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Nordic Peril: The Sequel to Gone Missing in Sweden
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Fossy is imagining ahead.
I’d recommend checking with @thehangingtree on the subject of Barbara Moore’s driving skills. He’s an expert on the subject.
It’s looking like there’ll be thirty chapters to post before this is finished.
Very interesting! I already imagine Barb and Gun., together....
Lox’s imagination has shifted into overdrive!
Really think so?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Really think so?
twonines
LIMERICUS
Well, it won`t be the first time!Really think so?
Chapter 4. The country home of Åke Persson, east side of the Ångerman river (Ångermanälven) about 10 km upriver from the town of Sollefteå. Tuesday, 20 January, 09:15.
“Hej” said Barbara cheerily as she descended the central stairway and turned to enter the dining room.
Gun looked up from her oatmeal breakfast and said, “Hej, yourself! … look at what the cat dragged in.”
“Do I look that awful?”
“Nah, remarkably good for someone who had too much Riesling last night. Grab yourself some coffee and a bowl of gröt and join me?”
“Sure, one sec.”
“Sooo …” said Barbara as she took her place moments later at the table. “Any sign of Åke yet this morning?”
“Not since I got up and came down here around three hours ago. His little trollope of a maid has been up early, though, to fix breakfast. She and I talked a bit and I found out that Anna-Lisa is a Finn. That explains why she doesn’t say much. Her Swedish is frightfully bad.”
“Figures.”
“Look, Babs. I’m going to be as blunt as I always am, and ask the question that’s on my mind. Did you let that bastard, Åke, fuck you last night? I’m guessing that you did. One didn’t have to be a genius at the dinner table to know what was on his mind. Pretty obvious the way he kept filling your wine glass when you weren’t paying attention, not to mention the copious amount of alcohol he was downing himself. I knew then he’d make his move soon as I left to go upstairs. And I eventually figured … come what may … I would just have to say goodnight and leave. … you being a big girl, after all, who would do whatever moved you. Sooo, having said that … my question, again, is did he?”
“Ummmm … not exactly, I guess. It went down pretty much as you imagined it would. Soon as you went upstairs he managed to corral me and began working me over … kissing and pawing me … stripping me naked, starting with my sweater and bra, and working his way down from there. I protested, of course, but he was a persuasive force … as he always is … and gradually, my resistance wore down, and I gave in. He picked me up and carried me up to his room and tossed me onto his bed. And there he went down on me, and well … you know … I thought okay … it’s going to happen … best to enjoy it. But then … heh … guess what? He passed out!”
“No!”
“Yes! So I left him lying there naked on the bed, went downstairs to gather up my clothing and then went up to my room and fell asleep. That’s the honest truth!”
“Amazing!”
“Yeah.”
“Well, here’s what I’ve been up to while you’ve been sleeping it off. Remember when Åke spoke last night about a post out back where old Geselius would have his workers and servants flogged?”
“Yeah. Dreadful man!. I guess back in those days people like him could get away with doing as they pleased to their underlings. Wouldn’t happen nowadays, though, would it?”
“No, I guess not. But I was curious and went out behind the house this morning to have a look. And just as Åke said, there it was … standing in the middle of a snowdrift … frost-covered wrist irons and all.”
“Gruesome!”
“But that’s not all, Babs! I got curious and started snooping around this place, and you won’t believe what I found down in the cellar.”
“No, what?”
“Well, if you’re finished with your bowl of gröt come with me and I’ll show you. Oh, and grab a coat, it’s a bit chilly down there.
“You’re being awfully mysterious, but sure … lead on. Oh, and by the way, what’s with this calling me ‘Babs’? Whatever happened to ‘Barb’?”
“I like the sound of it and decided this morning that I would start using it when speaking to you. What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”
“It’s okay, I guess. I’ll get used to it.”
With that settled, they left the dining area together. And with Gun leading the way, made their way to the stairway near the back of the house that led down to the cellar. There they wound past some randomly scattered old crates and chests, then passed through a long room filled with tools and miscellaneous paraphernalia left over from the old logging days until they eventually found themselves confronted by a heavy steel door.
“It’s locked,” reported Barbara as she tugged at the handle.
“I know. Stand back,” instructed Gun.
Barbara watched with fascination as the police woman extracted a flex-wire from the pocket of her coat, and kneeling before the door, proceeded to pick its lock.
“Child’s play,” she announced triumphantly, regaining her feet and reaching for the door handle.
“They actually teach you how to do that at the police academy?” quipped Barbara as the heavy door swung open easily.
“Among other cool things,” laughed Gun. “Wait while I find the light switch.”
“Oh my God!” cried Barbara, glancing around in astonishment as the room with its old-fashioned vaulted ceiling was suddenly bathed in a warm glow of light.
“That was my reaction too,” replied Gun as she ran her hand over the top of a heavy wooden torture rack.
“Old Fredrik Segelius must have inflicted far worse on his poor underlings than an occasional good flogging. Just look at all this stuff! It’s like one of those cheesy torture museums.”
“Yes, look here. There’s a placard on this old torture rack that says ‘1528’ … a museum piece if there ever was one. And look over there … table tops strewn with old whips, scourges, pears, cudgels, pliers and pokers. There’s even a set of wooden stocks, along with an iron chair, a wooden horse, and what I think is referred to as a Judas cradle. And over there is a garroting apparatus, which according to the placard, is of the kind used by the Spanish Inquisition!”
“Yes, it’s all here,” mused Barbara. “It appears to be authentic, and has been lovingly refurbished and maintained. Notice how the wood on the stretching rack has been polished to a shine and how all the moving parts have been recently lubricated? Everything is in perfect working order”
“So, I ask you. Who would do that?”
“Apparently Åke would and did.”
“Yes, apparently so. Old Fredrik was dead and gone ages ago.”
Tell me Gun, how do I look with my head and wrists in this old stock?”
“Inviting, Babs … very inviting. Would you like me to lock that top bar in place, pull down your leggings, and apply one of those canes over there on that table to your lovely tight little ass?”
“No, not a good idea right now. Someone will hear me screaming. But again … this place is so amazing. There must be an explanation for it.”
“Yes, Babs, there is. I said it already. Your pal, Åke, is a complete and possibly dangerous, sadistic whacko!”
“No, I think there is a rational explanation. Remember that Åke is a specialist on human rights, and at the heart of his expertise is a complete knowledge of the many ways that authoritarian figures and regimes, both past and present, have used imprisonment, terror and torture to suppress political opposition. This collection … if that’s what it is, … is simply a physical reminder of the existence and utility of tools of repression and intimidation throughout the ages. I also know him to be quite the amateur historian. Apparently a collector too. I imagine this room and it’s relics to be some kind of hobby.”
“I still say that it says he’s a dangerous whacko. Perhaps we should question him about this room?”
“No, Gun. Not now. Let’s not rock the boat. I want to hear what Åke has to say today about his assignment as the new UN Human Rights Council’s Rapporteur on political intimidation and human rights abuse in North Korea. And I’m curious to know exactly why he has asked me here to Sollefteå. I’d like to find out what role he expects me to play.”
“Alright, Babs. We’ll play it your way for now. And, if that’s our intention, we’d best lock this place up and get ourselves back up to breakfast before he comes down here looking for us.”
**************************
Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden. Tuesday, 20 January, 09:40.
“Why are you wearing that frown this morning, Bertil,” said the Chief looking up from the usual pile of paperwork on his desk. “Something serious on your mind.”
No, just a little puzzled,” replied Hansson, easing his considerable bulk into an office chair facing the Chief’s desk.
“About Gun. I’m a little puzzled by the fact that she texted yesterday to let us know she was taking some personal time. That’s not like her. It would have been more like her to call either me or you and offer some explanation.”
“Oh, I think the answer to that is clear enough. She’s probably shacked up with Barbara Moore while Moore’s in town. The two of them are likely holed up under the bedsheets at her place out in Granby. Don’t worry, our Gun will surface soon enough.”
“Yeah, suppose you’re right.”
“And, besides … crime cases our down, it being after the holidays and all. There’s no urgent need to have Gun here right now, is there?”
“No, but while I can’t exactly place my finger on it, something seems amiss.”
“I know you’re happily married, Bertil, but it does seem like you have a thing for our Gun.”
“Well, yes and no. No, wait. I really meant to say no. It’s just that we’ve been partners here on the force for a good many years.”
“And she’s a pleasure to look at?”
“Yes, she is!”
“Let’s drink to that, shall we? grinned the Chief, reaching for the drawer in which he kept a bottle and a couple of glasses.
TBC
“Hej” said Barbara cheerily as she descended the central stairway and turned to enter the dining room.
Gun looked up from her oatmeal breakfast and said, “Hej, yourself! … look at what the cat dragged in.”
“Do I look that awful?”
“Nah, remarkably good for someone who had too much Riesling last night. Grab yourself some coffee and a bowl of gröt and join me?”
“Sure, one sec.”
“Sooo …” said Barbara as she took her place moments later at the table. “Any sign of Åke yet this morning?”
“Not since I got up and came down here around three hours ago. His little trollope of a maid has been up early, though, to fix breakfast. She and I talked a bit and I found out that Anna-Lisa is a Finn. That explains why she doesn’t say much. Her Swedish is frightfully bad.”
“Figures.”
“Look, Babs. I’m going to be as blunt as I always am, and ask the question that’s on my mind. Did you let that bastard, Åke, fuck you last night? I’m guessing that you did. One didn’t have to be a genius at the dinner table to know what was on his mind. Pretty obvious the way he kept filling your wine glass when you weren’t paying attention, not to mention the copious amount of alcohol he was downing himself. I knew then he’d make his move soon as I left to go upstairs. And I eventually figured … come what may … I would just have to say goodnight and leave. … you being a big girl, after all, who would do whatever moved you. Sooo, having said that … my question, again, is did he?”
“Ummmm … not exactly, I guess. It went down pretty much as you imagined it would. Soon as you went upstairs he managed to corral me and began working me over … kissing and pawing me … stripping me naked, starting with my sweater and bra, and working his way down from there. I protested, of course, but he was a persuasive force … as he always is … and gradually, my resistance wore down, and I gave in. He picked me up and carried me up to his room and tossed me onto his bed. And there he went down on me, and well … you know … I thought okay … it’s going to happen … best to enjoy it. But then … heh … guess what? He passed out!”
“No!”
“Yes! So I left him lying there naked on the bed, went downstairs to gather up my clothing and then went up to my room and fell asleep. That’s the honest truth!”
“Amazing!”
“Yeah.”
“Well, here’s what I’ve been up to while you’ve been sleeping it off. Remember when Åke spoke last night about a post out back where old Geselius would have his workers and servants flogged?”
“Yeah. Dreadful man!. I guess back in those days people like him could get away with doing as they pleased to their underlings. Wouldn’t happen nowadays, though, would it?”
“No, I guess not. But I was curious and went out behind the house this morning to have a look. And just as Åke said, there it was … standing in the middle of a snowdrift … frost-covered wrist irons and all.”
“Gruesome!”
“But that’s not all, Babs! I got curious and started snooping around this place, and you won’t believe what I found down in the cellar.”
“No, what?”
“Well, if you’re finished with your bowl of gröt come with me and I’ll show you. Oh, and grab a coat, it’s a bit chilly down there.
“You’re being awfully mysterious, but sure … lead on. Oh, and by the way, what’s with this calling me ‘Babs’? Whatever happened to ‘Barb’?”
“I like the sound of it and decided this morning that I would start using it when speaking to you. What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”
“It’s okay, I guess. I’ll get used to it.”
With that settled, they left the dining area together. And with Gun leading the way, made their way to the stairway near the back of the house that led down to the cellar. There they wound past some randomly scattered old crates and chests, then passed through a long room filled with tools and miscellaneous paraphernalia left over from the old logging days until they eventually found themselves confronted by a heavy steel door.
“It’s locked,” reported Barbara as she tugged at the handle.
“I know. Stand back,” instructed Gun.
Barbara watched with fascination as the police woman extracted a flex-wire from the pocket of her coat, and kneeling before the door, proceeded to pick its lock.
“Child’s play,” she announced triumphantly, regaining her feet and reaching for the door handle.
“They actually teach you how to do that at the police academy?” quipped Barbara as the heavy door swung open easily.
“Among other cool things,” laughed Gun. “Wait while I find the light switch.”
“Oh my God!” cried Barbara, glancing around in astonishment as the room with its old-fashioned vaulted ceiling was suddenly bathed in a warm glow of light.
“That was my reaction too,” replied Gun as she ran her hand over the top of a heavy wooden torture rack.
“Old Fredrik Segelius must have inflicted far worse on his poor underlings than an occasional good flogging. Just look at all this stuff! It’s like one of those cheesy torture museums.”
“Yes, look here. There’s a placard on this old torture rack that says ‘1528’ … a museum piece if there ever was one. And look over there … table tops strewn with old whips, scourges, pears, cudgels, pliers and pokers. There’s even a set of wooden stocks, along with an iron chair, a wooden horse, and what I think is referred to as a Judas cradle. And over there is a garroting apparatus, which according to the placard, is of the kind used by the Spanish Inquisition!”
“Yes, it’s all here,” mused Barbara. “It appears to be authentic, and has been lovingly refurbished and maintained. Notice how the wood on the stretching rack has been polished to a shine and how all the moving parts have been recently lubricated? Everything is in perfect working order”
“So, I ask you. Who would do that?”
“Apparently Åke would and did.”
“Yes, apparently so. Old Fredrik was dead and gone ages ago.”
Tell me Gun, how do I look with my head and wrists in this old stock?”
“Inviting, Babs … very inviting. Would you like me to lock that top bar in place, pull down your leggings, and apply one of those canes over there on that table to your lovely tight little ass?”
“No, not a good idea right now. Someone will hear me screaming. But again … this place is so amazing. There must be an explanation for it.”
“Yes, Babs, there is. I said it already. Your pal, Åke, is a complete and possibly dangerous, sadistic whacko!”
“No, I think there is a rational explanation. Remember that Åke is a specialist on human rights, and at the heart of his expertise is a complete knowledge of the many ways that authoritarian figures and regimes, both past and present, have used imprisonment, terror and torture to suppress political opposition. This collection … if that’s what it is, … is simply a physical reminder of the existence and utility of tools of repression and intimidation throughout the ages. I also know him to be quite the amateur historian. Apparently a collector too. I imagine this room and it’s relics to be some kind of hobby.”
“I still say that it says he’s a dangerous whacko. Perhaps we should question him about this room?”
“No, Gun. Not now. Let’s not rock the boat. I want to hear what Åke has to say today about his assignment as the new UN Human Rights Council’s Rapporteur on political intimidation and human rights abuse in North Korea. And I’m curious to know exactly why he has asked me here to Sollefteå. I’d like to find out what role he expects me to play.”
“Alright, Babs. We’ll play it your way for now. And, if that’s our intention, we’d best lock this place up and get ourselves back up to breakfast before he comes down here looking for us.”
**************************
Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden. Tuesday, 20 January, 09:40.
“Why are you wearing that frown this morning, Bertil,” said the Chief looking up from the usual pile of paperwork on his desk. “Something serious on your mind.”
No, just a little puzzled,” replied Hansson, easing his considerable bulk into an office chair facing the Chief’s desk.
“About Gun. I’m a little puzzled by the fact that she texted yesterday to let us know she was taking some personal time. That’s not like her. It would have been more like her to call either me or you and offer some explanation.”
“Oh, I think the answer to that is clear enough. She’s probably shacked up with Barbara Moore while Moore’s in town. The two of them are likely holed up under the bedsheets at her place out in Granby. Don’t worry, our Gun will surface soon enough.”
“Yeah, suppose you’re right.”
“And, besides … crime cases our down, it being after the holidays and all. There’s no urgent need to have Gun here right now, is there?”
“No, but while I can’t exactly place my finger on it, something seems amiss.”
“I know you’re happily married, Bertil, but it does seem like you have a thing for our Gun.”
“Well, yes and no. No, wait. I really meant to say no. It’s just that we’ve been partners here on the force for a good many years.”
“And she’s a pleasure to look at?”
“Yes, she is!”
“Let’s drink to that, shall we? grinned the Chief, reaching for the drawer in which he kept a bottle and a couple of glasses.
TBC
I love the way Gun is slowly asserting her Dominance and the way Babs protestingly accepts, one step closer to the abyss of total submission…
Oh YES, right now, in the chill winter air in this dungeon?? YESSSSS!!!
Is it reading ahead to hope for a far more intricate look into Åke’s amazing basement?
Or possibly this indicates what we should have suspected all along, that the UN Commission for Human Rights is akin to the Orwellian Ministry of Love…
Stop it, we’re not supposed to be reading ahead!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Ever since their ordeal in that cold Baltic hut,
Gun, Barb, under pressure has put.
With a hint of perversion,
She`s effected Barb`s conversion,
Into "Babs" her naked submissive slut.
Even down in that cruel dungeon cellar,
The revelations were stellar.
The truth was stark,
Gun wants to leave her mark
With a cane that`s long, whippy and yeller.
Gun, Barb, under pressure has put.
With a hint of perversion,
She`s effected Barb`s conversion,
Into "Babs" her naked submissive slut.
Even down in that cruel dungeon cellar,
The revelations were stellar.
The truth was stark,
Gun wants to leave her mark
With a cane that`s long, whippy and yeller.
Last edited:
Truth be told
Try it and a thousand demerits you shall receive!!!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Gun has your measure, and won`t stand for any of that!Truth be told
Try it and a thousand demerits you shall receive!!!
M
montycrusto
Guest
L
what.. all this time I’ve been writing dazzlingly witty verse trying to squeeze a few demerits out of you... and all I needed to do was call you “Babs”??Truth be told
Try it and a thousand demerits you shall receive!!!
It’s all lies, I called her Babs in a previous reply and no response.L
what.. all this time I’ve been writing dazzlingly witty verse trying to squeeze a few demerits out of you... and all I needed to do was call you “Babs”??
I vote we keep using Babs… who is this @Barbaria1 anyway? Not even a real name, innit?
L
what.. all this time I’ve been writing dazzlingly witty verse trying to squeeze a few demerits out of you... and all I needed to do was call you “Babs”??
X 1,000
M
montycrusto
Guest
They’re not lies, they’re “Barb facts”
M
montycrusto
Guest
That’s cheating!
