Proves that I am able to do two things at once
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Nordic Peril: The Sequel to Gone Missing in Sweden
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
xso
Tribune
North Koreans on their way probably + you and Gun getting both hot and cold! I guess it is doable to have sex in the snow (I have not tried, I just cooled down!) after a hot sauna bath......but you have to be quick, maximum 3 minutes, after that I think you will both loose interest..........but I guess you have had a lot of training regarding 'quickies' B!Who could that be?
Since I am on CF, Riesling got a special taste for me, and when I see a bottle in the store, my fantasy goes running wild!
View attachment 1232671 And this pic will make it even run wilder from now on!
Looking forward to next chapter!! PS: As mentioned in another comment, don't forget 'to risa'!!!PS: In during the 80:s there was a sect leader, Hans Scheike, who was surrounded by female fans! His speciality was spanking with birch rice........
Chapter 7. Basement sauna of the country home of Åke Persson, Tuesday, 20 January, 17:51.
“Weren’t you a little hard on Bertil there?” remarked Barbara as she set down her empty wine glass.
“Nah. It’s fine. I just don’t like him acting like a mother hen guarding her wayward chick,” laughed Gun.
“He’s just very fond of you.”
“I know, Babs,” admitted Gun softly and distractedly. She was looking at the sauna door, which had just swung open to reveal a nearly naked Åke Persson framed in the doorway.
“Thought I’d join you ladies. You don’t mind, do you?” schmoozed their host.
“Don’t you knock?” snapped Gun, reaching for a towel.
“Oh, don’t bother to cover up,” he grinned. “I’ve seen Barb in the all-together many times before … and have imagined you in the nude too, Detective Sergeant.”
“I’m sure you have, but I’ll cover up anyway, if you don’t mind … and my name is Gun, remember?”
“I’ll cover up too,” said Barbara, wrapping and securing a towel around herself in a deliberate show of solidarity with Gun.
“Suit yourselves,” quipped Åke amiably. “We can all sit here together and have a nice sweaty chat. That’s what’s best about group saunas. And, as a bonus, I can use the opportunity to get to know you better Detective … uh … sorry … I mean … Gun.”
“Sure. For starters, how about telling Barb and me what’s behind that heavy locked door at the other end of the cellar. We’re curious.”
Barbara shot her a warning look.
Åke shrugged, took a slug directly from the open bottle he had brought with him, and said, “Not much of anything, really … just odds and ends.”
“Never lie to a police detective,” laughed Gun. “We know one when we hear one. If there are just random odds and ends behind that door why would you bother to keep it locked?”
He sat in silence for few moments, clearly mulling his answer over in his mind, “Okay. If you really must know, it’s where I keep some valuable historical artifacts. Collecting them is a hobby of mine, you see. Given my professional interest and expertise in the means of political suppression through time … I collect and preserve old instruments of torture. It sounds odd, I know. But by studying the design of these instruments, especially those that are intended to slowly and deliberately deliver desired results, one gains a window into the minds of those who designed them and put them to use.”
“So, you’re telling Babs and me that you have a private torture museum in your cellar? How charming.”
“Make light of it if you will, but tell you what … I can show you the collection, if you care to see it.”
Barbara shot Gun a ‘see, I told you so’ look.
“Sure, why not? We’d love to see it, wouldn’t we, Babs?” said Gun, with a grimace that belied the enthusiasm of her words.
Barb nodded agreeably.
“Alright then! I’d be happy to show it to you. No time like the present. I’ll just sprint ahead and unlock the door. You two follow after.”
“See. I think he’s pleased that we’re showing an interest,” Barbara whispered to Gun as they left the sauna and stepped out into the cold dry cellar air.
“As only a Whacko would,” sniffed Gun in reference to her earlier-stated assessment of their host. “But, let’s hurry. I’m keen to see where he has the key hidden … as he quite obviously doesn’t have it on him.”
Barb giggled at that. And they rushed ahead, catching up just in time to see him take the key from its resting place atop the door frame. After which, Barbara passed Gun a mocking ‘and you thought it necessary to pick the lock?’ look.
“Here we are ladies, kindly step inside and have a look around,” invited Åke, executing an exaggerated theatrical bow. “My private collection, which I’ve built up over nearly a decade now, includes some of the best surviving examples of historical torture instruments in all of Europe, each one meticulously restored.”
“Uh-huh,” said Gun.
Barbara, in an effort to compensate for Gun’s show of indifference, gushed “Oh, would you look at that torture rack over there! It’s so big and so absolutely ominous looking! I simply can’t imagine the incredible pain and suffering those poor souls unfortunate enough to be laid out on such a thing were forced to endure. Just looking at it gives me the shivers!”
“That rack is actually the centerpiece of my collection. Dates from the early sixteenth century,” responded Åkeproudly. “And, you’re quite right, Barb. The rack was one of the most fearsome and effective tools of intimidation, for it was uniquely designed to deliver a measured ‘step-by-step’ increase in a victim’s discomfort … moving inexorably, but slowly, towards one of the worst kinds of excruciating pain imaginable. It’s said that in many cases, just a few small turns of the drum was all that was needed to extract the confession, or naming of names, demanded by the authorities. It’s said that some gave in at the mere sight of the rack being prepared to receive them.”
“Unimaginably cruel” breathed Barbara.
“Actually not that unimaginable. If you’d really like to find out what it must have been like to be stretched on the rack, Barb, you’re welcome to give it a whirl. It’s in fine working order. Climb up on it and lie down, and I will attach your wrists and ankles to these cuffs and chains, and ratchet the drum around a few notches … not too many, mind you … just enough to give you a taste of what it might have been like. What do you say?”
“Alright, Åke. Why not? I’m feeling adventurous today.”
“Babs! Are you sure about this?” warned Gun. “What’s gotten into you? It’s the Riesling, isn’t it? You drank most of that bottle!”
“It’s okay, Gun. It’s just for fun,” laughed Barb.
“Uh, hang on a second,” cautioned Åke. “Before you get yourself up on that rack, Barb, let’s keep in mind that if this were real, the inquisitors would have had you stripped naked beforehand.”
“See, I knew there was a catch! Very clever of you! But, sure. Why not? I’ll lose the towel, okay?”
“Right. That’s perfect. Just toss the towel on the floor. Now, climb up and lie down on your back … that’s it … head towards the roller drum … good. Stretch out your legs … arms above your head .. good … now, hold still while I secure your wrists and ankles … Alright, that does it … Ready, Barb?”
“I’d say she’s definitely ready,” observed Gun, who was standing near the foot of the rack. “Look at her pussy. She’s wet! This is a turn on for you, isn’t it Babs?”
“So far, it is.” admitted Barbara.
“Perhaps, I’ll need to write this up,” grinned Åke. “And see if I can’t get it published somewhere.”
“Very funny,” laughed Barb. “Get on with it, will you, before I invite Gun up here to eat me!”
“Hah. Alright, all joking aside now because I’m going to start the process by rolling the drum, increasing the tension a few ratchet notches at a time,” warned Åke. “Tell me when to stop.”
And the stretching began, the ratchet making a loud clacking noise as Åke turned the wheel.
“Not too bad, so far … I’m managing fine … umm … little more …. Arghhhh … okay …I said a little more! … that’s painful … quite enough! Stop there!” gasped Barb.
“What? Can’t take any more?” teased Åke. “You asked for a realistic taste of what it must have been like. But this is nothing so far. Let’s do two more notches, okay?”
“Uh … well … I’m … okay … I think I can take it.”
“Oh, but one more thing, Barb. If this were real, they’d probably … at each stopping point … be applying hot irons, claws, rippers, or pliers to some part or another of your lovely body … or at the very least, you’d feel the kiss of the lash!”
“Well, I ….”
“Here, let me demonstrate,” he said, reaching for a multi-thonged leather whip from a nearby tabletop.
“Alright, but very gently,” gasped Barbara. “Just for effect, okay?”
“Of course,” assured Åke as he laid a mildly-delivered stroke that brought the thongs of the whip down across her mounded breasts, and then a second stroke across her ribs, and then a third, returning to her breasts again … just hard enough to leave marks and elicit a gasp and an anguished cry of pain.
“Okay, I’m calling a halt to this,” intervened Gun. “It’s gone far enough. She gets the idea …”
“Gun is probably right. Let’s not get carried away.” agreed Åke, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
“Of course, I’m right,” declared Gun.
“Then, one more crank of the drum and we call it quits. Okay, Barb?”
She screwed her eyes shut, and nodded assent.
“Okay, ready now. Here goes.”
As the ratchet mechanism clicked once, then twice, she responded to the first with a grimace and the second with an anguished, “Owwww! Shit! Enough! Stop! Enough!”
Åke complied, quickly releasing the tension, and hastening to release Barbara’s wrists and ankles.
“Whew! What an experience”! she gasped, sitting upright, rubbing her wrists and ruefully examining the whip marks on her chest.
“And I never got the chance to try the pincers out on those lovely erect nipples,” teased Åke, before turning to Gun to say, “How about you Gun? Care to cast that towel aside and have a go on the rack too?”
“Not on your life!”
************************
Sitting room of the country home of Åke Persson, Tuesday, 20 January, 19:23.
“That was quite an experience earlier today,” observed Åke, raising his glass in a toast. “Here’s to you, Barbara. Adventurous and fun-loving today as you were when I first met you in Uppsala as a newly arrived student and coaxed you into going topless at that Baltic beach party.”
“You still remember that, Åke, after all the years?”
“Of course I do Barb. Your titties are unforgettably luscious, don’t you agree Gun?”
“If you say so,” agreed an unsmiling Gun.
They were seated around a teak coffee table, sharing before dinner drinks. Anna-Lisa hovered in the background.
“Any more news on when the North Korean defector is due to arrive here?” asked Barb in an effort to change the subject.
“Yes, should be here by late tomorrow afternoon according to the communication sent to me about an hour ago from Geneva …which reminds me, Barb, to say that you and I need to block out some significant time together tomorrow to plan how we will handle the debriefing. This is a great opportunity that must be handled just right.”
“Yes, agreed,” replied Barbara thoughtfully.
“Anna-Lisa! A refill on my drink please!” called Gun, holding out her empty glass.
Anna-Lisa nodded and went off to the kitchen to fetch another bottle … and to text a hurried message.
TBC
“Weren’t you a little hard on Bertil there?” remarked Barbara as she set down her empty wine glass.
“Nah. It’s fine. I just don’t like him acting like a mother hen guarding her wayward chick,” laughed Gun.
“He’s just very fond of you.”
“I know, Babs,” admitted Gun softly and distractedly. She was looking at the sauna door, which had just swung open to reveal a nearly naked Åke Persson framed in the doorway.
“Thought I’d join you ladies. You don’t mind, do you?” schmoozed their host.
“Don’t you knock?” snapped Gun, reaching for a towel.
“Oh, don’t bother to cover up,” he grinned. “I’ve seen Barb in the all-together many times before … and have imagined you in the nude too, Detective Sergeant.”
“I’m sure you have, but I’ll cover up anyway, if you don’t mind … and my name is Gun, remember?”
“I’ll cover up too,” said Barbara, wrapping and securing a towel around herself in a deliberate show of solidarity with Gun.
“Suit yourselves,” quipped Åke amiably. “We can all sit here together and have a nice sweaty chat. That’s what’s best about group saunas. And, as a bonus, I can use the opportunity to get to know you better Detective … uh … sorry … I mean … Gun.”
“Sure. For starters, how about telling Barb and me what’s behind that heavy locked door at the other end of the cellar. We’re curious.”
Barbara shot her a warning look.
Åke shrugged, took a slug directly from the open bottle he had brought with him, and said, “Not much of anything, really … just odds and ends.”
“Never lie to a police detective,” laughed Gun. “We know one when we hear one. If there are just random odds and ends behind that door why would you bother to keep it locked?”
He sat in silence for few moments, clearly mulling his answer over in his mind, “Okay. If you really must know, it’s where I keep some valuable historical artifacts. Collecting them is a hobby of mine, you see. Given my professional interest and expertise in the means of political suppression through time … I collect and preserve old instruments of torture. It sounds odd, I know. But by studying the design of these instruments, especially those that are intended to slowly and deliberately deliver desired results, one gains a window into the minds of those who designed them and put them to use.”
“So, you’re telling Babs and me that you have a private torture museum in your cellar? How charming.”
“Make light of it if you will, but tell you what … I can show you the collection, if you care to see it.”
Barbara shot Gun a ‘see, I told you so’ look.
“Sure, why not? We’d love to see it, wouldn’t we, Babs?” said Gun, with a grimace that belied the enthusiasm of her words.
Barb nodded agreeably.
“Alright then! I’d be happy to show it to you. No time like the present. I’ll just sprint ahead and unlock the door. You two follow after.”
“See. I think he’s pleased that we’re showing an interest,” Barbara whispered to Gun as they left the sauna and stepped out into the cold dry cellar air.
“As only a Whacko would,” sniffed Gun in reference to her earlier-stated assessment of their host. “But, let’s hurry. I’m keen to see where he has the key hidden … as he quite obviously doesn’t have it on him.”
Barb giggled at that. And they rushed ahead, catching up just in time to see him take the key from its resting place atop the door frame. After which, Barbara passed Gun a mocking ‘and you thought it necessary to pick the lock?’ look.
“Here we are ladies, kindly step inside and have a look around,” invited Åke, executing an exaggerated theatrical bow. “My private collection, which I’ve built up over nearly a decade now, includes some of the best surviving examples of historical torture instruments in all of Europe, each one meticulously restored.”
“Uh-huh,” said Gun.
Barbara, in an effort to compensate for Gun’s show of indifference, gushed “Oh, would you look at that torture rack over there! It’s so big and so absolutely ominous looking! I simply can’t imagine the incredible pain and suffering those poor souls unfortunate enough to be laid out on such a thing were forced to endure. Just looking at it gives me the shivers!”
“That rack is actually the centerpiece of my collection. Dates from the early sixteenth century,” responded Åkeproudly. “And, you’re quite right, Barb. The rack was one of the most fearsome and effective tools of intimidation, for it was uniquely designed to deliver a measured ‘step-by-step’ increase in a victim’s discomfort … moving inexorably, but slowly, towards one of the worst kinds of excruciating pain imaginable. It’s said that in many cases, just a few small turns of the drum was all that was needed to extract the confession, or naming of names, demanded by the authorities. It’s said that some gave in at the mere sight of the rack being prepared to receive them.”
“Unimaginably cruel” breathed Barbara.
“Actually not that unimaginable. If you’d really like to find out what it must have been like to be stretched on the rack, Barb, you’re welcome to give it a whirl. It’s in fine working order. Climb up on it and lie down, and I will attach your wrists and ankles to these cuffs and chains, and ratchet the drum around a few notches … not too many, mind you … just enough to give you a taste of what it might have been like. What do you say?”
“Alright, Åke. Why not? I’m feeling adventurous today.”
“Babs! Are you sure about this?” warned Gun. “What’s gotten into you? It’s the Riesling, isn’t it? You drank most of that bottle!”
“It’s okay, Gun. It’s just for fun,” laughed Barb.
“Uh, hang on a second,” cautioned Åke. “Before you get yourself up on that rack, Barb, let’s keep in mind that if this were real, the inquisitors would have had you stripped naked beforehand.”
“See, I knew there was a catch! Very clever of you! But, sure. Why not? I’ll lose the towel, okay?”
“Right. That’s perfect. Just toss the towel on the floor. Now, climb up and lie down on your back … that’s it … head towards the roller drum … good. Stretch out your legs … arms above your head .. good … now, hold still while I secure your wrists and ankles … Alright, that does it … Ready, Barb?”
“I’d say she’s definitely ready,” observed Gun, who was standing near the foot of the rack. “Look at her pussy. She’s wet! This is a turn on for you, isn’t it Babs?”
“So far, it is.” admitted Barbara.
“Perhaps, I’ll need to write this up,” grinned Åke. “And see if I can’t get it published somewhere.”
“Very funny,” laughed Barb. “Get on with it, will you, before I invite Gun up here to eat me!”
“Hah. Alright, all joking aside now because I’m going to start the process by rolling the drum, increasing the tension a few ratchet notches at a time,” warned Åke. “Tell me when to stop.”
And the stretching began, the ratchet making a loud clacking noise as Åke turned the wheel.
“Not too bad, so far … I’m managing fine … umm … little more …. Arghhhh … okay …I said a little more! … that’s painful … quite enough! Stop there!” gasped Barb.
“What? Can’t take any more?” teased Åke. “You asked for a realistic taste of what it must have been like. But this is nothing so far. Let’s do two more notches, okay?”
“Uh … well … I’m … okay … I think I can take it.”
“Oh, but one more thing, Barb. If this were real, they’d probably … at each stopping point … be applying hot irons, claws, rippers, or pliers to some part or another of your lovely body … or at the very least, you’d feel the kiss of the lash!”
“Well, I ….”
“Here, let me demonstrate,” he said, reaching for a multi-thonged leather whip from a nearby tabletop.
“Alright, but very gently,” gasped Barbara. “Just for effect, okay?”
“Of course,” assured Åke as he laid a mildly-delivered stroke that brought the thongs of the whip down across her mounded breasts, and then a second stroke across her ribs, and then a third, returning to her breasts again … just hard enough to leave marks and elicit a gasp and an anguished cry of pain.
“Okay, I’m calling a halt to this,” intervened Gun. “It’s gone far enough. She gets the idea …”
“Gun is probably right. Let’s not get carried away.” agreed Åke, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
“Of course, I’m right,” declared Gun.
“Then, one more crank of the drum and we call it quits. Okay, Barb?”
She screwed her eyes shut, and nodded assent.
“Okay, ready now. Here goes.”
As the ratchet mechanism clicked once, then twice, she responded to the first with a grimace and the second with an anguished, “Owwww! Shit! Enough! Stop! Enough!”
Åke complied, quickly releasing the tension, and hastening to release Barbara’s wrists and ankles.
“Whew! What an experience”! she gasped, sitting upright, rubbing her wrists and ruefully examining the whip marks on her chest.
“And I never got the chance to try the pincers out on those lovely erect nipples,” teased Åke, before turning to Gun to say, “How about you Gun? Care to cast that towel aside and have a go on the rack too?”
“Not on your life!”
************************
Sitting room of the country home of Åke Persson, Tuesday, 20 January, 19:23.
“That was quite an experience earlier today,” observed Åke, raising his glass in a toast. “Here’s to you, Barbara. Adventurous and fun-loving today as you were when I first met you in Uppsala as a newly arrived student and coaxed you into going topless at that Baltic beach party.”
“You still remember that, Åke, after all the years?”
“Of course I do Barb. Your titties are unforgettably luscious, don’t you agree Gun?”
“If you say so,” agreed an unsmiling Gun.
They were seated around a teak coffee table, sharing before dinner drinks. Anna-Lisa hovered in the background.
“Any more news on when the North Korean defector is due to arrive here?” asked Barb in an effort to change the subject.
“Yes, should be here by late tomorrow afternoon according to the communication sent to me about an hour ago from Geneva …which reminds me, Barb, to say that you and I need to block out some significant time together tomorrow to plan how we will handle the debriefing. This is a great opportunity that must be handled just right.”
“Yes, agreed,” replied Barbara thoughtfully.
“Anna-Lisa! A refill on my drink please!” called Gun, holding out her empty glass.
Anna-Lisa nodded and went off to the kitchen to fetch another bottle … and to text a hurried message.
TBC
messaline
Crucified Amazon
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm !
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm !
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh ! She doesn't know what she's losing ...
One of which appears to be pressing *the* buttonProves that I am able to do two things at once
Ooooh, lovely
Oh, more please, Sir?
Oooohhhhhh… no, please don’t, no,, oh Ghod, n-n-n… yessss!!!!
Spoilsport. I never realised just how much of a wet blanket Gun could be!
Hmmm, wrapped in a wet blanket shackled at that post in the snow could be fun though?
Good help is hard to find!!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I never had Barb pegged as 'naive' ...
Is that really a 'selling point'
Typical Scandinavian smooth talking ...
Åke must have a huge ... basement!
Enthralling stuff Barb. I was immersed in the tale so much already and then we get the reminder that a female North Korean Dissident is due to arrive anytime soon ... Loving it ...
M
montycrusto
Guest
Not even the most scurrilous and disreputable website would consider publishing such material!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Gun thinks Ake`s dungeon lacks class,
In fact, the whole thing is crass.
As is Barb`s enthusing
About Ake`s abusing.
After not letting Gun cane her ass.
Another playful, well written chapter, with hints of darker happenings to follow. Barb is keeping us on the edge of our seats.
In fact, the whole thing is crass.
As is Barb`s enthusing
About Ake`s abusing.
After not letting Gun cane her ass.
Another playful, well written chapter, with hints of darker happenings to follow. Barb is keeping us on the edge of our seats.
M
montycrusto
Guest
She always enjoys a bit of edging!
TheLimey
Governor
I don't know, she might be in denial about that...She always enjoys a bit of edging!
Certainly not CruxForums! We have very high standards here. Just check out our limericks thread if you don’t believe.Not even the most scurrilous and disreputable website would consider publishing such material!
Never can say Barbara is not curious enough to expand her knowledge...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Suitable furniture for the police office?
TheLimey
Governor
'Gun racked her brains thinking where in the office they could put some of the collection...'
Chapter 8. Dining room of the country home of Åke Persson. Tuesday, 20 January, 22:28.
Dinner was long over, but Barbara, Gun and Åke Persson still lingered at the dinner table.
The food had been traditional Swedish fare … meatballs served with mashed potatoes, cream sauce and lingonberries, followed by a green-tinted-marzipan-topped Princess torte for dessert.
Discussion had ranged widely, covering such diverse subjects as Åke’s collection of torture instruments, including a hypothetical discussion of what Gun’s choice of an instrument would be were she to reconsider her decision not to try one out (she opted for the wooden horse), the travails of university politics, Sweden’s forthcoming accession to NATO, coping with Sweden’s long bleak winters (a new storm, with heavy snow expected, was forecast for late the next day) and Barbara’s love of marzipan (she ate half the Princess torte all by herself),
But also … always present beneath all the talk, whether serious or light-spirited … was an underlying tension over who would end up spending the night with Barbara in their bed … would it be Gun or Åke?
Gun was determined not to yield the floor and initiative to Åke, as she had done the previous night. And Åke was eager to finish what he had started after Gun had retired and rather ignominiously failed to finish even though he had managed to maneuver an inebriated Barbara into his bed, seemingly eager to couple.
So they had all doggedly remained seated at the table long after Anna-Lisa had cleared it, with Åke surreptitiously refilling Barbara’s wine glass at every opportunity, while Gun quietly and provocatively played footsie with Barbara under the table.
Fully cognizant of the quiet competition being played out for her favor, Barbara went out of her way to keep the conversation going and thereby avoiding the inevitable and uncomfortable confrontation that was certain to come.
The issue was finally resolved, a little before midnight, when Barbara abruptly passed out and Gun and Åke had no choice but to carry her upstairs, undress her and deposit her in her own bed.
Backing out of her room together, Gun and Åke exchanged amused smiles with one another when Barbara blurted out in her sleep “fuck me!… fuck me! … do it … now!”
At that moment, as if by magic, the animosity Gun and Åke felt towards one another melted away … perhaps for good … perhaps not. Time would tell.
*************************
Home of Bertil and Maj Hansson, Knivstagatan 14, Uppsala, Sweden. Tuesday, 20 January, 23:48.
Bertil rolled free of his wife, Maj, and onto his back, on his side of the bed.
They’d just made love, and he had to admit it had been extraordinarily good. They’d both orgasmed together … something that hadn’t happened much of late, and he knew it was because he had performed exceptionally well.
He also felt guilty, knowing that, in large part, his exceptionally good performance that night was due to the fact that in his mind he had been fucking not Maj but Gun Thorell.
And as he lay awake staring at the ceiling, long after Maj had drifted off and was sleeping softly beside him, he continued to obsess about Gun.
It still bothered him that she had gone off to Sollefteå without letting him know in advance. And even more so, it bothered him that she was up there in the same house with that womanizing bastard, Åke Persson. What if Persson was, at that very moment, engaged in adding Gun to his long list of conquests … the latest trophy on his belt? Highly unlikely? Or was it? Hansson just didn’t know, and he couldn’t shake the thought of it.
In an effort to ease his mind and fall asleep, Hansson resolved that he would phone her … if not the next day, then on Thursday for sure. He figured that he’d probably need an excuse to do so. He’d have to make something up … some police-related question perhaps. He’d come up with something.
*************************
Special intelligence briefing, headquarters of the State Affairs Commission of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, Forbidden City, Pyongyang. Wednesday, 21 January, 06:59 (Tuesday, 20 January, 23:59 In Sweden).
“The Chair recognizes Lieutenant General Bar Chul-Moo of the Ministry of State Security.”
“Thank you Chairman. Let me begin by apologizing to the members of this august body for calling a special briefing at this early hour. I’ve done so because I believe it to be in everyone’s best interest to receive, as it comes in, the latest intel on the shameless defection of our Colonel Chang.”
“Quite right, General Bar. Please fill us in on the latest.”
“Yes. I’ve learned during the night via my latest communication with the Syndicate that Colonel Chang is to be relocated today. She will be moved from the safe house in Geneva, where she has been kept in seclusion, to the country estate of UN Human Rights Council Rapporteur Åke Persson for debriefing. Persson’s country estate, as you may recall from our previous session, is in a small out-of-the-way location near the small town of Sollefteå in northern Sweden.
“And this information comes to the Syndicate from the spy they have embedded in the household of Persson’s estate?”
“That is correct. The Syndicate’s agent there has reported overhearing news of the imminent movement and arrival of Colonel Choi. The information was obtained by eavesdropping on loose dinner table talk, and deemed most accurate.”
“Then perhaps this loose-tongued Åke Persson is quite the fool.”
“Perhaps.”
“Alright. Have you then been successful, General Bar, in making an arrangement with the Syndicate to employ their assets in Sweden to silence Colonel Chang?”
“I have indeed. And have been assured that her elimination is already in the works.”
“Excellent. Any details you can share with us?”
“The Syndicate chooses, as always, to keep the details of their ops secret. They did, however, tell me that due to the remoteness of the Persson estate, and the fact that that part of Sweden is currently under a severe winter storm warning, it may take the Syndicate some time before all the assets necessary for a successful operation are in place.”
“Why can’t they simply have their spy, who is already on the scene, shoot her … or poison her … or some such thing?”
“Because they probably want her demise to appear to be an unfortunate accident. Think of the media frenzy if the Swedish authorities were to suspect foul play.”
“I see. We must be prepared to be patient then.”
“Yes. But there’s one other thing. Given the fact that Barbara Moore, the woman I mentioned to you at our last meeting, is currently present at Persson’s place, the Syndicate would like to know from us whether our Dear Leader might still be interested in adding her to his personal stable of female Western sex slaves. The price would be cheap as the Syndicate feels it has a score to settle with both Ms Moore and her father.”
“And how would the Syndicate make that appear to be an unfortunate accident?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Alright. Tell them that they’ll have an answer on that matter before the day is out.”
TBC
Dinner was long over, but Barbara, Gun and Åke Persson still lingered at the dinner table.
The food had been traditional Swedish fare … meatballs served with mashed potatoes, cream sauce and lingonberries, followed by a green-tinted-marzipan-topped Princess torte for dessert.
Discussion had ranged widely, covering such diverse subjects as Åke’s collection of torture instruments, including a hypothetical discussion of what Gun’s choice of an instrument would be were she to reconsider her decision not to try one out (she opted for the wooden horse), the travails of university politics, Sweden’s forthcoming accession to NATO, coping with Sweden’s long bleak winters (a new storm, with heavy snow expected, was forecast for late the next day) and Barbara’s love of marzipan (she ate half the Princess torte all by herself),
But also … always present beneath all the talk, whether serious or light-spirited … was an underlying tension over who would end up spending the night with Barbara in their bed … would it be Gun or Åke?
Gun was determined not to yield the floor and initiative to Åke, as she had done the previous night. And Åke was eager to finish what he had started after Gun had retired and rather ignominiously failed to finish even though he had managed to maneuver an inebriated Barbara into his bed, seemingly eager to couple.
So they had all doggedly remained seated at the table long after Anna-Lisa had cleared it, with Åke surreptitiously refilling Barbara’s wine glass at every opportunity, while Gun quietly and provocatively played footsie with Barbara under the table.
Fully cognizant of the quiet competition being played out for her favor, Barbara went out of her way to keep the conversation going and thereby avoiding the inevitable and uncomfortable confrontation that was certain to come.
The issue was finally resolved, a little before midnight, when Barbara abruptly passed out and Gun and Åke had no choice but to carry her upstairs, undress her and deposit her in her own bed.
Backing out of her room together, Gun and Åke exchanged amused smiles with one another when Barbara blurted out in her sleep “fuck me!… fuck me! … do it … now!”
At that moment, as if by magic, the animosity Gun and Åke felt towards one another melted away … perhaps for good … perhaps not. Time would tell.
*************************
Home of Bertil and Maj Hansson, Knivstagatan 14, Uppsala, Sweden. Tuesday, 20 January, 23:48.
Bertil rolled free of his wife, Maj, and onto his back, on his side of the bed.
They’d just made love, and he had to admit it had been extraordinarily good. They’d both orgasmed together … something that hadn’t happened much of late, and he knew it was because he had performed exceptionally well.
He also felt guilty, knowing that, in large part, his exceptionally good performance that night was due to the fact that in his mind he had been fucking not Maj but Gun Thorell.
And as he lay awake staring at the ceiling, long after Maj had drifted off and was sleeping softly beside him, he continued to obsess about Gun.
It still bothered him that she had gone off to Sollefteå without letting him know in advance. And even more so, it bothered him that she was up there in the same house with that womanizing bastard, Åke Persson. What if Persson was, at that very moment, engaged in adding Gun to his long list of conquests … the latest trophy on his belt? Highly unlikely? Or was it? Hansson just didn’t know, and he couldn’t shake the thought of it.
In an effort to ease his mind and fall asleep, Hansson resolved that he would phone her … if not the next day, then on Thursday for sure. He figured that he’d probably need an excuse to do so. He’d have to make something up … some police-related question perhaps. He’d come up with something.
*************************
Special intelligence briefing, headquarters of the State Affairs Commission of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, Forbidden City, Pyongyang. Wednesday, 21 January, 06:59 (Tuesday, 20 January, 23:59 In Sweden).
“The Chair recognizes Lieutenant General Bar Chul-Moo of the Ministry of State Security.”
“Thank you Chairman. Let me begin by apologizing to the members of this august body for calling a special briefing at this early hour. I’ve done so because I believe it to be in everyone’s best interest to receive, as it comes in, the latest intel on the shameless defection of our Colonel Chang.”
“Quite right, General Bar. Please fill us in on the latest.”
“Yes. I’ve learned during the night via my latest communication with the Syndicate that Colonel Chang is to be relocated today. She will be moved from the safe house in Geneva, where she has been kept in seclusion, to the country estate of UN Human Rights Council Rapporteur Åke Persson for debriefing. Persson’s country estate, as you may recall from our previous session, is in a small out-of-the-way location near the small town of Sollefteå in northern Sweden.
“And this information comes to the Syndicate from the spy they have embedded in the household of Persson’s estate?”
“That is correct. The Syndicate’s agent there has reported overhearing news of the imminent movement and arrival of Colonel Choi. The information was obtained by eavesdropping on loose dinner table talk, and deemed most accurate.”
“Then perhaps this loose-tongued Åke Persson is quite the fool.”
“Perhaps.”
“Alright. Have you then been successful, General Bar, in making an arrangement with the Syndicate to employ their assets in Sweden to silence Colonel Chang?”
“I have indeed. And have been assured that her elimination is already in the works.”
“Excellent. Any details you can share with us?”
“The Syndicate chooses, as always, to keep the details of their ops secret. They did, however, tell me that due to the remoteness of the Persson estate, and the fact that that part of Sweden is currently under a severe winter storm warning, it may take the Syndicate some time before all the assets necessary for a successful operation are in place.”
“Why can’t they simply have their spy, who is already on the scene, shoot her … or poison her … or some such thing?”
“Because they probably want her demise to appear to be an unfortunate accident. Think of the media frenzy if the Swedish authorities were to suspect foul play.”
“I see. We must be prepared to be patient then.”
“Yes. But there’s one other thing. Given the fact that Barbara Moore, the woman I mentioned to you at our last meeting, is currently present at Persson’s place, the Syndicate would like to know from us whether our Dear Leader might still be interested in adding her to his personal stable of female Western sex slaves. The price would be cheap as the Syndicate feels it has a score to settle with both Ms Moore and her father.”
“And how would the Syndicate make that appear to be an unfortunate accident?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Alright. Tell them that they’ll have an answer on that matter before the day is out.”
TBC
That’s definitely not even close to the only choice with an unused post outside or the historical apparatus downstairs….
Fuuuuuck, be patient now, her next words could be “whip me!… fuck me!… hurt me!… do it … now!”
Or is that reading ahead? I’m too aroused to care!