"Business is slow," Madame Karenina Golovko said to herself. The six-foot-tall, busty and chubby, pale-skinned, red-haired and green-eyed, fifty-something Eastern European dame sighed as she looked at her cellphone. Roger Frost, a middle-aged white dude who booked a two hour session in Madame Karenina's dungeon cancelled. He paid the eighty dollar cancellation fee but that was small fries to Madame Karenina. This lovely lady believes in femdom and likes to tie up, flog and peg men. Why can't more of her male clients follow through with their commitments?
Seated on the couch, Madame Karenina watched TV. The MNN or Montreal News Network reporter was blathering on and on about crime in the north end of Montreal. Crime was rampant across much of Quebec. Madame Karenina lives in Montreal-Nord, and is tired of the bullshit that people always bring up when it comes to her neighborhood. The reporter talked about Gerald Raymond Duchene, a Haitian Canadian man who apparently robbed several banks from Montreal to Quebec City and Sept-Ile. Apparently, he was loose in Montreal. Golly. Talk about bad news.
After sipping some orange juice, Madame Karenina, a diabetic, felt like taking a piss. She headed to the bathroom, pulled down her panties, sat on the toilet and took a leak. A few minutes later, she returned to the living room. The mature white woman frowned, for her dogs Lucky, Marquis and Harriet were barking up a storm. The dogs roam freely all over the house and are quite fond of the yard. Madame Karenina typically leaves the backdoor ajar just for the dogs. Grumbling, she went to check up on them. What's got the dogs spooked?
"Don't move and don't scream, you fat white bitch," came a deep voice. A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around Madame Karenina. The tall, bodacious white BBW would have resisted the intruder if not for the gun which got pressed against her temple when the man moved one of his arms upward. Madame Karenina fell silent and raised her hands in the air. Even a strong woman like Madame Karenina knows when to hold them and when to fold them. This fucker means business. The gun pressed against Madame Karenina's temple was no joke.
"Look, I don't want any trouble, okay? I got some money, just take it and go," Madame Karenina said, and the man laughed. He pushed her inside, and closed the door, shutting out the three dogs. Upon entering the living room at gunpoint, Madame Karenina chanced a glance at the intruder. A tall, dark-skinned young man of about twenty looked at her. Holy fuck, he was the same fucker who robbed the banks. The one from the television news.
"I'm waiting on the cash, bitch," Gerald said, gun still aimed at Madame Karenina. Taking a deep breath, Karenina nodded and headed to her wall safe, the place where she kept her cash. There were twelve hundred dollars in there. Madame Karenina took out the box and Gerald grinned, his hope all too evident. The young black man hefted his gun and licked his lips. Madame Karenina considered giving him the cash, but wondered if he was going to take the money, or kill her. One could never tell with these street types. Some hoodlums are lethal.
