File


The Russian Girl (Part 16)


By Katzmarek



Author's Note.
This story is entirely a work of fiction. It is for entertainment
Purposes only and does not reflect the author's views or
Attitudes. It contains scenes of sexual activities with a minor
And the author does not condone this. This work may not be
Reproduced for profit without the author's express permission. If
You feel the content would offend you, or are underage,
Please proceed no further. . The Katz



Lina is sitting in her hospital bed. She is munching through her dinner. She looks much better than 
yesterday, even though her face is still swollen and she is pale.


We are alone; Ana is out in the gardens with her father. I guess they have a lot to talk about. A good man, 
that Mustafa. He is showing compassion and understanding.


Kammhuber knocks and enters. He sits on the other side of her. He takes out his Glock pistol and extends it 
to Lina, holding it by the barrel.
“Lina, take the weapon.”


Lina looks puzzled but accepts it.
“Eric. See how she holds the pistol. Wrist straight, controlling it. The barrel points at the ceiling, yet away 
from her face. Her hand is around the trigger guard, protecting it. She does not put a finger through the 
guard, most people would.”


“Furthermore,” he went on, “she is not scared of it. She is not afraid yet she does not know whether it is 
loaded. She is automatically taking precautions in case it is ready to fire. Did you see her look at the safety? 
Checking to see that it is set”?
“No,” I say, “I didn’t.”


“Because, Eric, you are not a trained shooter. But Lina is, aren’t you”?
Lina swallows, bewildered.
“I, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Someone taught you to use a gun, Lina. Military perhaps. And they trained you until you could do it in 
your sleep. No! Keep it. Tell me if it is loaded.”


“Empty.” Lina says, dumbly, “there’s no clip.”
“Nothing in the breech”?
Lina pulls the sleeve back and inspects it.


“She holds it in front of her, barrel still pointing in the air,” says Kammhuber, “She looks through that slot 
on the top, the ejector.  She can see if a round is present in the breech. She stills slides it back carefully, 
though, just in case. She cannot help herself.”


“A driver always puts on the parking brake.” Kammhuber went on. “Even though the gear lever is in ‘park’ 
and the vehicle’s on level ground. He cannot help it, he doesn’t think about it, it’s automatic. Same with a 
shooter, Eric, they always take basic precautions. It is not something you need to think about.”


“Where are you going with this”? I ask.
“Just a minute, Eric. I’m just clearing up something. Tying up loose ends.”


“Lina”? He asks, “why did you choose the Luger”? Lina was shaking, ashen faced.
“I don’t know.” She answers weakly.
“I think you do Lina.” 


Kammhuber reaches into his bag and brings out another weapon.
“Do you recognize this”? He says, holding it up.
“A VZ.” Says Lina, barely audible.
“A VZ,” repeats the Officer, “we know it as the Skorpion, Eric. It was designed to be carried by tank crews. 
It is short, see. So you can get it in and out of hatchways easily. Is it loaded Lina”?
“No,”
“How do you know”?


“A magazine slides in behind the grip.”
“Why did you choose the Luger, Lina. Tell me, I know already.”
“I, I… Ana…”
“Yes, Lina. A good choice too yes”?
“I’m… lost, Kammhuber,” I tell the Officer.


“A sub-machinegun, Eric, has a great volume of fire, but it is not accurate. Lina knows that she would 
certainly hit her friend in the confined space of a room. So she takes the Luger, which is far more accurate. 
A shooters weapon, yes Lina.”
Lina shrugs.


“What were you looking for when you searched the house, Lina? Drugs, money”?
Lina says nothing.
“You found the Luger and hid it, where”?
“Umm.”


“I don’t think that you could have run up and down those stairs Lina, not with your injuries, and you were 
still sick, yes”?
“Kammhuber”? I say.
“Just a minute Eric. How many raped you, Lina”?
“I don’t know.” Her voice is choked.


“But it was not so bad, Lina. Was it? You were doing it to save Ana, until, it wasn’t so good”?
“They, Ram he…” Lina breaks down.
“Kammhuber? Is this necessary”? I’m getting angry.


“Ram… he hits me… over the ass… a whip… and he pushes something … in my ass… it hurt…he tells 
me… I’m going to enjoy it…”
“Ok, ok. He rapes you anally. And later on he decides to do it to Ana, Yes”?
“Yes.”
“So you call Raede, or was he in the bed”?
“The bed.”


“He raped you too”?
“No. He said he was sorry… for the others. He held me, said he loved me… If he loved me he would have 
done something. He was too scared… the coward.”


“So he stayed with you until they went out, yes”?
“Yes… I didn’t have sex with him… I couldn’t…”
“Of course not. They didn’t all leave, did they. Ram stayed behind”?
“Yes.”
“And goes into Ana, next door”?
“Yes.”


“You decide to save her yourself”?
Lina nods.
“Raede helps you out of bed. You take the Luger, perhaps hidden under the bed.”
“Yes.”
“Does Raede know you have it?”
“No.”
“He walks you along the landing, to the next room.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happens next… in your own words.”


“Ana is lying on the bed, face down… she is crying… she’s bleeding… from her… from her 
bottom…blood everywhere… Ram has it smeared over himself…”
“Where was Raede”?
“Behind me… holding me… I shouldn’t have…”
“You take aim, and what”?


“I was aiming for his balls… I was too high… shot him in the butt instead. Big splash of flesh… he is 
screaming…Raede screams too… not for Lina… not for me… for that animal. He yells for Ram…”
“Go on.”
“I’m angry… I turn around… Raede says, ‘what have you done’? What have I done, ME?
Ana’s blood all over the place… and my blood… and he asks me what I’VE done!”


“I shot him… Ana is crying out no! No… but I shot him… I aimed too high again… meant to get him in 
the heart…I think the barrel’s out… shoots too high and off to the right.”
“They all do, you need to compensate for it, aim down and to the right, see?” says Kammhuber 
demonstrating with the Glock.
“Ah… I thought it was I…”


“If you had been more familiar with a Luger we would have had one deceased and one gelding.”
“I meant to kill Ram, after I shot off his balls.”
“Ouch! You are one tough lady Lina. Who taught you”?


“I learned many things in ‘Petersburg… did many things… Eric doesn’t know…I have not told 
anybody…”
“Christ!” I exclaim.
“I think that it is best you keep some things to yourself.” The Officer tells her.



A couple of days later the story breaks in the STAR GAZETTE, a celebrity weekly here in Germany. The 
headlines read,


EDISON HIGH STAR IN SHOOTING.


LINA POZNAN IN SHOOTOUT WITH NEO-NAZI THUGS. TWO WOUNDED.


It sounded like a scene from ‘high noon’. Clearly the studio publicity machine had leaked the story, 
somewhat sanitized.


‘Lina Poznan, star of Nickelodeon’s ‘Edison High’ is in hospital in an undisclosed location after she was 
involved in a shootout with a gang intending to abduct her and a friend. Lina was in Germany on holiday 
after taking a break from the series when her and a friend were confronted late at night in Karlsruhe. 
“They were in a dangerous situation,” Police sources told the reporter, “although we don’t condone firearm 
use, they would certainly have been the victims of a serious assault, even death”. 
Police sources said they have recovered two firearms, a pistol and a machine gun. Both were in the 
possession of the gang. It is believed Lina somehow gained possession of the pistol and turned it on the 
gang. 
The two girls are believed to have moderate injuries and will be released from hospital shortly.


Below the story the Editor added.


‘Does it take a beautiful, blond, Russian, teenage girl to show the police what must be done to make our 
streets safe? We say ‘good on you Lina Poznan.’


And so it went on. 


Back at the hospital the girls’ room is filling up with flowers and gifts from mostly anonymous fans and 
well wishers. The police have had to increase security to prevent fans and reporters from pestering them.


Ironically, right-wing political parties, usually associated with anti-immigration issues are treating Lina like 
a heroine. 


Money is beginning to flow in too. The hospital is costing about 4000 Euros a day each for the girls, only 
part of it is covered by the National Health system. At last the financial pressure is off me.


Lina loves the attention, however. It is invigorating her, but not so poor Ana. She is becoming more 
withdrawn and depressed. I feel the injuries to her mind will take a lot longer to heal then her body.


“Eric? Will you look after Ana… she’s not strong… I fear for her,” Lina says to me one day. “I know you 
could fix things… you can always fix things…”
“How”? I ask, “I’m not a counselor or a psychologist, she needs expert help.”
“But you will do what you can? I trust you. You were always good to me Eric. I never should…”


Later she says, “Ana wants to be an actress too. You could help her… like you did me… you could make 
her an actress and she would be happy.”
‘Oh no’, I groan inwardly.


Lina management and financial hassles are slowly being sorted. She was underage when she signed her 
new contract so that makes it invalid. Now the problem of recovering $40,000 or so of her money. That 
will take longer.


Ana’s mother is here from Frankfurt where she lives. It takes a few hours of coaxing before Mustafa agrees 
to meet her. I have an idea to run before them concerning Ana.


There’s a Stage and Screen School in Frankfurt and I suggest that I can get Ana a place. It would mean that 
she would have to live with her Mother.


Meanwhile I have a marriage to repair and a business to recover. Having done what I can for the present in 
Karlsruhe I point the Audi north and head home up the West Bank of the mighty Rhine.


I left Lina, once again, deluged in attention and hardly noticing my departure. When I went to say goodbye 
she was beaming at some young male reporter whom, clearly captivated, was hanging on every phrase.
“In Russia we learnt to take care of ourselves,” (knowing smile) she was telling him.
“Yes but you must have been scared?” asks the reporter.
“They were just boys,” she explains, “haven’t you any real men in Germany?”
‘Oh brother!’ I thought, ‘the sooner she gets back to LA the better.’


Sophia’s in the kitchen when I get home. There’s a crashing and bashing that husbands the worlds over 
know so well, the sound of an angry wife.


“Hi babe,” I greet her cheerily. No answer.
“Darling,” I say moving in behind her and lightly circling her hips.
“Leave me alone, Eric!” she says, “what are you doing home?”
“I missed you.”
“Scheisse!” she says, jabbing her elbow back at me.


Most people like to curse in their native tongue. They can apply just the correct amount of vehemence to it 
unmatched in any but one’s language of birth.


“(Ger) You have a nerve coming in here all loving after having spent days and nights at your lovers 
bedside. How much money have you spent on her, Eric? All our savings?”
“That’s unfair…” I try to say.
“(Ger) UNFAIR! You schweinhund, you miserable excuse for a man, UNFAIR? Why are you crawling 
back here, has she finished with you, again?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Well don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”


As a director I work with people, not cameras. I pride myself in my ability to get along with people, 
especially their tantrums. At those times I can think most clearly.


Patience, patience and understanding, knowing when to bully and cajole, the right time to praise and flatter, 
these are my stock in trade.


Two things I need to do when faced with a furious wife. First, maneuver her away from the cutlery, second, 
stand my ground and wait her out. Like standing in an air lock, you need to allow the pressure to ease 
before you can open the door. Half Aristocratic Austrian and half Italian she can build a lot of pressure.


Now I had a pal, once who had been flattened by his Romanian-Greek wife with a frozen turkey. He had a 
depressed fracture of the skull and it took him two months to recover, 4 years to make up. Then there was 
Lorena Bobbit and those famous shears. I ease between Sophia and the cutlery.


She’s beginning to cry, a good sign, it tells me she’s nearly finished. I gently advance towards her waiting 
for her to collapse in my arms.


But instead, WHACK. A straight arm punch right to the mid-riff doubles me up. I wasn’t expecting that 
and it knocks all the air out of me.
“Jeez, Sophia,” I gasp.


I stumble forward into her. I figure that if I’m close she can’t get any speed or power in the next punch. 
I grab her around the waist and hang on. She’s beating at my back but there’s no force in them. Then she’s 
trying to twist so she can go in with the knee, now I’m ticked off!


On impulse I go in with the shoulder and lift her bodily up and over. She’s drumming on my back and 
growling at me to put her down. I carry her right through to the bedroom and dump her on the bed.


I figure my manhood’s at stake here, not just physically but psychologically. Before I could react though, 
she sits up and slaps me right across the face. This is not the Sophia I know and love.
“WILL YOU STOP FUCKING HITTING ME,” I yell, and pin her arms to the bed. I am losing my temper.


“Let go of me!” she says, menacingly.
“Not until you calm down,” I reply.
“I will not!”
“Where’s Bella?” I ask, changing the subject.
“At Tante Lotties, safe from you. Let go of me you child fucker.”
“Child fu… What!” I reply in astonishment.
“You heard me, Eric. I know what you did to that Russian, she was underage. No wonder she’s all fucked 
up.”


Keeping my genitals out of her reach I continue to pin her to the bed.
“Listen!” I say, “ Lina was a woman/child well before I met her. She’d already seen more of life than any 
child should. If it weren’t for me she’d be a 10c whore in St Petersburg. I gave her the best chance she’d 
ever had. Sure! I loved her, and I showed her how to love, something she’d never experienced before.
I don’t know whether I did the best for her, whether I helped her deal with her demons enough, but thinking 
of Lina, I doubt a panel of psychologists and social workers could have made her half as happy as she was 
with me.” 


“You still fucked her, Eric, knowing she was too young…”
“She was never too young, Sophia, I learnt today that she could have shot off my balls with her eyes shut.”
“What the hell are you saying?”
“A long story.”


I must say I quite enjoyed pinning Sophia like this. Her scowling at me, chest heaving, and beads of 
perspiration on her forehead, she looked quite sexy.
“Ok, ok,” she says, “let me up.”
“There’s the question of the sucker punch,” I tell her.
“You deserved it, you’ve been a prick.”
‘Maybe, but I seem to remember we agreed long ago we would never hit each other in anger.”
“I’m sorry, I lost my temper,” she replies.
“No excuse,” I say, “you need to be punished.”


With one movement I flip her over on to her stomach. I then give her a perfectly aimed slap right across her 
jean-covered ass.
“Ow, that hurt, Eric, what are you doing?”
“Get off your jeans and panties, now!” I tell her sternly.
“What!” she replies uncertainly.
“Now!” I emphasize the command with another slap.


She takes off her pants with a bemused look on her face. All the time she’s telling me that,
‘I’d better watch out,’ and, ‘don’t carry this on too far.’


I get her to lie over my lap and to pull up her shirt. Her bare bottom is now exposed, still the peach that 
turned me on two years ago. WHACK her flesh ripples, she gives a little start, WHACK, she grunts and 
sucks in her breath. I then deliver some quick fire slaps on both her cheeks. She twists and turns her ass, 
this way and that to avoid the rain of blows.
“OW, OH, OUCH, Eric, stop it. OW… please, no more, OW, you’re hurting, OW, OW.”


I figure ten is enough. She lies on her stomach rubbing her ass that is a nice rosy color. She’s panting away 
like a steam train.
“Put your ass in the air,” I tell her, releasing my throbbing member, “it’s time to complete that next part.”


I slip into her easily, she is warm and well lubricated. Sophia immediately grinds back at me, wriggling and 
gyrating her ass around. I seize one of her cheeks and grab her pussy with my other hand. I rub her slippery 
slit with my finger in time to my steady rhythm. She’s soon grunting and gasping.


In no time she’s stabbing back at me and urging me to go faster. She’s soon shaking and howling out her 
orgasm. She stiffens then flops on the bed.
“Turn over,” I command, “and pull up your top.”


“Eric, no,” she says, pulling up her top and bra, “please, I’m too tired.” But she puts her feet up on my 
shoulders and grins at me as I push myself back into her turgid vagina.


This time I’m able to squeeze her nipples and play with her breasts as I pound into her in steadily 
increasing speed. She has her eyes tight shut, her mouth is slightly open or held in a grimace of exertion.
Her breasts flop crazily across her chest, when released, with each thrust of my pelvis. After a while my 
rhythm is increased and she is starting to gabble in German.
“Gott… fick mich… JA… JA… starklich… schnell… schnell… fick mich…”


Her orgasm is the strongest I’ve ever seen her have. Shortly after I give her the benefit of my stored up 
jism, she scissors me with her legs, beats on my back then claws at my ass. Gasping and struggling for 
breath, she doesn’t know whether to scream or cry, holler or sob. She pounds the bed with her fists then 
clutches me around the neck until I think she’ll choke me.


Later, she’s trying to disentangle her bra and top from around her neck. Her chest is still heaving and she’s 
bathed in sweat. I’m lying on my stomach trying to cool down.
“Eric?” she says in a small voice.
“Unhh.”
“I think… you’ve just… made me… pregnant.”








