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The Stables, Corporation Safe House, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 7:40PM
Olav Birkov looked up from his cards. "Please Comrade I beg you," he said playfully, "please stop, you make me tired just watching you!"
Karl stopped pacing and blinked, turning to face the smiling bearded Russian. "Was I marching again?" he asked rubbing his nose nervously.
Olav laughed. "Better than Red Guards outside Kremlin," he said, "and there is hole in floor that wasn't there earlier.” He laughed and looked at the big German with mock sternness. “Please Comrade, have a care, “he said fighting back a grin, “we are trying to play cards here!" He nodded to the two other men at the table who were looking up accusingly at Karl. This seemed to be a big stakes game and Karl could see a large pile of English gold and silver coins on the table.
"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his nose again, "I’ve always found waiting difficult, my comrades used to say that I was the only man on the Western Front who was impatient to go over the top."
They all gave painful little smiles, it seems gallows humor was not limited to the German army.
Olav pulled out a chair and patted the seat. "Come, sit with us Comrade," he said, "we will relieve your boredom."
Karl looked at the pile of coins on the table. "And relieve my purse of some coins at the same time I bet!"
Olav grinned widely. "If that is the way the cards should fall Comrade," he said, "but who knows, luck may be with you tonight?"
Karl gave a bitter laugh. If luck had been with him then he would have spent the afternoon with Marie easing his anxieties in her soft arms. If luck had been with him Peter would have gratefully accepted his offer for the French girl and Karl would be planning their life together. The thought of Marie gave him a gnawing pain in his belly and he looked towards the stable door. He could remember the evil look Valeri had given the girl when Karl had brought her back to the house. Even now the memory made the big man shiver.
Karl shook his head. "No Comrade," he said, “I don’t think that luck is with me today, besides this game seems a little rich for me.”
Olav nodded. “Then please sit with us and try to relax,” he said.
Karl nodded and slipped into a spare chair as a new hand was dealt out. Idly he let his eyes wonder around the stable taking in the groups of men who waited to do their part in Alison Michael’s enslavement.
It was the job of the men playing cards to strip the girl and bind Alison for transport. Karl glanced at the far end of the table where the tools of the slaver's trade, leather and rubber straps, cotton cloth, bookbinders tape and lots and lots of rope waited patiently for use. Here too waited the rubber gag-mask that would keep Alison quiet during her journey and the rubber and cotton diaper device that would be her only clothing. To keep the girl from becoming chilled a paraffin heater stood nearby, something all the men were grateful for on a bitter night like this.
Peter had arranged the men in the stable on a production line basis. The second station on Alison’s trip into slavery was at the back of the building near the horses. Here the coffin stood waiting, together with the two men who would strap the girl inside and arrange the effigy. At the moment the coffin was closed while the men played chess on the lid.
Finally, Karl glanced over at the two men by the door. They didn't seem very happy and with good reason, soon it would be their turn to go out in the freezing weather and stand guard. Peter had decided to place a guard at the end of the small alleyway that linked the back of the house with the nearby street. It was possible that Alison leaving the Intercontinental would stir some unwelcome official attention. It was the job of the guards to deal with any GDU men who were foolish enough to follow the heiress to the meeting.
Olav nudged Karl. The big man blinked and glanced over. The Russian smiled and showed the big man his cards. Karl flashed Olav a knowing smile and then gave the other players a pitying look. They folded and Olav retrieved the cash from the table.
Sighing, Karl pulled some coins from his pocket. “Ok you convinced me,” he said, “Deal me in.”
Master Bedroom, Corporation Safe House, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 8:01PM
"Leona?" Peter stood in the doorway, his mouth open in amazement. It seemed that Leona had been busy in his absence, in fact she had been *very* busy. Alison's red silk dress was gone, as was the girl's silken bra, now Leona stood before him a vision in black. Peter's eyes bulged as he felt his erection pressing painfully against his pants. The quiet, bookish Leona was gone, replaced by some sex goddess fresh from the decadent clubs of Berlin. Open-mouthed Peter looked the girl over. Leona wore a black leather waist clinching corset, French knickers and silk stockings held up with black elastic garters. Her long black leather gloves and a pair of calf length, black button boots with a two-inch heel completed the outfit.
"Hello Peter," Leona purred, why don't you come over here?" she swung her elegant legs down and patted the chaise lounge with her gloved hand.
Peter swallowed. "I...,” he stuttered, “I don't understand?"
Leona gave a low, sexy giggle. "What don't you understand darling?" she drawled, "I said I would give my successful suitor *everything* and I meant it." She ran her hands down the highly curved side of her corseted body and looked up at him with big blue eyes.
"Don't you like what I am offering Peter?" she pouted.
Peter found himself nodding. "Oh I do," he said, fighting hard to suppress the quaking of his body.
"Then come over here," she said, stroking the couch again.
Peter dutifully trotted over sliding next to the girl. Leona didn't delay. Reaching up she started to loosen his tie.
"I have been waiting for this moment Peter, for the man with whom I will share my gifts." She removed his collar, then started to unbutton the front of his shirt. "Now, isn't this better than frigid little Alison?" She reached into his parted shirt, slick gloved hands stroking his hairy chest, playing across his nipples.
Peter gasped but he had no time to savor the moment. Before he knew what was happening she had loosened his cuffs and eased the shirt over his shoulders.
"There," she purred, kissing his neck with her cherry lips, "isn't that more comfortable?" She looked at him with her needful blue eyes. "Stand!" she ordered, her voice harsh and husky.
Trembling a little Peter stood. Smiling Leona loosened his belt and then his pants, sliding them downwards. Without a word Peter stepped out of his shoes kicking pants and shoes away just as Leona's hand freed his cock and slid it into her warm mouth.
Peter gasped. Leona wasn't as good as Marie but then few women had had Marie’s experience. However, Leona's technique was exquisite, it didn't take the young slaver long to loose himself in the sensation.
Then, just as the dull, preorgasmic ache started in his balls the sucking sensation suddenly stopped. He looked down, finding the girl looking back at him with a dark, sinister smile on her cherry lips.
"Kneel," Leona ordered, her leather gloved hands sliding up and down his erection. As Peter opened his mouth to object she moved her hand to his balls and squeezed. "I said kneel!"
There was something in her voice, something compelling. Trembling Peter found himself sinking to his knees before her.
"Much better," Leona said, nodding her approval, "I like a man that knows his place."
Peter blinked and again started to say something. He became aware that Leona had eased her position slightly. As he opened his mouth to speak she seized his ears, pulling his mouth onto her waiting pussy. The thin silk panties were still in place, separating his probing tongue from her wet sex, but the musk and taste of hot pussy still invaded his senses. Soon the front of the panties where wet with her juices and Leona seemed satisfied. Easing her ass from the couch she slipped the panties down around her ankles, exposing her shaved pubis with its wet and needy hole.
"Lick and suck dear Peter," Leona purred, "please your Mistress and you will be rewarded."
Down between her damp thighs Peter grunted. For now he would play along with Leona and do whatever the girl wanted. However, once they were married and Graaf's empire was his he promised himself he would show the girl just who's place it was to kneel.
All he hoped was that his men didn't find him in this humiliating position.....
Valeri and his nephew Gregor crouched outside the bedroom door, peering in through the small crack between the door and the frame. As Peter started licking young Gregor's eyes widened.
"W.. what is he doing uncle?" the youth asked.
Valeri’s brother had been killed in the war and the rat faced Russian had taken it on himself to care for his family. The boy was now old enough to learn the family business and Valeri had brought him along. Now it appeared some unexpected instruction was needed. Valeri started to explain but it seemed that the master fixer, the most skilled negotiator it the Moscow underworld, had temporarily lost his way with words. Finally he looked down at the boy. "How old are you now?" he asked.
The youth looked up, "eighteen uncle?"
"That is what I thought," Valeri said, nodding "your mother she neglects your education!"
Gregor gave the older man a puzzled look and then turned back to the crack in the door. What Leona did next really made his eyes open.
Outside the Intercontinental Hotel, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 8:43PM
The jostling of the cab woke Olga Cromenkov from her dreams. Confused the little blonde Russian girl pulled the thin shawl around her shivering body. It was cold in the cab, almost impossibly cold. Weakened from months of malnutrition she must have fainted. Once again thanked Mister Peter for the food he had given her, without it she may have fallen asleep for good. Olga bit her lip wondering how bad it was at the Central Station where her mother and sisters waited patiently for her return. She hoped they had found some shelter from the freak weather. Olga glanced outside the window at the snow that was swallowing Moscow. She hoped her mother would be all right, after years of privations the woman was prematurely old and frail and to be out on a night like this... Olga shuddered and pulled the shawl around her. It was best not to think of the bad things she decided. She looked down at the bag of food nestled between her feet and tried to imagine her family's delight. Mister Peter had promised that the family would have good seats on the train in a carriage near the engine where the steam heating was good. Olga tried to imagine what it would be to be warm and full again but it was hard; since the revolution their lives had been so difficult that she didn't think she would ever be comfortable again.
The cab stopped. "Intercontinental," the cabby croaked. The cab was drawn by horses and the cabby had been forced to sit outside in the freezing cold.
Olga gave him a pitying look as she stepped down. "I won't be long," she said as she tried to pull the shawl around her. The man looked as if he was going to say something, but changed his mind and gave her a curt nod instead. Olga turned and headed towards the doors. Before the war the hotel had been the newest and grandest in Moscow but the firefights of the Revolution and years of neglect had taken their toll. The place had a threadbare look now, like a Grand Duchess down on her luck. Despite the cold Olga paused a second, looking at the cracked tiles and faded decoration and trying to imagine the hotel in it’s heyday. If she half closed her eyes she could almost see back to a time before the Bolsheviks, when royalty and wealth would meet in the hotel’s gilded interior and passion and intrigue would ebb and flow beneath the thin veneer of society.
Olga was so transfixed that she didn't realize anything was wrong until the grating of a wheel against the hard curb caused her to look around. "Wait, she cried, waving her arm frantically, but the cab had already pulled away, the distressed horses pulling first one way and then the other as they fought to find a footing in the snow.
“No stop!” she called again. She tried to run after the departing cabby but her boots had little grip, stumbling Olga slipped and fell into the snow. Crying, she fought to stand, finally managing to regain her footing just as the cab turned the corner at the end of the street. The food!! Olga wept with frustration, believing she would be returning she had left the food inside the cab and now it was gone. A feeling of despair gripped the Russian girl's heart. What was she going to do now? Not only was the food gone there wasn't another cab or any other kind of vehicle in sight. How was she going to get to the station now? She shivered and turned back towards the welcoming doors of the hotel.
The tears started to freeze on her face, reminding the girl that for the moment, getting inside the warm hotel and finding Alison were the most important things. Afterwards... well she would think about rejoining her family later. Peter was paying them well for their time. She was sure things should work out one way or another.
Straightening her clothes and trying to look a little like she belonged there Olga slipped through the doors and into the hotel.
-=================================================
The Cellar, Corporation Safe House, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 8:50PM
Marie knew she wasn't in Hell --as a good Catholic Marie knew that Hell was hot.
And Marie was freezing to death.
She had lost track of the number of times she had slipped into unconsciousness, her whole body was either numb or burning with pain. Whimpering she begged for a quick death but it seemed even the grim reaper couldn't hear her gag muffled whispers.
Shivering, shaking, she somehow stayed alive, letting her anger warm her blood. Anger at herself for believing she could buy her life with her obedience, anger at her Lady's uncle for trusting his women folk to the care of a group of strangers and most of all anger at Peter for ignoring her love.
There was a buzzing in her ears and she passed out again. Then suddenly she saw it, a bright light pure and clean, warm and inviting. She tried to move towards it but she was still bound, dark heavy chains of guilt and anger imprisoning her soul just as effectively as the men's ropes controlled and restricted her body. Marie looked longingly towards the light. She could make out shadows moving around in the radiance, their silhouettes strangely familiar. Grandmama? Papa? Again she tried to move towards the light and again her own anger defeated her, chaining her to the physical world. Somehow she knew instinctively that she would have to forgive the men for their cruelty, dispel her anger and embrace the afterlife.
But she couldn't, fear and anger defeated her, she wanted to live......
She heard, no *felt*, a low chuckle.
"Why would such a pretty little girl want to die?" the voice purred.
"The.. the pain," she mumbled into the gag.
"You have felt worse, much, much worse...."
She had, she knew that, but there was more to this than just the pain. The men had used then rejected her, thrown her aside, she had obeyed them and in the end they had treated her like another piece of meat....
"And you had expected murderers and kidnappers to value you more than their other victims?" the voice asked.
Said like that she realized how stupid she had been. They had never treated her as anything but an object, a sexual plaything and servant. She had allowed herself to be tricked by her own need to be valued, to love and be loved. She had transferred her needs to them, seeing every absence of cruelty as a mark of affection.
"Does that make you angry?" the dark voice asked.
Marie was too upset to speak. Instead she just nodded.
"Good, good," the voice said, it's satisfaction evident, "use your anger, feel it's POWER, channel it, use it to give yourself the strength you need to survive."
Marie looked towards the light and the thin ghosts of her loved ones. It seemed to be fading, growing further away. Part of her wanted to go too, away from the suffering and the pain.
The voice seemed to sense her indecision. "You have a choice," it told her, "You can go into the light and be one with eternity, or you can take my hand and fulfill your true destiny at my side."
Marie looked towards the light, then the other way where a dark figure waited with his hand outstretched. His cloak seemed to be made from liquid darkness all black and flowing as if it had a life of it's own. The face was covered by a thick leather mask behind which only a pair of black and gold eyes were visible.
She looked once more towards the light but she knew instinctively that her destiny lay elsewhere. As the radiance faded she stepped towards the dark stranger taking his offered hand. Courteously, he raised her hand to his mouth, kissing gently.
"Serve me little one and all that you desire will be yours," he said, "*I* value your service. You will have power and riches that will make you the envy of the mortal world and I can offer you more, so much more than you can possibly imagine."
He looked at her, the black and gold eyes seeming to look into her very soul, knowing her like no other had ever known her. She found it strangely comforting, like she was a child again sitting on the knee of an all knowing, all powerful father.
"You want revenge," he said with approval.
"Yes," she whispered, almost lost in the pools of crystal infinity that were his eyes.
"Then you shall have it," he said, "you can take from them what they took from you. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth...."
"Yes," Marie whispered again. She had once considered becoming a nun and had faithfully studied the bible in both French and Latin. Over the long, horrible, years of her captivity she had fallen back on the well remembered text, using it for strength, concentrating on the old testament, on tales that promised fire and brimstone to punish the wicked. Back then it seemed that her prayers had gone unanswered, that her God had abandoned her. Now she knew the truth, her prayers had been answered by a creature of darkness and yet that thought didn't scare her as it once would. After eight long years of slavery she was willing to accept salvation or damnation if it gave her freedom. As she sank to her knees before the brooding figure Lucifer's last words echoed in her head, it was better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven.
She looked up at him as a question formed in her mind, one that seemed right and proper for her to ask.
"What is thy bidding my Master?" she asked.
The Intercontinental Hotel, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 8:51PM
Olga had worried that getting inside the hotel would be difficult, dressed in simple peasant’s clothes she hardly fitted in with the wealthy foreigners that were guests there. Peter too had foreseen trouble, telling the girl that she should insist on seeing Miss Allison in person if anyone stopped her from delivering the message.
However, for once the extreme weather worked to her advantage. Most of the guest had decided to stay in tonight and two parties, one playing Jazz the other more refined dance music had started up in the hotel's two ballrooms. A third group of guests were mulling around the lobby exchanging chit chat and a fourth group, made up of ordinary Russian's sheltering from the cold, were managing to keep the GRU men busy.
Amidst all the noise and confusion the little blonde girl slipped in without being noticed. She headed off towards the elevators, which were both out of service. However, like all modern buildings the Intercontinental had a service staircase behind the lift. Relieved that she had not been stopped or challenged Olga started up the stairs.
She had to rest frequently. It was only a few flights to Alison’s floor but the girl found the stairs hard going in her weakened state. Panting and tired Olga hurried as best she could hoping to reach Alison's room before she was discovered.
At last she reached the right floor, and padded through the corridors checking the room numbers. Olga managed to miss the room the first two times before she finally realized that the door was at the end of a short side corridor.
She straightened her clothes and nervously knocked on the door.
Olga frowned and knocked again. She had expected the door to be quickly answered, her parent had told her that rich people had army’s of servants just waiting to do mundane tasks like answer doors. She knocked a third time and waited patiently for a few minutes but it didn't seem that anyone was in a hurry to see her. The blonde girl frowned. She could tell that the room was occupied by the faint sound of Jazz music that came through the door. She knocked again with no response and was wondering what to do when the music stopped. Taking a deep breath she knocked harder this time, placing her ear close by the door to see if she could hear any movement inside. There was something.... a barely audible moaning sound.... Olga frowned and started to turn away as the music started up again. Perhaps Miss Michael's servants didn't open the door to unannounced guests? Olga sighed and looked down the corridor towards the stairs. She would just have to walk down to the lobby and telephone Alison's room. She sighed again, after coming all this way undetected it seemed that she would have to face the hotel staff after all. She turned to leave.
Just then the door opened a little.
"Yes?" a female voice with an American accent asked.
Olga pulled herself upright. "I..I have a letter for Miss Michaels," she said holding up the note.
There was a slight pause. "Ok, I'll take that," the American girl said. The door opened a little wider, just enough so that a naked arm could slide out.
Olga looked but could see very little of the person inside the room. Olga had her orders and after coming this far she wasn’t about to fail at the last hurdle. As the hand drew closer Olga snatched the note away. "I have instructions to give this to Miss Michaels in person," she said, “Mister Peter was very insistent on that.” Olga thought she detected a small shrug from the figure in the doorway.
"Sure," the American said, "why not? The more the merrier."
More? Olga didn't really know what the American girl was talking about. Not that it mattered; Olga would listen to complete nonsense if it got her inside to see Alison. After a moment the door opened a little wider and a grateful Olga slipped inside.
Once inside Olga was transfixed by the size of the room. Never in her life had the girl seen so much space dedicated to one person. Stunned she looked around. The hotel room was a little shabby and threadbare compared to its heyday but it was still possible to see the richness of the original decoration and the luxury of the furnishings. In one corner of the room was a pile of trunks, cases and hatboxes that seemed to contain Miss Alison's wardrobe. A short distance away stood a huge wooden four poster bed, the heavy brocade curtains closed, hiding the inside from view. Beside the bed on a small polished wooden dresser sat a small, red, wind up portable gramophone that was blasting out a cheerful ragtime dance number.
There was a small cough from behind. "I believe you said you had a message for me?" the American girl said.
Olga turned. She'd thought she had been speaking to a servant, after all a woman as rich as Alison Michaels would hardly answer her own door, however one look at the speaker told Olga that she had made a serious mistake. The American girl was dressed in a full length silk robe covered in Chinese designs. Her red hair was expertly styled, her makeup perfect and she seemed to exude a feeling of wealth and power. There could be no doubt that this was the American heiress.
Olga's parents, reactionary to the last had taught their daughters how to behave in front of their social betters. Swallowing deeply Olga curtsied. "Begging your pardon Miss," Olga said, "I didn’t mean to speak out of place. I thought that you were a maid servant."
Alison ignored the apology and stepped forward. "You have a letter," she prompted holding out her hand. The new Alison had no time for small talk.
Olga flushed and recovered the envelope from her shawl. "H..here Ma'am," she stammered, "it's from Mister Peter...." Olga froze in horror as she realized that she didn't even know Peter's second name.
Alison tore the letter open and read the note inside. She looked up bemused. "This says that my friend Miss Leona has been hurt," she said, "what do you know about it?"
"I know nothing Ma'am," Olga said reverently. Alison gave her a quizzical look then glanced down at the note once more.
Olga found herself blushing and moving uncomfortably from foot to foot. Mr. Valeri had explained how she should answer any questions about Miss Leona's wellbeing. He had claimed that the story was just a joke, a trick to get Miss Alison to come to Mister Peter's house for a party. If it had been Mister Peter who had told her Olga would have believed him completely, the young German was rich and handsome and it was hard to imagine him doing anything underhand. However Valeri was different, Olga had seen the looks the rat faced Russian had given Olga and her sisters when he thought that no one would notice. There was a disturbing quality about that look, a lust and hunger that made the girl uneasy. Try as she might she didn't trust Valeri and she certainly wouldn't lie for him.
“Have you seen Miss Leona?” Alison asked her eyes scanned the blonde girl’s face watching every reaction.
“Y...yes miss,” Olga said nervously. The girl flushed an even deeper red.
“How was she when you last saw her?” Alison pressed, “be truthful now!”
Olga swallowed. Her parent’s moral code and the family’s current needs were in direct conflict. Much as she wanted to help Mister Peter, much as her family needed the money, she couldn’t lie to her betters. “She was well miss,” Olga said shuffling from foot to foot.
“And how long have you worked for Mister Peter?” Alison asked. She could sense though her implant that Leona was well, now the only question was if this girl was a Corporate operative or just an innocent servant.
“J....just today miss,” Olga said truthfully, “he needed some extra domestic help.” Blushing and downtrodden Olga looked for a way to escape. “I...I have to go to the station now miss,” she stammered, “my family is waiting for me there.”
Alison frowned her face suddenly concerned. “In this weather? Nonsense! I think you should stay with us tonight. Your family knows that you are here?”
Us? Olga looked around puzzled, as far as she could tell the room was empty. “N..no Miss,” she said, “Mister Peter is the only one that knows. He sent me with the message Miss, I was supposed to go straight on to the station but my cab went away..” Olga started to sob.
“There, there,” Alison said kindly, “then you must stay with us tonight. I will send a messenger to the station to tell your family where you are. I doubt there will be any trains tonight, not in this weather. If they like they could join us? I’m sure we can find them rooms?”
Olga sniffled. “Rooms here miss?” she asked, “w...we couldn’t it’s too expensive..”
“Tish,” Alison said dismissively, “there is a blizzard out there. I wouldn’t send a dog out on a night like this.” Alison looked the girl over. “ Now, take your shawl off, and sit down,” she ordered.
“Please miss I....” Olga started.
“Do as I said girl,” Alison snapped.
There was a tone in Alison’s voice, one she had been taught since childhood to respect and obey. Trembling a little Olga slipped the shawl and her thin outer coat off. Underneath a white cotton blouse, a little threadbare from frequent washing, and a long, thick winter skirt made the girl look quite presentable.
Just then the gramophone stopped and in the sudden silence Olga could hear another sound, a faint moaning that came from the direction of the bed.
Alison looked the girl over. She seemed to respond well to orders; it wouldn’t take much to get her to obey without question and her young body though malnourished looked just delicious. Best of all the only people that knew that the girl was here were unlikely to survive the night. Alison nodded. “You’ll do,” she said.
“D...do?” Olga asked.
“I have an opening for a new servant,” Alison said regally, “this girl will have very special duties. I expect absolute loyalty and a willingness to serve. The job is yours if you want it. Would you like that?”
Olga’s heart beat faster. Employment by Alison Michaels! That meant that she would have to accompany her new mistress to the United States. Olga’s eyes widened as she realized the possibilities, she could send for her family, in the land of plenty they would never be poor or hungry again.
Olga cleared her throat. “Yes miss,” she said curtsying, “Very much miss.”
“Good. Then it’s settled,” Alison said, “as you know I am Alison Michaels of New York. You are?”
The blonde Russian girl curtsied. “Olga. Olga Cromenkov miss. I.... I can’t offer any references. I have never been in service before.” Olga swallowed. Compelled by her upbringing to tell the truth the girl could only hope that Miss Alison would not change her mind.
“That won’t be necessary,” Alison drawled as she casually looked the girl over. “I’m sure Mr Peter will vouch for you. Besides I have a feeling that you will prove to be very obedient and slavishly loyal.” Alison’s mouth quirked at her joke.
Olga cursied again. “Yes Miss, thank you Miss,” she said happily.
“Good,” Alison said her eyes taking in Olga’s fit young body. “Now, take your blouse off,” she ordered, her voice suddenly stern, “boots and skirt too.”
Olga gave her a startled look. “M...my skirt? W..why Miss?”
Alison smiled slyly. “They are soaked through my dear,” she said smoothly, “we need to get them dried or you’ll catch your death. My servant has a bag here, you seem to be her size, I’m sure something of hers will be most suitable.”
“But my family at the station?” Olga said.
“We will send a messenger and tell them where you are,” Alison said. “If they like they can join us here for dinner. I’m sure it’s warmer to wait here than at the station. Now, get out of those rags.”
Convinced but still a little embarrassed, Olga loosened her belt and stepped out of the wet skirt, a moment later she slipped out of the blouse and stood shivering in front of Alison. The heiress looked the girl over. Yes, the girl would make a fine servant for her and for her new dark Master. The Russian was young and inexperienced just like little Sophie; Alison had no doubts that she could easily enslave the young servants for her dark lord. She would assault their naive young bodies with pleasure, use it to pervert them, to twist their minds to serve the Master’s dark purpose. Now all that was needed was to restrain the girl until the Master arrived.
Smiling, Alison looked over to the small red gramophone. “Be a darling and put on some music while I find you some dry things my dear,” she said lightly.
Olga flushed a little as she curtsied in her underwear. Alison found the girl’s embarrassment delicious and laughed. Still blushing, Olga padded over to the bed.
As she came closer the small groaning sounds she had heard earlier became louder. Olga frowned, she had assumed that the noises were in some way connected to the gramophone but now she realized that the sound came from the bed. She frowned but didn’t immediately investigate. Instead she wound the gramophone and set the needle back to the beginning of the ragtime record. Only then did she move the curtain aside and take a little peak.
What she saw stunned her.
The naked girl was bound spread eagle to the bed, her young body covered in sweat, her brown hair matted and stuck to her skull. Her eyes where wide and begging, her cheeks wet with tears, the lower half of her face covered by a tightly bound scarf, part of a thick gag that reduced her cries to the muffled moaning that Olga had heard.
Sophia looked up at the stunned blonde girl and whimpered into the gag. Begging for release, begging for an end to the constant teasing that the little symbiont had subjected the bound maid to for the last few hours. More than anything though Sophie was begging to be allowed to cum. Her entire body was sensitized, held on the brink of an orgasm of mind shattering proportions. As Olga looked on horrified, Sophia raised her ass from the bed, wiggling her symbiont covered crotch at the young Russian girl and begging to be fucked.
Alison slid behind Olga.
“This is my other servant Sophia,” she explained lightly, “as you can see I like to keep my employees.... stimulated.”
Her lips quirked into a smile as Olga turned, shocked and scared, her mouth opening as she prepared to scream.
Alison pounced, covering Olga’s open mouth with her hand. At Alison’s command the symbiont, which was still covering her body beneath the robe, slid down the heiress’ arm and enveloped Olga’s entire head. The device manifested a bulbous plug that filled the startled girl’s open mouth, blocking off her wild scream of shock. As a reflex she bit down which proved to be a mistake, the thick black substance flowed around her teeth, effectively welding her mouth closed. The bulb in her mouth reshaped itself, filling her oral cavity completely. A tube slid down her throat and into her lungs to furnish life giving oxygen. In the process the airflow to her vocal cords was bypassed and in seconds Olga Cromenkov was completely and utterly silenced. Yet more of the symbiont flowed into her ear canals filling them and cutting her off from all outside sounds.
Suddenly deaf, dumb and blind, Olga shook her head, thrashing around in blind panic. A second later she made the mistake of trying to claw the substance from her face, the alien device simply flowed through her fingers, enveloping her hands and welding them to her head.
Mentally, Alison gave orders for the air supply to stop. Olga thrashed even harder for a moment or two, but finally oxygen debt robbed her of her ability to fight and she sank weakly to her knees.
“Listen to me slave,” Alison said, the symbiont converting her mental orders to sound for her new captive, “if you do as you are told I will let you breathe again. Agreed?”
Olga nodded energetically.
Alison restored the air supply and helped Olga to her feet. For a moment she amused herself by playing with Olga’s firm young breasts. Then Alison pulled back the drapes and looked down on the wet and needful Sophie. She smiled as the servant girl begged and waved her pussy. “Soon my dear Sophie,” Alison promised, “put first I have to help our new little Russian friend get a little more naked.”
Whistling along to the ragtime song, Alison started to prepare her new playthings.
Master Bedroom, Corporation Safe House, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 8:50PM
Peter moaned and arched his back tugging desperately on the ropes that bound him spread eagle to the bed. Down between his thighs, Leona’s tongue was flickering across the head of his cock, one slick gloved hand pumping the shaft while the other toyed with his balls. Peter bit his lip and arched his back in response most of his mind completely lost in the exquisite sensation. The tiny part of his consciousness that could still think was trying to figure out how it was that he had ended up bound naked to his own bed using his own ropes.
He found that he couldn’t put his finger on the exact moment he had lost control of the situation. Each stage in the journey from the cool Corporation operative that had entered the room to the bound sexual plaything he now was, had seemed reasonable and normal when Leona suggested it. Somehow she had teased him into stripping for her, had managed to get him to give her oral sex and finally after finding some overlooked rope under his bed she had talked him into letting her tie him. All of it had made sense at the time but now?
Before Peter could think any further, Leona sucked deeply on his cock and Peter’s thoughts dissolved into another kaleidoscope of pleasure. Moaning in ecstasy he settled back, his balls where starting to ache with need, his sweat covered body trembling as she licked and teased. A second later, when she made him beg to be fucked, Peter was glad for the opportunity.
Smiling, Leona stuffed her soiled knickers into Peter’s mouth, using a scarf and a stocking to tie them firmly in place. While her body automatically continued it’s teasing her expanded mind reached out, analyzing the building around her, picking out the concentrations of men and observing their actions. It became clear that the end game was afoot. As she sucked on Peter’s throbbing erection Leona’s alien senses were watching the men who had gathered outside the bedroom door as they prepared their attack.
As leader Valeri was first through the door, followed by Gregor and a German operative called Anton. All three were dressed in dark clothes, all three wore wide black bandana’s over their mouths and noses to hide their faces. Valeri had a revolver, which he raised and pointed at the couple on the bed. In keeping with their cover story the robber’s fained surprised at the sexual games underway on the bed, a few choice comments were made in Russian as the men closed on their victims.
Valeri waved the gun at Leona and said in German, “Step away from your boyfriend fraulein, do as you are told and nobody will be hurt.”
Leona hesitated, looked at Valeri and his gun then rose to her feet. Hands raised, Leona stepped away from the bed and walked over to the far wall as directed.
“What can we do for you boys?” Leona asked coyly. As she walked she wiggled her naked crotch a little, allowing all the men to get a good view.
“This is a robbery,” Valeri said, his attention transfixed on the girl’s wet sex. “If you do as you are told then nobody will be hurt.” He nudged Gregor who was standing next to him but the youth seemed hypnotized by Leona’s wet pussy. Irritated, Valeri nudged him again and this time Gregor blinked and looked around.
“Check him,” Valeri said in Russian nodding towards Peter. Gregor nodded silently and started towards the bed.
Valeri laughed. “I don’t think he will give us any trouble,” he said to Leona in German. He gave the girl a small bow. “Thanks to you fraulein.”
“My pleasure,” Leona said coolly. Behind Valeri, Anton had produced some rope and other bondage supplies from the bag. Valeri noticed and nodded at the half naked girl. “Tie her up and gag her,” he ordered briskly, “make sure she stays quiet. Be quick, remember we have work to do here.”
Gregor finished checking Peter. “T...this one’s secure,” he said in Russian “S...shall I help with the girl?”
Behind his mask Valeri smiled; he could tell by the way Gregor was trembling that the boy wanted to play with Leona. “Why not?” Valeri said, “I think Ivan could use the help.” Laughing, he watched as Gregor padded over. The use of the female captives was a fringe benefit of working for the Corporation. If Gregor was to learn his new trade he may as well sample the good things too.
With Peter secure the gun seemed unnecessary. As Anton approached Leona with a length of rope, Valeri started to put the gun away. He barely had time to realize his mistake.
The old Leona would have accepted her position as the weaker sex and cooperated with the men but the girl had changed a lot in the past few hours. The little egg of darkness the Master had implanted, the one she had incorporated into herself, had changed her personality. The egg had something ......... For a moment the girl tried to think of a suitable word. In the end the darkness spoke for itself.
"Attitude," it said.
And that attitude meant that Leona wouldn’t just lie back and take it. She hated the way the leader had said to bind and gag her as if there was nothing she could do to stop them. Now to compound the insult he had put his gun away as if saying that she wasn’t dangerous enough to bother with. Leona flushed. It was demeaning! Well she would show them who was helpless!
As Gregor came closer Leona stepped smartly to one side and kicked him in the balls, hard and very fast, doubling the boy over and crippling him with pain. Before he could react Anton received an elbow hard in the face and a knee in his solar plexus. Less than a second later, as Valeri started to pull the gun out again, Leona grabbed the stunned Anton by the arm and threw him at Valeri. As the two men collided the gun was knocked flying from Valeri’s hand, skittled across the polished wooden floor and slid under the bed.
The men on the floor where struggling to untangle themselves from each other so Leona turned her attention back to the doubled over Gregor. Grabbing the boy by the hair she started to pound his face into a nearby wall. After the fifth time she paused, pushed the boy to his knees and kicked him hard in the jaw. Gregor was hurled backwards, falling heavily on the floor and didn’t move again. By now Anton had started to struggle to his feet. Seeing her opportunity Leona charged forward and rewarded him with a brisk kick to the jaw that set him flying into Valeri again. While Valeri tried to move Anton from on top of him Leona treated him to a vicious kick to the side of the head.
“ I am extremely displeased,” Leona said as she kicked Valeri viciously in the side, “can’t you see I was busy? How dare you interrupt me like this! What kind of a man are you?” Before the Valeri could answer she drove her boot heel hard into his crotch.
Anton, now desperate to escape, was crawling towards the door. Leona let him struggle to his feet before she planted her foot on his behind and sent him sprawling through the bedroom door and headfirst down the stairs. Then she turned and surveyed the carnage. Gregor lay unconscious on the floor while his uncle Valeri was crawling towards the bed in a desperate attempt to retrieve the lost gun.
Leona strode over, two hard kicks in Valeri’s ribs soon putting paid to that idea. As the rat faced Russian writhed in agony Leona dropped down, putting all her weight onto one knee which she plowed hard into Valeri’s stomach. The man folded in two, winded and beaten. With pained eyes he looked up just as Leona stood and kicked him hard in the side of the head. After that Valeri saw nothing but stars.
Pleased that it was going so well Leona dusted off her hands. There where other men here of course, using her Master’s technology she could sense a second group who had just left the kitchen to investigate the sound of the unfortunate, falling Anton. It wouldn’t be long before they came upstairs after her and she doubted that she could take this group by surprise so easily. The girl frowned. One of the gloves she was wearing was not what it appeared to be. The Master called it the Gauntlet and it was the alien device that the girl had used earlier on the chocolate box. At the moment she was only using it to scan her surroundings but she knew it could do much, much more. On her hand she was wearing a weapon of mass destruction.
It was a pity she hadn’t had time to work out how to use it.
As she sensed the second group of men starting up the stairs she made her decision, falling to her knees in front of the bed Leona started after the gun. She was struggling under the bed frame her hand reaching towards the gun barrel when she sensed a presence nearby.
“You did well my little one,” the disembodied voice of her Master said in her mind, “but now you must lose. They must believe that their plan is working. You may rest now, your honor has been satisfied.”
Disappointed Leona forced herself to relax and accept the inevitable. She knew that the men would be here soon and the fear of their vengeance gripped her. To be alone and in their mercy, she shuddered to think what could happen. Then she sensed another presence in the room, another mind enslaved to her Master, an unseen but potent protector there to ensure her safety.
Leona sighed with relief and relaxed. A moment later she felt strong hands on her legs as she was pulled kicking and screaming from beneath the bed. A gloved hand covered her mouth sealing in her screams of alarm. Leona looked up to find the three other Corporation men, the ones who had been waiting to ambush Alison, bending over her. She struggled as they cruelly twisted her wrists behind her and locked them together with handcuffs. Rough ropes bit into her arms, then the hand was removed from her mouth and a wad of cloth inserted. Leona struggled of course, enough to persuade the men that they were taking her by force but in truth the fight was over for the moment.
Sometimes battles had to be lost in order to win the war.
The Stables, Corporation Safe House, Moscow
Tuesday January 1st 1929 9:15PM
Karl walked over to the brassier that stood near the doors. The two men huddled over the glowing coals had just been relieved as lookouts. White flecks of snow still clung to the shoulders of their brown army great coats.
"How is it?" Karl asked the older man in Russian.
The man shivered. "Freezing Comrade and yet the snow falls so fast a man cannot see more than a few feet. I am from Siberia and in all my years I have seen nothing like it. It is almost as of God himself is against us."
Karl nodded and gave the door a worried look. Getting the girl to Leningrad tonight was essential if Peter's plan was to work. Once Alison was reported missing the Soviet authorities were more than capable of sealing off the city and searching it house by house. If they kidnapped Alison and were unable to get her out of town quickly then discovery seemed inevitable.
"Do you think the truck will make it?" Karl asked. From somewhere Valeri had acquired a Russian two ton army truck which had been painted with the markings of the local Soviet. The men dressed in Red Army uniforms would accompany the coffin to the station and it was hoped that the combination of the “honor guard” and the "official vehicle" would persuade the officials at the station not to look too closely at the shipment. At least, that had been the theory. The problem was that the truck, in common with many Soviet vehicles had hard rubber tires, the tread on which had long since worn away. It was hard to see how the vehicle could make much progress in this blizzard.
The taller of the two men shook his head. "I don't think so Comrade," he said, "perhaps the wagon would be best, yes?" The truck had been an unexpected addition to the plan and the original vehicle, a small horse drawn wagon, was also available. Karl looked at the men again. If necessary they would carry the coffin the short distance to the station on their shoulders, they had to get Alison out of Moscow tonight no matter what. Deep in thought Karl glanced over at the stalls that held the horses. The animals seemed warm and happy, they probably wouldn't be easy to get out into the cold. Then there was the question of the wagon.
Sighing Karl headed over to the chair on which he’d dumped his outer clothes and struggled into his heavy winter coat. The men at the brassier gave him a curious look. "You are not going out there comrade?" the older one asked.
"I have to see for myself," the big Bavarian answered as he pulled on his fur hat, "once the plan is started it cannot be stopped and if the weather is too bad for us to continue I need to know that now."
The Russians at the card table looked up accusingly and started to pull on their overcoats. It was so cold outside that even with the brassier and the paraffin heaters the draft from the door soon cooled the entire room. Karl pulled on his gloves, adjusted his scarf and nodded to the rest of the men. "I'm going out," he said attempting to smile as he remembered the last words of the gallant Captain Oates, "I may be some time."
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