Day 03: Veronika’s Capture – Erotic Horror – Free Sex Story

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Author’s Note: This is the third chapter the Goth’a series. This chapter is told from the perspective of Veronika, but there is a short prologue beforehand that takes place before the incidents of the 1st day. Afterwards, the events take place on the 3rd day of the group’s arrival at the monastery. If you have not done so, please consider reading Day 1 Ashley’s Arrival and Day 2 Sophie’s Session to better understand the context.

Word of warning: ultimately this is a story about corruption and madness. There are scenes of non-consent, bondage and violence. The stories are lengthy, but I wouldn’t have told it any other way. Otherwise, please enjoy!

Day 0 Veronika’s Mission

I surveyed the maps and satellite imagery carefully. There could be no room for mistakes. This mission had been marked as highly critical by the higher-ups within the FSB, rumors being that even the deputy director had taken a personal interest in its success. Any failure was sure to end in dismissal, or worse, enhanced questioning. I shuddered at the thought. No. Failure was not an option. There was only one path forward. Through success.

The maps showed much of what I already knew; We had been surveilling the area nonstop for the past three months, ever since we had located it. The compound itself was divided into three main divisions; the church, the garden and the manor, all of which were surrounded by tall stone walls. They weren’t impregnable or difficult to scale, but presented an obstacle nonetheless. The church’s main bulk rested upon the cathedral situated on the southern end of the complex, in which a network of sprawling wooden and stone construction shot off the larger structure towards the north. A cloister could be seen in the middle of it all, a few green pixels wide, along with an assortment of dark gray roofs and rectangular tiles, punctuated by conical shapes marking towers and turrets. It was assumed that these branching areas housed the dormitories, the kitchens, the dining halls, and all the other ordinary accommodations that supported day-to-day activities.

Bordering the church structure on the western side of the compound was a large garden, framed by what seemed to be connected pillars, creating a colonnade. White points dotted the entirety of the green expanse within. Surveillance had indicated that each white speck was actually a carving or stonework statue, although given the number of dots present, the scale must be vast in scope. Modest estimates placed the age of the garden to at least a hundred years old.

However, the most mysterious structure was the manor, in which very little intelligence had been gathered regarding its construction, its material source, or even its exact age. Surveillance had revealed a gothic appearance, but surface scans of the building returned mostly noise, and thermal scans were completely unable to penetrate its walls. Moreover, electromagnetic signals seemed to bounce off its exterior in strange patterns, almost at random, unexplainable through physics and confounding our scientists. The result was a visual halo about the structure, and a blurring effect that seemed to obscure or twist the image, which had disoriented long-range visual observations to the point that our scouts had reportedly felt nauseous when viewing it from afar.

“It must be the work of the Americans.” Andrei spoke up beside me, his handsome lean face in deep concentration as he also studied the maps. “Here, and here.” He indicated two areas near the manor that were slightly darkened. “We see the anomalous phenomenon appear again. But they have since shifted from our previous scans.”

“How long?” I asked.

“Two months ago.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Andrei shrugged. “It cannot be helped. The weather in this area is not conducive to satellite imaging. The clouds are endless and if not that, there is always a persistent fog that obscures everything. Also, you know that radar imaging is worthless. All that we receive is jumbled noise.”

That I did know, another curious phenomenon that couldn’t be explained. The anomalies persisted to about one mile outwards from the compound in all directions, even upwards, but seemed to slowly dissipate beyond those limits. Another curious aspect was the inability of radio communications to travel within this space, as the degradation of signal was almost immediate. It was as if a targeted jammer had been placed within the monastery grounds, and could phase out specific frequencies at will. Even stranger was that this effect was not consistent, as a deteriorating signal one day could be stronger the next, only to completely die the day after. I agreed with Andrei that the technology on display here was beyond anything that we had seen before, and the only plausible nation that could be responsible for it was the United States. Some of our scientists were skeptical of even that, hinting at a more extraterrestrial or supernatural source, but they kept their suspicions quiet. It did sound ridiculous, after all.

“It will be complete radio silence from within the compound, Natalya.” Andrei added, as if to unsettle me further. “All our current experiments to pierce this signal gap has been unsuccessful.”

“Why? Are you going to miss me?”

“A little.” Andrei’s mouth curled into a smirk. Years of working together since the academy had strengthened the rapport between us. Although we were only colleagues (friends were not something that the FSB looked upon with approval), we knew we could depend on one another during dangerous sorties. That was probably why high command had paired us together so frequently. We worked well together, and were as close to friends as colleagues could get. Comrades, then.

“You nervous?” Andrei looked at me sideways, trying to provoke me.

“Me? Of a few nuns? Perhaps they should send you instead, seeing as how concerned you are for my safety.”

“No, it wouldn’t be fair. I wouldn’t want to rob you of such an easy assignment to add to your record.”

I snorted and looked back at the files scattered across the table. The fluorescent lamps flickered overhead, the only source of light in the windowless room. “Any other word from high command?” I asked seriously this time.

“No. Your mission is still the same. Get in, find out what you can, then get out. Military authorization has been ruled out. The situation is too delicate, and there are too many unknowns. We must ascertain hard intelligence before we move forward. We cannot raise the suspicions of the Americans, or whomever may be in charge of this compound, that we know and that we are watching.”

“So… this religion. Are they an actual threat, then?”

“That information is classified and is being handled by another branch. All that we need to do is focus on the gathering of intelligence.”

“Any new information on the other participants of this retreat?”

Andrei waved to a stack of folders in the corner of the desk. “You are Free to review their dossiers again, if you wish. I have made contact with the targets to assess their reported psychological profiles, unbeknownst to them, of course, and there is really nothing out of the ordinary. The only one that was difficult to ascertain was this Isabella Dos Santos, given her lack of history and her controlled emotional state. Still, she did not display any level of aggression or technical know-how, and appears in all respects to be what she claims, a simple nun.”

“What about this American girl, Ashley Brooks? Could she be a spy?”

Andrei snorted derisively. “Either she’s the best spy in the world, or she’s exactly what she pretends to be; a foolish, obnoxious young girl with only a pretty face.”

“Ah, I know you have a soft spot for those.”

“Yes, I do. That’s why I worry about you.”

I made a motion to punch him in the ribs, but he easily dodged my attack. “You’re going to regret that, Andrei,” I tried to sound menacing, even though I was amused.

“Yes. I regret a lot of things, Natalya. But not working with you.” Smooth. Andrei was a good spy.

I turned back towards the table, running through all the possible scenarios in my mind. “My bags have been packed, then?” I asked Andrei offhandedly.

“Of course. With the usual. PSS pistol with silencer, standard issue. Two magazines. Gas injection knife. Concealed combat knife. One set of lockpicks. Three flares. One stun grenade. One satellite radio. One flashlight. Binoculars. And of course, a cyanide capsule, just in case.”

“Just in case.”

“I heard the trick is to swallow it.”

“Very funny. Why include the radio if it doesn’t work?”

“If you manage to get beyond the signal gap, you can use it then. Otherwise, you can signal with the flares if you require emergency extraction.”

“Hmm… what’s the situation on the dead drops?”

“Ah yes, about that. We are going to have to take a more traditional approach.”

I squinted warily at Andrei. “What do you mean?”

“High command has determined that the use of dead drops is not an option. The risk of discovery is too great. Instead, we will be providing you with these,” he held up what seemed to be an unremarkable pad of letter paper, “so that you can let us know what you have found. Similarly, our messages will be delivered to you via ordinary mail.”

“You have got to be joking. Was this Boris’ idea?”

“You know I Love a good joke, Natalya, but unfortunately I am not joking here. And yes, our mutual friend did sign off on it. Back to the matter at hand, however; I would like to mention that the paper is quite special. You see, if you take a certain special pen,” he held up what seemed to be an ordinary fountain pen, “and write on the paper, it will leave an undetectable mark that can only be seen under special UV light, such as the one your flashlight is capable of producing.”

“Is that it? So far it sounds like a child’s idea of encoded messages.”

Andrei feigned a hurt expression. “You really have no faith in me, Natalya. OK. Within your satellite radio there is loaded a set of codes. Each code is specific to a time and day, so please follow the instructions carefully. You will write in that code with this special pen your message, and then deliver it. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to write a normal letter on top of your message, just to make it seem natural.”

“Anything else?”

“One last thing. Don’t shine the UV light on the paper if you can help it. The ink in that pen has a certain half-life once spilled, and is extremely sensitive to exposure.”

“Sounds radioactive.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

I ignored his quip. “I guess this means I will have only a few moments to decode any messages you send me before my UV light renders it obsolete.”

“That is correct. The mail is delivered and collected every Wednesday, along with supplies and other material, via a bus route operated by one Mihai Hofer. This you know.”

“Any updates on the other targets of interest within the compound?”

“Unfortunately, no. They are a mystery to us now as they were six months ago. They have no background profile, they do not appear in any known database, and any facial recognition search yields no results.” His expression turned serious. “This is a complete unknown, Natalya, and utmost caution is advised. Engage only if necessary.”

I looked over the faces of the monastery inhabitants again. An old man, a slightly younger but stern looking woman, two younger girls, a dark-skinned man, and a giant ogre-like male. The last one had given me a bit of a pause, judging by his size, but the blank expression on his face as captured on film portrayed a stupefied and dull intellect. Perhaps not that bright then. All in all, they did not look too difficult to handle, but in this line of business, looks can be deceiving.

“Are you certain only these residents remain?”

“Yes. After the egress of the last group of worshippers, there has been no further activity. All that remains is for your entourage’s arrival.”

I nodded. There was nothing new then.

“OK. Anything else?”

“Final check. Who are you?”

“I am Veronika Poletov, a twenty-six-year-old from the Institute for Slavic Studies in Rostov, Russia, located in the Yaroslavl Oblast province.”

“What do you do?”

“I am a student at the Institute, focusing on the history of ancient Slavic religions. The Union Council for Student Culture sent me to the monastery to learn and study their religion. I am to bring this knowledge back to my Institute for further dissemination and analysis.”

“What was your childhood like?”

“I grew up in a small village near the outskirts of Chelyabinsk. My father was a mechanic, and my mother was a housewife. At an early age I studied music and dance, and enrolled in the Russian State School for the Arts. I moved to Moscow at the age of 16, after which I enrolled in Moscow State University, studying history.”

“Good. What happened afterwards?”

“I decided to go home to spend time with my family for a year, as my father’s health was failing. Afterwards, I continued to pursue my studies at the Institute for Slavic Studies three years ago, under the tutelage of one Dr. Vladimir Ivanov, while performing administrative work.”

“Any siblings?”

“None. I am an only child.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Who do you admire? What are your hobbies?”

“I still Love music and dance since I studied it at any early age. I am fond of Tchaikovsky and Mussorgsky. I admire Tolstoy’s work, and in my spare time, I Love to reread his stories due to their human element.”

“What do you think of communism?”

I paused. “I have mixed feeling regarding Marxism and socialism, in general. I try not to pay too much attention to politics, for I feel it attempts to obfuscate and mislead most of the time.”

“What do you think of the United States?”

“I feel they are a conflicted country. They celebrate their freedom, but cannot grant it to many of their own. However, their story is still one of success, and everyone should take note of what they have achieved, despite their failings.”

Andrei nodded approvingly. “Well, I think you are ready, Veronika.” He uncorked a bottle of vodka, poured two glasses, handed me one, and raised it in a toast.

“To the motherland!”

“To the motherland.” I downed the bitter fluid, wincing as it burned my throat.

Andrei gave me a salute, his posture stiff. “Good luck and good fortune! See you on the other side, Veronika.”

Returning his salute, I turned, grabbed my bag, and left.

Day 3 Veronika’s Capture

I stared at the painting in silence. Something about it was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I felt it as surely as I was of anything. Just because I couldn’t see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. The painting itself was beautiful, exquisitely composed, in that romantic era style that so emphasized beauty of form, expressiveness of emotion, and fervor of imagination. A beautiful young raven-haired woman, middle eastern in descent, with exquisitely carved jewelry adorning her slim neck and large shimmering earrings hanging from within her hair, was depicted in seductively soft colors as she strode down from a gilded throne bedecked in jewels and laced with gold. Her robes were crimson red, as they fell about her body hanging from one shoulder, revealing a midriff that was lean and smooth, on top of which were exposed two small voluptuous breasts, with one partially hidden behind the falling robe. A golden crown rested atop her head, while her cool queenly gaze overlooked a throng of worshippers.

And worshippers there were. Men of all shapes and sizes, from the strong to the weak, from the young to the infirm, all knelt and grasped at her feet with ardent zealousness. Their adoring eyes looked up at her as if she was a goddess, pleading, begging, mouths open in pathetic supplication, tears streaming from their eyes, as they made to prostrate themselves before her. It had invoked such an indescribable feeling in me when I had first seen it, that I had been mesmerized by the rawness of it for what seemed an eternity. The painting was located deep within a dark alcove of the cathedral hall, away from prying eyes, almost as if placed there in secrecy. The plaque underneath simply read “Jezebel”.

I turned away from the painting reluctantly, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. The entire monastery was thick with it. On multiple occasions I had imagined scurrying shapes just on the edge of my vision, barely out of reach, but when I turned to face them, there would be nothing. On top of that, the fact that I had not yet discovered even a hint of anything abnormal was suspect on its own. Usually there were telltale signs of covert activity, but everything here was too unassuming, too perfect. It was as if the entire place had been scrubbed clean purposely to hide its secrets. Yet my instincts blared nonstop. Something was watching me. Judging me. Waiting for me to let my guard down. If local superstitions were to be believed, this monastery was cursed, but I was never one to let fantasy overrule logic.

I looked down at my watch. It was almost 8 AM. I had finished my breakfast early just so that I could scope out the main hall. Specifically, I had come to ascertain that the staircase just beyond the altar at the front of the church did indeed lead into the catacombs. A heavy barred door was preventing entry, but I knew that I could make short work of it with my tools. Wafting upwards from the dark passages beneath was a heady draft heavy with the scent of mildew, which hinted to me a deep network of underground warrens. This was the last place within the main structure that I had yet to investigate. Resolving to come back later when I had more time, I quickly left the hall to make my way to class.

The twisting hallways and corridors were a complete maze to navigate, but that did not hinder me. Given my training, I had already formed a mental map of the entire complex in my mind. Soon, as I neared my destination, I ran into the others, although I ignored them for the most part. Nothing in my mission profile said I had to befriend anyone. Nonetheless, I could almost hear Andrei lecturing me about the benefits of social engineering, and of how I should gain the trust of those around me so that I could leverage them later. Yet that was not how I operated. My approach had always lent itself more towards stealth and observation, and the fewer people who interacted with me, the better. It made things less complicated later if things didn’t go according to plan.

At the entrance, I noticed that the normally upbeat Sophie appeared different today; her eyes were slightly red, framed by dark circles, and brooding. As she saw me approach, she forced a smile, but the attempt made her face seem all the more crestfallen. Curious. Had something happened which I hadn’t noticed? Her short auburn curls were tangled, as if she had spent the night tossing and turning in her bed. I recalled that she had sat in the back during morning prayer, arriving late, and had been completely withdrawn throughout breakfast. Very curious indeed.

I took my usual position at a desk close to one of the square windows overlooking the courtyard. The room itself was very ordinary. Three rows of small desks were organized like a classroom facing a chalkboard. In the front of the room sat a slightly larger desk for the lecturer. The sides of the room were filled with small shelves stacked with books, mostly of a religious nature. The gray plaster walls were mostly bare, with only a few religious posters thumbtacked about. A stone wall with a few open windows ran along my left. If it wasn’t for the requirement of having to attend these silly gatherings, I would not have even bothered to come.

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