Chapter 1

The heavy iron bound door closed behind him. He shielded his eyes and looked up at the sun. It was the sixteenth of October 1992. He had not seen the sun for three long years and now someone was going to pay. The prepaid taxi was waiting at the kerb to take him to Budapest’s Ferihegy airport where he was booked on a midday flight back to London.

The taxi driver glanced at him uneasily in the rear view mirror, as well he might. His once handsome face was now blemished by a scar over his left eyebrow and there were half a dozen other scars across his body which bore testimony to the brutal regime he had endured within the walls of the Veresegyhaz prison. Someone had paid a great deal of money to ensure that his stay was as uncomfortable as possible, no doubt in the hope that he would do something foolish and get his sentence increased. He had been able to take the occasional beatings but the worst thing of all was the lack of sunlight. He was given his statutory one hour’s exercise a day in the cramped, high walled yard but whatever time of year it was arranged so that the sun was always on the opposite side of the building. He had made complaints through the normal consular channels but the nature of his crime meant that his requests elicited little sympathy.

The result was that, despite his best efforts to stay fit and keep his strength up, his health had suffered. Only in recent weeks had they begun to supplement his diet with vitamins so that he presented a better picture of himself to the world on his release.

As the taxi left the prison behind he leaned forward and, in passable Hungarian, he asked the driver to take him to Petnehazy. The driver protested, he had been paid to go to the airport, but another look at the man’s eyes was enough to convince him and, half an hour later, they arrived in the red light district behind the central station.

He collected his canvas tote bag from the boot of the taxi and started to walk. The red light district had grown more garish since he had last seen it and the street girls far more blatant. He scanned the are until he found a fair sized video emporium and went inside. He cast his eyes over the huge array of videos but, of more interest, were the very limited number of DVD’s. They included sex films of every genre from all over the world but he did not see what he wanted.

He approached the man at the counter who, on seeing him, cast a glance at his burly minder but big men no longer worried him. He knew, from bitter experience, who the genuinely hard men were. They were both surprised to hear him frame his request in Hungarian and, after a brief discussion amongst themselves, a DVD was produced from the back room. He looked it over quickly and then paid fifty dollars for it. He had gone in to prison with a little over five thousand dollars then found, on his release, this had mysteriously shrunk to four hundred but he was not minded to argue.

He left the shop and made his way assuredly to the new houses dotted around Zsinor and found the block he was looking for. He cast a look around and then went up to the door of the ground floor apartment and rang the bell.

“It’s too early. Go away!”

The voice was a womans in heavily accented English. He replied in Hungarian:

“I have a delivery from Amy.”

There was a pause whilst she no doubt surveyed him through the doors spy hole but he was confident that she would not immediately recognize him. He heard the key in the lock and then bolts being shot. As soon as the door was ajar he barged in.

“What the hell!”

Even in her shocked and disheveled state she was still beautiful. She was a natural blonde with long, straight, hair and cool blue eyes possessed of an innocence they did not warrant. She was nearly thirty now but still had a body a teenager would be proud of. She had long slim legs, well defined hips and modest, but perfectly formed breasts which her half length, blue satin nightdress did little to disguise.

“You didn’t bother with the implants? I glad you heeded my advice.”

He closed and locked the door behind him and waited whilst she looked him over. He was heavier than when she last saw him, the prison food was simple and stodgy, but his self-imposed exercise programme meant that most of it had turned to muscle. His face was no longer boyish. The crew cut hair, prison pallor and the addition of the scar made him look menacing and, at over six foot tall, he looked more military than civilian.

“Good God! … Andy?”

“You got it in one, Katya.”

She gave a nervous smile.

“It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

She backed away from him towards the opened bedroom door and looked around for the clothes she had untidily discarded the night before. He followed her into the room.

“You’re telling me you don’t know?”

“I heard something, rumours, some trouble with the authorities.”

“I’ve been in the “Verys”, three years.”

“Prison? I had no idea.”

He was no longer the naïve idealist of three years ago. He could see through people now and he could smell a lie. Her eyes searched his and she instinctively took another step back, stumbling onto the bed in the process. He put a knee between her legs and knelt over her and she edged up the bed further away from him.

“Three years … without a woman, Katya.”

She suddenly gave him a more genuine smile, having reached a false understanding and made no protest as he pinned her arms over her head.

“Do you still entertain clients here?”

She laughed, now a little more at ease.

“Occasionally. I don’t need the money so much now but I still entertain some of the better payers.”

He knew what she meant. Katya offered her clients a very special service and she could afford to be choosy. He reached up and moved the pillows to one side and there, beneath them, permanently fastened to the ornately worked cast iron bed head, was a pair of leather cuffs.

“Has it ever been you, Katya? Have you ever been tied down?”

The smile went from her face to be replaced by a nervous grin.

“No, of course not. That’s not how it works.”

“Well I think it’s about time you gave it a try …”

She tried to laugh it off

“No. I don’t think so …. I said no!”

He leaned his weight onto her arm and then buckled the cuff around her wrist whilst she pounded on his back with her free hand.

“No! … Stop it!”

He rolled over and she raked at his face with her immaculately manicured fingernails but he caught her wrist before she could do any damage and after a brief, but one-sided struggle, got the second cuff fastened. She struggled like a wild cat and swore in her own language but he went through into the kitchen, leaving her to vent her rage. Both he and she knew that she could scream as loud as she liked. The apartments were originally built as state funded homes for the members of the Hungarian Symphony Orchestra and, as such, afforded both spacious and soundproofed accommodation which made them an admirable choice for the women who now chose to occupy them.

He gave her half an hour whilst he savoured his first cup of coffee since his incarceration and then returned. She hurled a fresh stream of invective at him but he ignored her as he rooted through a chest of drawers which yielded up another pair of restraints. They looked like spreader bars, with cuffs at either end, but the bars themselves had a screw thread with a bulbous barrel at the mid point. He used brute force to fix her ankles in the cuffs and thence to the two stumpy posts at the foot of the bed.

With her range of movement now severely reduced she tried to calm herself and waited to see what was going to happen.

“What do you want of me?”

“First off a good fuck, but let’s make you a little more uncomfortable first.”

“There’s no need for that!”

He ignored her and, taking hold of the two barrels on the restraints, began to turn them between his thumbs and fingers. They turned easily and, to begin with, there was no discernable effect but, after half a minute, it began to take a little more effort. She tried to resist the pull but, slowly but surely, the bars were shortening as the thicker end swallowed up the thinner.

“Stop that!”

He carried on twisting until the bedposts gave an ominous creak and she began to scream.

“Get away from me!”

He put his hands into the neckline of her nightdress and with a violent tug, ripped it into two halves. He had dreamed of this moment so many times. Now that it had arrived, his erection was threatening to climax spontaneously. He stood away from her so that he could collect himself. As he slowly undressed, he surveyed the exquisite contours of her body. Lying down, her breasts looking almost boyish but the dark oval nipples were undoubtedly feminine and the sudden exposure to the cool air had brought them to an inviting erection. His eyes travelled downwards past the deep cave of her navel to her closely trimmed pubis and he noted the tension in her thighs as her body protested against the pull of the restraints.

He stood there naked and took his impressive erection in hand. He had been grateful, throughout his life, for the thick ten inches with which he had been endowed but never more so than during his time in prison; so primitive was the environment that the size of his manhood was sufficient to mark him out as predator rather than prey. He had never been remotely tempted himself and had been otherwise mercifully left alone.

He moved up onto the bed and knelt between her parted legs. He was pleased at the look of horror on her face when she saw the size of it.

“NOoo!”

She shook her body in denial but he simply laughed. On the bedside cabinet there was a jar of hand cream. Whilst it was not perfect, it was good enough for his immediate purposes. He opened the jar, took up a generous measure of the sweet smelling white cream onto his fingertips and then began to coat his manhood. When he was finished he rubbed the tips of his thumbs together before he put them to her sex. Even as she struggled he pressed his thumbs inwards and started to peel her apart.

“Come on, Katya, you’ve taken bigger than this.”

He said it mockingly but there was some truth in it.

Once he had created a sufficiently large opening, he pushed the cream slicked head of his manhood between her labia and held himself there at the portal. She gave one last desperate squeeze to try and expel him but, now that he was lodged, the outcome was inevitable.

“It’s up to you. You can work with me or against me.”

Even in her desperate state she perceived the double entendre but he did not elaborate. He took a deep breath and she gave an anguished howl as he leaned his weight into her and, inch by inch, his manhood slowly slid home. When he was all the way there he paused, relishing the heat and tightness that confirmed her reluctance but, even after three years, he remembered her well. Katya was, and would remain, a slut and, as he began to slowly ease himself back and forth he became aware of a more copious and natural lubrication. She was still begging him to stop but, in reality, she was starting to work with him to the extent that her restraints would allow.

He lowered his head and took her pert nipple into his mouth, beginning to lash at it with his tongue. He had heard that some men stopped having sexual fantasies altogether when they had been in prison for a long time but his had only become ever more detailed. He had lived this moment in his mind so often, in every exquisite detail, but it was as nothing to the excitement of real thing.

He began to rut at her more violently, his erection seeming impossibly hard but Katya was now accommodating him with ease, pushing her hips at him to meet him thrust for thrust. He was very close now and he closed his eyes to savour the last few seconds. It had been very quick, but that was no surprise. As he started to come, he yelled out in relief. His climax seemed to last forever as the dam broke on almost three years of pent up frustration.

Katya was taken by surprise and, after her initial reluctance, she now seemed upset that he had left her high and dry.

“Untie me. We’ll have a drink and then try again.”

He smiled as he withdrew from her. They would do it again but not quite as she thought.

“I think I’ll leave you just as you are for now. I want you to tell me where I can find Amy.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for years.”

“I’m afraid that’s the wrong answer.”

He went back into the hallway and collected his bag from where he had dropped it. She watched anxiously as he ferreted inside until he found what he wanted.

“What the hell are they for!?”

He had produced a pair of pliers with wickedly pointed jaws.

“This is what they gave us to amuse ourselves.”

She looked both frightened and bemused as he took from the bag a small coil of fine wire.

“They let me keep these. Hardly a fair exchange for four thousand six hundred dollars.”

As she watched he unwound a length of wire which he began to twist in the jaws of the pliers. Within a minute he had produced a delicately sculptured wire swan.

“The prison authorities sold these in the tourist market, they made a couple of hundred forints each for them. They were so popular that the prison brought up all the local supplies of wire which meant that shopkeepers had to buy the figures and unwind them again so that they had some to sell. Only in bloody Hungary!”

“What has this got to do with me?”

“I’ll show you.”

He cut off a fresh length of wire and formed it into loose loop using his fingers.

“Keep away from me!”

He took hold of her breast and coaxed her nipple with his thumb. She shouted at him and tried to turn herself away but it was all too easy for him to place the loop over her nipple and twist it closed. She continued to swear at him as he took a second length and looped it around her other nipple.

“Get them off me!”

His response was to take the ends of the first loop into the jaws of the pliers and then began to twist.

“AGGhhh! That hurts!”

He ignored her and continued to twist until her nipple was cruelly pinched and then he repeated the exercise on the other nipple until she screamed out for a second time.

“What do you bloody want!? I’ve told you I don’t know where Amy is.”

She calmed down a little when she realized that he was about to release her ankles but her relief was short lived. Once her legs were free there was a brief struggle as he forced them up and over her head. He pulled the spreader bars behind the headboard and fixed them in place, leaving her legs spread widely and her feet almost touching the wall. Her sex lay vulnerably revealed and a trickle of semen escaped it to run between the furrow of her buttocks. He used the remnants of her nightdress to clean it away and then he cut off a much longer length of wire.

“NNNOOO! Get off me!”

“If you don’t want to do yourself some permanent damage I would stay very still, if I were you.”

Her body trembled as he took hold of her labia and gently stretched them.

“Still pierced? I can’t tell you how pleased that makes me.”

She shrieked as she felt him smoothly threading the length of wire through the delicate membranes but she managed to control her body’s tremors. Once the wire was through he twisted it closed and then he took the two ends and twined then with the wires that he had already put in place around her nipples.

“I’m going to free your legs now but I’m guessing that you won’t want to move too much.”

“Cut me free, you bastard!”

He let the insult slide and proceeded to unfasten the cuffs around her ankles but she had the presence of mind to tuck her feet through the ironwork

“Very clever, but it won’t save you.”

He picked up his discarded jeans and began to slowly unthread the thick leather belt. When it was free he took hold of the heavy buckle and twisted the belt twice around his hand.

“Do you want to tell me where I can find Amy?”

“I’ve told you I don’t know!”

She screamed as he twisted quickly on the ball of his foot and slapped the belt solidly across both buttocks. The sound took him back to the basement cells at Veresegyhaz where he was taken on his first night in the prison. They had felt the need to teach him a lesson and, because of the nature of his crime, they had invited some female warders from the adjacent women’s prison to carry out the punishment. He had been stripped and tied down to a rough wooden bench and then the three burly females had made free with the leather belts that would normally be used to bind a prisoner’s wrists to his side. The male warders had taunted him, calling him weak, telling him that they were only women, but they worked on him in relays, each woman exhausting herself before giving way to the next.