Bondage/BDSM Thrillers
Sex Slavery / Training Strong BDSM Content
Setting:
Present Day
Published
12 / 2009
AVAILABLE FORMATS: PALM (PDB) Mobi (MOBI) - Kindle Friendly MSWord (DOC) PDF MSReader (LIT) Text RTF EPUB Sony Reader (LRF)
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SYNOPSIS
Countess Caroline Orlovsky, a slender large-breasted blonde was captive in the Gulag, at the hands and the mercy of Igor - a man who doesn't ask, he just takes. And this story begins the night after Igor spent many happy hours taking the Countess.
Her Diary - a collection of events at the Gulag reveals:
I don’t know from one day to the next what is going to happen to me.
Last night I was subjected to yet another attack by Igor. He entered my cell while I was sleeping. He put the handcuffs on me, then tied me in the knees-to-chin position with a length of coarse hempen rope. He then scourged my haunches with a riding quirt. The pain was excruciating. I begged him to stop.
Last night the thrusting went on and on. Once he got his cock in me he went wild. He fucked me savagely. His penis is huge. I felt as if I had a fence post in my pussy. The coarse ropes were cutting into my thighs. I was humiliated, trussed up like…like a turkey. I was Igor’s woman-thing, his fucking block.
And that was when things really started to happen...
EXTRACT
October 17. Major Popov, commandant of the Gulag, came to visit me today. He is a slender
man with prominent teeth and a ratty little mustache. His black eyes are cold and
unfeeling. He looks like a big evil ferret.
Major Popov had a clipboard in his hand. He read off my name.
“Countess Caroline Orlovska?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answered meekly. I was sure that I had to act in a very submissive manner
to avoid being beaten by this ferret-like degenerate.
Major Popov walked around me, as if he were inspecting a side of beef. His uniform was
dark brown, and he had a great many shining medals on his chest. His trousers were tucked
into great high gleaming boots, and he carried in his hand an ivory swagger stick.
“You’re a well-conformed bitch, Countess,” he muttered, poking at my nipples with the
point of his swagger stick.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, standing stiffly at attention.
“Quite a comedown for a Countess, isn’t it? Being a prisoner in a Siberian Gulag.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Major Popov walked around behind me and gave my haunches a sharp rap with his swagger
stick. Then he came around in front of me and poked the point of his vile swagger stick
into my pussy. I was terrified that he might ram it all the way up me, but he merely
explored a bit, then withdrew the stick and poked it into my mouth.
“You’ve got a nice tight little cunt, Countess,” he said with a sneer, his black eyes
cold and expressionless. “Do you like the way your pussy tastes?”
“Yes, Sir,” I muttered, fighting back helpless tears of rage and humiliation.
“Ah, yes,” the ferret-like officer said, rapping on his gleaming black boot with his
swagger stick. “There’s no satisfaction quite like that of bringing a pampered countess to
her knees and making her grovel like a servile, whimpering puppy!”
