Code Shield Read Online Free

ill-treating these people. At least we offer them a livelihood,” remarked Donovich as he undid the drawstrings and peered inside the pouch. His face betrayed no emotion as he tugged the drawstrings tight, placed the pouch and envelope in the glove compartment and asked his visitor,
    â€œWhat time do you take off?” Donovich engaged gear and guided the van down the ramp.
    â€œAnother five hours.”
    Within a minute, Donovich let Karpov off on the ground floor of the multi storey car park and headed back into the city.
    Back in Hotel 69, Donovich and Kashin watched as Ying relieved herself. As soon as she was done, Kashin twisted her hands and duct taped them behind her back.
    When Ying struggled, Kashin shovelled her heavily on the bed. He pulled his hand back, ready to slap her with the back of his hand when Donovich sprung up and grabbed his arm.
    â€œNo bruises on her face,” snarled the big man.
    The young Russian glared back, tried to wrestle away his hand, but Donovich was too massive, too strong. Kashin, pushed against the wall by his bigger companion, winced in pain, his head having hit the wall with a crunch.
    Kashin’s face wreathed in anger and seeing Donovich turn his attention to the woman, he lunged at the bigger man.
    Both men came crashing on the bed in a flurry of flailing arms and legs.
    Donovich cursed and threw a short punch, digging a huge fist into Kashin’s stomach. The young man groaned, curled around the fist and fell to the ground like an embryo.
    â€œStay still,” growled Donovich.
    â€œI’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, you bastard,” shouted Kashin, coughing and panting.
    Donovich turned to the Chinese woman, “Ying, listen to me carefully as I’ll say this only once.” Donovich spoke slowly, his eyes fixed on hers,
    â€œWe paid Wei Chi a visit today.”
    Ying’s eyes widened.
    Got you, you whore . Donovich knew that she had left her ten-year old son in the care of a local family, while she rented a room above a shophouse in Joo Chiat, the room in which she had first entertained him four days earlier.
    â€œI’ve a present for you from your son,” said Donovich. He produced the cloth pouch and tossed it on the bed beside her.
    Ying stared at the blue pouch. For the first time since Donovich met her, she betrayed fear on her face.
    Donovich turned to Kashin, who had pulled himself up onto the bed. “Encourage her,” said the big man.
    Relishing the prospect of what was to come, Kashin quickly recovered from the pain and anger. He sniggered as he unzipped his trousers and sat behind the woman. Lifting her up, he felt the woman’s body go taut.
    Kashin gently lowered her on his stiff member, relishing the tightness as he tore into her lacerated anus. Wrapping his legs around her naked waist, he rested his chin on her shoulder and felt the heft of her breasts.
    â€œOh, this is good,” whispered Kashin into her ears, his breathing laboured.
    â€œDo you want to see what your little boy had given you?” A wicked smile crawling over his face, Donovich picked at the drawstrings, turned the pouch upside down and shook out its contents.
    A ball of cloth, dried stiff in blood, fell out.
    Ying jerked back with a squeak, her mouth taped tight, tears welling and dripping over her eyelashes.
    â€œOh, this is really good,” whispered Kashin hoarsely, as he slipped a finger into her soft wetness, his voice melting into tiny gasps.
    Donovich slowly parted the cloth, keeping his eyes fixated on Ying’s, a hard look etched on his face. He took out what looked like a roasted pork sausage on a loop of string and deftly garlanded her with it.
    Her eyes widened in terror and she screamed. But no sound escaped her taped mouth. She struggled and twisted her torso violently.
    But the severed finger remained wedged between her breasts.
    Ying kicked and pushed back but Kashin held her tight, raping her with his finger