This was first published as part of a novel-length story
There was a long silence. Dmitri sat still and composed, despite the dull steel chains restraining him in his chair, but Katya shifted nervously and struggled to control her breathing. They both waited until she trusted herself to speak; she stared blankly into the middle distance and the papers hung limp in her hands. At last she spoke.
“You killed four women just to make a theatrical performance out of Rosa’s death” she said, absently.
“A woman who finds the Yellow Sign is called to give herself utterly” he replied calmly but firmly. “And then I use them as I will”.
“So, these women seek you out and conspire with you to disappear without trace - but for all they know their destiny is to be dispatched casually - in a meaningless death”?
“You think the deaths of Alexandra and Magda were more meaningful because they were tortured” said Dmitri, his black eyes drilling into hers “but our victims have no such expectations. They only care that they are killed”.
Katya’s dress had ridden up her open thighs exposing a spreading dampness at the crotch of her white lace knickers. Her face and neck were flushed and beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. He held her gaze, allowing a quiet smile to play on his lips until her eyes rolled back and she moaned her crisis aloud into his face.
The directorate had banned all humanitarian visits to Dmitri’s cell when it was found that female visitors were reaching orgasm just from being in his presence. They had never dreamt of the lengths his victims would go to for his sake.
“But I cannot have you” Dmitri continued “until you have arranged my escape with my friends. And they will torture you”. Katya’s breathing quickened again. “You will find Leon and offer yourself to him with my compliments. He will treat you painfully beyond endurance, and then you will follow his orders implicitly”. He leant forward in his bonds and his eyes sparkled. “I want you to touch your nipples while I tell you this, but you must keep your hands above your waist” he said softly. She smiled and pulled the dress from her shoulders to free her round breasts from the cups of her new brassiere. Meeting his gaze fearlessly she began to tug and twist at her nipples. “You must not touch your cunt for pleasure until you see Leon” he said coldly, and she moaned her acquiescence.
“This is how it will happen. Leon will be waiting for you in the yard outside the Middle Academy at midnight on Tuesday. Trust me on this. You will get into the van completely naked, carrying your clothes, and put on the blindfold – not because I doubt your obedience, but so that you will know nothing if you happen to be captured.” Dmitri smiled again and Katya’s eyes blazed with devotion. “He will drive you to a safe place where he will break you utterly with pain”.
For the next two days she went about her duties in an erotic daze, naked under her skirt in accordance with his wishes. From time to time she found herself shut in a cupboard or cubicle squeezing her nipples – bringing herself to the brink of release but no further, in a perverse act of self-torture.
When the promised van reached its secret destination and Katya finally clambered blindly from the back, she was led naked through doors and corridors until a man’s voice ordered her to sit, and long fingers guided her down onto a bed. He uncovered her eyes. She saw that she was in a bare cell, with a plain rug and cot, one overhead light-bulb and a small, barred window. The heavy door stood open. Bending over her was a sinewy old man with grey hair and harsh, lined features. She had barely time to register her first sight of Leon when he dropped his bag on the mattress beside her and reached inside.
“Put these on” he ordered curtly, handing her a pair of black stockings. She stretched out her shapely legs to obey. He had her put on elbow-length lace gloves, and then leather cuffs for her wrists and ankles. As she stretched charmingly to buckle the slave collar behind her neck he jabbed his finger towards the foot of the bed. “Chain yourself down” he said flatly. Katya swung her legs up and fastened her anklets to the chains at either corner of the bed, then lay back to secure one wrist the same way – the other she held out, pleading, to Leon.
He chained her down helpless and produced from his jacket a canvas wallet such as surgeons and dissectors use to carry their tools. Unrolling it on the bed beside her he revealed rows of sharp, round-headed needles, and favoured her with a bestial leer which made her shiver in anticipation. Slowly, Leon proceeded to decorate her spread-eagled body with needles and thin trails of blood. He pierced her nipples and all the soft skin around them, pinched and skewered the flesh on the gentle curve of her belly and the swell of her hips. Sometimes, Katya could not suppress a throaty moan of slavish pleasure at the cold, steel kisses and she was slick with juices as he pushed yet more needles into her pubic mound and through the lips of her cunt.
When Leon had forced the last of his needles into the smoothness of her inner thighs he stepped back and freed his stiff cock from his trousers. He aimed at Katya’s face and she opened her mouth wide while he pulled at his long foreskin once and twice and then ejaculated onto her waiting tongue. She twisted her head towards him to catch the last drops and lay back, open-mouthed.
“I will leave you here tonight” he told her as he arranged his clothing. “Tomorrow we will plan Dmitri’s escape, then I will hurt you” and with this he left, turning off the light. After a time, Katya began to cry quietly.
Twice during the night strangers came into the warm darkness of her room and silenced her soft sighs by pushing a hard cock into her mouth, and after each visit she was left writhing in excitement, licking greedily at her lips. When dawn lit the cell, Katya had worked out a simple way to have Dmitri walk from the prison and was thinking only of her role in the plan with an intense fear that made her soaking wet.
“I’m sure of it.” she told Leon the next morning, straining her neck from the thin mattress to look him in the face “It’s because of staff shortages; during the whole watch on Sunday evening nobody monitors the corridor between the interrogation cell and the fire escape. I have keys to both”. Leon liked the proposal. As soon as she had outlined her plan he bent over her to unclip her restraints.
“And, because it is impossible to deny that you unlocked the cell, you escape with him?” he asked. “Then we can bring you back here and torture you to death”.
“No” she said sadly “I must be killed during his escape. We cannot allow this gaol break to become a ‘hostage situation’”. She had leant back on her hands and raised her curvaceous, quivering body towards him while he retracted the needles. Leon stood and unthreaded the belt from his trousers. It was old leather, supple and worn. Katya followed his movements with a look of blatant lust, and he laughed at her.
“This thrashing will take you to the very edge” he told her, with a twisted smile. “You will be a wet little bitch when I use that” he nodded towards a silver-handled whalebone whip leaning in the doorway “to make you faint with pain”. She followed his eyes and moaned shamelessly at the prospect of the antique crop. Then he lifted the belt and Katya bent over on the mattress to offer her arse to him. There was a moment of silence and then she groaned with delight as the leather smacked into her, flattening her cheeks and leaving a vivid, purple stripe. Her knuckles whitened on handfuls of linen as the beating continued and her thighs shone wetly in the morning sunlight. Suddenly the barrage of blows ended and Katya dropped her head to her forearms, filling her lungs in huge, sobbing gasps.
“Roll over” he demanded and she lay flat on her back to present her breasts to the bittersweet sting of the belt. He flicked expertly and cruelly at her nipples interspersed with brutal slaps that made the fleshy mounds quiver and redden. Methodically he laid stripes across her ribs and then her belly. When the swinging leather kissed her clit, she began to pant and groan, and her hips rolled as though she were being ravished by a phantom lover.
Again, the assault ceased without warning and Katya fell back on the cot, panting. Leon threw a leather slave-harness onto the bed next to her and she looked up at him, open-mouthed and ardent. Kneeling, she strapped the device around her raw and burning flesh and then laid face-down while he looped chains from the bed frame through the many steel rings on her harness and pulled them taut. Katya could not wriggle an inch, and the bedsheet was sodden between her legs. Leon brought the whip down with all his strength onto the mattress just above her head and it whistled through the air like a banshee, springing back before her startled eyes. With an effort, she turned her head to watch over her shoulder. The whip was raised on high again, and swished down wickedly to cut the firm, white flesh of her imprisoned arse cheeks. Katya’s eyes opened impossibly wide in shock. The whip sliced into her again and again with biting force but she could not find the breath to scream.
“You will not withstand this” Leon assured her, silkily. “I am going to cut you over and over until you faint from the pain. You will still be chained fast to this bed when you awake.” Then he cut mercilessly into the tender silkiness where her thighs met her cheeks and the mounting catharsis drove Katya over the brink into unconsciousness.
Twice during the night, she felt a stranger climb onto her helplessly imprisoned form and drive a brutal cock into her striped and tender arse. The first used her quickly and brutally; ramming bolts of agony deep inside her until he gasped, spent and departed in silence. The other allowed himself more time and opened her slowly with long, leisurely strokes. A moan of pleasure escaped her and he put his mouth to her ear.
“You must find a way for us to steal your body afterwards” Grigori murmured.
“Yes, yes,” she stammered, sobbing.
“The next time I fuck you,” he hissed, driving faster and harder, his words coming in rhythmic pants “I want you to be cold on my butcher’s slab”. He grunted and came. Katya wailed from the depths of her being and fainted again. She was still lost and bemused at daybreak when strange hands dressed her in her own clothes, helped her into the back seat of a grey hatchback, and drove her to a walkway near her own apartment.