Summary

 

After a 20-year break, diplomatic relations between the Patriarchy of Slavic Peoples (the PSP) and the United States of America resumed on March 18, 2121.

The U.S. took the position that, even though the Patriarchy continued to persecute women, it's recent initiative to end its bloody war with the SSZ (the women's insurrection army) had given the U.S. and all freedom loving people new hope that....

The flowery statement of good will and reconciliation went on for a long time, but the real reason for the diplomatic thaw was intelligence-by cutting ties with the PSP, American had blinded itself to what the Patriarchy's government was thinking and doing. Both the CIA and the State Department made a forceful argument that they needed eyes and ears on the inside to ferret out the details of the PSP's latest plan to precipitate an upheaval of some kind in the Middle East. "The Patriarchy wants to expend its evil empire south; it always has," the CIA director argued, and eventually the President caved.

The American government named Max Kavanaugh, the deputy director of CIA operations, as its ambassador to the Patriarchy and asked Professor Kira Ruslanova, a young and beautiful expert on Slavic studies to be his chief advisor. Professor Ruslanova, a refugee and asylum seeker from the PSP, had her own personal reasons for accepting the job.

Boris Kasimov, the PSP's first secretary, welcomed them with open arms. He knew the American's wanted someone inside the Kremlin to gather intelligence, but he intended to use this to feed them misinformation that would draw their attention away from his plan for Middle East domination.

What First Secretary Kasimov didn't know was that one a surrendering SSZ officer, Major Mila Sokolovski, had irrefutable evidence that the Patriarchy was instigating a full-scale Muslim uprising. With Professor Ruslanova's help, and the involvement of a special forces extraction team, Max Kavanaugh acquires this evidence and conveyed it to Washington hoping the CIA would use it to crush the PSP's plan. Instead, they used it to further the long-time U.S. goal of suppressing all Middle Eastern dissent, legitimate or not.

The combination of the Patriarchy's initiative to fractionalize the region and the American counterplot to quiet activists threw the entire region into chaos and resulted in an indigenous movement to reject all foreign influence. It also precipitated the formation of two region-wide unions-one for the Shia-Islam sect and one for the Sunni-Islam sect-which, in turn, produced a massive refugee crisis as the new governments moved to purge all religious minorities. Both sects wanted the glory-days of Muslim hegemony back with their brand of Islam dominant.

Kasimov, enraged by the American interference and by Max Kavanaugh's personal role in the intelligence coup, arrested and convicted Kira Ruslanova, who was now Max's lover, of espionage-a high crime in the PSP that carried the penalty of "enslavement for life." This break with the diplomatic protocols regarding immunity caused a ripple in relations between the two countries, but no one except Kavanaugh paid much attention to it given the catastrophic upheaval taking place to the south.

 

Chapter 1 - Born to the Harness

 

Kira's mind refused to accept the reality of her conviction. She had diplomatic immunity, a shield that even the worst countries honored. The charge of espionage was also a technicality, an exaggeration of what she had been doing, which was to secretly record her conversations with the First Secretary. How could anyone construe that to be espionage?

She never had the opportunity to make any of these arguments. One minute she was a lauded professor, the respected assistant to the U.S. ambassador, and trusted confident of Boris Kasimov, first secretary of the Patriarchy; the next, she was a convicted spy, summarily sentenced by Kasimov himself to zhizn' kak rab (life as a slave) under his custody.

Even then, she had expected the Patriarchy would treat her with kid-gloves as was the tradition for all "diplomatic crimes." Instead, Kasimov had ordered her guards to strip her naked and confiscate her bra where the CIA had hidden its recorder.

She stared at him, naked with manacles holding her arms behind her back, still thinking this might be some horribly realistic nightmare.

"Boris, PLEASE...! What have I done? We're friends. I demand you honor my diplomatic immunity and release me from these shackles!"

The words didn't sound like her words. They were weak; she was begging him when she knew he admired strength; she was pleading a case that had no merit, no basis in reality. She knew she should stay quiet, let Max and the government deal with him, but the nakedness and the bondage were toying with her mind.

Kasimov turned to one of the FSB officers holding her arm and nodded; the man immediately pushed a ball gag into her mouth. She twisted her slim body, writhing in silent frustration. Her mind simply could not adjust to such a fast and dramatic shift in her circumstances.

Max had warned her; he had ordered her to go home, to give up her lesbian/BDSM relationship with Jovana, Kasimov's beautiful dacha rab (slave), but she had ignored him.

How could she give up Jovana? She was no lesbian, but the girl's incredible body, her haunting face, the way she moved, the way she acted had all preyed on her mind-intoxicating and addicting her. She could no more give her up than she could give Max up. They had become lovers working so closely together, sharing such dangers.

How could she give up her relationship with Kasimov? He trusted her, told her things that he had not told anyone else even members of his own council, his own government. This was the kind of intelligence they had come to the PSP to find...how could she just give it up? Not only that, but she also had a warm personal relationship with Kasimov; there was no danger. At least, that's what she had thought.

Two good reasons not to rush home, two...obsessions.

Obsession...even that was an understatement, she thought, glancing at Jovana, the girl Kasimov insultingly called Lena-14 or just Fourteen. She was standing naked and similarly shackled across the room, accused of being part of the "espionage conspiracy." Kira refused to call her by her slave name-despite being her dominant-to her she was Jovana, her given name.

"We do not take espionage lightly, Kira," Kasimov was saying casually as if he caught spies every day. "Your punishment and your lover's punishment will be the same as anyone else caught red-handed in the act of spying. For you, we have the evidence," he held up the bra-recorder-and for her...well, it is simply impossible for me to believe that Fourteen, my beautiful Fourteen, was not complicate with you in this despicable crime."

Kira was shaking her head, trying desperately to speak through the gag. A recorder, even a covert recorder was not evidence-it was standard practice for diplomats to secretly record each other-and "what he believed" was not a legitimate argument in any legitimate court.

"What could you say, Kira?" he added with faux indignation. "I am holding the evidence here, right here in my hand."

He held up the bra like a damning confession.

"Take them," Kasimov said irately. "On my authority, I order them found guilty and incarcerated in my custody at Primorskiy Dacha, where they will become part of the rab disciplinary program."

He moved close to Kira, close enough so she could see the madness in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Kira. Accept your punishment; it will be easier for you if you admit your crime and accept your punishment. The next time I see you, I hope you will be contrite and humble. This is the goal of our disciplinary program."

She tried to speak, but the ball gag made it impossible, all she could do was open her eyes in rage and frustration. He turned away and the FSB men rushed her and Fourteen into a waiting van.

"Kneel...!"

Kira couldn't hear the order with the blood pounding in her ear, but the sight of Jovana/Fourteen scrambling into the van to kneel on the blanket dragged her out of her trance. She shook her head then felt something touch her ass and fainted. When she awoke, she found her arms chained overhead to a bar running the full width of the van's ceiling, and no gag. Two FSB guards sat in front, ignoring them as they drove.

What had caused her to faint? All she could remember was a massive shock, unbearable pain, and blackness. A stun gun...? Had someone shocked her with a stun gun? The question seemed so outrageous, she put it out of her mind.

Not that the FSB guards were incapable of such atrocities-Max had told her that Kasimov had crucified Fourteen to get him to agree to a meeting-but they wouldn't dare treat her with such violence. This arrest was "for show," she would be out in a few hours or days at the most. They would not want her carrying back stories of abuse.

"Soldaty (soldiers), Soldaty, Ca...can you lay us on the floor?" she asked with a faltering voice. "Hanging from this bar is too painful for travel and...and it is unnecessary. We cannot escape in these chains."

Neither man said anything. They just climbed into the van's front seats and stared driving, but Kira didn't give up so easily.

"Soldaty, please, lay us on the floor. How will it make any difference?"

She continued to make the request harassing and haranguing them periodically every few minutes for hours. The driver and the guard in the passenger seat continued to ignore her, staring out at the endless, unchanging Russian landscape. Jovana was silent shaking her head each time Kira asked, warning her. They were traveling south and had already passed through the city of Vorenezh.

"Are we going to Krasnodar?" Kira asked in a demanding tone. "I heard you talking before. Is Krasnodar our destination? Are we going to Kasimov's Black Sea resort?"

He voice was shrill now, insistent as the pain in her knees and back grew more severe.

"ANSWER ME...!" she screamed.

No answer. It was as if the two in the back didn't exist.

"Be quiet, Kira," Fourteen said. "They will put us down when we have suffered enough."

"Suffered...? Suffered...! That isn't their call. Even in this country, rabs have rights."

Fourteen turned to her with a strange expression on her face. Kira turned back to the FSB men.

"Krasnodar is another day's drive," she said more reasonably. "You cannot keep us chained this way for another day. Please, soldaty, please lay us on the floor. I am not asking much."

She waited for an answer, but there was nothing.

"If you do not listen to me, I will make a formal complaint when my embassy gets us out...a formal complaint specifically against you two. Do you know what they are going to do then? They will send you two morons to Murmansk where you will freeze to death guarding an empty, frozen harbor. I demand you listen to me, soldaty!"

She though the FSB pigs would like her calling them soldaty, they would take it as a complement. Most people thought of them as sadists and maniacal killers...which they were. Jovana was shaking her head more forcefully, but Kira ignored her. It was important that these people knew from the beginning that she was no ordinary rab prisoner, she thought. She was a political hostage, and her government, the powerful American government, would have her released in hours. Max would see to it; they were lovers and...well, more than lovers.

"SOLDATY...!" she yelled. "ANSWER ME! I demand that you make us more comfortable. There is no reason for this, this fucking abuse. We are not common criminals; we are political prisoners."

"Uh huh, uh huh," Jovana was whispering in fear at her side.

Kira ignored her and continued to lambast her guards.

One of the men said something to the driver and he turned on the van's flashing blue light signaling "FSB activity" to other drivers and pulled the van over onto the shoulder.

"Spasiba (thank you), soldaty," Kira said relieved, glancing smugly at Jovana.

The girl was shaking, trembling in fear. The driver turned back towards them and smiled as the other guard got out and opened the rear doors. Cars passing by on the busy road could easily see them chained naked inside the van, but no one stopped or even slowed. The flashing blue light meant "don't even think about interfering" and everyone in the Patriarchy knew it and obeyed.

The man climbed inside the cargo area, wrapped his arm around Kira's midsection until his hand was holding her steady by her pussy then her pressed something cool into her ass. A second later, her brain exploded in pain as 50,000 volts of electricity passed through her body for five terrible seconds. She shuddered violently then went limp. The guard retrieved her ball gag from his pocket, pushed it into her mouth, and tightened it hard behind her head.

Jovana recovered slowly, her sultry eyes wide with terror. Her looks were pleading now rather than demanding, pleading that he not hurt her again. For the moment at least, she had surrendered. He smiled and shrugged then wrapped his arm around her naked waste again and pressed the electrodes into her hard ass. She was twisting wildly, desperately shaking her head, and pleading piteously with her eyes when he pulled the trigger again.

He waited patiently for her to recover then grabbed Jovana the same way, by the pussy.

"Nooo...!" Kira screamed, as he shocked the girl, twice, with identical results.

Quickly, he pushed the red ball gags back into their mouths and returned to his seat.

They were terrified and shaking with pain as the van pulled back into traffic. After a time, Jovana turned to her and stared with an accusatory glare. The FSB always punished their prisoners together; didn't she know that her eyes said. It was how they got the compliant ones to change the behavior of those who continued to resist.

Two hours later, they stopped at a police station for the night. The guards crossed the shackles on their wrists and ankles to hogtie them then left them on a cell floor with a single blanket covering both bodies.

"I tried to warn you, Kira," Jovana whispered. "You cannot reason with these people or intimidate them. In this country, they are the wolves, and we are the sheep. This is how it has always been. If you try to fight them, they will make our lives a living hell."

"I'm sorry," Kira answered. "I didn't think they would hurt me. It never even occurred to me that they would hurt you for something I did. I will be...more careful, I promise."

The moved close and kissed then pressed their nude bodies against each other for warmth and comfort. The next day, they drove for seven silent hours without gags, and stopped again at another police station. The morning after, they passed through the sleepy city of Krasnodar and its five-domed cathedral of St. Catherine then drove the last hour to the Kasimov estate and his dacha built on a cliff overlooking the water.

"Welcome," the dacha guard said simply, unlocking their chains, "to your new home."