Her heart was racing, and though it was summer, she felt an odd mix of cold and heat overcome her body. She could feel her skin against the lace which she wore under the fitted suit. It was dark and she heard her footsteps echo faintly as she marched quickly across the plaza toward the poorly lit city park. It appeared that post-communist Russia still didn't have enough money to repair burned out lampposts.
Her breath was shallow and she could feel the tingle of adrenaline right at the edge of her being. But it wasn't fear that was coursing through her veins. It was excitement. She would rather have met in a public place. All of her training and agency protocol called for such meetings in public places. She had taken an extreme risk in meeting him in a park at night, but then again, like her contact at the agency had always said, she was all about risk. “You’ll get yourself fucked someday taking risks like that,” her contact had always said.
But it is only the unrecognizable that can afford to meet in public places. A cabinet minister could not afford being recognized with someone like her.
It was a risk and it looked like the risk was going to pay off. God, it was good. She felt like she was about to have the greatest fuck in her life. After two years of undercover work, she was about to talk to the key man at the center of the trading of arms, drugs and white slavery. Two years, and she finally would be able to spring the ring. After that, back to the "Dacha" for one more night, a coded message at the usual drop, a plane tomorrow and next week..... who knows... Operations Manager? District Contact?
She stopped, listened... looked ... Confused for a moment by the echoes of her footsteps. Nothing. Her heart. Her breath. God, she was wet!
She reminded herself of the cardinal rule: The next step is always a lifetime away. Never assume you are home free. Between the Russian mafia, whose turf had been invaded by this Arabian operation, and the Moscow Security Agency, who in their infancy still want to show up the her agency at any cost, and never mind the Arabians themselves.... and who knows how many others that had high stakes in revenge... she knew she was a walking target.
A face flashed out of nowhere. One split second, frozen in front of her. A hand shot out clamping her mouth. She hauled out to punch, but her arms were pulled back from behind her. She kicked, connected with a shin. The man in front of her shouted a foreign swear, and instantly slapped her hard across the face. With burning jaw and watering eyes she began to shout, but a ball gag was shoved into her mouth. She yanked sideways and the three fell to the ground, struggling. She was flipped on her back, arms suddenly pinned under one of the man’s knees.
"Now, pretty bitch," he slurred in English heavy with unrecognizable accent, bending over her, his iron hand around her neck, “You must learn to be more friendly tourist.”
She felt the other man kick her legs apart. Wide. And instantly she recognized the sound of a blade flicking open. She muffled a scream against the gag. She felt the blade against her thigh, and then the rush of night air on her pussy as the man cut her panties.
"No," commanded the first man over his shoulder. "Idiot! Let's get off path!" The man bent his face close to hers and hissed in her ear, "Listen, you behave like good little slut and we let you live."
They lifted her under her arms and dragged her to a dark stand of trees. It shot through her head that this might “just” be a raping, and ironically, she thought, "and nothing worse."
They slammed her against a slim tree. The first man took off his belt. Her eyes widened as he slung it around her neck and the tree, then cinched it tight, almost chocking her. The shorter man spread her legs against two other saplings and tied them there, while the first yanked her wrists behind the tree and handcuffed them.
The taller man grabbed her hair and yanked so hard that her head twisted sideways and up, and she felt his unshaven cheek close to her ear, "Listen, whore! We have instructions to bring you back alive."
He pinched her nipples through her suit. Hard! She moaned and sank into her knees, but felt the belt tighten around her neck and regained her stance.
"Lucky for you, else we fuck you and then leave you for the dogs." He shoved his hand into her skirt.
"But little bitch, our instructions only to bring you alive. No one say anything about not fucking you first." She twisted and struggled against the cuffs and her bound ankles as he wedged his middle finger into her cunt. The other man ran his hand up her thigh from below. She tossed her head, only to feel the belt choke her. A hand forced its way into her cut panties from behind and now fingers were sliding over her asshole and her clit.
"Ahhh, you little whore dog. You already wet," he laughed, "You like this, no?!" With his other hand, he ripped open her suit jacket. The knife flashed again as it cut her bra exposing her full tits. As he grabbed one round tit in his huge hand and squeezed, he plunged a finger deep inside her pussy again. She groaned against the gag stuffed in her mouth. Her knees again went weak and she sank into the belt around her neck. The finger curled inside her, hard, and made her grind her hips against it. Oh God, she couldn't believe that she actually wanted that finger to fuck her harder.
She felt the other man's hand probing her ass and she heard him spit on his hands. Oh, God, no! She writhed and tried to rise away from the hand grabbing her, groping, seeking to wedge itself in between her cheeks. Oh God, no, she grunted against the gag, as the finger pressed into her asshole. She was being fucked by fingers, stuffed full from both ends. The fingers were plunging in and out. The man pushed up against her, pressing her into the tree, pressing his weight against her, squeezing her, and then she felt him sink his teeth into the nape of her neck. He bit down hard. She wiggled and muffled sobs and all the while bucked against the hands that were fucking her, taking her, opening her, making her... Oh God... YES... cum, and cum, oozing juices of her sick pleasure all over their hands.
If they fucked her afterwards, she didn't know. She passed out from chocking herself against the belt.
She woke up to the pain of bound ankles and her wrists bound behind her back. The gag was still in her mouth. Her jaw hurt. The blindfold prevented her from seeing where they were driving. She was lying across the back seat of a car. Her ass and pussy were sore from being taken so roughly. She was ashamed and disturbed by how wet she got being raped. What had happened to her pride and independence? How could she so quickly give in to being raped?
The car stopped and she heard one of the men get out and shout to someone to lower a bridge. Chains and creaking. A clunk and the man got back in the car and it lurched over the bumpy bridge and then into what echoed like a courtyard.
Suddenly, fear brought her senses back to her. Being raped was only the beginning. She knew that wherever she was, she was at the mercy of whomever commanded this abduction. The Arabians maybe. Perhaps the Russian mob. They may have already assassinated the minister for all she knew.
If she resisted their interrogation, she would be tortured and die painfully. Even if she told all she knew, she would most certainly die. Her heart was now racing as the two men got out. One of them opened the door, untied her ankles and yanked her out. She had lost her heels and the bare ground was cold and damp. The night air hit her bared tits and turned her nipples hard.
One of them grabbed her and dragged her along blindfolded. She stubbed her toe on the cobblestone, but was forced to keep up. A door creaked and she was led down stone stairs. It smelled musty. She could taste the adrenaline in her mouth.
As she circled the last turn of the stairwell, she felt it become increasingly warmer. They must have entered a room. The floor was warm, the air thick and almost too hot.
She was yanked to a stand and her hands were briefly untied and then she felt wide steel cuffs placed around them, and they were the hoisted up, so her hands were almost straight over her head. The gag was released but not the blindfold. Her ankles were forced apart and cuffed to the floor.
Her tits jutted out of her torn shirt, and under the cut panties, her spread pussy was exposed to the warm air. She suddenly understood that she wasn't abducted by the arms dealers or even the drug connections, but by the white slavery operators. In that case, it was not information they wanted. She shuddered thinking of what she had learned about white slavery. And simultaneously, she felt her cunt flush with excitement. Into what depravity had she descended to become excited at that thought?
The men had left her there for some endless time. She felt a fire burning in front of her. She lapsed between dosing off with extreme drowsiness and jerking awake with acute fear. To her horrifying shame, every time she jerked awake, she felt arousal. She hoped they would think it was just sweat making her cunt glisten.
She snapped awake again to the sound of footsteps descending.
