The Files of Art. Inc.: Anna Romanova and the Cross of Romanov Chapter 21 (13.09.2023) (M+F/FF)

[Caesar73]

The parallels between the Reichenbachs and the Oblomovs are again visible, with the children making up for the mistakes of their elder relatives. Any chance we will see more of Ekaterina?

This parallel was not obvious to me when I wrote this story. But you are right on all accounts. Ekaterina was an innocent bystander from the start and subjecting her to any hideous torture did not feel right. Ragna had feelings for her and to fulfill her mission. Not an easy task. I guess she did the right thing. And yes, I can confirm you will see Ekaterina again - in the new chapters of the Hunt for the lost scrolls we will learn more ....

[GreyLord]

I second [mention]Beaumains[/mention]' question for I would certainly like to read more about Ekaterina. You have performed a beautiful feat bringing the parts of this story together. Except, of course, for the one dangling loose end. And somehow, I think that Chris is focusing on that.

[mrjones2009]

A cryptic clue at the end....are we in for more of this intriguing tale. I for one hope so.

Really like to see what (if anything) happens with Ragna and Ekaterina.

[LunaDog]

Is this the end, or not. How you tease us Caeser, keeping us in suspense.

Mind you, surely if you're not quick here, hyperthermia might well finish a certain person off.

[Caesar73]

The parallels between the Reichenbachs and the Oblomovs are again visible, with the children making up for the mistakes of their elder relatives. Any chance we will see more of Ekaterina?

Currently I am rewriting and expanding the Epilogue You and [mention]GreyLord[/mention] inspired me to some additions - so it may very well be that the second Part of the Epilogue may follow a little later than planed.

[LunaDog]

Sir, i for one am happy to wait if it will be some time before you finish this story. Because i KNOW it'll be WORTH waiting for!

[Caesar73]

[mention]GreyLord[/mention] [mention]Bandit666[/mention] [mention]banshee[/mention] [mention]Beaumains[/mention] [mention]Bigballgag1[/mention] [mention]Trammel[/mention] [mention]wolfman[/mention] [mention]mrjones2009[/mention] [mention]slackywacky[/mention] [mention]Nainur[/mention] [mention]Shotrow[/mention] [mention]TightsBound[/mention] [mention]Pantyhose971[/mention] [mention]TayDay95[/mention] [mention]NotSeen[/mention] [mention]Fandango[/mention] [mention]LunaDog[/mention] [mention]Argentum[/mention]

Sir, i for one am happy to wait if it will be some time before you finish this story. Because i KNOW it'll be WORTH waiting for!

Here follows the next Chapter. As Anna noticed in the previous chapter Chris is on the War Path .....

Chapter 19:


“The Black Rose”


Several months later: June









Somewhere in the vicinity of Petersburg

Arkadi Renko ended the call and looked across the calm surface of the small lake which belonged to his Datcha in the woods, 80 Kilometres southeast of Saint Petersburg. The sweltering heat of the day receded only slowly and lingered still in the air. Mosquitos were buzzing through the air. Renko sat on the wooden dock. The calm surface of the lake looked like melted polished bronze.

Lavrentiy Beria was dead. His decapitated body had been found in his private study. His headless corpse sat behind his desk. His head lay on the table, a Black Rose between its teeth. Obviously Beria had been beheaded by a very sharp blade – with one precise stroke. It was the Black Rose, which shocked Renko.

Beria´s untimely death was the last in series of mysterious accidents and murders “No, not murders” he corrected himself “Executions” The first “accident” had happened in early March:

Vyacheslav Mikhaylovich Molotov had been killed by an explosion as he started his Porsche Carrera, after leaving a party in Saint Petersburg. The blast had been so powerful, that only burned fragments of his body had been recovered.

One week later Grigory Mikhaylovich Semyonov had been killed when his yacht exploded in the Golf of Saint Tropez. His burned body had been washed ashore weeks later. Gruesome as it was, even that second death had been no cause for alarm.

The third mysterious death had been different: Konstantin Chernenko, arms dealer and one of the late Boris´ Oblomov´s best friends had been found at his private beach, with a bullet ins his brains, right between the eyes – and a Black Rose between his teeth.

Two members of his staff had testified that they had seen their master walking at the beach with a tall woman with shoulder length black hair, in a green summer dress, in an animated conversation ….. they had chatted and laughed; one member of his staff remembered that the woman had spoken Russian fluently.

Lazar Kaganovich had been the next. On his weekly sojourn on is private Golf Course he had been found with a cross bow bolt in his breast – and a Black Rose between his teeth. Kaganovich had not been the last. Four more members of Oblomov´s inner circle had been killed: each one with a Black Rose between his teeth.

Two had been beheaded with clean precise strokes. The coroner had suspected a very sharp blade – and stated that he had never seen anything like this: Whoever had wielded the blade had not hesitated. In his opinion it had to be a skilled fighter.

At first Renko had seen no pattern. That changed with the third assassination, when the Killer left the first Black Rose. The victims were linked – besides being rich and powerful men, and belonging to the upper Echelons of the new Russian plutocratic Aristocracy.

Long gone was the Aristocracy of tsarist Russia, gone was the Nomenclatura of the former USSR. The Link was a different: All nine men had been present at a Banquet at Oblomov´s Residence in February, when he had presented them his latest acquisition: The blonde German Pianist.

She had been quite the sight, clad only in black bra, panties and hose. Stringently tied up and gagged. They had had their fun with her – and tested the merchandise, within certain limits of course.

Oblomov had had plans for the blonde. And nobody touched anything that Boris Oblomov claimed as his property.

What Renko had impressed most besides her other assets had been her Emerald green eyes. She had possessed an enormous self-control, but there had been a few moments – when he saw a burning all-consuming flame of hate in them.

When he had squeezed her ample breasts had been such a moment, and twisted her nipples hard. He had to give her that: The blonde had not even flinched – but the flaming look of her green eyes conveyed the message clearly enough “I will kill you!” It had been a promise – and somehow Renko had believed her – but had forgotten that moment quickly.

Then Oblomov had died on Konevsky Island. Christine von der Marwitz had returned on the stages of the world as if nothing had happened. How she had escaped he did not know. As one after another member of Oblomov´s inner circle died, Renko had done some research.

Inconclusive, after the call today, he was certain. He had no idea how the pianist had pulled that off – but his guts told him, the blonde was their nemesis. Renko took another sip of his Vodka. It burned hot in his throat.

It was impossible the blonde Angel of Vengeance would find him here. Here at his home turf surrounded by his security team: Former Spetznaz, Commando Forces. There was no way the pianist would get through to him, but there was a nagging doubt. He should drink less … How could have had this happen at all? How could the Grand Duchesse have bested Oblomov?

Obliterating his security team? Leaving his Security Chief in the Snow? Hogtied and gagged?

His innards turned to ice as a melodious alto voice spoke behind “It is a beautiful time of day isn´t it Arkadi Pavlovich?” He wheeled around to face the intruder. In two metres distance stood a tall black figure aiming a large handgun directly at his heart.

A black full visor helmet hid the face of the assailant. He/ she? Was clad in black body armour, black combat boots at her feet, but that was not all: Across the back the attacker carried a curved blade.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” Renko had recovered quickly from his shock “My men ….” “Won´t come” the Intruder informed him coolly “They are taking a nap – a long one. You should hire new bodyguards anyway – those guys were not very good”

“Who I am?” the speaker continued “Call me the ghost of Christmas Past. What I am doing here?” the black clad woman – Renko was sure by now, that his attacker was a woman – paused “Sending you to hell! To join your friends! I did promise you that – remember?”

“Any problems?” Renko wheeled to the left: There another black figure stood, even taller than her companion. She had an assault rifle slung over her back – and aimed with a hand gun at him too.

“No problem at all” his attacker smiled – well he assumed she smiled - “I was just explaining Arkadi Pavlovich what we are doing here. You can almost hear all the little wheels turning in his head” she added gleefully. The icy coldness send shivers down his spine …

The second Attacker chuckled “The poor fellow needs some pointers!” Number One secured her gun in her holster and removed her helmet. A wave of blonde hair fell down across her back in a ponytail.

Renko stared at the two most fascinating Emerald Green Eyes he had ever seen. Their gaze was penetrating like a sharp knife. He had seen those Eyes before. In February at Oblomov´s banquet. Recognition dawned on his face “You” Renko said at last, still shocked.

“Me” Christine von der Marwitz returned evenly “Quite the change, don´t you think?” Her tone sounded light, but there was something Renko could not place, an underlying current “You and your friends” she spat the words “tormented and tortured women for sport. What you did to me was unpleasant, what you did to many other women was torturing and murdering them. This ends now”

“You can prove nothing of this” Arkadi Renko returned “Who would believe the wild imagination of an overrated musician, who is a bitch like any other”

Von der Marwitz´ voice grew cold “As you probably have noticed old Boy, I have another form of justice in mind. I give you a chance though: You are good with the sabre I heard. Beat me in single combat and my friend will let you go – or I behead you here and now. Your choice, my companion was kind enough to fetch your sabre for you”

Arkadi Renko looked for some sign of jest in the blonde´s face. He saw none. Only cold grim determination “I will nail your head on the post over there!” Renko pointed to the right

The Pianist was unimpressed. “We will see who loses his head” she smiled ominously – and with one fluid motion she drew her blade. Renko recognized it: It was a shimmering Katana. Chris held her blade firmly in her right hand, its tip pointing to the ground. Patiently she waited as Anna gave the Russian his Sabre.

Arkadi Renko noticed, that his opponent seemed perfectly at ease. Her poise, the way she had drawn her blade told him, the pianist had to have long practise. She seemed perfectly at ease, her eyes followed his every movement. The blonde reminded Renko off a large panther ready to strike. But he did not fear his adversary. Renko was sure to prevail:

“Did you enjoy my attentions back in February?” he taunted Chris “If you fight the same way, you touched me back then, this will be a short fight” The blonde returned sweetly. The Russian´s answer was a fierce attack, several powerful strokes, but Chris parried with ease

“This all you got?” she provoked her opponent further. The two fighters exchanged blows, it was a back and forth on the landing dock. Renko was good, Chris had to give him that – but for now she had not really challenged him, mostly she stayed on the defensive.



Anna had a pretty good idea why her friend was doing this: Chris wanted to lure her opponent in - she would change tactics, when the time was right. Renko did not know it, but the Angel of Death had come for him – and would not leave, without claiming her prize: Renko´s head.

The Russian felt not pity for the man. He and his fellow brethren had deserved this. This and more: Oblomov had awoken a beast: Oblomov hat opened the gates of hell. And hell claimed its pound of flesh. She watched with almost clinical interest:

The blonde and her adversary traded blows. Chris had read her opponent quite well now. But she could wait. A part of her enjoyed this game.

Chris noticed that Renko began to sweat profusely. His strokes were powerful but lacked precision - he was a skilled fighter though. Chris had to admit. His last overhead stroke had barely missed her. The blonde decided that playtime was over:

Her sudden attack, with a combination of strokes, did clearly surprise Renko and forced him back, nearer to the water. A powerful overhand stroke, a backhand stroke from the left: Another swift combination. To his dismay the Russian found himself driven backwards, on the defensive.

He had lost the initiative. Renko could only react. He grunted with pain as the blade cut into his right shoulder. The Russian managed only barely to fend off the next left hand backhand stroke. The tip of the blade grazed his fore head and left a shallow gash: To his dismay he discovered the pianist could change from her left her right hand and back effortlessly.

The blonde´s speed and precision was amazing. Their blades clashed again as he parried another both-handed stroke. The power behind this stroke had been immense. So hard the Katana had hit his sabre? Renko lost almost his grip. He looked at his opponent and saw the cold grim determination in Chris von der Marwitz face.

“Are you already tired Renko?” the blonde smiled ominously “You disappoint me!” “At the Olympic Games in Moscow in 1980 you were much faster!” Chris said perfectly disdainful. The Russian mustered his strength and attacked.

A skilled fighter he was, but he lacked Chris training. Since the events in February the blonde had spent as much time in the dojo as she could. Sometimes Anna had been worried: Chris trained hard, relentlessly.

And there had been the nights …. Several times the pianist had woken up from nightmares. Anna knew because she had made it a habit to check on Chris in the night. Those nightmares had receded since she and Anna had begun to work off a list … a list of names – and since Chris was seeing a therapist.

Now Anna watched:

Chris smiled ominously at her opponent “This is different than molesting or tormenting helpless women old boy isn´t it?” She stressed “old”.

The blonde´s smile was dangerous and cold as ice – and then she charged ….

Arkadi Renko´s sabre flew high in the air, the sun shimmering on the blade, before it fell with a thud into the lake, vanishing like Excalibur in its depths


Later:


On the dock lay a head – the head of Arkadi Renko: A black rose between his lips.

It would be not the last …

[GreyLord]

Chris is a precision machine, tuned to perfection and on a mission that is both vengeance and justice. There are people who simply do not deserve to live. It takes an Angel to balance the scales of justice. The fight scene was incredibly well done. Thank you, [mention]Caesar73[/mention], for giving us the finest chapter in a very fine story.

[mrjones2009]

Wow! Chris is not messing around. I pity the names on that list.

[Bandit666]

Damn it, it’s taken me an age to catch up and everyone had already beaten me to what I want to say about all you’ve produced thus far. So I will merely say this much my friend, of late I’ve awarded the title of Grand Master to those I feel worthy, you’re number two, I think you’d discover who’s joined you in due course. So [mention]Caesar73[/mention], thank you for being the Grand Master of bondage investigation

[Beaumains]

A very shocking change in tone. Nicely written. This chapter flowed very well and was very nicely paced and structured. I enjoyed the first dozen or so paragraphs the most. At first, I was unsure whether this was a backflash to some Soviet time (due to the names of Beria and Molotov), but when it became clear what was happening, it all made sense.

On a more critical note: I understand why Chris is doing that, and it is hard to disagree with denying these shitheads deserved it, but tragically this is not justice nor self-defense. In the previous parts, one could have argued otherwise, but this is cold-blooded murder. Of all the ways she could brought them down, this is about the most illegal one. It almost seems reckless.

[Caesar73]

On a more critical note: I understand why Chris is doing that, and it is hard to disagree with denying these shitheads deserved it, but tragically this is not justice nor self-defense. In the previous parts, one could have argued otherwise, but this is cold-blooded murder. Of all the ways she could brought them down, this is about the most illegal one. It almost seems reckless.

Thank you for your insightful and precise commentary - and you have definetely made an important observation here. Let us have a look at what Anna thinks:

Oblomov had awoken a beast: Oblomov hat opened the gates of hell. And hell claimed its pound of flesh.

What I wanted to imply here, that this one week in Oblomovs Dungeons did something to Chris. She has a dark streak, which she normally keeps firmly under control. Something in her snapped during her captivity.

Or this one:

And there had been the nights …. Several times the pianist had woken up from nightmares. Anna knew because she had made it a habit to check on Chris in the night. Those nightmares had receded since she and Anna had begun to work off a list … a list of names – and since Chris was seeing a therapist.

Truth to be told I went a bit Tarrentino in this Chapter - think of the bride in "Kill Bill" One purpose of this chapter was to show a side of Chris´ character we do not see very often

[Beaumains]

Maybe I should have been more precise: why these men? Sure, they are not good men, but why them, and not Natasha whose actions are as bad if not more due to her continuous heinous deeds. The two maids were responsible for much pain and suffering as well despite their later "nice" behavior. She saw these men for one night, not knowing the reason for their presence and not knowing whether their behavior their was genuine or due to peer pressure. Killing them and not all her actual captors seems a bit arbitrary nor does it allow the full story.

It is a cool scene, but I simply doubt Chris's reasons would hold up in court.

[LunaDog]

This IS fiction after all! So Chris has become a little darker, she's YOUR character so it's up to you, Sir.

And maybe Chris has read another classic piece of fiction too! "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" And coloured roses? Has Chris been taking lessons from the Red Queen in Lewis Carroll's classic work, 'Alice in Wonderland?'

[Caesar73]

This IS fiction after all! So Chris has become a little darker, she's YOUR character so it's up to you, Sir.

And maybe Chris has read another classic piece of fiction too! "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" And coloured roses? Has Chris been taking lessons from the Red Queen in Lewis Carroll's classic work, 'Alice in Wonderland?'

That Chris has read Lewis Carroll is entirely possible That I painted Chris´ character darker in tone serves a purpose. It will become clearer as the Hunt for the Lost Scrolls progresses. Under certain circumstances Chris´ dark streak can appear .... so keep that chapter in mind.




[mention]GreyLord[/mention] [mention]Bandit666[/mention] [mention]banshee[/mention] [mention]Beaumains[/mention] [mention]Bigballgag1[/mention] [mention]Trammel[/mention] [mention]wolfman[/mention] [mention]mrjones2009[/mention] [mention]slackywacky[/mention] [mention]Nainur[/mention] [mention]Shotrow[/mention] [mention]TightsBound[/mention] [mention]Pantyhose971[/mention] [mention]TayDay95[/mention] [mention]NotSeen[/mention] [mention]Fandango[/mention] [mention]LunaDog[/mention] [mention]Argentum[/mention]

Chapter 20:


“Another loose end”





Weeks later: Limassol, Cyprus, midmorning Crown Plaza Hotel:

Natasha Bolkonskaya sat on the balcony of her spacious suite at the 6th floor of the Crown Plaza, her bare feet resting on the railing, her eyes hidden behind large sunglasses and nursing a cup of strong black coffee, not the first ---- “I am getting too old for this” the dark haired Russian groaned. Clubbing till early in the morning had taken its toll. At least the constant pounding between her temples had receded to a dull throbbing only.

Dimly she remembered a scantily clad tall Scandinavian blonde who had aggressively danced with her – and almost pushed her voluptuous breasts in her face.

How they had ended in Natasha´s suite she remembered only dimly. Only fragments, flashes. Bodies, heat, entangled limbs, Sweat. In the morning though she had kicked that bimbo out of her bed “If you show up again or tell anyone about this night” She had treated the blonde swede? with her Death Star Stare “I will break your neck” Obviously it had the desired effect: Her acquaintance looked from wide fearful eyes at her and stumbled out of her suite, her Sandals in hand.

As soon as the door had closed behind that bimbo Natasha had made it to the bathroom just in time to the toilet – and threw up till only bile was left.

When she had regained her composure somewhat she had cleaned her mouth and brushed her teeth – before she called Room Service and ordered a full British Breakfast.

From her Balcony she had a fantastic view about the vast deep blue Mediterranean, but Boris Oblomov´s former Chief of Security had no eyes for the beautiful sight. Her mind was elsewhere: Since her Boss had met his doom at Lake Ladoga things had changed very much.

After Romanova had left her hogtied and naked on the clearing where the violinist had visited hell on her and Oblomov´s rapid response team – she had to wait two hours, till she was rescued. The Humiliation had been immense.

For that alone she would kill the Aristocrat.

Natasha still wondered how the violinist had orchestrated this. On a professional level she had to admit that Anna Romanova had outsmarted them – and on the clearing she had displayed tremendous courage and skill. Bolkonskaya had been barely conscious when the violinist had taken the response team on.

This she knew:

Amidst a storm of automatic weapon fire, the violinist had knelt down and taken out the rapid response team with her sniper rifle: The sounds and smells were ingrained in her brain. The screams, the rapid but measured shots of the Sniper Rifle, the rapid fire of a submachine gun, the Smell of burned human flesh and blood, burned rubber …. one picture she remembered crystal clear though:

As Anna Romanova had gently taken the still bound and gagged Chris by her arm, talked to her. Then they had vanished in the dark: Two shadows: the blonde stumbling along, led by the Russian, walking purposefully ahead

And then there had been silence: Natasha had struggled against her bonds but quickly found out that the Grand Duchesse had done a truly professional job. She lay shivering on the ground and waited ….

The trap which had cost her boss and his personal guards their lives had been ingenious. Colonel Wolkov and some of his men had survived the detonation of the helicopters by a miracle only. To recover Boris Oblomov´s body had proved to be impossible – or better what was left of him. His corpse was buried deep under the rubble of the ruined monastery.

The mysterious accidents and killings had started in early march. Natasha Bolkonskaya had put the pieces of the puzzle together quicker than anybody else: She knew the guest list of a certain banquet in February.

Someone was taking out a certain circle of the men which had been present, when the Oligarch had presented his guests with the blonde pianist. The men killed since early March had taken certain liberties with the tightly tied and gagged Christine von der Marwitz.

For Bolkonskaya it was clear who was leaving a bloody trail in his wake: Christine von der Marwitz and very probably Anna Romanova. And four weeks ago the corpse of Arkadi Renko had been found at the landing dock of his Datcha. Beheaded: His head had been placed on his rib cage with the now so familiar Black Rose. Her neck hairs had risen when she had learned about that last killing.

Since the last killings Natasha had the feeling she was watched – and four weeks ago a parcel had been delivered to her. The Russian suspected a bomb – but it was none. I was a shimmering box made of black lacquered wood. With trembling hands Natasha had opened it:

On red velvet had lain a tonfa … exquisitely made. The message had been clear: “You are next” On Oblomov´s order she had subjected Chris von der Marwitz to a heavy beating with the baton, to produce a video to ensure Anna Romanova´s cooperation … not that she had had objections to teach the proud blonde a lesson ….

After that warning, Natasha had packed her things, done her best to cover her tracks – and had landed here in Limassol. And everything had been fine. There had been no more deaths and no more warnings, so slowly the Russian had begun to relax – till yesterday.

Yesterday Bolkonskaya had enjoyed a late lunch at the promenade and watched the masses of tourists. Then she had spotted a tall blonde woman, well only her back: She had worn a straw head a flowery summer dress in blue and white, which fell wide around her tanned toned calves.

On her feet the blonde had worn wedge sandals. One moment she had been there, the next she was gone. Natasha had been frozen with shock. This couldn´t be. Had it been her? Had it been Chris von der Marwitz?

Two stiff drinks later, she had convinced herself her over imaginative mind had played tricks on her. But the shadow of doubt remained – and to quell this doubt, Natasha had gone clubbing ….

A knock at her door broke her out of her reverie “Shit, I forgot to hang the “Please do not disturb sign” at the door” With a groan Natasha stood and called “I am coming” on her way through the large suite she fetched her Makarov – one could never be too careful.

She looked at the camera screen next to the door: A tall olive skinned, black haired woman in the hotel´s maid uniform “What is it?” Natasha inquired through the Com System “Room Service” the maid answered in heavily accented English.

The Russian´s spider sense did not react – and so Natasha spoke through the Com System “Wait, I am opening” her gun she hid behind her back. She opened the Door “Please come in!” she offered, no, she wanted to offer because the moment she opened the door she was hit by a fine mist fully in the face. Her eyes rolled back and she crumbled to the floor.

The maid checked the long corridor – and gestured to her fellow maid. The first maid pulled the unconscious Russian back into the suite, while her companion entered the suite pulling a large hamper behind her and closed the door. Together they carried the unconscious Russian to the large king size bed and lay her down.

Then the second maid went to the hamper and took some items out, items, Natasha would have recognized: The first was some sort of blue sleep sack: She unrolled it and laid it on the bed. It looked like a sleep sack on first glance. There were though some minor differences: sewn in sleeves for the arms for instance – and Velcro straps in regular intervals.

The other items were two pairs of heavily padded manacles, a heavily padded panel gag, with a very large foam ball in its centre, a pair of bondage mittens, several padded straps – and a spandex hood. It was heavily padded around the mouth area, the eyes – and the ears.

So far no word had been spoken, the two maids acted like a well-oiled machine. They stripped the unconscious Russian and restrained her quickly and efficient – before they manhandled her body into the mummy bag. Without any obvious difficulties, they lifted the hooded, gagged and bagged body of Natasha Bolkonskaya into the hamper and covered her body with dirty laundry.

Ten Minutes later in the parking garage: The two maids rolled the hamper to a silver van: They lifted the mummy out of the hamper and into the van – and put her down on stretcher. Several more straps would ensure the passenger would not roll down.

Another five minutes the van was on its way north: It´s destination a location high in the mountains one hour north of Limassol, practically in the middle of nowhere.


In the Mountains north of Limassol:


The villa was the only building within a 15 kilometre radius: From its large terrace the guest had an unobstructed view to the south in the valley´s below and in the far distance the blue Mediterranean shimmered.

The sky was clear and here in the mountains it was pleasant 27 degrees Celsius, the air was dry and scents of wild herbs and wood lingered in the air.

Next to the terrace was a large swimming pool, roughly 20 by 10 metres. At the pool under a marquee, were sitting two women comfortable reclined on two recliners and helping themselves to some local mezes, a selection of dishes with small helpings and nursing a drink: a cooled dry white wine of local origin.

One of them, a very tall woman with Slavonic features and long shimmering dark hair, savoured the aroma of the wine and sighed contentedly “I could get used to this! Those mezes are delicious!” Her tall blonde companion chuckled “I really wonder how you do that!”

“Doing what?” the dark haired woman feigned innocence “Stuffing your face – and without gaining one kilo more” Her companion grinned “Just my good genes – and as for dinner: the lamb is marinating since the morning!”

For a while the two women enjoyed the companionable silence. Both wore bikinis which enhanced their impressive athletic physique. Their skin showed a healthy tan – and very probably no tan lines. The blonde wore a green two piece Bikini, Anna a black one.

“When will our guest wake up?” Chris von der Marwitz asked her best friend Anna Romanova and pointed with her wine glass at the pool: In the pool an inflatable mattress was floating.

On it a third woman was resting, or was she resting? “Soon probably” the dark haired violinist shrugged “the second dose of the sedative should wear off any moment now …. Look!” The woman on the inflatable mattress was stirring

Natasha´s Head was pounding. What had happened? She had opened the door of her Suite for the Room Service. A fine mist had hit her in the face – then? Nothing: Just Blackness. The Russian felt as if she was floating. There was the scent of chlorine in the air, and the sounds of water – Where was she? In a pool?

She wanted to open her eyes, only to discover that they were covered, by a heavily padded sleep mask. The next thing she realized? She was gagged: With a heavily padded panel gag – a very large foam ball pressed her tongue down and filled her oral cavity.

Her hearing sense was also impeded “My ears have stuffed with ear buds” she concluded. So Natasha had to trust on her other senses: She felt warm sun on her skin, she smelled the familiar herbs of the Mediterranean, a soft breeze cooled her skin.

The dark haired woman concluded she was tied up: Velcro straps bound her body from above her breasts down to her ankles. Her big toes were also tied together – and her hands had been mitted. Natasha was not really surprised that she was crotch roped and plugged both ways.

What concerned her more than her stringent bondage was: who had kidnapped her and why? The maid at the hotel had not looked familiar – and she had not recognized her voice … in her service for the late Boris Oblomov she surely had made a number of enemies. But why here, why now?

Any adversary of her former boss could have attacked her conveniently in Russia – and there was that mysterious woman of yesterday …. If that had really been Christine von der Marwitz and not a figment of her over active Imagination it would make sense:

That the pianist would have spared her for last would not be surprising: Natasha had been her handler during her captivity at Oblomov´s Palace. And Natasha had put her through her paces. The indomitable will of the blonde, her strength, her resilience had been a challenge – and her beauty.

Though the Russian knew, she had not broken von der Marwitz the pianist had been once or twice near the breaking point. If the pianist had captured her, she had to steel herself for quite the ride.

Anna Romanova took another sip of the dry white wine “I bet Natasha is racking her brains, who had captured her and what fate awaits her” She smiled deviously “Should we give her a pointer?”

Chris grinned “I think she has earned that at least” – the blonde put her Glass on the round table between Anna´s and her recliner, stood and stretched herself like a large cat. The Russian followed. The two friends stepped the stairs down into the cool refreshing water, as calmly as possible and swam to the mattress …

Natasha sensed the movement in the water. Someone fumbled at her left ear, someone at the right. And suddenly she could hear clearly “Hello Natasha!” the voice of Anna Romanova sounded in her left ear “I truly did miss you!” Chris von der Marwitz spoke sweetly in her right ear. The Russian froze “No need to get anxious” the Pianist cooed “We want just do some catching up!”

“This needs not to be too unpleasant, Natasha” the violinist smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, “but we should agree on some ground rules …..” Chris von der Marwitz again: “Anna proposed just a bullet to your head and leave you here somewhere to rot” “Burning you at the stake was also an option” Anna interjected – “but I am not entirely heartless” the Pianist continued “We have not decided what we will do with you in the end. Listen carefully: We injected you with two Nano Trackers, the Collar around your Neck is a discipline collar: If you raise your voice or talk without permission you will get a nasty shock”

“She sounds so cool and detached” Natasha mused “And there is another feature as well” Romanova seconded “If you leave the perimeter of this Villa you will be blown to pieces” Chris continued “You will follow every order to the letter – and if you do that? You might keep your head – See Natasha it depends all on you!”

“Well will leave you now to think things through!” Romanova said. The Ear Buds were inserted into Natasha´s Ears again – and she felt the movements as the Russian and the German left her to her own devices.

Truth to be told? Natasha was curious: If the Pianist had wanted to kill her on the spot she could have done that any time. But she did not: “But why?” The Russian had got to know the blonde very intimately during this week seven months ago.

Chris von der Marwitz was no cold blooded killer – or so she had thought. She adhered to a code. The Code of Bushido: And if the Pianist was anything she would be true to her word – so there might be a chance here:

To get out of this mess in one piece …. but the revenge the pianist had visited on her tormentors told her another story: Obviously those week in Oblomov´s dungeons had opened doors, which should have been better left closed. Back then Natasha had doubted the wisdom of her Bosses decision to use von der Marwitz as bait. Now she did even more so.

How long she floated in the pool she did not know. At some point she felt that the mattress was pulled to the far end of the pool and lifted outside. Natasha felt that the Velcro-bands which held her on it were released one after another.

No word was spoken. Her Ankles were shackled with heavy manacles. All other bonds stayed in place. She was pulled to her feet. The Russian felt that a pair of sandals was slipped on her feet – as the dark haired woman learned later black Birkenstocks.

Someone gripped her firmly but not brutal at her left upper arm. It was just a feeling but Natasha believed it was Romanova. A Zap at her left buttock made her jump she growled angrily in her gag – but took the Zap as her cue to shuffle along.

Gently she was led over threshold and inside. Inside the house it was considerably cooler. They stood and crossed another threshold. The feeling in her stomach signalled her it went down: An elevator.

Natasha sensed the presence of two persons “Of course Genius” the Russian scolded herself “Romanova and von der Marwitz” Obviously the blonde preferred a perfume with a citrus note, while the dark haired violinist had chosen something with patchouli. Oblomov´s former chief of security counted steps: 10 – the halted again, again another threshold. They halted, obviously they had reached their destination because she felt someone fumbling at her blindfold another pair of hands removed her ear buds.

Her shackles and the gag stayed in place. When her eyes had adjusted to the sudden brightness she took stock of her surroundings: She was in a spacious room, more a comfortable hotel room.

Before her stood Anna and Chris, both women had changed into tank tops, jeans and trekking sandals. Especially the Russian seemed very pleased with herself, while the pianist appraised her coolly.

It was Anna who spoke first “Listen Natasha, I guess you are hungry and sleepy and could use a long soak” the violinist pointed to the bathroom door. On a trolley stood a tablet, a bottle of water – and even a bottle wine.

“When we have left you can remove your bonds. Before you leave your quarters you will gag, blindfold and shackle yourself, understood?” Natasha nodded “For the evening we have planned an entertainment program for you” a devious smile crossed von der Marwitz´ lips “See you later!” The massive steel door closed and the Russian was alone. The door had no handle on the inside.

Racking her brains what lay in store was pointless, Natasha decided – so she followed sensible course of action: She got rid of her shackles and the gag, gulped down almost a complete bottle of water and went into the bathroom.

Natasha doubted that her captors would leave her much of an opening – and for now it seemed the prudent course of action, not to get on von der Marwitz´ bad side. The fate of Renko and the others was a not so subtle warning, not to push her luck.


In the evening on the Patio:


Anna and Chris were sitting on the Patio and nursing the fine dry white wine from local origin. The lamb had been perfect – and the mezes and other classics of the cypriotic cuisine had gone well with it “You have outdone yourself” Chris smiled and sighed contentedly. Her bare feet rested on a locker. She felt relaxed.

She always had admired how quickly Anna familiarized herself with the local cuisine. The blonde knew her way around a kitchen but the Russian had really a hand for any sort of cuisine. Chris preferred the Asian Cuisine, especially Japanese and Vietnamese.

It was a typical night in the Mediterranean: The sounds, the smells, the scents. Chris felt Anna´s gaze resting on her “How are you Chris´ - I mean – how are you really?” the Russian said softly.

Chris took another sip of her wine, took her time “I feel really relaxed and more at peace than in quite a while” Anna nodded “Why?” she prodded gently “I have made a decision” the pianist replied “Tell me ….” her friend said “This is what we do ….” Chris began.

And Anna listened – when Chris had ended, she looked long at her best friend “I think this is the right decision Chris” The violinist nodded and raised her Glass “Yamas!” The two friends clanked Glasses and drank in silence. Both women felt something had come to a close.

Natasha was totally oblivious to her surroundings: She danced on her bound toes on the Patio, her arms high in the air behind her back in a stringent strappado. The Russian wore a discipline helmet, ear buds and a stifling gag: Several pairs of used and ripe underwear. Her full breasts were adorned by nasty nipple clamps. Natasha could not hear, could not speak – the only senses left were here smelling sense and her sense of touch.

How long she danced on her tied toes she did not know. Her firm butt glowed in an angry shade of red: Romanova or von der Marwitz had used the riding crop freely: Hard but not cruelly – but precise. The crotch-rope was tight too. Natasha knew this was only the overture of things to come ….




Four days later:


Early Morning: Natasha stared at the ceiling of her cell. Her body ached. Yesterday in the late afternoon von der Marwitz and Romanova had showed up in her Prison. The Grand Duchesse smiled like a Cat who played with the Mouse. Von der Marwitz face was unreadable.

Natasha knew that expression. Back in February she had always felt like running against a brick wall at full gallop when the blonde had hidden her feelings behind that wall. Their captors had left her today to her own devices till now.

“I have a proposal for you” von der Marwitz spoke finally – her voice as cool as usual when she dealt with Natasha “I heard you are pretty good at martial arts” In fact Natasha owned several black belts “Here´s the deal: You fight me. You win? You get to dine with us. You lose? That will be a surprise” Now a smile curled the pianists lips.

Of course Natasha had accepted: The prospect of kicking the blonde´s was too tempting. In the aftermath she regretted that decision. The fight had been short, vicious and brutal. The blonde was incredible fast.

The Russian did land some superficial hits only. Von der Marwitz on the other end had landed a series of punishing hits. One especially devastating hit had been a stroke right under her left breast.

Natasha felt as if her ribs cracked. Another kick against her chest had robbed her breath and let her stumble. The following round house kick to the head sent her crashing to the floor, everything went dark.

The next thing she remembered was she awoke in her cell. Anna Romanova´s voice interrupted her musings “Get dressed and prepared! You know the drill! Put on the summer dress hanging over the chair!”

So it came, that the dark haired Russian sat at a well laid table together with her Captors. Her ankles had been shackled together and to a ring in the floor. That was her only restraint. Her stomach grumbled as she smelled the strong coffee, bacon, eggs ….Natasha was astute enough to keep her mouth shut.

Her Captors wore colourful summer dresses and Birkenstocks which matched their dresses. Von der Marwitz looked long at her. Not unfriendly though “You probably wonder what you are doing here. I have made decision” the blonde paused “Six Months ago I would probably killed you” Her voice calm and measured “but in the last weeks I have been thinking – after I beheaded Renko”

Natasha looked intrigued at the blonde “Killing you would give me no satisfaction” – another pause “Your punishment will be of a different sort: You will go to Geneva and serve and protect Ekaterina and Anouchka Oblomova. Your Boss has made many enemies and some of them might be out there and think his daughter and wife are easy prey. You are perfectly equipped to protect them – and I know you do not like Ekaterina very much, and I expect you to make this work”

With a stern look the pianist added: “Make no mistake I will learn if you are up to your old tricks. What do you say?”

“You can speak” Anna second “The Collar is off”

“This is no joke, right?” Natasha´s distrust was palpable. The blonde held her gaze “No, this is no joke” The Russian shook her head “You are a strange woman blondie: You killed all those men cold blooded and now you show mercy?”

“Enough blood has been spilled” the blonde replied calmly “It is that simple” she continued “And make no mistake those bastards got what they deserved: They all took part in your late bosses pervert games: Torturing and killing at least eight women – don´t tell me you did not know that” The blonde almost spat.

“What Arkadi Renko did to and with the Journalist Anya Amasova made me wretch” Her green eyes drilled into Natasha´s grey eyes “We obtained the material on your boss´ servers – so please spare me that fake outrage”

The two women stared at each other – and it was Natasha who broke eye contact first.

“I told you once: You have a choice” the blonde added “Now you have a second choice. I want your answer after breakfast” Chris pointed at the table: “Tuck in!” And so it happened that Natasha found herself on a flight to Geneva the next day.

She gazed out of the Window, Natasha still pondered about that turn of events. She had expected the heavy bondage. Corporeal Punishment and that had been inflicted on her. But not by far as harsh as von der Marwitz had been treated during her Captivity.

“Chris von der Marwitz” the Russian mused “You are really a strange woman” Natasha had expected to lose her head instead she got offered a second chance. What had the blonde said “I am a great believer in second chances – and a hopeless optimist” and a small but genuine smile had curled her lips.

[Argentum]

A wonderful ending of a great story! Fade to Back! Congrats [mention]Caesar73[/mention]

[GreyLord]

Wonderful retribution on Natasha. Her strappado dance was excellent. Good job, Grandmaster [mention]Caesar73[/mention].

[LunaDog]

Firstly i wish to apologise for taking SO long to reply to this latest post, that answers THE question in my mind, what happens to my favourite Lady? I've had some trouble with my computer, and had to replace it! And then had to work out the password i'd used to 'log in!'

And thank you for NOT killing Natasha. Sure, Chris and Anna 'rough her up a bit,' and help themselves to some 'fun' at her expense. I can't argue that they had EVERY right to do so. But, they DON'T kill her. Could THIS be why?

She did hope that her Boss would keep his promise to let Chris go, when Anna had kept her part of the bargain. But she was not sure: Natasha knew that Oblomov felt attracted to beautiful and strong women like Christine. He wanted to possess them. As security chief she was well aware of the series of unsolved murders in Saint Petersburg district.

Natasha had connected the dots after the latest murder. The last days, she had thought about a contingency plan, to get Chris away from here, if her Boss would not keep his side of his trade.

Perhaps Chris HAD sensed this?

[Caesar73]

Absolutely no apology necessary my friend [mention]LunaDog[/mention] ! Those things happen

I could not bring myself to kill Natasha: Her character has way to much potential. And you are probably right: Chris knows, that Natasha actet partly under orders of her Boss.

And the punishment she came up with is by far the more elegant solution - besides: Natasha owns Chris something now. That might come in handy in the future

The final chapter of Anna´s adventure shall be up at Wednesday at the latest

[LunaDog]

And yes, I can confirm you will see Ekaterina again - in the new chapters of the Hunt for the lost scrolls we will learn more ....

And since it's Natasha's new 'job' to look after Ekaterina together with the very vulnerable Anouchka , does this mean we will see Natasha again, possibly in the 'Hunt for the lost scrolls?'

[Caesar73]

And yes, I can confirm you will see Ekaterina again - in the new chapters of the Hunt for the lost scrolls we will learn more ....

And since it's Natasha's new 'job' to look after Ekaterina together with the very vulnerable Anouchka , does this mean we will see Natasha again, possibly in the 'Hunt for the lost scrolls?'

I can tell you that we will see Natasha again - if it is in the hunt remains to be seen. Chronologically Anna´s adventure plays two years before the Hunt for the lost scrolls. But anything is possible ....

[LunaDog]

I can tell you that we will see Natasha again.

Thank you. Does any more need to be said, well from MY side of things?

[Beaumains]

Chris seems to take a big risk here, but I can see why you want to keep Natasha alive. Well, if Art Inc. ever needs a torturer, they surely know where to search for one.

I am also afraid that these last two chapters might have the biggest real-life consequences so far. So many rich powerful dudes dies, leaving massive holes. This surely will not go unnoticed, and it will disrupt the local political theater for quite a while. Nicely done

[Caesar73]

[mention]GreyLord[/mention] [mention]Bandit666[/mention] [mention]banshee[/mention] [mention]Beaumains[/mention] [mention]Bigballgag1[/mention] [mention]Trammel[/mention] [mention]wolfman[/mention] [mention]mrjones2009[/mention] [mention]slackywacky[/mention] [mention]Nainur[/mention] [mention]Shotrow[/mention] [mention]TightsBound[/mention] [mention]Pantyhose971[/mention] [mention]TayDay95[/mention] [mention]NotSeen[/mention] [mention]Fandango[/mention] [mention]LunaDog[/mention] [mention]Argentum[/mention]

I am also afraid that these last two chapters might have the biggest real-life consequences so far. So many rich powerful dudes dies, leaving massive holes. This surely will not go unnoticed, and it will disrupt the local political theater for quite a while. Nicely done

I share your observation. It is a sure assumption that Russia´s Ruler did follow the events with a keen eye .... what that does mean for the future remains to be seen ....

Chapter 21


Several months later: Septembre




“Reconciliation”




Geneva



Collogne-Bellerive, Canton Geneva, late afternoon:

Collogne-Bellerive was a small community at the shores of Lake Geneva, a 20 Minute Drive from Geneva. Ekaterina Oblomova entered the security code into the pad and the massive double winged gates swung open noiselessly and closed behind her.

In the centre of the compound of 10000 square metres stood a “medium” sized Villa, build at the End of the 19th Century – it had been built by a banker who searched the peace and quiet of this secluded area which offered a fantastic view on the Lake Geneva and a short distance to Geneva. “Medium” meant: Compared to many other Estates around, this Villa was mediocre in size.

The Compound was surrounded by a high wall – many large old trees shielded the Villa from prying eyes. The peace and quiet suited Ekaterina perfectly – in fact this was one reason why she had chosen this – for a wealthy Russian – rather modest location. The real estate agent had shown her many more fancy objects. Obviously he had been keen to impress Boris Oblomov´s daughter.

He seemed almost insulted as Ekaterina declared firmly that she wanted to purchase that object and no other. The Russian had driven up the curved drive way and parked her rather modest BMW 3 in the Garage. Modest for a wealthy Russian.

She opened the Entry door and stepped into the Entrance Hall, which breathed still the 19th Century´s spirit. But the blonde loved the slightly dusty charm of the House – she had made no major changes so far. Especially she loved the Music Room with its old but perfectly maintained Bechstein Grand Piano from 1912.

With a sigh she kicked off her blue suede High Heels and rubbed her left nyloned sole with a sigh. It had been a long day. She had worked at the University Library at her dissertation in International Law.

Many of her fellow Russian Expats wondered why she was doing that: Pursuing an academic Career “You have all the money in the world to enjoy the life – instead you spend your days in a University!” She heard that quite regularly on the seldom occasions she accepted Invitations of her fellow Countrymen.

As daughter of the late Boris Oblomov she was a celebrity – sort off. These social events she skipped as often as she could: Work was always a good excuse, her grief for her father, the care for her mother also:

From upstairs she heard Piano Music and the Soprano of her mother: Ekaterina looked at her watch. Anouchka was taking her daily singing lesson – something she was quite fond off. Her mother enjoyed these lessons immensely. The Teacher she had hired had told her Anouchka must have once possessed a wonderful Lyric Soprano. This her Mother had, the young Woman knew. Before she had been abducted, tortured and abused.

Ekaterina sighed and she remembered the Video. That Video: Chris von der Marwitz, clad just in black bra and panties and hose had played for her mother and accompanied her. These images would be with her. Always: It had touched her deeply how gentle the Pianist had treated her mother. The pressure on her must have been immense back then. But Chris von der Marwitz had treated her mother like a perfectly sane person nevertheless.

Her mother had adjusted to the new surroundings quite well, Ekaterina had to admit – and the new medical staff she had hired had helped immensely. Her mother´s new psychiatrist had told her, that with the proper care, the state of her mother could improve …. and there had been progress lately “So fathers blood money does at least something good” she mused.

“A long day?” a dark alto voice spoke and Ekaterina turned on her stockinged feet to the speaker: A tall black-haired woman, obviously very fit. As usual the blonde had not heard her coming.

The Newcomer was wearing a black Power Suit and matching High Heels: Shimmering Louboutin Platform heels. Not the Uniform she had worn in her former life. The Suit was wide cut – and Ekaterina knew that Natasha was carrying.

Natasha Bolkonskaya had appeared eight weeks ago out of the blue on her doorstep. The Russian had been her late father´s former head of security. Of course Ekaterina had wanted to know why Natasha did show up now – almost five months after the death of her father.

The dark haired woman had made quite the convincing case: Her father had made many enemies. And Ekaterina needed someone, Natasha had explained, who protected her – and her mother. She, Natasha was perfectly suited for the job. She knew her father´s enemies and how to deal with them.

Ekaterina did not know much about the Woman, but she knew that her father had always been pleased with her work. And that said something. The late Boris Oblomov had had very high professional Standards. So the blonde had accepted Bolgonskaya’s offer – and not regretted it so far:

She had proven herself reliable and capable and had reorganized the personal protection for Ekaterina and Anouchka – efficiently. Ekaterina had to admit she had been sloppy in that regard. So she was grateful that Natasha had helped her out.

Ekaterina was not naïve though: Natasha´s cover story why she applied for the job – she did not believe one second. The dark haired Russian had not lied – but it had not been the complete truth either. There was more to it. And she was resolved to solve that riddle. But as long as Natasha did her job – everything was fine.

The blonde was surprised: She had believed it would be harder to trust the Woman who had tormented Christine von der Marwitz in the Dungeons of her father. Never would she forget those pictures Ragna had showed her. Yes, Ragna … more often than she liked her thoughts wandered to the blonde Valkyrie who had seduced her, betrayed her – and loved her?

She was still conflicted when she thought of Ragna: The herculean Icelandress had turned her life upside down, had she not? But Ekaterina knew things were more complicated:

If her father had not orchestrated the abduction and torment of Christine von der Marwitz - in his blind desire for the treasure of the Romanovs, nothing of this would have happened - ever.

Ekaterina remembered the day when her father´s lawyer in Geneva had informed her about his death. She had just returned to her apartment – after her capture by Ragna and her release. The Icelandress had been true to her word: Several hours after the blonde had left the door of her cell had opened. A taciturn man had driven her back to Geneva. He had not answered any of her questions.

The funeral of her father at St. Petersburg she remembered barely. She had watched the proceedings like through a veil. Ekaterina had felt numb as she stood at the open grave – and many “friends” of her father payed their respects. Anouchka had not been present. She had talked with her psychiatrist and they had agreed that this would be too much for the heavily damaged soul of her mother.

Only in the sessions with her Therapist she realized fully his father´s shady businesses had made Anouchka a target. And she could not forgive that. Not even the dead Boris Oblomov.

Anouchka´s questions about her father´s absence she had deflected – and felt bad for that. They had buried an empty coffin: The remnants of her father were buried under hundreds of tons of rubble. The Explosion which had killed Boris Oblomov and his personal security detail had destroyed the dilapidated church of the monastery on Konevsky Island.

Russia´s new Ruler had send a personal emissary to the funeral and offered condolences – and shook her hands. After the funeral Ekaterina washed her hands - long. The day after Ekaterina had driven to her father´s Palace, searched his private office and had insisted to see the cells and the dungeons with her own eyes where her father had held the blonde pianist. Like Saint Thomas she needed proof, needed to see the torture chambers with her own eyes.

Natasha had at first demurred – but Ekaterina had made it very clear that she wanted to see those rooms – and that she knew about Natasha´s role in all this. To see the cell, where the pianist had been kept captive for eight days, or the torture chamber had almost been too much for Ekaterina: When they had returned to the first floor, she had barely made it to the toilette where she threw up, so long, till only yellow bile was left.

“Ekaterina how was your day?” Natasha interrupted her train of thought “Fine” the blonde replied absentmindedly. The tall dark haired woman looked keenly at her “A personal letter has come for you today. I had it checked it is clean. The envelope contains two pieces of paper. No anthrax or any other contact poison”

Deep in her heart the blonde admired the cool professionalism of her Security Chief. Natasha did what had to be done – though Ekaterina had laid down some ground rules: No torture, no threats, on one occasion though she had been grateful for Natasha´s presence: On the reception of a wealthy Oligarch Friend of her late father one young spoiled member of the Russian Community had been grabby.

Natasha had made it very clear to him to keep his hands to himself: Her movements had been so fast that the blonde had not seen exactly what had happened. What she saw? The young man lay on the marble floor like a foetus, writhing in pain. He pressed his hands on his balls and blooded profusely from his broken nose and begged Natasha to back off. Ekaterina had coolly waited ere she ordered Natasha to stand down.

From this moment on never any man made advances to Ekaterina as in touching her. The pure presence of Natasha ensured that. And for that the blonde was grateful. Surprisingly enough Natasha got along well with her mother.

She treated her kindly and with respect … this was new. There had been times when the black haired woman had more or less openly displayed her dislike of Anouchka and Ekaterina, which she thought to be a spoiled child.

“Ekaterina? Fifty cents for your thoughts!” Natasha chuckled “What?” The dark haired woman smiled “I told you about a letter for you”

“Right” Ekaterina said absentmindedly “Give it to me” It was an envelope of ebony creamy handmade paper. Four words - written in black ink, in a clear elegant hand she did not recognize – she read: For Ekaterina Oblomova

“The letter was delivered by courier” Natasha explained “A small, exclusive courier service: No chance to track it back – I checked”

Ekaterina was tempted to rip the letter just open – but again Natasha had read her thoughts and handed her a letter opener: “Try this!”

The blonde sliced the letter open: With trembling fingers “Why are my fingers trembling?” she pulled out a letter – made of the same paper as the envelope – and a concert ticket. She had to read it twice: The concert of Christine von der Marwitz and Anna Romanova at Geneva tomorrow, here in Geneva.

Ekaterina had thought about purchasing a ticket, but she had not done it – she feared it would be too much to face the two women: The one who had been tortured in the dungeons of her father and the one who had rescued her friend and killed her father.

Christine would play Rachmaninov´s third Concert and Anna Tchaikovsky´s Violin Concerto. Ekaterina read the ticket again. This was the best place one could get, so close to the stage she would see the slightest move of the two musicians. Who had her presented with that ticket?

The Russian unfolded the letter, in the same clear elegant hand she read:


Dear Ekaterina,

I apologize for this informality. We do not know each other personally. But we are connected thanks to a common friend. She does not know I write this letter to you, so be not too cross with her. If she knew she probably would kick my Ass. Pardon my French.

I will get straight to the point:

You and our mutual friend should have a serious talk. I see her suffering every day. She does not admit it, she never would. I know her though. And something tells me you feel the same: You are suffering too – with good reason I know. Excuse me, if I don´t feel sorry for your late father.

There are things I cannot forgive – and I am sure, you know what I am talking about. This is another matter though. But you and our mutual friend should talk. Give yourself a chance.

Sincerely

Christine von der Marwitz

P.S. You may bring Natasha along – the ticket goes for two persons.


“What did she write?” Natasha inquired “She … how do you know, you opened the letter!” Ekaterina stammered “No, I did not” Natasha stated calmly “But I am familiar with the handwriting”

Chris had made handwritten Notices during her captivity to keep her mind occupied: She had written Haikus in Kanji and short poems. Natasha had kept those writings. Why? The Russian could not tell. She had even found herself a translator for the Haikus. One Haiku had been about her …. the Pianist had managed to capture her hot hate in 17 Syllables – Natasha had deduced the blonde had written it after the hours on the rack:


Ekaterina interrupted her train of thought:

“She invites me to a concert she and Anna Romanova will give tomorrow” the blonde mused “Then you should go” Natasha stated firmly “Or are you afraid of the two?” The Russian chuckled. The blonde hesitated “You are afraid! I knew it!” Natasha teased her.

Ekaterina handed her the letter back, annoyed “Read!” – Natasha read. Ekaterina watched her intently. Something crossed the dark haired woman´s face as she read the last line. She handed the letter back to the blonde “You will go and I will accompany you – you never know with these two”

“Is there something you want to tell me Natasha?” Ekaterina´s grey eyes drilled into Natasha´s. Her compatriot held her gaze “Nothing I want to talk about right now.

The blonde shrugged “Right then Natasha – we can talk any time you feel up to it. And you are right we will go. Ekaterina fetched her heels and padded up the stairwell on her stockinged feet, deep in thought.

Natasha´s Smartphone signalled an incoming message. She read it and smiled. Tomorrow would be an interesting evening.



Grand Theatre de Genève: The next evening:



Ekaterina was excited. Ekaterina was nervous. Ekaterina just wanted to be elsewhere.

She sat in her box. From here she had an excellent view on the stage and the orchestra: The Russian was thrilled! She would be able to see every move the Pianist would make. Ekaterina had seen Chris von der Marwitz several times on stage – but this time was different:

Ekaterina knew what the Pianist had endured in the dungeons of her father. This was not a concert like any other, this was close and personal. One minute to eight now. “Rach 3” was the holy-grail among the great romantic piano concertos.

Chris von der Marwitz was famous for her virtuosity, her flawless technique – and her intuitive understanding of the Composers intentions. Her recording of “Rach 3” was named along with those of Martha Argerich and Vladimir Horowitz. In Ekaterina´s opinion von der Marwitz surpassed even Yuja Wang.

The Orchestra was ready: The Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Kirill Petrenko. The Audience was buzzing with excitement. The tickets for this concert had been sold in record time. Now it was Eight: The door on the left side of the podium opened and a tall blonde stepped into the light:

She bowed gracefully to the audience and Petrenko executed a perfect hand kiss. The Pianist beamed at him. A warm genuine smile Ekaterina noticed. Christine von der Marwitz dazzled in a Jan Taminiau Tuxtured Pink Gown with a Ruffled Skirt, her gleaming blonde mane in a stylish bun.

She seemed to glide on her High Heels – Ekaterina´s trained eye spotted red painted toe nails and a silvery shimmer: Platform Sandals from Aquazura she was sure – Ekaterina owned a pair too.

Gracefully the blonde sat down and adjusted her gown. One could have heard dropping now the proverbial pin.

Von der Marwitz exchanged a look with Petrenko. A subtle nod The Orchestra played the opening bars. The blonde´s tone was immaculate. She did not play loud. But every tone stood clearly in the room. Her fingers seemed to glide above the key´s. Caressing them, as a lover would touch his woman´s skin - gently and tender.

And Ekaterina felt like everybody else in the concert hall: The pianist had captured her audience with a few gentle strokes of her hands – like a wizard. And Ekaterina allowed herself to be captured easily. For the next forty minutes she forgot everything around her: Where she was, who she was, what time it was. Time and space had no meaning. There was just the music.

With her last stroke Chris ended the spell. For moments there was only silence. Nobody dared to applaud – then finally someone mustered his courage to clasp their hands. And a tremendous wave of applause broke loose, like a storm. Ekaterina found herself clapping her hands till her palms burned and prickled. The Audience stood as one. Shouts of “Bravo” sounded through the Arena. Ekaterina was one of those spectators. There were many.

The blonde beamed at the audience as she bowed with never ending patience – countless times it seemed to Ekaterina. Finally the Pianist sat down again – the audience fell silent:

Chris smiled “I will play for you now the Tannhäuser-Ouverture transcribed for Piano by Franz Liszt” Ekaterina was mesmerized: The Pianist made the Grand Piano sing – the Russian did not miss the Orchestra one bit. Von der Marwitz tone clear and radiant – and Ekaterina was sure, no she knew, the Pianist had made some enhancements. The Russian felt like in a dream.



During the Intermission the two Russians nursed over-prized Champaign. The blonde felt elated as if after a communion with a higher being “You are blown away” Natasha chuckled “Chris is quite the force of nature, isn´t she?”

“She is!” Ekaterina beamed “This was the best performance of this Concert I ever heard! And the Encore!” The Russian rambled “Imagine alone the physical stamina required! Her technique was so flawless!” “You have fallen for her hook, line and sinker!” Her Compatriot teased her and watched amused as Ekaterina blushed:

“She is a great musician!” she muttered “That she is – among other things” Natasha smiled “You have seen her butt, her bossom, her feet … but I forgot there is a certain Icelandress!” The Russian paused “How is Ragna in the sack by the way?” Ekaterina blushed even more deeply.

The time passed quickly and the blonde forbade herself to think too much about the second half of the concert: Anna Romanova performing Tchaikovsky. Ekaterina loved the concert – but feared the moment to see the woman who killed her father in the flesh.






Later:


Mesmerized Ekaterina watched as the Russian Violinist stepped into the limelight, carrying her famous Stradivarius in her left hand – the Lord Dunn Raven. The tall dark haired woman greeted the Conductor and bowed to the audience.

She seemed to enjoy the limelight. Ekaterina´s compatriot wore one of her trademark concert gowns. It left her left shoulder bare, a red gown. Her dark hair shimmered – the Grand Duchesse wore it in a ponytail.

What raised Ekaterina´s attention was the large golden cross which rested on Anna Romanova´s breastbone. It was adorned with red rubies. Could it be? Was this the Cross of Romanov? The violinist looked up – and their gazes met “Yes, this is the Cross of Romanov” her dark eyes said “And I am its rightful keeper. I am a Romanov”

It was only a fleeting moment before Anna Romanova turned her attention to the Conductor. Kyril Petrenko smiled and nodded. Her bow touched the strings and the Lord Dunn Raven´s warm tone filled the vast hall. To Ekaterina it felt like this tone was a sort of human being warm and radiant.


After the concert:


The Reception Hall of the Grand Opera was buzzing with animated chatter. To get an invite to the after concert reception many people would have killed for: The two soloists and the Conductor would be present. Natasha had commandeered one of the round tables for them. From where they could see everything and had no one in their back.

Natasha, who wore a black gown and matching Ferragamo Platform Sandals, scoffed “I never understood why people enjoy these events they are so boring!” Ekaterina was about to answer when the chatter died down: Christine von der Marwitz and Anna Romanova entered the room. Even from their place she sensed their commanding presence. The Russian and the German met and greeted for the next 30 Minutes or so.

And then it happened: Suddenly Ekaterina found herself face to face with Christine von der Marwitz and Anna Romanova. The latter seemed to leave the stage to the blonde pianist “Good evening” she greeted them. Chris with a warm smile, Anna with a cooler one, several degrees colder – the Russian decided.

But that was fine with Anna. After all she was responsible for her father´s death. She had not expected a rousing welcome.

“So you could make it” Chris smiled at Natasha “Who could forego an invitation of yours” the Russian replied politely. But Ekaterina sensed the undercurrents. The pianist turned to her “I am so glad you accepted my invitation!” The Russian found her alto voice mesmerizing and warm. Her smile reached the eyes: One of the most emerald green eyes she had ever seen.

“My pleasure” Ekaterina muttered. Chris smiled still “Why don´t we go a few steps on the balcony? It is very warm here. And I am sure Anna and Natasha will use the opportunity to swap stories” The subtle nod to Anna did not escape Ekaterina.

Anna returned the smile “Of course Chris” and beamed at Natasha “Why don´t we get us another glass of champaign? We have so much catching up to do!”

Ekaterina noticed the undertone but followed the pianist. She seemed to glide through the crowd: A nod here, a smile there. Chris von der Marwitz moved with natural grace and elegance.

Truth to be told the Russian felt a bit intimidated by the enormous presence and by her knowledge what this woman had to endure on behalf of her father. But she sensed no ill will or anger “Or she just hides it well” Ekaterina mused

Von der Marwitz stepped out on the balcony and turned to Ekaterina. A genuine smile curled her full lips “A votre santé!” she raised her Glass “A la votre!” the Russian returned and they clanked Glasses and took a sip. Chris did not beat long around the bush “I guess you have a lot of questions” Her melodious alto voice sounded warm and friendly.

Ekaterina hesitated “I don´t bite Ekaterina” the blonde smiled “And I harbour no ill Will to you. What happened in February was your father´s doing not yours – so there is no need to fear anything. Just ask!”

Ekaterina took her hearts in her hands “But I still feel deeply ashamed by what my father did to you!” The Pianist nodded “That I understand, but there is no need for that” she began sincerely ….


Inside:


Anna gave Natasha the once over and smiled mischievously “You do look good! Cyprus did do you real good” The Russian did not take the bait “It truly did” she responded in the same light conversational tone “Thanks to your administrations!” She had to admit the Russian looked radiant, she seemed to glow.

Natasha´s eyes rested on the large golden cross which rested on Anna´s breastbone. Its rubies glittered in the light “This is ….” She began “This is the Cross of Romanov” completed the violinist “I thought today was a good day to wear it in public for the first time”

The ensuing silence was not uncomfortable – both women thought back to those days in February “You won´t tell me what you did with the treasure” Natasha raised an eyebrow “Just professional curiosity” she added with a lopsided smile.

Anna smiled “Let me put it this way: The current Tsar won´t be too pleased about a press conference to be held here in Geneva in six weeks from now” Natasha waited but the Grand Duchesse seemed not inclined to elaborate further “You don´t trust me” Boris´ Oblomov´s former chief of security sighed exaggeratedly “I am hurt”

Anna grinned “Don´t get your panties in a twist Natasha: In this matter I trust basically no one”

“All preparations for the evening are complete?” the violinist changed tack “Ekaterina will be surprised” Natasha nodded “Everything is prepared” Anna´s grin got broader “We will have so much fun together, don´t you think?”

Before the black haired woman could return anything Anna pointed in the direction of the balcony “There they come. It seems everything went well” Indeed: Ekaterina and Chris seemed relaxed as they strode towards them, chatting animatedly, the two blondes were in earshot Anna understood that they were talking about “Rach 3” – “Perfect” Anna thought to herself “The two get along well” She had not doubted that seriously.

Chris smiled at Natasha “Everything ready?” Natasha kept a straight face “The Driver is waiting in the Parking Garage” “Your Grace” she added mockingly “Perfect” Anna smiled “Geneva´s haute voleé won´t miss us very much. They are too much occupied with drinking overprized champaign and being important”

The pianist smiled “Anna and I will have a change of clothes – and meet you then in the Parking Garage. Anna´s Assessment proved to be correct: Their departure was not noticed by many.

As they entered their dressing room Chris sighed contentedly as she slipped her Sandals off “What a relief!” The Russian grinned “You don´t say” as she followed suit. The two artists changed quickly into more comfortable attire: Blazers, Turtlenecks, Jeans – and pumps with a low heel. They grabbed their Trolley´s and left.

“I am really curious what Ekaterina will think about our surprise” Anna grinned mischievously “I am sure she will be delighted” the blonde smiled back knowingly.






Collogne-Bellerive, Canton Geneva:30 Minutes later, one hour to midnight:


The four women crossed the Threshold and entered the Entrance Hall of the Villa. Genevieve, Ekaterina´s cook and maid awaited them. The Russian had hired her when she and Anouska had relocated to the Villa.

At thirty five the brown haired petite busty Swiss had worked for several clients already – and had excellent references. And so far Ekaterina had not regretted her choice: Genevieve was quick on the uptake, discreet, and an excellent cook – and got along well with Anouchka.

Genevieve greeted them politely “Dinner is ready Madame” Ekaterina smiled “Thank you! We will be there presently!” She turned to Natasha “Why don´t you show our Guests to their room? We freshen up, get rid of these heels and meet in 20 Minutes in the Dining Room?”

Anna smiled “Fine with me! Lead the way then Natasha! I could devour an ox: Concerts make hungry “As if you need a reason to stuff yourself!” Chris chuckled as they followed the dark haired Woman upstairs – and the Pianist could not help herself to admire the graceful movements of the Russian and her firm butt.

Chris smiled to herself: At Cyprus she and Anna had delivered a good spanking – some of the payback the German and the Russian had visited on Chris´ handler during her captivity in Oblomov´s dungeons.

In some ways it had been Natasha´s luck that she had been last on Chris´ black list: Seven months after the events and the Sessions she had with her therapist, Frauke Johanssen, Chris´ desire for Revenge had not vanished but cooled down a bit – and they had given Natasha a choice: to protect and serve the daughter of her former Boss or suffer the consequences.

30 Minutes later they reconvened in the dining room where Genevieve had laid the table for four already. Obviously she had been briefed by Natasha. Chris and Anna had changed into loose fitting Yoga Pants, thick woollen socks and turtlenecks.

The other Russians had changed into something comfortable too. Genevieve had already served the Aperitif: A fine Champaign. Anna inhaled the scents from the kitchen “Do I smell Beef Stroganoff?” she smiled “One of my favourites!” With the Beef went an excellent Grand Cru de Bourgogne.

They enjoyed the meal in comfortable silence. Ekaterina was surprised as she watched the dark haired violinist “You should hate her” said the little devil, whispering in her left ear. “Your father brought his doom upon himself. He captured and tortured Chris von der Marwitz. Anna Romanova did what she had to do to save her best friend” the little angel whispered in her right ear “Your father would have killed her – like all the other women” the angel added.

Deep down Ekaterina knew the angel was right: To accept that bitter truth had been a long process – but she had seen the Dungeons with her own eyes. And the two maids who had taken care of Chris, Yelena and Ivanka, had confirmed Anna´s version of events.

To get Natasha to talk about her role had not been easy – but Oblomov´s daughter had been adamant: She needed to know everything “Leave out no detail! I need to know everything!” Natasha had looked dubiously at her “This will not be pretty” “Do it anyway” Ekaterina had insisted firmly – and it was this moment Natasha realized the younger woman the soft spoken blonde had a core of steel.

Natasha had told her everything, every gory detail – and to her credit she had not sugar coated her own role: Even the moment she had cruelly flogged the blonde. The dark haired Russian had not avoided her gaze, but looked her straight in the eye. Since that confession something had changed between the two women.

After dessert Anna leaned back contentedly “My compliments to Genevieve” the Russian sighed. Chris felt Ekaterina´s eyes on her “Yes?” she smiled “I have a wish” Ekaterina blushed slightly “Could you give a little concert tomorrow for me, for us” she hesitated “for my mother? If your time allows that of course” she added hastily and wondered if she had gone too far “My mother speaks very highly of you” she muttered and broke eye contact.

The pianist and the violinist exchanged a look “I guess we can do that” Anna said warmly. As it happens, we have no pressing appointments in the next two days: So, yes, we can!”

Chris nodded “Absolutely” the Russian and the German exchanged another look Ekaterina could not place, a silent understanding; a mischievous smile curled the Russian´s lips: “We have brought you a present – you find it in the first guestroom on the second floor”

“What do you mean?” Ekaterina looked nonplussed. Anna´s smiled got broader “Shall we show her?” She turned to Natasha “Lead the way!” The Russian enjoyed herself very much. Together the quartet tapped on stockinged feet up the curved stairwell – Natasha in the lead, Ekaterina brought up the rear. They stopped before the door “Go inside!” Anna pointed at the door.

Hesitatingly the blonde Russian pressed the handle down and pushed it open – and stepped into the room: There on the king size bed laid a massive cocoon. A very massive cocoon, it was truly gargantuan: It looked like a mummy sleeping bag, but much larger and heavier: It was icy blue.

“Go nearer!” Anna did not make an effort to hide her amusement “It does not bite!” Still hesitating Ekaterina stepped nearer. She had to kneel on the mattress so large and high was the massive down-filled cocoon:

The Russian looked inside – and looked into Ragna´s icy blue eyes. The lower face of the Icelandress was covered by a heavily padded large panel gag which matched the gargantuan bags in colour.

The Russian and the herculean blonde looked long at each other – then Ekaterina was sure, that Ragna smiled under the gag. The Icelandress looked up the other blonde. Quickly different emotions flashed over her face: Surprise, Anger, Confusion – and finally a smile; what Ragna surprised though: There had been no hate ….

Ekaterina forgot everything around her “Let us go” Chris whispered “The two have some serious catching up to do!” Anna smiled deviously at the Russian “We have too!” Report in thirty minutes to our guestroom – and be dressed for the occasion!” Natasha sighed “I could not talk you out of that, couldn´t I?”

“No” Anna smiled “You cannot” “That was part of the deal” Chris seconded “You know: amends ….” “Right then” the Russian nodded – sounding anything but enthusiastic “In thirty minutes then” She turned on her heels and left “What do you think?” Anna nodded at the door “Is Ekaterina ready for this?”

The blonde smiled cryptically “I cannot tell for sure, but something tells me, she is. They are” Chris added “Come let us get ready!” And the two friends left for their guestroom.

Ekaterina could not help but to let her hand glide above the surface of the icy blue cocoon, which matched the Icelandress´ eyes so perfectly. It felt smooth and soft to the touch. This restraining bag must be massive. She made a decision. And looked down at Ragna again “I should be mad at you, you know – but you know the strangest thing: I am not” The bagged blonde listened intently.

“It took me a while” Ekaterina continued “To accept what my father did – I had to see the dungeons and to watch the complete Video Material ….” The blonde paused “There are still moments when a part of me is in denial still. My therapist told me this is normal though”

“Continue” Ragna´s Eyes told her “You know, I feared tfeared this evening, today – I had no idea how it would be – facing Chris and Anna for the first time, especially Chris. I thought she would be mad at me” Ekaterina hesitated “But she wasn´t – not a bit”

“Chris has gone a long way” Ragna thought “You have no idea Kata” In body Chris had recovered quickly. But the scars on her soul had been deep: There had been the countless nightmares, the relentless training in the Gym. Whenever she could make time, the blonde had trained and sparred with her friends.

It had needed some difficult talks till the pianist accepted she needed professional help. The blonde did not talk about her sessions with Frauke Johansson – but Anna, Ragna and Sybil noted the subtle changes.

Slowly but steadily Chris regained her equilibrium – and her hot fury was gone; it was replaced by cold and grim determination. Anybody who knew Chris well knew that this cold and determined Chris was even more fearsome than the other Chris, driven by hot fury.

“I will let you out now out of these bags” Ekaterina smiled down at her “I love unwrapping presents!” the Russian chuckled. With trembling fingers the blonde pulled the zipper of the third bag down. Ragna felt the pressure of the bags releasing and sighed contentedly. In amazement Ekaterina looked at two halves of the third bag and gazed down at the Icelandress “There is a second bag!” Finally the blonde had a clear look at Ragna´s body:

The blonde wore an icy blue down filled suit. Her Hands were mitted, her wrists shackled. Three broad straps held her arms to her body. Ekaterina let her gaze wander across Ragna´s long and muscular legs, they were incredibly strong as she knew from personal experience: Ragna´s big toes were cuffed, two smaller straps held her insteps together. Her Ankles were shackled, one strap around her calves, one under the knees. Three more above the knees.

“Chris and Anna did quite the number on you” the blonde chuckled. Ragna blinked mischievously. Ekaterina felt suddenly warm. With trembling hands she helped the herculean blonde sitting up – so that the Russian could unbuckle the gag.

Ragna sighed in relief as Ekaterina eased the very large foam ball out of her mouth. She licked her lips “Thank you” the mesmerizing alto voice that sent waves of exaltations down Ekaterina´s spine sounded more hoarsely as usual.

“You are a vixen Ragna” the blonde whispered “You must have bewitched me! I should keep you under wraps” The Icelandress chuckled “I am all yours” A short time later Ragna was free of her bonds, swung her legs on the floor, stood and stretched “You cannot imagine how comfortable those restraining bags are – but staring at the ceiling becomes boring” She smiled at Ekaterina “What about this? I freshen up and get in something more ….” Ragna batted her eyelashes more coyly “alluring?” she purred.

“Sounds like a plan” Ekaterina smiled “See you presently – you must be famished poor thing!” the Russian teased her “I won´t go away” Ragna grinned stood and waddled – not very gracefully – to the bathroom. She felt that the blonde was staring at her butt “Ekaterina? I know you are staring at my butt” and swayed her hips.

“I am so glad to get rid of this suit and the diaper …” Ragna thought.

Ekaterina listened: The shower went on – and she heard Ragna singing: A soft melancholic melody, in the Icelandress´ Mother language - which touched her soul. The blonde suddenly felt warmth flooding through her body.

Decisively she got up and went down into the Kitchen, where Genevieve had prepared a trolley with finger-food, a portion of the beef Stroganoff, a cooler with a bottle champaign and a bottle of a fine Sancerre.

The Blonde took the elevator and rolled the Trolley to the Guest Suite: Ragna was still in the shower, she heard her singing still.

Still singing Ragna stepped minutes later out of the bathroom back in the guest suite: Ekaterina had laid the round table for two. The Russian let her gaze wandering from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes: The Valkyrie had changed into a baby blue nightie, which matched the colours of her blue eyes, on her breastbone rested a large sapphire, held there by a delicate silvery chain.

Ragna´s nightie reached barely midthigh and graced Ekaterina with a view on those strong muscular thighs, which were covered by nude Stockings. With delight the Russian discovered that the Icelandress´ Nail Polish matched shade of her nightie and her eyes.

Sudden warmth floated through Ekaterina´s body, her skin shimmered slightly rosy: The Russian had changed into a burgundy red nightie and a matching dressing gown. She had crossed her legs, the Aquazura Mule dangling from her left foot.

“Sit down Ragna! She whispered hoarsely “You must be hungry” “Very” Ragna smiled coyly “You don´t believe how hungry I am!” She sat down and helped herself to a healthy portion of beef Stroganoff “Wine?” Ekaterina smiled “Please!” Ragna looked up and their eyes met “Is this real Kata?” “You tell me!” The Russian shrugged “It feels real enough” – the toes of her left foot, touched Ragna´s right shin and glided slowly upwards “You Vixen” the Icelandress chided her playfully between two forks of beef Stroganoff …”

Ekaterina watched with amusement as Ragna tucked in and took a sip of wine. The temperature in the room rose slightly. Finally the Valkyrie lay the cutlery aside, a glitter in her blue eyes “What dessert is on the menu”

The Russian eyed her coyly up and down “Tell me!” Ragna raised to her impressive height “I am all yours tonight” she said huskily “Then come!” Ekaterina rose too – and took Ragna by the hand. It was dry and hot. The Russian led the herculean Icelandress in the middle of the Room “Close your eyes and wait” she whispered in Ragan´s left ear and kissed her softly in the neck.

To the Icelandress the hot moist lips felt like holy Fire. The Kiss sent showers of elation of through her body. She listened intently to the blonde´s soft footfalls: Ekaterina had shod her mules and moved on stockinged feet. The Russian seemed to rummage through a cupboard.

The footfalls came nearer again. Ragna felt cool silk above her eyes: Ekaterina knotted the shawl firmly behind her had. The Russian kissed Ragna again in the neck. Her soft hand glided above her broad muscular shoulders and pulled the nighties shoulder straps aside. The silken garment glided to the floor …. Now Ragna wore only thigh high nude stockings and a pair of panties which matched her eyes and her Nightie.

The Russian let her palms glide above the warm soft skin of the blonde´s back from her shoulder blades down the spine to the waistband of her panties. Ragna shuddered. That she could not see made the caresses only more intense. She groaned with delight as Ekaterina laid her Palms on her full breasts and played casually with her already hard nipples.

The herculean blonde sensed that the Russian wound another shawl around her trim waist. What Ragna could not see? Ekaterina took an already preknotted scarf fastened it at the navel of her scarf girdle and yanked it sharply upwards. The Icelandress inhaled sharply and gasped as the knots came to rest in all the right places.

“You are much too loud!” Ekaterina chided the other blonde “Then you must do something about that” Ragna whispered hoarsely, her voice dark with longing “Splendid Idea” Ekaterina smiled ominously. The tall blonde could not see what the Russian was doing – she loved the thrill, the suspense.

She sensed now Ekaterina´s presence behind – a large ball of fabric was pressed on Ragna´s nose and mouth “Breathe in deeply” The scent invading her nostrils was intense – intense and ripe “These are my Gym Socks and my panties I wore while I jogged with Natasha” Oblomov´s daughter whispered in Ragna´s left ear – and bit the Icelandress playfully in the ear lobe – which forced her to open the mouth.

It took Ekaterina some effort to press the large wad into Ragna´s mouth – and the Ragna had a large mouth – so that said something. Ekaterina took a large role of broad Microfoam and mad 20 Passes across Ragna´s gaping mouth. The Russian pinched her nipples hard – the heavy gag reduced Ragna´s protest to a low mumble – not that she protested in earnest. On the contrary: It was more a lustful moan.

Ekaterina took the Icelandress by her left hand “Follow me!” She whispered and led the almost naked Ragna to the bed and helped her to lay down on her back.

The silken covers felt cool on Ragna´s hot skin. She listened intently – she felt cool silk gliding above her left arm, repeatedly forth and back – around her wrist the silken band tightened. Soon Ragna found her arms tied to the corresponding bed posts.

The blonde sensed Kata´s presence as the Russian tied her ankles together her nyloned soles were pressed against each other. Playfully the herculean blonde rubbed her soles against each other. She loved the feeling – and the sound.

Something was pressed between her soles – before another silken bond held her insteps together. Ragna could not see it, but Ekaterina prepared two more broad silk scarves. When the Russian was finished Ragna´s legs were held splayed open. One silken band bound above each knee fastened to the bed frame on the left and the right prevented that the Icelandress could close her legs.

With fascination Ekaterina watched as the other blonde tried to close her legs with all her considerable power. The wooden bed frame creaked under the strain. But the frame and the silken bonds held fast.

The scent of arousal hung in the air: A powerful musky perfume. With longing Ekaterina watched as Ragna strained against her bonds. The Icelandress fair skin glistened with sweat and shimmered slightly rosy.

With a devious smile Ekaterina produced a large Hitachi wand. She pulled her nightie over her head, knelt between Ragna´s splayed legs and pressed the wand against Ragna´s crotch “Bad Girls need to be punished” the Russian whispered hoarsely. The Vibrations got stronger and Ragna´s pulse quickened. She moaned “Not far now!” But just moments before she could cum. The Vibrations stopped. The Icelandress cursed into her mother language.

“Language Ragna, language!” Ekaterina chided her playfully “You can still make way to much noise!” Ragna felt the blonde jumping from the mattress. She could her that the Russian was rummaging through another cupboard.

Soft footfalls signalled Ekaterina´s return. A thick woollen mass was pressed against her lower face. The putrid stench told Ragna that it was a thick woollen sock whose sole rested under her nose. She felt that another shawl was pressed on it:

What Ragna could not see: Ekaterina reached into a bag of cotton wool pleats and produced a large wad which she placed at the centre of a silk scarf that had been folded into a wide band, the shawl was icy blue “It matches your Eyes” the Russian and picked up the scarf and centred the cotton wool over Ragna´s gagged mouth and held it in place whilst she took both ends of the scarf and tied them tightly together.

The Icelandress felt the cotton wool compress and the two ends were tied together, then the Russian pulled it tighter, eliciting a muffled groan from Ragna before securing the scarf with a knot and keeping the sock firmly in place.

Gleefully Ekaterina picked up the second white cloth and folded it into a pad, placing it at the centre of the second folded silk scarf, also a blue one “You know” she grinned “This is fun!” Ragna mumbled something unintelligible.

The blonde lined up the folded cloth with where Ragna’s mouth would be and placed it over where the cotton wool was and then tied the silk scarf behind the Icelandress’ head, very tightly, viciously compressing every other part of the gag, keeping everything snugly and securely in place. Ragna winced as the second scarf was tightened, encasing and compacting all of the material over her mouth.

“Let us test the gag now!” Ekaterina was now in full bitch groove. She pinched Ragna´s nipples and twisted them “That is much better” the Russian concluded “But we should add a little something!” Ragna inhaled sharply as the nipple clamp bit into her left nipple, a second time as Ekaterina applied another clamp at her right nipple.

“There is a very good shop in Geneva” Ekaterina told her conversationally “I purchased those gadgets there “The have little weights and vibrate!”

“Shall we continue then?” Ragna could hear her tormentor grin. Ekaterina pressed the magic wand against her crotch again – only to be frustrated again. But her curses were very very muffled now. She rubbed her nyloned soles against each other, opened and closed her hands. Fascinated Ekaterina watched as Ragna´s muscular thighs strained against her silken restraints.

“What do you think about fire and ice?” Ekaterina whispered hoarsely and activated the vibrator between Ragna´s soles before she got up to fetch fire and ice. Ragna´s howls of laughter were heavily muffled.

It would be a long night …..


Many hours later: Ragna held Ekaterina in her arms, the Russian snored softly. Her features relaxed and peaceful: At first the Icelandress had been angry at Chris and Anna, very angry. But now she was at peace. Chris and Anna had done the right thing.


Hamburg, two days later, Evening: Chris and Anna´s Villa:



Chris and Anna had returned to the Villa a few hours ago – after spending the weekend at Geneva – a most enjoyable weekend, maybe not for Natasha …. Anna smiled mischievously: Chris and Anna had tied the Russian in several positions and had their fun with the dark haired woman: Fire, ice, wax – a good old fashioned spanking, and their talented tongues …. and tickling: the trained fingers of a musician were powerful torture instruments.

Chris and Anna had hogtied the dark-haired Russian and tied her toes. Anna had tickled her nylon covered left foot, Chris her right. Long and thoroughly. Natasha´s laughter had been reduced to a low mumble:

The pianist and the violinist stuffed her mouth with three smelly woollen socks. And several layers of socks and shawls on top – Anna had come up with another idea: a hairdryer … Anna smiled as she remembered the moans, the Russian´s wiggling feet.

Ragna would stay at Geneva for a few days longer. The flame between the Icelandress and the Russian had been rekindled. And Anna was happy for them.

Anna listened: The large Villa was silent. Chris had retreated to her room to meditate after they had a light meal: A spicy Pho, which the blonde had prepared before they left for Geneva Anna´s thoughts wandered back to February when it all had begun: Chris´ Abduction and the Quest for the Romanov´s Treasure – and the Cross of Romanov.

Truth to be told Anna had never believed in the existence of the latter. To her it had been a myth. There had been no proof of its existence – only tales handed down from one generation to the next. Rumours and whispers; then she had held it in her hands for the first time in the Monastery´s vaults, Anna could not believe it.

With trembling fingers she had taken the cross out of its box – it felt warm in her hands, it seemed to radiate waves, waves of power. She had almost let it fall to the floor, when it grew suddenly blazing hot. Quickly she had put it back into its box – and inspected her palms. Anna had expected to see burn marks. But there had been none. Maybe the rumours were not just rumours. The Cross of Romanov possessed powers after all.

Never she had felt that intense pain again when she touched the cross. Had the cross acknowledged her as it rightful owner? She was sure, that there was much to be discovered …

Anna´s gaze fell at the violin case on the sideboard: It contained her precious Stradivarius, the Lord Dunn Raven – next to it laid a rectangular blue box. The violinist took the violin case and the box and left her room and tapped on her stockinged feet down the floor to the stairwell and upwards: She opened the Door to the Music Room and switched the light on, but dimmed it down.

In its centre facing the large Panorama Window´s to the West stood a Grand Piano, Chris Fazioli. Anna laid the violin case and the box on the black shimmering wood of the Grand Piano.

She opened the zipper of her red fleece jacket and pulled it off. Beneath she wore a white tank top. As usual when she practised the Russian had dressed for comfort: Red Yoga Trousers, and two Pairs of thick red woollen Socks on her feet. Anna sensed the floor under her socked feet. To her it felt like being connected to the earth.

She made some stretching moves, before she opened first the violin case, and then the blue rectangular box: On a cushion of red velvet laid the Cross of Romanov. Gently Anna took it and closed the clasp of the delicate golden chain behind her neck: Now the Cross rested on her breast bone.

And as always when she wore it, she felt comforted. Today it felt not blistering hot – but in a strange way comforting. She knew that the secrets of the Cross had still to be unlocked. Anastasia was working on it – when she was not busy preparing the Exhibition of the Treasure of Romanov in Geneva six weeks from now.

Anna took the Violin and the bow and prepared to play: The century’s old wood felt warm on her skin. To her the Stradivarius seemed like a living creature which had a life of its own. She breathed in deeply and set the bow on the string: Soon the notes of Bach´s chaconne filled the room.



The Kremlin, Russia, around the same time:


The man sitting behind a vast desk, which had once belonged to Tsar Alexander I listened to the man in front of him “So it is true then” He was not very tall but radiated power and authority his grey eyes were icy cold - “Yes Tovarishch President, it is” the visitor acknowledged “If we intervene, the material the Grand Duchesse retrieved will go online. This is a bomb – a thermobaric bomb”

The man behind the desk nodded “Oblomov was a fool” Russia´s new Tsar was not pleased “This is what we will do!” His guest was clever enough not to interrupt “Wolodja” as personal friends called Russia´s current leader “Keep the Grand Duchesse and her friend under surveillance – we will keep still for now. But make plans how to retrieve the Treasure of Romanov and the Cross of Romanov”

“It will be done Sir!” his visitor stood and saluted crisply and was about to turn on his heels:

“Tell me Ivan, is this Cross really as powerful as they say?” His master held him back.

The man called Ivan stopped dead in his tracks “Tovarishch President, my experts say, it is immensely powerful”

The man named “Wolodja” nodded “See personally to it that we can retrieve the Cross and the Treasure when the time is right: The Cross of Romanov belongs to Russia!”

“Yes Sir!” The Visitor saluted a second time, turned sharply on his heels – and left”

The story of the Cross of Romanov was not over …..

[mrjones2009]

Your usual high standard is maintained. Great writing and storytelling.

Ekaterina's surprise was a particular delight. I just wonder how Chris and Anna managed to get the mighty Ragan into that amount of bondage!!

I like the way that all of the characters finished the story. It seemed to fit.

And as always, the hint that the story is not hey finished. I can't wait for what happens next.