Oh, where was that rutting bottle? I muttered drunkenly to myself and attempted to roll on my side. I did not succeed.
Stuck laying on my stomach, I about fell back asleep when I spotted the tall green bottle staring back at me. In shock I waved at it, squinting in the dark. I reached for it, gave up, and closed my eyes.
Then I decided I would be damned if I gave up, and fell face first off the bed.
"pererezal mne gorlo i trakhnul moyu ranu."
I swore in Russian and used my elbows to prop up. Actually, no, I would need this one— I wiggled a hand— to get that, pointing to the bottle.
At last, the beautiful thing was in my hand, it was open, and at that very same moment so was the door to the room. I didn't care, though, as I downed the last of the liquor.
Someone said my name, and I laughed into the bottle at how something could sound so angry and sexy at the same time. Oh, it was Sayter wasn't it?
My arm was tired, so I threw the bottle and tried to break it again the floorboards. Maybe I would get a spanking, it can't be too hard to get horny this drunk, could it? I didn't have too much control, mine as well experiment. Sayter picked me up and laid me on the bed, "Where is Brom? What in hell are you doing drinking?"
Oh Gods, he sounded mad-mad.
I momentarily forgot my English, but I doubted he would mind,
"ty dumayesh' ob etoy suke seychas? krest'yanin razden' menya."
You are thinking of that bitch now? Undress me, peasant.
Sayter grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back. His hands undid the lacy corset, and pulled down my velvet underlings, searching my body. "Did you let anyone touch you? Where are the guards?"
"ty dolzhen trakhnut' menya sam i posmotret' yesli vse yeshche teplo." I giggled drunkenly for a long while, Sayter only stripped me further of my gloves, and pulled me over his lap.
"You're too drunk to address me in English, then I'll have to punish you till you can answer my questions."
"Da Master, ya byla plokhoy malen'koy shlyukhoy." I moaned.
Yes Master, I've been a bad little whore.
Sayter ignored me, and slapped my ass.
"I leave you alone for one night,"
He spanked me again, then on.
"You manage to lock yourself away and get fucked up."
Again and again he struck me on the ass, eventually I was panting. My body got hot, and I could only wheeze. I had meant to ask to cum but all I managed to say before orgasming in his lap was, "nogi,"
Legs.
Sayter flipped me on the bed, I didn't hear him, not really, I only knew he must be angry at me for cuming.
Instead I heard the sound of the sea, the misbehaving waves of my orgasm, the desire to dive deeper in. My hands were in the air moving rhythmically to the sound of the ocean in my head. Sayter did nothing, he was gone. He had left the room to get something, and I thought I heard the word cane and ass, but processed it as candy-ass and dozed off.
Then, there was hands around me, but these hands were not Sayters hands. The arms were too big and the body was too fat and oh, was I getting fat too? I hope I was not getting fat.
I also hoped sleeping was an alternative to gaining weight, so I went and tested the theory.
Ironically I did not dream of the ocean, I dreamed of Sayter, and wished he had his arms wrapped around my body. It had been so long since I've slept without him wrapped around me.
I decided to dream of something else, and ended up killing five phantom men in the process.
Ф
Angmar ran a hand down her soft cheek, even with the look Rowan gave him.
"Just put her in the rutting carriage,"
"Yes, ma'am."
He had been running with the girl in hand, and she made many sounds for him as her frame hit against his chest. Mostly drunken whispers, all in a language he did not understand. German?
But it did not matter, did it? They had stolen for the Crime Lord before; parents, gold, graves, bodies— this girl would be the first sleeping body they stole that is still breathing. Now, they were in a hurry, and needed to get the girl across the village where Sayter couldn't find her. Even so, the Crime Lord may have her heart, but Angmar will have her in body. Her heart will be his, caged in his own way.
The girl, the hell-bell of the continent, curled in a feline posture as he folded her into the back of the carriage. Sayter Hamel would not have her again.
"Angmar, are you running out on us so soon?"
He shot up from where he stared at her exposed breast, peeking out through the velvet. "What? No, of course not, I—"
"Because taking so long I'm beginning to think you're asking to be left behind."
"I'm sorry," Angmar basically launched himself in the back of the carriage, locking Victoria tight in the trunk first.
Brom only murmured how sorry he ought to be if she were Merek right now.
They were off, hitting a bump in the curve.
The girl hissed something in a drunken disturbance, something Angmar didn't understand. Rowan said, "Did she just threaten to invert the sidewalks ribcage?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, in Russian, at least.."
Ф
I woke up and instantly regretted it.
What a stupid decision, I thought, because the beating headache synced in rhythm to my heartbeat. How romantic, but increasingly painful to me.
"You're Russian,"
A man who I immediately decided I did not want to talk to spoke. I told him to fuck right off in a few choice hand gestures and coughed into my other arm.
He went on, "I've heard a lot about the Russians, how they kill and how they fuck. The wars they start, the money they waste,"
I woke up a bit more and looked up at the man. Not Sayter, not Merek, but familiar, but more concerning was the bars between us. I was in a cage, again.
"Word is they're in debt to Belgium, my family happens to be from there. That makes you, in a way, in debt to me." The man was tan, with dark hair and eyes, wearing black leather behind a silver belt, and most importantly to note, not making any gods damn sense.
"Me and my husband deal with debt in the same sort of way."
The mans hands were folded above his knees where he sat, he leaned in closer,
"You will learn to choose you're words very carefully when you're around me, little whore." He hissed.
I ignored him, went on,
"We're one of the same, but on different terms. He tortures men that owe him money, I fuck and skin men that demand it."
I grabbed the bars, let sweaty hair reach up and over my eyes, another curtain separating me from this horrid man. For a moment he only stared, and it was as if he realized he should do something and now was the time to probably do it. So he stood and walked around me— no, not around, he rounded to retrieve a bucket behind me, and dumped the contents onto the cage.
And I screamed, screamed and heaved as scorching hot water soaked and dripped down bare skin, everywhere. I looked down at my hands, red and agitated and shaking. My body had no protection, someone had stripped me down, I hadn't even worn a bra, just my underlings. I whimpered, and in shock squeezed my hair out so torrid, broiling water ran down my back, it was as agonizing as sitting in the scorching water gathered at the bottom of the cage. My eyes began to stream tears, but I thanked the Gods for a mercy I didn't deserve. The water was excruciating, galling— but it did not get into my eyes, or reach into my mouth, or melt my skin, it hit and sunk down my back.
I was standing now, as much as I could at least, just to get out of the broiling water. Left putting all my weight on my toes, the water searing skin. I could do nothing but breath. Humiliated and miserable, I looked up at the man, who casually held another bucket in hand. "Oh, don't be so shocked, Victoria. I've been with the Crime Lord for years, I've delivered his victims. I've learned a few things, of course."
"Who are you." It wasn't a question, more of a demand. I realized my mistake as his hands shifted so the bucket aimed at my head.
I shrieked and shrank back, but the water didn't hit. The man only laughed in amusement, and I blushed. I would get out of this cage and get him first. He was not aloud to die, I decided, he was my pet now, and he would suffer under me.
"Don't you speak unless spoken to,
whore. The Crime Lord's been spoiling you for so long. I'll have to teach you discipline after we have his head."
I only shook my head in understanding, not processing. For now, they caught me for now. But if I was here, where was Sayter? And oh, gods if he thought I escaped what would happen to my parents? I would not let them die, they were not allowed to die.
I wrapped my hands around my bare breasts and let searing hair stick to my back.
The man put the bucket down and said,
"My name is Angmar, but you will address me as master or sir," his arms folded, Angmar smirked at my exposed body, "or daddy if you like."
I said nothing, Angmar turned to somewhere in the room and began to speak again. I cut out his voice and eyed the bucket, steam flowing out angelically.
I would not be weak again, I decided, reaching as far as I could and dumping it where Angmar stood.
A/N
February 3rd
, my readers will start to hate me very soon..