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Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs (Dan Bruce)


Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs by Dan Bruce

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Yuri is back! And when revenge is his driver – his Abuse of Power knows no limits!

Should we then pity poor Anastasia Kovalenka, his victim in this tale? That is for you to decide! Stunningly beautiful, devious and vindictive – as the teenage daughter of the KGB overlord in the Soviet controlled state of Mordavia, she framed her lover, Yuri’s nephew, Dimitri; and he was publicly flogged for a crime of her invention.

Seven years later this conniving Russian beauty returns to Mordavia as a piece of eye-candy on the arm of her billionaire husband. Yuri is now Chief of Police and Dimitri is his right-hand man; and hell hath no fury like two master sadists scorned. Anastasia falls into a trap and becomes seriously compromised. She agrees to be abducted – ransom is the price Yuri professes to want, but money has no interest for this brute of a man. It is revenge that eats at his soul and he will soon be satisfied a thousand times fold.

Anastasia will know such horrors once she is snared into Yuri’s web – she is throat fucked at a party in her honour; and roughed up during the fake snatch which is scarily authentic. She must play her abducted part convincingly so a bullet ant is used to induce some fear – the potency of its sting is second to none. She will fuck for her life as the consummate whore, yet scream at the end, disgusted by her act. She will experience role reversal when she is flogged by Dimitri, and she will punctuate her punishment with mass fornication. She will accept the bands of enslavement, and abandon every hope; an artistry of clipped metal will surrender to her lord and be branded as his whore.

Enough?

No! The Revenge of the Karinovs knows no bounds. The Russian Whore they re-christen with Mordavian piss will embrace a never ending miasma of torment. Nipples will be pierced and a clit as well, her ass will be flayed in front of a flaming fire, and she is spit-roasted over a desk with a cock in each hand – her suffering and humiliation will be total.

Anastasia Kovalenka is the ultimate bitch – despised and desired in equal measure, and doubly abused as a result.

Why not join in? Take part in the Revenge of the Karinovs! It’s a hell of a ride!

NB – whilst this is the second in the series of ‘ABUSE OF POWER’ books, it can be read independently of the first.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 01 / 2010

We do not recommend this book for readers under 18 years of age

No. words: 38971

Style: BDSM/Bondage - Content: Moderate -    Sado-Masochism (SM), Male Dom - M/F

Available Formats: Palm  PDF  MS Reader  MS Word  Text  RTF  

Click Here For All Books In This Series

Current all-time sales ranking: #427


Excerpt..

It was with the coldest of ice blue eyes that Anastasia Kovalenka gazed down on the courtyard below her. She was standing in her father’s office; a room so opulently furnished it might bring into question the man’s commitment to the communist cause. But as Alexi Kovalenko was Head of the KGB in the Soviet controlled state of Mordavia, no one would question any of his actions. Not even the President of this puppet of Moscow would question a directive issued by Alexi; such was the power the man yielded.
Anastasia took a sip from her glass of chilled white wine, some rather pleasant Chablis which she had recently taken to drinking; and as she flavoured her palate with its sharp dry acidity, she caressed her bare nipple with the tip of her finger, rejoicing in the coolness she had stolen from the glass. Her sensuous pleasure in this self-arousal was enhanced all the more by the vision she looked upon – a young man stripped to the waist – an Adonis of perfect muscular proportions and handsomely crafted facial features.
Abandoning her nipple as she looked hungrily at the youth, Anastasia dipped her index finger into the wine and brought it to her mouth. Her full luscious teenage lips parted in acceptance and her soft supple tongue welcomed the digit. She closed her eyes as she sucked on her finger, recalling the times she had sucked on the young man’s cock.
A shiver of pleasure ran through Anastasia as those wonderful memories washed over her. His cock was even more beautiful than his body; long and thick and vibrantly alive – no man had ever filled her so well or brought her to such incredible orgasms.
As she looked on him again, Anastasia’s hand drifted downwards passed the swell of her creamy full breasts with their rose coloured nipples, then over the plane of her toned flat stomach that she vowed would never be stretched by a child, to the wisps of fair silky hair that adorned her swollen pussy. She covered her mound with the softness of her fingers which absorbed the blood heated warmth of her sex. The middle finger was used to run the lengthy of her cleft, curling and flicking as it prised the lips open, allowing Anastasia to pleasure her inner folds. Again she closed her eyes in fond reminiscence – so skilful the young man had been with his tongue. How had a youth of but twenty years old managed to acquire such a talent?
Anastasia bristled and reopened her eyes, all fondness now cast aside. The answer to that question was obvious – that was why the young man was standing in the courtyard and her father was striding towards him.
She heard the smack through the opening in the window: a hard slap across the left cheek that spun the young man’s head to the side, then in quick succession a reverse swipe across the right cheek to spin his head again. This violence was followed by a tirade of abuse that was hurled at the young man in a fevered pitch. Anastasia listened, fully aware that the words were for the benefit of the assembled audience; the Mordavian police force who were colleagues of the Cadet – the young man who was the focal point of her father’s current wrath.
“Filthy dog!” Alexi yelled. “You are employed at my patronage to keep stability in this cesspit of a country – to keep your peasant race in check – to maintain law and order in this piss stain on the globe. You are NOT here to fraternise with Russian women. Do not think to foul your Soviet master’s gene pool with your inferior stock. Russian women are NOT to be approached. MY DAUGHTER IS NOT TO BE APPROACHED! How dare you make advances! How dare you touch her with your grimy hands! How dare you think she would even look at you! SCUM! DEGENERATE FILTH!”
Another slap across the face drew blood from the nose; it poured down the young man’s chin and dripped onto his muscular chest; the swell of his pectorals was accentuated by the bound wrists to his front. Anastasia winced at the severity of the blow, but she felt no remorse for what she had done. He deserved this punishment – how dare he flirt with another woman just because Anastasia had laughed in his face when he suggested they make their affair public.
Anastasia had enjoyed the sex with the young man – she had enjoyed it enormously; but surely he must have realised that it could never be anything more. He was a Cadet in the Mordavian police force and she was a high born Russian with unparalleled beauty and influential connections in the Politburo. Her destiny was for greatness, not to be a policeman’s wife. She had used him for pleasure, and given plenty back in return; but their affair could never become public knowledge - it could never be known that she had given herself to a Mordavian. She would be a laughing stock in Moscow and her father would be furious – even more furious than he was at present.
It had been foolish to get involved with him, but oh so delicious. Anastasia knew that the affair had to finish and had intended to terminate it in the fullness of time. But he had fucked her so well, thrilled her body so intensely, it was difficult to bring things to an end. Yet she knew an end must come; and she would have been prepared to do it gently if only he had remembered his place. But he had dared to flirt in front of her with some dark skinned Mordavian slut in a stupid attempt to make her jealous and yield to his wishes to openly perpetuate their connection in defiance of all social norms.
What an idiot!
How dare he?
Her father was right – he was degenerate filth. The Mordavian dog deserved all that he got.
It was no lie that she had told her father. He had touched her – he had made advances – she had been mortally offended by his behaviour – what did it matter if she had been economical with so much else - her honour demanded satisfaction.
So he was to be flogged in front of the capital’s police force as an example of Moscow’s power over this pitiful little country, and a reminder to the inhabitants that they should know their place – every last one of them, including the police.
Anastasia took another sip of her wine whilst she leisurely toyed with her pussy. Such a shame she would no longer have it pleasured by her youthful ex-lover, but a new one would be easy to find. She was nineteen and stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and ivory skin that had never been exposed to the sun – what man could ever refuse her? And what man would ever defy her after this exhibition of her devious control?
Then the command was given by Alexi Kovalenko for the flogging to begin. The young Cadet was tethered to the whipping post which had been installed in the centre of the courtyard, and a Mordavian Captain stepped forward – this would be the man who would do the flogging and take Anastasia’s revenge.
Anastasia looked at him with interest – he was massively built and had such an air of authority despite being under the Soviet yoke – his face was hard and rugged with the most incredible coal black eyes. He removed his uniform jacket then much to Anastasia’s delight he removed his shirt to reveal a rich mat of black hair covering his broad manly chest. Instinctively Anastasia’s fingers sought out her clitoris and she peeled back the hood to squeeze on the little bud. At a guess she would put this man at around forty years old, twice the age of her former lover, but maturity might be interesting for a month or so. Anastasia made a note to find out the Captain’s name; perhaps he might be the lucky one to next gain her favour and know the joys of her ravenous cunt.
The Captain stood to the side and was handed the whip – a short handled cat of nine tails. Anastasia watched with growing excitement as the Captain made a few trial swishes then without any warning he brought the whip crashing down on the young Cadet’s back, striking him squarely between the shoulders.
“One!” shouted a Russian military officer who stood to the opposite side of the Mordavian police Captain; he was there to confirm that proper strokes were delivered.
Anastasia saw her former lover jerk at the blow and responded in kind as she squeezed on her clit and let out a pant to accompany his groan.
“Two!”
The blow landed a little lower, the Cadet groaned a little louder and Anastasia squeezed a little firmer on her hardening clit.
“Three! Four! Five!”
Lower and lower; louder and louder; firmer and firmer did Anastasia squeeze and she groaned along with her former lover as his back was flayed for a sin of her invention.
“Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!”
The Captain returned to the top of the shoulders then worked his way back down again. With each blow Anastasia squeezed hard on her blood engorged clitoris using forefinger and thumb, and between each stroke she fingered the fleshy petals of her vulva and penetrated her vagina with the other three digits. She squeezed and frigged as the Captain swished and flayed, masturbating to the rhythm of his whip; thinking of a cock she could no longer have and fantasising over another that was there in the courtyard – a mature meaty flogger to whip her youthful cunt.
“Eleven! Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!”
Anastasia was panting out the numbers in her head, dizzy with the metronomic sound of the count and the thrill of the blows as they fell on the Cadet. The yells of her ex-lover as he struggled under the pain were more intoxicating to her that the wine that she drank; and the fire in her pussy, which drizzled with her juices, yearned for his cock and that of his tormentor to stoke her heightening passion. She took a gulp of the Chablis then tossed the glass aside; in true Russian fashion she smashed it in the hearth. She grabbed hold of a breast and massaged its full flesh; she pinched on her nipple thinking of his teeth.
“Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty!”
The Cadet was sinking, his contrition was complete and Anastasia was soaring with such blissful revenge. His agony was her ecstasy; his subjugation was her mastery; his public humiliation was her private triumph. As he screamed under the impact of the final stroke and count, Anastasia screamed as well under the waves of orgasm that flowed from her oozing cunt. The Cadet whose name she was wiping from her memory had brought her to a climax for the final time. Now the Mordavian dog who had dared to cross her could be consigned to the gutter and forgotten forever. She would have no more to do with such degenerate filth.
Such was the view of Anastasia Kovalenka as she collapsed against the wall still riding her orgasm; two fingers squeezing hard on her blood engorged clit and three wedged up her drizzling cunt, a hand massaging her full ripe breast.
But fate can be fickle and ever so cruel – cruel like a Russian bitch in heat!
Down in the courtyard, the punishment now over; the Captain who had delivered the strokes went to assist in the freeing of the Cadet from his bondage.
“Forgive me, Dimitri, but I had no other choice,” he whispered into his nephew’s ear. “I held back as best I could – be assured that the blows would have fallen harder from one of their own men – they can be so easy to fool at times. We will tend to these wounds immediately, although I fear there will be some scarring. Bare your marks proudly, my boy, in remembrance of our struggle. The times are changing, Dimitri, and this public exercise may yet serve us well. We will rise from the ashes of our subjugation as these communist mongrels fall all around us. And we will have our revenge – on the Russian dogs who think to enslave us, on that bastard of a tyrant who has issued this decree, and on his slut of a daughter who has brought this all about – she above all others will know of our revenge. The revenge of the Karinovs will be brutal indeed.”
So spoke Yuri Karinov – a man of his word, and the future Chief of Police.

Chapter 1
Afternoon Fun


“Oh Yes! Yes! Yes! Aaagh! Aaaaagh! Aaaaaaargh!”
Anastasia Tursinova thrashed her head from side to side as another orgasm ripped through her body. She was lying on her back at the edge of a stranger’s bed, her hands flaying the mattress beneath her and clutching at the sheets. Her legs were held at the ankles and spread wide apart by the remarkable young stud who had been pleasuring her for the past two hours. He had already brought her to orgasm on several occasions, eating her cunt in the most delicious of manners and fucking her hard till he spurted out a load, then licking her all over as he regained his erection which he used to shaft her again and again in a variety of different positions.
God, he was a tonic; and Anastasia Tursinova was mightily parched - she was guzzling the young stud up.
Anastasia could hear him grunting as he continued to fuck her, driving her climax onwards and onwards. She screamed repeatedly as her orgasms erupted and tore through her beautiful body. Lost in her own pleasure, Anastasia’s pussy flesh convulsed around her mystery lover, and squeeze tightly on his big fat prick, taking the young man to an unrecoverable edge. He was banging into her, stabbing her repeatedly with his virulent meaty spear; his heavy balls slapping against her ass. He thrust at Anastasia’s spasming body with all his might; growling in his chest as his own body tensed.
She thrust to meet him, matching his rhythm, welcoming his flesh as it slammed between her legs. The headboard was banging against the wall, adding to the sounds of their animalistic rutting. Wave after orgasmic wave crashed over Anastasia as the stud fucked her into utter delirium. Then with one final thrust he let out a yell and Anastasia knew the glory of his second coming; his hot thick spunk spurted into her cunt to mingle with her own copious juices.
Purring like a cat, Anastasia continued to thrust, milking the stud dry of every drop of his cum. Still panting and writhing she looked up at his body, the hard chiselled form of his muscular physique. Luxuriously she ran her hands over her own stunning body, massaging her full breasts with their milky white skin, so in contrast to the light brown flesh of her latest casual fuck. She could feel him softening inside her and wondered how long it would take for him to recover; another hour of full on fucking would round off her afternoon perfectly. It had been too long since she had been properly shagged and she wanted to make the most of this impetuous coupling – take full advantage of this splendid young man who happened her way whilst she was out shopping, and apparently had no idea who she was - thus he presented no risk to her precious reputation.
But she knew it was impossible to stay any longer, it was time to leave and head back to the mansion that was her temporary home during this return to Mordavia after a gap of seven years. Her husband was expected back within the hour and it would never do to for him to find her missing. And she needed to prepare herself for the reception tonight when the President of this country, which had inflicted on her such sorrow, would be figuratively forced to kiss her beautiful ass.


Excerpt..

It was with the coldest of ice blue eyes that Anastasia Kovalenka gazed down on the courtyard below her. She was standing in her
father’s office; a room so opulently furnished it might bring into question the man’s commitment to the communist cause. But as Alexi
Kovalenko was Head of the KGB in the Soviet controlled state of Mordavia, no one would question any of his actions. Not even the President
of this puppet of Moscow would question a directive issued by Alexi; such was the power the man yielded.

Anastasia took a sip from her glass of chilled white wine, some rather pleasant Chablis which she had recently taken to drinking; and
as she flavoured her palate with its sharp dry acidity, she caressed her bare nipple with the tip of her finger, rejoicing in the coolness
she had stolen from the glass. Her sensuous pleasure in this self-arousal was enhanced all the more by the vision she looked upon – a young
man stripped to the waist – an Adonis of perfect muscular proportions and handsomely crafted facial features.

Abandoning her nipple as she looked hungrily at the youth, Anastasia dipped her index finger into the wine and brought it to her
mouth. Her full luscious teenage lips parted in acceptance and her soft supple tongue welcomed the digit. She closed her eyes as she sucked
on her finger, recalling the times she had sucked on the young man’s cock.

A shiver of pleasure ran through Anastasia as those wonderful memories washed over her. His cock was even more beautiful than his
body; long and thick and vibrantly alive – no man had ever filled her so well or brought her to such incredible orgasms.

As she looked on him again, Anastasia’s hand drifted downwards passed the swell of her creamy full breasts with their rose coloured
nipples, then over the plane of her toned flat stomach that she vowed would never be stretched by a child, to the wisps of fair silky hair
that adorned her swollen pussy. She covered her mound with the softness of her fingers which absorbed the blood heated warmth of her sex.
The middle finger was used to run the lengthy of her cleft, curling and flicking as it prised the lips open, allowing Anastasia to pleasure
her inner folds. Again she closed her eyes in fond reminiscence – so skilful the young man had been with his tongue. How had a youth of but
twenty years old managed to acquire such a talent?

Anastasia bristled and reopened her eyes, all fondness now cast aside. The answer to that question was obvious – that was why the
young man was standing in the courtyard and her father was striding towards him.

She heard the smack through the opening in the window: a hard slap across the left cheek that spun the young man’s head to the side,
then in quick succession a reverse swipe across the right cheek to spin his head again. This violence was followed by a tirade of abuse that
was hurled at the young man in a fevered pitch. Anastasia listened, fully aware that the words were for the benefit of the assembled
audience; the Mordavian police force who were colleagues of the Cadet – the young man who was the focal point of her father’s current
wrath.

“Filthy dog!” Alexi yelled. “You are employed at my patronage to keep stability in this cesspit of a country – to keep your peasant
race in check – to maintain law and order in this piss stain on the globe. You are NOT here to fraternise with Russian women. Do not think
to foul your Soviet master’s gene pool with your inferior stock. Russian women are NOT to be approached. MY DAUGHTER IS NOT TO BE
APPROACHED! How dare you make advances! How dare you touch her with your grimy hands! How dare you think she would even look at you! SCUM!
DEGENERATE FILTH!”

Another slap across the face drew blood from the nose; it poured down the young man’s chin and dripped onto his muscular chest; the
swell of his pectorals was accentuated by the bound wrists to his front. Anastasia winced at the severity of the blow, but she felt no
remorse for what she had done. He deserved this punishment – how dare he flirt with another woman just because Anastasia had laughed in his
face when he suggested they make their affair public.

Anastasia had enjoyed the sex with the young man – she had enjoyed it enormously; but surely he must have realised that it could never
be anything more. He was a Cadet in the Mordavian police force and she was a high born Russian with unparalleled beauty and influential
connections in the Politburo. Her destiny was for greatness, not to be a policeman’s wife. She had used him for pleasure, and given plenty
back in return; but their affair could never become public knowledge - it could never be known that she had given herself to a Mordavian.
She would be a laughing stock in Moscow and her father would be furious – even more furious than he was at present.

It had been foolish to get involved with him, but oh so delicious. Anastasia knew that the affair had to finish and had intended to
terminate it in the fullness of time. But he had fucked her so well, thrilled her body so intensely, it was difficult to bring things to an
end. Yet she knew an end must come; and she would have been prepared to do it gently if only he had remembered his place. But he had dared
to flirt in front of her with some dark skinned Mordavian slut in a stupid attempt to make her jealous and yield to his wishes to openly
perpetuate their connection in defiance of all social norms.

What an idiot!

How dare he?

Her father was right – he was degenerate filth. The Mordavian dog deserved all that he got.

It was no lie that she had told her father. He had touched her – he had made advances – she had been mortally offended by his
behaviour – what did it matter if she had been economical with so much else - her honour demanded satisfaction.

So he was to be flogged in front of the capital’s police force as an example of Moscow’s power over this pitiful little country, and a
reminder to the inhabitants that they should know their place – every last one of them, including the police.

Anastasia took another sip of her wine whilst she leisurely toyed with her pussy. Such a shame she would no longer have it pleasured
by her youthful ex-lover, but a new one would be easy to find. She was nineteen and stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and ivory
skin that had never been exposed to the sun – what man could ever refuse her? And what man would ever defy her after this exhibition of her
devious control?

Then the command was given by Alexi Kovalenko for the flogging to begin. The young Cadet was tethered to the whipping post which had
been installed in the centre of the courtyard, and a Mordavian Captain stepped forward – this would be the man who would do the flogging and
take Anastasia’s revenge.

Anastasia looked at him with interest – he was massively built and had such an air of authority despite being under the Soviet yoke –
his face was hard and rugged with the most incredible coal black eyes. He removed his uniform jacket then much to Anastasia’s delight he
removed his shirt to reveal a rich mat of black hair covering his broad manly chest. Instinctively Anastasia’s fingers sought out her
clitoris and she peeled back the hood to squeeze on the little bud. At a guess she would put this man at around forty years old, twice the
age of her former lover, but maturity might be interesting for a month or so. Anastasia made a note to find out the Captain’s name; perhaps
he might be the lucky one to next gain her favour and know the joys of her ravenous cunt.

The Captain stood to the side and was handed the whip – a short handled cat of nine tails. Anastasia watched with growing excitement
as the Captain made a few trial swishes then without any warning he brought the whip crashing down on the young Cadet’s back, striking him
squarely between the shoulders.

“One!” shouted a Russian military officer who stood to the opposite side of the Mordavian police Captain; he was there to confirm that
proper strokes were delivered.

Anastasia saw her former lover jerk at the blow and responded in kind as she squeezed on her clit and let out a pant to accompany his
groan.

“Two!”

The blow landed a little lower, the Cadet groaned a little louder and Anastasia squeezed a little firmer on her hardening clit.

“Three! Four! Five!”

Lower and lower; louder and louder; firmer and firmer did Anastasia squeeze and she groaned along with her former lover as his back
was flayed for a sin of her invention.

“Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!”

The Captain returned to the top of the shoulders then worked his way back down again. With each blow Anastasia squeezed hard on her
blood engorged clitoris using forefinger and thumb, and between each stroke she fingered the fleshy petals of her vulva and penetrated her
vagina with the other three digits. She squeezed and frigged as the Captain swished and flayed, masturbating to the rhythm of his whip;
thinking of a cock she could no longer have and fantasising over another that was there in the courtyard – a mature meaty flogger to whip
her youthful cunt.

“Eleven! Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!”

Anastasia was panting out the numbers in her head, dizzy with the metronomic sound of the count and the thrill of the blows as they
fell on the Cadet. The yells of her ex-lover as he struggled under the pain were more intoxicating to her that the wine that she drank; and
the fire in her pussy, which drizzled with her juices, yearned for his cock and that of his tormentor to stoke her heightening passion. She
took a gulp of the Chablis then tossed the glass aside; in true Russian fashion she smashed it in the hearth. She grabbed hold of a breast
and massaged its full flesh; she pinched on her nipple thinking of his teeth.

“Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty!”

The Cadet was sinking, his contrition was complete and Anastasia was soaring with such blissful revenge. His agony was her ecstasy;
his subjugation was her mastery; his public humiliation was her private triumph. As he screamed under the impact of the final stroke and
count, Anastasia screamed as well under the waves of orgasm that flowed from her oozing cunt. The Cadet whose name she was wiping from her
memory had brought her to a climax for the final time. Now the Mordavian dog who had dared to cross her could be consigned to the gutter and
forgotten forever. She would have no more to do with such degenerate filth.

Such was the view of Anastasia Kovalenka as she collapsed against the wall still riding her orgasm; two fingers squeezing hard on her
blood engorged clit and three wedged up her drizzling cunt, a hand massaging her full ripe breast.

But fate can be fickle and ever so cruel – cruel like a Russian bitch in heat!

Down in the courtyard, the punishment now over; the Captain who had delivered the strokes went to assist in the freeing of the Cadet
from his bondage.

“Forgive me, Dimitri, but I had no other choice,” he whispered into his nephew’s ear. “I held back as best I could – be assured that
the blows would have fallen harder from one of their own men – they can be so easy to fool at times. We will tend to these wounds
immediately, although I fear there will be some scarring. Bare your marks proudly, my boy, in remembrance of our struggle. The times are
changing, Dimitri, and this public exercise may yet serve us well. We will rise from the ashes of our subjugation as these communist
mongrels fall all around us. And we will have our revenge – on the Russian dogs who think to enslave us, on that bastard of a tyrant who has
issued this decree, and on his slut of a daughter who has brought this all about – she above all others will know of our revenge. The
revenge of the Karinovs will be brutal indeed.”

So spoke Yuri Karinov – a man of his word, and the future Chief of Police.



Chapter 1

Afternoon Fun





“Oh Yes! Yes! Yes! Aaagh! Aaaaagh! Aaaaaaargh!”

Anastasia Tursinova thrashed her head from side to side as another orgasm ripped through her body. She was lying on her back at the
edge of a stranger’s bed, her hands flaying the mattress beneath her and clutching at the sheets. Her legs were held at the ankles and
spread wide apart by the remarkable young stud who had been pleasuring her for the past two hours. He had already brought her to orgasm on
several occasions, eating her cunt in the most delicious of manners and fucking her hard till he spurted out a load, then licking her all
over as he regained his erection which he used to shaft her again and again in a variety of different positions.

God, he was a tonic; and Anastasia Tursinova was mightily parched - she was guzzling the young stud up.

Anastasia could hear him grunting as he continued to fuck her, driving her climax onwards and onwards. She screamed repeatedly as her
orgasms erupted and tore through her beautiful body. Lost in her own pleasure, Anastasia’s pussy flesh convulsed around her mystery lover,
and squeeze tightly on his big fat prick, taking the young man to an unrecoverable edge. He was banging into her, stabbing her repeatedly
with his virulent meaty spear; his heavy balls slapping against her ass. He thrust at Anastasia’s spasming body with all his might; growling
in his chest as his own body tensed.

She thrust to meet him, matching his rhythm, welcoming his flesh as it slammed between her legs. The headboard was banging against the
wall, adding to the sounds of their animalistic rutting. Wave after orgasmic wave crashed over Anastasia as the stud fucked her into utter
delirium. Then with one final thrust he let out a yell and Anastasia knew the glory of his second coming; his hot thick spunk spurted into
her cunt to mingle with her own copious juices.

Purring like a cat, Anastasia continued to thrust, milking the stud dry of every drop of his cum. Still panting and writhing she
looked up at his body, the hard chiselled form of his muscular physique. Luxuriously she ran her hands over her own stunning body, massaging
her full breasts with their milky white skin, so in contrast to the light brown flesh of her latest casual fuck. She could feel him
softening inside her and wondered how long it would take for him to recover; another hour of full on fucking would round off her afternoon
perfectly. It had been too long since she had been properly shagged and she wanted to make the most of this impetuous coupling – take full
advantage of this splendid young man who happened her way whilst she was out shopping, and apparently had no idea who she was - thus he
presented no risk to her precious reputation.

But she knew it was impossible to stay any longer, it was time to leave and head back to the mansion that was her temporary home
during this return to Mordavia after a gap of seven years. Her husband was expected back within the hour and it would never do to for him to
find her missing. And she needed to prepare herself for the reception tonight when the President of this country, which had inflicted on her
such sorrow, would be figuratively forced to kiss her beautiful ass.


Excerpt..

It was with the coldest of ice blue eyes that Anastasia Kovalenka gazed down on the courtyard below her. She was standing in her

father’s office; a room so opulently furnished it might bring into question the man’s commitment to the communist cause. But as Alexi

Kovalenko was Head of the KGB in the Soviet controlled state of Mordavia, no one would question any of his actions. Not even the President

of this puppet of Moscow would question a directive issued by Alexi; such was the power the man yielded.


Anastasia took a sip from her glass of chilled white wine, some rather pleasant Chablis which she had recently taken to drinking; and

as she flavoured her palate with its sharp dry acidity, she caressed her bare nipple with the tip of her finger, rejoicing in the coolness

she had stolen from the glass. Her sensuous pleasure in this self-arousal was enhanced all the more by the vision she looked upon – a young

man stripped to the waist – an Adonis of perfect muscular proportions and handsomely crafted facial features.


Abandoning her nipple as she looked hungrily at the youth, Anastasia dipped her index finger into the wine and brought it to her

mouth. Her full luscious teenage lips parted in acceptance and her soft supple tongue welcomed the digit. She closed her eyes as she sucked

on her finger, recalling the times she had sucked on the young man’s cock.


A shiver of pleasure ran through Anastasia as those wonderful memories washed over her. His cock was even more beautiful than his

body; long and thick and vibrantly alive – no man had ever filled her so well or brought her to such incredible orgasms.


As she looked on him again, Anastasia’s hand drifted downwards passed the swell of her creamy full breasts with their rose coloured

nipples, then over the plane of her toned flat stomach that she vowed would never be stretched by a child, to the wisps of fair silky hair

that adorned her swollen pussy. She covered her mound with the softness of her fingers which absorbed the blood heated warmth of her sex.

The middle finger was used to run the lengthy of her cleft, curling and flicking as it prised the lips open, allowing Anastasia to pleasure

her inner folds. Again she closed her eyes in fond reminiscence – so skilful the young man had been with his tongue. How had a youth of but

twenty years old managed to acquire such a talent?


Anastasia bristled and reopened her eyes, all fondness now cast aside. The answer to that question was obvious – that was why the

young man was standing in the courtyard and her father was striding towards him.


She heard the smack through the opening in the window: a hard slap across the left cheek that spun the young man’s head to the side,

then in quick succession a reverse swipe across the right cheek to spin his head again. This violence was followed by a tirade of abuse that

was hurled at the young man in a fevered pitch. Anastasia listened, fully aware that the words were for the benefit of the assembled

audience; the Mordavian police force who were colleagues of the Cadet – the young man who was the focal point of her father’s current

wrath.


“Filthy dog!” Alexi yelled. “You are employed at my patronage to keep stability in this cesspit of a country – to keep your peasant

race in check – to maintain law and order in this piss stain on the globe. You are NOT here to fraternise with Russian women. Do not think

to foul your Soviet master’s gene pool with your inferior stock. Russian women are NOT to be approached. MY DAUGHTER IS NOT TO BE

APPROACHED! How dare you make advances! How dare you touch her with your grimy hands! How dare you think she would even look at you! SCUM!

DEGENERATE FILTH!”


Another slap across the face drew blood from the nose; it poured down the young man’s chin and dripped onto his muscular chest; the

swell of his pectorals was accentuated by the bound wrists to his front. Anastasia winced at the severity of the blow, but she felt no

remorse for what she had done. He deserved this punishment – how dare he flirt with another woman just because Anastasia had laughed in his

face when he suggested they make their affair public.


Anastasia had enjoyed the sex with the young man – she had enjoyed it enormously; but surely he must have realised that it could never

be anything more. He was a Cadet in the Mordavian police force and she was a high born Russian with unparalleled beauty and influential

connections in the Politburo. Her destiny was for greatness, not to be a policeman’s wife. She had used him for pleasure, and given plenty

back in return; but their affair could never become public knowledge - it could never be known that she had given herself to a Mordavian.

She would be a laughing stock in Moscow and her father would be furious – even more furious than he was at present.


It had been foolish to get involved with him, but oh so delicious. Anastasia knew that the affair had to finish and had intended to

terminate it in the fullness of time. But he had fucked her so well, thrilled her body so intensely, it was difficult to bring things to an

end. Yet she knew an end must come; and she would have been prepared to do it gently if only he had remembered his place. But he had dared

to flirt in front of her with some dark skinned Mordavian slut in a stupid attempt to make her jealous and yield to his wishes to openly

perpetuate their connection in defiance of all social norms.


What an idiot!


How dare he?


Her father was right – he was degenerate filth. The Mordavian dog deserved all that he got.


It was no lie that she had told her father. He had touched her – he had made advances – she had been mortally offended by his

behaviour – what did it matter if she had been economical with so much else - her honour demanded satisfaction.


So he was to be flogged in front of the capital’s police force as an example of Moscow’s power over this pitiful little country, and a

reminder to the inhabitants that they should know their place – every last one of them, including the police.


Anastasia took another sip of her wine whilst she leisurely toyed with her pussy. Such a shame she would no longer have it pleasured

by her youthful ex-lover, but a new one would be easy to find. She was nineteen and stunningly beautiful, with long blonde hair and ivory

skin that had never been exposed to the sun – what man could ever refuse her? And what man would ever defy her after this exhibition of her

devious control?


Then the command was given by Alexi Kovalenko for the flogging to begin. The young Cadet was tethered to the whipping post which had

been installed in the centre of the courtyard, and a Mordavian Captain stepped forward – this would be the man who would do the flogging and

take Anastasia’s revenge.


Anastasia looked at him with interest – he was massively built and had such an air of authority despite being under the Soviet yoke –

his face was hard and rugged with the most incredible coal black eyes. He removed his uniform jacket then much to Anastasia’s delight he

removed his shirt to reveal a rich mat of black hair covering his broad manly chest. Instinctively Anastasia’s fingers sought out her

clitoris and she peeled back the hood to squeeze on the little bud. At a guess she would put this man at around forty years old, twice the

age of her former lover, but maturity might be interesting for a month or so. Anastasia made a note to find out the Captain’s name; perhaps

he might be the lucky one to next gain her favour and know the joys of her ravenous cunt.


The Captain stood to the side and was handed the whip – a short handled cat of nine tails. Anastasia watched with growing excitement

as the Captain made a few trial swishes then without any warning he brought the whip crashing down on the young Cadet’s back, striking him

squarely between the shoulders.


“One!” shouted a Russian military officer who stood to the opposite side of the Mordavian police Captain; he was there to confirm that

proper strokes were delivered.


Anastasia saw her former lover jerk at the blow and responded in kind as she squeezed on her clit and let out a pant to accompany his

groan.


“Two!”


The blow landed a little lower, the Cadet groaned a little louder and Anastasia squeezed a little firmer on her hardening clit.


“Three! Four! Five!”


Lower and lower; louder and louder; firmer and firmer did Anastasia squeeze and she groaned along with her former lover as his back

was flayed for a sin of her invention.


“Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!”


The Captain returned to the top of the shoulders then worked his way back down again. With each blow Anastasia squeezed hard on her

blood engorged clitoris using forefinger and thumb, and between each stroke she fingered the fleshy petals of her vulva and penetrated her

vagina with the other three digits. She squeezed and frigged as the Captain swished and flayed, masturbating to the rhythm of his whip;

thinking of a cock she could no longer have and fantasising over another that was there in the courtyard – a mature meaty flogger to whip

her youthful cunt.


“Eleven! Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!”


Anastasia was panting out the numbers in her head, dizzy with the metronomic sound of the count and the thrill of the blows as they

fell on the Cadet. The yells of her ex-lover as he struggled under the pain were more intoxicating to her that the wine that she drank; and

the fire in her pussy, which drizzled with her juices, yearned for his cock and that of his tormentor to stoke her heightening passion. She

took a gulp of the Chablis then tossed the glass aside; in true Russian fashion she smashed it in the hearth. She grabbed hold of a breast

and massaged its full flesh; she pinched on her nipple thinking of his teeth.


“Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty!”


The Cadet was sinking, his contrition was complete and Anastasia was soaring with such blissful revenge. His agony was her ecstasy;

his subjugation was her mastery; his public humiliation was her private triumph. As he screamed under the impact of the final stroke and

count, Anastasia screamed as well under the waves of orgasm that flowed from her oozing cunt. The Cadet whose name she was wiping from her

memory had brought her to a climax for the final time. Now the Mordavian dog who had dared to cross her could be consigned to the gutter and

forgotten forever. She would have no more to do with such degenerate filth.


Such was the view of Anastasia Kovalenka as she collapsed against the wall still riding her orgasm; two fingers squeezing hard on her

blood engorged clit and three wedged up her drizzling cunt, a hand massaging her full ripe breast.


But fate can be fickle and ever so cruel – cruel like a Russian bitch in heat!


Down in the courtyard, the punishment now over; the Captain who had delivered the strokes went to assist in the freeing of the Cadet

from his bondage.


“Forgive me, Dimitri, but I had no other choice,” he whispered into his nephew’s ear. “I held back as best I could – be assured that

the blows would have fallen harder from one of their own men – they can be so easy to fool at times. We will tend to these wounds

immediately, although I fear there will be some scarring. Bare your marks proudly, my boy, in remembrance of our struggle. The times are

changing, Dimitri, and this public exercise may yet serve us well. We will rise from the ashes of our subjugation as these communist

mongrels fall all around us. And we will have our revenge – on the Russian dogs who think to enslave us, on that bastard of a tyrant who has

issued this decree, and on his slut of a daughter who has brought this all about – she above all others will know of our revenge. The

revenge of the Karinovs will be brutal indeed.”


So spoke Yuri Karinov – a man of his word, and the future Chief of Police.





Chapter 1


Afternoon Fun








“Oh Yes! Yes! Yes! Aaagh! Aaaaagh! Aaaaaaargh!”


Anastasia Tursinova thrashed her head from side to side as another orgasm ripped through her body. She was lying on her back at the

edge of a stranger’s bed, her hands flaying the mattress beneath her and clutching at the sheets. Her legs were held at the ankles and

spread wide apart by the remarkable young stud who had been pleasuring her for the past two hours. He had already brought her to orgasm on

several occasions, eating her cunt in the most delicious of manners and fucking her hard till he spurted out a load, then licking her all

over as he regained his erection which he used to shaft her again and again in a variety of different positions.


God, he was a tonic; and Anastasia Tursinova was mightily parched - she was guzzling the young stud up.


Anastasia could hear him grunting as he continued to fuck her, driving her climax onwards and onwards. She screamed repeatedly as her

orgasms erupted and tore through her beautiful body. Lost in her own pleasure, Anastasia’s pussy flesh convulsed around her mystery lover,

and squeeze tightly on his big fat prick, taking the young man to an unrecoverable edge. He was banging into her, stabbing her repeatedly

with his virulent meaty spear; his heavy balls slapping against her ass. He thrust at Anastasia’s spasming body with all his might; growling

in his chest as his own body tensed.


She thrust to meet him, matching his rhythm, welcoming his flesh as it slammed between her legs. The headboard was banging against the

wall, adding to the sounds of their animalistic rutting. Wave after orgasmic wave crashed over Anastasia as the stud fucked her into utter

delirium. Then with one final thrust he let out a yell and Anastasia knew the glory of his second coming; his hot thick spunk spurted into

her cunt to mingle with her own copious juices.


Purring like a cat, Anastasia continued to thrust, milking the stud dry of every drop of his cum. Still panting and writhing she

looked up at his body, the hard chiselled form of his muscular physique. Luxuriously she ran her hands over her own stunning body, massaging

her full breasts with their milky white skin, so in contrast to the light brown flesh of her latest casual fuck. She could feel him

softening inside her and wondered how long it would take for him to recover; another hour of full on fucking would round off her afternoon

perfectly. It had been too long since she had been properly shagged and she wanted to make the most of this impetuous coupling – take full

advantage of this splendid young man who happened her way whilst she was out shopping, and apparently had no idea who she was - thus he

presented no risk to her precious reputation.


But she knew it was impossible to stay any longer, it was time to leave and head back to the mansion that was her temporary home

during this return to Mordavia after a gap of seven years. Her husband was expected back within the hour and it would never do to for him to

find her missing. And she needed to prepare herself for the reception tonight when the President of this country, which had inflicted on her

such sorrow, would be figuratively forced to kiss her beautiful ass.



Keywords - click on word to search for more titles

Revenge  BDSM  anal  oral  group sex  whipping  branding  piecing  kidnap  enslavement  

Reviews

Stunningly good! Even better than the first book, which is quite an achievement. 5 out of 5

Dan Bruce did it again. "Abuse of Power 2" is over the top. This book ties right in with his first. Dan Bruce is a fantastic writer and I do hope he continues with the Karinov men's "Abuse of Power" stories. These are evil men, but you just can't help wanting to read more! 5 out of 5 (LuvErotica)

Best Selling Books This Year By Dan Bruce

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Best Selling Books This Year By Dan Bruce

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Abuse Of Power 2 - Revenge Of The Karinovs

Author Information

Dan Bruce is a British author of comtempory mainstream fiction which he publishes under a different name.

 


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 Authors Suite     Publishers Suite    Affiliate Program

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 Authors Suite

 Publishers Suite   

Affiliate Program

Contact Us

Terms and Conditions

Protection Policy

Privacy Policy

Refund Policy

This Site Owned By Fiction4All - Copyright Ó 2015