23.
Stan took a long sip of his bourbon and put his arm around Barb, pulling her close. She took a sip of her Riesling. They gazed out across the valley, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun sank behind the mountains at their back and the lights in the houses below near the river came on one by one.
“I would have bet a lot of money that I’d never see this place again,” he said.
“Same here,” Barb added. “I don’t know whose fate would have been worse.”
“It’s hard to imagine you as the sex slave of some potentate, maybe part of a harem with God knows how many others.”
“I know you, Stan,” Barb said, “You’re imagining YOU’RE the potentate, deciding which woman or group of women from the harem you want tonight.”
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“I am not,” he replied.
“Yeah, right,” Barb said, laughing.
“OK, maybe just a tiny bit,” Stan admitted. Barb punched him in the arm. “Ow!” Stan yelled.
“But, seriously,” he continued, “I wonder if you would have kept your fighting spirit, no matter what punishments they dished out, or would you have eventually submitted?”
“It’s hard to say,” Barb replied. “No one really knows how they would act until they’re actually faced with the situation for real. I suspect Alex’s client wanted me because he figured it would be a challenge to break me. I’m guessing he had a whole array of punishments planned.”
“You’re probably right,” Stan allowed. “And hopefully you would have made him use them all.”
Barb shrugged. “I was disappointed in myself for how quickly I broke under those electroshocks and gave them my bank info. But the pain was so awful and I knew they’d just go on and on and I’d give in in the end. So who knows what would have happened if they’d have delivered their cargo.”
“You still did better than me,” Stan replied.
Barb laughed. “Yeah, what a wimp, Goldman!”
“No argument here,” Stan replied. “Even the little bit they gave me hurt like hell. But it’s good that the publishers think this book could sell even better than the crucifixion book, so we should make it all back with interest. Apparently, books about Russian bad guys are in these days.”
“I know,” Barb said, “But I don’t care what they say and how many books they think it will sell, we are not doing a book tour in Russia. No way, Goldman!”
“Hey, I’m with you there, Moore. I don’t care what delights one can experience in a Moscow hotel room.” Barb shook her head.
“Speaking of delights,” Stan continued. “You still haven’t told me about your experiences with girls in college.”
Barb turned and looked at him, shaking her head. “What’s to tell? I was young and I explored what there was to explore. It’s not news to you that I like women as well as men. You saw me with those women in the barn and with Tina.”
Stan grinned. “I did. And it was hot!”
Barb glared at him. “I don’t do it just to entertain a dirty old goat like you, Goldman. It feels good. Women know just the right way to please each other.”
“And I don’t?” Stan asked, pretending to be insulted.
Barb smiled. “Sometimes you do. But variety is the spice of life.”
“Did you ever do a threesome with another girl and a guy?” he asked.
“That’s every guy’s dream, isn’t it?” she asked. Stan nodded vigorously. “Well, you’ll just have to die wondering, Goldman. I have to have some secrets.”
“I bet I could get it out of you running some current through your pussy,” he said.
She punched his arm, harder this time and started getting to her feet. Stan pulled her back down. “I’m just kidding, Barb,” he said, serious now. “Play is one thing, but you know I would never hurt you like that.”
Barb sat again and took a large sip of her wine. “I can’t help thinking of all those other girls, the ones Alex and his thugs sent into slavery before we got them. It just doesn’t seem like Kantner and the other green eyeshade types are getting very far in finding them.”
Stan nodded. “It isn’t easy. With encypted messages and cryptocurrency transactions there are a lot of layers to dig through. Reggie says the Feds have asked the NSA for help. But, even if we find the buyers, putting pressure on their governments is tough. There’s oil and other interests involved.”
“I heard they offered Alex some leeway on his sentence if he gives them names,” Barb said. “But I’m not sure even he knows their real identities.”
“Yeah, I’m sure these buyers know how to cover their tracks also,” Stan said.
Barb had a faraway look in her eyes, “Still, Stan, I wonder what a couple of smart cops with experience in this type of case could find out if they went over there and looked around.”
Stan yanked his arm away from Barb’s shoulders. “Don’t even think about it Moore! Your amateur sleuthing came this close to getting me killed and you enslaved. That part of our life is over for good. Done! Finished!”
Barb smiled. “I know Stan, I was only teasing.”
Stan glared down at her. “You have a lot of nerve even teasing about such a subject, Moore. Downstairs! Now! Let’s go!”
“Come on, Goldman, don’t be an ass,” she whined.
“I’m not the one proposing half-assed expeditions to Outer Slobovistan or wherever to chase down girls who may not even be alive any more. No, that would be you, Moore. Now on your feet!”
Barb stuck her tongue out at him, but, reluctantly, got to her feet and made her way into the house. She paused at the door to the basement. “Don’t forget to arm the alarm system, Goldman.” Stan stopped to enter the code into the keypad before following her tight little down the stairs.
Barb kicked her shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. “So kind of you to spring for a carpet down here finally, Stan.” He smiled, watching as she removed her shirt and wriggled out of her jeans and panties, shaking her ass at him. He already felt a swelling in his groin.
“Where do you want me, boss?” Barb asked.
“Nice to see you being respectful for a change, Moore,” he replied. “Over the vaulting horse, my dear. Just like our Russian friends seemed to enjoy.”
Barb strode saucily to the vaulting horse and with an exaggerated motion bent over. Stan had to admit he could never get enough of those succulent globes and the lovely pussy crease below them. He went to the antique cabinet and selected a cane-thin and whippy it would make an impression on Barb’s hindquarters but wouldn’t leave her sore for more than a day or so afterwards.
“A dozen seems fair for a start, wouldn’t you say, Barb?”
He could hear her sigh. “Sure, whatever you say,” she said, resignedly.
Stan tapped the cane a couple of times against Barb’s cheeks then drew it back and whipped it dead center across her bottom. It made a satisfying “Whack!” Stan felt the soft flesh yield to the hard rattan before it bounced back. He watched the pair of raised lines rise on her skin and heard the sharp intake of breath.
He struck again, just below the first one. “Shit!” Barb muttered as a second set of lines sprung up as the first set darkened to a deep red. The third stroke brought a shouted “Owww!!” Barb shifted from foot to foot, trying to manage the pain. Stan quickly delivered three more strokes. Barb was moaning and sobbing by the time he paused.
Stan laid the cane down on the carpet and came behind Barb. He ran his hands lightly over the welts on her tight little, feeling the heat of the ridged skin. She squirmed-even that light touch was painful- and turned to look at him. “Bastard!” she spat.
Stan was very aroused from watching her dance of suffering. Normally he might have simply taken her from behind, but the memory of her taking him into her mouth at the behest of their captors, a sacrifice that allowed him to be here savoring this moment together came back to him.
He went around to the front of the vaulting horse and helped her stand. “You remember how you went down on me in the basement of that awful house?” Barb looked at him, a few tears trickling down her face. She nodded.
“If you do that to me now, I’ll let you off the rest,” Stan said.
Barb made a face, “You know I hate that.”
“I know, but I think having to do that will be a very good reminder of the risks that your unauthorized capers entail. Better than another six on your tight little and you’ll be able to sit at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Geez, Goldman, you’re always thinking of others.”
Stan smiled. “That’s me, Moore.”
“I’ll tell you what, though,” Barb said. “I don’t want you pushing my head down. That’s too much like what I experienced with those thugs. I want you tied to the St. Andrew’s cross and leave me in control. Are you man enough to do that, Goldman?”
Stan took this as a challenge, one he knew he shouldn’t wimp out on. He began undressing. Once he was naked, Barb led him to the cross bolted firmly to the wall. She knelt, spread his feet apart and strapped his ankles to the bottom of the two beams. Then she stood on a chair and fastened his arms, spread wide, over his head.
“OK, Stan, prepare to have your mind blown,” Barb said as she knelt in front of him.
“I was thinking you’d blow something else.”
“That, too,” Barb said as she took his erection inside her mouth, licking around the head gently, then sliding it deeper inside, before taking it out and running her tongue over the sensitive ridge underneath.
Stan was panting, moaning, “Don’t stop, Barb, please. Oh, God.”
She took it back in her mouth. He was right on the verge, the point where perhaps one more lick would put him over the edge. Was she really going to let him explode in her mouth?
Then she pulled her head back. The air felt cool on Stan’s erection after the heat of Barb’s mouth. She looked around. “Shit, it’s almost time for M*A*S*H! You don’t mind waiting just a bit until it’s over, Stan, do you?” She turned and headed for the stairs.
THE END
Those hands are cool.
Those are very effective on females dogs (what's the expression for that?) in heat.
Am I gonna have a sore butt! 
But it's for her own good!
