German Embassy, Moscow

11:01PM December 31st, 1928  

Leona Graaf tried to adjust her tiara for the fifth time. She failed miserably.

“Arrgghh!!!!” she screamed at the empty washroom. She stamped her foot, damn Peter, damn him! She sighed and looked in the mirror again. The tiara remained at a drunken angle on her head, mocking her efforts. Worse, some more of her fine blonde hair had come loose and fallen across her face. Trembling with anger she tried again. First she put the hair back in place, then she moved the little collection of paste jewels and pearls to one side. She paused, peering into the washroom mirror then shifted the tiara the other way. Somehow, she finally managed to get the little crown to sit more or less centrally on her head. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself down. No matter how angry she got it was unlikely to improve the situation, it was best to try and focus on what needed to be done. Calmer now, Leona opened her eyes and looked down at her beaded party dress.

The outfit would have been fine for  a night out in Munich or an informal party but she was completely underdressed for an Embassy reception. Damn Peter! Why hadn’t the bastard told her where they were really going? Leona had many more suitable outfits in her trunk but Peter had said that they were going to a New Years party and had only sprung the Embassy on them once they were in the car. Leona felt the anger rise in her again. She had seen the looks the other women had given her when she’d been announced, the overly polite nods and  the whispered comments after she had passed. God, even the Russian women were laughing at her and they knew nothing about style. 

Not for the first time Leona wondered what she was doing here? New Years Eve 1928 should be being spent with her father back in Munich, not making small talk at the German Embassy in Moscow. If she’d had any sense Leona should have turned around and left. Only her friendship with Alison had caused her to stay behind. Leona grabbed the seams of her dress and tried to adjust them with her white opera gloved hands.  Yes, she had to look out for Alison, had to ensure that her American friend kept Peter Heiden at a safe distance.

They had met Peter at a party in Munich. Young and good looking, he had claimed to be the son of an industrialist from Heidelberg and to have attended the university there. He had cut a dashing figure with his rugged good looks and the dueling scars he’d acquired as an undergraduate.

Alison had fallen under his spell almost immediately. The young American had been completely taken in by his charm and old world manners, hanging on his every word like he was a guru. Leona hadn’t fallen so easily for the young man’s charm, there was something shifty about him, something in his eyes. When Peter had suggested that they should visit some of the capitals cities of eastern Europe Leona had done her best to talk her friend out of the idea. There were difficulties in getting visas she’d explained and there was no way that she was going _anywhere_ without her maid. To Leona’s horror Alison had quickly agreed to Peter’s suggestion, using her money and influence to secure the necessary visas and passes in record time.

At twenty one Alison Michaels was one of the richest women in the world and since the death of her parents in an auto accident there had been no one to tell her what to do. Stubborn and spirited she had ignored all of Leona’s warning. As Alison had prepared to leave with Peter, Leona had been left with little choice but to go along with them.

The girl shivered, remembering the look Peter had given her when Alison had announced that Leona was to accompany them. There was a darkness in that look that Leona  hoped she would never see again, a murderous stare almost hidden by a thin veneer of charm. At the time he had seemed to accept it with good grace but almost immediately he had tried to get the pretty American heiress to himself. There had been that time in Prague when Leona had been directed to the wrong train, the mysterious double booking in Moscow that had forced her into a different hotel. As these “accidents” had become more and more blatant Leona had started to worry about their safety. 

There were a lot of good reasons for Peter’s interest  ---since the War Germany had been almost bankrupt and there were lots of young men from good families hardly able to make a living. The prospect of a good marriage and a way into America would be reason enough for Peter’s interest. In addition Alison’s huge fortune made her far too tempting to pass up. However, Leona was worried that Peter had more in mind than just a wedding. In recent days Peter’s little schemes had seemed to be centered on separating the girls for just a few hours. Admittedly he could be plotting an elopement but Leona could see darker motives.

She gave the mirror another worried look and straightened her dress one final time. That settled it! Despite everything she had to stay at the party otherwise she would be leaving Alison in Peter’s hands.  Tomorrow she would take her friend aside and beg her to return to Munich straight away. It seemed that some of Alison’s infatuation with Peter had started to wear off, with luck she could be persuaded. If the girls were quick there was a chance they could leave Moscow without Peter knowing.

Feeling better now that she had a plan, Leona returned to the ballroom.

The room was full to overflowing. The British had withdrawn diplomatic relations following Soviet support for the British Miner’s strike of 1927 and the Americans hadn’t normalized relations since the revolution. As a result the Germans had the best party in town this year. For a moment Leona let her eyes scan the room taking in the revelers. It was easy to spot the Russians as they were dressed in badly made, ill fitting copies of last years fashions. The westerners were a mixed group, mainly German but with a large contingent of Americans and British who where there despite their government’s policies. Relieved, she caught a glimpse of Alison standing off to one side of the room talking with Peter and one of the Embassy staff. The redhead was quite a beauty and dressed in the latest French fashions she was attracting all the young men. Leona nodded her satisfaction. Hopefully seeing off the competition would keep Peter busy for the moment.

Right now Leona was thirsty. A waiter passed by and she tried desperately to attract his attention. Failing, she looked around for a drink.

“Fraulein, please allow me.”

Leona blinked and looked around. A young man with dark hair, small goatee beard and mustache was standing next to her patiently offering a flute of Champaign. Leona took the glass gratefully.

“Thank you Herr?”

“Comrade,” he corrected her with a small smile, “Comrade Representative Aleksei Rostov at your service madam.”

He gave a small bow and kissed the back if her gloved hand.

She smiled. “I am...” she began.

“Fraulein Leona Graaf of Munich,” he said in perfect German. “Your father is the owner and operator of Bayern Chemistrifabric, the fifth largest chemical company in Germany.”

“Third largest,” Leona said, sipping the Champaign, “two of those factories were in the Lorrane and were succeeded to France as part of the reparations.”

“Ah,” he said, “I stand corrected.” He smiled.

Leona looked him over. Unusually for a Russian his suit seemed to be both well made and well fitted. His face, though narrow and feral, seemed strangely handsome but it was his eyes that captured her attention. The  pupils were huge and black with thin lines of gold radiating from the center almost like a spider’s web. The effect was make the eye look large and almost crystalline. As she continued to look Leona found herself falling into his eyes. His intense unwavering gaze seemed bottomless and Leona began to loose herself in its depths. There at the bottom an intelligence burned, dark and disturbing. Leona recoiled, blinked, fought her way back......

“Errr yes,” she managed to say at last, “well you know so much about me.... why don’t you tell me something about yourself. Starting with why you speak such excellent German?”

He laughed. “My mother was German,” Aleksei said, sipping his own wine, “my father was educated in Germany and they met and married while he was there. When he returned to Russia she came too. My father was a geologist working for the Imperial Science Commission. About a year after they were married he was posted to Siberia to do the first full geological survey. That was where I was born, in a little shack on the Tunguska river. Needless to say there were no state schools so I was educated by my parents, hence my excellent German. When the Japanese invaded after the Revolution I took it upon myself to organize the local Soviet. That is how come I’m the official representative for the Irkutsk region.”

“So you are a career politician?” Leona asked, swallowing a mouthful of wine.

Aleksei smiled. “I am a servant of the will of the people,” he said at last, “and when I was summoned to Moscow of course I came.”

“Summoned?” Leona asked, “that sounds mysterious.”

He laughed. “There is a  tradition started long ago by the Czars.” he whispered conspiratorially, “You see there is always a problem policing a country of this size. Russia is made up of many peoples, many races and there is a risk that petty nationalism and racial decent will spread amongst our people. To guard against that the Czars always used people from outside the region to head the internal police services. That way there was no risk of a conflict of loyalties. Coming from Siberia I seemed the obvious person to be in charge of the Moscow section.”

Leona took this in. It proved to be harder than she imagined, her mind seemed unusually sluggish and unresponsive. The wine must have been better than she thought.

“S...so you’re a policeman and a politician?” Leona finally managed to ask.

“Exactly,” Aleksei said with a smile, “though here we call them Commissars.”

There was something she had been meaning to do, Leona thought, fighting the confusion that seemed to be enveloping her mind. Alison.......

Leona turned towards the dance floor. There were Peter and Alison, probably on their tenth dance of the evening. Peter always seemed so jealous, as if he was afraid to let another man dance with Alison. Perhaps he was afraid of the competition?

“They make a pretty couple don’t they?” Aleksei said.

Leona blinked. It was getting hard to think. She struggled for a moment to find the right words.

“I....I think he wants to marry her,” she managed at last.

Aleksei raised an eyebrow. “Really,” he said, “I thought he intended to kidnap her and sell her as a slave to her uncle?” He took a swallow of wine.

Leona blinked, her addled mind trying to understand what he had just said.

“K....kidnapped?” she asked, “s...slave?”

“Yes,” Aleksei said, “Peter Heiden is a white slaver who works this part of central Europe.” He spoke as if it was a normal thing for a person to do, like a broker or an accountant. “After the revolution there were a lot of accomplished aristocratic young women trying to escape Russia. The organization that Peter works for immediately saw the possibilities and set up a local office. They offered to help smuggle White Russians to the west, but in truth they would kill the men and sell their women into slavery in Arabia.” He took another sip of wine. “They are decadent imperialist pigs and I dare say that when the goal of universal socialist brotherhood is a reality they will be made to pay for their crimes.”

Leona knew she should feel shocked but her sluggish mind refused to respond. Aleksei turned and smiled, locking her wide eyes with his own. Leona started to fall into his gaze this time without the will to resist.

“You see,” Aleksei continued, “the death of Alison’s parents was not an accident. The 1927 Dussenberg has excellent brakes, unless they have been tampered with. Alison’s uncle had her parents killed so that he could take over their chain store business.”

He took another sip. “To gain complete control he needed Alison to sign some papers, voting proxies,  which of course she was unwilling to do. The Corporation, which Peter works for, has an excellent reputation for breaking the wills of difficult female subjects. Unfortunately it takes many months of extreme physical torture to get the desired effect. Someone as socially active as your friend could hardly disappear without people noticing.”

Aleksei nodded towards the dancing couple. “The Corporation decided not to cover up her kidnapping. Instead they will make it a media event. Alison will go missing on an eastern European vacation. The uncle will offer a large reward for her return and in a few months she will be rescued from “bandits” who had been holding her for ransom. The American Press will make a big thing of her rescue from dirty foreigners. By then she will be more than willing to do as she’s told and the proxies will be signed. She will spend the rest of her life as her uncle’s sexual plaything.”

He turned and watched as the couple left the dance floor. “So ruthless these imperialist,” he said.

Leona was stunned. “But,” she started.

Aleksei laughed and playfully touched her nose. “I know what you are thinking little one,” Aleksei said, “why hasn’t Peter done something before now? The answer is that you are in the way. He can’t kidnap her while you are with her and he can’t touch you. You see the Corporation doesn’t kidnap the daughters of its executive board members.”

Leona’s eyes widened as the implication of that statement struck home. Her father? White slavery? That was ridiculous. She wanted to protest but she found couldn’t speak or move.......

Aleksei laughed and took the wine flute from her limp hand. “Do not worry my dear,” he said, “when he leaves the party tonight Peter will be arrested by my men for a minor visa violation. He will be held until tomorrow afternoon and so your friend will be completely safe. The only kidnapping that will happen tonight is me kidnapping you.”

He smiled as he saw her eyes widen again. “I laced your wine with a mild opiate.” he explained, “It will wear off inside of an hour but for the moment you’re ability to resist mental domination is extremely weak.”

Aleksei focused his attention on the girl’s forehead, the power of his will crushing hers.

Leona found herself lost in his eyes.

“This is how it works Fraulein,” Aleksei said with a smile, “you are the puppet and I am the puppeteer. Resistance is futile. You live to serve.”

She realized that she should resist but she found it impossible to form a coherent thought.

He took another sip of his wine. “Understand?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Good, now get your things from the table and meet me near the door.”

Like a sleepwalker Leona turned and walked over to her table, picking up her shawl and purse. Then she turned and walked to the door.

“Look at me, smile and take my hand,” he murmured.

Aleksei detected a momentary resistance which he easily crushed. Leona smiled and took his hand the movement looking fluid and natural. To an observer it would appear she had accepted his offer to take her home.

Smiling Aleksei led the mesmerized girl towards the exit. On the dance floor Peter noticed that they were leaving and gave a small smile of victory. Aleksei chuckled, imagining Peter’s disappointment when he got outside and was arrested.

Like a clockwork doll Leona collected her hooded cape from the cloakroom and again took Aleksei’s hand. Inside the girl’s confused mind the idea that she should resist managed to become half formed before Aleksei’s will crushed it. Quiet and compliant Leona climbed into the back of Aleksei’s official car.

The car was built like an old fashioned carriage with two sets of seats  facing each other. Leona was directed into the seats with her back to the driver while Aleksei sat opposite her. As the car pulled away he picked up a small felt bag and reached inside. He took out a number of items that he put on the seat beside him. Then, he faced the drugged girl and looked deeply into her glazed eyes.

“I’m going to have to tie you up and gag you Leona,” he said pleasantly. The girl’s eyes widened yet again but her rebellious thoughts were easy to control. “I’m sorry to have to do this but the distance to my home is such that you will have almost certainly recovered from the drug by the time we arrive. Frankly, although I could keep my hold on your mind it would be tiring for both of us and you have a very long night ahead of you. Now, open your mouth as wide as you can.”

This time the flicker of resistance was even weaker as if the girl had accepted the hopelessness of her position. Aleksei squashed it, watching with satisfaction as Leona opened her mouth for him. He took one of the silk scarves he was holding, rolled it into a ball and thrust it deep into Leona’s unresisting mouth. Taking another scarf he folded it corner to corner, spun it around so that it formed a narrow band, and then tied a knot in the middle. Reaching forward he shoved the knot between Leona’s teeth, mentally ordering her to bend forward before he tied the scarf with a solid knot at the base of her skull. He had her continue to lean forward for a moment while he folded a final scarf.

“Only one more to go now,” he said as if he was talking to a child. He took the flat band of silk he had made and tied it tightly over her mouth covering the other gags. He tied the final scarf so tightly that Leona’s cheeks bulged over the silk and the girl gave a small muffled moan of pain, the first sound she’s been able to make since the Embassy.

Reaching up Aleksei unfastened the cape at the girl’s neck.

“Stand,” he ordered, “turn and put your wrists behind you.”

When the girl complied he tied her elbows together with cord. Then, taking a longer length he bound her wrists before running the tail ends of the cord around her waist like a belt. Once those where tied off he replaced the cape and sat her down.

“Just one last thing,” he said with a smile. From the felt bag he produced a ladies woolen scarf which he wrapped around her mouth and nose concealing the gag. “My neighbors are good communists, they know to ignore what I do for the good of the party. Still, there is no point in promoting gossip is there?” He pulled her hood up and settled back to take in the effect. Although she was obviously a foreigner, there was no visible indication that the girl sitting across from him was his captive. He nodded. So far so good.

It took a while before Leona could think again. Gradually the cotton wool feeling in her brain subsided and she found herself able to move. She frowned. How had he done that to her? Now that she was able to feel again all the pent up fear of the last hour came back to her.

“Ummm,” she said weakly. She tugged at the cords that bit into her wrists but found no give. She looked over at Aleksei. “Ummm hee?” she begged, eyes wide, pleading for release.

“I can’t,” he said, settling back. “Shut up and relax, you’ll understand soon enough.”

“Ummmm,” she said

“I said be quiet!” he snapped

Leona felt a sudden wave of pleasure/fear ripple down her spine. There was something dark and dangerous about Aleksei now, something that struck a cord with some dark part of Leona’s own consciousness. She found herself suddenly aroused at the idea that she could be alone and helpless with this man. Raised a Catholic, Leona had saved herself for marriage. Still a virgin at twenty one she had always had certain dark fantasies, of being taken and controlled by a powerful man and used for his pleasure. Now the brooding figure of Aleksei had become the focus of those fantasies. To her horror she felt the familiar tingle between her legs and the dampness that signaled her arousal. Squirming a little, she tried to avoid eye contact with her captor.

.......................................................................................................................................

“There must be some mistake,” Peter said.

Yuri Andropov checked the papers again. “There is no mistake comrade,” he said gruffly, “these papers are not in order.”

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out some other documents. “I think you will find that these papers *are* in order,” he said.

Andropov opened the little packet of papers. There on the top were two British five pound notes, the preferred currency of the black market. For a moment Andropov was tempted, this year the winter was harsh even for Moscow and the cost of fuel was impossible for a normal man to meet, and yet the Commissar had been a personal friend of Lenin, and while his power was on the wane, he could still make life hell for the young KGB man.

Andropov pocketed the money. Peter grinned. “I take it that *those* papers were in order,” the young German asked.

“No,” Yuri said, looking at Peter with cold eyes, “you will have to come with us.”

Peter frowned. “But I thought..” he began.

“What did you think comrade?” Yuri asked, a dangerous tone entering his voice.

Peter shivered. “Nothing,” he said, “nothing at all.”

..............................................................................................

It was a good neighborhood for Moscow but like a lot of the city it was tired and run down. A group of homeless people stood around an improvised brazier trying to warm themselves with a small piece of burning wood. The harvest had been poor this year and hundreds of people come to the city from the country looking for work. Now a bitter winter had descended trapping many of them on the freezing streets. As the car pulled up many of them slid into the shadows. These days cars meant police and those found inside Moscow without the correct papers were sent directly to the new labor camps. Such was the conditions in the camps that freezing on a Moscow street corner was preferable.

Serge watched as the figures stepped out from the car. A man and a woman, both well dressed and obviously well to do. One glance told him they were foreigners rather than the police he half expected. He settled back and relaxed wondering what to do now. Foreigners would doubtless be carrying hard currency, perhaps even gold, and that would buy a lot on the black market. For a man who hadn’t eaten in nearly a week the temptation was too much. Reaching down he grasped hold of the steel bar he carried for protection. He stepped back a little, letting the shadows cover him. The couple walked towards him, the man helping the woman along, Serge could see the way he tightly gripped her arm. If Serge could hit him just right, then there was a chance he could knock them both down. He smiled imagining the jewels the woman could be wearing. For now he waited, pretending to doze, watching through half closed eyes as the couple entered the alleyway.

Serge pounced bringing the bar down on the man’s head.......

Amazingly the man reached up and caught the descending bar, stopping it dead with one hand. As Serge watched horrified the man’s foot flashed out. Serge heard a crack and felt a sheering pain in his shin. Before the feeling had even subsided the bar was torn from his grasp. A blow to his side broke a couple of ribs, another to the side of his face dislocated his jaw. Serge managed to let out a gurgle scream before a blow to his throat crushed his larynx.

Aleksei stood over the dying man. Perhaps it was good that he was going to leave, he thought, to be attacked in his own neighborhood seemed to suggest that social order was about to break down. Shaking his head Aleksei dropped the bar and glanced down the alleyway just in time to see Leona take the turning at the end. Aleksei nodded. She was all he had expected and more. She was going to make quite an exceptional drone. The hunt was on! Quaking with anticipation he took off in pursuit.

An Alleyway in Moscow.

January 1st 1929 1:37AM

The snow was so cold that it seemed to burn her feet. Whimpering, Leona paused. The shoes were completely impractical for running in snow, she had already slipped twice and with her hands tied behind her it had been hard to regain her footing. Still, at least the shoes offered her feet some protection from the cold. She lent against a wall and panted, letting the cold air refresh her. So far there was no sign of pursuit and Leona was beginning to hope that the bum who had attacked them had managed to do some damage to Aleksei. Still, that didn’t solve her problem. Bound and gagged in a foreign city, pursued by a man who was....... _What_ was Aleksei? Leona could still remember the feeling as he controlled her mind. She had felt so small, so insignificant, like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.  She shivered and started on her way. Her first priority had to be to find help, someone to untie her and find her somewhere warm to stay until she could send word to Alison.

Cold and dejected Leona trudged around the corner. At the end of the alleyway was another brazier and another ragged group of beggars. For a moment she lurked in the shadows wondering what to do. If she approached them in her current condition she was effectively delivering herself into their hands. Helpless, they could do whatever they liked to her. She shivered imagining what they might do. Unfortunately she had little alternative, the nearby houses seemed to have been shuttered for the night and her tight gag made calling for help impossible. If she stayed here she would freeze to death. Leona sighed, she had no choice, trembling she headed towards the fire.

It seemed that in some unspoken way she signaled her need. As she approached the ragged band parted allowing the girl to come closer to the fire. Leona grunted her thanks then sighed as the heat seeped into her bones. Someone said something and the girl looked up to find an almost toothless woman waving a bottle under her nose.

“Ummm,” Leona said shaking her head. The bums just looked at her confused. Leona closed her eyes. The scarf  and her cape’s hood effectively hid her gag. As far as the others could tell she was just a lady wrapped up against the cold. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the scarf but it didn’t work. Defeated, she looked up at the ragged band.

“Ummmm heee?” she begged.

The woman said something else and took a drink from the bottle. For a moment Leona tried to beg with her eyes but none of the drunken bums seemed to understand. The girl sighed. Who was she kidding anyway? Even without the gag communication would be impossible, she spoke no Russian and she doubted they spoke anything else. Still she could at least show them that she needed help. She walked over to one of the corners of the alley and started to rub the scarf on the rough brickwork. If she could at least get them to remove the gag.....

“There you are!” Aleksei said.

Leona stiffened, looking down the alleyway where her captor stood smiling.

“Ummmm,” Leona begged, eyes wide as she backed down the alleyway.

“You would be better off coming home with me Leona,” Aleksei said, “I have a warm fire and food. I can really make you quite comfortable.”

“Ummmmm,” she screamed then she turned and took off down the alleyway.

The snow burned her feet. She ran in a panic, trying to get as far into the darkness as she could before she used up all her oxygen. The gag prevented her from breathing through her mouth, greatly reducing her endurance. At last she could run no further. She paused and leaned against another wall. Fearfully she looked over her shoulder and was relieved to see he wasn’t following.

“You know, you could make this easy on yourself.”

Leona stiffened, eyes wide, then turned. He was here, further up the alleyway _ahead_ of her! But that was impossible! He would have had to pass her! And yet up ahead stood Aleksei just as smug and as dark as he’d been before.

“I have chocolate,” he offered, “Swiss drinking chocolate very nice on a cold winter night.”

“Arrgfff,” Leona whined, turning and running down one of the other alleys. She hadn’t had much time to recover, it wasn’t long before she was forced to stop again. Fearfully she looked over her shoulder.

“This is very entertaining but we have so much to do tonight.”

She stiffened, then turned to find that once again he was ahead of her!

“This is futile,” he said with a sigh, “I’ve hunted polymorphic life forms. Creatures that can alter their appearance to exactly match their environment. Now if I successfully tracked them down what challenge is a half frozen bound and gagged human female? Hardly any I’m sure you’ll agree?” He took a step forward and held out his hand. “You’ve had your fun, Leona. Now it’s time to meet your destiny.”

Leona turned and fled through the alleyways, taking an eccentric course through courtyards and smaller alleys, sometimes heading forwards, sometimes doubling back. She ran until her lungs were close to bursting. Then, she ran around the corner and ran straight into someone coming the other way.

Leona stiffened, almost too terrified to look up. When at last she did, she saw she had collided with a middle aged man. The man seemed to be a sailor of some kind as he wore a cap and a blue serge uniform. He stood at least six feet tall and seemed almost as broad. He had a heavily lined, almost leathery face, a thick mustache peppered with gray and thick graying hair. She sighed with relief, it wasn’t Aleksei.

“Ummmppphhh?” she begged, eyes wide.

The man said something in Russian. Leona shook her head wildly. He stood back, looked her over and then said in English, “You understand English?”

“Ummmpphhh!!!” Leona said nodding gratefully. The man gave her a puzzled look, trying to work out why she would nod and then still not speak to him.

Leona came forward, rubbing the scarf on his arm and looking up expectantly.

Frowning and a little hesitantly the man reached up to Leona’s mouth and lowered the scarf revealing the tight gag underneath. He swore in Russian and then turned the girl around. His hand searched inside her cape quickly finding her bound wrists.

“What is happening,” he asked the shivering girl, “who did this to you?”

“Ummm,” Leona moaned, until the man removed the gag she had no way to answer.

“I did,” Aleksei said stepping from the shadows.

“Urrrggghh,” Leona squealed giving the sailor a panicked look.

The sailor  frowned, looked down at the wide eyed girl and then back up at Aleksei. Then he moved between Leona and Aleksei, gently pushing the girl behind his back and striking a fighting stance. Her rescuer seemed much larger and stronger than Aleksei, Leona thought, perhaps he would scare her captor off?

“Who are you?” the sailor asked.

Aleksei smiled and took a card from his pocket. “Internal security comrade. This woman is a foreign spy, a counter revolutionary, she escaped my custody earlier tonight.”

The man frowned and looked at the card in the weak light. He blinked, checked the card again and trembled.

“M...my apologies comrade commissar, I did not realize that the woman was an escaped prisoner. I just saw... “ he pointed at Leona’s gag.

“Of course,” Aleksei said generously, “and you assumed she was the victim of some crime. I assure you that is not the case. It was necessary that we took the woman into custody without the risk of alerting her coconspirators. Of course it was necessary to stopper her mouth at that time.” Aleksei held out his hand and the man took it nervously. “I thank you for your diligence comrade,” Aleksei said seriously, shaking the sailor’s hand, “You have captured a dangerous fugitive and served the Motherland well tonight.”

“T..thank you Commissar,” the man stuttered nervously, “M...may I go now?”

Aleksei smiled, “Of course, be about your business and don’t concern yourself with this affair any longer.” There was something in his tone, almost a threat, the sailor shivered and gave Leona an apologetic look.

Aleksei took hold of Leona’s arm and smiled as the man turned to leave. Leona gave her would be rescuer a last desperate look before he turned up his collar and trudged into the night.

“Arrrrrffff,” Leona screamed. The man paused for a second as if reconsidering and then continued down the alleyway.

Aleksei turned the sobbing girl around and adjusted the scarf until it concealed her gag again.

“Now it’s time to go home,” he said sternly.

Dejected and defeated Leona let him lead her down the alleyway.

=================================================================

Aleksei’s Apartment, Moscow

January 1st 1929 2:20AM

Alex seemed to like candles. The room was lit by literally hundreds of them covering almost every surface. As she lay naked and bound spread eagle to Aleksei’s huge four poster bed, Leona shuddered to think of the potential fire risk. She was almost terrified to struggle in case she upset one and caused a fire.

He’d ungagged her long enough to pour some hot chocolate into her then he’d gagged her again. This time using four scarves and some adhesive tape to ensure that she could hardly make a sound. Then he’d left the room to get something. In his absence the girl tested her new bonds and found them secure. It seemed the commissar held all the cards. The only question was what he planned now? Given her position and nakedness rape seemed obvious and yet if that was all he wanted why go to so much trouble to get her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by his return.

“I sense your confusion slave,” he said, “I suppose you are wondering why you are here?”

If her mouth had been free she would have told him that she wasn’t a slave, she was a German citizen, that her father had powerful friends in the government, that her disappearance would be brought to the attention of the highest levels of the Soviet state. However the tight gag made that impossible.

“Ummmmppphhhh,” was all she finally said.

“There is a new man in charge of the state,” Aleksei said wearily, “his name is Joseph Vissarionovich Djugashvili but he has taken the name of Joseph Stalin. In the past few months he has started a systematic purge of those associated with the original revolution. So far his power is far from absolute, it will be many years before I am at risk from him but a man must look ahead. Stalin will lead Russia into a new dark age, one from which it may not emerge. Even if by some miracle that is avoided it will be many years before industrial development reaches the level I need. I find myself needing to relocate to some place where I can influence events. Germany seems like a good option.”

Leona looked up confused.

He smiled. “As you have seen I have some power here. If I were to move to Germany I would need a method of building a power base, financial and technical resources and that my dear is where you come in.  I have decided that you will become my slave, my lover, my accomplice.”

“Ummmppphhh,” Leona snorted shaking her head.

He laughed. “That is the way I expected you to react,” he said, “however your choice doesn’t enter into this.”

He walked over and held a flat metal box in front of the girl’s wide eyes. Inside a number of silver metal ovals rested. Leona could see that the box had originally held five of the little metal beads but two were missing.

Smiling he gently stroked the back of one of the little metal forms and the object started to unfurl. The oval shape stretched and became 3 distinct parts, a tiny metallic head, thorax and an abdomen. As Leona watched in horror a number of tiny metal legs sprang from the thorax and the head raised itself and looked around with tiny red glowing eyes.

“My species hunts,” Aleksei explained, “it’s in our nature just as it is in yours. Like you we occasionally have the need to domesticate local pack animals to aid us in hunting. Unlike your domestication of the dog we don’t have thousands of years to waste on selective breeding. Our scientists came up with this. The device enters the animal’s brain and makes a number of adjustments necessary to ensure its obedience and loyalty. Of course these were never intended to be used on sentient life forms, my first attempts to use these with your people were not completely successful. Still, I believe I have made the right modifications this time.”

Aleksei held the wiggling metal insect in front of Leona’s eyes.

“Ummmphhhhh. Heeeesss owww, heesss hesss!” she begged, sobbing.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted.” he said dropping the little bug on her naked chest.

The insect wiggled to its feet and started to climb up Leona’s naked breast. The girl gave a muffled scream and started to thrash around on the bed in an attempt to dislodge the device. The bug kept it’s footing, marching methodically up the helpless girl’s body towards her head. Leona wept, looking at Aleksei with wide begging eyes.

Aleksei stroked her hair. “Right now you would do whatever I wanted rather than have that thing take one step closer?” he asked.

“Ummm,” she nodded, eyes wild. The device was marching up her chest. At that moment she would have done anything, let him fuck her, whip her, anything he could imagine if he would just make it stop.

“Soon you will understand,” Aleksei said, slapping her naked breast.

Aleksei stood and went to the window leaving the helpless girl to thrash and groan on the bed. He looked out into the cold, clear night sky. It wasn’t hard to pick out the star systems of his enemies, four unspectacular stars in three insignificant constellations. He blinked out at the night sky trying to remember his galactic history lessons. At this moment there were three hundred and seventeen intelligent species in the galaxy, the most there was ever going to be.

Soon the wave of mysterious extinction's would begin and then the blatant acts of genocide. In two thousand years time there would be only thirty two sentient species left, four master races and twenty eight slave races. History said that the rest would be gone, some species like the Drill and the Humans would fall victim to unexpected natural disasters. Others, like the Sekrit and the Kilkazi would be hunted to extinction in hideous wars of genocide.

Aleksei smiled. Those twinkling little stars didn’t realize it yet but history was about to change. *He* willed it!  The humans would be saved from extinction and instead would strangle the infant galactic empires in their cradles! Of the other races he had little interest. Those that would not serve his new master race would be destroyed.

A muffled scream emerged from the bed. Aleksei turned and headed back, arriving just in time to see the little metal body slip into Leona’s left ear. The girl was hysterical, her struggles shook the wooden bed frame and Aleksei was pleased that he’d strengthened her gag. Leona wept and howled in a futile attempt to dislodge the metal intruder. As he watched the first trickle of blood emerged from the girl’s ear. The device would have to work slowly from now on repairing the neurological damage it made as it tunneled it’s way into her brain. Once it was in position the nanobots would be released to do their work.

Aleksei bent down to tell the girl that the worse was over but by then she was already unconscious.

=================================================================

Aleksei’s Apartment, Moscow

January 1st 1929 9:00AM

The floor was hard and cold beneath her knees. Before, in her other life, she might have fidgeted or moved, perhaps even complained. Now all Leona did was kneel as she had been ordered, reveling in her service, her devotion, her worship of Him. A cold draft blew across her body and she fought to control the discomfort.

Across the room Aleksei rested in a chair, watching her submission. She felt honored that he would waste even a moment of his valuable time on her. Thinking back to the party just a few hours before she was amazed that he had spoken to her as an equal. Even before she was his slave she hadn’t been his equal, she was human, so far bellow his magnificence that it made her weak just to think about it now. Thanks to her implant she knew a lot more about him. She knew for example his true form, a form that would have terrified her earlier but which she now understood and accepted. He had held the Aleksei form a lot longer than he had needed just so that he didn’t scare her. Again she felt her heart swell with love. That a God should think of her so fondly as to inconvenience himself. She would thank him with her loyalty and service.

“You may stand and come over here,” Aleksei said, his voice had lost its human quality. All emotion was gone and it had a deepness and darkness to it. The words seemed to cause her very soul to vibrate in response. Shivering with anticipation she stood.

“Thank you Master,” she said in a quiet, reverential tone. You didn’t raise your voice when you were in the presence of a living God.

She walked over to him, head bent in submission, eyes locked downwards so as not to look upon his divine countenance.

“Look at me,” He ordered, his dark tones again finding resonance with her.

She looked up. The being in the chair looked less human than before, more like something wearing Aleksei’s body as a man would wear a suit of clothes. Aleksei’s face looked gray and pale, his skin loose, his face muscles saggy and unused. Only the eyes maintained their intensity, in fact if anything they seemed more striking, liquid darkness seemed to fill them, churning and flowing in response to some internal emotional state.

“Leona what are you?” he demanded.

She swallowed. “A drone Master, a slave, I exist to serve,” she said. She wanted, no she *needed* his approval. Shivering she scanned his face for any sign that her answer pleased him.

She found nothing.

“And how do you serve?” he pressed.

“Through complete obedience, complete loyalty and complete dedication Master,” Leona said. These words were true, she believed them with every part of her being and yet they still sounded strange coming from her lips, just as her nakedness seemed somehow odd. She lowered her eyes submissively.

“Look at me,” Aleksei ordered.

“Yes, Master,” Leona said, looking up at the face of her God. Though the face held no clues, something told her that he didn’t like what he was seeing. She was failing him! Her heart almost broke that her God should find her so unsatisfactory but she was confused as to what she could do about it. Wasn’t she serving him? Wasn’t this what he’d wanted when he put that....thing.... into her brain? What more could she do but be his slave? What other sacrifice would he accept to prove her devotion?

At last he spoke. “To serve me better there are things you will need to understand.” he said, ”First I will need you to be able to function independently to achieve goals that I will set for you. I will also need you to be my agent amongst the unaltered. Look inside yourself Leona. You have been given power undreamed of by your people. Find that power. Embrace it, make it part of yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master.” Leona said, suddenly realizing exactly what he had expected of her. Her love for him increased. Her Master wanted her to be more than a slave, he wanted her to be a companion, a partner. She had been called by her God to stand by his side.... Her heart filled with joy.

Leona searched. There in the bottom of her mind she found it. A little egg of darkness. Happily she took it, opened it and added it to herself. As the last shred of her humanity was torn away Leona finally understood..

=================================================================

Corporation Safe House, Moscow

January 1st 1929 12:20PM

Peter was not having a good day. First that annoying little man had arrested him and then the Russians had kept him shuffling between departments most of the morning. In the end they had concluded that it was a “mistake” and had released him but by then Peter had been left in little doubt that he was no longer welcome in Moscow.

After taking a torturous route to ensure that he wasn’t being followed Peter headed towards the center of the city. The Corporation had decided to situate its safe house in an upmarket part of the city close to Red Square. The site had proved hard to purchase and even harder to keep secret. In a state where everybody was an informer organizations like the Corporation found it hard to operate. Word from the Board was that after the Michaels collection Eastern European operations were to be wound down. Peter sighed, it had been a good run while it lasted. For eleven years Russia had provided the Corporation with a lot of high class product but now the Russian aristocracy was all gone and all that Moscow could offer was pretty peasant girls.

Slipping though the door he was surprised to find no one around. Frowning he headed for the cellar. Once there he headed for the back wall where a set of rickety looking shelves held a collection of bric-a-brac. Pushing a set of concealed catches he swung the shelves aside stepped though into what had originally been one of the house’s root cellars.

His two contacts Valeri and Karl were waiting in the cellar. They were both looking at an object that was standing on a trestle in the corner As he entered they froze and reached for their guns, only stopping when they recognized him. The relief in the room was almost tangible.

“I saw you arrested,” Karl said, rubbing his nose. It was a nervous habit the big Bavarian had picked up somewhere. “I thought you were dead for sure.”

“Da! We were starting to think you had been shot Comrade,” Valeri said. Peter smiled. Valeri was a typical Russian, laconic and fatalistic. His thin rodent like features and overbite had got him the nickname of “The Rat” in the Corporation. As well as being their man in Moscow Valeri was the consummate fixer, able to get almost anything done though his contacts in the black market. Peter knew that Valeri had found out about his release. If the young German had been taken to the Lubyanka Valeri wouldn’t have been here.

The Russian smiled and stood back revealing the object they had been looking over. He gave a theatrical flourish.

“It is done,” he said proudly, “I think you will be pleased.”

Peter smiled. “Excellent! You couldn’t have chosen a better time my friend. The GRU had no proof and couldn’t hold me but I know they suspect something. We have to proceed with the collection soon.”

Peter stepped forward. A long, roughly made wooden coffin was resting on the trestles.  The box was crude and unvarnished, an orthodox cross painted on the lid in keeping with old Russian tradition.

Peter ran his hand over the lid. The box looked crude, hardly worth the small fortune he had paid for it.

“Show me the inside,” he ordered.

Valeri nodded to Karl and the two men went to the ends of the coffin, Valeri at the head, Karl at the foot. Together they lifted the lid and swung it aside. Inside the coffin was lined with a few inches of padding, the cover of which was a crude cotton cloth. Wedged inside was the body of a huge man. The figure, dressed in a blue workman’s suit must have been seven feet tall. His hands were crossed over his chest, his eyes closed. Peter moved in for a closer look. First he examined the hands, but they seemed normal and natural. The fingernails were black, the hands themselves covered in mortician’s powder. Satisfied he examined the face. The man was almost bald, a small goatee beard and mustache seemingly the biggest concentration of hair on his head. Again, it seemed that the man’s face had been covered in morticians powder, the flesh colored substance not quite hiding the gray lifeless skin underneath. There was a faint smell of formaldehyde, perhaps a hint of decay.

“Looks a little like Lenin, yes?” Valeri laughed nervously.

Peter smiled, there was a certain similarity, though the figure in the coffin looked a lot more lifelike than the one in Red Square. “It’s amazing,” Peter whispered. The effect was so convincing that he kept his voice down almost like he was in the presence of a real body.

He pointed at the figure’s head. “Wax?” he asked.

“Da,” Valeri said, “the hands too.”

“The embalming smell and the makeup are a nice touch,” Peter said, standing up, “but what happens if someone touches it?”

Valeri laughed, “Do you know anyone who would willingly touch a dead body Comrade?” he asked. “Besides I will be traveling with it. I have a number of peasants I have hired to be grieving relatives. They have orders to provide a convincing distraction should the need arise.”

He patted his pocket. “In addition I have all the transport papers and the death certificate. Our friend here is a certified hero of the revolution, he himself was the first comrade inside the Winter Palace. He came to Moscow to visit Lenin’s tomb and was so overwhelmed that he died. The Leningrad Soviet themselves have paid for his embalming and return so that he may be given a hero’s funeral.”

Peter laughed. “Another nice touch my friend.” He looked down at the coffin. “And the girl?” He asked, “will she be quiet enough?”

Karl laughed, “Judge for yourself. We put Marie in there as a test.”

“Marie?” Peter said, raising an eyebrow, “but she’s claustrophobic?” .

“Exactly!” Karl said, “can you think of a better test?”

Peter strained his ears. Sure enough, he could hear a very faint moaning sound if he held his ear close to the body’s head.

“I can hear her!” he said.

Karl nodded, “She’s almost hysterical in there and you can barely hear it.”

Peter ignored the comment about Marie, she was only a slave after all, but the noise she was making worried him. He raised an eyebrow. “Barely can get you killed in our business,” he said coldly, “what if someone hears the girl?”

Valeri smiled. “I have considered all of this comrade,” he said.  “Do not worry. Like I said the wailings of the dead man’s grieving family will drown her cries. It is also likely that the coffin will only be examined on the train where the engine sounds will drown out her little mumbles. If not, I have prepared. Here let me show you.”

He nodded to Karl and the two men reached into the lining of the coffin and released some hidden catches. As Peter watched the whole inside section was lifted clear. It was then obvious that the tall body and its surroundings were nothing but a carefully made effigy of wax and padding. As the shallow tray holding the figure was lifted away Peter stepped forward. The coffin’s large size was explained by the large size of the dummy. However the reason they needed it so large could be seen in the lower layer. Inside the box a bound and gagged girl struggled weakly with her bonds. She was strapped firmly in place in the center of the coffin and surrounded on all sides by several inches of thick, noise deadening padding. Peter let his eyes travel up her body.

She had been tied before she was put inside as Peter could see the cruel cords that bound her ankles and knees. However, these were no longer necessary for every few inches up her body a tight leather strap bound her firmly to the coffin. Peter noted the straps around her ankles, above and below her knees and the broad strap across her upper thighs. Next there came a thick pair of rubber pants, obviously designed as a diaper, then a thick belt fastened around her waist. Peter could see that this belt too was fastened to the bottom of the box. Thick leather mittens covered the girl’s hands and immobilized her fingers. At the tops if the mittens were broad leather cuffs which had been strapped to the waist belt. Wide straps across her chest above and below her naked beasts pinned her torso and a thick leather collar buckled at her throat held her head still.

“Ummm,” the girl complained. Now the effigy was removed her piteous mewings were much louder.  Peter ran a finger over the padded leather strap that covered her mouth. Two tubes emerged from the front of the gag. Puzzled Peter traced one down to a rubber bulb, like the ones used on car horns.

Smiling he gave the bulb a squeeze, listening to the muffled whine that rose from the girl. Afterwards the sobs became a little quieter.

“A word of advice gentlemen,” he said playfully, “American women are far more willful and far more vocal than their European cousins. Once Alison is in place pump up her gag to the maximum extent.”

The others laughed and Peter turned his attention to the second tube.

“This puzzles me Comrade,” he said to Valeri, “a second gag?”

The Russian laughed. “Here my friend, allow me to show you. If you wouldn’t mind removing Marie’s blindfold?” Valeri busied himself removing part of the padded liner from the side of the coffin.

Peter turned to the helpless girl. Above the gag her face was covered with a thick leather blindfold and then a strap around her forehead further immobilized her. With her bangs and short cropped black hair only her nose emerged from the mass of black. Peter loosened the strap and removed the blindfold. A pair of large, tortured, brown eyes peered up at him. Marie had been crying which was hardly surprising --it was her claustrophobia that the crew of the Corporation slave ship had finally used to break her.

The difficult French girl had only been seventeen when her parents sent her to Moscow as the ladies maid to a young Russian countess. A few years later, after the revolution, the Countess’ uncle had contracted some men to smuggle his family out of Russia while he fought with the White Russian army against the Bolsheviks. Unfortunately the men he hired had proved to be Corporate agents. The men of the family had been killed, the women stripped, bound and gagged and placed in produce bags. Driven to the local port they had been smuggled aboard a Corporation slave ship bound for the Middle East.

As the ship sailed towards its destination the women were taken and subjected to torture and training. It was said that Marie’s mistress, the young countess, unused to the privations had surrendered almost immediately and had happily sucked the Captain’s cock on her very first day. Marie though, was made of stronger stuff.  Peter glanced at her breasts again, noticing her damaged nipples and numerous scars. They had tried everything to make her break. In the end they had damaged her so badly that she was useless for sale. Only by accident had they discovered that she was claustrophobic. They had locked the screaming girl in a small metal box for five days. When she finally emerged she was subdued and slave broken.

For a while she had been given to the crew who had used her in every way imaginable. Peter had been the head of the band that had originally collected her and had taken a keen interest in the difficult girl. One night while drinking with the Captain he had learnt that the crew now had a new girl, again a servant to a captured aristocrat, and that the Captain intended to deep six Marie once he was in open water. Peter had offered to take her, not out of any feelings for her but because his men frequently needed female company. It was rumored that the local prostitutes reported to the Moscow Soviet. Rather than risk any pillow talk he had set up his own private brothel with just one girl, although of course that one girl would do anything you asked....

Peter smiled down at the broken slave and was about to say something when Valeri interrupted.

“Here my friend, see.”

Peter bent over. In one side of the coffin a small compartment was revealed. Inside was a large pig iron weight and another small rubber bulb.

“As you said Comrade there is a risk that the authorities may wish to inspect the coffin someplace quiet and away from the grieving family,” Valeri said. “I have prepared this in response.” He pointed to the weight. “Because of the size of the coffin it’s transport to a quiet place will take a little time to arrange. While this is happening my peasants will stage a small diversion. At that time I will remove this loose nail like so.”

He removed the nail and the weight slid down flattening the little rubber bulb.

“This contains a mixture of one half grain of laudanum mixed with a thin, sticky syrup,” Valeri said with pride. “When the bulb is squashed by the weight, the syrup is forced down the pipe and into the girl’s mouth.”

“Laudanum?” Peter asked frowning, “isn’t that dangerous?”

Valeri laughed. “If the dose was such as to render her unconscious then yes my friend. However it is fast acting and in these doses only makes the victim drowsy.” He pointed at Marie’s flickering eyelids. “You see? She is still awake, but is too heavily drugged to make a sound.” To illustrate he grabbed the bound girl’s nipples and cruelly wrenched them. A murmured complaint came from Marie’s gagged mouth but it was hard to hear. With the dummy in place Peter doubted it would be heard at all.

“Excellent!” Peter said, “You are to make your transport arrangements straight away. I have a plan that should allow us to collect Alison tonight. Free Marie and bring her up with you, I have a job she can do for me. Meet me in the snuggery and I will tell you my plans.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Corporation Safe House, Moscow

January 1st 1929 1:33PM

Marie’s gentle tongue carefully caressed Peter’s shaft. The blonde German gave a small moan and thrust forwards signaling to the little slave that he wanted her to take him deeper. He would miss Marie, he decided, two years as the comfort girl on a Corporate slave ship certainly taught a girl all the tricks. He doubted he would find a mouth this talented anywhere else. He sighed, when the section closed he would have to dispose of Marie. It was unfortunate but her torture scars made her unsuitable for sale and no other Corporate facility in Europe needed a live in slave. There was a place he had in mind a few miles outside of Moscow where a shallow grave could go undetected for years. Not that that mattered, there was no official record that Marie was even here and in the ten years since the revolution her family in France would surely have given up on her.

He would give her one last fucking before he shot her, he decided, as a kind of honorable death. Unfortunately the girl wouldn’t enjoy it, her clit had been destroyed during the torture, she got no pleasure from sex any more.

He looked over at his two men. Valeri had already taken his turn while Marie was in the basement recovering from the drug. Karl already had his cock out and ready so that the slave could move on to him the instant she was finished with Peter.

As she deep throated him for the second time, Peter felt the sudden pressure associated with his orgasm. A moment later he flooded the choking slave girl's throat with sperm. He held her head firmly in place, giving her no choice but to swallow. The feeling of power and the girl’s obvious distress seemed to add something to the sensation. He found the orgasm was stronger and longer than usual. Finally he let the choking Marie go. The naked brunette fell backwards, hand on her throat. For a minute she fought for breath. Then, when she had recovered, she slid onto her knees in front of him and lowered her head in submission.

“Master, this slave thanks you for the gift of your sperm. She is unworthy to receive it and hopes that her service was satisfactory?” she said.

Peter smiled. “It was good enough slave,” he lied, “I expect better next time.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Marie said.

Peter leant over and slapped her naked bottom. “Get over there and see to Karl you lazy girl!” he said, “otherwise you’ll feel the whip.”

He returned his softening cock to his pants and adjusted his fly as Marie crawled over to Karl and took his erection in her mouth.

“You said you had a plan, Comrade?” Valeri asked.

Peter decided it was time for one of his special cigars, one of the ones given to him as a personal thank you by the uncle of the young countess. Not realizing that the German was plotting treachery the White Russian had made him a gift of a parcel of cigars. Peter had carefully kept them for the next few years, smoking one only when a major victory was certain.  Taking the cigar he lit it, puffed a couple of times, then walked over to where an impressive grand piano stood.

“Valeri,” he asked, “is it possible to get this piano restrung and tuned today?”

Valeri frowned, “Da comrade, but why?”

Peter smiled and puffed again, “Last night I was talking to Alison. It transpires the girl is an accomplished pianist and usually practices for a few hours every day. Since we started our travels she has been unable to practice and she expressed an interest in finding a piano somewhere for a few hours.”

“Doesn’t the Intercontinental have one?” Valeri asked.

Peter smiled. “Apparently not,” he said, “I‘ve been told that some loyal army units used the Intercontinental as a headquarters during the revolution. It seems the piano was used as a barricade and never replaced. I‘ve told Miss Michaels that I have a friend in Moscow that has a piano and that I will arrange for her to use it.”

“Clever,” Valeri said, “we get the girl to walk into our own safe house but what of the tenacious Miss Graaf? Won’t she come too?”

Peter tapped the top of the piano. “Of course,” he said, “in fact I’m counting on it.”

Valeri looked confused. Karl was too far gone at that point to notice anything. Marie’s head slid backwards and forwards in a smooth rapid motion. It wouldn’t be long before the big Bavarian came.

Peter sat on the piano stool.

“I will arrange to meet them here at eight,” he said, “I will explain that my friend is out of town but that Marie is his housekeeper and she has asked permission for us to use the piano. We will let Miss Michaels recite for an hour so that everyone is relaxed when the final drama is played out.”

He stood and pointed to the two men.

“At a little after nine, two masked bandits will break in and hold us at gun point. They will tie us up, gag us and ransack the place for valuables. As they leave they will recognize Alison as the American heiress that has been in the newspapers and take her along.”

He turned to Valeri. “The night express to Leningrad leaves when?”

“Ten thirty,” Valeri said.

“What time does it arrive?”

Valeri scratched his head. “Five in the morning,” he said.

Peter nodded. “Ok, “he said, “have your people ready to go tonight. I figure you have about an hour to get Alison into the coffin and the coffin on to the train. Will that be enough?”

“Plenty,” Valeri agreed.

Peter smiled in triumph. “At ten the next morning,” he continued, “Marie, who the bandits will have left bound and gagged in the kitchen, will manage to raise the alarm. The police will find myself and Miss Graaf bound and gagged upstairs. By the time we are reporting her disappearance Alison’s ship will already be sailing. I will be one of the poor victims of this attack and will of course console and help Miss Graaf as she searches for her kidnapped friend.”

“Brilliant,” Valeri exclaimed, “you establish an alibi and direct the police attention to Moscow.” He nodded. “Of course this safe house will be compromised?”

Peter took another puff. “We were going to close it anyway,” he said, “even Conrad Graaf can’t complain, we aren’t kidnapping his daughter, just detaining her for an hour or so.”

Satisfied, the Corporate team made its final plans.

Aleksei’s Apartment, Moscow

January 1st 1929 16:34PM

"Try again," Aleksei insisted.

Leona, eyes closed, nodded. It was hard to keep her concentration when her Master, her God, was in such close proximity. He moved again, his clothes brushing lightly against her naked body. She flushed and somehow bit back the moan that had formed in her chest. However, her hard erect nipples signaled her arousal to anyone who cared to look.

Aleksei did look but didn't really care. The sexual needs of his new slave was far less interesting than exploring her new gifts and expanding her mind to the point where she could serve him. Still, he had been on the planet long enough to know that for humans, a carrot was often a better inducement than a stick.  Smiling, he cupped her firm breast and played with her large erect nipple. This time she couldn't fight down the moan.

"Do you like that slave?" he whispered, his mouth close to her ear.

Leona was in ecstasy, her God had noticed her, played with her. Aleksei's dark sexuality filled her thoughts, her desire rippled through her body. The sensation overcame her. Struck dumb she could only nod.

"You want to serve me"? he whispered, "you want to please me?"

"Yes Master," she gasped, not daring to breathe in case it ruined the moment. She lived to serve, the thought of failing him was unimaginable.

"I hunger," he said.

Leona's heart almost stopped, she trembled, her breath coming in short, hurried pants. Deep down in her pussy she felt a warm tingle, the arousal spread to her already erect nipples. He was just millimeters away and every nerve, every fiber of her body cried for him.

"Get me the chocolate," Aleksei said, the sound of dark amusement evident in his voice.

Somehow she fought down her disappointment. "Yes Master," Leona said. She reached out her gloved hand, feeling the tingle through the cybernetic hook up. Like most of the Master's technology it wasn't designed to be used by a human, only her implant and the extensive rewiring of her brain allowed her to use it at all. Even so the forced meeting of alien super technology and human gray matter was still far from perfect. She had failed twice and she could sense his growing impatience.

"What do you see?" he asked, liquid darkness dripping from every word.

"I see the box Master," Leona said. Her eyes were still closed but in her mind the wooden box appeared real and solid, able to be seen and manipulated in three dimensions, possibly more.

"There is a number written on the bottom slave, what is it?"

"A three," Leona said, in her mind the box seemed as clear as if she was seeing it directly, perhaps more so, even with her eyes open she couldn't see the underside of the box.

"Good," Aleksei said with satisfaction, "now extend you mind and feel the box, taste it's essence.

She did as ordered, thousands of jumbled, confused images cascaded thought her opened mind. For a moment they swamped her. She tried to give them substance but they slid away like sand though her fingers. This was where she had failed before. This time she fought back, forcing order in the chaos, turning the thousands of conflicting patterns into one consistent image.

"I...it's dead," Leona said at last. An odd feeling of melancholy gripped her.

"So is most of the universe child," he said gently, "but you can still sense it's nature. Now taste it, tell me what you feel."

Leona threw her head back and moaned as the song of the long dead tree sang inside her. She felt her roots buried deep in the rich, moist soil, felt the sun on her leaves, tasted the life flowing through them. She felt the ebb and flow of almost two hundred seasons, the joy of the summer, the thick, drowsy sadness of the winter.

The bite if the axe.

"Ohhhh," she reared up as she felt the tree's death. For a moment she almost broke the link but Aleksei's firm hand on her shoulder gave her the courage to continue.

"Now go deeper," he murmured in her ear, gently kissing her neck from behind.

Still overwhelmed by the sensation Leona nodded. This time she saw the structure of the wood, the long dead cells like opened tombs. She could see how the cellulose fibers that formed the tree's skeleton still remained, giving the wood its structure and strength.

“I ... I can see it’s structure Master,” she breathed.

"Very good slave now go deeper," he whispered, kissing her soft neck again.

Aroused and excited Leona pushed deeper.

Suddenly the box disappeared. She stopped, confused then looked again. She could see the outline of the box as a blue-green colored shadow and a latticework of tiny needle points that twinkled and shimmered. She found she could see though the outline and into the box itself. The chocolates that filled the box where clearly visible, she could even see through to the desk the box was resting on.

"Look at the outline," he prompted.

Leona's brow creased as she concentrated. Now she could see that there was more than one outline each extending a different distance from the box. The outlines were not solid lines she realized, just a general field of color whose density seemed to increase suddenly when it approached some limit. She started to count each distinct outline, finally arriving at a figure of seven before she realized that there was an extra very faint line that extended far beyond the room.

"The faint outer one is the gravitational field," he said, reading her thoughts thought the implant, "the ones closer in are the greater and lesser electrostatic force and the weak and strong nuclear forces."

She nodded, not really understanding what he was saying.

"You see the lattice?" he asked.

"Yes Master," she whispered

"That is the atomic structure, the actual physicality of the box," he said. Almost immediately he sensed her confusion. "Something puzzles you slave?"

"Y...yes Master," she stuttered, hardly daring to speak, "i..it just seems that there is nothing there." She braced herself, expecting him to be angry at her ignorance. Her father, Conrad Graaf, had no tolerance for the weaknesses of his only child. She always seemed to be a great disappointment to him and he seemed to view her proudest achievements as barely adequate.

Aleksei chuckled darkly and kissed her again. "Just so!" he said, "most of the universe is nothing. Only the effect of the inter-atomic forces give any of it substance."

Leona frowned, "But Master it LOOKS solid, it feels solid." 

He chuckled again. "Your mind is designed to make sense of a complex world," he said, "Everything you see, everything you feel is just an illusion. A way for your mind to make sense of a complex and confusing reality. Outside there is chaos and you mind strains to find some order in it. We fool ourselves into believing the fiction we have created." He brushed her breast. "To serve me you must push that illusion aside and embrace the universe that really exists. You must discover how to use it, how to manipulate it." He sighed, the humans had such small minds that it would take forever for her to understand.

Through their link Leona sensed his disappointment. Trembling, she extended a finger, touching the latticework slightly, willing the spin and tumble of the electrons to change, forcing an order on the chaos as she drew letters into the shimmering clusters of atoms.

“L..... like this Master?” she asked.

Aleksei blinked. From somewhere Leona had found the control necessary to change the energy states of over a billion separate atoms. The pattern she had formed had required close and careful control, few creatures could do it without becoming hopelessly lost in the details, and yet Leona had just reached out her hand and let her instincts do the rest.

Perhaps there was hope for the humans after all?

"Get me the chocolate," he said, his voice unusually kind..

Smiling, Leona reached forward. She met some resistance as he fingers came in contact with the first outline. However rather than try and work out what to do she just felt her way. The box had no real substance, she could see that, she pressed harder, forcing her way though the holes in the latticework. She still felt some resistance, like pushing thought taffy, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from reaching into the box and taking a chocolate.

Gingerly she withdrew her hand.

“Now open your eyes.” he said softly.

Leona did as she was ordered, blinking in the daylight that filled Aleksei’s cluttered rooms. In her black gloved fingers was a small chocolate. She looked at it amazed. The box was locked, she had tried it herself and that meant that she had reached *though* the wood and into the inside.

Aleksei opened his mouth. Still a little bewildered Leona popped the chocolate inside, feeling a ripple of satisfaction that she had pleased him. Aleksei chewed and swallowed.

“Excellent little one,” he said, “now look at the box.”

She looked down and saw that the box was altered. There, in the dark brown, grained mahogany top the letters of her initials stood out. The letters where a fiery red, not the red that you got from some paint or pigment but the pure red of diffracted light --the red of the rainbow.

She looked up to find the suggestion of a smile on her Master’s limp face. “You did that,” he said, “you changed the way that light reacts with the underlying atomic structure.” He caught her thought even before she had time to speak it. “The effect will fade soon enough, to inflict order on chaos is to write in sand, time washes it all away.”

There was a sadness in his voice and the need that had been building in Leona’s pussy could be denied no longer.

“M....master,” she stuttered, face and body flushed with embarrassment, nipples erect with her excitement.

“Yes little one?”

“Master, this slave has saved herself for a man. She decided to only give herself to her husband on their wedding night.” She flushed a deeper red. “Master as you own this unworthy servant now she wonders if you would want the use of her body for your pleasure.”

Aleksei laughed, a sound rich and dark. As he did so, he seemed to slip more completely into his body becoming more human looking. When he turned to face her he was back to being the man that had taken her from the embassy, his dark eyes alive, his mouth quirked in an odd smile.

Reaching out he rolled one of her erect nipples, listening with amusement to her low moan of pleasure.

“You want us to copulate my little slave?”

“Yes Master,” Leona said, her voice full of a curious mixture of need and embarrassment.

“Then we shall,” he said.

Leona looked up, eyes sparking, her body shivering with anticipation.

Aleksei raised a hand. “But first you must perform a small task for me.”

She swallowed. “Yes Master! Anything you desire.” She was so horny now that she would have done anything.....

“Good,” he chuckled, “I want you to kill Peter Heiden.”

“Immediately my Master,” Leona said, turning to leave. Peter Heiden had made the mistake of putting himself between Leona and her most desperate desire. As far as the girl was concerned he was as good as dead.

Aleksei noticed that there was not a hint of hesitation, no suggestion of second thoughts or weakness. It seemed that this time the implant was a complete success. He frowned. This was also the first time he had used his technology on a woman. Finding the world run by males he had targeted his attempts at control on them. With few exceptions they had been disappointing, either too stupid or too strong willed to make good servants. It seemed however, that the female of the species more closely fitted his needs.

“Wait Leona,” he ordered.

She paused and looked back, a look of horny determination on her face. Aleksei couldn’t resist laughing again. “Don’t you think you had better put some clothes on first?”

====================================

Intercontinental Hotel, Moscow

January 1st 1929 17:55PM

“What *are* you wearing?” Alison Michaels asked.

Leona blushed. “Just something Aleksei found me,” she said idly, “he said that it’s a Cossack riding outfit.”

Alison stood up and walked around Leona, looking at the German girl’s amazing outfit. The short black leather jacket was wrapped tightly around Leona’s body and fastened by a narrow, knotted bet. The waist was flared, falling across the top of the ankle length, pleated leather skirt, a pair of black leather riding boots peeked out from the bottom. Together with her black gloves it seemed that only Leona’s head was not covered in black leather.

Leona giggled. “That’s not the best part,” she said conspiratorially, “ Russian women don’t ride side saddle.” She opened her legs and pulled on the sides of the skirt, revealing that in fact they were a pair of pleated pantaloons.

“Wow,” Alison said. For the first time in memory she was actually envious of one of Leona’s outfits. This little ensemble would get her all sorts of attention if she wore it while riding in Central Park. Polite society would be especially upset if she used a man’s saddle. Out west in California maybe a girl could get away with it but amongst the proper families of the east coast it simply wouldn’t do. Alison giggled as she imagined the scandal. She could create a new fashion entirely on her own.

“Could you get me one?” Alison asked.

“I could ask him,” Leona said smiling, “you could try this one on if you like ? See how you like it?” The two girls were about the same size and had traded outfits since school. Leona watched slyly as Alison looked the little ensemble over. The  redheaded American was tempted. Leona waited, hardly daring to breathe. Right now she really needed Alison to try on the outfit.

“Maybe later,” Alison said, sounding amused, “I just had a bath drawn. I thought you’d have worked that out?” She waved her hand across her body. The robe she was wearing was of Chinese silk, a dragon motif painted onto the back. The silk clung lovingly to the young heiress's body showcasing every curve. For some reason Leona could feel the desire rising in her pussy again. Alison was so beautiful, so shapely, and soon she would be Leona’s. The girl could imagine Alison’s struggles, her begging looks above a tight, silencing gag. The Master had dark plans for Alison and her fortune, plans he had ordered Leona to execute. The old Leona would probably have been shocked but the new Leona looked forward to having her best friend at her mercy. For a moment she daydreamed stroking Alison’s little bud, imagining the bound girl’s muffled whimper of delight.........

“Leona are you ok?” Alison asked.

“What? Oh yes fine,” Leona said, giving Alison a sheepish grin, “just thinking about last night.”

“Did you loose, it?” Alison asked wickedly.

“Loose it?” Leona asked, then her eyes widened as the realization dawned. “Oh no! We didn’t.... I mean I didn’t. We had a long discussion about politics, art and the nature of the universe,” she said at last.

“A ha,” Alison said, “but you *wanted* to right?” She held up her hand, showing a tiny gap between finger and thumb which she peered though. “That resolution of yours came *this* close to breaking.”

Leona shuffled uncomfortably. “What makes you say that?” she asked.

Alison smirked. “You had a look of pure lust on your face,” she said, “for a moment I thought you were looking at me. I was starting to think that all those rumors about you were true.”

“Rumors?” Leona said frowning.

“That you preferred girls,” Alison said over her shoulder as she turned towards the small bathroom. “I can’t discuss it now dear, the plumbing was broken as usual, five very strong  Russian boys had to bring this water up from the kitchen in buckets so I don’t want it to get cold. I was about to indulge when you arrived. I’ll keep the door open so we can talk.”

She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door a little. A few seconds later Leona could hear the sound of Alison slipping into the water.

“What rumors,” Leona persisted, “I mean who said that?”

“Most of the girl’s thought it Leo,” Alison said, her voice echoing from the bathroom, “ I mean you *were* the only girl in our class to pass the nun’s chastity test.”

“And that was a *bad* thing?” Leona asked, “that I saved myself for marriage?”

“We were in a  French finishing school in Paris and it is the roaring twenties hon,” Alison called back, “actually I for one was pretty disappointed that you turned out to be so virginal, we could have had a blast back in Munich if you weren’t so afraid of daddy.”

Yesterday that comment might have troubled Leona but today she had bigger things on her mind. She walked over to the bed where a dress, a pair of bloomers and some stockings had been laid out ready.

Leona frowned. “Where are you going?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Oh yes,” Alison called, “You and your adventures last night almost made me forget. Peter found me a piano, can you believe it, a baby grand in this hell hole? Anyway, I said I’d go over and give him a recital tonight before we leave tomorrow.”

“We leave tomorrow?” Leona asked.

“Yes, damn, I didn’t tell you that either,” Alison said, “Peter was arrested last night spent most of the day with the local police. He thinks it best if we head back to Munich. Personally I think we stayed too long anyway. I’m starting to get a little tired.”

“Of Peter or of Russia,” Leona called.

Alison laughed. “Well of both really,” she admitted.

Leona remembered what her Master had told her of the Corporation and Peter’s role in it. If Peter wanted them to leave then it meant that he intended to make his move tonight. He’d obviously used his time alone with Alison to best effect and had managed to persuade her to stray away from Leona.

“I take it that this is a private recital?” Leona asked.

“No,” Alison said, “in fact he almost insisted that you come along.”

“Really?” Leona said. She frowned. That was odd, from what her Master had told her only Leona’s continued presence had saved Alison from collection. Now he wanted Leona to come along on the last chance he would have to take Alison before they returned to Munich? It didn’t make sense.

“He sent over a note, it’s on the dresser.” Alison called.

Leona walked over and retrieved the note. She scanned it quickly and confirmed that Peter had seemed very insistent that she came with Alison. She also noticed the address, one she recognized as the Corporation’s safe house in Moscow.

Leona glanced at the open bathroom door and then back at the note. What did it mean? This was obviously Peter’s final attempt to secure Alison, if they were returning to Germany tomorrow there was no other opportunity and yet this meant that Leona’s presence was no longer enough to protect the young American. Leona could only wonder why that situation had changed. Perhaps her father, who had always been disappointed not to have had a son, had finally decided to throw Leona to the wolves. The Corporation’s fee for this operation must be huge, the temptation was too great. She shook her head. Despite their differences she doubted her father would do *that* she was his only child. Then another thought struck her. The Corporation was so ruthless she doubted that they would let one man block their plans for long. Perhaps they planned to eliminate Conrad Graaf’s objections? For a moment she had a terrifying vision of her father draped across his bloodstained desk, a revolver in his dead hand.

Whatever the reason Leona was left in no doubt that they were in extreme peril. If they went to the house it seemed likely that one or more of the girls would find herself on a Corporation slave ship by morning.

“Allie?” Leona called, “Please let’s not go? We’ve been out every night this week. Let’s just stay in tonight, play cards, tell stories, you know like we used to?”

“I already said I’d come,” Alison said, “you can stay if you like but I *want* to go.”

Leona closed her eyes and sighed. Alison’s voice had that tone again. The tone that said that the pretty redhead wouldn’t take no for an answer. It seemed that the young slave would have to rework her carefully laid plans. Signing she took the bloomers and stockings from the bed. Then, from nowhere a more devious thought struck her. Glancing around the room she quickly located the pants and stockings that Alison had discarded earlier. Unable to suppress a smile she picked up the discarded under things. Bringing the bloomers to her nose Leona breathed in the rich aroma of Alison. She laughed. These would do nicely.

With a smile, Leona walked towards the bathroom door.

==============================================================

“Want me to wash your back?” Leona asked.

“Leo?” Alison spluttered covering her breasts with her arm, “w....what are you doing?”

Leona shrugged and gave a small twisted smile. “Just seeing if you look as good naked as I’ve always imagined,” she said. Alison was sat in a large enamel bathtub, her back resting against the wide flared end of the tub, her feet closest to Leona and the door. Most of her body was hidden below the surface of the water. Still, what Leona could see looked delicious.

“Leo please,” Alison begged.

Leona looked shocked, “Oh come now Allie, these are the roaring twenties remember? Just a few minutes ago you were complaining that I was too virginal. Well, my friend, you cannot have it both ways.”

“G...get out,” Alison said, “pp...please?” Her words lacked any real power. Alison liked taking risks and being outrageous but only on her own terms. Now trapped naked in the bathroom with Leona she shrank back. Leona, sensing victory, moved in closer.

“I’m sorry Allie,” she said, “but Aleksei is a member of the secret police. He told me that Peter is a white slaver contracted by your uncle to kidnap you. I’m afraid I can’t let you go to the house tonight.”

Alison wasn’t sure what had gotten into her friend but there was no doubt now that Leona’s look of lust was directed at her. “T.... that story is p.. preposterous,” Alison said, “please Leona, leave now or I...I’ll scream.”

Leona tilted her head and smiled. “We can’t have that now can we Alison dear? We want to keep this private after all.” She grabbed one of Alison’s ankles. “Here,” Leona said, “Why don’t you try on my new outfit.” Through the implant Leona activated the symbiont, watching with amusement Alison’s look of horror. The riding outfit Leona was wearing lost its shape, forming a thick black syrup that flowed down Leona’s arm and into the bath. 

By the time Alison had even thought to react her lower legs and knees were already covered in the slightly warm ooze. She tried to move but found that was impossible as the blackness not only stuck her legs together it also stuck them firmly to the bottom of the bath.

“W...what?” Alison started, looking shocked at her now naked friend.

Leona smiled. “It’s a cybernetic entity that was designed to protect its wearer from extreme conditions like the vacuum of space,” she explained, “this one has been reprogrammed to do a few interesting things.”

“Get it off me please, GET it Ummmppphhh!!”

Leona had heard enough. As Alison built towards a scream the young German pounced. The bloomers were stuffed into the pretty redhead’s mouth before Alison even realized what was happening. The American girl struggled and tried to claw Leona’s hands away. A moment later the blackness found the entrance to Alison’s womb and forced it’s way inside.

“Ummmmmpphhhh!” Alison squealed as her hands flew down to cover her crotch. That was a mistake, the ooze flowed through her fingers and covered her hands. Alison tugged but found them glued firmly in place. As Leona used the first stocking to tie the bloomer gag in place there was nothing that Alison could do but sit back like an erotic Brier Rabbit.

The ooze continued up Alison’s body steadily adhering her to the bottom of the bathtub. By the time the girl had recovered from the invasion of her sex it was all over, the symbiont was now only inches below her breasts and most of her upper body was immobilized. The shaking of her shoulders as she sobbed was about all the movement Alison had left.

Leona smiled and touched the blackness, using the implant to modify the symbiont’s orders. The tiny part of the device that was inside Alison immediately started to expand and contract, while the part that coated her clit began a strong, gentle vibration.

Alison whimpered into her gag as the stimulation hit her. For a second she was lost in sensation and by the time she recovered the blackness had done his work. Alison was coated from her neck to her toes by the thick black substance. Her body was stuck to the bottom of the tub along its entire length. She found she was only able to move her head and this she did, turning to face Leona with wide accusing eyes.

Leona smiled.

“Aleksei is not from our world Allie,” Leona started, “he has come a long way with many gifts for our people but first he needs to build political stability here.” She paused trying to translate the thousand little subtleties of the plan into terms Alison could understand. She failed.

Leona shrugged. “He explained it to me while I was still human and I didn’t understand it,” Leona said, “it was only later, when he put a metal insect into my brain to control my mind, that I fully understood.” She smiled down at her terrified friend. “You will understand soon enough Allie, when you serve him as I do.”

“Ummhhhhh!” Alison shook her head, eyes wide with panic and fear. Leona smiled and bent down, touching the blackness and ordering it to start it’s teasings again. As the symbiont complied it also withdrew from Alison’s beasts leaving the girl’s nipples open and vulnerable.

Leona brushed a hand over the erect nipples and listened to the whimpering noises the little redhead was making. The Symbiont was a skillful lover, it moved its attention around keeping the maximum number of nerve endings stimulated. Soon Alison’s head was covered in sweat her eyes rolled back as she perched on the edge of a mind shattering orgasm. Idly Leona rolled Alison’s erect nipples listening to the girl’s tiny moans of pleasure. The effect of the symbiont’s teasings could probably break the girl’s will on its own but just in case the Master had given Leona a way to ensure the young heiress' loyalty. Still there was one last thing that Leona wanted before Alison joined her in slavery

Leona left Alison on the brink of orgasm for several long, agonizing minutes, the blackness adjusting it’s attack moving in such a way as to keep the girl on the very edge. Finally Alison understood what was happening. She chewed on the bloomers, trying to beg Leona for release.

Leona chuckled. “Want to cum Allie?.” she asked.

“Ummm,” Alison nodded, her own desperate position and Leona’s talk of men from other worlds now far less important than the fire that burned in her pussy.

Leona gave her captive a feline smile. “You will need to earn that right Allie,” she said teasingly, “you see I was not the only person who was whispered about in school. Of course in *your* case we knew that the gossip was true. I admit that I was curious but like you said I was too much of a virgin to do anything about it.” She laughed. “Now I’ve changed.”

She reached across and untied the stocking holding the bloomers in Alison’s mouth. She pulled the packing free and Alison gave a long trembling breath. “P......please Leona,” Alison begged.

Leona smiled and straddled her captive, forcing her shaved cunt down over Alison’s mouth. The young American gave a muffled complaint but her own need was great and she had no doubt what she would have to do to earn release. Gingerly Alison extended her tongue into Leona’s pink, shaved pussy. Finding her friend’s clit she started to lap, first one way and then the other, swirling her tongue around the engorged nub. Sucking, mouthing, licking, upping the sensation any way she could, her only thought now was to please Leona.

The German girl arched her back, moaning softly as she rolled her nipples. Ecstasy was close, so very close and so the girl didn’t realize what was happening until the door to the outer room slammed shut.

“Ma’am,” Sophia called from the bedroom, “I’m back Ma’am and I have all that you asked for!”

On the brink of orgasm Leona fought to pull her mind back together. Sophia was Alison’s maid servant which the American had brought along despite making Leona leave her own maid behind. For the first few days of the trip it had been a sore point between the two friends and Alison had told her servant to keep a low profile. Now it seemed she was back.

Between Leona’s legs, Alison had heard it too. She gave a weak scream that was easily muffled by Leona’s cunt but the message was clear, Leona needed to work fast.

Leona eased up enough to clamp a hand over Alison’s mouth. Reaching down she grabbed the bloomers. Alison saw what was coming. Desperately she shook her head, trying to be rid of Leona’s gagging hand just long enough for one scream. Realizing the danger Leona knelt and started to stuff the bloomers back into Alison’s mouth.

“Ummmmmmm Ummm hheeeee!!”

“Ma’am?” The voice outside was getting closer.

“We’re in here chatting,” Leona called, “Wait there I’ll come out to you.”

“Ummmmm,” Alison called, trying to shake Leona off. Biting her lip Leona willed the symbiont to action. The ooze slid up over Alison’s lower face, covering the bloomers and sealing her mouth. Alison gave a muffled whimper but it was almost inaudible.

Leona smirked down at her captive. The blackness also covered Alison’s neck holding her head still and stealing the little free movement the girl had left.

Leona looked at the door. Sophia obviously had to be dealt with but first there was unfinished business with Alison. Reaching up she removed one of her ear rings. Smiling Leona rubbed the little metal bead and triggered the tiny mechanism. The tiny metal bug unfurled and extended its legs, its eyes glowing red with a strange malevolence.

Smiling, she repeated what Aleksei had done placing the tiny metal insect on Alison’s chest. “I have to go and take care of little Sophie now, “Leona said with a whisper, “so I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Leona turned and picked up Alison’s discarded silk robe quickly sliding it on before winding a towel around her head. She took one last glance at the figure in the bath, then turned towards the door.

Helpless, unable to move a muscle or make a sound Alison could only watch as the little bug started its relentless march towards her ear.

Corporation Safe House Berlin, April 21st 1920 8:07PM

==========================================

“Are you finished?” Peter asked coldly. The man with the beard nodded, oddly apologetic.   Peter waited while the man finished buttoning his pants and fastened his belt. “Who ordered this?” he asked, nodding towards the sobbing figure on the bed.

“M...Max said we should. You know it’s standard practice,” the man said, trying to avoid the taller man’s gaze. Peter had a reputation for being unpredictable and he had a violent temper. The cold look he gave made the man shiver.

“I’d best be going,” the bearded man added.

Peter nodded. “Yes I think you’d better,” he snapped.  As the man turned for the door, he added, "You can tell the others that there will be no more turns with this one.  Make it clear to them just how bad an idea it would be to cross me.”

The man paused in the doorway. “Y...yes, Peter, don’t worry. I’ll make it clear.”

Peter waited until the man had left, then took the jug of water he was carrying and put it on the small dresser. Reaching for the lamp, he turned it up and crossed to the small bed.

Anna stared up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.  Her body was still clothed in the torn remains of her underwear, her wrists bound to the iron bedstead above her head.

He busied himself with the pitcher  “Are you thirsty?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

For a moment she glared at him, as if wanting to know how he could think of something as trivial as water at this moment. However, in the end her need got the better of her, and she nodded her head submissively.  After the usual warnings about what would happen if she screamed, he reached behind her head and loosened the knot.

Peter regretted removing her gag almost the moment the heavy knot slipped from her mouth. Not because she screamed or shouted, begged or called him names, but because she remained perfectly silent. In a strange way her silence hung in the air like an accusation, one that was far more cutting that anything she could have said.

He glanced down at the thick, knotted band of cloth he had taken from her mouth, noting the slight smearing of blood where she had accidentally bit her lip. She had fought desperately for her freedom the moment she had realized that this was not a lover’s game. He remembered her hands clawing at his when he tied the cloth in place, the look of horror and betrayal in her eyes as he tied her struggling body for the first time.

He found himself looking into her eyes again, but this time there was no look of fear or hate or anything understandable. Instead she looked tired, physically and mentally, as if the many hours of brutal rape she had endured had loaded down her soul with a burden she would rather not bare. Remembering why he was here, Peter reached for the glass that stood on the small bedside table, bringing it up to her lips and watching as she gratefully drained every drop of the water.

"More?" he asked.

She just nodded. Peter stood and started filling the glass, keeping his eyes averted, not wanting to look down. But he did of course, he couldn’t help himself. His eyes drifted down her half-naked body from her bound wrists, across her pert breasts and beyond. He paused at her crotch, shivering at her matted pubic fur and the trickle of cum that still leaked from her abused hole. The sheet underneath was damp, the size of the stain showing just how much cum the girl had been forced to take in the last few hours. As he watched her thigh muscles twitched, tugging on the ropes tied around her knees binding her legs open.

Peter looked away, concentrating on filling the glass with water. Once he was finished he returned to the bed and brought the glass to her lips again, waiting patiently while she drank. That done, he picked up the gag and reached for her.

"Why, Erik?" Anna croaked, throat still sore after several hours of screaming into the gag. Her tired eyes looking up at the man she had loved and thought she knew.

“Erik--” she started.  Peter froze and turned away. For the past two years he had been Peter Heiden, the rich and handsome playboy son of wealthy parents. These days Erik Muller sounded like the name of a stranger -- coarse, common, the name of some working class whelp. Peter despised Erik, hated his common uneducated stupidity, and yet the sound of his old name would always bring back happy memories of before the war.  He fought them down -- that was the past, one better forgotten. He wished desperately that he could stuff the gag back into her mouth and just walk away. That was what Max would have done, and it was certainly what Max had taught his young protŽgŽ.

"I tried to warn you," Peter said at last.  "I begged you not to come to Berlin." His voice wavered a little, pain and exasperation evident in every word. He had warned her to stay away from him, not to attempt to meet and re-establish their relationship. He had realized that Anna had no fear for her own safety so he had hinted that she would put him in danger if she looked for him. He had told her that he risked being shot as a deserter even though Max had seen to it that Erik Muller had received a hero’s burial and Peter Heiden an honorable discharge. 

              

“Why, Erik?” she asked again, and he found himself wanting to tell her. He wished he could tell her how he had marched off to war full of high hopes, with her picture in his pocket and her promise in his heart. Wished that he could tell her of the damp trenches, the maggot-ridden food and the constant smell of cordite and death. Most of all he wished he could have told her about the night he had gone over the top. How his entire regiment had charged into a French barrage, the lucky survivors making it through to the first line of French wire where the gas and the machine guns had been waiting.

A piece of shrapnel had torn the gas mask from his face. The acid had burnt his lungs; with streaming eyes he had looked around, spotting the corpse hanging on the wire. He had torn off its mask, ignoring the patches of rotting flesh that had come with it. He had clamped the mask to his own face, taking in a single breath of the death stench before he mercifully slid into unconsciousness.

He had been lucky; the survivors of the push found him and dragged him back to his own trenches. His “touch of gas” had won him some time in a small French sanitarium commandeered by the Imperial Army.  That luck had held while he was there. Mindful of dissent in the Fatherland, the German generals were doing what they could to bolster support for the war. While Erik had rested in the sanitarium, there had been a visit by an aged Prussian General and his pretty young wife. The General hadn’t seemed too pleased with what he saw; here were a hundred working class boys being cared for in a spa that before the war had tended only to their social betters. The old man had murmured his disapproval, it didn’t do to give them any ideas, the proper social order had to be maintained after the war. However, by then Erik already had ideas, and so did the General’s pretty young wife. Taking a fancy to the handsome soldier she had persuaded her husband to transfer Erik to his headquarters.

Erik had been relieved to be sent to the General’s headquarters rather than back to the front. For two years he had performed his duties as an invisible servant, making sure that the Generals got their cigars and whiskey when they wanted them, their banquets were well stocked with food and that the Prussian’s wife was satisfied sexually. All the time he watched and learned, seeing first hand how the other half lived, realizing that when the rich fought wars it was the poor that died and promising himself that he would never be poor again. He also started to note the rituals and forms of address of his superiors, aping their educated, aristocratic accents in private, perfecting their rigid manners and Teutonic etiquette. 

Finally they had been caught. The General’s wife had become careless. Hoping to use jealousy against her bombastic husband, she had deliberately flaunted her young lover to a point where the old man could no longer ignore it. Soon Erik had been in jail, awaiting a court-martial and a firing squad. Bitter and resentful, he had openly mocked the officers sent to try him, skillfully imitating their manners, their crisp upper class accents. Some scowled, some shouted, but one had just smiled and watched silently.

Later the officer had visited Erik in his cell with cigarettes and a flask of whiskey. The officer had introduced himself as Max Von Lundendorf; after a couple of whiskeys, he finally explained why he was here. He had a number of *items* in France that he needed transporting back to Germany, he explained, items that the German military authorities would not approve of. As an intelligence officer on the general staff, Max had secured all the necessary paperwork, but he couldn’t accompany the goods himself . The young officer who had been charged with accompanying the shipment had been killed in an air raid, so now he needed someone with the right bearing and quick wits to get the shipment though unexamined.

Of course Erik had agreed, assuming that Max was smuggling stolen artworks back to Germany. It was only later when he had seen the young French peasant girls chained and gagged in the basement of a commandeered Chateau that he had realized just what his new mentor had wanted to transport.

“Erik?”

Peter blinked. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said again.

“My family died in the flu epidemic Erik, you were all I had. . .” She sobbed and Peter fought the urge to take her in his arms.  Anna had come to Berlin looking for Erik, and had run into Peter outside the opera. The little scene she had made had nearly ruined his cover. Max had been angry -- the girl was too dangerous to leave at liberty, he said. In the end she had left Peter with little option but to collect her. Peter closed his eyes and wished she had stayed away.

“I waited for you, Erik, all through the war, even after your mother received the telegram saying you had been killed.  I knew I could never love another.” She looked up at him with the big blue eyes he had loved all his life.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he repeated, “I told you to stay away.”

It was his own fault she was here, of course. He had read in the papers that people in his home town were starving. He had felt the need to send his family money somehow, without letting them know he was still alive.  There was only one person he could trust to do that. And so he had contacted Anna, and it was his fault that Anna was here. The guilt crushed him.

“Why, Erik?”

“For the money of course,” the deep booming voice said.

Peter and Anna looked towards the sound of the voice. Max stood in the doorway, dressed for an evening out. Smiling, he approached the bed.  “Peter understands the power of money, my dear. It’s what separates the victor from the vanquished, what makes you a winner rather than a victim," he explained, reaching down and stroking Anna’s naked breast, feeling the nipple harden to his touch. He smiled at the girl’s gasp.

“Look at you, my dear -- good, strong, corn-fed peasant girl. So innocent of her needs, yet with a body sensitive to a man’s caresses -- have you any idea what a jaded aristocrat or foreign potentate would give to have you share his bed? How much he will pay for the pleasure he can take from your helpless body? In some places you are literally worth your weight in gold.”

Anna looked up with tear-filled eyes. “Please, Erik, untie me!" she pleaded.  "Please, I love you, I have always loved you, free me Erik, I won’t tell anyone I promise, I can be your girl for now and always just as I promised--”

“She begs well, doesn’t she, Peter?” Max said. Getting no answer, he looked into Peter’s tortured eyes and saw the indecision there.

Max thought for a moment. “I can see what you are thinking,” he said, resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder, “so I will give you a choice my boy.”

He looked down at Anna. “If you like, you can keep her. I will tell our good friend the Baron that we were unable to fill his order. We both know that fresh little peasant girls arrive at the Central Station every day, we can easily make up the shortfall. If you decide to keep her she will need to be secured of course, she knows too much to ever be given her freedom, but I am content for you to keep her as your personal bed warmer.” He paused and looked down at Anna’s begging eyes, the life had returned to them, they were bright with hope. Max suppressed a smile. “My second offer is this. If you relinquish the girl then I will send you back to Russia as the Captain of your own crew. In effect all of eastern European operations will be under your direct control and you will take the captain’s share of any acquisitions.  We both know that there is so much product waiting to be taken that you could be a millionaire in a few years.” Max smiled. “Think of it, boy -- you would never be hungry again.  You could live this life until you die, leave your children and grandchildren secure for generations.”

Max stepped back. “Your choice, Peter.  You couldn’t take the girl with you to Russia, anyway, so you have to choose between her and the captaincy.”

Peter looked down at his bound sweetheart.  They had been together since childhood, and Erik’s greatest ambition had been to settle down with her and have children. But Erik had never lived the life that Peter had, never had fine clothes and fine women, never had men respect him.

“Please, Erik,” Anna begged, “I promise to be good, Erik, if you have to keep me chained I accept that. I want you Erik, I will do whatever you want. Please Erik. . .No! No, Erik, please don’t Erikummmmmpppphhhhh!”

Peter shoved the gag back into her mouth and tied it tightly behind the sobbing girl’s neck. She gave him one more begging look before he turned and headed for the door.

Outside, Max laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “Russia, then?” he asked gently.

Peter nodded.

“Trust me, it’s for the best,” Max said.  “Now, if you will excuse me, I have an dinner appointment with Mrs. Hoffmann’s mousy little secretary. She speaks, reads and writes eight languages, you know, including Arabic. I suspect she could be worth fifty thousand pounds. . .”

“Max?” Peter said to his departing mentor.

“Yes, Peter?”

“It was no accident, Anna meeting me outside the opera, was it?”  His voice was cold and lifeless.

Max shook his head. “No, Peter.  I sent a note to her rooming house. I had to see if you had what it takes to run a crew of your own.”

“And if I had chosen her?”

Max shrugged. “Then I would have shot you myself,” he said simply.  “There is no room for weakness in this game. I told you that from the start.” Smiling, Max tapped his cane to the brim of his hat. “Have a good night, Peter.  I assure you I will.” Smiling, he turned and walked away.

Unseen, Peter slowly dropped to his knees and wept.

============================================================

Intercontinental Hotel, Moscow

January 1st 1929 6:37PM

Sophia stiffened at the sound of Miss Leona’s voice. Blast! The young English servant had been so caught up in her work she hadn’t thought to call up from the lobby and check if the German girl was here. Ever since Leona’s servant, Hanna, had been left behind in Munich, Sophia’s presence on the trip had been a sore point between the two friends. Sophia had done what she could to avoid conflict, and for the last few days she had effectively hidden out, always checking that Miss Leona was absent before attending her mistress.

Sophia sighed and carried the packages over to a small side table. Miss Alison had asked her to go shopping for mementos of the trip to give to friends in America. The assortment the young English girl had been able to find was poor but she hoped that her mistress would like them. Sophia had been hired in London after Alison’s American maid had left without notice. Alison’s uncle had offered to send the young heiress a servant from New York, but Alison had wanted a maid immediately and had hired Sophia from a London agency. Sophia hoped that her mistress liked her, and that when the vacation was over Alison would take her to New York.

“Sophie, mein leibchen , I forgot all about you!” Miss Leona stood just outside the bathroom door, her body covered in Alison’s Chinese silk dressing gown and her hair wrapped in a towel.

Sophia curtsied. “Y. . .yes Miss. I. . .I’ve been busy, Miss, what with Miss Alison’s tasks and all.” Nervously she curtsied again.

Leona smiled. Sophia blinked, it was so uncharacteristic, completely unlike the stern way that Miss Leona usually behaved. Relations between the young German heiress and the English lady's maid had never been warm.  The animosity and loss of the Great War still made Anglo-German relationships strained, even at a personal level. Sophia had done what she could to get Miss Leona to like her, but her advances had always been rejected. Now Leona was smiling at her, calling her “Leibchen!” Instead of the German’s usual cold stares, Leona’s eyes had an odd look, almost a hunger, that the maid found disturbing. For some reason Sophia started to feel nervous, as if she was locked in a small room with a big cat.

“I. . .is there anything I can help you with, Miss,” she asked, curtsying again just to be sure.

Leona smiled. “Actually there is,” she said, her voice strong and imperious, the accent not nearly as obvious as it had been a moment before. “As you know, we will be leaving Moscow tomorrow, and as I was all alone I was forced to pack by myself. I’ve only left out clothes for travel tomorrow but Alison tells me that we will be going out tonight.” She paused. “You see my problem,” she asked raising an eyebrow, “I have nothing to wear. Fortunately, Alison, saint that she is, says that I can borrow anything from her wardrobe.” She gave the servant a broad smile. “Isn’t that wonderful?  Now be a good girl and show me what you have. I quite liked the red dress -- you know the one?”

Indeed Sophia did know the one. It was her Mistress’ current favorite, bought just a few weeks ago in Paris. Alison had come to like it so much that she had already worn it two or three times, quite a record considering the heiress’ extensive wardrobe.

“Y. . .yes Miss.” Sophia stammered. She hated being put in situations like this; if Miss Alison had told the maid herself there wouldn’t be any problem, but to hear it from one of her lady’s friends left the girl very vulnerable. If she refused Miss Leona then it was possible that the German girl would get upset and complain to her mistress. If that was the case, Sophia could be fired for cheeking one of her betters. On the other hand, if she let Miss Leona have her Mistress’ clothes without permission. . .   The servant looked longingly at the closed bathroom door. If she could slip in for just a moment and clear things--

“Well?” Leona demanded, voice still friendly but developing an iron edge.

Sophia swallowed. “Y. . .yes Miss,” she said nervously. There was no harm in letting Leona pick out an outfit, as long as Sophia got permission from Alison before Leona put anything on. She would let Miss Leona pick a few things then make an excuse and slip into the bathroom to get the final okay from Alison.

Sophia went over to the corner of the room where her Mistress' numerous cases and trunks were neatly piled. She started to open trunks and take out things for Leona’s approval. Leona seemed far more decisive than Alison. In a moment underwear, dress, and shoes had been selected. In fact, it was the small things that seemed to cause the most problems -- for some reason, Leona had her take out all of her mistress’ stockings, then all of her silk scarves. Nervously Sophia glanced at the bathroom door again. Soon Miss Leona would ask for help dressing and when that happened she would have to interrupt her mistress’ bath.

She looked up just in time to catch Leona’s Cheshire Cat smile. The heiress was twisting a long silk scarf into a ball.  On the bed another scarf already had a knot in the center. Sophia’s eyes widened.

“Please Miss,” she started, “that’s finest Chinese silk you shouldn’t..... ummmmpphhh!!”

Leona had heard enough. Leaping forward, she stuffed the scarf ball deep into Sophia’s mouth. Before the young servant could react, Leona pushed her onto the bed, then leapt on top of her, straddling her body and pinning the startled girl’s arms by her side. As Sophia reared up and tried to spit the silken intruder from her mouth, Leona brought the knotted scarf down over the struggling servant’s head. The knot slid easily into Sophia’s already packed mouth. Leona pulled back, using the scarf like the reins of a horse, pulling Sophia’s head back and forcing the scarf even further into the young maid’s mouth.

“Ummmm,” Sophia moaned, shaking her head. She tried to struggle, tried to fight, but Leona’s weight held her firmly in place. She felt the scarf being knotted firmly behind her head. A moment later she became aware that another folded scarf was being packed into the front of her mouth. Then a broad silken band was tied firmly over her lips. Up until now Sophia had not really fought, as years of social conditioning had taught her not to strike her betters, but this was too much! Squealing into her tight gag, the frightened girl bucked and twisted, trying to pull one arm free.

Suddenly, something cold pressed against her throat. Sophia stiffened.

“You don’t really want to give me any trouble, do you Sophie?” Leona asked, sounding bemused. Sophia, eyes wide, gave a small shake of the head, mindful of the straight razor that Leona had pressed against her throat.

“You shave Miss Alison, right, Sophie? I suppose you also sharpen the razor?”

“Umm,” Sophia grunted in confirmation.

“Then you know how sharp this is,” Leona said, a harder edge entering her voice. “I want you to be clear on this, Sophie.  The Master has decreed that all that will not serve will be destroyed. I am giving you the chance to serve us.  If you accept, then you may live.  If not, I will kill you now. Am I clear?”

“Ummm,” the English girl grunted again. What had come over Miss Leona? Master? Serve or be destroyed? Was she insane? Whatever her reasons, the threat was very real.  Sophia’s father was a keen reader of The Police Gazette and there always seemed to be stories about people having their throats cut with razors.

“If you cooperate, all that will happen is that I will tie you up for a while. If you resist, you will be killed. Now, will you be a good girl for me?”

Miss Leona’s voice was cold and deliberate.  Sophia had little doubt that the German girl would carry out her threat. Nervous of the razor, she grunted her surrender. A moment later she felt Leona shift her position.

“Hands on your head, Sophie, slowly and no tricks.”

An idea began to form in Sophia’s mind.  Slowly, she slid her hands free of Leona’s body and brought them up to her head.  “Good,” Leona said approvingly. Sophie felt the blade being removed from her throat.

Leona shifted position slightly and at the same time Sophia used the opportunity to slide one leg beneath her body. She felt Leona reaching forward to grab a wrist. . .

Sophia pushed up, hard, using the momentary instability in Leona’s position to tip the young German off of her body, off of the bed and onto the floor.

The maid jumped to her feet, fingers questing for the top layer of her gag.

“Ummmmmpppppphhh!!!” the scream had full force, but hardly a sound emerged. Sophia glanced over the side of the bed just in time to see Leona roll back and flip herself lightly to her feet. The straight razor was still clamped firmly between the young German’s teeth. As Sophia watched Leona grabbed the razor’s mother-of-pearl handle, removed the weapon from her mouth and took up a fighting stance.

Sophia realized that she was out of time. Abandoning the gag for now, Sophia turned and ran for the bathroom. The door had a lock, Sophia remembered, she would lock herself and Miss Alison safely inside and then remove the gag and cry for help.  Sophia exploded through the door.

“Ummmmmppphh” she called in warning as she crashed through the door, then she saw the figure in the bath.

Alison rested in the bath, her entire body from her mouth downwards covered in a thick black goo. Her eyes were open, glazed and lifeless, a trickle of red blood coming from her left ear.

For a moment Sophia was startled at the ghastly sight, so surprised that she forgot her own desperate situation. She was snapped from her horror by the door being thrust open.  Sophia half turned, just in time to see the chamber pot that crashed down on her head.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corporation Safe House, Moscow

January 1st 1929 6:33PM

The knock on the door woke Peter from his slumbers. He yawned and stretched. Something in the dream was disturbing, he had felt the approach of darkness, something evil, like the devil come to claim his soul. And he seemed to remember a woman's voice saying he had betrayed her, felt his heart torn from him. It was another dream about Anna, he was sure. They had been coming more and more frequently these days, almost as if the time he had spent back in Germany had reminded him of his guilt.

The knock came again.

“Come!”

Karl entered nervously. “C. . .can I ask you something, Peter?” he stuttered.

Peter blinked. “Of course Karl,” he said, “my door is always open, you know that. Please come in.”

As he came closer, Karl flashed Peter a weak smile. They had worked together for four years and in that time Peter had never seen the big Bavarian this nervous. Peter wondered what it was all about.  As Karl made no attempt to start the conversation, he decided to take the initiative. “What can I do for you, Karl?” he asked, gesturing for the big man to take the other chair.

Karl smiled nervously and sat. “It’s about closing up business here, Peter. I was wondering what would happen to the house and contents?”

Peter shrugged. His men had spent the last few hours stripping the house of all traces of Corporate occupation. The secret room in the basement was gone. Even the coffin was waiting in the back of a truck hidden in one of the outbuildings. When the Moscow police searched the place tomorrow they would find nothing incriminating.

“I suppose we will sell it furnished,” Peter said, “I’m sure that there are companies in Germany that would buy a headquarters in Moscow.”

Karl squirmed a little. “And Marie?” he asked.

“She’s served us well,” Peter said, “I intend to be humane when the time comes.” He noted the way Karl stiffened. “Unless you have another idea?” he offered.

Karl licked his lips. “I have a friend,” he said, “runs a small sex house in Krakow, he’s always looking for girls, especially experienced ones. I have an offer of ten thousand for her, if you are interested.”

“Krakow is a long way from Moscow,” Peter said, “how do you plan to get her there?”

“I thought I could drug her and take her on the night train, we could get off just before the border and cross into Poland on foot. One of my contacts would pick us up on the other side.”

Peter watched as the big Bavarian rubbed his nose. Ten thousand was far too much to pay for a worn-out whore like Marie, it was also the exact amount that Karl would make for his part in the Michaels' capture.

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” Peter said, watching Karl intently, “we both know that security is paramount, especially since Marie knows too much about the Michaels' assignment. If she escaped and found the right ear in the internal security service she could get us all shot. Worse, I am sure that the Soviets would love to win favor with the Americans.  If they ever found out what happened to Miss Michaels, I am sure that they would intervene.” He paused, “I’m sorry but I’m afraid you will have to tell your friend no. I simply cannot risk it. You understand?”

Karl nodded sadly. The big man seemed strangely relieved -- it was obvious that he had tried to save Marie by buying her life.  Though he had failed, he had at least made the attempt. Peter could see that Karl had needed to make the attempt to satisfy his conscience, but now his offer had been refused he wouldn’t give any more trouble. Peter was secretly relieved. Karl was a good man and Peter would have hated to kill him.

Peter stood and put a hand on Karl’s shoulder. “I know how you feel about Marie,” he said kindly, “I am sure we all feel the same way. Rest assured that when the time comes we will be gentle and kind. I think it’s the least we can do.”

--------------

Marie watched through a crack in the drawing room door as Karl left. She had come up to see if Peter wanted any supper, arriving outside the sitting room door at the moment that her future was being discussed. It had taken all her strength to stop herself from bursting in and groveling on her knees for her life. From somewhere she had found the presence of mind to hide when Karl left.

Slowly she sank to the floor, her sobs muffled by the steel and leather gag locked over her mouth. For a moment she rocked to and fro, shivering. So this was it, they were finally going to kill her? She swallowed and fought to keep her trembling under control. She had known that this day would come sooner or later, a slave’s life expectancy was only as long as she remained useful to her Master, and when the bloom of youth died from her cheeks the rest of her usually followed soon after. Marie was nearly thirty, with eight years of hard physical abuse behind her.  If finding another whore hadn't been so difficult, Marie knew she would have been replaced long ago.

Slowly she gathered her wits and considered her situation. The steel gag was impossible to remove without the key, and the rubber and leather plug it held in her mouth effectively silenced her. Her wrists were bound in front of her by a pair of heavy manacles, the chain linking them long enough that she could do chores but far too short to allow free movement. She was allowed the freedom of the house in winter because the doors were locked and the windows shuttered. She shivered and sobbed silently. Even if she did manage to escape the house and survive the freezing weather outside, where could she go? She was a long way from home and knew no one in Moscow. In addition Peter’s money had bought a lot of low level apparatchiks; it seemed unlikely that the men could have operated this freely without paying off at least the local policemen. To the paranoid girl it seemed likely that some of the neighbors had been paid to turn a blind eye. Cold and alone, bound, gagged and helpless in a foreign land, Marie wept.

Alison Michaels! The thought popped into Marie’s head. Of course! If she could warn the young American of the plot against her, then they stood a chance! Peter himself had said that the Russians desperately wanted to normalize relations with America. Alison’s abduction would look bad internationally, the Soviets would do all they could to prevent it. Even Peter’s money couldn’t compete with the fear of the GRU. 

Relieved she had a plan, Marie struggled to her feet.  Holding the chain that linked her manacled wrists taught so that it didn’t rattle, she padded away from the door, shivering in the thin silken shift that represented almost all the clothing she owned. As quietly as she could she made her way over to the fire. She had tried to buy her life with her absolute obedience, tried to make the men value her for more than her cunt. She believed that Karl truly loved her but he was not the one she had to convince. For years she had quietly pursued Peter, tried to make him like her, perhaps even love her. At first she had been cold and calculating, trying desperately to make herself valuable to him. In the end it had all backfired, she had found herself falling in love with him, despite his cruelty and his indifference.

There were times, on those dark nights when Peter took the girl and a bottle of whiskey to bed with him, when Marie felt that she was important to him. On those nights she would hold the sobbing man to her ruined breasts and try to comfort him, hoping that in the morning he would return that kindness.

Except he never did. If anything he would be even more brutal for the next few days as if to excuse his weakness. Still, Marie had held out the hope that she could get through to him, that he would let her go. She had felt sure she was making slow progress. Now she had run out of time.

For a moment she warmed herself in front of the drawing room fire, building up the courage she would need to escape. Finally she was ready. Trying to keep the chains from rattling, she reached down. Like all the other potential weapons in the house, the poker and the heavy metal tongues were chained to an iron ring set firmly into the fire surround. Marie ignored them, the chain was too strong, the lock too secure and even if she did somehow manage to get them free a bound girl armed with a poker was hardly a match for six strong men armed with guns. Instead she emptied the coal bucket, putting the last few pieces onto the roaring fire.

Still shaking slightly she picked up the bucket and headed out of the room.

Like the other houses in this neighborhood the building had four floors, with the main living rooms above a partially subterranean basement that held the kitchen. As quietly as she dared, Marie carried the heavy bucket down the kitchen stairs. She slipped into the kitchen and headed for the boiler room door.

“Marie!”

She stiffened. Then forced her face into a gagged half smile and turned. Valeri was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich.

Marie curtsied. “Ummm?” she grunted.

Valeri's rat like features twisted into a feral grin as he stood and walked over.  “What are you doing?” he asked, his hand stroking her breasts through the silken top. Marie no longer felt sensation in her nipples, the torture she had received on the slave ship had seen to that, but she also knew what she had to do to satisfy her owners. Closing her eyes, she faked a low moan and thrust her tit into his waiting hand. As his hands continued to tease she faked another muffled moan and slid her body up and down his leg.

Valeri grinned. “It is true what they say about you French girls, you are all hot little sluts. Now what are you doing?”

Marie twisted her head to one side and tried to look cute. “Ummmpphh?” she moaned holding up the empty bucket.

“You were sent for more coal?” Valeri asked.

“Ummm,” she nodded.

Valeri nodded, apparently satisfied. “Finish your chores,” he said, “then attend me in the upstairs guestroom.”

“Umm,” Marie murmured, submissively bowing her head.

Valeri’s grin widened. He nodded towards his half-eaten sandwich. “You may bring that with you,” he told the half-starved slave girl, “if you are very good I will remove your gag and let you eat it.”

“Hn umm hassa,” Marie said curtsying again.

Valeri gave her breast a parting grope then headed up the stairs and into the house.

Once she was sure that he had really gone, Marie darted over to the door that headed down to the small boiler room. The boiler only provided hot water, the idea of central heating had not made it this far east when the house was built. Hastily Marie dropped the bucket and crawled across the floor to the point where the water pipes went through the wall. Here there was a 2 foot square opening in the brickwork. Hurriedly the girl reached inside beyond the hot pipes until she felt the small sack she had hidden there.

Pulling the sack free, she shook its contents out on the floor.

In the early days of her captivity the men had been extremely careful to keep their new slave under control. Marie had spent the first year chained in an attic room, steel collar and gag robbing her of her liberty and her ability to speak. In that dingy room the men would visit her, take what they wanted and sometimes give her a treat like some food or a cool drink. Starved of real human contact, Marie had become more and more like an animal, a prize bitch kept for breeding. She had even lost her ability to speak when the steel gag was unlocked. The only time she was let out was once a week to wash.

Eventually though even the men had seen that this couldn’t continue. After a while they started to take her out at night to do laundry and other chores. Her hands would still be manacled in front, the steel gag still locked in place but she was allowed some freedom. She had been a good girl, obeying faithfully and appearing fully broken and over time her freedom had increased. After six years they trusted her enough to give her complete freedom of the house on winter nights. All the doors would be locked, all the windows shuttered and even if she managed to get outside, with no clothes she would last less than half an hour on a freezing Moscow street. In time the men had come to believe that escape was impossible and that Marie was a broken little fuck toy willing to serve their every need.

But Marie was cunning.

As standard practice the men would strip new recruits naked and burn all the girl’s possessions. However, in the winter the Corporation kept fewer men in Moscow, and faced with the choice of ravishing a terrified captive and disposing of her things it was often easier to let Marie do it. They would check of course to see that Marie had done as she was told, but by then all that was visible in the furnace was a pile of burning cloth. Over the years the girl had managed to rescue the odd piece of clothing from the fire. These were her treasures, the things she had hidden so carefully in the sack.

Most of the contents of the sack were peasant girls’ shawls. Left with the problem of clothes that could be put on with your wrists tied the large squares of thick fabric had seemed the most practical. Also in the pile was a peasant skirt and some strong leather boots. Her most prized possession was a thick hooded cloak taken from an aristocrat girl. The cloak had cost Marie dearly, she had been forced to burn 2 years worth of collected clothes to make up sufficient bulk in the furnace, but it would be worth it now. Hastily she dressed, putting on skirt, stockings and boots before winding shawls around the sections of the body she could reach. Finally she slipped on the cloak and hid the gag behind a scarf. Satisfied that she would look anonymous enough to escape, she made her way to the coal cellar.

The metal grill that covered the outside entrance to the coal cellar was held in place by an old length of chain. Once this had been locked but the lock had seized closed and had been cut off the year before. Now the chain was looped over a simple hook set into the cellar wall. Hands trembling, Marie lifted the chain from the hook, then put her shoulder against the grill and pushed.

For a moment she panted on the sidewalk, taking her first breath of fresh air for many years. Around her the snow continued to fall. Wiggling clear of the cellar, she struggled to her feet, resisting the desire to just stay and savor the moment.  Freedom at last! Except that her mouth was still stoppered and her wrists still chained. Still, she knew where Alison’s hotel was, and she had overheard the room number. She had an hour to get there before the girls fell into Peter’s trap.

With a look of grim determination on her half-covered face, Marie marched off into the night.

A street corner in Moscow

January 1st 1929 7:20PM

Marie shivered as she carefully made her way down the street. The boots she had saved were strong and waterproof, but they had very little grip. The girl had to be careful not to slip in the snow.  Across the square, she could see the front of the Intercontinental Hotel.

She had made it!  Marie couldn’t believe it -- it had been so hard to travel all this way on foot, she was so terribly cold, and there had been moments when she had been tempted to sit down and rest.  She had realized that would be fatal.  Eight years of captivity and poor diet had sapped her strength and ruined her health; if she sat down in the arctic temperatures, she would never get up again.

But that was behind her now, the end was in sight. She felt sure that a fine lady like Alison Michaels would be grateful and generous. Marie started to imagine tucking into the first real meal she had had in years as she headed towards the hotel. To be honest, part of her hadn’t believed she could make it. As she crossed the square, she realized that she didn’t really have a plan. With the gag in place she could hardly ask to be taken to Alison’s room or even tell the heiress what was going on when she got there.

Marie gave a muffled sigh. In Paris, all she would have to do was step into the lobby and cast off her cloak, then let the hotel staff and the gendarmes protect her. Here in Moscow, however, a bound and gagged girl could not be sure of being rescued even in public. She started to formulate a plan. Hopefully her fine cloak would get her through the lobby unnoticed, then she would go up to Alison’s room.  When the maid opened the door, Marie would show her the manacles and gag.  Hopefully she could then get access to a pen and paper and write down her message.

Happy to have a plan at last, she didn’t really look where she was going.

“Papers?”  The voice was coarse and demanding, and for a moment Marie thought he must be speaking to someone else. “I asked for your papers,” the voice said again, Marie turned and found herself looking at a tall, red faced man dressed in the uniform of the Moscow police.

“Umm,” Marie said. She glanced towards the welcoming doors of the Intercontinental Hotel and wondered if she could make it inside before the cop caught her.  Eight years ago, before her captivity, she would have stood a chance, but now there was no hope.

“Ummm,” she sighed. Her only real hope was to try to persuade the cop to take her inside the hotel and then hope she got the chance to write her note.

The policeman grunted.  “What’s the matter,” he asked, “you stupid or something?”

Marie rolled her eyes, then reached up, pulling down the scarf that covered the locked gag. “Ummm,” she said, pointing at the gag, then across at the hotel, “heees.” She begged with her eyes.

He recoiled a bit.  “What is this?” he demanded.

Marie pointed towards the hotel again and rattled her chains in frustration.

The cop looked at the hotel, then at Marie, then back at the hotel again.  “Come with me,” he said, replacing the scarf before grabbing her cuffed wrists and leading her towards the hotel.

Marie started to plan what she would write. She had learnt a little Russian before she and her mistress had been captured. Of course, that seemed like a lifetime ago. She tried to remember what she could. The risk was that she would write the wrong thing; on the other hand, if she wrote in French or English there was a risk that no one would be able to understand her warning until it was too late. She decided that she would write help in all three languages and then underline the French in the hope that someone would understand. 

She was so busy planning that she didn’t immediately realize the cop wasn’t slowing down. Marie got a brief glimpse of the warmth and safety of the Intercontinental’s lobby before she was pulled past the doors and up the street.

“Ummmmm!!!” Marie screamed, trying to struggle free of the cop’s grip, but the man had her by the manacle chain and she couldn’t slip his grip. She tried to dig her heels in but her weakened condition and the lack of grip on her boots defeated her. For a moment she tried to appeal to the passersby, but these days it wasn’t uncommon to find the police dragging people away and most Muscovites knew better than to get involved.

At the end of the block the cop turned left down a side alley and dragged her to where a small horse drawn cab was waiting. Smiling, he pinned the struggling girl to the wall by her throat.

“This has to be the one,” the cop said, “there can't be two girls out there like this.” He pulled the scarf from the gag.

“That’s the one,” Karl agreed, stepping down from the carriage. He looked Marie over. “Welcome back Marie.  We missed you.”

“Ummmmmm,” Marie screamed. Karl smiled at her small muffled murmurs. No one could hear her, and even if they did the sight of the cop would discourage the curious. Grabbing her shoulders, the big Bavarian shoved the little French maid inside the cab, then turned to the cop and counted out 10 gold sovereigns. “As we agreed,” he said.  "Not a bad payday on ten minutes' work, eh, Comrade?”

The cop smiled. “Nice doing business with you again,” he agreed, slipping the money into his tunic pocket “and be more careful next time.   The Comrade that usually has this beat called in sick.  I doubt you would have found him as accommodating.”

Marie looked down at him from the carriage seat, her eyes wide and accusing. What kind of man could betray his duty and sell another for so little? The cop shuffled uneasily from foot to foot, then touched the brim of his cap and walked off into the night.

The first thing that Karl did when he entered the carriage was to tie Marie’s flailing legs. The girl knew it was all over but she couldn’t bring herself to give up just yet. However, when her ankles were tied she finally surrendered.  Her life was over, and if she was lucky they would kill her quickly. Still, at least she had been a pain in their side during her final moments.  She was able to get some satisfaction from that.

“You gave us quite a scare, Marie,” Karl said conversationally, reaching up to cover her gag with the scarf again. “I know that I shouldn’t say this but it was an impressive attempt. In fifteen years working for the Corporation, I have never known anyone come as close as you did.”

Marie, of course, said nothing, but as the cab passed the Intercontinental she looked up at the rows of illuminated windows. Behind one of them Alison Michaels was enjoying her last moments as a free woman. Marie had come so close to saving the heiress and herself that it was painful. As the hotel got further away, she tried to imagine what was happening in Alison’s room. She pictured the heiress in the middle of dressing, perhaps laughing and joking with her maid as Marie and her Lady had done so long ago.

Little did Marie know. . .

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corporation Safe House, Moscow

January 1st 1929 7:20PM

The girl shuffled nervously from foot to foot while Peter made his inspection. She was petite, around five three, with the thin, willowy frame common to many western Russians. Her long blonde hair had been pulled back into a bun and hidden beneath a white frilly cap, though a few strands had escaped and succeeded in framing her pretty face.

Peter stood back and admired the short, black silken French maid's dress that clung to the girl’s body. He’d had the dress made for Marie, a visual joke to clothe the captive French maid while he fucked her.  As such, it was more a costume than a uniform -- the skirt was far too short and the girl struggled to pull it down enough to cover her body.

Peter sighed.  Damn Marie for disappearing.  At this point, though, they had little choice but to go through with the replacement maid. The costume probably would have looked odd on Marie, as well; in the rush to implement his plan, there had been too little time to have a proper uniform made, and servant's clothes were hard to come by in a country that preached the equality of the proletariat.

“She knows English?” he asked Valeri.

“Da, Comrade,” the rat faced Russian said, “her parents were both private tutors before the revolution. She knows enough.”

Peter nodded.  “You know what you have to do?” he asked the girl in English.

“Yes,” the blonde said willingly.  “I am to open the door for the ladies, take their coats and then escort them upstairs. Then I am to change and go to meet my family at the railway station.”

Peter nodded. “Good enough,” he said.  "Now go down to the kitchens and get something to eat.”

The girl smiled, obviously delighted with the prospect of food.  She turned to go, then paused and looked back. “I was wondering, Sir, if I could pack a small parcel for my family too?” she asked nervously.  "We haven’t eaten for several days, and my mother is very weak--”

“Yes, yes,” Peter said, “take whatever you want, now hurry, we don’t have much time.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the happy girl said, “I won’t forget your kindness, Sir.” She gave a small curtsy, hastily pulled down the skirt and then scuttled from the room before Peter could change his mind.

Peter waited a moment after she had gone and then walked over and checked outside the door.

“I don’t think that is necessary, Comrade,” Valeri said, looking over.  "The girl is naive and quite desperate.  She would not think of such a deception.”

“Why not,” Peter asked, closing the door.  "That was what we thought about Marie, remember?”

He kicked himself for allowing the girl to get away. It seemed obvious that she had been planning things for months, using their trust against them, biding her time waiting for the right moment. For her to run tonight of all nights. Peter cursed again. The only bright spot in the whole affair was that the men had a pretty good idea who Marie would run to and had discovered her escape soon enough to make staking out the Intercontinental possible. He sighed. He had believed the Slave ship captain when the man told him that Marie was fully broken. The girl had lived with them for six years with no suggestion that she was anything but an obedient little slave girl.

Peter gave an involuntary shiver. He’d been about to trust her with their very lives! Marie had been part of his plan -- she was to be the fourth victim and collaborate their story about the robbery with the police. If she had played along for just one more day, she could have betrayed them to the GRU and doomed them all.

“Comrade,” Valeri asked, concerned.

Peter shook his head.  “Just thinking how this effects our plan,” he said.  "Obviously our story will have to be that the robbers kidnapped the maid as well. It’s the only way that we can explain her absence, and that means that your little blonde friend can never be allowed to return to Moscow.”

Valeri gave a rat-like smile. “I am ahead of you, Comrade.  The girl, her two sisters and their parents are the grieving peasants I told you would accompany the coffin. All three sisters are young, healthy and very saleable. It was always my intention that they would accompany Miss Michaels on the final leg of her journey.”

Peter laughed. “Always the professional, eh, Valeri?” he said approvingly.  "Now all we need is for the return of our slave and all will be well. Hopefully, nothing else can go wrong.”

=======================================================

Intercontinental Hotel, Moscow

January 1st 1929 7:20PM

Sophia drifted back to consciousness. She was having a nightmare, one where something nasty had happened to Miss Alison, and Miss Leona was insane.  She also had a splitting headache. Groaning, she tried to raise a hand to her head.

And found she couldn’t.

Sophia’s eyes flicked open with alarm.  She tried to move her arms, her legs, but in all cases she met with resistance.  Then she became aware that something soft and silky was filling her mouth, that something else covered it, silencing her. Frantically she turned her head, eyes fighting to focus. Finally in the gloom she could make out that she was on a bed, and the shape of her naked arm and right hand. Something was twisted around her wrist.  As she pulled, she could see that the something disappeared off towards one side of the bed.

Turning, she found her left arm in a simular position.  A few frantic tugs convinced her that her left wrist was also effectively tied. She chewed for a moment on the silken gag. There was something else wrong, but for the moment she ignored the odd signals coming from her body. It had not been a nightmare after all!  Miss Leona had attacked her, and now she was lying bound and gagged on her mistress’ bed.

The curtains that surrounded the four poster were closed, so it was impossible to tell if she was alone or not.  The little light that made it through the thick curtains offered little clues as to her position. Sophia grunted out a little sigh and started to assess her situation.

She was lying on a sheet in the middle of the bed, and her wrists were tied to the bedposts in some way. She tried to move her spread legs but found that they too were bound both at the ankles and, most worryingly, at the knees. She was spread open like a girl in a penny dreadful -- open and available for ravishment. Her eyes widened, the strange signals from her body now making sense. Frantically she managed to raise her head, looking down past the silken mounds of her breast towards her pale stomach and the indistinct darker triangle of her crotch.

She was naked!!!

“Ummmmmmppppppphhhhh!!!” she screamed, her heart falling as she heard her own muffled sounds. This was her worst nightmare ever. She was to be ravished in some foreign land, her precious maidenhead torn from her. . . Like the heroine in a melodrama, she struggled and twisted against her bonds, but it was no use. In a few moments she was winded, and lay there panting while little beads of sweat ran down her body.

She was trapped, she was naked, bound and gagged, helplessly splayed open and ready to be ravished. Sophia gave a muffled scream and fought the bonds again, this time in a more systematic way, looking for some weakness, some give. . .

She found none, the bonds seemed firm. Instead, she heard a low chuckle.

Sophia stiffened as the drapes at the end of the bed were thrown back. There stood Miss Leona, dressed in her mistress’ finest red dress and her brocade and sable cloak.

“So you are awake, my little one,” Leona said, smiling. “Just in time, too.  I was starting to fear you would still be asleep when I had to leave.”

“Ummm,” Sophia moaned, “heef hiss, ummm hiii hee!”

Leona laughed, “And why should I do that, sweet Sophia? It took me ages to tie you that way, time I didn’t really have. Had I been sensible I would have just slit your throat, but you are such a pleasant little thing I thought I would give you a second chance.” She reached forward and stroked the inside of Sophia’s naked thigh with the tip of her gloved fingers, smiling as the helpless girl’s muscles twitched as she tried to close her legs.

Leona gave the girl a lusty smile. “I expect you to think on my kindness while I am away, Leibchen," she warned.  "I also expect you to be suitably grateful at my return.”

Sophia looked up, horrified. She had been raised to be a good girl, she would never do what Miss Leona was asking. Defiantly she shook her head.

Leona chuckled. “I had a feeling you would say that, sweet Sophie, so I have a little present for you.” She opened her other hand to reveal a little ball of the same inky blackness that imprisoned Alison. Smiling, she pressed the ball to the helpless servant's crotch.

Sophia’s eyes widened as she felt the lips of her sex being opened and the blackness sliding its way inside.  “Ummmmmmmmm!!!” she screamed, but by the time the sound worked its way past all the silk in her mouth barely a whimper could be heard.

The blackness was surprisingly gentle, oozing though the small opening in her hymen rather than just tearing her maidenhead aside. In moments she was filled, inside and out, a feeling she had never experienced before. She looked up at Leona with tear-filled begging eyes. “Ummm?”

Leona laughed. “Trust me, Leibchen, you will like this, I promise. Besides, what kind of a hostess would I be to leave a guest with no entertainment?” Through the implant she willed the symbiont into action. Sophie stiffened, gave a deep moan and started to writhe against her bonds. As the alien machine continued its teasing, the young maid seemed to lose herself in it completely. She strained against the bonds, screamed into the gag, but Leona was sure that it was a different type of release the girl was looking for now.

Smiling, Leona closed the drapes and looked around the room. Nothing seemed amiss and she had locked the bathroom door from outside, just to be sure. She would leave a note not to be disturbed on the exterior door but even if someone did look in they could see nothing wrong and she was sure that the sounds of passion from the bed would discourage any further investigation. Pleased, Leona left to keep her appointment with Peter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corporation Safe House, Moscow

January 1st 1929 7:50PM

The bell rang again as Olga hurried down the corridor. The blonde girl paused for a moment and tried again to pull the skirt down at the back. Valeri had assured her parents that Mr. Peter was a respectable western businessman, but Olga wasn’t sure.  What kind of respectable man would dress his servants like this? Still, her family desperately needed the money he was paying and Olga couldn’t wait to see her mother’s face when she saw all the food he had let her take. Making one final adjustment to the skirt Olga opened the door.

The girl waiting outside did not wait to introduce herself. Instead she strode purposefully though the door and threw back the hood of her cloak.

“Tell Mr Heiden that Miss Graaf has accepted his offer,” she said imperiously. For a moment the little blonde Russian girl just stood there, surprised by Leona’s entrance. The German girl looked the blonde over, which caused the girl to blush and try to pull her skirt down again.  As Leona waited expectantly, the girl finally got the message.

“C. . .can I take your cloak, Miss?” Olga asked and curtsied, a maneuver she immediately regretted because it caused her skirt to ride up again.

“Yes,” Leona said, removing the cloak with a flourish and depositing it in the startled servant’s arms.

Hurriedly Olga hung the cloak, then looked around, confused. “I’m sorry, Miss,” she said, frowning, “I thought Mr. Peter was expecting two guests?”

“You're quite right, my dear,” Leona said, opening her small purse and fixing her makeup, “he was.”

Confused, Olga led the way to the drawing room.

. . . . .

“Leona,” Peter said, rising from his chair, “you look wonderful.”  He frowned and looked towards the door where Olga stood trying to adjust the skirt again.

“She decided not to come, Peter,” Leona said smoothly in German, “In case you haven’t noticed, there is a blizzard blowing outside. I’m afraid our Alison elected to stay at home and have a bath.”

“A. . .a bath?” Peter stuttered.

“Yes,” Leona said with a small smile, “and once Alison is in her bath -- well, believe me, darling, absolutely nothing can get her out of it.” She turned towards the door. “You can go now, my dear,” she told Olga in English, “Mr. Peter and I need to be alone.”

Peter’s mind raced. “I. . .I don’t understand,” he said, nodding towards the restored piano, “I thought she was coming for a recital?”

Leona took a cigarette from her purse and placed it between her cherry lips. Instinctively, the German offered his lighter. Leona took a puff and then idly draped herself over the chaise lounge.  “Peter, my little country mouse, how do I put this?” she purred.  "This tour of Eastern Europe to separate Alison from her chaperones and other wise heads? Now that was a good idea. Prague, with the opera and the dancing, that was a good idea. Moscow with freezing conditions and all the attractions of a prison camp? Bad idea.  In fact, a seriously bad idea.”

She drew on the cigarette and settled back. “Poor Peter,” she cooed, “haven’t you worked it out yet? Alison is a sexual adventuress, my dear.  She likes dangerous men -- as toys and fashion accessories, of course.  She likes to play with them, be seen with them, but she will never marry one.  All that money you see, it corrupts your outlook. You were fun for a while, you could have nursed her interest a little longer had you taken her someplace else, but bringing her to Moscow just hastened her becoming bored with you.”

Leona stood and slinked over. Stopping in front of him, she ran a leather gloved hand across his shirt. “I, on the other hand, like what I see,” she said, her blue eyes looking deeply into his. “Oh, I admit that at first I saw you as just another pretty boy not worth my interest, but all those little stunts you pulled to get Alison alone? They showed an inventive and ruthless side to you. One I find most attractive.”

Peter’s mind was in turmoil. First Alison didn’t show, and then Leona, sweet innocent little Leona, had started to come on to him. Despite everything he was responding, he felt her stocking’d leg caress his tented pants. Much to his surprise he found himself trembling.

“You seem surprised?” Leona said, her pouting, cherry lips twisting into a coy smile.

“Yes, a little,” Peter admitted, fighting hard to regain his composure, “I never realized. . .I mean, Alison said that you were a virgin, naive, chaste.”

She gave a low laugh. “Yes Peter, chaste but never ever caught -- until now.” Laughing, she threw the cigarette onto the fire. “Alison can afford to be outrageous because she has her own money and no one can take it from her. I on the other hand have a judgmental father who would have much rather had a son. He would like nothing better than to find an excuse to disinherit me.” She laughed again. “Alison gave her virginity to the first little French boy with a pleasing line. He tried the same line with me -- it was a sport to them, you see, a contest to see how many convent girls they could deflower. I admit I liked his line, but not enough to endanger my inheritance.”

She placed her long gloved arms around his neck, sliding her body against his. “Don’t confuse virginity with naivete, Peter,” she said sweetly, “I know a lot about the world, far more than little Alison in fact.  I just choose not to share my gift with the first man that asks for it. I am looking for someone special, Peter, someone ruthless, ultimately without conscience, someone that my father would come to respect.” She kissed him, her tongue forcing its way into his surprised mouth, then pulling away. “Waiting for you, Peter,” she panted.  "We are two of a kind, you and I.  Both young, both strong, both Aryan, both totally dedicated to getting what we want from life and willing to do whatever is necessary to make that a possibility. My father is a ruthless man, and I understood that I need a ruthless man to be my partner.”

She paused and ran her gloved fingers though her hair. “Are you ruthless, enough to take what you want, Peter?” she panted, looking at him with big eyes, “If so, you have a far better future with me than with little Alison. Oh, she will pamper you, buy you shiny toys, but my father has connections, political contacts throughout Germany.  With those, a ruthless man could build his own empire.”

Peter’s mind reeled. The Corporation ran on patronage -- it wasn't what you knew or what you did that was important as much as the contacts you had and the influence of the people that backed you. Back in Germany Peter had seen that Max’s power was on the wane. It seemed unlikely that Peter would keep his captaincy when the Moscow office closed down. The idea of going back to Germany and being forced to take orders again stuck in the young man’s throat. He had already considered finding another mentor, and now Leona was offering the ultimate prize -- the support of Conrad Graaf, the only German member on the Corporation’s Executive Committee.  In all honesty, he had no choice.

“I am ruthless enough,” he said, nodding.  “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to marry me,” she said, stroking his cheek.  "We will confront my father together, force him to make you a partner, name you as his successor.” She kissed him again, gloved hand playing up and down his erection. She broke off, directing his hand to her body and rubbing it over her mound. “And as an inducement, I have a bonus for you.”

Peter trembled. “Oh. . .oh God, Leona. . ." he moaned.

“Where’s the bedroom?” she purred.

“This way."  Taking her hand, he led her upstairs.

  .............................................................

Marie shivered and moaned in pain, trying to move her shoulders as a method of easing the terrible tension. She found she couldn’t -- the men had left her bound so tightly she could barely move. Shivering with cold, the half-naked girl looked around the frozen cellar. When they had dragged her down here she had expected a quick death with a gun or a knife or a noose. Instead, Valeri had stripped off the upper layers of her clothing, leaving her with just the peasant skirt and the boots. Then, while one of his men held her, he had bound her arms behind her, wide strips of bed sheets being used as bandages, wrapped tightly around her limbs as the shivering girl did her best to struggle. Over this layer came a nest of tight ropes, further immobilizing her as well as binding her to a strong wooden chair.

Finally even the steel gag had been removed and replaced with more sheets, her mouth packed to a point where no sound was possible. Only when she was finally bound and helpless had Valeri explained her gruesome fate. With a rat-like smile and hard Russian logic, he explained that she was to be left here to die slowly of exposure. The cold would get to her soon, he had explained gleefully, then it would start to eat its way into her bones until her heart froze. Once she was dead they would clothe her in her peasant clothes and leave her in an alley, just another street person to succumb to the cold.

Then he had left, but as a final cruelty he left the cellar door open so that she could hear Peter’s guests when they arrived and die knowing that she had failed. She had been slipping into unconsciousness on and off ever since as the cold did its work. She could vaguely remember hearing the door bell, remembered her weak attempt to scream out a warning, but gagged like she was the sound hadn’t carried far. She was too tired now to worry about anything. Still shivering, the slave slipped into unconsciousness.

............................................

“What do we do, my friend?” Valeri whispered.

Peter ran his fingers through his hair and tried to think. Under normal circumstances he would be in the bedroom accepting Leona’s “bonus,” but right now he had bigger things to worry about. He had told Leona that he needed time to dismiss the servants so that they would have privacy. In truth, he had needed time to plan.

“Comrade?”

“Yes, yes,” Peter snapped, “please, Valeri, I need a moment.”

Alison hadn’t come but Leona had!  Of all the possible combination of events he had planned for, he hadn’t considered that one.  Trying to take Alison from the Intercontinental was out of the question -- half the staff were GRU men placed there to spy on the foreign visitors, and all were fanatical communists.  Stealing her from the Kremlin would be easier. He needed to get her to leave the warm safety of the hotel and come here where his men were waiting.

“Is your little blonde maid still here?” he asked.

“Olga?” Valeri said with a shrug, “she is in the kitchen changing now.  I wanted her clear of the house before we stage our robbery.”

Peter took a piece of paper from the bureau and scribbled a brief note. “Excellent,” he said, “get her to take this note to the Intercontinental.  She is to deliver it directly to Miss Michaels' hand only, and then go on to the train station from there.”

“What is it, my friend?” Valeri asked.

Peter smiled. “A note telling Alison that Leona has been seriously injured and she is to come here at once. I think that will get our American out of her bath, don’t you?”

“If the GRU sees the note?” Valeri began.

“Then I will deny sending it,” Peter said, with a shrug, “when Alison arrives, she will stumble in on our little robbery. I will tell the police that I assumed she changed her mind and arrived unexpectedly -- an unfortunate accident. If the note is found, then I will deny it as a forgery used to lure Alison here. Obviously the robbers intended to kidnap Miss Michaels from the start.”

Peter slipped the note into the envelope and handed it to Valeri. “Send the girl now, then give me a half hour to start our little drama.”

.........................................

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."

---------

The Kitchens, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:15PM

“Owww,” Gregor moaned as Valeri dabbed the iodine on the boy’s badly bruised and cut face. The kid’s nose was broken, there could be no doubt of that and Valeri didn't like the size of some of the bruises on his lower abdomen.

The Corporation snatch squad was sitting in the kitchen of the safe house licking their wounds. Although all the conspirators had suffered at Leona’s hand it seemed that Anton was in the worse condition, his trip down the stairs had broken one arm and damaged one of his legs. Valeri himself had lost two teeth and suspected a cracked rib. The pain from his jaw and his punished crotch still troubled him.

“ I think we should whip the little bitch,” Anton moaned clutching his arm, “no matter whose daughter she is?”

“Would you like to explain that to Invictor?” Valeri asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Invictor” was Conrad Graaf’s Corporation code name.

Anton went white, looked down and fidgeted a little. Nobody in the organization crossed Invictor and lived, sullenly he mumbled his displeasure under his breath.

“Besides which you can’t really punished the girl for this debacle when it was clearly your fault,” announced a voice with a crisp, upper class English accent. The men turned towards the speaker who was sitting at the kitchen table playing patience. The man was in his mid thirties with dark, slicked down hair and a thin moustache. He was also impeccably dressed in a stylish pinstripe Saville Row suit, linen shirt and a silk school tie. The Englishman had not been part of the group that had raced upstairs to investigate Anton’s sudden fall from grace, in fact the rest of the men would have preferred it if he wasn’t there at all.

They all stiffened and mumbled at the Englishman’s comments but it was Valeri who took up the challenge. “And how do you think that your lordship?” he asked.

“Viscount,” the Englishman corrected, “at least until father dies.” He placed another card on one of the lines of patience he was building and looked up from the table. “Leona’s actions is exactly what I would have expected from Invictor’s daughter,” he said smugly, “you gave her an opportunity and she took it.” He looked the battered men up and down, gave a small patronizing smile and shook his head. “Face it gentlemen,” he said, “Give someone like that the opportunity to misbehave and they will use it to punish you mercilessly. She should never have been given that chance, you had the advantage of surprise and of numbers, your inability to handle one little girl shows an appalling lack of tradecraft. Knowing who her father is you should have been extra careful with Leona, she seems extremely spirited and totally ruthless just like her father. I have no doubt that if Leona had reached that gun she would have dispatched you all without flinching.”

He settled back in his chair and smiled. “Breeding you see gentlemen,” he said as he laid the last card on the line, “superior genetics. It’s been the passing of strong family characteristics through the generations that has made us what we are today. The Corporation would not have lasted as long or been as powerful without the key families, the dynasties of slavers that give us continuity.”

Behind him someone snorted

Toby Mountbuffington paused. It was bad enough that he had to come to this communist hellhole but he wasn’t about to put up with back chat from the lower orders. It was time to remind these men just who it was they were dealing with. “In any case that will be in my report,” he said smiling.

Valeri scowled. The last thing anyone wanted was for this incident to be reported. Unfortunately this was the most important Corporation operation in recent years and the Board had insisted on sending an observer. Valeri looked the Englishman over with distaste. It rankled him that the man was here at all, and yet he was obviously very important since the crew was not even allowed to know the man’s code name.

“Actually,” the Englishman mused, “I wouldn’t mind giving the filly a good look over myself before we leave. I have a cousin looking for a bride at the moment. Good little Corporate breeding bitch with a bit of spunk might be right up his alley. To be honest that branch of the family could use some new blood.”

“If Invictor says yes,” Valeri said sullenly. Valeri worked for Graaf and knew that the German despised the English aristocrats that still ruled the Corporation.

“Of course he will,” Viscount Mountbuffington said dismissively, “how often do you think a Bavarian tradesman gets the chance to wed one of his welps into European royalty? He’ll jump at the chance. Good God man, his grandson would be a Duke, hell he could even become Chairman of the Corporation one day!”

Valeri snorted and chose to ignore the Englishman’s ranting. Valeri was one of Graaf’s most trusted men, his spy inside Peter’s crew. He knew of his bosses little schemes, how Graaf was strengthening his grip on the continental arm of the Corporation. Soon he would be ready and the English nobles who ran the Corporation would be swept away in a coup as fast and as bloody as the revolution. Consoling himself with that thought for the moment Valeri tended instead to Gregor.

“You have a concussion,” he said kindly to his stunned nephew, “do you think you can make it home?”

Gregor nodded, still dazed and more than a little confused. The boys front teeth where missing, his jaw probably fractured too, it was hard to talk but he managed. “Yes uncle,” Gregor croaked.

“Then leave now while there is time,” he told his nephew, “tell your mother you slipped down some steps in the snow. Have her take you to a doctor tomorrow, understand?”

The boy nodded and stood, trembling while he started to dress in his thick winter clothes.

Valeri checked the boy one last time. “Good,” he said, “there are two guards in the alleyway outside.” He thrust a crumpled piece of paper into the boy’s hand. “Give them this note, one of them will take you to the main street and stay with you until you get a bus or a cab, understand?” The boy nodded and Valeri took him to the door. The boy seemed nervous like a frightened animal. Valeri doubted that he would ever be much good as a slaver now, the boy’s brief encounter with Leona had ruined him for good. Under his breath the Russian gave a little curse of vengeance. Conrad Graaf or no Conrad Graaf Valeri would have his revenge on the girl; his family honor demanded it. Silently he waited in the open doorway as the boy staggered the short distance to the alleyway. A moment later he watched the boy and one of the soldiers trudged down the road towards the main street....

.... where something dark and monstrous was waiting patiently.

Intercontinental Hotel, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:15PM

"Lick faster," Alison ordered.

Olga couldn’t hear her in the conventional sense. The black symbiont still covered most of her head including her eyes and ears. When Alison gave the helpless girl an order she did it though her new implant and the symbiont translated her orders into sound for her new captive. 

It hadn’t taken Olga long to discover the price of disobedience, when ordered to lick faster she did what she was told. Olga's tongue lapped at Sophia's naked clit causing the captive maid to bite down on her gag and moan. For Sophie the nightmare that had started when Miss Leona attacked her was continuing though now it was Miss Allison who was Sophia's tormentor. The English maid didn't know what had happened to the two friends that had caused them to think that teasing Sophia's pussy was the ultimate sport.

Sophie arched her back and bit down on her gag as Olga's skillful tongue explored her sex. The helpless maid arched her back pulling on the ropes that held her helpless while the equally helpless Russian girl lapped at Sophie’s exposed sex. Changing her position Olga licked and teased Sophia's naked thigh.

Sophie whimpered helplessly. She had been a good girl, she had saved herself for marriage as her mother had wanted, but such teasing and sexual need was beyond the young virgin's ability to resist. As Olga's tongue continued to probe Sophie found herself welcoming it's teasing touch, she trust her sex up to meet her tormentor, her gag muffling her begging cries for relief.

“My, my Sophie,” Alison cooed as she reached down to stroke Sophia’s damp thighs, “such a needy little girl. Why I do believe you would sell your soul to the devil for an orgasm right now?”

Tired, horny and broken a tearful Sophie nodded.

Alison smiled darkly. “Good my little slave, because that’s exactly the kind of deal we have in mind,” she said.

Drawing Room, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:30PM

Valeri checked his reflection in the mirror again. He had attempted to hide the bruising on his face with a little powder but with little success. It still looked like he had been involved in quite a fight and that was hardly the image he was trying to achieve. Wincing he tried again, managing to cover the worse of the bruising. He sighed deeply, it would have to do. He paused to brush a little lint from the shoulders of his dark suit. The suit belonged.... *had belonged* to Peter and the young German had personally picked it out for Valeri once it had been decided that the rat faced Russian would play the part of Peter's butler.

Peter was expecting the suit back, but then he was also expecting to come out of this mission alive and if Valeri had anything to do with it Peter was going to be wrong on both counts. Valeri adjusted his collar. In truth Valeri *liked* Peter he was a good Captain willing to listen to the needs of his men. He was efficient too and under the young German's spirited leadership the Corporation's Eastern European operation had been very profitable for all concerned. It seemed terrible that such a talented young slaver had to be sacrificed because of stupid internal politics. Valeri sighed again and adjusted his tie.

The trouble with Peter was that he had been far too successful. When he had first been sent to Moscow nobody had really expected him to succeed. In fact Conrad Graaf had been so confident that the Russian mission would be a disaster that he had let his arch rival Max run the operation. Graaf had been sure that the project's failure would destroy Max's influence in the Corporation and eliminate him as a threat to Graaf’s authority.

However, against all odds Peter had made his little crew one of the most successful in the Corporation. Within months of coming to Moscow Peter has secured his place in Corporate history when he had managed to steal the Russian princess Anastasia out from under the noses of her Bolshevik guards. The Corporation had been proud of his success, the White Russian's had been trying for months to free one of the royal family to act as a figurehead for their uprising. Now the World's oldest white slavery organization had shown them just how it should be done. Very few agents in the history of the organization had had the opportunity to collect a royal and the girl was a pretty, blue eyed, nineteen year old virgin to boot.

Max hadn’t been slow to capitalize on the success of his protégé, using Peter to boost his own standing with the Board. Desperate to gain some of the glory Graaf had insisted that his men transport Anastasia to her new owner, a debauched Russian exile living in Paris

However Anastasia had other ideas. In Berlin she had managed to slip her bonds and escape Graaf’s men. Pursued by a Corporation snatch squad she had desperately thrown herself into the river.

Sometime later she had reappeared with a group of Czarist sympathizers in Berlin. Her protectors where far too prominent to be bought off and they ensured she was too well guarded for the Corporation to move against her. Graaf was paying dearly for his men’s mistake. The full cost of the Corporation’s smear campaign against Anastasia, one that claimed she was an imposter, was being paid for out of Graaf’s personal fortune.

Now, faced with the prospect that Peter and Max could pull off the abduction of the century Graaf had been forced to act. If the crew managed to secure Alison then it was up to Valeri to ensure that Peter never survived to receive the glory and that the girl was delivered to Graaf’s men for transport.

Valeri looked in the mirror again and made a final adjustment to the tie. Poor Peter was going to freeze to death, an unfortunate accident during the “robbery.” Once Alison was on her way Valeri would move Leona to the warm kitchen where a large fire would see her through the night. Peter however would be left in the cold bedroom and would certainly be dead by morning.

For a moment Valeri considered leaving Leona with Peter. Regretfully he dismissed the idea. The girl would pay for her attack on Gregor but Valeri was not stupid enough to kill her. However, the thought of the bitch freezing to death helped to burn off some of his anger.

Suddenly another thought came to him. He wondered how Marie was faring in the cellar? He checked his pocket watch. The runaway slave should have frozen to death by now. Perhaps he would go and check on her? If she was ready they could load her corpse onto the truck with Alison and dump the body by the side of the road on the way to the station. That way they wouldn’t need to bring the noisy truck back to the house again. He checked the watch again as he headed towards the stairs. He had the time, he may as well use it, besides it would keep him away from his lordship and his pompous pronouncements. Feeling a little better, Valeri headed downstairs.

Outside the Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:31PM

If anything it was even worse outside than Karl could imagine, a strong wind that brought both snow and freezing temperatures with it. Somehow it found it's way through his many layers of clothes chilling him to the bone. Karl had been born in the Alps and thought he had some experience of the cold. However nothing had prepared him for this. Grunting as he took each step, he made his was laboriously towards the alleyway that linked the yard at the back of the house with the road.

It wasn't a great distance but still he found himself taking a rest every few meters. He had been wrong about the weather, there was no way the men could hope to carry the coffin through this. He would check with his lookouts and then talk to Valeri, perhaps he could still abort the operation before it was too late.

He had posted two lookouts in the small alleyway that linked the yard to the road. Because there was no direct line of sight between the house and the stables, one of the men had the job of watching the road while the other watched the back entrance of the house. This second man acted as a relay, passing on messages from the house to the stables about the progress of the abduction.

Karl trudged across the courtyard towards the first of his lookouts. Andreas was one of his most trusted men, a fellow Bavarian with a taste for the good life and the fine things the sale of compliant female flesh could buy. He was a hard worker and Karl had not been surprised when the man had taken the roughest part of the assignment. As he got closer he could see Andreas leaning hunched up against the wall of the alley. Karl called to him, but the arctic wind snatched his words away immediately. The big Bavarian grinned to himself. Andreas was leaning against the wall and facing the wrong way, probably talking to his comrade further down the alley. The strong wind would hide Karl’s approach. Perhaps it was time to see just how vigilant his friend really was? Laughing he crept up and slapped a heavy hand on the man's shoulder. "Polis," he growled.

There was a moment's pause, then a loud crack and Andreas' body fell heavily to the floor. For a moment Karl stood looking down at the frozen body of his comrade, unbelieving eyes looking over dead man's features, at the look of blind terror that remained frozen to his face. Then Karl forced himself to look down towards his friend's chest where the gray of his old army greatcoat had been stained brown by frozen blood. Here the ribs had been caved in, Karl could see the red-brown cavity in the man's chest that was slowly filling with the wind driven snow. He got an impression of shattered bone and torn flesh before he was forced to turn away and be sick.

Whoever had killed him had also taken his heart.....

Karl finished heaving and tried to pull himself together.  He had seen worse in the trenches, but that had been a while ago and to some extent he had managed to put those terrible times behind him. Shivering he reached down, trembling hand moving on automatic, and tried to close Andreas' wide, sightless, terror filled eyes. To his horror Karl found that the cold had already frozen them, Andreas’s tears where now transparent windows of ice that prevented the eyelids from moving. Karl looked around but found only a blanket of freshly fallen snow. He frowned and looked again. These men had been out here for only a few minutes and despite the snow their own footprints and those of the men they had been sent to replace were clearly visible. Karl shivered but not with the cold. There were no marks made by the mysterious assailant. Karl shivered again. Out here, alone in the snow blanketed silence some primeval terror gripped him.

It took all of Karl’s courage to walk the short distance through the dark alleyway to the street. There was no sign of the second guard and still no sign of the mysterious assailant who has butchered Andreas. Every nerve, every instinct screamed for the big Bavarian to run but duty to the dead man and to their mission caused him to turn back towards the alley where the frozen corpse lay waiting. Bowed down and fighting the ice cold wind Karl trudged back to Andreas, falling to his knees he started to shovel snow with his hands, covering the corpse and hiding it as best he could.

Karl scrambled to his feet. Blowing on his frozen fingers he checked his work. The pile of snow he had made still looked too much like a hastily buried body for his liking but hopefully fresh snow would soon cover that. Satisfied that this was the best he could do Karl gathered his courage and hurried back towards the little cluster of out buildings where the rest of his team were waiting.

---------------

The Cellars, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:34PM

Valeri held the lantern above his head and started carefully down the cellar stairs. It was cold in the cellar, bitterly cold, Valeri paused and looked back up the stairs wondering if he should return for his coat. In the end he decided that he didn't need to bother, it would only take him a moment to check on Marie.

He paused outside the cellar door and an odd nervousness gripped him. Over the years he had killed a lot of people, more than he could count, but he had known very few of them personally. Tonight he would kill Marie and Peter, two people he had known for years and that made him uneasy for some reason. Valeri shook his head and tried to calm his nerves Then, wrapping his hand in his suit jacket to protect it from the cold metal, he drew back the big iron bolts and opened the cellar door.

The oil on the hinges had frozen and instead of opening smoothly the door made a horrible groaning sound. Startled and suddenly uneasy it took all of Valeri's courage to step inside. The light from his lantern cast strange and frightening shadows on the peeling whitewash walls as the man crept over to the still figure tied to the chair. Marie's head was bowed and resting on her chest, the thick gag still filling her mouth. As Valeri got closer her could see a thin, cobweb like silver fuzz that seemed to cover every part of her naked body. The man frowned, the thin filaments seemed to sparkle in the light of his lantern almost like it was a thin layer of frost that had formed on her body. Puzzled, Valeri put the lantern down and moved in closer. The silver fuzz covered the girl's whole body even her closed eyelids. Perhaps the sweat from her struggles had frozen on her body after it had cooled? Hand trembling, he reached out and stroked her ruined breast, his hand touching the thin silver threads.

To his surprise he found her skin warm to the touch.

Marie's eyes snapped open. There was a look in them that Valeri had never seen before, an intense, almost insane hatred. The man gasped and took a step back just as the girl's hand flashed around and buried a knife in the side of his neck.

Valeri gasped and staggered back colliding with the wall. Slowly the silver figure rose from the chair, the cut bonds falling easily from her body. As the singing started in Valeri’s ears she strode towards him, her silver coated naked body giving her an ethereal quality; like an art deco angel of death. Reaching up she tore the protective aerogel from her face and pulled the hated gag from her mouth. Valeri slumped to the floor, his lifeblood ebbing away.

Marie stood over him, her eyes full of a dark hatred. Her timidness and insecurity was gone, she had faced death and returned, there was nothing left to fear.

"Bonjour Valeri," she said, turning her head to one side as she watched the dying man. “This is quite a reversal ne pas? Only a few hours ago it was you down here watching me die.” She squatted down and looked into his eyes. “I just wanted you to know that I am better than you, that you are a monster while I am a human being. You left me to die alone and cold in the darkness, where I have the compassion to send you quickly to hell.”

Grabbing his head with one hand she drove the knife deeply into his heart with the other, watching dispassionately as the light left his eyes. She pulled the bloody knife from Valeri’s rapidly cooling corpse and wiped it on Peter’s jacket. “Tell them to make room in hell,” she whispered as the death rattle escaped his ruined throat, she looked up towards the cellar stairs. “You will be having company soon.”

Central Station, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:34PM

Dimitri Casparov, second shift Stationmaster of Moscow's central station, representative of the railway worker's peoples committee (western region), stood on a baggage trolley and looked at the small cluster of railway workers.

This would never do! He shook his head in horror, eyes scanning the faces. It took a minimum of forty people to run the station and only sixteen had shown up due to the weather.

“Is this all?” he Dimitri asked.

“There are two more in the signal box,” Old Oskar the cleaner wheezed, “they were too busy to come.”

The signal box ran the whole district, usually it took ten men to operate it. Dimitri shivered to think of what could happen if those two tired men lost track of the trains. The same thought seemed to have come to the others, the little worried group started to chatter amongst themselves.

"Comrades!" Dimitri called. Getting no answer he shouted louder. "Comrades, your attention please!"

They looked up. Dimitri took off his cap and smoothed his thin, gray hair.

“Comrades there is more,” he said looking from face to face, “_HE_ is coming here tonight.” Dimitri swallowed nervously,  “He has demanded a special train.”

There was a moment’s silence. He could have been any number of people from Stalin to Molotov but instinctively the railway workers knew who Dimitri was talking about. One of the women crossed herself, then noticing that the others were watching she hastily converted the gesture into a tidying of her shawl. Here in Moscow the only man everyone feared was Commissar Aleksei Rostov, the head of the secret police.

It was old Oskar that spoke first. “Where would the Comrade Commissar wish to go?” he asked, fear and curiosity fighting for possession of his toothless, wrinkled face.

“That is none of your concern,” Dimitri said curtly, “just be aware that even short manned we must show the Commissar that we are good Communists, willing and able to work hard for the people!”

Dimitri hoped that he had sounded suitably devout and that his earnest acceptance of the party line would be reported by the informants in the group.

Quickly he handed out the tasks to his people, making sure that despite the weather nothing would interfere with the Commissar’s plans. The problem was that he was still undermanned. If he didn’t get extra help soon..... Well it was best not to think of that. He had done his rounds earlier and noticed a few people lurking at the end of platform twenty two. Perhaps they could be persuaded to help him out in this crisis?

Dimitri checked his watch again. He had time, it would do no harm to see what extra help he could find. Smoothing his hair again, the Stationmaster headed towards his office.

Outside the Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:40PM

Karl reached the carriage house first. It was here where the Corporation team had stored the truck along with the two men whose job it was to keep the engine and the diesel fuel from freezing.

As Karl paused outside he could see the patch of discolored snow and the red flow of  fresh blood that was seeping under the door. Trembling, he opened the side door and looked inside.

He gasped and staggered back, shock and horror competing with the feeling that he had seen something like this before, back in the trenches. During a push one of his comrades had climbed out of a trench and been hit full on by a French mortar. The man had been totally destroyed in the explosion, a few shards of bone and a thin film of splattered blood all that had been left of him. Now a similar scene greeted Karl’s wide unbelieving eyes. He could see two bodies, or to be more accurate two piles of ribs on the floor. Everything else in the room from the truck to the roof beams was painted red-brown by a film of thick sticky blood.

Karl stepped back almost slipping on the blood-ice outside. Desperate now he staggered the short distance to the stable and stepped inside.

One of the two men dressed in army uniforms stood in front of him. Karl opened his mouth to cry out a warning when the man’s odd stance and glazed eyes caused Karl to freeze in horror. The cry of alarm died in his throat, it was far, far too late for that. The soldier was squatting in an odd position in front of the brassier, his legs widely spread apart, his body leaning back. There was a red mark on his brown uniform coat at stomach level. As Karl tried to make sense of what he was seeing a sudden burst of wind blew through the open door disturbing the figure’s delicate equilibrium and causing it to topple to one side. Now Karl could see that the man’s rifle had been trust into his back, impaling him, the gun had then been used as a crude stand to prop up the dead body.

Behind him on the floor lay the body of the second soldier, intact except that the head had been reduced to a burnt and grinning skull. Over at the back of the stable the coffin had been stood on it’s end, the balding effigy facing a badly burned corpse across a chessboard. The body of the second chess player had been folded back and broken, leg and arm bones thrust into the earth floor so that the corpse could be used as a makeshift table to hold the chessboard.

However, the real horror had been reserved for the card table. Olav’s headless and handless body lay slumped in its chair. On the table rested Olav’s served head, its sightless eyes peering at a spread of cards held in one his dismembered hands that was also resting on the table. Across from the head one of the other player’s sat, his throat torn out, his hands laid out open on the table as if he was showing a hand of cards. However the hand he held in his cold dead fingers was Olav’s second served hand. For a moment Karl didn’t see the third player but as his horrified mind took in the carefully arranged tableau he finally noticed the missing man. The object on the chair seemed to be a cube a foot and a half square into which the body of a man had been bent and crushed first one way and then the other. The effect was similar to the way a laundry would fold and press a long blanket to fit it into the smallest space. In fact where it not for the blood and occasional body part, the object looked like a pile of folded clothes....

....folded. Karl’s mind overloaded with horror, as the macabre joke suddenly became clear. The man with the gashed throat was showing his hand, Olav was still holding his, which meant that the broken body on the chair had folded.....

And then the corpse at the table reached forward for its winnings.

Screaming, his sanity almost gone, Karl turned and ran outside, where a dark figure waited patiently.

Karl screeched to a halt. The man standing before him was dressed completely in black, from the boots on his feet to the black leather hood that covered his face. The only hint of color was the tiny golden lines that radiated from the man’s dark pupils. The man’s cloak was blowing in the wind, and yet the snow didn’t fall on him, almost like it was too scared to get close.

The being nodded. “You must be Karl,” it said satisfied as if it were crossing him off some mental list. The voice was cold and seemed to drip liquid darkness.

Trembling, the big Bavarian, half-mad with horror, turned and ran for the alley. He had struggled a few meters when he looked up..... and found the dark figure standing impassively before him. Still screaming Karl turned towards the house and the protection of his other comrades. He had staggered a few meters towards the back door when the masked man stepped out of the shadows before him. Sobbing, his sanity hanging by a thread, Karl sank to his knees in the snow. “Make it quick,” he cried, “I beg you.” Karl still had his revolver but he realized it would do him no good, the creature before him was about to swat him like an insect.

And then it laughed.

“I won’t kill you,” the figure said flatly.

The words soaked into the man’s terror filled mind. “I...I’m going to live?” Karl stammered.

“For a while,” the creature agreed.

Karl tensed.

The dark man laughed and his next words had a hint of amusement. “For your natural human life span,” he clarified, “nobody lives forever Comrade. In fact the Russians have a saying that only two things in life are inevitable, death and the Russian winter. You are lucky, someone cares for you enough to have begged for your miserable life.”

Karl blinked and looked up. Snow fell on his upturned face as he looked at the dark figure. “Y....you’ll let me go?” he asked, quivering like a leaf, then the meaning of what the being had just said came home to him. “Someone begged for me?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” Karl asked, puzzled.

The creature laughed. “Surely you must know?”

Karl shook his head, of all the people he had know in the past few years he could think of no one that would face this monster and beg for Karl’s life.

Eventually, the dark figure lost patience. “She calls herself Marie,” it said at last, “she begged me to spare your life and I granted her request.”

Karl started crying. Marie had saved him. The girl he hadn’t had the courage to rescue, the one he had delivered to a certain death had faced this horror and pleaded for Karl’s life. Karl sobbed, “I didn’t even realize that she liked me so much..... I was blind, please forgive me, Marie...... please.”

The dark being laughed again. “She has forgiven you,” it said, “but you won’t find me so understanding. I promised her that I would let you live, however the crimes you committed cannot go unavenged. Understand that the moral codes of your people mean nothing to me and what you consider to be good or evil is of no importance in the wider context. I have done things that your people would consider monstrous, but I remain true to myself. What I do is for the greater good as I judge it but what you and the others do serves no purpose but your own selfish gratification. Your attitude..... pains me.” It paused. “Now you must pay for that. I will not kill you but I can ensure that for once you weep true tears for your victims.”

With a flurry of it’s cloak the figure turned and strode back towards the house. At that moment the pain tore at Karl’s consciousness. Screaming against the wind he brought his hands up to his face. Howling he felt the hot liquid that ran though his fingers and smelt the odor of rendered fat. As unconsciousness claimed him he realized that the warm substance that ran down his cheeks to drip on the snow were not his tears but the fatty remains of his own melted eyes.

Master Bedroom, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:40PM

Gerber allowed himself a long, hungry look down Leona's half naked body. They had lashed her booted ankles to the legs of the chair, forcing her legs open and revealing her shaved and naked pussy. Further up the corset enhanced her already stunning figure making her look sexy and feminine. Above that where the two wonderful milky orbs of her breasts, her nipples pink and erect, even her flushed face and disheveled hair was sexy, giving the girl the damsel in distress look that Gerber found so appealing. He wished that he could speak to her, perhaps taunt her a little? She looked especially cute when her eyes flared and she muttered insults into her gag. However, the cover story Peter had concocted had to be maintained. Gerber would play his part as a desperate Russian peasant forced into a life of crime, a man with no knowledge of German.

Gerber settled back in his chair and watched silently as the bound and gagged girl moaned and struggled. It was a great pity she was the big boss's daughter Gerber decided, any other girl he could have toyed with to his heart's content.  Still, even if he couldn't fuck her there were other ways he could amuse himself. Reaching forward he started to play with her naked tits, running his hands over the soft curves of her breasts and tweaking her small pink nipples. Leona moaned and snorted her indignation, struggling even harder against the ropes that bound her to the chair. From behind Gerber could hear Peter thrashing on the bed. Stifled, gagged sounds of outrage showing that the man was far from happy. Gerber wondered if Peter was really upset or if this was part of his act? Not that it mattered of course, from tonight Peter's opinion was no longer important.

Grinning behind his mask Gerber started to roll Leona's nipples between his thumb and forefinger, amused by the way her indignant growls became soft panting moans of lust. More stroking followed, then Gerber reached over and twisted a nipple, watching with amusement as the girl squirmed in pain. That would teach the little bitch to fight, he decided, right now he really wished he had permission to fuck her. Lost in daydreams of rape and retribution Gerber played a hand up her naked thigh.

Over by the door something moved. Leona saw it first but then again she had been looking for it. Though half closed eyes she checked the men, happy to see that both were completely focused on her struggles. For the moment the unusual extra occupant of the room remained unnoticed. As Leona watched, their strange guest scurried quickly from door to cabinet, cabinet to bed, bed to table, each move bringing it a little closer to the captive girl and her tormentor. There was a brief explosion of activity as the little guest completed the final stage and slipped under the couch, the move almost too quick to see.

Almost....

Leona saw Peter's eyes widen, a brief grunt of surprise, horror and alarm coming from his tightly gagged mouth. It was an unusual sound and it seemed to hang in the air for a moment.  Leona saw Gerber's forehead wrinkle into a frown. He started to turn....

"Ummmm," Leona panted. She closed her eyes, head thrown back. Straining against the cords she raised her ass from the chair, wiggling her shaved crotch seductively. Gerber looked own, noticing how the girl's pink sex was opening like a flower, drops of dew clinging to her petals. For a moment Peter was forgotten as he looked into the bound girl's eyes. He found her looking at him through her lashes, her down turned, submissive eyes begging silently. There was a need there, a sexy plea for attention mixed with a slight look of embarrassment.

Gerber found himself laughing. He was under orders not to fuck the girl but now it seemed that she wanted to fuck him. He was about to shake his head when Peter moaned again

Irritated Gerber turned to find Peter giving him a frantic, warning look.

"What is it Comrade?" Gerber asked in Russian. "Afraid I will have your woman?"

Peter shook his head and looked frantically towards the couch. Gerber frowned again and glanced in that direction. Turning back to the bound man he scowled, just what was Peter up to?

"Ummmm," Leona moaned, thrusting her chest out suggestively. Gerber turned. Whatever Peter was up to it would have to wait. The girl was hot right now and a real robber in this situation would surely have taken what he wanted. Gerber decided that in order to maintain his cover he almost had to fuck her.

Smiling he rubbed his tented pants.

"You want Ivan?" he asked the girl in deliberately bad English. Leona looked submissively downwards again and flushed with embarrassment. Finally she looked up and nodded, her eyes pleading, a small whimper escaping from her throat.

Gerber laughed and tugged on one of the cords that bound the girl to the chair.

"Cut," he said in English, "no fight?" He waved a finger in front of her face and shook his head for extra emphasis.

Leona nodded, gave a small moan and looked up at him with wide, begging blue eyes. She would behave.

Gerber laughed. He was no fool, he realized that the girl was probably up to something but it didn’t matter what her game was, Gerber was going to make sure she remained completely helpless while he fucked her.

Taking a penknife from his pocket he sliced through the ropes that bound her torso to the chair. Grabbing a big handful of hair he pulled her forward ignoring her moans of protest while he checked the ropes around her upper arms and the tightness of the handcuffs. Finding her still tightly bound he took the opportunity to check her gag, he nodded as he checked the knot, still nice and tight with no chance that she could make enough noise to be heard by the men downstairs.

Satisfied that she was still helpless he took the cords that he had just cut from her body and started to untie them finally ending up with one good length. Reaching down he started to tie the new rope around her ankle just above the cuff of rope that bound it to the chair. Once that ankle was done he started to tie the other using the new rope as a short hobble.

Leona looked down and understood. After her performance earlier the man was taking no chances, he would always insure that she was tightly bound and unable to fight back. She sighed but allowed the man to tie her. After all, while he was working he was ignoring Peter's increasingly frantic attempts to warn him of the danger.

Once Leona's legs were bound to Gerber's satisfaction he cut her free of the chair and pulled her to her feet. For a moment he just held on to her arm, the other hand exploring her half naked body starting with her erect nipples then continuing down to her pink, dripping sex. Even if her sudden cooperation was a trick there was no denying that her arousal and her sexual need were very real. Laughing Gerber pulled her helpless body to him, grabbing her hair and wrenching her head to one side while he kissed her long, slender neck. Leona gave a low, animal moan and rubbed her crotch against him. His balls aching with need Gerber needed no further encouragement. Grabbing her arm he dragged her towards the couch. Leona went like a lamb, subdued and beaten, her body quaking with sexual need.

As they neared the Chaise lounge Peter's gagged moaning and frantic struggles increased. Gerber looked over at his former boss and sneered. Gerber had felt more than a little guilty about the way the Corporation was using Peter, but at that moment Peter was being an ass.

Gerber lead the hobbled Leona the short distance to the couch and pushed her down onto it. Pinning the leg closest to him against the side of the couch he untied it, using the length of cord to bind her other ankle to the frame. With her legs held open she was easy to control and it wouldn't be possible for her to deny him. Laughing he started to toy with her pink slit, spreading her juices up and down her shaved sex. Trembling now he started to unbutton his pants, reaching down to free his erection. On the bed Peter screamed again and Gerber laughed.

"Watch while I fuck the boss’ daughter Comrade," he said in Russian, "I have a confession for you. We have orders from her father to kill you tonight. So tell me, do you still feel so protective of our little princess?”

Gerber smiled at Peter’s shocked look. It was priceless, but it would be even better when Peter watched Gerber take the sweet pussy he had been after himself.

Just then something brushed against Gerber’s thigh. Thinking it was Leona's free leg he grabbed the ankle. Still the sensation continued. About the moment his lust addled brain realized that her leg couldn't be in two placed at the same time he felt a sudden sheering pain in his thigh and glanced down......

.......and his heart stopped.

By Earth standards the spider was a giant, its body was the size of a football, black, smooth and shiny except for a small red mark near the base of the thorax. Eight long black legs radiated out from the body, each about three feet long with a joint about half way down it's length. Had Gerber been an entomologist he would have realized that this was the body configuration of a fast hunting spider rather than a species that spun an intricate web. However, at that moment his full attention was concentrated on the giant insect's head, which was about the size of a large coconut, with 5 small green eyes that looked up at him unblinkingly. Below the eyes a wide set of jaws were locked firmly on Gerber's thigh, pumping their poison into his shocked and quivering body.

For a moment Gerber and the spider looked at each other, the man frozen with shock and fear, the spider just sitting and pumping venom into its victim. By the time the man recovered from the shock it was already too late, his own racing heart had carried the spider's neurotoxin to Gerber's brain. The German felt a flash of nausea, an itching sensation from every part of his body and then a sudden loss of control. A moment later he slipped from the couch and onto the floor, his panicked mind still active even though his body was completely paralyzed.

Leona winked at the spider as it sat next to her on the couch. She felt a strange kinship with the creature, they both had an alien implant in their brains to control them and ensure their loyalty, both were servitors, the slaves of their dark Master.

Using her implant she instructed the giant insect to gnaw through the cords that bound her arms and upper body. While the spider worked Leona turned her attention to the handcuffs that still imprisoned her wrists. She was starting to regret fighting the men earlier, it was doubtful that they would have wasted a pair of cuffs on her if she had been content to play the helpless heroine.

Leona cleared her mind, extending it into the cuffs, tasting them, finding their true nature.  Like with the chocolate box that morning the physicality of the cuffs started to fade to be replaced with energy fields and crystal matrices. For a moment she felt the cuffs fiery birth as the hot steel was warped by a hydraulic press.... then her mind entered the workings, deduced the cuff mechanism, springs, ratchets, levers, the interrelationship of  parts, her mind probing, testing, looking for the flaw in the design, a fundamental weakness. It took longer than she had expected, the Corporation spared no expense when it came to capture equipment and it took her three attempts before she saw what she was looking for. Then suddenly there it was, a weakness, a single metal pin used as the core of a ratchet gear. She focused on the two pins, accelerating the effects on entropy on the metal's ghostly atomic structure, feeling the crystal lattice weaken and fail.

There was a cracking sound and the cuffs sprang open. By happy coincidence the spider finished gnawing on the cords at that same moment.

Leona reached up and untied the scarf from behind her head, then she pulled the packing from her mouth and took a deep, satisfied breath. Quickly she untied her bound ankle and stood.

Down by her feet the paralyzed Gerber lay on his side. He was breathing shallowly, as if he was asleep and it was only the look of helpless horror in his wide eyes that showed he was still conscious. Over on the bed Peter still struggled to free himself, his gagged cries too weak to be heard outside. For a moment he paused and looked beggingly at Leona.

"Ummm?" he whimpered.

Now it was Leona's turn to laugh. "Peter dearest," she said coyly, "I am not about to untie you." She giggled and stepped over the frozen Gerber, her high heels clipping on the polished wooden floorboards. "You see," she continued, "I know all about the Corporation and its silly little plots. I know all about the offer from dear Alison's uncle and I know you staged this robbery to cover her kidnapping. Now if you lie quietly like a good little boy then I _may_ let you live."

Peter struggled harder against the cords but it soon became obvious that he wasn't going anywhere. Leona slinked the last few feet then sat on the edge of the bed by Peter's side. Reaching down she took his limp cock in her gloved hand and squeezed. Much to Peter's surprise he became hard with her first silken touch.

"You see Peter you have lied to yourself," she said as her hand slowly worked his erection, "all these years you thought yourself so dominant when in truth you crave to be my plaything."

Peter moaned and weakly shook his head in denial. Leona just gave him a knowing smile as her gloved hand played up and down his rapidly hardening cock. Three long strokes were enough to bring him to full erection. Leona bent down and sucked on his manhood, using her tongue to stroke his glands before taking him deeply in her throat. Smiling she cupped his balls, the tips of her gloved fingers playing over them as her head bobbed up and down. Peter moaned and twitched, helpless to interfere as the blonde girl dragged him closer to orgasm. By now he was so desperate, he thrust up, trying to fuck her mouth.

Leona stopped.

Peter moaned, eyes wide, begging for completion, as for the second time that night he found himself denied. The familiar ache returned to his balls as Leona straightened up and looked towards Gerber and the spider.

"What?" she asked.

The spider tilted its head then looked towards the paralyzed Gerber.

"You want to eat him?" Leona asked as the creatures needs where relayed though her implant.

The spider somehow managed to look embarrassed and then nodded.

"Didn't I tell you to eat _before_ we left the house?" the blonde girl asked.

The spider managed to look embarrassed a second time and then gave a small, resentful nod.

"You will have to wait," Leona said firmly, "the Master has plans for him." She turned to the naked man tied to the bed. "Giant spiders," she said rolling her eyes, "I tell you Peter they are worse than children, you can’t take them anywhere!" Turning to the spider she beckoned. "Guard this one," she ordered, pointing at the helpless Peter, "but don't eat him." She turned and gave Peter a worrying smile. "*I* have plans for this one......."

Bending down she gave his manhood a parting slurp. The spider scuttled over, quickly climbing the bed sheets before settling on Peter's chest. Five green eyes, each with a vertical slit iris like a cat, looked deeply into Peter's wide and terrified orbs.

Leona smiled. "Now play nice," she warned sternly, "I have to leave you alone for a while." She sighed. "So little time and so many people to kill," she said, running her fingers over Peter's naked chest, "but don’t worry my love, I'll be back soon and then the fun can *really* start."

Still smiling she stood and walked over to Gerber’s frozen body. It only took her a moment to take the man’s revolver from his holster. Happy that she was now armed Leona turned towards the door ready to fulfill her mission to slaughter her Master's enemies. Back on the bed Peter and the spider eyed each other wearily.

It was going to be a long night....

The Kitchens, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:50PM

Unaware of the fate that had overtaken their colleagues the remaining members of the Corporate snatch squad waited impatiently in the kitchen.

Anton nursed his injured arm, looked towards the cellar door and frowned wondering where Valeri had got to, the rat faced Russian had been gone for almost fifteen minutes and Alison Michaels could be arriving any moment. Anton took another look at the clock and then started towards the cellar door.....

"It is bad out there, Comrades really bad," Yuri Vasilivich said in English. His hooded eyes looked through the window trying to see through the wall of snow that was falling outside. Periodically he would shake his head and murmur "not good, not good at all."

Anton turned and gave Yuri an irritated look. He had never worked with Vasilivich before but the man's reputation preceded him. It was said that Yuri took Russian fatalism to a new level and that just the drone of his deep laconic voice was enough to inspire some people to suicide. Anton didn't care if the rumors were true or not but Yuri's defeatist tone was starting to get to him. Anton decided that it was best to go and find Valeri now, before he did something Yuri would regret.

"You cannot see nose on face it snows so hard," Yuri continued, "we will be trapped here with girl I can see it. In the morning secret police will dig us out and then sssssluckkkk," he drew his pointed finger dramatically across his throat, "Lubianka for sure."

Anton had heard enough. "I'm going to see what's keeping Valeri," he announced nodding towards the cellar door.

"Tell him we are snowed in," Yuri said forcing a smile onto his thin lips, "tell him we are all doomed. I have no idea how we get the coffin to the station in this."

"On our shoulders if we have to dear boy," said the voice with the English accent. The owner of the voice lay his cards down on the kitchen table. "Gin," he announced quietly with a hint of mock regret. His card partner, a red faced Russian called Viktor Dragamilov snorted and threw his cards on the table. Toby, the Viscount Mountbuffington, smiled at his vanquished opponent and collected his winnings from the table. "Care for another hand dear boy?" he asked, favoring Viktor with a small smile and an upraised eyebrow. "I do believe we have time, all is secure and I'm sure that the weather will delay our quarry a little longer?"

Anton rolled his eyes. To be caught in the same small room as his lordship and the fatalistic Yuri was as close to purgatory as the young German wanted to get. Anton decided that Toby was another good reason to be elsewhere. He took another hobbling step towards the cellar door when suddenly....

Ting...ting.... ting....ting....

All four men looked towards the far wall and the row of little bells used to summon servants to particular rooms in the house. The bell at the end of the row was larger than the others, the small enamel nameplate beneath it carried a word in Cyrillic that only two of them could read but all of them understood, this was the front door bell. As they watched the bell rang again, moving back and forth on its little spiral metal spring as if the person outside was even more desperate to get in. For a second the men just froze, it was Toby who reacted first.

“I do believe you gentlemen have an heiress to abduct,” he said coldly.

Anton cursed. “Everyone in position,” he whispered urgently. “You!” he said pointing at Toby, “answer the door.”

The Englishman wrinkled his nose. “I could never.......”

“We don’t have time to argue, you are the only one dressed for the role. Go now!” Anton snapped. Toby stood, gave Anton a disgusted look, and then followed the others out of the kitchen. Anton hobbled the short distance to the cellar door and opened it, preparing to call down to Valeri. Suddenly, he found himself facing the last person in the world he had expected to see alive.

“Bonjour,” Marie said sweetly as she drove the knife deep into Anton’s belly. The man’s eyes widened as the French girl rotated the blade then pulled up, slicing through his insides.

“Whoops,” she said smiling, “what a careless little whore I am. I didn't mean to do that.”  Smiling she slashed the blade across his throat. Anton gargled and fell to his knees choking on his own blood. “That was what I meant to do,” Marie said brightly.

Stepping over the dying man she slipped like a ghost up the kitchen stairs.

Yuri took the drawing room while Viktor waited patiently in the sitting room. The location of the doors left them perfectly positioned either side of the hallway and easily able to ambush anyone that came in though the front door. None of this would be necessary if Alison came alone, one man could easily overpower her, but there had been a risk with Peter’s plan, the possibility that the girl might bring someone else, either a doctor or a servant, to help with Leona. Nervously the men waited while Toby adjusted his tie and stepped towards the door.

It was Yuri who was first to sense that something was wrong. He was waiting by his door, mask in place, gun ready when he heard a light footstep behind him. Acting on instinct he spun around, flailing hand catching Leona’s gun sending it flying from her grasp. Using her surprise he pushed her backwards sending her staggering across the room. Yuri raised his weapon and pointed it at the blonde German girl as she struggled to her feet. He was unsure what to do next. He couldn’t fire, if he did he would scare their victim away. On the other hand he had neither the time nor equipment to bind Miss Graaf. While he was considering what to do the girl raised one of her gloved hands. Yuri smiled, believing that she was putting her hands up. He was about to order her to be quiet when her hand stopped, the open palm level with his chest. Yuri frowned, the hand was empty and she was too far away to hit him. What was she doing? As if to answer that question the blonde’s lips twisted into a dark smile.

“Time to die.......” Leona said.

A ripple of primordial energy cracked between the Gauntlet’s spayed fingers and Leona let her imagination run wild.

Back in the hallway Toby opened the front door and looked out. A dark figure waited patiently outside, cloak flapping in the wind, the leather-covered face looking up at the startled Englishman, dark eyes sparking with cruel amusement.

“Ah Viscount Mountbuffington,” the figure said in perfect English, “so good to meet you at last.” Toby, realizing for the first time that he was without a gun, started to back away. As the fear gripped him he scrambled to close the door.... An unexpected blow knocked him off his feet and sent him sprawling into the hallway.

Momentarily stunned the horrified Englishman realized that leatherface had been nowhere near the door when the invisible force had thrown it open.

At the sound of the door crashing open Viktor jumped out into the corridor with his gun ready. Toby screamed at him to fire but as he scrambled to his feet a startled grunt came from behind him. Turning Toby found Viktor falling to his knees while a half naked, brown haired girl tried desperately to pull a large knife from the dying man’s back.

“Pardon Monsieur,” Marie said, giving the startled lord a pouty smile, “my knife it is stuck and I am afraid I will be a little delayed getting to you.” She placed one dainty foot against Viktor’s back and pulled again. This time the blade slid from Viktor’s body and the man’s lifeless body fell to the floor. Marie smiled, wickedly. “See that is better non?” Raising the knife above her head she took a step forward.

Panicked, Mountbuffington turned towards the front door just in time to see the figure in black striding purposefully into the house. Terrified, he looked back to see the French girl step over Viktor’s lifeless body. Desperate and with nowhere else to run the Englishman threw himself into the drawing room hoping to put a closed door and an armed man between himself and the horror that pursued him.

Toby never made it, crashing through the drawing room door he slipped and fell in the large pool of blood that was covering the wooden floor. Desperately he tried to scramble to his feet. Looking up he froze at the horrific sight before him.

Leona smiled. Her body, the kinky little outfit she was wearing and most of the room was covered in a fine coating of Yuri’s blood. Dismembered parts of the man where strune across the furnishings and scattered on the floor. Yuri’s blackened skull, with the upper part of his spinal column still attached, was being held in Leona’s gloved hand. Still a little stunned herself Leona smiled down at her unexpected guest and held out the skull.

Leona turned her head to one side and looked down at the panicked Englishman. “Oh dear, I think I broke him,” she said, her bemused voice as dark as midnight. A moment later the dark figure in leather strode into the room. Toby, his mind overloaded, rolled himself into a fetal ball on the floor. As Aleksei stepped towards him Toby shuffled sideways into the pool of drying blood by the side of the door and wept.

Leona offered her dark Master the skull.

“A trophy my Master,” she said, “ from our first hunt on a new world.”

“Not this time,” he said, amused, “but don’t worry my slave, we will have plenty of other opportunities. Aleksei looked down at the sobbing Toby. “A pity. It appears his mind has broken,” he said regretfully, “he cannot be the messenger we were hoping for.”

“No my Master,” Leona said, her voice now back to normal. Reaching down she took the poker from the fireplace. Holding it in her gloved hand she concentrated her will, smiling as the tip of the poker glowed white hot under the influence of the Gauntlet. “However,” she added, “there is more than one way for him to deliver our message.”

Aleksei gave an approving nod. “Finish with him then join us upstairs my pet,” he said, his voice back to being human,  “there are things we need to do.”

The Intercontinental Hotel , Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  10:00PM

"Comfy?" Alison asked, favoring her captives with a fake look of concern. Sophie and Olga couldn't answer of course, not with their mouths so well packed. Allison had fed watered and toileted them individually, binding them with sash cords from the windows and gagging them tightly with part of her huge collection of scarves. Now they lay facing each other on the bed, legs pulled back and tied to their wrists in strict hogties.

"Umm," Sophie moaned, her packed mouth allowing only weak sounds. She looked at Olga and wiggled her head slightly. The Russian girl gave the captive maid a wide eyed look and strained against her bonds. Neither was suppressed to find that there was no give. The girls were helpless until Alison decided otherwise.

Their captor smiled. "Our Master will arrive soon," she said, her eyes sparkling with a new fanaticism, "and then you will be given the honor of serving him."

The two captives looked at each other wide eyed. They had no idea just who this "Master" was but they knew that they didn't want the "honor" of service.

Alison smiled and slid her naked body onto the bed between the two bound women. She put her arms around them, drawing their naked tied bodies against her, her hands curved round, each finding a bound breast and an erect nipple to toy with. As she started to roll the nipples her legs started to rub the thighs of her victims, then she moved upwards, stroking the women's freshly shaved pubic mounds with her knees.

As Alison's teasing increased the grunts of despair and disapproval rapidly became moans of forced pleasure. Alison settled back surrounded by captive womanhood, enjoying their writhing bodies as they slid against her.

"We'll have so much fun," she said dreamily, "we will be sisters and serve HIM together." She turned first one way and then the other smiling at the two gagged faces with their looks of helpless lust.

"Won't we have fun?" she asked.

Of course the girls said nothing.....

Master Bedroom, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  9:51PM

Ariadne was bored, cold and very, very hungry.

Not a good combination in a giant hunting spider.

Impatient she drummed two of her hind legs against Peter's naked chest, amusing herself with his little noises of distress. She could tell that the helpless ape didn't like her presence on his stomach but at the moment there was little he could do about it. Spiders are by nature an industrious species and Ariadne had filled the dead time with make work, most of which involved binding Peter to the bed with her strong, sticky silk webbing.

Ariadne's stomach growled loudly and she blushed green with embarrassment. She should have eaten before they left the Master's nest, she had even put two paralyzed sewer rats to one side as an evening snack, but in the excitement of the imminent hunt it had slipped her mind. Ariadne sighed, the rats would probably be dead by the time she got home. She drummed her back legs in frustration again.

She hated it when her food got cold.

Bored Ariadne scanned the room. Over by the couch Gerber's breathing was getting more labored. The spider turned her head towards the paralyzed man. If the Master wanted this one alive he had better hurry. Her venom had proved very effective on the local amphibian's and reptiles, once paralyzed they normally stayed alive for a few days, mammal's though were different and it seemed that over time their breathing cycle broke down and they suffocated.

Ariadne gave the human she was sitting on a cursory glance. After many years on Earth she found that she quite liked humans -- of course they were so large that she could never hope to eat a whole one. However, in a universe full of big dumb apes at least these apes were quite pleasant. The male that her new nestmate had snared seemed like excellent breeding material, she decided, perhaps now would be the time to teach her new human sister about the importance of the courting ritual?

From what she's seen of it so far human courting seemed to involve one sex or the other attacking and completely immobilizing the other with artificial webbing. While Ariadne didn't begrudge the apes their fun it did seem awfully silly and inefficient. The Master must have thought so too, using her implant Ariadne had scanned the Master's cultural database for Earth and the odd binding ritual wasn't even mentioned. The confused spider could only conclude that the Master too thought the binding practice too silly for inclusion.

Of course human's and spiders were very different in the way they mated, but it seemed to Ariadne that the spider way was far more sensible. In spider mating the male would always bring the female a gift, usually a nicely wrapped and paralyzed bug for her to snack on while he sang a ballad of his deeds and her beauty. If his tale was good then she should allow him to couple with her. Afterwards he would have to compose a song to her beauty if he wanted to escape unmolested. If his song was not good enough then it was customary for the female to eat him. The Master had said that the ritual had helped her species become intelligent since only the most intelligent males survived to mate with more than one female.

Ariadne wasn't sure about that but she felt sure she could sell Leona on the superiority of spider courtship. After all, not only was it crushingly romantic (if you where a spider) it also had the advantage for the female that even a disappointing date ended with a good meal.

Just then Peter made a loud grunting sound and wiggled his abdomen. Ariadne gave him a quizzical look. Did he really think he could scare her off like that? Apparently so, it seemed that Peter was equating Ariadne's small head with a small brain and a small brain with low intelligence. Ariadne had used the Master's database to learn more about herself and her kind, she knew that her species had six times the neural density of a human.

Dispite her small size Ariadne had almost double Peter's brainpower.

Not all that power was directed to problem solving though, on Ariadne's planet psionic ability had evolved early and a psionic war between hunter and prey had accelerated that evolution over the last twenty million years. Idly Ariadne drove a mental probe deep into Peter's soft and unprotected mind. She started to peel away the layers of his consciousness like an onion. Occasionally she met with a little resistance but that soon faded. It became clear that as a species these apes had enormous untapped psionic potential. However, the talent had been unused and had withered away. Ariadne probed a little longer and then discovered the area she had been looking for.

The center of Peter’s perceptions was open to her. She drove the probe in deeper, rapidly sorting the few things she would need to bend his world to her will. Satisfied that she had what she needed she tore his world asunder.

Peter arched against the bonds, biting down on the gag. The headache had been so intense, almost as if his head was exploding. Moaning he opened his eyes.

What the...?

The bedroom was gone, and instead Peter found himself secured against the wall of a cave. The cave was dark and dank, the smell of death and decay all round him. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom a grizzly sight confronted him. The cave was full of bodies, some suspended by webs from the ceiling, some stuck firmly to the walls. Most where dead, their bodies eaten and decayed, some of the skeletons where only held together by the webs that had bound them in life. There were spiders crawling all over the decaying corpses. Small spiders just millimeters across picked their way though the bones while their larger brethren, some as large as dinner plates, fed on the white bloated corpses of the recently dead. In places the density of the insects was so great that small spiders where crawling on the bodies of larger ones. Peter cringed as he felt a thousand little legs scuttling across his body.  He shook his head to one side and saw....

Anna was naked, her body glued to the wall opposite by thick filaments of sticky web that passed across her torso and limbs. Her eyes were wide and panicked above a blob of webbing that sealed her little mouth closed. As Peter watched horrified two small spiders attacked the woman's erect nipples, their wide jaws chewing on the flesh, teasing her helpless body. A pair of slightly larger spiders appeared, one running up each of her spayed legs. When they reached the apex of her thighs the spider on the right paused, gripping the girl's pussy lips with it's mandibles and pulling them to one side. Its companion didn't hesitate, sliding in through the opening the other spider had created. As Anna arched her back and screamed into the gag the second spider fought its way inside her. Finally its rear legs disappeared inside and Anna started to buck against the webbing, fighting and moaning as her skin flushed with horror and arousal. The spider that had remained outside had moved her clit hood back with one of its legs and was using its mouth on her erect bud. The girl writhed and moaned, looking at Peter with wide begging eyes as the exquisite torture continued. Her hips quaked against the bonds, a steady trickle of juices flowed down her thighs as she arched and bucked. Some smaller spiders crawled up the girl's bound legs and clustered round her thighs lapping up the girl's spilt juices as the bug's combined attentions forced the helpless Anna into orgasm after orgasm.

"I see my babies are having fun." The voice was rich and vibrant and very, very female. Peter somehow dragged his eyes from Anna's ravishment and turned in the direction of the sound.

The woman was tall and shapely with ivory skin and midnight black hair. The hair had been pulled back into a sever bun and held in place by two chopsticks, her body has been squeezed into a black leather sleath dress that clung to her curves from her breast to just beneath her knees. Here a small decorative section extended down to her calves, in the shape of a decorative spiders web design in leather and lace.

As the woman stepped closer Peter could make out more detail. Silver threads decorated the sheer leather, a web design around her breasts and a chain of interlocked spiders around the top of her full length black leather gloves. Peter could now she the details of her face, the blood red babydoll lips, thin nose and the curve of her plucked eyebrows. It was her eyes that fascinated him though. They were a deep sea green, the iris a vertical slit like the eyes of a cat.

Ariadne grinned revealing her pearl white teeth and her two enlarged canines. Laughing at Peter's reaction of horror she ran a dexterous black tongue over her exposed fangs.

"My, my," She laughed as she looked down at his erect cock, "what a confused creature you are, fear and arousal at the same time."

She smiled a wicked smile. "My children hunger," she said, gloved hand sweeping over the scene with its hundreds of writhing insects. "I have decided to give them one of you and to let the other go. Now the only question is which should live and which should die. I wish that I could offer the loser a painless death but as you can see my children prefer live food and being eaten alive is extremely unpleasant."

Reaching up she tore the webbing from Anna's mouth. "What do you say," she asked the helpless blonde, "who should live and who should die?"

Anna moaned as the insect's stimulation increased. She orgasmed again then glanced over at Peter with the same look of love she had given him in the hotel in Berlin so long ago.

"P....please miss," Anna stammered, "l..let Erik go I ..beg you."

Ariadne looked at Peter and licked her fangs. "You understand that you will be eaten? That your body will be dissolved and consumed from within? It could take hours for you to die, hours of agony?"

Anna shivered with fear and arousal, fat tears streaming down her face. She sniffed. "Y...yes miss. I..I understand but I love him you see. I..... I wouldn't want to live without him even if you did let me go. If I can buy his life with mine..." she started to cry, harsh sobs racking her bound body.

Ariadne nodded and a large spider scuttled over Anna's face. As Peter watched horrified it began to sew the helpless girl's lips together with fine filaments of web. In moments Anna was silenced again, her mouth sealed so tightly that only the barest of whimpers escaped.

Ariadne slinked towards the helpless Peter. As she approached his naked body responded despite his horror and revulsion. Soon he was trembling, quaking with fear and a strange intense arousal. She sensed this, smiling as she ran a gloved hand across his naked chest. Peter whimpered and looked at her with wide, begging eyes. Ariadne laughed coldly then reached up to pull the silk gag from his mouth.

"And what is your choice?" she purred, her gloved hands playing down towards his erect and vulnerable cock.

Peter looked over at Anna and swallowed. She was beautiful, just as he remembered her. The elements of her bondage though disturbing where an intense turn on for him, he could imagine walking over to her, impaling her helpless body on his cock, claiming her. Closing his eyes he swallowed then looked back at Anna and her wide, begging blue eyes. Silenced, she looked back, eyes asking what her silk gagged mouth could not. She had been his love, the girl Erik had dreamed of spending eternity with.

Peter licked his lips. "Take her," he said nodding towards the startled Anna, "you heard her, she would rather die than live without me. She volunteered..." Anna looked down and sobbed, nodding she closed her eyes, awaiting her fate.

Peter turned his head towards the spider woman but Ariadne had already turned away. The girl Anna had been the only other person in Peter’s memory that he had ever seemed to care for. Ariadne had tested his love and found it wanting. Regretfully she raised a hand and gave a signal.

Almost at once countless tiny insects swarmed over Peter’s body, legs scratching at his skin even as their tiny mandibles tore into his flesh. Peter opened his mouth to scream and they pored inside, tearing at his tongue, at the soft flesh of his throat, eating him alive. As the pain increased, Peter's mind descended into madness. Thankfully the inky blackness of unconsciousness claimed him.

Master Bedroom, Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  10:02PM

"How are you my little slave?" Aleksei asked. Ariadne scuttled around so that she could face her beloved Master. Aleksei stood in the doorway next to a small, dark haired human female whose body seemed to be covered with silver cobwebs.

"I am happy to be of service as always my Master," Ariadne whispered reverentially through the link.

"Good, good," Aleksei said looking at the unconscious Peter. "Did you discover what you wanted to know?" he asked lightly.

Ariadne nodded. "Yes my Master," she said turning and looking at Peter, "This human has no redeeming qualities at all. He does not feel love or true remorse, he is unwilling to sacrifice himself for another." She looked at Peter's quaking body. "My people have a saying," she said sadly, "he walks with us but he is dead inside."

Aleksei nodded. "Continue to guard him my pet. I have something to attend to."

Reaching up Aleksei removed the leather hood. The result was only a marginal improvement. Though he did look a little more human, the limp white flesh of his face had a disturbing quality. Silently Aleksei walked to the couch. Pausing, he hauled up the paralyzed Gerber. "Come to me girl," he ordered. Marie, who was looking fascinated at Ariadne looked his way and then trotted obediently forward.

"Sit on my knee girl."

Marie complied, her near naked ass resting on the smooth, cold leather of his pants.

Aleksei frowned as he stroked the girl's tortured breasts, the scars that laced her pale flesh where deep and clearly visible. Frowning he examined her nipples. They seemed to have been clamped, pierced and burnt until they were just a mass of reddened scar tissue. Gently, he brought his gloved hand to a nipple and stroked it.

"Do you feel anything my slave?" he asked, his voice full of a gentle concern.

Sobbing, Marie shook her bowed head. "No Master. This slave has felt nothing for many years."

He nodded, smiled and then......

It was the tingle Marie noticed first. It seemed to engulf her entire breast, ten thousand pins and needles played across the inside and outside of her tortured tit. There was pain too, an odd pain that was intense and oddly exquisite at the same time. Biting her lip she arched her back, riding the sensation until suddenly it ceased.

"You may look now," he said.

Blinking and confused Marie looked down. The right tit was the same as it had been for years; covered by the deep welts and horrid scars of the tortured slave. She turned her head and looked at the left tit.... Eyes wide in amazement she stroked her left breast, the skin was smooth and unblemished, as soft to her touch as baby skin, the nipple was small but perfect. As her fingers brushed over the sensitive bud she felt the exquisite sensation of an erect nipple. She played with it for a moment as her body rediscovered what it was to have sensitive nipples. She looked up into his black and gold eyes, wanting to ask him how but afraid that if she did she would somehow break the spell.

"Ready for the other," he asked. Marie nodded silently, arching her back and biting down as the tingle claimed her right breast. Oddly the pain was easier to take this time. Soon it was over and she looked down at her perfect breasts for the first time in ten long years.

Aleksei ran his gloved fingers over her shaved and scared cunt. "Now this," he said gently.

"P....please gag me Master," Marie begged. She looked down and flushed, hardly believing that she genuinely wanted a man to gag her. She knew however just how badly damaged her tortured sex was and that she would not be able to bear the pain in silence.

Aleksei nodded, reaching down to pick up the scarf and packing that had formed Leona's gag. Gently, he packed Marie’s mouth and then turned his attention to the girl's ruined pussy. Marie bit down and screamed into the gag as the tingling throbbing pain went on an on. Finally she could bare no more and blackness swallowed her.

--------

Central Station, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  10:05PM

Dimitri Casparov looked down from the iron footbridge and checked the lines for the tenth time that night. Once again he found the lines clear, the snow though falling as heavily as it was elsewhere did not seem to want to settle on the tracks. Dimitri took of his cap and smoothed his thinning gray hair. In almost forty years on the railroads he had never seen weather like this. It was as if the very elements had some evil agenda of their own.

Putting his cap back on Dimitri wondered towards the far end of the footbridge, heading down onto the platform before making his way deeper into the station. It was a little warmer here and the floor was less slippery. Thankful to be back under the protection of the great glass roof Dimitri made his way down platform twenty two.   The light was still on in the small brick built waiting room about halfway down the platform and the sound of singing made its way though the closed door. Dimitri checked his watch. The Leningrad train had left over an hour ago and the worsening conditions meant that there would be no others until morning. The stranded passengers had stayed in the waiting room unable or unwilling to go anywhere else. The Station Master hurried to the door, pausing outside to dust the snow from his shoulders and to adjust his cap so that the hammer and sickle badge was more visible.

Taking a deep breath Dimitri opened the door. As expected most of the passengers in the cramped room were sailors on their way back to port. To a man they were drunk, a condition not improved by the bottles of cheap vodka being passed from hand to hand. The men were singing an old Ukrainian folk song accompanied by two sailors who were cranking out the melody on a penny whistle and a small accordion.

"Comrades!" Dimitri called. Getting no answer he shouted louder. "Comrades, your attention please!" The music stopped, all eyes turning his way. Dimitri cleared his throat. "Comrades, due to the shortage of fuel we are closing this waiting room and moving everyone to the main building."

There were a few grumbles from some of the men, Dimitri held his hands up again. "The situation is this," he said, "we only have enough coal to keep one fire burning through the night, for your comfort comrades we would prefer that you move to the waiting room that has that fire. As you know it is bitterly cold tonight and this room will be very uncomfortable once the fire burns down."

There were still a lot of grumbles but Dimitri had an ace left to play. "Comrades, those of us in the Railway Workers Soviet understand the sacrifices of our brave sailors, we have provided some hot soup for you in the main building." He paused. “We also have need of your help,” he added, “small jobs to help your Comrades though this crisis. Any man that agrees to help will get double rations and a shot or two of vodka to keep out the cold.”

That seemed to decide things, the sailors cheered, packing away the instruments and the vodka into kit bags and shuffling towards the door. Dimitri turned and watched them go, giving each an encouraging word as they passed him. As the last sailor headed towards the door a timid female voice spoke.

"P...please sir, c..could my mother have a bowl of that soup?"

Dimitri turned. In the far corner of the waiting room a small group of women sat huddled together for warmth. The two younger women where in their early twenties, fair with blue eyes and delicate features. One look told Dimitri that they were sisters and their presence explained the cluster of young sailors he had seen in that corner earlier. Both girls were dressed in threadbare peasant clothes which were completely inadequate for the bitter weather.  In fact their clothes were so thin that even in the warm waiting room they were shivering. Dimitri could see from the grayness of their cheeks and the bags under their eyes the telltale signs of malnutrition. The older woman who sat with them seemed even further gone, a bag of bones with graying hair and black rings around her eyes. Again the family resemblance was strong and Dimitri decided that this must be the mother.

"Do you have tickets?" he asked suspiciously. A lot of homeless people tried to sleep in his warm station and much as he felt sympathy for them Dimitri was under strict orders to move them on.

"Oh yes," the older of the two girls said holding up five cardboard tickets. Dimitri took the tickets and checked them. Frowning he checked again. Despite appearances the family has five valid tickets on the Leningrad Express.

"There was a cancellation, I’m afraid you missed the last train tonight Comrade," he said a little more kindly.

The blonde girl nodded. "Yes sir," she said, "we are taking a dead relative home for burial but his hearse was delayed, my father and sister are trying to find out what happened to it."

"The weather I expect," Dimitri said, his voice softening a little more. He looked the two girls over. They seemed very weak but he was sure that they could be of some help with the Commissar’s train.  "It is highly unusual,” Dimitri said, rubbing his chin as if he were trying to make up his mind, “but if you were willing to do a little job for me I think that we could find you ladies some soup.”

The two girls smiled and even the mother managed a small grin. Hurriedly the young women collected the family's scant possessions and helped their mother to her feet. "Here," Dimitri said, offering the older woman his arm, "allow me to help you." Olga's mother gratefully accepted the help. Dimitri lead the way guiding the older woman from the room while her daughters and baggage following on behind.

"Ilyana," Mrs Cromencov croaked, "after the soup you must go find your father, tell him where we have moved to."

The older of the two girls bowed her head reverently. "Yes Mother," she said.

As the small group made its way slowly towards the central concourse Mrs Cromencov scanned the waiting passengers. "I wonder where that lazy Olga is," she grumbled, "knowing that girl she is probably lying down somewhere."

The daughters looked at each other but said nothing. Mother was always hardest on the youngest sister even though Olga was as hard working as the others. Dragging their bags behind them the small group headed towards the central waiting room and the promise of a hot meal.

Master Bedroom Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  10:30PM

Leona looked down at the sleeping Marie.

"Master," she breathed, "she's beautiful."

Aleksei had done more than just repair Marie's torture damage, he had given the young slave the past ten years of life back. Gone was the tired, abused thirty year old that Leona had seen earlier and in her place was a strong and healthy girl of around Leona's own age. The girl's body was fit and exquisitely sculptured. Her skin shone with a new vitality as did her long dark hair. She seemed taller too, Leona thought, all in all the new Marie was one of the most delicious and perfect females the young German girl had ever seen.

"Do you think she'll like it," Aleksei asked. He was sitting in the chair Leona had been bound to with the desiccated body of Gerber at his feet. Leona looked down at the withered husk and gave an involuntary shiver. The body was shriveled and dry like a thousand year old mummy. It was hard to imagine that this man had been alive only an hour before.

Through the implant Leona's dark Master sensed her unspoken question. "Energy cannot be created or destroyed little one," he said, "a law of creation so fundamental that even we cannot disobey it. The life energy to repair your damaged sister and to give her the years of life that had been stolen from her had to come from somewhere. Mr. Gerber here paid that price and his very soul was consumed to give her life."

Leona shivered and watched silently as a moment later Marie moaned and started to come around.

Leona smiled down at her new sister. Marie initially seemed confused, then her hands flew down to her breasts reassuring herself that the miracle was indeed real. Next a hand continued down to her shaved sex. Trembling, she parted the folds of her pussy, the tip of one finger probing and discovering smooth healthy flesh rather than the scar tissue she had known for so long. When her fingertip touched the warm pink bud of her restored clit she came immediately, moaning and writhing as the orgasm claimed her. Trembling she stood and staggered to the wardrobe. Opening it she looked at the mirror that hung on the back of the door. What she saw made her cry.

"Does it not please you slave?" Aleksei asked, a little confused by her reaction.

Marie smiled. "Oh..oh yes Master, very much so." She brought her hands to the smooth skin of her face. She looked nineteen again, like the fresh faced young girl who had set out from Paris all those years ago. She felt young as well, her body strong and vibrant.

"Come to me girl," Aleksei ordered.

Head bowed Marie started over, walking the slow, sexy, submissive walk that the Corporation had beaten into her. When she reached him she sank smoothly to her knees, breasts thrust out, legs parted to show her new damp pussy. Once, long ago, she had told the slavers that she would never willingly kneel or call a man "Master." They had laughed and locked her in a steel footlocker until her will was broken. From that time on she had lived like an animal, her disgust and shame losing the battle with the terror of what they would do to her if she disobeyed. In all her years of slavery she had never once said the word Master and truly meant it.

Until now.

"What is thy bidding my Master?" she breathed, her body unexpectedly sensitized by his dark presence. He was her Master now not just by right of conquest but by Marie's own will. Of all the men she had ever known only he had ever shown her any kindness. She would happily kill or die for him.

"Hold up your hands little one," Aleksei prompted. With head bowed Marie raised her hands upwards with palms open and ready. A moment later he pressed something cold and hard into her hands and gently closed her fingers around it.

"Go my child," Aleksei said, the darkness returning to his voice, "take the revenge I promised you."

Marie blinked, hardly knowing what to say. She nodded, rose smoothly to her feet, bowed to her Master, then turned and walking towards the bed.

Peter was waking from his nightmare. Terrified and confused he tugged ineffectively against the ropes and webbing that bound him. He looked up as he felt Marie's weight on the bed.

"Allo Peter," Marie said sweetly. She smiled at the man's shocked and bewildered look.

"Oui Peter," she said as she took his limp cock in her hand, "my new Master has given me back the years you stole from me." She smiled and started to gently massage his sex. "You did not expect to be in such a position did you Peter?" she said as she tugged on the webbing with her free hand. She gave him a cute grin. "What is it they say?” She thought a moment then smiled. “Oui!” she said, the delight evident on her face, “The tables they have been turned nes pa?"

"Ummmmmm!" Peter moaned, he looked up, begging, then looked over at the cords and webs that tied him to the bed. 

Marie ignored him and instead bent down, her soft mouth wrapping itself around his cock. She slurped twice, using suction and gentle tongue movements to tease him closer and closer to full erection. A second later she straightened, her hand still playing up and down his manhood. She turned her head to one side and gave him a curious look.

"Remember Peter? Ow’you said you expected better next time? Does this meet your expectation?" she turned her head on one side and blinked innocently. The helpless man moaned.

Smiling, Marie bent down and licked his cock like a lollipop, her tongue twirling around the head at the end of each lingering stroke. "You took my virginity Peter," she said conversationally as she kissed her way up his throbbing shaft, "do you remember that? You lured me from my mistress' side telling me that I must ‘elp you with our escape. Then your men tied me Peter, spread me like you are now. You stuffed my mouth, cut my clothes from me despite my begging. Then you took me. You were my first Peter, you betrayed me, stole my innocence from me. Remember how I fought Peter? Remember how I begged you? How you delighted in telling me that you would sell me as a whore?"

She sucked again, keeping him erect and ready, hand stroking his balls.

"Now I will return the favor Peter," she said between licks, "I'll tell you what will happen to you now. I plan to cut out your heart Peter, just as I felt you have done to me a thousand times.” Her eyes sparkled, “and then I will offer it to my new Master."

Peter squealed, eyes wide, begging. Marie sucked deep on his throbbing erection. "But first I intend to rape you Peter," she said lightly, "I do not believe you could feel the pain as I did but I can at least make sure you don't enjoy the experience." She took the knife from the bed and ran the tip of the blade along his cock, letting him feel the cold steel. "You will die when you cum Peter," Marie said smiling brightly, "when I feel you twitch inside me I will take your ‘eart. If by some chance you don't orgasm I will let you go free." She smiled at the look of hope in his eyes. "Do not be so hopeful Peter," said as she massaged his cock again, " you will not be able to resist, I am very good at pleasuring men..... you ensured I was very well trained."

Peter squealed as she sucked on him again. Then she straddled him, feeding his erection into her rebuilt sex, thrilling at the sensation and the tightness of her new pussy. She thrust down, feeling the power of her situation.

Peter's look of horror increased as she rode him harder. She could feel him try to shift his weight, trying to deny her, but his helpless bound position made it as impossible for him as it had been for Marie all those years before. As she felt his cock start to twitch she raised the knife above her head, holding it in both hands ready to drive it deep into his chest. Peter, eyes wide, shook his head, a moaning "no, no" coming from behind the gag as she forced him closer to the edge. Her new pussy clamped down hard, pumping and milking him as he bucked beneath her.  Peter screamed as he felt his balls boil over. At that moment her orgasm hit hard and fast, ten long years of denied sexual pleasure boiling up in one explosion of sensation. Gasping and squealing Marie drove the knife downwards into Peter's chest.

Covered in sexual juices and Peter's blood Marie knelt naked at Aleksei’s feet. Her legs were parted, her head bowed and her hands offered upwards as she had been taught. There on her upturned palms lay Peter's heart, still trembling from post mortem nervous spasms. Back on the bed Peter's corpse continued to gaze at the ceiling with a look of pain and horror on it's wide sightless eyes.

"For you my Master," Marie said reverentially.

Aleksei smiled. "A suitable trophy for our first hunt together." He looked at the shivering girl. "What is your name little one?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

"M...Marie my Lord," she said, trembling.

"Such a name is unsuitable for one of your spirit," he said grandly. For a moment his dark eyes were clouded with grief. "I will call you Uni,” he said at last, “it was the name of my fallen child and it means "fierce one" in my language."

The girl took a deep panting breath. "Thank you Master," Uni said happily, “I will try to bare it with honor.” Bending down, Uni kissed his boots.

Outside the Corporation Safe House, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  10:50PM

Karl felt the heat first washing over his body in fierce waves. Groaning he sighed relieved that the coldness was gone. Temporarily confused he tried to open his eyes.... and saw nothing. Suddenly the horror of his situation came to him snapping him fully awake. Staggering, he stood on the melting snow. He could hear the panicked whiney of horses, hear the crackle of a fire, feel the heat, smell the smoke. On instinct he struggled to his feet and blindly stepped backwards only to discover that the heat behind him increased. Unable to see it took his horrified mind several moments to make sense of this. There were two separate fires, one in front and one behind him. There seemed to be an area to his left that seemed cooler, the slush and melting snow at his feet convincing him that he was still outside.

Desperate he scrambled in the direction of the cool zone away from the fire, his hands held out in front of him as sobbing he stumbled on.

“Hello? Hello?”

There was a voice ahead of him crying with relief Karl croaked out an answer. “Here,” he gasped, “over here!”

There came the sound of splashing footfalls and then just as suddenly there were hands on his shoulders.

“K...Karl? What happened?” there was a pause and then the speaker suddenly whimpered. “Oh my God Karl.... You... You’re blind.”

It was a Russian voice though it was speaking German. It took Karl’s panic filled mind a moment to recognize it.

“Serge,” Karl said, “Serge, is that you?” Serge had been the second lookout they had posted that night the one that should have been guarding the alleyway with Andreas. “A..Andreas is dead, where were you?”

“No time,” Serge said, “the house is on fire, the stables too, come with me we need to hitch the horses.” The Russian placed Karl’s hands on his shoulders leading him back towards the heat and the sound of panicked animals. Karl shuffled behind, remembering the lines of gas blinded soldiers he had once passed on his way to the front.

Soon Karl sensed the presence of a panicked horse nearby. Serge pressed a leather strap into one of his hands, guiding the other to the cold metal of a buckle. “Tighten this now,” the Russian said kindly. “Be quick though, we have to get the cart through the alley before that part of the house catches fire.”

Blindly, Karl did as he was told. “Where were you?” he asked again as his fingers fumbled the strap closed.

“Valeri sent me to the main street with young Gregor,” Serge said as he helped the blind man up into the cart. “I got back just in time to find the house on fire.” Grabbing the reins the Russian lead the reluctant horse forward towards the burning house and the alleyway that linked the yard to the road.

Shivering with shock Karl held on tight. The heat and the noise of fire increased as did the horse’s panic, then the sounds changed, becoming muffled and echoed before he felt the warmth of the fire again. This time however the sounds were different, the air less full of smoke, Karl assumed they had now passed though the alley.  The cart moved forward a few more meters and then paused. Karl was about to ask what was going on when something warm and breathing landed by his side. Confused he reached down only to discover the shivering body of a man.

“Who?” he asked.

“The Englishman,” Serge said as he climbed up onto the cart. Snapping the reins he coaxed the horse forward.

“Does he know what happened to the others,” Karl asked, though in truth he had a good idea what had happened to the men in the house.

“Well if he does then he won’t be telling anyone,” Serge said as they pulled away, “The man’s mind is ruined. I found him gibbering in the street when I got back. That was why I needed the cart, if it wasn’t for him I doubt I would have found you Comrade.”

That was a sobering thought.

For a moment neither of them said anything and the only sound was the snow muffled clip of hooves and Toby’s mad gibbering murmurs. In an attempt to calm the man Karl laid a hand on his shoulder only to feel the madman wince. Confused the German slid a hand into the man’s clothes feeling the body quiver as his exploring fingers touched groves and ridges.

“Help me get his jacket off,” Karl said.

“But Comrade he will freeze...”

“It will be for but a second,” Karl insisted and started to strip the Englishman himself.

He heard Serge gasp.....

“Comrade... there... there is a message, burnt into his back...... I think it’s in English.”

Karl knew that Serge couldn’t read English. “Spell it out for me,” he ordered.

Central Station, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  11:00PM

“All is in readiness,” Aleksei asked.

Station Master Casparov trembled. “Your personal train has been prepared Comrade,” he said, “as you ordered it has supplies and railway authority to Prague.”

“Excellent,” Aleksei said, favoring the man with a rare smile. “You have done well, your loyalty to the party will be noted.”

“Yes Commissar, thank you Commissar,” Dimitri mumbled.

Aleksei gave an expansive gesture. “This is Miss Alison Michaels of New York and her party. She is the personal guest of Comrade Secretary Stalin and it is important that she starts for home immediately. I have assured the Comrade Secretary that our glorious state railways are more than capable of this task.”

There was an implied threat there, a small inflection in his tone that warned Dimitri that disappointing Comrades Rostov and Stalin was not a good idea.

“Thank you Comrade,” Dimitri said, “assure Comrade Stalin that it will be done.” He glanced over his shoulder as the Michaels party, which seemed to consist of three women. The tall redhead must be the American, Dimitri decided, and the blonde girl with her was some wealthy friend. However, the one that worried him was the intense dark haired girl who was dressed as a servant. When he looked at her she met his gaze and held it, Dimitri shivered at the look of driven fanaticism he found there. More than anything Dimitri wouldn’t want to make her his enemy.

Three sailors appeared at the doors wheeling large luggage trolleys that contained a variety of trunks, cases and other containers. Aleksei glanced at the baggage with little interest. “I suggest that you get the train loaded without delay,” he said coldly, “I want to take advantage of the current good weather.”

“At once Commissar,” Dimitri burbled. Quickly he signaled the Cromencov sisters over. He had discovered, during a brief conversation over the soup, that the two girls were educated and able to read and write several languages. With no shipping clerks available they would have to be responsible for the Michaels girl’s manifest.

The sisters hurried over and Dimitri pointed them towards the worrying dark haired servant. “Assist that one with the baggage,” he ordered. Curtsying as they had been taught the girl’s hurried over.

Satisfied Aleksei turned his attention to other things. “Now Comrade,” he said, putting a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, “about the replacement locomotives?”

Platform 8, Central Station, Moscow

Tuesday January 1st 1929  11:15PM

“Halt,” Alison shouted as the two sailors started to manhandle one of her trunks from the trolley. The men stopped and looked at her confused.

“What are you doing?” the American girl asked in perfect Russian, “fools!” She pointed to a sign on the side of the trunk that said clearly in Cyrillic “fragile.”

The men cursed. “its heavy miss,” one of them said looking sheepish.

Alison fumed. “It is also delicate,” she stamped her foot, “go over there, move those trunks we will handle this.” Turning she spotted the Cromencov sisters who were comparing inventory lists. I look of recognition flickered across her face then a brief wicked grin.

“You, you two girls, come over here.”

Dutifully the sisters walked over. Alison smiled at them broadly. “I want you to help me get this trunk onboard,” she said in a tone that indicated that there was no room for discussion.

“But Miss,” Ilyana started, looking at the huge box.

“No arguments,” Alison said, all you have to do is steady the trunk as it’s lifted into the carriage, I wouldn’t trust these men to be gentle enough.”

Turning she smiled at the dark haired girl who was overseeing some of the other loading.

“Oh Uni?” Alison warbled.

Uni stiffened and frowned a little, she had known Alison only a few hours but she already knew that tone. The heiress wanted something.

Alison smiled as her new slave sister came over. “Uni sweetie do be a dear and help these two girls with my special trunk?” Alison smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Thankies.”

Uni sighed and grabbed the trunk. It seemed that when the Master had given his new slave her makeover he’d taken the time to make a few improvements. Grunting slightly Uni shifted her weight, lifting the heavy trunk easily from the trolley. The Cromencov sisters gasped for a moment but the Lady had demanded that they should help and they did their best, grabbing the trunk and helping to guide it into the sleeping carriage.

Smiling at a private joke Alison settled back to watch.

Inside the trunk the two captives sensed the movement but could do little to alert those outside to their fate. Olga and Sofia were naked, bound together face to face, arms and legs wrapped around each other like lovers. Rope bound their wrists, then the area from forearms to fingertips had been encased in spider silk and adhered to their partner’s back. A similar arrangement imprisoned their feet, while a nest of webbing held them firmly in the center of the box and eliminated any possibility that they could somehow pound on the side. However, Alison had reserved her most devious ideas for last. Between the girls and running the whole distance from their asses to the tops of their heads was the black symbiont.  The alien machine covered the girl’s heads entirely, forming a black skintight hood that cut them off from all sight, sound and smell. The device had slid two tubes down each girl’s throat, one to carry air to her lungs the other to keep her supplied with liquid for the journey. As a bonus the breathing tube effectively bypassed the voice box rendering them mute and completely gagged. Continuing down the symbiont glued their naked bodies together. The coverage of the black mass varied as it went down, the girl’s breasts for example were completely covered, while only a thin line spread over their stomachs. At crotch level though the device really went to town. Both girls had their cunts filled with the warm vibrating black mass which teased clit and womb mercilessly. Another thinner tube took care of liquid waste allowing the symbiont to recycle the water content and keep the two hydrated.

Olga felt Sophia tremble against her as the box moved again. Completely helpless there was little the girls could do. In fact it was hard enough to keep their thoughts organized. The sexual teasing of the symbiont at breasts and cunt was sapping their willpower at the same time as a recording of Alison’s voice played in their ears, telling them to surrender, to serve their new master. As time went on Olga was finding it hard to resist the message.

She felt the black mass withdraw from her ear canals. Suddenly able to hear Olga renewed her feeble struggles. Then she clearly heard her sister Ilyana say “Now push.”

-----

Somehow the three girls got the big trunk in position. Once she was finished Uni gave Alison a dark look and headed off to supervise the sailors. The Cromencov girls leant back against the trunk and caught their breath.

“Thank you so much,” Alison gushed, “my you railway girls are so strong.”

“We’re not railway girls,” Ilyana said, fighting for breath, “we are just waiting for a train when they asked if we could help out.”

Alison nodded. “Where were you going,” she asked kindly.

“We will be taking a dead relative home for burial,” Ilyana said, sticking to the story Valeri had told them. “My father and sister will be here with the body soon.”

“Sister?” Alison asked, “don’t tell me there is another girl as pretty as you two?”

Inside the trunk the helpless Olga wept into her hood as she heard her sisters tell Alison all about her. Unable to move or even make a sound she listened as the heiress rested her purse on the trunk.

Alison counted out two piles of English silver Florins. “Here we go my dears,” Alison said as she counted the coins into each delighted girl’s hand, “thank you again for all your help.”

The girl’s eyes widened. They had been given three pounds each! That was a fortune in Russia, equal to almost 3 years pay for a skilled worker. In one day they had been given enough to rescue them from starvation and save their family from the cold weather. Happy they turned away unknowingly leaving their youngest sister to her fate.

As they hurried to show their mother their riches only Anna, second youngest and always the worrier in the family wondered why the rich American had given each girl exactly thirty silver coins.