The security guards sat in their patrol van. Both munched their way through Big Mac burger suppers and quietly watched the most action they had encountered all evening. Two revellers helped a third man from a Mercedes stretch-limo, he apparently somewhat the worse from the influence of too much alcohol, was hustled across to the apartment-block entrance doors.
‘Somebody’s had themselves a skinful already, by looks of it,’ one guard said.
‘Lucky bastard. And look at the motor – that lot’s fuckin’ rollin’ in it, I bet.’
‘One of ’em’s rollin’, that’s for sure. Let’s go and see if they wanna hand. Might be a freebee bevvy in it for us, eh?’
The two guards called out and waved as they approached the other three men. The older guard stopped in his tracks and grabbed the other one’s arm. ‘The drunk guy has only got a dressing gown on. It don’t exactly look like he’s in the right gear for a good night out on the town – something a bit funny going on here, I think, Sid.’
‘Too late now, anyway, they seen us.’
‘Never mind, let’s just get our arses out of here. We’ll report it on the van radio.’
They turned and started to run back across the green to their van.
Vanko levelled his A-91. ‘They are going to make a run for it, Petruso. I better take them out?’
Petruso nodded assent. He rammed a knifepoint hard into the muscle beneath Philip’s ribs as a reminder to keep quiet.
With their shapes silhouetted in good street lighting, Vanko had no difficulty bringing down both men before they could make it back to their van. The shots from the silenced rifle made no significant noise. He signalled to two more of Petruso’s soldiers to get out of the limo. They ran to the bodies and checked them for life signs. With a grave nod of affirmation to Vanko, they quickly bundled the dead men into the back of the security van.
‘Tell them to get rid of the van, put it somewhere quiet and set fire to it,’ Petruso said. ‘Then come and wait outside here.’ He pushed the intercom button to activate Carla’s door-phone and warned Philip to announce himself carefully.
‘Come up and enjoy,’ Carla said, huskily. ‘Strawberry nipple with juicy dips up here, and afterwards an extra special treat for my cocky little Cyclops.’
‘She is certainly hot with the dirty talk, the bitch, but she has got a good voice for our telephone sex lines, Vlad’s little sister is one hot tomato, yeah?’ Petruso said to Vanko as he pushed Philip across the foyer towards the lift. ‘Maybe we can give her a job with Pussy Chats after we have a taste of this juicy strawberry nipple dip she has got lined up for us. Then perhaps some of the special treat she mentioned is more appetising than strawberry nipple. I really look forward to finding out.’
An apartment door opposite them opened momentarily to the limit of its safety chain, but was hurriedly slammed shut and bolted when the occupant saw the strange threesome waiting at the lift.
Vanko booted Carla’s apartment door open as soon as the electric catch released and roared as he charged in through the small lobby, brandishing the A-91. Petruso followed closely, flinging Philip inside and onto the lush-carpeted floor.
Carla tried to force a scream. Her vocal chords were paralysed with fright. Beneath a see-through negligee she was naked, but for a dildo harness strapped around her abdomen.
Petruso grabbed her and clasped a hand roughly over her mouth and snatched at her crotch with the other. Her struggles were of no avail as he surveyed their surroundings while his fingers roughly invaded the moist folds of her labia.
They were in a spacious, open-plan lounge come dining-room. A mezzanine bedroom, accessed by a spiral staircase, overlooked the main living space. The apartment was filled with the heavy, intoxicating aroma of incense and the very recent effusion of female sexual body fluids.
Vanko bounded up the stairway.
‘No one is up here,’ he shouted in English. ‘Where is blonde girl?’
‘She was up there – she – she was on the bed,’ Carla stuttered.
The girl’s lascivious facade had given way to a more subservient survival mode.
Petruso threw her to the floor and stood over her, waving a model PSS pistol to cover both his captives.
Carla’s eyes flitted between the gun barrel and the vacillating, fanciful gaze of the Ukrainian. With survival still foremost in her mind, she allowed one leg to slip to the floor, exposing to the Ukrainian’s vision a full view of the divergent curves of her clearly visible pussy.
The don’s eyes ogled the most intimate folds of her body. The feast of the unashamed allure of her unblemished flesh and tiny diamond of flaming pubic hair entranced his gaze. His eyes kissed, caressed every flawlessly formed inch of her.
‘Fuck…’ Then there was the sound of glass breaking as Vanko kicked at the door to the en suite adjoining the mezzanine bedroom.
‘Blonde must have run for it out of the window, Petruso. Can’t see any sign of her. We had better get out of this place pretty quick.’ In his haste he almost fell back down the narrow spiral stairway.
‘Up – out – now!’ Petruso waved the pistol and rammed his foot underneath Philip. He lunged to emphasize the order. ‘We got pair of aces, now, Vanko, so I think we make way to find out very soon where is little Tatyana. Maybe we make blockbuster movie for Field family with famous seks mashyna Vlad Field make fuck to arse of beautiful young sister.’
Frankie heard every word as she crouched behind the parapet of the adjoining apartment’s balcony. She pulled Carla’s bathrobe tighter around her. Her brain thumped fit to burst her skull. She felt physically drained. The effects of the concoction of vigorelle and yohimbe stimulants were almost worn off, as had the confused maelstrom of emotions the drugs had fuelled. Her instinct to flee was strong even before Petruso’s dramatic entrance. She had no intention of being served up as “strawberry nipple” to Philip, no matter how hard and fanciable his ten inches of cock might be to anybody else. She glanced at the grotesque Rampant Rabbit dildo lying on the sodden sheets of the huge double bed and shuddered in disbelief. She momentarily relived the contrast of passions during which Carla, with fingers and tongue, petted and probed so tenderly at her delighted labia. And how, without warning, Carla’s tongue was no more delicious torment, and “Thumper”, the fearsome great brute of a vibrator, was plunged into the depths of her body, unleashing intermittent spasms of ferocious orgasm and ecstatic agony; her lips and neck bathed in the warmth, and nostrils filled with the scent, of Carla’s profuse release.
The warm summer air both amplified and distorted the commotion as the bizarre party made their hasty getaway in the limo, but Frankie was unable to get the registration number. At least the immediate danger had passed with the departure of the Ukrainians. She decided it was safe to retrace her steps back along the ledge and get into Carla’s flat, where she could dress, phone Tommy Cowper and alert him to the seriousness of this new situation.
Carla’s phone was ringing as Frankie clambered back in via the en suite window. It stopped ringing before she reached it and the answer-phone bleeped into action.
‘Dad here, baby. Maggi said you left to go there, to your apartment, so where the hell are you? Can’t say much, but real bad things are going off with the Knishovos. You’ve got to get home.’
She resisted the temptation to pick the receiver up. A check on the call-register display confirmed the caller’s number as undisclosed, but there was no doubt in her mind who the caller was. She prised the back off the answer machine and extracted the memory card.
The DI did not get time to put back on any more than her micro skirt and flimsy blouse when the din of police sirens filled the apartment block forecourt and parking area. Three unmarked SOCA cars and a Tactical Assault Unit van rapidly emptied of their occupants, and the suitably protected armed officers among them charged into the building in assault formation. A Detective Chief Superintendent, with a deliberately garbled surname, announced his team’s presence through a bullhorn, stating a clearly defined intention to deal severely with any resistance.
Frankie grabbed a light topcoat of Carla’s and after a quick reconnaissance, decided there was urgent need to make a hasty exit via the en suite window again. She was certain Tommy Cowper would agree their keeping her under cover role a secret was the best thing to do for the time being.
*
‘That mobile signal come from the pub just off the Broadway, the one the Knishovos bought.’ Sheff grabbed a bottle of pils lager from the bar at the side of the room as he went to sit down. ‘I took the liberty of sendin’ a couple of handy lads to eyeball the place, guv.’
Freddy Field ran his fingers through his mop of greying hair. If what Sheff had just told him was correct, things were bad, oh yes. But Freddy Field did not rule the roost for so long because he accepted things were ever as bad as first thought.
The pub in question, “The Crimea”, was a notorious gaming den and whorehouse frequented by the more unsavoury element among the local Ukrainian immigrants. It was a name chosen by its owner, Petruso Knishovo, in full awareness of the play on words, as a gesture of defiance to the police authorities and in particular the British establishment. It was less than a mile from where the Field firm soldiers were now gathered, in the cards room at the rear of the Honeycome club.
Trigg was excited. ‘Seems a bit of a cheeky piss take, an’ downright bloody stupid, if they got Phil there, boss. All we’d have to do is march in mob-handed an’ turn the soddin’ lot of ’em over. It’d be sorted out in an hour.’
‘Not so easy, Trigg,’ Billy said. ‘If we tried to get within a hundred yards of the place now it’d be World War Three with fuckin’ bells on. No, we’ve got to be a move ahead of those dirty bastards’ little game. Get them to come to us – that’s the answer.’ The Mauser was in his hand, his thumb running up and down the barrel. It sounded easy when he said it, but how could he get Petruso and his captains out into the open, make his move and still guarantee Phil’s safety?
‘We haven’t heard from your sister. I don’t like it. She don’t ignore me like this, not all afternoon, evenin’. I know somethin’s wrong.’ Freddy was becoming increasingly agitated. His eye-patch was subjected to some very anxious fiddling. He didn’t like posing himself questions whose answers couldn’t be readily pummelled out of somebody, especially when it concerned the safety of any of his family.
‘We know where the apartment is, boss, don’t we? Me, or even one of the guys in the area can take a looksee.’ Chute had a bunch of car keys in his hand, ready to go.
Freddy and his two sons looked annoyed and then sheepish.
‘She’s not been there long. A phone number is all we got. Carla was adamant she should have privacy, an’ we were stupid enough to go along with it to humour her.’ Terry said. ‘An’ it’ll take some hours to winkle out the address with only a number to go on. There’s probably no way we can sort it tonight, either.’
‘Some heavy shit coming in on the police band, boss.’ Sheff turned the volume up on the short-wave receiver.
“… and the apartment off Silvertown Way is right now being sealed and handed over to Crime Scene…”
‘Hang on a minute, lads; we know Carla’s phone number is a Silvertown code. I reckon it’s high time for Terry to give our eyes’n’ears at Plaistow control room a chance to earn his bread, find out just what the fuck is going down,’ Billy said.
He referred to the civilian on the firm’s payroll who worked in liaison with the divisional HQ.
‘The dozy git’s obviously not kept us up to speed on this one; lazy sod better put us in the picture or he’ll get my toe up his arse!’ Billy thumped the table.
Trigg was straining at the bit for action. ‘Bollocks to all that shit, Billy boy! Let’s just get on over to the Crimea an’ see if we can’t give them the slappin’ they got comin’ to them an’ then help ourselves to a bit of afters.’
‘We’ll listen to Billy an’ see what Terry comes up with for us first, my old mucker,’ Freddy said.
Terry came back in from the office. He’d managed to have a web chat with the firm’s Police Control Centre mole. ‘It is Carla’s pad. What I can gather, it’s a right balls up all round. Knishovo was there, with Phil, who it seems like was in a pretty poor way. They fucked off sharpish again, with Carla, good as naked, in tow as well. Apparently they also must’ve took some pair of dumb bastards on a routine security patrol an’ dumped them round the corner, dowsed an’ torched the soft gits in their van. That’s all he knows, apart from the apartment was empty when Special Tactics barged in.’ Terry stopped his report and looked at his brother. ‘Billy, you realise you got to tell Sally an’ the kids to get over to Mum at the Manor. No arguments, there’s no time to waste. I’ve told my Jacqui, she’s already on her way.’
‘No probs there, bro.’ Billy already had his mobile to his ear.
‘I don’t want none of our lads in their pit, or shaggin’ in anybody else’s, tonight,’ Freddy said. ‘An’ tell ’em to piss off if any of them come the old fanny about having to look after their betting or massage shops in the morning. I want them all wide awake – mobiles switched on. We got to teach them mother-fuckin’ Knishovos a bit of a lesson – now.’ Freddy got up from his seat. His anger was torn between two focal points. God how he would have liked to get his hands on his shag-happy son, find out if he was responsible for starting all this. But much more he wanted to get his hands on them who had dared to take it on themselves to snatch his kids, dared to threaten the safety of anyone in his family.
Billy Switched off his phone and pondered on a sudden thought. He held up his hand. ‘Hold on, lads. Didn’t Maggi say Sis was with someone when she left for the apartment? We got to know a bit more about that. Sounds like the raid on Carla’s could’ve been set up from the start by this bloke.’
‘Actually, Billy,’ Trigg lowered his voice and hoped Freddy was as preoccupied as he looked. ‘It was a real tasty, blonde salt she was with, Billy. Maggi never seen her in the club before.’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Sheff declared, ‘An’ why would the Knishovos lug Phil around with them if they were after Carla? They must’ve set her up some’ow using him. That’s gotta be it.’
Billy was even more baffled after those additions to the riddle. ‘Well, Carla was the only girl reported leaving the apartment an’ it was empty when the Old Bill charged in. So where the hell did the other bird go? How come she got away? An’ not least of all, who was she?’ He knew the balloon had gone up for certain; but nothing could be achieved until they got out there and found answers to the questions.
Freddy took the reins. ‘If any of you’s’re not tooled-up, see to it, now. Billy, just go see what else Maggi can tell us about this young lady what your sister Carla was spendin’ the evenin’ with. Then I think we oughta go an’ start to rewrite history. Them fuckin’ Knishovos soon gonna find out the Crimean War ain’t over yet!’
*
Frankie jumped as the clock on the wall of the Cowper’s lounge whirred and began to strike midnight. She struggled to cover her bare legs as much as the short skirt would permit and hoped desperately she did not look as dirty, grimy and violated as she felt. She did not get the time to replace her bra, stockings or thong when she evacuated Carla’s apartment. Her recollection of the lessons learned from Carla’s fingers, mouth and her monster of a battery-operated dildo, Thumper, were still vivid, and would remain indelible. She might never want nor be able to narrate any account of her tempestuous initiation into the agony and ecstasy of lesbian lust, a la Carla Field tempo, but she realised, reluctantly, she had a newborn addiction and it would never allow her most intimate, pleasurable emotions to forget it.
Tommy Cowper waited patiently for his DI to regain her composure and expand on what had so far been a muddled account of the evening’s dramatic events, given him on the drive back to his house from Silvertown. Former images of career woman DI Francesca Field were recollections of a bespectacled, fully paid-up feminist and power dresser to boot. Now he was making a determined struggle to keep his mind on the business in hand and his eyes off previously unseen, mind-blowing delights of his DI’s body. Such close proximity to this sparsely covered package of young, desirable female flesh was the unsettling stuff of a red-blooded, middle-aged man’s wet dream. An additional distraction was the girl’s strong scent of recent sexual arousal. It tantalised his senses, and had from the moment she had jumped into his car. He was a healthy, relatively virile fifty-something. Ten years of his wife’s constant menopausal moods and sexual rejection were pent up in him. For the first time in as many years, he felt his libido pumping an almost forgotten demand frantically into the base of his loins. The crotch of his trousers suddenly filled with flesh which throbbed, longed for liberation and satisfaction.
Frankie’s emotions were confused. She felt battered, soiled and drained. The earlier, exaggerated sexual euphoria had impaired her memories of normal, coital delight. And, now, here was her boss, a handsome man whose main handicaps were his gentility and comical handle, looking at her as though ready to eat out of her hand. Well, in truth, he looked ready to eat any part of her, with eyes filled with promise of more loving tenderness than the bitch Carla had shown. Frankie knew the light coat she had thrown on was open. Her uncovered breasts were plainly visible through the gossamer veil of the blouse. She knew if she relaxed her legs and parted her thighs the merest inch more, his frequent, involuntary, prying glances would be rewarded with the desired view of the pussy his eyes sought. She also knew if she were to stand up and close the coat, the action would signal her recognition of this lovely man’s sudden fantasy and be a pointed rejection of it. The idea of submitting to this familiar, big, cuddly bear of a man and the excited male flesh so obvious in his trousers might perhaps sooth the mental ravages of Carla’s plastic monstrosity. Her desire to handle a hot, hard cock, that hot, hard cock, was overpowering.
Tommy took a sharp intake of breath in startled disbelief as Frankie smiled, stood up and slipped the coat off. A pure, base instinct compelled him to part his knees as she knelt before him. He could hardly take a breath, his every heartbeat pounded in his ears. His wife was tucked-up in bed above them, but, for that moment in time, she could be a million miles away on another planet, or he could be – was. Please, God, tell me this is happening to me, was all he could bring himself to think. Right now he would die before he let anything taint the promise of the indescribable dream kneeled before him, opening the frothy garment that never was meant to hide the bewitching delights of her breasts from excited eyes.
Frankie pulled the transparent, flimsy blouse apart and thrust those breasts to him invitingly. She took hold and guided Tommy’s eager hands to cup them.
Tommy could not suppress a moan as her nipples grew and hardened as his fingers fondled hungrily. He moaned again as Frankie wrestled feverishly with the zip-front of his trousers. He was determined not to take his fingers from her warm, firm flesh, for fear the dream disintegrated.
Frankie fumbled. She suddenly felt her fingers were all thumbs as they grasped the enthralling shaft of hot, hard flesh inside Tommy’s trousers. There was a lot more man to her boss than she would ever have imagined.
Tommy was in the most pleasing way a very proud man again. The ferocious rigidity and bulk of his gleaming hard-on thrilled him immensely, but he was terrified that his sex starved loins were about to lose patience and encourage his testes to explode prematurely.
The shrill tone of the Det Supt’s mobile interrupted, shattered the tempest of passion sweeping their emotions into such turbulent, uncharted waters.
‘Leave it,’ she gasped, trying to fill her mouth with the impressive, near orgasmic piece of throbbing flesh while pulling him to the carpet. ‘Switch the fucking thing off, get down on it. I want you to go down on me and kiss these bruises better. Don’t be scared, Tommy – there - just let it all come.’ His name slipped off her lips as he bathed her neck in his cum.
Tommy struggled valiantly to stifle his groans in orgasm. ‘But Stella probably heard the phone, and…’ he said weakly, his eyes directed despairingly at the ceiling.
Frankie pulled away, wiped her throat with the handkerchief Tommy handed her and adjusted such clothing as she could.
With an awkward cough and hunch of his shoulders, he regained some composure and listened, quietly and reservedly, to what quite audibly was a roasting from the caller. With scarcely any reply except a short grunt, he folded the phone and sighed. ‘C’mon, girl, all hell’s broke loose down at the Yard with the National Crime Squad and SOCA at loggerheads over these bloody Ukrainian’s shenanigans. They have information that you – well, another woman is all they know, was there and they’ve got her in their sights as an accessory in some way. We know it’s just a load of flaming bullshit to keep Whitehall happy. But we better get over there and nip it in the bud. And there are one or two things I want to iron out with that lot anyway. Sooner it’s done, the better, then we can get to grips with Freddy Field. The gloves are well and truly off, it’s bare knuckles, now girl.’
‘Look after this, then, boss.’ Frankie was back in subordinate mode again. She had fastened the coat up again, in doing so remembering Carla’s answer-machine card in the pocket. ‘It’s not earth shattering stuff, but Freddy Field is virtually confirming the start of all out gang war on it.’ She was calm. ‘I can’t go in like this – I have to shower and get some clothes on, boss. Quarter of an hour at my place – on the way?’ She would have preferred some hours of solitude; to lie in a perfumed bath and soak the evening, the bruises and Carla’s prurient influence from her body and mind. It was a simple luxury, but was obviously not going to be possible.
Cowering at the top of the stairs, Stella Cowper watched with tears welling in her eyes as her husband and the brassy, half-dressed and infuriatingly sexy young woman crept furtively down the hallway and out of the front door.
She had recognised his stifled moans, albeit from times long since passed.
Back in the marital bedroom, still sobbing, she rummaged impatiently in the bottom of her wardrobe, and then threw herself down on the bed and screwed the top from a bottle of vodka. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, long and pained. The picture of the girl’s matchless female armoury increased her sense of inadequacy and exacerbated the newfound fear her marriage was flawed and destined for an untimely end.
It is the policemen’s wives that have to endure the interminable, lonely nights, she thought. Maybe the shameless hussy is what Tommy has in mind when he says he is always aiming for more satisfactory statistics.
*
Philip looked around him, desperately trying to orientate to this new surrounding. He glanced at his sister, her arms and legs spread and manacled to the wall opposite him. Only the thong denied total exposure of his bovine genitals.
Carla was still naked except for the slim harness she used earlier to support whichever one she had deemed applicable in her large and varied selection of lesbian sex aids. A strip of duct tape sealed her mouth in the same way as was Philip’s.
He had lost all track of time, had no clue as to his whereabouts. His grip on a logical sense of purpose and reality was floundering. His and Carla’s fate was of less importance to his twisted mind than his vision of the incredible snuff scene to be captured were a camera positioned in the centre of the room and panned from one helpless captive to the other. A part of him cursed his soul for generating the thought, cursed his wantonness for being in a state of semi-arousal at the sight of his sister’s vulva, which was in clear view to all eyes in the helpless and degrading position she was held. Now, with their lives probably at their greatest risk, his mind drifted back to the picture of that young girl on the table. He smiled a mirthless, pitiful smile at the incredible, grim irony of his situation.
It could easily have been mistaken for a whimper
The atmosphere was uncomfortably warm and oppressively humid in the cellar. The prisoners’ bare feet squelched in puddles of sweat that ran from every pore of their glistening bodies. A mafiya soldier sat by the door of the room. He could not tear his eyes from Carla, alternating his gaze between her crotch and firm, pubescent-like breasts. He jumped up as the door opened.
Vanko came in, his A-91under a crooked arm, followed by another two soldiers. He stared long and hard, eyes filled with hostility, at each prisoner. He produced a hypodermic syringe from his pocket. Resting the gun on the floor, he opened a switchblade and approached Carla. The knife flashed, the blade slashed through the harness around her loin. The other mafiya soldiers made noises of approval as the beautiful captive, now completely naked, writhed and squealed, every part of her open to every lecherous gaze or design.
Vanko went to Philip, retrieving his gun on the way. He ripped the tape brutally from the porn king’s mouth with no preamble. ‘Is not good for sister if you don’t tell me where is my little Tatyana, Mr Vlad.’ He rapped his gun barrel hard on Philip’s semi-erect penis. ‘You hurry up an’ remember, or we see what kind of stallion you are with fuck of own sister.’
Until that moment, Carla managed to temper the horror and uncertainty of their predicament by feeding her own precious fantasy of seducing her Phil. These animals would not get away with this outrageous shit for long; Daddy would come charging in like the legendary knight on a white horse. Heads would roll and arses would be kicked, and that would be the end of these pricks and this silly misunderstanding. Philip had seen everything she could give him. She was confident he would no longer rebuff her invitation to dip Cyclops into the trough of wonderful magic in her body.
But now, Carla was suddenly as white as her tan would allow, her eyes were wide like those of a terrified doe. She needed to scream, but couldn’t. She felt sick at the cruel lust in the eyes relentlessly tearing into her private regions.
Philip, on the other hand, had not been at any time so optimistic about the Old Man coming to the rescue as she.
He knew there was nothing now he could say that might get him, get them, out of this nightmare. What remained of this Tatyana bitch after harvesting was surely dog’s meat now; there was no bringing her back. And she was the only key to the problem and their salvation. If the Old Man was on the case, he’d better get a fucking move on, because it was beginning to look seriously like a feet-first exit on this one.
He tried to stall. ‘You ought to know I won’t be able to raise it to screw my own sister, an’ I will never want to, you bastard. I’m not that much of a Vlad, stud, stallion or whatever the silly bastards who get it on watchin’ my shit call me.’
Vanko produced the switchblade again and sliced the strap of Philip’s thong.
The three other soldiers gasped as a full view of Philip’s splendid genitals were exposed.
Vanko slipped the blade under Philip’s penis and stared up into his eyes. ‘How they say here, “Use it or lose it”? Is good for you to use it on sister’s pussy, Mr Vlad, or you find you lose it!’ He laughed cruelly and removed the blade. ‘You don’t want screw sister, is okay for Vanko, I will enjoy fuck her lovely arse an’ you can watch.’ He pointed to his comrades, ‘Then they pump cum into every hole she got for few hours.’ He looked across at Carla, ‘And when finish I give you, lovely, pretty pussy, last pleasure of life with this little vibrator.’ He laughed cruelly and waved the A-91. He looked at Philip. ‘Yeah, I know you have fuck with my Tatyana, Mr Vlad, so I think is good I fuck your sister if you don’t want to.’ He looked at Carla, ‘You want some real good arse fuck to remember before you die, coz you can have some? Pretty pussy not so tight as arse for Vanko. Vanko don’t make no film, but got plenty more cock than Vlad – too much I think for your arse.’
While he taunted Carla, he said something in his native tongue to the other two men. They each went to one of her ankles, prepared to remove the hobbles.
Vanko brandished the hypodermic syringe. ‘Don’t worry about hard-on, is no problem. I don’t think Mr Vlad is never so big as ever in maybe less than one minute.’ His thumb squeezed to prime the needle. ‘Ukraine stallion serve ten mares with this. Is bit strong dose, maybe, but how wonderful for Mr Vlad to fuck himself to death, eh? Is best end for famous English seks mashyna raping, murdering bastard, eh?’ He didn’t wait for an answer.
The soldiers suspended Carla in a profane and tortuous position, with her wrists were still manacled to the wall. They bound her legs at the knees and spread them to a maximum, hung on ropes that were fastened to ceiling beams.
Vanko prodded the A-91 in Philip’s back and shepherded him towards his sister.
Carla had resigned to her fate. She was a Field, and if nothing else, a virago. Her fear was dulled, nullified by this unscheduled, perverse turn in events which would satisfy her years of dissolute ambition. If fulfilling her long-time dream to have what she had always fantasised as the superlative shag meant it had to be her last one, she was fucking well going to make the most of it. She would enjoy every centimetre of him, every second of him to the best extent the unwelcome spectators and shit circumstances would allow. If she had to co-star with Phil in their own real time snuff movie, then she’d play out the part like a trooper, no holds barred. The pain in her tortured limbs quickly anaesthetized as she anticipated her body swallowing up her beloved Cyclops, now nearing her, his head glistening with the most rampant hard-on she had ever seen. And this time it was no stolen glimpse of some young girl’s ecstasy, some cheap whore’s moment of glory. Her hips were already gyrating, as she flexed her vaginal muscles and thrust the parted lips of her distended vulva towards him.
The tears of angst in Philips eyes still did not blind him to the target for his agonising erection. But as he was forced towards her he experienced an awful awakening. It was evident, even without stimulus of drugs, his young sister was ready for him, her desire spreading, moistening her vulva in a pout expectant of penetration. It was so evident now to him; all the smut, the innuendo, all those bouts of discomforting behaviour had nothing to do with drugs. She had obviously always been more obsessed, absorbed with sexual gratification than he. She truly had lusted for him. Heaven forgive him for not recognising her sickness, for not taking the time to try and ease the torture of her wasted, incestuous aspiration.
But the gun in his back and the bittersweet pain of an all-time unrivalled hard-on confirmed the time for principled philosophising was long gone. All said and done, Sis was just another honeypot, and she was in position and gagging for it. There was no denying she had about the most luscious mound of a pussy he ever set eyes on. There was no point in hesitating. After all, he’d dedicated his post-pubescent life to the indulgence of his own obsession to dip the donkey when he brays, in whoever, wherever, encouraged by the schoolboy maxim: “Never walk by a hole made for the one-eyed mole”.
Vanko nodded to one of his soldiers, who focused a camera-phone. He grabbed the shank of Philip’s penis, lodged its helmet between Carla’s welcoming labia and gave his rump a sharp, vigorous shove with his foot. A gesture to the other man, and the tape was ripped from the girl’s mouth.
Carla’s scream was one mixed with surprise and no small degree of pain. But all other emotions were immediately obliterated by delight as her body initially recoiled at the impact and then enveloped every millimetre it could of Philip’s iron-hard penis. At last she was filled with the flesh for which she’d hungered so long.
Vanko’s gun pressed hard into the back of Philip’s neck.
He was forced down, down, till his mouth was on one of Carla’s breasts. Involuntarily his lips closed on one of her nipples. Crazed with a sudden, violent orgasm, he could not stop his tongue and lips tearing at the swelled button crowning the firm mound of his sister’s flesh.
The siblings knew no more of orgasm, or consciousness even, from that moment. They were not given opportunity to decide whether they would take boundless joy or bitter shame from their enforced union. A bullet from Vanko’s gun smashed through Philip’s head and then lodged in Carla’s chest.