3 comments/ 37209 views/ 14 favorites Incestory: Kiska By: sex2xs2 It wasn't too bad this time; he was kinder than usual and pulled it out of my mouth before ejaculating. I'd learned to fill my mouth with spit to make it more ... palatable; absolutely nothing could ever make it tolerable. Sometimes he was kind enough to let me spit it out onto my tits or along the long shaft of his uncircumcised cock. Sometimes he wasn't so kind and insisted I swallow. It had always tasted like caviar to me ... I couldn't be the only woman in St. Petersburg who hated the taste of caviar but it seemed that way; waiters and hosts practically forced it on you in every venue. "Yes, Kiska," he grunted as the ribbons of his hot cum splashed across my pursed lips and cheeks. I tilted my head to try to prevent it from getting into my eyes but he wasn't having it my way today. His grip on my hair was too strong for me to pull away and I could feel the hot splashes across my eyelids. When I was a child and he called me 'Kiska', or 'Kitten', my heart would soar ... now it left a foul taste in my mouth; it tasted like his foul sperm. Just to compound my misery he slapped my cheeks with his penis to smear the cum around before finally jerking out the last drops onto my chin. "So good, Kiska ... you are always the best!" He was done using my mouth now, so he let go of my hair to pull up his white-striped blue tracksuit pants. I stayed where I was, kneeling before him in the bedroom doorway of the flat my Father rented for me, covered only in the sheer sky-blue French peignoir he'd bought me to wear last year - the one he liked best - anything I could do to get my shameful duty over quickly was an advantage to me. "Do you know why I'm here today?" he asked. I knew exactly why he was here; just not why he was here so early this time. "You almost made me forget," he walked across the room to his mid-length black leather jacket draped over the back of my wooden desk-chair. It was the kind of jacket all of the local gangsters preferred. Irrational fear gripped me when I heard his gun clank against the arm of the chair as he dug in the pockets. I was relieved when he pulled out a white-ribboned rectangular jewelry box instead. Vasily 'The Headhunter' Chominkov was the most dangerous man in the region. Tall and muscular - he was a big man among big men. It looked like a necklace case. I stood and wiped the cum from my face with the sleeves of the much-hated peignoir. He tossed it to me and cheerfully sang out: "Happy Birthday, Elenya!" I let it fall to the floor at my feet without trying to catch it. I'd forgotten my own birthday; I was Nineteen now. "Thank you, Papa," I said mechanically. He watched me for a second and I watched him back. I could tell he wanted me to say something more but I didn't see the need to thank him profusely after having just taken a load of his cum on my face. "Well then," he sighed, "I will call you later," he gestured at the gift on the floor, "Let yourself enjoy something, Kiska." Then he left. I kicked the box under the bed with the rest of the unopened gifts that my lovers felt the need to leave me. ***************************** After I showered away my disgrace, I decided that I would celebrate my birthday after all. I chose a particularly short black miniskirt and a sexy button-up white blouse that flared around my wrists and bared my midriff. I'd discovered that a sexy navel was the quickest way to a man's heart - regardless of what the old mother's would tell you. The shoes were the hard part and I struggled before finally selected a pair of black knee high leather boots. It was snowing a little already this year and boots were always perfect with the skirt in any case. I decided to top it off with my long elegant Chinchilla fur coat, a gift from some of my father's gangster friends in South America. I laid out the clothes on my bed and stood naked before the full length mirror that covered a wall of my bedroom to see myself. The reflection in the mirror smiled at me in greeting. I imagined that she was what my Mother looked like, though I'd never remembered seeing her. When I'd tried to ask Father about her, he'd ordered me to never speak of her or ask him questions about her again. I didn't even know my mother's name. All I knew of her was that my father said she was a whore. ***************************** I turned from side to side and the reflection echoed my movement. "Hello, Kiska," I said to her. The Woman reflected in the mirror was so much more beautiful than what I thought anyone had any right to be. She had high cheek bones and full sensuous lips, brilliant emerald green eyes. Her large breasts were young and firm, crowned with perfect pink nipples. My father had said that if every girl had those breasts he could finally kill the expensive German surgeon he employed to fix up his whores. Her breasts, torso, navel, and hips, were all in perfect symmetry, and even the trimmed stripe of blonde pubic hair that ran down to thick full vulva and labia was pleasing to the eye. The legs were thin, long, and well muscled. She looked like an object of fantasy and there was no doubt that men found her attractive. I opened a package of smuggled French Oils I'd been saving for a special occasion. "It's my Birthday today," I informed her. "It's your Birthday, Elenya," Kiska said, running her thin oily hands over herself, "Let yourself enjoy something." She lowered herself to the bed and vulgarly spread her legs to show me her pussy. She ran her hands down her body, spreading the oil over her skin until her fingers found the tender parts and the swollen lips between her legs. She slid two fingers entirely into herself and rolled her hips while her other hand pinched and pulled at her pink nipples. Our eyes locked and I watched her fuck herself in the mirror until we both came together, our moans echoing off of the glass. ***************************** The club was amazing - and it was completely temporary. It wouldn't take long for a new club to appear somewhere else when this one sank into disfavor. Places like this would open up, have a good run, and close their doors either due to pressures from the police or pressure from the dangerous mix of criminals who would descend on the place as it gained in popularity. They would both be looking for new victims. A year ago this place had been some sort of storage cellar for fruits and vegetables for a Soviet era market that had been at street level and now it was another posh hangout. I sat at a private table lit with red candles in jars and sipped a screwdriver made with stolen Sicilian Blood-Orange juice and harsh potato vodka in an alcove where cabbages had once been stacked. When Leningrad was gone, and St. Petersburg rose from the ashes, the market had disappeared in a frenzy of development only to be replaced by overpriced Western stores and outlets that most Russians couldn't afford to shop at. The city's economy was crashing hard these days and food rationing had already been reintroduced in some parts of the city. Occasionally you'd even see aid being delivered early in the morning. Many people were already starving. A pang of guilt hit me ... sometimes my father's men stole the aid and sold it at prices that were - for lack of a better word - criminal. The pang disappeared in sense of pride. We were not those sorry Russians. We were the new breed. We wouldn't depend on Soviet style handouts like the brainwashed peasants that lived among us. Doors opened for us, people stepped aside, and voices hushed respectfully when we entered a room. But ... in this kind of place everyone pretended not to take too much notice of me ... they knew better. I turned to scan the other 'private' booths vaguely hoping there were some interesting people around tonight. A pair of sensual eyes lit by the flair of a match caught my attention - deep dark brown eyes; a long foreign cigarette; shiny-black hair; skin the color of creamed coffee; sexy wealthy features; all wrapped in an unbelievably expensive jumpsuit I'd coveted myself in a shop window only yesterday. I was jealous - the outfit was so expensive that it was beyond even my generous comfort level. She was beautiful and seated only a few tables away. If she was in this section of the club she was wealthy, and because she was alone, she must be very wealthy. She was a Latin woman - Italian or some region of Moorish Spain I guessed. Her eyes bored into mine and she smiled a familiar grin - a look of recognition? There was a sensation in my chest I didn't understand. I was locked into her eyes, my blood rushed to my cheeks and it was like a tunnel formed around her and faded the rest of the world away. A drunken man's voice broke the spell ... English words ... an American bellow. My head swam for a second as I snapped around to look at him: " ... and I don't know if you understand me, but I gotta tell you that you are the most beautiful ... ." Shit! Another 'Ugly American' and a truly unattractive one at that. The bouncer would need a talking to. It wasn't polite to proposition the women in this section and he should've been removed quickly. He should have been informed that the whores sat at the bar. He was pudgy and soft with a shock of unkempt red-hair and cheap clothes made in some sweatshop in China. I tuned him out and sipped my drink while politely looking into his eyes and smiling as he complimented me in a drunken torrent of words. I finally got tired of being nice, shrugged my shoulders, and said: "I don't speak English very well at all, I'm sorry if that seems rude." "Oh, okay ..." he stammered as he looked around for another target before walking away. "Fool," I muttered to myself. A pang of jealousy hit me when I wondered if he'd targeted the Latin beauty a few tables away yet. I turned back to see her for myself - but she was gone. Suddenly, my desire to be at this club was gone as well. ***************************** One of my Father's men was waiting for me outside. I knew his name was Lev and he was new to the outfit. My Father never seemed to discuss anything important around him and that, in itself, indicated to me that he didn't trust him very much. He always watched me closely when he was around. I could tell he wanted to fuck me; it was obvious. "Elenya!" he called when I tried to sneak the other direction huddled in the Chinchilla, "Elenya, wait, please!" I stopped. He had asked me to stop, not ordered me. Wasn't he here on my Father's request? I found myself curious as to why. He walked towards me and held out his arms in a gesture of peaceful intentions. He was close to twice my age but looked younger. He was strong and extremely handsome. His hair was a darker blonde than mine and his eyes were so blue they almost looked black. He had been in the army; the death-symbols and dagger tattoos on his forearms and wrists made that clear. They were a symbol of pride and a respected warning. I could tell by the fit of his clothes that he still maintained his advanced fitness level. He would have to keep at it - if he wanted to get anywhere in his line of work for very long. "Lev," I replied, "don't you have a body to bury or something else you do along those lines?" "Elenya, why are you so ... difficult?" he put on a charming smile. "Where are you going?" I struck a pose Kiska had taught me in the mirror, she had showed me how to appear haughty and in command. "You act as though you have the right to question me, Henchman." The effect was perfect. He froze and bowed slightly: "Forgive me, please." "Go away now." I ordered. He turned and walked away quickly. He kept his head down as if he expected a blow to the back of the neck. A soft feminine laugh over my shoulder drew my attention, along with the smell of exotic perfume and cigarettes, a soft hand on my shoulder. I turned around and the hand coalesced into the beautiful woman from the club. "I have a car," she said in heavily accented Russian, an accent I couldn't place, "Would you care to join me?" "Of course," I replied. She ran her fingertips over the fur above my breast. "You are very beautiful. I can't promise I won't try to seduce you," she said. "I can't promise I won't let you try." ***************************** She was over me but not crushing me, holding herself up so that her body hovered just in contact with my skin, my fur draped over her back. Her beautiful brown breasts rested on mine and rotated slightly so that her nipples and mine caressed each other in rhythm. She was very experienced and excelled in stimulating the both of us with each movement. Two of my fingers were inside the unzipped jumpsuit - deep inside her pussy. Her steaming wet clit slid back and forth across my upright palm as she slowly rocked her hips. She moaned her breath along my neck and I overflowed in response, adding liquid-squishing sounds to the movements of her hand circling between my thighs. "I think it's time," She giggled and ran her beautiful thick black hair down my body causing me to writhe and cry out from the pleasure. I arched my back and squeezed my eyes shut in a small quick orgasm as her mouth engulfed me and her tongue swirled inside me. ***************************** When I opened my eyes again, Kiska was there with us. She was reflected in the curved glass of the rear windshield. My exotic lover was wrapped in the Chinchilla between her legs. I watched the exotic woman seek out Kiska's locus with her tongue ... her body quivered and waves of pleasure washed over her from the tip of the woman's tongue, through her pussy, to the very tips of her toes and golden hair. "Let yourself enjoy something," the reflection said to me in my Father's voice. I came again, harder this time, my screaming orgasm bringing me to a place I didn't understand, a place where tropical ferns swayed and forested mountains topped with snow were kissed and engulfed by warm ocean breezes. The lovers in the reflection floated on a fur in clear blue surf and everything tasted like sweet electric orange juice. ***************************** Banging. I woke with a start. The banging was at my bedroom door. "Shit!" I looked over to where my lover had been. She was gone. And once again, like in the club, my desire to be where I was had disappeared as well. "Elenya?" Lev called through the door. "Fuck off!" I shouted. Something rattled and the door swung open. "So you're a fucking burglar too?" I asked. "This is not a social call, Kiska." he said sternly, stashing something shiny in his jacket. I sat up and spat the caviar taste at him: "Don't you ever call me that again!" I didn't care that I was naked and rolled swiftly to my bed stand where my little Makarov sat behind a stack of books. When I spun back with the pistol he leapt at me from the door and effortlessly smacked it away before twisting my arm and forcing me face-down onto the bed. I could still smell her scent in the sheets and it made me forget for a moment that a man was standing over my naked body, on my bed, and twisting my arm - not that it was the first time this had happened to me. "Your Father wants to see you." ***************************** He sat behind a giant beautiful Teak desk made in Osaka, a gift from some Yakuza clan. It was too bad the beautiful desk was in his shithole warehouse office. It was like a diamond in a coal field. Still, he was very proud of it. He tapped his finger on the desk with one hand and rested his chin in the palm of the other, looking at me steadily for a moment before speaking. "You realize that you have brought me some difficulty," he said. "How so?" I asked. He sat up straight and pushed a short stack of magazines at me. My heart jumped in my chest when I saw the woman who graced the covers. The magazines were in Western letters but I could easily make out the name 'Vivian' splashed across her chest in blue-green letters on one of them. So she was a Western fashion model and a famous one at that. "You didn't know?" he asked. "We didn't speak much." The implication was not lost on him and I saw the look in his eyes that told me he was going to have to work out some frustrations on me soon. "She's not just some model in town for a 'shoot'," he said making quotation marks with his fingers. She was connected? "So," I replied, "Your business doesn't concern me." He sighed and tossed a few photos across the desk so I could see them. I picked them up and recognized the location. I also recognized my father in the picture. He was younger and was shaking hands with a large bearded South American gangster the press like to refer to as Don Fernando 'The Bull Killer' DelToro. They were at my Father's estate in Kiev. The next photo was a picture of DelToro with a young beautiful teenage girl sitting on a magnificent chestnut-brown Hanoverian Stallion. The girl was a younger version of the one I'd loved last night. "I see," I stated. "Do you?" he asked as he pulled a grotesquely huge pearl-handled chrome revolver from under the desk and laid it on the desktop. I shrugged to keep myself from shaking. "Does this weapon frighten you?" he asked tapping it. "No," I bluffed; guns didn't scare me, I'd been around guns all of my life; I just didn't like guns in his hands. He picked it up, aimed it at me, and cocked the hammer in one smooth movement. The barrel was huge and I could clearly see the giant grey lead in the chambers. "Please, Father!" I cried. I'd meant God - not the sick bastard pointing a gun at me but I doubted he would realize that. He set the gun down again, decocking it. "Now, maybe you really do see," he said tapping the gun. "This gun is your woman." He raised his hand and made a trigger pulling motion with his fingers. "This is her family." It occurred to me then that I was the only person still living who had witnessed my father pointing a gun at them ... then I found out why. ***************************** The teak was hard and cold. The thick acetone-scented wood stain was sticky against my cheek as my Father held my head down with one hand, twisting it visciously in my hair. The gun was in his right hand where he knew I could see it. It rocked with the motion of his body as he pumped my pussy mercilessly from behind. I let my thoughts wander as he fucked me. It was only a matter of time now. I could tell by his pace. I twisted my head in an attempt to see the images of Vivian on the magazines a few centimeters away from my forehead but they were out of my line of sight. What I could see, from this angle, was a gnarled old oak watching us in our incestuous coupling through his dirty office window. In the glass I could faintly make out Kiska. Only this time - she wasn't sharing my experience ... no father was bending her over his desk. Maybe I was in this position because I wanted to be? The sensation of his big cock sliding in and out of me as he rocked back and forth wasn't entirely unpleasant. I sometimes found myself enjoying him fucking me ... even from behind. I absently wondered if I didn't suffer him out of some sick lust for him. No! I grimaced at the thought. That was what he wanted me to think! I was in control of my own mind ... I could choose what to think ... I would think of Vivian. I looked to Kiska for confirmation but she had a strange faraway look in her eyes - like she couldn't see me. I drifted into Vivian's arms and we were together, under the oak tree outside of the window - beside a bubbling spring. She was a beautiful Naiad and I was her victim. She fused with me and drew me into her dark deep pool of water to feed me to her tree. Incestory: Kiska ***************************** My Father snapped my thoughts back to him by pulling my hair and banging my face against the desk. "Please!" I cried even though I knew it would only make him worse. I guessed he didn't like being ignored when he was trying to make me miserable - I must have given myself away by smiling. He smashed my face into the teak again. "Papa, please stop!" I begged. "Shut up!" he snarled. He continued banging my face down in time with the thrusts of his hips to make sure I didn't drift off again. I moaned and pursed my lips, like he liked me to, but I was somewhere else - kissing my Naiad and drifting back into the cold deep water. He came in me - I felt the hot splashes against my Cervix and a strange wonderful throbbing sensation I'd never felt before. I could almost visualize the process in my mind as my Uterus contracted at a high frequency ... drawing his wicked degenerate sperm into my womb. I gasped for air like a drowning man as the sensation caused me to have a little orgasm of my own despite my revulsion. "Moya Kiska!" he grunted and released my hair after rudely banging it down one last time. I imagined I tasted caviar and the image of the glade melted away ... maybe I was crazy but it almost seemed like he had pulled me from a certain blissful doom with his vicious lust. "Now," he said, "I will find your little lover," he pulled his pants up, "and I will fuck her too." I knew it instinctively, the instant it had happened - the tingling inside me was unmistakable - I was pregnant. ***************************** Lev wouldn't look at me when I got in the car. Nor would he as we drove back to my flat - he knew what had happened somehow. I watched the streets and people pass as we maneuvered through traffic. Out of the grey landscape appeared a splash of color - on a row of posters glued to a spray-painted covered wall. "Stop the car!" I shouted. "What?" he caught my eye in the rearview mirror for the first time. "Stop the car, NOW!" He pulled over to the curb and I practically flew out of the back door. I stumbled across the sidewalk before regaining my balance. People turned to stare. We must have made an interesting sight - me in the Chinchilla fur and leather boots sprinting down the street the way we'd come, and Lev, in his gangster uniform, in close pursuit. I slid to a stop and read the poster. Lev nearly collided with me, grabbing my arm for balance. There she was! My Vivian! She was in a canary yellow gown in the center of a row of exotically dressed models. She was the crown jewel in a tiara of human beauty. The poster was an advertisement for a Charity Ball being held for the citizens of Piter ... and it was in the city tonight. "She's very beautiful," Lev said sweetly and pointed her out, "your woman." He let me go. "Will you take me to see her?" I asked him. He looked at me and his eyes softened. "Yes," he smiled kindly. Maybe he wasn't so tough after all ... No ... I reconsidered ... by taking me, he had to know he would be risking my Father's wrath, his career, and possibly his life. ***************************** I let him make love to me after I showered away my Father's semen ... the semen left over that would never reach the prize one of them had already claimed. When he fucked me, he was gentle and slow. He wasn't trying to rush like so many of the others and seemed concerned with really enjoying me to the fullest. I ran my hands over the hard muscles of his arms and chest as he slid in me, enjoying the sensation of him filling me. He was longer and thinner than my father and it was a pleasant change. When I sensed he was close to cumming I held him in me and wrapped him in my arms and legs. He was the only man I'd enjoyed having for a long time and I wanted to enjoy myself to the fullest as well. "I will cum in you if you don't let go!" he warned. "It's alright," I moaned, as I stroked his lower back with my fingertips. He slowed to an extremely pleasurable pace and moved his hips in tiny circles. The movement maximized the sensation of his body against my clit and I felt myself rushing up to meet him half-way from deep inside. "Elenya!" he moaned and released inside me. I released as well and we rocked together in simple pleasure until we melted into sleep. He smelled like leather and gun-oil. ***************************** In the evening, Lev drove me to St. Petersburg's most exclusive dress shop, the one place where I knew I could get a dress nobody else would have, the place I'd seen Vivian's jumpsuit. He waited in the car while I shopped. I could almost feel his presence nearby and it was a bit comforting to have him there. I guess it's the comradery you feel when you are in a deadly conspiracy with someone. The shopkeeper was a woman in her fifties with strands of grey coloring her dark hair and a beautiful strand of pearls around her neck. She was dressed in one of her finest pieces. It was a tight strapless deep-purple sheath dress that flared below the knee. It made her look twenty years younger although the effect would have been less if she wasn't so obviously thin and pretty for her age. I was envious. She looked fantastic in the dress and I could never afford it, not without asking my father for the money. "I see you like the one I wear," she smiled, "It is very precious." "You look so beautiful!" I gushed. "Oh, you are an angel," she smiled and looked into my eyes, "Aaaaah, and you are in love." I must have looked confused for a second. Because she studied me carefully trying to gauge my thoughts. A good salesperson must try to anticipate the customer's needs. "I do love her," I said out loud. "I see," the woman's voice was kind, not the tone one would expect when hearing someone announce they were in love with someone of the same sex. "I've only known her a night ... ," I needed to confide in someone, " ... and she may leave soon." The woman smiled knowingly and nodded politely. "I don't know where she is now and if I don't find her I think I'll die and ... Kiska ... the Woman in the Mirror ... she'll die and I'll never see the ferns ... or feel the wind again ... or kiss the Naiad under the oak and drown in the roots and It'll probably die anyway and so will Lev and the baby and my son will be lost to me and my father will hurt us ... that fucker!" I didn't have any idea what I was saying I was just saying it. Until I finally just stopped and broke into tears. I crumbled to the floor and the woman rushed to me and held me, rocking my head against her freckled breasts above the neckline of the magnificent dress. "Shhhhhhhhh," she held me and soothed me, kissing my forehead like a mother, "You aren't the only woman who's ever gone mad from love, my Dear." ***************************** She gave me the dress. "I know who you are, Elenya Chominkov," she'd said, "And I know who your bastard father is. He extorts enough money out of me - and if helping you is hurting him in some way - then you may have it." ***************************** Lev gaped at me and I swore drool was going to fall out of his mouth. I stood in front of the mirror in my room wearing the gifted dress and the Chinchilla. I was holding my hair above my head with my left hand. He stood behind me and held the last of the packages we'd collected from under the bed. So far I'd found a brilliant little diamond necklace and earring set I'd received from an Italian businessman and a thin elegant silver ankle chain from a Frenchman who was a decent man to me but very rude to everyone else. "I need something for my hair," I said. "There is this." He held out the box my father had given me yesterday. He opened it and displayed the contents. It was a long ornate silver hair pin. It was thick on one end and etched with tiny diamond shapes about half-way down it's length until it terminated in a sharp point. It would have cost a small fortune. At least my body meant something to him. "This would make a fine weapon," Lev said admiring it. "It is thick enough not to bend and the etchings give it grip in your hand," he ran a finger along it, "it is as deadly as a bullet when pushed through the temple or eyes." "Not the heart?" I asked. "Don't go for the heart - there's too much bone in the way. The blow would have to be very powerful." He pulled the pin out of the case and demonstrated an attack by wrapping his forearm around my chest and pressing the tip into my back over my kidney. "The kidneys are the best initial target," he said softly, "You must stab as hard as you can with the pin braced against your palm but keep it inline with your elbow." He let me go and I straightened up in the mirror. Our eyes met in the glass. He knew what he was talking about, that much was obvious. "It's silent," he said, "and the pain is so horrible that a man can't scream or move for many seconds. Then you can stab him fatally at your leisure." Kiska looked at Lev hungrily and licked her lips. He smiled at her over my shoulder. "So beautiful!" he told her. She smiled and gently lifted the fur and lovely new dress above her hips. He kissed her neck and slid her silk panties aside as he entered her from behind and fingered her from the front. She wrapped the fur around her face and neck - rubbing it gently against her skin. The luxurious fur multiplied the waves of pleasure pulsating from her pussy. She lost her balance when Lev gave up all pretense of being gentle and proceeded to lustily pound into her. She stumbled towards me until our faces were pressed together in the mirror. Lev grabbed her hair with both hands and pulled her head forcefully back with each rough thrust of his hips. Kiska and I fogged the mirror in unison in our passion - our lips separated only by the thin cold sheet of glass. ***************************** She was there. The rest of the ballroom seemed to be just a blur of colors that swirled around the sun of the beauty called Vivian. "I think I understand you a little better, now," Lev said as he took her in. There seemed to be a tinge of jealousy in his voice. She saw me and smiled. Her gaze drew the attention of the people nearest to her and within a few seconds a small party of people were admiring me as I sashayed down the steps from the main-lobby with Lev on my heals. For an instant I felt that feeling that every woman in the world dreams about her entire childhood - Cinderella at the ball. Vivian excused herself from her admirers and fellow models and made her way towards me. We met at the bottom of the stairs. Cameras flashed and I imagined the press running headlines that read: "Mob Princess and Foreign Supermodel In Love!" "No pictures now, please!" Vivian announced in English. Rough men in suits confiscated the cameras. Our secret was safe for now. The press was used to it; this was still Russia after all. She took my arm and we walked together. I noticed that Lev found a spot in a corner between two silver framed oval mirrors. With a flick of his eyes he could see the entire Ballroom. He looked handsome in his Tuxedo. I was really beginning to admire him. "Your hair is very beautiful!" she said to me in English. I had it up in Regency style buns held in place by the silver pin. "What kind of Ball is this?" I asked her in English as well. "I arranged it," she curtsied, "and your accent isn't terrible, have you been to America?" "Only in the movies, Hours upon hours of movies. We had a private theatre when I was a child." Two men approached us. I started to move away when I recognized the American with red-hair from the club but Vivian stopped me with a touch. The other man was obviously his brother but was fortunate enough to have gotten someone else's hair - he was also more attractive. "The Fitzgeralds," she said, "Our benefactors tonight, they own businesses in Chicago and are putting down roots in Las Vegas, maybe even here. There's even a rumor that they are in negotiation with a 'so far' privately owned oil company sitting on Billions in assets," then she turned to me and looked into my eyes. "I am going to marry the red-head in three days and I will allow you to marry the other." "Excuse me?" I blurted. "You need a ticket to America," she licked her lips and looked into my eyes, "And I need you." ***************************** We found our privacy ... it was a supply closet. It somehow seemed fitting that two beautiful and wealthy women in magnificent dresses, such as ourselves, would share their dirty lust in such horrid surroundings, but neither of us objected in the least. I drove my tongue in her like a machine. My nose and lipd stimulated her clitoris while I lashed my tongue at her. I was under her dress, between her long dark legs. Sheer thigh-high stockings against my throat, her exotic scent in my nostrils - in a musky dark room used to store glasses and flatware. She moaned and writhed her upper body like a snake above me causing a stack of dishes to rattle menacingly in their boxes. When she came, she smothered me between her quaking thighs and quivering vulva. All I could do was hope her spasms stopped before I passed out. We switched positions and Vivian gave as well as she got. I tried to keep her head down as long as I could when I went over the edge, just to get even. We finished off by fingering each other to climax again as we licked and kissed our mingled juices off each other's faces. We were gone so long I wondered why Lev hadn't come looking for me. ***************************** "I am pregnant," I told her as I straightened out my dress. I had decided that if she wanted me so badly she should know what she was getting into. In a way I wanted her to run away and live her romantic life without being dragged into my personal hell. "It is my Father's child," I added. She ran her fingers down my cheek. I moved my face against the touch like a cat responding to its owners caress. "I know that taking you away from him and bringing you to my family gives us a huge asset, child or not." I pulled away. "AHA! This is just business then - is it not?" I hissed in fury and pushed her hand away from me. "My Father said you'd be angry but not unreasonable," she said with a smile. "Besides, who better to protect you and your child then Don Fernando 'Asesino De Toros' DelToro? Think of it." She kissed me lightly on the lips again and my anger melted. "Not to mention, you need to escape him for your own reasons," her small smile faded with a thought, "as do I." My baby; my body; my freedom; my sanity; those were my reasons. What were hers? Money? Dollars? "You will fuck the American tonight so he won't know the child isn't his," she found her panties on the floor and knelt down to get them. Then she looked up into my eyes: "I will fuck mine so he won't know my unborn child isn't your Father's as well." I looked down at her and my heart bounced in my chest once before fracturing into a thousand little images of my Vivian being ravaged by my Father. She had a small sad look on her face for an instant and then I noticed the fresh bruises under her chin I hadn't seen earlier due to carefully crafted makeup - makeup we'd wiped away in our passion. I recognized the hate that flashed in her eyes. A single tear flowed down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. She licked it away. "It happened only a few hours ago," she tossed the panties into a waste bin, "We will never speak of it again, do you understand?" That was all the information she was going to give me and it was more than I wanted to know. My Father had found her, like he had promised me he would, and Father had fucked her, like he promised me he would. Vivian had felt the special tingling my Father's caviar produced when it found her egg - like it had my very own, today. It was more than coincidence somehow. Despite his attempt to pull us apart, we had been fused together even more by his wickedness. She was pregnant with my sibling - and my child's sibling as well. "I will arrange to meet you in Amsterdam in three days," she kissed my lips gently. "Don't get yourself killed." ***************************** My Father was waiting for me when I got home the next morning. He was standing naked in my apartment and the fact that I wasn't there to service him had made him extremely angry. I had stayed the night with the men Vivian had wanted us to. The American had been a pathetic lover but I knew it was what I had to do. My Father had to know I was fucking someone. I didn't know how he'd react but I had a feeling it wouldn't be with kindness and understanding. I thought of Lev and remembered the pin ... I reached up for it but my hair was down and I didn't know where it had gone to. "Shit." I stuttered. His first slap spun me sideways into the door, the second blow knocked me to the ground. He wouldn't leave marks - but that wasn't his intention - not like it had been when he had forced Vivian yesterday. He had beaten her so I'd know it; he had wanted me to see her marks. He grabbed my hair, pulled out his cock and shoved it brutally down my throat. I gagged and choked but this only seemed to encourage him as he thrust his hips mercilessly at my face. I struggled to breath with his meat in my mouth. Fortunately, I quickly discovered that aligning my head and neck a certain way eased the pressure of his pounding cock off my windpipe. I could get air through my nostrils but not in the amount I'd have preferred. I cried from the pain but my mind was focusing on survival, not pity ... not now. His tangled musky pubic hair tickled the insides of my nostrils and his hairy balls wagged under my chin obscenely. He wiggled his hips and pushed to make sure that his fat penis was entirely down my throat. "Fucking Whore!" he shouted as he thrust as fast and as hard as he could, "You want to know how I feel trying to keep us alive in this business!" He grabbed my head tighter with both hands and came hard. He had to be really worked up to get it over with that fast. I relaxed the best that I could manage and just let the cum flow down. It was a good amount but at least I wouldn't have to taste it this time. When he was done, he dragged me to my bedroom and pulled me to the side of the bed. "You think you're so tough?" he asked. He spun me around yanked the beautiful dress up to my waist. "You ... you ... FUCKING SOOKA!" he screamed when he saw that my panties were missing. It was going to be a really bad one this time, I just knew it. He sat hard on the bed and pulled me down brutally onto his stiff cock - burying it in my ass as I fell onto him. It hurt so badly I wanted to scream but the air had been knocked out of me. Everything went black. ***************************** I didn't come around again until I tasted his hot caviar splashing the roof of my mouth. My body was sore in so many places; I couldn't tell what hurt the most. It all melted together into one big sensation of agony. I guessed that I'd been out for awhile - probably from shock. I pursed my lips and swallowed fast trying to fill my mouth with as much spit as I could to wash the taste away. When he was done, he threw me down on the floor at his feet and lay back on my bed sweating and panting. I turned and spat what remained in my mouth onto the ugly tan carpet. My asshole was burning badly and I knew it had to be bleeding. "Don't think I am through with you," he panted, "I'm just catching my breath!" Incestory: Kiska Kiska was a terrible sight. My heart wrenched when I saw her in the mirror, crumpled on the floor of her bedroom at my father's feet. She was battered and her beautiful dress was torn to shreds. "I'm so sorry!" I said to her. She caught my eye and spoke to me in Vivian's voice: "Don't get yourself killed." ***************************** "Papa, I love you," Kiska said as she ran her hands up his thick hairy calves. She let her hair tickle his thighs as she slid up between his legs. He looked down his body at her and started to sit up but she took his softening penis into her mouth and cupped his balls. "Oh, yes!" he gasped. Her eyes never left mine in the mirror as she sucked and jerked his dick, slobbering and licking him maniacally. She was working him like a well paid whore. Saliva and precum dripped in long strands from her chin. It was a disgusting sight but I understood what she was doing - It all made sense to me now ... She was saving my life. "Moya Kiska!" he cried out as his body bucked in ecstasy. He came in her mouth and she dropped her head down on him, burying him to the hilt, his thick white sperm flowed out of her mouth and down his balls to puddle on the sheets between his legs. He panted for a few more seconds and then passed out. She slowly licked him clean and smiled warmly at me ... I was safe for a moment now. ***************************** I cleaned myself up as best I could and packed my bags quickly and quietly so as not to rouse him. If he woke up before I was gone, dying would probably be the least of my worries. I found the hair pin in my handbag. I considered using it on him now that he was passed out but I couldn't bring myself to really do it. He would have used it on me - no doubt. That was the difference between us. I couldn't hurt the defenseless. I took all of the money he had in his jacket. He must have made collections last night because the amount was substantial. I dumped the bullets out of the pearl-handled revolver into the trash can. Maybe I could save someone else's life today too. ***************************** I counted the money I'd taken from him as I got on the elevator. There was a young woman with a small child already riding it down. The little girl was ill-clothed and terribly thin - a victim of our recent rush to embrace Capitalism. She looked at me and smiled in the way only a child can - without guile. "Is she an angel, Mama?" "No dear," the woman said and chuckled, looking at me apologetically. "She looks like an angel, Mama. Are you sure?" I knelt down and took the little girl's hand in mine. "I will be an angel for you," I stuffed the money in the child's coat pocket, "if you promise that you will be an angel for someone else who is hungry." "No ... Please ... we couldn't," the woman protested, but my stern look and the size of the bulge of the cash made her reconsider. It was a very large amount. Then she recognized who I was: "Oh!" she gasped and pulled the child away from me. "Promise me," I said to the woman. "I promise," the mother replied, tears filling her eyes, "I swear to God." "Me too, me too!" the little girl cried sweetly and eagerly tugged on her mother's frayed overcoat for attention. "Speak nothing of the source of the money," I said to the woman, "understand?" "Of course!" she stammered, "I don't want trouble - with anyone." She must have realized she would die if my Father found out. Ironically, that fear would make her get rid of it as fast as she could, thus ensuring others benefitted from my Father's unwitting generosity as well. When he'd fucked my throat this time, I'd still tasted the caviar, but this time I could taste the one part of the flavor I hadn't accepted before ... raw callousness ... the kind of callousness that could consume a thousand little lives before they even had a chance to begin. I could finally understand the appeal of it, but I couldn't let myself succumb to it. "Thank you." I said sincerely. I understood now that fear was a weapon - maybe I could use it to accomplish something good. ***************************** Lev was outside, in the snow by the car. He was standing in a relaxed form of 'parade rest' with his hands behind his back. He was outlined by the dark grey morning sky. When he saw me, a look of expectation crossed his face. Somehow, everything came together in my mind at that instant. He'd been waiting to see which of us came out of the building. Maybe he wanted both of us dead. That was the Russian way: 'The closer to the Czar - the closer to death'. "Elenya?" He'd told my father where to find Vivian to hurt me - so he'd hurt her and make me want to kill him. "I'm glad to see you ... are you alright?" he asked, feigning sincerity He'd fucked me to earn my trust and to find out where Vivian was. Then he'd taken me to the Ball to see Vivian to anger my father - to make him want to kill me. "Do you need help?" He'd shown me how to use the hair pin as a weapon. If I failed it wouldn't matter to him - it wouldn't look like he'd planned it. If I succeeded, then I would be his only loose end. In our world, loose ends always ended up floating in the Neva. Either way he was engineering my death. "Whore!" my father screamed from the doorway behind me. Lev pulled a pistol from his waistband and aimed it at my father. "And you!" he pointed the giant revolver at Lev in return, "You fucking traitor!" He was wearing only his tracksuit pants and steam was rising from his body in the cold air. He hadn't dressed for the cold but he'd remembered to bring his gun with him. "She's mine to kill!" Father shouted. "Chominkov, wait!" Lev said to him. "Fuck you, Lev, you're next!" He pointed the pistol at my face and pulled the trigger. CLACK! The hammer fell on an empty chamber. CLACK! I stumbled back and fell to the ice covered sidewalk in shock. CLACK! I looked up at my father and down the barrel of his pistol - the chambers were still empty. I ignored the gun and looked into my father's eyes. CLACK! I knew the look. CLACK! The problem with the look in his eyes was that there wasn't a look. CLACK! "Thank you for my Birthday gift, Father, It's very nice," I said. The gun shook wildly in his hand but his eyes were steady. CLACK! I slowly pulled the hair pin out of my hair and held the gift up for my father to see. "See, isn't it beautiful?" "What is that?" he asked. Then realization hit him, "Lev picked that up for you. I didn't know ... ." Lev cocked the hammer of his pistol. "Fucker!" he spat at the henchman. My father lowered his gun in resignation and sat down hard on the frozen curb next to me. "I'm in charge now, Vasily," Lev announced, "This is your retirement." Father looked at me calmly, a look of sadness in his eyes. There was another look too. The look of a man who was finally going to find out whether or not there was a hell ... It was a look of fear. "You know what to do, right?" he asked me. I nodded. "You know how to survive now," he smiled at me, "At least I've taught you that much." "Yes." "It's a dangerous life, you know." "Isn't it, Papa?" He nodded and turned his face to me as if to kiss me. I stabbed the pin into his brain through his eye socket. The eye burst and splashed my hand as I scrambled his brains, jerking the pin back and forth inside his skull. His body lost function and floated to the sidewalk like a dropped scarf. Spurts of blood from the wound shot into the air and splattered Lev and the side of the car as his body tumbled over. Unphased, Lev knelt down next to me and cocked the Makarov under my chin ... the one he'd taken from me earlier. Now he intended it to look like a murder-suicide by shooting me with my own gun. "Elenya, I'm sorry ... ." I stabbed him through the chest before he could finish his sentence. I thrust with my palm on the round butt of the pin with my arm inline with my elbow - just like he'd demonstrated last night. It hurt my hand like hell but it truly was effective. He'd made the mistake of trying to taunt me when he should have been pulling the trigger. A look of shock crossed his face and he fell on me, pinning me to the frozen sidewalk where he twitched a few times and died. He smelled like leather and gun-oil. ***************************** I turned over to get up, rolling his body off of me into the street between the curb and the rear tire of the car, next to my Father's still twitching corpse. A small crowd started to gather in the street on the other side of the car. I could hear their horrified voices closing in on me. Suddenly, there was the sound of squealing tires, car doors slamming, and then there were huge hands lifting me into a warm waiting car. **************************** Kiska watched me in the backseat from the driver's rearview as we skidded through the frozen streets. Her face was splattered with blood but she wore a smug look of satisfaction. "You are safe now, Mistress Elenya," Don Fernando 'The BullKiller' DelToro whispered to me in English. I sat up tall and proud and put on a face I'd practiced with Kiska ... a haughty and cruel mask. "I want to see Vivian, now!" "You speak English ... very good!" DelToro looked at the driver expectantly, a giant dark-suited Spaniard with claw mark tattoos on his cheeks. "Dime en Inglés ... where is my Daughter, Andreas? " The giant was brutally ugly but seemed kind enough when he spoke. "At the airport, Sir. We will be meeting her and the Americans in Amsterdam." "Very well," DelToro said. He turned back to me. "You understand what I expect of you when we get there." He ran his hand up my leg under the fur coat. "She told me ... that I will marry one of the Americans." "You will become a Fitzgerald, they are out of Chicago. You and my Daughter are sisters now. You will be my Sobrina - my niece - by marriage."" "Do you touch all of your nieces this way?" He grabbed my bloody face and turned it up to him. "I will do with you as I please," he growled. "The hell you will!" I replied. I pushed his hand away. "I'll fucking kill you too!" I looked him in the eyes, "If you want to fuck me you better be more of a gentleman about it." He let go of my face and roared with genuine laughter: "I believe you would!" Andreas interrupted us. "Did you know that the man you just killed ... what was his name? Lev? Did you know he was wearing a bullet-proof vest?" the driver asked. "No," I replied. "That thing you used on him is the only type of hand weapon that can penetrate a bullet proof vest," he said. "To hit a man's heart through a vest says much about you ... about your strength." "Lev knew his craft. I'm sure that he intended for me to use it on my Father. Maybe he thought my father would be armored as well." Deltoro roared with laughter. "She is fucking clever, is she not?" he asked Andreas. Then he turned to me. "He was Vympel - they are like the CIA," DelToro continued. "He was ordered to kill your father but he set you up to do it instead. I suppose, that it's their way of doing business. As a tribute to your wits - you seemed to have concluded that already." "By your orders?" "At my daughter's request," he shrugged apologetically, "I didn't know he would put you in harm's way." "I want to see her, now!" "Find us a hotel in Holland," he told Andreas. "Let our people know that Mrs. Fitzgerald will keep Vasily's family name for business purposes and will be addressed as Elenya 'La Esgrimidora' Chominkov," he looked at my sideways, "and I shall speak on her behalf in all affairs." My Father's businesses were his now by right. A line from a song by some popular British band ran through my mind at that moment: "Meet the new boss, same as the old boss." "What's your nickname, Andreas?" I asked the driver. "I don't like nicknames," he replied. I guess I could understand why. "You have earned your name today, Mistress Elenya," Andreas said quietly. "You are now 'The Swordsman'." He smiled at Kiska in the mirror. "I think I actually like that name," Kiska replied as DelToro slid his hand back under the Chinchilla and caressed my thigh.