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Texas Dreams. Texas Nightmares.
As the Randolf Corporation jet crosses the Atlantic, Manfred Randolf sleeps fitfully. He is tormented by recurrent dreams …
He is standing a few yards from an oil derrick. High on the tower, he can see the Randolf Company logo, bright in the afternoon sun. As the drilling head turns, he can see fluid escaping from the joint beneath the blow-out preventer valve. The flow starts as a trickle and then builds and builds. In seconds the fluid is being forced out of the joint at enormous pressure, escaping in a thin sheet at a rate of hundreds of gallons per minute. Manfred realizes that the valve is not operating. For some reason, there is no secondary valve as back-up. He tries to get to it. He has to close it manually; has to stop the drilling head turning; has to alter the inflow of drilling mud and kill the well.
The men on the rig are getting on with their tasks. They are oblivious to the danger as the pressure in the underground reservoir forces oil to the surface.
Manfred tries to run across the gantry to reach the valve but the harder he tries to run, the slower he goes. He has almost reached the assembly when the pipe fractures. There is the sound of a dozen express trains howling and thundering past! The whole rig is consumed in a violent explosion of oil, drilling mud, gas and water.
Manfred knows he must do all he can to get clear, to find fresh air to breath, the reach some point of safety …
He wakes. The roaring and whistling sound in his ears is not escaping oil and steam: it is the sound or the air streaming past the fuselage as his jet cruises north east, seven miles high above the cold grey Atlantic. (1)
Randolf is asleep once more, but now his unconscious mind takes him back to Houston. He is in the Enron building, walking through the offices. The building is full of police who are walking between the desks, carefully writing down what each person is doing. Suddenly, he is sitting at a desk himself. He cannot decide whether he has become an employee? Surely he is a visitor? Across the desk sits Jeffrey Skilling, the CEO.
“Manfred! Glad you could drop by. You know, you should have sold out to us when you could. We could have paid in Enron stock. We have been America’s Most Innovative Company for three years running, do you know that? Those SPE’s you set up? Pah! You are too small to get away with that sort of manoeuvre. Houston PD are here and the D of J people: they are going to see through you, like you were glass.”
Randolf tries to tell Skilling not to speak so loud! One of the policemen will hear him. For heaven's sake! There are hundreds of them. A police captain is standing behind Skilling. He says, "Shall we go over to Randolf Corp now, Mr Skilling?" (2)
Randolf decides to run. If he can make it up to the top floor, there is sure to be a helicopter pad …
Randolf is at home. He walks through his lounge. He is alone. He takes a slug of Jack Daniels, straight from the bottle. The whiskey burns a hot trail into his stomach. As he turns he sees Tracy talking to her Mother.
Shanice? What is she doing at the ranch? She has not set foot there since the divorce. Why is Tracy here in Texas and not in Germany? Tracy is talking to Shanice urgently and insistently. She is telling Shanice to dispose of her Randolf stock as fast as she can but without depressing the market price.
“You see Mom, Daddy wants me to pull things round but it's all gone way too far. Look! Here’s the cops coming, right now. Daddy hides all his most secret things in the barn. Let's go get ‘em.”
Randolf looks out of the window. Tracy and Shanice are already disappearing through the door into the darkness of the inside of the barn. Parked, as a barrier between them are three black and white police cars, their lights flashing. A clean-cut young man is climbing out of the first of them. Behind him is the shambling, untidy figure of Columbo.
“No need to worry, Mr Randolf,” drawls Columbo, “just a few routine questions.” (3)
Manfred Randolf rides the elevator car down from the Executive Floor to the lobby of the Marriot, Potsdammer Platz. Even though he was in Germany, Berlin even, he still felt he was in the United States, somehow. This was a place where you knew that right at the top of the Company, there was a real guy called Marriot, making sure things were always just as they should be.
As he leaves the elevator, Randolf glances right and left. As if to confirm his musings, his eye falls on a large, idealistic and optimistic portrait hanging in the Lobby. J Willard Marriot sits gazing out, a benign smile on his face and architectural blue prints in his hands, Behind him stands his son, John W Marriot 3rd also smiling, also reassuring the guests that in this company, their family is securely in charge. Manfred envies them their munificence, to some extent. Their security, definitely! Hotels might not be ‘manly’, like drilling for oil, but maybe it was more difficult to get yourself into the sort of trouble he was in? (4)
Petra, his head of corporate security and Chuck, the Corporation Chief Accountant have been waiting in the Lobby Bar to join him. The three of them take the short walk towards the dining room, the Mid Town Grill. (5)
Manfred is dressed like a Texan. Blue check shirt; pale blue Wranglers; light tan cowboy boots and a belt to match. He is showing he is here to kick ass if he has to.
Chuck is definitely, visibly, an accountant. Whilst Manfred is slim and wiry, Chuck is more than a few pounds over his fighting weight. He is dressed in a sombre dark business suit, white shirt and dark blue striped tie. He looks like a Republican Conservative and votes like one, but that's not always how he acts in his business life.
Petra is the anomaly. She is tall and well-proportioned with an athlete’s body; she has long blond hair, pleated and put into a bun on the back of her head. Manfred notices she is wearing a pair of those patent leather, lace-up, British boots (Doc Martens or something?). The boots have red laces which contrast with the shiny black of the leather. She has the blackest of black tights and a dark red cotton pleated skirt. Above the skirt there is a red blouse beneath a black biker jacket. Petra looks very desirable and sexy. Manfred notices his mouth has begun to water. She also looks dangerous.
As the trio sweep into the dining room, the Maitre D’, an immaculately dressed black girl who speaks English with a German accent smiles broadly and personally shows them to their table. They turn left, walk past the open ‘kitchen’ area and right to the end or the room. They are almost in a little annex.
“I have put you here so you could have some privacy. I hope that will be satisfactory?" she says. A colleague is standing at her elbow. “Maxine will be looking after you this evening.”
Maxine, small, blond, pale skinned and with blue Germanic eyes smiles and says “Guten Abend Damen und Herren”. She nods and gives almost a little bow. Formal, yet friendly.
“Like I said,” says Petra,” the steaks are good here …”
The cabal are into their meal now and Randolf takes charge of the situation. He is demolishing a T bone with French fries, asparagus with butter and rocket.
“So Petra, Chuck and I are gonna have to put you more in the picture about the Corporation. Most of this stuff is going to be deeply confidential. If you don’t want to know it, say ‘stop’ but we think it will give you some important context. Chuck? ...”
Chuck clears his throat and swallows a mouthful of salmon steak. He has become worried recently about his profile – how he looks in the bedroom mirror and reducing his red meat quotient is for him, a first step on the road to better nutrition.
“Well Petra, it's like this. Frankly, the Corporation has been in poor shape over the past few years – yes I know the share price has done well but there’s the rub. We are overvalued. Seriously over-valued. We need real money to refinance and to get working capital to rebuild our financial foundations …”
“What Chuck means”, interjects Randolf, “is that we need real dough to start deep drilling in the Texas fields. There’s more oil down there but the technology to get it is expensive. And it's not just about oil. There is technology to frack natural gas out of shale rock and we need to be part of that. Did you know the US is now self-sufficient in natural gas, thanks to fracking? We need to be part of that.” (6)
“So why not just go to the Bank and borrow?” asks Petra, “If you are thought to be a good risk and a valuable company, that should be no problem?”
“You are a minx, Petra! You are just needling me. Look since the sub-prime mortgage fiasco, since Lehman Brothers went belly up, the banks are being much more careful and frankly, I don’t want them crawling over the company accounts …” (7)
“and the reason is”, continues Chuck, “that the accounts have not told the complete picture about the corporate finances for quite a while.”
Randolf chews vigorously on another mouthful of steak, gazing at Petra through a half closed eye, like an alligator sizing up its prey.
“So what we did”, continues Chuck
“Look, Petra it's like this”, says Randolf, following through. “Gradually, productivity in the Texas field started to fall. We're talking mid-eighties here. I had offers for the Corporation from the people at Marathon and Philips. (8) I wanted to stay independent. Then along comes The Nineties. The Soviet Union collapses. The Russian Empire used to be the world’s number one oil exporter, then in the Soviet period, it was off limits but that did not really matter because in the West we had the Mid East, North Africa, Nigeria, the North Sea, Venezuela and of course, Texas. Anyway, I could smell money. Could we cut some deal with the former-soviets to get hold of their oil and ship it to the US or could we sell them some of our expertise to bring their industry up to date? Hell, I thought we’d be dealing with a bunch of engineers who knew fuck all about business or a collection of ex-pinko communist apparatchiks who did not know which way up the balance sheet went.”
“And I am going to guess it did not turn out quite like that?”
“No siree girl, it did not. We found ourselves tied in with a bunch of bandit capitalists of the blackest hue.”
“… so we took a leaf out of the Enron Book”’ adds Chuck, “we set up a number of Special Purpose Vehicles. These separate an investment from the main balance sheet. If it makes money, you can transfuse money into the main Corporation accounts. If it loses, it is off the books but the main thing is that the share price is not affected by what the SPV’s are doing.” (9)
“I wanted them just to bring investment capital into the Corporation”, explains Randolf.
“… and avoid tax” adds Chuck with an accountant’s precision.
“… and avoid tax, yes, that’s true and then when we had enough we could kiss ‘Boris’ good bye”, adds Randolf
“How did ‘Boris’ take this?” asks Petra
“Well, ‘Boris’ did some checking of his own … I tell you, girl, these guys are good. We should be employing them. If we could trust them … Anyway, he found out that we were over-valued and he guessed that we had been using out East Europe operations to rebuild our finances”, replies Randolf.
“So they started to send us invoices for what purported to be services they had supplied to us”’ says Chuck.
“Invoices! Blackmail demands, that’s all they were. ‘Boris’ thought he had us over a barrel but I could see through his little scheme. They wanted us as a gateway into the US market. They wanted a market presence without having to come clean about it. The next step: getting me to sell them a controlling share in the corporation
… you see Petra, they knew that we had not been correctly declaring profits and The Treasury does not like that”, the pedantic Chuck explains.
“… and I have no intention of doing jail time like that dumbass Jeffery Skilling”, adds Randolf. (10)
“… so Manfred sent Tracy to tie to tie up the East European operation.”
“To cut the Russians loose?”
“Yep, that’s about it. A few more months and we would not have needed them any more”’ Randolf replies.
“And now they have Tracy, she is security to guarantee your good behaviour?” says Petra, summarizing the situation.
“Yes Petra, that’s it. Tracy also knows where a whole lot more bodies are buried.”
“Do the Reds know everything?”
“Well, Petra I think we now need some precision in the conversation because there is not just one single collection of Reds. We spread our risk and I don’t know how much they all talk to each other. The plan is to pay what is owed, so that is the slate wiped clean but mainly to find out which little gang of hoodlums is responsible for Tracy’s disappearance and to try and get her back before they figure out what she is worth. This is your job, Petra. Get hold of who ever took her and screw them till they tell you where she is. We gotta be tough here. I just feel it in my gut.”
Petra begins: "So Manfred, you are pretty definite that people you upset were on this side of the pond?"
Manfred nods again and Petra continues, "I don’t think it’s anything they’ll have done by themselves, that is to say done personally. They’ll have commissioned someone in West Europe or someone who is experienced at working here.
There’s one operation I’d normally have down for something like this. Man called Clegg, no real scruples, goes where there’s a good buck. He operates out of the UK and works largely with clients in the area you might call Iran-istan. He has got connections in the States by the way. You know a Steve Glennis?" (11)
Manfred nods and adds, “well, ‘know him’ is a bit too much of a description, ‘heard of him’ is nearer the mark.”
Petra continues: "Clegg doesn’t care much who commissions him to do what, although he’s been tidying up his business the last couple of years. An abduction like this is well within his capability. His organisation is a good example of the sort of people we will be dealing with but, I don’t think he will be responsible on this occasion. After all, why would Russians want to work with the British on a ‘project’ in Germany?"
"Anyone else?"
"Plenty, I’m afraid. There is one West Europe operation run by someone who calls herself ‘The Contessa’. There are a number of criminal gangs from the old Yugoslavia and others from the new Baltic Republics – Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Then of course, there are the Russians – well, ‘former Soviets is a better description because they don’t all come from what we would now call ‘Russia’. Some nasty operators. Some skilful ones. A few that are both. The Former Soviets are the people who still have a lot of links in Berlin and I think that's where we have got to start, following on from what you have just told me"
"Understood ..."
"I spent some time checking out the area where her apartment was and I’ve tried following up with the Berlin police. They don’t have any real clues. There’s no much that even points to a snatch and if anyone actually knows anything in Berlin they aren’t saying."
“So that’s where we are at? For goodness sake Petra. Part of me does not want the police and heaven forbid, the FBI people at the Embassy getting too involved with this. On the other hand, I was hoping for something more concrete.”
“Let's have a bit of patience here, Manfred. Tracy has only been gone 72 hours and yes, I hear what you say about the police. Oh, by the way, who is this?”
Petra slides a photograph taken from a security camera over the table. It shows Tracy in a café, talking to a man. Young. Attractive. Smart. Black.
“Who in hell's name is this, Petra?”
“Tracy often called at a café on her way home. I ‘borrowed’ the security camera records. This is what I found.”
“Shouldn’t the police have that?”
“I guess they should, Manfred. The question is, at what point do you want them to have it? Are you going to rely on normal channels to get Tracy back or are we going to work on this ourselves – at least for some time?”
“Ah, oh, yeah. I see what you mean.”
“Here is another. This is from the surveillance camera I had installed in Tracy’s apartment. It covers the front door. See? Here she is coming in and here is the guy again. This is something the police will also have and at the moment they will be going through Tracy’s address book to match names with faces with visitors, so we have us a start.”
“Manfred, I am going to suggest that you get out your cheque book and start playing bills. See if you can get your merchandise back through more conventional channels. Meanwhile, I will track down this son of a bitch and find out who hired him. Then you will know who exactly you need to do serious business with. Sound OK?”
“Sounds OK to me Petra. Get on the bastard’s trail.”
Petra notices that as he says this, Manfred is holding his steak knife like a dagger, the blade being driven into the table.
“Careful, Manfred,” she says, “The Grill will be putting ‘maintenance charges’ on your account!”
Berlin is a large city in a large country. Petra reflected that is she had been responsible for an abduction, she would get as far from the scene of the crime as possible. The man she was after, he was young. Young could also imply inexperienced. If he was merely the ‘bait’ he might think he was now in the clear, now the principle gang had taken their quarry and quit the scene. Berlin was the best place to start their search.
In addition to photographs, Petra also had the copy of Tracy’s diary, left in her apartment after her disappearance (another hint at inexperience) and of course, there was a copy of her diary at the Randolf Corporation offices.
Petra noticed that an unfamiliar name kept popping up. It began a few weeks ago. The name was ‘Hans Peter’.
The Police were also looking for ‘Hans Peter’ in all probability, but they had rules and procedure to follow. They had to act inside the law to uphold the law.
Petra is not in the police. She has deep pockets. She can pay handsomely for information. Her munificence buys her a large number of people who are pleased to be on the lookout for ‘Hans Peter.’
Petra found Hans Peter at a gym. She had spread the name and the description out amongst her contacts and ‘Hans Peter’ came up on a list of male escorts. This was the clincher. He really was merely a bait, left to lure Tracy to her doom whilst others, no doubt more practiced, took over at that point. Petra wondered Hans Peter had been well paid? Would it be compensation for his next little adventure?
Hans Peter knew an attractive woman when he saw one – goodness knows, he had gritted his teeth through plenty of unsatisfactory encounters, but at least he was being paid.
Petra stood out with her creamy skin and tight white sports-bra top. The way her perfectly defined tummy disappeared effortlessly into her black tight lycra shorts, outlining her tight butt so well.
He first spotted Petra on the pull-up machine. (12) She had beautifully defined biceps and the way her trapezius and latisimus dorsi contracted as she went through a set of ten repetitions: very nice indeed. Hans Peter also knew if he would find a firm, warm, slippery, vagina when he looked at a woman and he saw one here, definitely.
Petra watches him watching her. It gives her the opening she needs. She smiles. “Hi, I’m Petra!”
“Hi, I’m Hans Peter.”
“Hans Peter? That’s a nice name. You from around here?”
“Berlin?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes: I work at the University. You?”
“Me? Oh, tourist – sort of. I’m at a medical congress and then I’m going to see a bit of Germany. I’m just a visitor, that’s why you have not seen me before.”
“Well: if you are not here for long, let me show you some of the town. Places a tourist might not ordinarily see – if your evening is free, no seminars on anatomy!”
Petra laughs. “Well, I could use a seminar on ‘The Tight Ass’ but I’m free tonight so what do you suggest?”
“I suggest dinner – first. Then … well, who knows?”
Petra giggles at Han’s Peter’s gentle innuendo. “Yeah, who knows?”
It is 9:30pm Hans Peter and Petra have enjoyed a very pleasant evening together. It's not too late - after all, Hans Peter has a ‘class’ to teach tomorrow at his ‘university’. Petra says she has booked to go down to Bavaria. Maybe they both know that each of them is lying but neither of them care. From Hans Peter's perspective, it's going to be a one night stand and Hans Peter is going to make the best of it. He is keen on the idea of sending Petra down to Bavaria with a very wet cunt!
They approach the door of the apartment Petra has rented or so she says, over the period of the ‘congress’.
“C’mon in, big boy,” she says as she scrabbles to put her key into the lock, her mouth exploring his, “They say you guys are BIG. I wanna see for myself! I wanna see your cock!”
As Petra turns the key, the apartment door flies open and two very large, very solid men emerge. Hans Peter is fit but he is no match for the two of them and he is not ready for Petra to turn and drive her first hard into his stomach. Hans Peter crumples to the floor and heaving and gasping, he id dragged into the flat and the door is firmly closed.
In the surprise, terror and confusion of the next few moments Hans Peter finds it hard to collect his wits. Who on earth is this girl? What does she want? Who are the men with her? He does not owe any money? His clients have all come to him, through the Agency. He has not bedded any wives of dangerous husbands because the Agency does try to check ….
He is dragged into the flat and thrown onto a bed. Hans Peter notices that the bed is very hard. Incongruously, it occurs to him that the bed feels too hard for really a good long fuck.
One of the men kneels over him, whilst the other hauls his arm out and The Girl straps a wrist cuff on him and secures it to the bed frame. They do the same with the other arm and then turn their attention to his feet. The Girl stands over him:
“Strip Him”, she says
But they can’t! He still has his clothes on! This must be a game?
Then, one of the men produces a pair of heavy paramedic shears and beginning at his ankle, slices his way right up to Hans Peter’s neck and then down his arm. First one side, then the other. Finally, his shoes are pulled off and his socks and then he is naked, shivering with fear and dismay. He sees the shreds of his clothes tossed into a black plastic bin bag which is tied up and thrown to the side of the room.
“You won’t be wearing them again, Big Boy”’ says The Girl
By now, Hans Peter is frightened enough to start to urinate on the bed, but one of the men deftly places his cock in a bottle which despite Hans Peter’s efforts to keep control, collects his urine.
“We don’t ”, says The Girl, “want you to make a mess. We do want some information.”
“Information? I don’t know anything?”
“Don’t be stupid, dumbass! I have not asked you anything yet. You know plenty. You will be surprised how much you can remember. We could, for example, band your balls, like the Vet does to cattle and see if that helps your memory. Might do it anyway. Oh, sorry. I forgot the introductions. This is Joachim and this is Dieter.”
The girl motions to her two large, strong, tough, frighteningly handsome accomplices.
“Dieter: hold his head.”
One of the men walks to the head of the bed which has been pulled away from the wall and stretches his arms through the bars. He grabs a generous handful of Hans Peter’s hair. The Girl climbs on the bed and straddles his chest. She takes some sort of instrument – Hans Peter cannot see exactly what and places it in his nostrils. He begins to weep in terror. The Girl squeezes the handles and he feels a sharp pain in his septum, radiating into his teeth.
“Stop crying!” She says by way of explanation. It’s only a dermal punch.”
She withdraws the instrument and holds a cloth firmly in his nose for a few moments.
“There: you have stopped bleeding already!”
She picks up a thick segmented metal ring and feeds it through the hole she has punched. She smears epoxy cement onto the free ends and then inserts a ball into the gap, opening the ring (it's quite difficult, thanks to its thickness) with some large ring opening pliers.
One of the men hands her what looks like a hypodermic.
The Girl takes firm hold of his lower lip, looks inside as if to judge a position and firmly passes the hypodermic right through! She inserts a barbell into the wound, one end, flat to rest against his teeth. The other end, round to rest on the outside of his lip.
Panic is rising uncontrolled in Hans Peter’s mind. For goodness sake, he will not be able to work for the Agency is he looks like this! He just will not be socially acceptable to the sort of clients they have.
The Girl now has hold of his chin. He cannot avoid her eyes.
She says: “I have an unusual hobby. Body piercing and needle play! I think you need … decorating … and I am going to keep this up until I get some answers. Now: Septum, Lip, what next?”
“Ears?” asks Dieter.
“Ears!” echoes Petra. With Joachim still holding Hans Peter fast by
his hair, Petra fingers his lobes.
“Hmmm. Nice and flat. He could take … two each side?”
Dieter like his lips, “I like it when they get their lobes stretched.”
“Huh? Oh, you mean with a flesh tunnel and a ring running through? Yeah, that’s nice. The way the ring rolls as they walk. OK so we will need one piercing here which he can stretch later” – she looks up into Hans Peter’s bleary tear filled eyes – “you will you know. Just you see. We are giving you an image make-over. Just how much of a make-over depends on you.”
A wave of relief breaks over Hans Peter. At least there was going to be a ‘later’.
Before he has had time to recover, Petra has passes another hypodermic through his ear lobe and passes a ball closure ring through. She inserts another further up his ear and then inserts two more in his other ear, taking careful account of symmetry.
“Right, team!” Says Petra, lets rest up for a few moments so our subject here can recover himself. Hans Peter – look for goodness sake, I am not going to spend all night calling you that. From now on you are HP, OK? Now, HP. Look at this photograph. See this girl? Why did you get involved with her?”
“Who?”
“Her – dummy!”
“Oh, well there have been so many I’m not sure I can really remember.”
“Can’t remember?”
“No …”
“Oh … well … I think you should think that over. Just for a few minutes.”
To Hans Peters surprise, Petra bends over and starts to lick his nipples. She gently licks, sucks, blows. Hans Peter’s nipples betray him. They begin to stand up, taught. Petra takes a marker pen and makes places one small black dot on each side of each nipple. Each mark is directly opposite the other, perfectly opposite.
From Hans Peters point of view, Petra takes a pair of nipple clamps and applies one to each nipple. From Petra’s point of view, she takes a pair of Pennington’s forceps and grasps each nipple such that the skin markings are firmly held.
Suddenly, Hans Peter realizes what Petra is about to do.
“No, for goodness sake, give me a minute. Let me tell you about the girl.”
“Sure, you are going to tell me. This is just to help.” With that, she holds one of the forceps, pulling the captive nipple away from its owner and swiftly runs the Introducer right through it. Left! Then Right!
Hans Peter feels a short, sharp, stab of pain: white, tearing, all the more intense because of the circumstances.
“Please. Please. Please,” he gasps.
“Not until you have your jewellery in! Let's do the right side first.”
Petra withdraws the hypodermic and threads a ring through the lumen of the plastic catheter which now runs through his right nipple. Once through, Petra slides the catheter tube out and Hans Peter’s nipple has been ringed, save for the captive ball which Petra squeezes in and seals with more of the epoxy resin.
Whilst Hans Peter gasps from shock and dismay, Petra calmly rings his left nipple: a matched pair.
“What do you think, Boys?”
Dieter and Joachim come around to admire their sweating captive.
“He is looking good, Ma’am. Increasingly tasty”, says Joachim and Dieter licks his lips in agreement.
“You know something? I agree”, adds Petra. “In fact I think I have done quite a good job here. Hey, look at the time. I’m gonna have to get on with his cock soon!”
“No, please. No. Just let me talk. Please let me talk.”
“OK. So talk.”
“The girl in the photograph. My Agency told me she had made an enquiry and asked for me.”
“Really?”
“Yes and then another woman called. She told me it was really her and not the Agency. She said I was to make friends with the girl and on a certain night take her back to her flat and give her rohypnol. Then when she went to sleep, I was to call her.”
“Ah, and did you?”
“Yes.”
“That was very naughty, HP. Did they pay well?”
“Yes, much more than normal and I did not have to give the Agency a cut. In fact they insisted I did not.”
“Really? And what happened?”
“I did what they asked.”
“And?”
“When the girl was asleep, I phoned the number and they came for her. They had me disconnect the security camera at the front door and then they came and put her in a shipping container. It was parked on a lorry at the front door.”
“Wow!” Says Petra and to herself she concludes, ‘there are the pro’s. Slick and confident.’
“Did they tell you where the container was going?”
“On a train, they said. Well, they did not say to me. I just heard one of them say they had to avoid road works on the way to the rail terminal.”
“Was there a name on the container?”
“No but it was pale blue.”
‘Pale blue’, muses Petra. The standard colour of Russian Railways rail freight. Petra suddenly brightens! “Well done HP. That’s very helpful. Now you get a reward. Well two rewards actually.”
Petra takes Hans Peter’s cock and applies the Pennington’s forceps across the head. Without a moment’s hesitation, she drives a new hypodermic right through, from right to left, right through the urethra.
Hans Peter is caught by surprise as a wave of pain surges up his body!
Before he can draw breath, Petra has placed a barbell rod into the piercing and screwed the free ball of the barbell tight home.
“Well done HP. Now you boyfriends are going to just love that. It's an ampallang cockhead piercing. You know, if I had a cock, I’d want one of those. Now when you want to take a leak, just relax slowly. It might sting ever such a little but you will be fine. Surprise number one. Surprise number two. You like girls, right?”
Hans Peter nods his head weakly. He is beginning to feel very sick.
“Well, I am going to expand your horizons. Joachim and Dieter here are going to teach you how boys make love! You HP, are going to learn to suck cock and lick ass. Boys! I want HP to get intimately familiar with everything that comes out of a cock. Everything! And I want this son of a bitch to get really good at licking ass. Have you got any friends you can trust who would like to join the party?”
“There’s a couple”, replies Dieter.
“Phone ‘em!” replied Petra. “Make sure HP here gets it up the ass. I want him fucked! Thoroughly, repeatedly fucked! I brought lube and condoms. They are over there in the bag. If he is a straight guy, its going to be a little bit of punishment for him being naughty with Tracy. We have the flat till Monday, so that gives you the weekend to change his orientation! Four cocks, eh? Hans Peter, you are going to have you one hell of a weekend! Comes in here a straight male and leaves here a gay male eye candy and an experienced player!
I’m going to see if I can verify what HP has told us and I’ll call you later to let you know if we are going to have to keep him safe and sound beyond Sunday – or if we just feed him to the Berlin Politzei.
References:
1. The Blowout Preventer Valve
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blowout_preventer
2. The Enron Corporation Scandal
http://money.howstuffworks.com/cooking-books7.htm
3. Columbo
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Columbo
Legendary US police Detective series starring Peter Falk. His character kept coming back to interview the main suspect ‘just to check one thing’ – and always got his man!
4. The Marriott Portrait
http://www.hotelchatter.com/story/2008/11/6/115158/552/hotels/Bill_Marriott_Back_in_the_Day This particular copy seems to be in the New Orleans Marriott but there is definitely a copy in The Marriott Potsdamer Platz because Phil has seen it!
5. The Midtown Grill
6. Fracking for gas in the United States
http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/10/23/fracking-shale-gas-us-global-leader/3170255/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydraulic_fracturing
7. Lehman Brothers
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bankruptcy_of_Lehman_Brothers
8. Marathon Oil and Philips Petroleum
http://www.marathon.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phillips_Petroleum_Company
9. Special Purpose (Financial) Vehicles
http://www.investopedia.com/terms/s/spv.asp
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_purpose_entity
10. Jeffrey Skilling former CEO of Enron
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeffrey_Skilling
11. Freddie Clegg and Steve Glennis
Freddie Clegg and his American associate Steve Glennis are principal characters in Freddie’s Story ‘Market Forces’. They are both deeply involved in human trafficking and slavery and operate with rather fewer scruples than Anatoly seems to have.
12. A Pull-Up Machine
Want a body like Petra’s? Try this:
http://www.bodybuilding.com/fun/rise-above-the-rest-with-the-ultimate-pull-up-workout.html
Caution: somewhat severe presentation of the equipment!
13. The German Police.
Germany is a federal republic and The German Police are organised into separate forces, one for each of the separate German States. The force which would be responsible for the investigation of the Tracy Randolf disappearance would be the Berlin Polizei.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berlin_Police
The Padmascovnye, in Russia, January to July
As the days following her abduction become weeks and then months, Tracy Randolf is forced to struggle with the radical change in her circumstances. Instead of spending her time in an Armani business suite, she is kept naked. Instead of her carefully styled hair, he head is regularly shaven. Instead of wearing designer jewellery, her only adornment is the demeaning septum ring, which swings back and forth, tapping her upper lip as she works, always reminding her of its presence and of what it represents. Instead of always being active, she is forced to be passive. And then there is the work she does. On the floor. On her hands and knees. Scrubbing and cleaning like the black domestic servants she remembers from home, when she was a little child. Tracy is now treated like a child. She is told when to get up, when to get washed, when she may eat, what she may eat and when she must sleep. Day after day after day after day. Each day like the last and the last day like the next.
Gradually, she finds it easier to adapt to the expectations of her captors. Merely to do as she is told. Superficially, that is just what she does. She even behaves well enough for Neena, her supervisor to imagine that she, Neena is getting the upper hand but like a sleepy snake hibernating through the winter, Tracy is merely waiting for the weather to turn in her favour.
New Accounting Perspectives
Neena has finished with her. An emotionally exhausted Tracy is returned to her cell to nurse her blazing bottom. She has endured many long minutes of corporal punishment at the hand of Neena who has delighted in using a thick broad leather strap across her bottom for no good reason Tracy can see, except that the Russian bitch obviously enjoys being sadistic. Tracy strongly associates this particular implement with ‘that little cow Vyera’ because Neena began to use the strap and has developed an increasing fondness for it after Vyera left the Dacha, so far not to return. In the aftermath, Tracy finds herself reflecting on the nature of her predicament and on Vyera.
Just after the little cow Vyera was taken off somewhere, that Neena bitch had said she, Tracy, had been purchased? By whom for goodness sake? Tracy was familiar with the idea of staff being transferred between divisions of the company, and if the company changed ownership, the employees were ‘sold’ to a new owner as part of the company assets, but in her personal case, being ‘purchased’ just seemed so intimate, so demeaning, so humiliating. Of course, there had been quite a lot of humiliation recently, but did she have to lay down to it anymore?
Who were these people by whom she had been purchased?
Crap! What did that Neena bitch know about buying or selling? What did she know about The Market? About the value of Product? Neena was an employee. A Trainer. She was there to break the spirits of such as that little cow Vyera and Tracy herself.
There was every chance that this whole ‘sold’ thing was merely another mind-fuck, to accelerate her down the path of becoming a passive servant, content to obey orders and do the bidding of others.
Well maybe Vyera had crumbled but Tracy was going to endure because Tracy knew all about the game that was being played.
Tracy reflects further. What is her real value? The value which would be reflected in any real sale or transfer deal? It was obvious. She was valuable, thanks to the financial information she carried. No one has spent even two minutes since she had arrived asking her anything about the Randolf Corporation. Nothing about its financial position, market exposure, true value of assets or commercial intentions. That was the sort of information which made money. Tracy had the answers. Tracy had cards to bring to the table.
Why had she been taken and brought here? There were unpaid accounts. Tracy knew which and she knew the value of each one. She knew names. She guessed she was being held as collateral until her father came across with the real money he owed. Would he ransom her? He might resent the financial outlay but he would worry much more about the knowledge she carried with her.
Neena said that she had been ‘purchased’. Had she been sold to the people her father owed? Maybe, but then why were they not here, now, asking smart questions, asking financial questions?
Had she been ‘purchased’ by her father, now he had settled his debts? That might be encouraging – but now she was out from his clutches, did she actually want to return to the Randolf Corporation any time soon – any time ever?
An asset did not finally change ownership until it changed hands and so far, she had not changed hands. There was still time to put in a counter bid. It was high time she entered the negotiations on her own behalf!
Back In The Corporate Jungle
Tracy – or Pavea, from Neena’s perspective – is on her knees in the front hall of the Dacha, looking up at Neena. Pavea has just finished cleaning the floor and is waiting for Neena’s verdict on the job she has done.
“Izhveneti pazh’alsta, Gaspazha Neena?”
“Da, rabinya?”
“You told me I have been sold?”
“Da …”
There a curious hesitancy in Neena’s voice. Tracy notices immediately! Tracy was used to negotiating and she could tell straight away that Neena was not.
“I think you are selling me short. You have undervalued me as an asset. I have counter proposals.”
“Pardon?”
What did the girl mean? Was this any of her business anyway? Neena is struggling to fit Pavea’s remarks into the picture she had formed in her own mind of Pavea beginning to break and accept her role as ‘slave’. This was the picture she has painted for Anatoly Sergeyevitch at the meeting just before he left for his vacation with Svetlana Nikitechna and Vyera. The remarks now coming from Tracy did not seem to fit at all!
“If you buy a field in Texas, it has a value for cattle grazing and more value if there is access to water but much more value still if there is oil or gas underneath.”
“What do you mean, rabinya?”
Neena has an uncomfortable feeling that from somewhere, Pavea has found an angle of attack. She is escaping from Pavea and with lightening speed she is becoming Tracy once again.
“My real value for any purchaser is my skill as an accountant and my knowledge of the oil and gas business in the US and Europe and the position of the Randolf Corporation. Those assets must be reflected in any price you quote. Also, commercial knowledge is perishable. Things change. Companies move on. No-one has asked me about any of the really valuable information I bring with me.”
“Ah …”
This line of thought makes perfect sense to Neena. It is the sort of thing she should report to Anatoly Sergeyevitch. But if she accepts, she is, to all intents and purposes, being sent on an errand by Pavea, the slave. A disconcerting picture forms in Neena’s mind of Pavea as some sort of slippery eel which having been caught is now successfully squirming out of her grasp – and eels have many very sharp teeth.
“I think I was taken as collateral against unpaid accounts. I know which accounts. Their value. Who was owed. Perhaps Daddy has paid up in which case you maybe ‘selling’ me back to him. Maybe he has not paid up, in which case the inside information I have about the Randolf Corporation is even more valuable. I am too valuable to waste, having me spend my time cleaning floors! I’m worth money to you. I am worth even more money working for you. You don’t own this operation. Go tell whoever does!"
Neena runs an errand.
“Neena Alexandrovna, how kind of you to come all the way to Moscow to see me!”
“It is always a pleasure, Igor Ivanovitch and no trouble at all. Actually, I also have an appointment with Alana Sergeyevna.”
“Lunch?”
“Yes, that too – and to see little Dmitry.”
“Quite so, quite so but I think you have other matters on your mind?”
“Yes, Igor Ivanovitch. I have exceeded my instructions concerning the American, Tracy Randolf and think I am losing control of her.”
“Really?”
“When she arrived, she assaulted me. My instructions were to confine her but as we did not know how long she would be with us and to make her more compliant, I interpreted my instructions as meaning that I should treat her as a newly acquired slave and begin her training.”
“Your diligence and enthusiasm have been noted, Neena Alexandrovna but let me reassure you. The American is a temporary acquisition but we do not know how long we will have to care for her. At our last business meeting, before Anatoly Sergeyevitch left for his vacation, he told us that he had been asked to return the Randolf girl but when we reflected on the practicalities you pointed out – astutely, I thought – you pointed out that there would be danger for us if she was sent back before she was compliant and we also felt that by and large, the girl might even benefit from her new experiences, which are doing her no lasting harm, so what is the reason for your disquiet?”
“Yesterday, she began to talk about her value to us. Specifically, the value of the financial information and expertise she carries with her. We have never asked her to provide information to us. The Randolf girl knows we know who she is – after all, she has never missed the opportunity to tell us. Specifically, she reminded me that we should not sell her too cheaply.”
“Did she? Well, that is considerate! How did the question of her sale arise?”
“After the last business meeting, I told Pavea she had been sold. I wanted to increase her anxiety, to reinforce the idea that she was merely an asset to be used and she has been reflecting on the situation.”
“And she has made some counter proposals? How American that is! How resilient and creative. I am impressed! Then she made you her messenger to deliver them?” Mendeleyev chuckles. “Wonderful!” he says and continues, “and you are now beginning to feel at a disadvantage because the girl is exactly right in what she says. She is a most valuable acquisition?”
“Exactly and I wanted your advice on how to manage Pavea before I brought her remarks in front of Anatoly Sergeyevitch so when he returns from vacation, he can consider how we can use the Randolf girl before she is eventually released”
“Well of course, we should always make it a rule to be careful what we say to slaves, or say in their hearing but the girl is correct in what she asserts. We must begin to think about how we can use her and yet leave her in no doubt about her present status. Go see Alana Sergeyevna and little Dmitry. Enjoy lunch and I will have some suggestions for you presently.”
The following day, Neena begins to implement her new instructions concerning Tracy as she and Andrei watch Tracy work out in the gym at the Dacha.
“So we are starting her on the MSH?” comments Andrei (1)
“Yes: we need the slave dark and randy. Especially randy. In fact, we want her brain ruled by her itchy smouldering drooling little pussy.”
“Steady on, Neena. The Boss and SK will not want the little bitch staining the carpets and furniture!”
“Of course, we’ll have to remember her colouring. She has red hair. That might not look too good against very dark skin. Or will it? Well: let's find out. If we keep her head smooth, a clash of colours is not something we will have to worry about, anyway. Will you be able to bulk her up?”
“I am afraid you are going to have to reduce your ambitions, Neena. Pavea is an ectomorph.(2)
I can make her look like a gymnast but she is never going to be a body builder. Wrong physiological make up. Not like Vyera. She is beautifully muscled. I am missing her.”
“You are missing putting your prick inside her, you mean?”
“Well, I definitely mean that – in addition to the aesthetics!”
“So, back to Pavea: she is going to have to become a muscular gymnast? I want – I mean we want her to see her body changing and to have her tormented by the insatiable itch between her legs.”
“Who is she going to? I thought we were only ‘looking after her’ for a spell?”
“We are only looking after her but we do not know when we will be able to send her back, unfortunately. Well, I say ‘unfortunately’. Fortune is what she will bring us whilst we have her and Igor Ivanovitch has recommended that we should gently remind her that life has changed. Its time her body was used.”
“For more than cleaning the Dacha? And scrubbing?”
“Yes, for a lot more than scrubbing!”
Music At Night
Tracy is being led by Neena up to the servants area of the Dacha. She is blindfolded and a dog lead is clipped to her collar. To prevent any interference with proceedings, Pavea’s wrists are cuffed to a thick leather belt with encircles her waist. The belt buckles closed at the front and Pavea’s cuffed hands are fastened to the belt at the back.
She is hobbled by ankle cuffs joined to each other by a leather strap. Tracy can walk but she has to take careful obedient steps as she is urged on by her Mistress. In short: she is perfectly restrained.
Tracy realizes she is being taken to somewhere new in the Dacha.
She has followed the journey in her mind. Along the basement corridor. Up the spiral stairs to the ground floor. On upwards past the first and second floors and now in the attic storey. She follows Neena down another corridor. She feels Neena’s hand on her chest to halt her progress. She stands. A door opens. A tug from the lead attached to her collar (words form in Tracy’s mind: ‘for goodness sake, do they think I am some sort of fucking dog?’) brings her into a room. She is allowed to stand for a moment. Preparations are being made. (‘Is this where they have their administrative offices?’ wonders Tracy, ‘are they going to start using my brain now, my expertise? Is this the moment when I can start over and re-exert myself?’)
Tracy feels someone turn her around. There is someone at her feet. The hobble strap is un-done. Then a hand is firmly planted in her chest and she is pushed firmly backwards. That was unexpected! Tracy’s head had been filling with ideas of Excel spread-sheets, her access code to the Randolf Corporation computer network, the most recent output from Bloomberg. Instead, she falls backwards onto a bed. In a moment hands grasp her beneath her shoulders and she has slid upwards across the sheet and her legs are attached to the bed frame. Her hands are released from the belt and each one hauled outwards and upwards to be, like her lower limbs, connected to some waiting attachment points. She has been spread-eagled onto someone’s bed!
She is about to open her mouth in protest when her blindfold is stripped off and she sees the face of Neena and the Mongolian domestics looking down at her.
Neena has something in her hand. She takes advantage of Tracy's open-mouthed surprise and presses the penis gag into Tracy. The penis is broad-ish but not too long. It has been coated with just a little of something sweet. Even as Neena is strapping it behind her neck, the sweetness is making Tracy salivate and swallow. As she swallows, she notices that the penis seems to be ‘open’ as if there really was a sort of urethra – but you couldn’t normally suck anything out of a urethra, surely – unless the guy was ejaculating, or peeing? Then Tracy catches sight of the dildo. It is attached on the other side of the penis gag. Its long, fat and covered with little round knobs. Neena pats it with her hand and Tracy immediately feels the motion transmitted to the penis gag now firmly between her teeth.
“Now I realize you have significant financial expertise Pavea but slaves exist to be fully exploited and we have not exploited your body, sexually. That begins tonight! This is going to be another level of training and my colleagues here will be very pleased to help you – in fact they will make sure you are very thoroughly introduced to the delights of the face-dildo. You will have the opportunity to watch each of them, all four of them, fuck themselves to exhaustion on your face. You will be able to watch as they part their lips on the dido and swallow it whole! They will ride and ride until they orgasm – and then I think they might all want to go round again! Fucking and cuming produces lots of very intimate fluids along the way – well, you know that – and this dildo will help you take part. There are little channels formed along the whole of its length which are designed to let mucous from whoever is using it drain into the dildo. When you swallow your own saliva, you will suck the mucous through into your very own mouth – so you are not just going to see the fucking, you are going to taste it too. Aren’t you a lucky girl? Oh – safe sex. All the Mongolians are fluid-bonded. Actually, so is Vyera and now you will join them in this wonderful intimacy!"
Neena bends down and licks around Tracy’s nipple and blows so the nipple begins to stand erect. Neena says: “so, I will go away and leave you all to have a wonderful night together and I will see you all in the morning.”
The Mongolians smile and giggle.
Tracy rages! She makes to form some sharp piece of invective, but all she can do is swallow. She gazes up in dismay as a very wet Damdinsuryn straddles her head and begins to settle the dildo deep into her vagina. She travels down the length of the shaft carefully, clearly enjoying each bump and little knob as they squeeze into her. As she squats, she giggles and sways, just a little.
Tracy gets the best view in the house. Of Damdinsuryn spreading her labia. Of the head of the dildo disappearing. Of Damdinsuryn’s buttocks and anus slowly approaching her face and all the while a sensation of increasing pressure of the gag across her face.
Tracy’s salivary reflexes also now begin to betray her. She has to swallow and again and again and then Tracy realizes that as she swallows, she cannot help but suck! She is complicit in sucking the juices right out from the depths of her Tormentor’s vagina. The first of four!
Neena’s lips are at Tracy’s ear. “This is a great show! Tomorrow, you will get to clean this wonderful piece of equipment. Isn’t it an inspired creation? Clean it carefully. You are going to get to know it very well from now on. Enjoy!”
Between her legs, out of sight because Damdinsurn’s anus, buttocks and vagina fill her whole field of vision, someone else is licking her clit! Tracy realises that before long, if the tongue keeps on, she will become just one more enthusiastic partner in this intimate, erotic ballet …
References:
‘The Padmascovnye’ refers to the countryside outside and surrounding Moscow. It is similar to the quaint English phrase ‘The Home Counties’ which refers to the countryside around but actually outside London.
The Russian title of the smoochy song usually translated as ‘Moscow Nights’ but more accurately as ‘Evenings in the Moscow Countryside’ is in Russian ‘Padmoscovnye Vechera’
1. MSH. Melanocyte stimulating hormone. Artificial MSH has been used as an artificial tanning agent and is given by injection. It was developed for use by pale skinned people who found themselves living permanently in very sunny countries, where something more effective than sun-screen cream was needed.. It also has a curious side effect. It increases libido.
Vyera had to endure the effects of MSH as told in our last book, ‘Tales from A far Country’
2. Classification of body types
http://www.uh.edu/fitness/comm_educators/3_somatotypesNEW.htm
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