by Garden Variety

Cast of Characters

Catherine II, Empress of Russia – [AKA “Catherine the Great”] Chubby, sexy, brainy leader; rises as Russian Empress

Sonia – Widowed, full-figured, red-haired lady-in-waiting

Vanessa – Younger svelte blonde lady-in-waiting, a costumer and bra-inventor

Panin – [Also known as Nikita], skillful advisor trusted by the Empress (most of the time).

Pokov – Empress’s butler and general factotum, left over from the old Empress Elizabeth’s retinue

Feodor – A Captain in the Palace Guards, partly in disgrace because he killed Catherine’s husband, Tsar Peter III

Other minor characters such as the Dungeon Master, his two assistants; Jessie – A beautiful ex-rival; Olga – Left-over, former-Empress’ lady-in-waiting, a busty, forty-year old, fashion-and-gown expert. Mentioned but unseen: Yvonne and Yvette – Engaged sisters who served the old Empress; Grigory and Alexis Orlov – Brothers, and advisors who helped Catherine rise to power; Gromeekin – Russian Army General.

All characters were more than eighteen by time of story. N.B. Characters wear George-Washington-style wigs.

Synopsis: Historical story – July, 1762 – based on the rise of Catherine the Great of Russia, fact and fiction mixed.

Story codes: F/F, M/F, historical, BDSM, whipping, chains, lesbian sex, torture, part-true, X

[Catherine’s Viewpoint]

“We’re not going to kill our late Tsar’s mistress, Jessie, are we, Your Highness?” asks my butler, Pokov.

It is a big problem, because it’d double the body-count of my bloodless coup, in which only my husband, Peter, was killed. Jessie’s his mistress, now in my dungeon. With my work piled up, I haven’t gotten around to disposing of her. While she stole my husband and humiliated me, any sexy whore could have wiggled her ass and baited him! I especially hate and thirst to harm her …but is it personally, her fault?

“Leave it up to Feodor of the Guards to do away with her or not as he likes, but I won’t sign her order of execution.” I wave Pokov away. Have paperwork to do, proclamations to sign: On the Peasant’s Revolt; How to help out the army. I like my army a lot, Peter totally alienated them. With a few bribes like with borrowed money and a lot of wine, my soldiers raise me to power. They do right, end a war. Unlike my Palace Guards: Couldn’t exile my husband, without knocking him off! Ruined my bloodless coup d’etat!

Pokov, a fifty-five-year-old gent of amiable mien, goes out, shaking his head. Once the old Empress Elizabeth’s lover, he’s lucky to weather the changeover. The new Queen is much younger, and isn’t a relative or a girlfriend of his. Even her deposed rival, Jessie, is his distant cousin. Like many courtiers, part of a close circle.

What will Jessie’s fate be? Left up to Captain Feodor and scar-faced Alexis, both brutal Palace Guards, they’ll hurt her fatally. Tsar Peter III was murdered because he kicked Feodor and his lieutenant Alexis in their shins as he’s loaded in the coach to go in exile! How to interpret the Empress’s wishes so Jessie’s saved?

He first sends for the dungeon-master, a fat man with two thin assistants who do the heavy work.

All three turned up, blackened and sweaty-looking in ragged leathers. “Please bring Jessie here.”

“In irons?” asks hairy, brutish, blacksmith-type fat man. Silently motions for skinny assistants to follow.

“No, leave an assistant guarding her.” Looks askance at rough costume, hair, sweaty-smell, lack of wigs.

Jessie is brought in: A gorgeous buxom blonde, she’s wigless rough-cut short-haired. Her much-vaunted heavy-round, floppy-loose boobs visible with big, pink aureoles and nipples. Shreds of gown very dirty.

He wears a short grey wig, is perfectly court-uniform dressed.

“Oh, Chamberlain Pokov, please help me.”

“You chose the wrong horse in Peter. You’ll have to pay. If I let Feodor choose, you’ll lose your head.”

Jessie: “I’ll do anything…” The rascally beauty creeps forward, wavers as if to fall into butler’s lap. The assistant-torturer intervenes from behind, holds her back, gripping wrists. She leans forward in front of Pokov, waving shapely boobs, wiggling back-forth, side-to-side, in the black-garbed varlet’s wrists-grasp.

“Jessie, I’m going to choose the direst punishments I can. You will live.” Pokov curses his own maleness.

“Oh thank you.” Bare thighs flashing sex-signals, fat bottom bouncing as she’s dragged away, grinning.

[Pokov to a standing-by supernumerary]

“Get Feodor in here. Tell him it’s the Empress bidding him.” Feodor, a very-tall, barrel-chested, long-haired soldier-in-Palace-Guard-uniform, enters.

Pokov says, “You are to carry out the torture of the woman, Jessie.”

Feodor, shaking his big, long-haired head in wonder, says slowly, “If that is what my Highness wants…”

Pokov says, “Look, Feodor, you killed Tsar Peter III in Ropsha. You’re lucky to get off with your skin.”

“Pokov, it was this way – I’ve never told anyone. When we got to the estate, a dozen locals loyal to the Crown Prince - that is, Tsar Peter III - try to rescue him. What else can we do? Coachman, his helper – they take shifts, spell Alexis and me: They’re grooms not guardsmen! A dozen men versus only us two? We couldn't let him get away.”

[Catherine’s paperwork]

Having mostly disposed of the army and the Peasants’ Revolt. Without throwing her tired army back from Prussia and Denmark at the rebelling famine-stricken people. By asking army volunteers to help her peasants. Bring food, seed, topsoil from better-off provinces. ‘I make peace everywhere and consolidate my weak position!’ Fix my army, people!' Catherine goes on to her personnel problems.

Two ladies-in-waiting left over from when she was a Princess, Vanessa and Sonia. They are all right. With the upcoming marriages of Yvonne and Yvette, she only has Olga left over from the old Empress’ crew. Beside this surplus, there are the dresses. Expected to order at least thirty new ones. Yet there were 2500 Princess gowns in her huge walk-in closets she had never worn. Most are too big now.

One solution is to use the three thousand marks clothing-allowance to reward her army volunteers. She wrote down, rubles. Must think in rubles and not in German-money equivalents. Correct, five thousand five hundred rubles can be allotted to the forty-five to fifty army volunteers. [Writing down.]

The General says he can only get forty-five, not fifty, volunteers. She tells Pokov to tell General Gromeekin to pay bonuses to the soldiers after they volunteer. Her Majesty needs an account of how much each volunteer-soldier got. ‘Gromeekin steals otherwise! He’s only human. But we need about fifty soldiers, that’s one hundred and ten rubles each, a goodly sum for a soldier, nearly half a year’s pay.

That leaves five hundred rubles left of my Empress clothing-allowance, enough to fix up my dresses to look new, since they are new, but not fashionable! They’re all going to be taken-in, too. I lost weight!’

Catherine calls for her ladies-in-waiting to appear. Dismissing her other servants except Pokov, royal butler. Only he waits outside. Pokov is to tell the ladies-in-waiting they must disrobe, be inspected naked by her. Vanessa is a good-looking blonde. Quietly, gradually removes her blouse, two-scarves tied-together-in-a-bra under vest: Shows her curvy upper-chest: Girlish-small-pointy, tan-nipple breasts:

“Do you lighten your hair?” I ask.

“Only a little with lemon juice, Your Highness.”

“Your dress too, don’t be shy. It‘s only us girls here.” Her long dress and a fine sexy see-through slip, Vanessa gradually shucks. Long legs, pink with faint yellowish bruises and thin marks of some sort. A tiny belly. White bottom, slight extra fat all around, an oversized white panty, hanging out on all sides.

“…Come closer. …The bloomers, off immediately!”

When uncovered slowly, Vanessa’s tight, near-perfect bottom, rounded lower belly, curvaceous thighs reveal great, shapely, fair beauty. Empress fingers young blonde’s tiny tummy, hip-nooks, curves. An innocent. Vanessa’s sparse pussy-hair is tightly-curled and nearly a light-brown. “That your real color?”

Vanessa: “Oh no Your Highness! Down there, it’s always been much darker than my head-hair like that!”

“All right, Vanessa, but no more lightening. You will stay, I like you.” Touching, traces pinkish marks.

“Oh, thank you very much My Empress, I will do anything for you, you know that.”

“You might be called on to do just that.” Eyes pointedly in Vanessa’s blue eyes. “You engaged, married?”

“No, Mistress, although I have a beau.”

“And so you should, a pretty thing like you!” [‘Must be a rough brute!’] “How old are you, Vanessa?”

“Twenty, your Highness.”

“All right, you can go but come back after dinner. You don’t have a date do you?” Empress kisses her long, passionately, caressing Vanessa’s thighs and squeezing both Vanessa’s breasts.

[Empress’s Viewpoint]

“Of course not, your Highness.” Nod at clothes, Vanessa puts on dress before the door, I wave her out.

Royal-Chamberlain Pokov says Olga is outside. “Send her in. Tell her she has to strip to nothing and let me see her in the entirety.” Catherine remembers Olga’s presence, relict of previous Empress Elizabeth.

Olga is a good bit older than Catherine, perhaps forty. She doesn’t like it, but slowly disrobes, to the waist. Her large, completely-round breasts droop a little. Un-wigged, her lovely, long, dark hair piles up in a complicated do. Olga’s poised, with substantial, hefty physicality. A lofty, full-bodied being.

Catherine: “I like your hair, wig, and fancy dress. Go ahead and step out of it, yes-yes completely, shorts too! You’re rounded, buxom. Hippy, nice figure. Do you know much about fashion, Countess Olga?”

Olga covers her bushy dark-fringed pussy with her hand and crosses arm, protecting her red nipples too. “Your Highness, I’d say I’m a gown-and-fashion expert…”

“Good, you’ll look through all my Princess gowns, pick out which ones will do: Alter to fit my new figure, suiting upcoming balls’ fashions. There’s our two ladies-in-waiting’s weddings and later my coronation.”

“Excuse me for saying, Your Highness’s expected to be the leader in fashion and taste for our big events.”

“Even better. I will try the fashionable look, but if I’m not looking fashionable-enough, whatever I wear must be the fashion, on the leading edge! For my coronation I’ll splurge so the masses see elegance.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Empress pulls down Olga’s hands and touches both her red nipples, her dark and very hairy pussy.

“Gather yourself up and dress: You have ten days before Yvonne and Yvette’s weddings. Which is first?” Fingering Olga’s black nether fur, pulling it a little. Stares into Olga’s dark eyes. “My nice slavey?”

Frank, accepting Olga-gaze back: “They’re sisters, being married in one double-wedding ceremony.”

“Good…That’s a saving of two-parties-in-one right there. And my coronation’s not for two months.”

Olga dresses, leaves, mystified. ‘Her dumb Highness don’t know her job is mostly clothes and functions?’

Pokov is told: “Go see to Jessie’s punishment in the dungeon, Pokov, and let me know beforehand!”

Sonia is a redheaded young widow. Without quite so much prompting, lets first her blouse and doubled-hanky-like bra go. Next, all of the rest of her dress, slip and bloomers, showing smooth, glowing, white to light-orange skin all over. Bares the best breasts of the three ladies. Sonia’s boobs pear-shaped, red-orange nipples: Big, but don’t droop at all. Perhaps Olga is a tiny bit bustier. While Olga is rounder, darker, ten years older and flabbier than smooth, orange-complected, redhead Sonia.

“Sonia, how long ago were you widowed?” Looks closely, fingers follow soft, unwrinkled under-breasts.

They are both widowed, left as lone women about the same time, two or three weeks. For, it turns out Sonia’s cavalryman-husband died only a few days before Catherine’s coup d’etat, in a horse-accident.

‘This is considered an occupational-hazard for the cavalry’, says good-looking red-banged Sonia, sadly.

‘And an assassination for a leader, is an occupational-hazard, you might say.’ Catherine indicates that they have much in common. Empress neglects to mention that Tsar Peter III had not shared her bed for at least a year prior to death: Having gone to mistress Jessie completely, even to naming her a Princess!

Draping her lacy, see-through overdress onto Sonia to pretend-cover her statuesque, voluptuous, smoothly lovely nudity, she leads her to the desk area. “Have to do a lot of signing-papers to pay soldiers. You can help me. You’ll earn a kiss each time you sign.” Kisses darling fully on orange lips. ‘Is Sonia orange below too?’

Sonia, mystified, agrees: Learns to make a capital ‘K’ in two angular strokes.

“It is much more rounded than mine, but you’ll get better with practice, now watch again: [swoop] I draw in one straight line, the back of the ‘K’ and [swoop], the in-stroke and out-stroke are another single move.” Sonia does the initial but her attempt still looks more-rounded. Practicing it on a scratch-paper.

“I’ll do a few and you just watch and wait [kisses] …after all you are my lady-in-waiting!” [Signing papers quickly, three of them in a row.] “Swoop, swoop, swoop!” Pushes papers away toward front of desk.

“Such nice tits! I think I’ll kiss them!” Empress takes several moments out from her work to kiss, lick and suck Sonia’s red-orange beauties. ‘For if, all Russia belongs to me, surely my own lady-in-waiting belongs to me!’ Sonia tries initial forgery again. Catherine caresses Sonia’s pretty pear-shapes through the silk-gauze, says: “Use your feeling of power in that pen! You, you, Sonia, are Empress of all Russia!”

Sonia says to herself: ‘I feel more like the Empress’s girlfriend!’ This tit-play is exciting her despite herself.

But ooh-ing and ah-ing, she breathily does her first creditable signature while Catherine plays with, feels, squeezes, kisses, sucks, licks Sonia’s orange tits all over their curvy, remarkably-large acreage. Leaning forward to sign the papers, her perfectly pear-shaped boobs hang at their loveliest into Empress’s face.

Catherine tongues ringed, shiny, wet, red-orange nipples. Empress grabs up paper, rather-loudly yelps “Oh, good, now you can help!” Gives Sonia half the papers, kisses both medium-size erect nipples again.

“Ooh, Empress, you’re thrilling me!” Opens up her diaphanous-gown wide to display near-perfect body.

“Keep signing!” Pushes Sonia up onto desk, spreads her thighs, signs papers on each too-large, chubby-but-curvy thigh. Licks red bush in-between, moves ink pot away, lies Sonia down, puts her own head in lap, kisses thighs, muttering, “Signing, always signing.” Eats Sonia, who sighing, gives up signing entirely.

Drops pen, holds Empress all over. Feels well-upholstered Catherine. Weight Empress gained while not loving? Fat boobs-ass-thighs. Sonia’s fingers cruelly squeeze, twist, wring royal Catherine bottom-flesh.

[Red-flickering lit, blackish-walled, cave-like, hellish dungeon]

Dungeon-Master, a craggy-faced, fat man in a black-leather vest over his hairy bare chest and wearing a blacksmith’s apron, has his assistants chain-suspending Jessie, a loud, buxom blonde in singed, torn, scraps of dirty silk, face-down over hot coals. Jessie screams, flames near large, hanging boobs, rough-unwashed short-ish blonde hair, protruding belly. Dungeon-Master holds, swishes heavy single-tail whip.

Feodor is brought in by Pokov the butler, who says Feodor will direct the torture. The dungeon chief and two minions who’re lowering spread-eagled girl toward leaping small flames, let go of her chains.

Chained Jessie swings in the air, four feet above at-times slightly-flaming bed of coals, screaming loudly.

“Aieee!” Feodor says, ‘That’s too high a flame, lower it.’ The minions are signaled by Master to damp them down. They pour ashes on them. Flames go out, the girl stops screaming. Shakes, moans a lot.

Pokov says, ‘It’s the Empress’s orders.’ Passing the suspended-Jessie, pulls all her chains up a foot, exits.

Dungeon-master agrees and puts up his heavy, fierce-looking, single-tail whip, carefully lodging on wall.

“You should have a light whip, like this”, Feodor says, showing a ‘medium’ flogger he brought. “Say you want to whip her all day and night long…” Long, low-level, drawn-out moaning heard in the background.

The fat guy goes back to the wall and takes down an especially-light flogger: “This is even less-hard, if you want to lay on a hundred or more.” It is an ultra-light flogger, could be used on a newcomer if not wanting to shock much… He swishes it about. It doesn’t snap or make a whip-crack, swooshes breezily.

Feodor picks it up, says, “You’re correct, that’s what’s needed. How many if we don’t want her hurt?”

Dungeon-Master says, “I’d say fifty or fiftyfive 'd be all right. I was told she’s to be taken all the way.”

Feodor says, “There must have been a change of plan. Jessie’s only to be taught a very-severe lesson.”

‘You’ll still want to bake her but maybe not burn her, and whip her, and thrust this big plugger into her.” Shows a horse-size dildo nearly a foot-long and very-wide, with spikes and bumps of black tar-like resin.

Feodor says, “I see where that instrument might damage her permanently, because no man is that big.”

“She take it. I had boys stretch and measure her. She’s been around the corner.” Makes a smacking of one hairy fist repeatedly four times into his other open hand, to suggest much heavy sex.

“You means Jessie is big inside: She had a child, perhaps?” Feodor is the unmarried father of a small girl.

Master says, “Don’t think so, but she is even looser than a mother, like a three-time mother at least.”

Feodor says, “You are like a doctor…” Unwillingly-impressed with biological knowledge of the torturer.

Master says, “I estimate what they can take. It isn’t at all easy. Some act like I’m killing them, when I’m not doing much. Others you don’t know they’re hurting, until they abruptly black out. I find that letting them off easier -not harder- is safer, if they’ve got to be made to talk, say. Some have weak hearts.”

Feodor holds the bumpy horse-sized phallus and says, “Do you think this will be enough to teach her a lesson? Thrusting the plugger into Jessie a few times plus fifty-sixty light whip-strokes over the fire-pit?”

Dungeon-Master: “We can lower her down a little. You saw the butler raised her up. It’ll be rougher on her, she’ll need a few weeks to recover. Our whipping, that huge plugger. Well, she’s going to remember this torture all right… her whole life. By the time, a month, her burns heal, she won’t be sex-sore, or whip-marked, any longer. Doesn’t take a woman a month to recover, ‘less we screw up badly.”

Feodor talks to Pokov: ‘Does he know if Jessie’s got any weak-heart condition or anything like that?’ Pokov knows Jessie’s family and perhaps somewhat, their medical history?

‘No, but probably Feodor should ask the Empress about this proceeding, if they’re going to do all that to Jessie.’ “After all, Catherine commuted her sentence to torture instead of death.” Pokov is thinking that Jessie could get killed anyway. Even though he tried so hard to avoid it!

Catherine thinks about all this and says she would like to be present when it is done. “Will it be soon?”

“Right after dinner,” says Feodor.

“Well, let’s wait until an hour or two later. I have something planned right then.” [Of course, it’s put off…]

[Catherine’s After-Dinner Date with Vanessa]

Catherine says, looking at Vanessa’s peculiar underwear, “What is it? I like the way your gown hangs on it, but I’ve never seen anything like it, except maybe Sonia’s...And hers was a good-bit heavier-looking.“

Vanessa says it’s her own invention. “The underneath-supports were add-ons. Because Sonia needs them, she has such big boobs… I also look better with my smallish bust, pushed-up into low tops. In which case, I wear these little leather pieces sewn in. The leather-support inserts hold up and make my little tits look bigger.” Hesitating as if she’s embarrassed to describe her or Sonia’s treasure chests.

“Sonia’s leather-support inserts are much, much larger. I designed them for Josip the cobbler to custom-make them. They’re great! First I only had these two hankies tied about me. Sonia wanted one, so I tried using four scarves, for her er…tits, two hankies each, but they didn’t really hold her big er…boobs. I thought of making leather-support inserts. Now Olga, Yvonne and Yvette all want them.”

Catherine: “You‘re going to have to make them and sell them. Like a factory, Vanessa. That’s the only answer, because I want one too. But I’m going to pay you. Now look at my boobs.”

“They’re enormous, Your Highness! At least as big as Olga’s! Let me draw on you.” Holds up a paper and traces the underneath of each breast. “A whole sheet for each tit! That’s a first.”

Catherine: “You mean…?”

“Yes, Your Highness, everyone else…well really, only Sonia and me, we fit our two tits on one sheet. Yours don’t both fit on one sheet. I’m using one sheet for each tit and your royal breasts fit on a sheet with a margin.” Holds Catherine’s boobs a little longer. Lets her fingertips slowly trail down to fingering prominent long fruity grape-like dark-red nipples: Looks softly and deeply into Catherine’s light eyes.

Catherine: “Well, lady, what are you waiting for? Lick me if you want to, isn’t that what we’re here for?”


Pokov enters and shouts: “Her Royal Highness! Catherine II, Empress of all the Russias!”

Catherine says, “At ease, everyone. Do you have Jessie fixed?”

Feodor says, “We’re suspending her right now.”

Catherine says, “Turn her face-up: I want to whip her front.”

Bowing as graciously as he can, the giant brute Feodor hands Catherine the ultra-light flogger.

Dungeon personnel struggle to flip Jessie bottom-down over the hot coals, rattling, re-chaining her.

Jessie screams: “Don’t let her! She’ll kill me!”

Catherine says, “Maybe you better shut her up.”

Feodor takes a bit-gag from a thin assistant. Carefully he avoids the bed of hot coals. Wraps bit-gag around Jessie’s head, pinching her nipple, sticks it in when her yell opens her mouth, ties off the leathers on the back of Jessie’s head.

Catherine says, “I only want to punish her nipples and pussy a few hits each, perhaps ten or twelve.”

Dungeon Master: “Go ahead, your Highness.” They have Jessie spread-eagled over the coals face-up. Jessie’s bottom, her feet, and lower legs are closer to the hot coals than before, but not all that much.

Catherine beats Jessie’s boobs a half-dozen times. Tits bounce, dent, deform and recoil! Jessie eyes are rolling and sharp yelps escape the gag! “Erghh!” Hits sharply snap on her large pink aureoles and nipples. “Erghh!” Next between her spread legs, her red sex. “Erghh!” Unknown female fluid splashes out. “Erghh!” Without Catherine trying, swinging with all her Empress-weight, strokes hit Jessie’s sensitive spots hard. “Erghh!” “Erghh!” Nether parts turn red-purple. The flogging seems to have about caused the maximum pain Jessie could take, only graying out. “Erghh!” “Erghh!” “Erghh!” “Erghh!” Muffled screaming, kicking and jumping about, in her chains, satisfies most torturers. Catherine isn’t sure Jessie suffers enough to expiate her guilt. “This isn’t very much of a whip. What else do you plan to do to her?”

Feodor shows her the gigantic plugger.

Catherine: “That going to fit into her? It looks like a stallion’s.”

Dungeon Master says, “It will go, but it will be tight.”

“Your Highness, if we could finish the flogging first…”

“Fine. I’ll sit here and watch.” A straight chair at the back of a rack so a torturer could take his ease!

“Go ahead,” says Feodor. “Finish her armpits, front-thighs and inner-thighs while Jessie’s in position.”

Pokov points to exit. Empress nods. She knows he’s related to Jessie. Not able to stand it, Pokov exits.

The two assistants flog Jessie in turn: One whips a half-dozen, front- and inner-thigh strokes, the other another half-dozen of the same front- and inner-thigh strokes, fairly hard, making a smack each time. The Dungeon Master whips six times, each armpit. She’s turned over with rattling, clanking chaining.

“Aaah!” A brief gasp, with a long moan “Aaaaaahhhh!” escapes the bit-gag. Jessie’s boobs are melon-sized and hang down closer than ever to the hot coals. The assistants each whip her bottom, asshole, crease, and back-thighs about ten strokes. “Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!“

Dungeon Master says, “That’s fifty-six: Enough whipping.”

He and the two thin assistant-torturers re-position Jessie so she’s in a hogtied-crouch with her knees drawn up and legs spread. Jessie moves lethargically, moans and groans show she’s still compos mentis. Horse-dildo plugger has been attached to the end of a long pole.

Feodor says, “They usually put grease on the plugger to push it into a woman better. But it won’t hurt her quite as much that way. Your choice, Highness.”

Catherine says, “Oh, go ahead and grease it, she’s going to hurt anyway.”

Dungeon Master says, “Thank you, Your Highness, it might have ruined her otherwise.”

He applies grease from a pail and all three torturers place the plugger up to Jessie’s pussy and push the pole. At first nothing happens, slowly they make headway into her pussy. Plugger starts insert, pushing her pussy-lips apart enormously. A low, dying-animal-like keening is heard through the bit-gag. Jessie swings out, plugger is so large it makes her pussy bleed a few drops as it’s thrust by three men in black. Exerting themselves pulling it back out most of the way, next, re-entering faster, three times. “Plock! Plock! Plock!“ Every thrusting makes awful wood-flesh contact-thud: End knocks against Jessie’s cervix.

“Oooo –ohhh!”

The three men hook the fully-involved plugger’s pole in hanging leather loops, leave it held inside her.

Jessie thrashes around. The chains rattle, a muffled-scream: “Aie!” Orgasmed-blacked out-perhaps both? Noise, kicking, moves stop. Jessie hangs limply in her chains. Close inspection shows toasting.

Catherine says, “Is that all of it?”

Dungeon Master nods, confers with Feodor, both them coming over, bowing to the Empress.

Feodor says, “Your Highness, Jessie could recover from her burns in a month, if they take her out now. Otherwise, in a hour, she’ll be dead.”

Dungeon Master seems to agree but says nothing, short-grunts nodding oversize hairy head: “Uh-huh!”

Catherine says, “Take her out. I’ll decide what to do: Put Jessie in the prison hospital? Thirty days in jail at least and be exiled to Siberia for a year or two? Let me know when she’s better: She’d make some camp commandant a fine housekeeper. She’ll be mistreated, disgraced, starved, the whole time.”

[Lovemaking in Empress’s Bedroom with Nikita Panin. Death-Warrants Paperwork]

“Argghh!” Empress in embarrassing position for a ruler, underneath her advisor crouched on all fours while he pumps behind, dog-fashion. “Let me up now Nikita, I want contemplating. I do it best on top!”

“Your Highness will crush me. Please think of my value if you have to fight the Turks. I’m close to the Brits.” Panin isn’t much bigger than the Empress. He groans when she suddenly pushes him off and out.

Twisting him underneath, Catherine says, “Let’s commute the two murderer-peasants to army careers. That’s be a lifetime sentence for them. They killed a volunteer. And Gromeekin, have him escort Jessie to Siberia. He embezzled six hundred, perhaps seven hundred, rubles, when we paid the volunteers. Count Orlov is going to make him repay it. What do I have left?” With one hand, riffles papers on bed.

Panin is huffing and puffing, trying to satisfy the Empress from underneath and is kissing, licking and sucking her round, dark-red grape-like nipple tits! He can’t talk easily. He’d like to do Orlov the dirty and send a rival away as far as he can. Finishes by licking and nipping globes around with great fervor.

Pumps as hard as he can for a forty-three-year-old fellow, ten years senior to his Empress. “Aack!” Accidentally explodes. Huffs, puffs, starts saying short sentences with barking voice: “You might try sending Orlov. [“Ahhh!”] …With Gromeekin to Siberia. [“Aaack!”] …With Jessie. [“Ohhhh!”] That’ll keep the General honest. [“Gads!”] Repaid-money used to pay for the journey!”

Empress pushes him out halfway and spins her mighty pelvis atop him, starts to orgasm again. “Argghh!” “Like it on top a lot better…” Collapses, lies on Panin crushing him without using her elbows or knees to support herself.

“You know, I didn’t enjoy torturing Jessie like I thought I would. Can we find an army post to stash the Dungeon-Master and his two helpers temporarily? Close up the dungeon for now? So later if I need them for the secret police to make someone talk, I can get them back on duty? I’ll come out against torture in general publicly.”

Extricating, Panin rolls out from under. “Give them to Orlov, get him to take them with him on the Siberia run. He gets General Gromeekin to fit them in someplace, when he has him under his thumb.”

Thinks to himself: ‘That will help keep Grigory Orlov busy.’

“Good thing this is a Queen featherbed. We are both overweight.” Thoroughly-kisses his Empress’ face, ear and neck. “Want the bathroom first, your Highness? One of the perks of being Empress of all the Russias?” [Laughs.]

“[Giggles.] Don’t be silly, my little Nikita. I have two bathrooms, as well you know…” Holds Nikita by his well-upholstered bottom, to her sideways. “Who else did I sentence to death?”

Wrapping Empress squashed against him with one arm, pulls up paper behind her Highness’s back with his other hand: Death warrants are half-covered with Empress’ chestnut hair, which he shakes aside, reads: "Captain Feodor and Lieutenant Alexis: They killed your husband, Tsar Peter III.”

“Oh yes, Feodor. Well, let’s have him train to be my butler when Pokov retires. Alexis can become an admiral. Those jobs should be tedious, a real punishment for those tough men of action.”

The End

[Author’s Notes: Who killed Peter III, Tsar of Russia? And did Catherine II order his death? These questions will never be settled. Most historians say Alexis committed the murder. Alexis said in a now-destroyed letter to Catherine, Feodor murdered Peter accidentally in a fit of rage. Catherine would have eliminated Peter later if she had the doing of it. She wasn’t implicated except of sanctioning it; A ‘Becket-veto’.

Lesbian sex: A figment of my imagination? Or could there have been some? That lady-in-waiting sent home by Empress Elizabeth? Princess Dashkova’s non-functional role? Wasn’t Catherine virgin until she was 23?

As ruler: Catherine the Great was “high-medium” or “7 on a scale of 10”, but most rulers are terrible, a “0-to-3?” Her Panin-inspired democratic ideas informed U.S.-founding-fathers, but she resisted limiting her autocracy. The congress she held met only once, and had little or no effect. [Please see Zu Vincent’s book or Henri Troyat’s for more data: Both titles are “Catherine the Great”, Zu’s subtitled “Empress of Russia”. There is also a good but slow movie by Korda with Bergner, “The Rise of Catherine the Great.” Editor's Note: Another good book is "Catherine the Great, Portrait of a Woman", by Robert K. Massie.]

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