I gripped the far edge of the desk, legs spread, bent over, face down, and naked as Mikhail fucked me from behind, pulling my hair with one hand in order to fuck me harder while stopping to smack my ass every once in a while. My already-sensitive tits were rubbing along the grubby blotter on his desk, and pencils and pens were being pushed or rolled to the sides, threatening to fall off as the desk shook while he porked away, happy as the fucking pig he was.

When he finally came, I breathed a sigh of relief.

He smacked my ass one last time as he pulled out of my pussy, then stuffed himself back in his undershorts and pulled his trousers up, not bothering to tuck in his shirt. “Now, make sure you get that report typed up before you go onstage. I don’t want to have to explain why it’s late, get me?”

I straightened up, turned, and looked up at him, ducking my head and smiling, “Yes, boss. Me…I…finish report, yes sir. Then me go on stage and wow fuckers like usual, yes?”

He snickered. “I’m sure you will. But don’t call them fuckers where they can hear you, okay? Call them customers or clients.”

I pretended to be confused. “But, boss, you call peoples in audience fuckers or suckers, yes?”

He laughed again. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t want you to call them that.”

I shook my head as if confused. “Not understand, but okay. Me…I…call them customers, yes?”

He patted my head condescendingly, “Yeah, that’s right. Now get dressed, and get that report typed,” and walked out leaving the door open, unconcerned that I was naked. Once he was gone, I spat in his coffee mug, then walked over and closed the door. I’m sure people thought it was because I didn’t want other people to see me naked, but in fact, it was so I could continue going through his files, both in his filing cabinet and on his computer.

The asshole thought he was fucking me and using me as his bitch. What he didn’t realize was I was fucking him – and the bitch-slap I was going to deliver was going to hurt him a whole lot more.

~~~~~

The jackass, Mikhail, had owned the car that sideswiped Mistress Miriam’s BMW, forcing it off the road, and killing her. He had conveniently reported that it had been stolen just before she was murdered, which made him a prime suspect in my eyes. He ran a sleazy strip club and was widely thought to have underworld connections. I had vowed to avenge my Mistress’ death, and I was going to start with him.

Over time I had confirmed that he was a pawn of a larger organization. That meant I would have to find out who was above him. I meant to eat – or fuck – my way up the food chain, chewing up and spitting out the intermediaries as I went until I found out who had ordered my Mistress killed. Whoever they were, I was going to exact painful revenge on them.

So I had secured a job as a stripper in the club he ran so that I could worm my way into the jackass’ trust, learn what he knew, read his files, and find out all I could about the organization he worked for.

Then I was going to flush him like the shit he was.

The way I had gotten the job was by giving him the best blowjob he had ever had while convincing him it was because he was such a great cocksman. I also showed him I was a money-maker as a stripper – but he had a lot of girls who could do that. I was so good at sucking cock that he wanted me to blow him every evening before I went onstage. I had used that to gradually work my way into his confidence.

I started by tattling on the club’s employees and telling him what they were doing and saying behind his back. I disliked doing it, but I was ruthless and would do anything to get what I wanted.

I also took his side whenever there was a dispute over anything, leaping to his defense and fawning over him the rest of the time. He was such a tool that he figured it was because someone had finally recognized his natural brilliance and sex appeal.

Meanwhile, I found ways to be useful to him wherever I could, eagerly building up his pathetic little ego, and being oh, so grateful that he consented to let me fuck and suck him.

One day, when I came in to give him his daily blowjob, I found him trying to peck out a report using two fingers and a lot of swearing. His secretary, whom he was also banging but who gave him a lot of attitude, had phoned in sick, and he had to get a report filed. I suspect she knew that and was trying to piss him off.

I persuaded him to let me try typing – which wasn’t hard as he clearly hated doing it, and was bad at it. He also viewed himself as a big boss – an illusion I supported every way I could – and didn’t want to be seen doing menial shit. I told him he would have to dictate the words because my English wasn’t very good. In fact, I spoke several languages, all of them better than he did – but he didn’t know that, and I worked hard to make sure he didn’t suspect. In particular, I made sure he thought I didn’t understand either French or German, as those, as well as English, were the languages he used to communicate with his bosses.

He dictated the report in English as I typed, and was pleased to find it got done quickly and well. He never stopped to wonder why someone who had learned secretarial skills in Ukraine, typing in the Cyrillic alphabet, could type competently in the Roman alphabet when she could hardly speak English.

He just wasn’t very bright, so the thought never occurred to him.

Of course, I also let him think he could blackmail me if he wanted. Every time he brought up my status as an illegal immigrant, or talked about my ex-boyfriend, I stammered and acted nervous. He eventually figured out that I was anxious that I would be deported back to Ukraine, or that my imaginary, abusive ex-boyfriend would find me.

Once I had convinced him of that, he made a point of mentioning these things regularly, as if he needed to kick me in the ass to keep me subservient.

As a result, when his secretary finally had enough of his piggy ways and quit, he thought he was incredibly smart and got me to do her work during the day, then strip to make money for him during the evenings. He never mentioned paying me her salary, and I never asked because I got what I wanted, which was free access to his office, his computer, and all the files.

It also allowed me to stick around while remaining invisible. No one who called or visited him thought twice about me. I was just another stupid Eastern European slut, trying to make a living on her back.

As a result, I learned things from the conversations he had, both on the phone and in person. When he had a VIP visiting, he would sometimes call me in and tell me to strip. I always acted embarrassed and ashamed of being naked in front of any stranger in his office. He thought that was just the greatest thing – and then he would instruct me to give myself to this stranger, while he watched, or even joined in. Occasionally, they would spit-roast me, but carry on talking over my body.

So, while I was fucking or sucking or being abused by one or the other or both of them, I listened carefully to what they said, usually in French or German. I also gave great performances as if I was incredibly turned on by these clumsy scum buckets, and grateful for the chance to take their dicks however they wanted to give them to me.

In particular, Mikhail had an associate, Alexei, from somewhere in Eastern Europe, who would come by to visit him from time to time. He was clearly part of the organization and was probably checking up on Mikhail because the jackass always seemed eager to please him, and that included giving me to him.

Fortunately, as well as fucking, Alexei liked to drink and loved to brag when he was drunk. I made sure that he got plenty of alcohol as well as pussy, then listened as he talked, asking questions to build up his ego, and making sure to write or type notes when I could, even if I had to sneak off to the little girl’s room to do so. As a result, Alexei gave me a picture of the larger organization, beyond Mikhail’s small piece of it, sip by sip, and suck by fuck.

In between Alexei’s visits, I would straighten up Mikhail’s office, file his papers, organize his sloppy work – and photograph it all. I also copied all of the phone numbers he called and kept track of how often he called them, then did the same for all of his incoming calls. Plus, I often got to listen to his conversations as he liked fucking me or having me suck him while he talked to his superiors on the phone. It made him feel like a big man.

And, of course, since he saw me as a dumb slut, he never worried about what else I was doing when I wasn’t typing, filing, or putting out.

One time he misplaced his cellphone. He was relieved, and almost pathetically grateful when I “found” it – after I had cloned it, of course. And that gave me access to some really interesting information, much of which I used later.

In short, after I had been Mikhail’s slut for four months, I knew just about everything he did, and in many cases more – except for what he kept in one locked drawer of his desk.

It would have been easy for me to pick the lock, but I decided to be cautious. Sure enough, every time he locked it, he put a telltale on it, a hair that he pasted from the edge of the drawer to the body of the desk, so that if anyone opened it, the hair would fall off, and he would see it and know.

Miriam’s training paid off again, and after I saw him fiddling with the drawer, I inspected it to figure out why – and found the telltale. Once I knew it was there, it was simple to pick the lock, open the drawer, then replace the hair afterward, and he was none the wiser.

And in it was a goldmine: all of the information he had collected on the organization. It included material that I suspected he wanted to use to blackmail his way higher up into the organization. I smiled at that. He was pathetic – but he had been very useful to me.

~~~~~

Over time, I built up a very good preliminary picture of the parts of the organization of which he was a minor part, plus who and where his bosses were. His part of the organization was mostly used for money laundering and drug dealing as strip clubs are largely a cash business. But now I knew his bosses were based in Frankfurt am Main, Germany.

Meanwhile, others of my contacts added to the overall picture of what was going on. Even though I was in Brussels, my contacts in Rotterdam and Amsterdam were sending me information, starting with Gregor. Gregor was the Russian ex-pat who had picked me off the street when I was sixteen, before I met Miriam, and probably saved my life. I was also getting information from The Collective – the hacker community I was a part of.

All of this painted a picture that told me that the police investigation was not being driven by the local authorities or even the politicians. I didn’t know who was pushing things, but my sources told me that both the German and the French intelligence services were involved somehow. They worried me more than the police did. I had been dodging the police since I was fifteen, but spy agencies were a more dangerous breed of cat, and I was wary of them.

I also picked up one more thing that worried me. There was someone else tracking the killers, someone the German authorities were calling “Das Gespenst,” “The Ghost.” I had no idea who that was and decided I didn’t want to find out.

I had been in one place long enough, and I knew where I needed to go next: Frankfurt. It was time for Stefi the Ukrainian stripper to disappear.

I got my wavy blonde hair cut and professionally styled in a much shorter, spiky, almost punk-look, went back to my apartment, stripped off my clothes, and got rid of Stefi, the Ukrainian illegal. I dyed my hair bluish-purple and used whitish make-up with black lipstick and eye shadow to give me a bit of a Goth look, using the training I had received at the DeCoven Dungeon.

I dressed, got things organized, and saved most of the important information in the Cloud in an encrypted file that I doubt even government agencies could crack. Then I sanitized my apartment, wiping surfaces, and eliminating any trace that I’d ever been there. My rent was paid through the end of the month, which meant no one would check on the apartment for routine things until well after I had disappeared.

Finally, I sent a very detailed, anonymous email to the Brussels police, giving them Mikhail’s records, plus complete information about what he was doing, how, and with whom. I allowed myself the luxury of watching from a distance as the police cars rolled up to Mikhail’s club, and dragged him out in handcuffs.

Stupid fucker.

Then I took a bus to the Bruxelles Nord train station, paid cash for a ticket for the next fast train to Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, and settled down on board with a magazine while thinking about how I wanted to approach things in Frankfurt am Main.

I finally decided I should get a job as a computer geek, preferably in cybersecurity. That would give me adequate cover to do more research online, plus give me access to faster, more powerful computers.

So, with my freshly-minted passport, I became Anke, a young, but capable Dutch computer nerd, looking for work with a rapidly growing tech start-up.

Now, if only my nightmares would leave me alone.

I had started to see a pattern in them. They were always about a woman, and she was always me. I was usually a sex worker or a “fallen woman” of some kind in a historical setting, some of which I recognized, and some that were completely foreign to me.

And all of the nightmares occurred on the night of a full moon – which was a couple of nights away now. I decided I had better get settled in Frankfurt, and quickly, in case it happened again.

~~~~~

I had been brought by my father, a member of the Senate, to the Temple of Vesta, the Goddess of the home, of hearth, and the Holy Fire. I was consecrated there as one of the Six, the Vestal Virgins who kept the Holy Flame alight and thus maintained the safety and prosperity of Rome.

And there I served Her for many years, a life of purity and purpose, until one day, I happened to catch the eye of Horatio, a property owner and wealthy man, a man of importance. It doesn’t matter how, but he contrived to see me – and more.

We had lain together, and it was sweet. We could not imagine how something so good could possibly be wrong. We gloried in each other and were happy.

Until we were discovered in bed together.

Horatio was dragged through the streets, face down, behind a team of horses and then burned alive.

But Vestal Virgins may not be touched or harmed, even by the authorities. Instead, they put me in an underground chamber, with enough food and water for two days and a small candle.

Then they sealed me in.

Now my food has run out, my mouth is dry, and the air is fetid, leaving me gasping. I do not know how long I can go on…

Then the fog comes up and swirls around me, and everything vanishes in the mist again…

~~~~~

I launched myself out of bed, stumbled and almost fell, then raced for the toilet, barely reaching it in time, and emptied the contents of my stomach into it.

I hung onto the porcelain, panting, sweating, cold and hot at the same time.

This time I had been buried alive. Christ, that had been awful! I wondered how many times, and how many deaths these nightmares would force me to experience.

I collapsed on the floor, panting, exhausted. I finally dragged myself back to bed, and eventually, fitfully, fell back asleep. Not a restful sleep, for all my dreams were there with me, swirling around me in the mist.

Fuck!

~~~~~

“Your references are impeccable, Anke, and you aced our programming test.”

“Danke, Herr Meisten. Programming has always fascinated me, ja?”

Jürgen sat back in his chair. “You realize we can’t pay you what you could probably get elsewhere, hein? We’re a young company, long on promise, and short on payroll. But if you stick with us, after your probationary period, we let you take part of your salary in stock options. They’re worthless now – but we’re all hoping they’ll make us all rich.”

He sat forward and smiled. “So, my young computer whiz – would you like to get rich with us? To help us all to get filthy rich like the running dog-capitalists we all wish to be?”

I smiled up at him. “Of course, Herr Meisten. When can I start?”

He stood up and extended his hand. “Call me Jürgen. And let me find you a desk right away, ja? We can’t afford to waste anything, but most of all, we can’t afford to waste time.”

I took his hand and felt its warmth. He held it slightly longer than necessary, and I knew I had to find a way to dodge him. I couldn’t afford to fall out with the big boss – even if he wasn’t the pig I had just left, eager to poke anything in a skirt. “Excellent. Show me the way to become a running dog of capitalism!”

He laughed and led me to a large, open room with a bullpen of desks, each with an impressive array of computer equipment on it. Most of them were obsessively neat, while some had papers, journals, and books spilling off the sides, and piled around them.

We arrived at the side of one of the achingly barren desks, behind which sat a woman in her thirties, solidly built, attractive, but looking decidedly butch. “Ingrid, I have some fresh meat for you. Meet Anke – I’ve just hired her, and I want you to help us work her into the ground, okay? She’ll report to you.”

Ingrid was blonde, with what looked like an American buzz-cut. She had a pug nose, plump cheeks, and blue-green eyes, which she raised reluctantly from her computer monitor, a resigned look on her face.

That was quickly replaced by a look of speculation. Finally, she stood, put her hand out to shake mine, and said, “We’ll see what we see. Are you any good?” she said to me.

I decided that although Anke was young, she was also confident, so I just smiled and nodded.

Ingrid waited to see if I was going to say anything else, then snorted. “Okay, Jürgen. I’ll take her from here.”

Jürgen turned on his heel and walked briskly away.

She waved me to a chair opposite hers. “I’m in charge of software development. Tell me what you can do, schatzi, then we’ll see if you can actually do it.”

Thus I was launched into Frankfurt’s burgeoning tech industry, in a rapidly rising firm engaged in producing cybersecurity products and services.

And I suspected that if I played my cards right, I was going to be serving under Ingrid in more ways than one…