To Her Taste

Part 1: Meeting Ramina

***

Hi there. This is my first story ever on Literotica, I hope you like it. I plan for it to be a longer series. I appreciate any constructive feedback.

This is a femdom story in the year 2030. It's about a young Californian man in the Slavlands who, after having accrued a large gambling debt he could not pay back, finds himself to be owned by a rich Belarussian influencer, for who has plans for him he does not yet understand.

Things included: the use of first-person perspective, CMNF, dub/non-con, human trafficking, cunnilingus, humiliation, objectification, mild violence, chastity, orgasm control, and other erotic human rights abuses.

Things to be included in future chapters include: pegging, spanking, paddling, caning, massages, body worship, BDSM, forced bi, not-forced bi, gender bending, sadistic women, collars, lots of cum, misandry, and more.

Things that are definitely not going to be included: excessive violence, analingus, anything smelly, feet, sounding, age regression, incest, bestiality, maledom.

***

I'll never forget meeting Ramina Kavalski, it was a very unpleasant experience. I was awoken by her burly goons, one holding the bag that had probably just been around my head. I was tied to a wooden chair in a small, brightly lit room, and Ramina was sitting across from me, looking smug as ever. I, on the other hand, felt like absolute shit, was sleep deprived, probably drugged, and obviously roughed up. I was dizzy, disoriented, drowsy, and dying to an awful headache; I would have done anything for some ibuprofen and a nap.

"How was the trip, Marcus?" she asked me through her thick Eastern European accent.

I didn't answer. I wasn't really sure of what to say, and my big mouth sort of got me to this problem in the first place. Plus, I was too disoriented to really string a proper thought together. I closed my eyes for a long moment, and even I thought I was going to fall back to sleep for a second, but a splash of cold water shocked me back awake.

"When I speak you must answer me," she said sternly, leaning forward slightly. Realizing I couldn't nod my way through this one, I tried to get my bearings. I looked around the room, it was just me, her, and two big goons on either side of me. When my eyes settled on her I was confused, and was sure I was hallucinating for a second. She was the first woman I'd seen in a week, and was absolutely gorgeous and all made-up.

She wasn't any sort of "cute" or "natural" style of beauty, she was very refined. From the top of her head with her straight, dirty blonde hair, to her expertly plucked eyebrows, elegant makeup, complete with a glittery pink eyeshadow, her deliberate fine jewelry, and her amazing red dress and heels, which together probably cost more money than I ever honestly made. She was absolutely dressed to go out to a penthouse party of good looking people, but instead she was in this room with me and two goons, which for all I knew may have literally been a shipping container with a light fed through the roof. However, even in my tired, dazed state, I couldn't help but find her attractive.

"Who the fuck are you?" I slurred indignantly.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes. "I am your new owner, really, you should be thankful."

I was sort of surprised to hear that. I owed a lot of money from gambling debts to the wrong people and got abducted and trafficked somewhere. I had spent the last week or so in some god-forsaken warehouse with barely any light, and the last thing I remembered was a blindfolded "auction," though I wasn't really sure what they meant. I guess this was the result, and honestly I was a little relieved to see my owner was some hot young woman instead of some old Russian mining mogul or something awful.

"Pleased to meet you." My lack of sincerity was obvious and mocking.

She looked surprisingly frustrated for such light quips. "You will be taught manners."

"Okay, mom."

At that she got really mad, and I started to wonder if making her mad would just lead to me getting shot and dropped in a ditch. She stood up from the table she was sitting on the other side of, which I didn't even notice until now in my daze, her gold bracelets jangling. She held out one of her hands, gesturing towards the goon over my right shoulder. I turned my head to him, and to my dismay saw he was holding a taser that was aimed right at me.

"Do you dink dis is funny?" Her tone scared me.

"L-look, just,- what do you want from me? Why'd you buy me? I'm just an art history student with a gambling problem."

"Yes, I know. I know almost everything about you, Marcus Bishop. I know you were born on 14 of July, 2007, you had a pet terrier, you just finished a thesis about early Christian art, the last four digits of your Social Security number are 4815, and I have your Internet search history of the last four years," she gloated, holding up a binder of papers.

Now I was really scared, and it must have shown on my face.

"Well then you prob-"

"You will speak when spoken to!" she made an order with her hand, and the taser came down on my shoulder. I screamed in pain, having never felt such a thing before, and then whimpered a second after the man withdrew it. I looked at her with pleading eyes, and my heart must have skipped a beat when I saw her expression of wide, observing blue eyes and a slowly curling smirk. This bitch was crazy!

"Do you know who I am?"

"No! Have we met before?"

She looked indignant, before introducing herself as none-other than

the

Ramina Kavalski, the up-and-coming glam influencer from Minsk, and that she can forgive my ignorance as, based on my search history, I have very little interest in social media. I'd later find out that she was the daughter of some sketchy minor oligarch.

Then she barked some orders in Belarussian or something and the goons grabbed me by my arms and brought me to stand, both keeping a firm grasp. She barked something else, then walked out a door, and the goons half-dragged me along after her. We went through a series of creepy dimly-lit hallways with no windows. Finally, she stopped in front of a very secure looking door and snapped at some other guard to open it for her, and we went inside.

The room wasn't so small, about 15x20 meters, and was minimally furnished. There was a mattress on the ground with a blanket, a coffee table, a ceiling fan, and a couple of other doors.

"Dis is your room now. As you learn to be a good boy you may earn extra privileges. I will come back tomorrow, and we will begin." she stated and then just walked out of the room. She yelled something in Belarussian back at the guards, and they unrestrained me and let me go, left, and closed the door behind them, obviously locking it. I was dead tired and wanted to fall asleep on the mattress, but I decided to take a moment to inspect my new environment.

One of the doors led to a small bathroom, complete with a toilet (with a bideau), a shower, basic toiletries, and a sink with a large mirror. The other door led to what looks like small walk-in closet, but with only a faint light. On the opposite side wall was actually a large window. It was definitely some sort of glass or plastic, but it was tinted an extremely dark blue color, and there were small metal bars on the inside reinforcing it. I could barely see through it, but I gathered I was in a tall building in a city, and the sun was low in the sky. Additionally, there was a plastic cup and a pack of water bottles.

I got myself a bottle of water, drank half of it, then passed out on the mattress. I have no idea of how long I slept, but when I awoke from my dreamless slumber I felt a lot better. I finished the last of the water bottle and went to get another when I noticed some food had been left in the room. I inspected it: there was a plastic container of a fruit salad, a slightly-warm chimichanga wrapped in tin foil, a fork, a napkin, and a can of Coca-Cola. I ate the chimichanga first, which to my amazement was actually good, which was strange considering it was a dish that was very obscure in Eastern Europe, it was also one of my favorite foods. The idea that they specifically made that for me was disconcerting. Considering they had my Internet history it's likely they probably just read one of his reviews of a Mexican restaurant, but this Ramina noting I liked the food and went out her way to have it made for me was very strange to me. But whatever, it was a good chimichanga, and once I finished washing it down with the Coke I went on to the fruit salad, which was also quite nice.

I looked around the room again, taking in its bareness. The sun was low in the sky. The door to the outside was padded metal and had some very intense locking mechanisms. I didn't have any other clothes, or anything to do, so I just turned on the ceiling fan and laid down to watch it. I laid there, letting my mind wander. I kicked myself for getting me into this absurd situation. But who exactly was this Ramina, and why precisely would she spend money to purchase me from traffickers? Were there others, or was she working alone? What city was I even in? What country? A social media thot was also pretty far from the kind of people I'd get along with, and they would probably know that.

She was very attractive though.... Thinking about her I couldn't help but become a little aroused, being the 22 year old horndog that I was. Oh god, if they they really combed through his Internet history they probably saw all the femdom porn....

I the door opening. I just looked up at them: it was a guard and some other man bringing in another tray of food and collecting the old one. They left as quickly as they came, and I gladly went to the food: it was some toast, black currant jam, two bananas, and a cappuccino. I had eaten not that long ago, but I didn't get to 90 kilograms by wasting food. Based on the food choice and the sun location I presumed it was sometime in the morning.

What felt like another half an hour passed before the door opened again. This time a full squad of those riot-geared goons came in, followed by Ramina, who they flanked. She was just as well-maintained as last time, but this time she wore a different outfit with a brown dress. Seeing her, I sat up and prepared to stand, but she just raised a finger at me and made a gesture suggesting that I should stay on the ground. I was going to say something, but I remembered the taser's bite.

"Dobry rano." she said to me confidently, putting her hands on her hips.

I just looked up at her.

"How was the food?"

"It was good, thank you." I croaked, then coughed.

"Well don't get used to it, it was just a taste of what tings can be if you behave yourself."

I was naturally rebellious, or perhaps bratty, as I've been told, enough that the suggestion that I needed to "behave" while this bitch degraded me made me pretty mad, but I bit my tongue.

"Now, get up. It's time to begin your day. But first," she said something out the door in Belarussian and two young women in maid uniforms came in, each carrying a cardboard box. "-Your clothes."

The two women set the boxes on the ground not far from me, and once I stood I could easily see inside that there were some folded clothes. I was quite glad to see them, I lost track of time how long I was wearing the same outfit.

"We'll be back in 5 minutes. Get changed." She sternly ordered, then just turned to walk out, her 12 centimeter sling-back heels tapping on the old vinyl flooring and hips swaying. The door shut while I was staring at my new clothes, and then I began to inspect them.

I found 3 nice button-down shirts, 2 grey exercise shirts, two casual t-shirts, and 1 black shirt with very deep V-cut. There were also matching dress pants, shorts, denim and corduroy jeans, and even some grey sweatpants. There was enough clean underwear for more than a week, just more than half of it boxers, some of them briefs, and 1 a very questionable thong that I raised my eyebrow at and tried to forget. Finally, there was a set of trainers, dress shoes, converse, and a very cozy pink hoodie. I settled for a t-shirt, jeans, boxers, and converse, a pretty standard outfit for me. The door opened just as I was tying my shoes.

I was sternly led through another long series of hallways, and eventually we came to an elevator. Ramina ordered most of the security entourage away, just limiting it to one of the guys grabbing my shoulder. The rest left, and the three of us entered the elevator and began our descent.

"Where are we going?" I asked, before realizing I just gave her another reason to taze me. She looked at me judgingly, and I at her, and I think my eyes betrayed my startle. Luckily she seemed to be in a better mood today, because instead of grabbing my guard's taser she actually answered me.

"Now we're going to the nurse for a physical, then I will introduce you to your new routine."

"My new routine?"

"Yes, you have much to learn. Just behave yourself, you might just enjoy it."

"Ah, yes, slavery in an mysterious location in Eastern Europe, I'm sure it'll be an absolute riot." I quipped.

She stepped closer to me, much closer. In her heels she was several centimeters taller than me, and she looked down at me with those wide ice-blue saucers. She was close enough I could smell her and her perfume cocktail, which reminded me of lavender, liquorice, and fruit... it was quite nice. She leaned in closer, and I wanted to say something but was taken too off-guard to think of anything, then she put her lips to my ear and whispered to me, her soft breath caressing me and sending a shiver down my spine.

"If you're a good boy, you'll live better than most men can dream of."

She leaned back, and only then did I realize how quickly my heart was beating. I was able to quickly regain my composure.

"No offense, but you're: 1) an Internet personality, 2) someone who is obviously involved in human trafficking, and 3) a woman. So, pardon my skepticism."

She looked rather offended at that, and I was proud to think despite being perhaps the one person in the world most at her mercy, I've probably already given her more lip than she's heard in the last six months. She spent the rest of the elevator ride glaring at me, which was thankfully not much longer. They led me down some more halls, and eventually we came to an area that seemed to be a small clinic and pharmacy. Aside from the guards and Ramina I had barely seen a single other person in this whole place, and most of the lights were off, which I found unnerving considering its size. However, here seemed to be a few other staff members, including two women, one younger and one older, who I presumed were doctors or nurses or something. Once we got to them Ramina's tone totally shifted, and she warmly greeted them in whatever Slavic tongue. She then introduced us,

"Marcus, this is Madam Morozova," she gestured to the younger nurse, "and Madam Popov." she gestured to the elder. "You will do what they say and treat them with respect. Do you understand?" she faced towards me.

"Yes," I replied simply.

"That's 'yes, Mistress.'" She snapped, seemingly prepared to snap at him. I could hear the younger nurse giggle.

"Are you kidding? You don't own me." I rebutted.

She glared at me again, trying to think of the perfect reaction. It unsettled me, but I wasn't going to tolerate her going out of her way to embarrass me infront of these nurses.

I was glad to see her not reaching for a taser. Instead, a smile just grew on her lips and she coolly said, "Not yet, but I'm about to." The younger nurse giggled harder.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Whatever it was, I didn't like it. They conversed a little bit longer in Slav-speak, then the guard let me go.

"Behave! We'll be back once you're finished." She and the guard left, and this time I couldn't help but stare at her tight ass as it sashayed away, probably very obviously to the nurses. I turned to face them.

"Hello Marcoos, you can just, uh, call me Katerina," the younger nurse said with a bubbly tone, reaching her hand out to shake mine. Well, at least she was friendly. The older nurse stayed silent, probably not knowing much English, if any.

I shook the younger woman's hand. She wore a beanie on top of her long brown hair that cascaded to the sides of her round face. She was wearing a surgical mask for whatever reason, so I could only see her eyes which were slightly slanted and decorated with a precise winged eyeliner and a blue-purple glittery eyeshadow blend. I would guess she was in her early 20s. The older woman seemed apathetic.

I wanted to resist them, but I knew it would not only make my situation worse, but these two ladies seemed like they had pretty much nothing to do with my situation but being employed by Ramina. They led me into a predictable looking room: a small exam room, complete with old Soviet hardware, the newest stuff must have been at least 10 years old. If there's one thing those Commies got right, it's that they built to last, as was evident by the functioning manually adjustable lead-weight scale they used to weigh me, which must have been at least as old as Mrs. Popov. After checking my blood pressure, heart rate, weight, and all the other basics they actually took urine and blood samples. Obviously they were being quite thorough, and what they got done I was glad to find showed that I was operating normally. After all that, Katerina led me into a smaller room that had a very suspicious table present in the center: it was flat and wide, under a light, reminding me of a moguetician's operating table, but it was padded and had what looked to be leather straps where arms and legs would fit.

"Now, I will need you to strip naked." she said, standing next to the table, just watching me with those innocent brown eyes.

"What? I thought we were finished...."

"We need to do one more thing, and you must be naked for it."

Whatever, these people were medical professionals, right? "Okay..." I acquiesced, and she just stood there, waiting.

"Uh, could I have some privacy?" I asked, starting to feel a little embarrassed under her gaze.

She giggled. "Oh, Marcus, no. You won't have any privacy with me, but don't worry, I'm nice."

"Could you at least turn around?"

"Didn't Miss Kavalski tell you to do what I say, hmm?"

I began to stutter out a response, but just resigned myself. I just sighed and took off my shirt, to immediately notice Katerina staring at me intently as I did so. Everyother doctor I had been to would have at least left the room for a minute, but she was making a point to study me with her eyes. Did she actually like this? Did it matter? She was a pretty young woman and I a pretty young man; the idea of her watching me get naked seemed less threatening, though it still made me feel a bit weird and insecure, but I continued stripping, going for my pants next. When I was just down to my boxers I looked at her, and she gave me a look to continue, and with a sigh I took off my boxers, and stood there naked, covering my junk with my hands. The nurse's eyes had since transitioned from giving a soft, friendly look to that of a child looking at some exquisite candy, but either way I was sure she was smiling under that mask.

"Now, please lay on ze table." She motioned towards the table with restraints. I walked up towards it, still covering my junk.

"W-what are the restraints for?" I asked, feeling cold.

"Dey are just a safety preecaution, I need to complete the examination, okaay?"

She sounded so friendly and cute, and even her Eastern European accent, which normally grated on me, only sounded endearing on her tongue. However, I was still a natural skeptic and was sure something at least slightly unpleasant was going to happen, but I knew I didn't really have an option. I could, theoretically, just overpower the nurses and try to make a break for it, but I had no idea where I was and I was sure there was more security, and I really didn't want to figure out what Ramina's punishment for an attempted escape would be. I resigned myself, hoping the nurse would be as gentle as she seems, and laid down and prepared for her to restrain me.