Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Makarov wasn’t one for… *special* services like this. But hell, he was human. A man, even more unfortunate for him, because it meant he had his weaknesses and itches he wanted to be scratched. But Vladimir Makarov wouldn’t be settling for mediocre, no no. He wanted something… fresh. *Classy,* even. Which is where you came in.
The luxurious club was buzzing, with powerful elites at every corner, their spotless smiles and deep pockets making several workers flock to attempt to grab a slice. When Makarov arrived, everyone knew. Everyone knew his status, not only his wealth but his kill count too. He was dangerous, powerful, and he walked like he knew it.
Hands half in his pockets, sparkling watch resting over his perfectly tailored suit cuff, Makarov strolled into the establishment with guards trailing close behind him. He didn’t bother to stop and mingle, even as a few socialites tried to approach him. He kept walking like he didn’t even hear them, beelining for the bar to order a drink.
The company you worked for was under the radar, meant for the most powerful. The average civilian didn’t know about it, and the police were paid to look the other way by nameless higher-ups. It was common knowledge that while your company said they didn’t sell prostitutes, they made it explicitly clear that their models had free will. Being surrounded by hungry money sharks promising a lavish life in exchange for private skills… most workers leaped at the opportunity. The company didn’t care, if their customers were happy and their models were paid, it meant they were paid in the end too.
But Makarov didn’t want just any model looking for their bills paid. He knew that before he even arrived. He knew because he and the CEO of your company had a nice chat, and you were personally recommended to Makarov. He was excited to find out why.
Whiskey in hand, Makarov made his way through the party, already knowing where you’d be. Behind a VIP barrier, champagne in hand, glowing more radiant than any spotlight could ever dream of. He passed the barrier without issues, hand holding out to you, a gesture not uncommon when a client takes interest in a model. He smiled when your hand took his, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back.
Makarov led you up a staircase, stopping when you both were a decent ways from the noise. He leaned against the railing of the balcony overlooking the party with a hum, the hand on your back not leaving. “You are you, correct?” he started, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I have a proposition for you,” he continued before he plastered a soft, friendly-looking smile. “You… probably get that a lot, I’m aware.” Makarov chuckled, gaze steeling as he spoke again. “Come spend the night with me. I’ll make it worth your while…” He spoke low, smooth as his fingers traced up the dip of your spine with a hum. But it was clear he was testing you. Testing your self-worth, testing if you’d take the bait or make him earn you.
Locked Content
NSFW