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Chapter Forty-One

"Where are we going?" Katya said, placing her hand on the man's crotch and rubbing it.


The Mercedes was very comfortable, with leather seats like the ones in the Kildar's Expedition but wider and softer. Some day, she would have a car like this one. Including the divider so the driver couldn't listen in.


"A place I know up in the hills," the man replied. "A quiet place where we can have some fun. Well, where I can have some fun," he added, grabbing her wrist and pushing her hand away. He twisted her arm up behind her back and leaned over to her ear. "There is a special kind of fun I like to have."


"You want do this, I need much money," Katya said, internally cursing as he twisted her arms behind her and cuffed them. "Please no hurt. I give you good time! No need hurt."


"We'll talk about that when I'm done," the man said, reaching into her dress and twisting her nipple, hard. "Well, just before I kill you."


"Oh, please don't do that," Katya said, sobbing.


"But it's what I like," the man whispered in her ear. "I like to hurt little girls like you. I like to kill them. I'm going to do you just like I did that little bitch in Rozaje. I'm going to hurt you and hurt you more. Then I'm going to take you in the ass and strangle you while I keep pumping your ass till I come, bitch."


"Why you do this?" Katya whined. "Why you want Natalya?" As the man spoke she twisted her hands as if to get away. The valve at each joint at the base of the finger had to be pressed four times to open up the poison pouch. It was a laborious process. Fortunately, this jackass wanted to talk.


"It was so simple," the man said, laughing. "Just get a voice changer, put on a mask and I was Grantham. The bastard. He blocked my nomination with the last administration. I should have been the undersecretary for International Development but he brought up that shit from Nigeria as if little bitches matter! Well, I fixed him good. And now he's singing a different tune!" He looked at her and shook his head. "What does a little whore like you understand about anything. You're only good for one thing."


"You not need kill us," Katya whined.


"Try to figure out what Traskel has to do with it," Vanner said, suddenly. "And we've got a security team following you. Just hang in there."


"Please not kill me," Katya continued, trying not to snarl at the distant voice. "Who Grantham? I not know Grantham. I not know anything! Please don't kill!"


"Grantham's a senator," the man said, dragging her down so her head was in his lap as he continued to play with her body. He pulled her dress down and reached into a cigar holder, lighting up and then playing the lighter on her tit. "And you wouldn't understand anything about that anyway."


Katya let out a very real shriek at that and tried to struggle away.


"Please!" she begged. "Please not hurt me. I be very good to you. I suck good. I suck really good. I get you off good!"


"That's right," the man said, dragging her off the seat and onto her knees on the floor. "You suck me good and I might let you live. But if you bite ..."


"I not bite," Katya promised. "I not scratch," she added, lying. "I be good to you, you let me live. Kill her if you want, I don't care. But let me live."


"I already made that mistake," the man said, looking over at the nearly catatonic Natalya who was huddled in the corner. "Kill the one bitch and let the other one sweat it out, waiting to die. But then my damned supervisor, the bitch who had my job, sent me to fucking Rwanda! And when I got back that little bitch was gone. But now she's here, and she can watch while you service me and then ..."


"Mmmf," Katya answered as the man tangled his fingers in her long golden hair and shoved her down on his dick.


"That's right, I'll let you live if you suck me good," the man said as she began to fellate him expertly. "That's a good whore, you suck good. Fucking Grantham! Thinks he's so high and mighty ... I needed Traskel, though, the fucker. He got Grantham to go on that damned trip. I got another one of you whores to slip a Rufie in his drink. He doesn't remember what he did that night, which wasn't much. Then the stupid bastards gave me that damned DVD and that was all I needed. That fucking Grantham is dancing to our tune, now. That's playing with the big boys! Between Grantham and Traskel, we've got Foreign Affairs and Judiciary sewn up."


He suddenly yanked her head back and reached down to pull both of her arms up with the shackles so hard she had to scream again.


"But do you want to know the best part," he said, leaning forward and whispering in her ear. "The best part is that with those two behind me, I can do this anytime I want. I can buy you little whores and hurt you and rape you and kill you and nobody is going to stop me."


"Please don't kill," Katya begged as the car pulled to a stop.


"Depends on how good you are," the man said, dragging her out of the car and over into the woods. "Get down on your knees and suck me so good I forget about hurting you."


"Give me one hand?" Katya begged. "I not hurt but can suck so much better with hand and mouth. Please? I take you all the way down. I swallow your cum. Not to kill me! Please!"


"Gunther," the man snapped, stepping back. "Get that other bitch over here so she can see this. I want her to watch every single second."


The driver dragged Natalya out of the car by her hair and into the woods, pulling her up so her back was to one of the trees and then wrapping a rope around the tree and her neck, tying her in place with it. The tree was far too thick for her to reach behind and untie it.


"Take me in your mouth, bitch," the man said, gutturally, dropping his pants and shoving his dick in Natalya's mouth. "Suck it!"


"Mmmf!" Katya replied, trying to wave her hands.


"You want one hand free?" the American asked. "Why?"


"I no bite," Katya whined, pulling back. "I no scratch. Can do better with mouth and hand, can suck and pump both. Is very good."


"Yes, it is," the man said, considering her carefully. He suddenly hit her in the face, hard, then when she was half unconscious on the ground quickly unlocked her right hand and then yanked the handcuff down, brutally, so that her left hand was locked to her left leg. "And like that, you're not going to be going anywhere," he added, yanking her back to her knees by her hair.


"Please, don't kill me," Katya whined, raising her right hand slowly up to his dick. "I'll be good. I won't talk. Just don't kill me."


"Do me good and I'll think about letting you live," the man said, laughing and dropping his pants to settle around his ankles.


"I'll do you good," Katya said, calmly, and then raked her fingernails down the inside of his thigh.


The man let out a shout of pain, punching her in the face automatically and then clamping his hand over the wound. The fast acting neurotoxin, though, caused the muscles in his leg to spasm and he fell to the side, his leg thrashing.


"What did you do to me, bitch?" the man shouted, starting to thrash in the leaves of the forest floor.


Katya wasn't listening. She had rolled with the expected blow and now was trying as hard as she could to get to the driver.


Gunther had been fully occupied in deep throating Natalya when he heard the shout and when he tried to withdraw, Natalya reached down and grabbed his pants, tripping him.


The driver rolled sideways, crashing into Katya for a moment and then driving an elbow into her gut.


Katya folded over at the blow but as the driver started to get to his knees she rolled over to him and dug her right hand into his butt, then fell across him, pressing down on the palm and pumping the neurotoxin into the muscle of his ass.


Cottontail finally pushed herself to her knees and looked over at Natalya.


"It's finished," she said. "Now to get out of these ..."


"Behind you," Natalya gasped. "The bad man."


The poison either wasn't as fast acting as she'd been promised or she hadn't gotten enough in the "bad man." The American had pulled a gun out of a shoulder holster and was waving it at her.


"I'm going to k-k-k-i ..." he stammered, pulling back the hammer with difficulty. The pistol was waving like a branch in a high wind.


Katya turned away just as there was a shot and then flinched.


"I think he missed," she said, looking at Natalya who was watching wide-eyed.


"Hardly, lass," a British voice said from behind her. "I rarely do."


Katya turned her head the other way and her eyes widened as much as Natalya's.


"Tom?" she asked the man lowering the Walther PPK. "Tom?"


"Actually, the name is Charles," the man drawled in pure Oxford tones as he put the pistol away and pulled out a set of handcuff keys. "Charles Calthrop, MI-6. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Cottontail. It is Cottontail, isn't it?"


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