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Sexpionage IV
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
twonines
LIMERICUS
I`ve arrived at this saga late,
I`m sorry you`ve had to wait.
But enough of this chatter,
It doesn`t really matter,
Barb and Dave stepped up to the plate.
twonines
LIMERICUS
Snap.I wish I didn't
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Girl, Taken (11)
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 2:50 am, Sunday 7th April 2024.
“They’ll be back soon. I want to fuck her.”
The two nameless men, who, Issy had nicknamed Twat 1 and Twat 2, in deference to how much she detested all five men holding her captive, had been left in charge while Barta, Felix and Jerzy headed out.
“If he returns and finds you, he won’t be happy, you know that.” Twat 2 offered his warning.
“Fuck him, I’m going to have her. You keep watch for me.”
Twat 1 opens the cage and drags a very passive, very exhausted Issy out, by the ankle.
“Please, don’t do this …” An almost silent whisper was all the shattered girl offered up.
Parting her thighs without any dissent whatsoever, he crouches down and pushes his hard, leaking cock inside of her open cunt and she grunts at the penetration, looking up at him, his naked body sweaty and powerful. He grips Issy’s wrists, and holds them down against either side of her head, leaning over until their noses are practically touching, and she can feel his hot, foul breath on her face.
This is when he really starts to pound into her, hard and deep, until the battered girl feels like she’s breaking in two.
“Stop, please, I can’t …” Moans pour out of her and she has no choice but to whimper against the savage fucking she’s getting. He releases her wrists and moves his hands to her throat, clutching it tightly while he slams into Issy’s flimsy body time after time.
Tighter now, Twat 1’s hands clench around her throat, fully closing off her air supply, hurting her, scaring her, degrading her.
Issy tries to breathe, but there's nothing, only pain, as his thumbs press into her trachea. The captive girl’s heart throbs in her ears, it's getting faster, her pulse deafening. That fear is growing ... this is where she dies.
“Dad!” She cries out inside her head, begging her father to save her, but no sound at all comes out.
Her vision starts to narrow, if killing her brings this bastard pleasure, then she has no control over her fate. Issy can feel him hard and thick inside her, taking her, raping her, owning her.
Then, as quickly as it began, it's over … two maybe three thrusts, his stinking seed ejaculated, and without a word he releases his hands from around her throat. His cock slips free of her over used pussy, and Issy chokes out heavy, hard coughs, as she slides onto her side, trying desperately to get some life back inside her dying body.
There's a carnal, primal look on Twat 1’s face. He owns her and right now Issy ‘feels’ his ownership. All of these bastards want to toy with her, make her think that she’s already dead, and then bring her back to life. Playing God, having full control over her. Keeping her locked in a cage isn't enough control. They want all of her … when she eats and drinks. When she pisses and shits. When she breathes.
Alleyway behind the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 02:55 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen stepped stealthily into the shadows as he rounded a corner to enter the alleyway behind the Bryggen Nightclub. After leaving the club minutes earlier, he’d decided on a hunch … call it policeman’s intuition … that hanging back and trailing the woman at the bar, who’d introduced herself as Barb Moore, might make good sense. Something about her made him think she was something more than an American tourist.
And he was right, because the moment she’d emerged from the nightclub, she was joined by the man he’d seen her with at the bar earlier. After exchanging a few brief words, the man had ushered her around to the alley in back.
Hagen had waited a few minutes and then followed.
Peering out from the shadows, he could see the two of them crouched behind a trash bin … their attention focused on two figures … a male and female … standing together under the shielded arc light mounted over the Bryggen’s ‘alley access’ door.
The man he recognized … a local ‘low life’ known as ‘Felix’ … sporadically in and out of trouble with the police. The woman’s identity he didn’t know. He’d seen her working the floor earlier that night in Bryggen’s … no mystery as to her profession … her scandalously skimpy outfit and flirtatious behavior had made that obvious enough.
The question was, what was it about Felix and that mysterious hooker that was of such interest to Barb Moore and her male companion?
After some discussion, Felix and his whore moved off together .. followed after an interval by Barb Moore and her male companion.
Hagen debated whether he should follow. Prostitution was commonplace enough. Brothels and so-called ‘hjelpepleier’ were legal in Norway, even though oddly enough purchase of such services was not. But as far as Hagen could determine, the sex trade was busier than ever. The country seemed flooded with working girls from Eastern Europe, Africa, even the Americas. Nothing here to get worked up about. And besides, it was late and Hagen knew he ought to get home.
But curiosity got the better of him. As soon as Barb Moore and company had cleared the alleyway, he fell in behind, trailing at a discrete distance along streets far from deserted, given that the bars had just closed.
A quarter of an hour later Hagen found himself outside the entrance to the notorious Bergen City Hostel.
Felix and his ‘date’ had already disappeared inside. Barb Moore and friend had stood outside for perhaps 5 minutes or so before moving on.
Hagen decided to follow them.
They moved along at a leisurely pace, her arm locked in his, high heels clacking rhythmically on the pavement. They looked like lovers. How much weirder … frankly mysterious … could this get, Hagen asked himself.
His pursuit ended in the heart of the city at the entrance to the much more respectable ‘Scandic’ Hotel Norge. There his quarry entered, and after following them in he observed them headed directly for the lift.
Hagen waited until the doors to the lift had closed, noting its progress up to the fourth floor, where it stopped, before heading over to reception, where he flashed his police ID and asked of the pretty young smartly-uniformed woman behind the desk, “those two who just took the lift, room number?”
“411. Room registration, B. Moore,” she replied without hesitation.
“Thanks, does the room face the street or the back?”
“Street, sixth room from the lift at the end of the hall. Anything wrong, Politioverbetjent Hagen?”
“No, just checking. Thanks again.”
Returning to the street, Hagen crossed over and looked up to the hotel’s fourth floor. Only one room wasn’t darkened … and there she was … a naked Barb Moore …
... silhouetted against the light in the room and hastily engaged in pulling the window coverings together. And as she did so, her companion appeared behind her, scooped her up in his arms and carried her away.
Hagen, shook his head ruefully, turned himself about and headed for home, wondering whether he’d write a report on this in the morning or just let it go.
Bergen City Hostel, 3:40 am, Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“I’m good from here, thank you.” Agent Townsend smiles a weak smile at her ‘guardian’ when they arrive at the seedy looking entrance doorway to the Bergan City Hostel.
He just smiles back at her. “I need to see you to your room. Now go.”
Ashley sighs. She knows what will happen when they get back there, and the problems she has is that whilst knowing that she must not give her cover away, she has been raped once tonight and she just cannot face it happening again.
But there is no way out as they climb the stairs to the second floor.
“Guests have one hour and we put an extra two hundred Krone on your bill Miss Ryder, so make sure you charge him for that too.” The same pimply face man spoke without even looking up from his fetish magazine.
No sooner are they inside room 15 than Ashley feels herself thrown across the small space to crash into something hard, the air ‘oofing’ out of her gut, leaving her winded and prostrated on the rough floor of the moonlight lit room.
She grasps the table leg by her hand and pulled herself up, frantically tries to keep her tired and addled mind focused.
“Now I get my turn little cunt.” And then he’s grabbling her again, pulling her to him, his hands quickly dishevelling her clothing
"Let go of me, please …" she pleads feigning submissiveness but knowing that any moment now she will retaliate with a vengeance.
"Shut the fuck up," he commands, then adds, "You need to lie down."
Then she is on her back, on the sticky bed cover, and there is hot breath on her face …
Ashley’s breasts are exposed, and sharp teeth bite her left nipple.
Then her panties are torn away, her skirt bunched and she feels him at her entrance.
Fuck no! Words that roam around her head. She cannot let this happen again. And so, rolling to the side, turning with all her strength, she knocks him away. Quickly, fingers in her hair pull her back and his face appears above hers.
“Good girl. I like it when they fight a little bit.”
His lips crush onto her, stealing her breath, but not her strength. His tongue invades her as he tries to position himself again. Ashley’s hands are empty, but she still has her nails, and so she brings them up, these long, sharp tendrils, and rakes them down Felix’s cheek.
Warm blood follows the force of her dragging fingers. The smell, a coppery tang, fills her nostrils and he reels up and away from her.
“You chose the wrong fucking girl, you bastard.” And with no further thought she unleashed a swift barefooted kick to his jaw and sent him crashing into the table, the sound a nauseating thud. A sickening crack.
Felix falls away, cock still erect but body limp, and leaves Ashley’s panting breath as the only sound in the room.
She stares and then sinks, chest heaving, onto the only chair in the room.
Scanning around, she sees one of her shoes by the closed door, the other laying by the opposite wall. Her torn thong is discarded on the bed.
Felix isn’t moving. Is he dead? She can’t look.
’I need to leave.’ The thought is rushing around her head, along with the rising gallop of her heart. A shudder runs over her and her stomach flips, threatening to empty.
And then her eyes finally, slowly, fall onto Felix, a slumped form on the floor. Blood. There is blood on his head and it’s spreading out on the floor underneath him. Momentarily her gaze shifts to the bruised bite mark on her breast, but then drifts back to the slumped form on her room floor.
He's not moving. Felix is dead. She killed him.
TBC
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 2:50 am, Sunday 7th April 2024.
“They’ll be back soon. I want to fuck her.”
The two nameless men, who, Issy had nicknamed Twat 1 and Twat 2, in deference to how much she detested all five men holding her captive, had been left in charge while Barta, Felix and Jerzy headed out.
“If he returns and finds you, he won’t be happy, you know that.” Twat 2 offered his warning.
“Fuck him, I’m going to have her. You keep watch for me.”
Twat 1 opens the cage and drags a very passive, very exhausted Issy out, by the ankle.
“Please, don’t do this …” An almost silent whisper was all the shattered girl offered up.
Parting her thighs without any dissent whatsoever, he crouches down and pushes his hard, leaking cock inside of her open cunt and she grunts at the penetration, looking up at him, his naked body sweaty and powerful. He grips Issy’s wrists, and holds them down against either side of her head, leaning over until their noses are practically touching, and she can feel his hot, foul breath on her face.
This is when he really starts to pound into her, hard and deep, until the battered girl feels like she’s breaking in two.
“Stop, please, I can’t …” Moans pour out of her and she has no choice but to whimper against the savage fucking she’s getting. He releases her wrists and moves his hands to her throat, clutching it tightly while he slams into Issy’s flimsy body time after time.
Tighter now, Twat 1’s hands clench around her throat, fully closing off her air supply, hurting her, scaring her, degrading her.
Issy tries to breathe, but there's nothing, only pain, as his thumbs press into her trachea. The captive girl’s heart throbs in her ears, it's getting faster, her pulse deafening. That fear is growing ... this is where she dies.
“Dad!” She cries out inside her head, begging her father to save her, but no sound at all comes out.
Her vision starts to narrow, if killing her brings this bastard pleasure, then she has no control over her fate. Issy can feel him hard and thick inside her, taking her, raping her, owning her.
Then, as quickly as it began, it's over … two maybe three thrusts, his stinking seed ejaculated, and without a word he releases his hands from around her throat. His cock slips free of her over used pussy, and Issy chokes out heavy, hard coughs, as she slides onto her side, trying desperately to get some life back inside her dying body.
There's a carnal, primal look on Twat 1’s face. He owns her and right now Issy ‘feels’ his ownership. All of these bastards want to toy with her, make her think that she’s already dead, and then bring her back to life. Playing God, having full control over her. Keeping her locked in a cage isn't enough control. They want all of her … when she eats and drinks. When she pisses and shits. When she breathes.
Alleyway behind the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway, 02:55 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen stepped stealthily into the shadows as he rounded a corner to enter the alleyway behind the Bryggen Nightclub. After leaving the club minutes earlier, he’d decided on a hunch … call it policeman’s intuition … that hanging back and trailing the woman at the bar, who’d introduced herself as Barb Moore, might make good sense. Something about her made him think she was something more than an American tourist.
And he was right, because the moment she’d emerged from the nightclub, she was joined by the man he’d seen her with at the bar earlier. After exchanging a few brief words, the man had ushered her around to the alley in back.
Hagen had waited a few minutes and then followed.
Peering out from the shadows, he could see the two of them crouched behind a trash bin … their attention focused on two figures … a male and female … standing together under the shielded arc light mounted over the Bryggen’s ‘alley access’ door.
The man he recognized … a local ‘low life’ known as ‘Felix’ … sporadically in and out of trouble with the police. The woman’s identity he didn’t know. He’d seen her working the floor earlier that night in Bryggen’s … no mystery as to her profession … her scandalously skimpy outfit and flirtatious behavior had made that obvious enough.
The question was, what was it about Felix and that mysterious hooker that was of such interest to Barb Moore and her male companion?
After some discussion, Felix and his whore moved off together .. followed after an interval by Barb Moore and her male companion.
Hagen debated whether he should follow. Prostitution was commonplace enough. Brothels and so-called ‘hjelpepleier’ were legal in Norway, even though oddly enough purchase of such services was not. But as far as Hagen could determine, the sex trade was busier than ever. The country seemed flooded with working girls from Eastern Europe, Africa, even the Americas. Nothing here to get worked up about. And besides, it was late and Hagen knew he ought to get home.
But curiosity got the better of him. As soon as Barb Moore and company had cleared the alleyway, he fell in behind, trailing at a discrete distance along streets far from deserted, given that the bars had just closed.
A quarter of an hour later Hagen found himself outside the entrance to the notorious Bergen City Hostel.
Felix and his ‘date’ had already disappeared inside. Barb Moore and friend had stood outside for perhaps 5 minutes or so before moving on.
Hagen decided to follow them.
They moved along at a leisurely pace, her arm locked in his, high heels clacking rhythmically on the pavement. They looked like lovers. How much weirder … frankly mysterious … could this get, Hagen asked himself.
His pursuit ended in the heart of the city at the entrance to the much more respectable ‘Scandic’ Hotel Norge. There his quarry entered, and after following them in he observed them headed directly for the lift.
Hagen waited until the doors to the lift had closed, noting its progress up to the fourth floor, where it stopped, before heading over to reception, where he flashed his police ID and asked of the pretty young smartly-uniformed woman behind the desk, “those two who just took the lift, room number?”
“411. Room registration, B. Moore,” she replied without hesitation.
“Thanks, does the room face the street or the back?”
“Street, sixth room from the lift at the end of the hall. Anything wrong, Politioverbetjent Hagen?”
“No, just checking. Thanks again.”
Returning to the street, Hagen crossed over and looked up to the hotel’s fourth floor. Only one room wasn’t darkened … and there she was … a naked Barb Moore …
... silhouetted against the light in the room and hastily engaged in pulling the window coverings together. And as she did so, her companion appeared behind her, scooped her up in his arms and carried her away.
Hagen, shook his head ruefully, turned himself about and headed for home, wondering whether he’d write a report on this in the morning or just let it go.
Bergen City Hostel, 3:40 am, Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“I’m good from here, thank you.” Agent Townsend smiles a weak smile at her ‘guardian’ when they arrive at the seedy looking entrance doorway to the Bergan City Hostel.
He just smiles back at her. “I need to see you to your room. Now go.”
Ashley sighs. She knows what will happen when they get back there, and the problems she has is that whilst knowing that she must not give her cover away, she has been raped once tonight and she just cannot face it happening again.
But there is no way out as they climb the stairs to the second floor.
“Guests have one hour and we put an extra two hundred Krone on your bill Miss Ryder, so make sure you charge him for that too.” The same pimply face man spoke without even looking up from his fetish magazine.
No sooner are they inside room 15 than Ashley feels herself thrown across the small space to crash into something hard, the air ‘oofing’ out of her gut, leaving her winded and prostrated on the rough floor of the moonlight lit room.
She grasps the table leg by her hand and pulled herself up, frantically tries to keep her tired and addled mind focused.
“Now I get my turn little cunt.” And then he’s grabbling her again, pulling her to him, his hands quickly dishevelling her clothing
"Let go of me, please …" she pleads feigning submissiveness but knowing that any moment now she will retaliate with a vengeance.
"Shut the fuck up," he commands, then adds, "You need to lie down."
Then she is on her back, on the sticky bed cover, and there is hot breath on her face …
Ashley’s breasts are exposed, and sharp teeth bite her left nipple.
Then her panties are torn away, her skirt bunched and she feels him at her entrance.
Fuck no! Words that roam around her head. She cannot let this happen again. And so, rolling to the side, turning with all her strength, she knocks him away. Quickly, fingers in her hair pull her back and his face appears above hers.
“Good girl. I like it when they fight a little bit.”
His lips crush onto her, stealing her breath, but not her strength. His tongue invades her as he tries to position himself again. Ashley’s hands are empty, but she still has her nails, and so she brings them up, these long, sharp tendrils, and rakes them down Felix’s cheek.
Warm blood follows the force of her dragging fingers. The smell, a coppery tang, fills her nostrils and he reels up and away from her.
“You chose the wrong fucking girl, you bastard.” And with no further thought she unleashed a swift barefooted kick to his jaw and sent him crashing into the table, the sound a nauseating thud. A sickening crack.
Felix falls away, cock still erect but body limp, and leaves Ashley’s panting breath as the only sound in the room.
She stares and then sinks, chest heaving, onto the only chair in the room.
Scanning around, she sees one of her shoes by the closed door, the other laying by the opposite wall. Her torn thong is discarded on the bed.
Felix isn’t moving. Is he dead? She can’t look.
’I need to leave.’ The thought is rushing around her head, along with the rising gallop of her heart. A shudder runs over her and her stomach flips, threatening to empty.
And then her eyes finally, slowly, fall onto Felix, a slumped form on the floor. Blood. There is blood on his head and it’s spreading out on the floor underneath him. Momentarily her gaze shifts to the bruised bite mark on her breast, but then drifts back to the slumped form on her room floor.
He's not moving. Felix is dead. She killed him.
TBC
Girl, Taken (12)
Hotel Norge, Bergenhus, 5807 Bergen, Norway, 4:00 am, Sunday 7th April 2024
“Ohhh my God, Jase! I’m cumming!” Gasped Barb, seconds before arching, going totally rigid, digging her fingernails into his back, and screaming, “GAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Jase finished with one last thrust and collapsed on top of her with a low moan of orgasmic pleasure.
Together, they lay happily together in a sweaty embrace, listening to one another’s rapid breathing.
“Jase!” whispered Barb, abruptly pushing him away. “Someone is rapping at the fucking door!”
“Probably the management’s come up to tell us to stop disturbing the other guests. You really have to try to stifle those screams, Barb!”
The rapping at the door resumed, more insistently this time.
“One of us really ought to go see what they want, Jase.”
“Nah, ignore it. They’ll probably give up and go away.”
But the rapping continued, louder than previously.
“Your turn, Barb.”
“Jerk!” she hissed, snatching his discarded shirt from the floor, slipping it loosely on and using the tails to wipe the runny cum from her inner thighs, before crossing over to the door to peer through the peephole. Taking one look, she gasped, spun around and retreated to the bed.
“What the fuck, Barb?”
“It’s Ashley! Ashley Townsend!”
“Well, let her in quick before she wakes the whole bloody hotel! … never mind … I’ll do it!”
Jumping out of bed, Jase ran naked to the door, released the night lock, opened it and stood back as an ashen-faced Ashley stormed past him, rushed to the bed and threw herself onto it, trembling uncontrollably, and curling herself into a fetal position. She was still wearing the same slutty outfit as before, but with legs pulled up it was clear that the panties were missing … something had obviously gone terribly wrong with the plan.
Instinctively, Barb crawled over to her side, threw her arms around the stricken girl, and began to make comforting clucking noises … while Jase realizing that he was completely naked began searching around the bedsheets for his underwear.
Calming somewhat, Ashley blurted out, “ohhh, I’ve made a mess of it … he … Felix … he’s dead … on my hostel room floor … I killed him!”
Barb and Jase exchanged glances.
Jase reached out to gently but firmly shake her by the shoulders, saying sharply, “Ashley! Snap out of it. Pull yourself together and tell us exactly what happened!”
When she then began to cry, he slapped her sharply on the cheek. And, as if by magic, she stopped, blinked, and calmed down.
“Alright, Ashley, from the top, tell us exactly what happened.”
And, she did … her professionalism, at last, kicking in … relating in detail everything that transpired from when Felix escorted her from to the Bryggen’s back rooms til the moment Felix lay dead on the floor of her room at the Hostel.
After she’d finished, Jase spoke to her evenly and calmly, “listen to me now, Ashley, we are so close to getting inside Barta’s organization that you must go back to him right now and tell him that Felix tripped and fell in your room, banged his head and is now dead. Leave all your things, such as they are at the Hostel. Don’t go back there. Report to Barb and me back here at the Hotel Norge after you’ve met with Barta and left him. But first, before you do all that, I want you to get yourself undressed and lie down here for an hour or two and get some sleep. Barb can help you get settled.”
Her facial expression registered both horror and determination at the thought of going back to Barta. But wordlessly she nodded agreement, understanding that by approaching him proactively she retained a chance of remaining under cover and fulfilling her role in finding and rescuing Jase’s daughter … not to mention salvaging her career.
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway 07:10 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“You think you can play with me Eloise Ryder?” said Grzegorz Barta in broken English, his Hungarian accent pushing through.
Agent Townsend remained totally still in the dimly lit backroom of the Bryggen Nightclub, where Barta had set up his operations HQ, and where he had raped her just a few hours earlier. He had spent the entire time here, directing his ever growing drug and prostitution operation but was now tired and extremely agitated with what this young pretty slut was telling him.
In accordance with the conversation she had with Agent Moore and Major Underwood, Ashley had returned to Barta to share with him news of Felix’s death in her hostel room, and to plead that it was an accident.
But things were not going well.
As she looked away from Barta, the boss, her gaze landed on Jerzy. He was wiry and lean, all muscle and veins, tendons and sinews. His weathered face was scarred from a thousand battles, so it seemed. One long scar stretched from above the eyebrow down one eye to the side of his mouth. The eyelid had been cut and not stitched cleanly.
“Don’t play games.” Barta warned again. “Tell me the truth.”
“I have not come back to you so that we can play games, Sir. I need to work and that is all I want. This is not a game for me, and I am sorry for your friend’s ... death.”
Barta came closer. In his right hand was a loaded Glock, which he now raised to point at her head. Ashley stiffened.
The boss gestured with his gun for her to turn in place. “Slowly.”
He was checking her for a wire. She did a gradual twirl, hands out to her sides, the motion pulling her little skirt higher, which, given that she was without underwear, she knew would capture his attention in a good way, and maybe calm him down.
“You killed him for revenge?”
Agent Townsend shook her head. “I told you … I didn’t kill him.” She pleaded weakly.
“Revenge for my raping you, and I guess he too wanted a piece of that tight little ass of yours?”
“I … didn’t …”
But Barta cut her off. “I understand why you killed him.”
He let the words hang, and whilst Ashley knew that by remaining quiet, she was signing her own death warrant, she could not find the words to say. Nodding, the boss moved closer still into her personal space. With a grin he raised his free arms and swung his clenched fists down into her head.
Everything in Ashley’s world went blank.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 9:20 am, Sunday 7th April 2024.
She awoke in a pitch-black room with only a vague memory of how she had arrived there. Groggy, she took stock of her situation as she mustered every ounce of her training to fight back the rising panic that threatened to erupt from within her.
She was laying on a cold floor, surrounded by bars. In a cage? Fuck! And she was totally naked. Fuck, fuck!
Now the panic spread throughout her body. Nausea, claustrophobia, terror, they all hit at once and she somehow supressed the scream that burst into her mouth.
“H … hello …” The voice was small, weak, barely discernible. Ashley twisted as best she could to see another cage some two metres away.
“Issy?” She couldn’t stop herself from saying.
Bergen City Hostel, 8:05 am, Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen fidgeted impatiently as Politibetjent1 Maja Jensen made yet another attempt to manoeuvre the police car into a tight parking spot outside the Bergen City Hostel. If this weren’t a murder case, Hagen thought to himself, he’d enjoy watching the fetching young recruit’s shapely legs work the vehicle’s pedals as she labored to get everything lined up correctly. But time mattered, so he curtly told her to give up on it, even though the tail end of the car was still partially blocking the street at a crazy angle.
The call had come in minutes before he’d gone on duty earlier that morning at Bergen’s Centrum Polistasjon … a man had been found dead at the City Hostel. Likely a homicide, he’d been duly informed by the duty officer at the front desk.
In haste, he now sprang from the car, entered the Hostel, and brushing past the seedy establishment’s reception window, headed straight for the beckoning policeman standing in an open doorway at the far end of the hallway … Maja trailing behind at a distance.
Flashes illuminated the room as he peered in. The forensics squad was already on the job. The man lying on the floor, his head in a pool of blood, a white chalk line drawn around his sprawled figure, was exactly who Hagen expected to see there … Felix!
And the girl Hagen had seen Felix enter the Hostel with the night before was gone … although her belongings were clearly still there. Most notably the torn thong lying discarded on the bed.
I should have known … seen this coming … Hagen thought to himself as he took charge, declaring the case a homicide and phoning the central station to order that an immediate tail be put on the occupants of room 411 at the ‘Scandic’ Hotel Norge. Of their involvement he was certain, but in exactly what way was yet to be discovered.
Hotel Norge, Bergenhus, 5807 Bergen, Norway, 11:10 am, Sunday 7th April 2024
Barb and Jase began to worry after Ashley failed to return from her mission to inform Barta of Felix’s accidental death.
She’d left the hotel to seek him out a little before 8:00. More than three hours had passed. Far more time than anticipated. Her instructions were to have given him the sad news and then return straight to them at the hotel. Could she have disobeyed and gone back to the Hostel? Or had something gone terribly wrong. They hoped not.
“What now?” Murmured Jase, cocking his head quizzically to one side.
“We go back to the Bryggen and look for her?” Suggested Barb,
“Think that’s wise?”
“Sitting here isn’t going to get us any closer to finding Issy.”
“True enough. But what’s our plan? We go beat on the Bryggen’s back alley door and demand to see Barta? That ought to work swell.”
“Stop joking! This is serious. It’ll have to be far more subtle than that. But not too complicated. I’m sure we can come up with something … wait, I’ve got it. Keep it simple, no frills. We’ll just hang around the place until Barta comes out. He can’t stay in there all day. And when he does we simply follow him. And if we get lucky he leads us to Issy,”
“Dreamer.”
“Got a better idea?”
“Here’s another wrinkle. What if Ashley turns up here after we leave?”
“Maybe you’d like to stay here in case she does?” Barb sniffed, abruptly opening the door to their room and stepping out into the hallway outside.
Jase sighed resignedly, got up off the bed where he’d been sitting and followed, pulling the door to their room closed begin him.
Neither noticed … as they headed for the lift … the presence of the plainclothes police man loitering behind a housekeeping trolley at the far end of the hallway. Nor did they overhear him speaking into his phone to alert his partner in the hotel lobby below.
TBC
Hotel Norge, Bergenhus, 5807 Bergen, Norway, 4:00 am, Sunday 7th April 2024
“Ohhh my God, Jase! I’m cumming!” Gasped Barb, seconds before arching, going totally rigid, digging her fingernails into his back, and screaming, “GAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Jase finished with one last thrust and collapsed on top of her with a low moan of orgasmic pleasure.
Together, they lay happily together in a sweaty embrace, listening to one another’s rapid breathing.
“Jase!” whispered Barb, abruptly pushing him away. “Someone is rapping at the fucking door!”
“Probably the management’s come up to tell us to stop disturbing the other guests. You really have to try to stifle those screams, Barb!”
The rapping at the door resumed, more insistently this time.
“One of us really ought to go see what they want, Jase.”
“Nah, ignore it. They’ll probably give up and go away.”
But the rapping continued, louder than previously.
“Your turn, Barb.”
“Jerk!” she hissed, snatching his discarded shirt from the floor, slipping it loosely on and using the tails to wipe the runny cum from her inner thighs, before crossing over to the door to peer through the peephole. Taking one look, she gasped, spun around and retreated to the bed.
“What the fuck, Barb?”
“It’s Ashley! Ashley Townsend!”
“Well, let her in quick before she wakes the whole bloody hotel! … never mind … I’ll do it!”
Jumping out of bed, Jase ran naked to the door, released the night lock, opened it and stood back as an ashen-faced Ashley stormed past him, rushed to the bed and threw herself onto it, trembling uncontrollably, and curling herself into a fetal position. She was still wearing the same slutty outfit as before, but with legs pulled up it was clear that the panties were missing … something had obviously gone terribly wrong with the plan.
Instinctively, Barb crawled over to her side, threw her arms around the stricken girl, and began to make comforting clucking noises … while Jase realizing that he was completely naked began searching around the bedsheets for his underwear.
Calming somewhat, Ashley blurted out, “ohhh, I’ve made a mess of it … he … Felix … he’s dead … on my hostel room floor … I killed him!”
Barb and Jase exchanged glances.
Jase reached out to gently but firmly shake her by the shoulders, saying sharply, “Ashley! Snap out of it. Pull yourself together and tell us exactly what happened!”
When she then began to cry, he slapped her sharply on the cheek. And, as if by magic, she stopped, blinked, and calmed down.
“Alright, Ashley, from the top, tell us exactly what happened.”
And, she did … her professionalism, at last, kicking in … relating in detail everything that transpired from when Felix escorted her from to the Bryggen’s back rooms til the moment Felix lay dead on the floor of her room at the Hostel.
After she’d finished, Jase spoke to her evenly and calmly, “listen to me now, Ashley, we are so close to getting inside Barta’s organization that you must go back to him right now and tell him that Felix tripped and fell in your room, banged his head and is now dead. Leave all your things, such as they are at the Hostel. Don’t go back there. Report to Barb and me back here at the Hotel Norge after you’ve met with Barta and left him. But first, before you do all that, I want you to get yourself undressed and lie down here for an hour or two and get some sleep. Barb can help you get settled.”
Her facial expression registered both horror and determination at the thought of going back to Barta. But wordlessly she nodded agreement, understanding that by approaching him proactively she retained a chance of remaining under cover and fulfilling her role in finding and rescuing Jase’s daughter … not to mention salvaging her career.
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway 07:10 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
“You think you can play with me Eloise Ryder?” said Grzegorz Barta in broken English, his Hungarian accent pushing through.
Agent Townsend remained totally still in the dimly lit backroom of the Bryggen Nightclub, where Barta had set up his operations HQ, and where he had raped her just a few hours earlier. He had spent the entire time here, directing his ever growing drug and prostitution operation but was now tired and extremely agitated with what this young pretty slut was telling him.
In accordance with the conversation she had with Agent Moore and Major Underwood, Ashley had returned to Barta to share with him news of Felix’s death in her hostel room, and to plead that it was an accident.
But things were not going well.
As she looked away from Barta, the boss, her gaze landed on Jerzy. He was wiry and lean, all muscle and veins, tendons and sinews. His weathered face was scarred from a thousand battles, so it seemed. One long scar stretched from above the eyebrow down one eye to the side of his mouth. The eyelid had been cut and not stitched cleanly.
“Don’t play games.” Barta warned again. “Tell me the truth.”
“I have not come back to you so that we can play games, Sir. I need to work and that is all I want. This is not a game for me, and I am sorry for your friend’s ... death.”
Barta came closer. In his right hand was a loaded Glock, which he now raised to point at her head. Ashley stiffened.
The boss gestured with his gun for her to turn in place. “Slowly.”
He was checking her for a wire. She did a gradual twirl, hands out to her sides, the motion pulling her little skirt higher, which, given that she was without underwear, she knew would capture his attention in a good way, and maybe calm him down.
“You killed him for revenge?”
Agent Townsend shook her head. “I told you … I didn’t kill him.” She pleaded weakly.
“Revenge for my raping you, and I guess he too wanted a piece of that tight little ass of yours?”
“I … didn’t …”
But Barta cut her off. “I understand why you killed him.”
He let the words hang, and whilst Ashley knew that by remaining quiet, she was signing her own death warrant, she could not find the words to say. Nodding, the boss moved closer still into her personal space. With a grin he raised his free arms and swung his clenched fists down into her head.
Everything in Ashley’s world went blank.
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 9:20 am, Sunday 7th April 2024.
She awoke in a pitch-black room with only a vague memory of how she had arrived there. Groggy, she took stock of her situation as she mustered every ounce of her training to fight back the rising panic that threatened to erupt from within her.
She was laying on a cold floor, surrounded by bars. In a cage? Fuck! And she was totally naked. Fuck, fuck!
Now the panic spread throughout her body. Nausea, claustrophobia, terror, they all hit at once and she somehow supressed the scream that burst into her mouth.
“H … hello …” The voice was small, weak, barely discernible. Ashley twisted as best she could to see another cage some two metres away.
“Issy?” She couldn’t stop herself from saying.
Bergen City Hostel, 8:05 am, Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen fidgeted impatiently as Politibetjent1 Maja Jensen made yet another attempt to manoeuvre the police car into a tight parking spot outside the Bergen City Hostel. If this weren’t a murder case, Hagen thought to himself, he’d enjoy watching the fetching young recruit’s shapely legs work the vehicle’s pedals as she labored to get everything lined up correctly. But time mattered, so he curtly told her to give up on it, even though the tail end of the car was still partially blocking the street at a crazy angle.
The call had come in minutes before he’d gone on duty earlier that morning at Bergen’s Centrum Polistasjon … a man had been found dead at the City Hostel. Likely a homicide, he’d been duly informed by the duty officer at the front desk.
In haste, he now sprang from the car, entered the Hostel, and brushing past the seedy establishment’s reception window, headed straight for the beckoning policeman standing in an open doorway at the far end of the hallway … Maja trailing behind at a distance.
Flashes illuminated the room as he peered in. The forensics squad was already on the job. The man lying on the floor, his head in a pool of blood, a white chalk line drawn around his sprawled figure, was exactly who Hagen expected to see there … Felix!
And the girl Hagen had seen Felix enter the Hostel with the night before was gone … although her belongings were clearly still there. Most notably the torn thong lying discarded on the bed.
I should have known … seen this coming … Hagen thought to himself as he took charge, declaring the case a homicide and phoning the central station to order that an immediate tail be put on the occupants of room 411 at the ‘Scandic’ Hotel Norge. Of their involvement he was certain, but in exactly what way was yet to be discovered.
Hotel Norge, Bergenhus, 5807 Bergen, Norway, 11:10 am, Sunday 7th April 2024
Barb and Jase began to worry after Ashley failed to return from her mission to inform Barta of Felix’s accidental death.
She’d left the hotel to seek him out a little before 8:00. More than three hours had passed. Far more time than anticipated. Her instructions were to have given him the sad news and then return straight to them at the hotel. Could she have disobeyed and gone back to the Hostel? Or had something gone terribly wrong. They hoped not.
“What now?” Murmured Jase, cocking his head quizzically to one side.
“We go back to the Bryggen and look for her?” Suggested Barb,
“Think that’s wise?”
“Sitting here isn’t going to get us any closer to finding Issy.”
“True enough. But what’s our plan? We go beat on the Bryggen’s back alley door and demand to see Barta? That ought to work swell.”
“Stop joking! This is serious. It’ll have to be far more subtle than that. But not too complicated. I’m sure we can come up with something … wait, I’ve got it. Keep it simple, no frills. We’ll just hang around the place until Barta comes out. He can’t stay in there all day. And when he does we simply follow him. And if we get lucky he leads us to Issy,”
“Dreamer.”
“Got a better idea?”
“Here’s another wrinkle. What if Ashley turns up here after we leave?”
“Maybe you’d like to stay here in case she does?” Barb sniffed, abruptly opening the door to their room and stepping out into the hallway outside.
Jase sighed resignedly, got up off the bed where he’d been sitting and followed, pulling the door to their room closed begin him.
Neither noticed … as they headed for the lift … the presence of the plainclothes police man loitering behind a housekeeping trolley at the far end of the hallway. Nor did they overhear him speaking into his phone to alert his partner in the hotel lobby below.
TBC
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thanks Dave. Enjoy your break and travel safe. See you soon ...
Barb uses her natural 'skills' to the max...
twonines
LIMERICUS
I hope you enjoy a nice rest
From your Limericks imbued with such zest.
Time to relax,
Forget the syntax.
And it will all turn out for the best.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Girl, Taken (13)
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 09:25 am Sunday 7th April 2024
Pulling herself up by the thick bars of the small cage, CIA Agent Ashley Townsend groaned as she adjusted the position of her body in the ridiculously cramped space offered by the cage.
The fact that she was naked, and now being held captive in a cage somewhere in Bryggen was a major concern, of course it was. But right now she had ‘found’ Issy underwood, and she needed to talk to her.
“Issy?” Agent Townsend repeated her call out.
Silence.
“Issy, I’m here to help you?”
The beaten, raped and crushed young girl slowly looked up. “H … help me? You? In a cage as well? H … how will you …”
“Issy, I’m here with your father Jason. I’m a CIA Agent, Agent Ashley Townsend, and your father and Agent Barbara Moore are here with me too.”
Issy dragged herself up by the bars and looked across at the girl who was now incarcerated by her side.
“My father is here?”
“He is, and although I wasn’t supposed to end up here, they have been tracking me and they will come to rescue you … rescue us.”
Issy nodded and then sank back down.
“Issy … are you … have they …?” The sentence did not need to be finished.
Heavy, exhausted eyes turned to face Agent Townsend and tears rolled from them. “Tortured me, whipped me, humiliated me and … raped me.”
Ashley feels tears of sympathy and fear, welling behind her own eyes as the door to the cell slowly opened.
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway 09:25 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Back in the Bryggen Nightclub Grzegorz Barta has had a long night. They‘d found a new American girl, always good for business those Yankee white girls, then learned that she had killed Felix and now as they listened to their captives conversing back at the warehouse via the App on a small iPad tablet, Barta and the his trusted right hands knew the truth.
Looking up at Jerzy he frowned and nodded.
“A kurva egy CIA ügynök. Szenvedni fogjuk a kis pincét, mielőtt meghal.”
Jerzy loved the idea of torturing the pretty young whore from the CIA before she was killed, and he smiled sadistically at his boss’s words.
Sitting back in his chair Barta smiled his own knowing smile.
“And Jason Underwood is here too. At last we will get to make him pay for what he did to us in Budapest.”
“And we can make him watch while we rape and kill his daughter,” Jerzy added his own sick and menacing twist to whatever plan Barta was hatching.
Barta nodded.
“Let’s go and let CIA Agent Ashley Townsend know that her cover is blown and show her how we treat American secret service whores.”
And so, as Saturday night rolled into Sunday morning, and as soon as Barta’s business at the Club wrapped up for the day, he and Jerzy headed out of the side door to return to the Bryggen Warehouse where two naked caged girls … along with Twat 1 and Twat 2, as Issy called them, awaiting awaited their attention.
Kaf Kafe Bryggen, Jacobsfjorden 4, 5003 Bergen, Norway 11:50 am Sunday 7th April
Seated at a window table with a clear view of the Bryggen Club, its front door and its alleyway entrance, Barb and Jase waited for Barta’s hoped for appearance.
“You know, Barb, in all the time I’ve known you I’ve never asked what it was that motivated you to become a CIA agent,” mused Jason as he bit into a Serinakaka and reached for his mug of coffee.
“You know, Jase, that’s your fourth almond biscuit! You keep that up and I’ll have to find a new lover who’s not going to fat,” she teased.
“Answer my question, Agent Moore!”
“Yessir! I was inspired to become a spy after hearing of the extraordinary exploits of one of my relatives, Barbara Mohr, whom I’m in fact named after. She was German, so that’s spelled M-O-H-R, in case you’re wondering. She escaped Germany before war broke out, after getting into trouble with the Nazis, found her way to England and went on to spy on the Germans in the service of SIS, then in its very early days, so I understand. After the war she remained in England for a time, but moved to the U.S. in the early 1950s after her scandalous past proved too much for the British to accept. She was very much her own person, incredibly self reliant … one who did as she damn well pleased.”
“That explains a lot,” laughed Jase as he reached for another almond biscuit.
“Keep wolfing those things down like that and you’ll regret it!” she teased. “So your turn now. how’d you come to work for SIS?
“In my case, it was my great Uncle Henry from whom I drew inspiration. He was part of that same first ever SIS set up under Major Laurence Grand. Unfortunately he didn’t survive the war, and not much if anything was ever publicly revealed about the exploits that led to his death. I guess I just thought that going off to work for SIS was both in my blood and a way of honoring Uncle Henry and his sacrifice.”
“I wonder if they ever knew one another,” remarked Barb wistfully.
There was thoughtful silence between them for a few minutes, only to be broken by Barb exclaiming suddenly, “BINGO! There he is. Barta’s just emerged from the Club … front door … he and another guy!”
“Alright, Barb. Get ready. I’ll go pay the bill. Soon as the time’s right we’ll fall in behind them and, with any luck, they’ll lead us straight to wherever they’ve got Issy and Ashley.”
******
Also on a stakeout, not far from the coffee shop, was Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen along with Politibetjent1 Maja Jensen.
Their quarry: Barbara Moore and Jason Underwood.
They hadn’t known the name of Moore’s male companion until that morning as the hotel room the couple occupied at the Norge was registered under Moore’s name. But a quick check with SAS had revealed that a Barbara Moore and a Jason Underwood had flown together two days earlier on a flight into Bergen. They also learned from the airline that the booking had originated in London and that Underwood was a British citizen. Moore was, as she had claimed, an American.
Hagen had also taken the step, on a wild hunch, to message NIS … the Norwegian Intelligence Service … in Oslo, requesting that a query might be sent to its counterparts in the UK and the US as to whether there was any intel there to be shared about Moore and Underwood. No immediate response had been received but that was to be expected.
As they sat together in the parked squad car, sipping coffee from paper cups filled from a thermos, there’d been little else to do but wait … and in Hagen’s case, admire his young assistant’s spectacularly shapely legs. He found, in fact, that it was difficult to take his eyes off them.
But that preoccupation came to an abrupt end when Maja suddenly announced, “Look, they’re coming out!” And promptly started the patrol car’s engine.
“No!” He hissed. “Shut the damn car off! You’ll attract attention. We’d best get out and tail them on foot.”
“Yeah, sorry,” she replied a bit sheepishly. “Rookie mistake, huh?”
“You’ll learn, Jensen. Now, wait till Moore and Underwood pass us by and are off for a good distance before getting out of the car. I’ll tell you when.”
“Okay. I noticed that they seem to be following someone too. That pair that just exited the Bryggen Club.”
“Yes, you’re right. Now! Out of the car. Let’s go!”
It was only about five minutes later when their quarry turned into an alley.
Hagen and Jensen quickened their pace. And on reaching the corner, Hagen held up his hand to signal caution. Moving cautiously forward he peered into the alley, only to find Moore and Underwood standing but a few meters away … their attention riveted on the entrance to an old warehouse.
It was at that moment, despite her best efforts to stifle the need, that Jensen sneezed.
Both Moore and Underwood spun abruptly around, Barb looking quite startled, Jase appearing more in control.
“Police,” declared Hagen quickly but with quiet authority.”
“Shit!” Exclaimed Barb.
“Barbara Moore and Jason Underwood, I’m Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen and this is Politibetjent1Maja Jensen. We’re here to take you in for questioning in the matter of the murder of Felix Hadik. You’re to accompany us quietly and immediately to Bergen’s Central Police station.”
“I know who you are.!” snapped Barb. “We met at the bar at the Bryggen Club. You offered to walk me to my hotel. What did you do? Follow me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Am I … uh, are we … under arrest?” Barbara demanded hands on her hips and showing a look of defiance.
“No, not at this point, Ms Moore. But you were seen late last night near the scene of the crime, standing in the street outside, and it wasn’t long after that that forensics have fixed the time of Felix Hadik’s death. Moreover, you were also observed earlier, by myself, in the company of Mr Underwood, following the deceased and a hooker as they made their way from the Bryggen Club to the Hostel where he was murdered. I expect you’ll have some serious explaining to do, and if satisfactory answers are not forthcoming, you may both very well find yourselves under arrest.”
TBC
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 09:25 am Sunday 7th April 2024
Pulling herself up by the thick bars of the small cage, CIA Agent Ashley Townsend groaned as she adjusted the position of her body in the ridiculously cramped space offered by the cage.
The fact that she was naked, and now being held captive in a cage somewhere in Bryggen was a major concern, of course it was. But right now she had ‘found’ Issy underwood, and she needed to talk to her.
“Issy?” Agent Townsend repeated her call out.
Silence.
“Issy, I’m here to help you?”
The beaten, raped and crushed young girl slowly looked up. “H … help me? You? In a cage as well? H … how will you …”
“Issy, I’m here with your father Jason. I’m a CIA Agent, Agent Ashley Townsend, and your father and Agent Barbara Moore are here with me too.”
Issy dragged herself up by the bars and looked across at the girl who was now incarcerated by her side.
“My father is here?”
“He is, and although I wasn’t supposed to end up here, they have been tracking me and they will come to rescue you … rescue us.”
Issy nodded and then sank back down.
“Issy … are you … have they …?” The sentence did not need to be finished.
Heavy, exhausted eyes turned to face Agent Townsend and tears rolled from them. “Tortured me, whipped me, humiliated me and … raped me.”
Ashley feels tears of sympathy and fear, welling behind her own eyes as the door to the cell slowly opened.
Back Rooms at the Bryggen Nightclub, Bryggen 45, 5003 Bergen, Norway 09:25 am Sunday 7th April, 2024.
Back in the Bryggen Nightclub Grzegorz Barta has had a long night. They‘d found a new American girl, always good for business those Yankee white girls, then learned that she had killed Felix and now as they listened to their captives conversing back at the warehouse via the App on a small iPad tablet, Barta and the his trusted right hands knew the truth.
Looking up at Jerzy he frowned and nodded.
“A kurva egy CIA ügynök. Szenvedni fogjuk a kis pincét, mielőtt meghal.”
Jerzy loved the idea of torturing the pretty young whore from the CIA before she was killed, and he smiled sadistically at his boss’s words.
Sitting back in his chair Barta smiled his own knowing smile.
“And Jason Underwood is here too. At last we will get to make him pay for what he did to us in Budapest.”
“And we can make him watch while we rape and kill his daughter,” Jerzy added his own sick and menacing twist to whatever plan Barta was hatching.
Barta nodded.
“Let’s go and let CIA Agent Ashley Townsend know that her cover is blown and show her how we treat American secret service whores.”
And so, as Saturday night rolled into Sunday morning, and as soon as Barta’s business at the Club wrapped up for the day, he and Jerzy headed out of the side door to return to the Bryggen Warehouse where two naked caged girls … along with Twat 1 and Twat 2, as Issy called them, awaiting awaited their attention.
Kaf Kafe Bryggen, Jacobsfjorden 4, 5003 Bergen, Norway 11:50 am Sunday 7th April
Seated at a window table with a clear view of the Bryggen Club, its front door and its alleyway entrance, Barb and Jase waited for Barta’s hoped for appearance.
“You know, Barb, in all the time I’ve known you I’ve never asked what it was that motivated you to become a CIA agent,” mused Jason as he bit into a Serinakaka and reached for his mug of coffee.
“You know, Jase, that’s your fourth almond biscuit! You keep that up and I’ll have to find a new lover who’s not going to fat,” she teased.
“Answer my question, Agent Moore!”
“Yessir! I was inspired to become a spy after hearing of the extraordinary exploits of one of my relatives, Barbara Mohr, whom I’m in fact named after. She was German, so that’s spelled M-O-H-R, in case you’re wondering. She escaped Germany before war broke out, after getting into trouble with the Nazis, found her way to England and went on to spy on the Germans in the service of SIS, then in its very early days, so I understand. After the war she remained in England for a time, but moved to the U.S. in the early 1950s after her scandalous past proved too much for the British to accept. She was very much her own person, incredibly self reliant … one who did as she damn well pleased.”
“That explains a lot,” laughed Jase as he reached for another almond biscuit.
“Keep wolfing those things down like that and you’ll regret it!” she teased. “So your turn now. how’d you come to work for SIS?
“In my case, it was my great Uncle Henry from whom I drew inspiration. He was part of that same first ever SIS set up under Major Laurence Grand. Unfortunately he didn’t survive the war, and not much if anything was ever publicly revealed about the exploits that led to his death. I guess I just thought that going off to work for SIS was both in my blood and a way of honoring Uncle Henry and his sacrifice.”
“I wonder if they ever knew one another,” remarked Barb wistfully.
There was thoughtful silence between them for a few minutes, only to be broken by Barb exclaiming suddenly, “BINGO! There he is. Barta’s just emerged from the Club … front door … he and another guy!”
“Alright, Barb. Get ready. I’ll go pay the bill. Soon as the time’s right we’ll fall in behind them and, with any luck, they’ll lead us straight to wherever they’ve got Issy and Ashley.”
******
Also on a stakeout, not far from the coffee shop, was Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen along with Politibetjent1 Maja Jensen.
Their quarry: Barbara Moore and Jason Underwood.
They hadn’t known the name of Moore’s male companion until that morning as the hotel room the couple occupied at the Norge was registered under Moore’s name. But a quick check with SAS had revealed that a Barbara Moore and a Jason Underwood had flown together two days earlier on a flight into Bergen. They also learned from the airline that the booking had originated in London and that Underwood was a British citizen. Moore was, as she had claimed, an American.
Hagen had also taken the step, on a wild hunch, to message NIS … the Norwegian Intelligence Service … in Oslo, requesting that a query might be sent to its counterparts in the UK and the US as to whether there was any intel there to be shared about Moore and Underwood. No immediate response had been received but that was to be expected.
As they sat together in the parked squad car, sipping coffee from paper cups filled from a thermos, there’d been little else to do but wait … and in Hagen’s case, admire his young assistant’s spectacularly shapely legs. He found, in fact, that it was difficult to take his eyes off them.
But that preoccupation came to an abrupt end when Maja suddenly announced, “Look, they’re coming out!” And promptly started the patrol car’s engine.
“No!” He hissed. “Shut the damn car off! You’ll attract attention. We’d best get out and tail them on foot.”
“Yeah, sorry,” she replied a bit sheepishly. “Rookie mistake, huh?”
“You’ll learn, Jensen. Now, wait till Moore and Underwood pass us by and are off for a good distance before getting out of the car. I’ll tell you when.”
“Okay. I noticed that they seem to be following someone too. That pair that just exited the Bryggen Club.”
“Yes, you’re right. Now! Out of the car. Let’s go!”
It was only about five minutes later when their quarry turned into an alley.
Hagen and Jensen quickened their pace. And on reaching the corner, Hagen held up his hand to signal caution. Moving cautiously forward he peered into the alley, only to find Moore and Underwood standing but a few meters away … their attention riveted on the entrance to an old warehouse.
It was at that moment, despite her best efforts to stifle the need, that Jensen sneezed.
Both Moore and Underwood spun abruptly around, Barb looking quite startled, Jase appearing more in control.
“Police,” declared Hagen quickly but with quiet authority.”
“Shit!” Exclaimed Barb.
“Barbara Moore and Jason Underwood, I’m Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen and this is Politibetjent1Maja Jensen. We’re here to take you in for questioning in the matter of the murder of Felix Hadik. You’re to accompany us quietly and immediately to Bergen’s Central Police station.”
“I know who you are.!” snapped Barb. “We met at the bar at the Bryggen Club. You offered to walk me to my hotel. What did you do? Follow me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Am I … uh, are we … under arrest?” Barbara demanded hands on her hips and showing a look of defiance.
“No, not at this point, Ms Moore. But you were seen late last night near the scene of the crime, standing in the street outside, and it wasn’t long after that that forensics have fixed the time of Felix Hadik’s death. Moreover, you were also observed earlier, by myself, in the company of Mr Underwood, following the deceased and a hooker as they made their way from the Bryggen Club to the Hostel where he was murdered. I expect you’ll have some serious explaining to do, and if satisfactory answers are not forthcoming, you may both very well find yourselves under arrest.”
TBC
twonines
LIMERICUS
Hagen`s control is inordinate,
His case he must co-ordinate.
Her legs, he`s seen `em
But not what`s between `em
And he`ll not be fucking his subordinate.
Girl, Taken (14)
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 1:30 pm Sunday 7th April 2024
The door to the cell closes behind the four men.
“Open their cages.” The boss has one of the men, Jerzy, unlock the cage and Agent Townsend’s hands immediately clench into fists. With a newfound resolve she is not going to let him put another finger on that poor young girl.
However, A glance to her side reveals the extent to which Major Underwood’s daughter is broken, because despite the impending threat she doesn’t move a muscle and instead simply lays unmoving.
With the cage doors unlocked, Jerzy growls, “Get out. Both of you.”
“We aren't your property, asshole.” Ashley practically snarls at him.
“Aren't you?” He grabs her by the arm and yanks her out of her cage. He then holds her wrists behind her back, and quickly slaps a pair of handcuffs around one wrist. Then, he threads it through the bars of her metal pen, and clicks the other handcuff around her other wrist, bending her over the cage, her hands cuffed to the bars with her ass facing out. The boss, a lewd grin on his face approaches and grabs a fistful of the CIA Agent’s hair to pull her up and meet his gaze.
She spits in his face.
Barta simply steps back and wipes it off, before smiling menacingly. “We heard your conversation you stupid girl. We know who you are, Agent Ashley Townsend, and we also know you are here in Bergen with Moore and Underwood. Did you really think we wouldn’t have this cell bugged?”
The CIA Agent feels sick. Of course this room was bugged. Another stupid mistake on her part and now they really were in the shit!
“Don't you dare touch her again, you son of a bitch,” she snarls.
“Get the little cunt up,” he orders, referencing Issy.
Ashley watches as the poor girl is yanked out by the ankle and, with a large hand gripping her hair, she is dragged to her feet, and the older girl is struck by the fact that Issy makes no sound. No screaming, no objections, nothing. Her eyes are dead. She's ‘gone’ somewhere else, a million miles away, fully disassociating.
The boss steps around the newly upright younger girl. “Arms down,” he orders. She drops her crossed arms and exposes her breasts.
Ashley can now see the cuts and scratches, the welts and bruises. She also sees how beautiful Issy is, and the waste of such beauty on thugs and monsters such as these men, makes her anger rise even more.
“Eyes on me,” Barta says. “Both of you.”
Ashley intentionally turns her head causing it to droop between her shoulders, letting her loose hair fall in front of her face. Barta’s hand swings and his open palm slaps against her cheek, but, despite the stinging pain it's not enough to get her to cooperate, and she closes her eyes.
Another slap but still she does not look.
“Watch, or she dies,” Barta says.
Fuck. She doesn’t know how far the bastard is willing to go. Would he really kill Issy? He's already kidnapped her, stripped her, beaten and raped her. It's not a huge leap that he could finish her off. Agent Townsend can't gamble with this girl’s life, and so she opens her eyes to see Barta holding a gleaming combat knife to Issy's quivering, spluttering throat. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she hyperventilates through jittery breaths.
“Good,” he says and slides the knife back into a sheath at his belt. “Now, don't look away again Agent Townsend, I want you to watch every detail, no matter what. Understood?”
“Yes,” she replies quietly … reluctantly.
Barta looks Issy in the eye. “On your knees little cunt.” The young girl drops down, tears still streaming down her face. She keeps her bleary eyes fixed on Barta. It's sickening to watch.
“You know what to do. Impress me,” Barta says, like he's the King of everything. Issy, with her eyes still glazed and detached, reaches up, unfastens his zipper, and wrenches his pants down to his knees. His cock is only half-erect, but the young girl grabs it with a tentative hand and starts to stroke him.
Ashley looks at Barta as his fingers slide through Issy’s messy hair, gripping it in a tight fist.
“Open up, little Kurva.” He leans forward, his cock now rock-hard in her hand. Issy's lips part, though Ashley can see her bottom one quivering. As much as the poor beaten girl has tried to send her mind as far away from here as possible, the grim reality is setting in.
The head of Barta’s cock slides past her lips and into her mouth and then Barta forces Issy’s head to his abdomen, deep throating her and blocking her airwaves entirely. While she's struggling and gagging, the boss looks directly at Ashley.
“Look what your attitude has done to this poor girl, Agent Townsend.”
Agent Townsend felt the convulsion in her stomach and then the choking in her throat and suddenly tears and whimpers burst out of her. Watching this poor, young girl being raped and abused is simply too much.
While he face-fucks Issy, pumping hard against her saliva-covered mouth and into her bulging throat, Agent Townsend realises that this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with power and control. This man is an evil bastard, pure and simple.
Barta rips his cock out of Issy’s mouth, making her cough and gasp for breath, thick saliva, compounded by copious amount of pre-release cum, hangs in thick globs from her face and chin, connecting her to his swollen, gleaming cock head.
Issy falls to the floor, whimpering and curls up into a foetal ball.
Barta pulls his boots off and steps out of his pants. He rips his shirt off.
“On all fours.” His voice is incredibly fierce, and Issy is not resisting him at all as she struggles up onto her hands and knees.
Agent Townsend watches the boss pull the knife out of his belt sheath and place it on a nearby table. Issy’s head drops as she lets her hair fall in front of her face.
Ashley wants to shout, yell and threaten, but none of it will make this better. Nothing possibly could. If anything, she would make it worse and so the cuffed and naked CIA Agent keeps her mouth shut.
Barta turns Issy's body so that she's not facing away, in fact he adjusts her position so that the young girl, when she lifts her head, is looking right at the very pretty CIA Agent. Then he lowers himself down, his hands on the younger girl’s ass.
“This is for you bitch,” He growls looking directly at Ashley, and then he grabs Issy’s hips and slams his cock deep into her broken body.
Bergen sentrum politistasjon, Allehelgens gate 6, 5016 Bergen, Norway, 2 pm Sunday 7th April 2024
Barb looked her interrogator straight in the eye, and repeated once again, “I know nothing of this fellow Felix’s murder. I was simply headed back to the hotel in the company of my friend, Mr Underwood. And we happened to stop momentarily in front of that Hostel because I was curious about the place having heard of its dubious reputation. Mr Underwood and I moved on to our hotel and remained there until late this morning when we went out to that cafe for coffee.”
“You’re a poor liar, Ms. Moore,” countered the man across the table from her, slamming his fist down hard on the grey metal table. He’d introduced himself simply as ‘Karl’ when he took over questioning from Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen, who now stood behind him with a pained expression on his face. “And what was it that enticed you and Mr. Underwood to suddenly leave that cafe and so obviously trail two men who emerged from the Bryggen to an alley leading to an old warehouse? Stalking another murder victim, were you?”
“I’m not intimidated in the least by a ‘good cop - bad cop’ routine,” she declared, her voice both even and edgy at the same time. “Pound the table all you like. I know full well that you won’t lay a finger on me. This is Norway, after all! Not New York or Chicago! The simple truth is that Mr Underwood and I are here on holiday. We’ve nothing to do with the murder your so-called Felix Hadak, and are simply not able to shed any light on what misfortune may have done him in late last night in that Hostel. There’s nothing we can further say or do to help you solve that crime. Perhaps you should be harassing that prostitute we and Politioverbetjent Hagen saw enter the Hostel, rather than Mr Underwood and myself!”
At that moment Hagen’s assistant, Politibetjent1 Maja Jensen, quietly opened the door, slipped inside and handed Hagen a folded slip of paper, which he opened and read twice before speaking.
“Well, Special Agent Moore! it appears you can indeed shed more light on this matter! This message I’m holding here is just in from NIS in Oslo. It says Oslo has been in touch with a Mr Clark O’Shaughnessy at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia and O’Shaughnessy says you’re one of his people … but acting independently. Claims he knows nothing of your activities here, only that you are on extended leave of absence from the Agency. According to O’Shaughnessy, Langley therefore takes no responsibility for any crimes you may have committed here.”
“Shit!”
“NIS in Oslo has also tried to reach SIS in London. No response as of yet, but I’d be willing to bet that Langley and London are busy talking to one another as we speak, and that we’ll learn soon enough that Mr. Underwood works for them, and is curiously on some kind of leave of absence as well.”
“Shit!”
“So, I can only conclude that neither you nor Mr Underwood are in fact on holiday and that you’re instead up to something sinister, which might even include the murder of Felix Hadak!”
Barb bit her lip, sighed, and asked to have her phone returned to her so she could make a call that she thought might clear matters up.
Hagen nodded assent to Maja Jensen, who took the cue, disappeared and returned moments later with a clear zip-lock bag containing Barb’s personal effects, which were dumped out on the table.
Barb picked up her iPhone and swiftly entered a string of numbers. And, as the call was being made switched the screen to ‘speaker’ mode and lay it face up on the table.
“Moore! Is that you?” Boomed a man’s voice. “What the fuck are you doing over there in Norway of all places? Arrested? What the hell did you do to get yourself arrested? Caught shoplifting, or something?”
“Calm down, Clark, and listen to me. First, thing to say is you know full well what I’m doing over here. And Roger Moore in London knows full well too. So let’s stop playing games. I need you to get Roger Moore patched into this call, and then the two of you are going to explain to the local Keystone Cops here that Jason Underwood and I are on a dark mission to take down, Grzegorz Barta, one of the world’s most monstrous bad guys who by his very presence here, is not only fouling their fair city with his criminal activities, but holding Jason Underwood’s daughter captive in a warehouse and mercilessly torturing here there!”
“No, you calm down, Barb! It just so happens that Roger Moore and I were speaking about this mess when you called. I have Roger on hold. Wait a minute while I add him to this call. And, the meantime, tell me who is in charge there.”
“Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen, sir.” Intervened Hagen promptly and stiffly.
“Hagen, do us all a favor and please bring Jason Underwood in on this too.”
Hagen nodded to Maja, who scurried off to fetch Underwood.
TBC
A disused warehouse, East Side, Vågen, Bryggen, Bergen, Norway, 1:30 pm Sunday 7th April 2024
The door to the cell closes behind the four men.
“Open their cages.” The boss has one of the men, Jerzy, unlock the cage and Agent Townsend’s hands immediately clench into fists. With a newfound resolve she is not going to let him put another finger on that poor young girl.
However, A glance to her side reveals the extent to which Major Underwood’s daughter is broken, because despite the impending threat she doesn’t move a muscle and instead simply lays unmoving.
With the cage doors unlocked, Jerzy growls, “Get out. Both of you.”
“We aren't your property, asshole.” Ashley practically snarls at him.
“Aren't you?” He grabs her by the arm and yanks her out of her cage. He then holds her wrists behind her back, and quickly slaps a pair of handcuffs around one wrist. Then, he threads it through the bars of her metal pen, and clicks the other handcuff around her other wrist, bending her over the cage, her hands cuffed to the bars with her ass facing out. The boss, a lewd grin on his face approaches and grabs a fistful of the CIA Agent’s hair to pull her up and meet his gaze.
She spits in his face.
Barta simply steps back and wipes it off, before smiling menacingly. “We heard your conversation you stupid girl. We know who you are, Agent Ashley Townsend, and we also know you are here in Bergen with Moore and Underwood. Did you really think we wouldn’t have this cell bugged?”
The CIA Agent feels sick. Of course this room was bugged. Another stupid mistake on her part and now they really were in the shit!
“Don't you dare touch her again, you son of a bitch,” she snarls.
“Get the little cunt up,” he orders, referencing Issy.
Ashley watches as the poor girl is yanked out by the ankle and, with a large hand gripping her hair, she is dragged to her feet, and the older girl is struck by the fact that Issy makes no sound. No screaming, no objections, nothing. Her eyes are dead. She's ‘gone’ somewhere else, a million miles away, fully disassociating.
The boss steps around the newly upright younger girl. “Arms down,” he orders. She drops her crossed arms and exposes her breasts.
Ashley can now see the cuts and scratches, the welts and bruises. She also sees how beautiful Issy is, and the waste of such beauty on thugs and monsters such as these men, makes her anger rise even more.
“Eyes on me,” Barta says. “Both of you.”
Ashley intentionally turns her head causing it to droop between her shoulders, letting her loose hair fall in front of her face. Barta’s hand swings and his open palm slaps against her cheek, but, despite the stinging pain it's not enough to get her to cooperate, and she closes her eyes.
Another slap but still she does not look.
“Watch, or she dies,” Barta says.
Fuck. She doesn’t know how far the bastard is willing to go. Would he really kill Issy? He's already kidnapped her, stripped her, beaten and raped her. It's not a huge leap that he could finish her off. Agent Townsend can't gamble with this girl’s life, and so she opens her eyes to see Barta holding a gleaming combat knife to Issy's quivering, spluttering throat. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she hyperventilates through jittery breaths.
“Good,” he says and slides the knife back into a sheath at his belt. “Now, don't look away again Agent Townsend, I want you to watch every detail, no matter what. Understood?”
“Yes,” she replies quietly … reluctantly.
Barta looks Issy in the eye. “On your knees little cunt.” The young girl drops down, tears still streaming down her face. She keeps her bleary eyes fixed on Barta. It's sickening to watch.
“You know what to do. Impress me,” Barta says, like he's the King of everything. Issy, with her eyes still glazed and detached, reaches up, unfastens his zipper, and wrenches his pants down to his knees. His cock is only half-erect, but the young girl grabs it with a tentative hand and starts to stroke him.
Ashley looks at Barta as his fingers slide through Issy’s messy hair, gripping it in a tight fist.
“Open up, little Kurva.” He leans forward, his cock now rock-hard in her hand. Issy's lips part, though Ashley can see her bottom one quivering. As much as the poor beaten girl has tried to send her mind as far away from here as possible, the grim reality is setting in.
The head of Barta’s cock slides past her lips and into her mouth and then Barta forces Issy’s head to his abdomen, deep throating her and blocking her airwaves entirely. While she's struggling and gagging, the boss looks directly at Ashley.
“Look what your attitude has done to this poor girl, Agent Townsend.”
Agent Townsend felt the convulsion in her stomach and then the choking in her throat and suddenly tears and whimpers burst out of her. Watching this poor, young girl being raped and abused is simply too much.
While he face-fucks Issy, pumping hard against her saliva-covered mouth and into her bulging throat, Agent Townsend realises that this has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with power and control. This man is an evil bastard, pure and simple.
Barta rips his cock out of Issy’s mouth, making her cough and gasp for breath, thick saliva, compounded by copious amount of pre-release cum, hangs in thick globs from her face and chin, connecting her to his swollen, gleaming cock head.
Issy falls to the floor, whimpering and curls up into a foetal ball.
Barta pulls his boots off and steps out of his pants. He rips his shirt off.
“On all fours.” His voice is incredibly fierce, and Issy is not resisting him at all as she struggles up onto her hands and knees.
Agent Townsend watches the boss pull the knife out of his belt sheath and place it on a nearby table. Issy’s head drops as she lets her hair fall in front of her face.
Ashley wants to shout, yell and threaten, but none of it will make this better. Nothing possibly could. If anything, she would make it worse and so the cuffed and naked CIA Agent keeps her mouth shut.
Barta turns Issy's body so that she's not facing away, in fact he adjusts her position so that the young girl, when she lifts her head, is looking right at the very pretty CIA Agent. Then he lowers himself down, his hands on the younger girl’s ass.
“This is for you bitch,” He growls looking directly at Ashley, and then he grabs Issy’s hips and slams his cock deep into her broken body.
Bergen sentrum politistasjon, Allehelgens gate 6, 5016 Bergen, Norway, 2 pm Sunday 7th April 2024
Barb looked her interrogator straight in the eye, and repeated once again, “I know nothing of this fellow Felix’s murder. I was simply headed back to the hotel in the company of my friend, Mr Underwood. And we happened to stop momentarily in front of that Hostel because I was curious about the place having heard of its dubious reputation. Mr Underwood and I moved on to our hotel and remained there until late this morning when we went out to that cafe for coffee.”
“You’re a poor liar, Ms. Moore,” countered the man across the table from her, slamming his fist down hard on the grey metal table. He’d introduced himself simply as ‘Karl’ when he took over questioning from Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen, who now stood behind him with a pained expression on his face. “And what was it that enticed you and Mr. Underwood to suddenly leave that cafe and so obviously trail two men who emerged from the Bryggen to an alley leading to an old warehouse? Stalking another murder victim, were you?”
“I’m not intimidated in the least by a ‘good cop - bad cop’ routine,” she declared, her voice both even and edgy at the same time. “Pound the table all you like. I know full well that you won’t lay a finger on me. This is Norway, after all! Not New York or Chicago! The simple truth is that Mr Underwood and I are here on holiday. We’ve nothing to do with the murder your so-called Felix Hadak, and are simply not able to shed any light on what misfortune may have done him in late last night in that Hostel. There’s nothing we can further say or do to help you solve that crime. Perhaps you should be harassing that prostitute we and Politioverbetjent Hagen saw enter the Hostel, rather than Mr Underwood and myself!”
At that moment Hagen’s assistant, Politibetjent1 Maja Jensen, quietly opened the door, slipped inside and handed Hagen a folded slip of paper, which he opened and read twice before speaking.
“Well, Special Agent Moore! it appears you can indeed shed more light on this matter! This message I’m holding here is just in from NIS in Oslo. It says Oslo has been in touch with a Mr Clark O’Shaughnessy at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia and O’Shaughnessy says you’re one of his people … but acting independently. Claims he knows nothing of your activities here, only that you are on extended leave of absence from the Agency. According to O’Shaughnessy, Langley therefore takes no responsibility for any crimes you may have committed here.”
“Shit!”
“NIS in Oslo has also tried to reach SIS in London. No response as of yet, but I’d be willing to bet that Langley and London are busy talking to one another as we speak, and that we’ll learn soon enough that Mr. Underwood works for them, and is curiously on some kind of leave of absence as well.”
“Shit!”
“So, I can only conclude that neither you nor Mr Underwood are in fact on holiday and that you’re instead up to something sinister, which might even include the murder of Felix Hadak!”
Barb bit her lip, sighed, and asked to have her phone returned to her so she could make a call that she thought might clear matters up.
Hagen nodded assent to Maja Jensen, who took the cue, disappeared and returned moments later with a clear zip-lock bag containing Barb’s personal effects, which were dumped out on the table.
Barb picked up her iPhone and swiftly entered a string of numbers. And, as the call was being made switched the screen to ‘speaker’ mode and lay it face up on the table.
“Moore! Is that you?” Boomed a man’s voice. “What the fuck are you doing over there in Norway of all places? Arrested? What the hell did you do to get yourself arrested? Caught shoplifting, or something?”
“Calm down, Clark, and listen to me. First, thing to say is you know full well what I’m doing over here. And Roger Moore in London knows full well too. So let’s stop playing games. I need you to get Roger Moore patched into this call, and then the two of you are going to explain to the local Keystone Cops here that Jason Underwood and I are on a dark mission to take down, Grzegorz Barta, one of the world’s most monstrous bad guys who by his very presence here, is not only fouling their fair city with his criminal activities, but holding Jason Underwood’s daughter captive in a warehouse and mercilessly torturing here there!”
“No, you calm down, Barb! It just so happens that Roger Moore and I were speaking about this mess when you called. I have Roger on hold. Wait a minute while I add him to this call. And, the meantime, tell me who is in charge there.”
“Bergen Politioverbetjent Jørgen Hagen, sir.” Intervened Hagen promptly and stiffly.
“Hagen, do us all a favor and please bring Jason Underwood in on this too.”
Hagen nodded to Maja, who scurried off to fetch Underwood.
TBC