A House of Iniquity Ch. 01

The delivery van pulled up the last, torturous stretch of road leading to the target property. It was a three-storey house, gabled, with hipped roofs, a cracked and mossy exterior, upper-floor windows smashed in and dark, and a balcony that appeared virtually on the brink of collapse. The van came to a halt, directly at the summit of the steep and rocky driveway, trembling and spewing black exhaust fumes before the driver cut the engine.

He was a tall, heavyset man. Bald, with a blank and glassy stare that revealed little of his true character. The man's name was Mikail Yezhov, he was of Ukrainian origin, reared and educated in an unregistered orphanage after the death of his parents in the Holodomor, or great famine of the 1930s, that left him without a family or a sense of humor. He worked for another man, a Kurd, who provided him with "missions", delivery jobs, well renumerated with only the small requirement of keeping his Bolchevik-rimming mouth shut.

The Kurd had given him an address, two months earlier, to this secluded location. Underneath the address had been written detailed descriptions of five persons, to be found and brought here to this house. The names were all female. Two were Russian, one was Polish, one Hungarian and the last of some mulatto origin that Yezhov could not identify. No matter. He had found the lot of them and delivered, with relative ease, mainly due to the circuit of connexions he kept in a hidden agenda, as well as the bottles of Armagnac and wads of money shared with the border polices.

He stood there for a moment, surveying the smashed and darkened windows of the house, the long grass and weed-covered porch, wondering, briefly, who the owner of this property was. Who actually resided in such a gloomy habitat?

Never go into the house. He had been warned. Leave the target outside, front porch, ring the bell and leave.

That was his mission, and until now Mikail had never deviated from it.

He took one last curious look at the upper-floor windows, barred, with the seedy curtains hanging behind, and then went around to the back of the van and flung the doors open gruffly.

"Zovnishniy!" Mikael yelled. "On your feet!"

He reached in the van and seized the girl, dragging her roughly out. She was young, with clear, white skin, large green eyes and a silky blonde mane. Her mouth was sealed with electrical tape and her hands and feet were tied with a cut of fisherman's rope. He undid the bindings around her ankles and let her down on the gravel pathway leading to the house.

He pointed to the mildewed front door.

"Up there, now!" And delievered a sharp kick to the girl's stubborn rump. She gave a muffled yelp and moved forward, stumbling in her high heels, one of which had snapped off in the effort, giving her a precarious gait.

When they had gained the front porch Mikail pushed the buzzer and then leaned in the girl's ear and whispered, "You stay here now. You run, I come back for you. Understood?"

The girl shut her eyes and nodded, trembling with fright. Her cheeks were glistening with teardrop sweat. Mikail clucked his fat tongue in his cheek with satisfaction.

"Good," he said. "I go now. Zabava. Have fun."

And with this he jumped back in the van, gunned the engine and backed out of the property, leaving her dazed and trembling on the steps of her new home.

For what seemed like an interminable length of time there was no response from the interior of the house. The girl risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that the van had now disappeared, along with that horrid Bolchevik who stank of cheap vodka and smoked haddock. Her eyes darted around wildly, the house was entirely surrounded by deep, thick woods, and beyond that who knows what. There certainly wasn't anything else in sight but trees. The drive here had been painfully long and nerve-shattering. It certainly seemed long, when you were sequestred on the hard metal floor of a diesel-stinking Lada, with scarcely air to breathe, and tires so deflated they sent jolts of pain through your tender back everytime the vehicle hit a pothole. She looked down at her bruised ankles, marked where he had wound the rope tight. A tear rolled down her plump cheek.

Then the door suddenly flung open. A tall man stood in the center of it, surveying her. He was wearing a Venitian mask, painted white, with curling blue and gold motifs around the eyes. He had a broad, muscular figure, well developed, though partially hidden under a lengthy, embroided vest. He crossed his arms, the muscles rippling under the fabric of his shirt, and he stared at her.

Then his hands moved out toward her, tracing the outlines of her trembling face. They brushed against her moist cheeks, the lines of her dimpled chin, over her thick, pouty lips, pushing them back to inspect the teeth, which were small, even and perfectly white. The hands then moved quickly over her body, assessing it, gripping her suddenly and firmly by the shoulder as she made a half-heartened attempt to flee.

The man wagged a finger at her as his grip tightened, warning her not to move. He was such an imposing, threatening figure that the girl dared not do anything but comply.

When he felt her shivering frame relax he continued his inspection. His hands moved around her narrow shoulders, over the swelling outlines of her breasts, weighing each separately, then down to the smooth flat of her belly, squeezing her waist, measuring the hips, then cupping her rump firmly, issuing mild pressure to test the resistance of her buttocks. Satisfied with this intial assessment, the man gripped her hard at the wrist and drew her wordlessly into the house.

It was only once they were inside that the girl, out of dread and necessity ventured to speak. They were standing in the salon, which, despite what the exterior of the house might have led one to believe was plush and exquisitely furnished. There were black velvet-cushioned stools, oak divans, hand-carved and waxed to a shine, a game table topped in Breccia marble, a chest of drawers with gilded bronze finishings and curved wood marquetry, above it a large Rococo mirror and hanging from the ceiling, like the mythical Sword of Damocles, an extravagantly large crystal chandelier.

"W....who are you?" the girl asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice. "Why am I here?"

The masked dandy put a strong finger to her lips, sealing them. In response to her question he clapped his hands twice, and from the opposite side of the salon a woman appeared.

She was tall and stately, in her prime, of perhaps forty years of age, with a stern and savage mouth, lush and dark Medusa-like hair coiled atop her head in a Fontage, gray eyes at once shrewd and wicked, a figure graceful as a swan, and yet appearing forged of iron. She was attired as one might expect from a Marquise, with a low-necked gown, bodice open in front, filled in with an intricately designed stomacher, lace ruffles and underneath a tight, silk chemise. In one hand she gripped a black leather leash and as she entered the salon she gave it a distinct pull.

Into the salon came another female, this one perhaps twenty years younger, yoked to the leash by a diamond-studded collar set around her slender neck. The new girl gave a gasp in surprise when she saw that the girl captive was utterly and unabashedly naked.

She was perhaps twenty years of age, with a reddish-blonde mane, a pretty, freckled face and fiery eyes. She stood, in the center of the room, directly opposite the newcomer, chained to her mistress. The girl blushed and looked away.

The Marquise spoke. "Your name." Her voice had a sharp and cruel inflection to it.

The girl cleared her throat, still shy of the naked figure before her. "Zhenya." She mumbled.

"What was that? Speak up, impudent little brat!" The Marquise commanded. She gave a sharp tug on the leash, as if to express her dissatisfaction and the chained girl took two paces forward. She was now very close to Zhenya, her magnificent bosom high and peaked, her small hands dangling daintily in front of her vulva, which was as hairless as a young girl's. She had the most luxurious peach-teinted skin, and a sweet cherry aroma to her breath.

"Now then, repeat your name to me," The Marquise ordered, glaring hard at the newcomer.

"Zhenya. My name is Zhenya.... please will you tell me what..."

"Silence!" The Marquise snapped angrily. "If I wanted to know more I would ask you. That is enough for now. If you want to know who I am, that will be revealed in due time. If," and here her voice became sweeter, "If you desire to know why it is that you have been brought here, well," and her hand crept to the exposed bosom of the girl yoked to her, lightly pinching it. "That should be most obvious."

"Now then," the Marquise said, purring almost as a feline. "Please allow me to make the necessary introductions. This man you see here before you is Dominique, he is not my husband, but a servant of mine. This lovely creature -" and the Marquise gave a vicious tug to the leash that caused the girl with the collar to stumble and nearly fall, though when she regained her composure, she appeared perfectly undisturbed. "This creature here is named Enya. She is too from your native land, I suspect you two will have much in common and wish to be better acquainted. This is why I intend to leave you here, with my lovely Enya, under the strict supervision of Dominique. You are to do whatever she ordains, no questions asked. The punishment for refusing is....." she paused, as if searching for the correct word. "Severe. There, you will meet the others later."

And with that she undid the collar around Enya's neck, patting the reddened skin where the collar had been. "Be a good girl now," she whispered to her. Then she gathered up her dress and made to leave.

Zhenya dared to call after her, "There are others?"

The Marquise froze in her steps. She turned her cold gray eyes onto Zhenya. Her gaze was so penetrating Zhenya was forced to cower and look away.

Then the Marquise issued a wild, peal of laughter. "Yes there are others!" she clapped her hands together. "You will meet them later, you impudent strumpet. I sense rebellion in you, my little one. Never mind, you shall be tamed soon enough. And rightly so! Enya," she spoke sweetly to her female slave. "You will take extra care with this little one."

"Yes, Mistress," Enya responded, her tone neutral although her eyes flashed with passion.

"Good, I trust that you will. Well, I shall retire now to my quarters, and when I return I expect to be informed of the proceedings. Very well," she gave a gracious courtesy, worthy of a countess, and exited the salon.

No sooner had she disappeared then Enya spoke. She had a haughty voice and demeanour, but lacked the harshness of her Mistress.

"So you are the new girl then," she sneered. She grabbed Zhenya by the chin, squeezing it hard, until her nails dug into the soft flesh. Zhenya squealed as Enya bit her lip.

She licked Zhenya's mouth, trying to probe at her tongue, but Zhenya kept it obstinately shut.

"You're a difficult girl," smirked Enya. "There's no need for that here. It'll only make things harder. I suggest you do what Mistress commands, without offering resistance. It will make things so much easier here for the rest of us."

In reply Zhenya sucked at her mouth and spat in Enya's face. "How's that for resistance?" she asked.

Enya stood, petrified. She lifted a hand to her cheek, touching the sticky saliva. "Dominique! Did you witness that! Did you see that!" Her eyes flashed red. Her cheeks turned crimson. She grabbed Zhenya by her silky blonde hair, yanking it roughly and delivering a welting slap to her face. "How dare you!" Enya said. Then she chided her in a variety of inspired Russian insults.

"Manda! You cunt! Strip."

"What?" Zhenya said.

"Strip. Take your clothes off. All of them. Now. Right now this instant!" she squealed stamping her feet on the carpet. She was wearing a gold, anklet around one of them.

"You can't possibly expect me to just strip in front of a total stranger -" Zhenya began, her voice suddenly wavering as the musuclar, masked figure of Dominique advanced forward. As if to help her begin, Dominique seized her blouse in his massive hands and tore it clear in two, exposing in one instant a pink lace bra, supporting a small, but perfectly formed bosom.

Enya clapped her hands together and let out a nasty laugh, almost an imitation of her Mistresses. "Is that it! Is this what you are so afraid to reveal." She strode up to Zhenya and slid a finger deftly in the cup of the bra, flipping it down to release one of her breasts.

She paused, her head cocked to admire it. "A bit on the small side are we," said Enya. Her polished fingers moved in circles around Zhenya's nipple, which was large and pink and erect. "You don't mind if I have a taste," said Enya.

Before Zhenya could respond she had bent her pretty head and had flicked the edge of her cherry-colored tongue over Zhenya's teat. Then her little rosebud of a mouth began sucking on it. Zhenya squirmed as if she meant to resist, but her eyelids fluttered and she soon relented to Enya's teasing.

At last, satiated, Enya withdrew from her teat with a sucking pop! She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "That was really quite delicious. I didn't expect so much from you. Perhaps there is more then meets the eye. But there are other matters to consider -"

And her painted hands moved towards the zip on Zhenya's flare pants. Here Zhenya trembled and her voice cracked.

"Please don't -"

Enya put a finger to her lips. "Hush now. We're not asking you anything dear. Just a little peek is all." And she undid the closure, sliding Zhenya's pants down, moving frantically, with increasing zeal, lifting her leg up, yanking harder, knocking off her pumps in the effort. "Off, off, off!" she repeated between clenched teeth. At last she had flung all away leaving Zhenya standing in front of her, barefoot, with only her bra and black-lace V-string as surrogate protection.

Enya's composure suddenly softened as she viewed Zhenya's pretty, shy figure. "Oh, what lovely legs you have," she whispered, kneeling in front of her and running her hands lightly up her smooth calves, to the silky interieur of her thighs. She stopped just short of Zhenya's crotch. She stood up.

"Turn around," she ordered, pointing to the edge of the divan. "Face that way."

"What.... what do you want I...."

"Dominique!" Enya's voice rose a notch. He came forward and seized Zhenya, spinning her around violently, bending her over the divan, pushing her head down, her hands splayed out in front of her.

"Stay!" he barked roughly.

"Thank you Dominique!" Enya smiled sweetly. She stared at the prominent rump of Zhenya, facing her. It was small, perfectly curved, her buttocks smooth, with flawless skin tone. She licked her lips and then reached forward and tugged at her V-string, pulling it aside to reveal the most splendid, plump, moist and delightfully pink mound of flesh one could imagine. She ran a finger over the swollen lips of Zhenya's cunt, then up to her small, tightly closed and perfectly virgin asshole.

"You haven't done very much fucking have you. You've been a pretty well behaved girl, up to now," Enya taunted her.

Zhenya nodded her head, burying it into the embroidered cushions of the divan. Her hair was spread out messily over the pillows, it was gold of the purest burnt amber variety. Her back, her slender ribcage, all the lines of her body were of tender proportions. Eveything about her was small and unviolated. From her petite bosom, to her tiny hips, to the small and high rump. Only her cunt was disproportionately fleshy, the lips swollen beyond measure, bulging the one against the other.

She pulled Zhenya's ass cheeks apart, wide, and spat a huge dose of saliva directly onto her asshole. Then she rubbed it in delicately with her ruby painted fingertip, saying, "There, now we're even."

Zhenya squirmed and gasped, her breath coming in flushed intakes. She reached behind her to try and stop Enya, but Dominique intervened grabbing both her hands and holding them tight as she shook against him like a fish on a line.

Enya smiled obscenely and spat a second time on Zhenya's ass. Then she spanked both cheeks raw and patted Zhenya's cunt which was glistening and feverishly hot. She fingered her cunt for a bit, feeling Zhenya's flesh resist and then loosen against her advances. When she withdrew her fingers were shining wet. Zhenya's yelps had turned to long stifled moans.

"This is just the beginning," Enya leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I'm going to have every inch of you, you tart!"

She thrust a finger in Zhenya's pretty pink virgin asshole, violating it. Zhenya squirmed and Dominique held her tigher. Enya probed her finger further, rotating it, finger-fucking Zhenya. Then she added a second, feeling Zhenya's ass contract and slowly release as she urged both in, deeper. She drew out both fingers again and sucked them in her mouth, groaning with pleasure as if she were degusting a fine chardonnay. Quickly she returned them to Zhenya's still dilated ass, fucking her harder.

"Dominique, I think she's asking for something," Enya said, smiling wickedly at the masked man who stood in front of Zhenya. He still had her hands by the wrists, but the strain on them had loosened with her intense violation. He guided one of Zhenya's small hands to the heat of his crotch. She could feel the bulging mound beneath it. He unzipped his trousers and slid down a pair of silky skin-tight boxers. He cupped the palm of her hand over this, it was too small to contain the enormous swell.

"D...don't," she gasped as Enya continued her inspired attack on her asshole, this time alternating to her tongue. She licked and curse and spit on Zhenya's ass. Dominique had slid down his boxers to reveal a manhood of terrifying proportions. Zhenya's hand shrunk back at the mere sight of it. The shaft of his member rose in a splendid arc, way past his navel, almost to the center of his abdomen. The helmet was of a girth exceeding all expectations or dreads, and his testicles hung full and heavy beneath this velvety wonder. She could smell the powerful, meaty scent of him and it caused her to shiver to the quick.

"Go on, suck it!" Enya ordered her, slapping her on the ass for emphasis.

"B... but!"

"Go on you stupid tart, it's not negociable."

"B... but.... but...."

Enya yanked her by the hair, Zhenya squealed and bit her lip. "What are you stammering on about, you poor incult. Have you never seen a cock before? Haven't you ever seen a man naked? Now go on and take him in that saucy little mouth of yours or I'll go tell Mistress you've been misbehaving. And believe me, she is not quite so accomadating as I."

"But," Zhenya insisted, ruefully, almost on the verge of tears. "I don't know how to."

Enya rolled her eyes to the chandelier and dropped Zhenya's head back on the sofa. "She doesn't know how to," she repeated, in a mocking voice. "Heavens, Dominique! How am I supposed to work with this? What is that fool Mikail bringing us? The last of the water lilies? Untainted virgins destined for St. Theresa's Convent. It's all this insistance on virgin flesh that Madame is so fond of. They're useless, the whole lot of them. Well, I suppose we shall have to try our best," she sighed.

Seeing how distressed Zhenya was, and what a poor, pretty and innocent blonde thing she was, and inspired by a lapse of momentary pity, Enya stroked her cheek. "There, there," she said. "It's nothing to cry about. Here, I'll show you how it's done. Now watch closely and pay strict attention."

Zhenya nodded in compliance as Enya knelt on the flair rug in front of Dominique. She tossed her red mane of hair back and wet her ruby lips. Then she grasped the base of Dominique's massive cock, and began to flog it, slowly. It grew even larger, to Zhenya's utter astonishment. Then Enya, watching her out of the corner of her eye, to see if she was indeed paying attention, licked the entire length of the shaft, from scrotum, to the head of it, expertly tonguing him. When she got to the head she gave Zhenya a mischievous look and drew the entire thing into her wet mouth, halfway up the shaft. She swallowed him three-quarters of his length and girth, which as as far as her throat would allow, then she drew back slowly, leaving a shiny trail all around his member. She removed his cock from her mouth with a fully satisfying pop! Then she spat on the head of it and licked it around again as Zhenya watched in amazement, with the eyes of a girl who is witnessing creation for the first time.