Red Swallow Ch. 10

Desiree knew Theresa had the foresight to buy a corset with a low bust line. As maid of honor she helped her friend as she dressed for her wedding. The scoop neck would have really exposed the tops of her breasts and cleavage if not for the lace overlay. The dress had lace over her shoulder only above her arms leaving the rest of her supple clear skin breathtakingly exposed.

Desiree adored the way the A-line of the skirt flowed down from Theresa's waist to the floor with a one-foot train behind her, and the row of ivory buttons that lined up the middle of her back were...well, cute as a button.

After the "I do's" and the official pronounced them man and wife, it was time for the reception and time to party!

Desiree was naturally very popular at the reception. She idly wondered how many of Leo's friends were actual agents. She lost count of the number of handsome men she danced with, but she knew she could always count on Anastasya appearing to interfere and send the unlucky suitor on his way once things started to get steamy. Ana was watching her like a hawk, making sure Desiree did not do anything that could anger Ivan.

Desiree found the waiting for whatever was going to happen next with Ivan to be insufferable. It had been over two weeks since he claimed her and Ana had taken her off the menu at COBALT, and Desiree was somewhat surprised at how horny and frustrated she was.

She was so frustrated that she thought about sex all of the time. She fantasized about men she passed on the street, imagining what their naked bodies would feel like on top of her, their cocks probing her sphincter and filling her anus.

It was a good thing that she wasn't working for Yuri anymore; she swore she really was becoming airheaded and scatterbrained and could not hold a coherent train of thought or concentrate anymore!

The only positive outcome was that she spent hours in the gym every day - a brutal morning cardio session followed by yoga and Pilates in the afternoon. The physical exertion and the mental discipline of the yoga helped distract her from the fact she was aching to be filled by a hard cock.

So, it was probably to be expected that she snapped at Anastasya the umpteenth time that she broke up a dance that was getting far too personal at the reception.

Desiree had shared a couple of drinks with the man in question, a handsome, stocky man in his 30s whose jokes kept her in giggles. They had danced to a couple of faster songs, but the mood had shifted as the lights dimmed, a slow song came on and couples began swaying to the beat in each other's arms.

Desiree was crushing herself against him, with her arms wrapped around his neck and her nose nuzzling his neck. She could feel his hard on developing against her, and just that feeling and his scent were making her start to swoon. His hands had found their way to her ass and was slowly massaged her, adding to the heat of the moment.

Abruptly, Anastasya was there, deftly pulling Desiree away with an explanation that she'd had too much to drink. Desiree found herself on the edge of the dance floor, with an angry Ana glaring at her, and a her potential sexmate standing alone on the dance floor with a confused look on his face.

"That's it, Ana, this is bullshit!" Desiree exclaimed, folding her arms under her breasts and glaring up into Anastasya's face. "I haven't had sex in over two fucking weeks! I'm going crazy!"

Anastasya sighed, "Well, you will only have to control yourself for another day, little one," she said. "Ivan returned today, and he wants to meet you tomorrow night for dinner."

The anger abruptly left Desiree, and she was left with a feeling of nervousness.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Well frankly my dear, I didn't expect that you would behave like such a harlot. Perhaps we have done too well in our conditioning of you at COBALT, da?"

Desiree was annoyed, but also glad to hear that her enforced celibacy was near an end. Whatever would happen, it would happen tomorrow night.

"Fine!" Desiree spat. "Then I'm going home, there is no reason for me to stay here if I can't have any fun!" And with that, she stalked over to Trixie and Leo to give them a last hug and kiss, collected her things, and left for her apartment at COBALT.

**

Desiree was nervous and anxious the entire next day. Now that a meeting with Ivan was set, and happening that night, she found her mind racing as to what to expect. She still did not understand what being "claimed" really meant. Was she to continue whoring, just with Ivan as her pimp directly? Or was she only to service him? Or, were there other options involved? Could this ultimately present a path to freedom?

As had been her routine for the past few weeks, Desiree went to the gym in the morning and engaged in a grueling workout, trying to quiet her mind. She went back to COBALT for a light lunch, and then fell asleep in her apartment.

She woke to a knock at her door. Desiree rubbed sleep from her eyes, and crossed the room to open it. Anastasya was there, beaming, with shopping bags and a large garment bag.

"Hello my dear!" she said as she bustled into the room and set the bags down by Desiree's make-up table. The garment bag she hung on the door of the wardrobe.

"Are you in a better mood than last night?"

Desiree was feeling refreshed after the aggressive workout and the nap. "Yes, Ana, I am. What is all this?"

"This is your outfit for tonight, Ivan sent it over. I have an appointment in an hour at the spa for you to be prepared for your rendezvous tonight. Quickly, make yourself presentable and let's go!"

An hour later, Desiree was luxuriating in the full spa treatment. Anastasya had stayed with her to share the experience as well, and they chatted away the afternoon as attendants and technicians went about their tasks. They were waxed, massaged, exfoliated, and scrubbed till they shone. They had their nails and hair done to perfection, and eyebrows threaded.

Desiree was enthralled with the nail treatment Anastasya had ordered for her. Strong acrylics were applied, and polished with an eye-deceiving deep blue or dark gray color that shone and seemed to change, depending on the angle at which it was viewed.

Finally, makeup artists did their makeup. Desiree's eyes were done in a dramatic smoky eye fashion, with shades of black, silver, and hints of deep, metallic blue that seemed to match her nails.

After three hours of luxury, they were led in their fluffy robes to a private changing room where Desiree's outfit for the evening was waiting.

Anastasya turned to Desiree and took her hands. "Desiree, my dear, I'm not sure whether I will see you again after tonight," she began.

Desiree's eye's widened. "What? Surely this is not goodbye forever, Ana!?"

Anastasya smiled and shrugged. "Who can say? People pass in and out of our lives. I hope that we will be able to stay in touch. I know you blame me for your compliance training, and-"

"Oh, Ana, no, I..." Desiree interrupted.

Anastasya held up a hand to silence her and continued, "I will not insult you by saying I had no part. Of course I did, that is part of how we operate. But, I will say that you are special to me, and I wish you the best in your life, wherever you go."

Desiree found that tears had sprung up in her eyes. She had not expected this. "Ana, I... you are right. I resented you for some time. But, in the end, you have been like a mother to me." Here Desiree caught a flash of annoyance in Anastasya's eyes. "Or at least, a big sister!" she tried to recover.

Anastasya crushed Desiree with her hug. Then she pulled back and dabbed at her eyes. "I will leave you now. When you have dressed, there will be a car waiting outside to take you to Ivan. Fare well, milaya moya." And with that, she turned and left the dressing room.

Desiree took a few minutes to compose herself, then began to dress herself in the clothes from the shopping bags. It appeared Ivan had spared no expense.

First, the lingerie was sumptuous. The bra and panty set were a deep blue satin, with a reinforced crotch in the panties which held Desiree firmly in place after she had tucked herself back. The bra fit her chest perfectly, which she marveled at given that she was now larger than a D-cup but smaller than the next size.

She then opened a package of opaque, black thigh-high stockings. They were made of a remarkable material - it was almost slippery in her hands. She slowly pulled the stockings onto her feet and up her legs, wondering at the sensual feel of them. She extended a leg to examine herself. The stocking shimmered in the light, almost as if it had an oily surface. The tops of the stockings were reinforced and quite tight, so a garter belt was not necessary.

Desiree then walked to the closet and opened the garment bag. Inside was one of the most beautiful dresses she'd ever seen. It appeared to be made of a similar material as the stockings, though thicker. When she took it in her hands, it almost seemed to be liquid. She removed it from the bag and held it in front of her.

It was a slinky halter top, v-neck gown that extended to mid-calf. She stepped into it, pulling it up over her newly generous hips, and then up over her arms and shoulders. It fit like a glove, hugging every curve snugly. Her breasts pushed up by the bra, her cleavage featured prominently through the v-neck. The skirt of the dress was quite tight, with a slit that ended just above her left knee.

It was the same strange, deep metallic blue or grey color as her nails were painted. The light played off of the dress, making it shimmer or shine, depending on the angle. Desiree modeled it for herself in the dressing room's multiple mirrors for several minutes. She looked incredible.

Finally, she opened the shoe box to find a pair of black patents with killer 6-inch stiletto heels. She stepped into them, feeling downright dangerous. She sat down at the make up table, and saw no improvements to be made. She put on a silver chain necklace and matching bracelets that she found inside a jewelry box, and then gasped when she saw the diamond earrings.

As the clock's hands swept past 6:30, Desiree finished her preparations. She picked up a clutch purse and dropped her belongings into it. Her day clothes she left in the room, the spa would return them to COBALT. She put on a light wrap, and exited to the street.

As expected, a dark colored SUV was waiting for her at the curb. Desiree clicked across the sidewalk to the open door, got inside, and drove off to meet Ivan.

**

The SUV pulled up to a somewhat nondescript midtown tower. It had the feel of movies that Desiree had watched as a young boy with her grandmother from the 1950s. Her grandmother had loved the romance of those movies, but had chuckled a little, telling young Dustin that these movies were considered old even when she was a teenager.

The doorman, in his red livery, opened the door to the building for Desiree. He tipped his cap and said, "Welcome, Miss Gagnon."

Desiree entered the lobby, which was cold but elegant. White marble shot through with blue veins clad the walls. Rich Turkish rugs covered the marble floors. A staircase led up on the far-left corner, and there were two elevators with burnished brass doors directly in front of her. The atmosphere of the whole room had an almost blue tinge throughout. The front desk was to the right, and appeared to be black granite with silver accents. A clerk manned the desk, and he also tipped his hat to Desiree as she crossed the threshold. But he was not the only person in the lobby.

Desiree looked around, counting six large men in suits sitting in chairs around the lobby. They did not even try to hide the handguns in their shoulder holsters. One even had a shotgun leaning against the wall next to him. This was not a regular New York apartment building. This was a fortress.

The henchmen did not look up at her. They continued reading their papers or studying their phones. But she felt a charged tension in the room, and had no doubt that they were ready to react to anything.

Looking around uncertainly, Desiree took a hesitant step towards the front desk, about to ask the clerk where she should go. But at that moment, the left elevator door opened, and the clerk smiled and gestured towards it. Stepping carefully on the rugs in her heels, Desiree crossed the lobby and entered the elevator.

The elevator had no buttons, and its walls were mirrors. As the doors closed and she started to ascend, Desiree checked her makeup and the fit of her dress. The floor indicator showed 48 floors, and a penthouse. She assumed that she was headed to the penthouse, and was correct.

The doors slid open. Desiree stepped out into a dimly lit, elegant foyer. The only lighting came from bronze wall sconces that seemed to be candles or oil lamps from the way their light flickered. The walls and floor appeared to be dark slate, with thin lines of buff colored mortar in the joints between the slabs. Somewhere, she heard water trickling.

Desiree waited a moment, but no one came to greet her. She was not sure what to do. Nervously, she held her purse to her chest and crossed the foyer to the entrance of a long hallway.

The hallway was illuminated by dual lines of soft lights set into the edges of the floor. The walls themselves were slightly angled away from the floor, with sheets of water sliding down them. Where the walls met the floor were narrow gutters that collected the water, presumably to be pumped back up so that it could trickle back down the walls. Where the walls met the ceiling was a glow of recessed lights. The mood that it set was quite something.

As Desiree walked down the hallway, the click of her heels echoed and sounded incredibly loud. She was straining to hear any other sounds, but registered nothing. She became acutely aware of herself - the unique material of her dress hugged every curve, and slid sumptuously against her skin as she moved. Her hips swayed from side to side, and her chest gently bounced and jiggled. She noticed a slight increase in her heart rate and her breathing.

As she came to the end of the hallway, an immense, open-plan room opened up to her left. It must have encompassed half of the floor of the building, and the ceilings looked to be 15 feet high. Immediately to her right, and running along the length of the room, were floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the cityscape. Glittering lights stood out from the darkness outside. The room itself was clad in the same dark slate stone floors and walls, with some pillars evenly spaced along its length.

Artwork lined the wall to her left, and continued on the longer wall opposite the windows. Paintings and sculptures were evenly spaced in a minimalistic style. Desiree remembered the electives she had taken in art history in college, and of course Anastasya's comportment lessons had focused heavily on art appreciation.

Desiree swore she could pick out a Monet, a Schroeder, a Cézanne, a Gaugin, and even a Banksy. The Banksy wasn't mounted in an elegant frame like the other works; rather it was on a ragged chunk of concrete, as if someone had chiseled this piece of street art out of the wall it was originally painted upon. Desiree wondered at the story behind it.

Desiree entered the room, and walked past an enormous ebony dining table with places for 20 guests. She took note of an elaborate black chair at the end, which looked like it had been carved from some kind of extremely dark wood. "That's not a chair," Desiree thought. "That is a throne."

She continued on, and towards the end of the room she saw a sitting area with luxurious black leather couches and armchairs set around a large coffee table. Sitting in an armchair, with his back to her, surveying the incredible view of the city, swirling a glass of an amber liquid in his right hand, was a man.

Ivan.

Desiree stopped, and stood nervously. Desiree, who had been entertaining wealthy men for nearly two years, who knew how to disarm even the most guarded corporate titan and turn him into jelly, felt in that moment like a foolish and uncertain school girl.

She looked at his reflection in the windows. His face seemed to be chiseled from granite. He was looking down at his scotch, apparently deep in thought. High, angular cheek bones and a prominent brow framed his eyes. He had a large jaw, which was covered with a closely trimmed black beard in which some grey was starting to appear. His thick hair was immaculately trimmed into a classic cut.

Abruptly he looked up and his eyes locked onto hers in the reflection. In a smooth motion, he rose from the arm chair and turned to face her.

Ivan was one of the largest men she had seen in person, probably about 6' 6" tall. He wore a crisp white dress shirt that hugged his frame and tailored black slacks. He was clearly in excellent shape, his pectoral muscles showing prominently through his shirt. There did not appear to be an ounce of fat on his belly or sides. Desiree's breath caught in her throat.

Desiree stood as Ivan looked at her. The silence was growing uncomfortable as he simply...looked at her.

Desiree's nervousness increased. She briefly wondered if her social anxiety had returned. She found herself mentally checking her appearance. Was her makeup ok? Was there something wrong with her hair? Is her dress messed up? Oh god, why is he staring at me like that?

Just when she thought she should say something, a domestic servant came into the room from a door to the left, close to where the windows curved to meet the wall and end the room. Apparently, the kitchen was back there. The servant carried a silver tray bearing two glasses of white wine. Ivan took a glass and then the servant brought the other to Desiree, which she gladly accepted.

Finally, Ivan broke the silence.

"A toast," he said in a noticeable yet cultured Russian accent as he raised his glass to her "to new possibilities."

Desiree smiled back and raised her glass to Ivan. When he took a sip from his glass, she followed suit and took a sip from hers.

"You really are beautiful." Ivan said, as if he was confirming something that he had suspected, but was not yet certain about.

"Thank you." Desiree smiled at the praise but her nervousness was unabated.

"To what new possibilities are we toasting?" she asked.

"Yes. Good! Get to the point, 'eh." Ivan nodded as he approached closer until he was towering over so that Desiree had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

Desiree's stomach was filling with butterflies. Ivan had been increasingly on her mind as her relationship with Yuri had grown, and he had divulged more information about the Organization, and Ivan's enterprise, of which Yuri was a part. She had found herself thinking more and more about the brief encounter at Smith Financial, and even fantasizing during sex that Yuri or a client was actually Ivan.

As her curiosity grew, she began doing research into Ivan. There was very little about him on the public web, but of course Desiree was by now an expert in digging out obscure data from the dark web and other less savory sources.

She knew that the Russian oligarch didn't get rich quick by getting rich quick. He was slow and methodical in his approach to growth.

Ivan had grown up in the grim, industrial city of Norilsk. He had left school young to labor in the mines to help support his family. His size and natural aggressiveness led him to a life of petty crime.

But Ivan was intelligent, and wanted more. He found his way into competitive MMA fighting, which helped him get the hell out of Norilsk. He traveled the world, and learned a great deal. He could have continued for quite a while as he dominated in the MMA ring, but he retired early and invested his winnings into renewable energy production.