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

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

Authors: Dan Bruce

Tags: #erotica, #anal, #bdsm, #bondage, #torture, #virgin, #whip, #piercing

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

(Dark BDSM Erotica)

By Dan Bruce

Copyright Dan Bruce, 2010

Published by Firm Hand Books at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you
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then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters and
incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains
sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be
considered offensive by some readers. Please store the material
where it cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of
age or older.

Please also note: this ebook is a modified version of Jack
Brighton’s ‘Taken by the Vorinovs’ – with the author’s kind
permission.

Chapter
1

“How was your meal, ladies? I hope everything was to your
satisfaction.”

Vicky Fullerton looked round to the man who had approached
their table, stealthily like a cat before he pounced with his
question. Her mild annoyance at the interruption was seamlessly
disguised by the engaging smile she flashed. “It was lovely,
Sergio, absolutely lovely,” Vicky replied. Her younger sister
Natalie nodded in agreement.

And Vicky meant it. The meal was fabulous – not haute cuisine,
but fine local faire that was beautifully cooked and very tasty.
Every aspect of the hotel was to her liking: it was clean and
comfortable; homely in its mood but modern in its running; and the
service was excellent, although Sergio could be a tad irritating at
times, fussing over them the way he did – but it was nice to be
spoiled and looked after so well. All in all, it was a brilliant
place to stay – the whole holiday had turned out to be surprisingly
good. Not something you might have expected of Mordavia!

Mordavia?

Yes, exactly! Mordavia!

At first Vicky had balked at the idea. She had never heard of
the country, but Natalie had insisted they go there for their hard
earned holiday after slaving away in summer jobs during the
university break. Vicky would have gone for something more
mainstream, but younger sister Natalie was adamant – Mordavia was
the place to go. Why spend their summer holiday doing the same as
everyone else? Getting trashed in Ibiza or bronzed in St. Tropez,
bumping into millions of other students backpacking around Europe.
Goa was passé, full of geriatric hippies, and Thailand was so
boring after that stupid bloody film: ‘The Beach’ indeed – hardly
idyllic as it would be swarming with tourists all in search of
paradise on earth. No – it had to be Mordavia: beautiful and
unspoiled, exotic and apparently incredibly cheap. They could live
like royalty for the three week break.

“And where the heck is Mordavia anyway?” Vicky had asked when
presented with this plan.

“A plane ride away!” Natalie had answered dismissively with a
flick of her hand and an angelic smile on her face that always won
Vicky over. “We’re going. Trust me! We’ll have a brilliant
time.”

And she was right. It had turned out fabulously. They had
spent the first few days in the capital, stunned by its old world
charm that had somehow avoided the ravages of communism whilst
Mordavia was part of the Eastern Bloc. Then they had moved o the
countryside which proved beautiful and diverse, and where they were
treated like visiting princesses – tourism hadn’t touched the
remoter parts, and fair-skinned, blue-eyed blondes had never been
seen before.

What really topped things off was when Natalie managed to
speak to the locals in their native tongue. They were so thrilled –
there was nothing they wouldn’t do for the two glamorous creatures
who had descended from another world. Being able to communicate had
made all the difference. Natalie had a gift of being able to pick
up new languages very quickly. She was studying Russian at
university and Mordavian was similar. By the time they arrived she
had mastered enough to easily get by.

Now they had settled at the country’s main beach resort for a
final week of sunbathing and relaxation. Having spent very little
of their holiday money, they had checked in to The Golden Sands,
the best hotel on the coast, where English was actually spoken and
the food was surprisingly delicious.

“Would you like some coffee, ladies, and a complimentary
liqueur perhaps?” asked Sergio Markov, the hotel manager, who had
taken a special interest in his two beautiful guests from
Scotland.

Vicky looked to her sister who was shaking her head. “No thank
you, Sergio, we’ll take a stroll then retire to our room. I need a
shower and an early night. Remember, we go sailing
tomorrow.”

“Of course - you need to be up early,” said Sergio with a wry
smile. “I have arranged for your wake up call as you requested. It
is unlikely that I will see you before you leave in the morning, so
I will give you my good wishes for the day now.”

With the same wry smile, Sergio left the sisters to finish
their wine, forcing himself away from their delightful loveliness
so as not to cause offence or appear like a love-struck puppy. He
was a man, a Mordavian man, and had his dignity to consider. And
Sergio’s dignity had already been grossly offended, which is never
a good thing where Mordavian machismo is concerned.

Sergio bristled at the recollection. He had offered to take
them on a tour of the area in a car he’d arranged to hire at huge
expense. He was an important person – a minor celebrity given his
position, so they should have jumped at the chance. It was an
honour to be invited by such a man as he – did they not realise
this? Yet they had turned him down! The reason was irrelevant – the
offence was crushing to his macho pride. Then they added to this
devastating blow by telling him they needed an early wake up call
for the following morning. Telling him, Sergio Markov! Treating the
manager of the best hotel in the resort like some peasant who
worked in the reception of a hostel!

It had been galling – a hideous insult on top of the knock
back he had suffered. No local woman would have dared approach him
on such a trivial matter, but he had no option but to smile and
take a note of their request. And as if that had not been enough,
the reason for this call was so that they could spend the day
sailing.

Sailing indeed!

This was another major blow. As a consequence of this
ludicrous trip out to sea, the two delectable foreigners would not
be sunning themselves on the beach wearing their skimpy little
costumes that had caused such a stir, scandalising the local women
and tormenting the local men - and Sergio would be denied his
stolen moments spying on them through his binoculars.

Once out of the restaurant, Sergio stormed into the staff room
where a junior porter was having a sneaky cigarette. The manager
cuffed the young lad around the ear and sent him out to reception
with a hard kick up his backside, venting a little of his fury over
the indignity he had suffered and the stolen moments he would miss
as a result of this sailing trip.

But those binocular assisted glimpses of the girls sunbathing
on the beach were not the only stolen moments for Sergio Markov,
and he would most definitely be seeing the Scots girls again before
their sailing trip in the morning. He would be seeing them again
very soon, as he had done on the previous two evenings.

Less than an hour later, Sergio was
stroking his blood engorged cock, his trousers were
unbuttoned, his belt was unbuckled, his trousers and his underpants
were pulled down to his knees as he peered through one of the small
holes that were drilled into the wall. There were three of them in
the bedroom and another two in the open plan bathroom which was
designed with voyeurism in mind.

Sergio was sure he was the only person alive who knew of their
existence – this throwback to the bad old days in Mordavia when
watching people was an obsession. His father had managed the hotel
before him and had been in the pay of the State Police. The main
purpose had been to entrap foreigners or political dissidents who
might indulge in a little extra-marital fun with a local whore. Now
they were used solely for pleasure, and the pleasure was all
Sergio’s.

He always made sure this room was given to attractive young
women, purely for this purpose. It didn’t stop him if they were
with a man – Sergio enjoyed watching them get fucked, or what
little he could discern of the action – Mordavian women having a
preference for sex in the dark and a boring missionary position. He
was much happier when they were alone however, or even better with
another woman; then there would be no sex, but he could watch and
fantasise about having them for himself. Usually it was local women
– few foreigners ever came to Mordavia, but with the opening up of
the country a trickle were now coming to stay. These two women were
the first without men to guard them – the first young ones – and
they were the most beautiful creatures Sergio had ever seen. This
was the highlight of his voyeuristic life.

Sergio had been waiting for them as soon as they returned to
the hotel after their post dinner stroll. He had taken up position
in the linen store which adjoined their room, and watched through
the middle hole which afforded the best view. For ten minutes they
had teased him by doing little other than chat, the younger one
provocatively lying on the bed whilst the older sister sat in the
armchair. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, the
walls muffling their voices, and their accent when they spoke
together was very unusual - a Glaswegian brogue making them almost
unintelligible. But Sergio was sure they were talking about him -
making fun of him. Wasn’t that always the way with western women –
they had no respect for men. Whores – the lot of them.

And these two young women, beautiful as they were, were
tarnished with the same brush. Had not Sergio shown them kindness?
Had he not ensured they had the best room in the hotel – all be it
one where he could spy on them, but these cock-teasers were not to
know that? Had he not specifically ordered the staff to look after
their every need – the best service in the restaurant, the best
food, complimentary drinks? Had he not offered to take them out on
his day off and show them around the region in a car he was
prepared to pay a fortune to hire?

And they refused!

Sluts!

Whores!

Disrespectful harlots!

By God he would have his revenge!

Like his father before him, Sergio was also in the pay of the
State Police, and tomorrow a telephone call would be made that
would teach those bitches a lesson.

But that was for later, now he would enjoy his voyeurism, for
some action was about to take place. The older one had got out of
the chair and was getting undressed, intent on having her shower.
Sergio watched as she removed the stylish top she had worn to
dinner, which had shown off her golden tanned arms and shoulders to
devastating effect.
She removed it slowly,
lingering over her action, using what to most people would appear
like two hands, but in fact she used only one. The other hand was
stroking her lovely flat stomach as it was teasingly revealed
before moving on to her fabulous breasts which were astonishingly
full and gloriously pert, and barely contained by her scandalously
daring bra. The sheer material clung to her breasts and showed off
very clearly the bulge of her perky nipples, which to Sergio looked
disgracefully hard, confirming the fact that the woman was a slut
and deserved everything that was coming to her.

Then the strumpet pulled the top over her head, her slender
arms reaching high into the air as if rousing from some sex induced
sleep. She held this evocative pose for a ridiculous length of
time. Sergio was sure the dirty cock-teaser knew what she was
doing, knew that he was watching her and was tormenting him with
the body she had so cruelly denied him the company of on his day
off. And it was working! Sergio’s cock was throbbing in his hand
and his heart was racing in his chest. God, how he wanted to fuck
the bitch! Fuck her and bugger her and stuff her throat full of his
dick as he emptied his balls into her stomach!

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