Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as described in the story. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may portray different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times.
Writer: AmandaBlonde & Regis
Subject: RUSSIAN LOLIPORN 1
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Synopsis: With a name like Paul Yakoff, you might imagine I was connected with the sex trade in some way, and I had more than a little experience in the business. My main asset was my skill in Eastern European languages, like Hungarian, Ukrainian, Czech, Polish and Russian. That got me the kind of writing assignments that kept my penis rigid and often spouting the good stuff. On one assignment in particular, I got involved in the child pornography business to do an exposé on Russian, Czech, Polish, Hungarian and Ukrainian little girls whose mothers sold them into the sex trade. This is that story.
Russian Loliporn 1
My high school German teacher said I had a knack for languages and suggested I study Russian and German in college. With a last name of Yakoff and an impeccable Russian accent, I could easily pass as a Russian, and often did.
That was back in 1965, with the Cold War in full swing. I enjoyed my college years, despite being called a Communist for studying Russian and other Eastern European languages. Nobody knew how much it would help me later in life.
I found work as a translator right away and made two trips to Russia before the Berlin Wall came tumbling down. I don’t think they will ever be able to develop translation programs that can appreciate poetry or the semantic nuances a language.
That’s my specialty – with the double meanings, innuendos, and regional accents that seem natural to a native speaker. A few years I ago found myself in low demand as a translator. Just too many Polish and Russian immigrants with better English than me!
I was desperate for work and finally landed a job writing articles for a right-wing, fundamentalist, quasi-religious association. Although their views on certain issues irked me, I was just a writer and had to reflect their narrow-minded opinions in my articles.
Then things began to change six months ago.
The editor of our magazine walked into my cubbyhole at 4:40 PM on a Friday and said, “Paul, Mr. Clark liked the article you submitted last week about the economic dangers posed by third world countries, particularly Eastern European.
“Our chairman thinks pornography compromising minors coming into our country on the internet poses a serious threat to the dollar. Americans are sending a lot of money to Russia and eastern countries, when they could be enjoying images of pretty naked American cuntlets, and it’s hurting our economy!”
He slapped his hand on the table. I figured that now wasn’t the time to disagree with him, or to mention that I had sent some of my own hard-earned greenbacks to Mother Russia. Their permissiveness in allowing child pornography to be made on a large scale, and sold online had some benefit I enjoyed.
“I told Mr. Clark that you were fluent in Polish” he continued, “and also said that you know Russian and Czechoslovakian. He gave me a CD with child pornography samples that he believes come from Eastern Europe.
“He thinks we should write an expose about the volume of rampant child abuse streaming over here from countries of the former Soviet Union. If you’re willing to go, we’ll arrange a training session for you about undercover surveillance.
“You wouldn’t be in a police role. Just there to observe, collect evidence, and then write an expose. We need to stem this pernicious tide of shameless child pornography flooding in from the East, especially the hardcore pre-teen shit that’s being pumped out of Eastern Europe.
“Our goal is to expose the situation and tell the world how these Hungarian, Polish, Slovak and Ukrainian girls are being abused. Our view is that it’s part of a larger plot to destabilize the West and lure us into Godlessness.”
I jumped at the opportunity for this assignment, but pretended to hesitate – hoping that my face wouldn’t give me away. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “I haven’t been there for a long time. It would probably take quite a bit of expense money. Let me think about this.”
I took the CD home to review the complaints by one of our esteemed board members. Girls in Eastern Europe are so beautiful. Beautiful and sexy. They were being photographed in the nude, providing prime views of their best assets, just as the pretty cuntlets were beginning to blossom.
We have girls here just as cute and sexy, but as far as I know, not many get the opportunity to pose nude for skilled child pornographers, although judging by the way the 12-year-olds dress at the mall, I bet they would love to get naked and model for a pornographer’s camera!
Anyway, I watched the video clips over and over, recognizing several of the girls from material I had bought. To me it looked like they were having a great time undressing for still and video cameras. Their voices sounded happy.
Indeed, some of the close-ups revealed that the girls were excited. The whitish slicks of their own lubrication showed me just how excited they were. When a girl’s cunt produces her juices, there is no doubt the little bitch is in heat.
Heinrich, an associate who knows of such things, spent several hours a day with me for a week going over various bugging devices. These included miniature video cameras, mics and recorders, and also some suggestions for getting in touch with the Russian mafia.
That evening the two of us sat in my living room, our pricks out, pumping them vigorously and ejaculating as we enjoyed the videos, stills and booklets of naked little Eastern European girls flashing their cuntlets, and often stuffing them with vegetables and sausages.
That spyware gear I had bought would be necessary once I got settled in eastern Poland. My employer also knew that I had recently received a modest inheritance about to get some cash from my parent’s estate, but they still gave me some cash to use for bribes.
Evidently, they knew a little bit about how the world worked. They said to keep a log so they could reimburse me for expenses I paid with my own money, even though they knew I wouldn’t be able to get receipts for bribes or for meeting pimps, call girls, book store operators and the like.
I landed in Berlin on the fourth of July, rented a car, and headed east towards Kiev. I had been researching Eastern European teen and pre-teen pornography, which I referred to as “youthful art” since getting the assignment, and decided that after Kiev, I’d move on up to Moscow.
I also had suspicions that some of the girls flashing their cunts were in the US, UK, or Western Europe, but I couldn’t be sure. Anybody could get porno magazines or books in Polish, Russian or Chinese at any major bookstore in the US, or order such publications online.
It would be easy for someone to set up a studio Charleston that looked like a fancy hotel suite in Moscow, and then give the girl some Magazines with Cyrillic writing so the pictures would appear to from Moscow instead of West Virginia.
On the video clips I saw, however, I knew which language the girl was speaking – and even which dialect. Anyway, I didn’t care where the girls were from, but felt hot on the trail of a big adventure. This was like a writer’s wet dream.
After two weeks of traveling, moving every couple of days, and visiting whore houses, bars, porno shops in run-down neighborhoods, I met a man who knew another man, etc. and then Demetri who was connected with the websites.
My cover was that I had my own website and wanted to find cute young models willing to pose naked, and that I was willing to pay top dollar. Finally, with enough grease crossing palms, and the promise of more, I was invited to get involved.
I was taken to a photo studio to observe and even participate in the entire process – from initial recruitment of models, oral agreements with the girls’ mothers, and the preparation, screening, and selecting minimal revealing costumes for the sexy little models.
Finally came the child photo sessions themselves. Demetri told me I would be able to choose several models and then dress them as I saw fit, making sure they had different hairstyles on the girls before taking my pictures or videos.
“Then you will see that these girls are not being abused!” Laughed Demetri. We were enjoying dinner when I told him that some people in the west think that any girl under eighteen years old is not interested in sex.
“They believe the only way these children would undress for the cameras was if they were being abused or forced to do it,” I told him.
“You will see how much they enjoy undressing for our cameras!” he replied, “and you will see how badly their adoring mothers want the money!” He laughed again.
“Wonderful, and thanks for your help.” I said as I paid for a lavish dinner, complete with free-flowing expensive wine, followed by cognac. My expense account was being well-used. I was making great progress, with more clearly to come.
The next day I went to the hotel address Demetri had given me; a classic, old hotel in an area that was once probably very nice. It no longer was, but had deteriorated into what I would expect to see where such material was being produced.
I decided not to use any of the recording devices or surveillance equipment until I had a feel for the total operation. And I also felt a real danger if my new “friends” found out my motives and wanted me to disappear. They could easily arrange it.
“Today is a screening day.” Demetri said. “I think my talent scouts, including word-of-mouth from mothers who like the money, are sending us four girls for initial interview screening today. Mothers of the models become valuable talent scouts for me once I trust them.
“The cunts, often single mothers, like the extra money, and they realize that their daughter can only model for a couple of years before she loses that lovely pre-teen innocence. Today’s girls will be coming in with their mothers for our initial interview, and perhaps a peek at their pussies.”
Then he laughed, “Of course they are all eager for the ‘interview stipend’ of 1000 rubles – about fifty US dollars.”
“Do the mothers know the kind of pictures and videos you will be taking?”
“Not exactly. They know they will be ‘art photos.’ Usually whoever first approaches them shows them pictures that really are ‘art photos.’ Pretty, young girls wearing various types and amounts of clothing, and in different art poses, placed in classy settings and costumes, with bare limbs and lots of skin showing.
“Some of the girls are budding ballerinas, first with, and later without their leotards. In the interviews my scouts show pictures of art oil paintings, nudes done by famous painters, with mostly artistic poses.
If the girl depicted is naked, she is lying on her tummy, or has her legs modestly crossed. Of course, there is nothing in the paintings or photos nearly as graphic as the ‘art’ images we post on our websites.”
“And the mothers still bring their young daughters to you to be photographed in the all-together?” I raised my eyebrows with a knowing smile.
“Of course. There are money codes at the bottom of each page, that implies ‘for this kind of photo it’s this much per hour, and for that kind of photo it’s this much per hour, always increasing.'”
“Da.” I laughed. “And it’s lots more for the naughty poses, right?”
“Of course.” Demetri had several English phrases he liked to use, and one of them was, “Of course.” He got a smug look on his face. “Four times as much for the same hour once her panties are off. The mothers understand that. And even more once touching begins.
“But of course, we don’t say it that way. And the mothers don’t see photos of their daughters laying on their backs with their bare thighs spread wide apart! I give them a copy of a picture of their daughter all dressed up, with only leg showing, looking cute and innocent.
“We tell her that most girls are not accepted; that they aren’t pretty enough, obedient enough, not doing everything they’re told, and so on. But by then the mothers are already spending all of the money in their heads. The big money.
“When we tell her all the images are going onto a website in SE Asia, and that nobody in this country will ever see the pictures, she becomes very eager to show off her daughter.”
“Hmm.” I said. “They don’t understand how the internet works. That it’s totally international.”
“Right. I had one mother tell her seven-year-old daughter to undress so I could see her, everything off!” He grinned. “But I held up my hand when the girl started to undress, and said we needed to take pictures of her all dressed up first, and if she was cute enough in the first shots, then she could undress for the cameras later.”
“Do they want reassurances that their daughters won’t be touched, or have sex?”
“Well, of course, we tell them that they will only be working with our photographers, and that they are perfectly safe with us, as most of our dressers and photographers are female, and we use only female coaches to help pose the girls, making them look like professionals, and they’re reassured.
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE