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Basement Bound: A Stan Goldman/Barbara Moore Adventure
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
A cheap one. $12.50?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
ZZ TopDon’t insult me
I been up, I been down.
Take my word, my way around.
I ain't askin' for much.
I said, Lord, take me downtown,
I'm just lookin' for some tush.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Some men have to pay through the nose. When you have a new white Praetorian Tribune's Uniform you get it on the cheap!
Damn right
13.
The sudden illumination of a bare overhead light bulb brought an abrupt end to a long and restless night. Sore from having been raped in every conceivable way by our Russian abductors and feeling totally dejected and remorseful over having gotten Stan and myself into this dreadful mess, I had barely slept at all.
The sound of boots descending the staircase was enough to make me cringe. I was a wreck. I dreaded whatever might have been coming next. Whatever it was, I knew it wouldn’t be good!
And I wasn’t alone in my foreboding. I could sense tensions rising through the body language of the two naked girls flanking me on either side. Almost in unison, the three of us nervously shifted positions ... our agitated movements rattling the chains that shackled our wrists and ankles to the cellar’s wall and floor. Across the way, I could see that Stan was wide awake, sitting straight up, bound to his chair, eyes glued to the staircase.
Old “Three Stooges” films I had seen on tv came to mind as the Russians clumped their way down to the cellar floor, and headed in our direction. Only these guys weren’t in the least bit funny. They were dangerous!
Sergei was in the lead, balancing three breakfast bowls in his brawny arms. Max and Pavel lagged behind, burdened by a piece of heavy equipment and a carton overflowing with what appeared to be electrical wires.
The bowls were set down before we three girls. Our wrists and ankles were freed and duct tape literally ripped from our mouths.
“Eat up ladies,” chortled Sergei, good naturedly.
Tina and Josie were on their knees in an instant, bending over to greedily lap up the thin, gruel-like offering in their bowls.
“I’d rather starve,” I sniffed, making a show of pushing mine away with a sweep of my foot.
“Suit yourself, Detective Moore,” sighed Sergei with an uncaring shrug.
“What about Goldman? You can give mine to him.”
“Why? He’s of no value to us.”
“Thought you guys were interested in our money? ... thought we had a deal? ... our money for our freedom?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact we’ve discussed Goldman’s offer and just might be interested,” responded Max. “One little problem, though, how’re you and Goldman gonna hand over the dough? We certainly ain’t gonna let ya go so’s you can make a withdrawal from your bank. But hang on, we think we have a solution. You and Goldman give us the account numbers and, with your cooperation, we’ll set up a nice little electronic money transfer.”
“Aren’t you forgetting that a transfer can be traced to your own accounts?”
“Not hard to see that Detective Moore must have been the brains behind this dynamic duo,” laughed Max. “She’s quick. But no, Detective Moore, Alex knows all about setting up fake accounts and rendering money transfers untraceable. Child’s play for him. Believe me. Once it’s transferred, it’s gone ... vanished ... untraceable."
“And what guarantee do we have that we’ll be released once the money transfers? And what about them?” I said, nodding left and right to indicate Josie and Tina, who were listening to all this attentively.
“You’ll just have to take our word for it,” said Max, grinning amiably. “And the other two bitches are definitely not part of the deal.”
“Now, I hate you even more!” exploded Tina, scrambling to her feet with clenched fists.
I thought she was about to attack me, but Pavel intervened, stepping between us and shoving her back against the wall.
“Ok, what are the account numbers and online passwords we’ll need to set up the transfers?” prompted Max, pencil and notebook in hand. We’ll do a couple of test transfer for ... ummm ... let’s say a grand each ... and if that works we’ll go for the big cash.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I snapped. “Not without a guarantee ... let’s say we transfer small amounts and then you release Stan over there and keep me until the big transfers are complete?”
“You know what, little smarty? There’s a better way. We forget the whole fucking deal and torture you and Goldman until you give up the account info and passwords. Then we cram your sweet little ass into one of those cages over there, put you on a boat and ship you off to become some guy with money’s favorite sex slave. And then, we put a bullet in Detective Goldman’s head. How’s that sound?”
I glared at him in silence. Stan, whose mouth was still duct taped, stared at me, eyes bugged out in disbelief. I realized then, that maybe I had gone too far and was about to plead for moderation and reconsideration when Max began shouting orders.
“Pavel, bring Detective Moore over here and tie her stretched out to that old bed frame!”
“Sergei, bring the equipment, but don’t forget to shackle those other two cunts to the wall first.”
Before I could react, Pavel came up from behind, wrapped his meaty arms around me, lifted me off my feet and carted me over to an old bed frame leaning against the cellar wall. I was spun around, backed onto it and bound spreadeagled against the wire springs.
Meanwhile Sergei moved quickly to secure Tina and Josie and began lugging the piece of heavy equipment, which I now recognized as some kind of electrical control box, into position directly in front of me. While he ran to fetch the box of electrical wires. Pavel brought Stan over, dragging him, chair and all, across the floor and setting him nearby so he could watch.
“Let’s be reasonable and talk this over,” I wailed, eying Pavel as he extracted a tangle of wires, clips and other electrical paraphernalia from the box he had set on the floor.
“No, too late. We’re gonna do it our way, but you can save yourself some pain, Detective Moore, by telling us what we need to know now ... otherwise ....” responded Max as he busied himself attaching a series of multi-colored wires to the control box.
Stan suddenly began shifting about wildly on his chair, acting and sounding as though he had something he urgently wanted to say, but the Russians were ignoring him as they readied me for electro-torture.
Advancing on me with a fiendish gleam in his eyes was Pavel. In his hand he had something that looked like an electrode wrapped in a steel-wool kitchen-pan scrub. Realizing what he intended to do with it, I began shaking my head vigorously back and forth and shouting, “Noooo!”
“Shut the fuck up!” growled Max, slapping me hard across the face.
I shut up and raised lowered head so tthat could look down to see what Pavel, who was crouched between my legs, was doing. Using his stubby fingers to part my labia, the man was going about the business of stuffing the wire-enmeshed electrode inside me. Alarmed, I wriggled, bucked and cursed, but there was simply no way to stop him ... tied down as I was, completely vulnerable with my legs spread wide.
“There! Ready!” He chortled, with a pleased expression on his moronic-looking countenance.
“Now, Detective Moore, let me explain a few things,” announced Max as he waved an electrode attached to a long wooden handle in front of my face. “What you are about to experience is known as Parrilla ... a form of electro-torture. Very effective, believe me! It works like this. First, we charge the electrode Pavel has stuck up your cunt and the one on the end of this wooden wand ... like so ... not too much, not to little .. to start.”
He paused to adjust a dial on the control box.
“Then, we ask you kindly for your bank account number and password, and of course since you’ve already refused to supply such information we proceed to providing you with a little incentive to reconsider. And to make the whole thing more terrifying, we hover the electrode on the wand over your naked body, like so ... and we move it around ... back and forth ... so as to force you to guess where it will be applied ... will it be your ear, your neck, one of your nipples, bellybutton, mound, or the inside of a thigh? Oh my, just consider all the possibilities and what it’s gonna be like, Detective Moore! That’s it. You are thinking about it, aren't you? Is that sweat I see breaking out all over your body? Can your eyes get any wider? You are scared now. Where is it going to be ... hmmmm .... and ... Oooops ... how about there?”
The tip of the electrode was suddenly pressed against my right breast near the base of the nipple. There was a buzz and a crackle. An immediate burning pain coursed through my vagina while a second radiated through the tissues of my breast. The combined pain was excruciating, almost heart stopping. I had been whipped before. I had even endured nails driven through my wrists and feet when I was crucified on that case in the Bronx. But nothing compared to this!
My anguished scream was long and loud, echoing again and again off the cellar walls. My body shuddered and bucked. I arched my back. Tears filled my eyes, and my mouth went dry. Then mercifully he pulled the wand away, and I collapsed back against the bed frame, moaning and blubbering like a baby.
Max waited calmly for me to regain a measure of composure before floating the electrode over my body again.
“Did you know, Detective Moore, that the closer I apply the wand to your cunt, the more severe the burn? It’s a fact! Now think again.. we already know where you bank ... that was an easy guess from the credit card in your bag, which Sergei thoughtfully lifted when we left your house ... now give us your account number and password please ... or else!
“No,” I rasped as I watched the electrode wand hover menacingly over my flattened tummy.
“Wrong answer,” he said with a feigned note of sadness in his voice. A moment later the electrode was frying my bellybutton and I was flailing about, tugging frantically at my bonds, and screaming like a banshee!
“Now?” he asked, after removing the wand from my tummy and holding it patiently above my left breast until I had recovered enough to answer.
“Ok, yes,” I croaked, shutting my eyes in resignation.
“Good girl. Let’s have it.”
I spat out my account number.
“Good. And now the password?”
“Tumescent4U@“ I said, spelling it out for him.
“Great, release her and get Goldman on the frame.” he shouted at Pavel and Sergei. “I’ll wager he doesn’t even last as long as she did!”
The sudden illumination of a bare overhead light bulb brought an abrupt end to a long and restless night. Sore from having been raped in every conceivable way by our Russian abductors and feeling totally dejected and remorseful over having gotten Stan and myself into this dreadful mess, I had barely slept at all.
The sound of boots descending the staircase was enough to make me cringe. I was a wreck. I dreaded whatever might have been coming next. Whatever it was, I knew it wouldn’t be good!
And I wasn’t alone in my foreboding. I could sense tensions rising through the body language of the two naked girls flanking me on either side. Almost in unison, the three of us nervously shifted positions ... our agitated movements rattling the chains that shackled our wrists and ankles to the cellar’s wall and floor. Across the way, I could see that Stan was wide awake, sitting straight up, bound to his chair, eyes glued to the staircase.
Old “Three Stooges” films I had seen on tv came to mind as the Russians clumped their way down to the cellar floor, and headed in our direction. Only these guys weren’t in the least bit funny. They were dangerous!
Sergei was in the lead, balancing three breakfast bowls in his brawny arms. Max and Pavel lagged behind, burdened by a piece of heavy equipment and a carton overflowing with what appeared to be electrical wires.
The bowls were set down before we three girls. Our wrists and ankles were freed and duct tape literally ripped from our mouths.
“Eat up ladies,” chortled Sergei, good naturedly.
Tina and Josie were on their knees in an instant, bending over to greedily lap up the thin, gruel-like offering in their bowls.
“I’d rather starve,” I sniffed, making a show of pushing mine away with a sweep of my foot.
“Suit yourself, Detective Moore,” sighed Sergei with an uncaring shrug.
“What about Goldman? You can give mine to him.”
“Why? He’s of no value to us.”
“Thought you guys were interested in our money? ... thought we had a deal? ... our money for our freedom?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact we’ve discussed Goldman’s offer and just might be interested,” responded Max. “One little problem, though, how’re you and Goldman gonna hand over the dough? We certainly ain’t gonna let ya go so’s you can make a withdrawal from your bank. But hang on, we think we have a solution. You and Goldman give us the account numbers and, with your cooperation, we’ll set up a nice little electronic money transfer.”
“Aren’t you forgetting that a transfer can be traced to your own accounts?”
“Not hard to see that Detective Moore must have been the brains behind this dynamic duo,” laughed Max. “She’s quick. But no, Detective Moore, Alex knows all about setting up fake accounts and rendering money transfers untraceable. Child’s play for him. Believe me. Once it’s transferred, it’s gone ... vanished ... untraceable."
“And what guarantee do we have that we’ll be released once the money transfers? And what about them?” I said, nodding left and right to indicate Josie and Tina, who were listening to all this attentively.
“You’ll just have to take our word for it,” said Max, grinning amiably. “And the other two bitches are definitely not part of the deal.”
“Now, I hate you even more!” exploded Tina, scrambling to her feet with clenched fists.
I thought she was about to attack me, but Pavel intervened, stepping between us and shoving her back against the wall.
“Ok, what are the account numbers and online passwords we’ll need to set up the transfers?” prompted Max, pencil and notebook in hand. We’ll do a couple of test transfer for ... ummm ... let’s say a grand each ... and if that works we’ll go for the big cash.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I snapped. “Not without a guarantee ... let’s say we transfer small amounts and then you release Stan over there and keep me until the big transfers are complete?”
“You know what, little smarty? There’s a better way. We forget the whole fucking deal and torture you and Goldman until you give up the account info and passwords. Then we cram your sweet little ass into one of those cages over there, put you on a boat and ship you off to become some guy with money’s favorite sex slave. And then, we put a bullet in Detective Goldman’s head. How’s that sound?”
I glared at him in silence. Stan, whose mouth was still duct taped, stared at me, eyes bugged out in disbelief. I realized then, that maybe I had gone too far and was about to plead for moderation and reconsideration when Max began shouting orders.
“Pavel, bring Detective Moore over here and tie her stretched out to that old bed frame!”
“Sergei, bring the equipment, but don’t forget to shackle those other two cunts to the wall first.”
Before I could react, Pavel came up from behind, wrapped his meaty arms around me, lifted me off my feet and carted me over to an old bed frame leaning against the cellar wall. I was spun around, backed onto it and bound spreadeagled against the wire springs.
Meanwhile Sergei moved quickly to secure Tina and Josie and began lugging the piece of heavy equipment, which I now recognized as some kind of electrical control box, into position directly in front of me. While he ran to fetch the box of electrical wires. Pavel brought Stan over, dragging him, chair and all, across the floor and setting him nearby so he could watch.
“Let’s be reasonable and talk this over,” I wailed, eying Pavel as he extracted a tangle of wires, clips and other electrical paraphernalia from the box he had set on the floor.
“No, too late. We’re gonna do it our way, but you can save yourself some pain, Detective Moore, by telling us what we need to know now ... otherwise ....” responded Max as he busied himself attaching a series of multi-colored wires to the control box.
Stan suddenly began shifting about wildly on his chair, acting and sounding as though he had something he urgently wanted to say, but the Russians were ignoring him as they readied me for electro-torture.
Advancing on me with a fiendish gleam in his eyes was Pavel. In his hand he had something that looked like an electrode wrapped in a steel-wool kitchen-pan scrub. Realizing what he intended to do with it, I began shaking my head vigorously back and forth and shouting, “Noooo!”
“Shut the fuck up!” growled Max, slapping me hard across the face.
I shut up and raised lowered head so tthat could look down to see what Pavel, who was crouched between my legs, was doing. Using his stubby fingers to part my labia, the man was going about the business of stuffing the wire-enmeshed electrode inside me. Alarmed, I wriggled, bucked and cursed, but there was simply no way to stop him ... tied down as I was, completely vulnerable with my legs spread wide.
“There! Ready!” He chortled, with a pleased expression on his moronic-looking countenance.
“Now, Detective Moore, let me explain a few things,” announced Max as he waved an electrode attached to a long wooden handle in front of my face. “What you are about to experience is known as Parrilla ... a form of electro-torture. Very effective, believe me! It works like this. First, we charge the electrode Pavel has stuck up your cunt and the one on the end of this wooden wand ... like so ... not too much, not to little .. to start.”
He paused to adjust a dial on the control box.
“Then, we ask you kindly for your bank account number and password, and of course since you’ve already refused to supply such information we proceed to providing you with a little incentive to reconsider. And to make the whole thing more terrifying, we hover the electrode on the wand over your naked body, like so ... and we move it around ... back and forth ... so as to force you to guess where it will be applied ... will it be your ear, your neck, one of your nipples, bellybutton, mound, or the inside of a thigh? Oh my, just consider all the possibilities and what it’s gonna be like, Detective Moore! That’s it. You are thinking about it, aren't you? Is that sweat I see breaking out all over your body? Can your eyes get any wider? You are scared now. Where is it going to be ... hmmmm .... and ... Oooops ... how about there?”
The tip of the electrode was suddenly pressed against my right breast near the base of the nipple. There was a buzz and a crackle. An immediate burning pain coursed through my vagina while a second radiated through the tissues of my breast. The combined pain was excruciating, almost heart stopping. I had been whipped before. I had even endured nails driven through my wrists and feet when I was crucified on that case in the Bronx. But nothing compared to this!
My anguished scream was long and loud, echoing again and again off the cellar walls. My body shuddered and bucked. I arched my back. Tears filled my eyes, and my mouth went dry. Then mercifully he pulled the wand away, and I collapsed back against the bed frame, moaning and blubbering like a baby.
Max waited calmly for me to regain a measure of composure before floating the electrode over my body again.
“Did you know, Detective Moore, that the closer I apply the wand to your cunt, the more severe the burn? It’s a fact! Now think again.. we already know where you bank ... that was an easy guess from the credit card in your bag, which Sergei thoughtfully lifted when we left your house ... now give us your account number and password please ... or else!
“No,” I rasped as I watched the electrode wand hover menacingly over my flattened tummy.
“Wrong answer,” he said with a feigned note of sadness in his voice. A moment later the electrode was frying my bellybutton and I was flailing about, tugging frantically at my bonds, and screaming like a banshee!
“Now?” he asked, after removing the wand from my tummy and holding it patiently above my left breast until I had recovered enough to answer.
“Ok, yes,” I croaked, shutting my eyes in resignation.
“Good girl. Let’s have it.”
I spat out my account number.
“Good. And now the password?”
“Tumescent4U@“ I said, spelling it out for him.
“Great, release her and get Goldman on the frame.” he shouted at Pavel and Sergei. “I’ll wager he doesn’t even last as long as she did!”
Last edited:
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Tina's dog collar is just Darling!“I’d rather starve,” I sniffed, making a show of pushing mine away with a sweep of my foot.
Moore is going to be reasonable? Will miracles never cease?
I very much like the steel wool! So painful. And useful later for cleaning the cunt!
That's a strange password. Who thought it up? Is it the name of one of Barb's relatives?
Love it all!
windar
Teller of Tales
It's often been said that the Three Stooges were a guy thing, incomprehensible to women...
What? Now hold on just a minute here!!!
I'm touched Barb. That is really true love at its finest. I take back all those mean things I said about you...
These Russkies speak Spanish too...
That's probably a safe bet. Goldman is a certified wimp...
Are you positive? Are you current on all the chapters? You seem to be getting a charge out of this story.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
You are going to make me retract all the nice things I said
I hope you giving up your account number works for you... your password was almost too obvious!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Most of whom (I can only speak for myself) already are tumescent!Only to CF members
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Yikes! Deodamnatus!Careful! You’ll stain your new white uniform
. That's your fault, Vacca stulta!
Kathy
Terra Nova Tramp
Great chapter Barb
windar
Teller of Tales
Do we know that Sergei, Pavel and Max are not CF members? After all it would seem like somewhere they might want to look at...Only to CF members