by Box Set
“Oliver, inspect her for me,” the Pakhan orders his employee, and the man I’d been lusting over, moments before, starts to walk around me in a slow circle. I can feel his eyes boring into my heated flesh. I can’t show evidence of the sudden arousal coursing through me. Not in front of the man my father is trying to give me too. I inhale deeply and allow my mind to drift off to my happy place where I’m not naked in front of a group of men. But I’m brought sharply back when a bruising slap lands hard on my bottom.
“Ouch.” I startle and turn around, rubbing the inflicted area. “Do that again, and I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” Oliver chuckles at me.
“I’ll… I’ll,” I know in reality there’s nothing I can do to him. I’m lucky he hasn’t added a bruise to my face to match the one I’m sure is forming on my behind for talking back to him. “You can’t touch what you don’t own, yet.” I counter and fold my arms across my chest smugly.
He raises an eyebrow at me in a manner which dares me to speak to him that way again. I growl under my breath and turn back around to face the Pakhan.
“She’s good. Pinks up nicely on all cheeks.” Oliver expresses to his boss. I can still feel myself blushing, and the tint deepens when Oliver steps even closer to me and smells the surrounding air. I try not to shudder. How the hell can one man have such a devastating effect on my disobedient body, without even touching me? “Smells good as well.” He licks his lips, and I know he’s not talking about the Chanel perfume I’m wearing. Arousal pools between my thighs, and I rub them together to try to get some friction where I need them. Damn, I’m turning into a right freak just at the thought of this handsome man staring at me. I’ve finally lost all decorum and sense. I’m not being given to him. I’m being given to the stern looking man who’s holding court over all of us.
The Pakhan clicks his fingers, and Oliver walks away. I breathe a sigh of relief with every step he takes, putting a distance between us. It allows me to think clearly again.
“I’ll accept your gift,” the Pakhan informs my father. “It’s most welcome.”
“Thank you.” My father bows his head and pushes me forward, with one hand, toward the Pakhan. I don’t want to go, so I plant my bare feet firmly on the marbled tiles. “Go girl,” my father hisses and gives me another shove. This time, I tumble forward and down onto the floor.
The Pakhan jumps to his feet.
“Don’t damage the gift before I have a chance to use it, Senior Ortega.”
“My apologies, Mr. Ivanov.”
My father holds his hands up, and I get back to my feet and scrape down invisible bruises on my knees with a scowl on my face.
“Girl.” The Pakhan curves his finger and beckons me toward him. I know I have no choice but to obey. That’s what I’m here for – to pave the way to safety for my father. Shame, at this moment, I’d rather bury him deep in the ground where I’d never have to see him again. I could bury him alive, leaving his head above the soil, and let the birds peck his eyes out. I’ve no love for the man who biologically sired me. If I could get away from him, I would, but I know the only way I’ll ever escape this is through death. A cold chill shivers over my body at the memory of another girl I’d known back in Mexico, Filipa was her name. She’d been kidnapped from her home and sold into slavery at a young age. For a short time, she was allowed to be my companion, but as I grew older, and my mother became useless as a device to please my father’s business associates, I was pulled further into that darkness. Filipa was offered up to the guards who protected my father to ‘keep her busy’ during my absence. I always remember the first time she came home bruised and bleeding. She was never the same after that. A few short months later, I found her hanging from the rafters in the stables. She’d taken her own life rather than continue with the one she’d found herself in. She knew that it was a mortal sin, and she risked eternity in hell for killing herself, but that was preferable to the hell on Earth she was facing. I don’t have the strength to make that decision myself. I must not be broken enough, not yet anyway. I swallow down my thoughts and step up closer to the Pakhan. He stands to greet me and runs his hands over my body, caressing my breasts and dipping between my thighs. He leans in when he finds my arousal from Oliver’s inspection.
“An exhibitionist.” He licks his lips. “I’ll have to remember that.” He brings his fingers up to his lips and sucks them into his mouth. “Tastes good as well, Oliver.” He chuckles, and I flush with embarrassment. Oliver doesn’t reply. He just looks directly at me with a face blank of all emotion. I wish I knew what was going on in his head. If he condones this treatment of a woman, he’s not a man I should be fantasizing about. I look away and down at the floor.
“Oliver, take her to my room and get the others to clean and prepare her. Stay with them and bring her to me when she’s ready.”
The tall and muscular stranger steps to my side and grabs my arm.
“Wait.” I still. “How long am I staying?” I always like to know because it allows me to count down the days of abuse that I will receive. It gives me hope I can go back to my father and have a peaceful life for a while.
The Pakhan looks at me and laughs. It’s not the mischievous chuckle of a few moments ago when he tasted me on his fingers. This one freezes me to the spot, and my legs weaken and threaten to collapse. Oliver grabs my arms and holds me upright. Behind the Pakhan, I see two men grab my father.
“No!” I scream and try to struggle against the strong man holding me. It’s futile, though.
The Pakhan storms over to my father and slaps him hard across the face.
“Mr. Ivanov, I don’t understand. Please.” My father spits blood out of his mouth as he tries to make sense of what is happening.
“You, Senior Ortega, are a liar and a thief. I know all about your little plan with the rest of the Sonora Cartel and with the Petrov Bratva. Install yourself within my group by relying on our past friendship, find out my secrets, and sell them on to the Petrov Bratva to allow them to destroy me. In return, the Sonora Cartel, in the north of Mexico, will give you safe passage and a home with a generous retirement package. You’ve betrayed me, the ultimate insult.”
My father’s face pales, and my legs finally give way, and I’m left dangling naked in Oliver’s arms.
The Pakhan pulls a gun from the back of his black trousers and aims it directly into the center of my father’s head. Before he has a chance to protest or plead his case, the Pakhan pulls the trigger, and the life of my father is extinguished in the shattering of his skull and with parts of his brain exploding onto the wall behind him. I gag and turn to the side, bringing up the sparse contents of my stomach. Oliver allows me to fall to my knees as I try to bring air into my lungs. My father has just been shot in the head for being a traitor. He’s dead. I wanted him dead, but not like this. I can’t breathe. I’m on the verge of hyper-ventilating and passing out. Oliver leans over me and starts to rub my back. His large warm hands sending comfort through my panic-stricken body. What happens now? Am I free? No, no. I can’t be.
“Take the body and send parts of it to his superiors at the Sonora Cartel and to Mr. Petrov himself. Tell them we do not appreciate traitors in our midst, and this is what we do to them. Inform the Sonora Cartel that I will be taking Senorina Ortega as my own to compensate for the inconvenience of having to clear her father’s brains from my brand-new marbled floor.” The Pakhan turns to me as he speaks. “To answer your question, you’ll be with me for the rest of your life – be it short or long is up to you and how much pleasure you give me.” He jerks his head toward Oliver again. “Get her out of here.”
I’m still struggling to breathe as Oliver grabs both my arms and starts to drag me out of the room. I want to cry, but no tears come. I want to scream and shout, but no sound leaves my mouth. All I can do is take a final look at my father’s body and lament my handing over from one devil to another.
3
OLIVER
“Let go of me!�
� The suddenly feisty, raven haired woman in my arms kicks out at my shin, but given she’s not wearing shoes, she’s able to do little damage to my powerful legs.
“Calm the fuck down,” I swear at her and jerk her up against the wall. Putting my weight against her, I pin her so she’s unable to move.
“Get off me,” she shouts, again. “You can’t do this.”
“Shut up.” I order, and she tries her hardest to wriggle from my clutches, but she’s no match for the superior strength I possess.
“I’m the daughter of a senior cartel member. You can’t just take me like this. There will be repercussions. They will come for you and your Pakhan. They will kill him and rescue me.”
I can’t help but laugh at that one. Nobody will come for her. They will lament the loss of her father, but not her. She’s a woman and worthless except for what’s between her legs.
“We both know that isn’t true,” I sneer.
“I’m valuable to them,” she retorts back with a smug smile on her face.
“What you mean is your father has pimped you out so many times that you think your pussy is magical to the Sonora Cartel for what it can reel in.” I laugh. “Grow up, little girl. No pussy is so magical that a cartel would risk coming to its rescue, especially if it knows it would lose good men for the cause.”
She whimpers, and I wish I could feel sorry for my harsh words, but I’m too programmed, now, to worry about anyone else but myself and my Pakhan. It’s as if killing scarred face stole the last part of my humanity and flushed it down the toilet with any remaining hope, faith, and love, following closely behind.
“I have money.” – I can’t help but roll my eyes at her words – “No, please. Don’t dismiss me. Listen. I have money. Help me escape, and when I get back to Mexico, I’ll send it to you. Hell, let me phone someone, and I’ll get it sent over now. Please... Please… Don’t give me to him.”
I push her away. No longer able to stand the pleading.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” I huff out in frustration.
“Please,” she whimpers again, and I allow my eyes to glance over her naked body. Her skin is flawless, a natural tan. Breasts just the right size for my hands to squeeze and play with. Dusky pink nipples ready for my tongue to wrap around and suck to hard peaks. I lower my perusal over her flat stomach and to her child bearing hips. A good Mexican girl with a little bit of weight on the rear. She’s stunning, and when I first saw her brought forward for an audience with the Pakhan, she’d taken my breath away. I’d been left dumfounded by her beauty and had to move my hands to cover over the front of the soft black trousers I was wearing, before those around me caught sight of the evidence that my dick longed to get to know her better. When the Pakhan had asked me to inspect her, and I smelled her arousal, I knew her body wanted to explore what I had to offer. It was as if our bodies recognized each other as potential lovers before our minds had a chance to catch up. Not that the woman in front of me could ever be my lover. She doesn’t belong to me. As if sensing my growing desire for her, Amaya drops to her knees and reaches out to touch the front of my trousers.
“I can offer you relief as well,” she stutters on a frightened pause before schooling her features. Her large blue eyes flick up to stare at me. Blue as sapphires, the seductive orbs will me to agree to her offer, but I’m lost in the color of her irises. With Mexican roots, she should surely have dark brown eyes. It’s a story I want to ask her about, but now is not the time. My dick springs to life in my trousers under her gentle touch. It’s pleading and screaming at me to agree to her wrapping those delectable lips around it.
“No.” I don’t listen to him and push her away from me, again.
I grab a handful of her hair and twist it around my wrist to pull her closely to me. She teeters on the edge of pain.
“Listen carefully, I won’t repeat myself. You need to accept your fate. Where we’re from, we don’t have any choices. We’re slaves to our masters. I accepted my destiny a long time ago, and you need to stop with the tantrums and pleading because that will only turn him on and make him hurt you more. You’re not better than anyone here. You may have been a cartel leader’s daughter and lived a life of luxury, but no longer. Your father’s brains are all over the floor out there. I can show them to you, again, if you’ve forgotten what it looks like.” I pause to allow the first part of my diatribe to penetrate her subconscious. “Here, and everywhere else in this world we exist, you’re the lowest of the low now. You’ve nobody to protect you. You’re all alone with a cunt instead of a dick. Accept that Pakhan Ivanov is better as the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Please him, offer him every hole that you have to get him off, and you’ll have a good life. Fight him…fight me, and you’ll be sold to the highest bidder – believe me there are some evil men out there. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. I’ve watched them destroy pretty little girls like you. Accept, hold your head up high, and live. I’ll not help you escape, ever!”
I drop her back down, and she rubs her head where I’ve been pulling on her roots.
“You’re a monster,” she sobs.
“No, darling. I’m the monster’s servant.”
I haul her up to her feet and without much protest, this time, pull her along the corridor toward where the other girls are imprisoned. She tugs to a halt outside the heavy wooden door.
“What now?” I growl sternly.
“Give me a minute, please.”
I shake my head and fold my arms across my chest.
“Thirty seconds.” I pull the cuff of my shirt-sleeve up to check the time on my watch. I don’t intend to play anymore games with her. She has precisely thirty seconds, and then she’s going in that room, to prepare herself for her future.
She rubs her hands down her face and wipes the tears from her eyes. Running her fingers through the ends of her hair, she tries to tidy up the long black locks. She looks down at her naked body to inspect for any patches of dirt and flicks a piece of fluff off her knee. She’s finally understanding what I’ve been telling her – there’s no point in fighting the inevitable. She clears her throat with a soft cough.
“I’m ready.”
I shield the PIN pad at the side of the door and tap in a code to open it.
“Go and get the other girls to prepare you. They have clothes and various other things that women need. I’ll be back when he calls for you.”
She nods, understanding.
I flick my hand to order her to enter the room. As she does, she turns back to me.
“Oliver.”
My breath catches in my throat as she uses my name. It sounds beautiful, tumbling from her lips.
“Yes,” I cough out a strained reply.
“You may think you’re dead inside, but I can see the truth. It’s written in your eyes, the way the fire of passion burns inside them.” She lowers her head and takes a step into the room. “It’s just directed in the wrong way.”
4
AMAYA
As soon as I enter the room, I’m greeted by four other girls. One looks to be a few years older than my twenty-five years while the others look to be a similar age.
“Hi,” The older girl who is short with bouncy, brown curls greets me and takes my hand. “Let’s put something on you. It’s not the warmest today. You must be freezing. It took me forever to get used to the Russian winters. Coming from Costa Rica, it was a definite temperature shock. I’m Rea.”
Another girl steps up with a cloak and wraps it around my shoulders.
“I’m Natasha.” She smiles and looks across to the two other girls who are cowering in the corner of the room.
“That’s Zola and Irina. They’re sisters and haven’t been here long.” Natasha looks down at the ground. “It can take some getting used to if it’s not the background you’ve come from.”
“I’m Amaya.” I tell them my name and look around the room we’re in. In other circumstances, it could be the living quarters of a princess. Th
e high vaulted ceilings are painted with decorative art, depicting signs from the Bible or some other time in history. Luxurious furniture tastefully adorns the room along with a television, several bookcases full of books, and facilities for the preparation of hot drinks. Rea must realize I’m taking in my new surroundings, for when I notice doors leading off from the room, she takes my hand and walks me over to one of them.
“They go to our bedrooms. We each have our own. The Pakhan likes to have us privately, sometimes,” she explains and opens the door for me. I shudder at the mention of the man who now owns me.
“This will be your room. It was assigned to Irina when she first came, but the Pakhan agreed that she and Zola could share.
“Thank you.” I pop my head in to look at the room. I don’t know why I expected a dismal dark dungeon, but I’m greeted by a beautifully decorated room. A wardrobe and chest of drawers carved from oak sit in the corner, and in the middle of the room, pushed against the far wall, is a four-poster bed with drapes of a blue so deep it matches the color of my eyes. Blue has always been my favorite color, and this room is perfect for me.
“We’re comfortable,” Rea tells me. I sense there’s more she wants to say, but I’m not ready to hear it yet.
“Do we have clothes?” I question.
“The Pakhan provides for us. His choices are in the wardrobe.” She fiddles nervously with the small piece of fabric which covers her body. The cloak wrapped around me covers more flesh than her bright yellow dress, which dips low at her chest and is cut on a bias around her curvy hips. “He likes us to look nice. He has guests drop by at all times of the day, so it’s important that we’re ready should we be required. One of us tends to take a night shift if needs be. I’m not unhappy here. I’m safe.”
I look directly at one of the bruises on her wrist, sitting next to it, is a scar which looks suspiciously like a burn.