by Dan Bruce
“Yes...” said Sally; then drawing on all her courage she added, “... at least I’ve been told what’s threatened.”
The chief looked at her aghast, stunned at the girl’s nerve. “Threatened!” he snarled, the tone of his delivery turning Sally’s blood to ice. “You think I deal in idle threats! It’s more than a threat, and you deserve worse in my opinion! If it was left to me alone, you would indeed suffer worse. But as your ambassador has rightly pointed out, politics must be considered – and I am of mind to take his advice, for a day or two at least until my rage subsides.”
Held fixed by those eyes, Sally gulped with relief. A ray of hope shone into her life.
“He suggests we keep this a private matter for the time being,” the chief continued. “That perhaps if you show willing, there need be no public trial, and an alternative punishment may be arrived at that would save both our countries a great deal of embarrassment.”
“Wha... what do you mean... what alternative?” asked Sally, thrown by this sudden twist.
Sally’s chin was grasped. The chief’s firm hand clenched it like a vice. Sally was sure that if he chose, the chief could crush her jaw - such was the man’s brute strength.
“One that wouldn’t involve you spending ten or more years of hell in a Mastrovian prison,” Chief Karinov hissed. “But that will only happen if you toe the line.”
Remembering Julia, Sally suspected where this was heading. And if that was the punishment then Sally would happily accept it. It would be no punishment at all putting out for the chief – quite the opposite in fact.
“I’m sure we could come to some arrangement,” Sally sweetly answered, her face a picture of whorish flirtation. “Is there anything in particular you want from me?”
The chief leaned down till they were face to face. He dragged his strong chin across Sally’s cheek – his breath became warm on Sally’s ear.
“Do you honestly think I’d settle for a few turns at your cunt?” the chief chillingly whispered. “That’s already mine. It was mine the moment you walked into this country. But I want more than your cunt. I want much, much, more!”
Sally quivered. She shook with fear. Gripped by her chin, touching cheek to cheek, she drowned in the power of this beast of a man.
“Wha... what?” she asked.
“Your total obedience,” was calmly stated. “In everything I ask, for as long as I ask.”
Sally shook – the magnitude of the demand dawning in her head.
“No!” she defiantly uttered, appalled at the idea.
“No?” echoed the chief. “That’s not a very good answer, so I suggest you reconsider. I’ll give you some time to think it over. In the meanwhile, to pay for that time, and keep your options open, you can tell me who did this.”
Was it a bluff? Would the chief actually dare put her in the state prison to be ravaged by a bunch of ugly wandens? Sally couldn’t be sure, but the man’s confident authority suggested anything was possible. Sally didn’t dare take the chance. She decided on caution and to buy that time the chief was offering.
“It was... it was one of your men... a lieutenant in the police force.”
Sally could feel the strain – a rage within – the chief’s hand trembling around her chin.
“And this lieutenant – did he have a name?”
Sally felt like Judas, this embrace a traitor’s kiss. “Dimitri,” she whispered.
The chief hissed in a breath, cut by the name, the wound sounding deep. “Dimitri!” he repeated. “Did you mention this to the ambassador?”
“Only that he was a policeman. He didn’t want to hear anything else.”
“Wise man!” hissed the chief. “And I took him for a fool. He will not want to hear of this conversation either – if he does then I will deny it, and you will be fast tracked to hell... Now let’s have a few photographs just in case they are needed then we’ll get you more comfortably locked away for the night. I think a private cell down here would be best rather than tossing you in with the scum of the land.”
“Yes sir!” exclaimed Sally, not registering in her relief that she’d used the term. “Thank you! And I’m sorry about this - I had no idea...”
“No! I don’t suppose you did. If Dimitri was playing you, I bet you had no idea at all.”
Chapter 7
It was hardly the most comfortable night’s sleep Sally had ever enjoyed, but at least she got some sleep. Chief Karinov arranged for a cell in the dungeons to be made up, with some proper bedding, clean water and food, a tee-shirt for her to wear in place of her torn blouse. It wasn’t the Ritz, but then it wasn’t the state prison with a bunch of ugly big wardens taking turns at fucking her throughout the night, so it could have been a darn sight worse.
Her dreams had been plagued though - plagued by the man who had dominated her thoughts since that momentous moment two day before. Back then he was only a shadow, a nameless force, some ghostly attraction of ill-defined nature. Now he was real with a decidedly solid form. Karinov was the name, the chief of police, and his intention seemed all too clear – total obedience, in everything he asked, for as long as he asked. Dream that how you will!
For Sally it was dreamt strangely. There was a Tudor king with Mastrovian features, large and athletic like Henry in his prime; though this one was mature and gloriously so, wearing the biggest codpiece the world had ever known. Sally herself was at the other end of the spectrum, a piece of lowlife working in the kitchens, a downtrodden serf, beaten and defeated. Scenes came and went with no rationality at all: Sally got cuffed round the ear for dropping a spoon; kicked up the ass for over-seasoning the food; beaten with a stick for no reason at all. Life was a misery, all dignity gone. She ate her food with the dogs, gruel from a bowl; and slept with those hounds out in the yard, grateful for their warmth in the freezing cold. The dream crystallised into a scene where she had served at a royal banquet – the King giving it large, Sally grovelling at his feet, calling him sir, calling him master, held by a leash, a chain around her neck like the dogs she had for friends. It turned into an orgy of food and sex, Sally riding a pole of Mastrovian meat. The king was enjoying what he had claimed as his own – some foreign girl’s body, and her total obedience.
Sally had awoken with sweat pouring from her brow, her heart racing, her whole body shaking, panting out her horror at this nightmare of her own creation. Then as she wiped her forehead dry, there was a shocking realisation – it wasn’t just her brow that needed mopping – her pussy did as well. The sheet was pushed back and there to her consternation was a drizzling bald snatch of Aussie yearning – a salivating cunt that was screeching in need. It’s a funny old thing the human psyche. Who knows what perversities lurk in its depths!
It was later in the morning when the ambassador visited Sally in her cell. The man looked haggard - even frailer than Sally remembered from the previous night.
“Well, at least he’s kept you safe,” the old man said as he sat down beside Sally on the cot that was her bed. “And he’s kept this to himself for the time being, which is a heck of a good result. If the story breaks, that’s it. Once the wheels are set in motion there’ll be no turning back.”
“He won’t do it,” said Sally hopefully. “It would make for such bad press. Surely the government won’t want the adverse publicity? They’ll tell him to back off and drop the case, won’t they?”
“Oh dear!” sighed the ambassador. “You really don’t understand how things work around here, do you sweetheart? The government! Don’t make me laugh. They don’t have the power to tell the chief what to do. He’s the man in charge. He controls the police, who control everything. The president is but a puppet, his government no more than administrators – it’s the chief who decides policy on the important issues. And he’ll decide what happens to you... So, I suggested to him last night that he might consider something less draconian than sending you to the state prison if you were to co-operate – did he propose anything to you when you had you
r little chat?”
“No!” replied Sally, electing to take the chief’s advice and say nothing about their conversation. She was still sure the man was bluffing, although she wasn’t prepared as yet to call it. “He just asked for the name of the guy involved. I gave him what he wanted.”
“Smart girl!” said the ambassador, sensing the evasion but letting it go. “And it helped. I understand an arrest was made almost immediately – the scoundrel was returning to the scene of his crime. You’ll be asked to formally identify him later today.”
That could be awkward, but Sally would cross that bridge when she came to it. In the meantime she needed to do some digging to see if she could unearth anything that might guide her in a course to follow.
“Fair enough!” Sally answered with an indifferent shrug that was as fake as her confidence at present. “If it’s the same guy who left me in the lurch then I’ll have no problem pointing the finger. He deserves what’s coming to him – but I don’t! So tell me – what alternatives do you see. Do you think I might get shipped back to Oz?”
“No chance!” laughed the ambassador, finding the notion ridiculous.
“Well what! What alternative is there to going to the state prison?” Sally asked, desperate for some enlightenment as to what ‘total obedience’ might involve. She had been questioning this all morning and couldn’t see how it would work – how could she become subservient to a high profiled man without international uproar – not that she felt inclined to do such a thing – or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.
“I’d thought that Karinov’s Keep might be a possibility,” the ambassador answered. “But then it would draw too much attention to the place if it was known you were there. And of course without a trial, what guarantee would he have that you’d stay there and not make a run for it... or have your dear mother come rescue you, having feasted on Mastrovian testicles for breakfast!”
“I bet he’d find a way,” muttered Sally.
“He normally does,” the ambassador replied.
“So what’s Karinov’s Keep anyway – some private prison?”
“Hardly!” laughed the ambassador in a mocking tone. “It’s the finest country estate in the land. The chief’s sanctuary which, according to rumour, also doubles up as a... Well, I suppose it’s best not to listen to rumours.”
“No! Tell me! It doubles up as a what?”
“Look, it’s not my place to judge – but the word is that a select group of convicted female felons get to spend their sentence there instead of the state prison – a sort of community service you might say, and the person they service is the chief of police when he happens to be in residence. Exactly how, I wouldn’t dare speculate – but needless to say they all happen to be rather attractive young women.”
“Lord!”
“Exactly! It’s a depraved country... Anyway, sweetheart – I’ll do my best for you. Just try not to upset Yuri in the meantime, and maybe something will turn up.”
“Yuri?”
“That would be Chief Karinov to you and me.”
Yuri Karinov – the chief of police. The man who had asked for Sally’s total obedience and who would start testing it very soon!
Chapter 8
The guards came for her shortly after lunch, two burly henchmen with simian faces. They unlocked the cell and dragged Sally out then bundled her down the corridor to the torture chamber. The squeaky door was opened and Sally pushed inside. The door was then closed behind her leaving Sally alone with two terrifyingly familiar men.
Dressed in a day uniform, plainer that his evening attire but still mightily impressive, Chief Karinov was inspecting some of the whips, examining them like a connoisseur. An arresting sight at the best of times, but with a whip in his hand, the chief was awesome. But it was Dimitri who managed to steal Sally’s attention, tied as he was to the whipping post, totally naked, totally stunning, his body a muscular work of art, chiselled like marble, equally hard. His ass in particular was a sculpted sight to behold: two perfect globes of solid glutes, and despite her woes, Sally felt strangely aroused as she absorbed the flawless glory of those spectacular buns.
Flawless! Unlike Dimitri’s back which was undeniably magnificent but marked with scars - scars from a whip!
“Not a view I would imagine you remember,” Chief Karinov casually declared, drawing Sally’s attention back to him. He selected a whip, whished out the lash with a resounding crack then laid it upon a bench. “But this is the man, yes?” he asked Sally.
“I think so,” she replied, looking to the lieutenant again.
“Show her your face, Dimitri!” the chief commanded.
Sally braced herself for some hideously bruised sight, but was mightily relieved when Dimitri turned his head to look over his shoulder, his handsomeness fully intact and unspoiled.
“Well?”
Sally dropped her head ashamed. Despite all the wrong Dimitri had done, it still irked to play the grass and condemn him to torture much worse than he’d dished out.
“Answer me girl!” snapped the chief. “Is this the man who brought you here last night, bound you in the pillory, thrashed you and fucked you then left you with his spunk dribbling out of your cunt?”
“Yes,” Sally mumbled. “Yes, that’s him.”
“Come here!” the chief beckoned as he walked towards the prisoner.
Sally tentatively approached, feeling very awkward. She was furious with Dimitri, the cause of all this trouble, but she still didn’t want to see the big brute humbled like this. She didn’t want any part in the inevitable punishment that was coming the man’s way.
“He’s a fine specimen – a credit to our gene pool,” the chief said with a laugh. “Really nice ass, wouldn’t you agree? Or don’t you appreciate a man’s rear? Are you only interested in our cocks?”
It was hideously embarrassing, the chief being so candid. But she felt compelled to answer. It wasn’t total obedience – she was convinced she would never offer that - but answering the questions of the chief of police seemed like a sensible thing for a girl in custody to do if she wanted to get off lightly.
“It’s stunning,” Sally said. “I much prefer cocks and I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I appreciate a good ass as well, and that’s a cracker.”
“Would you like to fuck it?” Yuri asked as he casually ran a hand over Dimitri’s buns, making them clench at the resented contact.
“No!” Sally instinctively answered. “Of course not! How could I anyway?”
The chief shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unaffected by the lewdness of the conversation and the homoerotic overtones of his play. “With a strap on dildo!” he said. “I have several down here. There’s one with a cock about the same size as Dimitri’s – that is the one I suggest you use.”
“No!” blurted Sally, totally shocked by the disgusting suggestion.
“Not even to have revenge for the abuse he put you through?” the chief asked in mock disbelief.
“No!” repeated Sally. The fucking she’d received was more than compensation for the suffering she’d endured. “I don’t want revenge – that’s for you to dish out. I just want to be released now that I’ve grassed him up.”
“It will take more than that,” the chief coldly stated. “You know what’s required.”
“No way!” snapped Sally, shaking in her defiance.
The chief gave a grunt as his only response. “He’s a bad man for doing what he did,” was the track he elected instead to go down. “He certainly deserves to be punished. If it were up to our Law Courts, they would imprison him along with you; and as the upholder of that Law I would have to concur... assuming the case ever reached them. But at heart I’m a man of tradition, and the old ways would have an eye for an eye. That would mean he has to be whipped – like he whipped you on your back, have his ass belted and then have it fucked, which is the closest we could get to him fucking your pussy. It would be totally humiliating, because there is nothing m
ore degrading to a Mastrovian man than to be buggered up the ass... None of our men would wish to do such a thing though, although there are plenty of foreign men who would leap at the chance. But we have to keep such things secret – between the few that know... So that means it either has to be you or me. Now you know my price – total obedience – and this is the punishment I decree for Dimitri: whipped, belted then buggered! I can do all three, and each would hurt him like hell – especially the last one, because I’m unusually well blessed in the cock department... But what about you, Miss Hudson? You would be doing him a favour – three in fact. Would you do that if I told you to – dish out the three punishments and save yourself from prison?”
“No! You can’t be serious?” asked Sally, stunned at the suggestion.
“Oh yes! I’m very serious!” the chief sternly clarified. “Take an eye for an eye in revenge – whip him and belt him then fuck him with a strap-on dildo! So I put it to you again... If that was my price for keeping you both out of prison, would you do it for me?”
