Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Is it Ekaterina calling? How did she get Dimitriev’s number? 
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Sexpionage II
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Tune in tomorrow to find out ...Is it Ekaterina calling? How did she get Dimitriev’s number?
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
You know I wouldn’t miss it fir the world!
Sharkman
Governor
Is it Ekaterina calling? How did she get Dimitriev’s number?
Hi Lion, I bet it is this Moore calling. Somebody enjoying such kinky games. Asking why Dimitriev stopped with the cigarette ... and did we not also wonder at?
Ted Parry
Governor
"Hello ... This is your internet provider, there seems to be a problem with your internet ... Just click on the link below ... "Is it Ekaterina calling? How did she get Dimitriev’s number?
I’ll bet it’s a spam call, or the local cable company offering her a great deal on a plan with more than 209 channels, or a survey company wanting her opinion of Boris and the Conservative government, or …..
Another excellent teaser chapter to raise the level of reader tension and interest. Nicely done, Fossy.
Another excellent teaser chapter to raise the level of reader tension and interest. Nicely done, Fossy.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
The Safe House (7)
An MI6 Safe House, location unknown
Ekaterina was on her knees in the middle of the bed. Her hands were manacled in front of her naked body, her face and chest pressed to the mattress and her ass in the air. With a large, Stiff flexed riding crop discarded by her side, her back and buttocks bore the red welts of a whipping. However, that part of suffering was over as Marcus Devonshire thrust his cock viciously into her open cunt; Kat screamed each time he plunged. It felt as if he was trying to drive himself deep into her belly.
Abruptly, Devonshire pulled out, rolled her onto her back and remounted her. As he filled her once again, he closed his fingers around her throat and squeezed … hard. The chokehold on Kat’s carotid arteries was tighter than anything Roger Moore had ever done to her, and it was starting to hurt.
"Red," she rasped. It was their safe word, supposedly.
“R … Red, f …fucking R …ed!”
Marcus Devonshire did not stop.
She looked into his face: his eyes were cold and dead. Sweat trickled from his forehead and down his face and onto her chest.
"Marcus ... please ..." Her voice was barely a whisper and her eyes were wide with fear. Kat sensed something was very wrong as her consciousness started to slip away.
"Marc ..."
The first syllable of his name was all that she managed to utter before blackness descended. Devonshire loosened his grip on her throat but kept on thrusting like a demented necrophiliac until he grunted and filled her prostrate, lifeless body with his seed.
Getting off the bed, the new Head of MI6 towelled off and put on his shirt and suit pants. He sat in the chair next to the bed and waited for his conquest to wake up.
As he looked at Ekaterina’s scarred nudity he smiled in a self-congratulatory manner. He knew Roger Moore had been fucking this Russian bitch, and he knew why. And so, it was pretty nailed on that she would agree when he placed his desire to dominate her on the table.
Presently Kat’s body stirred and she coughed then moaned, managing, with some difficulty to raise herself into a sitting position. Peering through the tangled mass of blonde hair that acted like a curtain to her face, Kat stared hard at the man who it appeared was taking over not just Roger Moore’s job, but his relationship with her too. What choice did she have? No one else but he and, and the necessary security team knew they were here. She was a captive to him, and in any event, as much as Kat hated herself for it, she needed what it was he had just given to her.
"Get up and come and kneel in front of me bitch." His voice was cold and distant. She was frightened. Roger was never this mean, not really.
"It would be easier to do without my wrists being chained ... Sir." She tried to lighten the atmosphere. He didn't respond.
Slowly, awkwardly, she obeyed. As she dropped to her knees, Devonshire reached down, caressed her face and pushed her hair away from her eyes. For a fraction of a second, she sensed him soften.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
“Sorry?” Kat questioned.
Just then there was a knock at the bedroom door. Ekaterina took stock of her position and how she looked, hair dishevelled, body covered with sweat, whip marks on her back and now sperm starting to trickle down her inner thighs and onto the carpet.
"Who’s that? Who else knows that we’re here … knows that I’m here?” She looked at Devonshire. He did not look back at her. Quietly he said, "Enter."
Kat gasped then gave a short scream when she saw the visitor.
"I'm assuming I don't need to make introductions,” The Head of MI6 added
The visitor stood in front of Marcus Devonshire staring down at Kat with an evil, almost smug smile on his face. Ekaterina shook her head, unable to believe this turn of events, a pleading expression on her face to match the tone of her words, as, with her voice light and small like that of a frightened little girl, she stared up at the looming figure and said his name out loud.
“Anatoly Andreytov …”
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
Grace Miller exhaled as Dimitriev moved away to answer his phone. He made no attempt to conceal it … and she could hear the full conversation as he placed it on loud speaker.
It was Andreytov.
“Nikolay do you have the girl?”
“Yes Sir, but she is not talking, should I kill her …?”
A laugh from the other side.
“No, we don’t need her anymore, but keep her alive. I have made a deal with MI6. In return for us agreeing to dispose of the murderous bitch Special Agent Miller, then has given us Novikova on a plate. He wants them both to disappear, I have her with me now.”
“That is good Sir. What should I do?”
“Wait there for me. I will bring the blonde bitch to you and we will have our fun with both of them, before they are executed. Novikova is the reason our beloved Tretykov is dead, and Miller is the one who killed him (see Abduction).”
The call ended Grace looked appalled as Dimitriev turned to face his captive with a smug grin splitting his lips. “So now we get to fuck with you and the blonde cunt, before we torture you both to death, and there’s nothing you can say that will make us stop!”
This instalment concludes "The Safe House", Part I of "Full Circle. We continue straight on tomorrow with the opening chapter of Part II, A Terrible Vengeance. There are regular scenes of violence and of a sexual nature throughout Sexpionage, however the remainder of this story comes with a particularly strong warning on this front. Thank you for your support …
An MI6 Safe House, location unknown
Ekaterina was on her knees in the middle of the bed. Her hands were manacled in front of her naked body, her face and chest pressed to the mattress and her ass in the air. With a large, Stiff flexed riding crop discarded by her side, her back and buttocks bore the red welts of a whipping. However, that part of suffering was over as Marcus Devonshire thrust his cock viciously into her open cunt; Kat screamed each time he plunged. It felt as if he was trying to drive himself deep into her belly.
Abruptly, Devonshire pulled out, rolled her onto her back and remounted her. As he filled her once again, he closed his fingers around her throat and squeezed … hard. The chokehold on Kat’s carotid arteries was tighter than anything Roger Moore had ever done to her, and it was starting to hurt.
"Red," she rasped. It was their safe word, supposedly.
“R … Red, f …fucking R …ed!”
Marcus Devonshire did not stop.
She looked into his face: his eyes were cold and dead. Sweat trickled from his forehead and down his face and onto her chest.
"Marcus ... please ..." Her voice was barely a whisper and her eyes were wide with fear. Kat sensed something was very wrong as her consciousness started to slip away.
"Marc ..."
The first syllable of his name was all that she managed to utter before blackness descended. Devonshire loosened his grip on her throat but kept on thrusting like a demented necrophiliac until he grunted and filled her prostrate, lifeless body with his seed.
Getting off the bed, the new Head of MI6 towelled off and put on his shirt and suit pants. He sat in the chair next to the bed and waited for his conquest to wake up.
As he looked at Ekaterina’s scarred nudity he smiled in a self-congratulatory manner. He knew Roger Moore had been fucking this Russian bitch, and he knew why. And so, it was pretty nailed on that she would agree when he placed his desire to dominate her on the table.
Presently Kat’s body stirred and she coughed then moaned, managing, with some difficulty to raise herself into a sitting position. Peering through the tangled mass of blonde hair that acted like a curtain to her face, Kat stared hard at the man who it appeared was taking over not just Roger Moore’s job, but his relationship with her too. What choice did she have? No one else but he and, and the necessary security team knew they were here. She was a captive to him, and in any event, as much as Kat hated herself for it, she needed what it was he had just given to her.
"Get up and come and kneel in front of me bitch." His voice was cold and distant. She was frightened. Roger was never this mean, not really.
"It would be easier to do without my wrists being chained ... Sir." She tried to lighten the atmosphere. He didn't respond.
Slowly, awkwardly, she obeyed. As she dropped to her knees, Devonshire reached down, caressed her face and pushed her hair away from her eyes. For a fraction of a second, she sensed him soften.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
“Sorry?” Kat questioned.
Just then there was a knock at the bedroom door. Ekaterina took stock of her position and how she looked, hair dishevelled, body covered with sweat, whip marks on her back and now sperm starting to trickle down her inner thighs and onto the carpet.
"Who’s that? Who else knows that we’re here … knows that I’m here?” She looked at Devonshire. He did not look back at her. Quietly he said, "Enter."
Kat gasped then gave a short scream when she saw the visitor.
"I'm assuming I don't need to make introductions,” The Head of MI6 added
The visitor stood in front of Marcus Devonshire staring down at Kat with an evil, almost smug smile on his face. Ekaterina shook her head, unable to believe this turn of events, a pleading expression on her face to match the tone of her words, as, with her voice light and small like that of a frightened little girl, she stared up at the looming figure and said his name out loud.
“Anatoly Andreytov …”
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
Grace Miller exhaled as Dimitriev moved away to answer his phone. He made no attempt to conceal it … and she could hear the full conversation as he placed it on loud speaker.
It was Andreytov.
“Nikolay do you have the girl?”
“Yes Sir, but she is not talking, should I kill her …?”
A laugh from the other side.
“No, we don’t need her anymore, but keep her alive. I have made a deal with MI6. In return for us agreeing to dispose of the murderous bitch Special Agent Miller, then has given us Novikova on a plate. He wants them both to disappear, I have her with me now.”
“That is good Sir. What should I do?”
“Wait there for me. I will bring the blonde bitch to you and we will have our fun with both of them, before they are executed. Novikova is the reason our beloved Tretykov is dead, and Miller is the one who killed him (see Abduction).”
The call ended Grace looked appalled as Dimitriev turned to face his captive with a smug grin splitting his lips. “So now we get to fuck with you and the blonde cunt, before we torture you both to death, and there’s nothing you can say that will make us stop!”
This instalment concludes "The Safe House", Part I of "Full Circle. We continue straight on tomorrow with the opening chapter of Part II, A Terrible Vengeance. There are regular scenes of violence and of a sexual nature throughout Sexpionage, however the remainder of this story comes with a particularly strong warning on this front. Thank you for your support …
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Oh my, and I thought Devonshire was just a self-serving, ignorant asshole! I hadn’t twigged that he was also such an evil bastard and double agent! Didn’t anyone check if he’d studied at Cambridge with Philby and the gang? They should have recruited someone from the LSE instead, maybe Soros?
Brilliant chapter, I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming, but I didn’t. And doesn’t Ekaterina look great on her knees in chains? Mmmmm!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you Loin' ... in all honesty, I don't think Devonshire can be classed as a double agent but he's more than willing to do a deal with the enemy if and when it suits his purpose.
Sharkman
Governor
Holly sh ...! I sensed it. The successor isn't mostly better then its precursor. So let's hope Kat got more fun to satisfy her submissive appetence. And Fossy, please give Moore a last chance for a brilliant finish. (Maybe inside a prison?) That is what I include in my regular evening silent prayer. Die Another Day (2002)
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I am assuming that you mean ROGER Moore as opposed to SOPHIA Moore Shark'? Maybe I might just do that, but probably not in this serial.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A Terrible Vengeance (1)
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
"Wake up. I need you standing."
"Fuck you!" Grace spat at him. Dimitriev smiled at the insult but didn't reply.
Staring at her chest, the Russian smiled.
‘… Come on Grace, you’ve got to fight back …’ her inner voice was shouting. Gripping her long hair in his large fist, Dimitriev yanked her head left and right, causing the Special Agent to reach up to her tormented scalp in an effort to stop the pain, but the bastard slammed her back against the table and stretched her over the splintered surface. The position was impossible to defend.
One look into Dimitriev’s eyes and she knew what would happen next.
“Please, no, not this …”
Her pleas served no purpose but to spur Dimitriev on and he was all over her in seconds, unceremoniously spreading her wide, attempting to fit between her legs, but she blocked him by squeezing her thighs together. The Special Agent was already naked, save for a scrap of white that remained hung from her shoulders, her clothes lying in tatters, a rag laying on the concrete floor, the victim of his hunting knife.
His first blow smashed into her left eye and whipped her head to the side. The darkened room blazed with white light and stars danced behind her eyelids. Grace screamed, but Dimitriev pressed his hand over her mouth and nose and blocked her air passage. Once more he forced himself between her splayed thighs.
She let her left leg descend and thrust her knee between his ribs. He groaned in pain.
“Let go of me, you pig!” She yelled. Dimitriev drew back his arm, and the second punch landed on her left ear. A dull pain cascaded along her cheekbone and the side of her skull. Grace sank her teeth into Dimitriev's fleshy forearm until she tasted salty blood. He grabbed a thick tuft of her hair and yanked her head up, before smashing it down on the wooden surface. One of her cervical vertebrae cracked and shot white-hot pain along her spine. He grabbed at her naked breast and squeezed hard enough to leave an immediate bruise.
"No. No, please you don't have to do this," Grace gasped. His mouth was against her ear as he hissed, "Shut up, whore and let me in." Taking her panties from his pocket, he stuffed the wad of cotton into her mouth, and his forearm pressed on her throat. Grace silently prayed that he wouldn't crush her trachea in the mist of his anger.
And then he plunged his fingers inside her. "I'll hurt you if you fight me. Let me fuck you." Dimitriev's free hand pressed down on Grace's arms so hard that she imagined her shoulder bones popping out of their sockets, and she tensed her muscles ready for a last stand of resistance.
She couldn't let him succeed, but her fight only angered Dimitriev more, and he pounded on her exposed ribs until she allowed him to mount her. Grace repeatedly begged him to stop but begging never had any effect on men like him. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Degraded, humiliated and helpless, she cried out.
"I know you like it rough, bitch," he said as Grace let the Russian spread her legs wide open, except she wasn’t doing it to comply, but because she couldn't take another hit from his powerful fist. He took her breasts into his mauling hands, squeezed and sucked hard on her nipples.
"No." She tried once more after she managed to spit out the pantie-gag. Grace arched her back and thrashed, but the man didn't let go. Then she couldn’t fight any longer, and so simply closed her eyes, a mental barrier against the things that were happening to her, resigned to her inevitable fate.
Bathed in a cold sweat, the disgusting grunts and sighs from above made her ears ring. She prayed she would die.
"I will fuck you so hard Grace Miller ... I know you need a big, hard cock inside you!”
The basement fell silent apart from Dimitriev’s accelerated breathing and the brushing of his body against her naked skin. The burning pain intensified between her legs as he penetrated and started fucking her in a violent frenzy.
Grace lay limp because she wanted him to finish … silently begging for it all to be over. Now and then he would hit her, hard, and she faded in and out of consciousness. Every time The Special Agent came to, she could hear him moaning and feel him pushing inside her open and reluctantly welcoming body.
She lay with her spine pressed painfully against the table while he took what he wanted. He slowed down before heading into the finale and then, with a final grunt, he arched, thrust and ejaculated inside her.
Then he lay still for what seemed like an eternity, his body weight crushing her ravaged frame. Grace tried to rise when he ceased pushing against her, but she couldn’t move him, and with Dimitriev's enormous body relaxed, Grace could hardly breathe. Slowly, gradually, he loosened his grip on her throat and air entered, unobstructed once more, into her lungs. He leaned into his victim’s head and smelled her hair. He smiled down at her stroked her cheek … this touch was uglier than all of the punches combined.
To Be Continued …
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
"Wake up. I need you standing."
"Fuck you!" Grace spat at him. Dimitriev smiled at the insult but didn't reply.
Staring at her chest, the Russian smiled.
‘… Come on Grace, you’ve got to fight back …’ her inner voice was shouting. Gripping her long hair in his large fist, Dimitriev yanked her head left and right, causing the Special Agent to reach up to her tormented scalp in an effort to stop the pain, but the bastard slammed her back against the table and stretched her over the splintered surface. The position was impossible to defend.
One look into Dimitriev’s eyes and she knew what would happen next.
“Please, no, not this …”
Her pleas served no purpose but to spur Dimitriev on and he was all over her in seconds, unceremoniously spreading her wide, attempting to fit between her legs, but she blocked him by squeezing her thighs together. The Special Agent was already naked, save for a scrap of white that remained hung from her shoulders, her clothes lying in tatters, a rag laying on the concrete floor, the victim of his hunting knife.
His first blow smashed into her left eye and whipped her head to the side. The darkened room blazed with white light and stars danced behind her eyelids. Grace screamed, but Dimitriev pressed his hand over her mouth and nose and blocked her air passage. Once more he forced himself between her splayed thighs.
She let her left leg descend and thrust her knee between his ribs. He groaned in pain.
“Let go of me, you pig!” She yelled. Dimitriev drew back his arm, and the second punch landed on her left ear. A dull pain cascaded along her cheekbone and the side of her skull. Grace sank her teeth into Dimitriev's fleshy forearm until she tasted salty blood. He grabbed a thick tuft of her hair and yanked her head up, before smashing it down on the wooden surface. One of her cervical vertebrae cracked and shot white-hot pain along her spine. He grabbed at her naked breast and squeezed hard enough to leave an immediate bruise.
"No. No, please you don't have to do this," Grace gasped. His mouth was against her ear as he hissed, "Shut up, whore and let me in." Taking her panties from his pocket, he stuffed the wad of cotton into her mouth, and his forearm pressed on her throat. Grace silently prayed that he wouldn't crush her trachea in the mist of his anger.
And then he plunged his fingers inside her. "I'll hurt you if you fight me. Let me fuck you." Dimitriev's free hand pressed down on Grace's arms so hard that she imagined her shoulder bones popping out of their sockets, and she tensed her muscles ready for a last stand of resistance.
She couldn't let him succeed, but her fight only angered Dimitriev more, and he pounded on her exposed ribs until she allowed him to mount her. Grace repeatedly begged him to stop but begging never had any effect on men like him. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Degraded, humiliated and helpless, she cried out.
"I know you like it rough, bitch," he said as Grace let the Russian spread her legs wide open, except she wasn’t doing it to comply, but because she couldn't take another hit from his powerful fist. He took her breasts into his mauling hands, squeezed and sucked hard on her nipples.
"No." She tried once more after she managed to spit out the pantie-gag. Grace arched her back and thrashed, but the man didn't let go. Then she couldn’t fight any longer, and so simply closed her eyes, a mental barrier against the things that were happening to her, resigned to her inevitable fate.
Bathed in a cold sweat, the disgusting grunts and sighs from above made her ears ring. She prayed she would die.
"I will fuck you so hard Grace Miller ... I know you need a big, hard cock inside you!”
The basement fell silent apart from Dimitriev’s accelerated breathing and the brushing of his body against her naked skin. The burning pain intensified between her legs as he penetrated and started fucking her in a violent frenzy.
Grace lay limp because she wanted him to finish … silently begging for it all to be over. Now and then he would hit her, hard, and she faded in and out of consciousness. Every time The Special Agent came to, she could hear him moaning and feel him pushing inside her open and reluctantly welcoming body.
She lay with her spine pressed painfully against the table while he took what he wanted. He slowed down before heading into the finale and then, with a final grunt, he arched, thrust and ejaculated inside her.
Then he lay still for what seemed like an eternity, his body weight crushing her ravaged frame. Grace tried to rise when he ceased pushing against her, but she couldn’t move him, and with Dimitriev's enormous body relaxed, Grace could hardly breathe. Slowly, gradually, he loosened his grip on her throat and air entered, unobstructed once more, into her lungs. He leaned into his victim’s head and smelled her hair. He smiled down at her stroked her cheek … this touch was uglier than all of the punches combined.
To Be Continued …
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
I need that loathometer again…
zohhh … what a closing line that is!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A Terrible Vengeance (2)
The back of an unmarked van on the M3 heading into London from the South Coast of England …
The first thing Kat sensed that it was the cold in the darkness. It felt as though the frigid air was running over her naked skin.
‘This doesn’t feel right,’ she thought, as slowly Ekaterina woke from the strange slumber that had engulfed her. Then she remembered. The big arms around her, lifting her and tossing her into the van. Kat tried to move her hands but found that she couldn't. What she had at first thought of as just dark she quickly realised was actually a blindfold. Though she couldn't see, something hard and cold bit into her wrists. Her head ached from colliding with the side of the van, but as the pain eased, Kat noticed a new throbbing in her body.
Both of her nipples were very sore, painfully so. It could have been from Marcus Devonshire. And then she remembered …
Marcus … fucking … Devonshire.
He had sold her out. Suddenly the nightmare of seeing Anatoly Andreytov came flooding back. As she tried to move, searing pain brought her struggles to an end. She held very still and waited until the pain subsided to a more reasonable level, and then just lay there trying to picture how things must look.
She was obviously naked, in a vehicle that was moving at some speed. Kat could feel the hard floor under her. Her hands were handcuffed by her sides, and when she tried to stretch out her legs she couldn't, so she figured her feet must be secured to the floor somehow. The chill in the air extended to her crotch, and by the way her legs felt positioned she knew that she was spread wide open.
Once more she tried to move, this time slowly, and as she brought her legs together, she felt the pressure and pain in her nipples slowly increase. Kat spread her legs open wide again and the pain lessened. It didn't disappear, just wasn't as strong. She stayed still for several moments trying to think out her situation when it slowly became evident that she wasn't alone in the van.
"What do you want with me?" Kat shouted out into the shadowy abyss, ashamed of the slight waver in her voice as she tried to sound resilient, though in truth she knew the answer …
Andreytov and his Russian thugs.
They wanted her, and now they had her thanks to Marcus Devonshire.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, fucccccck!” Kat wasn't prepared for the sudden violation as a thick finger forced itself inside her dry pussy. She grunted in pain and tried to close her legs against the assault, forgetting about the fiendish setup she found herself in. Kat didn't even get her legs halfway closed before the searing pain in her breasts forced them back open. Tears started forming in her eyes and were quickly soaked up by the blindfold. The finger left her body as abruptly as it had entered, and she heard the shuffling as the person accompanying her motioned as if to stand. She couldn't see anything as he passed by her, but by the way the vehicle, which she assumed was a van of some sort, moved, she could tell he was large.
Gripping fingers closed over her exposed breast, pulling at the serrated edges that clasped her tender buds. She shrieked loudly and quickly found something soft and slightly damp pushed into her open mouth. Kat tried to work the cloth free with her tongue. It tasted strangely familiar to her, until she realised what it was. She had been gagged with her own panties.
Anger superseded fear …
But that anger slowly dissipated to be replaced, once again, with terror. She knew that if it was the Russians that had taken her, then they didn’t just want to abuse and rape her, they wanted the ultimate revenge … Kat whimpered as she reflected on her life. Retired from MI6 and happy in her domestic bliss with Jason and Buddy, she didn’t want to die. There had been times when she prayed for death, none more so than when she was nailed to that Belarusian cross, but she was happy now. Please God don’t let her die.
They drove for what seemed like hours. Pain shot through her wrists and ankles as she was tossed around, but the pain was never more acute than the agony coursing through her nipples. They were extremely sensitive anyway, and this extended assault was taking its toll on them.
Kat was also ashamed to find herself sobbing especially when she heard a slight chuckle as a particularly loud sob broke free.
There was more than one man with her, more than just Andreytov, if indeed he was here at all.
As they drove Kat wondered where they were going. The hypnotic drone of the wheels on the road changed tone and the driving speed became more staggered, then they finally stopped.
Kat could feel a thin trail of moisture running down from her pain infused nipples and knew that somehow her areola had been torn from all the moving around she had done. What the fuck had they done to her?
Waiting with apprehension to find out what would happen next, Kat shivered as the cold continued to bite. For long minutes Kat waited in silence. Once the panties, now soaked with saliva, were pulled from her mouth, unable to stand the silence anymore, her voice shaking with fear, Kat finally had to speak.
"What do you want with me?"
Only more silence greeted her. Suddenly the van wobbled and she knew the men were moving. As she sat tied and spread, Kat could sense movement around her as the chains securing her ankles, wrists and nipples were unlocked.
“Ohhhhh, oh fuck …” Kat whispered as the blood rushed back into her teats, and she realised that her nipples had been clamped and connected to her leg movements for the entire journey.
Then she was unceremoniously lifted and pulled free of the van. Wherever it was they were taking her, they had arrived.
To Be Continued …
The back of an unmarked van on the M3 heading into London from the South Coast of England …
The first thing Kat sensed that it was the cold in the darkness. It felt as though the frigid air was running over her naked skin.
‘This doesn’t feel right,’ she thought, as slowly Ekaterina woke from the strange slumber that had engulfed her. Then she remembered. The big arms around her, lifting her and tossing her into the van. Kat tried to move her hands but found that she couldn't. What she had at first thought of as just dark she quickly realised was actually a blindfold. Though she couldn't see, something hard and cold bit into her wrists. Her head ached from colliding with the side of the van, but as the pain eased, Kat noticed a new throbbing in her body.
Both of her nipples were very sore, painfully so. It could have been from Marcus Devonshire. And then she remembered …
Marcus … fucking … Devonshire.
He had sold her out. Suddenly the nightmare of seeing Anatoly Andreytov came flooding back. As she tried to move, searing pain brought her struggles to an end. She held very still and waited until the pain subsided to a more reasonable level, and then just lay there trying to picture how things must look.
She was obviously naked, in a vehicle that was moving at some speed. Kat could feel the hard floor under her. Her hands were handcuffed by her sides, and when she tried to stretch out her legs she couldn't, so she figured her feet must be secured to the floor somehow. The chill in the air extended to her crotch, and by the way her legs felt positioned she knew that she was spread wide open.
Once more she tried to move, this time slowly, and as she brought her legs together, she felt the pressure and pain in her nipples slowly increase. Kat spread her legs open wide again and the pain lessened. It didn't disappear, just wasn't as strong. She stayed still for several moments trying to think out her situation when it slowly became evident that she wasn't alone in the van.
"What do you want with me?" Kat shouted out into the shadowy abyss, ashamed of the slight waver in her voice as she tried to sound resilient, though in truth she knew the answer …
Andreytov and his Russian thugs.
They wanted her, and now they had her thanks to Marcus Devonshire.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, fucccccck!” Kat wasn't prepared for the sudden violation as a thick finger forced itself inside her dry pussy. She grunted in pain and tried to close her legs against the assault, forgetting about the fiendish setup she found herself in. Kat didn't even get her legs halfway closed before the searing pain in her breasts forced them back open. Tears started forming in her eyes and were quickly soaked up by the blindfold. The finger left her body as abruptly as it had entered, and she heard the shuffling as the person accompanying her motioned as if to stand. She couldn't see anything as he passed by her, but by the way the vehicle, which she assumed was a van of some sort, moved, she could tell he was large.
Gripping fingers closed over her exposed breast, pulling at the serrated edges that clasped her tender buds. She shrieked loudly and quickly found something soft and slightly damp pushed into her open mouth. Kat tried to work the cloth free with her tongue. It tasted strangely familiar to her, until she realised what it was. She had been gagged with her own panties.
Anger superseded fear …
But that anger slowly dissipated to be replaced, once again, with terror. She knew that if it was the Russians that had taken her, then they didn’t just want to abuse and rape her, they wanted the ultimate revenge … Kat whimpered as she reflected on her life. Retired from MI6 and happy in her domestic bliss with Jason and Buddy, she didn’t want to die. There had been times when she prayed for death, none more so than when she was nailed to that Belarusian cross, but she was happy now. Please God don’t let her die.
They drove for what seemed like hours. Pain shot through her wrists and ankles as she was tossed around, but the pain was never more acute than the agony coursing through her nipples. They were extremely sensitive anyway, and this extended assault was taking its toll on them.
Kat was also ashamed to find herself sobbing especially when she heard a slight chuckle as a particularly loud sob broke free.
There was more than one man with her, more than just Andreytov, if indeed he was here at all.
As they drove Kat wondered where they were going. The hypnotic drone of the wheels on the road changed tone and the driving speed became more staggered, then they finally stopped.
Kat could feel a thin trail of moisture running down from her pain infused nipples and knew that somehow her areola had been torn from all the moving around she had done. What the fuck had they done to her?
Waiting with apprehension to find out what would happen next, Kat shivered as the cold continued to bite. For long minutes Kat waited in silence. Once the panties, now soaked with saliva, were pulled from her mouth, unable to stand the silence anymore, her voice shaking with fear, Kat finally had to speak.
"What do you want with me?"
Only more silence greeted her. Suddenly the van wobbled and she knew the men were moving. As she sat tied and spread, Kat could sense movement around her as the chains securing her ankles, wrists and nipples were unlocked.
“Ohhhhh, oh fuck …” Kat whispered as the blood rushed back into her teats, and she realised that her nipples had been clamped and connected to her leg movements for the entire journey.
Then she was unceremoniously lifted and pulled free of the van. Wherever it was they were taking her, they had arrived.
To Be Continued …
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Ekaterina is the best… she suffers like no other, and there’s hope for even deeper suffering ahead. Hopefully some new beautiful scarring as well.