"You will have to be on top of your game for this one, Angels. Pyotr Arkadyevich Yakunin. Loosely associated with the Russian mafia, but his own operation, a human trafficker, exclusively young white women. Three years ago, I took down Arkady Yakunin, his father. Your sister Jill was instrumental in that one, Kris."
"Yes, Charlie, I remember," Kris Munroe said, “but she wouldn't talk about it much and she seemed shaken. Jumpy. It was over a month before she settled down."
"I know. That case was the reason Jill left the Townsend Agency. Yakunin's gang kidnapped girls for sale to wealthy degenerates in Asia and the Middle East. He had them broken, made subservient - little more than slaves, actually - and his methods were brutal. Jill saw some of that 'training' while she was undercover.
"I thought that cutting the head off the snake would kill the enterprise, and it did seem to vanish after Arkady was shipped off to a Siberian work camp. He died a year ago, worked to death. But I was wrong. Very quietly, Arkady's son, Pyotr, reorganized the operation. Angels, by all accounts the son is worse than the father; he certainly seems smarter. The bodies of the two lieutenants we turned to get to Arkady were found, horribly mutilated. He also moved it to America to take advantage of the limits on our law enforcement, a lesson he learned from his father's take-down."
"So what's the plan, Charlie?" Sabrina Duncan asked.
"Pyotr Yakunin may be more intelligent than Arkady, but he is also more arrogant. He thinks he is better. That's why he will never think that the same ploy will work again, and certainly not on him.
"It probably wouldn't - not with an underling, anyway - he has tightened his operation that much. No, this time we got to one of his buyers; actually an agent for a buyer. Pure antebellum Southern aristocracy, but she got herself into a serious bind gambling. It seems the lady likes the ponies more than they like her. Now the Mob's involved - ours, not theirs - and she's desperate. If Guido and company don't get her soon, the Russian Mob will still hear about it - and Yakunin won't tolerate any possible vulnerability, so we have to act fast, Angels, before he finds out and the window closes.
"Kris, you will act as your sister did: inside. There's just too big a chance that Yakunin knows about Sabrina and Kelly since they were here when we got his father. I have been building a history for a new, potential buyer ever since I learned that Arkady's empire didn't die with him. I've been waiting for this chance. Most of Yakunin's business comes from direct commissions, Chinese political leaders, Arab oil princes, and the like, but commissions alone aren't enough to maintain an operation like his, to say nothing of the lifestyle he has come to enjoy, so once or twice a year he has an auction of girls kidnapped for that purpose. I've heard whispers that Yakunin has such an auction planned soon. The buyer's agent will let me know where and when. I will see that you get invited to it.
"But I'm not going to take any chances and underestimate Arkady's spawn. This time both Kelly and Sabrina will do over-watch. Kelly will watch over Kris and Sabrina will watch over Kelly. Bosley will cover you both and I will have a team of ex-Special Forces standing by just in case something goes wrong. From this moment on, Kris, you will have no contact with any of them, or this agency, in any way. Your name is Katherine Marie Flynn, fifth-generation San Francisco family money. Bosley has the file and I strongly suggest you memorize every detail forward and backward. The consequences of being found out are more dire than you can imagine. Jill made it out - barely - and even so, it scarred her for the rest of her life. Let me say this again: do not underestimate this man!"
* * *
The room was small, with only half a dozen tables set in a semicircle around an equally downsized circular stage. Kris counted eight people, six including Pyotr, sitting at the tables, and two standing. Short, heavily shaded lamps provided only enough light to illuminate the table tops, leaving their faces in shadow. One, she could tell, seemed to be kind of oriental. Another, surprisingly, a woman. She was the one with a couple of large men standing behind her, watching the room. Bodyguards, Munroe guessed. The others she couldn't make out well enough. Over the past hour, seven young women had been brought forward by a pair of evil-looking men, addressed by Yakunin only as Kliment and Dimitri. One by one the girls were lifted atop the disc. Kliment - Kris knew the name Kliment meant kind and gentle in English, a cruel irony under the circumstances - was huge, well over six feet and built like a line-backer, was the most imposing of the two. He had short-cropped hair and remarkably bushy eyebrows above pale, watery blue eyes without a trace of emotion. Dimitri was shorter and broader, but no less imposing. Where Kliment looked as if he could have been letting his pet cat out instead of exposing young women to a lifetime of slavery, Dimitri's face looked like a rodent and had a permanent leer and salacious glint in his eyes, like a teenage boy peeking through a window at a neighbor undressing.
The girls wore plain, faded chemises held in place with laces over the shoulders and a simple knotted rope about the waist. Once placed on the stage, the smocks were immediately undone and husked away to leave them cringing and nude beneath the merciless lights. A simple foot switch made the disk turn slowly to expose her body, front, sides, and back to the bidders.
There was no auctioneer. Some at the tables said their bids while electronic keyboards enabled others to enter theirs that way. Kris bid on a couple, careful to maintain her front and finally allow herself to be overbid. Each was young, late teens to early twenties, she judged, and white - clearly the preference - and all commanded six-figures before being covered again and dragged away.
Kris heard the tinkle of a glass being tapped and looked over where Pyotr had stood up. He raised his hands. “My friends, I want to thank you for a very successful auction. I'm sure you or your principals will be very pleased with your purchases.
"Now I have something novel for you, a special little thank you for your long - and profitable - patronage. I am sure you will find it to your liking. Should any of you desire it, I have some freshly trained merchandise available for your personal pleasure during the entertainment - just tell your servant."
Kris looked back to the stage. The two burly Russians were back, leading another woman to the small stage. Like the earlier girls, this one's form was covered with a knee-length robe, but unlike them she wore wrist and ankle cuffs and had a black fabric bag covering her head. Her bare feet minced nervously beneath her when they lifted her beneath the bright lights. Kliment pulled a device down from above the disk, a bar shaped in an upside down “T". Each man grabbed an arm, pulled it up over her head and then bent back behind her head where the wrist cuffs were clipped to a leather collar hidden beneath the hood. Then they placed the horizontal part of the T-bar behind her head, but in front of her upraised arms where it, too, was clipped to the collar to hold it in place. The men knelt down and attached her ankle cuffs to rings on the disk to spread her legs about a yard apart.
Now that her body was secure, Dimitri undid the cord around her waist and tossed it aside, then both raised their hands to the knots atop each shoulder. One last tug and the simple garment fell silently to her feet to expose her body to the room totally and gloriously nude.
There was a brief moment of silence, then a collective gasp rose at the sight the young woman presented. She looked to be in her 20's, but early or late 20's was hard to estimate as she was obviously fit, a woman who took pride in her body and worked to perfect it. The unknown's legs were long and tapered, muscular in the way of a tennis player. Her arms and the legs up to the crotch were tanned, but the flawless skin of her torso was a fine, milky white where it had been covered by a bathing suit. The chains holding her ankles apart tinkled as she blindly explored the limits of her bonds. Her chest was full and strong, drawing in to a trim, 24-inch waist that then flared again into firm hips. And now the logic of the simple T-bar binding became apparent. The metal cross piece held her elbows back, pushing the shoulder blades together. The woman's breasts weren't large, but suited her and the simple binding forced them to thrust out as if insisting on attention. They were capped with broad dark pink aureoles that crinkled demurely in the cool air. The centers rose into hard little points. The young woman's labia had been freshly shaved, leaving a plump double bulge nestled between her thighs. The buyers knew that this was a typical preparation for a whipping. Not that the pubic curls would offer any meaningful protection from the lash, but denuding the crotch displayed the angry red lines left by the whip better.
While the small audience watched avidly, Dimitri and Kliment moved to the next part of the preparation. They took plastic bottles of baby oil and squirted it liberally over her shoulders, then began rubbing the oil over her nude form all the way down to her captive feet. Special care was taken to coat her breasts, buttocks, and thighs. Dimitri's eyes had an especially malevolent twinkle as he basted the girl's crotch and labia, even slipping two calloused fingers up unto her vagina. In a minute the shapely woman's naked form gleamed under the bright lights, highlighting every elegant curve. The disk engaged again, turning her body for the appreciation of the room while the men went to the table of instruments, returning with whips. The air of anticipation was palpable.
Kris heard a voice from the second table, a cultured contralto with a pronounced Alabama drawl. The woman with the bodyguards. “It has been mah experience that any whipping is just that teeny bit bettah if her nipples and clit are treated to a hot needle piercing first. Just a quick little in and out is aahl it takes."
"An excellent suggestion, Mrs. Fletcher, excellent," Pyotr answered. “I quite agree. It does seem to make the dance more lively." He swept one hand toward the captive in invitation. “Please, since it was your suggestion, it's only fair that you should get to apply the skewers."
Kris got a better look at the woman when she rose and entered the brighter spotlit area. She looked to be in her 40's, with a pleasant face, but there was venom in her eyes visible even from Kris's seat.
Kliment led Mrs. Fletcher to the tool chest and found the desired instrument, a fine, two-inch long sliver of steel set in a wooden handle. Handing it to the woman, he set up a small propane torch on top of the chest. It took less than a minute in the blue flame before the metal was glowing a bright yellow. Dimitri stepped in close and wrapped an arm around the victim's waist to hold her steady. Mrs. Fletcher cupped her left breast, lifting it slightly to present the coral nipple. To ensure maximum heat, she brought the radiant skewer swiftly toward the breast. Quick as an adder, she stabbed the point half an inch into the pointed tip.
There was a sharp hiss as hot metal penetrated tender flesh. The effect on the captive was immediate. The glossy form went rigid, almost jerking out of Dimitri's arm. Kris heard a wail come from under the hood. Muffled as it was, Kris could only imagine the scream of anguish that would have been. Fletcher left the needle inserted for only a moment, expertly searing the nerve endings, but not burning too them to the point of killing them. As painful as the active lancing was, more importantly, the burning so aggravated the nerves that now the slightest touch to the nipple would be agony.
The cruel woman returned the needle to the flame. When she was satisfied with its heat, she looked to Dimitri. The young woman's chest was still heaving when she felt the arm around her waist draw in tight again. Kris saw her shiny breasts pop up with a sudden shocked inhalation, paradoxically making it easier for the right one to get caught. She fought desperately to move away, but was no match for the man holding her. Kris heard the sharp sizzle as the untouched right nipple was burned. This time the angle allowed Kris to actually see a small puff of steam jet from the tip as another frantic stifled cry came from the hood.
Dimitri and the woman stepped back to allow the glistening nude form the freedom to fully express its suffering. All eyes were drawn to the lascivious spectacle. Slick and shiny with oil, different curves caught and reflected the intense lights illuminating her writhing form. By any standard, the girl's body was magnificent, but glistening with oil and writhing in agony it was spellbinding. Her ankles were held apart, but not so tightly that she couldn't dance, displaying a stirring play of muscles up her thighs to the torso. The arm binding proved itself by thrusting her chest up and out however she turned. Every heaving breath lifted her chest further still, drawing her stomach in and defining the rib cage, now a perfect stage for the lovely bare breasts capering to her dance of pain. Even though only a few seconds had passed since their searing, both teats had already distended to twice their original size.
"Allahu Akbar!," Kris heard gasped to her right. It was one of the Arabs - “Sheikh Ahmed", Yakunin had called him. Then he surprised her by saying, “This bint could raise a bloody corpse," in a clear British accent. Educated in England, she guessed, not uncommon among Arab royalty. Kris saw him signal his assigned servant and speak briefly. Scarcely a minute later a naked girl was brought to him. She had been a prisoner long enough to know her task and went down to her knees, crawling under the table. The Arab picked up his drink and leaned back in his chair, his attention now back to the lurid show as the girl busied herself below.
Mrs. Fletcher only allowed a couple of minutes of this before finishing her fiendish preparation. She knew well that females have three teats and the super sensitive one between their thighs always drew the most vigorous reactions when it felt the kiss of sharp glowing steel. This time both Russians assisted, kneeling by each leg while the needle heated. It was certain the girl had no idea what was about to happen as she hardly reacted at first when her ankles were gripped and pulled farther apart. As soon as the needle was glowing brightly, they each used one arm to secure a thigh and Mrs. Fletcher struck. She pressed against the nude girl, ignoring the oil rubbing off on her expensive blouse. With a skill bred of much experience, she parted the lips of the nude's slit to expose the shiny pink pearl of her clitoris. Pyotr's policy of shaving the genitals of girls facing the lash made this more difficult, and the labia were elastic, smooth, and slippery, but it still only took a moment to find and lance the helpless nubbin. The wretch convulsed again, more powerfully than before, but she couldn't escape the searing lancet. Fletcher let this most intimate assault continue a fraction of a second longer. She knew that dainty little bud was nothing but a solid bundle of nerves and those few she may be killing would never be noticed when the whip started licking it. The monstrous task complete, she handed the skewer off and made her way back to her table while the wretched girl writhed beneath the lights.
There was tension in the air, the anticipation of a lusty nude whipping, but also a rising curiosity regarding the bound victim's face. Was she so ugly only her body was worthy of display? Scarred or somehow disfigured, perhaps? No, some celebrity or model, her body a treat for the whip, but an identity that must remain hidden? Pyotr was too good a judge of human desire to miss it and the time was now right. He lifted one hand lazily to order the next step. Dimitri moved beside her and reached for the hood. With all attention on the stage, no one noticed the other movements in the back of the room prompted by his gesture. The stocky Russian looked over to Pyotr. The answering nod was minuscule, but clear and he pulled the black bag up and off the girl's head. The sight prompted another audible reaction, this one of shock, and from only one of the tables. “No, oh no!" For an instant, Kris couldn't fully grasp what she saw and that instant was all it took. Her mind still reeling, Kris Munroe felt strong hands suddenly grab her wrists and press them against the chair arms. Two of Yakunin's servants had moved quietly into position close behind her during the dramatic unveiling, waiting for just this moment to move. Disguised restraints immediately secured her wrists to the chair arms. After the hands were immobilized, more straps at feet and knees finished the job and she was helpless in the chair. Even so, her shock at the unexpected assault couldn't overcome that of the captive's identity. It was Kelly, Kelly Garrett, friend, surrogate older sister, and fellow Angel. Naked, bound, and gagged Kelly Garrett.
"I do so enjoy facilitating a reunion of friends," Pyotr said as he moved to the front of the stage. He saw confused looks on a few guests' faces and raised his hands. “Dear friends, esteemed associates, allow me to introduce you to our very special guest and her not-so-clever accomplice. These two ladies are both employees of Charles Townsend of the Townsend Agency. A man who has been a thorn in all our sides for years. Our entertainment's name is Kelly Garrett, and this spy here is Kris Munroe. They are both part of Townsend's team of operatives known amusingly as 'Charlie's Angels.' Townsend, as some of you know, was responsible for my father's persecution and imprisonment. Miss Munroe's sister was instrumental in that. I have been planning this for a long, long time. Waiting until the clever Townsend would try the same gambit and insert another undercover agent to trap me. As you all can see, that plan failed and now I have two of his Angels in my power. He has inadvertently provided me a lever to locate him and, just as happily, provide a rare show for us. Mikhail, Borya," he said to the guards beside her, “if she is secure, you may return to your positions. Now then, Dimitri, Kliment, I think we have waited long enough." He glanced over to the end table and chuckled at the sight there. “We had best start soon or my old friend Don Julio won't make it to the main event!" The middle-aged Latino three tables over laughed back but didn't change his languorous pose. The table cloth hanging down at his table was moving in a regular rhythm, so it was no mystery what was going on beneath. Two other tables had similar actions going on, even beneath Mrs. Fletcher's now. Her twin bodyguards remained alert to the outside, but between her spread thighs a “trainee" worked hard to keep her aroused.
Yakunin addressed the room again. “There, now that our guests have been introduced, let us enjoy a good whipping. Surely you must all agree that Kelly's body is worthy of serious attention, eh?" Some heads nodded, others just leaned back to savor the sensations. Servants glided in and refreshed drinks. Up in front, the two men returned with their whips, the same for each, two-foot long, slim braided rat-tails attached to slightly longer handles. The oversize handles made it easy to generate great speed with little effort. They also made it easier to aim. They took their places for the flogging, Kliment off to her right front and Dimitri to her back left. The smothering hood was gone, but her captors had previously tied a golf ball sized perforated plastic ball into her mouth so she could breathe, but not speak - or even scream well.
"Begin," Pyotr said.
Kliment raised his whip. He swept it around and about in an elaborate motion, so the thin leather cut the air with a sharp swish. Kelly turned toward the sound and her eyes grew large in terror when she saw the cruel implement that made it. Then, with a quick motion of his arm, he snapped it forward to launch a crisp horizontal slash that found both prominent white breasts a centimeter beneath the nipples. The woman tensed in reaction.
The lash withdrew, leaving a brightening scarlet line behind. At its furthest reach, the small pointed tip had cut the flesh, leaving a tiny crack and producing a sudden droplet of shiny red blood. There was a murmuring from the audience members. This wasn't normal. This wasn't how an entertainment whipping went. The very first lash attacked the tits and drew blood? This was unheard of! Entertainment torments worked gradually from belly or ass to the more sensitive parts of a female's body. The woman's cunt didn't bleed until the tits and they not until the belly and ass. Here the very first stroke broke the skin and started blood oozing. Trying to absorb the reality of what they were seeing, few even noticed Dimitri's stroke from behind that crossed Kelly's back with enough reach that the tip reached into the right armpit, stinging the sensitive skin and leaving its own small rip behind.
The two strokes followed each other so closely that the girl's body was torn in reaction. She tried to scream, she wanted to scream, but the gag was barely sufficient to let her breathe, so only a pathetic whine came out. Two more rapid cuts attacked her, hissing as they cut through the air, one curling around her soft belly, the other crossing her lower back. Dimitri engaged the stage to start it turning again. There was no hesitation as two more lashes curled over her writhing nude body. Striking both thighs in front and across her shoulders behind. Now the whipping began in earnest.
The two powerful Russians slashed out again and again with their arms to carve the helpless woman's exposed body. Rather than being saved for the end of the whipping, both went often for the the obvious parts of her sex. Kliment returned to the breasts even as Dimitri's whip snapped up from the floor to bite savagely into her helpless sex to deliberately sting the burned clitoris. Stroke followed stroke, every one producing a sharp jerk in reaction. There was no pattern, no deliberate sequence of escalating pain typical with a punishment - and certainly not with an amusement beating. Even so it continued. With her back now facing the room, Kliment sliced Kelly's upper thighs right at the tender valley where they met her rounded buttocks even as Dimitri's savaged her ribs just beneath the tits. Both tender sides were next. As her face came into view again, a leather strand descended over one shoulder to snake vertically down over one jiggling breast to find the delicate under curve. The next few went repeatedly to her thighs, but all too soon for Kelly Garrett the brutal men returned to her out thrust tits for a few strokes, then followed by going after her helpless genitals from front and back. After just a few minutes, the miserable young woman's body was already decorated with vivid stripes from neck to knees. Her nude figure twisted and squirmed in a desperate attempt to escape the pain, but her binding was too efficient, too well designed to permit that. Her feet tugged impotently at the cuffs holding them apart. Despite the coolness of the room, the strain of her suffering had her sweating, producing small beads that stood out from the skin and caught the light in their own way to sparkle independently. And there was an increasing number of bright scarlet drops and streaks of blood from where the the points cut her delicate flesh. And all the while the dreadful, high-pitched whines came from her.
Kris Munroe could only look on helplessly. Making her horror worse, Yakunin took a seat at her table beside her soon after the beating started. Now that the initial surprise was past, the other watchers grew more animated, making comments and urging the Russians on to greater ferocity. Kliment took a moment for Kelly to reach the right position, then used a snap of his wrist so the whip's tip exploded against the center of her left nipple with a puff of scarlet.
"Cor, Miz Fletcher!" she heard the British-speaking Arab sheikh exclaim. “That's fifty quid you owe me! First blood from the left teat, not the right!"
"Dahmn," the woman drawled, “you win that one, but ah can live with it. Just look at the little bitch. After ah got to treat 'em to the hot needles, you know that hurt!"
Indeed, Kris and everyone watching could see the effect. Kelly's chest heaved wildly, as if she had just run a marathon, rising and falling, which highlighted her ribs and set the tits into a salacious dance all their own. Her eyes were wild, staring without seeing and crazed whines came from the beneath the plastic gag, the only pitiful expression to the ghastly suffering. Mrs. Fletcher was exactly right, of course. The leather's kiss would have been hideous in any event, but after being lanced by the red hot skewer, the pain was beyond belief, intolerable. As if to overwhelm her senses still more, and prove himself as talented with the lash as his partner, Dimitri slipped another bitter strike up into the very middle of her slit to expertly seek out the seared swollen clitoris with another spray of crimson, adding to the streaks already oozing down her inner thighs from the lacerated lips. It was hard to imagine that her frenzied writhing could possibly get more violent, but at this fresh sexual attack Kelly managed. Drops of sweat flew off her with each maddened wrench. Not even Salome herself ever performed a more lascivious dance.
"Stop it!" Kris cried, turning to the man sitting beside her. “Please, dear God, stop it! Stop hurting her! You, you beast!"
"Stop it? Oh my, no. She's still strong, and look how much my friends are enjoying it. There now, look." He pointed over with his chin. Kris turned her head to where, as if on cue, Don Julio gripped the table before him and threw back his head, eyes closed and crying out in the throes of an obvious orgasm.
Hola, Don Julio!" Pyotr called out. “Bueno, mi amigo! I hope you can muster the energy to stay with us. The show's not over yet!" Kris look back to Pyotr in horror. Not over yet, she thought as she returned to the monstrous spectacle. How much more could her friend endure. How much more before she swooned from the pain. How much more. . .
The two Russians flailed away relentlessly. The leather whips attacked everywhere. Some lashes would rise from beneath, to lift the flesh of her tits or ass and set it jiggling. Some swept in horizontal strokes, curling around her sweating nude body so the pointed tips could rake the thin skin over her rib cage, and, most painfully, dart into the tender grotto of her armpits. Kris heard Dimitri chuckling whenever one of his lashes drew a particularly agonized squeal from the gag.
After ten minutes, even though her gyrations were still extreme, Kelly Garrett was clearly weakening from the incessant beating. At least a hundred strokes had landed and now thin red weals covered her front and back. The greatest number were clustered on her most sensitive parts, inner thighs and crotch, lower back, armpits, and especially the fine bare breasts, pretty obviously now their primary target. With her arms high and elbows pushed back by the T-bar, the delightful globes were forced to thrust out and were covered with overlaid stripes to the point that there was little pale skin left. Where the lines crossed, many places as the lashes had attacked them horizontally and vertically, darker purple spots were left, many oozing blood over the curves. Both nipples were hidden by the welts and bleeding. The delicate notch between her legs was all but unrecognizable, a grotesquely bloated mockery of female genitals.
After a few more minutes of the barbarous torture, Kelly's twisting dance of suffering weakened to scarcely more than jerky twitches. Yakunin called a halt to his men. Without the constant assault by the whips, the spasms slowed until the young woman's bleeding nude body sagged on rubbery legs, the whines replaced by plaintive whimpering. Even so, the genius of the simple overhead binding still held her upright, still had her breasts sticking out proudly, still arrogantly presented to audience and whip. Kris Munroe slumped in her chair. Thank God, she thought, it was over at last. But she still didn't comprehend the savage barbarity of the man beside her.
Rather than releasing Kelly, Kliment went to the chest and returned with syringe. He found a vein in her neck and injected her with its contents. It took only a minute before the whimpering rose in volume, turning into a groan from somewhere deep inside her. Even without any fresh cuts, it looked like the pain was growing in ferocity anyway.
"A chemical I commissioned," Yakunin said casually to the girl seated beside him. “It stimulates the nervous system and accelerates the heart. It will not only keep the bitch fully responsive to the whip - especially intensify the pain - but will also prevent her from passing out. The dosage she's been given will cause irreparable neurological damage, of course, but that won't matter. I only need another five or ten minutes from her."
Kris stared at him, not able to absorb the words, what they meant for poor Kelly Garrett. She looked back to the brightly lit circle. No, oh no no no, the plea went through her mind. She saw the two Russians moving back to their positions, only now they had exchanged the thin braided whips for something Kris recognized from movies, movies of the British Navy and ships with sails, movies like The Mutiny On The Bounty, the common sailor's terror: the cat o' nine tails. Each had multiple thongs of twisted leather, each thong with small knots along its length.
"Begin," Yakunin commanded once more. “But wake her up first."
They set the whips down. Dimitri picked up two small pails and handed one to his partner. Without ceremony, they splashed the contents on the woman. The effect was instantaneous. Her nude body tensed furiously, every muscle taut and rigid. She fought for breath and her naked body began to shiver uncontrollably.
"Strong brine," Pyotr commented casually to Kris. “It really aggravates the exposed nerve endings. See how nicely it's invigorates her."
The salty liquid certainly did that. It also washed away the streaks of blood that had covered her, so the countless thin scarlet welts stood in stark contrast to any white skin missed by the whips. Writhing in agony, the lovely young woman's body was a sadist's dream. Now fully revived, it was time for the finale.
The men picked up the cats and moved back to their positions. In front, Kliment shook his out to separate the knotted strands. Then, at the same moment, both struck. There was no subtlety now, no restraint. The disk was turning again, presenting a different area to the brutal fiends. The flogging increased in rapidity, a fresh stroke every few seconds. Both men were also now using the full strength in their powerful arms and shoulders to sweep the cats across the wretched girl's gleaming naked form. Each swing abraded the skin, the devilish knots cracking the flesh apart and drawing more blood. With increasing regularity, Kliment's back swing would send droplets of blood into the room, splashing on the awestruck buyers. Don Julio and the Arab leaned forward avidly, intent on the grisly scene. Mrs. Fletcher, Kris saw with disgust, was giggling uncontrollably.
If the victim's writhing was energetic before, now it was frenzied, even berserk. She was nearing insanity. It felt as in she was burning alive, every nerve afire from the diabolical potion flowing through her veins coupled with the ceaseless lashes. As before, the organs of her sex were the initial focus. Within two minutes, her breasts were raw, bloody lumps. The once dainty lips between her legs were also lacerated. They were a smaller target and Dimitri especially would drag his cat back against them when he attacked her there. Soon none of the once smooth white skin was visible save her dancing feet and above her neck. If this was a punishment flogging, his men would have also used the cats to rip her face away, but for this he wanted her beauty left intact.
In less than the five minutes Pyotr predicted, the end finally came. One final spasm, an impossibly shrill squeal, and Kelly's ruined body suddenly ceased moving and hung limp from the T-bar. Kliment touched a hand to her throat, then turned back to Pyotr. “Mertvyy," he said simply. Dead.
"Well, that's that," Pyotr said calmly. He rose and went forward, turning to face the audience. Behind him Kelly's lifeless body was taken down and carried away. The sheikh, he saw, was smiling, relaxed. He knew why as the servant girl crawled out from beneath his table. Don Julio was breathing heavily, sweating. Mrs. Fletcher still giggled, but it was quieter, with a slightly manic quality.
"I promised a novel experience, did I not, friends? I hoped it was as enjoyable for you as it has been for me." He looked directly at the woman. “Did you enjoy it, Mrs. Fletcher?" She looked up from the victim's blood spatters on her sleeves, still a bit dazed. Suddenly two spits were heard and the heads of her two bodyguards seemed to burst apart. The same pair of servants that had locked Kris to her chair now advanced on Mrs. Fletcher. One pointed a pistol at her, the fat extension of a silencer clearly visible. The woman was still stunned at the sudden violence done her bodyguards and offered no resistance when the other bent her over and cuffed her hands behind her.
"Ah, Mrs. Fletcher - Constance - May I call you Constance? We've had a long and mutually beneficial relationship, so it grieved me when my friends in the Bratva informed me that you owed a lot of money to their - ah - associates here in America. Sometimes even organized crime families find it also mutually beneficial to exchange information. I could have accepted that you were in debt, possibly even helped you had you come to me, but instead you went to Charles Townsend. Did you really think I would not find out? Did you really think so little of me? No, that duplicity, that disrespect I can not tolerate, and will not forgive. What will my clients around the world think of me? Many would no longer trust me, or the organization I have worked so hard to build." He looked up to the man holding the gun. “Borya Icoupovich, you will deliver her to Dimitri Leonidovich." Then back to the woman, pale white now and shaking, “Dimitri takes more pleasure in his work and I want your death to send a message. He has come up with a novel form of play for recalcitrant girls using a simple steam cleaner. First the skin turns red as a boiled lobster, then it blisters, and finally the flesh just sloughs away from the bones. I doubt it will take very long, a few hours, perhaps - Dimitri Leonidovich can get overly enthusiastic, you see - although I'm sure he will take the time to fuck you once or twice before he is done. My Dimitri is ardent in that, too. In light of our long relationship, however, I will show some mercy. I won't have him inject you with the nervous system enhancer.
"Get her out of my sight," he ordered the two, “then clean up this mess." The the one he called Borya grabbed her and roughly jerked her to her feet. As he dragged her away, her protests and pleas grew ever louder and more hysterical, cutting off suddenly once out of the door.
"There, my friends. Now you may return to your principles and let them know that any dealings with the House of Yakunin are secure. Mr. Chen, I believe you had the next highest bid for Mrs. Fletcher's purchase. If you are still interested, you may have her for that price and not Mrs. Fletcher's." Kris saw the oriental nod his head in acceptance.
"Now then, I believe all business has been concluded satisfactorily. Mikhail Boronovich, please escort our honored guests to their vehicles."
As they exited, Pyotr returned to where Kris Munroe still sat, bound to her chair. He smiled down at her. “You and I, however, have not concluded our business, my dear. Oh, no, we aren't done at all. You just sit here and rest. You will need all of your strength tomorrow. Unless you would like to tell me where I can find your 'Charlie' now? Hmm?" Kris pressed her lips together in defiance. There was still Sabrina, she knew, Sabrina watching somewhere, and Bosley. And once he knew what had happened, Charlie would send his team for her. “No, I didn't think so," Pyotr said. “I can't say I'm surprised. Kelly wouldn't talk, either. Just as well. You think about it tonight. Maybe you will reconsider in the morning." His eyes brightened. “Although I hope you will prove at least a little stubborn."
* * *
Kris woke and looked around her. A cell, her hands and feet still bound. She had only been able to doze, and that only fitfully. Even in that semi-consciousness, the memory of her friend Kelly's savage murder haunted her thoughts. The first few hours in this dismal room were dominated by hideous screams from outside. Probably the rat-man steaming Mrs. Fletcher, she guessed. Judging by the hysterical shrieks, it couldn't be anything else. Her examination was brief, however, as the door opened almost immediately and the two Russians, Kliment and Dimitri, the same brutes who had whipped Kelly to death, entered. They were fast and efficient, ignoring her angry protests, lifting her by her upper arms and dragging her out into a featureless corridor and down to another room. The room was little more than a feature-less square. Low ceiling, whitewashed walls and a smooth cement floor. On one side there was a table with a collection of instruments: whips, blades, pliers - hideous implements from the Dark Ages, the Inquisition. And, incongruous along side them, a black box on a cart with a few dials and several plugs with black and red rings. Her eyes moved to the only other thing in the room, an angled steel frame consisting of roughly foot-square boxes in an inverted U-shape mounted to the floor in the center. She noticed that the floor beneath the frame was slightly depressed to a small steel drain in the center. It was all so cold, clinical. Frightening.
The men broke her thoughts. Moving with practiced efficiency, her blouse and skirt were husked away, leaving her body clad in nothing save her bra and panties. They lifted her onto the structure, pulling her arms back through two squares at her shoulders' height. Cuffs caught her wrists beneath, fastening them to the frame. Next, her legs were pulled apart and strapped at ankles and knees, at near right angles on the lower part of the scaffold. The binding rolled her knees outward, a subtle refinement that raised her hips and lifted her sex upward and out. One final examination of the binding and they left.
Again, there was no wait as Pyotr walked in. He came close, studying her helpless form. “Fine, very fine," he said. “Better than I had hoped, in fact. But first things first. Let us get better acquainted, shall we?"
He grabbed a chair and placed it in front of the frame and sat with his knees just between her feet. He had brought a file folder with him and now opened it. “Let's see now. Kristine - but you prefer Kris - Munroe. Born July 12, 1954, making you 24. Graduated San Francisco Police Academy two years ago. Assigned to your station's switchboard." He looked up. “That must have been frustrating. Though it explains how your older sister Jill was able to recruit you the the Townsend Agency where she already worked. Height 5'4", weight 105, hair blonde, eyes blue-“ He looked up again, directly into her eyes. “-and a very nice blue, cerulean, maybe sapphire - in my business I've become something of an expert - and right now quite angry and defiant." He looked back to the folder. “Let's see, measurements 35-23-34, bra size 32C. Very appealing bust numbers. I found them promising, although seeing you this way I would have been impressed even without knowing the numbers. Nice legs, too. A swimmer, I would guess, but not a runner; strong thighs, strong calves, but tapered, not lumped at the top. I must say though, while the numbers are impressive, they don't give any information on how beautiful you are. No, not beautiful; cute, bubbly, a face given to laughter; bet you were a cheerleader. I like that."
Kris remained silent, but inside she was shocked at the extent of his knowledge. She realized now that she never had a chance. He was on to her from the start and has been just stringing her along; playing with her! The thought was galling, but also frightening.
Now, you have had all night to think about it, so I will ask again: Where is Townsend? He's the one I want. He's the one who destroyed my father. The man is irritatingly secretive and elusive. He lives on a yacht, which means he can be anywhere in the world. I want him. So, again, where is Townsend?"
Kris was thinking fast. Claim ignorance? Lie? Without knowing how much he knew - his information on her was frighteningly extensive and accurate - and she didn't know what Kelly told him. Clearly she couldn't try to bluff it out, say there had been some error, that she was Katherine Flynn and this was just a case of mistaken identity. No, that wouldn't work. He knew too much already - and she would have been screaming that first thing if the case. She must somehow buy enough time for Sabrina to contact Bosley who could tell Charlie who would send in his team to rescue her. Regardless, she knew she had to say something. Okay, then; start with ignorance and see where it goes. Delay.
"I would tell you if I knew, believe me. I saw what happened to Kelly. He tells us what he wants on a speakerphone. I've never met Charlie. I've never even seen him, so I can't even tell you what he looks like. Bosley might know, but I can't help you. I'm sorry. Really, I would if I could."
"I thought you might say something like that, but, no, I don't believe you. Even if I did, I would still have to make sure. Fortunately, I know how to do that." Kris opened her mouth to speak. “No," he stopped her, “just listen. I'm going to interrogate you. It won't be pleasant - for you, at least. I, however, expect to enjoy it very much. Well, no sense waiting. Let's get you ready."
He stood and went to the table, returning with a pair of scissors. He started with her panties, cutting through one side then the other. A quick tug and Kris was now naked below the waist. Kris felt immediate embarrassment being exposed this way, especially with the way he was staring at her pussy. Pyotr, for his part was entranced. Kelly, once stripped, had tan legs and arms, but white flesh where the swimsuit covered her. This one's torso showed exposure to the sun - not as darkly, true - but enough to make him fear that she was one of those girls who privately sunned themselves au naturel. He was pleased to see that, instead, she was one who wore a bikini - well, she certainly had the body for it - so her loins displayed fine creamy skin in thin lines surrounding her hips and a triangle over her genitals. Even more entrancing was what she had done to her pubic hair. He wouldn't have to shave this one at all. She had done so herself. There was a small patch of curly hair, slightly darker than her head but still blonde, extending from the top of her slit to the mons veneris, itself fetchingly rounded, she had shaved into the shape of a heart! Pyotr shifted on the chair at the swelling beginning between his legs. The pudenda was plump and thanks to the way she was bound to the frame, parted enough to show the finer minora lips within. He could also see, at the very top, the bud of her clitoris peeking out from its hood, larger than he would have expected for a girl so petite - almost the size of a currant - gleaming and pink. Better and better, he thought. He reached out with one finger, sliding it up the slit until he reached it and lightly teased it, flicking it, drawing a moan from her.
"Stop that, you sonofabitch!" she snarled at him. “Get your goddamned hands off me! You'll take me off this thing and turn me loose if you know what's good for you! Charlie's still out there and he has a team just itching to take you and your whole operation down! Now untie me and stop touching me!"
"Stop? Why ever should I stop? You should be proud of this. Rarely have I seen one as sweet. As for Mr. Charles Townsend, you let me worry about what he will or won't do."
After a moment more of manipulating the dainty clitoris, he withdrew his hand, reluctantly. “But I am being rude," he said. “Here I have you displayed all by yourself. So exposed. I really should reciprocate so you won't feel I'm being inhospitable."
He stood and for the first time Kris noticed the details of what he wore. Black leather pants with a curious patch over the crotch. She was surprised to see the small round heads of snaps across the top and sides of it. Yakunin reached down to and popped them open one by one until the entire flap came away and he tossed it aside. She gasped. The whole groin area was now exposed beneath his waist, deliberately revealing the man's genitals. The penis was good-sized and already partially erect. Even as she watched, unable to look away, it filled and rose up higher. He sat down again and she still couldn't stop staring as it continued to grow. “Ah," she heard him say, “that feels so much better." He looked back to her. “Now, let's see those tits."
"What?! How dare you! How dare you show yourself that way? Cover yourself up. This instant, do you hear! It's disgusting! How dare you?!"
The man said nothing, just smiled, ignoring her continued angry invective. He extended the scissors and quickly snipped the shoulder straps of her bra, then the connection between the cups. The lacy bra held for a moment, then fell away to the sides.
Now it was his turn to gasp and stare. Splendid - no, magnificent, that was the word. Magnificent. Like her loins, there was a distinct separation between the tanned area and the mounds and the skin now bared was the same smooth alabaster white. Despite their size, they were firm, high-perched, with no hint of sag and the haughty arrogance of youth. Knowing her bust measurement and the size that indicated, he had the frame set to this 45-degree angle in advance to prevent them flopping to the side, but now he saw he need not have worried. Although perhaps not as proudly presented, he saw that they would still acquit themselves admirably. Beneath the translucent skin, he could just make out a fine tracery of thin, pale blue veins. By any standard, they were magnificent, but it were the nipples that held his gaze. A demure pale pink color and about the size of a silver dollar, the areolae stood out separately above the globes. They were puffies, but not nearly as prominent as most those he had seen before; just enough to be noticeable, but not so protuberant that they overwhelmed the breasts mounting them. Rare with tits this size, even more rare that the teats in the center were as pronounced as these were. Even better - and rarest of all - at the very center of the peaks were tiny, yet clearly discernible, dimples. Sweet Jesus, he thought, this little bint's breasts are the finest I've ever seen! And they were his to do whatever he wanted with. When the bra fell away, Kris shut her eyes in embarrassment, so she missed the way Pyotr's cock twitched up into full tumescence. He was suddenly aware that he was short of breath and had to actually tell himself to inhale.
As if they had a will of their own, independent of his volition, his hands went to the extraordinary tits. Firm they appeared, but now that he felt them he was rewarded by the incomparable softness unique to the female breast. The skin was like velvet. Pyotr squeezed gently, fondling the globes. Exquisite as the tits felt, though, he had to touch those enticing nipples. At first all he did was gently, tenderly, graze the disks with his fingertips. Silky, so silky. A little more pressure and he felt their delicate resilience. Yet he didn't, couldn't, linger on the aureoles. He cupped the mounds, lifting them and his thumbs went to the teats, lightly pushing them back and forth. Pyotr caressed her as a lover would, and in truth he did love her at this moment. Again he felt himself short of breath and had to force himself to release her and lean back in his chair, breathing rapidly. He became suddenly, completely aware of his penis, rigid and trembling with arousal. He looked down at it and saw that there was already a drop of clear fluid growing at the tip. Damn. He didn't remember being this close to ejaculating from just fondling a girl since he was 15!
When she felt the hands leave her, Kris opened her eyes again and looked down. As before, she couldn't stop her gaze going to his crotch and the hard rod pointing up at her. Mustering her courage, she looked away to his face. “Well, get it over with," she heard herself saying. “If you're going to rape me, do it. Just do it! I still don't know where Charlie is, but he knows where I am and he will make you pay!"
Pyotr was still getting his breathing under control, pulling back from the precipice. “No, no," he said, chuckling. “No, not yet. I have other plans for you and I want to savor them. It's always better to fuck a girl after you hurt her, not before. Torture isn't only a marvelous aphrodisiac, but it also makes for excellent foreplay. It's just about the finest way to pass a few hours I know. I'll fuck you soon enough." He chuckled. “You must learn patience..."
He rose and went to an intercom near the door. Kris heard him say something in Russian, then he walked back to her, his hard prick swaying with each step. He sat back down. “I thought something like this might happen and had a contingency set up. I just didn't think I would need it this soon, but your body is beyond what I expected." Kris heard the door open behind her, but couldn't see what who was. She heard steps approaching and turned her head as far as she could. Then they came into view. It was the one named Kliment and he was escorting a woman. Kris recognized her immediately and it was like someone kicked her in the gut. It was Sabrina Duncan. Sabrina, her backup's backup, and final hope for rescue. Then even that shock vanished when she saw Sabrina's state and gasped in horror.
Sabrina's upper body, from head to waist, was encased in black leather. Her entire torso was sheathed in it. Her arms were held in back, forearms overlaid like a backward straitjacket. Her neck was enclosed in a high, stiff stock, like that inflicted on 18th century British soldiers to keep their heads up and prevent slouching. It was a cruel mockery of the turtlenecks Sabrina liked to wear. She was naked below the leather, her sex vulnerable, but that wasn't the most shocking part. No, in front, both of her breasts were naked, projecting from holes in the leather. The holes were small for the size of the tits they held, making the orbs appear bloated, the skin tight. Worse, the globes were horribly discolored, a variegated mixture of angry reds and sullen purples. Darker lines covered them top to bottom and side to side. They had been so cruelly beaten that it was impossible to make out the nipples - only the teats protruding hard and swollen like berries at their furthest extent showed where the areolae would be. Sabrina's eyes looked vacant, just staring forward. Then she looked down to where Kris was mounted, naked and splayed on the metal frame. Kris Munroe saw the awareness dawn on Sabrina's face. Then the horror.
"Oh, Kris, Kris, What are you doing here? Oh, Kris, I'm sorry, so sorry! They grabbed me so fast. There wasn't time. Oh, Kris . . ." Her babbling was cut off suddenly when Kliment punched her in the back and she dropped to the floor. Kliment grabbed the back of her neck in one meaty hand and yanked her up to her knees.
"I gave you no permission to speak!" Yakunin barked at her. “I can see that you need more discipline. Kliment Pavelovich!" Kris saw a look of pure terror contort her friend's face. She started pleading incoherently. It was ignored as the Russian raised his short strap and delivered five fast strokes across both swollen and empurpled tits, holding her torso upright. All Sabrina Duncan could do is wail in pain. After the frightful abuse they had already suffered, the pain must have been hideous. Kliment released her and Sabrina fell to her side on the floor. The agonized woman pulled her knees up toward her chest in a pathetic sham of the fetal position. Her arms were still bound behind her back, so she couldn't use her hands to even try to comfort the tortured breasts. All she could do is lay there, shivering and moaning piteously. Kliment just looked at her, no expression in his watery eyes. Yakunin allowed her a minute, then nodded to his man.
Kliment grabbed Sabrina by the scruff of her her neck and dragged her over to the chair, lifting her to her knees in front of Yakunin, her face inches from his jutting phallus. Pyotr reached down and cupped her chin to lift her face to his. “You know what to do, bitch, and you better do it well. You know how I dislike it when women displease me and you have already done that once today. You will suck me off, but first I want you to use your tits on it."
Kris could only look on, stunned. She had been shocked by everything from the time of the auction when she had seen Kelly's cruel bloody whipping - her death - sexually excite people. She'd heard of BDSM clubs, of course, where participants would tie one another up and use soft fake “whips" to stimulate their partner, but that was acting, playing roles, make-believe. This, though, this monstrous perversion was beyond her experience-even imagining. How could anyone find pleasure, let alone sexual gratification, in the suffering of another person? She still couldn't absorb that and then this morning Sabrina appeared, so there would be no word to Charlie, no rescue. And there was the bestial way they had hurt Saby. Now she found herself was in the middle of it, in the hands of this man, spread, nude and helpless for whatever unspeakable thing he chose to do to her.
Kris could only watch in disgust as her friend waddled closer on her knees. Yakunin spread his legs a bit more and leaned back, re-positioning his hips to better present his erection to the horribly bruised mounds. There was no hesitation from Sabrina as she leaned forward to place them above the rigid shaft and began to move her upper body to slide the tits up and down against it from glans to balls. Each motion drew a gasp of pain from her, but she didn't stop.
"Ah, yes, yes, that's it," Pyotr murmured. He turned his eyes from the kneeling girl back to Kris. “Too bad you can't feel this, Kris. It's exquisite. After a beating, the skin gets hot - there's nothing like it." He looked back down and lifted his hips a bit more. “Use your nipples, bitch. Like you've been taught." Kris heard Saby snuffle in fear and she saw her shift position so her swollen teats could rub against the rod. At the top of each motion, she twisted a bit to better slide the tip against the sensitive point just beneath the glans.
Kris finally broke from the spell. “How can you do this? How can anybody do things like this to another human being? What kind of monster . . ." Yakunin didn't respond, didn't even change expression, just reached down to capture one of Sabrina's distended nipples between thumb and forefinger. He looked into Munroe's eyes, then pinched and twisted it brutally. The girl barely stifled a scream, but still groaned loudly in pain. After a few seconds, he released it and leaned back again. Kris opened her mouth again, and Pyotr reached down toward the other nipple. Kris closed her lips. She understood. Until he wanted it, she was to remain silent. If she spoke, Saby would pay for it.
"Good, good. You are quick," he commented. “For the moment, you shall just listen. Unlike my friend Kliment Pavelovich there, I enjoy talking. I especially enjoy talking to my - ah - subjects, shall we say. Anticipation, I've found, increases both my pleasure and their fear. Of course, most of them indulge me when they realize that the fear is preferable to pain, or, in this case, the pain I will inflict on your fellow Angel. Some general information first, I think.
"There are moments that can never be repeated with a girl, Kris. Moments that should be savored. One is when you expose them nude the first time and imagine what games you can play. Another is when you first touch their flesh and imagine how it will react. How it will display what you do to it. Both moments are enhanced by how the woman reacts - embarrassment, usually; shame, often; and fear, always fear at her utter vulnerability. I, myself, am a connoisseur of such things, but I must confess I have rarely enjoyed these moments more than I have with you. I have to tell you that I have never had a playmate that so meets my ideal as you. The simple fact is that I enjoy torturing pretty young women and I especially enjoy torturing their tits. It likely has something to do with my mother - everything does, if you chose to believe Freud - but I don't really care. I enjoy it and in my business I can indulge it. That's enough.
"Now torture, any torture, to be most effective, requires the subject be naked - one needs access to the most private and sensitive areas of her body. Nakedness also makes them feel more vulnerable and enhances their shame. For someone like me, there is a unique pleasure to be had if I am also exposed during it. My dick likes being free to share in the delight, and as you see, I feel no embarrassment being exposed. I relish it.
"Now to specifics. Specifically, you. One thing most of my clients appreciate is a key - something special - that makes their purchases especially pliable and obedient. Or just something they know will absolutely terrify them. You would be amazed at how simple such a thing can be. One was trained to fear the wooden horse. Such a simple thing, just a simple trestle with a sharp top ridge. Set a naked woman astride one and in two or three hours the pain between her legs becomes intolerable. After a week, just the sight of it reduced her to hysteria you wouldn't believe. For your friend, Sabrina, what provokes the most horror is the endless, relentless, and imaginative beating of her breasts. Nothing more. Just beating her tits. Sometimes we just wake her in the middle of the night and tie her face-up on a bench and strap them until she passes out. Other times, they are tied off until they bloat and turn red to make them even more sensitive and lace whips are used. The torso corset she's wearing now keeps them swollen, the skin nice and tight, but doesn't compress them so much that it has to be removed after an hour. Tight constriction is only effective that long and then the nerves lose responsiveness, become numb, from the lack of blood flow - not a desired situation, as you can imagine. She has such fine tits that it would be a shame to arbitrarily ruin them." Again he chuckled. “Though they are somewhat larger than they were a few days ago - I'm sure she's wished more than once that she had never grown such a nice pair. I considered a number of choices for you. While it isn't a personal favorite, a woman's genitals offer a wealth of options - both inside and out. But that was before I saw you naked. Your tits are simply too compelling to pass up. Yet one doesn't want to get into a rut. Fortunately, you provided me with an unexpected way to avoid that - one I hadn't considered until I saw them. For you, my dear girl, I am going to dedicate my best efforts and imagination to your nipples. Paps like yours come into my care so rarely."
Kris's eyes grew wide. What? What did he just say? My . . . nipples? Pyotr saw the shock. He had anticipated it and savored it. “Sabrina, my sweet, use your mouth now; and don't forget how I like you to use your little tongue." Kris saw Saby's motion change from arching her back to hunching it over and bobbing her head.
"Now then, Kristina, back to you. I prefer a girl's nipples standing at attention. Not only for the aesthetic value, although that it considerable for me. No, having them that way will be necessary for what I now have in mind. The only question is how I should do that. There are red hot needles - you saw how effective they were with the late Kelly Garrett at making them stick right out - but I don't want to damage yours that way; not so soon, anyway. There are chemicals, acids, but the same risk applies. No, I think something simple, yet efficacious is in order." Yakunin slid forward a bit to move closer to the frame. He reached for Kris's breasts. His hands immediately found her nipples, seeking out the teats. They already stuck out, both from the chill and fear, but not enough it seemed. He pinched the teats, much as he had with poor Sabrina, only more gently, even tenderly, tugging and rolling the tips to make them harder, larger, more protuberant. For Sabrina's sake, she pressed her lips together and endured the intimate assault. Then he removed his hands. “Now where were we? Oh, yes, of course, preparing your nipples for their debut. Kliment Pavelovich, the pliers, if you would." The silent Russian fetched the requested implement, nothing more than a pair of common needle-nosed pliers, the kind any hardware store sold. Eyes glinting, Yakunin gripped her left breast and brought the tool up to it.
"NO!" Kris yelled, Saby's predicament forgotten in her sudden terror. “No, don't, don't! Oh, stop, you can't!" He just smiled and she felt the cold metal jaws close around the sensitive bud. She tried to wrench it away, to avoid the threat, but just as with Kelly's whipping, her binding was too well thought out and too secure to permit any such escape.
Pyotr used the same technique he had with his fingers, squeezing, pulling, and twisting, irritating the bud to force more blood into it and make it harder, but careful not to bruise or break the skin. After a moment, apparently satisfied, he reached for the right breast, but suddenly stopped, dropping both hands. His breathing became rapid, ragged, and his face contorted and his eyes closed. Kris saw Sabrina's head movements speed up and felt immediate disgust. Oh, god, he was coming! Like the people at the auction, the stimulation of her pain and a woman's mouth was bringing him to climax! His hands grabbed Sabrina's hair and held her head against his crotch while he shot his load down her throat. She heard Sabrina wheezing as she had to suck air in through her nose to keep from choking while the man groaned in delight. Kris groaned, too, but in humiliation at having to watch this man's obvious sexual exhilaration.
It wasn't long before his spasms subsided and he allowed Sabrina's head up. Finished, he pushed her away to the floor, gagging. Pyotr accepted a wet cloth from Kliment, who showed no more emotion at this task than anything else, and wiped himself off. Tossing it aside, he contemplated the miserable young woman at his feet. He looked back up at his man. “That was barely satisfactory, Kliment Pavelovich. Barely satisfactory. The bitch can do better. Before you put her in her cell tonight I want you to string her up by her tits and give them twenty good strokes, but only up to the balls of her feet, I don't want to tear them off." Kris saw Sabrina look panic-stricken from one to the other as she absorbed the words. “Nooo," she cried, “Nooo, noooo, noooooooo!" “And wake her with an hour of strapping in the breast stocks for speaking without permission! Clearly more discipline is called for. Now take her away."
As the stolid Russian dragged the bleating woman from the room, Yakunin turned his attention back to Kris Munroe, amused by the mix of revulsion and apprehension on her face. With Sabrina in his hands, her chances of rescue were slim - she was also all too aware that there was no more distraction - and she was still naked and helplessly bound in his hands. Pyotr smiled at her - not a nice smile - and she felt a chill run through her. Knowing exactly what was going through her mind, he played with her fear.
"Perhaps you think that blow job has spared you from me. That I'm sated. Nothing could be further from reality. Do you know why I interrupted our time together with that little interlude? No? I hate for you to wonder, so I shall tell you. I want the first time I fuck you to be as enjoyable as possible for me. The plain truth is that I was so stimulated by what your body promised that I needed to let your friend take the edge off so I can give you my absolute best effort. Now I can take my time. Now I can let give your body the attention it so richly deserves without feeling rushed. One doesn't gulp a fine cognac. You must allow it to warm, savor the nose, and then luxuriate in the taste. Now I won't feel the urge to gulp. I have some things to do." He grinned again. “So don't go anywhere."
He rose. Kris could see that his erection had diminished from its iron hardness, drooping but still thick. Dripping. He moved behind the frame. She felt something touch one elbow, then both were drawn together with rope, straining her shoulders, as he tied them closer together. She became acutely aware of how this minor act forced her bare breasts even further up and out. Making them jut even further out as if demanding attention. Then he made his way to the table of instruments. She saw him busy himself with something, then he returned to her side pushing the small cart with the squat box she had seen that looked so out of place when she entered, the one with the red and black circled sockets. She noticed that it trailed one long cord attached to the wall and a collection of wires on top. Oh, god, she thought, electrical torture. She had heard of it, a favorite technique of South American Secret Police. It was supposed to be agonizing, but she was still relieved it wasn't red hot steel, or even the whip. She had seen the damage those could do.
Once the cart was in place, she noted something else, something bizarre and out of her experience. The man had placed a curious contrivance over his genitals. It looked like a couple of hoops, one of steel at the base of his penis and a second one of rubber at the base of his scrotum that pulled the skin tight and accentuated the balls. Attached to the waistband of his pants, it lifted the entire package up toward his stomach - and out toward her.
"Noticed that, did you? A little device to increase my enjoyment. It acts like the garment your friend Sabrina was wearing, except in my case it enhances pleasure, not pain. It holds the blood in my dick when it gets hard again - as it will, soon enough - which delays and intensifies the orgasm. I told you that I planned to savor my first time with you and this little toy will help me do just that. Now, then. . ."
Yakunin turned his attention to the machine, whistling blithely as he separated the wires. Kris recognized the tune with revulsion. It was, “If You're Happy And You Know It." He selected three, each with a pair of plugs and a single clip at the end. The plugs went into sockets, one in the red and one in the black. Satisfied with his preparations, he returned to his seat in front of her, shifting it even closer between her knees. One hand rose to fondle the soft breasts, mindlessly switching from one to the other.
"Time for a little more edification, Miss Munroe. As I'm sure you have surmised, this machine is designed to deliver electric shocks to your body. The dials allow me to vary the level of the electricity - I won't bore you with things like amps or volts - and so make your body tingle, throb, or burn with agony beyond your imagining. The switches just start and stop it and I can lave them together in any combination I want. Simple." He held up one clip, a vicious little thing with alligator teeth, but unlike the standard ones sold, this one had a slim needle projecting about half an inch from the jaws. “Back when they first started experimenting with electricity to interrogate female prisoners, they would attach one electrode to each nipple, positive and negative. Sometimes a metal shaft was inserted into her vagina or anus as well as the nipples, positive on her chest and negative between her legs. The problem was that either method caused the electricity to flow through the body, whether across the chest or from chest to groin. If the questioner was inexperienced or overly enthusiastic, a failing common with the secret police or military, the current could cause the heart to fibrillate and kill the prisoner. Not a very acceptable situation if there were questions still unanswered. The answer was also simple: Direct the energy across just the site of the electrodes, that flesh only and not the entire body. That's why I had these made." He sprang the jaws open. “See? Each one has both, the jaws are positive and the needle is negative. Problem solved.
"I'm sure you can imagine where I am going to attach them. Yes, I can see it in your eyes. A woman's nipples couldn't be more perfect had they been designed for that purpose. Especially the tips. When they are sticking up - as yours are, my dear - they look just like the terminals on a car battery. Except batteries don't scream when you jump them. You remember when I said it was necessary that yours be erect? Well now you know why. Once properly hooked up-“
Kris had been listening to the man's lecture with dread, almost hypnotized by his cold, clinical delivery, but she shook off her daze. “That's monstrous! What kind of evil freak are you? How can any civilized person think like that? Create something like that? What kind of sick, perverted-“
"Silence!" Pyotr screamed at her, stopping her. He calmed himself with effort, only continuing when he regained control. “Yes, yes, I suppose you're right. Perverted, evil - yes, I suppose so. But not sick. I am in complete control of my faculties. And under the circumstances, you should watch what you say. I was going to wait for this, but now is as good a time as any. Let me explain to you exactly what your situation is.
"First, nothing and no one will be coming to save you, certainly not Charles Townsend. You see, your Charlie is dead. Kelly was tough. She didn't talk. Sabrina, now, Sabrina wasn't as strong. Oh, she didn't know where Townsend was - none of you did - but she did know where to find Mr. Bosley, and after four days of having her breasts tortured, she told me. He proved weaker than either of them. Electricity works just as well on the cock and balls and there is no danger of heart attack. He didn't even last an hour before he told us where to find your Charlie. Townsend had good security, plenty of skilled guards, so we couldn't get him alive regrettably, but no yacht ever built can survive half a dozen bazooka rockets. So there's nothing you know that I need."
He leaned in until his face was just inches from hers. The urbane facade dropped and now Kris saw nothing but venomous hatred in his eyes. “I saved you for last because it was your sister Jill that got my father sent to Siberia. I'll get around to her, but only after she sees pictures of what I do to you. That will be worse than killing her right out. I want her to know what it feels like to have someone you love beaten and broken. You are strong. You'll last a long time, a very long time. I'm not going to break you like Sabrina. She's close to it already. Perhaps a week more. After her spirit is crushed, I have a Chinese who will be happy to buy her. He's short, even for a Chinese, and enjoys playing with tall white women and Sabrina is the tallest I've had in quite a while. Chinese women also tend to be rather flat-chested, so Mr. Fong likes slaves with big breasts, likes hurting them - that's why I've trained her to abhor tit torture - so he will pay plenty for her." He leaned back again, breathing heavily from his outburst. Gathered himself. “You should not have insulted me; no you should have been grateful, even thanked me for for fondling your fine tits so nicely. It was the last pleasurable sensation you will ever feel. After today, you will never know a waking moment when some part of your body won't be a source of anguish to you, especially there.
"But that doesn't really matter. I was going to torture you anyway. I told you I particularly relish working on a woman's breasts, so I knew from seeing your measurements that I would enjoy having you in my hands. That yours are beyond even those expectations will just make things better. I have a very fertile imagination, especially when it comes to hurting tits." He looked down to where his penis hung, barely half erect. “Now look what you've done. Well, that's okay. That just means I'm going to have to hurt you even more to make it proud again before I fuck you and end this session." He paused, and the smooth urbanity came back, although the cruel glint remained in his eyes. “All right, then, I've wasted enough time. Let's get started eh?"
Pyotr opened a small jar on the cart Kris hadn't noticed before. He gave her left nipple a last pinch and tug, then picked up a Q-Tip and dipped it in. He daubed the nipple with it, making sure the entire raised areola was well coated. He saw the girl's questioning look. What odious stuff is this, she was thinking. No reason not to tell her...
"A little compound of my own design. I started with conductive gel - like it sounds, that enhances the flow of electricity through otherwise resistant skin. Doctors use it on their defibrillator paddles. Then I added an astringent to contract the skin which will keep those teats nice and hard, a rubefacient that dilates the capillaries to keep the nerves at peak responsiveness, and finally just a touch of capsaicin, that's the stuff in hot peppers that makes your tongue burn. In this case, it will make your nipples tingle. Used in concert, the stuff makes the electricity twice as effective. I'm quite proud of it."
Indeed, Kris could already feel some effect. There was an initial cooling and she felt the pap tighten, the tip getting even harder. Then the chill changed, gradually warming until she felt the tingle he mentioned, just like what she remembered in her mouth from hot sauce. She was also aware that the sensation felt heightened, that the entire nipple seemed more sensitive than it had ever felt. It was like when she was at the peak of sexual arousal, that moment just before the first ecstasy of climax exploded in her brain and shook her body, only even more intense. Oh, god, oh god, oh god. If it feels like this now, what will it be like when electricity is ravaging it?
The trance broke when she suddenly noticed that Yakunin was staring at her intently, watching the play of expressions on her face, as if he could hear the thoughts in her head. “Yes," he said, “Now you begin to see what is coming. Even so, the reality will be much, much worse." All at once, Kris felt a surge of panic. She wrenched at her bonds desperately, struggling to escape, anything, but nothing she did made the slightest difference. She was still held fast to the metal frame, totally nude with all the most private and intimate parts of her body exposed and helpless and nothing she could do to protect them. Pyotr watched, entranced, at the way her muscles tensed and the rib cage stood out in high relief as her chest heaved with the exertion. It wasn't long before she stopped, exhausted from the futile effort. Yakunin gave her a moment, then said, “Now let's do the other one," and grinned.
His fingers found the right nipple, pinching and rolling the tip and repeated the process. Her eyes slid down between his legs. She was appalled to see that his cock was already thicker, rising up from his groin, testament to his sadistic excitement.
The sensations were the same: first chill, then warmth, then the magnified reactivity. Pyotr leaned forward and blew on the left one. Kris gasped. The nipple had impossibly become even more hypersensitive. Nothing touched it but the puff of air, yet it still tingled ferociously.
He again gave her a moment for the effects on the right one to grow. Now it was time for the final preparation. This was going to be fun, he thought, and felt a delicious pang of lust surge through his penis. It was almost fully engorged now, already twitching with delight. He reached down to plant the steel ring more firmly down to the base.
Kris saw him dip the cotton swab in the gel once more. Confusion broke through the exacerbated responsiveness of her nipples. She saw him grin again, even wider and more lewdly. He extended his left hand between her yawning thighs and gently spread the the top of her labia a bit more to better expose the small gleaming pearl of her clitoris.
Kris wrenched furiously at the straps holding her knees and ankles to the frame, her terror complete. “Ahhh, AHHHHH!" she wailed. “No, you can't! Not that, oh, please not that! Please, oh please, don't do it! Don't do that to me! I beg you-“
Yakunin laughed, for the first time a full-throated laugh, at her frantic pleas. He moved the swab toward her crotch, taking his time to let the hysteria grow even higher as she watched its inexorable approach to the most sensitive part of her young body, the very soul of her femininity. Then she felt its slimy touch. “AHHHHHHHH!" she howled as he smeared the abhorrent gel over the nubbin, meticulously basting beneath the dainty hood and all the flesh around it.
“There now," he chortled. “Now we're ready to proceed."
Kris's body stopped its furious tensing, drained, eyes closed and groaning. Pyotr wasn't concerned. Munroe was young and vital, an athlete. She wasn't anywhere near finished and he was just getting started and the best was yet to come. His sex was now fully engorged, rampant, the glans turgid and tight. He reached over to the cart and picked up a small white capsule. Raising it to her face, he cracked it in half under her nose. Kris snorted and her eyes snapped open, staring wildly. He always kept a ready supply of ammonia inhalants handy to keep his victims awake and responsive.
He saw her return to the moment. The horror was still there, but she was no longer beyond the awareness of where she was. “Good, good," he murmured to himself. Without further delay, he picked up one of the wires, moving it to her left breast. He held it steady and placed the end over the nipple, springing the clip open. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed the extended needle into the distended tip, lancing it directly into the tiny hole in its center that had so entranced him, and then closed the sharp jaws about the stem, drawing a squeal of pain from the wretched Angel. A moment later the other nipple was similarly treated with an equally similar reaction from her, leaving the two wires dangling from her teats to the box. Then Yakunin picked up the third wire and spread the lips of her pudenda once more.
"No, no, oh no," she cried. Her clitoris was burning, throbbing and fiercely irritated from the fiendish gel. “You can't, can't do this. Oh, it's vile, vile. I'll do anything you want, anything! I'll do what Saby did for you, I will! I'll blow you, yes I will. I've never done it, but I will, I will! Just please, oh please, don't do this to me. Please, please, please," she ended with a sob.
Don't do it? At this moment he would sooner cut off his own dick than refrain from torturing the luscious bud. He just leaned in, positioned the clip and quickly pierced it, even pushing a bit so the jaws could close down to its very base. Kris whined loudly and convulsed on the metal scaffold. Pyotr's face was right between her wide-spread knees, so he could enjoy the palsied spasms of her thigh muscles beneath the fine skin.
There were three additional only-one-time moments to relish. The first two were related: the victim's first taste of genuine agony, and her initial reaction to each disparate method of inflicting it. Females, he found, responded differently to the whip than they did to hot iron, differently to electricity than acid. The third, final one was the first fuck, which he planned on soon enough. Well, time to commence the bona fide misery with the current. His prick was certainly impatient enough.
Pyotr pulled the cart closer to hand while the girl continued to babble in terror. He set the dials for the nipple electrodes, slaved the switches together, and pressed the button. The reaction was instantaneous.
"HEEEEE! HEEEEEE! HEEEEE!" the girl shrieked and she thrashed on the frame to the meager extent of her binding. Yakunin felt his tumescent, rock - hard prick lurch up with delight at the spectacle. He anticipated a good show, but the reality was even better than he expected. For an inveterate sadist like himself there was nothing more exhilarating. Damn, he had absolutely the best job in the world!
He kept the current flowing through her teats for about ten seconds. When he released the button, her maddened spasms ceased as quickly as they had started, but not her reactions. Her head turned side to side, eyes tightly shut. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, a motion that made the jutting boobs caper as if of their own independent volition. In addition, and equally stimulating for Pyotr, every gasp raised the rib cage and sucked her belly into a deep concave above the pubic mound.
Yakunin gave Kris all the time she needed to recuperate - he was in no rush. The ring constricting his penis kept it hard and tingling happily. When her head stopped twisting, he snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. Her head angled forward to look at him. “That was a low setting, Kristina." He reached over and gave the dials a slight turn. “This next one will be just a little bit higher, so the pain will be more intense. Don't worry, though," he chuckled, “it won't be high enough to cook your teats - it could, you know, but I'm no glutton and I have so much more planned for them. They really are delectable and it would be a criminal waste to ruin them so quickly."
The desperate look returned to the young woman's face. Tears ran from her lovely blue eyes. “No, no please, not again. Don't hurt me there again. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts me so. You can't know. I can't stand it. Pleeese!"
"Wrong on both counts, Miss Munroe," Yakunin said. “I do know and you will stand it. You will stand much, much more, in fact. Well, here we go. I would say prepare yourself, but that's not possible. No woman has ever been able to. Scream if you like. That doesn't work, either." He reached to the box and pushed the button.
For the next 20 minutes, he shocked the miserable girl's nipples again and again. He varied the attack, occasionally letting her recover between jolts, other times pressing the switch on and off, on and off, a few seconds between each. Sometimes he would shock just one, then the other, constantly keeping Kris off balance, the pain unpredictable, but always extreme. He changed the intensity, too, usually higher, sometimes a bit lower, but always below the level that would burn the flesh, ruin the nerves for more suffering. Kris screamed each time. She wailed and shrieked and begged and pleaded. She promised him anything and everything she could do if he would only, only stop hurting her poor nipples. The girl's splendid body was now coated with sweat from her frenzied exertions. Yakunin felt an unexpected thrill from the way her little toes curled to each jolt.
"Okay, Kris, okay," he crooned to her after she had recovered from a particularly long-duration sparking. “I won't shock your nipples again. I can see how much they are hurting." He gently stroked her chest beneath the still quivering breasts. His hands caressed her flanks, down the outside of her thighs, and back up the exquisitely silken skin of the insides up to the edge of her notch. Kris had her head back, looking toward the low ceiling, but not seeing it. Pyotr, however, didn't have the distraction of appalling pain throbbing through his body and was able to focus his eyes on the girl's pouting sex. The dainty clit, he saw, had swollen to an inflamed rosy pink kernel at the top. The bud was still pierced and trapped within the cruel alligator teeth. She hadn't been able to move her hips much, but still enough to make the clip jump to each convulsion provoked by the jolts to her nipples. He knew it must be aching terribly, but the pain afflicting her nipples had drawn all her attention. Well, he knew how to change that.
"No, my dear, your tits have suffered so much I won't hurt them again." He saw the desperate relief on her face as she rested her head back on the frame. So she didn't see him adjust the controls on the box. “No, my baby, I won't hurt your poor nipples again." He pushed the button.
"HAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" she howled as the savage electricity ripped through her clitoris. This time there was no shaking, no shivering, no writhing. This time her entire body tensed, every muscle taut. Shoulders and elbows held firm behind her back, her lower torso and hips arched up to its pitiful limit and held there, shivering as if chilled by arctic cold, screeching as if possessed by the very devil with every breath she could draw in. Yakunin let this first shock to her genitals last 15 full seconds before releasing the switch. The agonized girl flopped back to the frame, gulping air like a fish cast onto dry land. The pain was beyond anything her mind could comprehend, blinding, overwhelming her senses and threatening her very sanity. The man watched with malevolent interest. This little bitch exceeds everything I could hope for, he thought. Again, his attention was drawn by sensation to his crotch. His penis, rampant throughout the nipple torment, seemed even harder, stiffer than it had ever been now. Even constricted by the enclosing ring, there had still been a regular trickle of clear precum droplets from the tiny slit at its tip, testament to the extreme pleasure he felt tormenting this beautiful female creature. Even his taut scrotum was tingling! Not long now, he said to it in his mind, not long and you will be happy.
There was no real break. Pyotr only waited until he was sure she could fully perceive the sensation and pushed the button again. Kris convulsed to the pitiful limit of the straps holding her. Her muscles clenched to the point that her calves cramped, usually a dominant, attention-commanding pain; now lost in the ferocious lightning strikes erupting between her legs. The girl's howls and shrill wails of monstrous suffering filled the small room. It was hard to believe such a small creature could produce such a noise. It was deafening, yet still thrilling music to him, much like the special thrill of sitting front row center at an orchestra playing a Tchaikovsky finale - only erotic.
Just as he had during the torture of the one-time Angel's tits, Pyotr varied his pattern of assault, changing the intensity and rhythm of the shocks to Kris's genitals. Again similar to the orchestra, he used the electricity to play the young woman's clitoris the way the First-chair violinist stroked his bow to bring out the best the composition intended. Yakunin's dick was oozing steadily now in arousal. He idly wondered whether he should have kept Sabrina Duncan near for another sucking release, but dismissed the thought. No, sometimes too much was just too much, and a wise man knew when that was. Alright then.
Kris had taken a dozen now between her thighs and was near collapse. She had endured a lot. The hellish gel had done it's job admirably: the clit was little more than a bundle of nerves - the only organ native to either sex that existed solely to induce sexual ecstasy - and every single nerve in this one, he knew, was still alive, active, and alert. Only now the usually demure organ had been corrupted from its original purpose, desecrated to induce hideous sexual misery instead. Experience, and what he called, “reports" and “debriefs" during and after his treatments, told him everything he needed to know about the agony it was causing Kris. He could continue, he knew, raising the current, applying it longer, wringing the last full measure of suffering from her, but there would be the inevitable problem of diminishing returns. More would only yield less, and she was already at the edge. Yakunin was equally near his limit. This girl's body was superb, her breasts compelling, and her reactions to his torment exhilarating. He wanted to continue, wanted to see how much she could take - and what her body would look like suffering at the extreme border between life and death. He wanted to. Yakunin pulled back from the urge. It wasn't easy. Don't be a glutton, he told himself, don't be a glutton. Savor. Relish. This bitch has much to answer for. Also, he whispered to himself, also she stirs your passion as none have before, and gluttony wastes luxury. It was time for the coda.
Pyotr calmed himself and returned to the light caressing, petting her trembling body. It was a tactic he learned that always worked, interspersing tenderness with viciousness; and then back again. Always keeping the girl off-balance. He crooned to Kris while his hands stroked her, “You have been strong, my sweet, very strong. So strong. I know this has been hard on you, so very, very hard, but we are almost done. It's almost over. Almost over. Almost over," he crooned. Stroking. Caressing. “Here, let me show you."
Pyotr reached back in between her quivering thighs, holding the right leg while he reached in and gently pressed apart the jaws of the clip around her clit and slid the embedded needle out. A tiny drop of bright red blood emerged from the tip, distant, unnoticed to her, yet fiercely arousing for him. Yes, it was time, but Kris was almost past the level of responsiveness he craved, even needed. Almost. Once more, he cracked an ammonia capsule beneath her nose, making the nostrils flare and dragging her back to full, protesting awareness. Ah, yes, Pyotr observed. There, there it was.
"I told you that you would never again enjoy a pain free moment, Miss Munroe. Now you begin to see. To see the anguish possible and that is just active, deliberate torture. Well, there is something else you will never again enjoy without pain and that is sex. I bet you loved it, loved feeling a boy's hands caressing you, loved it when he finally slipped his hard dick inside you and tenderly coupled with you. I bet your pussy got warm and wet and you cried out in passion when you came. You're a lovely young woman with a superb, lusty body. I imagine you had no end of handsome young men, all equally prime specimens, pursuing you, flirting with you, eager to do anything to please you. Hell, your tits alone would draw them like flies. You could pick and choose, accepting only the most attractive to share your bed. Yes, I bet you love making love." He paused, then his face turned harsh and merciless again. “Well, never again. Never again.
"Oh, you will be fucked, fucked by me, and often, but what I will do to you will never be described as 'making love.' And it will never be a source of any pleasure - to you, at least. I, however, will enjoy it immensely. Your pain will be my foreplay. Your suffering, your screaming pleas for mercy, they will only make me harder, more excited. And every time, every time, before I penetrate you, I will torture your sex first. I haven't really tortured these plump lips yet. Then there are things I know how to do to hurt you inside, inside your vagina. And every time, every time I will first attack your clitoris. Electricity, or burning, or whatever I choose. Every time something different to ensure that each penetration will cause you pain, each thrust will make you cry out in agony when my dick rubs against it. I'm going to fuck you now and you won't like it. That's why I anointed it with that cream. That's why I shocked it until it bloated up hard and aching at the slightest touch. I wanted to make sure that you would take no pleasure in this."
Pyotr stood up and pushed the chair back out of the way. His prick stood up rigid and proud from his crotch. He bent down, examining the gaping labia, then stepped up to the very junction of the young woman's thighs, his trembling prick barely an inch away from the lips. Gleaming from the torment, the once demure pearl of her clit stood out, hard, ripe, bloated from its recent shocking. He took a small bottle of lubricant and squeezed some over her slit, rubbing it over the genitals. Another squeeze covered his jutting rod, the stimulation almost more than he could endure. Pyotr stepped in as close as the frame permitted and grasped her hips. Bending forward, he aimed the turgid purple glans at the very bottom of her slit and slowly, gradually, slid it up the furrow. The taut underside of his cock followed, sliding up between the girl's slippery lips until the bulging sack reached the base. The sensations were exquisite. Pyotr's entire shaft was throbbing, trembling with pleasure. He knew Kris wasn't feeling the sensations as delight the way he was. No. Her clit was equally inflamed, but it was only aggravated by pain. He moved his hips down once more to repeat the motion. And again, sliding it up against and between the slick, elastic flesh. This time he held it in place at the very top of the girl's slit, so he could rub the super sensitive frenulum directly against her swollen clit. He knew the lubricant would dilute the chemicals he mixed into the conductive gel enough that it wouldn't cause him any discomfort. Indeed, he knew from experience that just enough of the capillary dilator would remain to amplify the nerves and just enough capsaicin to impart a delightful tingle. He was ready. He pushed his prick down to the middle of the young woman's cleft and slipped the hard purple glans just inside, letting the puffy lips embrace it. He leaned forward, holding the head where it was, until he could speak into her ear. “I doubt you recall, but I told you that fucking a girl after she has suffered torture is almost the finest way to spend time with a wench. Now you shall learn the best way. The best way is fucking her while she is suffering torture." Pyotr gave Kris a moment for his words to penetrate her misery. “Oh, and when I said I wouldn't shock your nipples again?" Pyotr whispered in her ear. “I lied." He rammed his sex to the hilt inside her and pushed the button.
Kris screamed in outrage, her body consumed by the dual assault of the sudden, violent penetration between her legs and the electricity searing her nipples. The girl's body tensed furiously at the savage agony surging through her teats. Pyotr grunted at the way her vaginal walls suddenly gripped his embedded shaft. The constriction was almost painful the way the muscles grabbed and held it. It took a concerted effort to pull it back to the mouth, holding a moment, then he rammed it back in. He managed two more equally difficult thrusts back and forth, then pushed in that last little bit until his tight scrotum pressed against her flesh. Yakunin held the frame with his left while his other hand manipulated the dials. On and off no longer applied. He just twisted the dials up and down to vary the electricity flowing through the teats. Every adjustment changed the way the girl's inner musculature gripped and massaged his rigid penis. The sensations he felt were exquisite, euphoric, and not long endured. One last time, Pyotr twisted the dials up, to their highest level yet, and felt his climax, so long and deliberately delayed, erupt. He released the controls and gripped both sides of the frame, holding it tightly for support as his back arched and the hot, molten surges spurted from his cock into the young woman's vagina. The man's grunts of pleasure mixed with the girl's cries of pain and shame, neither one conscious of the other. Kris Munroe's muscle tone wasn't only external. Pyotr could feel the spongy inner walls ripple along his buried length as they gripped and squeezed and pulled as if milking it like a country maid with her cow. Time seemed to stop for him in the throes of his sexual delight.
The peak finally passed. The young man held firm to the frame, his hips pressed against the girl's loins, relishing every last convulsion of pleasure surging through his prick. Finally, and well past her limit, he fell down atop Kris, both gasping at the end of the effort. Both drained; one by pleasure, the other by suffering.. .
Reluctantly, Pyotr withdrew from the girl's still convulsing sex. The ring had done its job admirably, enhancing the sensation by inhibiting the release of blood, but there was no longer any motivation behind it and so the shaft sagged down. Yakunin retrieved the rag at his feet and cleaned away the fluids of sex, still sighing with pleasure. Kris took longer recovering.
When both had regained their breath, Yakunin turned to the one-time Angel. "That was the finest fuck I can remember, my dear - and I have had many. Your body is precious. Precious." He looked almost tender for a moment, then turned cold.
"Let me tell you what you have facing you, bitch!", Pyotr suddenly snarled. “I want you to know, for all the good it will do you. I will torture your body as often as I think you can stand it. For the first week, or month, or however long I like, I will torture you on nothing - NOTHING, do you hear me? - nothing but your nipples! It is difficult to do, I can tell you, difficult. It is a challenge keeping them in constant and rising pain without destroying them, or their superb appearance and sensitivity quickly. But I will rise to the challenge. You deserve nothing less. Your teats are the most sublime I have ever had within my power. I can't tell you, and you would never understand how arousing they are to me, but I shall focus all my imagination, all my knowledge, all my hatred on your paps, You and yours took my father from me!
"I won't neglect the rest of your body, of course. Or the pleasure I get from it. Sabrina's role was necessary this time, this first time with you, but not again. The shine is off the apple, as you say. No, from now on I shall torture you until I'm aroused enough to fuck you and then torture you again until I'm aroused enough to fuck you again. I yearn to see how your breasts respond to the lash, how you writhe beneath their whipping. I am eager to see your flesh cringe from the hot steel, before and while I stick my dick inside you. There is nothing you can do. Nothing you can say. Nothing at all to spare your body what I shall do to it. Nothing. Nothing at all . . ."