and because they were right. Things have just about hit rock bottom here. I’ve lost all hope of a good and uplifting ending.
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Sexpionage II
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Ooooh, yes please Master Andreytov!
Oh, so he’s an actual artist? The sweet artistry of pain!
Oh yes, the hot tears of despair and agony rolls down her cheeks!
The screaming sounds of agony provide a sweet musical score of pain!
And after so much foreplay, he consumates the build up to a fitting crescendo….
—————————————
Bloody hell, @Fossy , how many of my buttons can you press in a single episode? Smoking hot! You bet I personify this character, tonight I AM Ekaterina, torture-snuff-slave of my most fearful enemy, at his mercy… mmmm, receiving none as my wet tears soak my cheeks, as my tortured body writhes, as the cigarette burns my very punished living flesh! And between his cigarette on my clit and my secret lover’s tongue I am about to cum the biggest orgasm of pure masochistic sexuality in my life! I will never forget this day, even if it is my last, I am secretly grateful to Master Andreytov and slave Grace!
Please please, I beg… @Fossy , don’t stop!!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I have no intention of doing so Loin' ... delighted to serve in this way
catOnine
Executioner
God, Fossy, I LOVE this story-part.....
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A Terrible Vengeance (6)
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
A single, heavy chain connected to a thick iron collar was all it took to secure each girl to the wall in the corner of the basement … the scene of their appalling torture torture. Ever since Grace had brought her friend and lover to a reluctant orgasm with her mouth, thereby bringing a not-so-premature end to Andreytov’s appalling act of mercilessly burning Kat with a lighted cigarette, the blonde girl had barely stirred.
Having slipped into a blissful state of unconsciousness, Ekaterina Novikova remained there, self-protected by her cataleptic condition. The neck chain had enough leeway to allow Grace to sit her bottom on the cold, unforgiving floor, and for Kat to be gently pulled down into her friend’s lap.
For a few minutes at least, the girls were left alone.
Grace idly stroked her lover’s face.
“You are so pretty Ekaterina Novikova, and I love you so much.”
The words were barely whispered and still they caused Special Agent Miller to choke with emotion. She knew they would not get out of here. Their only hope was to be rescued by the UK Government, but Devonshire wanted them both gone. That bastard was culpable for the resignation of Roger Moore and for the abuse and prolonged assault of his daughter, Sophia. Marcus Devonshire was not fit for purpose, and he knew that Grace was never going to be quiet about that fact. So, what better plan than to feed Miller and Novikova, the SVR killer and the Soviet traitor, back to the Motherland …
They would both die here, in the hands of the enemy and on UK soil. Grace just hoped it would not be drawn out for much longer.
Special Agent Miller was alerted by the opening of the basement door, and the light that briefly streamed down the stone steps as the five men once again made their way towards the girls.
Grace pulled herself up into a sitting position and pressed her back against the wall as Dimitriev approached her. With her hands free she balled her fingers into fists, ready to strike out. When he grabbed Grace by her left wrist she threw a punch with her right. It missed. She threw another punch just as she was pulled to her feet. It hit him in the face but it didn't seem to have any effect.
Another man, one with a deep scar down his right cheek, unlocked her from the iron collar, and leaving Kat draped in an insentient heap on the floor, they dragged Grace across to the table.
“Pl …please …” the hapless girl managed to squeak as their intentions became clear. “Please just kill us. Let us die and get it over with …” Grace had never been so sincere about anything before. This needed to end, and she knew too well the only way for that to happen.
But all her assailant-in-chief did was laugh.
Special Agent Miller saw all five men in close proximity, fly buttons and zippers already loosened.
Gang rape.
"No," she cried. With renewed energy she pulled away from the men holding her. After a moment she escaped their grasp. She started to run to the steps but, laughing at her futile escape attempt, one of the men in the room blocked her way and pushed her back to the two who were now charged with securing Grace to the table.
"No," she yelled. "No! No!"
She was shoved harshly down onto her back on the wooden surface, as the rest of the men in the room started to move towards it. Andreytov was already manhandling his erection as Grace was zip tied in the same way that Kat had been, and her body was spread wide as he moved between her thighs.
I won't feel anything, she thought. I won't let it into my head! I won't let it in! This isn't happening!
Andreytov leaned in and exhaled warm breath over her face causing Grace to turn away and close her eyes.
It's not happening! It's not happening!
Then he thrust himself into her.
Grace stopped moving. She was vaguely aware of the other men hovering around her whilst their superior officer was raping her. She tried to think about better times shared with Kat as the bastard repeatedly thrust into her bound body. She would occasionally struggle and cry out but he held her down. Closing her eyes Grace so desperately wanted her mind to transport her away from this place …
She remembered a family barbecue, mummy and daddy and her darling bother Lloyd, but Andreytov increased the speed of his thrusts as his pace built, breaking her concentration. Then his grip was around her throat and she could do nothing but gurgle incoherently, eyes wide as he fucked her harder, faster and deeper.
Grace struggled beneath him but he was totally and utterly immovable. Suddenly his movements became quicker and a feeling of dread rose up inside the young Special Agent, and she knew what was about come … literally.
Andreytov grunted as he shoved himself hard repeatedly into her body. His whole torso tightened and tensed, his head flew back and he closed his eyes, before emptying himself time after sickening time into Grace’s ravaged slit.
As the Russian steadied his breathing, his bulk crushed the poor, violated girl, until finally the monster got off. Grace looked up at the ceiling her vision unfocused, her eyes filled with a cloud of tears.
It happened, she thought. He raped me …
And then scar face climbed onto the table. He was completely naked from the waist down.
"No," cried Grace. Not again, she thought. Please … not again!
Scar face inserted himself between her now semen-slick thighs. Grace closed her eyes and tried to revisit her happy places, but she could not. Scar face was huge and thick and he was hurting her as he raped her body.
He thrust hard in an identical manner to the way his officer had just done, and once again Grace was violated. It took scar face several minutes of fucking and screwing before he too clenched his body tight, gasped his breath and then arched on top of her to push his groin downwards before jerking his seed deep into her body.
As Scar face slid away Grace just laid there, lifeless, numb, devoid of all sensation … all emotion.
Then Dimitriev came on to the table. He grabbed Grace by a leg and an ankle and quickly cut the cable ties before doing the same at her wrists. He flipped her on to her stomach whereupon new ties were quickly pulled tight around her limbs, securing her face down to the rough wooden surface.
What the fuck! A new panic engulfed Grace, as he pressed his fingers into the tight hole of her ass.
"No," she cried. "Oh please, no!"
He slapped her bottom hard. "Beautiful," he chuckled, before pulling her cheeks apart and thrusting himself in.
"Ahhhhhh, Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii" screamed Grace.
A hand on the back of her head pushed her face into the hard, splintered wood of the table.
This is not happening to me … not to me … not to me … not … This is not . . . happening. This is ...
But her silent mantra disappeared when Dimitriev thrust again, breaking through the tight surround of her sphincter to fill her completely, sending bolts of pain throughout the lower half of Grace's body. She cried out as her eyes poured with tears, the sound of her anguish manifesting the breaking not just of her body, but of her whole heart …
She kept her face buried in the wood so Kat would not see her.
“Fuck her harder.”
“Make her cum.”
“Rip the little cunt in two!”
She heard the lewd shouts as the bastard continued to sodomise her, raping her ass with a savage brutality as he pounded at Grace's rear.
“Tight bitch, so fucking tight …” He picked up the pace as he felt his pleasure building. Gripping the smooth flesh of her firm buttocks, he dug his fingers hard into her body, causing her to cry out yet again.
Oh God, thought Grace in desperation. Oh God, please help me! She couldn't focus on anything but what was happening to her. Dimitriev knew his orgasm was close, then he arched, closed his eyes and groaned long and loud as he emptied himself deep into her bowels.
This harrowing chapter brings to a close Part II of Full Circle. We will continue on uninterrupted and tomorrow will see the commencement of Death's Witness, the third and final Part. Join us then ...
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
A single, heavy chain connected to a thick iron collar was all it took to secure each girl to the wall in the corner of the basement … the scene of their appalling torture torture. Ever since Grace had brought her friend and lover to a reluctant orgasm with her mouth, thereby bringing a not-so-premature end to Andreytov’s appalling act of mercilessly burning Kat with a lighted cigarette, the blonde girl had barely stirred.
Having slipped into a blissful state of unconsciousness, Ekaterina Novikova remained there, self-protected by her cataleptic condition. The neck chain had enough leeway to allow Grace to sit her bottom on the cold, unforgiving floor, and for Kat to be gently pulled down into her friend’s lap.
For a few minutes at least, the girls were left alone.
Grace idly stroked her lover’s face.
“You are so pretty Ekaterina Novikova, and I love you so much.”
The words were barely whispered and still they caused Special Agent Miller to choke with emotion. She knew they would not get out of here. Their only hope was to be rescued by the UK Government, but Devonshire wanted them both gone. That bastard was culpable for the resignation of Roger Moore and for the abuse and prolonged assault of his daughter, Sophia. Marcus Devonshire was not fit for purpose, and he knew that Grace was never going to be quiet about that fact. So, what better plan than to feed Miller and Novikova, the SVR killer and the Soviet traitor, back to the Motherland …
They would both die here, in the hands of the enemy and on UK soil. Grace just hoped it would not be drawn out for much longer.
Special Agent Miller was alerted by the opening of the basement door, and the light that briefly streamed down the stone steps as the five men once again made their way towards the girls.
Grace pulled herself up into a sitting position and pressed her back against the wall as Dimitriev approached her. With her hands free she balled her fingers into fists, ready to strike out. When he grabbed Grace by her left wrist she threw a punch with her right. It missed. She threw another punch just as she was pulled to her feet. It hit him in the face but it didn't seem to have any effect.
Another man, one with a deep scar down his right cheek, unlocked her from the iron collar, and leaving Kat draped in an insentient heap on the floor, they dragged Grace across to the table.
“Pl …please …” the hapless girl managed to squeak as their intentions became clear. “Please just kill us. Let us die and get it over with …” Grace had never been so sincere about anything before. This needed to end, and she knew too well the only way for that to happen.
But all her assailant-in-chief did was laugh.
Special Agent Miller saw all five men in close proximity, fly buttons and zippers already loosened.
Gang rape.
"No," she cried. With renewed energy she pulled away from the men holding her. After a moment she escaped their grasp. She started to run to the steps but, laughing at her futile escape attempt, one of the men in the room blocked her way and pushed her back to the two who were now charged with securing Grace to the table.
"No," she yelled. "No! No!"
She was shoved harshly down onto her back on the wooden surface, as the rest of the men in the room started to move towards it. Andreytov was already manhandling his erection as Grace was zip tied in the same way that Kat had been, and her body was spread wide as he moved between her thighs.
I won't feel anything, she thought. I won't let it into my head! I won't let it in! This isn't happening!
Andreytov leaned in and exhaled warm breath over her face causing Grace to turn away and close her eyes.
It's not happening! It's not happening!
Then he thrust himself into her.
Grace stopped moving. She was vaguely aware of the other men hovering around her whilst their superior officer was raping her. She tried to think about better times shared with Kat as the bastard repeatedly thrust into her bound body. She would occasionally struggle and cry out but he held her down. Closing her eyes Grace so desperately wanted her mind to transport her away from this place …
She remembered a family barbecue, mummy and daddy and her darling bother Lloyd, but Andreytov increased the speed of his thrusts as his pace built, breaking her concentration. Then his grip was around her throat and she could do nothing but gurgle incoherently, eyes wide as he fucked her harder, faster and deeper.
Grace struggled beneath him but he was totally and utterly immovable. Suddenly his movements became quicker and a feeling of dread rose up inside the young Special Agent, and she knew what was about come … literally.
Andreytov grunted as he shoved himself hard repeatedly into her body. His whole torso tightened and tensed, his head flew back and he closed his eyes, before emptying himself time after sickening time into Grace’s ravaged slit.
As the Russian steadied his breathing, his bulk crushed the poor, violated girl, until finally the monster got off. Grace looked up at the ceiling her vision unfocused, her eyes filled with a cloud of tears.
It happened, she thought. He raped me …
And then scar face climbed onto the table. He was completely naked from the waist down.
"No," cried Grace. Not again, she thought. Please … not again!
Scar face inserted himself between her now semen-slick thighs. Grace closed her eyes and tried to revisit her happy places, but she could not. Scar face was huge and thick and he was hurting her as he raped her body.
He thrust hard in an identical manner to the way his officer had just done, and once again Grace was violated. It took scar face several minutes of fucking and screwing before he too clenched his body tight, gasped his breath and then arched on top of her to push his groin downwards before jerking his seed deep into her body.
As Scar face slid away Grace just laid there, lifeless, numb, devoid of all sensation … all emotion.
Then Dimitriev came on to the table. He grabbed Grace by a leg and an ankle and quickly cut the cable ties before doing the same at her wrists. He flipped her on to her stomach whereupon new ties were quickly pulled tight around her limbs, securing her face down to the rough wooden surface.
What the fuck! A new panic engulfed Grace, as he pressed his fingers into the tight hole of her ass.
"No," she cried. "Oh please, no!"
He slapped her bottom hard. "Beautiful," he chuckled, before pulling her cheeks apart and thrusting himself in.
"Ahhhhhh, Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii" screamed Grace.
A hand on the back of her head pushed her face into the hard, splintered wood of the table.
This is not happening to me … not to me … not to me … not … This is not . . . happening. This is ...
But her silent mantra disappeared when Dimitriev thrust again, breaking through the tight surround of her sphincter to fill her completely, sending bolts of pain throughout the lower half of Grace's body. She cried out as her eyes poured with tears, the sound of her anguish manifesting the breaking not just of her body, but of her whole heart …
She kept her face buried in the wood so Kat would not see her.
“Fuck her harder.”
“Make her cum.”
“Rip the little cunt in two!”
She heard the lewd shouts as the bastard continued to sodomise her, raping her ass with a savage brutality as he pounded at Grace's rear.
“Tight bitch, so fucking tight …” He picked up the pace as he felt his pleasure building. Gripping the smooth flesh of her firm buttocks, he dug his fingers hard into her body, causing her to cry out yet again.
Oh God, thought Grace in desperation. Oh God, please help me! She couldn't focus on anything but what was happening to her. Dimitriev knew his orgasm was close, then he arched, closed his eyes and groaned long and loud as he emptied himself deep into her bowels.
This harrowing chapter brings to a close Part II of Full Circle. We will continue on uninterrupted and tomorrow will see the commencement of Death's Witness, the third and final Part. Join us then ...
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Oh, ok, I’ve found my loathometer again now! Why is it that physical torture turns me on so much yet pack rape leaves me cold? Just a kinky weirdo, I guess!
But the tender opening after-care scene between Grace and Ekaterina was superb, so I still had to love the post!
Amazing reading, the pace never stops with your writing, does it @Fossy ? I’m breathless!
But the tender opening after-care scene between Grace and Ekaterina was superb, so I still had to love the post!
Amazing reading, the pace never stops with your writing, does it @Fossy ? I’m breathless!
Sharkman
Governor
Lion, these SVP guys acting exactly to the training guidelines. Step by step. For sure humiliation, groping, types of torture, whipping ... are separately mentioned in the SVP interrogation manuscript.
INTENSE … what else is there to say?
Since Grace is the character I have identified with personally ever since Fossy introduced her, I especially feel her pain and find myself suffering along with her. And given the seemingly hopeless plight she appears to have gotten herself into, I find I am both saddened and frustrated. There simply appears to be no way out of this. Everything is stacked against her. Her own handlers want her dead, and her Russian tormentors only wish to extend her torment forever.
Fossy is so good at so many aspects of this kind of storytelling, but the way in which he is able to get inside a character’s mind and carry that forward, as he does, is especially skillful.
Since Grace is the character I have identified with personally ever since Fossy introduced her, I especially feel her pain and find myself suffering along with her. And given the seemingly hopeless plight she appears to have gotten herself into, I find I am both saddened and frustrated. There simply appears to be no way out of this. Everything is stacked against her. Her own handlers want her dead, and her Russian tormentors only wish to extend her torment forever.
Fossy is so good at so many aspects of this kind of storytelling, but the way in which he is able to get inside a character’s mind and carry that forward, as he does, is especially skillful.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death’s Witness (1)
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
In the midst of her exhaustion Kat remained barely conscious. Grace, covered in semen and the stink of her own urine, had been deposited back into the corner of this ugly basement room, the place of their appalling torture, where, following the gang rape of her body, she was once more collared and chained. She had turned from participant to viewer in the misogynistic carnival that was being played out.
Ekaterina groaned quietly with the agony of cramping muscles. As she gritted her teeth, determined not to cry out, she saw that he was there again, watching her. Coming closer Andreytov took her arms and pinched them gently, feeling the muscles knotting under the skin. It was as if she were some kind of farm animal, and he was judging if she was finally ripe for the knife. “Guess what, Novikova,” he said softly. “It’s date time for you and me … again.”
Without offering any form of meaningful resistance, Kat was once again forced spread-eagled onto the rough wooden surface, wrists and ankles, already badly chafed, secured to each corner. Her scarred, welted and burnt flesh was covered in bruises … her tired eyes were already closed.
A cloth was wound around her face, but before the material claimed her vision, she saw the man called Dimitriev hooking a hose up to a spigot in the wall. They left her for what seemed an age, but in reality was probably only a few minutes, knowing what the anticipation would be doing to her mind. She couldn’t help it; she was already shaking with dread.
The first touch of the water was gentle, a cool sensation on her parched mouth. But that was only Dimitriev soaking the cloth. She held her breath… it wasn’t a conscious decision but an instinct, her body saying, ‘No’. But she could only hold it for so long, and they knew it. When, finally, Kat was forced to inhale, the great gasping gulp of the oxygen that her body was screaming for, it wasn’t air she sucked in but water. Cold liquid filled her throat and lungs like cement, a bolt of pain that only made her gasp for more oxygen.
And there was none, only more water.
She thought her lungs would explode, feeling the hammering pulsing in her ears, the retching spasms in her larynx. It was like the moment when you swam underwater as far as you could and realised you had to get to the surface, fast. But here there was no surface.
Abruptly, the flow of water ceased and the cloth was moved a little to expose her mouth and nose. For a moment Kat thought it was too late, that she was going to lose consciousness. But then, with a massive effort, she forced herself to fight. Spluttering and gasping, she vomited up what was in her lungs, the water spluttering out of her in a fountain, and she was alive.
“Again,” she heard Andreytov say.
The second time was longer.
The third time was longer still, and she died.
She came back to life with Dimitriev’s hands pummelling her chest, and a pain like a car crash somewhere in the region of her heart.
“Again,” Andreytov said calmly.
As Dimitriev picked up the cloth, his boss leaned over Kat’s barely alive body. “You’re tougher than you look, aren’t you, Novikova? Fifty-two seconds is quite impressive. But you know, we don’t play by the MI6 rules down here.” He laughed at her, before adding, “I have to show you how we treat traitors like you.”
“Anatoly … Andreytov, I … I am n … ot the criminal h … here.” I w… won’t ever submit to bastards l … like you and Tretykov!” she croaked.
“Criminal?” He laughed again. “How am I a criminal my beautiful whore, huh?”
He paused.
“You’ve betrayed every principle of the SVR code, loyalty being numbers one, two and three, and you're loyal to no one but yourself.” Kat spat accusingly, her voice now stronger.
He stared down at the girl bound before him and moved his face to within an inch of hers. “Oh, Novikova, Novikova. Now I shall have to punish you some more for taking that tone with me?”
Barn Owl Cottage, on the edge of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.
“Come on kids.” Major Jason Underhill watched as Steph, his ex-wife, who had just brought their children, eight-year old Jack and twelve-year old Isabella, over to stay with her ex-husband and his girlfriend, along with dog Buddy. But she could tell that Jason was totally and utterly pre-occupied the second she walked through the door.
Shaking his head, and looking very emotional, Jason had shared the fact that Kat was ‘missing’ and no one knew where she was.
“Daddy, is she coming back?” Jack asked with all the innocence of an eight-year old child. Both of the kids loved Kat, and after many months of in-fighting, even Steph had accepted the situation ‘for the good of their children’. Jason couldn’t answer Jack’s question.
“If there’s anything I can do,” Steph offered, her tones genuine and sincere. But she knew that right now all that she needed to do, all the he would allow her to do, was look after Jack, Isabella and Buddy.
It was seconds after they left that his GCHQ phone rang.
“Sir,” Underhill responded when he heard Marcus Devonshire’s voice. “What’s the news. What can I do?”
There was a pause, and then the Head of MI6 spoke. “Nothing good Jason. Chatter tells us that both girls are being held somewhere quite a way North of London.”
“So still in the UK then?”
“We think so yes.”
Devonshire had failed to tell the Major that he knew precisely where his girlfriend and Special Agent Miller were being held, and that he had taken everyone, save for skeleton cover, off the search based upon the lie that they had absolutely nothing to go on.
“Do we have any idea whether ‘North of London’ means Watford Gap, Manchester or the Outer fucking Hebrides?”
“I’m afraid we don’t Jason …”
With the call over, Underhill slumped into the easy chair. He was a fighter, an optimist and he loved Ekaterina Novikova with all his heart. But he had never felt so helpless. He wanted to put on his pack, arm himself to the teeth and embark on the mother-of-all-vigilante operations. But he had no clue where to head for, who to speak with or even who was fucking well holding them.
“Kat,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion, “… please come back to me.”
To Be Continued …
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
In the midst of her exhaustion Kat remained barely conscious. Grace, covered in semen and the stink of her own urine, had been deposited back into the corner of this ugly basement room, the place of their appalling torture, where, following the gang rape of her body, she was once more collared and chained. She had turned from participant to viewer in the misogynistic carnival that was being played out.
Ekaterina groaned quietly with the agony of cramping muscles. As she gritted her teeth, determined not to cry out, she saw that he was there again, watching her. Coming closer Andreytov took her arms and pinched them gently, feeling the muscles knotting under the skin. It was as if she were some kind of farm animal, and he was judging if she was finally ripe for the knife. “Guess what, Novikova,” he said softly. “It’s date time for you and me … again.”
Without offering any form of meaningful resistance, Kat was once again forced spread-eagled onto the rough wooden surface, wrists and ankles, already badly chafed, secured to each corner. Her scarred, welted and burnt flesh was covered in bruises … her tired eyes were already closed.
A cloth was wound around her face, but before the material claimed her vision, she saw the man called Dimitriev hooking a hose up to a spigot in the wall. They left her for what seemed an age, but in reality was probably only a few minutes, knowing what the anticipation would be doing to her mind. She couldn’t help it; she was already shaking with dread.
The first touch of the water was gentle, a cool sensation on her parched mouth. But that was only Dimitriev soaking the cloth. She held her breath… it wasn’t a conscious decision but an instinct, her body saying, ‘No’. But she could only hold it for so long, and they knew it. When, finally, Kat was forced to inhale, the great gasping gulp of the oxygen that her body was screaming for, it wasn’t air she sucked in but water. Cold liquid filled her throat and lungs like cement, a bolt of pain that only made her gasp for more oxygen.
And there was none, only more water.
She thought her lungs would explode, feeling the hammering pulsing in her ears, the retching spasms in her larynx. It was like the moment when you swam underwater as far as you could and realised you had to get to the surface, fast. But here there was no surface.
Abruptly, the flow of water ceased and the cloth was moved a little to expose her mouth and nose. For a moment Kat thought it was too late, that she was going to lose consciousness. But then, with a massive effort, she forced herself to fight. Spluttering and gasping, she vomited up what was in her lungs, the water spluttering out of her in a fountain, and she was alive.
“Again,” she heard Andreytov say.
The second time was longer.
The third time was longer still, and she died.
She came back to life with Dimitriev’s hands pummelling her chest, and a pain like a car crash somewhere in the region of her heart.
“Again,” Andreytov said calmly.
As Dimitriev picked up the cloth, his boss leaned over Kat’s barely alive body. “You’re tougher than you look, aren’t you, Novikova? Fifty-two seconds is quite impressive. But you know, we don’t play by the MI6 rules down here.” He laughed at her, before adding, “I have to show you how we treat traitors like you.”
“Anatoly … Andreytov, I … I am n … ot the criminal h … here.” I w… won’t ever submit to bastards l … like you and Tretykov!” she croaked.
“Criminal?” He laughed again. “How am I a criminal my beautiful whore, huh?”
He paused.
“You’ve betrayed every principle of the SVR code, loyalty being numbers one, two and three, and you're loyal to no one but yourself.” Kat spat accusingly, her voice now stronger.
He stared down at the girl bound before him and moved his face to within an inch of hers. “Oh, Novikova, Novikova. Now I shall have to punish you some more for taking that tone with me?”
Barn Owl Cottage, on the edge of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.
“Come on kids.” Major Jason Underhill watched as Steph, his ex-wife, who had just brought their children, eight-year old Jack and twelve-year old Isabella, over to stay with her ex-husband and his girlfriend, along with dog Buddy. But she could tell that Jason was totally and utterly pre-occupied the second she walked through the door.
Shaking his head, and looking very emotional, Jason had shared the fact that Kat was ‘missing’ and no one knew where she was.
“Daddy, is she coming back?” Jack asked with all the innocence of an eight-year old child. Both of the kids loved Kat, and after many months of in-fighting, even Steph had accepted the situation ‘for the good of their children’. Jason couldn’t answer Jack’s question.
“If there’s anything I can do,” Steph offered, her tones genuine and sincere. But she knew that right now all that she needed to do, all the he would allow her to do, was look after Jack, Isabella and Buddy.
It was seconds after they left that his GCHQ phone rang.
“Sir,” Underhill responded when he heard Marcus Devonshire’s voice. “What’s the news. What can I do?”
There was a pause, and then the Head of MI6 spoke. “Nothing good Jason. Chatter tells us that both girls are being held somewhere quite a way North of London.”
“So still in the UK then?”
“We think so yes.”
Devonshire had failed to tell the Major that he knew precisely where his girlfriend and Special Agent Miller were being held, and that he had taken everyone, save for skeleton cover, off the search based upon the lie that they had absolutely nothing to go on.
“Do we have any idea whether ‘North of London’ means Watford Gap, Manchester or the Outer fucking Hebrides?”
“I’m afraid we don’t Jason …”
With the call over, Underhill slumped into the easy chair. He was a fighter, an optimist and he loved Ekaterina Novikova with all his heart. But he had never felt so helpless. He wanted to put on his pack, arm himself to the teeth and embark on the mother-of-all-vigilante operations. But he had no clue where to head for, who to speak with or even who was fucking well holding them.
“Kat,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion, “… please come back to me.”
To Be Continued …
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Oh Ghod, this is going to be another awesome episode, isn’t it? I can just picture her tortured body and that image will always be with me…
When I first came to this group I wasn’t expecting to learn just how much I love the idea of this style of waterboarding. I could bore you with details if my drowning galley slave fantasies but this is your thread…
Just like struggling against the rising water of a sinking galley, my ankle chains still bolted to the deck, the despair and agony of the drowning, stretching for one more breath, chains keeping me from rising further… oh sorry, I wasn’t going to talk about me, this is meant to be about Ekaterina- needless to say I continue to identify with her!Cold liquid filled her throat and lungs like cement, a bolt of pain that only made her gasp for more oxygen.
And there was none, only more water.
Oh yes, YES! Tears of frustration, the coming darkness…
Oh no, Ghod, please have mercy, nooooo!
I just can’t stay mad at this guy! He knows exactly what I want to hear!
I think that makes two of us!
Thank you again, @Fossy , I guess I’m making it abundantly clear which chapters are pressing my buttons. Ekaterina does that just by her mere presence, now, and those scars!
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Actually he should probably head south to do that!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death’s Witness (2)
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
“How should I punish you little pizda (cunt)”, Andreytov stared down at Kat. “Well, let’s come back to that. But in response to your pathetic allegation, I am the furthest from being a criminal compared to any Western pig you’ll ever meet. I am a patriot, Novikova. A patriot who understands that being submissive to our adversaries only emboldens them. A patriot who understands that the national interest can only be served by those who act aggressively towards the enemies of our glorious Motherland. A patriot who knows that America and the West will only survive if they retain their strength. I love my country, you dumb little whore, and that is why I am prepared to torture and murder traitors like you to protect it.”
“L … leave her … alone, you bastards … umpphhhhhh!” Grace stirred only to be silenced by a loud and heavy slap to her head.
Andreytov continued with his diatribe. “Did you and your little bitch of a friend ever really believe that we’d let you get away with assassinating the Colonel? Did you really …?”
Kat’s eyes were closed again as she tried her level best to switch his voice off. But she could not, and every one of his words rang loud in her ears.
“Anatoly …” Kat whispered, “… you’re a fucking obscenity,” she said. Almost casually, his hand flew out and cracked her across the face, first one way, then the other.
“If you weren’t strapped to that table, Novikova, I’d rip your ass open right now and shove a cattle prod up it.” He smiled. “Which I might still do anyway.”
He hit her again leaving a trickle of blood to flow from the corner of her cracked, and now split, lip.
“You sluts think you have the advantage because of how you look? Strutting around the world like you own the place, working for whichever country you want, showing loyalty to none. You know the effect you have on men and you milk it, but that’s all you’ve got, you and that whore over there in the corner.”
He looked the way of overwhelmed Special Agent Miller.
“You love it, I can tell. Love the power you think your body gives you. But what you whores don’t realise is that you don’t have any power over us at all, not really. Only what we choose to let you have.”
He looked across at Dimitriev. “Enough of this. Get me the juice again. Now I want to really hurt this cunt!”
The generator was placed into position once more, and the serrated, electrode-fitted clips were again fastened to Kat’s nipples.
“This one’s not in any spy manual, Novikova, so let me explain how it works,” Andreytov said, leaning over her. “Dimitriev here administers the water, minimum sixty seconds. It’s pretty much guaranteed to kill you.” He touched one of the crocodile clips, enjoying the way Kat winced as the sharp teeth tugged at her. “Which is where the current comes in. It brings you back, but not in a nice way. I’ve heard sometimes people beg for the water again, just to stop the juice. That’s if they can talk at all.”
“Andreytov, if you can live with yourself then go ahead,” she said, accepting defeat.
Barn Owl Cottage, on the edge of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.
“Dad, she’s still not home, is she?” Twelve-year old Isabelle stared into the Facetime screen at her father.
“No, Issy, she’s not.” It was all Jason could do to say those few words.
“Is she …” Issy began, then paused. Jason swallowed hard, “… dead?” His daughter continued.
… Is she dead? … the words echoed round Major Underhill’s head in a manner that made it impossible to grasp what they really meant.
“No, darling girl, I’m sure she will turn up soon and be just fine. Sometimes people just …” He had no idea what then to say to complete the sentence. Isabelle was twelve and knew far more about what could be going on than he could ever have a conversation with her about. If Kat had been any other missing person, then her disappearance would be all over the news and the reporting media. But she wasn’t just anyone. Ekaterina Novikova was a defecting Russian, ex SVR who had been working for MI6 and is widely thought to have been instrumental in the planning of the death of the esteemed Comrade Colonel Sergei Tretykov. So, there was nothing being said, anywhere by anyone … the search was entirely in the hands of Marcus Devonshire, and Jason could not believe how the Head of MI6 was simply accepting the probable loss of not just his much loved girlfriend, but also a very important asset, in Special Agent Miller …
“I love you dad.” Issy said as the call ended.
“I love you too princess,” he replied.
To Be Continued …
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
“How should I punish you little pizda (cunt)”, Andreytov stared down at Kat. “Well, let’s come back to that. But in response to your pathetic allegation, I am the furthest from being a criminal compared to any Western pig you’ll ever meet. I am a patriot, Novikova. A patriot who understands that being submissive to our adversaries only emboldens them. A patriot who understands that the national interest can only be served by those who act aggressively towards the enemies of our glorious Motherland. A patriot who knows that America and the West will only survive if they retain their strength. I love my country, you dumb little whore, and that is why I am prepared to torture and murder traitors like you to protect it.”
“L … leave her … alone, you bastards … umpphhhhhh!” Grace stirred only to be silenced by a loud and heavy slap to her head.
Andreytov continued with his diatribe. “Did you and your little bitch of a friend ever really believe that we’d let you get away with assassinating the Colonel? Did you really …?”
Kat’s eyes were closed again as she tried her level best to switch his voice off. But she could not, and every one of his words rang loud in her ears.
“Anatoly …” Kat whispered, “… you’re a fucking obscenity,” she said. Almost casually, his hand flew out and cracked her across the face, first one way, then the other.
“If you weren’t strapped to that table, Novikova, I’d rip your ass open right now and shove a cattle prod up it.” He smiled. “Which I might still do anyway.”
He hit her again leaving a trickle of blood to flow from the corner of her cracked, and now split, lip.
“You sluts think you have the advantage because of how you look? Strutting around the world like you own the place, working for whichever country you want, showing loyalty to none. You know the effect you have on men and you milk it, but that’s all you’ve got, you and that whore over there in the corner.”
He looked the way of overwhelmed Special Agent Miller.
“You love it, I can tell. Love the power you think your body gives you. But what you whores don’t realise is that you don’t have any power over us at all, not really. Only what we choose to let you have.”
He looked across at Dimitriev. “Enough of this. Get me the juice again. Now I want to really hurt this cunt!”
The generator was placed into position once more, and the serrated, electrode-fitted clips were again fastened to Kat’s nipples.
“This one’s not in any spy manual, Novikova, so let me explain how it works,” Andreytov said, leaning over her. “Dimitriev here administers the water, minimum sixty seconds. It’s pretty much guaranteed to kill you.” He touched one of the crocodile clips, enjoying the way Kat winced as the sharp teeth tugged at her. “Which is where the current comes in. It brings you back, but not in a nice way. I’ve heard sometimes people beg for the water again, just to stop the juice. That’s if they can talk at all.”
“Andreytov, if you can live with yourself then go ahead,” she said, accepting defeat.
Barn Owl Cottage, on the edge of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.
“Dad, she’s still not home, is she?” Twelve-year old Isabelle stared into the Facetime screen at her father.
“No, Issy, she’s not.” It was all Jason could do to say those few words.
“Is she …” Issy began, then paused. Jason swallowed hard, “… dead?” His daughter continued.
… Is she dead? … the words echoed round Major Underhill’s head in a manner that made it impossible to grasp what they really meant.
“No, darling girl, I’m sure she will turn up soon and be just fine. Sometimes people just …” He had no idea what then to say to complete the sentence. Isabelle was twelve and knew far more about what could be going on than he could ever have a conversation with her about. If Kat had been any other missing person, then her disappearance would be all over the news and the reporting media. But she wasn’t just anyone. Ekaterina Novikova was a defecting Russian, ex SVR who had been working for MI6 and is widely thought to have been instrumental in the planning of the death of the esteemed Comrade Colonel Sergei Tretykov. So, there was nothing being said, anywhere by anyone … the search was entirely in the hands of Marcus Devonshire, and Jason could not believe how the Head of MI6 was simply accepting the probable loss of not just his much loved girlfriend, but also a very important asset, in Special Agent Miller …
“I love you dad.” Issy said as the call ended.
“I love you too princess,” he replied.
To Be Continued …
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
Waterboarding to unconsciousness, even death, then revived by electrotorture? @Fossy i love the inventiveness! If anyone can take this, it’s my beloved torture spy Ekaterina!
The cavalry seems to be taking their sweet time - it strains credulity that none of them yet smell the odour emanating from Devonshire’s office! What of the Moore’s? Sitting on their hands? Surely this requires a Quantum of Solace? (Sorry, @Sharkman i couldn’t resist!)
Sharkman
Governor
It's great. And tension, strain, voltage are up to the limt. I am sure Moore is enjoying all in the background as we do. Ready to leap in the cold water. Spluttering and gasping ... like an old dino Spectre (2015).
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death’s Witness (3)
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
Kat hung, suspended from a large hook in the ceiling by her wrists. The floor was several inches below her. Her arms were stretched high above her head, her shoulders already pulled to the edge of dislocation.
She was surrounded by five men; her nemesis Andreytov, Dimitriev, the bald man, the man with the scar on his face and a fifth less discernible male. She was almost at eye level with them. The bald man whipped her ass with a stick causing her to cry out. Scar-face then jabbed a cattle prod into her stomach.
"Ahhhhh fuckkkkkkk," cried Kat. Tears ran from her eyes and joined the sweat that dripped from her body. The prod touched her again, this time on her dangling left breast. She yelled out, shaking her head in the most feral manner.
Andreytov laughed and said, “Again.”
“St … stop, stop it n … now …” Grace cried out from her corner. But she could hardly speak let alone make herself heard, and so the prod was pushed long and hard into the bound, hanging girl’s other breast causing her to shake and stiffen until the interminable shock was over.
Kat wanted to die. No, that was not true, not at all. She really wanted her life with Jason, Jack and Issy back, but it was clear now that was never going to be an option. She had spent all of her adult life as a trained spy, carrying out assignments all over the world for both the SVR and MI6. She was not scared of death, but she wanted it to be quick, but it seemed that Andreytov was unwilling to allow her even that.
After waiting a moment Dimitriev put a plastic bag over Ekaterina’s head. He held it over her as she struggled in her shackles. Kat tried desperately to suck in air causing the bag to be drawn into her mouth. She thrashed about as her lungs started to ache.
It took the man a long while before he removed the bag. Kat's head fell forward as she gulped in air hungrily, saliva drooling in long, thick globs from between her parched lips.
Andreytov watched her for a moment, then said simply, "OK, it's time."
Costa Coffee, 324 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London
As he sipped from his mug, Major Jason Underhill looked at the man sitting opposite him, who, sporting an impassive expression, stared back.
“Why are we here Major,” the man said finally.
“Because I need help.”
“From me?”
Jason nodded, and the man leaned into the table allowing him to speak in more confidential tones. “And what precisely is it that you think I can do that the UK Government cannot.”
Jase paused for a second or two, and then spoke again, saying simply, “Nothing.”
The man opposite him frowned, prompting Jason to add, “It’s not what they cannot do, it’s what they will not do.”
“I’m sorry Major, but I think you misunderstand my …” His words were cut short as Jason pulled out a small notebook, opened it and began to read.
“… This is a group that has been breaking into the mailboxes, social media accounts and telecommunication records of human rights activists, politicians, business executives and other high-profile individuals across a dozen countries.
The group calls itself Hack_the _world and advertises its services on Russian-language underground forums where it is highly respected for delivering on its promises to customers and the quality of the extracted information.
The firm managed to identify over 3,500 victims spanning over a dozen countries and many industry sectors. Hack_the _world has a huge associated intrusion set with thousands of indicators, and unprecedented access to telecommunications records around the world …”
Jason finished reading and folded away his notebook.
“You can find anyone, anywhere, and that’s precisely what I need right now.” Underhill paused and then added, “I have money and I can pay. My girlfriend is Ekat …”
“I know the girl behind the reason for us meeting, Major, many people know of Ekaterina Novikova.”
The two men stared at each other for what seemed like an age, before the man from Hack_the _world stood up. He looked down at Jason, who remained seated and nodded slowly.
“Will you help me?” Jason tried not to sound desperate.
“Fifty thousand into this account within two hours …” He pushed over a small card towards Jason. “Do that and then leave me to call you.”
To Be Continued …
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
Kat hung, suspended from a large hook in the ceiling by her wrists. The floor was several inches below her. Her arms were stretched high above her head, her shoulders already pulled to the edge of dislocation.
She was surrounded by five men; her nemesis Andreytov, Dimitriev, the bald man, the man with the scar on his face and a fifth less discernible male. She was almost at eye level with them. The bald man whipped her ass with a stick causing her to cry out. Scar-face then jabbed a cattle prod into her stomach.
"Ahhhhh fuckkkkkkk," cried Kat. Tears ran from her eyes and joined the sweat that dripped from her body. The prod touched her again, this time on her dangling left breast. She yelled out, shaking her head in the most feral manner.
Andreytov laughed and said, “Again.”
“St … stop, stop it n … now …” Grace cried out from her corner. But she could hardly speak let alone make herself heard, and so the prod was pushed long and hard into the bound, hanging girl’s other breast causing her to shake and stiffen until the interminable shock was over.
Kat wanted to die. No, that was not true, not at all. She really wanted her life with Jason, Jack and Issy back, but it was clear now that was never going to be an option. She had spent all of her adult life as a trained spy, carrying out assignments all over the world for both the SVR and MI6. She was not scared of death, but she wanted it to be quick, but it seemed that Andreytov was unwilling to allow her even that.
After waiting a moment Dimitriev put a plastic bag over Ekaterina’s head. He held it over her as she struggled in her shackles. Kat tried desperately to suck in air causing the bag to be drawn into her mouth. She thrashed about as her lungs started to ache.
It took the man a long while before he removed the bag. Kat's head fell forward as she gulped in air hungrily, saliva drooling in long, thick globs from between her parched lips.
Andreytov watched her for a moment, then said simply, "OK, it's time."
Costa Coffee, 324 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London
As he sipped from his mug, Major Jason Underhill looked at the man sitting opposite him, who, sporting an impassive expression, stared back.
“Why are we here Major,” the man said finally.
“Because I need help.”
“From me?”
Jason nodded, and the man leaned into the table allowing him to speak in more confidential tones. “And what precisely is it that you think I can do that the UK Government cannot.”
Jase paused for a second or two, and then spoke again, saying simply, “Nothing.”
The man opposite him frowned, prompting Jason to add, “It’s not what they cannot do, it’s what they will not do.”
“I’m sorry Major, but I think you misunderstand my …” His words were cut short as Jason pulled out a small notebook, opened it and began to read.
“… This is a group that has been breaking into the mailboxes, social media accounts and telecommunication records of human rights activists, politicians, business executives and other high-profile individuals across a dozen countries.
The group calls itself Hack_the _world and advertises its services on Russian-language underground forums where it is highly respected for delivering on its promises to customers and the quality of the extracted information.
The firm managed to identify over 3,500 victims spanning over a dozen countries and many industry sectors. Hack_the _world has a huge associated intrusion set with thousands of indicators, and unprecedented access to telecommunications records around the world …”
Jason finished reading and folded away his notebook.
“You can find anyone, anywhere, and that’s precisely what I need right now.” Underhill paused and then added, “I have money and I can pay. My girlfriend is Ekat …”
“I know the girl behind the reason for us meeting, Major, many people know of Ekaterina Novikova.”
The two men stared at each other for what seemed like an age, before the man from Hack_the _world stood up. He looked down at Jason, who remained seated and nodded slowly.
“Will you help me?” Jason tried not to sound desperate.
“Fifty thousand into this account within two hours …” He pushed over a small card towards Jason. “Do that and then leave me to call you.”
To Be Continued …
Loinclothslave
slave to the whip
When I get to meet Ekaterina I hope she poses this way for me..
Whoa, caning and cattle prods, surely her aereoles are getting new scars? What gifts they give her!
How can you stay mad at this guy? He knows just what to say!
Oh please make a new mark with the burning electrical arc!
Again, this guy really understands
Make her truly value every sip of air she is permitted by her new torture master. She shall learn to thank him for every gasp
There’s always more time for torture! What a caring Master Andreytov really is!
The problem with the SVR in their dealings with gangster economies is that gangsters will sell them out if the price is right. Now, answer me this, why wasn’t Jason here earlier? Could it be he likes Ekaterina’s beautiful scars as much as me and simply waited so he could be sure she’d bear plenty of fresh new ones? Sounds fair to me!
Needless to say, @Fossy , you seem to have found another chapter capable of pressing my buttons?
Sharkman
Governor
Five tough guys against one woman meeting at eye level fits pefect in this Sexpionage serial ... and the scene remembers me slightly on episode 4 - An Interrogation Enhanced. Do they really need bindings for her? Lion, yes, again a thrilling scene with Kat ... Diamonds Are Forever (1971).