Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Enlightenment (3)
The Moore Residence, Eagle House, High Street, Wimbledon Village, London, SW19
“Is she sleeping?” The quiet tones of Roger Moore’s voice manifested his concern.
“She is Sir,” Marcus Devonshire, Moore’s trusted Aide de Camp, replied.
“Then we should head into HQ and contact Novikova.”
“Sir …” there was hesitation in Devonshire’s voice.
“What is it, Marcus?”
“What are you going to do? What if Novikova can’t get to your …” he paused and corrected himself before continuing. “… get to the girls?”
“I can’t afford to think like that Marcus, she simply has to because the PM will not succumb to any terrorist demand, especially not over such a sensitive issue, even when it is my family that is at stake …
MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK
“Kat …” Moore could not keep the desperation out of his voice.
“Sir, I’ve seen the video, and I’m sorry Sir.”
Ekaterina was keeping up professional appearances despite Roger Moore being her occasional Dominant sex partner, fulfilling a need that she hated but could do nothing about. She had suffered much abuse from many different quarters during the times that she had been taken captive, and there had been several, so she knew exactly what his daughter, eighteen-year-old Sophia would be going through. Kat wanted to ask Moore if she had been a virgin before being abducted, but she knew how insensitive that question would be and he would most probably not know the answer anyway. She recalled how she had been able to take her friend, Grace Miller’s, virginity, leaving a happy memory associated with the occasion, and hoped Grace was lucid enough to do the same for Sophia should the need arise.
“Please Ekaterina, can you give me an update?”
“We captured one male, the rest we were forced to shoot. We brought him back to Serinyol for interrogation. Three females are also in our custody but honestly Sir, they know nothing.”
“And the male? Has he talked …?”
“Not yet Sir, but I will take personal responsibility for ensuring that he does, I promise you.”
Moore sighed long and loud. “Kat …”
“Sir …’
“Please, please get to them, both of them. I want them back in one piece.”
“Peace Shield Operations Centre”, Serinyol, Antakya in the Hatay Province of Turkey
The man awakened to silence. It was dark and cold. He was naked and laying on a thin pad on the floor. He sat up to look around and saw that he was in a small prison cell and could barely move his head. He felt his neck. He was wearing some kind of a tall rigid collar. It had no buckles or fasteners but it had, what felt like, metal loops. One on each side. There was a battery-like protrusion at the front of his collar. There was a metal bucket in one corner with a roll of toilet paper next to it.
He got up and went to the steel-barred door and looked out of his prison cell into the main room. It was getting brighter. He looked up and saw that there was a skylight in the ceiling. The man was hungry, thirsty, and had to pee. He went over to the bucket and relieved himself.
He would tell these bastards nothing. He would die first, a jihadi death … honoured in heaven, but he wished he had a blanket or something to cover his naked body.
The steel-barred door opened and in walked a beautiful blonde-haired girl, the one who had led the attack into the house.
“Where is my wife, bitch.” Was the man’s unwise opening retort.
“Dead.” Was all Kat responded. Which of course she wasn’t, but there was no need for this bastard’s emotions to be handled with care.
"What? Nooo! NO! Let me out of here." The look of desperation on his face pleased her.
"Shut the fuck up!" Kat pointed to the centre of the floor and said, "Kneel here."
The man looked at her, defiance in his eyes and said defiantly, "Fuck ... You … Cunt!"
Kat held up a small remote control with a single button. She pressed it.
Bzzzz!
An electric current exploded through her prisoner’s neck. He collapsed to the floor as his legs gave out. Relaxing the button on his shock collar, Ekaterina quietly repeated herself, "I said, get ... on ... your ... knees."
The man struggled to his hands and knees. He tried to grab out at her legs but she hit the button and held it depressed for longer this time. He collapsed again, and when she finally released it, he was laying on the floor shaking and gasping.
Two Turkish Özel Kuvvetler Komutanlığı (OKK) Officers entered the room and stood by the door.
“Take an arm each,” Kat instructed. The Officers each had thick wooden sticks with latches on one end. They clipped the latches to the sides of the prisoner’s collar and dragged him out of the cell. He tried to get on his feet but they tugged him by his neck, the wooden sticks keeping him well out reach.
They took him down a short hallway through another steel door and into another room, a cell that was fronted by heavy steel bars.
Now the torture could begin.
To Be Continued …
The Moore Residence, Eagle House, High Street, Wimbledon Village, London, SW19
“Is she sleeping?” The quiet tones of Roger Moore’s voice manifested his concern.
“She is Sir,” Marcus Devonshire, Moore’s trusted Aide de Camp, replied.
“Then we should head into HQ and contact Novikova.”
“Sir …” there was hesitation in Devonshire’s voice.
“What is it, Marcus?”
“What are you going to do? What if Novikova can’t get to your …” he paused and corrected himself before continuing. “… get to the girls?”
“I can’t afford to think like that Marcus, she simply has to because the PM will not succumb to any terrorist demand, especially not over such a sensitive issue, even when it is my family that is at stake …
MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK
“Kat …” Moore could not keep the desperation out of his voice.
“Sir, I’ve seen the video, and I’m sorry Sir.”
Ekaterina was keeping up professional appearances despite Roger Moore being her occasional Dominant sex partner, fulfilling a need that she hated but could do nothing about. She had suffered much abuse from many different quarters during the times that she had been taken captive, and there had been several, so she knew exactly what his daughter, eighteen-year-old Sophia would be going through. Kat wanted to ask Moore if she had been a virgin before being abducted, but she knew how insensitive that question would be and he would most probably not know the answer anyway. She recalled how she had been able to take her friend, Grace Miller’s, virginity, leaving a happy memory associated with the occasion, and hoped Grace was lucid enough to do the same for Sophia should the need arise.
“Please Ekaterina, can you give me an update?”
“We captured one male, the rest we were forced to shoot. We brought him back to Serinyol for interrogation. Three females are also in our custody but honestly Sir, they know nothing.”
“And the male? Has he talked …?”
“Not yet Sir, but I will take personal responsibility for ensuring that he does, I promise you.”
Moore sighed long and loud. “Kat …”
“Sir …’
“Please, please get to them, both of them. I want them back in one piece.”
“Peace Shield Operations Centre”, Serinyol, Antakya in the Hatay Province of Turkey
The man awakened to silence. It was dark and cold. He was naked and laying on a thin pad on the floor. He sat up to look around and saw that he was in a small prison cell and could barely move his head. He felt his neck. He was wearing some kind of a tall rigid collar. It had no buckles or fasteners but it had, what felt like, metal loops. One on each side. There was a battery-like protrusion at the front of his collar. There was a metal bucket in one corner with a roll of toilet paper next to it.
He got up and went to the steel-barred door and looked out of his prison cell into the main room. It was getting brighter. He looked up and saw that there was a skylight in the ceiling. The man was hungry, thirsty, and had to pee. He went over to the bucket and relieved himself.
He would tell these bastards nothing. He would die first, a jihadi death … honoured in heaven, but he wished he had a blanket or something to cover his naked body.
The steel-barred door opened and in walked a beautiful blonde-haired girl, the one who had led the attack into the house.
“Where is my wife, bitch.” Was the man’s unwise opening retort.
“Dead.” Was all Kat responded. Which of course she wasn’t, but there was no need for this bastard’s emotions to be handled with care.
"What? Nooo! NO! Let me out of here." The look of desperation on his face pleased her.
"Shut the fuck up!" Kat pointed to the centre of the floor and said, "Kneel here."
The man looked at her, defiance in his eyes and said defiantly, "Fuck ... You … Cunt!"
Kat held up a small remote control with a single button. She pressed it.
Bzzzz!
An electric current exploded through her prisoner’s neck. He collapsed to the floor as his legs gave out. Relaxing the button on his shock collar, Ekaterina quietly repeated herself, "I said, get ... on ... your ... knees."
The man struggled to his hands and knees. He tried to grab out at her legs but she hit the button and held it depressed for longer this time. He collapsed again, and when she finally released it, he was laying on the floor shaking and gasping.
Two Turkish Özel Kuvvetler Komutanlığı (OKK) Officers entered the room and stood by the door.
“Take an arm each,” Kat instructed. The Officers each had thick wooden sticks with latches on one end. They clipped the latches to the sides of the prisoner’s collar and dragged him out of the cell. He tried to get on his feet but they tugged him by his neck, the wooden sticks keeping him well out reach.
They took him down a short hallway through another steel door and into another room, a cell that was fronted by heavy steel bars.
Now the torture could begin.
To Be Continued …
... maybe Kat will identify with her inner-sadist ...
...
