Dominik

by S F Draven

  I spread Katerina’s pussy lips, noticing how swollen she was, as I stuck two of my fingers inside of her and finger-fucked her until I could hear her wetness start to erupt inside of her. Her body was shaking, her mind unable to cope with the pleasure she was feeling, as she fell into an immeasurable amount of need that had completely overtaken her.

  Her skin was blushing red, like her precious safe word that she didn’t seem too ready to use. She was here, legs spread open for me, so I could use her until she was on the verge of breaking. I wondered how far she’d let me go before she’d shout out that safe word, before everything would have to come to a screeching halt.

  She whimpered again as I slapped her pussy hard, feeling her wetness coat my hand as I was preparing to fuck her. My dick was throbbing looking at her, pulsating with every move that made her feel powerless. I took one erect nipple into my mouth, biting down on it hard as she threw her head back and cried out once again. It was incredible to see her like this, naked, willing, and her body begging for more. I stood up tall over her, holding the base of my dick so I could jam it inside of her wet, inviting pussy. She was taking it like a champ, as I slapped the shit out of her, holding her at the waist and ramming her hard. Her little whimpers evolved into fully-fledged screams and I didn’t hold back, using her like the little fuck-toy that she was.

  I could tell that she was having the time of her life, that she probably hadn’t experienced anything quite like this back home in America. It was nice to know that I had become her sexual awakening, and there was something about the way she responded to my touch that made me believe that her body belonged to me.

  I fucked her harder, thrusting my rock-solid dick inside of her as her body was starting to feel limp in my hands, just as she began to tense up again.

  “You gonna fucking cum for me, huh?” I asked her.

  She could barely get two words out as I watched her eyes roll to the back of her skull.

  “Answer me,” I commanded.

  “Ye-yes! Oh, fuck! Fuck!” she screamed as her body erupted in my hands and she sank into the pleasure that I handed her on a silver platter. Watching her like that took me over the edge, and I soon joined her, slipping out of her pussy, looking down to see just how much I filled her up.

  She was the kind of experience that left a lasting impression on me, and that was not the kind of thing that happened often. My exhaustion was starting to catch up with me by this point, and I carried her off to bed, allowing her to sleep off the alcohol before having to return to her daily, mundane life. I wondered if she got the experience she wanted coming all this way to Moscow, dining with the elite and fucking someone who was far more dangerous than she’d ever be able to comprehend. I worried that there was something about her that made her question what my life was really about, but I decided not to think much of it for the fear that I’d be forced to take action before I was ready to. I kept trying to convince myself that sleeping next to her that evening wasn’t going to be a mistake, but I couldn’t help but feel like it might have been.

  I woke up rather late that morning to find that she wasn’t lying there next to me. I thought that maybe she’d got the picture and crawled out of bed while I was still asleep, but something told me that wasn’t the case. She was a journalist after all, and I leaped up from the bed, slipping on my pants as I headed downstairs to see if she was still there. I found her suspiciously in the hallway not too far from my office which I’d conveniently left open in my drunken stupor. I wanted to believe that she didn’t find anything, but I couldn’t be that naïve seeing as I’d been out cold for so many hours. In that moment, I was about to fly into a blind rage, until I noticed that she was still barely wearing anything and her hands were empty. Her snooping must’ve been unsuccessful. I felt she must’ve noticed something change in my expression because she seemed a little taken aback.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked her.

  “I was just looking for the bathroom,” she said, and it sounded believable enough. I led her in the opposite direction, allowing her to use the bathroom while I noticed that the bathroom door wasn’t even closed to begin with. She certainly would’ve seen it on her way to the end of the hallway. There’s something she’s not telling me, and I certainly plan on finding out what it is.

  I headed back to my room because I needed to catch a bit more shut-eye, but I wanted to send the message to her that I really didn’t feel like talking anymore. She must have begun to pick up on the fact that I felt my privacy was being violated, because she came in quietly to collect her things, and before I knew it she was gone.

  When I was positive that she was no longer in the house, I swept the area she’d been in for any bugs that may have been recording me against my will. I couldn’t help the paranoia – especially with everything that was going on now with my missing money. Something didn’t feel right about the way we left things, and I had to figure out how much she really knew about me. I called Alexei moments after, giving him a new job description so we could put an end to any suspicions once and for all.

  “Good morning, Boss.”

  “I have a job for you, Alexei. I spent the night with a woman by the name of Katerina Auclair. She’s a redhead, about five-seven, and she’s been snooping around my property. I need to find out what she’s really doing here, and more than just the ruse she used about scoping out Roman Carlyle. She’s a journalist, and the last thing I need is the private details of my life being leaked out, understood?” I asked, making sure to drive that final message home.

  “Of course, Boss.”

  “And Alexei?”

  “Yes, Boss?”

  “If you have the slightest inkling that she may be operating on something dirty, or that she’s so much as heard a rumor regarding what we do around here, I need her brought to me immediately. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, it certainly is,” he replied, knowing quite well what we did with people who double-crossed us. You’d better be clean, Katerina Auclair, or I’m coming for you, and the headline isn’t going to breathe a word about us, it’s going to be one covering your unfortunate, untimely death.

  Chapter Four: Katerina

  What have I gotten myself into? Surely, there has to be a story here, but at what cost? I knew that taking a chance like that could’ve been much worse than it was. Snooping is in my nature, but I didn’t think that I’d let myself be so sloppy about it. I can only hope that in the future, I’m able to cover my tracks, before I end up getting hurt, I thought, remembering the conversation I had with the doorman at the event who eventually let me in, particularly because he felt sorry for me. He was the kind of man who kept a close eye on everyone, remaining diligent and observant, and I could imagine a job like his would get boring after a while. He spoke of a specific Russian man who was affiliated with Roman Carlyle, and had a much more interesting story than Roman himself. It was almost as if a lightbulb went off in my head the moment he began speaking about this Russian man’s features, his behavior and the ties he may have had to the Russian mafia. I couldn’t help but be intrigued, and it wasn’t until I arrived at the party and laid eyes on him myself that I realized I certainly had seen him somewhere before. I thought back to my first evening in Moscow, having an incredibly expensive meal as I tailed Roman, hoping for a story other than what he ate for dinner that evening.

  I was starting to believe that there was a story brewing, and if my calculations were correct, it would be breaking news back home, seeing as Dominik Volkov had countless high-paid businesses in New York City alone. I wondered for a while what his story was, and I quickly found myself being so wrapped up with all the chatter from the locals that I started to forget why I was even there in the first place. I had no intention of speaking to him, much less sleeping with him, but there was something about his charming demeanor that drew me in. It made me want to understand him on a level that didn’t involve the gossip or the rumors, it made me want to figure him out in a way that no one had ever d
one before. I knew that he was catching on to me from the way we left things this morning, and I had to be incredibly careful from here on out. If what people say is true, then he’s not the kind of man that I can mess with. It could very well cost me my life pursuing a story like this, but it may just be the break I’ve been looking for all along, I thought, trying to convince myself that this was the right move to make.

  I managed to find my way back to the hotel, after asking for directions for what felt like thousands of times, and when I finally managed to shut the door behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. It had been an incredibly hectic last few days, and now I was going to spend every evening researching everything there was to know about Bratva. I wanted to learn about the Russian mafia, understand what made these men so intriguing before I even began getting close to Dominik again. After leaving his home, I felt quite strange. I tried to brush it off and say that it was just because I slept with him, but there was something different in the air once I got into my taxicab and drove off. It was almost as if I felt like someone was watching me, taking into account my every move, and it was the kind of thing I was able to pick up on because I’d made a career out of doing just that.

  I never did take lightly being tailed myself, and I’d had it happen in the past when someone didn’t like what I wrote about them. I had people stalk me, show up at my home, or even send me threatening letters demanding that I’d either change my story or take it down completely. This, however, was a feeling unlike anything I’d ever felt before. This time, I knew that I was dealing with the kinds of men that could make me disappear at any moment, and by being alone in their home country, I was only making it easier for them to make sure I never uttered a word of their truth again. I tried to brush it all off, remind myself that I was there just to do a job, and once I returned home, all of this was going to just be another experience in my journalistic career, but I was finding it hard to rest easy.

  After getting to know Dominik for the short period of time we managed to speak, I found myself wanting to know all there was to know about him. I wanted to know about his family history, I wanted to know how he became a man of such wealth and opulence so early on in his life. I knew that this story was going to be a dangerous one to follow, but I also knew I’d be doing a disservice to myself and my budding career if I didn’t see it through to the very end. Dominik Volkov, you’re a very interesting man. A man with a lot of secrets I might add, and I’m going to uncover each and every one of them, because if you’re half as bad as they say you are, then what you’re doing needs to be brought to light, and that’s all there is to it.

  I didn’t feel like leaving my hotel room for the next few days, even though I was supposed to be following Roman to set every day, trying to catch a glimpse of him in costume as well as take a few candid photographs. I couldn’t even allow myself to think about doing something like that when I felt so unsafe every time I left my room. I ordered room service much more than I’d have liked to, reading articles and threads about Bratva in the area of Moscow I currently resided in. I began to worry that my little attempt at snooping had left Dominik on high alert, and I knew that I’d never be able to get close to him again if that were the case. You’re a man of many talents it seems, Dominik. You may even be oblivious to just how many people suspect that you’re a part of something much bigger than yourself, I thought, reading articles that had headlines including “The Most Powerful and Feared Man” but they were only filled with a bunch of unsupported opinions that made reading them all the more difficult. What happened to good journalism?

  I decided that enough was enough and sitting around waiting for the news to come to me simply wasn’t the way to go. I sent Will an email telling him that I was a little under the weather and would return to scoping out Roman’s whereabouts the minute I felt better. He sent me a message back immediately telling me that he hoped I’d feel better soon, and in that moment I felt incredibly terrible for lying to him. There was just something about this story that just felt too important to ignore, and I was beginning to feel like I was going to regret it either way. I knew what a story like this could do for my career, but I also knew of the risks associated with following it through. I could very well end up in a great deal of trouble, but I decided it’d be best to just remain alert and not read too much into it.

  I went out for lunch later that day, because I’d got into contact with someone who agreed to meet me to talk about Dominik. I felt a bit iffy meeting someone I didn’t even know for something like this, but I decided that it was public enough of a setting to feel safe in. I waited at the little bistro table at a corner café that seemed quite pleasant for a day like this, as I glanced around hoping that the man would be able to recognize me. I saw someone come in off the street, looking around just as much as I was so I lifted my arm and he came over to sit with me.

  “Are you Kat?” he asked, and I could hear his exceptionally thick Russian accent shining through every word to leave his mouth.

  “That would be me. Are you Alexei? Did I pronounce that correctly?” I asked him and he nodded.

  “So, you told me that you have information on Dominic Volkov that I may find useful. I honestly didn’t think anyone was going to take my request on that celebrity gossip message board seriously. When I finally got your message, I have to say I was a bit shocked,” I said, truthfully.

  “Dominik Volkov has been a household name in Moscow his entire life. He’s built an incredible empire of businesses across the globe, but he didn’t just happen upon all that money like the media is trying to push. Sure, his parents were well off, but only because they were involved in the kind of underhanded business that would make anyone look the other way,” said Alexei, and I was intrigued.

  “What kind of underhanded business?”

  “He’s been involved in Bratva since the very beginning of his career. He gets off on selling weapons and drugs to those in desperate need, and he makes a shit ton of money off of those that never hold up their end of the bargain.”

  “Has he killed people in the past?” I asked, shuddering as the question left my lips.

  “I don’t think a day has gone by where he hasn’t killed someone. People like him are incredibly dangerous, and they certainly don’t like it when people double-cross them or get in their way,” he said, and in that moment I could feel my head growing light, but I blamed it on the fact that I’d slept with a man that could very well have been a coldblooded killer.

  “How’s that cocktail?” I heard him ask as my words began to slur, and eventually I had trouble trying to keep my eyes open. I had no idea what was happening to me, and before I knew it everything faded to black.

  When I finally awoke, I could feel the cold, hard concrete beneath me. I opened my eyes to find that I must’ve been laying in complete darkness, because I blinked a couple of times hoping I’d see something, but I wasn’t awarded that luxury. I tried to get up, but I felt cold, metal shackles around my hands and feet. It was right then that I realized I was in trouble. I tried to call out for help but my throat was too dry. I couldn’t so much as breathe properly, much less try to get the attention of anyone. I didn’t even know where I was, or who I was dealing with. The last thing I remembered was having a conversation with a man about Dominik Volkov’s life, and it was then I realized that I may have been chatting with the wrong person. I tried to scream but nothing came out, and it wasn’t long before the tears began to stream down my face as I realized that I probably wasn’t ever going to see the likes of my home again.

  Why did I let yourself get involved with this? I knew very well that these people were as dangerous as dangerous can get, and still I couldn’t leave the story alone. Now, I may not even get the chance to tell it. It seems that they were much smarter than I could’ve ever imagined, and now I might have to pay for my mistakes with my life.

  I was going insane sitting alone in that dark room, unable to use the bathroom, unable to drink anything to soothe my dry throat.
It felt like hours had gone by before the area around me began to change at all. I had fallen asleep again, laying in my own sweat and filth as a stream of light began to creep in from the corner of the room, and I noticed that a door was starting to open up. My eyes had a hard time adjusting to the onset of light that eventually filled the space, and I could clearly see the confines of my environment, which only scared me more. The door at the very end of the room was iron, with a single window fitted with iron bars. There were locks that lined the entire door, keeping whoever was inside in for good. That person was me. I looked down at my bloodied hands and shackled feet. They were so tight around my skin that they began to cut through the surface, and any time I moved, it hurt so much more.

  I could see the shadow of a figure standing in the doorway, but at that point I couldn’t tell if I was seeing things or if my eyes were simply playing tricks on me. I watched the shadow inch closer to me, until I could see the face of the man in plain sight, and it wasn’t one I thought I’d see again for a long time.

  “It’s good to see that you’re finally awake. I didn’t realize that the drugs were going to knock you out so hard, but now that you’ve finally come to your senses, we can have a bit of a chat,” he said.

  “Dominik? What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing? I’m trying to protect my image, I’m trying to maintain my lifestyle and everything I’ve worked so hard for. I’m not going to let my entire life go up in flames because a bitch like you is looking for a story. I’m not your story, sweetheart and I haven’t figured out just yet how to punish you for snooping through my things,” he said, so eerily calm that it sent shivers down my spine. I was so exhausted, in so much pain, and so out of it that the fear was starting to leave my body. There was a part of me that began to wonder whether he was going to kill me for learning too much, but I supposed that was all yet to be seen.