Sexpionage 7 – Tea Time of the Soul

Tea Time of the Soul – Sexpionage 7

Diseñada como Villa Grimaldi somewhere in Santiago, Republic of Chile

“So, this is it,” Yulia thought, as soon as her brain began functioning again.

She remembered having been injected with some sort of drug, and now, she had surely been administered an energiser to wake her up.

The last words she recalled was the promise made by Valdez to ‘move the interrogation up a gear’. Did she remember him saying the name Manuel?

A quick assessment revealed that she was tied to a metal chair or frame, her elbows secured close together at her back with black cable fastenings. The same kind of ties secured her arms over a bar that formed the backrest, and her knees to the chair legs. They were extremely tight and biting into her skin … compounding the soreness of her ass form the severe beating they had given to her (see A Suffusion of Yellow Day 5).

She was still wearing her torn nightdress, but apart from that she was naked.

Yulia tried the bonds, but the only action she could manage was a very short forward movement of the hips together with a small rotation of her shoulders.

“Oh God, please help me …” Panic was beginning to consume her and the SVR Agent realised now that they were going to torture her, and tried frantically to recall her training … but her mind was swimming with everything and nothing, and it was very difficult to think straight.

“Think, think!” she muttered in an attempt to focus her thoughts.

There was a chill in the room, but she was already sweating, her exposed skin glistening in the dark. As her eyes became used to the gloom, Yulia could see the shapes of dim lights and seemingly an electrical device, like a medical defibrillator.

“Fuck …” she whispered to no one but herself.

During her training at the Academy, no one had expressed any concern about death, accepting it as a distinct possibility, but being faced with it, like she now was then her feelings were decidedly different.

She could do nothing but wait.

A Back Room at the Club Kim, Enrique Mac Iver 187, Santiago, Republic of Chile

“It’s confirmed, they have taken her.” The man entered the dimly lit room and sat down at a small table. He looked at Enrique and sighed.

He was wearing baggy trousers and an oversize jacket, he looked dishevelled. At the other side of the table, Enrique was also in shirt-sleeves, with a loose tied tie and rolled sleeves.

“You shouldn’t have let her go alone, without any support,” he said.

“For fuck’s sake Enrique, I didn’t have any one available, you know that, you make the orders,” he retorted.

Enrique didn’t look happy, but the words spoken to him were the truth. He looked ponderous, deep in thought until finally he spoke. “Then you should have gone yourself to watch over her apartment.”

It was an unfair accusation, and both men knew it. Who would have coordinated operations then? But the first man didn’t answer. He too felt guilty.

“By now, they could have been working on her for hours.”

“Yes,” Enrique answered. His monosyllabic response it was not indifference, but a simple reflection of the inevitability of the situation. “She will tell them everything, possibly or maybe she will not. We just do not know. Does she have her pill?”

“No, I found it at the side of her bed.”

“Then she is entirely at the mercy of these bastards.”

Diseñada como Villa Grimaldi somewhere in Santiago, Republic of Chile

Several bright lights were suddenly switched on, and Yulia was momentarily dazed. She could barely make anything out as three men came into the room and to take station at different places. One of them positioned a stool to sit directly in front of her.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” Yulia said in Spanish.

The guy in front of her, didn’t answer, but stared at her whilst rubbing his hands over his nose.

But, having decided that she had nothing to lose, Yulia made attack her first line of defence.

“Answer me! What do you want? Money? My family is not rich … we are just ordinary people from Belarus”. The man raised his hand, palm flat towards her to indicate that she should be silent.

“Ekaterina Novikova. Citizen of Russia huh?” A slight pause. “… but, through your Mother, Belarusian also? Middle class upbringing, you were educated at the Hinkson Christian Academy where you learned to speak fluent English before being recruited by the SVR at the age of Seventeen. You use the name Yulia Jelic when on assignment.”

Yulia girl tried to look surprised, but it was clear that her cover had been blown wide apart.

“Well, that’s mostly true. Except for the name and the SVR part, which is ridiculous.” She also switched to near perfect unaccented English.

The man looked unimpressed.

“Do you know who I am and who I work for Ekaterina?”

“I do not know who this girl you mention is. My name is Yulia Jelic and I am just a dancer.”

The man smiled. “My name is Manuel Contreras Junior. My Father was Manuel Contreras, the Head of General Pinochet’s Secret Police. I work for a Revolutionary Group called A Suffusion of Yellow, called such because every time we strike, we do so groups of four or more events in order to steep the Government in confusion. You might have heard of us … and you might also be aware of the fact that I oversee the interrogations of our detractors very much in the style of my father.” Contreras finished his statement with a malicious grin.

These words terrified Yulia, not just because of what he was saying, but the fact that he was telling her everything about himself and his organisation, which meant that they had no intention of ever letting her go.

“When your cover is blown, it is blown”. The words from Colonel Tretykov flew into her mind. Her cover was blown sky high!

“So, Ekaterina, you can go on pretending you are an innocent, middle-class, part Russian, part Belarusian bohemian, dancer, but we both know what this is about, and why you are here.” He Paused, before continuing.

“You were asking questions of Valdez when you were with him in his home, that no dancer would ever ask, and your response when he fed you certain words was not the way an innocent girl would act. The cameras in his apartment caught you searching through his jacket pockets. You are going to tell us what you were looking for.”

Yulia felt lost. She swallowed hard, before mumbling, “I have no idea of what you are talking about.”

But she knew what was coming. Strangely, she did not feel fear, or anxiety, but a kind of sadness. It was as if she was already dead. Except, she was far from being that lucky.

Contreras moved away.

Another man took his place.

“She’s all yours Emilio.”

Reaching out Emilio carefully took the strap on the right of Yulia’s nightdress and slid it down over her shoulder. Her right breast was exposed, nipple hardened, their intentions becoming ever more clear.

“Are we shooting a porn movie guys?” Yulia found the wit to joke in defiance, and Manuel couldn’t repress a smile.

Brave young girl. If only she could recognise when she is lost, he thought.

Diseñada como Villa Grimaldi somewhere in Santiago, Republic of Chile

“Strip her, Emilio, and take her to the ‘chair’.” Contreras was still calling the shots.

Emilio grinned and quickly pulled the nightdress off Yulia’s shoulders. His action was rough, ripping the garment apart to leave her naked in an instant. Before Yulia knew what was happening, she had been released and led over to what looked nothing like a normal chair.

Two steel planks a couple of feet long set on legs … a sparse metal frame constituted the back. Yulia’s eyes widened as she saw the true nature of the device revealed.

Emilio then spun her around and down onto the bars and quickly secured the girl at thigh and knee with leather straps.

“Arms in front … NOW!” he barked.

When she complied, her wrists were overlaid and bound together. Embarrassed at being humiliated in this way before this man and his compardres, she, nonetheless, held her head high. Yulia was very aware that her position now left her prominent breasts exposed.

The Agent’s apprehension increased when Emilio tied cords about her overlaid arms at the elbows and passed the ends up and through a steel ring set into the ceiling above her head.

Manuel stood directly in front of her, so she couldn’t help but see the prominent bulge in his pants … her eyes grew wide, a development he noted with pleasure.

“Now Ekaterina,” Emilio said to her, using what he believed to be her true name, “… we know that you are part of the Russian undercover network here in Santiago, and you are engaged in an attempt to undermine our activities, correct?”

There was a pause during which a silent Yulia looked towards the ground.

“Even so,” he continued, “… we are prepared to be lenient with you. All you have to do is tell me the name of the man who is leading your activity, also where he is based, and I will free you, let you get dressed, and see that you are safely escorted out of our country. Come now, why suffer further disagreeable treatment? It’s so easy. Just a name and a location.” He smiled a gentle smile at her.

“My name is Yulia Jelic and I am a dancer,” she repeated.

Emilio nodded. “Okay have it your way little girl, but be aware that when I said ‘a little bit of discomfort, you really have no idea. Very well, let’s get started, shall we? Valdez, please pass me the strap, the perforated one, and the lash.”

Emilio received the implements that he had demanded. “Thank you. Now then take the rope, if you please and hoist her up!”

The cruel team of men pulled on the cord jerking Yulia’s arms up high. A motion which raised her ass from the cold, steel surface and exposed her bare breasts to receive full attention. Reaching out to sample her provocative curves, the Activist filled his hands with firm, resilient flesh, the skin trembling under his touch.

Yulia grimaced, fighting back a whimper.

Emilio, the leather strap gripped in his fist, stepped back to admire his subject.

He gave the evil lash a few violent sweeps through the air in front of the bound girls terrified face.

Experienced in these matters, he would begin on her stomach building up to the breasts, so that he could savour her agony. Unlike the thin leather whips that could rip the flesh, this implement with the wider surface would impart a bitter sting without breaking the fragile skin. There were several small holes drilled through the savage length, and so not only would it fly faster through the air, increasing the impact of every blow, the gaps would cause small painful blood blisters to rise up on Yulia’s nubile body.

He drew back his arm and took aim.

“SWISH … THWACK!” The first stroke flew in a horizontal arc to burst across Yulia’s belly, just catching her around the ribs.

“UHHNNN,” she grunted. This was another of his ploys; to let her feel the incredible sting the lash could deliver, so that she could imagine how much it would hurt when he struck a place even more sensitive.

“SWISH … THWACK!”

“SWISH … THWACK!”

Two more punished her stomach and then Emilio looked to move higher. With a pause he leaned in to assess the damage thus far. Several reddening welts crossed her flesh and he could just see the first tiny red circles rising in the middle of each one.

He usually spent more time on the anticipation of his lashes, but the girl’s bare breasts were just too inviting to delay any longer.

“SWISH … THWACK!”

The harsh lash found Yulia’s breasts for the first time, full across the upper slope.

“NNNGHHHHHH!” Yulia grunted at the bitter raw pain.

Emilio settled into a slow rhythm, 20 seconds between strokes to allow the beautiful girl time to fully appreciate the pain of each one.

Upon receiving every lash, the full breast would flatten, then tremble on her chest, and each individual stroke was rewarded with a delicious grunt of pain from the hapless Agent.

By the time fifteen lashes had sought out the sensitive curves on Yulia’s ripe body, the diabolical beating had flushed her exposed breasts to a brightening scarlet from her collarbone to the upper edges of her exposed areolae.

“Higher now, please.” Emilio issued his command.

Hands obediently hauled on the ropes and Yulia arms were drawn further upwards. As her arms lifted, the exposed breasts rose higher on her torso, keeping most of their perfectly firm shape, but now better exposing their delicate nipples and tender under curves to the pitiless strap.