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

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LunaDog
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Post by LunaDog »

The utterly superb standard of your writing continues to be FULLY maintained. And Natasha is now becoming very intriguing as well as gorgeous! Makes me love her even more!
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Nainur
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Post by Nainur »

GreyLord wrote: 10 months ago Short, but extremely exciting, @Caesar73.
Indeed.
Shivers. Wow.
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Bandit666
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Post by Bandit666 »

Well that was short, but let’s face it, hot, hot, hot
Caesar73
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Post by Caesar73 »

Bandit666 wrote: 10 months ago Well that was short, but let’s face it, hot, hot, hot
Thank you! But that was just the preview :) The complete chapter will online either today or tomorrow - so stay tuned :)
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Post by 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]AlexUSA3[/mention] [mention]Fandango[/mention] [mention]LunaDog[/mention]


Chapter 10


“My heart will go on”



Russia Unknown Location: Chris Quarters: Before





The sudden opening of the door to her quarters ripped Chris from deep sleep. She felt disorientated and exposed “What the …” the blonde muttered – still not fully awake. From sleepy, clouded eyes she stared angrily at the Russian.

Natasha gave the guards who accompanied her, a curt signal “Leave us alone!” Chris had used this short moment to regain her composure somewhat, and pulled the covers around her to cover her “You could have knocked you know” she sat upright “Honestly? I missed our afternoon bondage session”

Natasha chuckled “I let you rest with good reason”

Chris intestines froze.

“My Master craves for your company again” the dark haired Russian explained smiling, and the blonde was sure to detect an ounce of Sympathy “And?” Chris shot - any sleepiness had melted like snow in the sun now.

Natasha smiled down at her “Patience blondie, patience. All in good time! You know the drill” she said loftily “Yelena and Ivanka will make you presentable – and one friendly piece of advice” Natasha sounded very serious now:

“Keep your temperament in check” – Oblomov will dine with his wife. Anouchka is a bit” she searched for the word “peculiar” But Oblomov really loves her – and takes it not kindly if someone is making fun of her. Whatever she demands of you, you will do it without any hesitation”

The two women exchanged a long look. Chris nodded “Thank you for your consideration Natasha” Her tone was cool, even detached “I will heed your advice” Silence lingered in the air: Chris did not want to break it, Natasha did not know how. The Russian was a bit disappointed. She had expected a more emotional reaction.

After several long seconds which felt like minute Natasha broke the stony silence “We will see each other later” She tried to mask her discomfort – but to no avail “We will” Chris nodded “Be proud of yourself Natasha, you serve your master well” The blonde´s tone had been light, but every word had hit like a whip.

The door closed behind Natasha. “Whatever will happen this evening” Chris vowed to herself “I will find the strength in me Sensei!” A strange calm filled her. She had made her decision. A knock at the door broke her out of her reverie “Yes!” she answered calmly – Yelena and Ivanka entered “Hello Chris!” the red haired maid smiled – it was a genuine warm smile. “Hello Yelena” the blonde returned.

One hour later Chris eyed herself critically in the large mirror. She could not deny the two maids had done an excellent job: The makeup was perfect – the lipstick a tad too red for her taste – Chris mused, but okay. The makeup did its job: it covered the deep shadows under her eyes perfectly “I do look like Gwendoline” the blonde thought, except the hair “My hair in a long woven braid, a severe cut white blouse, a black pencil skirt, reaching just down to my calves”

Her gaze glided further down. Black hose covered her legs. On her feet she wore – once again - very high open toed platform heels of Louboutin “My feet already hurt” she observed coolly. The red nail polish shimmered through the black nylon. Under other circumstances Chris would have loved the heels

The blonde was anything but well rested: She could have used some more rest after dinner. Chris could have murdered Natasha for exposing her like this. But that had been on purpose, throwing her off Balance. If anything would help her getting through this hell it was this:

“Choose your fights wisely” her Sensei had counselled her – and she would do that. Whatever would happen this evening? One thing was sure: “I will have my revenge” Chris thought – and a grim smile curled her lips “In this life or the next!”

A soft touch at her left shoulder interrupted those musings “It is time Chris” It was Yelena who had spoken “It is time Yelena” Chris replied gently and straightened herself to her full height of over 6´ “It is time indeed”


Unknown location: Private Dining Room of Boris Oblomov, later:

As she walked the long corridors to Boris Oblomov´s private study Chris vowed herself to take the words of her Sensei to heart “Choose your fights wisely” – “I have to survive” she thought “No matter what” it flashed through her mind “Be flexible, like the weed in the storm, don´t let yourself be goaded into heroic but foolish acts of bravery!” The blonde knew she had a tendency to do exactly that:

Blessed with lightning quick reflexes, a razor sharp intellect and a keen eye for the slightest opening a foe presented to her – Chris was prone to do that.

Sensei Nakamura had known this, and chided her more than once “Christine San you leap without looking!”

She felt a firm grip on her left arm and took it as her hint to stop. With the blindfold she could life, but not being able to hear was worse – for a musician. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her blood in her ears. And that unnerved her – each time a little more.

Her wrists had been shackled in front of her, the heavily padded panel gag kept her silent “Gods give me strength” she prayed silently. Prodded by her guards she stepped over a threshold. Walking deaf and blind on those high heels was no easy task. Finally a firm slap on her butt signalled her to stop “Natasha” Chris cursed inwardly “One day we will meet again. One day, when I will not be shackled tied and gagged – and then I will kick your ass to hell and back again!”

As earbuds and blindfold was removed – Chris looked around, and against her will she was impressed: She had seen such a room before: The private dining room of Catherine the Great, the famous Green Dining Room in Tsarskoye Selo. Anna had shown it to her, when they had concerted in Saint Petersburg a few years ago.

Obviously Oblomov had spared no effort to create a perfect replica “Impressive right?” Natasha had followed her train of fought. In the meantime Chris´ shackles, the mittens and the gag had been removed.

“Yes it is impressive” the blonde agreed “It is exquisitely done” and meant it. She looked around. The large table made from polished wood, was only laid for two “You will be the lamp!” the dark haired Russian chuckled.

Chris did not follow and her face showed that “The look on your face is priceless! But you will see – later! I will not spoil the surprise! Hands behind your back!” Natasha ordered. Seeing no sense in resistance the blonde complied.

Chris stood near the middle of the table, and swayed slightly on her high heels: her feet already hurt – and it would get worse with time. With cool professionalism though she analysed how Natasha rendered her helpless: Twelve symmetrical passes of rope around her wrists. Cinched – and knots out of reach.

Two other rope bands forced her elbows to meet – and her full bossom straining against bra and blouse. Arms rendered helpless? Check. A symmetrical figure eight breast harness compressed her breasts from above and below. Check.

Natasha stood before her and appraised her work “This tie does wonders to your breasts. Not that they needed any enhancement!” “You are too kind!” the blonde made no effort to hide her sarcasm “Grumpy again are we? Natasha teased the blonde. Chris was tempted to shot back, but withstood the impulse. Even as the dark haired Russian kneaded and squeezed her breasts – and toyed with her nipples. Natasha sensed how much it costed her captive to keep her silence – and squeezed some more.

Now the Russian unzipped her skirt, so she could tie up Chris´ legs better “No worries! You get the skirt back later! We want you properly dressed!” The pianist did not take the bait – just rolled her eyes and starred ahead, concentrating on the ornaments on the green tapestry.

Natasha tied her upper legs together in three places. Directly under the tight crotch rope at midthigh – and above the knees: As professional she had to admire, the neatness and symmetry of Natasha´s rope-work. From an aesthetical point of view one the contrast between the white ropes and the black nylon was a wonderful sight.

The bonds of her lower extremities were symmetrical: One rope band und the joint, one around the calves and one around the ankles. Natasha let her hands glide above Chris´ toned and perfectly sculpted calves and marvelled at the perfectly pedicured red painted toes which shimmered through the nylon.

The pianist had decided to see the whole exercise as a test for her mental discipline “I try” Chris thought. For that thought alone Sensei Nakamura would have chided her “Do not try. Do it!”

The blonde swayed more now on her tightly tied legs, as Natasha adjusted her skirt “Keeping the balance will be difficult” Chris mused. Standing hours in this position would be a challenge “You do look good!” Natasha was obviously pleased with her work “Now the gag! I have three presents for you Chris– open wide!”

With a sigh Chris complied “This one is from Yelena” Natasha stuffed a pair of white lace panties in her left cheek “This one is from Ivanka!” The Russian stuffed a red pair into her right cheek “And this one is from me” Natasha produced a blue pair, by far the largest one, and stuffed it in the centre.

Chris gagged at the taste: all three pieces of underwear were ripe – very ripe “Close your lips as much as you can!” The blonde did her best, but could not close her mouth fully. What followed now was a very large harness ball gag.

Natasha had to use much force till the ball rested behind Chris´ lips – the blonde did her best to control her gag reflex – and her handler was clearly amused by her struggles “We want you not to drool on the blouse!” The Russian explained loftily as she covered Chris lower face with a black silk scarf:

The scarf had been folded in two and contained a substantial packing of cotton. Natasha knotted the scarf tightly behind Chris´ head “Let us test the gag now!” and pinched the blonde´s nipples hard. Chris protests were very well muffled “Good, now the surprise!” Since she was acting behind her back, Chris could not see what the Russian was doing – and this irritated her more than she liked. By now the blonde hated her handler with her guts.

Gloating Natasha stood before her:

In her hand she held a golden stylish lamp fitting for a nightstand. What was unusual? It was welded to some sort of platform. With leather straps on each side … The Russian enjoyed the look on Chris´ face as recognition dawned on her face:

The lamp would be strapped on her head! Natasha buckled the straps tightly under Chris´ chin and caused her to bite down on the ball gag even more. It felt strange on her head “You do look really good!” Natasha grinned and patted the blonde on the back of her head “Now listen! Remember what I said” her tone serious now “Do everything what is asked of you today. Don´t roll your eyes and such! Are we clear?” The blonde stared at her – and the Russian had the feeling those green eyes drilled a hole, right into her soul. Eventually the blonde nodded – and rolled her eyes.

Natasha vanished into the background, but not before she had slapped the blonde firmly on her butt. Barely the Russian had taken up her position the large double winged door swung open: A pair entered: Boris Oblomov in a perfectly tailored tuxedo and at his arm a tall voluptuous blonde. Chris only could see them when they had reached the table. The blonde was as tall as the pianist, but with much broader hips, and a much larger décolleté.

Her silver evening gown was deep cut too deep for her taste. Chris remembered what Natasha had said “she is peculiar” – the woman had high cheek bones and the blonde would have called her beautiful had it not been for the dull expression of her deep blue eyes.

Oblomov pointed at Chris “This Anouchka” he said surprisingly gentle “is my surprise for you this evening” – “he really loves her” Chris realized. The blonde clapped into her hands, and her face showed an expression of childlike enthusiasm “This is the lamp you promised me Boris?” Her high pitched voice sounded like that of a child “Yes darling” Oblomov said with a gentleness which surprised Chris “You can play with her” he produced a remote control, and pressed a button “The pianist almost jumped as the vibrator switched into high gear.

To control her facial expression cost Chris a lot. Then Oblomov tapped on another button. And the vibrator returned to its low frequent buzzing “Did you see it Boris? The light got brighter!” The blonde exclaimed excitedly “Can I try too?” Oblomov gave Anouchka the control. Inwardly Chris groaned, this would be a long evening.

Thankfully Anouchka lost interest quickly. She beamed at Boris “Can I have a closer look at the lamp?” Boris smiled warmly “Of course darling! It is your present!” Anouchka walked to Chris –and the pianist could see now, the strange dull look in her eyes more closely, like matted river gravel, abraded by the streams power. “She is like a child” she thought, keeping her face straight, avoiding eye contact. Fixating a point on the tapestry across her, to the observer she would have looked like a marble statue.

Chris did not even flinch as Anouchka touched her left cheek gently “It has such smooth skin Boris, like marble, but marble is cold, its skin is warm! And such wonderful green eyes!” The Oligarch smiled “It has” Anouchka clapped into her hands “This is such a wonderful surprise! Are its breasts real?” The Russian laughed, it was a childlike laugh, and touched Chris´ full breasts gently, then more firmly, squeezed them “They are real, and they feel sooo beautiful, so firm!” She squeezed again. Chris groaned – and stared ahead.

Natasha followed the scene with rapt attention, ready to step in, for the case if Chris lost control. But the pianist did surprise the Russian. She kept perfectly still, kept her face neutral – even as Anouchka touched her breasts. Natasha admired her for her self-control “Come darling” Oblomov touched gently his wife´s left arm “Come my love, Dinner is served”

Chris swayed lightly on her high heels – and starred ahead and watched as - like a gentleman of a bygone age - the Oligarch helped his wife to sit. Oblomov nodded – and Yelena and Ivanka served an Aperitif first, during Dinner Oblomov spoke with his wife like a child – but gently and caring.

Now and then Anouchka played with the remote control – but Chris endured and controlled her emotions, her Sensei would have been proud of her “Choose your fights wisely!” he had said. And Chris did that. The vibrator sprung several times into High Gear but not nearly enough to send her over the edge. The lamp blinked in an erratic rhythm.

Dessert had been served “Boris” Anouchka smiled “This Dinner had been fantastic …” her girlie like voice trailed away “You told me, the lamp can play the piano?” The Oligarch replied gently “It can” Cold fury filled Chris suddenly – she was no object she was no lamp, she was a woman, she was a human being “It is a she” the pianist fumed. Natasha stood across Chris on the other side and sensed her agitation.

The blonde hid it well, but it was clear that something had hit a nerve. Chris fumed “It can play the piano and it will kick your fat ass!” “Christine Sama” she heard a soft voice in her head “Choose your fights wisely” Natasha did not know what had happened, but from one moment to the next, the blonde calmed down, her breathing returned to normal.

“I want it to play for me!” Anouchka demanded like a petulant child “It will my love, it will!” Oblomov agreed – he exchanged a look with Natasha. The Russian walked to Chris “I will untie you know and ungag you – but you will only speak, when spoken too. And no Shenanigans” Chris nodded ever so slightly – which felt strange with the lamp on her head.

She stood still like a statue as the Russian, began to cut her bonds. Now she was thankful for her gag: as the blood streamed back into her fingertips, she screamed inwardly – but her face betrayed no emotions at all.

Her legs prickled as the bonds fell. The blonde rubbed her wrists. The ropes had left deep indentations. Chris´ fingers were swollen she massaged them, to get back feeling into them. Finally Natasha pulled the ball gag out of her mouth, then the soggy panties.

“It is really gagged” Anouchka chuckled “Yes it is” Boris Oblomov smiled. Chris´ jaws ached “Natasha” she whispered “If I shall play for Anouchka I need to warm up” she wiggled her swollen fingers “I cannot do it like this” The two women exchanged a long look, struck a silent deal, Natasha nodded “I will see to it – Anouchka is like a child, if she does not gets what she wants she will make a tantrum” Chris agreed “I know” Natasha nodded. The Russian walked to Oblomov and whispered something in his ear. Eventually the Oligarch nodded and Natasha returned to Chris “He understands – but warm up, as fast as you can”

“You get me a glass of water, Natasha? – and for heaven’s sake remove that lamp! I cannot play like this!” Chris demanded “Of course” the dark haired Russian nodded and returned soon with a Glass of mineral water. Chris gulped it down – and to her surprise Natasha did remove the lamp. Chris shook her head to loosen her taut neck muscles.

Oblomov whispered in hushed tones in Anouchka´s ears. The blonde´s face brightened up, she clapped in her hands “Boris you are an angel!” She turned to Natasha “Natasha, I want that it plays the piano in bra, hose and panties!” Chris fumed “Oblomov I will kill you” she was sure it had been his idea – or Natasha´s – “No, this sounds like Natasha!” she decided. That was exactly her kind of humour.

She exchanged another look with Natasha, who nodded “At least I get rid of those dammed heels” a thought crossed her mind “I will give them a good show” Slowly and gently, sensually slow, Chris unbuttoned her blouse, one button after the other. She felt Oblomov´s eyes resting on her bossom “Men” she thought disdainfully

The slow unbuttoning of the blouse got Anouchka´s attention. Seductively Chris rolled her shoulders. First she pulled the left arm free, then the right, some more shoulder action. And the blouse fell to the floor. The pianist unzipped her skirt - it glided down to the floor. Chris stepped out of it “It wears a crotch rope!” Anouchka observed giggling “it looks tight! You used such ropes on me Boris!” Anouchka smiled coyly at her husband. Oblomov kept his face neutral – barely.

“It is tight, I can assure you!” Chris thought, her audience though only saw her smiling face. Chris kicked the left heel off her foot, then the right, it felt so good to get rid of those dammed heels. That alone had been worth the show. She stood tall and bowed deeply. This situation was so surreal. The wooden floor felt warm under her nyloned soles.

Seemingly perfectly untroubled the blonde strode to the Grand Piano. Chris was sure Oblomov leered at her butt. Should the bastard! The Grand Piano was a Bechstein, an ancient one. She read the year 1900 on the Note board. Chris loved those old Grand Pianos, their sound was special. They had a quality many modern pianos had not.

The blonde sat down, and did what she usually did: She adjusted the seat to her size. The metal of the pedals felt cool under her nylon covered feet – not an unpleasant sensation. Chris was not sure, what had been more humiliating: Being presented to Oblomov´s pervert friends, being present at the press briefing - or this bizarre situation. She tested the mechanic of the pedals. Perfect!

She stroked a key: The Grand Piano was perfectly tuned “Why am I not surprised?” Chris mused, Oblomov left nothing to chance – she knew that by now. The blonde began her usual warm up routine. Scales and jumps – and for a moment she forgot the picturesque situation, as she focused on her routine. The blonde had to admit that all in all things were going quite well: She had feeling in her fingers now, the blonde felt more secure. This would be no total disaster.

“It makes music!” Anouchka clapped her hands in delight. Natasha sighed in relief. Anouchka´s moods could change very quickly she knew – but so far Chris had managed to capture her attention. Chris and the Russian exchanged a look. The blonde nodded. Natasha turned to Oblomov and Anouchka “It wants to know what Mistress wants to hear” She bowed slightly.

Anouchka sang a melody, completely off key. Chris recognized it nevertheless – it was Brahms. Anouchka´s next words made her flinch “The melody is from that stuffy old man with a beard, who wrote that sad music” Anouchka paused “Can it play that?” “Dear ask it” Oblomov gently padded his wife on the left hand “Lamp can you play that!” the blonde called Chris and chuckled – as if she had made a grand joke.

To Natasha´s surprise the pianist did something unexpected. She stood and bowed “The lamp can play that music Mistress” and kept her position “Goody” Anouchka clapped her hands “Then do it!” She turned to her husband “I love this music!”

Chris concentrated. Her fingers still felt a bit stiff. According to her own standards she would deliver a lousy performance. But the waltz of Brahms would go, thankfully Anouchka had not demanded an Etude of Chopin or a Prelude of Debussy - “I want the lamp do it, as they do it on the stage” Anouchka demanded.

Chris stood, as she would have done on stage, bowed, sat down and turned to her audience “I will play for you now Johannes Brahms Waltz in As-flat-Major, op. 39, Number 15” she announced with the most professional smile she could muster.

Alex Kantorov plays Brahms:





The whole situation was surreal: Chris sat at the Grand Piano, clad just in black hose, bra and panties in a room which resembled the Green Dining Room of Tsarskoye Selo. She touched the first key with her right hand very tenderly and the fragile melody blossomed under her fingers – Chris made the piano sing. Natasha could not help but to blink a tear away – but more important: Anouchka smiled happily, she followed every move Chris made with a childish fascination – and even Oblomov seemed captivated.

Finally the last tone stood clear and radiant in the room. Chris took away her hands from the keyboard, turned to her audience, stood – and bowed. The other blonde clapped in her hand “That was wonderful!” she beamed - and Chris noticed the change in Oblomov´s wife´s attitude:

Her eyes were not dull anymore, but bright “Can she do it again!” Chris noticed the change as did Natasha and Oblomov “She can” Oblomov reassured his wife and Chris´ and their eyes met. The pianist was not sure, what she saw there: Wonder, astonishment – and gratitude? “The man is a mystery to me – a cold hearted sadist feeling love for his wife!” In her book a contradiction – but such was the nature of the condition humana. Chris concentrated on the task at hand again:

She played the Waltz again, and again. How often? She did not know. Anouchka Oblomova demanded Chris should play louder or softer or faster. At some point Oblomov lay a hand gently on his wives hand “Let the pianist rest Darling!” Anouchka did not have it “Boris! Today I studied a new song with my teacher! I want to sing it for you!” Oblomov hesitated for the spell of a second as Chris noticed “Darling, you can sing it for me another time!” he demurred - Anouchka pouted “Boris, I want to sing it here, I want to sing it now, and I want her to accompany me!” She nodded at Chris “I want that!”

Natasha and Chris followed the exchange with rapt attention: Anouchka Oblomova was in a fragile state of mind that much was clear. With a sigh Oblomov relented “Tell her, what you want to sing for us!” Anouchka turned to Chris smiling again “Can you play that Song of the Movie Titanic?” Chris stood and bowed “I can play whatever Mistress wants me to play” She bowed again – deep.

And not for the first time this evening Natasha noticed how clever the Pianist did play this. She had not expected that the blonde would swallow her pride and play along. Anouchka rose and strode to the Grand Piano. Chris held her head down “Play the song for them!” The pianist nodded “I will”

To play “My heart will go on” was not exactly rocket science. But Chris treated the song as if she was playing Beethoven or Chopin - she did a few embellishments though, and somehow she got carried away, her tone clear, brilliant, radiant. Jumps and scales, figurations, full accords – she did it all:

And for mere moments she forgot the predicament she was in, let the music carry her away from that cellar, the dungeon, this dreadful place. She gave all she could, she put her heart her true heart into the song without any reservation. She did not mind the tears “Fuck you Oblomov!” “I cry and so what!” What Celine Dion did with her marvellous voice, Chris did with her hands. She committed herself totally. She laid her soul bare for all the world to see.

Celine Dion performs "My heart will go on" live:


When she had ended Anouchka, tears shimmered in her eyes, clapped into her hands “Marvellous! Simply marvellous! And now, now you will accompany me! Boris she plays so wonderful!”

Chris composed herself and nodded “I will accompany Mistress” – Anouchka stood and walked over to the Grand Piano. Like a professional Singer, Anouchka´s right hand rested on the Grand Piano “I have to warm up” she explained …. not that Chris had needed that explanation. The blonde focused only at the task at hand. She looked down at the keyboard. Chris blended anything other sensation out: No Oblomov, no Natasha, just Anouchka and the keyboard.


Minutes later:


Chris´ nerves were as taut as bow strings. If this went south, she would be the one Oblomov would hold responsible – she forbade herself to think about the consequences. The warm up had gone surprisingly well, but now, now it mattered: Chris gently touched the first key, she played the intro.

She did not allow herself any Extravagances which she knew would distract the Russian and throw her off Balance. The pianist played the intros last note, looked up at Anouchka and nodded almost imperceptibly, they locked eyes – and Anouchka began to sing …

Often the pianist had accompanied Singers. Good ones, great ones, mediocre ones, bad ones, but never anybody like Anouchka Oblomova. Her voice was a ruin. The smouldering ruin of what must have been a beautiful lyric soprano once. Now it was just a burned out husk, an empty shell – but now and then glimpses of its former beauty shimmered through, like sun rays through dark clouds.

Anouchka did not hit any tone, she was off key always – sometimes more, sometimes less. Chris chanced a glance at Oblomov – and to her astonishment she saw sadness in his gaze. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds. And Chris emerald green eyes conveyed one emotion only: pure hate. The promise of retribution.

Chris concentrated on Anouchka again: They had reached now the songs last stanza, the ultimate crescendo when Celine Dion´s powerful voice would rise to heights of exaltations “You´re here, there´s nothing I fear!” Chris did her best to carry the singer, and somehow it worked. She had felt it there had been a connection between them, between the singer and the pianist.

Then it was over: Chris played the coda, whispered the last tones almost, her fingers barely seemed to touch the keys, seemed to caress them like a lover would gently stroke the back of his beloved. Anouchka bowed. Oblomov and Natasha applauded her – and the applause – to her surprise – was not for show only.

The pianist looked down on the keyboard, battling her conflicting emotions. She felt sad. She felt elated. The voice of Anouchka brought her back to reality “I want to give her a present, she played so wonderful!” And before anyone could hinder her, the blonde took her silver lacy panties off – and presented them to Chris “Take this as token of my gratitude!” she addressed Chris sincerely.

Chris stood, took the pair of warm – and moist - panties and bowed “You are too gracious Mistress!” Natasha whispered something in Oblomov´s ear “Anouchka Darling that was marvellous!” he complimented her “I think though it is time to restrain our guest again!”

Chris knew better than to pick a fight she could not win, she turned and presented her back to Natasha “You did really well” the dark haired Russian whispered into her ear “Oblomov is really pleased! And I know what we will do with Anouchka´s present!” Chris had a shrewd idea too. She was not disappointed …

20 Minutes later she found herself in a stringent kneeling hogtie: Natasha had tied her big toes together and back to her elbows: The Russian could not help herself. She dug her long nails und Chris high arches, and tickled her feet mercilessly – till the blonde was red faced and flustered.

Her body was tied to a post, the cool metal rested on her hot skin, between her breasts. Now she chewed on four pairs of panties …. And obviously Anouchka had been really aroused … to keep her cool took it all. She could not hinder it: She welled up.

Natasha kept the blonde in her sights – and she felt touched by that show of bravado and emotion. Their eyes met – and the Russian was not sure, what she saw there. It was a mix of conflicting emotions: Pity, hate, empathy – and a sense of grim determination. Then the Pianist´s emerald green eyes – were stone cold again.

Anouchka was in high spirits “I saw that show on TV! She told her husband “People got thrown pies in their faces! I like that!” She exclaimed, in that high pitched girlish voice. Oblomov smiled “Would you like to do that to her?” he pointed at Chris “But we have no pies Boris!” Anouchka protested “We have darling, we have!” Oblomov smiled and nodded to Yelena and Ivanka.

Now Chris really doubted what was worse, being the plaything of Oblomov´s cronies or this? She could not help it, the tears rolled down her cheeks, but Chris kept herself together – and a wave of hot hate washed about her. She wanted to rage, to scream – but she restrained herself “My time will come” she clanged to that thought, she had to, revelled in it – there was nothing else she could do.

Yelena and Ivanka rolled two trolleys in – on it several pies. Chris and Natasha´s eye´s met – and for a fleeting moment the Russian saw the burning hate in those incredible green eyes – and the tears, which the blonde tried to blink away.

The first pie hit Chris squarely in the face. Anouchka grew fond of the new game – and Chris endured. Not that she could have done anything else: Her face, her hair, her upper body? Soon everything was covered in the pies left overs. And then it was over “It was a long evening Anouchka” Oblomov said gently, let us go to bed!”

Anouchka stemmed her hands on her hips “But I want to thank her! She played so beautifully!” The Oligarch relented “Then - thank her Darling!” And to Chris´ utter surprise Anouchka kissed Chris on her ball gagged mouth “Thank you!” she whispered – and the pianist felt incredibly sad.

What fate had befallen that woman? Oblomov and Anouchka left, followed by Natasha and the maids and Chris was alone. Her face, her upper body was covered in the pies sticky leftovers. She did not know how much time had passed as a voice broke the silence “You did that really well! Oblomov is very pleased!” Chris could not see clearly, since her sight was obscured by the sticky pie on her face. It was Natasha “So I pleased the bastard, job well done Chris!” the pianist mused darkly. “Don´t look so glum!” Natasha chuckled and padded her gently on the crown of her head.

The Russian was accompanied by Yelena and Ivanka – and the Wheelchair “You must be hungry!” she said “Clean her up and bring her into my quarters!” Chris groaned – all after that moment was a blur, somewhere along the way she lost track - she was surprised as she found herself one hour later in Natasha´s Quarters.

Natasha´s Quarters:

The two maids had cleaned her up, massaged her aching limbs, and taken some liberties with her body – and she could not deny it, that she liked the attention “I have earned that a least” Now: Again her ankles were shackled to the chair, but besides that she was not restrained. She wore blue leggings, a green turtleneck and two pairs of green thick woollen socks on her feet.

Contently she flexed her feet and her mind wandered: what a strange evening that had been. And Chris really would like to know more about Anouchka …. Natasha grinned “50 Cent for your thoughts” Chris looked long at her, hard “Besides strangling you with my bare hands?” – she softened the remark with a small, almost genuine smile – finally the blonde shrugged “To be frank: it was sad to listen to that ruin, of what once must have been a beautiful soprano and to watch Anouchka act” Chris paused “What is her story?”

Natasha shrugged “I don´t know all the details – but Anouchka was kidnapped by my bosses enemies – and they tortured her physically and psychologically. Since then her mind is broken beyond repair. You did get along very well with her”

“So well that Oblomov wants to keep me as her new toy?” Chris did make no effort to hide her sarcasm. “Whatever you think about him Chris” Natasha added calmly “He is a man of his word – and as long as the Grand Duchesse continues to play ball – that will not change”

The pianist snorted “Excuse me that my trust in your boss is limited – I know men like him. Deep inside he is a coward. Give me five minutes with him in a fair fight and I would have him where he belongs! On his knees!” Chris eyes were blazing “Sensei I know” she thought “I should have kept my temperament in check” The blonde steeled herself for some sort of retaliation. But Natasha just looked at her – long, her face inscrutable.

“Let us eat! You must be famished!” the Russian changed tack.

Chris could not deny it “What is on the menu today?” Natasha grinned “Yelena did make Borscht! The Girl is a genius in the kitchen!”
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Post by Nainur »

very cute at times, very intense at other moments. Excellent play of domination. A composed captive trying to deal with it and waiting for a moment...
excellent!
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Post by mrjones2009 »

On my! Chris really is really put through the wringer!

Such an interesting chapter where we learn more about the various characters involved in the story.
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Post by GreyLord »

Even in the midst of this inhuman torture, Chris' compassion shines. This is a masterpiece.
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Post by Bandit666 »

Well you promised the previous was only a preview and you weren’t joking, and Greylord is right, a masterpiece
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Post by Beaumains »

This capture is getting more and more layered. I am jot sure what to expect next, but it does not seem like an opening will be presented quickly for Chris.
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Post by wolfman »

This is epic. Each entry more delicious than the last. Csnnot wait for more.
View my latest story, Revelation, here;

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To view it's prequel Devastation, please click below;
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Post by Caesar73 »

Beaumains wrote: 10 months ago This capture is getting more and more layered. I am jot sure what to expect next, but it does not seem like an opening will be presented quickly for Chris.
The fifh day of Chris´captivity is drawing to a close - Anna and Anastasia have to hurry. The different storyline will converge slowly in the next chapters. Which Role Ragna plays, what rescue plan Anna and her friends have worked will become clearer. It is safe to say though that Chris is completely dependent on her friends. Natasha´s judgement has not been clouded by her feelings. If it stays that way? Future will tell.
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Post by 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]AlexUSA3[/mention] [mention]Fandango[/mention] [mention]LunaDog[/mention]


Chapter 11


“The Blood of Romanov”


Day 6: Russia, Saint Petersburg, Alexander-Newsky-Monastery midmorning:





Anna almost run after Anastasia who hurried along like a wolf on the scent of its wounded Prey “Come Anna!” the Historian prodded her “You were right! In the Cathedral is a chapel picturing Saint Simeon – and I know how to find the clue!” Anna shrugged as she followed the brown haired woman “And the blood of Romanov thing?” Anastasia grinned “I will tell you, when we have found the clue!” She added “Now come! We have no time to loose!”

The stanzas they had deciphered so far had given them directions, but the last stanza did not tell them the location where the treasure was hidden, but led them here to the Monastery where all had begun, over a century ago “A song of blood and ice and fire” the violinist mused.

The hunting fever had gripped Anna too, she almost ran after the brown-haired historian up the stairs to the main entrance of the Holy-Trinity-Cathedral. She stopped for a second, her neck hairs rose.

She let her bag - totally accidently – falling to the floor and took a quick look around as she stooped to pick the bag up. Anna detected nobody – but her senses were on high alert. The violinist hurried after the historian, who waited impatiently at the main entrance “Are you coming Anna!”

This was not the first time Anna noticed, the historian could display a bossy attitude, when she was on firm ground “I am coming” the tall dark haired woman called back. Outwardly untroubled but perfectly aware that they were not alone, Anna walked after Anastasia into the sparsely lit cathedral, the scent of incense hung in the air.

Their steps echoed on the marble floor. As a child she had often been here, when the family had attended mass … resolutely she banned those memories from her mind. Now only the present mattered.

Anastasia had already hurried on. Determined she strode to the northern nave – to a small chapel. Anna followed her. The historian seemed exactly to know where she going: There was a fresco on the wall depicting Jesus presentation at the temple. The violinist knew the verses of the Gospel of Saint Luke by heart, rendered in music by Sergei Rachmaninov in his All-Night-Vigil:

“Nïne otpushchayeshi.
Kievskago raspeva”

“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word.
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,
Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people;
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of thy people Israel.”





The Saint Peterburg Chamber Choir performs Rachmaninov



Anna spoke the verses softly in Russian –“Anna!” Anastasia tapped impatiently with her left foot on the floor “Yes, what!” the Violinist was more angry on herself than on Anastasia, because she had allowed herself to be distracted from the task at hand.

“Look at the figure of Saint Simeon!” the historian explained. What she did next surprised Anna: She pressed her left palm on the hand of Simeon, pointing at Jesus. There was a soft click, and a rectangular opening appeared in the wall right to the painting.

Anna shielded Anastasia and scanned the vast empty room. They were still alone in the Cathedral. Anastasia took a little flashlight and looked inside: There was a flat rectangular silver box, the silver tinged with age. Carefully she retrieved it, pressed on Saint Simeon´s hand again and the secret compartment closed.

“Let us leave!” Anastasia whispered. Anna had to restrain herself not to hurry through the church in unseemly haste. They had the last clue in their hands! “Chris, stay strong!” She whispered “Not long anymore!” But there was something she had to do first “Wait” she held the young historian back.

Anastasia wanted to press on, but a look in Anna´s dark eyes told her this was not the time – with fascination she watched as the violinist walked to the round container filled with sand where the long thin candles burned, which worshippers lit. Anna took one candle, lit it, put in the sand – and sank to her knees. Anastasia watched in awe.

Softly the violinist spoke long forgotten words of prayer and worship and Anastasia had a shrewd guess, for which person the violinist had lit the candle – she saw tears in Anna´s eyes. For minutes the violinist knelt and stared in the flame. Finally Anna rose and bowed. Her face calm and serene now “We can go now Anastasia, come!”

It happened as they stepped down the main entrance´s stairs. Anna heard Anastasia scream, whirled around only to watch one attacker had tackled the young historian to the ground - the second wrenched the box from Anastasias hands and broke into a run. In split seconds Anna assessed the situation and acted. The attacker with the box had not to get away – only over her dead body.

The other woman had a head start. No, she would not get away! Anna pulled her Glock. Drawing the gun, taking aim and pulling the trigger - was one fluid motion. Two rapid shots rang out, so quick they sounded as one.

The target crashed down with a piercing scream, clutching her left leg. Anna wheeled around: Target Number two had yanked Anastasia roughly to her feet and pressed a combat knife firmly against her throat. The historian´s eyes were wide with fear: Menacingly the dark haired woman holding her hissed “Drop your gun or I cut her throat!”

Anna smiled ominously “I know you! You were one of those two bitches who tried to ambush me” Something flashed across the other woman´s face: Was it Shame? Was it Anger? She pressed the blade more firmly against Anastasia´s throat, blood trickled from a cut “Put your gun down or I disembowel her like a fish!” she hissed – Anna noticed the hand holding the knife quivered.

“I don´t think so” Anna returned evenly “Last chance: Put the knife down, let her go or you get one between the eyes!” The other woman chuckled maliciously “You never hit me without hitting her, never!” “Wrong” Anna replied calmly and pulled the trigger.

Anastasia felt the heat of the bullet – so close it passed her. And the grip around her throat loosened. The knife clattered to the floor. Wide eyed Anastasia starred at Anna: The Russian stood ramrod straight, her gun still firmly trained at the spot, where Anastasia´s attacker had stood seconds ago. Now she lay on the stone floor starring in the heavens from unseeing eyes.

Anna took the gun down, concern in her eyes “I am alright” the historian whispered “but don´t the let other one get away!”

“She won´t” Anna chuckled mirthlessly “I hit her twice” Anna turned and strode to the spot where the other attacker was lying in a pool of blood, writhing on the floor. Her hand still clutched the silver box tightly. Anna´s first shot had smashed her left knee the second one had gone right through her left shoulder.

From wide eyes she stared up at the Russian, her features contorted in pain and fear. Anna aimed right between her eyes “I warned you to cross my path ever again. I won´t kill you though, I will leave that to your boss” Anna wrenched the box from her hand – and walked away.

Anastasia met her halfway “What are we doing with them?” she sounded breathlessly “Nothing. Leave them to rot” Anna replied curtly “Come, let us go, we have work to do”

Anastasia hesitated a moment – than she followed the violinist.


Geneva, Swiss, Ekaterina´s Apartment: late morning:


Ekaterina was woken by the marvellous scent of strong, freshly brewed coffee – and by Ragna singing in a foreign language. The Russian did not understand a word. But she loved the soft melancholic melody. It had to be Ragna´s mother language. The blonde stretched like a large cat and yawned. She had fallen for the mysterious Islandress hook line and sinker. Ekaterina had never felt that way before.

True, there had been other men – and other women. She had always loved to experiment – something her father did not approve off. He was conservative to the core. A staunch supporter of the current Ruler of Russia – Ekaterina loved her father but she was glad, that she could pursue her studies her in Geneva. And now she had met Ragna.

“Good morning unnusti!” the Islandress purred – the tall blonde stood in the doorway. Her blue nightie reached barely down midthigh, and showed much of her muscular thighs “Unnusti?” Ekaterina asked nonplussed “Beloved one in my mother language” Ragna smiled coyly. She carried a tablet “Breakfast!” the Russian exclaimed “It has been ages, that someone woke me up with breakfast!” Ekaterina beamed at her.

Her thoughts wandered back to the previous evening: After a six course dinner at the L´Aparte they had returned to her Apartment. They had not been entirely sober. As soon as they had closed the door behind them, Ragna had kicked off her heels – and lifted the Russian of her feet, effortlessly and whirled her around “Let me go you fiend!” Ekaterina had giggled. The Icelandress had only grinned – and whispered in her dark voice “make me!”

They had ended in her bedroom. Unceremoniously Ragna had stripped her off her dress – her heels she had lost along the way – and manhandled her on the bed, Out of nowhere she had produced several silk scarves, which had sent shivers of exaltation through her body “Let me go!” Ekaterina had protested “Never!” Ragna had smiled. Not long afterwards the blonde found herself in a tight spread eagle ….

Some coffee, some scrambled eggs later Ekaterina leaned back, sighing contentedly “What do we do today?” Ragna smiled enigmatically “I have several ideas ….”

“Such as?” The Russian smiled coyly


“I could imagine the two of us spending a few days in a very exclusive retreat in Jura-Vaudois … enjoying the Spa, going for a hike, having dinner …. What do you think little one?” Ragna´s voice mesmerized the Russian “We could pack a few things – and start in the afternoon. I pick you up around Three? There is a fantastic Hotel in Nyon …

Ekaterina had not to think long …..


Russia: Unknown location, Chris quarters, early morning:


Chris did not know why, but this morning it took some real effort to do her daily regimen. The frequent heavy bondage and sensory deprivation took its toll. Slowly but inexorably like a glacier grinding its way through a valley it sapped her strength. Almost a week had passed since she had been abducted – if her estimations were correct.

With every passing day it felt a bit more difficult to motivate herself, to keep her discipline up. It was a slow process – but it was progressing, and she could do nothing to stop it. Chris doubted seriously this day would be any easier than the previous day. The only question was with what idea Natasha would come up today.

The Dinner last night had been delicious. Chris had enjoyed the Borscht and the fine red wine form burgundy. An invitation – yes, Natasha had asked to Chris surprise – to spend the night at Natasha´s quarters – she had declined. The blonde would have not been surprised if the Russia had taken stronger measures to persuade her. But she had not. Instead she had been wheeled back in the usual fashion to her quarters: Blindfolded, deaf and gagged.

Despite she was tired to the core, sleep had evaded her: The events of the previous evening reverberated in her mind: Anouchka as she had touched her cheek gently, Anouchka as she had kissed her on her ball gagged mouth – and Anouchka as she had thrown a pie in her face …. finally sleep had covered her with the sweet dark mantle of blessed oblivion.

One hour after breakfast Chris found herself in the dungeons again. Her green eyes betrayed nothing. Natasha was fascinated as she looked the blonde in the eyes. It was as if she hit a wall. The Russian considered herself well versed at reading people, but the pianist was an exception to the rule. When the blonde had made up her mind, her face was an inscrutable mask, as it was today: No emotion. No fear. No hate. No anxiety. Just those green blank eyes.

“Ready for your midmorning session?” The Russian teased the blonde, who just looked back “The silent treatment? Chris you are really in foul mood today!”

The blonde still did not reply anything, just stared back - “Come” her handler grabbed her firmly by her left upper arm – let me show what it is in store for you today – and led her captive to one of the contraptions in the vast cave, which was the dungeon.

Chris looked at the contraption and at Natasha. Her green eyes resembled pools of ice – and suddenly the Russian felt pierced as if by a cold icy blade “Mr. Oblomov thinks that necessary to spur the Grand Duchesse on!” Natasha said defensively “Spare me your flimsy excuses Natasha” the blonde spoke cold and evenly “We both know what kind of man your boss is – you made your choice” Chris pulled the zipper of her down filled suit down “Let us get over with it – and do me one favour: Don´t use Oblomov as a shield. You have a choice!”

45 Minutes later Natasha was standing with Boris Oblomov in the Control Room, watching the feed from the dungeons “How is she holding up?” the Oligarch asked Natasha “She is strong Mr. Oblomov” – and added “But I advise to spare her the afternoon session, she might be worn down before the Endgame” Oblomov treated his subordinate with a long look from his cold grey eyes “You feel for her” and it was not a question “No” Natasha returned evenly “But von der Marwitz is more worth for us in good shape – than otherwise” Her Boss returned nothing just looked at her “And she was very kind to Anouchka yesterday – you must give her that” the Russian added.

The Oligarch relented “Good, we will spare her the afternoon session, but don´t release her until lunch – and light the candles!” Oblomov turned on his heels and left. The dark haired woman looked on the screen: Chris body was covered in sweat. Her eyes were covered with a black sleep mask, ear buds cancelled any sound out. Her lower face was covered by a muzzle of black leather. Natasha pressed a few buttons on the control keyboard.

Neither Chris could hear nor could she see. Her breathing was very laboured, because of the strenuous position she was in. So the first drop of hot wax which hit her between the breasts came as a surprise, it bit into her skin …. a hot wave of hate surged through Chris´ body, hot and sharp like the blade hammered by the smith in the white glowing fire of his forgery – and she strained against her unforgiving bonds.

“Don´t let the hate consume you Christine-Sama” Sensei Nakamura admonished her a short while later, when she met him under the now so familiar old cherry tree in the inner court yard of Himeji Castle “But the hate is the only thing that keeps me going right now Sensei” the blonde admitted.

Her Sensei looked long at her “Don´t let the hate consume you, use your training to channel it, your time will come!” Chris sighed “But it is so hard Sensei” Nakamura looked kindly at her, and the air of desperation in his surrogate daughters green eyes touched the stoic Japanese deeply “You went through worse – and you survived” He took her gently by the arm “Come! Let us go for a walk!”


Russia: Saint Petersburg, Anna´s Apartment late midmorning:


Anastasia was still shaken by the incidents at the Monastery “That woman wanted to cut my throat and I felt the heat of your bullet so close was the shot, you hit that other woman from a distance! Thirty metres? She babbled – and Anna understood her.

The violinist shrugged “I took the shot when the opportunity presented itself, I would have never shot, if I had had doubts to hit you instead – and the other miscreant? She was lucky! I could have shot her simply in the head and put her out of her misery”

Anastasia was taken aback how cool and detached Anna had spoken, as if shooting one person in the head and crippling another was no big deal at all. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Anna added “You know, in situations like these? You have not much time to think. You have to act. Hesitate the split of a second and you are dead”

She changed tack “Now let us have look at that box!” They had both put on white cotton gloves. Anastasia inspected the box. It was made of pure silver. Once it must have been glimmered and shimmered. Now it was dull. But there was no lock – at least none they could see.

In the centre of the lid though was some sort of amulet, it shimmered like opal. Both women looked at the box nonplussed. Anna fumed inwardly. They were so near to find the key, but it could not have been further away. Anastasia was muttering something under her breath “What?” Anna was irritated – she wanted to smash something, to hit somebody.

The historian looked up “Remember that last verse?” The violinist was at a loss “What do you mean?!” “The blood of a real Romanov is the key” Anna snapped “Yes I remember” A small smile curled Anastasia´s lips “You are up to something, I know that smile” Anna chided her “You remember that fairy tale of the brothers Grimm?” the brown haired woman continued unabashed “Dornröschen?” “Of course I do!” Anna snapped.

“Remember the drops of blood that fall into the snow?” Anastasia prodded. And recognition dawned on Anna´s face “You mean a drop of blood, of my blood is the key?” The historian nodded “There is only one way to find out” a small smile curled her lips.

The violinist nodded. She left the table, went to the kitchen and returned with a small needle. Anna pricked herself in the left finger of her right hand and held the finger above the opal in the centre of the box. One drop of blood fell down. Nothing happened. A second drop. Nothing –and then a third: There was a soft click in the strained silence.

Anna and Anastasia looked at each other “It has worked!” the violinist exclaimed – and Anna felt a wave of relief surging through her body “You are a genius Anastasia!” the young historian blushed a bit “It was just a hunch” she demurred modestly “Let us look what we have in there!” Anna pressed on. With trembling fingers Anastasia opened the box. In it laid two folded and sealed sheets of handmade paper – and an envelope, also sealed.

Gently Anastasia retrieved the envelope with trembling hands. She felt a bit like Howard Carter as he discovered the tomb of Tut-Ankh-Amun. She inspected the seal, photographed it “This is the Great Imperial Seal” she muttered – Anna looked over her shoulder. She recognized it too.

The historian hesitated a moment before she gave the envelope to Anna with a slight bow “This is addressed to you and you should break the seal, Your Grace!” Anastasia intoned in a formal way. The Violinist hesitated for a second but broke the seal then with a decisive motion. The crack felt strangely loud in the silence.

Carefully Anna unfolded the sheet of paper. In a slow voice, almost as if she was talking to herself she read:


To the reader of this letter!

Whoever you are, if you have come this far, you have proven that you are a true Romanov. Your blood has proven it. In this chest you will find all you need to recover the Treasure of Your House.

Pursue your quest with diligence! Do not let the heathens lay their hands on the sacred heirlooms of the most noble and most ancient House of Romanov.

You are the true heir of the Cross of Romanov. Keep it safe! It shall be an heirloom of your Family and remind you of your ancestors always.

You shall be blessed and walk under the Grace of God the Almighty as long as you live!

May the lord bless you and keep you
The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you

Long live the Tsar!



Anna had read the letter aloud and to her it felt like a greeting from a past long forgotten. Gently she put the letter aside and Anastasia retrieved the two sealed larger sheets of parchment. One was larger than the other. The historian broke its seals and unfolded it. It was a map.

Anastasia opened the second sheet: It looked like some kind of floor plans, with instructions written.

“We found it, we really found it!” the historian whispered – and felt herself in a bear like hug. Anna had hugged her tightly “You really did it Anastasia!” The ensuing silence was not uncomfortable. The Signal of Anna´s laptop broke the spell of the moment though “This is Sybil!” the violinist explained “It must be important!” She took the video call. Sybil´s face appeared on the screen. And Anna felt dread. The usual kind face of the IT-Genius was grave “What is it Sybil?” The Russian asked –and feared the answer.

“I got access to Oblomov´s Network” Sybil replied – and I found something disturbing, you must see it – and you will not like it” Anna nodded resolutely “Show it to us” Another frame opened, and Anna realized they were watching a live feed and tensed, her knuckles turned white:

They saw some sort of dungeon. There were lots of torture instruments. But one especially caught their attention. The camera zoomed nearer: A tall blonde was strapped on a contraption which held her body in a bow - it was some sort of a rack, an arch. Her finger tips touched almost the floor, the tips of her toes too.

Taught leather straps welded the body of the woman to the bench, every five centimetres another strap, beginning at the toes. She was stark naked. The crotch rope seemed to cleave her almost in too.

Her lower face was covered by a muzzle gag and her eyes by a sleep mask. Her breathing seemed to be laboured and her body was covered in sweat. But what really infuriated Anna were the marks of drops of wax which covered the blonde´s body, from her high arches to her forehead. Sybil´s voice interrupted the violinist´s dark thoughts “There is more I fear, there is a complete folder with videos like this”

Anna had obviously trouble to keep her emotions in check as she replied “Thank you Sybil. Send this to Ragna, she might find it useful!” Anna ended the call, she was obviously shaken by what she had witnessed – but Anastasia registered a grim determination on the violinist´s beautiful features “I. Will. End. That. Bastard. Personally” Anastasia sensed that it cost Anna enormous effort to restrain herself.

Seconds, maybe even minutes trickled by.

“What now?” Anastasia finally dared to ask in a small voice “Tomorrow Anastasia, tomorrow we will go and find that treasure” Anna paused “And then it is judgement day, the end of all days – for Oblomov” She grabbed her phone and dialled. The person, Anna had called, took the call “Vasyli” Anna spoke “I need your help!”
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Post by LunaDog »

Must admit that i am a little concerned for Natasha now, she's showing that she is vunerable. Chris HAS hit a note about the fact that she DID choose to serve her master, Boris Oblomov.

btw, i've just finished reading the Weinstein Collection. ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE. And now i understand a lot more about Chris and Anna. I'll start reading the 'Lost Scrolls' soon. And perhaps you can understand my fear for Natasha now. Look what happened to Sieglinde Gablenz!
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Post by Nainur »

Very intense chapter (btw.: right know feelings over Russia are quite splitting opinions in the world, but it does have a unique culture with long, long tradition - we are in part reminded of it here, and I like it, inter alia).

Well, Chris, what are you going to do?
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Post by GreyLord »

[mention]Caesar73[/mention], you are certainly on a roll with fabulous words dripping off of your pen. I can feel the conclusion gathering although it is still unseen. Is that a crack in Natasha's facade? Or does she just truly want Chris strong for whatever finish her boss has planned?
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Post by mrjones2009 »

Judgement day.....

That is all that I need to type. My anticipation levels for finding out how this wonderful tales finishes are off the scale.
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Post by LunaDog »

Nainur wrote: 10 months ago Very intense chapter (btw.: right know feelings over Russia are quite splitting opinions in the world, but it does have a unique culture with long, long tradition - we are in part reminded of it here, and I like it, inter alia).
Couldn't agree more. Whilst i don't necessarily approve of some of the current Regime's 'activities,' and i'll say NO more than that, i find Russia a fascinating country. FULL of history and tradition.

And Maria Sharapova is Russian! Does ANY more need to be said?
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Post by Beaumains »

Great continuation. Lots of things happening and coming together. Is this story already reaching a finale? Or is this just the end of an arc?
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Post by Caesar73 »

Beaumains wrote: 10 months ago Great continuation. Lots of things happening and coming together. Is this story already reaching a finale? Or is this just the end of an arc?
Thank you! Till the end game there are actually at least three more chapters, followed by two more plus the epilogue :) As you correctly pointed out the three plotlines are convering. Six days have passed since Chris´ abduction. Anna and Anastasia made a big step forward, the next Chapter will she some more light on Ragna´s plans.
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Bandit666
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Post by Bandit666 »

Well [mention]Caesar73[/mention] all I’m going to say is I’ve read this chapter twice before commenting, and not just to make sure I didn’t miss anything as things and events start to converge on the rapidly approaching end game, if you know what I mean. Awesome as always. But pray tell when’s the movie come out ;)
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Bandit666 wrote: 10 months ago Well @Caesar73 all I’m going to say is I’ve read this chapter twice before commenting, and not just to make sure I didn’t miss anything as things and events start to converge on the rapidly approaching end game, if you know what I mean. Awesome as always. But pray tell when’s the movie come out ;)
Perhaps we should form our own production company. The professional film makers have failed us. Back in the early 1970s, three bondage movies were make about Ginger, played by Cheri Caffaro. I think those were the only real bondage movies Hollywood ever made. They never tried again. There is a gaping hole here that needs to be filled.
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An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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Well [mention]GreyLord[/mention], you can count me in, are you up for it [mention]Caesar73[/mention] and [mention]slackywacky[/mention] because if you are, when can we start ;)
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Post by Caesar73 »

Bandit666 wrote: 10 months ago Well @GreyLord, you can count me in, are you up for it @Caesar73 and @slackywacky because if you are, when can we start ;)
Sounds like a plan to me, my friends!
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