RED PACKAGES 3

“Whip them all. 20 lashes for each slut.” General Yasmin Krashkuro, deputy commandress of 1st Guards Tank, ordered.
“As you order, Gospoda General!” The Captain of KGB Prisoner guards answered.
The issue at hand was an escape attempt of about 20 Portugese soldiers from a POW camp in 1st Guards Tank area of responsibility.
“What about the subdued sentries and the leftenant caught by the capitalist she-pigs?”
“They have failed in their duty. Furthermore, they had been bound and gagged by the capitalists and didn’t get free, failing again, instead, they struggled and screamed in their gags like decadent weak American whores. They have to be punished too. I take it they haven’t been released from their bonds?”
“Not yet, Gospoda General.”
“Good. Replace their makeshift bonds and gags with nice stout rope and standard ballgags. But first strip them of their uniforms. Instead, clad them in lust impregnated western latex lingerie, stockings, gloves, corsages. Put them in latex hoods. Thusly packaged, send them to Moscow, to be charged for failing in their duty and for treason.”
“Yes, Gospoda General.”
“Dismissed.”
The captain saluted, turned and left the headquarter.
Yasmin was angry. This KGB-guard Leftenant and the six sentries had brought shame on Red Army and themselves. They didn’t deserve to belong to glorious Red Army anymore. Better to treat them as the weak, shameless sluts they were.
She shook back her waist long black hair mane and banned the annoying issue from her mind. The turko-russian beauty was waiting to be called back to General Ludmilla and the GRU officers. She was angry that she had been sent out of the room with the other staff members.
In general, Yasmin was extremely jealous of Ludmilla, the blonde big boobed cow getting all the praise and fame for the successful campaign, while it had been SHE and staff who had done all the work. It had been SHE, Yasmin, who had personally led the final, decisive tank assault in the Fulda Gap which broke American lines, sitting in one of the advancing T-72 tanks, the formation receiving heavy enemy fire.
It had been SHE, who saw the chance to seize a bridge over the Rhine River and had led an Armored Recon company down to the bridge and across, defeating the surprised, but determined West German bridge guard.
And it had been HER quick reaction and excellent orders which had thwarted a French counterattack a week later near Paris.
But no, it was the military genius Ludmilla here, the great brave Ludmilla there. The blonde and blue eyed heroine of the Soviet Union. Disgusting.
Yasmin nestled her Marlboro pack out of a pocket of her catsuit, shoved a cigarette between her bright red lips and searched her pockets for the matchbox. The impregnation of the blonde filter at her soft lips let her moan in arousal and need.
A match was lit nearby, she looked up.  It was held by Major Katinka Sheranova, a beauty with very pale skin, cold green eyes and red hair, combed back from her slender face and falling down to her rubberized waist in a thick single plait.
Yasmin moaned again, leaned forward to the burning match and lit up. She laid back her head, closed her eyes and took the first deep drag. Letting the smoke leave her mouth around the Marlboro, she mumbled:
“Thank you, Gospoda Katinka.”
She offered the redhead from her pack. Katinka took a stick and mouthed it. She didn’t moan, her face was totally impassive. The Major was commandress of the SPETZNAZ – the special forces – battalion of 1st Guards Tank. As such, she was no member of the staff in the strict sense. But as her unit was used as a special asset, a surgical knife of the Army under direct orders from Gospoda Ludmilla, Katinka was always at headquarters to take orders directly and personally when not actually on a mission.
You couldn’t find girls tougher than the SPETZNAZ. Their training was extremely hard, only the best were chosen for it at all, and only about 40% of those made it. And the officers had an even more harder training regime. Yasmin knew that this gospoda was an extremely dangerous young woman.
She found that hot. She would not say no to a night or two of hard sex with the cool redhead, they both leaving their latex catsuits, the PVC boots and gloves on, only opening the crotch zippers, their mouths glued together, they groaning in heat in each others oral orifice. But that was just a dream. Yasmin didn’t know if Katinka had a sex life at all, be it with someone from staff or her unit, or only with herself all alone. It was rumored that she was cold as ice and not interested in sex.
It was rumored too, that Katinkas version of good sex was killing an enemy personally, with her knife or her bare hands. Yes, this was a dangerous beauty. Yasmin observed as Katinka lit her Marlboro and took the first drag, naturally looking cool and graceful while at it. The Turko-Russian took another drag herself before taking her Marlboro between her rubberized fingers.
Katinka stashed her matchbox back into a pocket of her red catsuit and mumbled:
“I overheard your exchange with the KGB captain about this escape attempt. In my opinion, these Portugese sluts should simply have been shot, or better still have their throats cut with a knife, not to waste any bullets on them.”
“I agree with you that they deserve death, Gospoda Katinka, but they can still be useful for communism as slave labor.”
The redhead shrugged, took another drag from her Marlboro before taking it into her gloved fingers, blew out a long stream of blue smoke and added:
“On the other hand, I agree with the treatment of the failing Leftenant and the sentries. Such weakness cannot be tolerated. It is possible to be captured by the enemy, and get bound and gagged, but no communist girl with pride and inner strength would struggle and mew into a gag to no avail because this treatment is somehow too much for her.”
“Yes. I too cant understand whats so special about being bound and gagged. Those who act in bondage like American whores out of a porn video have no place in Red Army.” Yasmin gave back.
XXX

Agent U-89 produced a small black book from a pocket of the red catsuit and opened it. A small pencil stuck in it, which she took into her other hand.
Curious, Jane came over to her and looked over her shoulder, being taller than U-89. On the first page was a portrait photo of General Ludmilla Dralova, followed by a short description. U-89 made a “P” with the pencil to the right of the photo.
Irina and Raissa were using yet more rope to secure the two Red packages to their chairs. Ludmilla and Kira still struggled, and their mewing into the gags was a constant background sound.
“For what does this P stand?” the blonde US-General asked.
“For “packaged”,” the agent answered deadpan and scrolled through the pages until finding Leftenant Kira, making another “P” beside the brunettes picture too.
“That’s cute somehow. Okay, who is next to get the full treatment?” Jane grinned.
U-89 scrolled back to page 2 of the small book. The picture there showed an arrogant looking, tan skinned beauty with black eyes and a full black hair mane. The name under the pic read: Yasmin Krashkuro, Leftenant-General, deputy commandress of 1st Guards Tank Army.
“Oh, yes,” Jane Rodenberry beamed.  “I am really looking forward to this bitch.”
“We will service her singly. If you like, Jane, you may do the packaging. You did very well on sweetheart Ludmilla.”
“Can hardly wait.”
XXX

Yasmin killed her Marlboro in one of the numerous ashtrays placed here and there in headquarters and moved over to the communications center to check incoming messages. Katinka had left her, looking for a meal in the mess in another part of the building, which was a big farm of a Portugese capitalist. The lady and her companion, together with their adult daughters, had not fled the place when Red Army approached. Being bloodsuckers preying on the oppressed working class, the Portugese women had been stripped, rubberized in lustcream impregnated latex, strictly bound, ballgagged, their heads had been shaved before being covered with latex hoods. Thusly packaged, they had been sent towards the Soviet Union, destined for a GULAG.
This had happened on Yasmins personal orders, who had inspected the farm in search of a location for the Army headquarter. She had observed the packaging of the women, and as expected, all had behaved like the weak, horny whores they were. A satisfying happening, Yasmin had to smile thinly while she recalled it in her mind.
She reached the com center, where 8 radio-operators were on duty at all times, supervised by a leftenant of communication troops. Yasmin found that the chief of communications of 1st Guards Tank, Leftenant-Colonel Alexa Gurjova, was present too.
Alexa was blonde and blue eyed, her smooth hair framing her face in a chin length cut. She had many freckles under her eyes and the bridge of her nose.
“Anything important, Gospoda Alexa?”
“Nothing concerning 1st Guards Tank directly, Gospoda Yasmin,” Alexa answered and continued:
“The bombing campaign against Britain has started. London, Manchester, Liverpool, Sheffield, Glasgow and Cardiff have all been targeted.”
“Good. Maybe the British bitches will surrender without an invasion after some weeks of heavy terror bombing. I am sure their population wont stand this, they are all soft and pampered.”
“I agree, Gospoda Yasmin. The Chinese report to have extinguished all resistance on Taiwan.”
“About time, took them long enough to conquer the island.”
“The forces of the Peoples Liberation Army are not as good equipped as Red Army, Gospoda Yasmin.”
“And not as well trained and led, you might add, Gospoda Alexa.”
The blonde nodded. Yasmin produced her Marlboro pack again, putting a stick between her bright red lips and sucking inadvertently on it. She offered the pack to Alexa and mumbled:
“Anything new from South Africa?”
Alexa took a Marlboro from Yasmins pack, shoved it between her lips, which were very full and pretty, and let out a small groan, like the Turko-Russian beauty sucking on the yet unlit cigarette.
The blonde mumbled:
“Mmmmh, there is nothing new from down there. The forces of the United African Peoples Republic are stalled by the South Africans and US forces north of Pretoria and Capetown. The last attack at Capetown was a failure with heavy casualties of dead and missing, probably captured. Mmmff, a light, Gospoda Yasmin?”
Alexa clearly needed her Marlboro lit. Yasmin wanted to smoke too, but, as 10 minutes earlier, when speaking with Katinka, she couldnt find her matches in the pockets of her catsuit.
The leftenant on duty, a young, eager Brunette with a short ponytail and big blue eyes, helped them out, lighting a match of her own and offering it to them. Hastily both Alexa and Yasmin lit up and inhaled avidly.
“The Blacks down there lack discipline most of all. All thinking with their pussies. Probably eager to get captured and be transformed into slave packages by the South African racists.” Yasmin opinioned, enjoying her smoke.
“In the Atlantic our submarines and naval bombers have sunk 8 merchant ships today. It is doubtful that NATO merchant fleet can sustain such losses much longer. Maybe when we land in England in spring, the island will be completely cut off from supplies from the USA.” Alexa said.
Yasmin just nodded. The leftenant approached them again.
“Gospodas, incoming message from 23rd Guards Tank Division. Someone has entered one of its camps and sabotaged the engines of about 30 tanks and armored personnel carriers by dumping sugar into the gas tanks. The saboteurs have escaped. Two sentries were overpowered and left behind bound and gagged.”
23rd Division was one of 1st Guards Tanks units. Yasmin was furious:
“How dare these Portugese sluts? They will regret that. Send out an order to commandress of 23rd Division. Text:  1. Send out troops to 12 villages in your sector. Arrest and package all adult inhabitants and bring them to Lisbon for transport to the USSR. Children and teenager will be deported too, to be reeducated to proper communists, but naturally not packaged. Then burn these villages to the ground. 2. The two sentries are to be packaged too, and are to be sent to Moscow to be charged with failing in their duties and treason.”
Alexa took another drag from her Marlboro and said lightly, while the Leftenant saluted and turned to a radio operator:
“Isnt this measure a bit strong? 12 villages? Wouldn’t one be sufficient?”
“We must suppress all counterrevolutionary activity immediately and with an iron fist.”
Yasmin said sternly.
Alexa nodded slowly, obviously not convinced. Dumb cow, Yasmin thought. She had smoked so avidly that the cigarette was already burned down to the blonde filter. She killed it in an ashtray, turned, and left the room without farewell to the blonde Leftenant-Colonel.
Outside in the corridor, she met the tall, muscled sergeant of the Biker guards who accompanied the three GRU officers.
“Ahh, Gospoda General. I was searching for you. General Dralova and the GRU want to see you now.”
Finally, took them long enough, Yasmin thought, throwing  back her hair.
“Well, then lets go,” she said coldly.
The two women sped along on their high heeled boots, the sergeant produced Marlboros and offered from the pack:
“Cigarette, Gospoda General?”
Without thought, Yasmin took one and shove it between her bright red lips, sucking at the blonde filter.
“Ummff,” she made, aroused yet again. They reached the door to the conference room.
“MMh, a light, uff!” the Turko-Russian beauty mumbled.
“Inside, Gospoda General,” the sergeant said and opened the door.
Yasmin rushed in, being 8 steps into the room before noticing the two struggling and mmpphing packages on the chairs in the background. It took her yet some more seconds to grasp that these sluts were Ludmilla and Kira.
The sergeant had closed the door behind her and was standing directly at her back. Colonel Janina was aiming with a silenced gun at Yasmin. The blonde US bitch stood nearby, nude, but free of all bonds.
Yasmins eyes widened under her long eyelashes.
“What? What is the meaning of this? Have General Dralova and Kira committed treason?” she mumbled perplexed, the unlit Marlboro dancing up and down, still dangling from her soft lips.
Her eyes fixed on the mass of blonde and brunette hair on the floor near the sitting packages, widening more still. They had been head shaved!
The sergeant seized Yasmins gloved arms from behind, forced them on her back and tied her wrists with a zip-tie. Yasmin looked back, aghast, her hands moving uselessly behind her.
“What are you doing? Release me at once, bitch!”
The blonde US-General had meanwhile approached her. Suddenly, she slapped Yasmin across the face, the Marlboro flying away. Outraged, Yasmin shouted:
“How dare you slut! I will… UMMMPPPHH! MMMPPHH!”
The blonde had shoved a huge red latex packing into Yasmins open mouth, was now working it deeper in with her fingers, completely stuffing Yasmins now bulging cheeks.
The packing was heavily impregnated with lustcream. Being aroused already by her chain smoking the whole day, Yasmin felt her legs becoming as soft and weak as pudding.
“MMMPPH! UUMMMFF! MMMMGGGGGMMMPPPH!”
She screamed into the gag, producing only useless, ridiculous sounds. The blonde fastened the rubber in her mouth with a zip-tie, closing it at the back of Yasmins neck under her hair. It cut deeply in mouth edges and cheeks.
Before the tan skinned beauty could come to her senses, a broad strip of shiny white tape was pressed down on her stuffed, gaping mouth.
“MMPPHH!”
The sergeant took her hair and held it up, while the blonde bitch applied a tape wrap gag around Yasmins lower face, making each loop extremely tight.
The gag was totally unbearable, and furthermore, and that was even worse, the Red beauty realized to her horror it aroused her to be thoroughly and brutally gagged.
She couldn’t stop to scream and groan while the tape wrap was finished, producing the gag sounds she herself saw as a clear sign of weakness and admittance of defeat.
Her gagging done, the sergeant took up position at the door again, while the blonde American and one of the GRU women conducted Yasmin to the table. She could hardly walk, stumbling on her high heeled boots, more dragged over than led.
She was bent over the table, rested her hips against its side. The zip-tie around her wrists was cut away, her arms ben upwards into a reverse prayer.
“UMMMGGG! MMUMMMFF!”
Quickly she was tied up strictly and brutally with very much rope, cutting deeply into her rubberized body. Trussed up, she was turned about, her scrotch zipper pulled down. The blonde slut pulled at a rope end behind Yasmins back, and suddenly every loop of the ropework tightened yet more.
Struggling and screaming into her tight gag, the new RED package was dragged over to a third chair having been placed to the right of the packaged Ludmilla.
Yasmin was forced down on it, but she was actually relieved, as her legs definitely couldn’t support her weight anymore. Her legs were forced together and tied up, more ropes fastened her to the chair.
She exchanged a glance with Ludmilla beside her, the ex-blonde General hardly recognizable, only her nose, her bulging blue eyes and small parts of her cheeks visible between the broad white tape gag and the red rubber of her hood.
Saving cream was smeared into Yasmins hair. The helpless beauty mewed into her gag and struggled wildly. No, not her hair! But it was quickly shaved completely. She looked down on it littering the floor around her chair, then into the nearby mirror, starring at her bald head. A red latex hood like the two others were wearing was jerked over her bald skull and down her neck to her shoulders.
Her packaging was complete. Yasmin couldn’t stop struggling and screaming into her gag, just like Ludmilla and Kira beside her.
The naked blonde US bitch turned to Colonel Janina and said:
“Okay, who is next, U-89?”
 The woman called U-89 produced a small black book, noted something down in it with a pencil and answered:
“Well, lets see. This time we will take a pair. Must speed up things a bit.”