Abuse of Power - Taken by the Karinovs (Dark BDSM Erotica)

by Dan Bruce

  Sergio was panting as well on the other side of the wall, his eye glued to the small aperture that afforded him this incredible luxury. He jerked at his cock, whilst he gazed at the hussy, wishing he could be there to pleasure her himself. Then he saw her body spasm. He watched as this vision of sensual loveliness brought herself to orgasm under a cascade of tepid water. And with a groan, Sergio was there as well - his thick milky cum spurting out of his cock in a blissful eruption of release to splatter against the linen room wall. He frantically pumped his rock hard meat, squeezing out every drop of seed from his balls as he imagined he was squirting into the Scottish whore who had dared to say ‘no’ to him but a few hours ago, but who in Sergio’s head was now screaming, ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’

  The deed done on both sides of the wall, Vicky gave her pussy a final rub, turned off the shower and towelled herself dry before picking up her clothes and returning to the bedroom. Sergio watched until she left, still stroking his cock which refused to go soft. Glancing down, he noticed that the wall was covered with his glistening spunk, the ropes slowly dripping to stain the floor beneath. A maid’s job to clean, but he would do it himself. No one must ever suspect.

  Twenty minutes later, Sergio was ready to come again as he watched the younger sister in the shower. She was less of a whore in Sergio’s opinion - less of a woman for that matter – but she still excited Sergio to an enormous degree. Natalie had the more slender figure, girlish rather than womanly. She had petite firm breasts with small areoles and nipples, tight firm buttocks and a lovely little pink asshole she occasionally revealed as she washed herself. She had a beautiful little pussy with a triangle of golden hair – innocence was the impression she gave, despite being a slut. She was a westerner – so as far are Sergio was concerned, she had to be a slut!

  Nineteen years old according to her passport. She looked younger – much younger to Sergio. God, how exciting that would be to ravish such tender teenage flesh! As he dreamed the dream of a fuck at her pussy, and another at her lovely pink asshole, Sergio spurted out another load of his cum as Natalie emerged from the shower to wrap herself in a robe.

  Sergio watched her with a heavy heart – she looked so lovely and pure, and for a moment he wondered if he should pass the chalice and refuse his payment of silver.

  ‘Why did they have to refuse me?’ he asked himself. ‘I would not have touched them. I only wanted to dream - to have a day to remember, to be the talk of the town – the lucky man who had escorted these goddesses around. And then later, when they were gone, I could have invented tales of mind boggling sexual acts that would have made me the envy of all the men. Why did they have to refuse me? Why? Why? Why?’

  Then he hardened his heart. They were sluts from the west and they would get what they deserved for hurting him so. And Sergio would be rewarded handsomely for landing such a catch. Yuri Karinov would be mightily pleased when he saw what Sergio was delivering into his hands.

  Chapter 2

  Mordavia’s chief of police was a man feared throughout the country – his very name was a source of terror across the land. Educated by the communists, trained under their brutal regime, a ruthless man and a born survivor - he had seen the winds of change blowing long before his fellow officers in the State Police and had covered his ass brilliantly when the communist government was overthrown. A few years later, as crime gripped the new democracy, Yuri Karinov, the survivor from the bad old days of policing by fear, emerged as the man to sort out the mess.

  New laws were insisted on and warily granted – the government effectively putting its head in a noose. Hard won civil liberties were thrown to the wind as the police were bestowed almost draconian powers. It did the trick though – by God it did! Yuri sorted out the crime epidemic quickly and ruthlessly. The bad old days of state control were back in a new democratic disguise. But at least the streets were once again free of crime and safe to walk at night. Of course corruption became rife and those new powers were abused – but no one in the government was too bothered about that, especially as Yuri soon had most of their balls in a vice with a huge variety of incriminating material, some of which was actually real. The elected government, that was supposed to serve the people, soon became a puppet with Yuri Karinov pulling the strings. But on the upside - it was safe to open up the country to tourism and make a bid to join the European Union. Corrupt or not, Mordavia now faced west and Euros, pounds and dollars were pouring in, whilst roubles were kept firmly at bay. Mordavia was taking its rightful place in the world as a modern independent state – what did it matter if there were some atrocious human rights violations going on? The silly oafs in Brussels would never hear of them anyway, as nobody in their right mind would dare to cross Yuri and blow the whistle on his questionable methods of maintaining law and order!

  Of the eighty or so people dining at The Golden Sands the following evening, sixty were Mordavian, and all sixty fell deathly silent when Yuri Karinov was escorted into the room by the fawning hotel manager. It was like a blast of cold air blowing into the restaurant, chilling the atmosphere and making everyone shiver despite the warmth of the evening.

  Vicky and Natalie picked up on it immediately. They had no idea who the man was that had caused this effect, but it was obvious he was a celebrity of sorts. As westerners tend to do when confronted with fame, the girls looked at the man openly whilst sixty other guests lowered their heads and prayed they would survive the night. Suitably impressed, both the Scotswomen silently wondered who or what the man might be. His smart Italian suit made him stand out from the masses, but offered no clues as to his position in life. His impressive physique implied some sort of athlete, but his face was that of a middle aged man – handsomely rugged, firm and austere, an athlete of a past age perhaps but no modern day sporting idol.

  The two sisters could sense the anxiety he incited, and as the man approached in the wake of Sergio, they could sense the power he exuded. It was both fearful and strangely exciting to the young women who did not know Yuri Karinov in person or by reputation. Vicky in particular found him disturbingly enticing – she never had a problem with maturity in men, preferring experienced lovers over fumbling youths, and this particular specimen was very much to her taste – her neglected body responding immediately to his animalistic attraction. Big and brawny, a real beast of a man, stylishly dressed but wonderfully rugged - he had all the allure to Vicky Fullerton, of the alpha dog for a bitch in the peak of her season!

  Simmering in the heat of the authority he radiated, both women were desperate to ask the other if she had a clue as to who the man might be, but the silence in the room was infectious and they held their tongues. They watched fascinated as Sergio brought the man closer and with a flourish of his hand pointed to an empty table which just happened to be adjacent to where the sisters were seated. The man stood for a moment and looked over to them and froze them with his hard black eyes. Offering the most modest of smiles, he nodded his head in a respectful salute then he sat down facing them both, without a dining companion to hinder his view.

  And what a view he had!

  It took all of two minutes for Yuri Karinov to decide what to eat and drink, and less than that to decide that Sergio was right. The two women were utterly delectable, each different and gorgeously so: one ripe and voluptuous in the full bloom of her beauty, the other a bud coming into flower and all the more precious for her state of transition. Yuri made no show to advertise his interest, he simply ate his meal in the hushed whispers of the room, enjoying the fear he instilled in his countrymen and the indigestion his appearance was undoubtedly bringing to the guests at The Golden Sands hotel. And even more so he enjoyed the furtive glances he made in the direction of the two lovely young women, who had no idea what fate had just thrown their way. Fate, nudged along by the pathetic individual who managed the hotel – a despicable little dog, who for his efforts, would be thrown a scrap from the table of the unofficial master of Mordavia.

  Chapter 3

 
Three days later Vicky and Natalie left The Golden Sands and were driven to the airport where they were to catch their flight to London for the onward connection to Glasgow. They had enjoyed their holiday, although the final part had proved a little strange. People seemed to shy away from them as if they were contagious, whereas before everyone had seemed so friendly. They both dismissed it, thinking it was their silly imagination. Why on earth would anyone shun two pretty young women?

  But it was strange, even Sergio had acted oddly around them - more oddly than he did when he had first met them, that is! Vicky assumed it was because he felt slighted by her refusal of his offer to show them around in a car. Silly of him if that was the case, as nothing bad or insulting was intended. She quite liked Sergio, and had even masturbated in the shower on a couple of occasions whilst thinking about him – although that had changed over the past few days with a new inspiration driving her lusty passions in the form of a mysterious diner.

  Yes, she quite liked Sergio. But Vicky didn’t want to get involved with anyone during this holiday – it was sister time – men were strictly off limits for the duration. Not an easy task for a woman with Vicky’s demanding libido, which normally was pacified on a regular basis with bouts of raunchy sex. But she had forced the issue, refusing all advances and settling for masturbation. She elected to wait until she was home for a much needed stud to satisfy her very healthy desires. If she had been on her own, then she would have undoubtedly invited Sergio to her bed, if only as a substitute for the Mordavian man she really wanted in there. But not with Natalie around: sweet Natalie – much loved and virginal sister.

  So Vicky was quite pleased when Sergio had come to say his farewells and pressed a small package into her hands. “A gift, so you will remember me,” he had said, “a small token of my esteem for you and your lovely sister. It is a surprise for you both, so open it together when you are home in Scotland. The impact will be lost if you open it before.”

  ‘What a nice gesture,’ Vicky had thought at the time; then she dismissed it from her mind where a spectre now haunted. The spectre of power that she had sniffed, but not yet tasted. Although as luck would have it – a banquet awaited!

  Excited about the prospect of returning home, the sisters arrived at the airport in the best of spirits, chatting and giggling without a care in the world. In defiance of the climate that awaited them in Glasgow, they had elected to travel in light summer dresses which showed off their tans and impossibly long legs that both had received as a genetic gift from their mother – a former model who measured six foot tall - both daughters were a couple of inches shorter. Conscious of the hungry eyes that watched, they checked in for the flight then went for a coffee before making their way to the departures gate. They were still chatting and giggling as they went to security and passed through the scanners without any worrying bleep. They even laughed when the big Alsatian dog came sniffing, joking that it must smell the bacon and eggs they’d had for breakfast. But they stopped laughing when the dog gave out a threatening growl and a young officer nearby pulled out a gun and pointed it in Vicky’s direction.

  Fuck!

  In an instant two lives were irrevocably changed. Now there was nobody laughing - just plenty of people getting out of the way, staring at the Scotswomen with pity in their eyes, where before there was jealousy or lust. Vicky stared as well: at the gun and the officer, oblivious to the straining dog nearby being held on a leash by another policeman. Fear smacked her hard in the face – fear that mingled with the most unnatural yearning – something that made no sense at all given the peril she was in. Yet it was snarling like the dog... or was it a bitch! She hadn’t looked to see what the Alsatian had between its legs – Vicky’s eyes were fixed on the man with the gun!

  It’s a funny old phrase is ‘drop dead gorgeous’ but that’s what he was as far as Vicky was concerned: totally mesmerising; a big hunky stud of the highest quality; broad and really manly despite his youth; and so ludicrously handsome it beggared belief, movie star looks with the sort of dark swarthy features she found so attractive. The smart uniform he wore added to the allure, although the gun he was brandishing would be better in its holster. But beyond the obvious physical worth, there was something about him that was oddly familiar and gave him an added dimension of attraction – the build, the authority, the facial features with those coal black eyes, and the raw sexual energy he exuded, all reminder Vicky of the man in the dining room - that spectre of power that had captivated her so much.

  “Please, come this way!” snapped the young officer.

  “What’s going on?” Vicky asked, casting her inappropriate desires aside as she sharpened her wits to the danger presented. “Why are you pointing that gun at me? Please, put it down!”

  “Both of you! Come this way!” repeated the officer, the threat in his voice all too clear... it wouldn’t be smart to make him say it a third time.

  “I don’t understand. What’s happening, Vicky?” whimpered Natalie looking pleadingly at her sister and clutching her hand – the only person prepared to come to her side.

  “I’m not sure,” answered Vicky. “We had best do as he says, though. Come on! It’ll be fine – it’s just some misunderstanding. I’m sure it’ll get quickly sorted out and we’ll be on the plane to London.” They were assuring words that lacked conviction. Vicky’s stomach was turning as she sensed an air of foreboding encroach to swallow them up in a mire of manipulation.

  Natalie wasn’t buying it either, but she saw no other option and joined her sister as they followed the young officer, who under different circumstances would have very much appealed to her – it wasn’t just Vicky who had taken a strong fancy to the man. With his athletic build and dashing good looks, Natalie thought he made for a striking figure in the smart uniform he wore. It was such a shame he was threatening poor Vicky with a gun, as otherwise the hunky young officer would have embodied everything Natalie dreamed of in her romanticised notion of the perfect man. But life as they say can be a real bitch at times... a snarling she-wolf in certain cases, as naive young Natalie was about to find out!

  Immune to his attraction, the young man in charge barked out some orders and another officer trailed behind with the hand luggage the holidaymakers had put through the scanner. He was a big brute of a man with the makings of a paunch, thick hairy arms and dark stubble on his chin giving a cruel look to his face – Natalie most certainly didn’t fancied him, although Vicky wouldn’t have said no with a few drinks inside her – she quite liked a bit of rough from time to time... which was probably just as well.

  With their minds in turmoil and stomachs churning, the Scottish tourists who had looked to the comfort of home were instead led to a room which was sparsely furnished with two work desks, a large table and a few wooden chairs. The wall nearest the table was covered by a mirror. Vicky rightly guessed they were being watched from the other side.

  “Please, you will wait here,” said the English speaking officer, a certain Lieutenant Dimitri Karinov. He then turned around and left, leaving the girls guarded by the big brute with the paunch.

  Silence followed Dimitri out the door. Then as soon as he was gone, the remaining policeman let out a deep lusty groan. Putting their bags on the floor, he fixed the women with his eyes, scanning their bodies as if stripping them both naked. With no shame for his state, a bulge soon appeared at the front of his trousers – the clear contour of an impressively large erection which he made no attempt to hide. On the contrary, he actually stroked it from time to time as he leered at the trembling girls, chortling away with lewd suggestion.

  It was a very uncomfortable ten minutes the two women spent alone with this crude policeman: Natalie abhorring, looking away; Vicky sympathising with her sister, but furtively glancing at that disgraceful bulge, wondering what it would look like in the flesh. But at least the big brute with his equally big erection took their minds off the fact they had been detained in custody for some unknown reason.

  Thei
r plight was soon in refocus though when the door opened and the handsome young officer returned. He was followed into the room by a tall well built man in uniform of high rank who glared at Vicky and Natalie with his steely black eyes. Two hearts soared and one pussy roared! It was the man from the hotel restaurant of three nights before – the man of obvious power who had acted so charmingly and made such an impact on them both. The girls felt a flash of excited relief – surely now everything would be cleared up and they would still make the flight to London.

  Wrong! It was Yuri Karinov, the chief of police, and the girls were in deep, deep shit!

  Still blissfully ignorant of Yuri’s reputation, Vicky saw this as a silver lining to her detention as it would give her the chance to engage with this man who had stolen his way into her imagination. She beamed him a smile that was laced with flirtation and honeyed her voice to sweetly ask, “Excuse me, sir. Do you speak English?”

  Yuri made no reply and his staff remained deferentially silent.

  Cursing her luck that she didn’t speak the language, Vicky encouraged her sister to do so instead. “Talk to him, Natalie – ask if he remembers us,” Vicky urged, a tinge of colour touching her cheeks as memories of her own came flashing back – evenings in the shower and the shockingly depraved fantasies this man had inspired in her.