VOLUME 1: TOMSK
Chapter 1
It was so cold after the heat of the class. The cold that freezes your breath, stifles your nostrils and turns the world black and white. The sort of cold you never wait around in for long, unless instructed to.
I had been told to wait.
“The corner of Nikitina and Kyevskaya after your lecture,” the note said. I was not just cold but scared, standing there in the November dark, not knowing what to expect, but knowing enough that I could not ignore the instruction. I could feel all the suppleness in my body drain away as the ice worked its way under my coat and into my boots, just as a black Volga pulled up belching smoke and steam, its tyre chains grinding on the ice covered road, breaking the cocoon of silent struggle that real cold creates one.
A large man in the front opened the door a moment and signalled for me to get in the back. I grabbed the door and pulled hard, sliding into the smoky warmth. The driver, a rather handsome young man barely out of school, looked in his mirror to check that I had shut the door properly, then stuck the car noisily back into gear and pulled away.
Nothing was said. The man in the passenger seat smoked; the driver occasionally checked me out in his mirror, but had to concentrate on the road as we headed into the darkness out of town. I tried to follow the road he was taking by the botanical gardens, knew we were going south but swiftly got lost in the enveloping world of snow and trees. I knew better than to ask anything. And they did not offer. I could no longer work out whether my shivering was the cold thawing away or my growing terror. I almost heard the drops of cold sweat running down my neck in the hushed silence of the car.
I stared into the darkness, then at the dashboard, the speedometer and the clock. 40 minutes and the passenger pointed to a clearing to the right of the road, then floodlights shattered the darkness, illuminating a dark green wooden gate, which slid open automatically. The driver barely had to slow down and we were making our way through another mile or so of trees, before the warm lights of a dacha came into view.
“The back door,” the passenger said at the last minute, forcing the driver to skid for the first time, as the car manoeuvred its way along some tyre tracks round to the darker back of the house. The large man got out, opened my door and guided me to a small door in the dark facade, which he pushed me through. A blast of kitchen warmth and smells hit me, and the sound of work. One of three women, a maid of some sort, looked up at me entering with the blast of outside cold.
“You Daria Nikolaevna?” she threw out as she picked up a tray off the table in the centre of the room.
I nodded.
“Wait there then. They don’t want you until after dinner.” She disappeared out of the room, a picture of elegance in a slim black dress, heels clattering on the polished wooden floor. The two left behind ignored me totally as they dealt with preparing food. I simply stood by the door, clutching my leather work bag in front of me, feeling my dress now stick to my back in the heat. I wanted to cry.
I can’t remotely recall how long I stood there before the maid returned, pushed the empty tray onto the kitchen table and came across to me.
“What are you doing, still in your coat and boots? Let's look at you.” She towered over me in her heels, as she waited for me to remove the coat and boots, and slip on my pair of ballet shoes from my bag. “Is that the best you could do?” she made a face, as she examined the simple green cotton button up dress that I had decided to wear. I had worn it to the college dance in the summer. It wasn’t as if I had many dresses to choose from.
I cringed like a mouse under her inspection.
‘It’ll have to do I suppose. We’ve not got anything your size here,” towering over me she half laughed, flicking her blond hair towards the two oversize women on the other side of the table. “We should brush your hair out? They’ll like it loose.” If she could read the terror in my eyes as I mutely nodded, she ignored it as she led me down a wood-lined corridor away from the kitchen of this completely refurbished old dacha and into a beautifully tiled bathroom with modern recessed lighting. It was from the films: marble counter, the two of us staring into a large wall mirror. She handed me a brush and pointed to some blusher and lipstick. “You look as if you need a pee as well,” she whispered more supportively as she walked out.
I stood there looking at myself and began to cry in gulps. I was a mess, my long dark hair knotted and matted by the fur hat I had been wearing, and my face a pattern of ugly blotches from fear and tears. I can’t remember if I managed to pee before the maid returned, looked at me and took matters into her own hands. She sat me down on a stool, wiped my cheeks, then took the brush to my hair, efficiently but kindly. The rhythm of her brush through my long hair calmed me a little.
She stood me up and smoothed down my dress a bit at the front, a little frown on her face. I wanted to say something but nothing came out. Her look told me she knew what was coming, knew I was helpless, and knew by experience that any interference on her part would make things worse.
“Come then. They are ready for you.”
I followed her down the corridor, her heels echoing again as my quiet ballet pumps tiptoed behind. She knocked on a door at the end, heard a reply, opened it and, saying nothing more, signalled me to enter.
Inside I was hit by a further blast of heat from a large open fire. I closed my eyes a moment in response and stumbled into the middle of the room. In the light of candles I could only guess how many people were in the line of high-back chairs on the other side of a long dining table. After a while I made out four men and a woman sitting over the remains of their dinner, silently watching me work out what to do as my back scalded under the heat of the fire behind me.
“Dasha, isn’t it?” the man in the middle asked. He was smartly dressed in suit and tie, smooth, hair brushed back with an aquiline predatory face I would come to recognise. There seemed something “western” about him, though I had never directly met a foreigner before. “Thank you for coming.”
I nodded, still mute.
“I presume your friend Luba explained what you are doing here?”
I remained silent, my heart thumped in protest.
“Well did she?” Another slightly harsher voice from the shadows at the left end of the table fired.
“A little, yes.” I finally mumbled.
“What did she tell you?” The first man, all reasonable, asked. I fixed on a mole just above the corner of his pursed upper lip.
“She said you had seen us both dance together.” I tried to keep looking up but couldn’t. The fire behind me crackled. My voice was dragged out as a whisper. “You had taken her somewhere and told her if she did not ...do exactly what you wanted, her family would...” I stumbled to a halt. I thought of my mother and father back home. Luba had said these people had threatened to attack her mother if she did not do exactly what they demanded.
“Did she tell you what we wanted of her?”
I blushed, but defiantly shook my head.
“But you know, don’t you?” the second voice from the shadows asserted. I stood shaking, silent, a couple of tears began coursing down my cheeks. “And you still came.”
One of the other men grumbled. “She’s pretty enough when dancing but no use behaving like this,” gesturing at me dismissively.
“Not so fast, Petro. She still came, and look at her blush. She knows what she is here for.” There was a pause. The fire crackled. My tears reached my jaw. He called out, “Valentina!”
The maid entered immediately; she must have been hovering directly outside the door.
“Yes Sir.”
“Sort her out. If she won’t present properly, send her home in the car. She knows what happens then, don’t you Dasha? Ten minutes to decide. We haven’t got all night.”
Valentina gently took me by the arm and led me back down the corridor to the bathroom. I was in a total daze. She sat me down on the toilet, knelt before me and very calmly advised me on what I needed to do to please them, “unless you want to go home in the car.” I looked into her eyes. I could see a mix of pity, worry and fear.
I shook my head firmly.
Like an automaton, I let her stand me up, unbutton the front of my dress, and, picking up a pair of nail scissors, cut away my simple cotton bra and panties. She showed them to me, then theatrically dropped them in the bin. She waited patiently, while I haltingly did up the front of my dress again. I leant down and removed my ballet pumps. She said nothing but nodded approvingly. I deliberately bit the inside of my mouth until it bled, just as I had learnt to do before my dance performances, before she used a damp flannel to clean my tear stained face. She opened a bag of make-up, looked at me carefully then put it down.
“No, you don’t need any of that,” she whispered quietly. “God, you are so beautiful.” I straightened my body out as I had been taught in class, and Valentina leant forward and kissed me gently on the cheek. “I am sorry.”
I walked slowly by myself out of the bathroom and back down the corridor to the door. I thought ‘performance’, took a deep breath and knocked.
“Be brave,” were the last words I heard behind me as I opened the door.
Inside there was silence, even an intake of breath, as I walked barefoot to the middle of the carpet. I took up the crosse position, and looked at each of them, one by one, for the first time across the candle lit table.
I paused.
My hands did not tremble as I opened my dress button by button from the neck to the hem, before letting it fall to the floor.
I arched my naked body towards them.
“At your service.”
Chapter 2
The fire crackled behind me. No one spoke. Regular performing meant I sensed what people felt when they saw me on stage, petite and slim but somehow with real presence. I knew I had impact.
“Exquisite,” came a male voice I had not heard before, from the end of the table, gruffer and full of authority.
From opposite me, the woman at the table stood, her dark hair scraped back from her high forehead, her tall slim body sheathed in a tight burgundy dress. She lit a cigarette on a candle and walked round behind the men towards me.
“That is why I picked her out for you, Arkady,” she said lightly as she touched him on the shoulder in passing. I suddenly registered who she was, as she approached, openly appraising my body. “Her internal discipline shines through, doesn’t it? It creates such beauty on stage… and now in person.” She pulled on her cigarette, blowing the smoke over my head. Naked for the first time in front of strangers, I so wanted to run, but instead remained there absolutely still, even controlling my breathing so that the shape of my torso remained perfect. “See the control she has, the stillness. She can be very special.”
“She already is,” the man Arkady said. “Come here, Dasha, so I can see you properly.”
Like an obedient dancer, I relaxed a moment, then took the four steps across to stand and present again, directly in front of his knees. I could see he was older than the others with short steel grey hair and a closely trimmed beard. He picked up his wine, sipped it, looking me up and down. The heat on my skin covered my blush, but I knew I was not the first naked woman who had obeyed his orders.
“In future when you present to me, Dasha, it will be hands behind your neck and legs two feet apart, with your back arched. Ballet is pretty but to me, you are offering your body, not a dance. Do you understand?”
It took a moment to comprehend that ‘in future’ also meant now. As elegantly as possible, I took up the required pose, my eyes falling no longer daring to look at him. The rest of the room simply waited, the logs in the fire making the only sound. I realised that this Arkady was the seat of power in the room. Now I was frightened again, and knew I should be.
“So what did young Luba tell you about us?” He gestured vaguely to the group at the table. “Miss out nothing of what she said.”
I shivered. I spoke so quietly I could barely hear myself.
“Luba said she was told that unless she obeyed you and your associates in everything, at all times, that her mother would be taken away, and that that would just be a beginning.” I tried to keep my voice flat, but the terror that Luba had communicated was in every word.
“Yes…” he interrupted slightly impatiently. “And what did she tell you about what we wanted from her?”
I looked up. He was looking directly at me, his eyes hard as the cold wind outside.
“She was very upset. She did not really tell me much - just that you had told her that you now owned her and her body, and that you and your friends could...” I paused having never used the word with a man before, ”fuck her whenever you like.” I drifted to a halt. The last words came out unbidden. “A sort of slave, she said.”
Without warning, he put his hand on my left hip. The touch made me start back. “Stay in place, girl” he barked, his voice suddenly filling the room. I found my balance again. His hand remained on the hip, owning it.
“Luba used those words? Fuck and slave?”
“Yes, I think so. She was crying. And then at the end, she told me I had been selected too.”
Arkady smiled and ran a finger across my stomach from one hip to the other, trailing it delicately across the skin. I felt goosebumps. I struggled to remain still. “So, Dasha, you knew exactly what we might expect of you this evening? Nothing is a surprise?”
I gurgled.
“Well?”
“Yes.”
“You came here knowing you were going to offer yourself,” he paused, “to serve as a slave, to be fucked?”
His hand now lay flat on my stomach. I flushed bright, wanting to protest.
“Well Dasha? Did you come here knowing you were offering yourself to us?” He drew out the words, slowly and deliberately.
I stuttered, unable to admit it, even to myself, so conscious of his warm hand on my belly. “Yes.”
“From now on Dasha, I and my friends here are addressed as ‘Sir’. And Ludmilla there, who you know, is ‘Madame’. At all times.”
“Yes Sir.”
The others laughed quietly, relaxed now as if something critical had been settled.
“You may return to the carpet girl.” He pointed back to the middle of the room, then rang a bell sitting beside him on the table.
The maid again appeared in moments. I noticed the elegant curtsey, eyes lowered. “Valentina, bring the girl something to wear and a stool. Then we can talk to her properly.”
The woman, tall and controlled, was still there in front of the fire. Of course I knew her. Ludmilla Petrovna from the City Opera, who came every few months to assess us in class, and whom we all desperately tried to impress, knowing any chance of performing at a more professional level depended on her. I had never spoken directly to her. Now after I had taken my place back in the middle of the room, she ran her firm warm ringed hand up over my left breast before leaning down to pick my dress off the floor. Just as casually she dropped it into the fire.
I shook, ashamed, losing the dance poise that had protected me even in the new slave position. My mind reeled. Yes, Luba had told me what had happened to her, and what might be required of me. And yes, late the previous night, I had decided if what Luba said was true I had no choice but to come. That morning, before going to college. I had lied to my parents, saying I would not be back tonight, that I was going to stay with Luba tonight. I had put on my smartest dress, pocketing the message with the instructions of where to wait after lectures.
Now that dress was in the fire.
Words are one thing. Standing here totally naked now was something totally different.
Even more unsettling were the sensations I felt when Arkady left his hand flat on my stomach, and when Ludmilla Petrovna had stroked my breast. My body responded. I did not really understand how. Sensations were coursing through me, as the maid, Valentina returned, this time with a stool and a little silk robe. The men at the table were chatting among themselves, lighting cigarettes, filling their glasses, occasionally glancing over at me, as I stood there naked but lost in myself. I clicked back when Ludmilla Petrovna offered me the short robe, which she tied for me at the waist.
I felt totally helpless, as she ran a long dark painted finger across my lips and mouthed the words: “You are delicious.”
She pushed me slightly and I fell back on the stool. I was taking in the meaning of nothing going on around me. I barely knew where to look now the protection of my ‘performance’ had been stripped away. As the room settled again, the man who had started the evening clicked his fingers at me, to get my attention. “Concentrate please now, Dasha. What we tell you now is vital to your future.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I registered the man called Arkady summon Valentina, and watched her move over and elegantly sink to her knees beside him, arching her back to offer herself. “Valentina will be responsible for you, when you are with us in future, Dasha.” Listening to the man, Arkady casually unbuttoned the front of her corset style top, releasing two pale breasts that I saw were so much lusher than my own. Arkady ignored them, simply looking up at me: “That means Valentina will be punished for any disobedience you display while here.”
Valentina did not move, her breasts hung there on offer.
The aquiline man directly in front of me picked up: “Ludmilla Petrovna here, you know. She scouted you, and has collected all the information we need about your academic performance, as well as your prospects as a dancer. She tells us you are not only a fine performer, but an academic star at college.” I blushed and looked up at Ludmilla who was still standing over me. He continued: “So any chance of going on to a masters degree, here or anywhere else in the future is now in our hands.”
My stomach turned as the horror was becoming clear.
He moved on as if down a check list. “This is Major Vasily from the FSB, who has kindly provided us with your parents’ security files. You will perhaps not be fully aware of your father’s background and history, which if it were released, might just have him thrown in prison? And your mother’s work at the laboratory. Well, I think you are getting the picture.” He looked up and down the table at the men and then back at me, perched so small on the stool. “I am Genady, Master Arkady’s lawyer.” He carefully picked out a couple papers from the folder in front of him. “These are the freehold papers for your apartment building, which Arkady now conveniently owns.” He sounded almost apologetic. He lit and pulled deep on his cigarette, letting the smoke stream out of both nostrils. I tried not to notice that Arkady’s fingers were now idly playing with Valentina’s nipples.
“You are an intelligent girl. I think this makes clear your position?” It was a question.
I tried to pull the thin robe tighter as my brain processed all this. They had everything. I nodded.
“Answer please, Daria.”
“Yes.” There was a silence. He waited. “Yes, Sir.” He smiled, satisfied.
“Good so before we find out all about you, my dear, let us establish some simple rules for this new stage of your life. First and most important. You will tell no one about us, ever. Breaking this rule will result in the most serious punishments at our disposal. Not a word to anyone, not your parents nor your lecturers.” He glanced over at the Major. “There is of course no point in approaching the authorities.”
“Yes, Sir.” I slumped, totally defeated by these people corralling me out of the candlelight.
Ludmilia Petrovna cut in, sharp and cutting: “Posture girl. And you never close your legs in our presence.” Startled, I immediately tensed myself back into position on the stool. My obedience was immediate.
“Sorry, Madame.”
The Lawyer looked over at Ludmilla in satisfied complicity. “Next. Your life will not change. Your college courses will be followed by your ballet classes as usual. We will be following your progress in both, and expect only the best of you. When we require your service, you will receive instructions, which you will obey to the letter.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I was transfixed by their words, though out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t miss how Valentina had silently stood, hands behind her neck, legs apart, and that the Master’s hand was lost under her skirt. His eyes were still firmly on me; he chuckled when my head snapped back to my interrogators as if caught looking where I should not. The lawyer continued as if unaware of what was going on just a couple of feet away.
“Next, when you are shown this ring by anyone, you will obey them. In everything.” He had taken off a gold ring with a double A entwined on it. “The symbol of Arkady Antionovich’s family. Possession of an AA ring means the Master has given them the right to use you and your body, and to discipline you in any way they desire.”
I sat, an empty shell, simply keeping posture. What was I to do? I watched the Master’s hand working up under Valentina’s skirt, and saw how she was struggling to remain still. She gave out a moan. The Master was staring at me, hand clearly deep inside this woman, showing me what being a slave meant. I had never seen anything like it before. I looked away, but only found the calm faces of the men and the woman before me.
“Dasha?”
“Yes, Sir, I think I understand.”
I was so lost. I had no idea where I was. I had no idea what time it was. I was in another world. The Master now very deliberately pulled Valentina down, wiped his wet hand on her naked breast and grabbed her hair, pulling her head to his groin. I looked away immediately.
“Watch, Dasha.”
My head turned back as Valentina undid the Master, who held her head away so I could see his cock spring out. It was the first time I had ever seen a cock let alone an erection. I blushed and turned away again.
“Watch, I said, girl.” His tone hardened, and then he simply pulled the woman’s head onto the erection. I heard her gag, “You will soon learn to be as good as Valentina.”
“But I have no experience, Sir,” I blurted out, blushing to my roots. “I think you do not understand …”
“Quiet.”
The maid’s head worked back and forth under the total control of the Master’s hand, feeling his eyes fixed on me. “Open your robe and spread your legs for me.” I hesitated but undid the robe and opened my legs wide and found myself naturally turning towards him. He laughed. “Look at her. A natural.” With his cock deep in the maid’s mouth, his eyes roved over my offered body. After a while, he clearly finished in Valentina’s mouth. She quietly cleaned him up, did his trousers up and was beginning to rise. “Major…you want her?” He casually pushed the maid with his foot, and she crawled her breasts swaying to the other end of the table and went between the legs of the policeman. I realised the others had remained silent throughout. I watched, mesmerised.
The lawyer brought me back to reality.
“You have a boyfriend, Dasha?”
I tried to focus back.
“No, Sir.”
He now seemed to have produced a list of questions.
“When did you last have sex?”
I blushed and looked down. My shoulders hunched.
Arkady burst out laughing. ‘No! Ludmilla, you did not tell me she was a fucking virgin.”
‘I had no idea, Arkady. Are you a virgin, Dasha?”
I hung my head. Nodded.
“Speak up.”
“Yes, Madam,” I whispered, my shame again visibly up my chest, eyes stuck on the barely covered buttocks of Valentina rhythmically moving from under the table.
“Such a beauty and no one has had her yet. Your fellow students must be lining up for you. In their dreams at least.” The Master chuckled, “But you’ve sucked off one of them?”
I shrunk even deeper into my stool, shaking my head not wanting to answer, tears starting again.
“Position, girl,” in the tone of Polina Nikolaevna, my ballet teacher.
My body snapped back into place, neck straightened, back arched and legs spread wide. Ludmilla smiled over at Arkady. “You see, not quite so innocent. Look how she understands her beauty. And knows what it means.”
The lawyer merely continued and ticked a box: “So mouth, sex and anus untouched?”
I flinched. “No, sir. My last boyfriend. I took him in my mouth a few times.” I was mumbling. “But not really.” I of course meant I had never swallowed him. The men chuckled knowingly.
Ludmilla just studied me, a frightening look on her face.
“What discipline has Polina Nikolaevna used on. you? I presume your father has not beaten you?”
“No, Miss.” I looked up, surprised.
“And Polina?”
“A ruler, Miss, to teach us our body poses.” Valentina had meanwhile risen from under the table, discretely, not interrupting the interrogation, waited a moment her breasts still displayed over her open corset top. The interrogator looked at her a moment and shook his head, so she then curtsied and withdrew. I felt even more alone. My eyes found a point on the floor between my naked feet.
“Is that all she taught you about pain, Dasha?”
“No, Miss,” I mumbled. “She has what she calls ‘pain sessions’.”
Ludmilla took over. “Stand Dasha. En pointe.”
I automatically stood, high on my toes, my hands rising at my sides to find my balance. She took a step, pulled down the robe so I was naked again.
“Now please explain to my friends what the pain sessions involve and why Madame Polina uses them to teach you students.”
I had to find my breath.
Chapter 3
“Stay in position, girls,” snapped Polina Nikolaevna.
She walked along the line of five of us, using her ruler to tap us into better shape. She ran the ruler up my spine from the base to the neck, forcing my back forward. I could feel the sweat dribble down my back under my t-shirt. The toes were in agony but I held on. I was looking at myself in the barre mirror, smiling for an audience. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Tamara collapse, joining two other heaving girls on the floor.
There was only Luba left standing with me. We had not spoken since my evening two days before. Two years younger than me, I did not know her outside the ballet, as she had been my junior. Except in ballet class. Today she had turned up late but not looked at me once. My mind returned to the image of my naked body, arched and present to the Master and his ‘friends’. The loss of concentration meant I too lost balance and crumpled down.
It was amazing how pain swept in across my toes and feet and up my calves as I lost position. I watched as Polina Nikolaevna stood smiling in front of Luba, who was still holding position perfectly, gazing as required through the pain into her radiant face. She was so striking with her long limbs, endless arms and russet hair tied up in a bun. I imagined her before Master Arkady a moment. A twig to be snapped? No, that long supple frame would not break so easily.
I must have missed Madame Polina’s instruction for her to relax, as she sank gratefully to the floor, but I heard the instruction for the four losers to get up. “You four, we start again.”
Tamara and Elzbieta, the two others from my year both squealed in protest, thank god successfully. “Ok, that’s enough for tonight then. Face me. We all shifted round to face the elderly woman, in her loose blouse and leggings with her hair held in a paisley scarf. She had once, in the sixties, been the prima down river for the Novosibirsk ballet which danced in what the local authorities claimed was the biggest Opera House in the world. Now in these desperate times, when her pension was worth less than nothing, she drove us with the iron will of a survivor. I looked into her wrinkled face, that quietly showed pride in her proteges.
“On Thursday, Ludmilla Petrovna is visiting us again. So I want you all early and properly turned out.”
Without looking I could feel Luba’s response across the room. I kept my eyes fixed on Madame Polina. She could not know, could she? Or had the disaster of the past three years left her helpless in the hands of these people. “Off you go and change.”
She seemed in a hurry that evening to leave; she picked up her mink coat, perhaps the last valuable item she had managed to keep, slid on her valenki and hat and was out the door in a trice. The three other girls were their usual bubbly selves, excited about Thursday’s visitor, and made for the changing room next door. I deliberately slowed, unwinding the bandages on my left foot, as if examining the damage today’s session had done to my toes. Luba sat where she was, looking down. I realised she was crying, silently then heaving sobs. I didn’t know how to respond. Even though she was younger, she had become my model as a dancer since she had joined, full of drama and shape. I crawled across the floor and wound my hands round her from behind, trying to hold her tight. Her slender frame shook against me.
“I’m sorry, Dasha. So sorry. I should have warned you properly.”
I held her tight. “It’s not your fault.”
“What did they do to you?”
I wound my legs round the heaving body. I looked into the floor mirror at the two of us sitting there, bodies wound round each other.
“What did they do to you, Dasha?” She repeated.
“Nothing really. Not yet.” I whispered. She looked round, a little surprised, and lifted a strand of hair carefully from my face. I blushed at the delicate touch. “They told me what they expected, what they would do to me and my family if I told anyone...”
She cut across me. “They didn’t harm you?”
“Not yet, Luba but...” She began sobbing again.
“What can we do? I can’t. That woman is coming again on Thursday.”
I did not move. I simply tightened my legs, squeezing her and pulling her back against me.
“Did they harm you?“ I asked, not quite sure what I meant. “What happened to you?”
She squirrelled round to face me, tears coursing down her cheeks, searching my eyes. “They didn’t?”
“No, Luba. It was horrible. They made me strip before them, and told me what would happen, but they did not really touch me.” A little smile spread across her lips. A little relief and she hugged me. But now I was upset. “You must tell me, Luba. What did they do to you? What will they do to me?”
Curled up in the middle of the floor, together, she quietly told me of her two meetings. Both had been in an apartment in the middle of town, not out at a dacha. At first, there had been just three of them, Master Arkady, Ludmilla Petrovna and the lawyer, whose name neither of us knew. They had made the same threats, asked the same questions and then made her dance naked for them. The young lawyer had seemed particularly excited. At that meeting, she had been told to give me my instructions, as well as told to break up with her boyfriend. She talked of how she had thought of telling her mother, of running away, but nothing seemed possible. I stroked her cheek; we were both shaking with fear.
The second call had come last night. They had left a message at her college, knowing that with her final exams basically over, she was free. I looked at her.
“Does everyone help them?”
She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. She had been picked up outside the college an hour later. It sounded like it was the same car and same men who had delivered me. They took her to one of the new apartment blocks in the middle of town with full security fencing and guards; inside the apartment were the lawyer along with Madame Ludmilla.
Luba stopped, staring at me. I wound my legs even tighter around her, no longer trembling; we were alone together now.
“You have to tell me. I must know, Luba.”
She looked as if she was working something out. She leant forward and kissed me on the mouth. It was so direct and surprising, she was able to release herself, standing up and reaching down to pick me up. She silently pulled me along into the changing room next door. The only trace of the other girls was a trail of steam from the showers. Luba unbound her shoes, pulled off her t-shirt and tights and stood there naked waiting for me. I hesitated a moment, marvelling at her body, then stripped too, at which point she led me by the hand into the old green-tiled shower room. Her control comforted me.
The others had left a mess of soap on the floor, and I almost slipped, but Luba pulled me under a shower head, and turned it on as hot as it would go. She picked up some soap and began running her hands down my torso, pulling me close to her as she rubbed down my back. It was not sensual. I barely knew how to respond as she scrubbed me as if trying desperately to cleanse me. After a moment she handed me the soap, and I began to do the same. Feeling her skin for the first time, her long arms, her tight breasts with proud nipples and flat stomach. I now had a real response, knowing that nothing else would save us. We were all we had. Suddenly she stayed my hands and stood there under the streaming hot water, I clung to her, feeling the bones of her ribs. She looked at me, took my hand round behind her and laid it on her buttocks. I looked up at her, as my fingers found welts and I gradually began to understand what they were. She turned round silently leaning against the wall so I could see the five stripes across the white skin off her finely honed buttocks.
She turned the shower off, pulled away and, picking up a towel, went and sat down on the changing room bench. I found my towel and sat opposite our knees almost touching in the cool of the changing room. She shivered and began speaking again.
“Just the two of them in this modern apartment with views over the city. Ludmilla told him she would get me fitted out, and led me into the bedroom.There was a whole range of clothing on the bed. She simply ordered me to strip so she could dress me. I hesitated and she slapped me straight across the cheek, telling me all disobedience would be punished…”
Almost mechanically, Luba stood up, and began dressing. As she turned away to pull up her panties, I could really examine the live welts across her tight buttocks and the top of her thighs. My finger reached out and traced one livid line across her left buttock. Luba froze. I pulled back my hand immediately.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
She resumed pulling up her panties, then tights and jeans.
“There were three dresses and a pair of high heels. I have never ever touched any clothes so delicate. “From Moscow,” Ludmilla said as I stripped for her. “Let’s do a little fashion show for our friend next door, shall we?”
Luba began towelling her long red hair. Quiet for a moment then went on.
“First she made sure the shoes fitted. So high. I was suddenly taller than her and almost fell over. She told me that we would have practice walking in them, but ran a hand up the back of my thigh, showing me what it did for the shape of my legs.”
Luba looked at me for a moment. “The way she touched me. It was like she owned me.” I nodded, still sitting just in my towel, getting cold but locked there motionless.
“Then she picked up a green slip that was cut down almost to here, “ she pointed to her navel, “and barely covered my sex when I stood straight. She told me to present to the man next door. He was sitting in the living room, sprawled on a sofa waiting with a glass of wine.
“Did he have a hard nose, blonde hair and a mole above his mouth?”
She nodded. She blushed. “Yes, he’s quite cute looking, isn’t he? But... I wobbled in towards him, and he laughed that I had a lot of work to do on those heels, even if I was a dancer. He made me stand before him and I knew my sex was simply open in front of his face. He made me turn like a model and told me I should learn to curtsey when presenting to them.”
She stood looking at me, now fully dressed and ready to leave. “Come on get dressed. You’ll get ill.” I stood up, dropped the towel and began putting on my clothes. She looked, and shook her head. “You know you are the real treasure for them. I am just another decoration really.” I hid my embarrassment in the towel as I dried out my hair.
“So why did they beat you, Luba?” I whispered. We were now standing dressed in our boots, holding our coats before going into the freezing dark that awaited us outside. She blanched a moment and stroked my cheek.
“It was Ludmilla. After I had modelled a silk Chinese dress and long ballgown, the guy signalled he wanted me to suck him. I begged him not to, told him I had only done it a few times, and hated it. Ludmilla walked up behind me and grabbed me by my hair and spun me round. “You clearly haven’t understood your place now, girl. You obey immediately. She dragged me over to a chair and forced me to bend over the back and hold the legs. She came in front of me holding a cane. After five strokes, you get on your knees and go to our friend, apologise and beg him to accept your little mouth.”
I grabbed her and tried to hug her into forgetting, but she stood there so stiff, it was impossible.
“Is there anything we can do?” I looked up into her honey brown eyes. She shook her head slowly, and hugged me back. “I will do anything to try and protect you but I cannot see a way.”
“We must go now or we’ll miss the bus.”
She took me by the hand and we wound our way silently down the cold dark stairwell to the frozen street.
Chapter 4
By the end of the class on Thursday, I was shattered. It was not physical exhaustion, but a tightness that had grabbed at me the moment Ludmilla Petrovna walked in the studio, pulling one of those modern little suitcases on wheels. Luba stiffened too. We had discussed deliberately missing the class, but agreed that would make things worse. Madame Polina had greeted Ludmilla like an old friend and offered her a seat in the corner, where she settled, sipping from a little plastic bottle of water. Watching.
The two women nattered to each other all the way through our exercises but were silent when the accompanist joined us, and we performed our solos. At the end all five were gasping from the desire to impress, gulping from our water bottles.
Madame Polina looked proud but nervous. We knew she had been a magnificent dancer in her time, far superior to Ludimila Petrovna. But these days, more than ever, actual survival depended on such contacts. Smiling benevolently on the older woman, Ludmilla passed comment on each of us, referring to the details, hands, fingers, necks, that turn a decent dancer into something more.
“Clearly, only Luba and Dasha are ready to perform at the Winter Gala. And only with a lot more hard work.” The other girls generously turned to us thrilled, and Madame Polina simply beamed. It was difficult to respond as we knew she was drawing us deeper into their trap. I realised Polina knew nothing, simply desperate for Ludmilla’s blessing on her teaching.
Then came what Luba and I had dreaded before class.
“Can I keep the two of them back a while, Polina Nikolaevna?”
When Madame Polina made to remain, Ludmila dismissed her with a peremptory gesture. “You should get home, Polina Nikolaevna. Isn’t your husband ill again?” Shock flashed across Madame’s face. Luba glanced at me. They know everything about everyone. With real delicacy, Ludmillla found Madame’s coat, and escorted her out along with the other students.
Alone in the room, Luba and I said nothing. When the others had left the changing room, Ludmilla returned. “Good, now some real work with you.” Her tone had changed. “Stand, strip and present.”
It brooked no challenge. In silence we removed our ballet shoes and tights and t-shirts, and I followed Luba as she stood, her hands behind her neck, legs a couple of feet apart. It was shocking seeing ourselves in the wall mirror, so totally on display. Ludmilla unzipped her suitcase, and laid out two sets of high heels, a couple of silk slips and a cane. Carrying the cane, she began walking around us. Behind Luba, she leant down to trace one of the welts that still left a light mark across her buttocks.
“I told you they would recover quickly.”
‘Yes, Madame.” There was not a trace of resistance in Luba’s voice.
“Did she tell you why she was beaten, Dasha?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Well I hope then, it taught you a valuable lesson as well as her.”
She took a step back and studied us in the mirror. “Such a pair.” She ran her hand down Luba’s back. “You, too tall but truly striking with your hair and fabulous limbs. And you, Dasha, older but somehow younger…” She emphasised my name, and reached round and ran her hand up my front to my little breasts, all the time watching her hand in the mirror. She smiled as her fingers found my hard nipples. “As Master Arkady said, exquisite and so innocent. Does Luba know you are a virgin?”
I shut my eyes trying to ignore her, and her hand. She twisted my nipple painfully. “Well, does she?”
“No, Madame,” I mouthed.
“Well she does now. And very precious that makes you. We have lots to do. Luba, get on those heels. Saying that she knelt down beside me, picked up the two sandals and gently put them on. Good, we got the right size.” I had never worn heels anything like these. The effect on my body felt immediate, as my tendons stretched and I had to find a new balance of hips and shoulders. I stumbled for a moment. I felt tall, but giggled when I looked up at Luba who towered even more.
Ludmilla sat down on the chair, rested the cane across her lap, “Practice on them for ten minutes. Then we can move on.” Luba and I were trying to find confidence, while walking totally naked our bodies reflected in two mirrors. Ludmilla picked up a copy of one of the new fashion magazines and casually leafed through it, one of the first copies of Russian Vogue. I had never actually seen one on sale in Tomsk.
“Much better, Dasha,” Ludmila said looking up, and I registered that by not thinking too much, my body was adapting. I studied Luba’s body as her tall frame also relaxed into the heels, but avoided any eye contact. Her skin was so pale as to be almost translucent at the hips or down the spine, but she had enough tone and muscle never to seem emaciated. I knew when she danced that her breasts and buttocks had just enough shape to give her a real elegance, finished by long hands and fingers that seemed to stretch out the musical notes they responded to. Now lifted by heels the body looked animal.
“You see how quickly they will become second nature.” She laid down the magazine. “Tonight, a little work on how you present yourselves as slaves. How you walk, kneel and curtsey. We must have you ready for the after gala party.” A simple statement. If she noticed me flinch at the word slaves, she did not show it, reaching down and picking up the two gauze halter slips. She handed the larger to Luba, explaining that these would be what was often used in service. “Of course, that is when you are permitted clothing.” They floated, reaching just below our sexes and barely covering our breasts with the thinnest plaited string holding them up behind our necks.
“So position one - presentation, you both know.”
“Yes, Madame,” we both chimed to her obvious satisfaction.
“You understand the position? You are offering your whole body, awaiting use. Your eyes are always open but lowered. Your mouth is always a little open. Your hands are locked behind your neck to help arch your back so your breasts are presented properly.” She casually lifted the hem of my dress with the tip of her cane. “Your legs are parted to shoulder width, to give easy access to both your holes. She casually tapped up between my legs, then frowned slightly.
“You shave?”
I mumbled a reply, and she tapped me again on the sex. “Speak up, girl.”
“Yes Madame, for performance reasons.”
She removed the cane and lifted the front of Luba’s dress.
“We did discuss having you grow a little bush here. Master Arkady was amused at the thought of a little splash of colour down there, but in the end decided not. I will book you both in for a full waxing next week.” What had we become? Objects to be shaped and designed? “Well, what do you say, ungrateful girls?” Her cane flashed up between Luba’s legs. She screamed and buckled down to protect herself.
“Thank you Madame,” we both scrambled out.
She waited as Luba struggled to recover position. “Always remember your manners.” She picked up a bottle of water, and sipped it. “You will thank your betters for everything, even your punishments.”
“Yes Madame,” we both chimed.
The second position is kneeling to present. “Dasha, you saw the maid kneel to present the other night. “First describe it, then show Luba, please.”
My mind flashed back to watching Valentina kneel, how the Master had so casually had simple access to her breasts. “A straight back, Madame, knees about a foot apart, and an arched back.”
“And apart from the good manners of kneeling before your betters, what do you think it serves for?”
“Access to our breasts, Madame.” I almost felt how her hands had explored them earlier.
“In your case, not of much use,” she mocked, “But Luba’s little apples are delicious. The position also allows access to your mouths. Now show us.”
I began to kneel, one knee at a time. The cane swiped across the top of my right thigh. “Not like that...some elegance. You lower yourself like a snake, bringing your feet together, keeping your back straight and head high, but eyes lowered. Try again.” I returned to first position and began again, only to be hit again, a little harder. It took six goes before she was satisfied. She totally ignored the tears rolling down my cheeks. When happy she simply reached out and grabbed both nipples through the thin material as if to show the practicality of position two.
“Now you Luba.” It only took three goes for her to slide gracefully down. “Grace is expected, particularly from dancers like you. Master Arkady is a connoisseur.” She took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. We knew it was not permitted in the studio, but she knew we were not going to say anything. She blew a smoke ring, examined it for a moment, then turned back to us.
“Now position three - we call it total offering. From position two, you swivel round, and in one movement, pivot forward so your lips are kissing the ground, and your buttocks are raised high, and while there are variations, in this one you then reach back and part your buttocks wide in total offering.“
I was so lost in myself by now, I could barely register. Ludmila twisted the nipple again. “The full opening of your cunt and anus is all in front of you, Dasha, but this little slut has already had that boyfriend of hers up the arse.” Her sudden vulgarity was even more shocking. “Haven’t you, Luba?”
The blood rushed up her pale skin to her neck.
“What was his name, again Luba?”
“Piotr, Madame,” she mumbled, totally humiliated. I had an image of them, crossing the grass outside school together in the summer. He was known as one of the most brilliant singers. All my year fancied him.
‘But no longer, I hope Luba? You have told him you no longer need him up your arse?” Her aggression and the tears flowing down Luba’s cheeks, brought a moment of rebellion, but Madame was expecting it and dug her nails viciously into my nipple. “Don’t you dare move.” She then slapped me, knocking me off balance. I scrambled back into place, as she asked Luba again.
“No Madame, he will not be using my arse again.” She was sobbing.
“Now pull yourselves together. Or do you need the cane to help you concentrate again? Position three Luba - now.”
Somehow Luba managed to swivel and dip and rise in what seemed to be perfect fashion, ending up in the most obscene position I had ever seen in my life, with her fingers separating her buttocks wide. Her puckered anus stared out, and beneath the lips of her sex, slightly apart. Ludmilla chuckled and ran the tip of her cane between the lips. “I see you are enjoying our session, Luba?” She pulled the cane back and offered the wet tip to my nose. Just as quickly she struck down hard between the buttocks. Luba screamed but just managed to keep position. “I asked a question, Luba. You really must learn to answer.”
‘What Madame?”
“I asked if our little session was arousing you?”
“Yes Madame. Thank you Madame.”
“Dasha, can see that you are, can’t you?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Now back to two, Luba.” Astonishingly Luba managed the shift from positions two to obscene three a couple more times without the cane. Ludmilla commented for my benefit how wide the buttocks needed to be held “to provide full sight and access to both holes.” Finally she allowed Luba to relax, releasing the buttocks and laying her hands beside her face.
“Now Dasha, position three.”
It took two or three goes to get it remotely right, but Ludmila for some reason was patient. Once the bottom of the dress got caught in my hands; once my knees were not wide enough apart. I had never felt so humiliated pulling my buttocks apart for her. I know I was fully reflecting in the mirror but fortunately the position permitted you to close your eyes. I felt the tip of the cane at my anus and jumped out of my skin. The cane flashed down between the cheeks. I had never felt anything like it before, dropped my hands and screamed. As I scrambled back into position, as Ludmilla laughed: “Both of you had better learn fast that in any position, we are free to touch, probe or use.”
“Yes, Madame,” I whimpered.
“Stop whimpering, I can see you are enjoying it, just like the slut Luba.” I felt the tip of the cane run up and down between the lips of my sex, and became aware of how wet I was there. My brain was so focused on everything else, I hadn’t felt it. Now with the cane down there...
“Luba, position two please.” She always sounded so reasonable with her demands. “Now, use your fingers to feel how much Dasha is enjoying this.” There was silence. Then a swish of the cane and Luba screamed. Seconds later I felt two fingers between my labia, touching and prodding. It was too much, and I collapsed into a ball on the floor, hugging myself in shame.
There was silence apart from the two of us sobbing. I waited for the cane, but after what seemed an eternity, Ludmilla stood up.
“I think that is enough for tonight. A good session.”
Somehow her voice managed to coax to sit up, even though we all knew she had gone too far too fast. She started packing her bag and motioned for us to hand back the dresses and heels.
“Can’t have your parents asking awkward questions, can we?” she joked. Astonishingly she had everything zipped away in moments, leaving us naked clutching our knees on the floor. As she swept out of the room. “Friday at 9. Don’t be late.”
The spring door swung back with a bang. Silence. Even our sobbing stopped. I raised myself and crawled over to Luba, and felt her long arms reach round and cradle me, pulling me ever so gently into her lap. When I turned my head to look up, I saw rising welts. “She beat you on your breasts?” I shouted in horror. Luba put a finger on my lips to silence me, then followed it with her lips. I pulled away instinctively, but then returned it, feeling her soft lips on mine. I looked around in fear that someone might see us, absurd given what had just happened. But she would not let me go, as her tongue explored my mouth. I felt myself melt into her, and returned the kiss, then pulled away and gently kissed my way along the welt across her breasts, running my tongue gently over the damaged skin. I then returned to drink in the mouth again, my heart beating. For ten minutes we breathed gentleness into each other without saying a word.
We said virtually nothing as we dressed in the half light of the changing room, this time without showering. I think neither of us had any idea of what to say, of what this meant and if there was anything we could do. As we finally got out of the building all wrapped up in coats and scarves into the bitter wind, she saw her bus coming. She gave me a brief kiss, then charged across the icy road, a whirlwind of legs and arms. I heard a laugh in one of the gusts.
I stood on the sidewalk immobile amidst the banks of cleared snow. A maelstrom of emotions. Terror. Fear. Pain. And now? I could feel my heart bursting my ribcage through my layers of clothing, thumping as if trying to get out. I was so confused. I had never even thought of kissing a girl like that.
I began fighting my way up Frunze Avenue eastwards with the wind on my back, as cars, buses and lorries churned past the other side of the snowy barrier. I was walking home. Insanity at -30 C. I was alone in the swirling dark but had to sort myself out before facing my parents. What was happening? The beat inside me seemed all about Luba; her smell, her touch, her mouth. But I knew the heat and wetness further down that was cooling even as I walked, was also about something else. I could still feel the tip of the cane between my legs, and then the stroke of the cane itself. Ludmilla Petrovna’s face came floating back into my head. A taste of hate settled in my mouth when I saw the welts across Luba’s buttocks and then breasts. But she too had been aroused as Ludmilla delighted in making me smell on her fingers. And buried at the bottom of this morass of emotions was the endless nightmare as the faces of the Master and his Lawyer rose up again, men who now claimed me as their object.
Head down I fought on, as the centre gave way to the housing blocks where I lived, tears and snot freezing even under the scarf, and the cold grasping at me under and through my clothing. By the time I got to our tatty four story block on Kursky, I was calmer. In the dark the stairwell felt familiar with its damp reek of cooking cabbage, tobacco and urine. I climbed to the third floor, wiped my eyes, and was more than able to greet my mother at the door with the amazing news that I had been invited to participate as a soloist in the City Winter Gala.
A dream come true.