by Jack Norman
“Ah, you’ve surfaced,” the woman said, looking up. “I’m Klara.”
“I’m Nina. Am I wearing your clothes?”
Klara smiled wanly as she glanced at the floral dress. “No,” she said. “The clothes are for anyone they put in here. There’s more stuff in my room, if ever you want them. We share everything... The clients usually bring them and ask us to dress in something special. They do it all the time. A man will often send particular stuff for you to wear, just for him. Otherwise, when I’m working, I don’t bother dressing much.”
Nina bit her lip. She looked down at the demur summer dress and couldn’t imagine what kind of erotic fantasy it might fuel. “Clients?” she said weakly.
“Yeah, Igor sends them up... Usually a dozen or more a day. I have one coming in half an hour.”
So, far from rescuing her from the traffickers, Vadim Karsharin had merely opportunely stolen her for his own sex business. Stupidly, she had delivered herself into his net. She went to the door and tried to turn the handle.
“The door has electronic locks,” Zelda said, turning a page of her magazine. “I’m not sure how it works, but we can’t get out. Anyway, Igor is usually here. Don’t upset him, or he’ll fuck you up the arse until you bleed.”
Nina’s heart sank even further. The soreness in her anus was testament to the truth of the girl’s warning. “How long have you been locked in here?” she asked.
“About six months. I was in another flat before that. They’re all the same.” She laid the magazine down and rose to her feet. “Igor has ordered me to shave your cunt. I’d better get it done before my customer arrives.”
“No, I’m not going to do that.”
“You fucking well are, or we’ll both get knocked about,” Zelda said, walking to her own room. When she returned in less than a minute, Zelda carried a small pink-handled safety razor, an aerosol can, and a pair of scissors. “Get up on the kitchen table.” She pointed over to a small dining area.
“I’ll do it myself,” Nina said.
“Fuck!” the girl exclaimed. “Igor, told me to do it. Now just cooperate, Nina. I haven’t got a lot of time.”
Nina groaned inwardly. She saw that Zelda was obdurate on the matter; clearly, the girl had been conditioned to obey her pimp’s instructions to the letter. Nina reluctantly went to the table and sat on its plastic surface.
“Take off your dress,” Zelda ordered, going to the kitchen area and filling a large bowl with water.
Nina hoisted the dress over her head and then, almost as an afterthought, she removed her white knickers too. She had never been shy about undressing in communal changing rooms, but this was rather different. When Zelda returned from the kitchen she carried the bowl and a small tea towel was draped over her arm. “That’s some bush,” she said, eying the abundance of fluffy hair at Nina’s groin. “Don’t you ever shave?”
“Yes, sometimes, for swim wear.”
“Okay, lie back. First I’ll trim it right down with scissors to make shaving easier/product.php?productid=17949. You’ll soon learn, trimming the hair makes shaving much easier and avoid blunting and clogging the razor too quickly.”
Anna worked quickly. She soon had Nina shaven clean and then she rinsed the area by tipping water from the bowl, before stooping to examine the results of her work. Then she applied more gel, working it into Nina’s anus. Nina flinched when the fingers touched the tender area.
“You should apply some zinc ointment there,” Anna said. “And take some Rohipnol pills - wash them down with vodka. These are tricks to ease the pain a bit. Now, don’t move, or I might cut you there and make it worse.” She applied the razor again, scraping in tiny strokes around the well of Nina’s anus. “That should satisfy Igor,” she said, wiping her hands on the towel before stepping forward to pat Nina’s groin and anus dry.
A pool of water had gathered between Nina’s legs and under her arse on the table, and it dribbled to the tiled floor. Nina pushed herself upright and slipped from the table. She retrieved her dress and then pulled it over her head before heading back to her room.
“No need to thank me,” Anna said sardonically. “Rub some baby oil onto your cunt. It makes it nice and soft for the clients.”
In the small bathroom of her room, Nina raised the skirt of the dress and gazed at her image in the mirror. The creamy folds her pussy were disconcertingly bare. She was not accustomed to the sight of her own cunt looking back at her. With a sigh, she reached into the cabinet for the baby oil and applied it to the smooth skin.
.”Nina, get your arse out here,” she heard Igor shout.
Nina’s heart began to pound. She hadn’t heard him return to the flat. When she returned to the living area, she saw that he was standing there with a man who wore an ill-fitting, cheap blue business suit that was reminiscent of the Soviet era. Zelda, still only clad in black bra and knickers, stood nearby.
“You shaved her cunt?” Igor asked Zelda, glancing at the pool of water and the hair trimmings on the tiled floor around the kitchen table.
“Show him,” Zelda said flatly.
Nina felt herself blush, and she hesitated.
Igor narrowed his eyes and glanced briefly at the other man, Zelda’s next customer. “Do as she says,” Igor said, his voice a menacing growl.
Nina gathered up the hem of her skirt, lifting it slowly to reveal the smooth, soft folds of her vulnerably naked sex. The customer inhaled sharply and he stepped forward as if about to touch her. Nina gasped and cringed back.
Igor smiled and winked to the man. He then said: “Good girl, Zelda, you have done well. Take off your bra and panties.”
“Thank you, Igor,” Zelda said, stripping off her two small garments.
“Which cunt do you want?” Igor asked the man.
“I’ll take her,” the john said, indicating Nina.
“Good choice,” Igor said, pushing Nina upright and stepping back. He reached into his pocket and produced a condom, which he threw to the man. “You’ll be her first paying trick. Zelda can suck my cock. The bitch has made me horny.”
Nina stepped back, still flushed and breathing heavily. She realised that her fingers were still clenched in the bunched fabric of her dress, and she allowed the skirt to fall back into place. She watched as Zelda dropped to her knees and reached for the zip of Igor’s blue jeans. She pulled out his erect cock and ran her tongue around the stiff shaft.
“Strip,” the customer said to Nina, unwrapping the condom. “I want to see you naked.”
“First lesson for a whore. Always do exactly as the customer says,” Igor said as Zelda began to suck his cock. “Get your clothes off and let the gentleman see you.”
Mindful of the warnings about anal punishment fucking, Nina reluctantly pulled the dress over her head and removed her white bra. Naked, she turned to face the customer. He licked his lips and beckoned with his forefinger. He stepped forward and reached to cup her breast in his hand and she felt the rolled condom cool against her flesh. He leaned down to suck her nipple into his mouth. Then he pushed her back towards the kitchen table, which was still puddled by water from her shaving. He pressed her against the edge of the table top. Then he paused to take the condom from his pocket, discarding the foil wrapping before reaching to unzip his trousers and unbutton the waistband. The baggy trousers fell down around his ankles, and he didn’t seem to consider the incongruity of retaining his suit jacket, shirt and tie... His erect cock was slightly kinked, bent to the left, so much so that it seemed that the eye on his large bulbous bell-end was glancing to the side before he smoothly rolled the condom over it.
He then reached down to push his hands under her thighs, lifting them high. “Wrap your legs round,” he ordered, and he pinched the soft flesh of her thighs until she had encircled his waist with her legs.
Nina obeyed, leaned back, supporting herself with stiffly outstretched arms behind her on the table top, her legs clasping his broad hips. That great bulbous cock glans, its purp
le colour showing through the stretched condom, nudged between the lips of her cunt. From her position on the table, Nina was able to look down and see his shaft against the naked lips of her cunt. When he jerked his hips forward, she saw her cunt lips momentarily pucker, and then they opened and clasped at the bent cock, seeming to suck it smoothly inside her. His Slavic face grimaced in pleasure as her cunt channel gloved around him. She blinked as his strangely shaped member filled her. Then he eased back and forth, grunting with each movement. He was neither gentle nor caring. It was not making love in any sense of that phrase. He was merely using her to take his pleasure. Yet the rhythm of his fucking, with the strange sensation of his angled cock, brought delicious warmth to her belly. From the customer’s heavy breathing and his increased tempo, she knew that he wouldn’t last for long. Nina looked across the room, and saw that Igor was watching her fucking appraisingly. Suddenly bold, without much more to lose, she defiantly held his gaze steadily as the man continued to fuck her, his thrusts becoming ever more wild and ragged. Zelda was busily bobbing her head up and down on Igor’s turgid cock but he gave no indication that it brought him any pleasure. Nina determined that she too would show no emotion. That way they were both being fucked, equally, and he was no better than her. The customer continued to ream her cunt with his strangely-shaped cock, and Nina squeezed tightly with her legs. She smiled slightly in triumph when she saw Igor’s face contort momentarily. Zelda gave a small, gurgled cry, muffled by the cock deep in her mouth, and Nina could see that the girl was swallowing frantically on the pulsating shaft. Suddenly though, the john was ramming hard into her and Nina’s clasping cunt felt the repeated spasm of his climax.
Igor pushed Zelda away, and the girl knelt back, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The customer reached to unwrap Nina’s legs from around his waist and stepped back.
“How was she?” Igor asked.
“Good,” the man said, tossing the used condom onto the table before stooping to pull up his trousers. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, counting banknotes and passing them to Igor.
“Excellent. Tell your friends,” Igor said, taking the money.
Chapter Three
Borzov’s Dilemma
I
When Georgy Nikitin strode into Borzov’s office Sara was naked but for high-heeled shoes and two clover clamps, elegantly perched on the end of the Boss’s desk as he worked. It was still early in her training, but she had learned it was called the Sex Kitten position (all the poses had names, it seemed) where knees were bent, her legs slightly separated by a different degree of flexion in each knee, her toes tucked in en pointe and her weight taken on her arms, allowing a number of seductive variations on the position. Borzov was very meticulous about her position, so she didn’t make any movement and remained like an exotic living ornament.
“Viktor, I need to speak to you urgently?” Georgy said, sparing a brief glance at the nude young woman.
Borzov waved a staying hand to Sara and looked across at the man. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“It’s very important,” Nikitin said, glancing pointedly at Sara in a way that left no doubt that he needed her gone.
“Gah, very well.” Borzov sighed as he rose to his feet. He reached to Sara and removed first one clover clamp and then the other from her nipples. “Leave.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, wincing at the pain as blood returned to her teats.
“Go to your cell and lock the cuffs about your wrists,” Georgy ordered.
Sara leapt from the desk and scurried from the office, her hands folded over her breasts.
After she had left, Borzov smiled to the burly interloper and spread his hands. “A Russian-speaking American girl, she shows great promise. What’s so urgent, Georgy?”
“When did you last have contact with your daughter?”
Viktor Borzov raised his eyebrows. “Anna? We spoke a week ago. Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“Was she in Moscow?”
“Yes, she was visiting her grandmother. What’s this all about?”
Georgy inhaled deeply and he studied his gorilla-like fingers for long seconds. Finally, he said: “Anna has been kidnapped or worse.”
“Kidnapped?” Borzov looked up sharply.
“You don’t answer your phone to your own mother? She has been desperate to speak with you. Anna went out for the night with friends and didn’t return home. That might not be unusual but a couple of goons broke into your mother’s house and she found them ransacking a bedroom. She yelled at them and they left in a hurry. Your mother was unharmed. The thing is, though, the burglars left behind the bag that Anna had been carrying that night... keys, cell phone, everything.”
“Fuck!” Viktor muttered, reaching for the phone. “I’ll speak to my mother. In the meantime, get Lev Salko.”
II
Lev Salko tried to ignore the strident ring tone of the mobile telephone on the bedside cabinet, but it was insistent. The second time, he rolled in the bed and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, cradling his head in his hands and making no effort to pick up the handset. After a short time it stopped ringing, and soon after a shorter beeping tone announced that a message awaited him. He sighed and looked over his shoulder. Two women lay on the bed, naked and nubile, their long lissom limbs entwined. They were too young for him, he thought, smoothing back his dark hair. Lev Salko had seen better days. He was gnarled and hard-bitten by several grim years spent in terrible Soviet prisons. The tattoos that covered much of his naked body were testament to the travails of a hard and unforgiving past. They told a story of crimes and punishments and pronounced his status in the Vory, the criminal brotherhood forged in the gulags. The history and standing of a vory can be read from the pictures on his body, and Salko’s past was... colourful.
“Lev baby, come back to bed,” one of the girls whimpered, her arms outstretched.
He glanced back at her. She was probably not yet twenty years old and already an accomplished little whore. That’s how it was with these bitches. They were brought to the trade as naive girls, some voluntarily and others by force, and they all quickly became hardened harlots, ever-ready to fuck like rabbits for their pimps.
“Get up, get dressed and get out,” Salko said. He reached for the cell phone and glanced at its small display screen. Few people knew the number, for he bought a new one almost as frequently as he bought his expensive silk socks, and that was often. Raising his eyebrows slightly at what he saw on the screen, he punched in a single number and listened to the message. Glancing over his shoulder again, he said: “Just fuck off, the pair of you.”
“Lev, please, you promised...” the girl wheedled. “All day, you said. That was the deal. The boss will beat the shit out of us if we go back with less money. You know that.”
“I’ll pay you both for the full day,” Salko spat, listening to the terse Russian voice on the voice mail. “Now shut the fuck up and go.” Salko frowned and punched numbers into the phone’s small keyboard. Someone answered his call immediately. “This is Lev. What do you want?” he said quietly.
III
“Where is she?” Salko demanded as he sat astride the man’s chest and smashed the butt of his pistol into the already battered Slavic face.
Blood ran from the man’s lips and stained his teeth as he grimaced. “Who are you speaking about?” he asked in heavy tones. He was panting, hurt and scared, but his eyes flashed defiantly. “Who is she, this woman you seek?”
Seedy back-street sex clubs and clip joints are the same the world over in many respects. Poorly-lit, dingy, and sordid… This one in old Moscow wasn’t any different. However, the three men who had stormed the scarcely-disguised basement brothel were not typical of either the hoodlums or the customers that frequent such places. Neither did they look much like policeman, not even those shadowy and sinister police cadres who respect nobody. These three were much too professional for that, acting with military precision and with
controlled and calculated brutality. Now, in a small backroom littered with women’s clothing and amidst tables laden with used paper cups and discarded cigarette cartons, the club‘s pug-faced thugs cowered wide-eyed under the threat of two confidently-held AK47 assault rifles as they watched their leader’s face being methodically beaten to a bloody pulp.
“Her name is Anna,” Salko spat, grasping his victim’s unshaven chin roughly between finger and thumb and wrenching so that he stared into the watery grey eyes.
The door opened. One of the rifle-bearing men shot a wary glance towards it as a young woman stood framed in the doorway, naked except for the briefest of G-strings and high spiked heels. She gasped and hastily withdrew, shutting the door again.
After a few seconds the man on the floor said hoarsely, “Thousands of whores call themselves Anna.”
“Anna Borzov,” Salko said, smashing the butt of his pistol across the man’s jaw in emphasis. “Tall, blonde… she has a blue rose tattooed on her left shoulder. Here…” He paused to take a photograph from his pocket and hold it before the man’s eyes. “This is her.”
A bewildered look crossed the grey and bloody features. Recognition flickered there, accompanied by a slight narrowing of the eyelids. He said, “A blue rose. There was one bitch recently... mouthy, with attitude...”
The man seemed about to say more but he hesitated for a few more seconds, as if reviewing his options. Finally, he said, “What is she to you, this Anna?”
“She is the daughter of Viktor Borzov.”
The man’s eyes widened further. “The Viktor Borzov? Holy shit!”
