Three Brides And One Guy
By
Cindy May
A “Cotcote Chronicles” Story
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Cindy May
As far as Tarasov was concerned, any secretary was ‘Biz Complexov’, without complexes. In other words, sex with her boss was a compulsory part of her duties.
******
Natasha gave a winning smile to the guard and stood close enough for him to look down her cleavage.
‘Prevyet, our papa is a driver. Mama sent us with some food for him. Let us in please.’
‘What’s the licence number of his vehicle.’
Natasha shrugged her shoulders, giving the guard a nice view of her young tits wobbling.
‘Mama knows. She usually comes here, but she forgot to tell me.’
‘No papers, and if you don’t know the truck, I can’t let you in, Devochka - Girl.
Natasha put her hand on the guards arm.
‘Da, Da, of course you can, and we’ll be so grateful. Won’t we girls?’
******
‘Madam. They are my friends. Their parents were brutally murdered in Chechnya a few months ago and their home was looted. There but for the grace of God go any of us. I am glad we do not face such horrors here in England. Whether they are wearing panties or not, I said I would look after them.’
The woman glowered at him. Tanya, realising her beloved Allan was under attack, responded in her fractured English.
‘He is good man, I was engaged to him, and then I am a big fool and break it off, and he go home to England. Then all these terrible things happen. Our papa was thrown off our balcony. It was nine stories up. Mama was rapеd and then tortured to death. Allan wants to look after me and my sisters, even after I had told him we are finished. If your man is as good to you, you are lucky lady. Maybe if you that lucky, you would be glad not to wear no panties for such a man.’
******
Abby picked up the test kit, and walked to her mother’s bedroom.
‘Mummy, can I speak to you?’
‘Of course dear. Sit down. What is it?’
Abby held out the test kit.
‘This, Mummy.’
Lady Hazel Conroy looked at the test kit. With more calmness that she felt, she said to the 18-year-old girl.
‘You’re going to have a baby, Abby?’
‘Yes. Mummy.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘Yes Mummy.’
******
The four women walked past a series of open doors with staircases leading to first and second floor flats. Handwritten cards proclaimed, ‘Model’, ‘French Maid’ and similar descriptions. One was titled, ‘Interesting and versatile model’. Tracy looked at it, giggling.
‘I wonder what she does?’
Phoebe looked at her twin.
‘She fucks standing on her head whilst singing La Marseillaise.’
Copyright 2010 (C)
The Rights of the author are asserted. All Rights Reserved.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, and Incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons or corporations, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All Characters are aged 18 or above at the time that any sexual activity that is described takes place
******
WARNING – This novel depicts teen girls being forced into prostitution in Moscow in the 1990s, a horrific evil that persists.
“A Cotcote Chronicles” Story
Three Brides
And One Guy
By
Cindy May
Part 1 – 1992
Chapter 1
‘Tanya, you are Dura –You are a Fool.’
‘He was fucking that bloody slut.’
‘If you didn’t have the wit to fuck him, what else did you expect you fool?’
Tatiana Dmitrievna Kuznetsova was shocked by the fury in her sister’s voice. Natalya, or Natashenka as she was called in the family, was just turned eighteen, and it was clear that she regarded her nineteen-year-old sister as a fool. If she had not felt obliged to defend herself from her sister’s caustic remarks, Tanya would have agreed with her. She had been dura, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
They were talking in the room Tanya and her sisters shared in the small flat the family occupied in Grozny. In 1989, it had been the capital of what had then been Chechen-Ingush Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic of the USSR, with a population of some 400,000. For the three girls, who were then still at school, and their parents, it had been a happy time in a closely united family.
Life was hard, and their flat was cramped, but they had their own kitchen and toilet and not shared communal facilities. Unlike her Uncle Ivan, who was a ‘hard man’ and had got out of Grozny in the late 1980s, Papa was good-natured and would not hurt a fly. He was an ambulance driver, which was how he had met mama, as she was a maternity nurse working in a local hospital in Grozny. Neither job was well paid, but the family had enough to live on.
The annual family holiday usually began with a short train ride to Makhachkala, in neighbouring Dagestan on the shores of the Caspian Sea, but once they had visited the Black Sea, which was very exciting as it was a real sea, unlike the inland Caspian Sea. Walking holidays in the hills were the other option. Some day Tanya dreamed of visiting Moscow and even seeing the Lenin Mausoleum.
That had been “in the bad old days” of the Soviet Union, but by August 1992, the situation was far worse. The reasons could be traced back over 200 years. Grozny had never been the quietest part of Russia, its name, which meant “Dread” or “Terrible” in Russian, being an ominous clue to horrors of the past.
Russian soldiers who had been sent to the Caucasus in the early part of the nineteenth century had found to their cost how savage the Muslim Chechen population were to outsiders. If you were injured or cut off from your regiment, it was better to kill yourself than to fall into native hands. The Chechens excelled in killing their prisoners slowly and painfully.
Mutual hatred between Russians and Chechens continued into Soviet days, and Joseph Stalin, who distrusted everyone, distrusted the Chechens more than most of his subjects. At the height of the Great Patriotic War, Stalin decreed that the Chechens had been collaborating with the Nazis. It may or may not have been true, but truth had never worried Joseph Vissarionovich Djugashvili, as the ‘Big Boss’ had once been known.
Stalin banished the entire Muslim Chechen population to Siberia, and tens of thousands of them starved to death en route, or after they got there. Grozny became a Russian City after 1944, and its Chechen past was obliterated. The new Russian settlers, who were shipped in at Stalin’s diktat, rather than by their own wish, found they were living in a Russian city. They made it their home, married and raised kids.
Two of those kids were the girls’ papa, Dimitri, and his younger brother, Ivan, the two boys being born in 1946 and 1948. As a part of his de-Stalinization program, Khrushchev permitted the Chechens to return in 1957. They did so in such vast numbers that within a couple of years, returning Chechens outnumbered the Russian population of the city.
Predictably both sides regarded the other as usurpers. The first ethnic riot erupted in 1958, and a humanitarian plan to right a wrong had created a new flash point in the Caucasus.
The street wise and tough Uncle Ivan had seen troubles coming, and having run a variety of rackets in Grozny, had departed for Moscow where he had carved out a career on a bigger scale. Papa on the other hand, was gentle and there was no way he was going to get a Moscow Propiska or permit to live in the big city. Papa and mama were stuck in Grozny whatever happened, as they had no other family living in the rest of the Soviet Union, other than Ivan.
The relaxation of central control after Mikhail Gorbachev became General Secretary in 1985, and the onset of perestroika and glasnost was welcomed in the West, but created a new uncertainty in Soviet life. For all its faults, and they were many, the Soviet Union had contained the antipathies that existed between its many different peoples until the retreat from authoritarian rule. As central authority collapsed, people felt able to take things into their own hands.
Azeris massacred Armenians and vice versa. Georgians had feuds with most of their neighbours, and the situation was especially tense in Chechnya. The local authorities were now largely Chechen, and Chechen criminal gangs controlled much of the city. If a gang belonging to one clan raided a Chechen home, there would be reprisals from the clan that had been victimised. Raid a Russian home, where there was no clan system, and there was nothing to fear.
The authorities, including the militsia or civil police, were mostly Chechen, and worked on a clan basis when Chechen homes were robbed and did not work at all when Russians were victimised. Not surprisingly, Russian families started to flee in droves. Those that remained were nervous, feeling they were living on the edge of a volcano. With the collapse of the USSR at the end of 1991, it rapidly got worse.
The problem was political. Lenin had divided Russia up into republics after the October Revolution, hence the title, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. However there were different categories of Republic. At the top were the fifteen full republics such as Russia itself, Ukraine or Georgia. The politicians who broke up the USSR in 1991 were the leaders of the full republics. Understandably, they were keen to allow the Republics to go their own ways, as they then became heads of state.
Within the republics were the Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republics, or ASSRs. If ever a word was misplaced, it was Autonomous, as they had no autonomy, but they did have leaders who exercised sway over their own fiefdoms. They also desired statehood, but that would diminish the territory of the full republics. Predictably the leaders of the full republics embraced independence for full republics, but saw independence for the ASSRs as an anathema.
Even where there was no religious and ethnic tension, relations between the ASSRs and the new nation states were fraught. In Chechnya it was explosive. A former Soviet Air Force general, Dzhokhar Dudayev, stormed a session of the Chechen-Ingush ASSR assembly, and independence was declared from Moscow. Pro-Russian and Pro-Chechen factions emerged. Criminal activity flourished and racial and religious tensions deepened.
Chechen vigilante gangs roamed the housing estates, and Russians were targeted at work as well as in their homes. Thousands were forced to flee, often with nothing more than the clothes they were wearing. Soon forced emigration turned into a killing spree, and the Chechen authorities neither had the power not the will to do anything about it. Nor did Moscow. Robbery, violence or murder became an everyday event.
As Natashenka raged at her elder sister, Tanya was well aware of the underlying fear that had gripped the dwindling band of Russians left in the city. They were a community under siege, and that made people jumpy. It helped explain Natashenka’s fury, but the weather was no help.
It had been an exceptionally hot day, well into the thirties, but in mid-July, average temperatures in Grozny were 30 degrees Centigrade. Even though she was wearing just a T-shirt and a pair of panties, Tanya was hot and sweaty and she knew that Natashenka was just as hot. The temperature on that airless night did not make Natashenka particularly careful with her words, but they were all too true.
Olga, Natasha’s younger twin by fifteen minutes was quieter, but she too was frightened. She wanted out, but there was no way they were going to get a Moscow propiska. Olga added her thoughts.
‘The Ivanovs were raided last night. Leonid Vladimirovich was thrown off the balcony and poor Oksana and her mama were both rapеd. They’re both still alive, so they were lucky compared to the Gribanova girls, as they got rapеd, and then had a facial.’
Tatiana shuddered. She had seen one woman’s body after a facial, and she wished she hadn’t. She knew it would haunt her for the rest of her days. The woman, who was also Russian, had lived nearby. Like Tatiana’s parents, she was the child of one of the Russian settlers sent to the town by Stalin in the 1940s.
Coming from a poor family she had lived all her life in Grozny. The woman had never even visited Moscow, which was as remote and strange to her as New York or Tokyo. She had married and had a ten-year-old child, a cute little girl with blue eyes and curly brown hair.
Ten days previously, a gang of thugs had smashed down the door of the flat where the woman lived. They had joked as they had suspended her husband by the ankles from the fifth floor balcony before letting him drop headfirst. The woman and her daughter had been gang fucked, the gang thoughtfully attending to the girl, before looking after her mama.
The bruised and terrified women had then been marched down stairs and taken out into the street, where their faces had been viciously rubbed against the rough tarmac until their facial features had been torn away and the bone of their skulls was showing. Both had died in agony.
Once again the gang attended to the daughter first, so her mama could watch the fate of her little one. Tanya knew the family distantly, but not well. The Gribanova girls were close friends, and she was thankful she had not seen the obscene wreckage of two pleasant human beings that she had grown up with and liked.
Olga was speaking.
‘That makes five families we know in the last ten days, and it’s getting worse. You know how many Russian families have fled. All you need to do is to look out of the window at night to see how few lights there are compared to a year ago.’
‘Things are gonna get worse. When Dudayev declared independence, all that Yeltsin did was to complain. Either he should have sent the army in, or come to some agreement with Dudayev. Instead they let this mess start up.’
‘We’ve been lucky so far, but every morning when Natashenka and I go to school, I wonder if we will get a facial. I wonder if Mama will be here when we get back. I’m scared and so is Natashenka. If you’d stopped engaged to Allan, at least you could have got out of this shit-hole.’
‘But he was fucking that slut, Svetlana Gradova.’
Natashenka, her patience with her sister exhausted, screamed at her.
‘Look, dura, you fool, Allan was in love with you, and was going to sort out the paperwork so that you could go to England as his fiancée. Sveta was bright enough to know that everything is falling apart, even in Moscow, and not just in this fucking dump. She wanted out.’
‘Allan was a way for her to land on her feet. She went after him, and when you played your grand duchess act, you fell right into the trap she set. If you’d dropped your panties for him, she’d never have got anywhere.’
‘After Allan’s workers got killed, he had the wit to leave, so that bitch didn’t get anywhere, other than to fuck you up. You’ve got his number in England. Why don’t you ring him and tell him you were a fool. If I had a guy that wanted me I’d be on the phone this minute.’
Tanya knew her sisters were right, and that she had been a fool, but when Svetlana phoned her to gloat, she had been enraged. After she had slammed the phone down on the witch, she had rung Allan to tell him she never wanted to see him again. Amongst other things she had called him Nekulturniy, or uncultured. Allan knew enough Russian to know that was a major insult. She had also said Yob Tvoyu Mat to her ex fiancée. It meant ‘Go fuck your Mama’.
Say that to the average Russian man, and you would be lucky if you were alive in five seconds time. Allan had tried to apologise to her. He had even attempted to say that he was in the wrong, but she had screamed more abuse at him, and they had finished by cursing one another. After that performance, there was no way they could ever get back together. In between sobs, Tanya gasped out.
‘After what I said to him, he wouldn’t want me and I’m too embarrassed to ask him.’
Natashenka snapped back.
‘Dura – idiot. You could try.’
‘If you’d swallow your fucking pride, you might just stay alive. If Allan would have me, I’d spread my legs for him this minute, but you’re the one he wanted. Just grow up, you idiot.’
Natashenka stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Given the blazing row they had just had, an outsider would not have believed it but the three sisters were devoted to one another. It was affection for her idealistic but unrealistic older sister that had driven Natasha to such fury.
Natasha’s head was set firmly on her shoulders, and she was keen to keep it that way. Even school was now dangerous. Most of the ethnic Russian teachers were long gone, the lucky ones having fled in time. The dedicated ones who wanted to teach the kids, and the stupid ones who could not see what was coming, had been spread out on the floor of their flats and fucked, often by some of the Chechen lads they taught.
They would joke about teaching the teacher. Sometimes there would be the ever-popular jokes about Vovochka, the detestable little boy that was the bane of his teacher’s life. The teacher in the joke, Maria Ivanovna, or Marivanna for short, would do something and Vovochka would pounce on it.
One day, Marivanna drew a banana on the board and asked the class.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a Khren.’
The word meant horseradish, but was Russian slang for cock.
The class erupted into laughter, but at that moment the school director walked in. He roared ‘Silence”, and saw the scarlet-faced teacher staring at the board.
‘OK, which of you young idiots drew a cock on the board to upset Marivanna?’
After a short but comprehensive sex education in her flat from her pupils, the helpless teacher would be marched downstairs for the last lesson of the day and of her life. It was all about receiving a facial.
If you were a pupil it was dicey. Chechen gangs roamed the school looking for a Russian teen to rapе, and gangs of Russian boys offered a protection racket.
‘Put up your pussy, devochka – girl, and the Chechens won’t get you.’
Natasha and Olga had been putting up for at least two months, although they had not told mama and papa or Tanya. Both girls knew that if they spread their legs every day, they risked getting pregnant, but the risk from the Chechens was worse.
Except for Tanya’s stupidity, the three girls were remarkably similar. They shared a similar build, the same high Slav cheekbones, and were all blessed with rich chestnut brown curls that cascaded round their shoulders. Tanya was fourteen months older than the twins, but looked young for her age. The twins, seared by what was happening, and more worldly wise, looked older than they were. The girls could easily have passed for triplets.
The following morning, Tanya was up early, as was now the rule. The hospital had been burnt down, so mama was no longer working and papa had been threatened, so had been forced to quit as an ambulance driver.
With mama and papa both out of work, Tanya had become the breadwinner. She had responded to an advert in one of the Grozny papers for a businessman who required a typist who had some English language skills. Tanya’s English was basic, but she attended the interview with two guys.
One was a thirty-year-old Russian, by the name of Nikita Tarasov. He was a typical “New Russian”, or in other words a crook with an eye to the main chance.
She found that he was the local agent to an English guy called Allan Conroy, who was twenty-three years old, and after school and university education had joined his father’s surveillance and security equipment business. Seeing possibilities in the newly emerging Eastern European markets, Sir David Conroy had opened a Moscow office for Conroy Security Services.
After a year in England and then a year in Moscow, Allan had been sent to the Caucasus. His old man knew that instability made wealthy people nervous and nervous wealthy people were keen to buy security systems to protect their property and their lives.
Tarasov put Allan Conroy wise on local conditions, pointed out potential clients who might be worth contacting and kept the mafia and the militsia off the English businessman’s back. Although his grasp of the Russian language was progressing, Allan Conroy wanted a “Girl Friday” to translate, type and act as a bridge between himself and the Russians he did business with.
As far as Tarasov was concerned, any secretary was ‘Biz Complexov’, without complexes. In other words, she accepted that sex with her boss was a compulsory part of her duties. One day, Allan had intervened to defuse a blazing row between Tarasov and the girl. He had told her to spread her legs. She had refused indignantly and he had sacked her. Allan had intervened, cancelling her dismissal, and saying that only he had the right to fire her.
After a few weeks it was clear to Tanya that Allan’s interest in her was not confined to business, but to her relief he had not told her to drape her butt over the desk. He would often invite her out for a meal, and Tanya became increasingly attracted to her young boss. Biz Complexov did not seem to be a part of his ideas. One evening, after a pleasant meal, Allan had asked her to marry him.
Tanya was over the moon. He was introduced to her parents at their flat in Grozny, and that went well. Then life started to go pear shaped. A major contract went badly wrong, and Conroy Security needed to hire a lawyer. The lawyer that came into the picture was a Moscow girl. Her name was Svetlana Gradova.
She was 26 years old, slender and with a figure any woman would kill for. She was beautiful, a first class lawyer, self-confident and utterly amoral. If it was convenient to win her cases on the facts, Svetlana did so, but often it was easier to use other means. With her looks and figure, the other means were intimate, but highly successful.
Svetlana could count the number of cases she had lost on the fingers of one hand and have some fingers left over. Predictably she had broken a good few hearts, and unlike the good-natured Tanya who worshipped her fiancée, the only person Svetlana had ever worshipped was herself.
Svetlana decide that marriage to a wealthy young Englishman would be a good move, as the post-Soviet economy was on the rocks. The fact that Allan was engaged to Tatiana was irrelevant. Within a month, she had lured Allan to her bed, and then phoned Tanya to wind her up. The gullible teen walked into the trap, and her marriage prospects had evaporated, leaving the way clear for her ambitious rival.
Up to then, things had been going well for Svetlana, but two hammer blows to Allan transformed the situation. Sir David Conroy died when his private Cessna crashed on a flight from Moscow to Grozny, and there was some suspicion that it could have been sabotage.
In Grozny, where Allan was making good progress, the worsening security situation was good for business, but bad for life expectancy. Two of Allan’s key employees were kidnapped and murdered. With his father probably murdered, with threats to his own life, and with his romance with Tanya in ruins, Allan decided enough was enough.
He returned to Moscow and then to England to concentrate on the core business of Conroy Security. When Tanya had fallen out with Allan, she had walked out of her job. This was a matter of pride rather than necessity, as Allan had asked her to stay on. As he had betrayed her, she never wanted to see him again.
Chapter 2
With the economy in Chechnya collapsing as the anti-Russian pogrom intensified, jobs were increasingly scarce if you were a Russian. Tanya’s decision to quit her job as translator/secretary to Conroy Security could hardly have come at a worse moment.
The best she could find was a job as an arbus or watermelon seller in the open-air market. It did not bring in much, but it provided a pittance to support the family, now that her parents were out of work. Money was very tight, as her wages were less than a quarter of what she had earned. Tanya soon found that the world was a cruel place.
If she let the guy who ran the stall have a feel of her tits, she could take home an over-ripe watermelon at the end of the day. He made it clear that if she was more obliging, plenty of fruit and veg would be available, but up to now she had avoided taking him up on that generous offer.
A guy called Aleksey ran the meat stall. A couple of days before her row with Natasha, she had gone behind the meat stall with Aleksey. She had to swallow her pride and other things. A vigorous blowjob had provided sufficient sausages for three days, but they were gone, so another visit to the meat stall was necessary. Aleksey had hinted that some choice meat would be available if she was a sensible girl. She said she would think about it.
As she walked to the market, she was wary, ready to run in case she saw a Chechen gang, but fortunately it was quiet. Tanya hated having to allow the guy who ran the fruit stall to feel of her tits or bum whenever he wanted it. She had nearly gagged when Aleksey had emptied his balls into her mouth, having promised he wouldn’t do so, but she needed the food for the family.
If she didn’t put up, mama would have to. Mama was 46 years old. She was still an attractive woman, but was no longer young. If mama had to beg for food, she would have to put up a hell of a lot more than just a feel of her tits, or sucking a guy off. The twins had just turned eighteen, so were “fresh meat” as the pimps said, but Tanya hoped she could keep them from doing what she now had to do.
She arrived at the stall.
‘Prevyet Tanya.’
‘Prevyet.’
Georgi came over to her, reached out and squeezed her right tit. It was bad enough when he did it out of sight, but she loathed it when he felt her up in full view of people shopping in the market. Naturally she smiled as he mauled her tit.
‘Nice day today.’
‘Da, Da.’
She had said so because it was expected of her. In fact it was a fucking lousy day. Within seconds of arriving, she was being felt up, and it would go on like that all day. She planned to see Aleksey later. Hopefully she could ‘purchase’ some sausages, as the fridge in the flat was empty. With luck it just meant going down on the bastard, but sooner or later she was going to have to spread her legs.
When it was quiet, she turned to Georgi.
‘I want to do some shopping, Georgi.’
He stood behind her and ran his hand over her bum cheek, pressing his finger into the crevice on her short skirt.
‘Don’t be long.’
‘Da, Da.’
Her face crimson, Tanya walked away from the stall. It was not her day. Most of the bread sellers were women, so there was not much prospects there, but there was an 18-year-old lad on one of the bread stands, so she headed there first. As the lad saw her, he smiled.
‘Prevyet, Tanya, you want some bread?’
‘Da, Da.’
The lad glanced round and pointed with his finger. She walked round to the back of the stall. He picked up a load that had fallen in the dirt and was filthy.
‘You want that one. It’s the usual price.’
She glared at him. Half of it was only fit for the bin. He spotted her disgust.
‘Got a better one, but it’s a bit more.’
Previously a loaf had cost her a feel of her tits. It looked like inflation was setting in. She needed the food for mama and papa and the twins. Wearily she looked at him.
‘How much do you want?’
He glanced round and unzipped his jeans. He pointed to her mouth. Tanya shrugged her shoulders. Soon a loaf would be a fuck, but that was a challenge she would face when she had to. She crouched down and took the jerk’s cock in her hand. She ran her tongue over the head and then summoned up the courage to slip it into her mouth.
As the foreskin peeled back, she felt herself gagging. Why couldn’t the fucking bastard wash his cock occasionally? It tasted of pee and stale cum from when he had jacked himself off. After a couple of minutes, he grabbed her head and forced his cock deeper into her mouth. Resentfully she realised he was about to cum in her throat, and was making sure she was going to swallow everything he unloaded. He unloaded. She swallowed, and then he gave her a clean loaf.
At the meat stall, she was able to buy enough sausages to feed the family for the next two days. The price was her second blowjob in twenty minutes. To her annoyance, inflation had kicked in on the fruit stall as well. A decent arbus cost her the third blowjob of the day.
At the end of the day she headed for home with her two shopping bags containing two loaves, the spotty eighteen-year-old lad having thrown in the one that had been in the dirt for free, a paper bag containing sausages, and a good arbus. It had cost her plenty, but at least mama, papa and the twins would not starve.
Meat prices would be going up soon, but that was life. She really did not want some guy unloading in her cunt. She couldn’t afford a condom, or preservatif as Russians called them, and most guys would not allow a girl to use them anyway. Expecting the guy to pull out in time was like expecting Stalin to show love and kindness. The standard Soviet birth control technique was by abortion and the last thing she needed was to get pregnant.
As Tanya walked towards the flats where the family lived, people were scuttling about in their usual nervy manner, avoiding one another’s eyes, and trying to be invisible. She noticed some suggestive red stains on the tarmac in the central courtyard, and wondered what they indicated.
They reminded her of the stains she had seen a few days previously. She shivered. A few years ago, Grozny had been a good place to live with some fine buildings and a great circus that was fun to visit. Mama and papa had taken Tanya and her sisters there as a treat every year. Job prospects were good with the oil refinery, but now fear walked beside you every single day.
Cut a Russian or a Chechen and the blood was the same colour. Say a kind word to a Russian or a Chechen kid and there was the same smile, but instead of that people were dying every day. Hopefully the stain was nothing to worry about. If it marked something bad, the odds were that it was some other family that had encountered tragedy.
Tanya was a gentle girl, but the obscenity of hoping that the stain, if it did indicate the worst, related to some other family nauseated her. You ‘hoped’ that it was the neighbours from another flat, not your folks. You ‘hoped’ it related to people you knew, not people you loved. She quickened her pace to get home and reassure herself that mama, papa and the twins were all right.
She walked to the door of the section in which she lived. It hung open, but it had not closed properly for more than two years. Next to it was the door to the rubbish shoot, or there should have been a door. It had gone when she was 15 and had never been replaced. The big bin was there, and with no door to contain the smell, the area stank of rotting food.
She hurried past and up the shallow flight of stairs into the flats. The lifts were so unreliable that even if they were working it was stupid to use them, as you could be trapped for hours. Mama had told her to stop using them for that reason, and mama was kind and sensible. She was a lucky girl. She would give mama a big kiss when she got in.
Their flat was on the ninth floor, and Tanya was perspiring freely by the time she had lugged her two heavy shopping bags to the top of the stairs. As she did so, she saw that the door to the flat was open. You never left the door of your flat open for longer than you could help. She stood at the door. She was afraid.
‘Mama, papa?’
There was no answer. She stepped over the threshold. The hall was tiny but was usually scrupulously clean. Papers were lying all over the floor. She called out louder.
‘Mama, papa.’
There was still no answer. She walked into the living room and realised the place had been ransacked. The doors and drawers on the wooden wardrobe and shelving that had come as a flat pack and had been assembled by her papa were open, some of them lying on the floor. She screamed at the top of her voice.
‘Mama, papa. Where are you?’
She ran from room to room, hoping to find her parents, yet fearing to find them as well. A minute later she knew they were not in the flat. If they had been out, the flat could have been ransacked when they were absent. Why should they be out? The hospital had been burnt down by some demented swine, and papa had been threatened so had to quit his job. They had no reason to go out.
As she stood in the living room, she noticed an apron and walked over to it. She picked it up and saw it was badly torn. Then she spotted a brown dress lying near to it. She picked that up. All the buttons had been torn. Mama had been wearing that dress and apron when Tanya had left for the market in the morning.
‘Oh God, please no.’
Mama and Papa insisted on the family and guests wearing slippers in the flat, and she knew her papa’s slippers only too well. They were old and frayed but comfortable. As she ran round the flat again, desperately looking for clues as to what had happened, she found one of her papa’s slippers. It was lying on the balcony.
She stared over the edge of the balcony. Nine stories below at ground level, the bushes seemed to be more flattened than had been the case in the morning. It looked as if something had landed there. She screamed at the top of her voice.
‘Mama, papa.’
Deep down, she knew that calling them quietly or as loudly as possible would make no difference. The slipper and the crushed vegetation indicated what had happened. Something had “fallen” from the balcony. The something would have been her quiet gentle papa who had never hurt a soul in his life.
Her mama’s dress and apron lay torn in the living room. Slowly she went back into the living room and knelt down. She glanced around, fearful of what else she might find. One of her mama’s slippers was lying near by, as was a pair of knickers that had been torn. She no longer wondered about the suggestive red patch outside. She knew.
Tanya sat on the floor in the living room, howling in mindless grief. Her parents were both dead. She had no doubts about that. What had happened to Natashenka and Olga was another matter. If they had been at the flat, they would have shared the same fate as mama, unless their attackers took them off for some more prolonged fun.
That had happened to a few Russian girls who had been kidnapped. They vanished without trace, but you could guess their fate. Would the quick-tempered but lovable Natashenka come home, or had she vanished forever? What about Olga? Later on, the Chechens would come back. With the door gaping open, anything that was left of value, and there was not much, would go.
Anyone who was in the flat would go over the edge of the balcony, if male. If a woman, her torn clothing would join mama’s on the floor, and her blood would stain the tarmac. Common sense told her that she had to get away and every second she stayed was perilous. She sat alone, as she had to know what had happened to the twins.
They might be dead already or be hapless playthings of their captors, but she had to wait for them, or for the Chechens who would take her as well. It was an insane thing to do, but love made you do insane things. After over an hour, she heard footsteps on the stairs. She stood up. Tanya had never been so frightened in her life.
Chapter 3
As she stood in the flat trembling, Tanya wondered if the noise on the stairs was her sisters, or the Chechens returning. If it was the latter, then she would be violated and then receive her facial. She heard a gasp, and female voices.
‘Mama. papa, Tanya?’
It was Olga’s voice. The twins came into the room, their eyes round with shock and horror. They saw Tanya and flew across the room to her. The three girls hugged one another. Natashenka, the most practical of the three looked at the evidence that Tanya had found. A tear trickled down her cheek.
‘Poor mama, poor papa.’
She shook her head slowly, and realised that dusk was approaching.
‘Tanya, we need to get away. Those bastards will come back when it gets dark.’
Whilst Natashenka hastily looked for their internal passports, and other papers. Olga and Tanya gathered a few clothes together and such food as they had, which was what Tanya had ‘bought’ at the market. Less than ten minutes after the twins had arrived, the three girls slipped surreptitiously downstairs. Just as they left the flats they heard a noise, and hid behind the bushes.
A group of young men, most of them no older than the twins, walked across the courtyard. Some of them carried wooden staves or lengths of pipe. They headed directly towards the entrance and went inside. The girls allowed them a few seconds to start up the stairs and then quickly crossed the courtyard and went through the archway that gave access to the street.
Tanya noticed that Olga was trembling. She hugged her sister. Olga whispered.
‘Another couple of minutes!’
At nineteen Tanya was scarcely a grown woman, and the twins were, or ought to be, schoolgirls. Instead of that they were three fugitives, and they were lucky to be alive. Mama and papa had not been that lucky. Natasha looked at her sisters.
‘We have to get away from this fucking place.’
Tanya stared at her helplessly.
‘How? We got no money, no papers. We can’t afford the train fare, and the militsia would stop us without papers.’
Natasha snarled at her.
‘Grow up, you stupid cow. How did you buy that food? Either with your mouth or your pussy. That’s how we get out of here. The passenger trains are no bloody use, as the attendants are mostly women. They aren’t going to want three pussies to play with.’
Tanya screamed at her.
‘Niet, Niet, Niet. You’re too young to do that. I won’t let you.’
‘Shut up you fool. If we don’t spread our legs, we aren’t going to have any legs before long. We’ll be like mama and papa. Trains are no use, so we need to find a truck. There are plenty of trucks in the truck park near the factory. Let’s go.’
‘I won’t let you.’
‘Dura - idiot. For the last couple of months, the only way Olga and I have kept out of the hands of the Chechens is by letting some of our beloved countrymen fuck the shit out of us. I had three of them this morning. She had two.’
‘But you could get pregnant.’
‘Dura! Of course I could fucking get pregnant, but at least I’m alive, now shut up.’
Although Tanya was the oldest, the more practical Natasha had taken charge, and led her two sisters through the ill lit streets towards the truck park. For a modest fee, trucks were parked in the relative safety of the truck park.
Had they been left outside, they would have been broken into, the cargoes rifled, and tyres and other useful components stolen when the driver was away or resting. Had the driver been there when a determined gang turned up, any resistance would have been fatal.
A mesh fence that was over 3 metres high surrounded the truck park. It was topped with barbed wire, and more barbed wire was woven into the mesh. In daytime there were entrances at each end, with elevated guard towers, which were equipped with searchlights and machine guns. At night, one exit was closed and any vehicles came in and out of the remaining entry. Apart from the guard tower there was also a gatehouse.
Useful though the elevated guard towers were, the armed guards who covered the truck park 24 hours a day could not inspect the papers of anyone entering or leaving. This was the duty of the security guard at the gatehouse. In theory, he was supposed to prevent anyone other than vehicle drivers gaining entrance to the vehicle park.
In reality a different regime existed. Some of the drivers were local men, with wives or girlfriends, and they might bring food to their men or comforts of a different kind, so they were usually allowed in to the vehicle park.
Other young women also desired access. They were not married, or if they were, it was not to the drivers. They catered to the guys who had arrived at the vehicle park and had opted to spend the night in the relative safety of their vehicle cabs. It was a convenient fiction that they were wives and girlfriends, but the security guards soon got to know who were the genuine wives and who were the prostitutes.
With jobs for women collapsing and pay weeks or months behind, for many women it was their only income. Natasha knew that a couple of her teachers ‘moonlighted’ at the truck park. One had recently vanished, but whether she had fallen victim to ethnic cleansing or whether she had persuaded a truck driver to take her with him, no one knew.
As a result, the night gateman could expect a flow of attractive young women from their mid teens to their mid twenties begging admission to the vehicle park, to “see their husband/boyfriend”. The genuine wives usually got in without difficulty. The pretend wives had to put up. It could be a banknote tucked inside the propiska they showed to the guard, or it could be a more personal offering.
As they approached the vehicle park, Tanya asked helplessly.
‘How do we get in? There’s a security guard there?’
Natasha looked at her sister scornfully.
‘We’re going to see our papa who is a driver.’
‘But he may not believe us.’
‘He’ll believe a wet pussy you fool. Are you wearing panties.’
‘Da, Da, of course I am.’
‘Then take them off.’
‘Stor - what?’
‘Take your fucking panties off. If you want him to believe you, that is.’
Tanya reluctantly obeyed her more streetwise younger sister.
Natasha glanced at her twin.
‘What about you?’
Olga flipped her skirt up to show that she was without panties.
‘Thank God, you’ve got some sense. OK, now Tanya, the less you say the better, so I’ll talk us in, but if the fucking gate guard wants to stick his cock up you, me or Olga, it’s “Da, Da, No problem”, so remember that.’
As the three girls approached the floodlit area, Tanya noticed Natasha unbuttoning the top two buttons on her blouse. Natasha glanced at her.
‘Undo a couple of buttons, you idiot, like I have. Give the bastard a chance to look at your tits.’
Reluctantly Tanya did as her sister ordered.
The three girls approached the barrier. To their disappointment, there were two guards at the gatehouse. Natasha knew that with two guards, two of them would have to put up. One guard looked at them.
‘OK, Devochki - girls, what do you want?’
Natasha gave a winning smile to the guard and stood close enough for him to look down her cleavage.
‘Prevyet, our papa is a driver. Mama sent us with some food for him. Let us in please.’
‘What’s the licence number of his vehicle.’
Natasha shrugged her shoulders, giving the guard a nice view of her young tits wobbling.
‘Mama knows. She usually comes here, but she forgot to tell me.’
‘No papers, and if you don’t know the truck, I can’t let you in, Devochka - Girl.
Natasha put her hand on the guards arm.
‘Da, Da, of course you can, and we’ll be so grateful. Won’t we girls?’
Olga nodded enthusiastically, Tanya agreed, but less energetically. Natasha let her hand slide down the guard’s arm to his hip.
‘Why don’t you and I go and have a look for the truck. When we find it, you can come back and let my sisters in. OK?’
The guard turned to his companion.
‘Igor, these two stop here. I’ll take this one to find her papa’s truck.’
Natasha and the guard departed into the darkness. Ten minutes later the guard reappeared. He looked pleased with himself.
‘We found the truck Igor. Why don’t you take this pair? I’m sure they want to see papa too.’
Igor looked at Tanya and Olga.
‘OK devochki - girls, lets go.’
When they were out of the floodlit area, the guard put his arm round Tanya’s shoulders. She trembled. He pushed her to her knees and unzipped his flies.
‘OK devochka, get busy.’
Tanya took the guard’s cock in her hand and licked the bell end tentatively.
‘Get on with it devochka.’
She crammed his cock in her mouth and started slurping away, conscious that her sister was less than a metre away watching her sucking the cock of a complete stranger. She hated doing it for food at the market, but having to do it in front of her sister made it even more humiliating.
After a couple of minutes, the guard held her head. A few seconds later, she felt his cum spurting in her mouth and tried to pull away, but he held her rigidly forcing her to swallow until he had finished. He glanced down at her.
‘You’re crap. If you expect anyone to pay you, they’ll want better than that devochka. Well, go find your papa.’
He turned away to return to the guardhouse. Sucking cock was humiliating, but being told you were crap made it even worse. A few seconds later, Natasha appeared from the shadow. She stared at her sister.
‘Tanya, if we are going to get out of this hellhole, you need to make some effort. The next time you need to suck cock, make it look like you enjoy it. Now I think I’ve got a truck lined up where the guy will take all three of us. And Tanya, he is gonna want your sweet pussy, so don’t fuck it up for all of us. OK?’
Tanya stared at her sister angrily. In a resentful tone she replied.
‘All right, don’t go on about it.’
Natasha led her two sisters to an olive green ZIL-131 three-ton truck.
‘Hi Vladimir, these are my sisters. You see we won’t take much room. We’re all small, but we’re lively girls.’
‘Well if they’re as lively as you are, we should have a good time.’
Vladimir looked the two new girls over. He stared at Olga.
‘Have a look in the cab, honey.’
Olga smiled at him.
‘Da, Da.’
Vladimir opened the door, and Olga put one foot on the step and her other foot on the cab floor. She bent over with the hem of her a few cms from Vladimir’s face. He put his hand on her thigh and slid it upwards beneath her skirt. As Vladimir moved his hand in and out, Olga wriggled her butt for him. Tanya was standing less than a metre from her sister’s butt. She looked away.
‘Get in the cab, Devochka.’
She clambered up into the cab and Vladimir climbed after her. He slammed the door. For the next few minutes the only activity was as the vehicle rocked slightly on its springs. Tanya stood beside Natasha with a miserable expression on her face. Finally Natasha said fiercely.
‘He’s fucked me. Even you can work out what he’s doing with Olga, and she’ll be a good ride for him. Unless he’s some kind of superman, he ain’t gonna be able to do you for a while, so with luck, once he’s cum, we can get out of here. When he wants you, just do it, and try to look as if you enjoyed it. Otherwise we’ve got a fucking long walk ahead of us.’
‘OK, OK.
The door opened, and Vladimir looked out.
‘OK you two, get your cute butts up here, and we’ll get moving.’
As she climbed into the cab and sat down, Tanya could smell the sex in the air. If the driver had fucked both her sisters on the seat she was sitting on, that was to be expected. Vladimir switched on the 109 hp 6-cyl petrol engine, and conversation in the cab had to be conducted at a bellow, as silencing was not a strongpoint on Soviet trucks. He slammed the truck into first gear and rumbled down the vehicle park.
At the gatehouse, he leant out of the cab and handed over his documentation. As he did so, the guard who had accompanied Natasha on the search for her ‘papa’ saw her in the cab.
‘See you found your ‘papa’ devochka.’
The guard smiled knowingly as she nodded. Her ‘papa’ must have started his family early, as ‘papa driver’ was about 26 or 27, whilst Natasha was about eighteen.
‘OK, everything in order. Enjoy the ride with your “daughters”, Comrade.’
‘Da, Da, I will.’
The big ZIL-131 truck headed out of Grozny. Vladimir concocted a story to be told at any Militsia checkpoint on the exit from the city. They were heading west towards Ingushetia and Stavropol. As he knew the road, he updated the girls from time to time on a suitable village that they had begged a lift to get home to.
As they approached the border between Chechnya and Ingushetia, he said that story would not get them through the more rigorous militsia checks on the border between the different republics. Rather than try their luck, he dropped them off a couple of kms short of the checkpoint. He told them to walk through the fields and meet him again west of the border crossing.
Fortunately everything worked out, and the girls met up with Vladimir at a derelict building about three kms west of the checkpoint. They had travelled about 50 Kms in Chechnya but once they were in Ingushetia, they turned north, crossing into North Ossetia. Once more, the girls had to walk round the border checkpoint.
Vladimir had decided to stop the night at Mozdok, the first large community after Grozny, as there was a truck park there. With three good-looking teens, he expected to have a good time. As he had already screwed Natasha and Olga, he decided to have Tanya.
To most guys, screwing a pair of sisters was a raunchy but unattainable dream. To have the chance of doing three sisters was the sign of a real he man. Being able to boast to his comrades that he had screwed three sisters would be great. With the truck parked, he turned to the twins.
‘Take a walk you two.’
‘OK.’
Vladimir leant over and kissed Tanya on the lips, expecting her to kiss him back. When she didn’t, he snapped at her.
‘You might show a bit more interest, devochka.’
‘Sorry.’
She kissed him. Vladimir put his hands to her blouse, and popped the first button. His hands drifted down to the second button, which was soon undone. As he unfastened the third button, Vladimir was becoming irritated. The other two had been sexy little sluts, even before he had got them out of that shit hole called Grozny.
He had got them across two borders and soon they would be in the relative safety of the Stavropol region. This one might show some appreciation. Her kiss was crap, and as he was unbuttoning her blouse she sat there like a fucking log.
Had some Militsia bastard stopped him with three teenage tarts in the cab, it could have been awkward. Knowing the road, he had provided them with a story that he had given them a lift to the next village, but a couple of questions and that would unravel.
A militsia officer who decided to be awkward would have a field day, and it would cost him hundreds of roubles in bribes to avoid getting arrested and having the truck impounded. If that happened, then God help him. Vladimir decided that she needed to show some gratitude. He reached out, took hold of her hand and placed it firmly on his crotch. The stupid little bitch ought to be able to take the hint.
The fourth button was now unfastened, but her hand lay where he had put it. She had done fuck all with it. He loosened a fifth button, so that her blouse was open most of the way to her waist. Vladimir’s hand reached for the last button and popped it. He broke the kiss and stared at her angrily. She sat there looking miserable.
‘Take your fucking blouse off, devochka.’
The bitch sat up, eased the blouse off her shoulders and wriggled her arms out of it. As she was not wearing a bra, her tits were now on show, which was something. The other two had often had three or four buttons undone when they were driving along without having to be asked. This one had never popped a single button.
Had it not been for the other two, he would have dumped her long since. Instead she sat in his cab, doing damn all with a sullen expression on her face. He’d had enough. He reached across the miserable cow to the door handle, opened it, and pointed his thumb at the open door.
‘Fuck off you useless cow.’
She sat there, so he pushed her out of the cab, causing her to slither to the ground in an undignified heap. He threw her blouse after her and slammed the door. Five minutes later there was a knock on the window. It was the sexy one, Natasha. He rolled the window down.
‘Well?’
‘How about a fuck?’
She had been a randy little tramp ever since she had approached him in the truck park, and he had his cock well and truly buried in her cute little pussy within five minutes, but he was still in a bad mood.
‘Piss off.’
‘Vladimir…’
He looked and noticed her blouse was already unbuttoned all the way to her waist.
‘Vladimir, you can fuck me, or there’s the other place, and if you want Olga will join us as well.’
That was definitely interesting. He smiled at her, and she had the door open within a couple of seconds. She scrambled into the cab and then leaned out.
‘Olga, get your butt up here.’
She was already shrugging the blouse off her shoulders and before Olga had climbed into the cab, the blouse was lying on the seat and she was unfastening her skirt. Although his attention was focussed on Natasha, he saw the other girl out of the corner of his eye as she climbed into the cab.
‘Shit.’ He though, ‘she’s an even bigger slut than this one.’
Olga had stripped naked before she had even got into his cab. She smiled at him.
‘You can ass her or me. How about it?’
Now that was an attractive offer.