Deviant Fixation

by Valencia Carmelita

  As soon as the slashed cords hit the waters surface, electricity charges out, producing strong crackling sounds.

  Nikita begins screaming erratically and thrashing about, dreading exactly what was next. His blood drops sprinkling into the electrically charged water below. Amongst his screams of dreadful anguish, he recites some form of prayers in Russian.

  Vladimir lets out a bored yawn as he thought he could definitely use a brief nap after ending Nikita's life. Placing his top-hat on his head, Vladimir saunters back towards the crane and rests his hand upon a certain switch.

  He looks into the direction of Nikita before tipping his top-hat in a quaint farewell gesture and curtly concludes. "Your venal áss would look most nice electrocuted.."

  With that ensues the gruesome ending of Nikita, as his figure submerges into the electrically charged water. His body spasming to death from the high voltage of the galvanic currents flowing about him.

  ◆◆◆

  "Huxley, make sure to have a good nights rest.." He states with a sedative tone as Huxley exits his Lamborghini. "..We board an early morning long flight back.."

  Raising a brow in puzzlement, Huxley peers at him through the open windows of the vehicle. "Where you are headed, Vladimir ? You should have a good rest tonight considering the time it took to capture Nikita..you must be exhausted!"

  The detainment of Nikita was ordained by his uncle Dimitri Molotov and Vladimir as per usual was given the task to accomplish within a week.

  Nikita had been on the run all over Europe and here in Britain two days ago, Vladimir had finally cornered him. And finished him, thereafter reporting to his uncle over the phone before embarking towards Scotland for a day.

  ....Mission Accomplished..

  ...now where were we Kashani...?

  Temporarily managing to flick her thought away, he lets out a yearning exhale. Then he aims his steady gaze on his trusted partner and bailiff in crime, who was once his father's close valet and steward. "Huxley, I just need a bit of sequestering for a peace of mind..go on..I'll see you in the morning.."

  Huxley looks to him with a second of uncertainty before nodding his head in acknowledgment. Vladimir watches him as he enters through the revolving doors of the luxury hotel out of hundreds of Molotov Hotels and Inns which were established through out Europe.

  Then he revs up his Lamborghini and speeds it through the empty roads of late night Edinburgh, knowing the exact destination for his solace.

  It's not long before he parks the Lamborghini infront of the rusted gates of Greyfriar Kirkyard, one of the most oldest cemeteries in Britain. Also notably known amongst one of the most haunted graveyards in Scotland.

  However, it bothered not Vladimir in the slightest bit, as he had spent many nights during his late teens and some of his early twenties here.

  He exits the vehicle with a bouquet of fragrant Chrysanthemums he had bought hours ago. The Scottish air is cold and misty, quite conventional for a January night and he takes a deep welcoming inhale of it.

  Proceeding to a standstill infront of the gates, he examines the lock approvingly. It had indeed been left unbolted for his convenience. He had phoned the caretaker and paid some cash earlier in the day for such a favour.

  The old gates screeched eerily on their hinges as he pushed them open and closed them behind him. The footfalls of his boots on the cobble stone path echoed sinisterly amongst the old tombstones.

  A few paces ahead, situated a lonesome looking Gothic-Romanesque Church. It had been established centuries ago in the year 1620 by the Franciscan Order.

  Dim light filtered through from its arching windows, illuminating some of the partially eroded names on the older tombstones he passed.

  But Vladimir had no trouble locating the exact tombstones he was looking for. Since the full moon shone bright enough to further illuminate the spectral graveyard.

  He had finally arrived upon about a dozen of the tombstones he would visit regularly years ago. The first two were of his parents, Anastasia and Christofer Nielsen. He plucked out some of the flowers from the bouquet and lovingly laid them on their graves.

  The graves next to his parents were of his paternal grandparents, Lady Margaret-Fiona Wallace and Sir Charles Henry Nielsen. He adoringly laid flowers on their graves and a few more graves of the past generations of Nielsens.

  For him it was the utmost duty to honour ones relatives and legacies of past ancestors. He was regretful of not having bought more bouquets for their graves.

  After that he entered the old vacant Church and settled himself on a pew. His thoughts took a winding turn towards her as they would nowadays. He wondered what was she upto right now back in Australia.

  The last he saw of her was when he had brought her towards a sweet orgasm in the corridor. How scandalous it was, but yet also a thrill ride for him. When she had ridden through her climax, all he could do was focus on her lovely face, on her shallow breathing.

  As soon as she had peaked, he had completely lost himself under a trance as he drank her in with his eyes and ears. Her cries of ecstasy drove him insane, casting a complete enchantment over him. However she began sobbing freely once she had levelled down from the orgasm.

  She had slapped him hard once again across the face. The slap only increased his inner greed for her, a greed bordering on a dangerous sadistic tendency.

  He had still been in a daze, as she disdainfully shoved at him and he reluctantly allowed her reprieve, an escape to her room. When he had returned to his chambers, he took care of his own arousal verging on painful.

  No matter how much he tried to get himself off, he would get aroused anew within minutes over the memory of her climax. Over the feel of her soft and slender thighs under his callous fingers.

  He lusted over the contrast of his pale hands against the naturally tanned skin of her warm thighs. He hungered over the difference of her softness against his roughness. He was intoxicated on her sensually exotic and completely feminine beauty.

  A month ago, if someone were to tell him that he'd go nuts over a foreign Muslim girl, he would have fractured their jaw for spewing such bullshįt.

  Here he was, getting shamelessly aroused in a Church for that matter. She refused to depart his thoughts even during the time he sought for inner solace.

  She was rampantly infecting his body systems. He had tasted the drink in her mouth. He was certain that he was infectiously poisoned by it.

  ..so fucking dirty, pure and delicious...I need more, Kashani...let me..

  Here he was reminded by verses from one of his favourite passages of Genesis in the Bible. When God had commanded Adam not to eat of the forbidden tree.

  There he drew the similarities, for he certainly saw how he, like Adam, had been tempted and tasted of what was forbidden to him and he certainly wanted more of it.

  ..and I was tempted..

  ..I failed..

  ..and I tasted..

  ..of the Forbidden Fruit..

  She was liken to Eve, The Forbidden Tree and The Serpent. All three in one and certainly a persuasive temptress beyond reasoning . She wasn't even aware of her own seductive charms she had inadvertently cast over him.

  An immediate solution had to be discovered for the mess he found himself enmeshed in. Otherwise he would be rendered incapable of carrying out the most simplest of daily routines while she consistently plagued his mind.

  Yes, he would have to most certainly make it his top priority once he landed in Australia. Soon enough a dark scheme begins to delineate within his wicked mind.

  ..I won't be simply tasting you this time Sanam Kashani..

  ...I would be swallowing you whole more like it ...

  ◆◆◆

  "You want us to take the entire day off to spend in a spa??" Mrs. Agnelli looks at him with complete bewilderment. Both Anya and Lorna share similar expressions.

  "You've heard me the first time, Mrs.Agnelli." Vladimir solemnly confirms, voice nearing the edge of irritability. "All
three of you are free of your duties for the day. An entire morning till late afternoon is scheduled at a spa for you followed by a shopping spree and five star restaurant. I've also booked for the day, the grand suite rooms for each of you in one of my hotel chains."

  The three women exchange with eachother puzzled glances before Mrs.Agnelli asks. "But why are you doing this for us ?"

  He nearly suppresses himself from glaring at her in vexation as he tightly answers. "You three labour so much for us, you deserve a day off today. Now go on and prepare, do not waste my time any further. I expect you gone within half an hour along with Duffield. He's also to receive treatment of likewise manner."

  The women sensing his irritability, quickly depart out of the kitchen to ready themselves. They were the last three he would finally manage to keep out of the manor for the entire day. This was in order for him to unravel his scheme in regards to her.

  He had somehow successfully managed to stall Rachael in a pseudo business issue he created at the corporations concerning her cosmetics brand. So she'd need an entire day to sift out through it.

  It would cost her hours and hours. Ofcourse the Molotov guards at the front gates of the manor would promptly alert him if Rachael decided to return early. But he doubted Rachael would abandon her business crisis before 9pm.

  Arielle and Charlie were to be taken well care of in the safety and vicinity of the Childcare center within the Nielsen enterprises. He'd paid double the amount to the child care workers, who in the past were seriously inflicted by the misbehaviors of Rachael's children.

  As for Katherine, he had phoned her while she was on the way to university a half hour ago. He had ordered of her to visit the Molotov manor upon completion of her university hours for the day on the behest of their uncle Dimitri Molotov.

  He had phoned his uncle and entreated him to distract Katherine for the day since he had to take care of an urgent matter at the Nielsen manor. His uncle didn't question why and obliged for the reasons that Vladimir did so much for him.

  Serge, Grigori and Huxley were also stalled from visiting or contacting him for the day. They didn't question why, assuming that he must have some important dealings to be dealt with at the manor.

  The entire household knew not what he was actually upto. They all knew not of how easily they fell into his grand scheme of things. Not even a slightest bit of guilt claimed his mind over manipulating them in such a deceitful way.

  So now here he was soon to be all alone in the manor...with her. He felt the thrill of it seeping through out his body. Of all the possibilities and fantasies running through his mind concerning her. Today was the day he'd transfer them to reality.

  After the three women would leave, he'd play his plan into motion. No one would be present to interfere with his scheme. No one would be there to witness his dark desires..besides her. No one would be there to question his morals..aside from her.

  But her questioning didn't matter. She was so feminine, so delicate, so weak. He could easily bend and mold her to his will. He would surely enjoy getting a kick out of her initial fiery temper and willingness to fight his advances.

  He'd even let her scratch at him like a kitten, yet not so playfully. Let his blood trickle out through her nail marks on his porcelain skin. And he'd thoroughly enjoy it.

  But he knew deep down it would only strengthen his resolve. It would only increase his greed for her. And he'd make her submit to him in ways she'd forget the experience of her fūcking husband's intimacies altogether.

  Ofcourse She'd curse and yell at him for his hatred towards her and her kind, remind him that he was advancing upon a Muslim girl.

  And he'd tell her, he needed this so fūcking badly, and she might as well give in so they could both go about on their peaceful ways.

  She must give in, it was driving him nuts. It was incomprehensible to him of how she couldn't see what she was doing to him.

  He firmly believed his ploy will surely run as smooth as silk, as silken soft as her lovely thighs.

  ..submit to me Kashani..let it go..just give in...

  As soon as the last three servants departed the manor, he nearly bounded upstairs towards her room. A gradual deceptive smirk laced his lips.

  ...who shall keep you safe from me now, Kashani....?

  But he decided he should wait for two more hours to pass and she would have completed a good nights rest. He needed her well rested for what he was going to do and put her through next. The experience he would make her feel as if she ran a marathon.

  I'm going insane...

  At around 10AM, he was finally standing infront of her bedroom door. He strives to keep his breathing in check, however his heart rate was escalating rapidly.

  She was behind this very door. This very door separated her from him currently. This very door was protecting her from him at present.

  Soon enough he thought, this very door along the surrounding walls of her room would be the only barriers containing the sounds of their little fūck session. It would be hot, he thought if her screams of ecstasy echoed through out the manor.

  ..too bad these walls can't speak..but they won't reveal our secret..

  He carried the key to her room in the back pocket of his jeans. He could just simply unbolt her door himself right now. Yet, he preferred knocking and await her opening the door. She wasn't aware that he had arrived back from his trip last night. With her on his mind, he didn't even sleep for two nights straight.

  ..get her out of your system once and for good...

  So he reached up and produced a gentle loud enough knock against her door. Yet there was nothing gentle of the thoughts wracking his mind in regards to her.

  ..today Kashani..you'll learn..what a monster I truly am..

  The seconds that took for her to answer the door, felt to him like hours. When he heard the distinct rustling sound of the bed sheets, he felt himself start to grow harder.

  ..the things I'd do to you on your own bed..

  "Who is it ?" Ensues the unaware soft, feminine reply.

  His mind nearly slips into overdrive upon hearing her voice. It took all his strength not to tear down the door right that instant like a rabid animal. Instead he remains silent and awaits her to get curious enough to open the door without getting an answer.

  But who was he kidding, this was Kashani after all. However naive she may be, he came to learn that she sure wasn't dumb. Instead of opening the door as he desired her to do, he hears the soft padding of her feet trudging away from it.

  ..don't fucking keep me waiting anymore Kashani...

  Allowing his agitation to quickly eat up the remainder of his patience, he produced the key from his pocket and shifted it into the keyhole.

  ..and I'm the key that would be the perfect fit for your keyhole, Kashani ...you wouldn't even desire any other keys after mine..I'll make sure of it..

  The bolts click open, and he grasps the door knob in his cold, calloused hand. His hands had a proclivity of growing cold whenever his nerves were unsettled.

  Turning the door knob and sliding open the door, his frigid blue eyes clash with her startling warm brown ones across the room. And his heart nearly stops in those seconds. Immediately her face drains

  of colour as she stares at him in repleted horror.