-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
It Ended in Moscow
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
I always suspected with the right amount of motivation and tge right Waite Russian Knight, such a thing was possible, I mean the entire sequence just seems so perfectly like you!And you guys thought you knew me!
I’d very believable and likely
@Fossy great work you 2, very entertaining?
Oh and of course the Swedish agent has to be female, looks like Flashy’s Back In The Great Game
When Barb now explains that she prefers to drink vodka (only two glasses with "sto gram") instead of Riesling, my world collapses.
You’ve nothing to worry about. Once a Riesling drinker, always a Riesling drinker!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Not so fast!
There is a cocktail named Alsatian Swizzle :
1/2 oz lemon juice
1/2 oz syrup
3/4 oz dry Riesling
1 1/2 oz (herbes infused) vodka
2 asparagus shoot
I AM worried!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 13
Hotel Moskva, Ulitsa Okhotnyy Ryad, Moscow, into the early hours of Thursday, 11th January, 1940.
The Swedish girl slid under the sheets and kissed Henry on the lips and, without words, he turned in to face her.
As the kiss grew in intensity their tongues danced her hands sliding to his stubbly cheek. "I want you to make love to me,” she purred.
Henry didn't need any encouragement. He knew it was wrong and unfaithful to Barb, but he wanted Maja tonight and nothing was going to stop it from happening, and so he kept on kissing her mouth as her hands roamed down toward his groin. She might be a less experienced Agent then he was, but she seemed to be very familiar and experienced in these surroundings.
Maja's heart raced as she took hold of his erect cock and she let out a slight gasp, which in turn made the shaft in her hand grow even more. Henry kissed his way down her neck until he was able to devour her breasts with his mouth. In turn Maja stroked his full length as it throbbed to her touch her lips kissing the swollen crown as she wrapped her other hand around him, pulling Henry into her breasts.
“Yes Henry, do it, touch me …”
His hand touched the parted lips of her pussy and she felt him working a finger into her moist slit. All the while his lips worked their way further down her body as he shifted position taking the sheets with him so that his new found lover could continue to work his cock.
His touch moved to her distended, blood engorged clit, causing Maja to groan long and loud as she worked his hard shaft faster inside her firm grip, and then slowly she lifted her legs up and back, controlling Henry’s movements with the tight grip of her thighs moving his body into position.
He had never been manipulated like this during sex, but he loved it!
Keeping a hold on his cock as it pulsed and throbbed in her hand Maja guided it toward the opening of her wet slit as she glazed into his eyes.
"Yes Henry, good boy, put it at the entrance to my cunt and wait until I tell you to push."
Maja was totally in control as Henry waited for further unstructions, in position, as his swollen, leaking cock-head pulsed against her tumescent pussy. Her eyes stayed totally focused on his as she slowly writhed, rubbing her oozing slit around the cock-head.
"Now Henry. Push!"
Henry did what he was told and his large, hard cock slipped easily into her tight body.
“Ohhh My God Henry, Ohhh yes!” she groaned as her lover pushed himself fully inside her, balls deep, wincing as he felt her nails clawing at his shoulder and hip.
Henry’s eyes closed as he felt Maja’s warm wet pussy closing around his shaft, and instinctively he pulled a little way out, making her ‘chase’ him, until he thrust hard back into her. She squealed with delight.
The Swedish girl moved her hands up to his face and kissed his lips as he kept up his thrusts …
"That's it, Henry. Fuck me." Maja groaned long and hard.
******
It was still the early hours, and they should have been sleeping when Henry and Maja lay awake side by side in bed, following their illicit love making.
“Gosh Maja, you were so … organised,” Henry said, struggling to find a better word.”… did you feel any passion at all? Did you have an orgasm.”
“I did Henry yes. When I am making love, then I am making love. Nothing else matters. Were you not satisfied with my performance?”
“Of course, it was … exceptional. It’s just that I have never had an experience like that in my life, being so … well, told what to do and when to do it like that.” He reached for her, rolling her on to her side to hold her against him.
“Should we do it again, Maja?” Maja kissed him, and replied, “Of course we should Henry, but we must not take long, we have work to do and we need to sleep.”
Kuntsevo Dacha, Stalin’s personal residence outside of Moscow, Kuntsevo, USSR, 11:10 pm, Wednesday, 10th January, 1940.
Barbara felt a finger sliding into her cunt, opening her up, then a second.
‘Oh my God, I’m being finger-fucked by Josef Stalin’, she thought to herself, aware of how utterly surreal this was, but the addition of a third finger took any other rational thoughts away from her.
The now naked Stalin, his robe a small heap on the floor, finger-fucked her only for a moment and then his glistening digit slipped out and he started massaging her clit.
"You're so wet for me. Does it turn you on to know that you're going to be fucked by someone as powerful as me?"
"Mmmmmmm, yes," Barbara moaned dutifully, as he kept pleasuring her nub.
"Do you think my thick and long cock will fit inside your tight little cunt Barbara Mohr?"
"Oh yes," Barbara was close to orgasm now from all his clit teasing. "Fuck me please!" She begged - and she meant it!
He placed his cock at her opening then started to push, and, Josef Stalin, it turned out, had a very big cock, and he just kept on pushing. She didn't know how she was fitting him inside her cunt, all she knew was that it was the most filled she had ever felt!
Then he started to ease out. At Barbara's faint protest he just laughed and pulled out almost completely, just the tip of his head keeping her soft, wet folds open. The frustration of the exquisite pleasure was unbearable, and she felt herself trying to pull him inside again.
And then he slammed into her, thrusting forward with all his might, hitting her womb in a single powerful thrust. With a tight grip around her hips, he started ramming into her hungry cunt. Each motion sent his balls slamming into her clit and the crashing together of their bodies made the most delicious wet slapping sound.
After a while, he let go of her hips and grabbed her by her breasts. He pulled Barbara up by her twisted nipples and started kissing her neck. He was so powerful in every way, and though she tried to meet his every thrust, she didn't stand a chance. He was fucking her so hard.
A stirring deep inside Barbara grew bigger and bigger. Soon she couldn't hold herself back any longer.
"I'm cumming!" she screamed. "Oh God, I’m cumming!”
"Yes," he whispered in her ear. "Cum for me, little slut. Cum all around Uncle Joe’s big, fat cock!"
Her body convulsed. She writhed in his arms. Her cunt was gripping his shaft hard and her pussy was leaking juices that ran copiously down the inside of each thigh. Barbara was a fuck toy, limp and helpless in his arms.
She was panting hard when he pulled out, unable to even gasp a proper breath. But he wasn’t finished with her.
Grabbing her by the hair he pulled her from the bed and threw her across the edge of the desk by the window. His hands pulled her ass cheeks apart and she could feel his still very hard and un-satiated cock against her tight little ass hole.
"Oh, God …” she uttered mainly to herself realising what Stalin was about to do to her.
“Now I fuck your ass little bitch!”
******
Despite his rough approach to sex with her, it turned out that Uncle Joe Stalin quite liked Barbara Mohr, and after he had exploded into her bowels, leaving her body dripping with his thick seed, he let he lay with him on his bed as they drank cups of post-coital tea.
“You are going to bomb Sweden?” She asked incredulously, after Stalin, believing that a little girl like Barbara Mohr naked on his bed could never be a danger, had let slip what his powerful Red Army was going to do next.
“But why, Koba?” He had allowed her to call him by his preferred nickname.
“The true reason, my little shlyukha, is that Herr Hitler intends to complete the conquest of all Europe, apart from Spain and Sweden, by occupying the entire Balkan Peninsula. Only then will he feel able to bring his full might to bear upon Great Britain, and that puts the Soviet Union in great danger too.”
Barbara furrowed her brow and asked, “Does this not concern you, Koba?”
“Yes of course, and so to stop Hitler from using Sweden to march his troops through so that they can occupy my borders, we will give the Swedes a warning by bombing some of their towns, cities and ports.”
Now Barb knew for sure what was about to happen, and she had to tell someone. But who and how?
Personal quarters of NKVD Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov, Lubyanka, Moscow, Soviet Union, 11:30 pm, Wednesday 10th January 1940
Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov was a good soldier. Loyal to Stalin and the Motherland. It hurt him to be even thinking dissident thoughts. But the girl, the German who was not a Nazi, had got under his skin, and now Stalin had taken her from him.
He stood and paced and then threw his empty vodka glass into the fireplace in anger. It was then that fate intervened with a knock on his door. When he opened it, he saw the raspberry coloured insignia of a young Slavic Infantryman, whose hand was holding forth a written communication marked for the Commissar’s attention.
With a nod Popov acknowledged the young man’s salute and closed his door. Tearing open the letter, the envelope sealed with wax, a seal he immediately recognised, he pulled out the flimsy sheet of paper from inside
The Commissar had a man, his man, inside the senior ranks of the NKVD. Major of State Security Alekzandra Rebrov had grown up alongside Popov, and was related to him as a cousin. Alekzandra knew of Sergei’s concern that the Nazi’s were mobilising for war in Russia, and shared his further concern that Stalin seemed to be choosing to ignore that fact, or at least failing to act in any way to defend their borders, so it seemed. And so, if there was anything relevant, information wise, that he could help with, then the Major made sure that his cousin was informed.
And this was relevant. The communication told him that the male Diplomatic Attaché recently arrived at the Moscow branch of the Swedish Embassy, was not in fact Nils Horsholt, but a certain Henry Underwood, and yes the same Henry Underwood who had so recently escaped from the clutches of the NKVD. He and his less senior colleague, who really was called Maja Sundahl of the Swedish National Security Service, had been sent to Moscow to spy on developing events that might impact Sweden, but also to hatch a plan and spring Barbara Mohr free!
Popov paced the small room in which he stood. Springing her free from Stalin’s grasp would indeed serve his purpose, but he would then need her to be brought to him, and not allowed to be repatriated to wherever it was that she called home!
As he took another glass and poured more Vodka, a smile came to his lips. If these two ‘Swedes’, new to Moscow, had come, at least in part, to attempt to rescue Barbara Mohr, he might be able to slip them information about her current whereabouts that would lure them to Stalin’s dacha in the hopes of finding her there and somehow spiriting her away.
Josef Stalin was well known for his prodigious sexual appetite. He was reputed to have sex with three or four women every day. He loved variety, but he especially loved sex with beautiful foreign women.
Popov imagined that, knowing this, the two Swedish agents would likely come up with a plan to get inside the dacha using the female agent, who was reportedly strikingly beautiful, as a means of entry. He could, in his position, subtlety move them in this direction by arranging a meeting for them to present their diplomatic credentials to Stalin at his dacha. Popov knew that all it would take to get the Vozhd to agree to such a meeting was to show him a picture of the Swedish woman,
On arrival, the NKVD would need to properly ‘vet’ this Maja Sundahl. She would be taken to an NKVD facility within the dacha compound, while her male companion waited under guard. He, Popov, would then lead an interrogation of the inexperienced young woman that would swiftly out the two Swedish agents and their intended effort to free Barbara Mohr and whisk her out of the country.
Predictably Stalin would be enraged. Popov would then take advantage of the moment to insist that the two Swedish attachés and Barbara Mohr be arrested and transported, with Stalin’s blessing, back to the Lubyanka for further interrogation under Popov’s supervision.
He would then report back to Stalin that Mohr was in cahoots with the Swedish Embassy all along and so could not be allowed back into the Russian leader’s presence … and that was when he intended, once he’d succeeded in getting her to divulge what she knew of a planned Nazi invasion, to keep the Fräulein for himself.
As for Maja Sundahl and Henry Underwood, he’d extract from her whatever useful information he could about the organization and operation of the Swedish National Security Service, and from Underwood any useful intelligence he might possess. And then either put them before a firing squad or send them off to perish in the Gulag.
Pouring himself more vodka he smiled and sat back in his chair, because now he had it all worked out.
TBC
Hotel Moskva, Ulitsa Okhotnyy Ryad, Moscow, into the early hours of Thursday, 11th January, 1940.
The Swedish girl slid under the sheets and kissed Henry on the lips and, without words, he turned in to face her.
As the kiss grew in intensity their tongues danced her hands sliding to his stubbly cheek. "I want you to make love to me,” she purred.
Henry didn't need any encouragement. He knew it was wrong and unfaithful to Barb, but he wanted Maja tonight and nothing was going to stop it from happening, and so he kept on kissing her mouth as her hands roamed down toward his groin. She might be a less experienced Agent then he was, but she seemed to be very familiar and experienced in these surroundings.
Maja's heart raced as she took hold of his erect cock and she let out a slight gasp, which in turn made the shaft in her hand grow even more. Henry kissed his way down her neck until he was able to devour her breasts with his mouth. In turn Maja stroked his full length as it throbbed to her touch her lips kissing the swollen crown as she wrapped her other hand around him, pulling Henry into her breasts.
“Yes Henry, do it, touch me …”
His hand touched the parted lips of her pussy and she felt him working a finger into her moist slit. All the while his lips worked their way further down her body as he shifted position taking the sheets with him so that his new found lover could continue to work his cock.
His touch moved to her distended, blood engorged clit, causing Maja to groan long and loud as she worked his hard shaft faster inside her firm grip, and then slowly she lifted her legs up and back, controlling Henry’s movements with the tight grip of her thighs moving his body into position.
He had never been manipulated like this during sex, but he loved it!
Keeping a hold on his cock as it pulsed and throbbed in her hand Maja guided it toward the opening of her wet slit as she glazed into his eyes.
"Yes Henry, good boy, put it at the entrance to my cunt and wait until I tell you to push."
Maja was totally in control as Henry waited for further unstructions, in position, as his swollen, leaking cock-head pulsed against her tumescent pussy. Her eyes stayed totally focused on his as she slowly writhed, rubbing her oozing slit around the cock-head.
"Now Henry. Push!"
Henry did what he was told and his large, hard cock slipped easily into her tight body.
“Ohhh My God Henry, Ohhh yes!” she groaned as her lover pushed himself fully inside her, balls deep, wincing as he felt her nails clawing at his shoulder and hip.
Henry’s eyes closed as he felt Maja’s warm wet pussy closing around his shaft, and instinctively he pulled a little way out, making her ‘chase’ him, until he thrust hard back into her. She squealed with delight.
The Swedish girl moved her hands up to his face and kissed his lips as he kept up his thrusts …
"That's it, Henry. Fuck me." Maja groaned long and hard.
******
It was still the early hours, and they should have been sleeping when Henry and Maja lay awake side by side in bed, following their illicit love making.
“Gosh Maja, you were so … organised,” Henry said, struggling to find a better word.”… did you feel any passion at all? Did you have an orgasm.”
“I did Henry yes. When I am making love, then I am making love. Nothing else matters. Were you not satisfied with my performance?”
“Of course, it was … exceptional. It’s just that I have never had an experience like that in my life, being so … well, told what to do and when to do it like that.” He reached for her, rolling her on to her side to hold her against him.
“Should we do it again, Maja?” Maja kissed him, and replied, “Of course we should Henry, but we must not take long, we have work to do and we need to sleep.”
Kuntsevo Dacha, Stalin’s personal residence outside of Moscow, Kuntsevo, USSR, 11:10 pm, Wednesday, 10th January, 1940.
Barbara felt a finger sliding into her cunt, opening her up, then a second.
‘Oh my God, I’m being finger-fucked by Josef Stalin’, she thought to herself, aware of how utterly surreal this was, but the addition of a third finger took any other rational thoughts away from her.
The now naked Stalin, his robe a small heap on the floor, finger-fucked her only for a moment and then his glistening digit slipped out and he started massaging her clit.
"You're so wet for me. Does it turn you on to know that you're going to be fucked by someone as powerful as me?"
"Mmmmmmm, yes," Barbara moaned dutifully, as he kept pleasuring her nub.
"Do you think my thick and long cock will fit inside your tight little cunt Barbara Mohr?"
"Oh yes," Barbara was close to orgasm now from all his clit teasing. "Fuck me please!" She begged - and she meant it!
He placed his cock at her opening then started to push, and, Josef Stalin, it turned out, had a very big cock, and he just kept on pushing. She didn't know how she was fitting him inside her cunt, all she knew was that it was the most filled she had ever felt!
Then he started to ease out. At Barbara's faint protest he just laughed and pulled out almost completely, just the tip of his head keeping her soft, wet folds open. The frustration of the exquisite pleasure was unbearable, and she felt herself trying to pull him inside again.
And then he slammed into her, thrusting forward with all his might, hitting her womb in a single powerful thrust. With a tight grip around her hips, he started ramming into her hungry cunt. Each motion sent his balls slamming into her clit and the crashing together of their bodies made the most delicious wet slapping sound.
After a while, he let go of her hips and grabbed her by her breasts. He pulled Barbara up by her twisted nipples and started kissing her neck. He was so powerful in every way, and though she tried to meet his every thrust, she didn't stand a chance. He was fucking her so hard.
A stirring deep inside Barbara grew bigger and bigger. Soon she couldn't hold herself back any longer.
"I'm cumming!" she screamed. "Oh God, I’m cumming!”
"Yes," he whispered in her ear. "Cum for me, little slut. Cum all around Uncle Joe’s big, fat cock!"
Her body convulsed. She writhed in his arms. Her cunt was gripping his shaft hard and her pussy was leaking juices that ran copiously down the inside of each thigh. Barbara was a fuck toy, limp and helpless in his arms.
She was panting hard when he pulled out, unable to even gasp a proper breath. But he wasn’t finished with her.
Grabbing her by the hair he pulled her from the bed and threw her across the edge of the desk by the window. His hands pulled her ass cheeks apart and she could feel his still very hard and un-satiated cock against her tight little ass hole.
"Oh, God …” she uttered mainly to herself realising what Stalin was about to do to her.
“Now I fuck your ass little bitch!”
******
Despite his rough approach to sex with her, it turned out that Uncle Joe Stalin quite liked Barbara Mohr, and after he had exploded into her bowels, leaving her body dripping with his thick seed, he let he lay with him on his bed as they drank cups of post-coital tea.
“You are going to bomb Sweden?” She asked incredulously, after Stalin, believing that a little girl like Barbara Mohr naked on his bed could never be a danger, had let slip what his powerful Red Army was going to do next.
“But why, Koba?” He had allowed her to call him by his preferred nickname.
“The true reason, my little shlyukha, is that Herr Hitler intends to complete the conquest of all Europe, apart from Spain and Sweden, by occupying the entire Balkan Peninsula. Only then will he feel able to bring his full might to bear upon Great Britain, and that puts the Soviet Union in great danger too.”
Barbara furrowed her brow and asked, “Does this not concern you, Koba?”
“Yes of course, and so to stop Hitler from using Sweden to march his troops through so that they can occupy my borders, we will give the Swedes a warning by bombing some of their towns, cities and ports.”
Now Barb knew for sure what was about to happen, and she had to tell someone. But who and how?
Personal quarters of NKVD Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov, Lubyanka, Moscow, Soviet Union, 11:30 pm, Wednesday 10th January 1940
Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov was a good soldier. Loyal to Stalin and the Motherland. It hurt him to be even thinking dissident thoughts. But the girl, the German who was not a Nazi, had got under his skin, and now Stalin had taken her from him.
He stood and paced and then threw his empty vodka glass into the fireplace in anger. It was then that fate intervened with a knock on his door. When he opened it, he saw the raspberry coloured insignia of a young Slavic Infantryman, whose hand was holding forth a written communication marked for the Commissar’s attention.
With a nod Popov acknowledged the young man’s salute and closed his door. Tearing open the letter, the envelope sealed with wax, a seal he immediately recognised, he pulled out the flimsy sheet of paper from inside
The Commissar had a man, his man, inside the senior ranks of the NKVD. Major of State Security Alekzandra Rebrov had grown up alongside Popov, and was related to him as a cousin. Alekzandra knew of Sergei’s concern that the Nazi’s were mobilising for war in Russia, and shared his further concern that Stalin seemed to be choosing to ignore that fact, or at least failing to act in any way to defend their borders, so it seemed. And so, if there was anything relevant, information wise, that he could help with, then the Major made sure that his cousin was informed.
And this was relevant. The communication told him that the male Diplomatic Attaché recently arrived at the Moscow branch of the Swedish Embassy, was not in fact Nils Horsholt, but a certain Henry Underwood, and yes the same Henry Underwood who had so recently escaped from the clutches of the NKVD. He and his less senior colleague, who really was called Maja Sundahl of the Swedish National Security Service, had been sent to Moscow to spy on developing events that might impact Sweden, but also to hatch a plan and spring Barbara Mohr free!
Popov paced the small room in which he stood. Springing her free from Stalin’s grasp would indeed serve his purpose, but he would then need her to be brought to him, and not allowed to be repatriated to wherever it was that she called home!
As he took another glass and poured more Vodka, a smile came to his lips. If these two ‘Swedes’, new to Moscow, had come, at least in part, to attempt to rescue Barbara Mohr, he might be able to slip them information about her current whereabouts that would lure them to Stalin’s dacha in the hopes of finding her there and somehow spiriting her away.
Josef Stalin was well known for his prodigious sexual appetite. He was reputed to have sex with three or four women every day. He loved variety, but he especially loved sex with beautiful foreign women.
Popov imagined that, knowing this, the two Swedish agents would likely come up with a plan to get inside the dacha using the female agent, who was reportedly strikingly beautiful, as a means of entry. He could, in his position, subtlety move them in this direction by arranging a meeting for them to present their diplomatic credentials to Stalin at his dacha. Popov knew that all it would take to get the Vozhd to agree to such a meeting was to show him a picture of the Swedish woman,
On arrival, the NKVD would need to properly ‘vet’ this Maja Sundahl. She would be taken to an NKVD facility within the dacha compound, while her male companion waited under guard. He, Popov, would then lead an interrogation of the inexperienced young woman that would swiftly out the two Swedish agents and their intended effort to free Barbara Mohr and whisk her out of the country.
Predictably Stalin would be enraged. Popov would then take advantage of the moment to insist that the two Swedish attachés and Barbara Mohr be arrested and transported, with Stalin’s blessing, back to the Lubyanka for further interrogation under Popov’s supervision.
He would then report back to Stalin that Mohr was in cahoots with the Swedish Embassy all along and so could not be allowed back into the Russian leader’s presence … and that was when he intended, once he’d succeeded in getting her to divulge what she knew of a planned Nazi invasion, to keep the Fräulein for himself.
As for Maja Sundahl and Henry Underwood, he’d extract from her whatever useful information he could about the organization and operation of the Swedish National Security Service, and from Underwood any useful intelligence he might possess. And then either put them before a firing squad or send them off to perish in the Gulag.
Pouring himself more vodka he smiled and sat back in his chair, because now he had it all worked out.
TBC
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Underwood gets a crash course of Swedish!
Meanwhile, Stalin explains to Barb his own personal interpretation of The Communist Manifesto!
Apparently, there are little secrets in what is called 'the secret service'.
Why don't they simply put it all on the headlines of 'The Pravda'?
Unless, Stalin would insist on a threesome with Barb and Maja!
(and having just Underwood shot, AND Popov, the latter for knowing too much!)
“Jag vill att du knullar mig!”Underwood gets a crash course of Swedish!
I wonder how many times she's been asked that?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
That's a long inventory!I wonder how many times she's been asked that?
Chapter 14
On the road, not far from Kuntsevo Dacha, Stalin’s personal residence outside of Moscow, Kuntsevo, USSR, 9:48 am, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Maja pulled the Swedish Embassy’s Volvo PV52 over to the side of the road. Not far ahead, within a dense stand of tall conifer trees and behind a high security fence lay Stalin’s dacha.
“Ready for this?” She said, turning to Henry with a wry smile.
“Ready as we’ll ever be.”
“It worries me. Don’t you think it a bit strange that two low-level, newly-arrived Embassy attaché’s be ordered to present their credentials before Stalin directly?”
“They say he has a thing for beautiful foreign women. Someone probably showed him a photo of you.”
“Smart ass!” She gibed, punching him on the shoulder.
“Look. Let’s regard it as fortuitous. To receive such an invitation, on top of a tip from what appears to be a trustworthy embassy source, that Barbara Mohr is currently detained at Stalin’s dacha has given us a golden opportunity to make contact with her and possibly affect a rescue. If we keep our wits about us, I think we can pull it off.
“Let’s hope so, Henry, but I still have a queasy feeling going in. How sure are we of our embassy source?”
“According to Envoy Winther he’s been a trustworthy source. Just be certain to use your ample charms on Stalin, Maja, and things will hopefully fall into place.
She gave his shoulder another punch, put the Volvo into gear and set off down the road towards the dacha compound’s front gate.
Front Gate, Kuntsevo Dacha Compound, Kuntsevo, USSR, 9:55 am, Friday, 13th January, 1940.
“Is that them parked alongside the road up on the hill?” Inquired the young NKVD officer in charge of the gate checkpoint.
“Undoubtedly so,” replied NKVD Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov, “in fact, here they come. Remember now to do exactly as I’ve instructed.”
The young man nodded, and stepped out to meet the oncoming vehicle as it rolled to a stop before the gate barrier, and Maja rolled down the driver’s side window.
“Swedish Embassy Attachés Maja Sundahl and Nils Horsholt here for our 10:30 appointment with General Secretary Stalin,” she announced cheerily while making sure to lean forward enough to give the young officer a generous look down the front of her loosely fitting V-neck “Lindy” blouse.
“We’ve been expecting you. Please pull over on the other side of the gate and get out. From there I will escort you to the Reception Building, where my superior will check your credentials and prepare you for your meeting.”
Maja did as instructed. She and Henry got out of their vehicle and followed the young officer into a long building. Once inside, they were taken to a desk behind which sat a heavy-set giant of a man who rose from behind his desk to meet them.
“You first,” he said gruffly to Maja. Follow me!”
And when Henry attempted to follow, his way was blocked by another NKVD man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere to order Henry to take a seat and wait his turn.
Maja followed her escort through a door and down a corridor, at the ending of which she was shown through a door to a small room, furnished with two chairs facing a small table from opposite sides.
“Take your a seat,” he sad. “Commissar Popov will join us shortly.
She sat down. The man took up a position near the door, crossed his huge arms across his chest, and glared silently at her.
The wait was brief, perhaps no more than 5 minutes before a high ranking NKVD officer entered the room.
“Good morning, Fröken Sundahl. I’m Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov. You and I are about to have a conversation in which you will admit to me that you are a Swedish spy.”
“What? No, not at all. I’m simply a low-level diplomatic attaché. What makes you think otherwise?”
He pulled a dossier out from where he was holding it under his arm, opened it and began to read, “Maja Ulrika Sundahl, age 23, born 3 July 1917 in Eskilstuna. Recruited into the Swedish National Security Service, 10 January 1939, completed training as a Russian specialist, 2 November 1939, assigned as an undercover agent to the Swedish Moscow Embassy staff, 8 January 1940 in team partnership with British SOE agent, Henry Underwood, aka Nils Horsholt. Blond hair, blue eyes, height 165 cm, weight 57 kg, distinguishing features small birthmark below left shoulder blade.”
Tossing the dossier in front of her on the desk, he said softly, “go ahead, look for yourself.”
She picked it up, opened it, and stared at the photos that spilled out of an envelope tucked inside … photos of her as a university student back in Sweden, of her sitting in a revealing swimsuit somewhere on the Baltic coast, at a Security Service training camp in Swedish Norrland, walking across Moscow’s Red Square hand in hand with Henry Underwood, and an array of extremely grainy, poorly lit shots of her naked in bed engaged in sex with Henry.
“How did …. “ she started to say, her voice trailing off.
“The usual way, the NKVD is no different than anyone else when it comes to espionage. We have our moles too, including one in your, as yet very amateurish, Swedish National Security Service. Now if you don’t mind please stand up and strip to your waist. I want to have a look at that birthmark.”
“No!”
“Do it now or I’ll have Igor here do it for you!”
The bedroom of Stalin’s private quarters, Kuntsevo Dacha, Kuntsevo, USSR, 10:25 am, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Barbara lay face down on Stalin’s bed. She was naked and stretched out spreadeagled, wrists and ankles bound to the bed’s four bedposts. Two pillows were tucked under her hips for the purpose of raising up her ass. Stalin lay on top of her, his big engorged rod moving vigorously back and forth within her well-lubricated sex. His large hands were beneath her chest, alternatively crushing and kneading her breasts. She could feel his heavy breath on the back of her head, and his coarse mustache brushing on her neck, as he worked himself up to orgasm while whispering sweet little Georgian endearments in her ear.
In the short time she’d been his houseguest she’d found that the Russian leader was heavily into bondage, often insisting on tying her up before taking advantage of her helplessness to dominate and fuck her in various ways.
But this morning their little session would be mercifully over before too long as she knew he had a 10:30 appointment, and was looking forward to enjoying a nice warm bath before he returned and wanted to fuck her again.
And so, after he’d finished, she lay quietly still on the bed, watching him as he quickly dressed and hoping that he might think to untie her before he left. She dared not ask him to do it, as doing so might upset his need to control and dominate everything, including her. She’d learned quickly to be totally submissive. He could be terribly mean and violent if crossed.
But then there was a knock at the door, and an aide poked his head in to say that Commissar Popov was waiting outside and needed to have an immediate word with Stalin.
A moment later Popov was in the room. His eyes roamed over her nude backside, focusing momentarily on the river of cum gushing from her recently ravaged cunt, before turning to face Stalin.
“I apologize for this intrusion but … “ Popov began, “I must inform you of a most startling and unsettling development. We have received intelligence that the two Swedish attachés you were scheduled to meet this morning are not diplomats but spies. And that they’ve come here this morning not to present their bogus diplomatic credentials, but to somehow take possession of Fräulein Mohr and spirit her out of the country. My men and I have intercepted them. After confronting the female Swedish agent, whose name is Maja Sundahl, with what we knew, she being the younger and least experienced of the two broke down and confessed. We have them both under arrest, and will be transporting them now to the Lubyanka for further questioning. But this also raises the question of whether Fräulein Mohr can remain here, because this development appears to have further implicated her as being deeply involved in ongoing espionage work, quite possibly targeting our country and perhaps even you. I can see no other reason why the two agents we’ve apprehended might have come after her as they apparently have. We’ll need to take her back to the Lubyanka as well. I believe there is much we can yet learn … from all three … of the sinister activities of our enemies in the West. And extracting that information from them can only be properly done at the Lubyanka.”
Stalin looked at him, then rather longingly at Barbara, then simply said, “да” and abruptly left the room.
*********
Twenty minutes later Popov and his men could be observed forcing two women and a man into the back of a lorry. All three had their hands bound behind their backs. One woman, a blond, wore a formal skirt and shoes but was topless, the other woman was naked. The man was fully dressed but his face had been severely beaten.
Within minutes the lorry left the dacha compound in the direction of Moscow.
TBC
On the road, not far from Kuntsevo Dacha, Stalin’s personal residence outside of Moscow, Kuntsevo, USSR, 9:48 am, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Maja pulled the Swedish Embassy’s Volvo PV52 over to the side of the road. Not far ahead, within a dense stand of tall conifer trees and behind a high security fence lay Stalin’s dacha.
“Ready for this?” She said, turning to Henry with a wry smile.
“Ready as we’ll ever be.”
“It worries me. Don’t you think it a bit strange that two low-level, newly-arrived Embassy attaché’s be ordered to present their credentials before Stalin directly?”
“They say he has a thing for beautiful foreign women. Someone probably showed him a photo of you.”
“Smart ass!” She gibed, punching him on the shoulder.
“Look. Let’s regard it as fortuitous. To receive such an invitation, on top of a tip from what appears to be a trustworthy embassy source, that Barbara Mohr is currently detained at Stalin’s dacha has given us a golden opportunity to make contact with her and possibly affect a rescue. If we keep our wits about us, I think we can pull it off.
“Let’s hope so, Henry, but I still have a queasy feeling going in. How sure are we of our embassy source?”
“According to Envoy Winther he’s been a trustworthy source. Just be certain to use your ample charms on Stalin, Maja, and things will hopefully fall into place.
She gave his shoulder another punch, put the Volvo into gear and set off down the road towards the dacha compound’s front gate.
Front Gate, Kuntsevo Dacha Compound, Kuntsevo, USSR, 9:55 am, Friday, 13th January, 1940.
“Is that them parked alongside the road up on the hill?” Inquired the young NKVD officer in charge of the gate checkpoint.
“Undoubtedly so,” replied NKVD Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov, “in fact, here they come. Remember now to do exactly as I’ve instructed.”
The young man nodded, and stepped out to meet the oncoming vehicle as it rolled to a stop before the gate barrier, and Maja rolled down the driver’s side window.
“Swedish Embassy Attachés Maja Sundahl and Nils Horsholt here for our 10:30 appointment with General Secretary Stalin,” she announced cheerily while making sure to lean forward enough to give the young officer a generous look down the front of her loosely fitting V-neck “Lindy” blouse.
“We’ve been expecting you. Please pull over on the other side of the gate and get out. From there I will escort you to the Reception Building, where my superior will check your credentials and prepare you for your meeting.”
Maja did as instructed. She and Henry got out of their vehicle and followed the young officer into a long building. Once inside, they were taken to a desk behind which sat a heavy-set giant of a man who rose from behind his desk to meet them.
“You first,” he said gruffly to Maja. Follow me!”
And when Henry attempted to follow, his way was blocked by another NKVD man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere to order Henry to take a seat and wait his turn.
Maja followed her escort through a door and down a corridor, at the ending of which she was shown through a door to a small room, furnished with two chairs facing a small table from opposite sides.
“Take your a seat,” he sad. “Commissar Popov will join us shortly.
She sat down. The man took up a position near the door, crossed his huge arms across his chest, and glared silently at her.
The wait was brief, perhaps no more than 5 minutes before a high ranking NKVD officer entered the room.
“Good morning, Fröken Sundahl. I’m Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov. You and I are about to have a conversation in which you will admit to me that you are a Swedish spy.”
“What? No, not at all. I’m simply a low-level diplomatic attaché. What makes you think otherwise?”
He pulled a dossier out from where he was holding it under his arm, opened it and began to read, “Maja Ulrika Sundahl, age 23, born 3 July 1917 in Eskilstuna. Recruited into the Swedish National Security Service, 10 January 1939, completed training as a Russian specialist, 2 November 1939, assigned as an undercover agent to the Swedish Moscow Embassy staff, 8 January 1940 in team partnership with British SOE agent, Henry Underwood, aka Nils Horsholt. Blond hair, blue eyes, height 165 cm, weight 57 kg, distinguishing features small birthmark below left shoulder blade.”
Tossing the dossier in front of her on the desk, he said softly, “go ahead, look for yourself.”
She picked it up, opened it, and stared at the photos that spilled out of an envelope tucked inside … photos of her as a university student back in Sweden, of her sitting in a revealing swimsuit somewhere on the Baltic coast, at a Security Service training camp in Swedish Norrland, walking across Moscow’s Red Square hand in hand with Henry Underwood, and an array of extremely grainy, poorly lit shots of her naked in bed engaged in sex with Henry.
“How did …. “ she started to say, her voice trailing off.
“The usual way, the NKVD is no different than anyone else when it comes to espionage. We have our moles too, including one in your, as yet very amateurish, Swedish National Security Service. Now if you don’t mind please stand up and strip to your waist. I want to have a look at that birthmark.”
“No!”
“Do it now or I’ll have Igor here do it for you!”
The bedroom of Stalin’s private quarters, Kuntsevo Dacha, Kuntsevo, USSR, 10:25 am, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Barbara lay face down on Stalin’s bed. She was naked and stretched out spreadeagled, wrists and ankles bound to the bed’s four bedposts. Two pillows were tucked under her hips for the purpose of raising up her ass. Stalin lay on top of her, his big engorged rod moving vigorously back and forth within her well-lubricated sex. His large hands were beneath her chest, alternatively crushing and kneading her breasts. She could feel his heavy breath on the back of her head, and his coarse mustache brushing on her neck, as he worked himself up to orgasm while whispering sweet little Georgian endearments in her ear.
In the short time she’d been his houseguest she’d found that the Russian leader was heavily into bondage, often insisting on tying her up before taking advantage of her helplessness to dominate and fuck her in various ways.
But this morning their little session would be mercifully over before too long as she knew he had a 10:30 appointment, and was looking forward to enjoying a nice warm bath before he returned and wanted to fuck her again.
And so, after he’d finished, she lay quietly still on the bed, watching him as he quickly dressed and hoping that he might think to untie her before he left. She dared not ask him to do it, as doing so might upset his need to control and dominate everything, including her. She’d learned quickly to be totally submissive. He could be terribly mean and violent if crossed.
But then there was a knock at the door, and an aide poked his head in to say that Commissar Popov was waiting outside and needed to have an immediate word with Stalin.
A moment later Popov was in the room. His eyes roamed over her nude backside, focusing momentarily on the river of cum gushing from her recently ravaged cunt, before turning to face Stalin.
“I apologize for this intrusion but … “ Popov began, “I must inform you of a most startling and unsettling development. We have received intelligence that the two Swedish attachés you were scheduled to meet this morning are not diplomats but spies. And that they’ve come here this morning not to present their bogus diplomatic credentials, but to somehow take possession of Fräulein Mohr and spirit her out of the country. My men and I have intercepted them. After confronting the female Swedish agent, whose name is Maja Sundahl, with what we knew, she being the younger and least experienced of the two broke down and confessed. We have them both under arrest, and will be transporting them now to the Lubyanka for further questioning. But this also raises the question of whether Fräulein Mohr can remain here, because this development appears to have further implicated her as being deeply involved in ongoing espionage work, quite possibly targeting our country and perhaps even you. I can see no other reason why the two agents we’ve apprehended might have come after her as they apparently have. We’ll need to take her back to the Lubyanka as well. I believe there is much we can yet learn … from all three … of the sinister activities of our enemies in the West. And extracting that information from them can only be properly done at the Lubyanka.”
Stalin looked at him, then rather longingly at Barbara, then simply said, “да” and abruptly left the room.
*********
Twenty minutes later Popov and his men could be observed forcing two women and a man into the back of a lorry. All three had their hands bound behind their backs. One woman, a blond, wore a formal skirt and shoes but was topless, the other woman was naked. The man was fully dressed but his face had been severely beaten.
Within minutes the lorry left the dacha compound in the direction of Moscow.
TBC
In other words no, winging it in standard Flashy style
Ah yes, Stalin, man of steel, known as paranoid and dangerous, he will never suspect a thing with the NKVD known to be completely inept, especially in their own country
It’s Flashman, what’s surprising?
Yep, don’t question the motivation for an invite to the most powerful man’s private dacha! I’m sure a convenient gate left unlocked and the guards negligent because they relish the rewards of Siberian gulags and execution
Might be sensible to follow that instinct and run for your life now, before it’s too late, I’d jump out of a moving vehicle rather than attend. Get the Hell out of Dodge City before you even arrived is a much better plan!
Oh well, it’s obviously fine if a single second hand source says so!
Because everyone know Stalin was a man never to take precautions with his personal security!
Uh-oh, why did you come to Dodge City again, unarmed no less?
And even Flash Henry doesn’t quail at mention of Popov? Where’s his famous self- preservation skills, er I mean bravery gone!
Shacklesd to the table ?
The horror! They know everything! Not quite so amateurish as the Swedes , or even the British
Just slap her face, she may even like a cheeky fuck, it must be at least half an hour since her last, Swedish slut!
Good preparation Barb!
First endearing quality of him I’ve ever heard!
Yeah nah!
Awww what a pity, missed out on his rage being taken out using his whip on that tight little
Jeez, hello Barb, where the fuck are you? Not even s snide remark? Stalin read the fine print and kept you well lubricated with two glasses of vodka, obviously….
Who Stalin? I heard he was a pussycat?
Oh shit!
Yes, the naive old man who you all were going to so easily pull a fast one over
Oh shit! Again, at least this time you didn’t bother dressing to be told to strip- efficient thinking, 99!
Don’t you just love it when such a well thought out plan goes off without a hitch?
Bravo Barb, another compelling and kinky chapter!
Last edited:
And thoroughly reviewed and wittingly commented on too.
THANK YOU!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
So thoroughly reviewed and witingly commented, that I started suspecting that @Loinclothslave is the NKVD mole!
Meanwhile, Underwood seems to have become an expert in failing missions!
So thoroughly reviewed and witingly commented, that I started suspecting that @Loinclothslave is the NKVD mole!
Stop reading ahead!
Meanwhile, Underwood seems to have become an expert in failing missions!
Flashman at the Charge!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 15
The road from Kuntsevo District to Lubyanka Prison, Moscow, Soviet Union 11:15 am, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
The journey in the back of the lorry was a relatively short one, but nonetheless became forty-five minutes of hell for the three prisoners.
Popov knew enough to know that Underwood and the German girl were lovers and equally he had the pictures to prove that the same man was also sleeping with the Swedish Agent too.
And so, the various machinations of mental torture, as well as physical pain, that he could put this little triumvirate through dominated his thoughts as he drove a little distance ahead of the lorry toward the notorious Lubyanka prison, a wretched place that had been home to Barbara and Henry once already,
Meanwhile in the back of the lorry, its passengers sat impassively awaiting their fate, along with the two armed guards who sat with them.
“She is the Vozhd’s girl, no?” One said to another as they both ogled bound Barb’s naked body. The second young guard nodded.
“I want to fuck her.” The first one said.
“Leave her alone you bastards,” Henry offered up bravely but impotently, as Barb rolled away to crash into the lorry’s side as the vehicle took another late notice swerve.
“You should not. The Commissar said we had to leave them alone and just make sure their journey was uncomfortable.”
But number one was not to be swayed. “Imagine how she will feel if we rape her in front of the other two.”
And number two’s eyes opened wide as he considered the veritable merits of that very scene.
“We have around thirty minutes of the journey left, Vlad, so you had better be quick.”
“I am already erect,” Vlad laughed.
“Please don’t,” Barbara pleaded, as Maja, breasts exposed except for the curtain of her hair, kept quiet and her head down.
Vlad pulled down his uniform pants.
“Vlad, you need to be very quick,” came the warning, as he placed his left palm on the side of the careering lorry for balance.
“On your knees bitch, ass in the air face on the floor.” His voice fierce, and Barbara, submissive to his commands had no fight left inside her at all.
“Keep them still and make sure they watch or else we will beat the fuck of them all when I’m done.”
Taking a moment as the vehicle steadied itself and found a straighter, smoother stretch of road, Barbara pulled herself up onto her knees, and then lowered her head to the floor, her hair falling all around her face.
“Please don’t do this.” The pleas were not from the Fräulein, but from Henry Underwood who received a hard slap across the face for his dissent.
Barbara didn’t even look at him, she couldn’t. None of his words would make this better. Nothing possibly could. If anything, the more he said the worse it became.
Seeming to sense this, Henry kept his mouth shut while Vlad turned Barbara’s body so that both Maja and Henry had a direct view of what was about to happen, as Vlad lowered himself to his knees and placed his hands on Barbara’s tight little ass, before looking at Henry. With a salacious grin he positioned his cock and inserted himself slowly but surely into the bound girl, whose ass was high in the air. Barbara winced from the pressure of his erection opening her up, shoving into her.
“You are so fucking tight little whore,” Vlad groaned as he grabbed a fistful of long dark hair, pulled her head up, painfully stretching her neck, and started to fuck her. He moved slowly at first, pumping in with deep, hard thrusts, and Barbara made not a sound.
Maja turned away, but found her head brutally twisted back to watch.
“Be quick Vlad,” said his concerned colleague.
But Vlad was lost in the heavenly grip of Barbara’s tight cunt, as his victim moaned a quiet little whimper, and Henry knew that It's not just whimpers from the force of the thrusts. It's not just pain either. It's pleasure. He could very much tell the difference and he realised just how conditioned his Barb had become, as he watched, horror etched into his features, as the rapist twisted his girl's face towards him.
“Come on Vlad finish up now. We’re slowing down. But Vlad was not listening while he was busy fucking Stalin’s little bitch. What a story he would have to tell his comrades during the Vodka hour tonight.
Just as he stiffened, reared up, arched his back and came, the back to the lorry opened and a gun that was pointing at him, shot him dead, and he fell lifeless onto his victim, his still hard cock embedded deep inside her body.
Lubyanka Prison, Moscow, Soviet Union, 2 pm, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Igor Vanovic stood between the two captives and looked from one to the other. Both were sitting on wooden chairs. Both had their ankles tied to the chair legs, their thighs pulled apart. Both had their wrists cuffed behind the chair backs. Both wore ball gags, their mouths distended by the black rubber spheres. Both looked at him with terrified eyes, and both were naked. But only one had an erection, and only one had shapely breasts and a pretty slit between her legs.
Vanovic wasn’t a young man. A veteran of the Winter War as well as the 1939 invasion of Eastern Poland, he had more recently taken his horrific battle field experiences and applied them to his role as an interrogation operative at Lubyanka … and he had never had a subject that looked like Maja Sundahl.
As far as Henry and Maja were concerned though, only last night that same erection had been thrusting in and out of that sweet pussy, in anticipation, or so they had thought, of a credible plan and a successful mission. How naïve!
Their sore backside flesh pressed into the hard wooden seats was already crimson and covered in wheals. Each had watched as the other had been secured over a bench and lashed hard with a leather belt, before being mercilessly caned.
For most, the powerful strokes of Igor Vanovic’s muscular arms would be enough to ensure their compliance, but these two had withstood the corporal punishment, and left him without the signed confession to being spies, required by Commissar Popov, and so the interrogator had decided to change tactic.
All four exposed nipples now wore tiny clamps, the savage metallic teeth biting into engorged flesh. The woman’s nipples, particularly, were distended and purple. Underwood and Sundahl had been made to understand that the vicious little clamps were not coming off until he had the signed confession he was after.
But it seemed they were still not ready to make the required admission.
And so now Vanovic’s knowing fist was back inside the glove. Underwood’s penis was rock hard because leather-gloved fingers had manipulated it, expertly masturbating him. He had almost ejaculated, but release was denied. Six times, so far, he had been on the edge, only for the fingers to be pulled away at the last moment, leaving him groaning into the ball gag. But then, when asked each time if he would admit in writing, to being an allied spy, in return for a blissful explosion, he had grunted and shook his head vehemently.
So now it was her turn.
Running his hands through Maja Sundahl’s long blonde hair, Igor Vanovic looked straight into her wide and frightened eyes. Holding up a box he read from the cover in his broken English.
“The Polar Club Electric Vibrator” all the way from the USA. It is my favourite toy.
Shaped like a new fangled electric drill, Vanovic had fitted it with a long rubber probe covered in small bumps. He took great pleasure in waving it in Sundahl’s face. She could only guess what it was.
“Don’t worry,” he smirked, “… this won’t hurt a bit. In fact I think you’re rather going to enjoy it…”
Holding the vibrator device in his left hand, the soviet interrogator plugged it into the wall socket and a resonant buzzing filled the interrogation room, the only sound other than the heavy breathing of the two helpless captives.
Maja’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at the device. Vanovic raised his eyebrows, no need to ask the question again. The girl sobbed and lowered her eyes, shaking her head violently.
“Your choice,” he said, his resigned tone making it clear that either prisoner could bring this to an end right now.
Grabbing a fistful of the Sundahl’s hair, Igor Vanovic yanked her head back hard. Ignoring the muffled moan of protest, he ran the tip of the vibrating probe over his victim’s stomach, smiling with sadistic pleasure as he saw the shivers which ran through the naked woman’s body at the contact, knowing that would be nothing compared to what was coming.
Seconds later the hard rubber probing length was being pushed against the softer flesh of the prisoner’s open pussy, whilst inside Maja’s stomach the inevitable intensity started to build.
Five minutes later, Sundahl was a nervous, sobbing wreck. For the third time she had been taken close, only to have the vibrator cruelly snatched away at the last second.
“Ready to sign my confession?” Vanovic whispered into her ear. She hardly had the strength to lift her head, but still managed to shake it. “Too bad” said the Interrogator, with a theatrical sigh. “It looks like you’re going to be quivering on the edge for quite some time”.
But as the vibrator was touching her swollen soft folds once more, there was a muffled shout from Underwood, who had been watching everything with growing anxiety and ever widening eyes.
Vanovic continued to work the stimulation device against the girl’s labia as she looked directly at him.
“Do you have something to say?” he grinned at his male captive, whose still erect penis continued to ooze the juices of his pre orgasmic release. “Are you going to give me what I want? Can’t you watch your lady suffer anymore!”
Henry tried to shout something through his ball gag, but he was too agitated and too well secured for it to make any sense. A second later his cock, which remained hard and twitching as he watched his co-conspirator being sexually tortured, exploded. Thick jets of white semen shot from its swollen head, running down his shaft and pooling around the stem before dripping onto the floor.
Igor Vanovic watched with detached disinterest, until the girl began convulsing underneath his touch. The vibrator, which had now been placed directly onto her clitoris, had done its work. The naked woman followed the man’s lead, and came with an almighty scream, muiffled by the ball-gag. Before her body had stopped spasming, Vanovic moved to the man, unbuckled his gag and pulled it roughly from his mouth. He placed his ear next to Underwood’s head and smiled as the bound man croaked out the admission to being a British spy now working with the Swedes, and yes, he would sign any confession to this effect - the information that the interrogator had been after.
Stepping away from them, Vanovic wiped the The Polar Club Electric Vibrator down, and put it back into its box.
Moving slowly but surely to the wall, he selected one of the longest and thickest canes. Both Sundahl and Underwood looked at it with terror filling their expressions.
Then their eyes met those of their tormentor.
“Oh, you think that because I broke you, that’s it? I’m afraid not. You’re still spies who need to be taught a serious lesson.”
Igor Vanovic smiled as the naked man and woman began to sob.
Personal quarters of NKVD Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov, Lubyanka, Moscow, Soviet Union, 2 pm, Saturday, 13th January, 1940
Whilst Maja and Henry were being tortured beyond the edge of reason, Fräulein Mohr was being treated moderately better, despite having her wrists tied to the iron head of the Commissar’s bed.
Popov was naked between her splayed thighs using both hands to spread Barbara’s swollen lips, before dragging his tongue across her clit. The orgasm welling up within her over-used body was fighting to be unleashed, and she struggled to keep it at bay.
The Commissar wanted her to cum as he dominated her completely. He hadn’t told her what the consequence would be of coming without asking him first, but she decided that if she played the part of his submissive to the full, just maybe she might gain some sort of advantage.
However as her screams rose higher and higher, Barbara knew that she couldn’t hold on much longer, and Popov’s tongue was not stopping even for a moment.
“Please!” She begged desperately. “I can’t …”
“Hold it!” he growled, barely interrupting his rhythm. Barbara moaned, twisting in place. Grasping the bed cover in her clenched fists and snapping teeth, she screamed into the fabric, wetting it with her tears.
“Okay, Fräulein, you may orgasm.”
With a long loud groan Barbara let the dam break, an eruption of ecstasy that drove all the pain from her body. She writhed and squirmed as Popov kept up his intense ministrations, stroking her sensitive flesh, lifting her higher and higher as Barb lost herself completely in a sensual subspace, drifting in and out of consciousness.
When she finally came to, Barbara was laid naked on her back on the bed, free of her restraints and a naked Popov relaxed in repose by her side.
“Welcome back, Fräulein.”
Barbara turned her head away, then felt his hand gently turning her face back to look at him.
“You must listen to me Fräulein Mohr. You are in grave danger.”
… Tell me something new, Barbara thought to herself, but her eyes captured his as he spoke.
Stalin knows you are a Spy, and he also believes that you are playing off several sides by making the Nazi’s, the British and the Swedes all think that you have their interests at heart, whereas in reality I know you are looking out for no one but yourself.
“I’m not, I …” But her words were silenced by the gentle touch of a thick finger.
“Sshhh Fräulein, it’s okay. I will tell the Vozhd that you have been detained in Lubyanka which will of course be true and will stop him asking any more questions about you. But you have a choice about how you play your time out. You can either stay here with me as my concubine, or be returned to squalid incarceration along with your colleagues, being tortured every day until we tire of you. And then you will be executed … so what’s it to be Fräulein Mohr?”
The main office at Stalin’s private quarters, Kuntsevo Dacha, Kuntsevo, Soviet Union, 21:30, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Stalin held the phone to his ear and spoke into the mouth piece. “Tell me again,” he said simply.
The voice on the other end sounded clear and assertive. “Generalisimus, at 07:00 hours we will send three DB-3 bombers to bomb the Swedish port of Luleå. The attack will target non populated areas but will serve as a warning to the Swedes to think carefully about assisting the Nazi’s to mobilise troops through their country.”
Stalin paused, and thought. It was a big step, but a necessary one, was his conclusion.
“Do it he said.”
TBC
The road from Kuntsevo District to Lubyanka Prison, Moscow, Soviet Union 11:15 am, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
The journey in the back of the lorry was a relatively short one, but nonetheless became forty-five minutes of hell for the three prisoners.
Popov knew enough to know that Underwood and the German girl were lovers and equally he had the pictures to prove that the same man was also sleeping with the Swedish Agent too.
And so, the various machinations of mental torture, as well as physical pain, that he could put this little triumvirate through dominated his thoughts as he drove a little distance ahead of the lorry toward the notorious Lubyanka prison, a wretched place that had been home to Barbara and Henry once already,
Meanwhile in the back of the lorry, its passengers sat impassively awaiting their fate, along with the two armed guards who sat with them.
“She is the Vozhd’s girl, no?” One said to another as they both ogled bound Barb’s naked body. The second young guard nodded.
“I want to fuck her.” The first one said.
“Leave her alone you bastards,” Henry offered up bravely but impotently, as Barb rolled away to crash into the lorry’s side as the vehicle took another late notice swerve.
“You should not. The Commissar said we had to leave them alone and just make sure their journey was uncomfortable.”
But number one was not to be swayed. “Imagine how she will feel if we rape her in front of the other two.”
And number two’s eyes opened wide as he considered the veritable merits of that very scene.
“We have around thirty minutes of the journey left, Vlad, so you had better be quick.”
“I am already erect,” Vlad laughed.
“Please don’t,” Barbara pleaded, as Maja, breasts exposed except for the curtain of her hair, kept quiet and her head down.
Vlad pulled down his uniform pants.
“Vlad, you need to be very quick,” came the warning, as he placed his left palm on the side of the careering lorry for balance.
“On your knees bitch, ass in the air face on the floor.” His voice fierce, and Barbara, submissive to his commands had no fight left inside her at all.
“Keep them still and make sure they watch or else we will beat the fuck of them all when I’m done.”
Taking a moment as the vehicle steadied itself and found a straighter, smoother stretch of road, Barbara pulled herself up onto her knees, and then lowered her head to the floor, her hair falling all around her face.
“Please don’t do this.” The pleas were not from the Fräulein, but from Henry Underwood who received a hard slap across the face for his dissent.
Barbara didn’t even look at him, she couldn’t. None of his words would make this better. Nothing possibly could. If anything, the more he said the worse it became.
Seeming to sense this, Henry kept his mouth shut while Vlad turned Barbara’s body so that both Maja and Henry had a direct view of what was about to happen, as Vlad lowered himself to his knees and placed his hands on Barbara’s tight little ass, before looking at Henry. With a salacious grin he positioned his cock and inserted himself slowly but surely into the bound girl, whose ass was high in the air. Barbara winced from the pressure of his erection opening her up, shoving into her.
“You are so fucking tight little whore,” Vlad groaned as he grabbed a fistful of long dark hair, pulled her head up, painfully stretching her neck, and started to fuck her. He moved slowly at first, pumping in with deep, hard thrusts, and Barbara made not a sound.
Maja turned away, but found her head brutally twisted back to watch.
“Be quick Vlad,” said his concerned colleague.
But Vlad was lost in the heavenly grip of Barbara’s tight cunt, as his victim moaned a quiet little whimper, and Henry knew that It's not just whimpers from the force of the thrusts. It's not just pain either. It's pleasure. He could very much tell the difference and he realised just how conditioned his Barb had become, as he watched, horror etched into his features, as the rapist twisted his girl's face towards him.
“Come on Vlad finish up now. We’re slowing down. But Vlad was not listening while he was busy fucking Stalin’s little bitch. What a story he would have to tell his comrades during the Vodka hour tonight.
Just as he stiffened, reared up, arched his back and came, the back to the lorry opened and a gun that was pointing at him, shot him dead, and he fell lifeless onto his victim, his still hard cock embedded deep inside her body.
Lubyanka Prison, Moscow, Soviet Union, 2 pm, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Igor Vanovic stood between the two captives and looked from one to the other. Both were sitting on wooden chairs. Both had their ankles tied to the chair legs, their thighs pulled apart. Both had their wrists cuffed behind the chair backs. Both wore ball gags, their mouths distended by the black rubber spheres. Both looked at him with terrified eyes, and both were naked. But only one had an erection, and only one had shapely breasts and a pretty slit between her legs.
Vanovic wasn’t a young man. A veteran of the Winter War as well as the 1939 invasion of Eastern Poland, he had more recently taken his horrific battle field experiences and applied them to his role as an interrogation operative at Lubyanka … and he had never had a subject that looked like Maja Sundahl.
As far as Henry and Maja were concerned though, only last night that same erection had been thrusting in and out of that sweet pussy, in anticipation, or so they had thought, of a credible plan and a successful mission. How naïve!
Their sore backside flesh pressed into the hard wooden seats was already crimson and covered in wheals. Each had watched as the other had been secured over a bench and lashed hard with a leather belt, before being mercilessly caned.
For most, the powerful strokes of Igor Vanovic’s muscular arms would be enough to ensure their compliance, but these two had withstood the corporal punishment, and left him without the signed confession to being spies, required by Commissar Popov, and so the interrogator had decided to change tactic.
All four exposed nipples now wore tiny clamps, the savage metallic teeth biting into engorged flesh. The woman’s nipples, particularly, were distended and purple. Underwood and Sundahl had been made to understand that the vicious little clamps were not coming off until he had the signed confession he was after.
But it seemed they were still not ready to make the required admission.
And so now Vanovic’s knowing fist was back inside the glove. Underwood’s penis was rock hard because leather-gloved fingers had manipulated it, expertly masturbating him. He had almost ejaculated, but release was denied. Six times, so far, he had been on the edge, only for the fingers to be pulled away at the last moment, leaving him groaning into the ball gag. But then, when asked each time if he would admit in writing, to being an allied spy, in return for a blissful explosion, he had grunted and shook his head vehemently.
So now it was her turn.
Running his hands through Maja Sundahl’s long blonde hair, Igor Vanovic looked straight into her wide and frightened eyes. Holding up a box he read from the cover in his broken English.
“The Polar Club Electric Vibrator” all the way from the USA. It is my favourite toy.
Shaped like a new fangled electric drill, Vanovic had fitted it with a long rubber probe covered in small bumps. He took great pleasure in waving it in Sundahl’s face. She could only guess what it was.
“Don’t worry,” he smirked, “… this won’t hurt a bit. In fact I think you’re rather going to enjoy it…”
Holding the vibrator device in his left hand, the soviet interrogator plugged it into the wall socket and a resonant buzzing filled the interrogation room, the only sound other than the heavy breathing of the two helpless captives.
Maja’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at the device. Vanovic raised his eyebrows, no need to ask the question again. The girl sobbed and lowered her eyes, shaking her head violently.
“Your choice,” he said, his resigned tone making it clear that either prisoner could bring this to an end right now.
Grabbing a fistful of the Sundahl’s hair, Igor Vanovic yanked her head back hard. Ignoring the muffled moan of protest, he ran the tip of the vibrating probe over his victim’s stomach, smiling with sadistic pleasure as he saw the shivers which ran through the naked woman’s body at the contact, knowing that would be nothing compared to what was coming.
Seconds later the hard rubber probing length was being pushed against the softer flesh of the prisoner’s open pussy, whilst inside Maja’s stomach the inevitable intensity started to build.
Five minutes later, Sundahl was a nervous, sobbing wreck. For the third time she had been taken close, only to have the vibrator cruelly snatched away at the last second.
“Ready to sign my confession?” Vanovic whispered into her ear. She hardly had the strength to lift her head, but still managed to shake it. “Too bad” said the Interrogator, with a theatrical sigh. “It looks like you’re going to be quivering on the edge for quite some time”.
But as the vibrator was touching her swollen soft folds once more, there was a muffled shout from Underwood, who had been watching everything with growing anxiety and ever widening eyes.
Vanovic continued to work the stimulation device against the girl’s labia as she looked directly at him.
“Do you have something to say?” he grinned at his male captive, whose still erect penis continued to ooze the juices of his pre orgasmic release. “Are you going to give me what I want? Can’t you watch your lady suffer anymore!”
Henry tried to shout something through his ball gag, but he was too agitated and too well secured for it to make any sense. A second later his cock, which remained hard and twitching as he watched his co-conspirator being sexually tortured, exploded. Thick jets of white semen shot from its swollen head, running down his shaft and pooling around the stem before dripping onto the floor.
Igor Vanovic watched with detached disinterest, until the girl began convulsing underneath his touch. The vibrator, which had now been placed directly onto her clitoris, had done its work. The naked woman followed the man’s lead, and came with an almighty scream, muiffled by the ball-gag. Before her body had stopped spasming, Vanovic moved to the man, unbuckled his gag and pulled it roughly from his mouth. He placed his ear next to Underwood’s head and smiled as the bound man croaked out the admission to being a British spy now working with the Swedes, and yes, he would sign any confession to this effect - the information that the interrogator had been after.
Stepping away from them, Vanovic wiped the The Polar Club Electric Vibrator down, and put it back into its box.
Moving slowly but surely to the wall, he selected one of the longest and thickest canes. Both Sundahl and Underwood looked at it with terror filling their expressions.
Then their eyes met those of their tormentor.
“Oh, you think that because I broke you, that’s it? I’m afraid not. You’re still spies who need to be taught a serious lesson.”
Igor Vanovic smiled as the naked man and woman began to sob.
Personal quarters of NKVD Commissar Sergei Mikhaylovich Popov, Lubyanka, Moscow, Soviet Union, 2 pm, Saturday, 13th January, 1940
Whilst Maja and Henry were being tortured beyond the edge of reason, Fräulein Mohr was being treated moderately better, despite having her wrists tied to the iron head of the Commissar’s bed.
Popov was naked between her splayed thighs using both hands to spread Barbara’s swollen lips, before dragging his tongue across her clit. The orgasm welling up within her over-used body was fighting to be unleashed, and she struggled to keep it at bay.
The Commissar wanted her to cum as he dominated her completely. He hadn’t told her what the consequence would be of coming without asking him first, but she decided that if she played the part of his submissive to the full, just maybe she might gain some sort of advantage.
However as her screams rose higher and higher, Barbara knew that she couldn’t hold on much longer, and Popov’s tongue was not stopping even for a moment.
“Please!” She begged desperately. “I can’t …”
“Hold it!” he growled, barely interrupting his rhythm. Barbara moaned, twisting in place. Grasping the bed cover in her clenched fists and snapping teeth, she screamed into the fabric, wetting it with her tears.
“Okay, Fräulein, you may orgasm.”
With a long loud groan Barbara let the dam break, an eruption of ecstasy that drove all the pain from her body. She writhed and squirmed as Popov kept up his intense ministrations, stroking her sensitive flesh, lifting her higher and higher as Barb lost herself completely in a sensual subspace, drifting in and out of consciousness.
When she finally came to, Barbara was laid naked on her back on the bed, free of her restraints and a naked Popov relaxed in repose by her side.
“Welcome back, Fräulein.”
Barbara turned her head away, then felt his hand gently turning her face back to look at him.
“You must listen to me Fräulein Mohr. You are in grave danger.”
… Tell me something new, Barbara thought to herself, but her eyes captured his as he spoke.
Stalin knows you are a Spy, and he also believes that you are playing off several sides by making the Nazi’s, the British and the Swedes all think that you have their interests at heart, whereas in reality I know you are looking out for no one but yourself.
“I’m not, I …” But her words were silenced by the gentle touch of a thick finger.
“Sshhh Fräulein, it’s okay. I will tell the Vozhd that you have been detained in Lubyanka which will of course be true and will stop him asking any more questions about you. But you have a choice about how you play your time out. You can either stay here with me as my concubine, or be returned to squalid incarceration along with your colleagues, being tortured every day until we tire of you. And then you will be executed … so what’s it to be Fräulein Mohr?”
The main office at Stalin’s private quarters, Kuntsevo Dacha, Kuntsevo, Soviet Union, 21:30, Saturday, 13th January, 1940.
Stalin held the phone to his ear and spoke into the mouth piece. “Tell me again,” he said simply.
The voice on the other end sounded clear and assertive. “Generalisimus, at 07:00 hours we will send three DB-3 bombers to bomb the Swedish port of Luleå. The attack will target non populated areas but will serve as a warning to the Swedes to think carefully about assisting the Nazi’s to mobilise troops through their country.”
Stalin paused, and thought. It was a big step, but a necessary one, was his conclusion.
“Do it he said.”
TBC