Gwen's Journey Ch. 08

"Oh yeah, Baby!" Gwen cried, feeling another orgasm, a powerful, throbbing rush of sensation building inside her, threatening to explode. Sergei was pounding his meat into her, seemingly careless of any need she might have, but in doing so he fed her desires until she couldn't contain herself.

Sergei shouted with joy at the same moment Gwen felt herself drawn into her orgasm, her body as hot as a star, as tight as spring steel, and then release. She floated in a sea of ecstasy, the only sounds her own rasping breath and the thunder of her heart in her ears, the only sensation a mind-numbing pleasure that washed over her, through her, with explosive peaks when her walls tightened around the hardness of Sergei's wonderful cock.

And then Sergei was gone, and her lower body flopped uselessly to the bed. Tremors, aftershocks, coursed through her, making her shake and coo. She touched her body, feeling her hot, slick skin, every nerve ending thrumming with electric pleasure. It had never been so good, and while that should have bothered her, Maggie just didn't care.

She realized that she was sucking her fingers, and it struck her as funny. She giggled, and looked to Sergei to share her humor, but he was standing, his pants on already, pulling his t-shirt on. She saw real affection in his gorgeous green eyes for a moment, an instant that sent another shockwave rolling through her, and then his eyes were hard again.

"Get dressed, Pet," he said, and she was peeved that he wasn't even out of breath. "We have places we must go." She rolled slowly up to sit on the edge of the bed, flexing her toes on the carpeting and feeling completely at peace as fluid rushed from her to pool and stain the bedspread. She jumped when Sergei's palm slammed down on a little table.

"Now!" he said sharply, "Get dressed, or I will drag you to my car, naked and dripping for the world, and the fool, to see."

She moved quickly then, pulling on her clothes without so much as toweling her body first. Her body had been hot before, rosy with the afterglow of sex, but she felt her face and neck grow hotter still as she realized that Steve had probably been only yards away when she'd given herself completely to his enemy.

* * * * *

Ronnie's long leg was wrapped behind Pyotr's back, her foot pressing against his ass, pushing him against her. She whined with pleasure as his fat cock stretched her hot, slick pussy. One of his hands still held the pistol to her face, but the other was in her hair, his fingers tangled in her long, blonde tresses.

"Yes," Pyotr gasped, "this is good. Your pizda is wet for me, and you cannot hide your desire! Feel yourself clamping down on my cock, Slut?" He grinned evilly as he put his face close to hers, stared directly into her wide, blue eyes. "Your body betrays you, Slut. I can feel your true desire to have me."

Gabrielle closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. Any woman worth her salt knew how to make her pussy grab. Hell, she wasn't even that experienced, and she'd taught herself using a dildo, just to make herself feel good. She tried to shut out the wet, slurping noises and the cries of fear and pain, thinly disguised as passion.

She imagined sneaking up onto her feet and attempting to attack Pyotr, but every scenario she thought of ended with him shooting her, shooting Ronnie, or just beating the hell out of them. As long as her arms were so tightly bound behind her, Gabby knew she didn't have a chance.

She noticed a change in Pyotr's breathing, a quickening, and she began to pay attention to the way his pale white ass was clenching as he thrust into Ronnie. She saw his stark white butt spasming out of time with his thrusts and breathing, and she got the feeling he was about to lose it. She looked fearfully at Ronnie, at the gun pressed against the side of her face, and she hoped that when he popped, he wouldn't accidentally pull the trigger.

Ronnie arched beneath Pyotr then, her body shaking and a long, loud squeal of pleasure escaping her. Pyotr tossed the gun aside, sending it spinning across the floor to the wall opposite Gabby's location, and he planted both palms firmly on the floor. His thrusts became frantic, driving into Ronnie so forcefully that she couldn't hide the pain she felt any longer. With a shout, Pyotr's body tensed, his ass tightly clenched, and he shook for several long moments.

He drew in a deep breath, and then got to his knees before standing. He was such a big, strong, athletic guy, Gabby was impressed that Ronnie had been good enough to cause him to stagger when he pulled up his shorts and pants. Zipping his fly, Pyotr retrieved his gun from the floor. He uncocked the hammer and put it into his pocket, all the while staring down at Ronnie's writhing body. She was apparently going through some powerful aftershocks of her own, and was senseless.

Pyotr pointed a finger at Gabby, and he winked, smiling as he did, and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. The intent of the gesture was clear: You're next.

As soon as the door was closed, Ronnie stopped writhing and curled into a ball. On her side, facing away from Gabrielle, her body shook with deep sobs as she wept at her humiliation.

"Ronnie," Gabrielle called softly, and she tried again when she got no response. Her pussy pained her in a thousand places, the bruises and flesh piercing bites stinging and burning her most sensitive skin.

"Leave me alone," Ronnie sobbed, but she rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled over to lie down on the mattress next to Gabrielle. She flinched, but didn't pull away when Gabrielle rolled onto her side and spooned with her.

"I don't blame you, Sweety," Gabrielle whispered. "I know you did what you had to do, and I don't blame you," she said, and her own body was suddenly wracked by deep sobs. "I could tell that you were trying to resist, avoiding the places you knew would hurt me the most." Her shoulder began to burn, and she rolled onto her stomach to ease the tension.

"Someone's going to come and get us out of here, right?" Ronnie whispered as she rolled onto her side next to Gabrielle and put her arm over her back.

"No," Gabrielle said, very softly. "We can't count on anyone." She turned her head and looked into Ronnie's blue eyes that were red from crying. "Once, I would have said that someone was coming, that he'd move Heaven and Earth to rescue us, but he's useless now. He can't keep his mind on the mission anymore, not since Gwen got into his head."

"Tell me about him," Ronnie said, leaning her face close to Gabrielle's. "I can see you care about him."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, annoyed that Ronnie wanted to talk about Steve when they should have been planning their escape. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, and when she opened her eyes she saw the caring in Ronnie's expression. Something about her was solid, a strength now that hadn't been there before.

"Steve is a great guy," Gabrielle said, "and I do love him. I watched him marry someone else, and then when she was killed I stood back to let him heal. I was going to tell him how I felt, and he went and fell for Gwen." She took another breath to calm herself, to keep from descending into helpless, hopeless tears.

"Steve?" Ronnie asked. "That big guy who fixed her car? He really likes her?" Gabrielle nodded, and Ronnie smiled. "She's gaga for him," Ronnie said quietly.

Gabrielle put her face down into the mattress and tried to calm herself, to center herself for the coming minutes. She was surprised when Ronnie sat up and started to fumble with her bonds, and even more surprised when she managed to loosen and even remove some of the tape that had tightly held her arms immobile.

"I can't do anything about the handcuffs," Ronnie whispered, but Gabrielle was already moving, rolling onto her back and pulling her thighs up tightly to her chest. Ronnie watched with amazement as Gabrielle worked her handcuffed wrists down around her bottom to her knees, and then put her legs through.

Gabrielle got to her feet quickly, moving like a gymnast, but as soon as she stood upright she let out a cry and collapsed to her knees again before falling forward onto the mattress. After several breaths, she got back up onto her knees and looked at Ronnie, tears streaming down her face.

"It really hurts to stand," Gabrielle hissed through clenched teeth, and Ronnie moaned and began to weep again. "Stop that!" Gabrielle said, rising onto her feet, her legs shaking. Ronnie moved to stand in front of Gabrielle, supporting her, and Gabby put her arms around the small woman and held her.

Impulsively, Ronnie leaned up and pressed her lips to Gabrielle's, kissing her passionately. After a moment, Gabrielle reciprocated, but more tenderly.

"What was that for?" Gabrielle asked, slightly breathless when the kiss ended.

"I don't know," Ronnie said, and she started to speak again, but had trouble finding the words.

The door swung open and Pyotr stepped inside. He saw the shreds of silvery tape on the floor and the naked women embracing, and he smiled. Gabrielle lifted her arms up over Ronnie, releasing her, and Ronnie bolted to the corner of the room, standing with her back tightly to the wall.

Pyotr walked calmly up to Gabrielle, and she tensed, ready for his attack, or so she thought. She fell to the mattress without a sound, dropping as if pole-axed when Pyotr sent his massive fist into the center of her face, crushing her nose. He reached down and grabbed the chain connecting her cuffs and dragged her behind him with ease as he walked back to the door. He pulled her senseless body into the hall and closed the door behind him, leaving Ronnie to burst into helpless tears.

* * * * *

Gwen hadn't seen Steve or his car when Sergei had lead her to his Jaguar. All hope seemed to drain out of her at that moment when Sergei closed her door, sealing her inside the plush interior. Her mind raced as they drove, and even though she still trembled with the occasional aftershock, she didn't allow herself to be distracted.

"Sergei, baby?" Gwen tried, staring out the windshield nonchalantly, "What do I have to do to get you to let Ronnie go?"

"You are going to do anything I tell you to do," he replied easily, not taking his attention from driving, "or anything you think I would wish." He turned into an alley and was navigating between garbage and industrial dumpsters when he said, "You involved someone else, which was not my doing. Anything that happens to her is because you did not obey me in the first place."

"Don't you think I know that?" Gwen shouted, turning her upper body to face him. "I never meant to involve Ronnie! I just went to visit a friend." She calmed herself when she saw his anger at her impertinence, and she reached out and caressed his muscular arm, shivering inwardly at the feel of his hard muscle.

"Sergei," she whispered, "I need you to let Ronnie go. I'll talk to her. No matter what's happened, I can convince her to keep quiet."

"We shall see, Pet," Sergei said as he pulled to a stop behind a big warehouse building. They got out, and Sergei lead Gwen around to a steel fire door. He knocked five times After a moment the door opened and they went inside.

The warehouse floor was crowded by crates, but a big area had been cleared well inside, by a staircase that went up to a second floor hallway. There were two stout wooden chairs in the middle of the area, and to the side was a big work table covered with machine parts, magazines, and leftover fast food restaurant garbage.

The man from the mall, in the black leather coat, stood near the table, while another man, a big, dangerous looking man in a brown leather jacket, sat on one of the chairs. Sergei spoke Russian to the men, and black coat, Vassily, Gwen thought she heard, hugged Sergei and they kissed each other's cheeks. Gwen shifted uncomfortably while Vassily looked her over, and she saw Sergei exchange nods of recognition with the man in the brown jacket.

More Russian was spoken, and Brown Jacket got up and went up the stairs. Sergei and Vassily spoke in Russian with one another, and even though she didn't understand a word, the looks Vassily gave her made her blush furiously.

Another man entered the area, a younger, blond man, and he joined the conversation. She heard the tone change, and Vassily bolted up the stairs, while the blond (Yvonne, maybe?) went back through the crates toward the fire door.

The big man appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging what appeared to be a sack of potatoes behind him. He had dragged it roughly down half of the stairs before Gwen gasped, realizing it was a naked woman. Her hands were cuffed together, and the big man dragged her body down the stairs and across the cement floor to one of the chairs. He lifted her into it and punched her in the face, making head snap back before it lolled forward.

He unfastened her cuffs and tossed them underhanded onto the work table. Using a strip of leather, he then tied her arms together tightly behind the back of the chair. Gwen's heart went out to the poor woman, her face swollen and bruised, her body scraped and cut from being dragged. She must have been beautiful, Gwen thought, wondering who she was.

"Peter does good work," Sergei said to Gwen, and she watched Peter take off his jacket and lay it on the work table. He lifted a beer can and swished it around before going back over to the woman and pouring the contents out over her head.

The woman sputtered and coughed before moaning with pain. She looked at Peter with obvious terror, and then at Sergei with recognition. When she looked at Gwen, her eyes widened slightly, and Gwen would have sworn her look was somehow...appraising. She felt like she'd just met a boyfriend's ex.

"Nothing has been done to you that will not heal," Sergei said, stepping forward to face the woman. "Tell me what I want to know, and we will release you unharmed." He let that sink in for a moment, and then added, "Or you can resist and I will see to it you beg for death. My friend here," he indicated Peter, "has been telling me about a technique that I am eager to see for myself. He swears, and I have no reason to doubt him, that inserting a common street rat into a woman's cunt will cause it to tunnel until it can chew the way to freedom."

"My name is Gabrielle Sanders and I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, out of the Los Angeles office. I'm a Surveillance Technician, which means I listen to and record conversations, which I send to my superiors for analysis. I have no idea what this is all about, and I really, really want to go home please."

Gwen was disgusted by Gabrielle's complete lack of resolve. Had she really been cowed by such an obviously ridiculous threat? Gwen shook her head and was thankful there were real agents, brave men of action, like Steve, to really take care of things. She saw Sergei put his car keys and his big cell phone down on the work table.

Gwen jumped when Peter drove his fist into the side of Gabrielle's head, snapping it around. He pulled her head upright by her long, dark brown hair, and Sergei asked, "What is your name?"

"Gabrielle Sanders," she slurred, and Peter backhanded her mouth, snapping her head back and then forward again. He lifted her again by her hair.

"What is your name?" Sergei asked again, and Gwen hugged herself and averted her eyes from the swollen, bleeding face of Gabrielle.

"Gabwell Fanderf," she answered weakly, and Gwen winced at the sound of another blow.

"What is your name?" Sergei repeated again, and Gwen's heart broke when she heard Gabrielle begin to cry, weeping piteously and loudly. There was the sound of a slap, and Sergei repeated the question again.

"Gabell Fanowf," she whined between sobs. Gwen saw Sergei nod and cross his arms.

"Who do you work for, Gabrielle?" Sergei asked, and Gwen chanced a peek at Gabrielle, her head held up by her hair again, the lower part of her face swollen, her lips fat and split, bleeding freely.

"Fedwul B-Buwoh," she paused as sobs wracked her again, and then moaned, "FBI."

The sound of Gabrielle's scream was almost simultaneous with the sharp crack of the blow to her face, and Gwen turned her back to them and leaned hard on the work table, her head hanging. She sniffled and blinked away tears and she shuddered when Sergei asked, "Who do you work for, Gabrielle?"

* * * * *

Steve moved slowly around the warehouse building, carefully searching for sentries, but not finding any. Either they were supremely confident, or their resources were stretched thin. He knew that Gwen and Stetsenko were inside, and he could only pray that Gabby and the Driscoll woman, Ronnie, were inside as well. He moved silently up the decaying ladder of the ancient fire escape to the second level, where he found a frosted window propped open with a block of wood.

Sliding the window open, Steve thought again about calling the situation in, but there were too many variables and most of the scenarios he could work out would result in the deaths of everyone involved unless he acted immediately. Steve climbed into the open window, into a small room with an old wooden door. The floor creaked loudly under his weight, but only once, and Steve hoped he was still undetected.

He could hear a woman crying softly through the wall, and his heart yearned for Gwen and Gabby. Opening the wooden door, Steve saw that the hallway only had two other doors and ended at a descending stairway. He slowly moved out, playing his gun along the hall, turning his head to look back along the corridor. A man stood there, dressed in a black leather coat and holding a rather vicious looking pistol trained on Steve's head.

"Good evening," the man said in a thick Russian accent. "Please to be putting down your weapon before," his voice rose in volume, "I blow your fuckings head off!" Steve didn't hesitate, placing his gun on the floor and putting his hands behind his neck, fingers laced together. The man in black leather motioned to indicate the stairs, and Steve walked slowly to them.

When he stood at the top of the stairs he looked down and saw Gwen, Stetsenko, and another Russian standing beside Gabby. She was naked and tied to a chair in the center of the room, and she didn't look like they were being gentle with her. He took the first step when the Russian behind him kicked out, sending Steve off balance and stumbling down the stairs. He never quite lost his feet, but it was a close thing.

"Steve!" Gwen shouted, and when Steve looked at her he saw that Stetsenko was looking at her too, and he didn't look pleased. "Why are you following me around, you motherfucker?" Gwen shouted at him, putting her fists on her hips and staring defiantly at him. "My boyfriend is going to teach you what happens when you stalk the wrong girl." Gwen pointed at Steve, but her eyes flicked to Gabby when she asked, "Is that a zinger, or what, Asshole?"

"Yeah," Steve spat out, "That's a real zinger you've got there. I wasn't stalking you. I thought I cared for you."

"What is this zinger?" Stetsenko asked Gwen, who kept her eyes on Steve.

"Zinger," she said, "Like a stupid mistake. He made a stupid mistake following after me." Sergei looked to his compatriots, but none of them could detect any hidden meaning. Only Steve saw the subtle shake of Gabrielle's head.

* * * * *

Vassily, wearing his black coat, shoved Steve roughly forward, toward a stout wooden chair next to Gabrielle. Gwen watched with horror as Peter brought his gun down on the back of Steve's head, behind his ear, sending him to his hands and knees on the cement floor. She stifled a cry of concern as Sergei pulled her in close and kissed her passionately. She returned his kiss, her hand moving to the back of his neck as she did. She knew Steve was watching as he climbed into the chair, and she felt Sergei's big hands caress her ass while the big man tied Steve's hands behind his back.