by Ana Calin
There’s blood coming out of his nostrils. His shirt is open, his tie soaked over his hairy stomach. There’s a still gurgling hole in his throat. I keep screaming as Mr. Bad – or Mr. Worse – release one of my hands from the handcuffs, and press something cold in it. They’re fast and dexterous to unwrap the body, then take the stretcher and leave the room, while I scream myself numb. Andrey is the last to exit. I see a trace of pity in the last look he gives me, but it must be just desperate wishful thinking.
The door slams shut, and I fall apart hanging by the heater, eyes on Boyd’s dead body sprawled on the floor. I drop the gun, but it already has my prints all over it. Minutes later, policemen storm in.
Chapter Five
No point on insisting that I was framed. The state and situation they found me in don’t command much respect or credibility. Wearing a sack-like grey dress that only covers me to mid-thigh, I’m slouched in a chair, hands cuffed behind my back, and I’m talking to a bored middle aged clerk woman with orange hair who pecks away at her keyboard. She doesn’t even seem affected by the supposed murder. She draws the conclusion that what started off as consensual sex spiced with some bondage ended badly.
Soon I’m thrown in a cell with angry-looking prostitutes and minions of drug dealers, but the worst one is a drag queen with a red curls wig that spills over her manly shoulders, sparkling red lipstick, and sparkling silver corset.
“Heard you screwed in my territory,” she – or he – says in a voice that might’ve belonged to a wrestler.
“It’s not like that,” I say evenly, but he – or she – is set on kicking my ass.
“No, I hear it’s with cuffs, guns and other sick shit.”
The other girls gather around the drag queen, looking down on me with clear purpose. One of them cracks her knuckles to make sure the message comes through. I take a deep breath and press my eyes shut as the first punch strikes like lightning and sends me crouching on the floor.
I retreat under the metal bench, which makes it difficult for their boots to find me. But the drag queen grabs me by the hair and pulls me out, and when they all start kicking all I can do is take the pretzel position to protect myself. It must be divine intervention that my ribs stay intact until I hear the cell gate fling open, and the warden step in with cusses and swings of his rubber baton.
The attackers now scattered, the warden grabs me under my armpits and pulls me up, then seats me roughly back on the bench. I’m dizzy and scared stiff, hurting everywhere, but the craze of the moment cooled the ladies down, not to mention that it drained them, so I’m safe for now. Soon the gate opens again, and Mr. Bad and Mr. Worse make their entrance. For some reason I’m not surprised to see them.
Each of them grabs one of my arms, and they escort me down a neon-lit corridor with sickly-green walls. I look down at my legs emerging pale from under the ragged sack-like dress, and the realization that I’m now officially less than human in society’s eyes hits me hard. From a twenty-something educated girl with dreams of shattering the glass ceiling, I’ve become a dirty cloth to use and toss in a ditch. Anyone can do anything with me, I’m not worth a spit anymore.
By the time a metal door opens to a prison bus I don’t even care where they take me. I’m tired, and I welcome the swaying ride to wherever that may be.
Our destination reveals itself as an airport. I’m the only prisoner left in the bus by the time we reach it, Mr. Bad and Mr. Worse keeping their eyes on me from seats in the front that face the back. All the other girls have been dropped off in different places. By the way Mr. Bad looks at me I know he’ll use the first chance he gets to do to me what his boss did. My legs clench in defense.
My body’s all bruised and tender as they escort me through whipping wind across a field to a grey jet that looks like an unfinished project, the bolts and nits connecting the different parts of fuselage visible. They strap me to a metal seat like the prisoner that I am. My head hangs, dirty and sweaty strands hanging like dark blond rags on the sides of my face. As the machine starts trembling, and the engines humming, a pair of black shoes slip under my eyes.
I look up to see Andrey Jones in the seat across from me, his dark blue suit perfect, his eyes drilling into mine. A surge of hatred fuels me, and I jolt from my seat with a cry. The straps bite into my flesh, forcing me back. Something softens in Andrey’s gaze, making the bastard look almost hurt.
“I understand your rage. But it won’t do you any good right now.”
“Die, bastard!” I cry out. “Just die!” The edges of my eyes are burning.
He looks down and purses his lips as if my words hurt. “That will inevitably happen one day. Sooner rather than later, if that’s what you truly wish, but right now you need to work with me.”
“Work with you? Like I worked with you before and you destroyed my life anyway? Fucking forget it, asshole!”
“It will be in your best interest. There has been a change of plans.”
I bare my teeth in a humorless grin. “You’re even making it sound like you’re doing me a favor.”
“Lila, in the last twenty-four hours I discovered that you told the truth – that you’d left Big Boss years ago. I found out because after the Boyd incident Big Boss’ minions emerged from the underground and started excavating the entire city for you—he’s never gotten over you, you see. I captured them, they snitched on Big Boss. This exposed him, but it didn’t make him vulnerable. I need you to bait him into my hands, so I can’t set you free just yet.”
Big Boss having re-emerged is a surprise, but I get over it fast. “I told you Big Boss and I didn’t keep in touch. If you’d just believed me from the start, it would have saved a lot of people a lot of pain, and Boyd would still be alive.”
“It would have saved you some pain, it’s true. Not all of it, since I still needed you to bait him, like I still need you now. But know that I’m truly sorry for the hurt I caused you.”
I spit him in the face. He closes his eyes, wipes the spit off, calmly.
“This isn’t only about me, you psychopathic scum,” I grunt. “It’s about Boyd’s life, his wife, his kids.”
“Boyd wasn’t married. He didn’t have kids either, and he was a pedophile. The family he displayed was a scam.”
That knocks me back like a sledgehammer. My world turns upside down, and my head swims.
“Release the straps,” I demand after a few moments, my voice breaking.
“Lila…”
“You said it yourself – I’m innocent of what you accused me, so start making up for what you put me through.”
He ponders for a moment, searching my face as if he wants to read my intentions, then nods. He signals his men to release me, which they do. I massage my tender wrists while I watch from the corner of my eye as Mr. Bad and Mr. Worse take distance again. When they’re far enough, I attack.
I jump and straddle Andrey Jones, my hands working on his belt.
“What are you doing, Lila?” he mutters, bewildered.
His belt makes a whipping sound as I pull it through the loops of his trousers with one angry tug. Before he realizes what’s happening, I coil it around his neck. I squeeze with all I’ve got, gritting my teeth. My muscles hurt with the strain, but I’ll die before I let him go. I can hear the two thugs, Mr. Bad and Mr. Worse, stomping towards me, but Andrey’s eyes dart to the side, and he holds up his palm to stop them. Doesn’t he want to be saved? His neck thickens and his veins show as he strains against the strangulating leather, his attractive, bony face going red. Damn, he’s strong, the bastard.
I keep the place where the strap meets in one hand, and reach down into his pants with the other. I don’t even care that his thugs are there, watching. I’ll abuse Andrey Jones like he abused me, and I’m willing to make a show of it. I fumble with his fly and boxers until I find his manhood, and clench my fist around it. It stuns me that he’s rock hard, ready for me. I wonder if impending death turns him on.
I pull his shaft out, a
nd anchor my knees firmly across his lap, slipping my panties aside with my thumb. Positioning the head of his shaft against my rapidly soaking privy part, I slide down until he’s so deep that I feel my uterus pushing against my inner organs. I lift my body, and slam down on him with a vengeance, ignoring the pain, and squeezing the belt around his neck with both hands. I’m abusing Andrey Jones with all I’ve got, thrills shooting through me from the tip of his shaft deep inside.
He throbs inside of me, his teeth showing, his whole face scrunching. His hands clutch my shoulders. His eyes are narrow from the pain, but they don’t leave my face for an instant. They’re so intense, they scorch me all over, making the thrills turn into electric butterflies. Damn, it’s like someone planted electrodes inside my body.
His fingers drill through my aching muscles into my bones, but he doesn’t shove me. He doesn’t even push. He’s not trying to stop me to save himself, and by the way his mighty shaft relishes what I’m doing to it, I suspect he takes sick pleasure in my abuse. Is he merely trying to stay alive until he comes? Until I come? He can overpower me anytime, why doesn’t he?
The plane shudders with turbulence, and my flesh shakes all over. I feel blood in my mouth, and the tingling sensation under my nose tells me it’s bleeding from the pressure.
Andrey’s neck strains so much that the belt snaps. My hands slacken off the belt, and I blink fast, unable to grasp what just happened. He can’t be this freaking strong, no human can.
He grabs me beneath my thighs with the expression of a wild animal unable to restrain anymore, and lifts us both from his seat, seeking balance. The plane shakes so hard that my cheeks tremble with a lapping sound, and my teeth rattle. My brain scrambles in my head.
Andrey stumbles forward, and my back slaps the metal seat behind me, but I don’t feel any pain. Just stomach-knotting anticipation. He falls to his knees and, his hands still supporting me under my thighs, he positions my backside on the edge of the seat. Then he slams into me for all he’s worth. He has the eyes of a crazed animal as he loses it. The sight of him jitters as the plane cracks and shrieks like it’s about to come apart. Lighting strikes, and Andrey’s irises flash like a predator’s in blood frenzy.
Good God, he’s as beautiful as a demon releasing his sap inside of me. He groans deeply, baring his teeth, his neck muscles veined and red as if his climax is so powerful it’s an effort to take it. The bubble of tension in my G-core bursts in a shattering orgasm that sends me arching my back and calling out his name like I’m in a trance. It’s crazy, it’s sick, but it’s what I’ve been waiting for all my life.
“Aw, Andrey, yes!”
Pleasure sends electroshocks all through my body, so strong that I can hardly keep from fainting. I convulse until I fall limp, completely at Andrey’s whims. The plane regains balance, and Andrey’s mouth takes over mine in a ravenous kiss. My heart leaps – there’s a special kind of hunger in the way his lips crush mine, and the way his tongue claims me. There’s emotion in it. He whispers hoarsely against my lips, “Forgive me, Lila. Forgive me.”
My ears buzz, and I faint. Only the mingled smell of our skin and the taste of his tongue linger on the tip of my senses.
Chapter Six
I wake up in a cage, hands tied with dirty rope to the grates. It seems like karma has a quarrel with me. I scream and wriggle, tugging at the ropes and struggling to free myself. Even though I proved not guilty, that bastard Andrey Jones must have decided to go though with his plans for the sheer pleasure of it.
I look around for something that might help me come free, and I notice that I’m completely naked and muddy all over. I’m cold, and full of goose bumps.
A curtain gets yanked aside, and a circus clown looks down on me like I’m freaking Tweety. I freeze trying to make sense of it.
“There she is,” he says, his voice sounding muffled behind the mask. His thick red lips aren’t moving. “A guy delivered her this afternoon, unconscious. He’s inside the circus, waiting for the bounty money. Is she who you’ve been looking for?”
From the dark background a man walks into the picture. White hair, leathery skin, icy eyes and scientist glasses.
“She’s the one,” he says.
***
They gagged and tied me from neck to ankles like a spindle, so all of my struggling and screaming are useless. By the time they unload me in a tiled room as pristine as a hospital OR I’m spent. When the gag falls all I can mutter is “water”. They give me something that tastes bitter from a bottle. Or maybe it’s just the bile in my mouth.
A brightly lit ceiling spins as they slap my body on what feels like a metal plate so cold it sends needles through my skin. Force is no longer necessary to pin my arms and my legs apart in an X-cross, I’m as easy to handle as a ragdoll. Metal cuffs snap shut around my wrists, the edges merciless on my cords. They start washing the mud off me with sponges and water so cold I gasp for air until I go numb all over and still down, completely drained.
The old man who’d identified himself as Dr. Randolph Kalb brings his face over mine, his glassy blue eyes curious but devoid of feeling.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says, his voice calm and unmoved. “In order for this to work I need you to relax.”
The metal table swivels, bringing me upright. My brain swims, my stomach revolts, and I barely keep from throwing up. Damp strands cling to my face and forehead as I let myself hang, but someone grabs my hair and forces me to look up.
I’m in an all glass-and-steel lab, a glass wall before me. I can make out the reflection of a meager and naked me, gadgets looking like the tools of a psycho surgeon on either side of the panel, the doctor in a white lab coat keeping a grip on my hair.
“Hush now, no need to struggle. Nothing bad is going to happen,” he says with the calmness of a psycho indeed. A metal band stretches with an automatic sound from the metal panel over my forehead, pinning my head down. Now the only parts of my body I can still move freely are my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I croak.
The doctor is in my direct field of vision, so I can see his grin broadening, making his wrinkles deepen and look like cracks in albino leather. “It will be painful at first. Then it gets better. And then it gets fantastic.”
“What are you doing with me, Kalb?” I sound desperate.
“You know,” he says as the syringe in his hand sucks on a greenish liquid from a small recipient he holds upside down, “there are people who would love to be in your place now, Ms. Banks. This is an honor that I do you as a favor to Big Boss.”
“A favor?!”
Dr. Kalb tightens a tourniquet around my upper arm until a bit of blue vein swells at the joint to my forearm, and prepares to drive the syringe into it. But before the needle touches my skin I give out such a menacing scream that Kalb staggers backwards. There’s a slow burn in my veins that makes my blood gurgle in corrosive bubbles. It scares the life out of me, since the sensation is sudden and inexplicable. He hasn’t gotten to inject me with anything.
“What on Earth?” the doctor says, staring at me like I’m Catwoman.
I cry out as my veins feel like they blister and dissolve, the heat reddening my flesh. Black patches like paper burning at the edges form on my skin, and my heart pumps like crazy. I gasp, the inability to move adding to the despair.
The doctor looks around as if for help, then rushes to a lever by a rack of lab tools. He pulls, and the glass wall frosts and then clears, revealing itself as a high tech screen. The face on it eclipses all else besides the pain. I can feel the blood vessels explode in my eyeballs as I look in the face of Big Boss, the man I owe all this hell to. He looks the same as the last time I saw him, but there’s no more white on his once salt-and-pepper head. No, he seems younger altogether.
The doctor asks desperately, “What do I do? Seems someone got to her before me!”
Big Boss ignores him and smiles at me. “Hello, Lila.”
A video-call. I bare my teeth in a cry, m
y fingers painfully contracting into claws. “Bastard!” I jolt from the cuffs, but they bite into my skin, making me cry out – in frustration rather than pain.
“You have every reason to be angry,” Big Boss says, his voice barely transformed by technology. “I left without a word, but know that everything I did I did for us. There were matters that needed sorting out before I could make you a part of my world, Lila. I had to make sure the substances worked before using them on you or me, and I built us an underground empire.” There’s something slimy in his grin. “Now try to calm down and let the good doctor do his work. You’ll feel so much better.”
My muscles flex and harden like rock. “You piece of shit! You experimented on your own wife, the mother of your child, aware the experiments could kill her! Now you want to use the same shit on me?”
“Now I know for a fact the substance works,” he says.
I spot Dr. Kalb working syringes somewhere to my side, surely desperate to complete the task Big Boss assigned to him. I feel the right cuff give in under the flex of my arm, and my fingers wind around it before I’m aware of what’s happening. I hit Kalb with it over the face, and his flesh tears from his facial bone. His hand dashes to his cheek, he takes a second to realize what happened, and screams in dread.
“How many people did you kill before your experiments actually gave results?” I hiss at the doctor, my spittle flying. I rip the band from my forehead, and it doesn’t take the slightest effort.
Big Boss’ voice makes it through to me. “He was acting on my command, Lila! He’ll make you forever young and powerful. This is what I’ve been fighting for, Lila, and I’m laying it all at your feet.”
My eyes fly to the screen. “Your son was faster to make me powerful.” It’s no brainer I have Andrey to thank for this unnatural strength that boils inside of me. “And you know what? He’s a thousand times a better fuck than you, too.”
The other cuff flies off, and my other hand as well as my feet come free easily. The burn in my body energizes me like fuel as I advance towards Kalb, who’s screaming with a bloody face, crawling away from me, and leaving trails of blood on the tiles. His eyes are wide in shock, as if he’s looking at a monster.