by Dan Bruce
Natalie found it difficult to accept that Vicky was guilty, but the lieutenant was very convincing - his hand so reassuring as it rested on her thigh. And it did seem strange that Sergio had planted the drugs – a fact the lieutenant was keen to emphasise.
“For what reason would he do this?” the handsome young officer had asked. “Hand over a fortune in narcotics to a woman he barely knew without any means to recover it at the other end. Sergio Markov hasn’t the resources to conspire in such an act. He has no influence beyond the hotel he manages. It was insane to suggest he was trafficking drugs. And now your sister is making wild accusations of mistreatment. She is playing a very dangerous game. It will not count in her favour when the case comes to court... whereas a confession would almost certainly save her life.”
He had let Natalie ponder this for a few moments then carried on with his carefully worded speech.
“Have we mistreated you?” he quizzed sounded offended by the suggestion. “A search was essential – you were found carrying drugs. Did the chief of police violate you in any way? No! I was there. I saw what he did. He treated you with the respect you deserved. It grieves him that you are here, in a prison cell - but sadly your sister has left him with no choice. Perhaps you might have a word with her tomorrow. Try to make her see sense.”
Then with a squeeze and pat at Natalie’s thigh, the lieutenant took his leave having given Natalie plenty to think about – as if she hadn’t already enough.
Natalie was fed reasonably well during the course of the day and allowed to go out into a courtyard for a walk. Then she curled up on the prison cell cot and cried herself to sleep. She was nineteen, but she felt like a little girl – scared and alone in a foreign land. She wished there was someone to cuddle up to – her mum or her dad – her sister Vicky – or perhaps the handsome young lieutenant who had stroked her thigh and made her pussy tingle despite her fears and woes.
Yes – it was the lieutenant who dominated Natalie’s thoughts as she finally drifted off to sleep – her head resting on an imaginary broad chest and her body cradled by strong imaginary arms.
‘If only, if only, if only...’
In the morning Natalie felt much more optimistic. There was hope – the embassy official was coming to see them - surely everything would then be sorted out.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon when she was eventually fetched from her cell and taken to a room. Vicky was already there, sitting alone at a table.
They ran to each other and hugged with all their might, relieved that if nothing else, the other was still alive. Natalie cried into Vicky’s shoulder. She felt Vicky patting her back, comforting her, though perhaps it should have been the other way round.
“Are you all right,” Natalie finally managed to ask.
Vicky tactfully declined to answer. She had very mixed feelings about what had happened – the behaviour of the policemen and her own reactions – her shocking degree of complicity towards the end.
They were still wrapped in each others arms when the door to the room opened and a flustered middle-aged man in a rather shabby suit walked in. He was clutching a tatty old briefcase nervously in his hand. This was their knight in shining armour – the representative of Her Majesty’s government, who had come to sort everything out.
“Miss Fullerton and Miss Fullerton, I believe. David Flashman, assistant to the ambassador.”
He walked over to the women and put out his hand. The sisters gripped each other tighter for a second then released their hold. Each limply shook David Flashman’s hand – it was cold and clammy, as unappealing as the rest of the man.
David Flashman registered their distaste with ease - it was a reaction he was used to when confronted with attractive young women. He hid his own feelings much better, a skill he had mastered as a youth and had served him well in the diplomatic service. He tried to put the women at ease.
“Yes, I know. Bloody silly name for a chap who looks like me, but what can one do. It’s my name and I have no intention of changing it. Now, shall we sit down? I think you had best tell me what this is all about.”
It was Vicky who did all the talking. Natalie had little to say other than confirm a few of the facts and state she had not been ill-treated – something she felt guilty of when put beside Vicky’s tale of abuse.
Vicky spilled it all out, or at least a version that suited her, from the planting of the drugs to the slaps across the cheeks and the gratuitous fingering of her sex (although she omitted the orgasm the chief had given her, which in her view was of no consequence at all). Then she recounted in graphic detail the horror of her oral violation – the device which had been used to keep her mouth open and the size of each cock which had fucked her throat. Again she did not think it necessary to add that she was freed from the device early on in the process and had thoroughly enjoyed the deep-throating each man had given her. She also omitted the second orgasm that Dimitri brought her to, feasting on her cunt with his devilish tongue whilst ploughing her mouth with his beautiful cock which was a perfect size for the job.
David Flashman raised an eyebrow on hearing all of this. Natalie looked at her sister stunned and hurt: it all sounded a little far fetched – surely her handsome young lieutenant would have had no part in that!
“Animals! Bloody animals!” screamed Vicky as she ended her tale of woe. “So what are you going to do about it? I demand those bastards be brought to trial.”
David Flashman clucked his teeth before delivering his answer. “That could be a little difficult, Miss Fullerton. It’s the chief of police who brings people to trial in this country, not the other way round. Obviously I will report your accusations to the ambassador who will raise the matter with the foreign secretary, but...”
“But what!” yelled Vicky.
“But you must appreciate, and I am making no judgement, this is the same story we get all the time from women caught smuggling drugs. The drugs are always planted and the nasty foreign men are always abusers who take advantage of their unwilling victims. I suppose it’s true in some instances, but...”
“BUT WHAT!!!” screeched Vicky, rising out of her chair, hysteria now setting in as she conveniently forgot about her own whorish part in the events of yesterday.
“...But the chief of police! Really, Miss Fullerton!” exclaimed David Flashman. “Chief Karinov is a well respected man, not just in Mordavia where he is revered for his fight against crime, but across the international stage. I’m afraid your accusations would have had a little more credibility if you had not chosen to include him in your lurid tale.”
“You bastard!”
“Calling me names will hardly help!” responded David Flashman with a surprising degree of authority. Enough to shut Vicky up and return her bottom to the chair. “Now you asked what will happen and I will tell you plainly... I will make my report, and include what you have told me. The wheels will then go into motion, but I fear they will not be well oiled by your accusation of violation in the most bizarre of forms. In the meantime, due process will take place here. You are both under arrest – you, Miss Fullerton, face the death penalty - the other Miss Fullerton could spend up to twelve years in jail. We will question this man, Sergio Markov, but I do not see there will be much to gain. He has no motive - he gave you no contact in Britain to pass the package on to. It was for you apparently – a very odd, but valuable gift. I suggest you take time to consider. I’m sure the Mordavian police are not really interested in you. They want the man behind the supply.”
“There is no man. It was Sergio.”
“Then you will be at the mercy of the Mordavian Court. We are powerless to intervene in the legal system of another country.”
“You will report this, though, won’t you?” pleaded Vicky. “People in Britain will believe me. My parents, my friends, my tutors – none of them will doubt I’m telling the truth. We must fight this!”
“I will submit my report, Miss Fullerton, and I will visit again in a few day
s time. Good day to you both.”
David Flashman was met a few minutes later by Dimitri Karinov who escorted him to his uncle’s office in the Police Headquarters which also acted as a holding prison.
“Mr. Flashman, a pleasure to meet you again...” said Yuri as he rose from his desk to shake David Flashman’s hand and slap him heartily on the back. “...And under such regretful circumstances. How did you find the two women?”
“As expected - they appear physically well. There was some bruising on the older one’s face which would be cause for concern if the press were to get hold of a snap, and some very disturbing accusations concerning an outrageous contraption and penises of extraordinary size. Naturally I will be submitting a report to the ambassador. He may wish to come and see them for himself... the girls that is, not the penises... as might a delegation from the United Kingdom. Brussels may even elect to get involved, especially in view of your application to join our illustrious European Union.”
“I fail to see why that would be necessary,” Yuri gruffly replied. “It is an open and shut case. She was carrying drugs – she admits this. Our laws are very simple where such a crime is concerned. She was responsible for her luggage – end of story. And as for these minor bruises which she obtained whilst resisting arrest – hardly a cause for international concern.”
“A report must be submitted, you know that Chief Karinov. I have my duty, as do you.”
“Of course, my dear friend, of course - I fully understand. Now, before you leave and compile this report, there is something I would like you to see. A new punishment we are experimenting with, in the never ending battle against crime.”
“Really. I’m not sure if I can spare the time... What sort of punishment?”
“The sort that prevents young women from ever offending again. There is a delectable young trollop who was caught begging from a tourist. I was just about to witness her flogging.”
“Oh! Well... I’m sure I could squeeze a few minutes. How old did you say the wench was?”
“How old would you like her to be, Mr. Flashman?”
“I always thought that eighteen was a perfect age for the correction of wayward girls.”
“Dimitri! You heard our guest - delectable and eighteen. We will be there in ten minutes. Make sure everything is in order for our honourable representative of Her Britannic Majesty’s government.
Twenty minutes later, David Flashman was sitting in an armless easy chair beside his good friend, Yuri Karinov. Between them was a table with two glasses filled with generous measures of cognac; a couple of Havana cigars lay smoking in an ashtray. In front of them stood a girl who looked a youthful eighteen, she was naked and undeniably delectable. Dark skinned like all her compatriots, she had shoulder length black hair and a pair of perky little breasts, her figure was trim, and her cunt was framed by a silky black bush. David wondered if she was still a virgin – not very likely was his conclusion if she was under Yuri’s care.
The girl was shivering - she had just been doused by a bucket of icy water. She stood shaking with cold and fear – her dark nipples looking very erect.
“Part of the treatment,” Yuri explained. “We think the cold heightens the senses, makes her all the more aware of her crime and her punishment.”
‘Makes her look vulnerable and very enticing,’ thought David, but he knew better than to say such things aloud in the presence of the chief of police.
“We are now going to test out which instrument is the most effective. The European Union is fanatical about standardisation, so I thought that we should have a standard for corporal punishment. It is an onerous task. Thankfully my nephew Dimitri has shown a special interest - his devotion to duty is to be commended.”
“Indeed!” replied David Flashman, tearing his eyes away from the shivering girl to glance at the subject of Yuri’s admiration. The young man was most certainly taking his duty very seriously. He had stripped down to the waist, revealing a remarkable physique of chiselled muscle which many of David’s colleagues in the British diplomatic service would have found even more appealing than he did the girl. He was arranging the equipment to be tested – an array of spanking devices which David found fascinating – it was going to be a very thorough test.
David took a sip of Cognac then placed his glass back on the table, his eyes returning to the shivering girl before him. Then his attention was taken when Yuri reached over and tapped his arm.
“We were planning to tie her over a gymnastic horse, but I was wondering if you might be so kind as to assist in our little experiment. Perhaps you would be good enough to have her over your knee and experience firsthand how she reacts.”
David Flashman spluttered and coughed up half of his drink. He wiped his chin with his handkerchief then looked over to Yuri whose face was a mask of professional sincerity.
“Well, you know that I am always happy to help in your noble fight against crime, Chief Karinov. So yes... if you think it would help.”
Yuri snapped his fingers and barked out a command. A moment later a couple of his goons took hold of the girl and forced her to lie over David’s knee - her naked cunt positioned directly over David’s rampant erection, which was throbbing inside his shabby trousers. They attached a rope around her wrists, binding her tightly; then fed this under David Flashman’s chair to link to her ankles which were tethered as well. She would have no option but to lie and take her punishment and David would feel every blow, deliciously transferred from body to body - her tortured pain converted into his sensuous bliss.
“Now, please proceed, Dimitri. Punish the stupid girl. And for the benefit of our guest, and the education of this wretch, please tell us about each implement you use. And Mr. Flashman, please feel free to take part. Test out the heat of the wench’s buttocks – and give her a slap if you think it might assist in teaching her the errors of her ways.”
David Flashman was very happy to help out and needed no further invitation. He stroked the girl’s buttocks which were covered in goose pimples. She was still shivering from the icy water. It was a state that was about to change!
“I am starting with a ping-pong paddle, Mr. Flashman,” announced Dimitri as he picked up his first instrument of correction and waved in it the air. “It is made out of leather and named as such because it is shaped a bit like a table tennis bat. The large surface area is rather unusual, spreading the pain of the blow, but dispersing and diluting the effect as well.”
With that Dimitri delivered two strokes in quick succession, one to each of the girl’s lovely light brown ass cheeks. She let out a yelp with each delivered blow, raising her groin from David’s lap then plunging down on him again, grinding into his cock. Dimitri then repeated the process two more times, swatting the girl’s ass cheeks first left then right, turning them a glowing reddish-brown.
Six strokes in total, David Flashman was impressed – ‘six of the best’ - very English public school. Dimitri Karinov would go far with such style, and even further with such an uncle!
Dimitri backed off to select his next tool, and David Flashman played his part in the test by stroking the saucy young minx’s ass, measuring the heat that he found. Then Dimitri was back, brandishing yet another weapon.
“This is a college paddle, Mr. Flashman. As you can see, it is made from wood rather than leather. It’s smooth and doesn’t flex like the leather paddle. I am assured that the name comes from America - that once detested enemy of our people, who are now adored almost as much as the British.”
David Flashman gave a nod at the compliment and allowed the young man to continue with his lecture which David was finding most educational.
“Apparently this type of paddle was used on the college cheerleaders to discipline them if they couldn’t swing their pompoms properly. Those Americans are not so different from we East Europeans – we used similar techniques to train our female gymnasts. I was heartbroken when the method was abolished.”
Then Dimitri brought the padd
le crashing down on the girl’s ass, a single blow covering both buttocks. David felt it himself, she was crushed into his lap and she screamed out in utter agony. David looked down at her ass - bruising was appearing, disguised by her dusky coloured skin, but a thick blue welt was clearly forming.
Dimitri added another stroke in the same place then hit her again on the top of her legs before returning to her ass for a final blow. The girl screamed throughout her torture and bounced up and down on David’s lap in a futile attempt to escape.
“I think that was definitely the more telling instrument of correction,” announced David Flashman as he ran his hand over the girl’s aching buttocks. They were now scalding hot and a mass of bruises - and the girl was sobbing, no doubt ruing the day she was born.
Next came a traditional cane, which Dimitri gleefully explained had been sent to him from Eton, and had been used on the asses of English nobility. He yielded it with much gusto, any headmaster would have been proud of the strokes. It left the girl with six nasty looking welts.
David Flashman looked at the agonised flesh of the girl who now lay whimpering and exhausted on his lap. A grin spread across his face then he reached out for his Cognac and poured the neat spirit over her flesh. The girl screamed again and clenched her buttocks as the fiery liquid burned at her wounds. She writhed around on top of David’s lap, massaging his aching cock with her groin.
“Nice touch!” yelled Yuri, guffawing with laughter. “If the diplomatic service ever tires of you, then come and see me, Mr. Flashman – I would happily give you a job... Dimitri, what else do we have? I think one more for today - we must not let this little project get in the way of important matters of crime prevention. There is another pressing subject I must attend to soon.”
“There are still many instruments to test out, sir. What might interest you most?”
“I suggest something unusual for our honoured guest, and most obliging assistant in this worthy trial.”
