Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Death’s Witness (4)
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
Scar-face hesitated. “Are you certain about this?”
“Shut the fuck up and get the things we need. We’re going to do it right here. The back wall is covered in wooden panelling, we’ll use that!” Andreytov replied.
Dimitriev pulled Kat up from heap she lay in on the dirty floor by gripping a huge fistful of her hair. As he began to drag her towards the wall in question Ekaterina cried out at the acute pain in her scalp, and began to twist and turn, writhing to get free, her heels scrabbling aimlessly at the floor as she was tugged along.
“Let the other slut watch what happens to this bitch,” the SVR Officer then instructed, aiming his words and a glance at Special Agent Miller, who was looking over from the corner in which she remained collared and chained.
Scar-face grabbed the chair and moved it over to the impending scene, and set it down facing the wooden-cladded wall. Kat watched with wondering eyes as Scar-face pulled out two nails from the bag before retrieving a hammer.
“You know what’s coming don’t you bitch? Exactly what you should have had in Belarus (see Death by Crucifixion). This is for the Colonel!” (Tretykov).
“No, no, noooooooooo!” The shout was from the other side of the room. Grace Miller could see only too well what their appalling intentions were.
“Please, don’t,” Kat’s words were more of a semi-resigned whisper. Despite her fear of what they were doing she had no physical fight left inside, her weakened body was no match for any one of her captors, yet Kat still struggled with all her pitiable strength in the arms of her muscular abductor.
Grace Miller’s eyes widened with sheer horror as Andreytov forced her friend’s arms up, stretched wide either side of her head, and, with Dimitriev holding her forearm steady, Scar-face hammered the first nail into and through Kat’s left wrist.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” The cry was desperate, wild … bloodcurdling.
Scar-face punctured the right wrist next. A second, sharp, heart-rending cry ripped the air asunder.
“Please, please stop …” Grace was watching her friend and lover being crucified as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Ohhhhhhhhh my God, help meeeeee!” Kat pleaded as her wrists were secured and blood streamed out of the holes in her flesh. Then Scar-face added two more nails … one into each of her flattened palms.
Andreytov, having unzipped his flies and flipped out his cock, was standing in front of the hanging girl, cradling her bottom, keeping the weight off of her bleeding arms as he rubbed the bulbous head of his erection against her clit.
“Oh God, no, please …” Kat begged, but her would-be rapist pulled her slender legs up to each side of his hips, forcing Kat to grip his body tight with her thighs, and lock her ankles around him so that she could add support to the weight currently being borne by her arms and shoulders. But that activity was more than enough for her receding consciousness, the pain winning out … her head slowly sagging.
“Bring water and douse this bitch!” Andreytov ordered. Scar-face splashed cold water across her face and slapped her cheeks. Kat’s eyes flickered back open.
“Just try to enjoy this, Ekaterina Novikova,” Andreytov mocked, as, looking at Kat’s anguished expression, he carefully positioned his cock. Then, without warning or care he plunged in … thrusting deeper and deeper, impaling her already abused pussy. “I want you to feel every inch of me, you cunt. Feel my cock piercing you.”
Kat could only moan and wail as she felt his erection slide deep, then retreat a little, only to re-enter with even greater ferocity. She was being crucified and yet this monster was still raping her …
Barn Owl Cottage, on the edge of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.
Jason had tried Marcus Devonshire’s number several times, and not once did he pick up. “Bastard,” the Major shouted the expletive out loudly.
It had been seven hours since the fifty thousand was wired to the account details he had been given, and as yet he had heard nothing from Hack_the _world. He knew there was a risk dealing with these people but what choice did he have. He wanted his girl back, he wanted to marry her and have children with her … Jase stood from the table in his home office with vengeance etched into his face and yelled “FUUUUCCCKKKKKK!”. With a single violent swing of his arm, he swept the papers off his desk, taking out an iPad mini in the onslaught and scattering everything onto the floor.
Then his phone rang. When he picked up Jase could barely speak in his rush to find out who and what was on the other end.
“Russians. Still in UK. Have a potential two-mile radius. Will know more soon.”
“Fuck, that’s great. So, what do we …” Jason’s words were cut short as the call was ended by the caller, and a quick glance at the screen told him that they had withheld the number.
It was just an update. He would still have to wait.
He slumped into the leather office chair. Was that progress? He guessed so but he still felt so damn helpless.
To Be Continued …
In the basement of the Zima Russian Restaurant, Soho London
Scar-face hesitated. “Are you certain about this?”
“Shut the fuck up and get the things we need. We’re going to do it right here. The back wall is covered in wooden panelling, we’ll use that!” Andreytov replied.
Dimitriev pulled Kat up from heap she lay in on the dirty floor by gripping a huge fistful of her hair. As he began to drag her towards the wall in question Ekaterina cried out at the acute pain in her scalp, and began to twist and turn, writhing to get free, her heels scrabbling aimlessly at the floor as she was tugged along.
“Let the other slut watch what happens to this bitch,” the SVR Officer then instructed, aiming his words and a glance at Special Agent Miller, who was looking over from the corner in which she remained collared and chained.
Scar-face grabbed the chair and moved it over to the impending scene, and set it down facing the wooden-cladded wall. Kat watched with wondering eyes as Scar-face pulled out two nails from the bag before retrieving a hammer.
“You know what’s coming don’t you bitch? Exactly what you should have had in Belarus (see Death by Crucifixion). This is for the Colonel!” (Tretykov).
“No, no, noooooooooo!” The shout was from the other side of the room. Grace Miller could see only too well what their appalling intentions were.
“Please, don’t,” Kat’s words were more of a semi-resigned whisper. Despite her fear of what they were doing she had no physical fight left inside, her weakened body was no match for any one of her captors, yet Kat still struggled with all her pitiable strength in the arms of her muscular abductor.
Grace Miller’s eyes widened with sheer horror as Andreytov forced her friend’s arms up, stretched wide either side of her head, and, with Dimitriev holding her forearm steady, Scar-face hammered the first nail into and through Kat’s left wrist.
“Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” The cry was desperate, wild … bloodcurdling.
Scar-face punctured the right wrist next. A second, sharp, heart-rending cry ripped the air asunder.
“Please, please stop …” Grace was watching her friend and lover being crucified as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Ohhhhhhhhh my God, help meeeeee!” Kat pleaded as her wrists were secured and blood streamed out of the holes in her flesh. Then Scar-face added two more nails … one into each of her flattened palms.
Andreytov, having unzipped his flies and flipped out his cock, was standing in front of the hanging girl, cradling her bottom, keeping the weight off of her bleeding arms as he rubbed the bulbous head of his erection against her clit.
“Oh God, no, please …” Kat begged, but her would-be rapist pulled her slender legs up to each side of his hips, forcing Kat to grip his body tight with her thighs, and lock her ankles around him so that she could add support to the weight currently being borne by her arms and shoulders. But that activity was more than enough for her receding consciousness, the pain winning out … her head slowly sagging.
“Bring water and douse this bitch!” Andreytov ordered. Scar-face splashed cold water across her face and slapped her cheeks. Kat’s eyes flickered back open.
“Just try to enjoy this, Ekaterina Novikova,” Andreytov mocked, as, looking at Kat’s anguished expression, he carefully positioned his cock. Then, without warning or care he plunged in … thrusting deeper and deeper, impaling her already abused pussy. “I want you to feel every inch of me, you cunt. Feel my cock piercing you.”
Kat could only moan and wail as she felt his erection slide deep, then retreat a little, only to re-enter with even greater ferocity. She was being crucified and yet this monster was still raping her …
Barn Owl Cottage, on the edge of the New Forest, Hampshire, England.
Jason had tried Marcus Devonshire’s number several times, and not once did he pick up. “Bastard,” the Major shouted the expletive out loudly.
It had been seven hours since the fifty thousand was wired to the account details he had been given, and as yet he had heard nothing from Hack_the _world. He knew there was a risk dealing with these people but what choice did he have. He wanted his girl back, he wanted to marry her and have children with her … Jase stood from the table in his home office with vengeance etched into his face and yelled “FUUUUCCCKKKKKK!”. With a single violent swing of his arm, he swept the papers off his desk, taking out an iPad mini in the onslaught and scattering everything onto the floor.
Then his phone rang. When he picked up Jase could barely speak in his rush to find out who and what was on the other end.
“Russians. Still in UK. Have a potential two-mile radius. Will know more soon.”
“Fuck, that’s great. So, what do we …” Jason’s words were cut short as the call was ended by the caller, and a quick glance at the screen told him that they had withheld the number.
It was just an update. He would still have to wait.
He slumped into the leather office chair. Was that progress? He guessed so but he still felt so damn helpless.
To Be Continued …
