The Oligarch's Price

Los Angeles, 2014

When Lorelei's husband came home, she knew straight away he had something to tell her. But she didn't want to seem like a smarty-pants, so she pretended she didn't know, and let him spring the big surprise on her.

As a maid served dinner, he broached the subject. "Darling, I've got a big new assignment."

She put on her biggest smile. "Really, Donald? That's great."

He took a deep breath. "It's in Russia."

That stopped her for a moment. "Russia?"

Donald nodded. "The company wants to acquire some iridium extraction rights there. I have to head out and get them, by hook or by crook."

"How.... how long will you be out there?"

"We. We're both going. I need you for the charm offensive."

Whirlwind days followed as they got ready to fly out. A fashion model before marrying a rich executive, Lorelei now studied the prevailing fashions and the climate. She researched the man Donald would be doing business with, a billionaire oligarch named Sergei Rakhmanin. He was a big man, a former army officer. Though forty-nine, but age and wealth hadn't made him flabby. In press statements he made much of his fitness regime.

The women he was pictured with were the same type as Lorelei, natural blondes with lush curves and long legs. Armed with this knowledge, she bought a whole suite of new costumes to impress him.

They flew out and checked into the apartments rented for them by Harlow Minerals. The day after they arrived they dined with some senior executives from Rakhmanin Industries, and Lorelei did her best to please. She was all smile, oozing charm at men who leered over her model's body and low-cut top. When she'd married for money, this had been part of what she'd signed up for.

On the second day, Donald met with Sergei Rakhmanin himself. For a long time they talked numbers, and eventually Rakhmanin sat back. "Enough of business for today. I long to meet your charming wife."

"You know of my wife?"

"Of course. Lorelei Faye was a famous name, in fact a particular favorite of mine. It was because of her that I specifically asked for you on this project."

A note of foreboding struck Donald, but he was here to do business. The company would not be pleased if he failed. So he put on his best face. "Of course. I'm sure Lorelei would love to meet such an eminent magnate."

"Excellent. We shall dine tonight at one of my mansions."

Donald called Lorelei. "He wants us both for dinner, Lorelei. At his place. Look, this guy is like a king. You have to go out of your way to please him."

"Of course, Donald. That's why I'm here. The charm offensive."

"Yes." He paused, breathed out, then spoke again. "He's a fan of your modeling work. Says you were his.... particular favorite."

Despite the shiver that ran through her, Lorelei controlled her voice, keeping its sound light. "I'll do everything in my power."

Lorelei went into a frenzy of activity. She had to look perfect. She agonized over costumes, and finally picked something almost too revealing.

When Donald came to pick her up, she put on a long fur coat to cover her near-indecency. They arrived at Sergei Rakhmanin's mansion, and he greeted them at the door, which a servant opened. He seemed even bigger in real life than his pictures suggested. It was more than size: he had a kind of physical presence, animal magnetism.

"My wife," said Donald. "Lorelei."

"Lorelei Faye." Rakhmanin's heavily accented voice lingered over the name, savoring it. "A great pleasure. I followed your work, before you married."

Lorelei smiled like it was Miss World. "And everyone has heard of you, Mr. Rakhmanin."

"Please. Sergei."

Another servant came for her coat, which Donald peeled off her. Sergei's eyes glittered as he openly ogled her luscious form. "You are a magnificent beauty."

"Why thank you, Sergei." There was no doubt the skimpy costume had been the right choice.

He led them into a large room with several plush couches, where maids offered flutes of champagne.

She crossed her legs, deliberately giving Sergei a glimpse of the insides of her thighs, and sat pushing her bust toward him. With such a short skirt, he must be easily able to see all the way to her thong. He opened the conversation by asking about the weather in Los Angeles, a city he said he knew well. Quickly he moved onto questions about their home there. He seemed to know a lot about it, including details that she didn't think were in the press. He moved on to American politics, where again he was well informed. Unlike many men Lorelei had known, he didn't talk about himself.

They went into dinner, and over the sumptuous meal he asked questions about her. What had her husband, of all men, done to be so lucky as to catch her?

"Oh, I married him for his money, of course!" she laughed, and Sergei laughed with her. Donald's urbane smile slipped a fraction, but he quickly restored it.

"But I have much more money than him," Sergei observed.

"Yes, and you're such big and powerful man, so muscular. What a pity I didn't meet you first."

Donald stayed silent through their unsubtle flirtation, which grew deeper as the courses came and went. After dinner, Sergei foisted more drinks upon them, liqueurs this time. Lorelei wanted to stay steady, but Sergei was insistent, and Donald's eyes and body language urged her to comply. So she drank, and soon the room was spinning a little.

Then Sergei stood, and without a word he came over to Lorelei and offered his hand. She took it and rose, a little unsteady. His hands on her waist kept her upright.

"And now, I think, Donald is ready to return home. We have much negotiation ahead of us tomorrow."

Donald stood, a pathetic scarecrow of eagerness to please. "Uh.... of course. Luh, Lorelei?"

"There is something I wish to show Lorelei."

A spasm crossed Donald's face. "I.... see. I see. Okay. I'll uh. I'll go."

Sergei slowly inclined his head. "Until tomorrow, Donald."

"Y-yes. Until, until tomorrow."

A servant appeared. "This way, Mr. Kilden."

Donald wavered for long moments, then walked out.

Without another word, Sergei guided her out of the room with his hand on her back. Up a staircase, his arms steadying her.

A door. Her heart hammered. He opened turned the handle and swung it open.

A huge bed, sheets of black satin, centerpiece of a vast ornate room.

His hand moved down onto her butt, tapped it twice. This was the point of no return. If Lorelei stepped into this room, she was going to be unfaithful.

Trembling, she stepped into the room.

Sergei's hands explored her, slow, thorough, wanting to know all of her. He knew where to touch a woman, and soon he had her writhing and gasping on her spot.

He moved in closer behind her and kissed her on the shoulder. He swept her hair aside and his lips moved up to her neck, up to her cheek. She turned her head to meet him, and their mouths opened as one. She put her tongue's tip between her teeth, and found his about to move in. In a single gliding motion, each was deep in the other's mouth.

A whirl of motion -- he swept her up in his arms. She squeaked in surprise through their kiss, but their mouths stayed clamped together as he lowered her onto the bed.

His lips broke from hers, leaving her panting. He seized the plunging neckline of her tiny dress in both hands and pulled hard. She yelped as the fabric ripped. There was no space for a bra under such a thing, and the bosoms that had held audiences spellbound when clothed were now uncovered before his eyes.

He lowered his face to her chest and smothered it with mad kisses. She panted his name as he drew nearer to her nipple, then cried sharply out as he took it between his teeth. She seized his thick hair in her fingers, luxuriating in it. Meanwhile, his hands roamed down to her thong, and that too he ripped away.

He stood, and gasping she spread her legs. His eyes devoured her body, naked but for stockings and shoes. As he threw off his clothes, he took in her perfect figure, slim waist and athletic thighs. Her nipples delighted him, their vivid color, how stiff they were with desire. He ran his gaze down her smooth belly, which rippled with fast shallow breaths, and his eyes lit up when he saw her womanhood agape with desire beneath the muff of golden hairs.

Quickly he was naked, and she feasted her eyes upon the splendid length and thickness of rigid manhood that stood out from him. "Oh Sergei," she moaned. In a trice he was upon her. They looked into each others' eyes, mouths open, as he found the entry.

He glided in liquid-smooth, long and deep to the very hilt. A few times he pushed in and out, slow and thorough, and then he picked up speed, In moments was driving into her like a fury. She tried to say his name again, but words were impossible. She could only shriek at each joyous impalement. Quickly she came, but he was still far from the end of his race. He drove into her ever faster, stoking the fire of her orgasm to burn ever hotter.

He reached his climax and slowed, looking down into her eyes with triumph. It took her some time to calm down to the point where she could speak again. "Oh Sergei," she moaned languidly, "you're a beast."

"A Siberian tiger," he agreed.

"Oh Sergei!

My tiger!

My tiger!

My tiger!

" Then he robbed her of the power of speech her again, pumping into her at the same impossible speed as before. Soon she had her second climax of the night. It was her second of many, more than she could count, and he kept her busy for long hours before he finally let her sleep.

Late in the morning, she woke and found him gone. She lay a while in exhaustion, then got up. Her clothes were in tatters. But on a table someone had laid out a dress, chic but modest, and a bra and panties. She found an en-suite shower and cleansed herself of the sweat that Sergei had pounded from her in the night.

When she emerged naked from the en-suite Sergei was waiting, dressed in a muscle vest and shorts. "Back from my morning work-out," he explained with a grin. "We will spend today together."

"What about your negotiations with Donald?" she asked.

"There are no negotiations."

"What?" The shocked word burst from her.

"The deposits are on my land. Why would I lease the rights to a foreign company when I can extract the iridium from them myself?"

"But then -- why -- why bring Donald here?"

"Don't pretend to be stupid, my precious darling. You know why I brought you here."

"You -- you did it to get me?"

He very gently put his hands on her shoulders. "I want you now and forever."

He kissed her. There was nothing she could do but comply. His mouth mastered hers, his hands possessed her. He walked her backward to the bed, where she lay down and parted her legs again for him. He pulled down his shorts and took her as vigorously as he had before, and made her come three times.

After the third he said, "Come. Now you will please me in the shower."

Meekly she went with him. She followed him into the still-steamy glass, knelt before him and took him in her mouth as he cleaned himself.

After the shower they dressed and had breakfast. Then he told her they were going out. She nodded in silence, unable to resist his wishes. He took her out to a car, which drove them to a small airfield where a private jet waited.

"Where are we going?"

"Dubnichka. One of my country estates."

They boarded the jet, entering a lounge like a luxurious hotel room. After take-off, Sergei poured her a drink and then ordered her to undress. She did so, and he insisted that she go on top as he initiated her into the Mile High Club. She straddled him on the plush leather couch and worked her body up and down to enjoy pleasing her master's rigid phallus. There was no need to fake her orgasm, as she had so many times with Donald.

On the flight he explored positions. He knelt her on the couch and did her from behind. Then he sat her on the liquor cabinet and pumped her, face to face, their bodies upright. They had cocktails then, and talked a while, after which he gave her a blunt instruction: "Kneel."

She got down before him where he sat and opened her mouth. "Not in your mouth," he said. He held his stiffness in his hand. "Wrap your breasts around it."

A tit-job? She'd never done that for anyone. But she was in the private jet of a man who wouldn't take disobedience well. Suppressing a sigh, she shuffled forward on her knees and got into position. What was she supposed to do? She tied moving up and down, but couldn't get a smooth action.

"A virgin at this, yes?" he asked with a smile. "Let's watch an instruction video." He pressed a button and a wall panel slid back to reveal a screen. It flickered to life and a picture appeared, a man reclining with his legs hanging over the side of a bed. A nude, ample-chested girl came on and knelt between his splayed legs. She held her airbags around his cock and lowered her body, then pushed up again, but Lorelei couldn't see how.

Slowly the camera angle panned around them to show her bare body from behind. Her ass was pushed back, back arched to keep her chest upright. Her thigh muscles did all the work, extending her legs enough to move her chest up his rod, then relaxing so that her torso dropped again.

Lorelei copied the girl's pose. With her breasts around Sergei's stiffness, she unbent her knees until his head nestled in the cleft of her bosom, then let herself down until it pressed up to her throat. She moved up again, down again.

"Faster."

She picked up speed, holding her breasts around his shaft. It was hard work, and soon her thigh muscles were burning. But she was an athletic woman, who kept herself trim. She managed to maintain the pace, and then suddenly a gush of warm liquid sprayed up under her chin. Immediately she slowed down, and looked at his face. When he seemed satisfied she stopped and gave him a pleading look, needy for approval.

"Good girl," he said with a contended smile.

He made her lie on the couch and rub his seed into her chest and neck while he watched. Then he brought her a warm wet towel to clean herself up. When she'd got the stickiness off her he said, "Get dressed. We're nearly there."

Clothes back on, she looked out of the window. They were in an empty land, plains and forests. Then, in the distance, a complex of buildings appeared.

"Is that a town?"

"No. It is Dubnichka. My personal kingdom."

Once they landed, Sergei said he had to work and departed. For the rest of the day, servants showed her around: parklands, stables, gyms, a private cinema, and her own suite of rooms containing the clothes she'd brought from Los Angeles.

She turned on a TV and flicked news channels. Soon she saw a story about herself, with footage of her getting in a car with Sergei, and boarding the private jet with him. "Speculation that former model Lorelei Faye Kilden has left her husband for Russian billionaire Sergei Ivanovich Rakhmanin. She accompanied her husband, who visited Russia to do business with Rakhmanin, but he has left without her. Mr. Kilden is an executive with Harlow Minerals, and it is believed he intended to secure mining rights...."

At Dubnichka, Lorelei was Sergei's mistress. She had breakfast and dinner with him every day, and serviced him in bed every night. While he worked, she played. She used the gym, rode horses, enjoyed the endless entertainment systems. At Sergei's suggestion, she started learning Russian. She had internet access, but when she tried to access her email it was blocked. She tried to set up another webmail account, but that was blocked too. So were Facebook, Twitter, all the social media. There was no phone. She had no contact with the outside world. Starved of friends, she spoke to the servants, and her spoken Russian quickly improved.

She followed the news. Harlow Minerals' stock price dropped after the failure with Rakhmanin Industries. The CEO and Chair forced Donald to resign over it. Then it emerged he had committed tax fraud.

At dinner after hearing this, Lorelei observed to Sergei, "It looks like Donald's all washed up."

He chortled. "All washed up, yes. Interesting expression. All washed up. I must use that more when I speak English."

She said no more, but the satisfaction he displayed told her everything. He had engineered Donald's downfall.

A few days later, it emerged that Harlow Minerals had struck a deal with Rakhmanin Industries to provide engineering expertise on the iridium extraction project. The same CEO and Chair who had ousted Donald came out as heroes, and the stock price went up.

Not long after, Sergei said, "Donald will go to prison in disgrace. You cannot remain married to such a man."

"No," she replied in submission.

A lawyer appeared. Sergei arranged everything for the divorce. Lorelei was flown to America to appear at the divorce hearing. She was surrounded by Sergei's people the whole time, dour Russians with the look of military men.

Back in Russia, Sergei proposed. She accepted him without demur, and they were married in a vast Orthodox cathedral. President Vladislav Kyriliev of the Russian Federation was a guest.

Now Sergei's wife, he no longer kept her at Dubnichka. She was the toast of Moscow society, attending parties on Sergei's arm with politicians from across the world. To begin with Sergei kept her close, jealous of any man coming near her. But after six months he started to stray to other women. Lorelei founded her own network of contacts.

President Kyriliev made an effort to join that network. He made her feel an intimate friend, and insisted she call him Vlad. One day, when Sergei was off partying with some young actresses, Vlad got her alone.

Drunk, feeling abandoned by Sergei, Lorelei threw herself at the president. He took what he was offered, took her with breathtaking passion. After both of them had known satisfaction, he idled gently inside her. There was a look of victory in his eyes, but she sensed it was not victory over her.

"Sergei has overstepped the mark," he told her. "He has challenged my authority. I must.... reduce him."

"Reduce?" she asked. "You mean.... the same as happened to my first husband?"

"Similar, except that Sergei really is guilty."

"What!"

"Surely you know that Donald's tax fraud was a phantom created by Sergei's people."

"Yes.... of course," she lied. "Now I must lose another husband?"

"But losing the first, you moved up to be a billionaire's wife. Now you can move up to be a president's wife."

"Oh Vlad!"

He brought her to climax again. When she'd calmed down, she said, "But I stand to lose all of Sergei's money."

"Ah.... that is your price for which you will sell your oligarch, is it?"

"Yes. That is the oligarch's price."

"It can be arranged. Sergei is often unfaithful, and makes no effort to keep it secret. I see no difficulty in letting you keep the bulk of his fortune. The courts will grant it to you in the divorce settlement."

"Very well. Then.... what do I have to do?"

It was very simple. Lorelei just had to place a listening device in Sergei's clothes before he went to work on a certain day. She managed it, and the next time she saw the president, he assured her that all was running to plan. She should arrange to be away from her husband and his people at midday next Friday.

She told Sergei that she wanted to visit Sochi on the Friday, and he made no objection. She flew off on Friday morning, one of Sergei's guards with her. They landed in Sochi, and dressed in a headscarf and a coat that buttoned up to the neck, she visited the sights. The guard was her chauffeur.

Around eleven thirty, FSB officers turned up and arrested her guard.

She went into a cafe which was showing the news. Just after twelve a newsflash came on. Sergei Ivanovich Rakhmanin had been arrested on charges of bribing public officials. Lorelei looked around, but nobody looked at her. So well-covered with clothes, she was barely recognizable as the famous model who was Sergei's wife.