by C. T. Sloan
The arrogant Sergey places five 100,000 plaques on the table. Mr. Peak takes ten plaques and slams them down on the “banker” bet. Has my boss lost his mind?! A million Euros is one and a half million dollars. This is insane!
Sergey gets to deal the cards. The hand is dealt. My boss loses. Sergey wins. “Ha! Ha! You lose, motherfucker!” the young Sergey yells at my boss. The dictator’s son looks at me and smiles. I’m supposed to seduce him. My boss looks like he is ready to kill the dictator’s son.
My head is ready to explode. I’m too scared to move.
“Hey, woman. Your man is going to be sucking dick for his dinner at the end of the night. You better come with me,” Sergey says as he looks directly into my eyes.
The entire table looks at me. My boss looks up at me. I take a step and walk towards Sergey. The dictator’s son laughs. I continue my charade. Mr. Peak’s eyes are burning at both Sergey and me.
The arrogant winner grabs my arm and spanks my ass. “Your bitch is now my bitch!” Sergey yells to Mr. Peak at the top of his voice. I stare at my boss who balls up his fist and slams it down on the table, sending 100,000 Euro betting plaques flying. Women jump back. Sergey’s bodyguards rush towards my boss.
Mr. Peak eyeballs the four monster bodyguards. He looks like he is ready to throw down. A handful of worried Casino execs come between them. My boss grabs his betting plaques and storms off.
I awkwardly stand there for a moment. Sergey looks up at me and grabs my hand, positioning me right behind him. “You will be my good luck charm tonight,” the dictator’s son says as he places a 700,000 Euro bet on the next hand.
Alright, I know this is going to make me sound like I am completely insane. But I actually find myself complimented by the fact that this nutjob wants me to be his good luck charm. I look around and see six very attractive women in Sergey’s “circle” along with a dozen or so bodyguards.
One of the women in particular is glaring down at me with scorn in her eyes. She is about six feet tall, with brown hair and a very strong looking body. My guess is that I just supplanted her as Sergey’s “favorite bitch.” This is starting to get uncomfortable.
The next hand is dealt. Sergey wins. He grabs his winnings and throws his hands up in the air. Then he pulls me down and kisses me on the mouth. Now that is fucking gross. I almost slapped him. That would have certainly made the evening more interesting.
As I try to get back behind Sergey, that tall blonde woman shoves me out of the way. She grabs the back of Sergey’s chair and just locks herself in behind the young man. I can’t allow this to happen. But what the fuck am I supposed to do? This woman is about seven inches taller than me. She could snap me in two.
I stand to the left of the dictator’s son. He wins a couple of hands and loses a few along the way. Sergey is beginning to get a little bored. Between hands, the young man starts to count his betting plaques. “I have made 2.5 million Euros in the last hour. I fucking love Monte Carlo!” Sergey bellows.
The dictator’s son looks around and yells, “Where is General Zhukov?! I want to show that fucker that I just made his entire annual salary in one hour.” Oh fuck! Sergey can not discover that the General is nowhere to be found. If his bodyguards start to search for the General, then they may find Zhukov with Mr. Peak. All of our lives are in danger.
The bodyguards stay next to Sergey but they start looking around the VIP area for the General. I need a distraction and I need it fast. I look up at that tall bitch. I look down at that big diamond ring Mr. Peak gave me.
I make a fist, grab the tall bitch by the hair and punch her right in the chin. She goes down. I go down. We begin to fight on the floor. She starts to choke me while I try to claw out her eyeballs. All of the bodyguards struggle to separate us.
The entire VIP room is in shock. Sergey starts jumping up and down laughing like a mad man. “I fucking love it. Two beautiful bitches are fighting over me! This is going to be the best night ever!”
Sergey orders his bodyguards to grab his betting plaques. The crazy young man looks at me and grabs my hand. The tall model kicks one of Sergey’s bodyguards in the shin and calls him an “Odostan Scumbag.”
“Yeah, well you get out of here you Ukraine whore!” Sergey yells as he throws a 100,000 pound Euro plaque at the girl’s face. The tall woman grabs the plaque and throws her right shoe at Sergey. Then she runs out of the casino.
The dictator’s son loves it. One of the bodyguards looks like he is ready to rip the head off of that tall babe before Sergey stops him. “Forget her. We are going back to my boat to party!” the young man proclaims as he leads me out of the casino.
Sergey and the bodyguards have completely forgotten about General Zhukov. I intend to keep it that way. As Sergey walks out of the casino, I run my hands up and down his back. “I can’t wait to see your Mega-Yacht,” I purr as Sergey smirks with the unearned arrogance of a spoiled trust-fund kid.
A fleet of Mercedes G Series trucks waits for us. Sergey, myself and two bodyguards climb into one of the trucks while the other girls and the other bodyguards pile into the rest of the vehicles.
Damn, I am doing my job a little too well. Sergey is just staring at me like a piece of meat. He runs his right hand up my thigh. I instinctively stop him before he goes too far. He gives me a little slap on the face.
“You don’t act like an uptight bitch to me,” Sergey says as he squeezes my cheek.
Now I get scared. This guy is not afraid to kill anyone. “Let’s wait until we get back to the boat,” I say as I run my fingers through Sergey’s well-groomed hair.
The Mercedes truck doesn’t waste any time getting to the yacht. We stop in about two minutes. The bodyguards open the door and Sergey is kind enough to spank my ass as I exit the vehicle. Good God, this is going to be a long night.
I look out and see this massives ship. It must be at least three hundred feet long. I step onto the gangplank and make my way onto this ship that looks like it belongs in a cruise line. When I step on board, I see a half-naked woman running around the deck. I have no idea if she is high or if she is running for her life. This place is getting surreal.
We walk inside the cabin where this horrible electronic music is pumping. Sergy takes off his jacket and throws it to one of his bodyguards. He grabs my hips and begins to grind against my ass.
I pull myself away. Sergey tries to slap me. I grab his arm and slap him back. Fuck, I can’t believe I did that. “Oh you like to fight?! I like to fight!” Sergey says as he tackles me onto the floor. He begins to kiss my neck and run his hands up my skirt.
I roll off of the young asshole and punch him right in the nose. One of the huge bodyguards begins to laugh. Sergey puts his hand over his nose. Oh fuck, I think I’ve really fucked up this time. I am about to get myself killed.
Sergey stands up. One of his gorilla bodyguards hands him a napkin. He is bleeding a little bit from his nose. The dictator’s son looks at me and smiles. “We are going to have a fun night you crazy little bitch,” Sergey says in a tone that sends a shiver down my spine.
I look at my watch. I have to keep this nutjob occupied for three and a half more hours. How the hell am I going to pull that off?! Think, dammit, think. I walk over to a bar and decide that my best tactic is to get this guy so drunk, he will pass out. Then I can simply sneak off of the boat at 3 a.m.
I grab a bottle of Vodka and open it. I take a sip straight from the bottle. “That is not how you drink vodka!” Sergey yells as he grabs the bottle. The dictator’s son begins to down the entire bottle without coming up for air.
Sergey then throws the bottle across the cabin and walks up to me. He puts his hands around my waist and tries to give me a kiss. I push him away. At this point, some of the other girls walk inside the cabin. Sergey grabs a brunette and begins to make out with her. Good. That gives me a little break from this maniac.
The party continues into the lower deck. Sergey starts to dance with the other girls while I hang back and ma
ke sure no one asks about General Zhukov. I check my watch. One hour has passed.
A couple of the girls start to leave the party with the bodyguards. Sergey is really plastered. Hopefully, he will be down for the count any minute now. I walk out of the room and look for more bottles of liquor. I am determined to give that spoiled little asshole alcohol poisoning before this night is over!
I grab as many bottles as my arms and hands can possibly carry. As I walk back into the disco room, I see a woman run out in sheer terror. Oh fuck! What’s going on now. I notice that the music is off. I enter the room and see Sergey, with his shirt off, holding a revolver in his hand.
One of the frightened women is just standing there in the room. She looks like she is about to cry. “You will not play for 300,000 Euros?! Alright, I pay you 400,000 Euros!” Sergey yells.
I have no idea what he is talking about. All I know is that the young woman is about to cry. Suddenly, she runs out of the room. Sergey turns his eyes to me. He points the gun at me and motions for me to come over to him.
My feet feel like they are glued to the floor. “Come! Come!” Sergey yells. I drop one of the bottles. Then, I slowly move towards the dictator’s son. “Put down the bottles,” Sergey orders. I place the vodka bottles on a sofa.
Sergey sits down at a table and orders me to sit in one of the other seats. I sit down. Sergey cradles the gun. “I want to you to play me in Russian Roulette,” the young maniac says. I panic. The young man puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. *click.* The gun dosen’t go off. He hands the weapon to me and growls, “Put that gun to your head and pull the trigger.”
“No,” I say.
“I will pay you 300,000 Euros,” Sergey offers.
“No.”
“400,000 Euros.”
That’s it. I can’t do this. I stand up from the table. Sergey grabs my wrist. “Sit down!” he yells. I sit down. I look at the gun. Tears start to roll down my cheeks. My boss is depending on me. I pledged to give my life for Mr. Peak. I pick up the gun. It’s heavy. I bring it slowly to my head. I close my eyes. I pull the trigger. *Click.*
“Ha! Ha!” Sergey yells as he grabs the gun. He puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. Sergey pulls the trigger again and again and again. “There were no bullets in the gun! All those dumb women ran out of the room crying! They are stupid whores!” Sergey screams.
The dictator’s son looks at me and smiles. He reaches over and grabs my hand. “You are not afraid to fight. You are not afraid to challenge me,” Sergey says as he looks into my eyes. The young man stands up and kisses my hand. “I choose you to be my woman,” Sergey says. Oh, lucky me.
He pulls me up and holds me close. Then he whispers into my ear, “I will make you the Princess of Odostan. A nation will bow before you. Do you know how it feels to force an entire nation of people to bow before your feet?”
I don’t know if this guy is sincere or drunk. Right now, I would much rather prefer him to be drunk. So I whisper into his ear, “The more you drink, the sexier you get.” Just for the record, this may be the first time, in recorded history, a woman has ever said that to a man.
I get up from the bed and walk back to the disco room to grab four bottles of the vodka. When I come back into the bedroom, Sergey is stripped down to his jockey shorts. Alright, I really don’t need this night to get any more fucked up.
“Come here with my vodka woman!” Sergey yells. He grabs my arm. The bottles spill all over the bed. Sergey grabs one of the bottles and begins to drink. And when I say drink, the guy just gulps down that vodka like it’s water.
I’m just waiting this guy to pass out. It is 2:00 a.m. One more hour to go. The dictator’s son begins to sing some songs in his native language. At least, I am assuming he is singing in his native language. He could be slurring gibberish for all I know.
For a moment, I think about just ditching Sergey. After all, this guy seems too drunk to know that the General is off with Mr. Peak. My boss, however, specified that I keep the dictator’s son occupied until 3:00 a.m.
Sergey reaches over for a remote control. He turns on a big plasma screen on the wall. The screen begins to display some hardcorn porn. Oh great, this situation is not any better. The dictator’s son grabs me and tries to give me a kiss.
Against my better judgement, I make out with him. I’m hoping that maybe he would just pass out, sooner or later. He grabs my ass. I put up with that. He tries to reach for my breasts. I swat his hand away. Sergey begins to laugh.
“You like to play rough? I like to play rough!” Sergey yells as he tries to jump on top of me. We fall off of the bed and wrestle around on the floor. Even though the dictator’s son is sauced, he is not completely incapacitated. He pins me down.
Sergey leans in and tries to stick his tongue in my mouth. I jerk my face away. He slaps me. “I am tired of your fucking games!” Sergey yells. He gets up and grabs me by the hair. The dictator’s son gets on the bed and pulls down his underwear.
The maniac tries to force my face down on his dick. Fuck that. I struggle to get out of the bed. He grabs me by the neck. “You will suck my dick or I will kill you!” Sergey yells as his eyes bug out. I believe every word of it.
I look down at that dick. Then I look at my right hand. More specifically, I look at the big diamond rock on my ring finger. I slowly turn the diamond stud so it faces inside my palm. As I look at Sergey’s seething scowl, I remember Mr. Peak’s words - That diamond is strong enough to rip through skin.
I smile and look into Sergey’s eyes. “Let me pleasure you with my hand so you are nice and hard for my mouth,” I say to the delight of the dictator’s son. Sergey grabs a pillow and lies back. He closes his eyes, ready for the big surprise.
I take a deep breath. I look at that sharp diamond rock. I grab Sergey’s dick and violently slash the skin. “Ah!” The dictaor’s son yells. I look down and there is blood everywhere. Blood on my hand, blood on the silk sheets, blood spurting out of Sergey’s dick.
Then I run out of the bedroom. My high heels come right off of my feet. Sergey’s screams are unlike any human sound I have ever heard in my life. He sounds inhuman. The mega-yacht is so big, I have trouble finding the exit.
Dammit, I run from one room to the other and can’t find access to the deck. My heart feels like it is ready to explode. As I reach a dead end, it hits me. I am below deck. I run back into a large galley area and find stairs leading up to freedom.
I run up the stairs and see one of Sergey’s massive bodyguards fucking some model from the casino. He looks up at me unsure as to what is going on. I can hear the faint screams from Sergey below deck. If the bodyguard hears those screams, I am fucked.
I nervously walk around looking for access to the mega-yacht’s deck. The bodyguard gets up and begins to walk towards the stairs. Dammit. I look in every direction. No door. Nothing. Fuck!
I look behind me and see a window. I open the window and climb up. Then I look out of that window. No deck. All I see is water glistening in the moonlight. I hear people begin to scream. That’s it. There’s nowhere to go but down!
I jump out of the window and fall about fifteen feet into the water. My body drops about five feet under the water. It takes me a few moments to regain my composure. I come up for air and begin to swim towards the harbor.
I reach land and climb up onto the sand. My body and my dress is soaking wet. I look behind me and still see Sergey’s giant mega-yacht. I begin to run away from that boat. I look at my watch. It’s 2:45. While it is not quite three o’clock, I have a feeling the whereabouts of General Zhukov is the last thing on Sergey’s mind right now!
My mind races with the instructions given to me by my boss. I am supposed to meet him at a specific street at 3:00 a.m. With all of the insanity of the past few hours I can’t remember the name of that damn street.
Think. Think. Think. I begin to walk down a road whose name I can’t pronounce. I remember it has an American name. Was it the
name of a President?
I continue to walk down this street as I see exotic cars racing past me. There are a couple of drunk guys speaking with an American accent. “Excuse me?” I ask. “Is there a street around here named after an American President?”
The first guy just pukes all over the street. The second guy says, “You may be looking for Avenue J.F. Kennedy.” The guy looks me up and down and says, “Why are you so wet?” I don’t answer. I just walk away. Then the drunk American begins to yell, “She fell into the harbor! Ha!”
Avenue J.F. Kennedy? Where is that located? I continue to wander around the streets when I hear a car honk behind me. I turn around and see the high beams of an unfamiliar luxury car. Oh my God. Is that Sergey’s car?!
I just stand there frozen for a moment. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. The car pulls up besides me. The door opens. A large man gets out of the car. However, I can see the man’s face.
“Why are you so wet?” the familiar voice of Mr. Peak booms. It’s my boss - my billionaire master. Tears begin to fall down my cheeks as I run up to him. I jump into his arms. Mr. Peak places me inside of the car and closes the door.