Spoiled Beyond Reason

Spoiled Beyond Reason (Closed now for spiritual_love)

Alex had just gotten off the phone with a business associate of his in the States, and couldn't help but grin to himself at the prospect of what Mr. Burton had suggested. It seemed that his stepdaughter had gotten quite out of control as of late; her mother had been using the poor man's fortune to spoil her daughter from a previous marriage for years, it had seemed, and now that he thought about it, Alex remembered the girl from one of the times he had visited the Burton household. She was petulant and far too used to getting her way, even then, though there was a certain beauty as well, that he hoped had ripened well since then.

Mr. Burton had reached his limit, wanting to be rid of the girl, and called Alex, knowing that his former Soviet friend had connections that could make this happen. He had been ranting about a money having been wasted on her education, with her failing out of her classes miserably, and Alex agreed to take care of the matter for him. The vexed stepfather had even suggested the perfect time to take her: she was going to be in the Bahamas for spring break, where it would be a simple enough matter to have some of his men pick her up.

Once the tall, broad Russian thought about it, he called and arranged for a team to intercept the girl in the Bahamas, and bring her straight to him. He was in need of a new pet, after all, and from what he recalled of her, she would be a perfect fit. His green eyes glinted as he was giving the men their instructions, and he noted as he looked in the mirror that it was time to trim the brown beard that adorned his face, something that he left to go see to as soon as he hung up with the man in charge of the kidnapping.

bump!

bump!

bump!

Ilya couldn't believe his luck when the girl approached him. He had managed to follow her from the airport to this bar when she disembarked, and she just now seemed to notice him. Further, she didn't seem to be suspicious of him, but instead, was coming toward him with a predatory look in her eyes and a sway to her hips that told what her mind was on. Watching her, he wondered if the boss would mind him taking advantage of her. In fact, it was possible it would make his job much easier.

He pretended to look up at her just as she got to his table, a warm smile on his face as he spoke in a thick, Russian accent, "Please tell me there is something I can do for you." Offering her his hand, he added, "I am Ilya, by the way. Does such beauty have a name?" His eyes devoured her form now that she was closer, suddenly feeling very envious of his boss, though all that could be seen in his eyes as he looked at her was very obvious interest.

Ilya noticed the change in her demeanor once she got a good look at him; he had been snatching women for long enough to notice such changes. Still, it was clear she wanted something from him, even if it was only for him to buy her a few drinks. "Sure thing," he told her, and waved over the waitress, a local woman, and when she got there, he told her, "Please get Cheyenne here another of whatever she has been drinking, and I will have another Jack and Coke." He paid up-front for the drinks, and as the woman got to the bar to fill the order, she would see the note written on one of the bills and know to add something extra to her vodka and cranberry juice that would make her very pliable once it worked its way into her system.

As they waited for their drinks, he turned back to Cheyenne, "So, how long have you been on the island?" Of course, he knew the answer, but knew he needed to make her feel at ease for the moment. Looking at the outfit she wore, it was a shame she had seemingly decided against taking him back to her hotel room, or wherever she may have initially had in mind, but he knew that with the money he would make bringing her in, he would have women easily as beautiful.

"I am from Estonia, here on vacation, hoping to meet some pretty girls and drink myself silly," he responded to her question, glad for the information about her friends coming down. It would be much harder to take her after her companions were there, though things looked good to be able to take her that night. She drank down the vodka and cranberry, which also had a strong dose of sedative in it.

Ilya watched as the girl began to become heavy in her movements, and swayed in her chair. He could not help but smile as she seemingly felt no paranoia or concern at suddenly feeling the way she did; she was enjoying it. Leaning into her, both to help support her as well as to speak to her, he whispered into her ear, "And you can feel even better, if you don't mind going for a walk with me." The Russian could tell by the way she was acting that her inhibitions had likely already been destroyed by the drug that had been slipped into her drink.

Once she agreed, Ilya stood, helping her up at the same time and giving the men who had come with him a brief look. One of them headed out to go get the van and bring it out front. The russian's arm was around Cheyenne, supporting her so that she could remain on her feet, helping her make her way through the bar. The few patrons left were minding their own business; to them, it just seemed a tourist had too much to drink and was leaving with man she had been flirting with.

Once outside, she was taken into the back of a van, and laid down on a mattress. After the door was shut, the vehicle began to move. Grinning down at her, the strong russian pulled out a length of rope and said, "Relax Cheyenne, you'll be on your way to your new home soon."

It was all Ilya could do to keep from laughing as she spoke of staying in this paradise. Shaking his head, he continued to watch her, and himself cursed when the driver hit a bump. He forgot about the aggravation, however, when he saw the way the coverup had moved, nearly baring her breast. Licking his lips, he reached for her, stroking her hair lightly as he told her, "Your mother's not here, but I will see that the driver gets his due as soon as we reach our destination. Just lay down and relax, and you will find out what your mother's surprise is before you know it." He knew the drug would last long enough, but he was going to have to keep her calm long enough to get to the private airstrip they were using for this endeavor, which was a bit of a drive. As he urged her to lay down, he let his hand wander a bit, caressing down the side of her neck to her chest, where he cupped her breast firmly.

Cheyenne rolled over and looked at the man, Ilya.

"what do you mean Mother is not here?" She questioned him softly with an almost childish wonderment upon her features. "She's supposed to be. She always takes care of the payments. I don't have any money for you." She rambled on and on absently as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

Her head nuzzled into the stroking comfort of Ilya's hand within her hair sighing softly. Her breathing evening out as her pulse kicked up a notch. She smiled as she whispered, "I love surprises..." She stretched as she laid out upon the mattress, barely feeling the brushing glide of his hand as it wandered upon her supple flesh. Yet as her breast provided his hand with something to hold, she gasped with surprise, "Hey!" Her hand lifted to bat at your arm, though she could only move in slow motion and giggle insanely. "You can't do that...."

"Why not, doesn't it feel good?" he asked her teasingly, keeping his hand on the swell of her tit, massaging it firmly. "And no need to worry about paying for anything. Everything is already taken care of," Ilya added, feeling her nipple even through the fabric of her bikini and rubbing his thumb over it. Thankfully, he was pretty certain she was not a virgin, so he could have fun with her without risking Alex's wrath. So long as he did nothing that might impregnate her or do lasting harm, the Russian was free to enjoy her however he wished, and the drug made her easy pickings. Soon, he slid his hand under the bikini top, and was kneading her bare breast, loving the feel of the soft flesh under his touch. "You just relax, and enjoy the rest of the ride. I will try to keep your mind off of that fool's driving," he leaned down and whispered the words heatedly into her ear, though the driver did overhear, and shoot Ilya a dirty look.

When she woke, Cheyenne was no longer in the bar, and remembered nothing of the van. Instead, she was in a rather elegant bedroom, with walls that seemed to be made of dark, polished stone of some sort. The furniture was made of cherry wood, the centerpiece of which was what looked to be a king-sized canopy bed without the canopy. There were several dressers in the room as well, and a small table with one comfortable looking chair.

Then there was the piece that she was affixed to. It was made of the same dark red wood that everything else was, and it appeared to be a large X frame, with leather straps at the end of each extremity, which were what was holding her up. As she came to, she would find that she was trapped there, the straps being just tight enough to keep her there, but the insides were lined with some soft material to prevent chafing.

It all barely had time to register when a distinguished-looking older man, perhaps a few years younger than her stepfather, stepped into the room. He was tall, with perfectly groomed brown hair and a close beard, but the most striking thing was definitely the green eyes set in his handsome face. Upon seeing her, he smiled, and closed the door behind him. Approaching her, he spoke in a thick Russian accent, "Ah, it is good to see you are awake, Cheyenne." As he spoke, he checked over her bonds, to make sure they were still intact, "I'm sure you have many questions, but they don't matter anymore. The life you were leading is over. You are my property now, to do with as I wish." As he went on, and her head cleared, she would vaguely remember him as someone her stepfather had done business with in the past, and had been to their home.

Alex laughed as he listened to the girl rant about who was going to do what to him. As he laughed, however, his eyes were drinking in the sight of his new toy; she was quite lovely, even when she was being petulant and angry, and her clothing was disheveled. He picked up a crystal tumbler that had his favorite vodka poured over two cubes of ice and took a sip before he responded to her.

"I'm afraid that the reality of the situation is not quite what you think it is. Even if any of those people wanted to find me, they could not," he told her, supremely confident that his home in the Caribbean was well-hidden enough, "Besides, it was your stepfather who told me exactly where to find you, and asked me to take you, in fact. Your mother will certainly want to find you, but I am sure that Mr. Burton will keep her on the wrong track." Taking another sip of vodka, he then set the tumbler aside and approached Cheyenne more closely.

He stood before her, looming over her as he moved his hands to her wrists and ran them down her arms, feeling how soft her skin was. When he encountered the gossamer cover that hung over her body, he simply tore it away, leaving her nearly naked in her hot pink bikini. The lewd grin on his face made it clear that he was pleased with his new acquisition.

"Its a bit too late for that. He indicated that he had tried to explain things to you before, but that it did not work, and that your mother was no better, at least where requests from her precious daughter are concerned," Alex explained to her, enjoying the reactions she had to his touch, the instinctual enjoyment that clearly repulsed her when she thought about it.

The coverup out of his way, the Russian continued his exploration of his new property, his hands moving now to cup her breasts, squeezing them. His hands were large enough to nearly encompass them entirely, and he obviously enjoyed the way her ripe tits felt in them, as he lingered on them for a little while before running his palm over her stomach. "Beside which," he told her with a lewd grin on his lips, "Now that I have seen you, I would not wish to release you."

He then stepped away from her, moving once more to the table where he had set down his tumbler of vodka, taking another sip. Alex then picked up something that had been laying flat on the table, a long knife that glinted in the light, then began to make his way toward her, "Now, this is not for cutting your skin, but if you move too much, there might be an accident, which I would truly regret."

Once more, the Russian stood right in front of her, the knife still in hand. "Even if I did not have this desire to keep you for myself, what you suggest would not be possible. Even men in my line of business must have some ethics, and I would not betray your stepfather by simply giving you back to your mother," he told her in that thickly-accented, rumbling voice. Alex's eyes were fixed on her, admiring her beauty, even as he saw the tears glistening in her eyes.

"Its not out of any strong loyalty to your father, however. Its simply because those I deal with expect me to keep my word," he continued to explain to her as he pressed the flat of the blade against her flat stomach, just above the jewel dangling from her navel. The knife was cold, and he was clearly an expert at handling it, since he managed to lay it against her skin in a way that it was not likely to cut her. "Now, you must be still, my toy," he told her firmly, grinning at her in a way that made her feel like a doe in the sights of a hunter.

After giving her a moment to try to grow used to the feel of the metal, he moved it carefully, slipping it under her bikini bottom first at one hip, then the other, slicing through the fabric with ease. As he cut at the second hip, the garment fell away to the floor. After taking a moment to admire his handiwork, running his finger over her smoothly-shaven sex, he then slid the blade back up her stomach, to cut the string that ran between her breasts, exposing them to the cool air in the room. Only then did he walk over to set the knife back down on the table.