Business Trip and Its Consequences

I am an economist. I work for a reputable firm as a senior consultant in economics, marketing, and finance. I am 36 years old, successful and independent. The firm sent me to Kazan for a seminar. Knowing that Tatars are Muslims, I wore a long dress with covered shoulders. In Kazan, we were met and taken by minibus to our hotels. The next morning, the seminar began, where I gave my presentation and answered questions. The subsequent reports and presentations were rather boring, and I went out to the restroom. On the way to the restroom, a local man jumped out from behind a column, grabbed my arm forcefully, and dragged me into some office. He closed the door and shoved me hard in the back. I flew on my heels

onto the desk, but managed to grab the edge. The man, about forty, ran up from behind, pulled up my skirt and tied it on my head. Then he unclasped my bra and used it to tie my hands. Next, he ripped off my panties and I heard the sound of pants falling. The man thrust his penis into me and began to fuck me wildly. I had long known the rule—if rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it. Intuitively, I understood that he wasn't going to rob or kill me. He only wants sex. I relaxed, and my pussy took that as a signal. It softened, grew wet, and accepted the penis deeper, deeper, deeper... I had an orgasm, and he came after me. Then he went for a second round and I had another orgasm. He went for a third time and again I had an orgasm. Surprisingly, my body did not reject the rapist. As I was getting dressed, he shoved something into my panties. I pulled it out—it was a 25-ruble bill. I swung to hit him (I don't take money for this), but he jumped back toward the door. I stopped him—why did he go for my long skirt when there are plenty of young women in miniskirts with nice breasts? He replied that I am beautiful, strict, and a big boss, that he couldn't get me just like that, but he really wanted to... I returned to the conference hall. A coffee break was announced. The café served excellent coffee with echpochmak—meat and potato pies. The break was ending, everyone rushed back to the hall, but I lingered, chatting with a colleague, but he was called away and ran off, and I slowly followed to the hall. I was alone. And suddenly, a man jumps out, grabs me, drags me into an office, and the first scenario repeats—skirt on my head, panties and his pants on the floor, and his penis inside me. Again, the man enters me three times, I have three orgasms, and again 25 rubles in my panties. A different man, but the same scenario. I returned to the hall. Three hours later, a lunch break was announced. Everyone went to the restaurant to enjoy the local cuisine. They served Tatar-style solyanka, pilaf, Tatar-style meat, and beshbarmak. After the restaurant, I went for a walk around the science center building. At some point, a man (the third one) pounced on me, and the same scenario played out as if it had been recorded on video. Again, dress on my head, panties and his pants on the floor, penis inside me, three orgasms, and 25 rubles in my panties. I couldn't comprehend it. Some kind of surrealism—in half a workday, three rapes, nine orgasms, and 75 rubles in fees... On the third day, the seminar was ending, but I wanted to see the city. I approached the seminar leader and asked to extend my business trip for ten days, and that he give me a note for my superiors stating that he extended my trip to give lectures on economics at his center and extend my hotel reservation. The seminar leader looked at me with interest, chuckled into his mustache, and said his deputy handles such matters. He called on the phone, said something in Tatar. I entered his deputy's office. There sat an imposing man about fifty with a bald spot on his head. I explained my wishes, and he assured me it was possible. Suddenly, he lunged at me, shoved his hands under my skirt and into my panties. I looked him in the eyes and clearly stated—not here. He removed his hands, called his secretary, dictated a note for me, extended my hotel reservation, and rebooked my train ticket. Embarrassed, he asked if I agreed to "a restaurant." I politely assured him that I could not force such a high-ranking official to stoop to violence against a woman, especially a guest of the republic. He took me to a restaurant where he was well-known, chatted with patrons, and I slipped away to the restroom. On the way out, some waiter grabbed me, dragged me into an empty room, and then the same thing, as if copied—skirt, panties, penis inside me. The waiter asked if I really would sleep with the old goat. I replied that it was necessary. He gritted his teeth. And I added that he only had 20 minutes. If in 20 minutes he could give me an orgasm, I would take his phone number, invite him to the hotel, and sleep with him. How he did it I don't know, but in 20 minutes he gave me a cascade of orgasms and I took his number... I went back to the hall, the table was already set, the chef was excellent, I tried a little of each dish, and my companion stuffed himself with delicious food, drank, and was "feeling good." He took me to his luxurious dacha. I jerked off his limp penis, he entered me, and then collapsed on the pillow and fell asleep. He snored until morning, and in the morning I told him in an admiring tone that he was a real man and had entered me four times during the night, showing him the towel with his sperm from the first time. He was terribly pleased, became proud, prepared a lavish breakfast, and then gave me a box with a necklace, a pendant on a gold chain, and an elegant diamond ring, as well as four 25-ruble bills. I still wear these jewels. He drove me to the hotel, and I forgot him immediately. I called Marat—the waiter—and invited him to the hotel. All the nights until my departure, I spent only with him. Marat was a magnificent, amazing lover. He filled me, wound me up with his passion, and within me grew a desire to leave something from him as a keepsake. The time came to leave. I exchanged my coupe ticket for an SV (two-berth). The train started moving, and then Marat jumped into the compartment—he wanted to see me off. I threw myself on his neck, undressed myself and undressed him, sat on his lap. He entered me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist (in the Eastern way), pressing him to me with my legs. Marat pumped, caressed me, and kissed my breasts. The train traveled for 2.5 hours to the stop, and Marat fucked me and caressed my breasts. He already had to leave, and I suddenly declared to him: "I probably won't have such an amazing lover as you in my life, but I want you to remain in my heart. I will summon you for a week, take you to a resort, and there you will give me a boy. I'll pay for the trip, I don't need alimony—I have my own apartment and a good salary." Marat shuddered but promised to come. Two months later, I took a week's vacation and summoned Marat. We went to the resort, and I literally didn't let him out of bed. Somehow Marat managed, but he gave me two boys. Carrying two boys was difficult, I was on bed rest, but I gave birth to twins normally. At work, some of the women tried to needle me about having children without a father. I clearly answered that there is a specific father, but he is fifteen hundred kilometers away, and you "otters" are jealous because of chronic lack of sex. And I have two wonderful boys—Rustam and Timur—my happiness, my joy. And just try throwing stones at me—I have such defenders growing up! So, an ordinary business trip gave me a meeting with an amazing man—a lover, and he gave me two boys. Daniel.