Fucked

[TheGrind]

Weapons sponsored Dmitry’s life as he hovered over the Belorussian bubble. Born to know nothing but Russian traditions in spite of his father’s American experiences and his grandfather’s ridiculous scientific and mythological predictions, Dmitry, without a close family, understood the value of selfishness. While the unfortunate wasted their lives in lines he knew that to take what was necessary for survival was always the quickest and easiest way to get ahead, be damned the gulags!

The Communist Doctrine of communal group think failed to transform these beliefs he held so firmly. However, he had converted to the idea of Russian exceptionalism and the belief in its empire. Dmitry’s initial interest in weapons and their uses, along with the sustenance and protection they provided, propelled him in the underground’s stratosphere while enabling the Soviet Empire to maintain balance and control. The man may have never been a Communist but he understood that Communism was the mode used to make money.

Thirty-six years into life and he didn’t know how many he had left. The Soviet Empire from which he grew his enterprise shrank overnight and the political world grew a little smaller. No more would there be AK-47s sent exclusively to Africa and the Middle East. With the government’s fall and the fractured states that developed under Yeltsin, weapons of varying importance and price began to disappear from the former Soviet Union’s stockpile. Dmitry was constructing the rules to a new world.

Hell chilled every winter and muddied every spring but the bullet managed to celebrate every season. Dmitry made the best of his world even though the sun had rarely shown upon it. Dark nights and black ink alleys became his office while run-down hotel rooms had served as his home as he hopped from one city to the next. There was always one more payday he wanted, one more sale, one more piece of weaponry to lay his hands on. Plenty of his money lied in Switzerland where the new Russian democracy wouldn’t be able to take it. But it wasn't solely the money he wanted. What he wanted was simply: More.

In an aged car he pulled into the small parking lot with his ride along. The brakes squealed as he applied pressure, killing the engine in front of a broken building.

“Stay here,” he instructed his passenger as he opened his car door. Immediately the cold Minsk winter rushed into the semi-warmth of the car as exited, taking the car keys with him. He’d left his rider alone, leaving her subject to the wrath of cold northern winds.

Dmitry walked around the front of the car and pushed past the ramshackle door and stepped inside the dimly lit lobby. After a few minutes inside where he could hardly be seen through the dusty, dirty windows he had reappeared outside.

Returning to the scene he left he moved toward the driver’s side only to say, “Let’s go. We have a room.” With as much ceremony he slammed the car door hard, knowing it’d take plenty of effort to make it stick. The message to the passenger would be as much kindness as he was willing to give. And it was more than he usually offered. The whore was lucky he gave that much; the wind bit like a bitch.

Back inside the building he climbed a few flights of stairs until he came across the room. It’d be a temporary place where he’d keep them for a week depending on how well the deal would go tomorrow night. Pushing the key into the lock he shoved the door open revealing a world no more spectacular than the one he knew the night before. A small television with an antennae sat on a broken dresser and not two feet from the screen was the foot of the bed. A couch and table both littered the far side of the room near a window which was barred. Not that it bothered him. Fires were the least of his worries and he enjoyed the life, as much as a man like Dmitry could enjoy anything.

“Get in here,” he barked. “And shut the fucking door.”

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

“Stay here,”

Stay here. Oh he was a funny guy. Stay here. Where the fuck was she going to go? The bite of the wind surged inside the car, searching for and driving out any warmth that dared tried to hide from it. Sure, she was just gonna march right out into the cold and leave. Fat lot of good that'd do. Hell, if she wanted death, there were better, quicker, faster ways to do that than to freeze to death in the grip of that unforgiving wind.

If she wanted to die, she simply had to tell him and she was more than sure he'd take care of it. There were plenty of women who could, and would, take her place. Plenty who could be bought, used, or would beg to stay with him because he, perhaps, was the lesser of evils. Tho, in reality, how long any of "them" would last with Dmitry would be the question. He was not an easy man to.... deal with... on many levels.

She had managed to survive, both before she and Dimitry became "acquainted" and now ... after....

She was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked.

Lean, long legged, toned, a mane of black spilled down her back. Looking at her, she almost looked, well, delicate. A flower among the weeds.

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a360/AmbrosiaCaress/lauren.jpg

But looks, looks were very deceiving. Lauren was far from delicate. Stronger than she looked. Smarter. Cunning. She was a survivor, much like Dmitry. Maybe that was why he kept her, and she.... she endured him.

He, of course, left the door open. Why bother shutting it. Why keep the cold grip of the wind out. Sure, he kept her around, but that didn't mean he cared about her. Well, not all of her. He cared about her mouth, wrapped around his cock. He cared about her tits, for him to grab. He cared about her pussy, to provide the deepest heat of her body for him to bury himself inside. That's what he cared about.

What did Lauren care about? Staying alive. It was that simple.

She watched as the flimsy door to the motel slammed shut behind him, only to be thrown open a few moments later. He slid back into the car, finally closing out the cold. Not that the heater in the car was much help, but at least there was no more wind.

“Let’s go. We have a room.”

It beat sleeping in the car... again...
It certainly beat fucking in the coldness of the car... again...

The car door once more thrown open, and out they both climbed. They really didn't have much in the way of belongings. Not that there was much to "have" in this day and age. She had a gym bag filled with a few things she had managed to pick up and salvage, and that he allowed her to keep. The woolen coat and thick boots were the most important and of course she was wearing those. She cared less what he had. She wasn't allowed to touch his "things"... why trust her. But then again, she wasn't one to be fully trusted. She knew that. And so did he.

Lauren followed him up the stairs. Again, it was bitter cold.. but at least the wind was kept at bay. Lauren's crystal blue eyes scanned the hallway, searching for movement, listening for rustlings and voices. One had to be vigilant. Lauren knew that "she" was a major liability. Women... Females... were a hot commodity. Most were bought and sold like sacks of potatoes. Or used until they simply could not be used anymore. Rape was the norm. Her pussy being sold over and over again, for a few minutes of "pleasure".. pleasure for the men of course, over and over again, as many times with as many men that could pay to climb on top of her and fuck her senseless. Lauren knew she was lucky, if nothing else. Dmitry was not of that mindset, well, at least not yet. He had been offered money for her. So far, he had refused. And no one was quite stupid enough yet to try and steal her from him.

<Click> ... the door swung open. The room was dirty, dingy, dim... not pleasant. But it was a hell of a lot better than other places she had stayed, lived, slept, been fucked in. A small television with an antennae sat on a broken dresser and not two feet from the screen was the foot of the bed. A couch and table both littered the far side of the room near a window which was barred.

“Get in here,” he barked. “And shut the fucking door.”

"fuck you" she snarled at him, thinking for a moment how ironic that particular phrase was. She hated it when he barked at her, like she was a stupid, common whore. Sometimes his voice grated on her, went right thru her. Most of the time. To be honest, she wanted to slice his tongue out of his mouth and shove it down his throat to silence him. But, she kept those kinds of thoughts to herself. He was still "better" than most, right?

Kicking the door shut with a harsh slam, a loud <clank> as she engaged the dead bolt. A lock. One didn't see that too often these days.
The room was chilly, but bareable. Lauren let the coat drop to the floor, revealing that lithe, slender, almost cat-like form that was her.

She was desperate to clean herself up, but of course, there was no running water. Another night of melting snow, just to wipe another layer of filth off her skin. With a sigh that betrayed her exhaustion, and she was nearly exhausted, she sat down on the bed, sizing up the room, and waiting to see what his "plans" were for the evening. He was in command, she was merely along for the ride, and as his entertainment, as was mentioned. Pussy was the best "entertainment" after all. She pulled the hat off her head, giving it a shake, allowing the long, ebon rivers of her hair to fall free.

"well" she looked at him, as if knowing full well what was going to be happening for the remainder of the night... She needed a drink... Not to mention she was hungry. Her growling stomach told her that. Not that she had anything to eat. He may have, but it was up to him to share with her.

"Uncork the wine"... that little voice in her head spat "Who cares what he thinks... have a snort".... Oh she wanted to. She desperately wanted to, but remember, she also wanted to live. Like women, alcohol was hard to come by and very, very expensive. This, had been a find, the original owner dead, the wine actually hidden under his body. Lauren knew that Dmitry was testing her by allowing her to hold onto the wine. If she dared to open it without his permission...

"How about a drink to start off the evening" she tried... tried so hard to not growl out the words.... but she failed.... the words were harsh, almost snide.. but then again.. that was who she was.

 

[TheGrind]

Dmitry's feeling about Lauren had reinforced itself after he discovered she didn't shut the car door on her own. Whether she were braving the elements or fearing him, it did not matter. Obedience was a difficult thing to find in the new world order and she seemed to have it in spades. Whatever the reason she listened did not matter to him. All that mattered was that she followed the order. And she was doing a fine enough job of it.

Everything he had he laid inside his coat. Hyperinflation was going to destroy whatever ink and paper people traded with which meant devaluation across the board. The money in foreign countries could be converted but for those bills pressing against his body from the pockets in his coat, all he could do is trade them in for weapons. The thoughts about the next evening consumed his mind as they traveled up the stairs, toward their room. The last of his old notes were going to be handed over for something a little more realistic. It was going to be a very important night. But tonight. Tonight was merely another casual encounter with someone needing a place to sleep.

“Fuck you" she snarled at him.

He heard it. But he wasn't going to do anything about it yet. Dmitry would be sure she would pay for it later.

“Don't worry,” he spoke, walking by and leaving her to attend to the door. “You will.” Moving beyond the foot of the bed his hand swatted at the television, turning it on. Static and Shostakovich screamed through the speakers. Another quick flip of a nearby dial and he reduced the sound to a manageable level.

He heard the door slamming behind him, giving it no thought, not even a shudder at the sound. Instead he shrugged off his coat, tossing it over the arm of the sofa, the printed money heavy enough to keep it from sliding to the floor. Not that it was worth so much anymore, but there was a lot of it. As he turned around to sit on the couch he noticed Lauren for the first time in that night without the thick coat draped around her body. It was the first time in many hours that he had enjoyed seeing her.

Dmitry's attention didn't linger too long, however. The boots had to go. Rather than have her work at untying and removing them, he let her be for the moment, as he heard her begin to speak again. Giving her words as much attention as the static, he began to untie and remove the boots. With enough effort it took little time before he tossed the boots off to the side, just beyond the last leg of the couch; far enough away so he wouldn't step in any snow that happened to cake itself to his boot. If the snow had managed to melt at all.

At last he looked toward her again as he laid his body back, resting against the well-worn cushions of the couch. By her question of wanting to open the wine he knew she was eager for its taste. As was he. It was rare he was willing to drink with another, especially one so new but he was able to sign off on the exception without much thought.

“Uncork it,” he responded, patting the cushion next to him. “And bring it here.” There weren't any glasses. They'd have to share a little more than sleeping space tonight.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

She could only imagine what he had in mind. Well, to be honest, she was not all that sure. She had not been with him all that long. Only a few days really. In this world, it felt like a fucking lifetime. She knew enough about the man called Dimitry to know that many women would not survive with him. Didn't we already establish that? He was not an easy man to deal with.

Hell, neither were any of the men Lauren had been "with" before Dimitry. But she had learned to survive. By learning now to deal with whatever man she was with. Now, it was him. And she had a feeling it would be him for a while, as long as she could manage to ... 1, not piss him off enough to "get rid" of her.. and 2, keep him satisfied.

But she was still in the process of learning his appetites.

Uncorking the wine was another dilemma, tho much less important than wondering what Dimitry would do to her this particular night. Luxuries such as a cork screw were nonexistent. Well, that's what knives were for, right??...

Lauren slipped the blade free from her belt. It was hers. She had it when she "hooked up" with Dimitry, and he allowed her to keep it. She wasn't stupid. Using it against him was not an option. Remember, she wanted to live. She had a much better chance of that while with him. Sure, she had used that same blade to kill the other 2 men she had been with before Dimitry. But they were different, they were slave traders. And they were filthy, vicious men. Lauren still bore the scars of what they had done to her. Thank whatever god was left that Dimitry did not tend to ask questions. It was not something she was inclined to talk about. And, honestly, he showed no interest in how she survived before him. No interest in her life. And that was just fine with her. She had no interest in explaining. Just like she really knew nothing about him. Yes, he had saved her from freezing to death when he had found her. Yes, she had no where to go. Yes, she knew that she was lucky he was not like so many others and sold her as soon as he found her for just a few more coin, or a night in a warm room, or a slab of real meat. Lauren knew that much, she was lucky, and she needed to stay with him.

With a quick motion of wrist and hand, the blade pushed into the cork. Embedded, it took a bit of effort before it finally gave up and released it's grip within the bottle and came free. Lauren could feel her mouth watering at just the thought. Real wine was such a rarity!

Wine bottle in hand, she approached where he sat. She did move like a feline. Her steps quiet, bared feet bushing along the dirty carpet. She wished she had socks, something. But all she had right now were the thick winter boots that she had already kicked off. He had not told her to strip, not yet, so she did not offer to, or attempt to. The jeans she wore fit her like a second skin. Sure, they were dirty, but they still looked painted on, only further accentuating her long legs and curve of hip and ass. The fade grey sweater she wore hung a bit loosely. Beggars could not be choosers when it came to clothing. But one could still see the swell of her very feminine breasts beneath, and the chill in the air did awaken her nipples, the peaks lightly brushing against the sweater, and could be seen as she moved. Bra's were nonexistent these days. She could not remember the last time she had worn one.

Sitting down next to him, she offered to bottle... "For you" she said simply, her voice softer now that she was closer, now that the idea of enjoying the wine warmed her mood. As she spoke, she leaned in a little more, close enough that surely he could feel the warmth of her breath. He did have a masculine scent about him, one that was not as disgusting as so many other men. Again, maybe it was because he was different than most. As she handed the bottle to him, slender fingers barely touching his much thicker ones during the exchange, her other hand came to rest on his thigh, a warm touch, a reminder of what she was for him, the heat he could get from her....

 

[TheGrind]

It was time to forget what a big day tomorrow was going to be and give in to the vices and pleasures the night would bring. Dmitry watched Lauren as she moved closer to him, working the cork until it had popped from its place. The knife hadn't bothered him at all especially with so many other things to worry about. And at the very least, trusted that Lauren wouldn't jam it through his chest as he sat on the couch. Naturally he'd stop her but there were so many better opportunities for her to use it while he was driving.

As she came closer he wondered what he would do with her after tomorrow. Dmitry would have more money and he didn't want her to have any of it. There was no need to share in this world. It hadn't worked for the past eighty years and it wasn't going to work with this new plan under Yelstin. Then she came closer, her chest visible through the sweater and her hand moving to his thigh. There was no denying that she had her uses but there were beautiful, desperate girls pouring out of Chișinău. At least there was the wine to ease his mind.

He had no interest in selling her. That was a messy trade and the exchange rate was so low that he wasn't willing to get involved in it. It was always tempting with each new girl but with so many and the desperation so high it wasn't worth it to give up what he was already doing. Trading in weapons. Weapons didn't get sick, they didn't die and best of all, they didn't bitch. But they were as cold as the frozen waters. Perhaps that was their attraction. Girls like Lauren were an attraction of a different kind, but welcome all the same.

When she offered the bottle to him he began to salivate. Dmitry wasn't much of a wine drinker but after months of nothing but hard vodka a change of any kind would do. Maybe with the extra money made tomorrow, should he make it out alive, he'd pay for a bottle that didn't have the shrapnel feeling as it slid down his throat. As he returned his attention to her he wondered if she'd still be around to take part in the added luxury. Here or not, it did not matter. She would not change his plans.

Dmitry took the bottle from her, his hand gripping its neck. No doubt when it was casked it had not envisioned being handled so roughly. Bringing it to his lips he tilted it back just enough to let the wine flow. The first taste of the liquid hit his lips and it was like another world had been hidden inside the bottle. It was a feeling one could only know after spending so many weeks, months secluded from anything good or better. To be deprived of something for so long and then having it handed to you by a young figure ready to share your bed, it was a momentary glimpse into Heaven. If ever there were such a thing.

Pulling the bottle away from his lips he swallowed, exhaling with the scent of the wine lingering in his breath. His hand still clutched the bottle around the neck, refusing to let it go. Lauren was going to be neglected, at least until he had his fill.

“Strip out of your clothes,” Dmitry spoke simply, “get on your knees and earn your wine tonight.” The taste on his tongue took some of the bite out of his tone but his words remained just as strong. Dmitry stole another drink from the bottle. She was going to be given something but only after he was through.

 

[AmbrosiaCaress]

Dimtry did not privy her with his plans. And as far as he was concerned, Lauren had no idea what was going on tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever. In reality tho, she knew enough. She wasn't stupid. She certainly did not let on that she had a clue. But she listened, and observed. She knew he dealt in weapons. The trade these days was usually either weapons, booze, and women. Maybe not always in that order. It was all about power... that's where the weapons came in, and pleasure, hence the women and booze. The one thing that set Dimtry apart from the other men she had ... encountered... yes, let's call it that... encountered.. was that he was a bit more saavy in his dealings. And, he was a hell of a lot more cunning and intelligent. She had figured early on some sort of deal was coming. She just wasn't sure when. But the fact that they had traveled here, and he seemed to be on a schedule, something else she had noticed in her few days with him, whatever it was had to be tomorrow or at least in the next couple of days. There was no other reason why they would want to hole up in this god-forsaken freezer. There were warmer climates to be had south of here. So there HAD to be a deal going down. There just had to be.

But really, none of that mattered now. All she could hope for was that he would not get rid of her once his deal was done. And for that to happen, she had to keep him... well... happy. No matter the man, no matter the demeanor, no matter what they told themselves, it seemed that in this ... world.. that they now lived in, pleasure with a woman was a needed, and much sought after, commodity.

She watched as he took a swig of the wine. She desperately wanted to taste it. It had been a long time since she had tasted anything akin to wine. Vodka, Tequila, and beer were the predominant, and most available, in the booze category. And she could not drink tequila anymore. Just the thought of it made her shiver, made her stomach knot. It was one unpleasant memory, among a whole slew of unpleasant memories. Being tied down, tequila poured down her throat until she was choking, almost feeling as if she were drowning, and then being raped but up to 5 different men that one particular time. The 2 men who "owned" her would take coin, or booze from others as the payment for fucking her. She again thanked whatever heavens there were that Dimtry was above shit like that. Another reason why she would rather stay with him...

“Strip out of your clothes, get on your knees and earn your wine tonight.”

Lauren stood. She was slender, lean, muscular. Her movements were sensual without her even having to try and be, well.. sensual. The glide of the soft pinkness of her tongue along her lips, her eyes locked on that bottle of wine for the moment as he took another drink. She would be most likely drinking something else this night. But then again, to be honest, she didn't mind that, all that much...

"As you wish" she finally answered him, as she drew the faded grey sweater upwards. The room was still chilly, there really was no "warm" in this place it seemed, and as her breasts were uncovered, the chill took hold. Pink nipples began to deepen in color and slightly swell... a normal, yet erotic reaction to the chill...Dimtry's hands were large, and her breasts were slightly more than a handful for him, firm, rounded, bouncing ever so slightly now as she moved. The sweater discarded, dropped to the floor behind her. Lauren was saavy too. She turned away from him as she unzipped her jeans, so as she slid them down over her hips, he could watch as they peeled away from her firm, rounded ass. Underware was a luxury she had not had in a long time, so as her jeans descend to the floor, and Lauren steps out of them, she was now naked for Dimtry's eyes to behold. Turning once more to face him, she paused, to allow him to get a good look. He had seen her several times since he had taken her on as a companion, if one wanted to call it that. But she always let him get a good long look at her, feeling his eyes, the heat of this gaze, roaming down her body and back up again.

She then lowered to her knees before him, as he opened his legs. He, was still fully clothed. At least he could stay relatively warm. She could feel the coolness of the room wrapping around her, and it was making her shiver just a little. But, she would concentrate on the task at hand, and with that, reaching up, slender fingers find and loosen his belt, then unzipping his jeans. When his cock sprung forth, he was aroused. But she knew, the chill in the air would, and could, well, put a bit of a damper on that arousal, so she leaned close and softly let her breath warm the length of him, just gently blowing, before she opened her lips to embrace him in the heat that was her mouth. One hand slipping into his jeans to cradle his balls, the other wrapping around the base of him, Lauren took the thick length of him deep into the back of her throat. Letting her tongue glide along the underside, she began to slowly, ever so slowly, suckle him in deep and then pull back to release him, then forward again, her lips tightening about the shaft, then pulling back, his cock getting wetter and wetter as she moves. Long, dark strands of her black hair fall foward a bit as she continues the rythum of sucking him.. in and out... deep into her throat, she grasping, sucking, lips pulling, the pressure of her mouth increasing.. she now moaning low as she does this, the vibration adding to the sensations she is creating her mouth, tongue, and hands on his balls and at the base. A lifting of her eyes as she pauses, letting his cock rest in the heated depths of her mouth, meeting his gaze before she continues.......

 

[TheGrind]

Every time she removed her clothes his attention had been briefly stolen. Perhaps in time he'd grow accustomed to it but for now she had exactly what he required each and every night whether under a snow-covered car or in a broken down hotel room. Dmitry was confident he'd keep her around provided he could continue getting his need without fearing a knife in his throat.

There were plenty of other girls out there. Some you couldn't trust. Others looked like old women who were broken down since the day they were born. Even with a grand reformer in power life wasn't easy, and the break up of the Union only made it more difficult. More difficult for most people at least. For now, for him and people like him, it was time to take advantage and thrive.

When he looked at her following his command without refusal he knew what he wanted. He understood beauty. And her hair, it reminded him of something. Others may have said raven tresses, black beauty or dark silk but to him it was more akin to the shade of a feathered crow. Dark and opportunistic. He was the same way. The sight of her as the pair of clothes hit the floor behind her proved this point. Dmitry would never let his guard down; this was as close as he would get to it.

The anticipation of feeling her lower her body down grew exponentially with expectation. The mere sight of her seemed to fuel his inner heat even though the view he took in from her told him that the temperature inside the room had long been lacking. Feeling her slide between his legs and her fingers opening his pants, he felt the chill against his flesh. The feeling was fleeting however as she replaced the cold air with the warmth from her mouth.

There was little doubt in his mind as he felt her moving against him that she had trained herself well. The past she had no longer concerned him as he felt her moving against his sensitive skin; it was doubtful she'd be around too long anyway. Whether he'd become bored or if he'd simply have to move at a quick pace or live more frugally, there was a strong chance their meeting wouldn't last forever. Although his thoughts never strayed too far when she was positioned, kneeling in front of him like those Moldavian dolls who were old enough to be legal yet young enough to not know any better. But he knew Lauren knew better by now. He could see it. Hell, he could feel it.

Then he felt her pause. His cock was lodged dick deep inside her mouth as her eyes fluttered up to his. Dmitry wasn't going to let her stop yet. Even if she were silently asking for permission. Rather than wait for her to decide, he reached out his hand, palming the back of her head. Applying pressure he pushed her head down, impaling her throat on his body. He held her there for a few seconds before releasing his hold. Then he set the bottle down next to the leg of the couch before bringing a hand back up, applying pressure to the back of her head again, this time with both hands. He choked her three to five seconds at a time for four times in a row, providing the brief allowance of a gasp of air in between each attempt. On the last attempt he held her down for ten seconds or more. What she wanted clearly didn't matter to him and he wasn't about to let her say sorry for a momentary lapse in pleasing him.

Perhaps she had planned something with that pause. But he didn't tell her to stop.

When his hands relaxed their grip he leaned back against the couch, his eyes setting on her. “Get on the bed.”