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Sexpionage IV
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
He is still alone with her my friend, and so maybe there is still a further part to his plan ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Missing in Action (6)
Grzegorz Barta’s Private Rooms, The Leopard V club, District XXII, Budapest
As the final throes of any lingering elements of her climax faded, the British OtG Agent moved onto her knees.
She had him alone …
Grace looked up at Barta from under half-closed lids and wondered whether she should lick her lips for effect. His eyes never left her, except for the moment where he adjusted his suit pants to remove the gun and slide it into his jacket. He did not see Grace reach inside the pocket of her discarded sweat pants.
The girl knew that she would not get a better chance than this to kill him.
Barta was slowly moving toward her. When he reached the spot where Grace was kneeling, he pulled her up by the hair, put his arms around her waist and threw her on her back onto the large leather couch … she knew that he hadn’t seen her hand disappear briefly under the red velvet cushion.
Then, opening his belt, waiting while his belly spilled forth, before flipping out his stubby erection, the pig of a man began to fuck her.
In the red light, Barta’s clenched teeth, were grinding and saliva drooled from the left corner of his puffy lips as he thrust inside his unmoving captive.
“Enjoy it little Kurva, or you will suffer …”
Grace threw her head back and closed her eyes. She felt Barta’s hot breath on her breasts. The dim light from above flowed over her quivering legs and their bodies as Grace lifted her ass and rocked her pelvis to meet each of his leporine thrusts. Aware of the need to choose her moment carefully, and equally to make him loose his mind momentarily while he was fucking her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered “Fuck me harder Master, please.”
Barta growled as a long, thick dribble of saliva spilled form his mouth onto her breasts, and Grace emitted a moan as he began moving harder and faster. As his cock grew harder, and bigger, Grace was surprised to feel her own body responding …
… Fuck no! Do not get any pleasure form this, her inner mind warned. The Hungarian gangster’s eyes were lust filled and unfocused. He clearly sensed nothing beyond the nubile body writhing beneath him.
Then in a flash, Grace’s hand moved from under the couch to wrap a thin steel wire around Barta’s neck and across his throat, drawing it tight with a telling sound, cutting into the sensitive flesh of his neck.
The fat man’s eyes snapped open, and his hands scrabbled at the wire garrotte now biting into his windpipe. With his fingers digging at the wire, Barta’s face hung suspended inches from Grace’s. Her mouth was frozen in a silent grimace as she pulled at both small wooden handles with all of her strength …
He looked at her uncomprehendingly with red-rimmed eyes, a vein on his forehead bulging, his fingers trying desperately to gain purchase on the wire. His mouth sagged open, another thick glob of saliva falling, this time onto her cheek.
Barta’s body began to convulse and he shook like a hooked fish. It was this motion that caused Grace to register that he was still inside her.
She pushed at his chest, turned her head to avoid his spittle and blood, and tried to slip out from underneath him. But he was a big man, suddenly very heavy, and she couldn’t move.
It was then that she felt the gun barrel pushing at the top of her head.
“Drop the wire bitch …”
Onboard the night train from Munich to Budapest “EuroNight 463 Kalman Imre (EN 463)”
Jase stretched his limbs, slid the palm of his hand over the still warm bedsheet just vacated by Barb, and raised his head towards where she stood. Having just opened the shaded covering of the window in their sleeping compartment, she stood perfectly silhouetted in the dim light. The lighting along a station platform was flashing by, but then also slowing as the train began to draw to a stop.
She was stark naked.
“Where are we?” he murmured sleepily.
“Vienna Hauptbahnhof,” she replied. “A five-minute stop.”
“What time is it?”
“Half past six. We’ll be in Budapest in about two and a half hours.”
“Okay, I’d better get up. After all we did on this cramped compartment bed during the night, I am very definitely in need of a shower.”
“WC and shower is at the far end of the carriage.”
“Figures.”
“A little less wild sex during the night and you might get by without one.”
“And whose fault was that Miss Insatiable?”
“I’m a healthy woman with needs and you’re a hunk of a man. What did you expect?”
“Maybe not quite so much screaming and moaning for starters. I’m sure most of the carriage could hear you.”
“Blahhhhhh!!!!”
“Seriously, Barb. With Budapest but a couple of hours away, we need to put some thought to what comes next. Taking the night train was as good a means of getting into the city under the radar as any, but now we’re going to have to figure out how we’re going to locate Barta without asking questions that might draw undue attention to us.”
“I think I already have an answer for that, Jase!”
Really? What?”
“Move over! she commanded leaving the carriage window, stopping to grab her iPad from her open bag and plopping herself down on the bed next to him, ignoring the way his gaze roamed over her still naked body.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking the classified CIA database on ‘persons of interest, East-Central-Europe.”
“You can’t do that! O’Shaughnessy said we weren’t to use ‘Company’ resources, remember? And besides, I didn’t know you had free access to something like that. Don’t you have channels to go through.”
“Hmmm, I guess, but I looked over O’Shaughnessy’s shoulder once when he accessed it, and I never forget anything I happen to see … especially other people’s log-one and passwords.”
“I might have known.”
“Here he is: ‘Grzegorz Barta. Nationality: Hungarian’. There are a number of photos of him. Rather short, fat and quite ugly! Jowly, small, close-set eyes. Mean-looking countenance. A real pig!”
“What else?”
“Ummmm … let’s see. Loads of stuff about his ‘dark’ arms-dealing activities. His Interpol file says he’s been arrested or detained a half dozen times in several countries, including the UK, but always seems to have managed to get himself let free, usually on a technicality. Known to have rivals eliminated … definitely a rather toxic character … not healthy to get in his way … wow! … the list of his assumed victims goes on and on … quite a body count! … Wait! … here’s what we’re looking for: ‘No known permanent residence, but reportedly a frequent overnight presence when in Budapest at the so-called ‘Leopard V Club.’.”
“Where is that?”
“Give me a sec while I try Googling it …. Ah, bingo! It’s in the 12th District, which is south of the center and just to the west of the river on the Buda side. Street address is 19 Sörház u.”
“So when did you say we’ll be getting into the city?”
“I didn’t say precisely, but it’s on our booking itinerary… yeah … here it is … scheduled to arrive at Keleti … that’s the central station … at 9:24.”
“Okay, we’ve plenty of time then to find lodging, food, and case this Leopard V Club before evening comes around. I don’t imagine the club will be open for business before then.”
“Not likely. According to its website, which I just found, it’s a strip club, open daily from 8 in the evening until 1:30 the next morning. And take a look at this, Jase! They’ve posted pics of their strippers on the website. See anyone who looks familiar?”
“Oh Shit! Do I ever! Would you believe it? They have Grace listed as ‘Miss Cassie Brown from Olde London Towne’!”
Grace is well and truly ensconced, and not in the way she wanted to be. Barb and Jase take the late train to Budapest in their continued quest to ‘save’ her … to see what happens next join Barb on Saturday for the beginning of PART III – Captive in the Dark …
Grzegorz Barta’s Private Rooms, The Leopard V club, District XXII, Budapest
As the final throes of any lingering elements of her climax faded, the British OtG Agent moved onto her knees.
She had him alone …
Grace looked up at Barta from under half-closed lids and wondered whether she should lick her lips for effect. His eyes never left her, except for the moment where he adjusted his suit pants to remove the gun and slide it into his jacket. He did not see Grace reach inside the pocket of her discarded sweat pants.
The girl knew that she would not get a better chance than this to kill him.
Barta was slowly moving toward her. When he reached the spot where Grace was kneeling, he pulled her up by the hair, put his arms around her waist and threw her on her back onto the large leather couch … she knew that he hadn’t seen her hand disappear briefly under the red velvet cushion.
Then, opening his belt, waiting while his belly spilled forth, before flipping out his stubby erection, the pig of a man began to fuck her.
In the red light, Barta’s clenched teeth, were grinding and saliva drooled from the left corner of his puffy lips as he thrust inside his unmoving captive.
“Enjoy it little Kurva, or you will suffer …”
Grace threw her head back and closed her eyes. She felt Barta’s hot breath on her breasts. The dim light from above flowed over her quivering legs and their bodies as Grace lifted her ass and rocked her pelvis to meet each of his leporine thrusts. Aware of the need to choose her moment carefully, and equally to make him loose his mind momentarily while he was fucking her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered “Fuck me harder Master, please.”
Barta growled as a long, thick dribble of saliva spilled form his mouth onto her breasts, and Grace emitted a moan as he began moving harder and faster. As his cock grew harder, and bigger, Grace was surprised to feel her own body responding …
… Fuck no! Do not get any pleasure form this, her inner mind warned. The Hungarian gangster’s eyes were lust filled and unfocused. He clearly sensed nothing beyond the nubile body writhing beneath him.
Then in a flash, Grace’s hand moved from under the couch to wrap a thin steel wire around Barta’s neck and across his throat, drawing it tight with a telling sound, cutting into the sensitive flesh of his neck.
The fat man’s eyes snapped open, and his hands scrabbled at the wire garrotte now biting into his windpipe. With his fingers digging at the wire, Barta’s face hung suspended inches from Grace’s. Her mouth was frozen in a silent grimace as she pulled at both small wooden handles with all of her strength …
He looked at her uncomprehendingly with red-rimmed eyes, a vein on his forehead bulging, his fingers trying desperately to gain purchase on the wire. His mouth sagged open, another thick glob of saliva falling, this time onto her cheek.
Barta’s body began to convulse and he shook like a hooked fish. It was this motion that caused Grace to register that he was still inside her.
She pushed at his chest, turned her head to avoid his spittle and blood, and tried to slip out from underneath him. But he was a big man, suddenly very heavy, and she couldn’t move.
It was then that she felt the gun barrel pushing at the top of her head.
“Drop the wire bitch …”
Onboard the night train from Munich to Budapest “EuroNight 463 Kalman Imre (EN 463)”
Jase stretched his limbs, slid the palm of his hand over the still warm bedsheet just vacated by Barb, and raised his head towards where she stood. Having just opened the shaded covering of the window in their sleeping compartment, she stood perfectly silhouetted in the dim light. The lighting along a station platform was flashing by, but then also slowing as the train began to draw to a stop.
She was stark naked.
“Where are we?” he murmured sleepily.
“Vienna Hauptbahnhof,” she replied. “A five-minute stop.”
“What time is it?”
“Half past six. We’ll be in Budapest in about two and a half hours.”
“Okay, I’d better get up. After all we did on this cramped compartment bed during the night, I am very definitely in need of a shower.”
“WC and shower is at the far end of the carriage.”
“Figures.”
“A little less wild sex during the night and you might get by without one.”
“And whose fault was that Miss Insatiable?”
“I’m a healthy woman with needs and you’re a hunk of a man. What did you expect?”
“Maybe not quite so much screaming and moaning for starters. I’m sure most of the carriage could hear you.”
“Blahhhhhh!!!!”
“Seriously, Barb. With Budapest but a couple of hours away, we need to put some thought to what comes next. Taking the night train was as good a means of getting into the city under the radar as any, but now we’re going to have to figure out how we’re going to locate Barta without asking questions that might draw undue attention to us.”
“I think I already have an answer for that, Jase!”
Really? What?”
“Move over! she commanded leaving the carriage window, stopping to grab her iPad from her open bag and plopping herself down on the bed next to him, ignoring the way his gaze roamed over her still naked body.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking the classified CIA database on ‘persons of interest, East-Central-Europe.”
“You can’t do that! O’Shaughnessy said we weren’t to use ‘Company’ resources, remember? And besides, I didn’t know you had free access to something like that. Don’t you have channels to go through.”
“Hmmm, I guess, but I looked over O’Shaughnessy’s shoulder once when he accessed it, and I never forget anything I happen to see … especially other people’s log-one and passwords.”
“I might have known.”
“Here he is: ‘Grzegorz Barta. Nationality: Hungarian’. There are a number of photos of him. Rather short, fat and quite ugly! Jowly, small, close-set eyes. Mean-looking countenance. A real pig!”
“What else?”
“Ummmm … let’s see. Loads of stuff about his ‘dark’ arms-dealing activities. His Interpol file says he’s been arrested or detained a half dozen times in several countries, including the UK, but always seems to have managed to get himself let free, usually on a technicality. Known to have rivals eliminated … definitely a rather toxic character … not healthy to get in his way … wow! … the list of his assumed victims goes on and on … quite a body count! … Wait! … here’s what we’re looking for: ‘No known permanent residence, but reportedly a frequent overnight presence when in Budapest at the so-called ‘Leopard V Club.’.”
“Where is that?”
“Give me a sec while I try Googling it …. Ah, bingo! It’s in the 12th District, which is south of the center and just to the west of the river on the Buda side. Street address is 19 Sörház u.”
“So when did you say we’ll be getting into the city?”
“I didn’t say precisely, but it’s on our booking itinerary… yeah … here it is … scheduled to arrive at Keleti … that’s the central station … at 9:24.”
“Okay, we’ve plenty of time then to find lodging, food, and case this Leopard V Club before evening comes around. I don’t imagine the club will be open for business before then.”
“Not likely. According to its website, which I just found, it’s a strip club, open daily from 8 in the evening until 1:30 the next morning. And take a look at this, Jase! They’ve posted pics of their strippers on the website. See anyone who looks familiar?”
“Oh Shit! Do I ever! Would you believe it? They have Grace listed as ‘Miss Cassie Brown from Olde London Towne’!”
Grace is well and truly ensconced, and not in the way she wanted to be. Barb and Jase take the late train to Budapest in their continued quest to ‘save’ her … to see what happens next join Barb on Saturday for the beginning of PART III – Captive in the Dark …
Wow, still reading but I just love encountering new (to me) words
Leporine
Adjective
Leporine
Adjective
- of or resembling a hare or hares.
"that leporine, glazed gaze"
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Always educating here on CF Loin'
Intended to reflect 'rabbit like' thrusts in actual fact ...
will she ever bloody well learn? This
This isn’t her first rodeo, c’mon Grace, you’re supposed to be smarter than this!
I look forward to the next exciting installment, looks promising…
Mmmmm very promising, if Jase times things perfectly then we could potentially wind up with both Barb and Grace at the torture posts?
Is a massive red flag, it should be part of her repertoire that anytime Grace thinks she has the drop on someone that something like
Becomes completely inevitable.
This isn’t her first rodeo, c’mon Grace, you’re supposed to be smarter than this!
I look forward to the next exciting installment, looks promising…
Mmmmm very promising, if Jase times things perfectly then we could potentially wind up with both Barb and Grace at the torture posts?
Stop reading ahead!
Good one 99! I do look so forward to 99’s limericks! Always a delight!
Fear not, @Loinclothslave
There's one there that @thehangingtree doesn't recognise, either.
Victim
Noun
- a person who has come to feel helpless and passive in the face of misfortune or ill-treatment.
"I saw myself as a victim"
Tree thinks the word 'victim' is overused. Why here on CF we have a whole thread called 'victims of the inquisition'. These are not victims! They confessed to their wrong-doings so when they get hanged, it is what they have coming to them!
Captive in The Dark (1)
A Disused Market Warehouse, District XIII (Józsefváros), Budapest, Hungary
Grace, naked with wrists still cuffed behind her back, her breasts blood-streaked from the inhuman manner with which these bastards had treated them like pin cushions, stood facing one of the walls of her cell, which was, she noticed, made of wood … which seemed strange given that the other three sides were stone.
She was about to find out why.
With sudden, shocking violence, the man standing behind hergrabbed Grace by the head, one hand on either side, and flung her against the wall, so that she took the full impact against her shoulders. As she fell forwards, after bouncing back, he caught her, pulled her to her feet and threw her back against the wall again.
This time, as she rebounded, he slapped her across the face.
Almost without a pause, it seemed, Grace was thrown yet again against the hard wood, as helpless as a rag doll. Five times the violent action was repeated before the captive girl fell, slumped to the floor.
When Grace came round, she was looking up at the dark, foreboding ceiling, except directly in her line of vision, four grinning faces peered down, and when she tried to move her limbs, she couldn't. A groping hand reached out to grip her right breast, nipping and twisting her nipple.
"Arghhhhh, fuuuccck ..." tears formed in her eyes as the fingers tightened like the teeth of a vice.
Grace gasped; she could barely catch her breath.
"You know your tits are completely fucked Kurva, don't you?"
Grace twisted her head away.
"We pierced your milk tubes bitch; you'll never produce milk that a kid can feed from ..."
Grace bit into her lip. "If you think I'm ever going bring kids into a fucked-up world like this then you must be fucking stupid. Oh, sorry, I forgot ... you are fucking stupid!"
A quip for which she received a hard slap to her face.
"Who sent you Kurva?"
Grace just smirked.
“Good, we like it when you make it harder for us to break you.”
A soft cloth was place over the bound girl’s face as man number one stood over her. She flinched when she heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and then Grace felt it. Warm and stinking as the man pissed onto the cloth, a steady stream of golden urine which in turn began to mould the material to her features.
The trained spy held her breath but then, as the urine continued to flow, she needed to inhale. Her mouth opened and she gulpedinwards, except all she got was a mouthful of bitter piss.
No breath ... she gasped. Then choked ... her training held thepanic off … until it didn't.
Then, as she was trying to repeatedly find oxygen, all she could get was more and more urine. Eventually, the soaked cloth was peeled away, leaving the bound naked girl gasping and spluttering and retching up stinking piss.
"Who sent you Kurva?"
Grace gathered the drips and drops of residual golden liquid into her mouth and spat it up towards the men. Another slap ... then another...
"Continue..." the cloth was once more placed over Grace's face.
Front entrance, Keleti Terminal, Budapest, Hungary.
“Well, that unscheduled train delay certainly cost us some serious time,” groused Jase. “You said we’d be here around 9:30, and what is it now? Bloody noon!”
“Relax. No worries. We’re here aren’t we? That’s all that matters,” scolded Barb gently.
“Right. You’re in charge, it seems. You say you’ve been in Budapest once in the past. That makes you the expert, then. So, what’s next, Moore?”
Barb rolled her eyes. “We find some food and check into our hotel. If we walk down the street here for a dozen blocks or so we’ll come to one of the main thoroughfares, where we can hustle up some street food and hop a tram to our hotel. So, as the ‘expert’, I suggest we start walking.”
“Okay, lead on, but what the fuck passes for street food here, and which hotel did you book us into?”
“The locals like to buy and eat a kind of fried flatbread known as a Lángos … crispy on the surface, yet soft and fluffy inside, and usually topped with garlic, cheese, sour cream, or cheese and sour cream, although other toppings are often offered. You’ll like it, they’re rather tasty.”
“Hmmmm … alright on that, I guess. And what about our hotel?”
“Well Jase, I’m not going to match the Dorchester. At more than $1,000 a night, you went way overboard there. Budapest is on my dime, so I’ve booked us into the Ensana Grand Margaret Island. I stayed there when I was here before. It’s only $172 a night, and built on the site of a great old spa, with thermal baths, hot tubs, therapeutic massage and beauty services, all set on ‘Margitziget’, a lush island in the middle of the Danube between central Buda and Pest. Soon as we check in, I’m headed for the baths and a massage!”
“I may well join you.”
“Don’t get any wild ideas. This place is totally tame.”
“Right, but let’s not forget why we’re here. Soon as we’re settled and rested, we need to set out on a reccie to find The Leopard V and survey the surroundings, and we need to think about how we will present ourselves when we go there this evening.”
“Yes, I’ve already been thinking about that. While we were sitting still somewhere outside the city waiting for our train to get moving again, I spent some more time on the Leopard V website. Seems the place has recently become more than just a strip club; they’ve been moving with the times in an effort to attract the fetish partying craze. There’s a whole fetish event section now … below ground and apparently decked out around a torture dungeon theme.”
“So we pass ourselves off as a fetish tourist couple?”
“Exactly. I can wear that slutty outfit I wore when we paid our little nocturnal visit to your pal, Caddis, down in Lambeth.”
“And … what should I wear?”
“Hmmm … slight problem there … we might just have to go shopping to get you properly outfitted. And we may even find something even more sluttier for me while we’re at it.”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in some of that fetish apparel!”
“Oh, come on! Lighten up! This is about finding, Grace, remember?”
“Hmmmm … this Lángos isn’t bad.”
To be Continued
A Disused Market Warehouse, District XIII (Józsefváros), Budapest, Hungary
Grace, naked with wrists still cuffed behind her back, her breasts blood-streaked from the inhuman manner with which these bastards had treated them like pin cushions, stood facing one of the walls of her cell, which was, she noticed, made of wood … which seemed strange given that the other three sides were stone.
She was about to find out why.
With sudden, shocking violence, the man standing behind hergrabbed Grace by the head, one hand on either side, and flung her against the wall, so that she took the full impact against her shoulders. As she fell forwards, after bouncing back, he caught her, pulled her to her feet and threw her back against the wall again.
This time, as she rebounded, he slapped her across the face.
Almost without a pause, it seemed, Grace was thrown yet again against the hard wood, as helpless as a rag doll. Five times the violent action was repeated before the captive girl fell, slumped to the floor.
When Grace came round, she was looking up at the dark, foreboding ceiling, except directly in her line of vision, four grinning faces peered down, and when she tried to move her limbs, she couldn't. A groping hand reached out to grip her right breast, nipping and twisting her nipple.
"Arghhhhh, fuuuccck ..." tears formed in her eyes as the fingers tightened like the teeth of a vice.
Grace gasped; she could barely catch her breath.
"You know your tits are completely fucked Kurva, don't you?"
Grace twisted her head away.
"We pierced your milk tubes bitch; you'll never produce milk that a kid can feed from ..."
Grace bit into her lip. "If you think I'm ever going bring kids into a fucked-up world like this then you must be fucking stupid. Oh, sorry, I forgot ... you are fucking stupid!"
A quip for which she received a hard slap to her face.
"Who sent you Kurva?"
Grace just smirked.
“Good, we like it when you make it harder for us to break you.”
A soft cloth was place over the bound girl’s face as man number one stood over her. She flinched when she heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and then Grace felt it. Warm and stinking as the man pissed onto the cloth, a steady stream of golden urine which in turn began to mould the material to her features.
The trained spy held her breath but then, as the urine continued to flow, she needed to inhale. Her mouth opened and she gulpedinwards, except all she got was a mouthful of bitter piss.
No breath ... she gasped. Then choked ... her training held thepanic off … until it didn't.
Then, as she was trying to repeatedly find oxygen, all she could get was more and more urine. Eventually, the soaked cloth was peeled away, leaving the bound naked girl gasping and spluttering and retching up stinking piss.
"Who sent you Kurva?"
Grace gathered the drips and drops of residual golden liquid into her mouth and spat it up towards the men. Another slap ... then another...
"Continue..." the cloth was once more placed over Grace's face.
Front entrance, Keleti Terminal, Budapest, Hungary.
“Well, that unscheduled train delay certainly cost us some serious time,” groused Jase. “You said we’d be here around 9:30, and what is it now? Bloody noon!”
“Relax. No worries. We’re here aren’t we? That’s all that matters,” scolded Barb gently.
“Right. You’re in charge, it seems. You say you’ve been in Budapest once in the past. That makes you the expert, then. So, what’s next, Moore?”
Barb rolled her eyes. “We find some food and check into our hotel. If we walk down the street here for a dozen blocks or so we’ll come to one of the main thoroughfares, where we can hustle up some street food and hop a tram to our hotel. So, as the ‘expert’, I suggest we start walking.”
“Okay, lead on, but what the fuck passes for street food here, and which hotel did you book us into?”
“The locals like to buy and eat a kind of fried flatbread known as a Lángos … crispy on the surface, yet soft and fluffy inside, and usually topped with garlic, cheese, sour cream, or cheese and sour cream, although other toppings are often offered. You’ll like it, they’re rather tasty.”
“Hmmmm … alright on that, I guess. And what about our hotel?”
“Well Jase, I’m not going to match the Dorchester. At more than $1,000 a night, you went way overboard there. Budapest is on my dime, so I’ve booked us into the Ensana Grand Margaret Island. I stayed there when I was here before. It’s only $172 a night, and built on the site of a great old spa, with thermal baths, hot tubs, therapeutic massage and beauty services, all set on ‘Margitziget’, a lush island in the middle of the Danube between central Buda and Pest. Soon as we check in, I’m headed for the baths and a massage!”
“I may well join you.”
“Don’t get any wild ideas. This place is totally tame.”
“Right, but let’s not forget why we’re here. Soon as we’re settled and rested, we need to set out on a reccie to find The Leopard V and survey the surroundings, and we need to think about how we will present ourselves when we go there this evening.”
“Yes, I’ve already been thinking about that. While we were sitting still somewhere outside the city waiting for our train to get moving again, I spent some more time on the Leopard V website. Seems the place has recently become more than just a strip club; they’ve been moving with the times in an effort to attract the fetish partying craze. There’s a whole fetish event section now … below ground and apparently decked out around a torture dungeon theme.”
“So we pass ourselves off as a fetish tourist couple?”
“Exactly. I can wear that slutty outfit I wore when we paid our little nocturnal visit to your pal, Caddis, down in Lambeth.”
“And … what should I wear?”
“Hmmm … slight problem there … we might just have to go shopping to get you properly outfitted. And we may even find something even more sluttier for me while we’re at it.”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in some of that fetish apparel!”
“Oh, come on! Lighten up! This is about finding, Grace, remember?”
“Hmmmm … this Lángos isn’t bad.”
To be Continued
Am I the only one here just seething with anger at Barb (herewith known simply as this bitch) as she seems to be making it her business to keep Jase distracted from doing whatever he can to save his WIFE from peril? As each chapter transpired and this bitch keeps delaying, I fear her ulterior motive is for Jase to arrive just in time to retrieve Grace’s corpse! Shades of our beloved and bemoaned EKaterina, anyone? How can Jase possibly forgive this bitch ever?
And if Grace is found alive, heaven help this bitch because Ghod knows I won’t!
And if Grace is found alive, heaven help this bitch because Ghod knows I won’t!
This little bitch hears your complaint and files it in the circular file.
Mannnnn, is their a drought in demerits or something? It’s all because @Apostate overcounted his, isn’t it?
Cheeky!!!Mannnnn, is their a drought in demerits or something? It’s all because @Apostate overcounted his, isn’t it?
Worth it, Grace. Well worth it!