Abuse of Power - Taken by the Karinovs (Dark BDSM Erotica) (9 page)

“We were planning to tie her over a gymnastic horse, but I was
wondering if you might be so kind as to assist in our little
experiment. Perhaps you would be good enough to have her over your
knee and experience firsthand how she reacts.”

David Flashman spluttered and coughed up half of his drink. He
wiped his chin with his handkerchief then looked over to Yuri whose
face was a mask of professional sincerity.

“Well, you know that I am always happy to help in your noble
fight against crime, Chief Karinov. So yes... if you think it would
help.”

Yuri snapped his fingers and barked out a command. A moment
later a couple of his goons took hold of the girl and forced her to
lie over David’s knee - her naked cunt positioned directly over
David’s rampant erection, which was throbbing inside his shabby
trousers. They attached a rope around her wrists, binding her
tightly; then fed this under David Flashman’s chair to link to her
ankles which were tethered as well. She would have no option but to
lie and take her punishment and David would feel every blow,
deliciously transferred from body to body - her tortured pain
converted into his sensuous bliss.

“Now, please proceed, Dimitri. Punish the stupid girl. And for
the benefit of our guest, and the education of this wretch, please
tell us about each implement you use. And Mr. Flashman, please feel
free to take part. Test out the heat of the wench’s buttocks – and
give her a slap if you think it might assist in teaching her the
errors of her ways.”

David Flashman was very happy to help out and needed no
further invitation. He stroked the girl’s buttocks which were
covered in goose pimples. She was still shivering from the icy
water. It was a state that was about to change!

“I am starting with a ping-pong paddle, Mr. Flashman,”
announced Dimitri as he picked up his first instrument of
correction and waved in it the air. “It is made out of leather and
named as such because it is shaped a bit like a table tennis bat.
The large surface area is rather unusual, spreading the pain of the
blow, but dispersing and diluting the effect as well.”

With that Dimitri delivered two strokes in quick succession,
one to each of the girl’s lovely light brown ass cheeks. She let
out a yelp with each delivered blow, raising her groin from David’s
lap then plunging down on him again, grinding into his cock.
Dimitri then repeated the process two more times, swatting the
girl’s ass cheeks first left then right, turning them a glowing
reddish-brown.

Six strokes in total, David Flashman was impressed – ‘six of
the best’ - very English public school. Dimitri Karinov would go
far with such style, and even further with such an
uncle!

Dimitri backed off to select his next tool, and David Flashman
played his part in the test by stroking the saucy young minx’s ass,
measuring the heat that he found. Then Dimitri was back,
brandishing yet another weapon.

“This is a college paddle, Mr. Flashman. As you can see, it is
made from wood rather than leather. It’s smooth and doesn’t flex
like the leather paddle. I am assured that the name comes from
America - that once detested enemy of our people, who are now
adored almost as much as the British.”

David Flashman gave a nod at the compliment and allowed the
young man to continue with his lecture which David was finding most
educational.

“Apparently this type of paddle was used on the college
cheerleaders to discipline them if they couldn’t swing their
pompoms properly. Those Americans are not so different from we East
Europeans – we used similar techniques to train our female
gymnasts. I was heartbroken when the method was
abolished.”

Then Dimitri brought the paddle crashing down on the girl’s
ass, a single blow covering both buttocks. David felt it himself,
she was crushed into his lap and she screamed out in utter agony.
David looked down at her ass - bruising was appearing, disguised by
her dusky coloured skin, but a thick blue welt was clearly
forming.

Dimitri added another stroke in the same place then hit her
again on the top of her legs before returning to her ass for a
final blow. The girl screamed throughout her torture and bounced up
and down on David’s lap in a futile attempt to escape.

“I think that was definitely the more telling instrument of
correction,” announced David Flashman as he ran his hand over the
girl’s aching buttocks. They were now scalding hot and a mass of
bruises - and the girl was sobbing, no doubt ruing the day she was
born.

Next came a traditional cane, which Dimitri gleefully
explained had been sent to him from Eton, and had been used on the
asses of English nobility. He yielded it with much gusto, any
headmaster would have been proud of the strokes. It left the girl
with six nasty looking welts.

David Flashman looked at the agonised flesh of the girl who
now lay whimpering and exhausted on his lap. A grin spread across
his face then he reached out for his Cognac and poured the neat
spirit over her flesh. The girl screamed again and clenched her
buttocks as the fiery liquid burned at her wounds. She writhed
around on top of David’s lap, massaging his aching cock with her
groin.

“Nice touch!” yelled Yuri, guffawing with laughter. “If the
diplomatic service ever tires of you, then come and see me, Mr.
Flashman – I would happily give you a job... Dimitri, what else do
we have? I think one more for today - we must not let this little
project get in the way of important matters of crime prevention.
There is another pressing subject I must attend to
soon.”

“There are still many instruments to test out, sir. What might
interest you most?”

“I suggest something unusual for our honoured guest, and most
obliging assistant in this worthy trial.”

“Perhaps this might be interesting,” replied Dimitri, holding
up a rather strange looking tool.”

“My wife has something like that in the kitchen,” declared
David Flashman.

“A meat tenderiser! Yes, it is based on the design, only this
version is much larger than the one your wife would use,” enthused
Dimitri. “I had it made to my own specifications. As you can see it
has a multitude of small pyramids carved on the surface. This is
the first time I have used it. Shall we see how well it
works?”

“I am impressed, Dimitri, you really are taking to this
project like a true devotee of the State – I am proud of you,” said
Yuri, flourishing his cigar and Cognac in celebration of his
nephew’s ingenuity. “Please proceed and test out the implement on
this wretched girl.”

Dimitri puffed out his muscular bare chest at this wonderful
praise from his hero, his mentor, his beloved uncle. Then he drew
the paddle back and aimed it straight at the middle of the girl’s
buttocks. The hundreds of pyramids bit into her already bruised
flesh. The girl bucked on David Flashman’s lap and howled out loud,
the agony almost too much to bear.

“Yeah gods! That hurt the bitch,” chortled David Flashman. “Do
it again, young man – do it again!”

Dimitri was awash with delight and he brought the designer
paddle down again and again, smacking one buttock then the other
then crashing down on her glistening crack. He paused to allow his
uncle’s guest to look down on the effect - her ass was a mess of
tiny pockmarks. Dimitri looked at the face of David Flashman. The
man was totally enthralled, his eyes transfixed to the ass on his
lap. Dimitri brought the paddle crashing down again and again and
the girl screeched in utmost agony.

Dimitri looked over to his uncle who gave him a
nod.

Enough!

Yes, perhaps that was enough.

“You must excuse me, my dear friend,” announce Yuri as he
stood up and patted David Flashman on the back. “Important matters
of state demand my attention. I must leave you now, but please,
stay here a while. I am sure your report can wait for a few more
minutes... or hours! I know what studs you Englishmen are. Take
your pleasure of this bitch in whatever manner you choose. Then
return to your embassy and do what you must. Personally I would
wait for a few days before concerning the ambassador with any
details. Everything may get resolved without the need for fuss.
Goodbye, my friend - till we meet again.”

Chapter
6

The two Mordavian policemen came for Vicky a few hours after
she had been returned to her cell. It would be fair to say that
when they arrived, she was a mixed up bag of emotions!

The day had brought at least one silver lining - Natalie was
safe and well. It was such a relief to Vicky when she saw her
younger sister and heard her say she was being treated properly.
Vicky had feared the worst after her own ordeal – sure that poor
Natalie would be traumatised if she had received similar
treatment.

But that relief was drowned by the fury that raged over her
meeting with David Flashman, who had questioned her integrity and
basically accused her of lying, when it was only economy of truth
she was guilty of. Vicky thought he was a pathetic little man – an
embarrassment to Britain as one of its representatives abroad, and
hardly the person you’d want in your corner when facing someone
like Yuri Karinov.

Then her fury turned to a sense of impotence as she absorbed
the reality of her situation. Her story did sound ridiculous, and
whilst she was sure her family and friends would believe her, those
people in power, both in Mordavia and the United Kingdom, would
find it difficult to accept her word against that of the chief of
police. Even Natalie had looked at her incredulously when Vicky had
disclosed the details of her oral violation – and quite rightly so
– it did sound far-fetched. Although not quite the ordeal she had
made it out to be – and there lay the real emotional
conundrum.

It was wrong! No line of argument could ever be made to
convince Vicky that what they did wasn’t a hideous crime. But there
could be no denying either that it had been one heck of an
experience: to be used and abused by the Karinov men. Vicky
couldn’t get it out of her head. Fury raged at the injustice that
was being done; and impotence mocked at the inevitability of it
all. But cutting through this was the unquestionable fact that
despite being so wrong, it was an amazing event – fantasy sex made
scarily real, and all the more intense as a consequence.

God what a pair those bastards were! Forget the other guy who
was no more than a bit player – it was all about the Karinovs, in
particular the uncle, Mordavia’s chief of police. Vicky tried to
blank it out, but alone in her cell, memories ran riot: the
authority they yielded and power exuded; the physical splendour of
the two big brutes; the ability to pleasure and the climaxes they
gave. It all added up to an intoxicating mix – if only the
circumstances were different then she might have truly revelled in
it all.

But they weren’t! She was held in prison, wrongly accused –
accused of a crime that carried a death penalty. The Karinov men
might be sexual gods, but they had to be seen in context. And where
Vicky was concerned – that was mightily disturbing. Her future was
looking very bleak.

Fortunately she was not left to contemplate this for very long
before two policemen came for her.

The Mordavian officers, gentlemen that they were – two brutes
with simian faces and probably brains to match, held Vicky roughly
by the arms and dragged her out of the cell. Determined to resist
and not act like a slut again, Vicky screamed and kicked but to
little effect, as they bundled her along the dank dark corridor
past the other pitiful prisoners that were held captive in the
cells. Then still impotently fighting, she was ushered down a
flight of stone steps that led to the dungeon – a scary place
seeped in the history of pain.

Dressed in a fresh uniform, the chief of police was waiting at
an old oak door - a smug smile sitting on his mature rugged face.
Unable to resist, Vicky took on board again his impressive size. He
was a tower of a man, at least six feet four in height and as
impressively broad as he was tall. His face was stern and
foreboding, chiselled Slavic features, the blackest of black eyes
and the cruellest of pink lips – infuriatingly fine in Vicky’s
opinion. As was the thing he packed in his pants – everything about
the man screeched raunchy virility – frightening, yet so enticing –
even to a girl who he threatened to legally kill.

Standing beside the chief stood the equally impressive young
lieutenant. Rather vainly, he had stripped to the waist for today’s
encounter - and despite her annoyance, Vicky couldn’t help but
admire his incredible physique - the broad manly shoulders that
supported his bullish neck, the smooth and incredibly muscular
chest, the shapely pecs crowned with large dark nipples that stood
out like pointed cones, and the rippling six pack stomach with its
dainty little navel. He was glistening with sweat
which added to the horny effect, and he had such
a handsome face - strong and masculine – the same features as his
uncle, though not quite as cruel.

No question about it - they made for a formidable pair, in
every respect. Once again the conundrum of Vicky’s emotions raged
on seeing these men again. Under different circumstances she would
have thrown herself at both of them, but being in a dungeon, held
as their prisoner on trumped up charges, knowing the abuse they
were capable of, gave life a rather different perspective. It was
fury rather than lust that poured from her eyes as she gazed at
each in turn. Resolve hardened with the reality of her plight, and
she vowed that today she would not act the slut, no matter how much
pleasure they threw at her body. An interesting stance considering
where she was – in a scary dungeon, at the door to a torture
chamber, where pleasure historically has been rather one sided, and
it wasn’t the prisoner who had all the fun.