by D STEP
Sophie swallowed hard as she considered the ancient axiom, and the blood that now coursed through her womb. No water could ever dilute the bond that was being forged between all three of them. “Then don’t give Valeri a reason to try again. Get out, before he finds you here.”
*
Her shift completed for the day, Irina drew her sweater tightly around herself as she left the building via the back entrance. Autumn’s chill was in the air, and she hurried toward home, away from her undignified job and her employers who frightened her. A menial job to be sure, serving the despicable Thieves-in-Law class, the Vori v Zakone for pittance wages when they were wealthy beyond imagination; but it was better than being a sex slave. As meager as her own existence seemed, she pitied the strange Inglyski girl with the rabbit-teeth who appeared to be exactly that.
“Scusami,” a voice said as she walked quickly down the cobbled lane. Startled, Irina looked up. A man approached her from the side of the path. “Are you hungry?” he asked, his appearance out of place in a back lane, wearing a sports jacket and dress slacks. His accent was also strange; it sounded Italian. Irina sensed trouble.
“Nyet,” she said quietly and kept walking.
“I only ask because I want to offer you a job. A simple job. It’s always good to have extra money, sí?”
“I have job,” she answered over her shoulder.
“Yes I know, you work in that brick building there. For not much money, I think.”
Irina stopped walking. He knew where she worked. Maybe he knew where she lived, too, if he’d been watching her. A two-room flat shared between four girls would certainly give a clue to her poor earnings. “What do you want,” she asked.
The man held out a 50 ruble note. “Only information. I will be here at this time each day. When you pass by, tell me about this girl.” In his other hand he showed a photo, like an ID card, with Miss Sophie’s picture on it. “I will give you another of these each time,” he said, waving the 50. Take this one now, for free. So that I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Irina’s stomach rumbled. Thoughts of the vegetable soup she and her roommates would share for supper tonight crossed her mind. Then she took the crisp banknote in her hand.
*
Sophie gazed at her nude reflection in the mirror atop the bureau dresser. Her pale face bore a healthy glow and her somewhat gaunt body had filled out as well, her ribs no longer showing and the bruising from her fall only a pale yellow shadow on her skin. Her hair brushed her shoulders now, long enough for her to pin up on occasion. Her brown eyes recouped their pre-trauma sparkle and her lips shone dewy and plump.
Another reflection moved into range behind her, one hand reaching out to caress her shoulder. “Will you be ready for dinner soon?” Valeri asked, the soft wool of his suit jacket brushing the skin of her back as he snuggled in close. He tilted his head to nuzzle her neck. Sophie’s hands went to her throat, appraising the reddish welts in various stages of healing.
“Yes,” she said, smiling as his nose tickled her. “I just need my dress.” Her hands dropped to her belly, moving her palms across it in thoughtful circles. She would wait for the proper moment to tell him her news. The home pregnancy test had turned out positive.
Valeri raised his head to stare at their dual reflections in the mirror. He looked handsome as ever, his chiseled face neatly shaved and his hair groomed to perfection. Her face loomed in the foreground, and except for her nakedness could almost have passed as a wedding portrait. Sophie shivered at the memory of Yuri in the same room; He and Valeri were the personification of the two-sided pain/pleasure coin, and becoming just as inseparable for her. His hands slipped around to cup her breasts, and his erection rubbed her pink buttocks through the material of his slacks.
“A dress would be appropriate,” he said, nodding. “But perhaps some jewelry first?” He kneaded each breast for a few seconds, plucking and pinching her nipples until they expanded into hot red marbles. She knew this game, and sucked in an anxious breath. Valeri reached into the top drawer of the bureau for a familiar piece, a silver and diamond chain-link collar with a pair of nipple clamps dangling on smaller chains from a center ring.
He lifted it to fit around her neck with the chains hanging in front and snapped the collar closed beneath her hair at the nape. He fastened one clamp to each nipple, tightening the set screws until her red nubs bulged flat between the silver bars. The chains hung in swags from the collar to the clamps. Its purpose notwithstanding it was truly a beautiful piece of jewelry, finely crafted of precious materials.
Sophie’s breathing heightened as the pressure increased. Valeri flicked the chains, sending vibrating pulses up their length to resonate in the clamps. She breathed through an open mouth, regulating the sensations of pain versus pleasure to bring them into balance. Valeri pushed gently at the center of her back until she leaned over the bureau top at a near ninety-degree angle, the silver chains pooling on the polished surface.
He removed his jacket and shirt and undid his pants. He squeezed a handful of lubricant from a tube stored in the same top drawer and stroked his cock with it. She licked her lips as she listened to the slippery sound of the gel sliding through his hands. With his cool, wet member fitted against the crack of her bum, he gathered her hair into a ponytail and pulled her head back so that she stared into the mirror and could not look away.
The burn in her nipples transformed into golden clouds of hot pleasure; gravity pulling her breasts downward and sending more blood to the area, exaggerating the effect. His wet cock primed her crack and pressed against the puckered skin of her anus. Slowly, the tip breached the outer folds and pushed inward. He held her hair so tight her scalp tingled, her brown eyes widening as she watched the scene unfold in the mirror.
She willed her sphincter to relax, to ease his entry and her discomfort. The girth of his member stretched her rectum, filling it in a smooth gliding stroke. He went deeper, then withdrew to begin another plunge. His intense blue eyes began to glaze over as they watched their reflections together. Sophie took in every sculpted ridge of bone and muscle on his naked torso as she watched him, pulling on her hair like the reins of a horse with each thrust.
The chains swished across the hard surface of the bureau as her body rocked forward and back, a tinkling silver pendulum marking time to their lovemaking. After a dozen of his powerful strokes, Sophie felt dizzy, relishing the punishing rhythm and the sound of his thighs slapping against her tender cheeks but longing for her release, her reward for enduring his merciless ass-fuck. Her scalp seared from his relentless tugs and her jaw dropped open, choking out silent screams as Valeri neared climax, each lingering thrust like a torpedo that speared the hull of her battleship, building to detonation.
With one last massive stroke, Valeri’s body stiffened and his hot fluid raced inside, heating her tortured anal canal. She saw his face contort in a portrait of both pain and unholy satisfaction in the mirror, then melt into a smile as he returned to earth. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured between heaving breaths.
He released her brunette locks and drew back from her, delivering a stinging slap to her rear with the flat of his hand. Sophie jerked, the impact sending a bolt of arousal straight to her pussy.
“Come here,” he said, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her backwards onto his lap as he sat down in a chair a few feet behind them. With a firm hand he lifted each of her legs and braced her feet against the bureau, exposing her reddened crotch to the mirror. The clamp chains fell against her skin forming silver arcs beneath each breast. He slipped one hand through the chains and held firm, the tension re-igniting the inferno in her nipples. His other hand found her slick pussy, his long, middle finger sliding between her swollen labia to massage her aching clit. “Watch,” he whispered in her ear. “Watch yourself come.”
Sophie watched, fascinated, as his practiced fingers pumped her glistening cunt. Up and down, in and out; he finger-fucked her and paddled her clit with his thumb.
The multiple stimuli of seeing her own body touched and titillated, the smell of her own heat and the smacking sounds of her wet flesh drove her arousal higher, the tugs on the clamp chains spreading a wildfire across her chest and down through her core.
Her orgasm built from within, swelling then surging to the surface and cresting in a black wave of ecstasy that consumed all thought, all consciousness; she surrendered to it and closed her eyes to the erotic tableau before them, riding the receding tide of pleasure to its end.
Valeri’s voice filtered through the magnificent fog. “Get dressed now, my sweet. We have a very important engagement to attend.”
Chapter Four
“Where are we going?” Sophie asked as she, Valeri and what seemed like an army of security staff boarded five separate vehicles in the underground garage.
“To dinner. Nothing special,” Valeri answered as he settled beside her in the limousine.
From the window of the car, Sophie caught a glimpse of the murderous motorcycle parked nearby; the one that had brought her into this circle of madness, knowing its rider hid somewhere in the confines of the building. “Nothing special? Why the muscle parade, then?”
Valeri smiled and reached over to stroke her chin. She wore a dress he’d chosen for her, made of blue satin with a chinese collar and plunging V down the bodice; appearing sexy and sophisticated at the same time as hiding the marks on her neck. Her nipples still sizzled with pain beneath the thin material. “Think of it as a staff party,” he said. “Not for you to concern yourself.”
They drove nearly an hour, which seemed to Sophie a long way to go for dinner. The limousine and two armoured cars arrived at a secluded estate house outside the city; the other two vehicles lagged behind as remote guard. Some of Valeri’s entourage remained outside on watch while the rest of their party was led inside to a dining hall, not unlike the one at Goragavan where Yuri had become stumbling drunk. Sophie noted the fine linens and silverware on the long table and the vintage chairs set around it. Richly-textured wallpaper and gilded sconces lined the walls, their elegance juxtaposed with high-tech security cameras installed in every corner.
They were served hors d'oeuvres and wine, but no other guests joined the party. Sophie’s internal radar went on alert at the odd situation, and after a half hour had passed with small talk among themselves, one of their men received a page on his cell phone. He, Valeri and all the staff except for two byki rose to leave. “Enjoy your wine, we’ll return shortly,” he said to her as they exited the room.
Sophie looked between the two bullish men, tall and at least two hundred fifty pounds apiece. They smiled politely and gestured subtly to their hidden sidearms but did not speak. They reminded her of the men who’d kept watch on her at the airport, but assumed they’d been dismissed for their ineptness since then. She hoped these two were more experienced. She poked her cocktail fork into the petit fours on her plate, her nerves buzzing like live wires.
*
“You can see she is unharmed,” Valeri said, pointing to the video screen. The cameras captured Sophie in her stunning blue dress, talking idly with her two guards and taking occasional sips of wine. “She no longer wishes to pursue a career in diplomatic relations, so you may inform the Embassy she has taken these few months to reconsider her position and has graciously resigned. In exchange, you will receive an appreciable percentage on all import transactions, including weapons and narcotics. It is an equitable offer that your predecessors have been most wise in accepting. We’re confident you will come to enjoy the benefits of this arrangement as much as they.”
“You talk like a salesman, Kovalenko. Very eloquent for a Kaznachey, a bookkeeper. You will find I’m not easily sold.”
Valeri chuckled without mirth. To be called a bookkeeper was an insult at best. “Anyone can be sold, with the right product and the right incentive, Minister. I assure you, our incentives will be something you can…rely on.” His meaning extended in two directions, both reward and retaliation; if Minister Borovski owned anything approaching intelligence, he would understand and comply. To do otherwise would not be beneficial to his health.
Marat Borovski’s close-set eyes and beakish nose gave him a rat-like countenance. He wore his long dark hair parted in the center and tucked behind his ears; certainly not the picture of the stern and overweight government officials Valeri had known over the years. His rodent’s eyes flicked over the group as he sat iron-straight in his chair, his hands knotted together firmly on the tabletop. His security men sat stonily on either side of him.
“That rather sounds like a threat, Mr. Kovalenko.” Borovski’s thin lips twitched into a pale smirk. “I don’t respond well to threats.”
A few of Valeri’s men shifted aggressively in their seats. They knew their jobs well. He quieted them with a relaxed gesture. “I’ve made no threat as yet, Minister. You, on the other hand, have already surpassed threats and proceeded directly to an attack on my ancestral home. That was in very bad taste, sir. A dear friend is now dead because of you. If you’re uncertain what a threat sounds like, allow me to provide an example.” Valeri leaned in with his elbows on the table, as though confiding a secret. “If you refuse our offer, you—and everyone in your cabinet—will be replaced. Permanently.You will not know a safe or happy moment for the rest of your lives, which will not likely be long.” He paused, then straightened his body again. “I hope that enhances your understanding.”
Borovski cocked his head slightly, while keeping his beady eyes on Valeri. His lifeless grin widened. “Indeed. Thank you for that demonstration. My understanding is now completely validated, Mr. Kovalenko.” He gave a nod to the man on his left. He took a deep breath and faced Valeri, craning his thin neck forward. “You and your kind are a scourge upon modern democracy, which I remind you, our country now is. It is you who will be replaced, by my hand.”
The doors to the boardroom in which they sat burst open. Soldiers and guns filled the room within the space of a heartbeat. Valeri’s team jumped to action and encircled him, weapons drawn against the intruders. Rage rather than fear filled him; his meticulous control of every situation suddenly lost on this occasion, his vision clouded over in a haze of both anger and astonishment. The soldiers outnumbered them and he was not about to order his men to fire.
Marat Borovski rose from his seat. “You will accompany these loyal servants of the Republic, sir. May you all rot in prison.” With a smug sneer, he turned toward the exit. The sound of rifles cocking filled the air, all of them trained on Valeri and his group. Borovski had only taken a few steps when every window in the room suddenly shattered. Some of the soldiers spun toward the sound while others stood their ground. Flames erupted inside the room, climbing the drapes and spilling across the carpet with frightening speed.
Good old-fashioned Malatov cocktails. Valeri would have laughed under other circumstances, but as bodies scattered everywhere he ducked past his circle of men, seeing Borovski making for the door without a backward glance. He lunged for him, his powerful legs needing only a few strides to catch up. As Borovski flung the door open, he was met with a gun barrel between his eyes. He dropped like a stone when the bullet fired, leaving empty space between Valeri and the shooter.
Yuri.
“Come, brother. Only a fool fights in a burning house.”
*
Sophie screamed as she saw fire bellow from the windows of the second storey. She huddled in the back of the limo where her two bodyguards had ushered her only moments before. “Where is Valeri?” she shouted, but her companions stood outside the vehicle, deaf to her cries. They’d received some kind of alert as they sat at the dining table, and the next minute found herself stuffed in the limo. She was terrified for Valeri, but angry with him at the same time for not telling her the whole truth.
Soon, her guards stood aside as two figures approached the car. The door opened and Valeri slid inside. “Thank God,” Sophie gasped, clutching her body to him like a life preserver. The second m
an followed, jumping into the opposite seat as the door slammed and the engine gunned. Through teary eyes, Sophie saw him. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Saving his money-grubbing balls,” Yuri said, pointing at Valeri. “Still sorry to see my face?” he asked his brother.
“Not today,” Valeri grumbled, then broke into a laugh. Yuri joined in.
Sophie glanced between the two, dumbfounded. “What is going on here? Who was in that house, and why is it on fire?” she demanded.
Yuri sobered. “We’re celebrating. The candles on the cake got a little out of control.”
“Celebrating! What?”
“Your retirement,” Valeri said, his laughter calming. “Your boss is dead.”
Yuri started in giggling again. “Ding, dong, the witch is dead….”
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked.
“Borovski,” Valeri said. “I tried to talk sense into him, but he’s a very nonsensible fellow.”
“Da, he’s not sensing anything right now,” Yuri added.
Sophie turned to Valeri, looking hard into his face; the face she adored yet knew belonged to a killer, and a killer’s brother. The enormity of what they’d done began to sink in. Someone must pay. It appeared the debt for Pasha’s death had been paid; but her reason for coming to Russia in the first place had just been murdered. “Did your men all make it out?” was all she could think to say.
Valeri shook his head. “I don’t know. Most of them, I think.” He looked at Yuri.
Yuri’s lips formed a grim line. He looked out the window, then pressed the intercom and spoke to the driver in Russian. The car slowed and took a turn. “My bike,” he said. They pulled to a stop on a side road, where Yuri’s Harley sat parked under a tree. “Last one home buys the vodka.” With a wave he exited the limo and mounted his machine.