“Are you visiting Stuttgart or is it your home?”

Idetta answered, “Oh, I am from here, but I’ve been away for a while.”

“Well, I trust you had an interesting time.”

Idetta suppressed a smile and said only, “Yes. Very.”

++++

In Halstenbek, Captain Ross and Paul, the CIA analyst conferred with Magnus and Anders about their next move. Magnus said, “I think we can gain no further information from here. I suggest we go to the address in Bremerhaven that Anders and I discovered when researching facilities owned by this Henri fellow.”

++++

Uschi and Udranka were in the back of a van as it turned off the Autobahn at an exit near Ulm. Uschi whispered to Udranka, “Where do you suppose we are being taken? And why were we separated from O?” Udranka replied, “I have no idea.”

++++

At NATO/SHAPE Headquarters, Colonel Grey’s computer dinged, signaling he had just received an email. He looked at the screen and saw it was from the CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

++++

In Bremerhaven, Henri and Miroslav watched as their accomplices were unloading crates of weapons. Henri turned to Miroslav and said, “The truck with the Yazidi women should be here soon. Then we’ll trade the guns for them. Then tomorrow auction off the women.” Miroslav smiled and said, “Yes. And then we’ll be rich.”

++++ And on another Autobahn, a BMW SUV sped South with Sir Stephen at the wheel. As he drove, he thought to himself, “I hope I am not too late. Thank God, I got Henry’s plan out of Yusef before I shot the bastard.”

For the full story of how Maya and Sir Stephen met, you could scroll back to the late summer/early fall of 2020. Or perhaps click on the below tags with their names.

With the US withdrawal from Afghanistan and the current administration’s pivot from the Middle East to the Russian invasion of Ukraine and to human trafficking (at the behest of a certain Senator), Maya had been reassigned from interrogation duties to a temporary analyst assignment at Langley. At first Maya was bored, but after a while Maya was not at all upsent from being pulled from interrogation. “It takes so much out of a person, trying to elicit information from someone who doesn’t want to give it. Pretending to care about them, pretending to be developing a relationship, if not a friendship can be so tiring,” she thought to herself. “At least analytical work is not so personality driven. It’s more like putting a puzzle together. It’s a good change; at least for a bit.”

Not long after Sir Stephen left the warehouse in Halstenbek in Germany, Maya came out of the secure area where she was now working as an analyst. She went to the small locker where she had stowed her personal cell phone before entering the SCIF. Taking the phone out, she noticed that she had anew message. Maya went out of the building, got into her car, lit a cigarette and looked at the message. It read:

“Good evening. I hope you are doing well and getting back into the swing of things. I know it’s been a while since Scotland, but I ran across some information that might be of interest to you since your agency seems to have now taken an interest in what you might call human trafficking….”

Maya almost dropped the phone. “My God,” she thought. “This is a message from Sir Stephen. The man I met when I was at the Black Site near Oban, Scotland interrogating that poor girl that was accused of abetting terrorists. The man I eventually had a fling with. The man I think might have been somehow involved in human trafficking.” She continued reading the text message.

“I surmised during our visit that you were probably in the employ of the American spy agency and while you were showering in the hotel, I got your cell number. And not long ago I read an article in the ‘London Times’ saying the CIA of all things was now in the war on human trafficking. I would have thought you people had better things to do. But I digress. If you are interested, you should know that a Belgian man, a certain Henri H. is involved in trafficking AND arms dealing, possibly for terrorists. He should be at a certain location in Bremerhaven two days from now where he will likely be exchanging arms for some Yazidi women. The address is … Thought you should know. BTW – to paraphrase an old American movie, we will always have the Skye Inn. S.”

Maya re-read the message. Then, she said out loud, “Yes. It must be from Sir Stephen. But why?” Then she thought, “He really was charming. And great in bed. But there was something about him. When I got back to Langley, I did some research. He was in Bosnia with the British Army and was accused of war crimes and human trafficking. He was arrested and sent before the World Court. He was acquitted on the war crimes charges, and nothing ever came on the trafficking, but I think he must either be involved or know something. Still, this is actionable information.”

Maya paused, lit another cigarette and thought, “Two days. It’ll take at least a week to push this through my agency for action. That’ll be too late. Plus, ‘ll have to explain how I got the information. I can just see me saying, ‘You see I was fucking this English gentleman n company time and he got my personal cell number while I was in the shower, and I think he might somehow be involved in trafficking…’ No. That dog won’t hunt as my daddy would say.”

Maya thought some more. “But I, rather we, have a former field agent at SHAPE/NATO Headquarters. Paul. I had him assigned there as a sort of punishment. And I spoke with his boss there, a Colonel Grey. Both of them seem to have a lot on the ball. I have Paul’s and Colonel Grey’s SIPRNET e-mail addresses. I’ll send them this info without saying its source.”

And Maya got out of her car and went back into the SCIF.

Yusef opened the door and faced the taller man who had one arm behind his back. He said, “Where are the guns? I don’t see any truck. Who are you?”

The tall man replied, “Where is Henri? I need to see him.”

Now Yusef became suspicious. He patted the gun in his belt and said, “I said who the fuck are you and why are you …” Yusef never completed the question as the tall man swung his hand from behind his back – a hand holding the sawed-off shotgun that Adolph had intended to shoot him with earlier. The gun caught Yusef on the side of his head, knocking him unconscious to the ground. He never heard the tall man say, “I am Sir Stephen S. and I have come to reclaim my property.”

++++

Yusef awoke to a throbbing head and to find himself secured in the chair inside the warehouse. Sir Stephen had muscled the unconscious man onto the chair then using duct tape had secured Yusef’s hands to the arms of the chair and likewise his ankles to the vertical supports. Yusef tried to move his hands and feet but was unsuccessful. Instead, he heard Sir Stephen say, “I used duct tape. It’s one of the great inventions of the last century. You won’t be going anywhere until I cut the tape.”

Yusef replied, “Who are you and what do you want?” He also noticed the tall man had taken Yusef’s pistol and laid it on the table near the chair.

“It really doesn’t matter who I am, and you’re going to answer questions for me, not vice versa. Let’s start with where is Henri. I have business with him. Where is he?”

Yusef replied defensibly, “I don’t know any Henri. I’m just a night watchman here at this warehouse. I don’t even know who owns it.”

“Well, old chap, I am afraid I do not believe you. While you were out, I checked around. This warehouse is empty. It doesn’t need a night watchman. Let’s try again. Where is Henri?”

Yusef was silent. In fact, the only sound in the building was the shriek of the teapot on the stove in the office. The tall man said, “Oh, there is the tea kettle. The water must be boiling. Would you care for a spot of tea?”

“Screw you! Let me go! Or else!” Then Yusef let go a string of profanities. While Yusef was ranting, the tall man went to the stove and returned with the tea kettle. He tilted the pot enough that a small stream of the near boiling water splashed on one of Yusef’s hands that was taped to the arm of the chair. Yusef screamed in pain.

“Oh, dear me! I am so sorry,” said Sir Stephen. Then, he held the teapot at face level over Yusef’s crotch and said, “It looked like I interrupted you earlier. You forgot to re-button your trousers. I bet you really wouldn’t like to have your privates scalded.” Now there was fear in Yusef’s eyes. The tall man continued, “Let me ask again. Where is Henri?”

Yusef wasn’t a brave man, nor did he feel much loyalty to Henri. He quickly told Sir Stephen that Henri had accompanied the truck carrying the armaments to his warehouse in Bremerhaven and there Henri planned to trade the guns for some trafficked women. He even gave Sir Stephen the address in Bremerhaven.

Hearing this Sir Stephen said, “Thank you for the information, old chap. It’s most helpful.”

Yusef said, “Now please untie me.”

“Afraid I can’t,” said Sir Stephen. Then as he turned to go, he picked up the pistol off the table and shot Yusef between the eyes.

Anders replied, “Yes. And luck held again when we were able to do some research and find the addresses of his properties in Halstenbek near Hamburg and the one in Bremerhaven. Perhaps we will be lucky and find him at one of those locations.”

Magnus drove on in silence for a bit, then said, “Speaking of Frau Montrose, you two seemed to have hit it off quite nicely. What gives?”

Anders replied, “She seems like a nice woman who has had a not so nice life. True, she had a lot going for her at one time – a beautiful model in her day, but from what she told me she was never happy as a model. No control over her life. Decisions always being made for her by other a without any regard to her desires or feelings. Walking a runway in New York on a Friday and doing a photo shoot in Australia two days later. Always being tired and having to be beautiful.”

“You seem to know a lot about her.”

Anders replied, “Remember, she was a heroine and role model for my baby sister Marloes. Marloes wanted to be a model when she was younger. She had a poster of Frau Montrose, then known as Karin Mulder, on her bedroom wall. And like my sister would in several years, Karin got into drugs. So much so that her parents sent her to a rehab facility.”

Magnus thought a bit, then said, “But didn’t she end up married to someone famous?”

“Yes, that race baiting xenophobe. I’m sure that was an unhappy marriage. That led to her meeting Henri and using drugs again. Then Henri threatened to blackmail her unless she seduced that Sir Stephen fellow.”

“Ah yes. Sir Stephen. There is a mystery. Did you notice how quickly our British friends from MI5 and 6 lost interest once Karin testified that the body in the canal couldn’t be Sir Stephen?”

“Of course, I noticed. I have been a detective as long as you have. I can only assume that either Sir Stephen is doing some work for those agencies, or possibly he is associated with Henri, but is very well connected within the British government.”

Magnus replied, “I think it is the latter. I remember several years ago, he was hauled before the World Court and accused of war crimes in Bosnia as well as human trafficking there. Some media presented him as a war hero, while others viewed him as a criminal. And while he was acquitted on the war crimes charge, there was no decision rendered on the human trafficking. No acquittal, not even a mention of it in the court papers, let alone in the media.”

“Yes, that is odd. Somehow he and Henri must be connected.”

Magnus said, “Well, we will first check out the warehouse in Halstenbek. Perhaps there will be some clues there.”

“Perhaps,” replied Anders as the car sped to the northeast.

Karin, still naked and on her knees looked up at Adolph and said, “I thought you were just going to photograph him, so Henri would have something to blackmail him with.”

Adolph responded, “Plans changed. I guess Henri thought a photograph of a man getting a blow job wouldn’t be good blackmail material, for the man anyway.”

“So, what now,” said Karin, getting up and throwing on a robe.

“I’ll put him in the back of my car and kill him by the canal, then dump his body in the canal.”

++++++

As Sir Stephen, his hands loosely tied in front of him, stood before Adolph who had a sawed-off shotgun in his hand, he heard the assassin say, “Henri told me to use this on your face and dump you in the canal. That way your body can’t be identified and none of this will lead back to him.” Then Adolph stepped back to distance himself so that the Sir Stephen’s blood wouldn’t splatter on him.

That was a mistake. As Adolph stepped back, Stephen lunged forward, grabbing the assassin by the knees and dumping both men onto the ground. A struggle ensued, a life-or-death struggle. As they rolled on the ground, Sir Stephen managed to slip his hands from the bonds. He grabbed at the shotgun’s trigger. He heard a loud blast. Adolph’s body seemed to go limp, and Sir Stephen felt something wet on his face.

With ringing ears, Sir Stephen sat up and felt his face. The wetness he felt was bits of Adolph’s face. He looked down at the now deceased Adolph, his face a bleeding pulp. He said, “Well, old chap, it seems I won’t be the one going into the canal after all.” Then he drug Adolph’s body to the edge of the canal, placed his own passport in the dead man’s coat pocket and pushed the body into the water.

Albertus, the Dutch policeman and friend of Anders, the same Albertus who had called Anders when Karin had been arrested in connection with the possible murder of Sir Stephen looked at her and said, “How can you be so sure?”

Karin swallowed hard and blushed a deep red as she said, “Sir Stephen had a tattoo of a dragon on his penis and was circumcised. This man has no tattoo there and he is not circumcised.”

Hearing this the two British agents- one from MI5 and the other from MI6 looked at one another. After a moment or two, the latter agent turned to Magnus and said, “If this body does not belong to Sir Stephen, our government does not have an interest in the case.” You and the Dutch officer may proceed questioning this woman about the body without the assistance of Her Majesty’s assistance.” Then the two Englishmen left without further ado, leaving Magnus, Anders, Albertus, and Karin alone in the morgue with the faceless body.

Albertus spoke, “Well Mrs. Montrose, might you have an idea who this body is if it is not your former lover, Sir Stephen?”

“I wouldn’t characterize Sir Stephen as my lover. It was more of a one night -or one afternoon, if you wish – affair. I seduced him only because Henri forced me to do so by blackmailing me. But, to answer your question as to if I might know whose body this is – I have no idea.”

“And you are sure of this?” said Albertus.

Karin didn’t hesitate. “Quite sure.”

“Then you are free to go.” Albertus then turned to Magnus and Anders and said, “It would seem I have an anonymous body that was plucked from the canal. I do wonder, however, how he came to have this Sir Stephen fellow’s passport in his coat pocket.” He paused, then added, “And I wonder why our British cousins seem to have lost interest so quickly, once Mrs. Montrose stated the body was not that of Sir Stephen. Quite a mystery.”

Magnus replied, “It is quite a mystery. Since Frau Montrose said she saw a computer with images of women in chains on it in Sir Stephen’s room, it might indicate that he is involved in trafficking.”

“Or possibly tracking the traffickers as we are,” said Anders. “Who knows.” Then he looked first to Albertus and then to Karin. “If you have no other questions for Frau Montrose, may we give her a ride home.”

Albertus answered, “It is fine with me if it is fine with Mrs. Montrose. I have work to do identifying this body.”

Karin smiled at Anders and said, “I would appreciate it.”

As the threesome left the Dienst Landelijke Operationele Samenwerkingin’s morgue, Magnus noticed that Karin took his partner’s arm. Moments later as they walked to the car, he noticed Anders whisper something to her.

Having taken Adolph’s wallet from his pocket, Sir Stephen pushed Adolph’s body into the canal. Then he picked up the sawed-off shotgun and went back to the dead man’s car. There he looked at the wallet. It contained 200 Euros and Adolph’s license. He read the license aloud, “Adolph Hammel, 7 Bergermann Str, Emden, Germany. Height 1.82 meters, weight 97 kilograms, date of birth: 2/24/1974. So, this is the man that Henri hired to kill me. We are close enough in height and weight that whoever pulls his body from the canal may mistake him for me, especially with my passport in his pocket. That way, Henri will think I am dead. He will not be expecting me to come and take O back from him.”

Then Sir Stephen looked at himself in the car’s rear view mirror. “I am a mess. My suit in tatters and blood stains on my shirt. I will have to get some other clothing.” Then he looked in the compartment and found a note. It read, ‘After you complete your job, come to the warehouse for payment.’ Below in another handwriting was an address in Halstenbek, a suburb of Hamburg. “Halstenbek?” said Sir Stephen, then, “Perhaps I could find information as to O’s whereabouts. I should go there.”

+++++

Meanwhile at that very warehouse, a man named Yusef watched as a loaded truck pulled away. Yusef had helped the two men in the truck load several crates of AK47’s, one crate of rocket launchers, and several kilos of C4 explosive onto the truck. All under the watchful eye of Henri. Then Henri had told Yusef, “You stay here. We may be getting another shipment in sometime this week. I will go on to Bremerhaven where Slobodan and Miroslav are taking the women they have ‘acquired.’ Once the ISIS suppliers arrive, I will arrange the exchange of the women they are providing for these munitions.”

Once the truck and Henri’s car were out of sight, Yusef went back into the office in the corner of the warehouse. He filled a teapot and put in on the stove in the tiny office. Then he switched on the television on a nearby table and settled into a chair waiting for the water in the pot to boil. As he sat down, he thought to himself, “I’ll just wait and watch television, just like a good European.”

+++++

The next afternoon, somewhere near the Elbe River in Halstenbek, a rented BMW Series 7 sedan pulled up to a warehouse. A tall man with graying hair stepped from the driver’s seat with an object in his hand. It was a somewhat incongruous sight – a man dressed not in a suit, but rather shabby looking working clothes getting out of a luxury BMW. A casual observer might think the tall man had stolen the vehicle. But they would be wrong.

It was Sir Stephen. After disposing of Adolph’s body, he had briefly considered going back to the hotel where he and Karin had their tryst; however, he thought that Adolph might not be the only man Henri had sent after him, so he decided not to. Instead, he had gone to a store in a working-class area of Amsterdam and purchased some working clothes and boots. He also purchased a slouch hat and sunglasses in another store and got back in the car.

Now, as Sir Stephen walked to the warehouse door, he thought to himself, “This is the address I found in the glove box of the dead thug’s car.” He went to the door and banged on it.

O at Sir Stephen’s Apartment: Part Two

When O finished telling about her visit with Sergeant O’Keefe, Anne Marie looked at her and said, “Well, you were a good soldier, I guess. But I’m sure you know that your Master must punish you for you having given yourself to other men.”

O began to protest, but Sir Stephen stopped her saying, “O, you know I must punish you. I want Anne Marie to watch. I was showing her my little room off the landing that is a copy of her music room before you came. Now stand up and undress. I’ll ring for Norah.”

O stood up. With a dejected look on her face and down cast eyes, she began unbuttoning the black skirt. She let it drop to the floor, then pulled the thin white blouse over her head. Then she was completely naked save for her heels. O knew that she was sweating, but this was the cold sweat of fear, not the earlier sweat from exertion.

Anne Marie looked at O and said, “You really are lovely. It’s good that you shave. That way your sex and Sir Stephen’s rings and pendant are clearly visible. Turn around, dear. I want to see your rear.”

O did as she was told. Anne Marie said, Oh dear, the brand has faded some. I was afraid of this.”

“Sir Stephen interjected, “But it has been two years now. Brands do fade over time., but it’s still clearly visible in bright light.”

“Maybe I could embellish the brand by tattooing. Or even a rebranding. After all, we want anyone who sees O naked from the rear to know that she is your property, just as anyone from the front would see your pendant hanging from her sex.”

Just then Norah came into the room. Sir Stephen told her to gather up O’s clothes and place them in the locked closet in his bedroom. Norah grinned and did as she was told, leaving O standing stark naked in the middle of the room.

Anne Marie sat in the easy chair looking at O, saying nothing for what seemed like an hour, but was, in fact only a little more than a minute. Finally, she said, “O, you do know how Sir Stephen is going to punish you, don’t you?’

“Yes ma’am. Like you had me whipped at Samois when I was first there.”

“And how was that?”

O did not answer until Sir Stephen said, “Tell her, O.”

“I was bound on the raised dais. Bound with my hands secured and with my legs spread wide. I was whipped between my legs, on my upper thighs and sex.”

“And how did that make you feel, O?”

“It hurt terribly. I struggled and cried.” And saying that tears formed in O’s eyes.

“And afterwards,” said Anne Marie. “O, trying not to cry, said, “You left me there on the dais for over an hour. The other girls – Collette, Claire, Yvonne, even your maid could see me open. See my sex and the bruises forming on it.”

“But O, how did you FEEL?” asked Anne Marie.

Now tears were streaming down O’s face. She struggled to get the words out, “All I could think of was my enslavement. My humiliation.”

Both Anne Marie and Sir Stephen smiled at this remark.

O at Sir Stephen’s Apartment: Part One

Anne Marie looked up from her coffee and said, O, you’re late. You know better than to keep your Master waiting.” Then she put down her cup on the table in front of the easy chair where she was sitting and said, “You also look very disheveled. Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

O stammered, “But there was a wreck. The cab…”

“No excuses. Sit,” said Sir Stephen sternly and nodded to a leather sofa across from the easy chair occupied by Anne Marie.

O almost sat down before remembering to lift her skirt so that her bare bottom was against the cool leather of the sofa.

“Good. You haven’t forgotten everything,” said Anne Marie sarcastically. Then she continued, “I originally came to discuss acquiring some new girls for Roissy, but he has been entertaining me with a lovely video. It stars you and a handsome young man.”

Sir Stephen interjected, “Lieutenant Santorini.”

O thought to herself, “The video that Norah took of Lieutenant Santorini and me.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Santorini. It looked as if you greatly pleased him. And he pleased you?” said Anne Marie

O had a queasy feeling in her stomach, but said, “Yes, ma’am. He pleased me also.”

“Humph.” Said Anne Marie noncommittally.

Sir Stephen added, “Then yesterday, O pleased another of my former soldiers a Sergeant O’Keefe. But alas, we have no film of that.” Anne Marie went on, “O, why don’t you tell us about pleasing Sergeant O’Keefe. Spare no details.”

O answered, I am a little nervous.“ She knew that she probably had sweat stains under the arms of the thin white blouse she was wearing. For a moment she wished she had put her black jacket back on. But it was too late. ” May I smoke while I tell you about it?”

“Yes,” said Sir Stephen.

After O finished telling about her encounter with Sergeant O'Keefe Anne Marie asked, “Didn’t you find it humiliating to fellate a mute paraplegic?”

O answered truthfully, “No. He saved my Master’s life.”

Sir Stephen smiled at this.

O Goes to Sir Stephen’s Apartment

About three blocks from Sir Stephen’s apartment, traffic came to a dead stop. The cab driver turned back to O and said, “There must be some sort of wreck. Nothing is moving.”

O looked at her watch. It read 12:57. “Merde, I’ll be late!” she thought. Then she handed the cab driver a handful of Euros and got out of the cab. O went as quickly as she could in her heels, scurrying down the sidewalk to Sir Stephen’s. As she passed a table of two elderly gentlemen who were having lunch al fresco, one lifted his glass of wine and said, “Bon chance!” The other old man just grinned and thought, “I wonder where that lovely young girl is running to.”

O got to Sir Stephen’s apartment out of breath and in a sweat. She rang the bell. After what seemed like an eternity, Sir Stephen’s Haitian maid, Norah, opened the door. She looked at O, grinned and said, “You are late. Master is in the upstairs library waiting. And he has a guest.”

Still panting a little and sure she was sweating under her arms, O went up the stairs. As she got to the second landing, she noticed the door to the little alcove room that Sir Stephen had built to resemble the Music Room at Anne Marie’s was open. O glanced through the door and saw the raised dais and upright columns. Seeing the room sent a small shiver down O’s back. As she remembered being placed bound on the dais with her legs raised and widely spread so that her sex was open and clearly visible. She thought. “It’s there that Sir Stephen or Norah whips me. I remember the first time: Eric had told Sir Stephen that he was in love with me. He wanted to save me. To marry me. Sir Stephen asked me to choose. I laughed and said, ‘Of course, I choose you!’ Then he had me bound on the dais and whipped very hard. I was still there when Eric rang the bell. Norah showed him the room. He saw me spread eagle and whipped. Then he ran away. And several times since Sir Stephen or Norah has whipped me there in that way.”

And then O was at the top of the stairs. She composed herself and walked into the library. O was surprised at who she saw with Sir Stephen.

A few days earlier:

Sir Stephen downshifted into the curve causing the ancient Sunbeam Alpine Tiger to make a loud groaning sound. He thought to himself, “God! I love driving this old beast.” In truth the vehicle was over fifty years old, he had bought it second hand shortly after receiving his commission and being sent to his first posting with the regiment. Afterwards, while he spent time away from Scotland, he put the car up in a barn on the ancestral manor. For the last ten years or so, it had sat in that barn; the tires would have dry rotted if old Duncan, the estate’s caretaker had not maintained them. And driven it on occasion. As Duncan said, “A Ford V-8 in that tiny car, why it would be a shame not to drive it occasionally.”

Sir Stephen didn’t mind. He had spent the better part of two weeks at the ancestral home, wrangling with his cousin and his bevy of lawyers. His grandfather had left the estate to the two men, who were never really close. For over twenty-five years, Sir Stephen had sent money to pay his share of the taxes and visited only occasionally. But now, in his dotage, the cousin wanted to sell the estate and turn it into a tourist attraction, perhaps even have a golf course built on the grounds and perhaps a water slide. Sir Stephen wasn’t particularly sentimental, but the thought of a water park on the estate made his blood curdle. Finally, after some intense bargaining and harsh words, the cousin had agreed to being bought out.

As the Alpine drifted into the curve, Sir Stephen thought out loud, “It cost me all the money I made leasing O out to that money launderer, Henri R., but it’s worth it. The estate is all mine now. I’ll keep old Duncan on as caretaker and visit more often. Who knows, perhaps I’ll even take O there some day. But first I want to visit an old friend.” The old friend was “The Colonel’” who Sir Stephen had served under for years in the regiment, working his way up to battalion commander, the adjutant and finally executive officer. Somewhat surprising considering the regiment’s history in Bosnia. The Colonel now had a villa on a remote island near Barcaldine.

Out of the curve, Sir Stephen looked up at a road sign. It showed the next towns – Kilmelford, Kilninver and Oban. He thought again, “I vaguely remember a nice inn near Oban. I’ll spend the night there after visiting the Colonel.” Then rounding another curve, he saw a herd of sheep crossing the road just a short distance ahead. He slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left – too hard as the Alpine let the road and plummeted down a steep incline towards the water of the Sound of Jura.

Then O heard Henri say, “Let me move her hair from her neck, so that you may have a clean stroke. He reached down and grabbed a hand full of O’s long, curly red hair.

O looked up as the door opened. From the corner of her eye, she saw a man walk in.

He came over to O, who was kneeling in the corner of the cell, unable to move much due to the chain attached to the collar around her neck that was attached at the other end to a ringbolt set in the stone wall at the height of a man’s waist. Another chain connected the ring that pierced O’s labia to a ringbolt set lower in the stone. Thus constricted, it was possible for O to bury her face in her hands when she was being flogged, but her knees, elbows and breasts scraped against the rough stone.

When he walked over into the sliver of light coming in from the single, narrow window of the cell, she recognized him. Recognized his face and body but had no idea of his name. It was one of the men who had raped and abused her throughout the previous night. There had been four in all. They entered her cell where she was naked. First they took turns using her – first her sex, then her rear and finally her mouth. Once it was over, O thought they would go, but instead one of them said, “Let’s flog her. The whore should suffer for her misdeeds. They then tied O’s hands above her head using some leather straps looped over a rafter. Thus, stretched out, O could see the same man stand back and raise a whip. After whipping her they chained her to the two ringbolts and left her in the darkness.

Three other men came in, all dressed in the uniform of guards. The first man came to O and said, “It’s almost time for you to pay the ultimate price for your sins.” O’s mind flashed back to several days previous. She had stood before a trio of men in hoods – her judges. One of them read from a sheet of paper, “We have found you guilty of wantonness and venal sins. You betrayed your Master with other men and found pleasure in their caresses. Therefore, you are sentenced to death. You will be held in the dungeon and undergo torture for the period of time it takes to build your execution scaffold. Then you will be taken from the dungeon, paraded naked through the village to the scaffold. There you will be executed. May God have mercy on your wanton soul!”

O’s memory was interrupted by the man who said, “But before we take you away, there are two people who want to have a final word with you.” O looked up as someone came into the cell. It was Sir Stephen, accompanied by Anne Marie. O said to him, “You have come to save me?” He only looked at her and replied, “Why, O? Why? Why did you betray me?” O answered, “I didn’t betray you! You gave me to other men, probably as an excuse to punish me.”

He responded, “But you found pleasure with them. The ultimate betrayal.” Anne Marie said, “O, your body has always betrayed. You were always a faithful girl of easy virtue. And now that easy virtue has cost you your life!”

Sir Stephen turned and left, and another man came in. It was Paul, O’s onetime lover, whom she thought long dead. He came to O and said, “O, I tried to save you. I talked to the judge and begged him to spare you. But he said you had your chance once to let me save you, but you refused. Now there is nothing I can do.” Then Paul left. And Anne Marie said, “It is your own fault O. You knew all along this would be your Fate. Accept it.”

Hearing that, one of the men in uniform pulled O’s hands behind her and tied them together. Then he undid the chain from the collar around O’s neck. Then he unfastened the chain attached to the rings in her sex from the eyebolt in the wall. He said, “Stand up now, bitch.” When O stood the man looked at Anne Marie and said, “Ma’am will you lead this whore to her Fate?” Anne Marie took a metal dog leash and attached it to the rings in O’s sex and said, “Certainly.”

Anne Marie then led O, naked, from the dungeon into the street where a crowd had gathered. As she pulled O along by her sex, O could hear the jeers of the crowd, “You’re getting what you deserve! Filthy whore! Suffer and die!” Some threw rotten vegetables at her. Anne Marie led O to the town square where a scaffold had been built and up the stairs attached to it. There stood Sir Stephen and Henri, and one other man. He was huge, over two meters tall. He wore only a black hood and boots; otherwise, he was as naked as O. O looked at his member – only partially erect it was as thick as O’s wrist and nearly as long as her forearm. In his hands he held an executioner’s axe.

Sir Stephen said, “Kneel, O. Put your head on the block.”

O looked up and saw old Norah, Sir Stephen’s Haitian maid, go over to Udranka. She undid the chain from the bracelets on Udranka’s wrists and she fell to the floor. Norah looked first at O and then Udranka for a bit before saying, “There is a bedroom for you up the flight of stairs on the right. And a small room with a tub and bidet. Go get cleaned up. I will have supper brought to the room.”

O helped Udranka to her feet and the two staggered upstairs. Norah had run a tub of hot water, and there was a bar of soap and sponge beside it. O steadied Udranka as she stepped into the tub and then softy ran the sponge over the welts starting to appear on Udranka’s pale skin. Udranka winced at the touch of the sponge and O said, “I know it hurts. Just soak for awhile in the warm water. It will ease the pain.” Then O stood over the bidet and felt the cold water against her sex and rear. There were only two small towels in the bathroom, hardly large enough to do any more than pat away the water and suds. Both girls were naked. When Norah stuck her head in, Udranka asked, “Are we getting any clothes?” Norah only laughed and said, “For what? You two may as well stay naked. At least until tomorrow morning when O will be punished. Now, go to the bedroom. I have a small tray of fruit and bread along with two bottles of wine and a couple of goblets there. Feel free to share.”

In the bedroom was a small table in front of a fireplace. There weren’t any chairs, so the girls sat on the floor and ate and drank. O noticed that the bed was fairly large, and the sheets were turned down. As neither O nor Udranka had eaten since morning and it was now almost 9 pm, both women wolfed down what little food there was and began drinking the wine.

As O locked eyes with the bound Udranka, she thought to herself, “We are here merely to satisfy his anger and his lust. Mere vessels. Beating you satisfies the first and taking me, the latter. And it would not really matter if our roles were reversed. Indeed, previously he would whip me before taking me. Wielding a whip or crop on a naked girl obviously excites him. It seems to have the same effect on other men at Roissy, especially the Masters. I wonder why that is. And why does it seem to excite some girls to be whipped and beaten? I know it does me; but does it also for you, Udranka?”

And Udranka – bound there naked feeling the welts and bruises rise on herbody where Sir Stephen had whipped her knew that she too was wet and aroused.

He told O, “Get on your knees and caress me. Caress me with your mouth. The way you used to.”

O did as she was told, dropping to her knees in front of him. She took his member in her hand and pulled it to her open mouth, saying as she did so, “I love you.” After taking the tip in her mouth, O worked the length of it with her right hand, while cupping and softly caressing his balls with her other hand. She pulled back long enough to say, “I love you. I adore you. I worship you.” O then worked her mouth the length of his member, holding it with both hands, working her tongue around the tip. Then pulling away only long enough to say, “Oh God, how I love you.”

And a short distance away, Udranka, hands tied above her hands and feeling the welts rise on her pale skin watched.

O thought Sir Stephen, who was quite erect and rock hard by now would either come in her mouth or pull away just before orgasm and splatter on her face. But, no. Instead he pushed O away. She fell on the floor and watched as he went back to Udranka and began to savagely flog her. Soon her belly, thighs and buttocks were covered with red stripes as were her breasts. The Serb couldn’t cry out because of the penis shaped gag that old Norah had secured in her mouth, but O, slumped on the floor, could hear the deep moans and groans that emanated from behind the gag as well as see the tears streaming down her face. And O saw Sir Stephen’s now quite erect member bobbing about as he struck Udranka.

Suddenly he stopped and threw down the crop and came back to O. He lifted her up and pushed her over a leather cassock that was in the room so that O’s belly was on the cassock and her hips in the air. She felt Sir Stephen’s knees push hers apart, opening her. Then she felt his rock-hard member press against her rear opening. O gasped as he pushed into her. The pain tore at O and she cried out, “No! Please! Not Yet!” But it was to no avail. There was no stopping Sir Stephen now as he drove deep into O’s bowels. With tears now streaming from her eyes she looked over at poor Udranka.

The two women’s eyes met as Sir Stephen reached his pleasure and groaned.

Maya thought to herself, “What a depressing trip. I had first gone to the Bundespolizei to get their report of the incident. I remember the perfume the clerk – what was her name, ah yes, it was Gudrun – wore. It was very heavy, more so than even mine. Plus, she was young and cute, long blonde hair and big blue eyes, a true Bavarian Fraulein. I suggested drinks after I finished reading the report. She was easy, like one of those almost life-size dolls you got at Christmas. I remember she wore white cotton granny panties. But at least she knew how to kiss. And I remember her saying, ‘You’re the first woman I’ve been with.’ I rather doubt that. And that’s been almost a month. My only sex since has been my vibrator or trusty fingers.”

Her memories were interrupted by Sir Stephen saying, “Shall we adjourn?”

He guided Maya to the elevator to the third and top floor of the Skye Inn where her room was. Once inside the elevator, she impulsively kissed him on the mouth. Then she pulled away and said, “I’m sorry, Stephen. I just kissed a married man, didn’t I?”

Sir Stephen looked surprised. “Why would you think I’m married?” Maya responded, “That ring on your finger. It’s a wedding band, isn’t it?” She pointed to the dull gray ring on Sir Stephen’s third finger.

Sir Stephen looked at Maya paused and finally said, “I was married once. My wife died, actually was killed, in an automobile accident.” He did not elaborate about the band on his finger. In fact, the ring he wore was one given him by O. It was a simple band made of iron but polished to look like white gold. Inside there was a tiny inscription that read, “Your slave, O” and a Celtic triskelion.

Maya said, “I’m sorry,” and kissed him again. Harder this time. The elevator stopped at the third floor. They stepped out into the hall. Maya, suddenly almost sober, remembered the thread she had wound across the door to her rom to alert her if anyone had broken in. She did not want Sir Stephen to see it. So, she kissed him once again and said, “You wait right here. I need to put something up before you come into my room.”

Sir Stephen looked puzzled.

Maya continued, “My toy, my old maid ‘helper.’ I left it sitting on the sofa. No need for you to see it. I’ll just scurry in, quickly put it back in the bed side table drawer and come right back to get you. Promise! Stay right here.”

As Maya dashed down the hall to her room, Sir Stephen watched her buttocks pumping beneath her slacks. “Nice,” he thought.

Maya carefully opened the door to her room, only to see the broken thread lying on the floor. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she thought to herself. “Someone’s been inside my room. The thread I had wound across the doorway has been broken.” Maya placed her hand on the gun in her purse and quickly looked around the room. It was empty. She shut the door and checked the wall safe, but saw no signs it had been tampered with.

From outside the door Sir Stephen called. “Have you put away your toy? May I enter?” Maya composed herself, “Nothing I can do right now; I’ll deal with the break in later, probably those Middle Eastern guys I saw in the pub.” Then she brushed her hair back and said, “Yes, Stephen. Please do.”

Sir Stephen came onto the room, bottle of Talisker in hand. Maya smiled and said, “Why don’t you fix us drinks whole I change into something more comfortable. I’ve been in these clothes all day.” Maya disappeared into the bathroom.

As Sir Stephen was pouring the drinks, he looked over at Maya’s purse lying open on the bedside table where she had placed it. He saw the handle of a small revolver peeking out. Just then he heard a voice say, “I had been in those clothes all day; this is much better.” It was Maya’s voice. “Are our drinks ready?” Sir Stephen, drinks in hand, turned to Maya and saw her standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

Completely naked.

A Conversation

As Anders and Magnus were eating a late breakfast in Hamburg, and poor Noelle lay prostrate and open at Roissy, another conversation was taking place in Amsterdam. It was a call between Henri and two others.

Henri. “Yes, I still have the money and materials our suppliers asked for in exchange for their product.”

Other voice #1 (OV1). “Good, there have been a few problems with one of our suppliers.”

Other voice #2 (OV2). “Yes. Those idiots Igor and Kurt cost us several ‘items’ that might have brought a good price.”

Henri. “I understand that Kurt paid a price for his rashness. What about Igor? If either said too much, the entire deal could be in danger.”

OV2. “At least we were able to use our political connections and het Igor released. Kurt was a psychopath. His loss is no great matter. What’s one less crazy pimp? At least that German INTERPOL agent shot him before he could give out more information. And you shouldn’t be acting so high and mighty. After all, you took that girl of the Englishman’s. You were supposed to return her to him last month and when you didn’t, he began nosing around. He has connections. What if he discovers what’s going on?”

Henri. “I grew rather fond of O. She is the perfect slave. She would fetch a very hefty price at auction, but she would never willingly leave her Master. So, I basically stole her. Now, she’s being held along with the other slaves that my associates Slobodan and Miroslav acquired. Besides, I had Karin take care of the Englishman.”

OV1. “Take care? How?”

Henri. “Let’s just say that during a moment of passion with Karin, he had an ‘accident.’ Anyway, that is my concern, not yours.”

OV2. “It is all our concern that this auction comes off. The other suppliers are waiting for the materials you will provide. I understand that they already have targets picked out. Targets in Paris, Berlin and there in Amsterdam.”

Henri. “Amsterdam? Why?”

OV2 “They are still unhappy about some anti-Muslim, or so they think, articles and speeches. They think with three near simultaneous attacks on Western cities, the world will be put back on notice of Islamic Fundamentalism superiority.”

OV1.“It is a shame how a very small minority of Muslims paints the entire religion, which is basically peaceful.”

A short pause ensued.

Then, Henri. “Okay. My men have nearly a dozen Yazidi women, plus the three European ones What about our other supplier?”

OV1. “Perhaps ten or so.” Henri. “That’s good. About two dozen to be auctioned off to wealthy individuals and brothels. I already have a potential buyer for the three Europeans. Then we ‘pay’ the other suppliers in guns and explosives, and split the money received from the sale of the women. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

OV1. “Except for the women and perhaps some citizens of Berlin, Paris and Amsterdam.”

OV2. “Who cares?” Then all three men laughed.

A bit later, after turning off the main road and going down unpaved one, Sir Stephen pulled the Tiger up to a gate with an armed guard. He told the guard who he was, and the guard answered, “Yes. We’ve been expecting you. The Colonel is at the main house.” Then the guard added, “I’m not sure when you last saw him.”

Sir Stephen answered, “It has been several years. Why?”

“Well, the old man has gone downhill. When I was first hired on ten years ago, he was the picture of health. Very mentally sharp, but he is in his eighties now. And that assistant of his – the one that is called Madam Bluewater. She’s a witch, and I fear she is taking advantage of him. I know when you sent that young redheaded girl here for safe keeping several years ago, she abused her. And now…” The guard’s voice trailed off. “It’s like she has some sort of spell over the old man. Truly tragic.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Several hours later, Sir Stephen was back in the Tiger headed down the A816 towards Oban. Sir Stephen thought to himself, “The guard was right. The Colonel is not he same man I served under. I guess age takes its toll on all of us. Still, a pity. The Colonel I knew and loved – yes, that is the correct word. I did love that old man – that man is gone. The man that is left is only a shell. I do not think he knew who I was at first. Not until that Madam Bluewater told him.

“I remember after O’s ‘friend’ was kidnapped by Syrians and she was interrogated by the French Intelligence Service who thought she might be a spy herself. I feared that she was in danger from the Syrians and possibly also from the DGSE. At first, I arranged for her to return to Roissy. But really, Roissy while it has its valets, and such isn’t really all that secure. My God, I once saw a Syrian intelligence officer eating there in the restaurant. I inquired about it and Anne Marie said, ‘he’s just a customer to us. A customer with a lot of Euros who likes to use a girl and occasionally beat her. I had visions of him asking for O, strangling her, and then saying it was only an ‘accident’ of passion.

“No, Roissy wasn’t safe, but I knew the Colonel’s estate set against the sea and surrounded by harsh moors was. So, I arranged for O to go there. The Colonel sent me a letter saying she was safe there. She may have been safe from the Syrians and the DGSE, but she wasn’t safe from the Colonel’s staff and employers. They abused poor O almost as much as I have. “And now, that evil Bluewater woman has him wrapped around her finger. I do believe he has dementia and she is taking advantage of him.”

Sir Stephen’s thoughts were interrupted by the lights signaling his approach to Oban. He thought, “I have a reservation at the Skye Inn. I do hope they have a restaurant and pub attached to it. I could really use a drink after today.”

“Not really?” she said, “Were you doing that, or do you now live there?”

“Neither,” he answered. “Visiting an old army mate who was dying.”

“My condolences. One of your men?”

Sir Stephen raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he served under me. How did you know?”

“Just a good guess,” replied Maya. “You look like a retired officer. You have that bearing. What was your unit?”

Now Sir Stephen was intrigued. He thought, “She is quite perceptive.” And he answered cryptically, “The Queen’s Own Artists.”

Maya shot back, “Oh yes. The 23rd SAS Regiment. I always wondered why it was called ‘The Artists’?”

Now Sir Stephen was truly impressed. He answered, “Because of our artistry with rifles. I am impressed you know so much about the SAS.”

Maya looked a little sheepish and answered, “I’m a bit of a military history buff.”

“Oh, is that your vocation?”

“No, Actually, I’m an art appraiser.” Maya lied. It was her cover story, and she actually knew quite a bit about art. She was beginning to be intrigued by this well dressed, articulate man sitting beside her. She continued, “I just did an appraisal near Munich and now I am going to Mons, thus the flight to Antwerp.”

“Appraising something at NATO Headquarters?”

“Oh no. A nearby village. And why are you going to Antwerp? Do you live there now? Asked Maya.

“No. I live mostly in Paris now, but maintain an apartment in Bonn. I’m going to Antwerp to check on my…” Sir Stephen’s voice trailed off a bit before he continued, “To check on some of my property that I am renting out. Only for a day or two, then on to Scotland. Some family business.”

Trained interrogator that she was, Maya caught the hesitation in his voice before he said, ‘property that I am renting out.’ She thought to herself, “I wonder what type of property?” Then she said, “How ironic! I, too, am going to Scotland after my stop over at Mons.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a voice saying, “We are preparing for our landing in Antwerp. Please fasten your seatbelts.”