The link is to Pirate Cay, on this occasion!I hadn’t realised the link between Pyongyang and Vegas… the stuff you learn on cruxforums, eh?
This story had almost ended as 'From Pyong-Yang with Love!'.
Just that... in the hurry, they forgot to whip Gun and Barb together! A hint for in a sequel?
Or they could even make them whip each other!
Remember : "What happens in Pyong-Yang, stays in Pyong-Yang!"
I hadn’t realised the link between Pyongyang and Vegas… the stuff you learn on cruxforums, eh?
The link is to Pirate Cay, on this occasion!
Story by @Barbaria1 and @windar
A happy ending! (slut)! Mycket välskrivet och underhållande B! /Hälsningar MUST / Brigad General L.Hallin, chef. (Militära Underättelse Säkerhetstjänsten Tjänsten) btw superior to SÄPO.........possible to request another thrilling story with them involved maybe?Chapter 36. Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Monday, May 16th, 17:34.
“There’s been no further word from the corvette Visby for nearly five hours now,” summarised the Chief to those gathered in his office. “Contact with the stealth craft has been lost due to the storm and there’s little that can be done until the weather improves. Our last communication from Captain Andersson on board the Visby was that the storm is expected to dissipate at some point during the night, and that they had taken our people … Fintväder and Hansson … on board. He promised that they’d be back in touch with us as soon as the search resumes. In the meantime, I suggest it that we all sit tight here in my office. I’ll order in food.”
“You don’t happen to have a bottle stashed away in your desk now, Björklund, do you?” sighed the Senator, stretching and easing Sherry Merriweather, who had been perched on his lap, to the floor.
“I do, in fact,” replied the Chief, reaching for the drawer where the bottle was kept, “but unfortunately only one glass.
“Just as I thought,” laughed the Senator. “Sherry, dear, go out in the hallway and see if you can find someone out there who can rustle us up some more glasses, and another bottle or two as well. We’re going to need to fortify ourselves for a long night’s vigil.”
At sea, somewhere northeast of Valö, in the cabin of the Barracuda stealth craft, Monday, May 16, 18:39.
Barbara and Gun had spent the afternoon holed up together in the relative warmth and safety of the Barracuda’s cabin while the storm continued to rage outside. Although spartan enough, they had found it to offer some comforts.
First there was food … of sorts. They had feasted, especially poor half-starved Barbara, on tins of sardines, a box of crackers, and a package of jellied candies, washed down with bottled mineral water.
And there was a small bed, just large enough for the two of them to squeeze onto, with sheets and blankets. They had laid together, side by side, on it for a long time and just talked.
Barbara had related how she had been abducted in Uppsala and told of her desperate escape and recapture on Valö. Gun had laid out in detail for Barbara how she and Hansson, along with Fintväder, had doggedly pursued the case. And they had laughed together at Gun’s telling of the farcical Bullfozer/SÄPO operation.
At one point Gun, noticing the whip marks on Barbara’s back and buttocks, had gotten up to search for a first/aid kit … which she found and from which she extracted a tube of liniment. She had had Barbara stretch out face down on the bed while she perched on the edge, applied the gel to each red line and gently rubbed it in.
And then, when she had finished, she had leaned over Barbara and kissed her on the nape of her neck. And moments later, what they both knew was inevitably going to happen did.
Barbara had rolled onto her side, reached for Gun and pulled her down onto the bed … and they kissed … somewhat tentatively at first, but then with increasing passion and abandon.
Pulling away after awhile, Barb had shifted herself around and over so that she laid on top of Gun. And looking down, had purred softly, “and what would you like me to do next?”
View attachment 1203574
In response, Gun had replied with the familiar line she always used, “You can begin by kissing, sucking and nibbling at my nipples. That drives me crazy!”
It did … and wet and hungry for one another, they had coupled in wild and frenzied abandon … not once, but twice … and after a brief respite … yet again … until exhausted and satiated, they had fallen asleep in one another’s arms.
Aboard the Swedish naval corvette, HSwMS Visby, on the open sea, 89 kilometers northeast of Valö, Tuesday, May 17th, 06:52.
“Yes, there she is,” declared Fintväder, leaning against the corvette’s forward starboard railing and pointing at the sleek form of the Barracuda stealth craft lying motionless on the calm surface of the sea.
“Yes, that’s her alright,” agreed the Visby’s captain, Sven-Åke Andersson. “I assume you boys want to be aboard the boarding launch?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” replied Hansson grimly, fearing as he had for hours what dreadful fate might have befallen Gun in the hands of those Syndicate thugs.
“Okay, you’d best get aft then. They’re about to put the launch over the side. Please be careful. Anything can happen. In the event that it does, know that the Visby will be close at hand. I’ve got sharpshooters stationed on deck … ready to shoot, just in case.”
Minutes later the Visby’s motor launch was approaching the Barracuda along its port side.
“Still no sign of life,” observed Fintväder.
“That’s what has me more worried than ever,” muttered Hansson.
“Get ready. We’re going to pull alongside and board her now,” warned the young officer in charge of the launch. Half a dozen armed sailors stood ready.
“Let us go first,” said Hansson, waving them off.
“As you wish.”
The launch pulled smoothly alongside, the helmsman taking care not to give warning by bumping or jarring the Barracuda, and Hansson and Fintvader led the boarding party onboard her, cautiously with guns drawn and ready.
But there was no response … no one appeared … the stealth craft appeared to be silent and abandoned..
“Okay. You check the helm, I’ll have a look inside the cabin,” whispered Fintväder.
Hansson nodded and and began ending his way cautiously toward the helm.
Fintväder stepped up to the cabin entry, took a deep breath, entered stealthily, stopped dead in his tracks, and stared long and hard before retreating back out on deck.
“Find anything?” asked Hansson, coming up from behind. “The helm was empty.”
“Yeah, I guess I did,” replied Fintväder, scratching himself.
“See for yourself.”
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SLUT (the end)
A happy ending! (slut)! Mycket välskrivet och underhållande B! /Hälsningar MUST / Brigad General L.Hallin, chef. View attachment 1206123 (Militära Underättelse Säkerhetstjänsten Tjänsten) btw superior to SÄPO.........possible to request another thrilling story with them involved maybe?