EXTRACT 1
“Ah, here is Lieutenant Karinov; now we may proceed. If you would be so kind, Miss
Fullerton, this process requires you to kneel on the floor.”
“No way! NO FUCKING WAY!” screamed Vicky. “I’ll have the law on you if you come near
me again!”
“Miss Fullerton; I am the country’s Chief of Police. That means I AM the law around
here. NOW KNEEL!”
Vicky backed away, covering herself with her arms, sure now that a violation was
coming her way. And violation it would have to be; she would not willingly consent to
their criminal actions.
“Put her in place,” ordered Yuri.
The two subordinates came over and grabbed Vicky by the arms; she tried to fight
them off but was powerless against their greater strength. They dragged her to the centre
of the room and wrestled her to her knees then pulled her arms behind her back before
securing them with a pair of cuffs.
Vicky was furious, pure loathing poured from her eyes as she glared at the Chief who
watched from a chair, still stroking his massive dick through the fabric of his uniform
trousers. It was obvious what he had in mind, but there was no way she was going to suck
him off. If he tried to put that huge cock in her mouth she would hold true to her word
and bite the thing off. She would make the big bastard suffer, even if it cost Vicky her
life.
Yuri rose from his chair and picked up the attaché case. He opened it and
removed what he had ordered his nephew to fetch – a metal jaw spreader. Yuri quickly
examined it then he came over to where Vicky was kneeling on the floor; held in position
by the strong arms of Mordavian law.
Her eyes practically popped out of her head when she saw what the Chief was holding;
a metal contraption of scary design. It reminded her of something she had seen in a movie
– ‘Silence of the Lambs’ was the one, it had been worn by Hannibal Lecter.
“Open your mouth, Miss Fullerton,” Yuri calmly told her, as if he were offering her
some tasty treat.
“Fuck off! You’re insane. Let me go!”
Yuri delivered a hard backhanded slap that sent Vicky’s head twisting around. At a
nod of his head, Dimitri pulled on her hair and brought her head back to a forward
position and facing directly up into the hardness of Yuri’s eyes. Vicky was shaking with
fear, tears now flowed freely down her stinging cheeks, yet she defiantly kept her mouth
firmly closed. Another nod of Yuri’s head and Dimitri pinched her nose. The mouthpiece of
the spreader was positioned at her lips – a minute later she was gulping for air and the
mouthpiece was forced between her teeth. Once sure it was in position, Yuri loosened the
spring on the outside of the device and the jaw spreader did its job, forcing Vicky’s
mouth apart to a painful degree.
It was unbelievable agony for her. The muscles in her cheeks felt like they might
rip, the strain on the hinge of her jaw was horrendous; but the feeling of helplessness
was most crushing of all, and her torment had only just began. She tried to look away, but
Dimitri pulled again on her hair and forced her to look up at her tormentor. In her
terror, Vicky couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes. She watched, her face forced into
an aghast-like expression, as Yuri unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his uniform trouser
flies and wrestled to bring out his monster of a cock and a pair huge, low hanging balls.
Vicky had never seen anything so big; it was at least eleven inches and as thick as
her arm; on olive coloured phallus with a huge purple knob at the end oozing with slivery
pre-cum from the slit.
Yuri let her gaze at it; enjoying the reaction – no woman had ever failed to be
impressed and terrified at the same time when he showed them his erection. He waved it in
front of her, tormenting her with its mass. He rubbed the glans over her face, smearing
her with his juice. Then he rested the glans on her bottom lip, letting her feel the
weight of his manhood before he fed it into her mouth through the parting in the clamp.
Vicky could do nothing except kneel there and take the hot, fat cock in her mouth.
Yuri slid in and out of her, leisurely at first, then he increased his tempo to a good
hard pump; holding her by the head as he rammed in and out, making her wrench and gag when
he touched the back of her mouth with the knob of his big cock.
“No drugs, Miss Fullerton, at least not in your mouth; but I think duty demands that
I search a little deeper. Fortunate, is it not, that I am well equipped to do so?”
Then Yuri pulled out; he slapped his engorged member across Vicky’s cheeks a few
times then backed away.
“Lay her on the table and drape her head over the edge. I want an easy passage for
my cock as it performs its duty.”
EXTRACT 2
“A report must be submitted, you know that Chief Karinov. I have my duty, as do
you.”
“Of course, my dear friend, of course; I fully understand. Now, before you leave and
compile this report, there is something I would like you to see. A new punishment we are
experimenting with, in the never ending battle against crime.”
“Really. I’m not sure if I can spare the time... What sort of punishment?”
“The sort that prevents young women from ever offending again. There is a delectable
young trollop who was caught begging from a tourist. I was just about to witness her
flogging.”
“Oh! Well... I’m sure I could squeeze a few minutes. How old did you say the wench
was?”
“How old would you like her to be, Mr. Flashman?”
“I always though that eighteen was a perfect age for the correction of wayward
girls.”
“Dimirti! You heard our guest - delectable and eighteen. We will be there in ten
minutes. Make sure everything is in order for the honourable representative of Her
Majesty’s government.
Twenty minutes later, David Flashman was sitting in an armless easy chair beside his
good friend, Yuri Karinov. Between them was a table with two glasses filled with generous
measures of Cognac, and a couple of Havana cigars lay smoking in an ashtray. In front of
them stood a girl who looked a youthful eighteen, she was naked and undeniably delectable.
Dark skinned like all her compatriots, she had shoulder length black hair and a pair of
perky little breasts, her figure was trim, just like how David Flashman liked them, and
her cunt was framed by a thick black bush. David wondered if she was still a virgin – not
very likely was his conclusion if she was under Yuri’s care.
The girl was shivering; she had just been doused by a bucket of icy water; she stood
shaking with cold and fear – her dark nipples looking very erect.
“Part of the treatment,” Yuri explained. “We think the cold heightens the senses,
makes her all the more aware of her crime and her punishment.”
‘Makes her look vulnerable and very enticing,’ thought David, but he knew better
than to say such things aloud in the presence of the Chief of Police.
“We are now going to test out which instrument is the most effective. The European
Union is fanatical about standardisation; so I thought that we should have a standard for
corporal punishment. It is an onerous task. Thankfully my nephew Dimitri has shown a
special interest; his devotion to duty is to be commended.”
“Indeed!” replied David Flashman, tearing his eyes away from the shivering girl to
glance at the subject of Yuri’s admiration. The young man was most certainly taking his
duty very seriously. He had stripped down to the waist, revealing a remarkable physique of
chiselled muscle which many of David’s colleagues in the British diplomatic service would
have found even more appealing than the girl. He was arranging the equipment to be tested
– an array of spanking devices which David found fascinating – it was going to be a very
thorough test.
David took a sip of Cognac then placed his glass back on the table; his eyes
returning to the shivering girl before him. Then his attention was taken when Yuri reached
over and tapped his arm.
“We were planning to tie her over a gymnastic horse, but I was wondering if you
might be so kind as to assist in out little experiment. Perhaps you would be good enough
to have her over your knee and see at first hand how she reacts.”
David Flashman spluttered and coughed up half of his drink. He wiped his chin with
his handkerchief then looked over to Yuri whose face was a mask of professional
sincerity.
“Well, you know that I am always happy to help in your noble fight against crime,
Chief Karinov; so yes... if you think it would help.”
Yuri snapped his fingers and barked out a command. A moment later a couple of his
goons took hold of the girl and forced her to lie over David’s lap; her naked cunt
positioned directly over his not very large, but extremely hard cock, which was throbbing
inside his shabby trousers. They attached a rope around her wrists, binding her tightly;
then fed this under David’s chair to link to her ankles which were tethered as well. She
would have no option but to lie and take her punishment and David would feel every blow;
deliciously transferred from body to body - her tortured pain converted into his sensuous
bliss.
“Now, please proceed, Dimitri. Punish the stupid girl. And for the benefit of our
guest, and the education of this wretch, please tell us about each implement you use. To
commence with I suggest something unusual for our honoured guest, and most obliging
assistant in this worthy trial.”
“Perhaps this might be interesting,” replied Dimitri, holding up a rather strange
looking tool.”
“My wife has something like that in the kitchen,” declared David Flashman.
“A meat tenderiser; yes, it is based on the design, only this version is much larger
than the one your wife would use,” enthused Dimitri. “I had it made to my own
specifications. As you can see it has a multitude of small pyramids carved on the surface.
This is the first time I have used it. Shall we see how well it works?”
“I am impressed, Dimitri, you really are taking to this project like a true devotee
of the State – I am proud of you,” said Yuri, flourishing his cigar and Cognac in
celebration of his nephew’s ingenuity. “Please proceed and test out the implement of this
wretched girl.”
Dimitri puffed out his muscular bare chest at this wonderful praise from his hero,
his mentor, his beloved uncle. Then he drew the paddle back and aimed it straight at the
middle of the girl’s buttocks. The hundreds of pyramids bit into her flesh. The girl
bucked on David Flashman’s lap and howled out loud, the agony almost too much to bear.
“Yeah gods! That hurt the bitch,” chortled David Flashman. “Do it again, young man –
do it again!”
EXTRACT 3
By nine thirty, Natalie was waiting to be collected; she wanted to be ready well in
advance of the appointed time just in case the Chief could see her earlier. She was
wearing a light summer satin dress which showed off her bare shoulders and slender arms,
and her shapely legs as far as her knees. She had tried to dress as seductively as
possible so she wore no bra, allowing her small nipples to prod through the fabric, which
she hoped would do the trick without making her look like a total slut. But she didn’t
look seductive at all, for that was a game Natalie had never played – she looked like a
lost little girl with no idea what she was doing.
She looked perfect!
Yuri Karinov would be delighted when he saw her.
It wasn’t until after eleven that the officer arrived and escorted Natalie to Chief
Karinov’s quarters, one of several residences he made use of. By this time Natalie had
become increasingly nervous, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. The dice were
cast, however, she could not back out; although Natalie seriously questioned if she would
actually make the offer she had originally planned. She would play it by ear; see how
receptive the Chief was to her pleas; and then, and only as a last resort; she would make
the ultimate sacrifice to save her sister’s life.
She was escorted out of her cell and into the menacing atmosphere beyond. At night
the prison was even scarier than by day. Natalie was shown along the dark, stale smelling
corridors, past the dozing inmates behind the bars. She was taken to the courtyard then
into another ancient building which had a closer resemblance to a castle than a jail.
Eventually they arrived at a door on which the officer deferentially knocked.
A barked voice came from within.
The Chief, it would appear, was ready to see her.
The officer opened the door and bid Natalie enter. He did not go through himself,
however, he simply closed the door behind her.
The Chief, it would appear, would see her alone.
Yuri Karinov was sitting at his desk in the room which Natalie took to be his
office. It was dark and foreboding; the only illumination coming from the lamp on the
Chief’s desk which allowed him to read the papers he seemed to be working on.
Natalie stood by the door; her stomach was churning, all the arguments she had
practiced seemed to be drying up in her mouth. She waited and waited, the Chief taking no
notice of her; then she let out a muffled cough.
Yuri Karinov raised his eyes an inch and looked at the figure standing before him,
lurking in the shadows. For a moment he looked puzzled as to who she might be then he
raised his eyebrows in startled recognition. He was hamming up his performance even better
than Dimitri.
“Ah yes, Miss Fullerton. The other... Miss Fullerton. I understand you wish to
speak to me.”
“Yes, sir, I did,” stated Natalie, her voice quivering with fear, but she steeled
herself and pressed on. “Thank you for allowing me some of your valuable time. I wish to
speak to you about my sister...”
“I have had my fill of your sister, Miss Fullerton.”
“But, sir...”
“But enough!” snapped Yuri and he raised his hand to silence any further talk on the
subject. “Now tell me; have you been treated well during you unfortunate stay with us?”
“Yes, sir. I have no complaints. Your nephew in particular has been most kind.”
Yuri let out a derisory grunt. “Kindness will be his undoing. He needs to harden
himself up; I am too tolerant of his weakness.”
Natalie seized upon his words, sensing that the Chief might have a chink in his
gruff armour. “It is a strong man that knows tolerance,” she meekly said, “a strong man
that can show compassion. Your nephew is of your blood; he deserves your tolerance... My
sister is of my blood; please show her the same.”
Yuri stared at her for a few moments, genuinely impressed by her words. She was
frailer that her sister, but there was spirit there as well. She deserved the element of
respect he had decided to show her.
“Step forward; let me look at you.” Yuri beckoned her towards him with his hand.
On trembling legs, Natalie inched closed until she fell within the glow of the
lamp.
“Tolerance, you say!” said Yuri Karinov, his words coming slow and deliberately.
“Our two countries have shown little tolerance for each other in the past... And blood!
Now there we do have some sympathy – our histories are seeped in rivers of blood...” Yuri
paused and allowed the words to sink in. He gazed at Natalie, searched her beautiful face
and saw what she could not hide – the sacrifice that weighed heavy on her mind.
“...Tolerance and blood! Will you buy my tolerance with blood, Miss Fullerton; is that why
you have come here to see me? There is no verbal argument you can construct that will
convince me to show the clemency you seek; but blood... blood can be very persuasive.”
Natalie’s legs almost gave out on her. She could scarcely believe what the Chief was
saying; he had arrived at the nub so effortlessly, and made it perfectly clear he was open
to negotiation. Blood; her blood – the blood of a maid; sacrificed to save a sister.”
“If my blood will win your favour; then I will freely give it to you,” she answered
in a whisper, her head dropping to avoid his gaze and to conceal the blood that coloured
her cheeks.
Yuri Karinov clasped his hands together and rested his chin on the double fist. He
waited until she had raised her head then looked pensively at Natalie as if weighing her
offer up.
“Let us take a walk,” he announced after an agonising couple of minutes.
“Where to?”
“There is a room I would like you to see; a room where blood has flowed for
centuries; and still does today; a room where tolerance had been tested to the full but
has rarely been shown by me. Come, Miss Fullerton; let me show you where blood may buy
tolerance and we shall see if you are still prepared to pay.”
The Chief stood up and took Natalie by the wrist. He led her out of his office and
down a corridor until they came to a staircase. When they reached the bottom, they came to
an oak door which was studded with wrought iron nails. It looked like something that
belonged in a medieval fortress, and in reality that was what this part of the prison was.
The Chief took a large key which hung on a ring to the side and unlocked the door; it
squeaked as he forced it open.
The lighting was low, flaming touches on the walls like the day before when
Natalie’s sister had been the guest of honour and had amused the Chief with her
stubbornness of will before she eventually surrendered and got fucked by him for hours on
end – fucked front and back, shared with his men, used like the whore she now was. Now
Natalie was coaxed though into the same room, intent on buying something that her sister
had already paid for.
She gazed around the room in wonderment, her eyes bulging out, her mouth agape; her
heart fluttering in her girlish chest like a captured bird in a cage.
All the equipment was still in place from the previous day and Natalie looked at it
as if in a dream, or more like some hideous nightmare. The dungeon air was thick with the
smells of leather and wood, the scents of human suffering coated with sex, and the burning
of the kerosene touches which added some heat. Natalie shivered none the less as she took
in the scene – the benches and the racks and the stocks. She gazed in trepidation at the
high, padded bondage table and the medieval wheel that she feared was more than just an
ornament.
Natalie’s eyes drifted upwards and took in the ceiling with all the adornment her
sister had seen and the one she had been cruelly suspended from. She looked at the three
walls with their instruments of torture and then she looked at the forth which was even
scarier in appearance, and it was to there that Natalie was gently ushered, Yuri’s hand on
her back, guiding her to her fate.
Natalie came to a halt a few feet away and stared at the instrument before her.
“It is a Saint Andrew’s Cross,” said Yuri. “You no doubt recognise it from your
national flag.”
It was nothing like the cross Natalie was familiar with, the white on blue she was
so proud of. She looked at the one before her with huge apprehension, guessing that the
Chief was intent on extracting his price in an ironic way – a crucified sacrifice on her
national symbol.
Natalie tried to shy away, but Yuri took hold of her slender wrist and placed her
hand on the wood. He guided her hand to trace the grain with her palms, moving from one
arm of the cross to the other.
“Blood has been spilled here, Miss Fullerton – this wood has been drenched by it.
And your Celtic race has spilled blood to defend its own version of this cross – this
symbol of your nation. Blood and tolerance, Miss Fullerton – you came here to offer me
your blood; but the price of my tolerance is a lot higher than you might have thought.”
A moment later, Yuri spun her around by the wrist and pressed her against the cross
on the wall. He pinned her against the wood with his massive bulk and bent down to whisper
in her ear.
"You came here as the sacrificial lamb, intent on bartering your virginity to
save your slut of a sister. But I could have taken your virginity at any time – it is not
something to be bartered; it is already mine. But I want more than your precious maiden
blood, Miss Fullerton. I want your sincerity.”
"I... I don't know what you mean," she gasped, struggling to take in
what was happening. This had been part of her plan, but she now realised that her plan was
merely a component of a much grander scheme where she had no control at all.
"Yes you do,” hissed Yuri Karinov. “Blood for tolerance, Miss Fullerton;
willingly given – not grudgingly sacrificed, but happily offered; I want your total
surrender to my will. Do we have a deal?”
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