Taken by the Thief

by Eliza Lockhart

  “God, princess, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said as he lifted me up and cradled me towards him.

  “Shhh,” I replied. “I wanted to help you.”

  “This shouldn’t be turning me on so much. I’m sick, princess.”

  I placed a finger over his lips, still feeling my way from one part of him to another.

  “You’re exactly what I need you to be. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have been forced to marry Vasily or run away by now. I don’t regret this, even if it hurts a lot right now.”

  “How can you say that? I spent almost two hours torturing you and I enjoyed every second of it, Nadenka. Every. Last. Bit. My cock was hard the entire time.”

  Once again, I lifted my finger and placed it on his lips.

  “I never asked you to be perfect. You’ve done things to me I never thought I’d enjoy, and you’ve made me wonder if I’m going to die, but the very fact that you worry about what this is doing to me tells me everything I need to know. You wouldn’t do this if it was too much for me to handle.

  “How do you do it?” he asked a moment later, his arms wrapped around me, one hand cupping a breast, the other between my legs. “How do you see the good in someone like me?”

  “There’s good in everyone. You just need to find it.”

  “I’m not sure there is.”

  I chuckled and came in close enough to press my lips against his. Immediately he kissed me back.

  “I want you,” he said, his cock recovering enough it was already growing stiff against me.

  “Good, because I still need a serious fucking.”

  He let out a low moan as I kissed him again, taking the lead and pressing myself up against him. More than once, I winced as his wandering hands brushed a particularly tender part of me, but I didn’t stop him and my body began to respond, heat starting to pool at the top of my pussy, wetness already forming.

  I reached for him and gently ran a hand up and down, encouraging him to enjoy me some more, glad he was the kind of man used to going multiple times in one night. As his hardness grew again, his hands continued to play with me, pinching and pulling at my nipples far less gently than most men would normally, let alone when someone was as hurt as me.

  Despite the pain it caused my already abused nipples, I grew wetter, hotter and hungrier for him. I needed this. I needed him.

  As wetness pooled inside me, it began to leak out, sliding down my thighs and making me aware of my own arousal. Gently, I moved my body closer until I was straddling him, our mouths pressed together, my tongue in his mouth and his hands stroking every inch of me.

  More than ready, I plunged down on him. Pain and pleasure flared together, reminding me of what he’d done earlier but not stopping how good it felt to be full of him now. He’d denied me that pleasure before, not doing anything we usually did together while he tortured me.

  But now he was mine and I was his.

  Despite how exhausted I felt, I moved up and down, setting the pace while he moaned beneath me and provided the hardness for me to impale myself on again and again. The pain soon faded into the background, mixing with the intense pleasure until I couldn’t take it anymore. Tilting my head back, I let out a deep moan, orgasming and shuddering on him.

  Having already orgasmed recently, he didn’t yet follow. Instead, he gently lowered me backwards, the chains I was still attached to clattering and clanking, until he was over me.

  More gentle than normal, but equally deep and deliberate, Kostya continued to fuck me, his cock buried inside me. I closed my eyes, unable to see anyway, and focused on the sensation of each stroke, my body being claimed by him and used for his pleasure now. Even in my tired state, the lingering wetness kept the friction pleasurable. After the powerful orgasm he’d already given me I wasn’t expecting another, but I was definitely enjoying the climb towards one.

  Somehow Kostya lasted, his strokes into me finally starting to signal the more frenzied rush to his own peak. Once more my body responded, my pussy growing tighter and more needy until he began to go faster, the rhythm less synced, but equally enjoyable.

  I mewled, my body hurting more this second time, but still enjoying every moment. With a shout he tipped over the edge for the second time and pushed deep into me. As he did, his body brushed against my clit at the right moment and suddenly another orgasm was breaking out over me too, waves coinciding with each jerk of his manhood inside as it filled me with his seed.

  “Thank you,” I said, wrapping my arms around him as he tried to stir. I needed him so completely I didn’t want to let him go, but I knew at some point he’d leave me. And the next time he came back he wouldn’t be my Kostya again. He’d be the other version. The version he thought was a monster. The version who was going to save both me and my father from losing everything to Vasily Petrushkov.

  “I need you,” he whispered, not letting go of me despite our climax.

  “I need you too,” I whispered back. “Every part of you.”

  “No one needs the monster part of me. Not even the dons. Not truly. They could do so much more if they worked together and stopped trying to get revenge for old or imagined issues.” He placed a kiss on my nose, sighing right after.

  “I need the monster part of you. Just a little longer. To get me out of Vasily’s clutches. To get me home safely. And to make sure that when I am free from them, I have somewhere to go and someone to be with.”

  “You definitely won’t need the monster part of me after that.”

  “Yes, I will,” I replied. “Because it makes you who you are. And I love you the way you are right now.”

  Feeling rather than seeing a tear slip from one eye and down his cheek, I pressed my lips against his.

  “I love you,” I said again, wanting him to know it so deeply he never doubted it.

  7:24am

  As the warm skin where Kostya had been holding me suddenly became cold, I stirred from my slumber. We’d talked some more, comparing dream homes, a subject to take our minds off what was happening before we’d kissed again, our bodies coming together once more.

  After making love to me so gently I had been blown away by the tenderness, he’d stayed, sleeping on the floor with me, our bodies cuddled up together under a blanket. But now he was gone and I felt bereft, panic and fear already gnawing at my thoughts and emotions.

  “Is it morning?” I asked, not sure if I’d even get an answer.

  “Yes, princess,” he replied. A second later he kissed me, lingering on my lips. “I have to go out again for a moment, but I’ll be back soon, and then this will all be over.”

  I sighed, more than eager to get back to the simple relationship we had before. It might have already been messed up in its own way, but it worked for both of us.

  A small part of me wished he’d find a way to make things work with Vasily without hurting me again, but I knew that even if he’d be willing, the Petrushkov don wouldn’t stand for it. I was going to have to go through more.

  Before Kostya left, he tightened everything again, lifting me into the air and suspending me like earlier. Instantly I whimpered, my limbs truly feeling the strain, and my wrists and ankles hurting from the tight bonds that supported all my weight.

  Instead of responding to my fear, he reinserted the gag device that had served as a way of keeping my mouth wide open, and then I heard his feet as he climbed the stairs out of the basement.

  Right back where I started, I hung, exhausted, in the air.

  I’d expected Kostya to be gone a long time, but within seconds he was coming back, his footfalls almost aggressive-sounding as he tromped down the stairs. Or was that just my imagination and fears? Was this person in the room with me my Kostya, or was it Konstantine, the man who had become powerful by torturing other women with no remorse or guilt?

  Quick to find out, he chucked something over me, the freezing temperature of the liquid enough to make me squeal.

  “You need to be shivering and hurting again, and it
needs to look like I’ve done nothing to care for you. I’m sorry, but this is the best way to get that look.

  I frowned, having told myself that Kostya was only ever gentle with me, that I was the only person who knew he could be gentle, but this statement made me doubt myself. Had he been kind to other women before? How else would he know the best way to make me look more abused? What would stop him from using me and then ditching me?

  Caught in the cycle of fears and doubts about Kostya, my mind took a step further.

  What was stopping him from taking whatever my father offered and running with it once this was done?

  Don’t be silly, my mind told me. He isn’t going anywhere, and he isn’t about to betray you.

  Before I could think of anything further, he dumped another bucket of ice on me. I gasped, earning me a cold-sounding laugh.

  “There, now you’re shaking and you’re starting to look scared. Fear will help keep you alive. Fear will truly sell this.” As he spoke his tone changed, and in my mind so did he. It was Konstantine in the room now. And I would get no more mercy.

  Several more times he came and went, bringing stuff or taking it away. I couldn’t tell; I was stuck fast, and I had no idea where the cameras were, let alone what might be happening.

  I whimpered as something blew cold air towards me, making me shudder and shiver some more, and then the cameras were rolling, the little clicks that signaled the start of each camera audible over the otherwise silent room.

  In a similar way to before, Kostya started by exposing me, touching my most intimate areas as if he was exploring them for the first time, slowly, deliberately, no doubt doing it in a way that made it clear I could do nothing to stop him.

  You told him to do this, I reminded myself as he began to pinch and pull at my clit, the pain excruciating, but equally arousing. I whimpered, mewled and tried to wriggle free as he continued to assault my most sensitive body part.

  As the pain grew, so did the pleasure, until I orgasmed, moaning into the otherwise silent room. He slipped his fingers into me, moving them back and forth for a moment, before he slowly pulled them out and trailed my own juices up my body.

  It was the last moment I could get coherent thoughts together.

  10:57am

  Kostya

  Clicking the last camera back off, I shuddered. I’d done it. Nadenka was unconscious, still hanging in midair and still somehow gorgeous despite my assault. Exhaustion began to set in, as it often did at this point. I lowered her downwards, gentle with her head and neck, until she appeared to be sleeping almost peacefully on the floor.

  For a moment, I hesitated. Usually in this part of the process the victim was still chained up as before and I sent the next set of tapes, but there was no way I was going to need to send any more. Instead, it was time to stop and let her begin healing.

  As I fetched a blanket, she stirred, unable to move far even with the slacker chains. After gently wrapping her up, I removed the gag and gave her a little water.

  “It’s over,” I whispered. “Never again.”

  She didn’t reply, just nodded and let her head rest again. Fear gripped at my chest, making it tight as I tried to hold her close. Slowly, I eased off the blindfold, her eyes blinking rapidly in the bright room. Eventually she could look at me for a few seconds without having to screw her face up.

  “There you are,” she said. “My Kostya.”

  “Yes,” I replied as I pulled her into a hug. One by one I undid all the restraints, her skin rubbed to bleeding wherever they had touched.

  I felt tears well up again as I surveyed all the damage I’d done to her. How was she so calm, her body doing nothing more than shaking as I held her? This had gone beyond the rough sex, and beyond me claiming her. I’d taken her and abused her in so many ways.

  “I love you,” she said, pressing her lips to mine.

  “How can you, after all this?” I asked.

  For a moment she didn’t reply, appearing to be thinking.

  “Because I knew you did this sort of thing before I fell in love with you. Love isn’t stopped by the most broken part of a person. It accepts a person as they are.”

  “But I did this to you, and, princess, on one level I enjoyed it.”

  “I know,” she replied, her eyes still looking into mine, no anger, or fear, just warmth, gentleness, and an acceptance I’d never had before.

  We fell into silence, cuddling in the middle of the basement until I lifted her into my arms, careful not to hold onto any part of her particularly hurt, and carried her up the stairs.

  Once in the living room, I fetched her another drink and made her some toast. It would be a little while before her stomach could handle a lot of food, but she needed to begin building her strength.

  Still wrapped in the blanket and now curled up, Nadenka took the plate and cup.

  Too many emotions threatening to overwhelm me as I looked at her fragile body, I returned to the basement and removed the tapes. After setting them to convert to digital files and transfer onto two more data sticks, I returned to Nadenka.

  Having finished the food and drink, she now looked a little more human, some color back in her cheeks and the shivering less pronounced. She reached a hand out for me, and I went to her.

  “Do you have to go soon?” she asked.

  “It will take a while to get everything ready, but then I have to go. You’ll probably be here a while longer, though. Can you handle that?”

  “If you’re here too, I think I can.” She smiled. Instinctively, I sat down next to her and pulled her into my arms again. Gently I moved the blanket so I could get a better look at the cuts and bruises she sported.

  “I need to get the first-aid kit,” I said, once more struggling to take it all in. It gave me something to do, something to begin making it better.

  The kit was tucked in the kitchen, not something I usually used for my victims. Normally they remained chained and vulnerable until their parents did as they were asked, and then I bundled them back into my van and dropped them off, nothing but the clothes I’d torn off them and their baggage to cover themselves with.

  This time, however, I got everything I could to help Nadenka, including a spare t-shirt of mine and some pants.

  As I came back to her, she pushed the blanket back enough I could see most of her again. I exhaled, steeling myself to clean each cut and wound and dress those that needed it.

  I started with the ones that looked worst, hearing her suck in her breath as I made each one sting anew.

  “How did you start doing this?” she asked, presenting the next part of her to be treated. I opened my mouth, surprised by the question. It wasn’t one people normally asked me.

  “I’ve been doing something like this almost as long as I can remember,” I replied. “I was an orphan on the streets in St. Petersburg in my earliest memories, begging, looking for scraps in bins, that sort of thing.”

  “You’re an orphan?” Nadenka’s eyes went wide. As I focused on her next large cut, the circle around her wrist from where the manacle rubbed, I nodded.

  “I’ve no idea who my parents are, and I have no birth certificate. It’s why no one can find me easily. I literally don’t exist.”

  She sucked in her breath as I put a little too much of the antiseptic on her, taking her by surprise.

  “Sorry,” I said before thinking about my early life again.

  “I was taken in by a don in St. Petersburg when he caught me thieving from a bakery in his territory. I wasn’t the only one either. He called us his mules. Kept us in this old stable block on his grounds. It came with three meals a day and a roof, so I considered it an upgrade.”

  “But it wasn’t really?”

  “No. Not in many ways. There were twenty of us of various ages, and we had to earn our way into the house and anything else we needed and wanted. He’d come to see us once a day and ask for volunteers for different tasks. Runners, like messengers, and then lookouts, mules, and all sor
ts of other more dangerous stuff.”

  “So you did what you had to.”

  “We all did. And if he decided he liked you, you got a bigger reward.”

  “And the others grew jealous?”

  “Sometimes. Or they took it from you. We formed gangs, the stronger kids becoming leaders. When he was in a bad mood he’d deliberately pit us against each other. Encouraged us to settle our differences with force.”

  “That’s awful.”

  I shrugged, trying not to think about it too much.

  “The worst thing was what happened at night. No one had any access to girls, and the kids grew into teenagers. Younger or weaker kids, or anyone who needed to be taught to toe a line, was used to sate a desire.”

  I gulped, unable to speak as memories tried to resurface. Nadenka didn’t say anything as she reached for my hand, her eyes full of tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Kostya. No one should ever have to go through that sort of thing.”

  “I was strong, princess. It was rarely me.”

  “Rarely should have been never. For all of you.”

  “Perhaps. But we all lived. And on the streets we’d have died. It gave me a way up and out. As we got older we were given other ways to serve our don, ways I’ve been using ever since. I was good at persuading people to do what he wanted. When I got the opportunity, I left and came here. My reputation preceded me, and I’ve had enough work to stay off the streets.”

  “You can’t do this kind of work forever, even here. It eats you up. Doesn’t it? Isn’t there anything you’d rather be doing?”

  “I always told myself I’d become a powerful don in my own right,” I replied, avoiding talking about my current line of work. She was right. It tore me up every time, but it beat the alternative—being on the streets—and I’d survive as long as I needed to.

  “It’s not always amazing being a don.” Nadenka sighed, looking away for the first time.

  “Your mother?”