DMITRI; This fanfiction is dedicated to the birthday girl, Kayla. As a note this is written in the mid twenties in America. Everyone is nyotalia except Britain and France who really don't show up much. Belarus= Rurik, Ukraine= Dobrushin, Ivana= Russia, and Madeline= Canada.
Enjoy it, birthday girl, you inspired every bit of it!
The silver haired woman smiled sweetly at her older brother, batting her thick lashes cutely. "But of course, braht, it is no problem holding things down for you while you are gone for the night. Have fun at the nickelodeon with your date." Ivana assured out of courtesy. Even though Dobrushin was the eldest and, therefore, head of the Bratva, the middle Braginski ran the show. Everything that happened passed through her before it ever reached his ears and she acted accordingly. The Ukrainian man was too soft to lead claim his dominance from her, much less do the dirty work necessary for running the American based Bratva. He was too much of a cuddly teddy bear for their profession and stayed leader only in title.
Dobrushin nodded decisively and hugged Ivana tightly before shrugging on his heavy winter coat. His men took this as a signal to ready the car outside for him in the driveway as he gave orders for form's sake; mostly reminding the guards about their tip on a mole, finishing paperwork, and general instructions for a common night. When he was done he again looked at his sister giddily before stopping mid-smile. "Iva, why are you wearing that? If anyone outside sees that you will be arrested!" he exclaimed pointing at the offending red beret cocked on her silver head.
She pouted at his reaction before grinning once more. "I am proud of our revolution back home. The Soviet Workers are making Rossiya prosper over the evils of Capitalism. Are you not proud?" Ivana said happily taking in the uneasy looks from the members pretending to be busy around the office. She had just brought up their taboo subject! The ones who had run to America to escape the Bolsheviks were grinding their teeth silently while the rest fidgeted, anxious to leave with the older Braginski. She supported her motherland, even if she was in a capitalist nation with men who sided with the White Army. She would wear the star any day without fear. It was doubtful she would be harmed even if she provoked attack, she knew, there was a reason why she insisted working on the field personally. Even the stupid men referred to her as an angry bear of a man because of her fierceness, always behind her back though and never to her face.
"Sestra, we will talk about this another time." Dobrushin dismissed not wanting to fight when he knew he was going to lose in front of his men. "Should I have Rurik here with you?" he asked finally placing his black fedora on his head, a much less obtrusive covering than his sister's.
The young woman shook her head quickly. "Nyet, he is on a job right now anyway." She did not want to be left with their scary little brother in the office. It would make for a harrowing experience she did not enjoy.
"Very well. Paka, sestra." He said going out the door with all of their underlings trailing behind. The door clicked shut after the last one and the smile quickly disappeared from the Russian's face. Alone.
Ivana silently crept over to her brother's work desk and pulled out a bottle of Vodka from the cabinet underneath to lounge in the large plush chair, her long trouser clad legs propped up on the desk. She was glad she asserted her practicality of wearing a suit rather than some dress. Being ladylike was bothersome as it was uncomfortable. Besides, even Clara Bow couldn't pull off the pinstriped suit like she could. That oil can had nothing on her. But Miss Bow was probably never alone….
Her eyes drifted closed as she nursed the drink fondly, the faint sounds on music drifting up the walls from the Family owned speakeasy downstairs. The tune was so happy it almost curved a genuine smile on her lips. But she hated being alone more than a song could fix. Nothing had broken the monotony for a long time and braht needed to get out and do something, she told herself taking another long gulp from the bottle. Barely an hour of peace passed before a knock interrupted her lonely drinking.
"Come in." Ivana raised her voice, bringing her feet to the ground and setting the empty glass between them. Two of her men came in escorting a blonde dancer that looked about ready to make a run for it. That is, until she saw Ivana sitting behind the desk. Almost matching purple eyes connected as she stopped struggling, seemingly regaining her composure. "What is this?" Ivana asked evenly without breaking eye contact with the flapper.
The first one cocked his head to the side haughtily releasing his hold on the girl. "The mole, Ms. Braginskaya. The informant tipped us off about the two cops sending in a mole on the weekends and the Madam pointed this one out as working exclusive weekends." He informed. The girl looked down at the carpet before trying to speak, only to be talked over.
"And the other girls saw her meeting with two blonde men that are not customers, Officers Kirkland and Bonnefoy. We figured out her name from the records; Officer Madeline Williams. It says she just joined up last may." The other added.
The fake smile she plastered on her face grew into a delighted grin. Ivana waved away the two men with a flick of her wrist. "Spasiba, boys. You may wait outside for me to talk with the poor child." She ordered sweetly. They obeyed wordlessly shutting the door behind them, letting the office sink into jazz permeated silence.
Ivana smirked to herself looking over the girl standing before her with her gaze glued to the floor. Her short purple flapper dress was tied at the thigh to reveal a shapely set of gams hugged tightly by fishnet stockings. Her chest was more ample than the style, as was her wavy blonde hair that reached just past her chin that was bunched slightly under the purple feathered headband. Her matte lips were set in a firm line from what she could see. To the eye she was merely a make-up wearing flapper ready for the stage in some joint. Such a pretty little sunflower… I hope I don't have to hurt her too much. She thought vaguely to herself. The woman rose to her full height and moved around to perch on the edge of the desk in front of the blonde. "Are you going to tell me your name, mo'ee podsolnechnik?" Ivana suggested with a giggle.
The girl's head shot up in confusion, a glint of defiance buried in the baby pools of her eyes. Her mouth worked for a moment before anything came out. "Janette Wiseman." She finally articulated.
Amusement flashed through Ivana's face at the alias. "And do you work downstairs, Janette?"
"I'm a dancer. I have been for a while." She responded automatically.
"Then dance for me, little flapper."
The Blonde's charcoal lines eyes widened cutely. She looked so taken aback at the command. "The Charleston?" she asked hesitantly.
Ivana giggled again, pulling her scarf up over her mouth to suppress the laughter. The girl was far too nave to have been a serious dancer here. Mama Red downstairs had some explaining to do after this meeting. "You are a great jokester! Nyet, I want to see you strip for me. Then I can see that you are a dancer, da?" the Ruski clarified. It was just too fun messing with the officer.
The girl shook her head vehemently, an indignant blush swallowing her pale features. When Ivana asked why not she almost shook. The shimmery tassels about her breast certainly did. "I am n-not stripping for some Red Secretary." The undercover cop stated with contempt in her eyes.
Big mistake.
"KOLKOLKOLkolkolkolkolkol…" the Russian woman chanted as she dropped her hand from her scarf to retriever a pistol from the holster under her coat. The girl had no time to react before it was aimed straight at her. Ivana's eyes had gone cold above her ever present smile as she cocked it. "You made three mistakes, mo'ee podsolnechnik. Let me correct them as a good mother should." She sang in a falsetto pitch as if it were a joke. Her actions suggested otherwise.
"First, I did not ask you to strip; I told you to. Now." She commanded in a cheery voice.
The obviously frightened girl snapped of her headband and tore off her purple feathery gloves, letting them fall unceremoniously to the ground. She then proceeded to unsexily slip out of the clingy dress in an angry and flustered manner before she stood in her stockings and underwear. Ivana had to prod her with a gesture of the gun to continue. Moments later the Russian smirked gleefully at the fully naked girl trying to hide herself with her hands. "Would you like to do the Charleston now, podsolnechnik?" the silver haired woman grinned maniacally. The only answer was a pointed glare from the cop. "that's, as you Americans say, Jake. I will instead tell you your second mistake; you referred to me as 'red'. I prefer you at least call me a communist, if not a Soviet Advocate of the Proletariat. I do not appreciate sharing the term with your Natives nor do I find it flattering. Our Government protects all our children in perfect equality." Here she paused to stand up with a predatory grin directed at the girl. "And I must punish you for being a naughty child, Miss Williams, like a good mother hen should. Hold out your hands."
Madeline complied and was tied by the wrists with Ivana's soft pink scarf. There was not a window of opportunity to attempt an escape while the gun was temporarily down because she was immediately thrust up against the desk, emitting a little squeak upon impact. Her face pressed into the cool wood as a cup of pens spilled out onto the floor. No time was wasted in nuzzling the muzzle of the gun in the back of her blonde head to keep her still. There was the sound of rustling fabric briefly. "Let me ask you a question, little Madeline. Who am i?" Ivana drawled out in a friendly manner.
The cop wiggled a little to turn her face to the side. "Some Mrs. Grundy secretary for Braginski. Probably give him a dose of it every night." She replied softly but not without an ounce of spite. A large smack rang through the room as the Russian's belt collided with Madeline's bare fanny. "Ah!" the girl cried.
Ivana tsked condescendingly. "I already have to put up with Rurik having those incestuous fantasies about me, I will not tolerate them from you." She ordered snapping her wrist to give an encouraging spank, causing the blonde to cry out again.
"The youngest Braginski?" Madeline asked in confusion.
"Da, mo'ee braht." She answered with a saccharine smile.
The blonde's eyes narrowed. "Liar. There's only the three Braginski brothers." She denied in contempt.
Three swift consecutive hits plagued her backside, harder than the preceding two. A choked sob stuck in the cop's throat that deterred her breathing. "What are the 'brothers' named then, podsolnechnik?" the red army supporter demanded beginning a steady rhythm of soft smacks with her leather belt.
The blonde almost couldn't speak. "D-Dobru-Dobrushin, Iv-vana, and R-Rurik."
I'm going to bump those bozos off who spread those rumors. I am NOT a man. Ivana growled out loud and struck the girl harder. "And do you know who is in charge?" she prodded further.
"the oldest but people say the Ivana bastard is the real one." SMACK. The girl almost couldn't contain the sob that wanted to escape at the pain.
Inhumanly amused giggles emanating from the Russian swelled as she stroked the pale body she was spanking harshly. "let Yeblia tell you something about Russian names." Ivana giggled. "First, Ivana is a female given name, the compliment to the male Ivan. Second; girls and boys have different surnames based on gender. Such as Braginski for boys and Braginskaya for girls. So let me ask you again, who am i? Get it right so we may fix your last mistake!" she giggled again.
The girl finally understood the true gravity of the situation she was in and began struggling desperately with the scarf binding her hands. Ivana just flipped Madeline over on her back and used her free hand to hold the bound wrists above the blonde's head. The undercover flapper was breathing heavily in panic, most likely recalling stories about the middle 'brother' she had no doubt unearthed in her espionage efforts. Ivana knew the stories were probably mostly true as well and the girl ought to be shivering in fear. But… she couldn't help but notice how warm it felt pressed against the naked girl. It felt incredibly nice. In fact, she felt happy flush against the cop like this. Ivana found herself shivering strangely.
Without thinking much about it, she sealed her lips over the Capitalist's dominantly. There was no kissing back because it was not expected nor wanted. It was purely controlling. Madeline screamed something incoherent as two crossed fingers were shoved roughly inside her without warning. Her pitiful pleas for help fell on deaf ears. Her makeup was smeared all down her face from crying. Ivana became hungry at the desperate sight the girl made. Officer Williams didn't stop crying when gasps escaped her as the Russian mobster began twisting her fingers, her thumb rubbing her clit making Madeline moan.
The Russian felt a tight wave of arousal hearing the self-loathing moans the girl sounded for her. A giggle passed her smiling lips as she repeatedly slammed the Cop's wrists hard against the back of the desk's edge above her heads until she heard a loud crack. The girl let out a strangled scream and bucked up against the woman above her. Music. Sweet music!
Ivana released her hands and tossed aside the pistol in favor of removing her own pants. She needed relief from the naughty girl provoking her so dirtily. She continued fingering herself and stimulating her clit as she worked to bring the younger up to her level of arousal. The scrunched up pain on the whimpering/moaning blonde's face was enough to send electric shocks up her spine already.
In the end Ivana came first with a satisfied moan. She concentrated afterwards on sending Madeline over the edge next. Despite the sharp pain from her newly shattered wrists she gave out a hoarse shout, her voice raw with tears, agony, fear, and humiliation. Ivana promptly snatched the discarded dress from the floor and used it to wipe off the sticky cum. Her pants were pulled up lazily and rebelted. She need not worry about the gently sobbing cop, she wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.
Ivana Braginskaya pulled out a fresh bottle of vodka from the cabinet and resettled in the office chair as she had been before. The only difference now was the broken mess of a girl curled up on the desk. As an after thought it seemed, the Bolshevik dragged Madeline into her lap without being met with resistance. Such a warm sunflower. "you will stay with me, mo'ee podsolnechnik, forever, da?" she giggled contently. She could already imagine Dobrushin's face when he returned from his outing. He would be flustered, embarrassed, and his brand of furious when he sees his sestra's new pet. He would be afraid, but she had a feeling she didn't want to give up her toy just yet.