by Kitty Thomas
“At least she’s not testing you,” Anton said.
“She’s smarter than she looks. Second question. Before last night, how many men had you been with?”
There was a pause while she tried to decide the best course of action. Two was the truth, but it didn’t sound true. She thought about lying with a higher number, but if she did that, and Anton could tell she was lying…
“T-two.”
Another raised eyebrow from Anton. “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”
“It’s the truth,” Annette said. Why the fuck would she lie about something like that with a knife blade at her back? If there was any chance Brian would honor the rules of this stupid game, she wasn’t about to give him reason to start slicing her skin into ribbons.
“Well?” Brian said. “What do you think? Is she telling the truth?”
Annette held her breath while the Russian contemplated. He stared at her so long and so intently she thought she might catch fire from it.
“Yes, I think she is.”
She let the breath out.
“Question three. Are you attracted to your master?” The point of the blade pressed lightly against her skin as if Brian was sure he’d get to start cutting now.
She was quiet for a long time. She couldn’t even look at Anton. Was she attracted to him? After this? How the hell could she be attracted to him now?
“You will give us the truth or you will bleed,” Anton said. His voice was calm. “I don’t care what the truth is, but you will give it to me, and you will look at me when you say it so I know if you’re lying or not.”
“Well?” Brian said. “Tick tock. Three seconds or you forfeit that question and we count it as a lie. Three, two...”
“Yes,” Annette blurted out.
“Truth.” A dark smile spread across Anton’s face.
“Dammit,” Brian said.
“See?” Anton said, “She can tell the truth when properly motivated.”
“Okay. Question four. What about the rest of us? Are you attracted to us?”
“In what way?” Annette asked. “I find you repulsive.”
Brian laughed. “Yes, but do we get your motor running? Are you physically attracted?”
“Yes,” Annette said, barely above a whisper.
“Truth,” Anton said.
Each time she answered a question, she tensed, afraid that Anton would call her a liar or that Brian would just disregard the rules. He buzzed with a malevolent energy. She could feel that he was itching to do her damage.
“Last question. Do you want Anton to set you free?”
The correct answer was Yes. It was the sane answer. It was the expected answer, and again she worried if she didn’t give that answer that Anton would think it was a lie, some kind of flattery, and Brian would finally be able to use his shiny new knife.
Especially in light of her current circumstances, the answer to that question had to be yes. But if he kept his end of things, Janette would graduate from college and then medical school without debt. She had been paying as best she could for her sister’s schooling in unconventional sexual ways before today. This was just another step with an even bigger payoff. As long as she was safe, it felt worth it.
Annette felt the blade press harder against her back. She was far from sure she was safe.
“Three… two...”
“I don’t know,” she said, agitated. Her nerves felt frayed on the edges.
“Sounds like a lie to me,” Brian said.
“It’s not a lie! I don’t know!”
There were too many moving parts to the question. It wasn’t a simple yes or no. If she had no sister, yes, of course she would want them to let her go. Though when she thought it, even that felt a little bit like a lie. What was it about the Russian that made her want to throw all reason and self-preservation out the window just for a few more minutes with him?
The way he’d touched her last night… she hadn’t been touched like that ever. Never had a man known how to touch her. It was as if her body had spoken for her, and his hands had responded. There had been no awkward, clumsy fumbling. Only calm assurance and a power that caused a drunk sort of feeling, not only in the person who wielded it, but also in those it spilled out over. There had been no need for conversation to pass between them. It was only that electric spark that flared to life when his hands were on her.
She’d told herself this was about protecting her sister. But she wasn’t sure that was the whole story. Annette didn’t understand any of these feelings. Playing men had been so much easier—to only have to deal with men she didn’t care for, men who didn’t spark anything inside her… to lie, to collect payment… that was much easier. She wished now more than anything for distraction. Her job. Anything so she wouldn’t have to think about any of this.
“Anton?” Brian said finally, interrupting her thoughts.
She looked up to find the Russian watching her, almost as if he could read the thoughts right out of her head as they occurred. She tried to make her mind go blank to stop him from seeing any of this. She’d always thought she was such a good liar. People were so easy to fool. Now that Anton was paying attention, it seemed like he knew everything, and there was nothing she could conceal from him.
“I don’t know,” he said, proving at least that he wasn’t a mind reader.
“I’m counting that as a lie, then.”
Annette went rigid, waiting for the inevitable. She couldn’t even bring herself to beg him to protect her from Brian. It was obvious the two men had known each other for a long time. Who was she to presume the Russian could care more about her safety than his demented friend’s amusement?
“No, you will not,” Anton said. He stood from the chair and moved closer. He touched the side of her face and met her gaze. “Kiska, I think the depths of the places you want me to take you are unknown even to you.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips. Annette felt her body go slack, despite the threat of the knife still at her back. And she opened to him. She kissed him like he was the only person who could save her. Which was probably much more true than she wanted to admit.
Anton pulled away first and took a couple of steps back from her. He gave her the most unnerving stare for the longest time. Then finally he sat back down. “Truth.”
Brian threw the knife on the ground, then he gripped the front of Annette’s throat and leaned close to her ear. “This isn’t over. We will play again someday.”
But not today.
“Don’t look too relieved, pet. He’s mad now, and you still haven’t had your punishment.”
Brian went back to the row of objects Anton had lined up earlier and selected the shiny silver clamps. She shrieked and jerked in her bonds when the metal snapped closed on her nipples.
“If you think that’s bad, wait until they come off,” Brian said.
Annette closed her eyes and breathed slowly in and out until the pain faded away. While her eyes were closed, she could detect absolutely no movement or sound. Brian waited for her to open her eyes again, then he picked up each item still on the ground in turn, inspecting it like Goldilocks looking for the perfect mattress support.
“I don’t like these options,” he said. “How about my belt?”
Anton nodded once, his eyes never leaving her.
Annette flinched as the belt ripped through the loops.
“While he punishes you, I want you to only look at me. Do you understand, kiska?”
“Yes, Master.” She wasn’t about to be stupid right now. As awkward and strange as it felt to refer to him that way when sex wasn’t involved, this moment it felt more than real. There was nothing silly about this moment.
She jumped when Brian popped the belt at her. He laughed and moved behind her. A strangled cry left her throat when the belt connected with the back of her thighs. Even with the power of a full grown man behind it, it was so much worse than she had anticipated. Even a single blow caused
the tears to begin to slide down her face.
“Have you ever been struck before?” Anton asked.
Annette shook her head. “No, Master.”
“Not even as a child?”
“No. My parents didn’t believe in it.”
“Hmmmm. If they had you might not be such a little liar now.”
She didn’t have anything to say to that. She knew she’d been coddled and protected as a child. Even the whisper of pain had not dared to disturb her bubble of safety up until the moment her parents had died. Then she’d had to figure out how to be an adult quickly. They’d had an inheritance, but it didn’t last long because she didn’t learn enough about money until it was nearly too late. Annette had been concerned for her sister’s future and had pulled them back from the brink weeks before they would have been homeless and hungry, to say nothing of the final blow to Janette’s education.
The growing sting of the belt ripped Annette out of her thoughts. She was sure she felt the welts forming—overly sensitized flesh going warm and raising as if trying to escape the confines of her skin. All she could do was cry. Suddenly, she couldn’t think about anything but the pain Brian delivered and Anton’s inscrutable stare. If her wrists weren’t bound, she would reach out for him, no matter how pointless the act would be.
The tears crept silently down her cheeks for what felt like forever.
The blows came harder as if Brian were disappointed she hadn’t started begging. But she couldn’t process words any more. All she could do was sob.
“She’s had enough,” Anton said.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I barely got started,” Brian whined.
“I said she’s had enough. I want to be alone with her.”
“Aren’t you going to use the cream? She’s at least softened up.”
“Not now. Go.” Anton pointed imperially at the door.
Brian ripped the clamps off Annette’s nipples, and she shrieked, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if the pain was from the way he’d just yanked them off or if it would have hurt no matter how it was done, but he hadn’t been kidding about it being worse coming off. Of course he would squeeze one last bit of sadistic glee out of the day to spite Anton.
“I knew you wouldn’t break her. All talk, no action,” Brian said, shooting a disgusted look Annette’s way as if Anton’s choices were somehow her fault.
Anton got up from the chair and stalked Brian across the floor. “I said get out!”
Brian left, and Anton slammed the door behind him. Then he returned to the chair and sat and just watched her.
47
Anton felt his pulse about to pound out of his chest. When they’d first come downstairs, he’d had every intention of pushing her so long and hard both with pain and then with pleasure, that she would break completely. He’d had an almost romantic notion of destroying her only to rebuild her in the image that he wanted to see each day.
But it was harder than it looked. He’d played hard with women before. He’d drawn blood. He’d left marks that never disappeared. But it had always been with women who were deeply masochistic and had begged him for those things. He’d always been happy to deliver whatever his bound plaything of the week wanted to take. This was very different, and though he thrilled at the idea of owning her, he couldn’t bring himself to break or destroy her.
What if he couldn’t build her back? What if she never forgave him? He could turn her into a terrified robot, but that wouldn’t bring either of them any real pleasure. He had to make this work because if it didn’t, Brian would kill her, and Anton couldn’t watch and protect her every second.
Annette cried more quietly now, but still she cried. She hadn’t uttered a word since the last question he’d asked her.
“Why didn’t you beg me to stop him?” he asked finally.
She looked up. “Would it have made a difference?”
He shrugged. Maybe. Maybe not. It might have driven him on. He’d been so angry about the way she’d tried to play him out by the pool. To an outside observer it was such a small thing, especially in her situation. But it was a sign of things to come, a sign that even as his captive, he didn’t have full control of her. And something about that thought had driven him over the edge. To finally have something that wasn’t a game, and she thought to play him.
In the end it was her resolution to be brave that had broken him. He couldn’t watch her suffer like that. His work at the spa had been about bringing pleasure or at least comfort. He wasn’t a sadist in the way Brian was. And he didn’t really think his little cat was a masochist.
Even if he couldn’t bring himself to go as far as he’d wanted, a deep impression had been made in her. He could see it. He could feel it on the shift of the air they both breathed in this dark, dank space. She had no idea how much worse it could have gotten if he was a different kind of man. She should be grateful she belonged to him and not Brian. Brian should never have unfettered control of a girl of his own. That could never go well.
“You can’t lie to me, kiska. I won’t have it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it.
“You made a deal with me for your sister’s freedom and her financial security. I expect you to honor your end of our bargain. I already made arrangements with her school and called to have the apartment bill as well as her credit card bill and the water and electric sent to me. I gave her an allowance for the month and will continue to give her an allowance each month so she can have all the things she needs as well as some things she just wants. I will let you speak with her every day. I’m doing all I promised. But it comes with a price which you agreed to, a price you begged me to let you pay.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Anton put away the items that had been brought out of the box. Brian would have a fit if any of his dungeon rooms were left in disorder. When the room was back the way it had started, he inspected the welts.
Maybe he should have punished her the first time himself, but he’d wanted to watch her reactions, and he couldn’t do that standing behind her. He ran his fingertips over the welts. Brian had laid them in even careful lines across both her thighs and ass. They were perfect, like a well-trained artist’s brush strokes.
Her skin hadn’t been broken. Anton didn’t want her skin broken. At least not for now. He’d been sure she would tell the truth with the threat of a knife at her back. The one answer she’d given that he hadn’t been sure about, he’d thought about it so long because it had become as much about if he wanted to cross this line with her so soon as it was about whether she was telling the truth.
Anton untied her wrists and legs and caught her when she fell back into his arms. He carried her out of the cell and up to his room on the third floor by way of the elevator. She hadn’t spoken for a long time. He didn’t know if she was lost inside her own head or too upset or too scared. What if he’d already ruined things with her?
This was entirely new territory.
He laid her across the bed on her stomach. “Don’t move.”
She didn’t reply. He wondered if he should punish or reprimand her for that, but he decided to let it go. Unless he was willing to truly break her, if he pushed her any harder right now, he might destroy anything they could otherwise have.
Anton searched through the cabinets in the bathroom until he found the first aid kit. When he returned, she was still lying on the bed exactly where he’d left her. Silent tears moved down her cheeks, and her eyes were closed.
She jumped when he touched her lower back.
“Shhh, pet. I’m just going to put a cream on these welts to take the sting out.”
She relaxed again as he smoothed the cream across each thick rectangular mark. When he was finished he ran his fingers gently through her hair. His gaze drifted to a small table near the door. The table held a large black box with a silver satin ribbon and a small white square card tucked inside
an equally small linen envelope. Annette hadn’t noticed it.
He’d gotten Janette’s help shopping for her sister. It had been an opportunity to observe her and at least get her tentative agreement to the arrangement. Spending the rest of the morning together had at least broken down some of Janette’s resistance. It was part of why he wanted her working at Dome. The more she was around him, the less likely she’d think her sister was in grave danger.
He’d brought the wrapped box as well as some other bags up to his room just before going down to the pool to find Annette. He hadn’t wanted to start like this with her. He’d wanted to romance her a bit, woo her, make her love him so that when she fully understood the chains wrapped around her heart and mind, she would welcome them.
“Kiska, do you like the ballet?”
The question startled her out of her crying. “What?”
Anton wiped the tears off her face. “The ballet. Do you enjoy it?”
“I-I’ve never gone before. I saw the Nutcracker on TV once, and I liked that.”
“Good. We’re going to see Giselle.” Anton got off the bed and crossed to the wrapped package. He placed it on the edge of the bed. “Get dressed. We’ll eat on the plane.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.” He went to the large walk-in closet to select a suit. All of his suits were black or navy or a dark charcoal gray. He chose a black suit, gray linen shirt, and black silk tie. When he finished dressing, he went back into the main suite to find Annette had gotten herself together and was dressed in the stunning black floor length gown. It featured a short skirt underneath and then many long thin wispy layers of fabric layered on top of one another. Silver flecks were embedded in the black strips and it caused her to shimmer when she moved.
The gown had a plunging neckline that did her every favor in the world. A diamond necklace and bracelet and glittery silver shoes, completed the look.
Anton had friends in the St. Petersburg Ballet. They were performing in New York and had gotten him a box for the show. He normally traveled farther to see them. It was a novelty to have them so close to home—a relatively short ride on the jet.