StarbuckSlut
Magistrate
Tall!! You clearly state she is 5'6 ppfft that not tall
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Sexpionage ...
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Add her regular wearing of 4 inch heels to accentuate her slender long legs and you have a tall girlTall!! You clearly state she is 5'6 ppfft that not tall
Migoz2
Senator
You're just jealous that she has bigger tits than you!Tall!! You clearly state she is 5'6 ppfft that not tall
StarbuckSlut
Magistrate
Hahahah you know me so well...perhaps i find my way onto her interregation team...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you all so much for your terrific support, I am so grateful. Hopefully you are getting to know Ekaterina/Yulia a little more amidst her 'adventures'.
I have two more serialisations written, but beyond those I would be delighted to incorporate any fantasies/requests/desires that you would like me to and that fit with the context.
Don't forget 'blowback' starts on Monday when we discover how the Belarusians respond to having one of their Senior Diplomatic Officers disappear!
I have two more serialisations written, but beyond those I would be delighted to incorporate any fantasies/requests/desires that you would like me to and that fit with the context.
Don't forget 'blowback' starts on Monday when we discover how the Belarusians respond to having one of their Senior Diplomatic Officers disappear!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I'm behind again. Too busy scribbling my own useless drivel.
The Captain shows excellent initiative. He will go far.
A man truly after my own heart. Love it!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Blowback (1)
'Blowback' is a term originating from within the Central Intelligence Agency, explaining the unintended consequence and unwanted side-effects of a covert operation.
Reflecting signs of a rapprochement between Belarus and the USA, both countries had recently appointed diplomatic ambassadors to one another. Russia had stopped the energy talks but there was clearly a more determined intent to develop a mutual understanding between the USA and the Russian Federation’s near neighbour.
Ekaterina, posing as Yulia Jelic, had played a very important part in stopping the energy deal (See ‘Swallow’s Nest’), thereby allowing Russia to retain its grip on the much smaller, and very reliant, border country. But Belarus was wary, and suspicious. They knew that Anatol Radkov had not disappeared through his own choice. Belarusians did not defect, and they had intelligence showing their official on, what turned out to be, his last night, flirting with a coffee girl and meeting her later for dinner. A girl that purported to be Belarusian herself … well she was not. She was Yulia Jelic, a Russian immigrant … and she was being watched very closely by the Belarusian embassy.
The unrelated, and very unfortunate, demise of the Belarusian Ambassador to the USA before he could formally take up his position, meant that Belarus had no Lead Official in Washington, but they had a diplomatic team that included members of the Special Purpose Police Detachment (OMON), deployed into the US by the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MUS) in Minsk.
They wanted to ‘talk’ with Yulia.
******
The Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C. 1619 New Hampshire Avenue.
She slowly descended the stairs from her first-floor apartment, smiled at the various people she passed, and walked out into the bright sunlight. It was only a short walk to the Belarusian Embassy, and she was there in fifteen minutes.
The guards on the outer gate inspected her ID and nodded as, with an inevitable glance at her partly exposed cleavage, they cross checked their visitor list for today.
“You may proceed Miss Jelic.”
A beaming smile, followed by a slender smirk acknowledging the fact that showing more than a little cleavage never failed to help her cause, and Yulia was inside. She passed the internal guards and crossed the inner courtyard.
The letter had been delivered to her apartment – which meant they knew where she lived. That in itself had caused alarm bells to ring inside her head, but Comrade Colonel Tretykov ordered her to attend the requested meeting with the Belarusian Diplomatic team, and after the way she had been treated by Tretykov and the people who were supposed to be her colleagues during their visit to Washington (see ‘A Friendly Hell’), she was in no mood to dissent. If she didn’t accept the invitation, he had said, then there would be too much suspicion aroused. And so here she was … but was she a lamb to the slaughter
There were several people in the main reception area, but none of them paid her much attention; if she had been admitted past the outer gate then surely her presence had to be legitimate. On the door of the inner entry point the OMON officers furrowed their brows at her. She smiled at them in turn, and stepped into the hall, waiting for a moment to allow her eyes to become accustomed to the relative gloom, then headed towards the staircase, but checked herself as a door on her right opened.
Yulia turned and gazed at the shirt-sleeved man looking at her. More alarm bells rang in her brain as she saw the way he stared at her, but in her attempt to be as disarming as possible, she smiled back at him.
“Mister Petrov?” She inquired. Mikhail Petrov was the person who had invited her to the meeting, and it was only her intuition that deduced this was him.
“Miss Jelic, how good of you to come, and if you don’t mind me saying …” his lecherous gaze devoured her breasts, before adding, “… you are looking spectacular… please come this way.”
Yulia nodded and, as Petrov stepped aside to allow her entry, she walked past him to the interior of his office feeling his gaze stripping her of every last stitch of clothing.
“You are looking so well Miss Jelic, even if in your case it will be a temporary condition.”
“Huh, what do you mean …”
“I mean, Miss Jelic that you are under arrest.”
Yulia’s shocked surprise was paramount obviating the opportunity to object. Then she heard movement behind her. Two large side doors had opened, and when she turned her head, she discovered six men, all looking a little apprehensive, but all considerably larger than herself.
She was trained to fight, but the odds here were not good at all. She was under arrest but for what? What would they charge her with? There was no proof of anything, was there?
At least these men appeared to be unarmed, and they were waiting for her to move.
“It would be very unwise of you to attempt to resist,” Petrov said. “We know you are dangerous, but I doubt even you could cope with my men. And I do know that they would dearly love to get their hands on your body.”
Disgusted by his implication Yulia had no time to reflect on her thoughts, because the fact they were about to arrest her was most obviously uppermost in her mind. Exactly what did they know, Yulia thought to herself, was this all a bluff enticing her to confess. Then it dawned upon her that she had no support, no backup. She could not demand asylum via the Russian Embassy because that would be tantamount to a confession. Tretykov had already warned her that bunder no circumstances should she call upon their assistance in the event of being caught, and now she walked straight into a trap. What would her fate be … the Belarusian’s were not known for their willingness to abide by international law?
Yulia’s nostrils flared as she inhaled. But for the moment she was helpless, it was time to deploy one of her greatest assets … patience. “Aren’t they going to do that anyway?” She responded to Petrov’s comment about getting their hands on her body … her voice was low and controlled.
“Not if you behave yourself, and do as we say. Take off your jacket and give me your purse and place your arms behind your back.”
Yulia obeyed. “May I ask why you are doing this? What am I being arrested for?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
Yulia felt the touch of steel, and listened to the click of the handcuffs, as her wrists were secured resulting in the inevitable thrust of her breasts out from her exquisite body. She was powerless, and at the mercy of these men – of Petrov. She had to protest.
“Would you like to call your embassy huh, Yulia?”
As she looked down at the floor, the hapless girl whispered, “I am from Belarus, this is my Embassy.”
Petrov laughed, “Then I do not think your Embassy is interested in you any longer, Yulia.”
To Be Continued …
'Blowback' is a term originating from within the Central Intelligence Agency, explaining the unintended consequence and unwanted side-effects of a covert operation.
Reflecting signs of a rapprochement between Belarus and the USA, both countries had recently appointed diplomatic ambassadors to one another. Russia had stopped the energy talks but there was clearly a more determined intent to develop a mutual understanding between the USA and the Russian Federation’s near neighbour.
Ekaterina, posing as Yulia Jelic, had played a very important part in stopping the energy deal (See ‘Swallow’s Nest’), thereby allowing Russia to retain its grip on the much smaller, and very reliant, border country. But Belarus was wary, and suspicious. They knew that Anatol Radkov had not disappeared through his own choice. Belarusians did not defect, and they had intelligence showing their official on, what turned out to be, his last night, flirting with a coffee girl and meeting her later for dinner. A girl that purported to be Belarusian herself … well she was not. She was Yulia Jelic, a Russian immigrant … and she was being watched very closely by the Belarusian embassy.
The unrelated, and very unfortunate, demise of the Belarusian Ambassador to the USA before he could formally take up his position, meant that Belarus had no Lead Official in Washington, but they had a diplomatic team that included members of the Special Purpose Police Detachment (OMON), deployed into the US by the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MUS) in Minsk.
They wanted to ‘talk’ with Yulia.
******
The Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C. 1619 New Hampshire Avenue.
She slowly descended the stairs from her first-floor apartment, smiled at the various people she passed, and walked out into the bright sunlight. It was only a short walk to the Belarusian Embassy, and she was there in fifteen minutes.
The guards on the outer gate inspected her ID and nodded as, with an inevitable glance at her partly exposed cleavage, they cross checked their visitor list for today.
“You may proceed Miss Jelic.”
A beaming smile, followed by a slender smirk acknowledging the fact that showing more than a little cleavage never failed to help her cause, and Yulia was inside. She passed the internal guards and crossed the inner courtyard.
The letter had been delivered to her apartment – which meant they knew where she lived. That in itself had caused alarm bells to ring inside her head, but Comrade Colonel Tretykov ordered her to attend the requested meeting with the Belarusian Diplomatic team, and after the way she had been treated by Tretykov and the people who were supposed to be her colleagues during their visit to Washington (see ‘A Friendly Hell’), she was in no mood to dissent. If she didn’t accept the invitation, he had said, then there would be too much suspicion aroused. And so here she was … but was she a lamb to the slaughter
There were several people in the main reception area, but none of them paid her much attention; if she had been admitted past the outer gate then surely her presence had to be legitimate. On the door of the inner entry point the OMON officers furrowed their brows at her. She smiled at them in turn, and stepped into the hall, waiting for a moment to allow her eyes to become accustomed to the relative gloom, then headed towards the staircase, but checked herself as a door on her right opened.
Yulia turned and gazed at the shirt-sleeved man looking at her. More alarm bells rang in her brain as she saw the way he stared at her, but in her attempt to be as disarming as possible, she smiled back at him.
“Mister Petrov?” She inquired. Mikhail Petrov was the person who had invited her to the meeting, and it was only her intuition that deduced this was him.
“Miss Jelic, how good of you to come, and if you don’t mind me saying …” his lecherous gaze devoured her breasts, before adding, “… you are looking spectacular… please come this way.”
Yulia nodded and, as Petrov stepped aside to allow her entry, she walked past him to the interior of his office feeling his gaze stripping her of every last stitch of clothing.
“You are looking so well Miss Jelic, even if in your case it will be a temporary condition.”
“Huh, what do you mean …”
“I mean, Miss Jelic that you are under arrest.”
Yulia’s shocked surprise was paramount obviating the opportunity to object. Then she heard movement behind her. Two large side doors had opened, and when she turned her head, she discovered six men, all looking a little apprehensive, but all considerably larger than herself.
She was trained to fight, but the odds here were not good at all. She was under arrest but for what? What would they charge her with? There was no proof of anything, was there?
At least these men appeared to be unarmed, and they were waiting for her to move.
“It would be very unwise of you to attempt to resist,” Petrov said. “We know you are dangerous, but I doubt even you could cope with my men. And I do know that they would dearly love to get their hands on your body.”
Disgusted by his implication Yulia had no time to reflect on her thoughts, because the fact they were about to arrest her was most obviously uppermost in her mind. Exactly what did they know, Yulia thought to herself, was this all a bluff enticing her to confess. Then it dawned upon her that she had no support, no backup. She could not demand asylum via the Russian Embassy because that would be tantamount to a confession. Tretykov had already warned her that bunder no circumstances should she call upon their assistance in the event of being caught, and now she walked straight into a trap. What would her fate be … the Belarusian’s were not known for their willingness to abide by international law?
Yulia’s nostrils flared as she inhaled. But for the moment she was helpless, it was time to deploy one of her greatest assets … patience. “Aren’t they going to do that anyway?” She responded to Petrov’s comment about getting their hands on her body … her voice was low and controlled.
“Not if you behave yourself, and do as we say. Take off your jacket and give me your purse and place your arms behind your back.”
Yulia obeyed. “May I ask why you are doing this? What am I being arrested for?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
Yulia felt the touch of steel, and listened to the click of the handcuffs, as her wrists were secured resulting in the inevitable thrust of her breasts out from her exquisite body. She was powerless, and at the mercy of these men – of Petrov. She had to protest.
“Would you like to call your embassy huh, Yulia?”
As she looked down at the floor, the hapless girl whispered, “I am from Belarus, this is my Embassy.”
Petrov laughed, “Then I do not think your Embassy is interested in you any longer, Yulia.”
To Be Continued …
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Blowback (2)
The Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C. 1619 New Hampshire Avenue.
She stared at him, and resisted the sudden panic that was threatening to cloud her judgement. “I have the right to …” Yulia began her sentence but found herself quickly cut off.
“You have no rights, “Comrade” Jelic.” He came close to her. “I think this is how I like you best, Yulia. I don’t think you would carry a weapon into this meeting, but you never know, maybe I should make sure.”
Once again, the alarm bells rang in her head, and they rang out so violently that she hardly felt his hands sliding over her top, squeezing her breasts, and then moving downwards to feel between her legs, a move designed only to weaken the Agent and highlight how vulnerable she was.
However, trained as she was, Yulia knew that if this was the worst that was going to happen to her, she had nothing to worry about. She was shrouded in stale cigarette and whisky breath, but he was already stepping away.
“I am going to see a lot more of you in the near future, Yulia,” he promised, “And hear a lot more from you, also.” He nodded at his men. “Take her away, and remember your instructions.”
“Yes, Polkovnik, Sir,” one of them said.
“You will come with us, Miss.”
Yulia looked at Petrov. “I assume you will be informing your superiors at the Embassy that you have detained me and why?”
Petrov merely smiled.
“May I have my jacket pleased, it’s a little chilly outside?”
“And risk removing your handcuffs? I think not Miss Jelic. Take her.”
Yulia was marched to the back of the building where a car waited.
The back driver side door was opened and she was pushed into the interior, not violently, but without the use of her hands to steady herself she stumbled, landed on her knees, and would have fallen had her shoulders not been grasped.
“We do not wish to mark such a beautiful face, do we, Comrade Jelic`?” She could sense the sarcasm in the guard’s tone.
Yulia got her breathing under control as she was pulled up, turned round, and made to sit, her hands crushed against the back of the seat. She was moving into an unknown situation, and one which could carry a death sentence for her. Except that right now she had committed no crime, at least not one that anyone could possibly know about … could they?
She knew, of course, that the Belarusians had some substance for their suspicions, and believed they knew what the truth was, but they had no proof … did they? But there was nothing, as far as they were concerned, for her to be suspected of. What she had done was known only to herself and her colleagues at the centre. And presumably to Tretykov’s superiors. There was no reason for any of them to betray her; it made no sense.
Yet Petrov seemed to know. Indeed, he appeared to know a great deal about her secret background. She had not been looking where they were heading, but now the black Range Rover swung through a gateway set into the high wall of a large, seemingly dilapidated, building, to stop before an open door. A discreet glance told Yulia very quickly that she was surrounded by high walls on all sides.
The car door was opened, and Yulia’s arms were grasped to pull her out. She staggered again, and one shoe came off. One of the men picked it up, but left her to limp lopsidedly into the entrance hall where several people waiting for her, men and women, but only one seemed to matter. This was a slender young woman, trim in a green uniform; with her short black hair and crisp features she would have been attractive but for the glacial coldness of her eyes and her expression.
“You have her file?” she inquired. The man carrying Yulia’s shoe was also carrying her purse and her jacket along with a slender wallet file. These he now offered. The woman’s nose wrinkled, but she took all three items.
“Along there,” she said. Yulia debated kicking off the other shoe to restore a little dignity to her movements, but decided against it; she did not feel this was a woman to be antagonised especially while her own arms were secured behind her back, and so she continued to limp along the hallway.
“To the left,” her captor instructed. Yulia turned down the indicated corridor, and came to another door. The woman reached past her, and opened it. “Go in.’
Yulia entered the room, and waited.
It was sparsely furnished, and behind a desk sat another woman, who also wore a green uniform. But there any resemblance between the women ended. This woman was middle-aged, and extremely large. Her face was broad and chubby, and appeared good-humoured because at this moment it was wreathed in smiles.
Yulia felt a surge of relief, maybe this would not be so bad.
“Miss Yulia Jelic, native of Belarus … so she says.” Came the declaration as she entered the room.
“Miss Jelic,” the larger women exclaimed in a loud voice, “This is such a pleasure, and you … you are as beautiful as they said. Welcome. Oh, welcome to my humble dwelling!”
Suddenly her good humour seemed tinged with menace.
To Be Continued …
The Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C. 1619 New Hampshire Avenue.
She stared at him, and resisted the sudden panic that was threatening to cloud her judgement. “I have the right to …” Yulia began her sentence but found herself quickly cut off.
“You have no rights, “Comrade” Jelic.” He came close to her. “I think this is how I like you best, Yulia. I don’t think you would carry a weapon into this meeting, but you never know, maybe I should make sure.”
Once again, the alarm bells rang in her head, and they rang out so violently that she hardly felt his hands sliding over her top, squeezing her breasts, and then moving downwards to feel between her legs, a move designed only to weaken the Agent and highlight how vulnerable she was.
However, trained as she was, Yulia knew that if this was the worst that was going to happen to her, she had nothing to worry about. She was shrouded in stale cigarette and whisky breath, but he was already stepping away.
“I am going to see a lot more of you in the near future, Yulia,” he promised, “And hear a lot more from you, also.” He nodded at his men. “Take her away, and remember your instructions.”
“Yes, Polkovnik, Sir,” one of them said.
“You will come with us, Miss.”
Yulia looked at Petrov. “I assume you will be informing your superiors at the Embassy that you have detained me and why?”
Petrov merely smiled.
“May I have my jacket pleased, it’s a little chilly outside?”
“And risk removing your handcuffs? I think not Miss Jelic. Take her.”
Yulia was marched to the back of the building where a car waited.
The back driver side door was opened and she was pushed into the interior, not violently, but without the use of her hands to steady herself she stumbled, landed on her knees, and would have fallen had her shoulders not been grasped.
“We do not wish to mark such a beautiful face, do we, Comrade Jelic`?” She could sense the sarcasm in the guard’s tone.
Yulia got her breathing under control as she was pulled up, turned round, and made to sit, her hands crushed against the back of the seat. She was moving into an unknown situation, and one which could carry a death sentence for her. Except that right now she had committed no crime, at least not one that anyone could possibly know about … could they?
She knew, of course, that the Belarusians had some substance for their suspicions, and believed they knew what the truth was, but they had no proof … did they? But there was nothing, as far as they were concerned, for her to be suspected of. What she had done was known only to herself and her colleagues at the centre. And presumably to Tretykov’s superiors. There was no reason for any of them to betray her; it made no sense.
Yet Petrov seemed to know. Indeed, he appeared to know a great deal about her secret background. She had not been looking where they were heading, but now the black Range Rover swung through a gateway set into the high wall of a large, seemingly dilapidated, building, to stop before an open door. A discreet glance told Yulia very quickly that she was surrounded by high walls on all sides.
The car door was opened, and Yulia’s arms were grasped to pull her out. She staggered again, and one shoe came off. One of the men picked it up, but left her to limp lopsidedly into the entrance hall where several people waiting for her, men and women, but only one seemed to matter. This was a slender young woman, trim in a green uniform; with her short black hair and crisp features she would have been attractive but for the glacial coldness of her eyes and her expression.
“You have her file?” she inquired. The man carrying Yulia’s shoe was also carrying her purse and her jacket along with a slender wallet file. These he now offered. The woman’s nose wrinkled, but she took all three items.
“Along there,” she said. Yulia debated kicking off the other shoe to restore a little dignity to her movements, but decided against it; she did not feel this was a woman to be antagonised especially while her own arms were secured behind her back, and so she continued to limp along the hallway.
“To the left,” her captor instructed. Yulia turned down the indicated corridor, and came to another door. The woman reached past her, and opened it. “Go in.’
Yulia entered the room, and waited.
It was sparsely furnished, and behind a desk sat another woman, who also wore a green uniform. But there any resemblance between the women ended. This woman was middle-aged, and extremely large. Her face was broad and chubby, and appeared good-humoured because at this moment it was wreathed in smiles.
Yulia felt a surge of relief, maybe this would not be so bad.
“Miss Yulia Jelic, native of Belarus … so she says.” Came the declaration as she entered the room.
“Miss Jelic,” the larger women exclaimed in a loud voice, “This is such a pleasure, and you … you are as beautiful as they said. Welcome. Oh, welcome to my humble dwelling!”
Suddenly her good humour seemed tinged with menace.
To Be Continued …
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
This is getting to be a battle of the regimes, who can inflict the most pain on sweet innocent Yulia?
And information smuggled out of the country by @phlebas indicates the Belorussians are re-investigating an old, tried-and-tested method:
And information smuggled out of the country by @phlebas indicates the Belorussians are re-investigating an old, tried-and-tested method:
by the "Training and Re-training of State Services Institute" no less.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Blowback (3)
The Cells at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
“But where are my manners?” the large featured woman said. “Sit down, Miss Jelic, sit down. Are those handcuffs really necessary, Olga?”
“I was told by the Polkovnik that you should read the file before making a judgement on that.”
“Hmm. We are surrounded by paranoia. But sit down anyway, Miss Jelic.”
Yulia sank on to the chair. Olga took up a position behind her.
“My name is Ludmilla,” the larger officer announced, “And while you are here, I am your friend. Always remember this.”
“I will,” Yulia said, knowing full well what that meant in reality.
Ludmilla smiled at her. “But you must only speak when you are asked a question. It is a rule, you understand.”
“Yes, I understand. Owwwww!” A sharp pain had entered her shoulder and raced down her arm. She twisted her head and gazed at Olga’s cold face, and at the small, wand-like cattle prod she carried; she had not noticed it before.
“The rule,” Ludmilla reminded her. “Now let us see.” She opened the briefcase and took out a file, then spread this in front of her.
“Your name is Yulia. What a pretty name. May I call you Yulia?"
This was definitely a question. “Yes, you may” Yulia’s voice was low; her arm and shoulder still ached.
“And you are twenty-one years old. Oh, to be twenty-one again.” Ludmilla frowned. “This says you are highly dangerous and are to be kept under the strictest confinement.”
She raised her head. “You are twenty-one years old and you are highly dangerous? How can that be?”
A question. “I do not know; I do not know who compiled that file.”
“It says here that in Washington two months ago your lured a high-ranking Belarusian official engaged in very important talks to his … well, let’s just say ‘his demise’. Is that true Miss Jelic?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” was her terse response. Yulia tensed her muscles for the electric shock, but there was none … Ludmilla had raised a finger.
“Why did you respond like that? Because it is true? Do you really have no idea what I am talking about?”
“I met a man for dinner, and that was all.” Yulia had already decided that she would need to admit to the aspects of that fateful evening for which there would be a record.
Yulia bit her lip.
“Twenty-one years old,” Ludmilla mused. “And now you have tried to destroy the bridges being built between our glorious country and the United States of America. Why would you do that to your own country Miss Jelic, unless of course you have interests from elsewhere …”
“There is no proof of anything …” Again, Yulia bit her lip, but too late. “Arghhhhh!” Another streak of agony raced through her body.
“You understand,” Ludmilla said, ignoring the interruption, “… that there will have to be a trial. It will be a public trial.”
Hopefully that was a question. “Will I be allowed to defend myself?”
“Of course, Miss Jelic. It will all be done according to law. But before the trial you have to sign a confession. This must name the people who sent you here, and who assisted you in this dreadful plan.”
“But if I make a confession, what is the point in having a trial?” Yulia asked the question without thinking, and again braced herself for the coming shock, but Ludmilla had again signalled Olga to leave her alone for the time being.
“If you do not make a confession, how is the judge supposed to determine your guilt?” Ludmilla inquired. She might have been speaking to a small child. Had Yulia’s wrists not been secured she would have put her head into her hands at this ridiculous ever increasing downward spiral.
“Of course, whether you make a confession of your own free will is entirely up to you, and will make no difference to the procedure we have to follow. You must be interrogated to ensure that you tell us the truth. You do understand this?”
I am in a madhouse, Yulia thought, surrounded by lunatics. But she nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
“I am so glad,” Ludmilla smiled. “It makes life so much easier for everyone. Now do remember, Yulia, that I wish to be your friend. Olga wishes to be your friend.”
Somehow Yulia doubted that. She started to turn her head in order to better assess her surroundings, but again changed her mind.
“All we require is your cooperation. Now, returning to this matter of you being dangerous. It is not my business to question the judgements of my superiors. But it also says here that you have a very high IQ. You should therefore understand that both Olga and I are highly trained in unarmed combat. No doubt you are even more highly trained. But for you to attempt to beat us and fight your way out of here would be very counter-productive. For two reasons. One is that if you look up at the top of that wall you will observe a little box. That is a camera which is filming your every moment in here. The moment you attempt to misbehave this room will become filled with OMAN officers. They will not harm you seriously, because you have to be absolutely fit when you appear in court, but in addition to their combat skills they are also trained to hurt people severely, in places that will not show. I’m sure you would not wish that upon yourself, am I right Miss Jelic?”
Yulia swallowed. “No, I would not wish that.”
Ludmilla nodded before continuing, “And the other reason, of course, is that if you attacked Olga and I, you would make us your enemies instead of your friends. And we so want to be your friends. Don’t you want us to be your friends, Yulia?”
“Yes, I want you be my friends,” Yulia felt compelled to play along.
“Oh good, that makes me so happy. Well, Olga, as Miss Jelic now understands the situation, I think you can take off the handcuffs.” The key clicked, and the handcuffs were removed. Yulia rubbed her wrists to restore the blood flow, and then winced as the returning circulation was painful.
“Now,” Ludmilla continued, “I would like you to take off your clothes.”
To Be Continued …
The Cells at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
“But where are my manners?” the large featured woman said. “Sit down, Miss Jelic, sit down. Are those handcuffs really necessary, Olga?”
“I was told by the Polkovnik that you should read the file before making a judgement on that.”
“Hmm. We are surrounded by paranoia. But sit down anyway, Miss Jelic.”
Yulia sank on to the chair. Olga took up a position behind her.
“My name is Ludmilla,” the larger officer announced, “And while you are here, I am your friend. Always remember this.”
“I will,” Yulia said, knowing full well what that meant in reality.
Ludmilla smiled at her. “But you must only speak when you are asked a question. It is a rule, you understand.”
“Yes, I understand. Owwwww!” A sharp pain had entered her shoulder and raced down her arm. She twisted her head and gazed at Olga’s cold face, and at the small, wand-like cattle prod she carried; she had not noticed it before.
“The rule,” Ludmilla reminded her. “Now let us see.” She opened the briefcase and took out a file, then spread this in front of her.
“Your name is Yulia. What a pretty name. May I call you Yulia?"
This was definitely a question. “Yes, you may” Yulia’s voice was low; her arm and shoulder still ached.
“And you are twenty-one years old. Oh, to be twenty-one again.” Ludmilla frowned. “This says you are highly dangerous and are to be kept under the strictest confinement.”
She raised her head. “You are twenty-one years old and you are highly dangerous? How can that be?”
A question. “I do not know; I do not know who compiled that file.”
“It says here that in Washington two months ago your lured a high-ranking Belarusian official engaged in very important talks to his … well, let’s just say ‘his demise’. Is that true Miss Jelic?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” was her terse response. Yulia tensed her muscles for the electric shock, but there was none … Ludmilla had raised a finger.
“Why did you respond like that? Because it is true? Do you really have no idea what I am talking about?”
“I met a man for dinner, and that was all.” Yulia had already decided that she would need to admit to the aspects of that fateful evening for which there would be a record.
Yulia bit her lip.
“Twenty-one years old,” Ludmilla mused. “And now you have tried to destroy the bridges being built between our glorious country and the United States of America. Why would you do that to your own country Miss Jelic, unless of course you have interests from elsewhere …”
“There is no proof of anything …” Again, Yulia bit her lip, but too late. “Arghhhhh!” Another streak of agony raced through her body.
“You understand,” Ludmilla said, ignoring the interruption, “… that there will have to be a trial. It will be a public trial.”
Hopefully that was a question. “Will I be allowed to defend myself?”
“Of course, Miss Jelic. It will all be done according to law. But before the trial you have to sign a confession. This must name the people who sent you here, and who assisted you in this dreadful plan.”
“But if I make a confession, what is the point in having a trial?” Yulia asked the question without thinking, and again braced herself for the coming shock, but Ludmilla had again signalled Olga to leave her alone for the time being.
“If you do not make a confession, how is the judge supposed to determine your guilt?” Ludmilla inquired. She might have been speaking to a small child. Had Yulia’s wrists not been secured she would have put her head into her hands at this ridiculous ever increasing downward spiral.
“Of course, whether you make a confession of your own free will is entirely up to you, and will make no difference to the procedure we have to follow. You must be interrogated to ensure that you tell us the truth. You do understand this?”
I am in a madhouse, Yulia thought, surrounded by lunatics. But she nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
“I am so glad,” Ludmilla smiled. “It makes life so much easier for everyone. Now do remember, Yulia, that I wish to be your friend. Olga wishes to be your friend.”
Somehow Yulia doubted that. She started to turn her head in order to better assess her surroundings, but again changed her mind.
“All we require is your cooperation. Now, returning to this matter of you being dangerous. It is not my business to question the judgements of my superiors. But it also says here that you have a very high IQ. You should therefore understand that both Olga and I are highly trained in unarmed combat. No doubt you are even more highly trained. But for you to attempt to beat us and fight your way out of here would be very counter-productive. For two reasons. One is that if you look up at the top of that wall you will observe a little box. That is a camera which is filming your every moment in here. The moment you attempt to misbehave this room will become filled with OMAN officers. They will not harm you seriously, because you have to be absolutely fit when you appear in court, but in addition to their combat skills they are also trained to hurt people severely, in places that will not show. I’m sure you would not wish that upon yourself, am I right Miss Jelic?”
Yulia swallowed. “No, I would not wish that.”
Ludmilla nodded before continuing, “And the other reason, of course, is that if you attacked Olga and I, you would make us your enemies instead of your friends. And we so want to be your friends. Don’t you want us to be your friends, Yulia?”
“Yes, I want you be my friends,” Yulia felt compelled to play along.
“Oh good, that makes me so happy. Well, Olga, as Miss Jelic now understands the situation, I think you can take off the handcuffs.” The key clicked, and the handcuffs were removed. Yulia rubbed her wrists to restore the blood flow, and then winced as the returning circulation was painful.
“Now,” Ludmilla continued, “I would like you to take off your clothes.”
To Be Continued …
Ted Parry
Governor
... always very important to be naked whilst answering awkward questions ...
I hope that applies during impeachment's as well ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thanks for your support and comments Ted, but I think this one presents me with a mind's eye image that I need to rid myself of before I have my lunch
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Blowback (4)
The Cells at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
It took a few seconds for Ludmilla’s words to sink in.
“What? Why? No …”
The officer emitted a huge, long sigh. “Oh, dear Yulia, you see there you go again trying to annoy us, when we just want to be nice to you. I need to search your body, thoroughly, for any evidence of weapons or suicide drugs, or … anything really.”
There was a pause before Ludmilla continued, “Will you agree to remove your clothes for us to carry out our work?”
Now it was Yulia’s turn to exhale, following which she offered a discreet nod of her head.
“Good. Agent Yespervic, please begin the search process.”
Behind one of the tripod supported camera, there were several dotted around the room, OMAN Officer Olga Yespervic, nodded approvingly. The room was modestly sized, but stark and cold. There were no windows, or door slats, a small mercy in itself, though the cameras positioned in a semi-circle around Yulia, together with the hidden lenses serving their own voyeuristic purposes, made complete mockery of any supposed privacy. Yulia knew that several pairs of prying eyes would already be tuned in.
"We are here with Miss Yulia Jelic, in Room 17 of the Embassy containment centre. The current time is," her eyes darted to a nearby computer monitor, "9:58 AM. Please state your name for the records Miss Jelic.”
Yulia was becoming seriously concerned as she uttered her name.
“My name is …”
“Yulia …”
“Jelic …”
"Thank you, Miss Jelic, and my name is Senior Lieutenant Olga Yespervic." Stepping into the frame, she paused, collecting her thoughts. "Alright, Agent Jelic, are you ready to begin?"
Like I have a choice, thought Yulia, but she replied with a simple, and somewhat submissive “Yes.’
"Alright, Yulia, we already have your jacket," requested Olga. "For the benefit of the record, all garments will be searched on camera #3".
Camera #3 was positioned over a table top – old, worn wood like all the room's sparse furnishings, and zoomed-in on its subject, Yulia, still also in plain view of two other tripod-mounted cameras. The Agent had arrived dressed in an outfit befitting that of a young female Barista. Padded jacket, with a loose-fitting, revealing top, and tight faded jeans. She had dressed to impress the male members of the Embassy that she believed she would be meeting, although it appeared that the female officers with whom she was now incarcerated held no compunction about also enjoying the charms of a pretty girl.
Yulia stood still for several seconds while Olga - her hands already gloved in blue latex - began pawing through the jacket, showing off the interior of every pocket for the camera. Nodding with satisfaction, Olga neatly folded the garment and placed it on the far end of the table, though still within the camera's frame of view.
"And now the jeans." Yulia reddened a little, but she was far too comfortable with her body to be embarrassed by being undressed, though doing so under these circumstances was more than a little humiliating, and in front of cameras … even if the footage was destined to sit untouched in the evidence locker. Her fingers fiddled at the zipper which slid down with a barely-audible whirr. She reluctantly stepped out of them, before handing the cotton denim over to Olga.
The jeans only had the standard pockets, but Olga was taking her sweet time running her fingers over the fabric for the benefit of the camera, before folding those along with the jacket.
"Your top and your bra please Miss Jelic," Olga instructed next, pointing with one hand to the loose-fitting tank top Yulia had on. The captive girl paused.
“Now, please Yulia … your top and bra.” Yet still Yulia did not move.
"Alright. Miss Jelic, would you please remove your clothes as instructed," demanded Olga, her tone becoming slightly more formal despite the intimacy of the request. With a disgruntled moan, Yulia gripped the sides of the top and pulled it up to her breasts and then paused once more …
“I’m not wearing a bra …” she whispered as her ample breasts were exposed, along with ever hardening nipples. The officers smiled knowingly … it had been obvious that the Agent’s breasts were unrestrained, but making the point seemed to be more stimulating for them.
“Stop. Leave the top rolled up like that Miss Jelic, over your breasts … and now take off your panties.”
Yulia glared at her Inquisitor as it now seemed like she was orchestrating the strip to titillate her own desires.
The black thong was removed with the same lack of ceremony.
There was a small table behind Yulia, which she rested against as she slid the underwear down her legs. Legs which she had carefully shaved before leaving her apartment, as she had her smooth mound, handing them over with a coy look on her face.
Olga continued searching the clothing with the same unhurried pace, leaving Yulia to focus on the growing pit in her stomach as these last articles were frisked and folded. Finally, the Agent redirected her attention from the table to her captive.
“Remove the top,” Olga ogled Yulia’s now almost totally naked body. The Russian Agent in turn paused and stood staring at the Senior Lieutenant. By way of response the OMAN Officer simply held out her hand into which Yulia quickly placed her top. She didn't bother covering her breasts, and just let her arms rest loosely by her sides, despite the room’s chilled air solidifying the Agent’s nipples.
Having completed the search of her clothes, Olga nodded and then said or the benefit of the recorded process, "I hereby confirm that there are no narcotics of any nature nor anything illegal concealed within Miss Jelic's clothing. Now, Miss Jelic, I need to confirm that there is nothing illicit concealed about your person. Do you consent to this search?"
“There is nothing,” Yulia sighed, “Please, you don’t need to …”
“Do you consent Miss Jelic?” Now Ludmilla stepped in to ratify the order.
"I do," affirmed Yulia, with resignation … accepting the fact that she had absolutely no choice in the matter.
To Be Continued …
The Cells at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
It took a few seconds for Ludmilla’s words to sink in.
“What? Why? No …”
The officer emitted a huge, long sigh. “Oh, dear Yulia, you see there you go again trying to annoy us, when we just want to be nice to you. I need to search your body, thoroughly, for any evidence of weapons or suicide drugs, or … anything really.”
There was a pause before Ludmilla continued, “Will you agree to remove your clothes for us to carry out our work?”
Now it was Yulia’s turn to exhale, following which she offered a discreet nod of her head.
“Good. Agent Yespervic, please begin the search process.”
Behind one of the tripod supported camera, there were several dotted around the room, OMAN Officer Olga Yespervic, nodded approvingly. The room was modestly sized, but stark and cold. There were no windows, or door slats, a small mercy in itself, though the cameras positioned in a semi-circle around Yulia, together with the hidden lenses serving their own voyeuristic purposes, made complete mockery of any supposed privacy. Yulia knew that several pairs of prying eyes would already be tuned in.
"We are here with Miss Yulia Jelic, in Room 17 of the Embassy containment centre. The current time is," her eyes darted to a nearby computer monitor, "9:58 AM. Please state your name for the records Miss Jelic.”
Yulia was becoming seriously concerned as she uttered her name.
“My name is …”
“Yulia …”
“Jelic …”
"Thank you, Miss Jelic, and my name is Senior Lieutenant Olga Yespervic." Stepping into the frame, she paused, collecting her thoughts. "Alright, Agent Jelic, are you ready to begin?"
Like I have a choice, thought Yulia, but she replied with a simple, and somewhat submissive “Yes.’
"Alright, Yulia, we already have your jacket," requested Olga. "For the benefit of the record, all garments will be searched on camera #3".
Camera #3 was positioned over a table top – old, worn wood like all the room's sparse furnishings, and zoomed-in on its subject, Yulia, still also in plain view of two other tripod-mounted cameras. The Agent had arrived dressed in an outfit befitting that of a young female Barista. Padded jacket, with a loose-fitting, revealing top, and tight faded jeans. She had dressed to impress the male members of the Embassy that she believed she would be meeting, although it appeared that the female officers with whom she was now incarcerated held no compunction about also enjoying the charms of a pretty girl.
Yulia stood still for several seconds while Olga - her hands already gloved in blue latex - began pawing through the jacket, showing off the interior of every pocket for the camera. Nodding with satisfaction, Olga neatly folded the garment and placed it on the far end of the table, though still within the camera's frame of view.
"And now the jeans." Yulia reddened a little, but she was far too comfortable with her body to be embarrassed by being undressed, though doing so under these circumstances was more than a little humiliating, and in front of cameras … even if the footage was destined to sit untouched in the evidence locker. Her fingers fiddled at the zipper which slid down with a barely-audible whirr. She reluctantly stepped out of them, before handing the cotton denim over to Olga.
The jeans only had the standard pockets, but Olga was taking her sweet time running her fingers over the fabric for the benefit of the camera, before folding those along with the jacket.
"Your top and your bra please Miss Jelic," Olga instructed next, pointing with one hand to the loose-fitting tank top Yulia had on. The captive girl paused.
“Now, please Yulia … your top and bra.” Yet still Yulia did not move.
"Alright. Miss Jelic, would you please remove your clothes as instructed," demanded Olga, her tone becoming slightly more formal despite the intimacy of the request. With a disgruntled moan, Yulia gripped the sides of the top and pulled it up to her breasts and then paused once more …
“I’m not wearing a bra …” she whispered as her ample breasts were exposed, along with ever hardening nipples. The officers smiled knowingly … it had been obvious that the Agent’s breasts were unrestrained, but making the point seemed to be more stimulating for them.
“Stop. Leave the top rolled up like that Miss Jelic, over your breasts … and now take off your panties.”
Yulia glared at her Inquisitor as it now seemed like she was orchestrating the strip to titillate her own desires.
The black thong was removed with the same lack of ceremony.
There was a small table behind Yulia, which she rested against as she slid the underwear down her legs. Legs which she had carefully shaved before leaving her apartment, as she had her smooth mound, handing them over with a coy look on her face.
Olga continued searching the clothing with the same unhurried pace, leaving Yulia to focus on the growing pit in her stomach as these last articles were frisked and folded. Finally, the Agent redirected her attention from the table to her captive.
“Remove the top,” Olga ogled Yulia’s now almost totally naked body. The Russian Agent in turn paused and stood staring at the Senior Lieutenant. By way of response the OMAN Officer simply held out her hand into which Yulia quickly placed her top. She didn't bother covering her breasts, and just let her arms rest loosely by her sides, despite the room’s chilled air solidifying the Agent’s nipples.
Having completed the search of her clothes, Olga nodded and then said or the benefit of the recorded process, "I hereby confirm that there are no narcotics of any nature nor anything illegal concealed within Miss Jelic's clothing. Now, Miss Jelic, I need to confirm that there is nothing illicit concealed about your person. Do you consent to this search?"
“There is nothing,” Yulia sighed, “Please, you don’t need to …”
“Do you consent Miss Jelic?” Now Ludmilla stepped in to ratify the order.
"I do," affirmed Yulia, with resignation … accepting the fact that she had absolutely no choice in the matter.
To Be Continued …
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
Interesting.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I am behind as always (is that why people call me an ass?)
No one can hold a candle to @Fossy in his ability to stretch out a simple disrobing and punishment into an unforgettably erotic and draining experience!
No one can hold a candle to @Fossy in his ability to stretch out a simple disrobing and punishment into an unforgettably erotic and draining experience!
No rush!
Yes. Definitely take your time!
So good to see her punishers having such regard and care for Kat. Truly honorable men!
Again, such care and sympathy.
God! I hope so!
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I think the Officers have more than a passing suspicion about our heroines status within the Motherland despite her protestations to the contrary ... how will she ever get out of this situation ...?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Blowback (5)
The Cells at The Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
"Very good." Upon receiving Yulia’s ‘consent’ for the search to continue, Olga moved behind another one of the tripods. "Please lean forward and run your fingers through your hair."
Yulia groaned inwardly but dutifully complied, taking a half-step forward and bending at the waist. Her hair, long and blonde, flowed around her head … and, of course, procedures had to be followed so she complied. She ran her fingers through her hair for the better part of a minute, combing from everything conceivable angle, until Olga was satisfied.
"That's enough, Yulia. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back." Yulia groaned, outwardly this time, but complied, turning her bare ass towards Olga. The tell-tale sound of clinking metal soon filled her ears.
Olga wasted no time in handcuffing Yulia's wrists once again, taking the opportunity press her uniformed body hard into the naked back of their ‘interviewee’. "We have to make sure you don't try any sleight of hand tricks, right Miss Jelic?"
"Just get this over with," Yulia grumbled, wincing slightly as the sharp edges began digging into her skin. These women had not a bone of mercy in their bodies.
"Turn around and face the camera," Olga instructed. "And say 'ah'."
The taste of latex soon filled Yulia's mouth, Olga's gloved hands quickly covered in saliva. At least that part wasn't all that uncomfortable, at least physically speaking … just a little weird.
"I can confirm that there is nothing illicit in Miss Jelic's mouth," Olga said for the camera, even as her fingers remained between Yulia's lips. Yulia rolled her eyes. "Miss Jelic, please turn around and bend over the table."
Yulia complied, shuffling about slightly so that her breasts pressed against the table's surface with the minimum amount of discomfort.
With no other noise but the faint whirring of the chilling AC, Yulia had no trouble picking up the sound of a jar's lid being twisted off. At least she was going to be lubricated, and then, after a relative eternity, Yulia felt one of Olga's hands plant itself between her shoulder blades, keeping her pinned to the table. A second later …
"Arrrgggh," Yulia grunted in pain, as two of Olga's fingers slid between her bared ass cheeks. Olga was not a particularly gentle lover, it would seem.
"Don't move," instructed Olga with stern intonation, as her fingers slid around Yulia's ass-hole, deeper and then shallower. She grunted again as she felt the fingers prodding around inside her anus - the Senior Lieutenant really was being thorough – before finally withdrawing, the exit making a soft plop.
“I see you have faded marks from the cane Miss Jelic? Pain or pleasure … I wonder?”
Her tones were mocking as she fingered the faint welts that remained from the previous caning at the hands of her so-called colleagues.
"Stay there, I need to make sure your lovely ass is in frame," Olga said, as Yulia's feet clawed about for purchase on the floor. The Agent’s hands were still cuffed behind her back, the connecting chain clinking softly with each faint movement.
"Okay, stand up and squat. Facing the camera."
Yulia followed the instructions, lifting herself somewhat gracelessly off the table and turning to face the officer. Yulia squatted on her haunches, wobbling slightly without being able to use her arms for stability, knees spread horribly wide before the camera.
"And I certify that there is nothing of any sort in Miss Jelic's anal cavity. Now, Miss Jelic, would you please get up on the table, lay on your back and spread your legs."
Yulia knew what was coming and so it was with reluctance that she complied, and her bare ass cheeks skidded along the table as she climbed up onto it, before prostrating herself and parting her thighs as far apart as she could.
While one of the cameras was still taking in the wide-angled shot of the room, Olga was clearly zooming in with one of the others, making sure the precise details of this search were framed in 4K resolution. Yulia was left laying impotently as Olga stripped off her latex gloves, before tossing them into an evidence bag, and taking two more gloves from the box. Yulia had had her back to the room last time Olga had done this; somehow seeing her inquisitor snap the glove tight over her fingers made things seem that much worse.
"Try not to move, Yulia," Olga instructed, as she approached. Yulia noted that there was no lube this time, and she wasn't wet in the slightest! Unlike some deviants, and yes Yulia could get off on sexual submission, this scene wasn't her idea of an erotic fantasy - which meant that Olga would actually have to work hard to part her labial folds, making matters for the hapless Agent that much worse.
"Alright ... so far ... nothing ..." Olga narrated to the camera. She was standing slightly to the side of Yulia, so as not to block the shot, while her latex-covered fingers spread Yulia's sensitive folds. "And ... deep breath, Yulia."
Yulia bit gently down into her lower lip and curled her toes as Olga's fingers slipped inside her for the second time. Two fingers probed erratically inside her pussy, as if searching for the illusive g-spot. Yulia had to force herself not to moan from the discomfort as Olga's fingers grazed her inner walls, clearing making a show of it for the camera. Yulia counted to a hundred in her head before giving up, trying to think of absolutely nothing until she finally felt the emptiness of Olga withdrawing from her. But the reprieve was only temporary before the Officer delved inside her captive again.
This time, somehow, Olga seemed to moving her digits mor purposefully, as if attempting to stimulate her captive. Was this simply Yulia’s imagination working over-time or was she trying to …
“Ohhh fuck …” Yulia arched up and away from the table, and when Olga removed her fingers the prostrate Agent’s thighs were glistening.
"Mmffffff," was all the noise Yulia allowed herself to make, as Olga spread her folds for the final time. Now the OMAN Officer’s intentions were clear.
“How does that feel Yulia,” she whispered as her thumb was now massaging Yulia’s distended clitoris.
“Please … no oohhhhhhh … stop …”
“You like it don’t you, you little slut?”
“Pl … please …” was all Yulia could manage to say, before adding, “… the, the cameras?”
“You think I left them on silly girl?”
Finally, just as Yulia could feel the constant stimulation ready to tip her over the edge, the search, with all its unnecessary rigor, was completed. Olga began peeling off the shining and very wet second pair of gloves.
"Alright, Miss Jelic, you seem to be clean.”
Yulia nodded, "May I get dressed now?"
To Be Continued …
The Cells at The Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
"Very good." Upon receiving Yulia’s ‘consent’ for the search to continue, Olga moved behind another one of the tripods. "Please lean forward and run your fingers through your hair."
Yulia groaned inwardly but dutifully complied, taking a half-step forward and bending at the waist. Her hair, long and blonde, flowed around her head … and, of course, procedures had to be followed so she complied. She ran her fingers through her hair for the better part of a minute, combing from everything conceivable angle, until Olga was satisfied.
"That's enough, Yulia. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back." Yulia groaned, outwardly this time, but complied, turning her bare ass towards Olga. The tell-tale sound of clinking metal soon filled her ears.
Olga wasted no time in handcuffing Yulia's wrists once again, taking the opportunity press her uniformed body hard into the naked back of their ‘interviewee’. "We have to make sure you don't try any sleight of hand tricks, right Miss Jelic?"
"Just get this over with," Yulia grumbled, wincing slightly as the sharp edges began digging into her skin. These women had not a bone of mercy in their bodies.
"Turn around and face the camera," Olga instructed. "And say 'ah'."
The taste of latex soon filled Yulia's mouth, Olga's gloved hands quickly covered in saliva. At least that part wasn't all that uncomfortable, at least physically speaking … just a little weird.
"I can confirm that there is nothing illicit in Miss Jelic's mouth," Olga said for the camera, even as her fingers remained between Yulia's lips. Yulia rolled her eyes. "Miss Jelic, please turn around and bend over the table."
Yulia complied, shuffling about slightly so that her breasts pressed against the table's surface with the minimum amount of discomfort.
With no other noise but the faint whirring of the chilling AC, Yulia had no trouble picking up the sound of a jar's lid being twisted off. At least she was going to be lubricated, and then, after a relative eternity, Yulia felt one of Olga's hands plant itself between her shoulder blades, keeping her pinned to the table. A second later …
"Arrrgggh," Yulia grunted in pain, as two of Olga's fingers slid between her bared ass cheeks. Olga was not a particularly gentle lover, it would seem.
"Don't move," instructed Olga with stern intonation, as her fingers slid around Yulia's ass-hole, deeper and then shallower. She grunted again as she felt the fingers prodding around inside her anus - the Senior Lieutenant really was being thorough – before finally withdrawing, the exit making a soft plop.
“I see you have faded marks from the cane Miss Jelic? Pain or pleasure … I wonder?”
Her tones were mocking as she fingered the faint welts that remained from the previous caning at the hands of her so-called colleagues.
"Stay there, I need to make sure your lovely ass is in frame," Olga said, as Yulia's feet clawed about for purchase on the floor. The Agent’s hands were still cuffed behind her back, the connecting chain clinking softly with each faint movement.
"Okay, stand up and squat. Facing the camera."
Yulia followed the instructions, lifting herself somewhat gracelessly off the table and turning to face the officer. Yulia squatted on her haunches, wobbling slightly without being able to use her arms for stability, knees spread horribly wide before the camera.
"And I certify that there is nothing of any sort in Miss Jelic's anal cavity. Now, Miss Jelic, would you please get up on the table, lay on your back and spread your legs."
Yulia knew what was coming and so it was with reluctance that she complied, and her bare ass cheeks skidded along the table as she climbed up onto it, before prostrating herself and parting her thighs as far apart as she could.
While one of the cameras was still taking in the wide-angled shot of the room, Olga was clearly zooming in with one of the others, making sure the precise details of this search were framed in 4K resolution. Yulia was left laying impotently as Olga stripped off her latex gloves, before tossing them into an evidence bag, and taking two more gloves from the box. Yulia had had her back to the room last time Olga had done this; somehow seeing her inquisitor snap the glove tight over her fingers made things seem that much worse.
"Try not to move, Yulia," Olga instructed, as she approached. Yulia noted that there was no lube this time, and she wasn't wet in the slightest! Unlike some deviants, and yes Yulia could get off on sexual submission, this scene wasn't her idea of an erotic fantasy - which meant that Olga would actually have to work hard to part her labial folds, making matters for the hapless Agent that much worse.
"Alright ... so far ... nothing ..." Olga narrated to the camera. She was standing slightly to the side of Yulia, so as not to block the shot, while her latex-covered fingers spread Yulia's sensitive folds. "And ... deep breath, Yulia."
Yulia bit gently down into her lower lip and curled her toes as Olga's fingers slipped inside her for the second time. Two fingers probed erratically inside her pussy, as if searching for the illusive g-spot. Yulia had to force herself not to moan from the discomfort as Olga's fingers grazed her inner walls, clearing making a show of it for the camera. Yulia counted to a hundred in her head before giving up, trying to think of absolutely nothing until she finally felt the emptiness of Olga withdrawing from her. But the reprieve was only temporary before the Officer delved inside her captive again.
This time, somehow, Olga seemed to moving her digits mor purposefully, as if attempting to stimulate her captive. Was this simply Yulia’s imagination working over-time or was she trying to …
“Ohhh fuck …” Yulia arched up and away from the table, and when Olga removed her fingers the prostrate Agent’s thighs were glistening.
"Mmffffff," was all the noise Yulia allowed herself to make, as Olga spread her folds for the final time. Now the OMAN Officer’s intentions were clear.
“How does that feel Yulia,” she whispered as her thumb was now massaging Yulia’s distended clitoris.
“Please … no oohhhhhhh … stop …”
“You like it don’t you, you little slut?”
“Pl … please …” was all Yulia could manage to say, before adding, “… the, the cameras?”
“You think I left them on silly girl?”
Finally, just as Yulia could feel the constant stimulation ready to tip her over the edge, the search, with all its unnecessary rigor, was completed. Olga began peeling off the shining and very wet second pair of gloves.
"Alright, Miss Jelic, you seem to be clean.”
Yulia nodded, "May I get dressed now?"
To Be Continued …
twonines
LIMERICUS
Very hot Fossy, all the right ingredients, a helpless submissive beauty and a sadistic butch dominant in a one-sided power exchange situation.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Blowback (6)
The Cells at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
"Get dressed? Of course you may Yulia, you can get dressed just as soon as you sign that piece of paper on the table over there.” Olga answered, her voice as sunny as a summer's day again, as if she hadn't spent the past twenty minutes poking and prodding Yulia’s nubile body.
“What? What is it?”
There was slight pause before Ludmilla responded. “It’s your confession Miss Jelic.”
“My what? Confession for what?”
Both officers laughed together, before the larger, more senior one said “Your confession to arranging the disappearance and probable death of Anatol Radkov.”
“But … but … I did no such thing, I …” There was a desperation inherent to Yulia’s voice now as she could feel the net closing in.
Olga sighed. “Yes, you did, and you will not be leaving here until the confession is signed and the charges confirmed.”
“But you can’t …” Yulia stopped short realising once again that she had no one to call, no back up … she was on her own.
"Kneel down and keep your head high Miss Jelic."
"Seriously?" Yulia, despite herself, said out loud.
"Yes, of course, ‘seriously’ – on your fucking knees Jelic!”
Yulia exhaled loudly through her nostrils, before dropping to her knees before camera #2, which was now rolling again. Her wrists remained cuffed together behind her back, and she crossed her ankles unthinkingly, as if she was the subject of an arrest drill. "Back straight, Yulia!"
It was a long, long forty-five minutes before any further communication was received by the two Officers and throughout all of this time Yulia was not charged with anything nor did she agree to sign the ‘confession’. Only then - with her knees aching from the stress position and her patience tested by Olga's insistence that she keep her head up - did they finally receive a further radio message, and it was not what Yulia wanted to hear.
With a grin from ear-to-ear Ludmilla came out from behind her desk and approached the still naked, and very aching young Agent.
“Stand … please, Miss Jelic.”
Yulia sighed, stood up.
“You will find,” Ludmilla said chattily, “… that the procedures we follow are not on the whole very painful, although they can be, if you prove unnecessarily recalcitrant. It is however, far better than in the old days.”
Despite her wrists still being cuffed behind her back, Yulia stretched her body as much as she could to get the blood flowing again.
“In the old days,” Ludmilla continued, “… the way to make a suspect confess without marking their body prior to a court appearance – apart from beating their non-visible body parts of course, – was to stuff finely broken glass up his or her anal passage. This was usually very effective. But it was also extremely painful, so much so that in some cases the victim went out of his or her mind. This was clearly counter-productive, as the prisoner is required to be lucid when they appear before the judge. And, naturally, such ‘encouragement’ did permanent damage.”
Yulia felt sick.
“But this method is no longer used?” she questioned with a concerned tone underpinning her words.
“No, no, not any more. We are far less primitive nowadays. Come along.” She opened a door at the rear of the room, and stepped into a corridor. Yulia glanced at Olga, received a quick nod, and followed.
The 'Bathroom' at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
A short walk brought them to another door, which Ludmilla opened, to enter a large, square room, entirely devoid of furniture. There was, however, a coiled hose in one corner, beneath a tap protruding from the wall, and a wooden beam extending across the ceiling, from which was suspended a thick leather strap. And in another corner the ubiquitous camera hung from the ceiling, moving slowly to and fro while it focused on Yulia’s provocative nudity. Beneath the camera, set in the wall, there was an electric control box, from which protruded several buttons and levers.
“This is the room we call the bathroom,” Ludmilla explained. “You will be spending a lot of time here Yulia ... unless you sign our piece of paper.”
Olga pointed to where she wanted Yulia to stand, which was exactly beneath the strap. Yulia assumed the required position, and looking up saw the steel hook suspended above her head. Olga removed the cuffs, brought the Agent’s hands to her front, and then re-cuffed the wrists together. Without ceremony she raised Yulia’s arms and fitted the links of the cuffs over the hook to hold them there, before going to the wall and pressing a button on the box.
Instantly a motor hummed, and the strap receded into the ceiling, just far enough to raise Yulia on to her tiptoes.
“There,” Ludmilla said. “That is not too uncomfortable, is it?”
“No,” Yulia muttered, despite knowing that the question had been rhetorical. It was actually by no means uncomfortable at the moment, although she knew it would become so if she was forced to endure it for any length of time. She was more concerned by the fact that her body was now totally exposed to whatever these two harpies wished to inflict upon her.
She watched Olga cross the room, open a door, and step through.
“It gets very wet in here,” Ludmilla explained. She now picked up the hose by the nozzle. “The water will be somewhat cold, although not as cold as if it were midwinter, eh? Ha ha.”
“Ha ha,” Yulia mimicked faintly. Olga returned through the open door, and she was as naked as Yulia herself. The Offcier stood against the far wall, next to the control box.
“Now,” Ludmilla said. She still held the nozzle of the hose, and this she directed at Yulia. Olga, whose position was much closer to their captive’s hence her own naked state, pulled one of the levers halfway down, and the hose began to swell. Yulia took a deep breath, and was then enveloped in a stream of water, playing on her legs, splattering up over her stomach. As the water was in fact not very cold, it was by no means unpleasant, and after the initial shock subsided, Yulia slowly allowed the breath out of her lungs.
“Full on,” Ludmilla said.
With a slight motion Yulia half turned her head, and was struck a tremendous blow between her shoulder blades. The force spun her round and she glimpsed Ludmilla fighting to keep hold of the nozzle. Then water was cascading over the Agent’s face and hair, before the flow was lowered so that it struck her between the breasts, once more driving the breath from her lungs.
Before Yulia could react, the jet was back onto her face, slamming into her mouth and nose and eyes. I am about to die, she thought. I am being drowned while standing on my feet. Then the pressure subsided, and she was left gasping and spitting; a good deal of the water had poured down her throat and she still felt as if she were choking; it was several seconds before she could take even the shallowest of breaths.
Yulia opened her eyes and gazed at Olga, who had come forward and now slapped her on the back, so that she gasped and choked again and vomited a throat full of water onto the ‘bathroom’ floor.
“That was such fun,” Ludmilla said. “Wasn’t that fun, Yulia?”
Yulia was still gasping too much to speak. In any event, all she wanted to do was curse at this bitch.
“But we cannot just have fun,” Ludmilla said, without regret. “The hose can be used for a more serious purpose. It can inflict exquisite pain. It can cause damage. It can even kill. We will show you.”
Yulia opened her mouth to scream, and then changed her mind. She would not give them that pleasure.
“You wish to speak Miss Jelic? Maybe sign the confession and bring this to an end?”
“Fuck you bitch,” was Yulia’s only response.
Olga had switched off the water before coming forward. Now she returned to the panel and lowered the lever again, but only a third of the way. Water flowed, but with none of the earlier power. Ludmilla played the flow over Yulia’s groin.
“That is very nice, eh? But you see, if I twist the nozzle, like this …” She did so, and the jet narrowed. Ludmilla twisted some more, and it became as thin as a pencil, and then as a pencil lead. Now it was quite painful, feeling like a needle jab, and Yulia screamed.
“Try to imagine,” Ludmilla suggested, “… what it would feel like if we were to give it full volume. Do you know, I have cut off a girl’s nipple with this jet? And if I were to put it inside you … well it would be an instant hysterectomy.” Ludmilla laughed at her own words.
Yulia had recovered her breathing, and was able to keep her voice even. “What happens if I write you out a full confession now, and do not attempt to defend myself?”
“Why, you will be convicted Miss Jelic.”
“And sent to prison, or?”
“For planning to kill one of our Senior Diplomatic Officials?” Ludmilla gave another shout of laughter, and even Olga smiled. “Good heavens, no. You will be shot, Miss Jelic.”
SVR Headquarters, Moscow, Russia
“And they simply let her go?”
“It would appear that way.” The subordinate Comrade Officer bowed his head just a little as he addressed the Comrade Colonel.
Tretykov shook his head. “Do you think she told them anything?”
Both men raised their eyebrows. It was clear that whilst Ekaterina Novikova was highly regarded in the ranks of the SVR, it was also true that she was very young and still relatively inexperienced.
“The official word is that the Belarusians held her for 24 hours and tortured her, demanding that she sign their confession. But in the absence of her doing that that they could neither hold her nor charge her, and so they let her go.”
Tretykov nodded. “So, our young, beautiful Agent held out, did she?”
“It would appear so Comrade Colonel.”
“Either that or she did not, and she sung for her supper so to speak. Maybe they let her go so they could tape a mic to her, or maybe she is now also their Agent? Can she be trusted any longer?”
The younger, less senior officer stood to attention. “That is for you to decide Comrade Colonel.”
“Yes, you are correct it is. Arrange for Miss Novikova to brought out here to Moscow, we need to see for ourselves.”
And so there ends another one of our gorgeous, but hapless, heroine's adventures, except this time it finishes with a little bit of a cliff hanger. Poor Ekaterina/Yulia is being pulled from pillar to post by both the country she has targeted as well as her own people! How far will the Russian SVR go in order to prove the unquestioning loyalty of their own Agent. Join me here next week for the serialisation of 'An Interrogation Enhanced', the most explicit Sexpionage escapade yet ...
The Cells at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
"Get dressed? Of course you may Yulia, you can get dressed just as soon as you sign that piece of paper on the table over there.” Olga answered, her voice as sunny as a summer's day again, as if she hadn't spent the past twenty minutes poking and prodding Yulia’s nubile body.
“What? What is it?”
There was slight pause before Ludmilla responded. “It’s your confession Miss Jelic.”
“My what? Confession for what?”
Both officers laughed together, before the larger, more senior one said “Your confession to arranging the disappearance and probable death of Anatol Radkov.”
“But … but … I did no such thing, I …” There was a desperation inherent to Yulia’s voice now as she could feel the net closing in.
Olga sighed. “Yes, you did, and you will not be leaving here until the confession is signed and the charges confirmed.”
“But you can’t …” Yulia stopped short realising once again that she had no one to call, no back up … she was on her own.
"Kneel down and keep your head high Miss Jelic."
"Seriously?" Yulia, despite herself, said out loud.
"Yes, of course, ‘seriously’ – on your fucking knees Jelic!”
Yulia exhaled loudly through her nostrils, before dropping to her knees before camera #2, which was now rolling again. Her wrists remained cuffed together behind her back, and she crossed her ankles unthinkingly, as if she was the subject of an arrest drill. "Back straight, Yulia!"
It was a long, long forty-five minutes before any further communication was received by the two Officers and throughout all of this time Yulia was not charged with anything nor did she agree to sign the ‘confession’. Only then - with her knees aching from the stress position and her patience tested by Olga's insistence that she keep her head up - did they finally receive a further radio message, and it was not what Yulia wanted to hear.
With a grin from ear-to-ear Ludmilla came out from behind her desk and approached the still naked, and very aching young Agent.
“Stand … please, Miss Jelic.”
Yulia sighed, stood up.
“You will find,” Ludmilla said chattily, “… that the procedures we follow are not on the whole very painful, although they can be, if you prove unnecessarily recalcitrant. It is however, far better than in the old days.”
Despite her wrists still being cuffed behind her back, Yulia stretched her body as much as she could to get the blood flowing again.
“In the old days,” Ludmilla continued, “… the way to make a suspect confess without marking their body prior to a court appearance – apart from beating their non-visible body parts of course, – was to stuff finely broken glass up his or her anal passage. This was usually very effective. But it was also extremely painful, so much so that in some cases the victim went out of his or her mind. This was clearly counter-productive, as the prisoner is required to be lucid when they appear before the judge. And, naturally, such ‘encouragement’ did permanent damage.”
Yulia felt sick.
“But this method is no longer used?” she questioned with a concerned tone underpinning her words.
“No, no, not any more. We are far less primitive nowadays. Come along.” She opened a door at the rear of the room, and stepped into a corridor. Yulia glanced at Olga, received a quick nod, and followed.
The 'Bathroom' at Embassy of Belarus in Washington, D.C.
A short walk brought them to another door, which Ludmilla opened, to enter a large, square room, entirely devoid of furniture. There was, however, a coiled hose in one corner, beneath a tap protruding from the wall, and a wooden beam extending across the ceiling, from which was suspended a thick leather strap. And in another corner the ubiquitous camera hung from the ceiling, moving slowly to and fro while it focused on Yulia’s provocative nudity. Beneath the camera, set in the wall, there was an electric control box, from which protruded several buttons and levers.
“This is the room we call the bathroom,” Ludmilla explained. “You will be spending a lot of time here Yulia ... unless you sign our piece of paper.”
Olga pointed to where she wanted Yulia to stand, which was exactly beneath the strap. Yulia assumed the required position, and looking up saw the steel hook suspended above her head. Olga removed the cuffs, brought the Agent’s hands to her front, and then re-cuffed the wrists together. Without ceremony she raised Yulia’s arms and fitted the links of the cuffs over the hook to hold them there, before going to the wall and pressing a button on the box.
Instantly a motor hummed, and the strap receded into the ceiling, just far enough to raise Yulia on to her tiptoes.
“There,” Ludmilla said. “That is not too uncomfortable, is it?”
“No,” Yulia muttered, despite knowing that the question had been rhetorical. It was actually by no means uncomfortable at the moment, although she knew it would become so if she was forced to endure it for any length of time. She was more concerned by the fact that her body was now totally exposed to whatever these two harpies wished to inflict upon her.
She watched Olga cross the room, open a door, and step through.
“It gets very wet in here,” Ludmilla explained. She now picked up the hose by the nozzle. “The water will be somewhat cold, although not as cold as if it were midwinter, eh? Ha ha.”
“Ha ha,” Yulia mimicked faintly. Olga returned through the open door, and she was as naked as Yulia herself. The Offcier stood against the far wall, next to the control box.
“Now,” Ludmilla said. She still held the nozzle of the hose, and this she directed at Yulia. Olga, whose position was much closer to their captive’s hence her own naked state, pulled one of the levers halfway down, and the hose began to swell. Yulia took a deep breath, and was then enveloped in a stream of water, playing on her legs, splattering up over her stomach. As the water was in fact not very cold, it was by no means unpleasant, and after the initial shock subsided, Yulia slowly allowed the breath out of her lungs.
“Full on,” Ludmilla said.
With a slight motion Yulia half turned her head, and was struck a tremendous blow between her shoulder blades. The force spun her round and she glimpsed Ludmilla fighting to keep hold of the nozzle. Then water was cascading over the Agent’s face and hair, before the flow was lowered so that it struck her between the breasts, once more driving the breath from her lungs.
Before Yulia could react, the jet was back onto her face, slamming into her mouth and nose and eyes. I am about to die, she thought. I am being drowned while standing on my feet. Then the pressure subsided, and she was left gasping and spitting; a good deal of the water had poured down her throat and she still felt as if she were choking; it was several seconds before she could take even the shallowest of breaths.
Yulia opened her eyes and gazed at Olga, who had come forward and now slapped her on the back, so that she gasped and choked again and vomited a throat full of water onto the ‘bathroom’ floor.
“That was such fun,” Ludmilla said. “Wasn’t that fun, Yulia?”
Yulia was still gasping too much to speak. In any event, all she wanted to do was curse at this bitch.
“But we cannot just have fun,” Ludmilla said, without regret. “The hose can be used for a more serious purpose. It can inflict exquisite pain. It can cause damage. It can even kill. We will show you.”
Yulia opened her mouth to scream, and then changed her mind. She would not give them that pleasure.
“You wish to speak Miss Jelic? Maybe sign the confession and bring this to an end?”
“Fuck you bitch,” was Yulia’s only response.
Olga had switched off the water before coming forward. Now she returned to the panel and lowered the lever again, but only a third of the way. Water flowed, but with none of the earlier power. Ludmilla played the flow over Yulia’s groin.
“That is very nice, eh? But you see, if I twist the nozzle, like this …” She did so, and the jet narrowed. Ludmilla twisted some more, and it became as thin as a pencil, and then as a pencil lead. Now it was quite painful, feeling like a needle jab, and Yulia screamed.
“Try to imagine,” Ludmilla suggested, “… what it would feel like if we were to give it full volume. Do you know, I have cut off a girl’s nipple with this jet? And if I were to put it inside you … well it would be an instant hysterectomy.” Ludmilla laughed at her own words.
Yulia had recovered her breathing, and was able to keep her voice even. “What happens if I write you out a full confession now, and do not attempt to defend myself?”
“Why, you will be convicted Miss Jelic.”
“And sent to prison, or?”
“For planning to kill one of our Senior Diplomatic Officials?” Ludmilla gave another shout of laughter, and even Olga smiled. “Good heavens, no. You will be shot, Miss Jelic.”
SVR Headquarters, Moscow, Russia
“And they simply let her go?”
“It would appear that way.” The subordinate Comrade Officer bowed his head just a little as he addressed the Comrade Colonel.
Tretykov shook his head. “Do you think she told them anything?”
Both men raised their eyebrows. It was clear that whilst Ekaterina Novikova was highly regarded in the ranks of the SVR, it was also true that she was very young and still relatively inexperienced.
“The official word is that the Belarusians held her for 24 hours and tortured her, demanding that she sign their confession. But in the absence of her doing that that they could neither hold her nor charge her, and so they let her go.”
Tretykov nodded. “So, our young, beautiful Agent held out, did she?”
“It would appear so Comrade Colonel.”
“Either that or she did not, and she sung for her supper so to speak. Maybe they let her go so they could tape a mic to her, or maybe she is now also their Agent? Can she be trusted any longer?”
The younger, less senior officer stood to attention. “That is for you to decide Comrade Colonel.”
“Yes, you are correct it is. Arrange for Miss Novikova to brought out here to Moscow, we need to see for ourselves.”
FIN
And so there ends another one of our gorgeous, but hapless, heroine's adventures, except this time it finishes with a little bit of a cliff hanger. Poor Ekaterina/Yulia is being pulled from pillar to post by both the country she has targeted as well as her own people! How far will the Russian SVR go in order to prove the unquestioning loyalty of their own Agent. Join me here next week for the serialisation of 'An Interrogation Enhanced', the most explicit Sexpionage escapade yet ...