire his incredible physique - the broad manly shoulders that supported his bullish neck, the smooth and incredibly muscular chest, the shapely pecs crowned with large dark nipples that stood out like pointed cones, and the rippling six pack stomach with its dainty little navel. He was glistening with sweat which added to the horny effect, and he had such a handsome face - strong and masculine – the same features as his uncle, though not quite as cruel.
No question about it - they made for a formidable pair, in every respect. Once again the conundrum of Vicky’s emotions raged on seeing these men again. Under different circumstances she would have thrown herself at both of them, but being in a dungeon, held as their prisoner on trumped up charges, knowing the abuse they were capable of, gave life a rather different perspective. It was fury rather than lust that poured from her eyes as she gazed at each in turn. Resolve hardened with the reality of her plight, and she vowed that today she would not act the slut, no matter how much pleasure they threw at her body. An interesting stance considering where she was – in a scary dungeon, at the door to a torture chamber, where pleasure historically has been rather one sided, and it wasn’t the prisoner who had all the fun.
“Take her in and hang her up!” the chief ordered, intent on making a start, knowing that fun would definitely be his. He had been down here before plenty of times! It was his favourite part of the building.
Vicky was manhandled through the door and into the chamber which was illuminated by flaming torches fixed along the walls. She looked around
the room with trepidation, her eyes first absorbing the wealth of equipment on display, scary looking stuff which may well have had a role to play in the Spanish Inquisition from the antique appearance. There were stocks of varying design and a rack which looked perfectly functional, a thick post with hooks that was clearly meant for whipping and an ominous looking large wheel. Of more modern design were a leather padded bondage table and a desk with a couple of chairs.
Looking beyond this Vicky noted that the walls were adorned with a range of instruments interspersed between the torches. Hanging from wrought iron hooks were whips, canes, paddles, floggers, straps, and crops of every description. There were glass fronted cabinets at the bottom of the walls containing even more hideous instruments of pain. One wall was different, however, for in the centre of that, with a torch to each side, was fixed a vertical X-frame rack which looked very frightening indeed.
Compelled by a morbid curiosity, Vicky glanced up to the ceiling. It was criss-crossed by thick wooden beams from which hung a variety of chains, shackles, hooks, ropes, and pulleys. There was also a metal bar on a chain with handcuffs at each end, and it was to here that Vicky was directed.
One after the other her hands were cuffed then the bar was hoisted using a pulley so that her arms were stretched painfully upwards and the metal cuffs dug into her wrists. Her feet were raised slightly off the ground, only the toe of her shoes made contact with the dungeon floor.
The two policemen leered at her sadistically once they had got her into position, and taking advantage, having been given permission, they gratuitously groped Vicky’s tethered body: her bosom was fondled, her nipples severely pinched; hands clutched roughly at the swell of her ass, going under her dress to feel the bare flesh; the same happened at her front, hands groping her cunt, although her sex wasn’t entered as that wasn’t allowed – Yuri having drawn a clear line for his men that fell short of penetration.
With eyes wide open, Vicky watched as the two policemen finally backed away and the chief came to stand before her. For the first time she saw real anger on his face, which given her state of helpless bondage, didn’t bode well in the slightest.
“I understand you made some complaint about your treatment, Miss Fullerton. I think that was very foolish of you.”
“You bastard!” hissed Vicky, then she spat in his face – an act of defiance she quickly regretted.
WHACK!
The blow came suddenly. Like a flash Vicky was struck hard across the side of her face by the flat of the chief’s hand, her head jolted to the side.
WHACK!
She was still reeling from the first strike when a second hit her equally as hard, a backhanded blow to the other side spinning her head in the opposite direction. Then a hand grabbed hold of the top of her dress and pulled violently at the material ripping it apart. The chief tore at the light cotton, pulling it from her body, casting the rag aside, leaving Vicky in her bra and panties.
“As I said, you have acted foolishly and will now pay for your actions,” Yuri nonchalantly informed her. “This ‘old man’, as you kindly called me, is going to teach you a lesson and instil some respect... You will also confess to your crime!” he brightly added, almost as an afterthought. “I have the document here on the desk. You do not need to read it, just sign and admit to your wrong doings.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vicky replied, summoning up all the courage she had left. “What is there to confess? I was given a package and stupidly didn’t open it to see what was inside. I have done nothing wrong.”
Yuri ran his hand over the swell of Vicky’s left breasts then pulled on the cup of her bra so the breast popped out and hung free. He toyed with her nipple, squeezing it to a pleasurable degree, arousing it to hardness.
“The captain of the sailing boat has already admitted he gave you the package when he took you out to sea four days ago,” Yuri stated whilst toying with Vicky’s tit. “You were to deliver it to his contact in London. Unfortunately that man has evaded the British police who are not as efficient as my own hand picked force. Your confession is waiting for your signature. Sign it now and I will be lenient.”
“Never!” yelled Vicky.
The chief smiled at her defiance, savouring the challenge, relishing the approach the young woman was adopting, for it would add to his own sadistic pleasure as he wore her down and crushed her will.
“An unfortunate response!” said Yuri. “This will pain me as much as you, Miss Fullerton. But it is my duty to extract the confession. There are ways to make you sign the document. This room has many devices that have proved their worth in that respect over the years. Why endure the pain?”
“I’m innocent and you know it.”
Yuri shrugged his shoulders at this piece of irrelevance. “That is a matter between you and me only – for the rest of the world, I need the confession.”
“Then you sure as hell aren’t getting it!”
The chief smiled at Vicky, delighted at the spirit she was showing. Then Yuri took out his penknife from his pocket. He flicked it open and held it up to Vicky’s cheek. The blade was slowly dragged along her skin with precision force so that the flesh was grazed but did not cut, over her throat then down her sternum between her heaving breasts. Building the suspense, he held it there, twisting the blade then he jerked it downward and cut through her bra. It split apart and Vicky’s other breast spilled out. Then a few more slices and the bra was off her – it fell to the ground as Vicky whimpered and sucked in some air. It was the first breath she had taken since the knife made contact with her skin.
“You will confess, Miss Fullerton. You will sign the document and admit to your crime. And aside from that, as punishment for your foolish accusations to my dear friend, Mr. Flashman, you will beg me to fuck you... fuck you up the ass. That part I’m sure will be an enormous pleasure for you, for I know you have been anally penetrated before – though I would be surprised if you have ever accommodated a cock such as mine in that dark place. It will be an agony if I enter you brutally... Sign the document then welcome me to your body and I will show mercy by easing myself in... Oh, and I’ll also spare your life when it comes to the sentencing. Trust me – I have the power to dictate what happens in these cases. As I said to you yesterday – I am the Law in Mordavia.”
“You sick bastard,” Vicky hissed in response. “Abuse me if you want, but I will never beg you to do it. And I will not sign that bloody confession!”
“We shall see.”
The chief burned his captive felon with the intensity of his gaze as he said this, enjoying the challenge she was determined to set. Then he leered at Vicky’s naked breasts and grinned as he flicked a finger across a hardened Scottish nipple. Chuckling to himself, please at Vicky’s obvious arousal, the chief turned and melted into the shadows of the torture chamber to return a few moments later with a variety of clamps in his hand and a short multi-lashed whip draped casually over his broad shoulder. His bare-chested lieutenant and the two police thugs stood eagerly behind him leering at their stubborn victim.
“Strip her and shackle her legs,” ordered the chief; then turning to his nephew he handed him the clamps. “Here Dimitri, I shall give you the honour of assisting me. You know what to do with these.”
The two police thugs carried out the chief’s order and pulled off Vicky’s shoes then removed her panties. She struggled throughout, determined to fight with every drop of energy, but her existing bonds and the policemen’s greater strength made it inevitable she ended up naked. When her panties were eventually ripped from her body, the policemen both moaned when they saw her naked shaved pussy, and roughly fingered her, spreading the lips apart so they could gaze at her inner sex. Then they kicked Vicky’s legs apart and shackled them at the ankles to metal rings that were cemented in the floor. The task complete, they reluctantly withdrew into the shadows of the chamber where they would watch the proceedings, hoping to be called back into action again.
Yuri Karinov came and
stood at Vicky’s side. He removed the whip from his shoulder and ran the wooden handle along Vicky’s cunt slit.
“Such a lovely little pussy,” he growled into her ear. “I very much enjoyed playing with it yesterday: so moist and receptive – snug and tight around my fingers. It handled the frigging well. But do you think it could handle the entirety of my cock? Your mouth and throat certainly managed to take it, so I reckon there’s a good chance. Something we’ll know for sure before the day is done...”
Yuri paused, allowing it to sink in – this clear an unequivocal statement, that whatever happened, he was going to fuck her. Vicky had known this was the case – of course he was going to fuck her, but verbalising the fact made the reality so stark. Once again the conundrum raged – fury versus the desire for consummation with this man who now plagued her mind and inflamed her body - hating him and wanting him, and having no control whatsoever over what he might or might not do.
Yuri smiled, seeing all this. Like a fortune teller, he could see the future – the only questions lay over the exact path she would take: a thorny one by the looks of things – which was very much to his tastes. As was the next topic he next raised...
“...But what about your ass?” Yuri asked as he curled the handle round between Vicky’s wide spread legs to prod at her exposed anal pucker. “That might be a little trickier without a lot of preparation... Confess now, and I promise to make the fuck pleasurable for you. Beg me to bugger you, and I will do it considerately. Beg me to take you as my enslaved whore as punishment for your crime.”
“Go to hell!” Vicky hissed, now seeing the future as well – he wanted to turn her into his sex slave! There was no chance she would ever agree to that.
Yuri mockingly shook his head, knowing how wrong his prisoner was. “Dear oh dear, such a silly young woman... Dimitri! Our guest needs a little persuasion - go to work on her cunt.”