SNUFFED: SNUFF Sequel - Part One

by Bonny Capps

  I watch her resolve slowly dwindle at the mention of our child. Those fierce, brown eyes now remind me of a fawn—sad and frightened as my words soak into her tough skull.

  “Yes,” she whispers as her eyes gloss over.

  “Yes what?” I snap.

  She breathes in deeply before murmuring, “Yes, sir.”

  “The earpiece, do you hear well?” I murmur as our IT guy secures the leather jacket which houses the wire. It’s been installed inside of the jacket’s fabric, and is unseen by the naked eye. The earpiece is nearly microscopic.

  Konstantin nods. “I can hear you well, my friend.”

  I take a step forward. “You cannot let anyone get a hold of this jacket or the earpiece. I am not lying when I tell you this—you will die if you’re caught.”

  He smiles. “I’ll be fine, Alexei. I will earn the sick fucker’s trust, and I will help you get your sister and niece back.”

  I grin as I approach him and grasp his shoulder. “After this is all said and done, my family owes you a massive debt. Anything you need, you tell me.”

  Alina appears in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. “The car is here. It’s time to go.”

  I sit across from Alina as she stares blankly out the window.

  Most would think that I am a stupid man for doing this, and maybe I am. My mother used to tell me, “If you are afraid of wolves, do not enter the forest.” She meant it as encouragement, not as a warning. Growing up in Dzerzhinsk, I learned quickly that not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth like Alexei Dmitriev or Dimitri Vavilov. I only recently became acquainted to the nicer things in life.

  My mama was complacent. She didn’t want to lose her job at the factory, but she also didn’t want me to continue sucking lungfuls of pollutants into my body, so she sent me to live with her brother in St. Petersburg.

  The life expectancy when you live in Dzerzhinsk is age forty-two for men and forty-seven for women. Mama, being the strong woman that she is, lived until she was fifty-two. The pollutants killed her, just like they’ve killed many others.

  My uncle was an old boxing champion, and he decided to train me. Mama wasn’t happy. She was worried that I would end up getting knocked out, never to wake. Just as I began to reach success, mama was gone. She had lung cancer, yet she never told me, nor did she ever seek treatment.

  “I hope you’re prepared for what you’re going into,” Alina murmurs.

  My eyes snap to hers and I smile. “I am always prepared.”

  She tilts her head as she regards me. “How do you know Alexei, anyway?”

  Shrugging, I look out the window. “He came to a fight years ago, struck up a conversation, and we became friends.”

  “Just like that?” she quips sarcastically. “He is a charismatic man, isn’t he?”

  I chuckle. “He is.”

  She sighs. “We are not far from the restaurant. It’s owned by my family, the Vavilovs. Let me do the talking. He will speak to you if he would like—otherwise, drink and eat, and do not utter a word.”

  “Don’t worry,” I whisper, my eyes not leaving the window. “My tongue will not slip.”

  Dimitri Vavilov is exactly what I expected him to be. Muscular, intimidating to most, arrogant … evil.

  I’d be a fool if I didn’t know what to expect. This is the bratva. I’ve only heard stories growing up, but when I became a champion, I realized that these men were not fictional characters in a fable. They were real, and they lived up to their expectations.

  Dimitri Vavilov is no different than the others that I’ve seen, except there is a darkness that cannot be defined. It lingers in the air. It threatens to expose itself, but he keeps it slightly below the surface.

  He doesn’t look up from his phone when we approach the table and sit, and he doesn’t acknowledge our presence. Dimitri Vavilov is a man of importance. He is a man who doesn’t owe anyone his presence.

  I hate people like Dimitri Vavilov.

  “Brother,” Alina murmurs as she slides onto the chair beside me.

  “Sister,” he responds with a tinge of annoyance lacing his tone. “Who is this?”

  Alina straightens in her chair, but she never stops resembling the keen kitten that she is—curious, yet sharp. She knows how to play this game. Especially with her brother.

  Interesting.

  “This is my friend Konstantin Pavlov. He’s a heavyweight boxing champion. He’s interested in becoming involved in our family’s business. I thought since Vadim has betrayed our family, that—”

  She stops abruptly once he holds a hand up to silence her before placing his phone on the surface of the table. “That I need my little sister’s help? Do I need your help, Alina?”

  Her chin lifts as her eyes meet his dare. “No. I was looking to help a friend. I figured that you’d be interested in what Konstantin has to offer.”

  His eyes slowly travel to me, and his pupils swell with curiosity. “I do know who you are. I threw money in on a bet, and I won. I knew that you’d knock out the Swedish man. He put up a good bluff, but he was no match for you.” He pauses as he lights a cigarette, leaning over the table and lighting Alina’s as well. “I am very good at reading people. You had the fight in your eyes. The Swede did not. He had fear in his eyes, and that is something that his hard brow and strong jaw could not hide.”

  I shrug. “That is a good thing, no?”

  He smiles as he relaxes in his chair. “It is not only a good thing, it’s a great thing. You’re strong, and I need that for my bratva, especially after my cousin’s betrayal.”

  “So when can I start?” I respond, and his eyebrows sit high on his forehead as he regards me before flicking an ash into the tray.

  “Where are you from, Konstantin?”

  “Dzerzhinsk,” I reply.

  “Dzerzhinsk? That’s a rough place to live, yes?”

  I nod. “It can be, yes.”

  He sighs as he snuffs out his cigarette. “There are things that you might not agree with, Konstantin. You will need to learn how to turn the other cheek and, whatever you do, stay out of my affairs. Do you understand?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at him momentarily. “Of course.”

  “I will send a car for you. You can phone this number and give them your place of residence. If you work for me, you live in my dacha. You can go and come as you like,” he says pointblank as he jots a number down on a torn piece of paper before sliding it across the table. “One more thing,” he murmurs before lighting another smoke and sucking in a lungful.

  “Stay the fuck away from my wife.”

  “Shhh,” I whisper as I strap her ankles to each of the legs of the table that I made specifically for her. “This is how you redeem yourself, Sofia—by submitting. By giving me your everything. You belong to me, and it’s time you act like it.”

  She whimpers as I run the tips of my fingers along her soft hips. From there, her beautiful naked ass is displayed, her back bowed beautifully as her soft chest lays flat against the table. Her forearms are restrained as well as her wrists. She won’t be able to straighten her back. She won’t be able to move.

  If I’m to save this marriage, then this is a necessity. I know myself well enough to know that I will eventually snap if we aren’t even. Every action has a consequence, and I do not know when Sofia’s debt will be paid in full. By saving this marriage, I’ll also be saving her.

  I love Sofia. I do. I care for her in ways that I haven’t cared for a single soul—not since my father strangled the life from my mother.

  My feelings for her are confusing at best. I care, but I don’t. I love watching her pulse beat erratically below the soft flesh of her neck, but I don’t. I love hearing her laughter, but I don’t. Everything she does causes conflict to erupt in my mind.

  I sigh as I run my thumbs around the dimples above her ass. The days that she spent chained to the bed … they did a number on her. She’s so skinny now. Her ribs protru
de from her sides, enough so that I can fit my fingers in the indents. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m trying to push her to the brink of insanity. Maybe if her mind was as distorted as mine … maybe she’d understand. Maybe I could stop hurting her. But, I’m not sure if that’s possible.

  I saw him fucking her. I saw her run her fingers down his back. I saw her lips part as she whispered his name.

  I want her in my bed once more. I want her like she was in the cabin the night that we got married. She was wild and free. Yet, I also want her chained down … like this. If she’s chained down, she cannot leave again. If she’s chained down, then he’ll never be able to get to her again.

  If she only knew the lengths that I would go …. For her, I will do anything. Whether or not she thinks it’s for the best—I know. I know what’s best for her because she is mine.

  She is my wife.

  Sofia winces when I trace my fingers along the crusty lines that mark her back. They’re beginning to heal, and I wonder how many more times I’ll need to mark her to prove a point.

  She’s freezing … I can tell by how her body shivers incessantly. I can tell because of the goosebumps that have raised across her flesh.

  This is for her own good. These punishments, they’re for us.

  “Sofia,” I whisper, running a finger from her tailbone to her asshole. I dabble there—the place that I’ve never touched. The place that he’s never touched.

  She sobs as I circle my thumb around her tight hole, and she tries to escape … she does. She tries to squirm, but she isn’t going anywhere.

  “This is the one place that I haven’t had you, mouse,” I murmur.

  “Please,” she whimpers, her tiny voice is the equivalent of a pin drop. She’s so weak … and, though she may have the tiniest bit of fight left in her, my little mouse is nothing compared to me right now. I’m the wolf, and she is trying to scurry to the furthest corner of the world, but she will never escape me—my sharp teeth, my resolve, my determination.

  I found her, and I’ve trapped her once more. She won’t get away this time.

  I will never let her go.

  Never. Again.

  I continue to assault her hole, and she continues to try and fight me when I unbutton my pants and unzip the fly. My cock is hard; my need wound up. She is the only release. She is my abandon, but I can’t bring myself to touch her pussy again. It’s tainted.

  If I’m to fuck my wife … it won’t be there. Not until I can trust her again.

  I spit onto her asshole as I continue to circle it with my thumb, and she continues to whisper and whimper.

  “Stop, Dimitri. Please.”

  Her pleas mean nothing to me as I line my cock up. Her beautiful little asshole is virginal. She isn’t ready, but I am more than ready to claim her again. She’s so pure—she was so pure before he destroyed her … before he tried to steal what belonged to me.

  I barely slip the head of my cock into her ass when her body goes still. She doesn’t cry when I ease myself in; she remains eerily calm as I bury myself to the hilt. Her body never stops trembling, and as I hold her skinny hips in my hands, I realize just how broken she is.

  I do not want her broken, I want her whole. I realize this now with my dick buried in her ass and her frozen, trembling form beneath me. Her fear—her pain—isn’t feeding me right now. It’s her pleasure. It’s her desire that I need after her betrayal.

  I run a hand over her ass to her bony hip before dipping my fingers between her thighs. Her hips buck, but I do not stop—I cannot stop.

  When I reach that place, the place that my cousin decimated, it’s dripping with need. A need that I provided.

  My cock between her ass cheeks, it’s heaven as I begin to circle her mound. I watch her accept my length each and every time I pull out and reenter her tight hole. I watch her back bow a little more, and I feel her pussy spasm as she reaches her release.

  She tries to hide it. I watch as her lips part. The side of her face lies against the table as her teeth bite into her lip. I might have lost her for a short time, but as I find my release and she finds hers—willingly or not—her beautiful, sad eyes open and stare at the wall. They’re shrouded with ecstasy. My little mouse could be redeemable.

  But, just as fast as it appears, it’s gone.

  My entire body shakes, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or from the position that I’ve been in for hours … maybe days. I don’t know. The only thought circulating through my head right now is my daughter. I can’t stop the horrible visions from flashing through my mind.

  A tear rolls over my nose before dripping onto the hard surface below the side of my face. He can’t hurt Eva … he wouldn’t.

  Eva’s life solely relies on me and my actions. If we’re to survive this, it’s up to me. I’ve got to gain his trust, make him happy.

  I decided today that I don’t believe in God anymore. While I was never quite religious, I’ve always believed in a higher power; a spirit that wasn’t vengeful. Karma. I guess that’s what you call it. It was another lie that my mother whispered into my ear over the years.

  “If you treat others well, it will all come back to you in the end. The same can be said for the bad that you do in this life, Sofia. Be careful how you treat others.”

  The memory ricochets in my mind as a sad smirk pulls at my lips. If that were true, then I wouldn’t be in this cement room, freezing to my core. If that were true, someone like Dimitri wouldn’t be sitting beside the warmth of a fire.

  I’ve never been perfect, but I have never been a bad person … I have never been an evil person.

  While I’ve played Dimitri’s game, I’d thought that I kept my vision clear. I’d thought that I wouldn’t ever be like him, and I never will, but at this point—the darkness is tempting. It’s tempting because it’s what he wants. If I give him what he wants, he won’t hurt our daughter. He won’t hurt me anymore.

  I’ve already gambled with God.

  It’s time that I try my hand with the devil.

  I take my time making my way up the stairs. My guard is up. The place is beautiful … immaculate, in fact. It also reeks of dirt … scum. It smells of the people that live here.

  I don’t like it.

  The maid nods slightly when she opens the doors, and I set my bags beside me once I enter, allowing myself to have a look at the place.

  It reminds me of a church. Dark, intimidating … it’s fucking weird, to be honest.

  All along the walls, there are portraits; a reminder to the younger generation of what lived before them. Who lived before them, though, by looks alone, they are monsters. All of them. I can’t take my eyes away from their haunting gaze. These portraits are a reminder of what this bratva stands for. It isn’t anything good.

  I stand awkwardly when I hear Vadim in my ear.

  “Stand fucking still. Wait. They will come to you.”

  I almost nod my head, but then I remember that I cannot respond. My silence is a necessity.

  I see a very large man appear. He’s bald, and reminds me of a Pitbull. He smiles as he approaches me, his shoulders square, and confidence written into his features.

  I try not to smile. It’s hard for me … when someone shows importance, yet they’re merely a shadow of what they want to be … he’s that person, and it takes everything in me not to smirk.

  “You’re the new guy,” he sneers as he approaches me.

  “That’s Vlad,” Vadim murmurs into the mic. “Do what he says.”

  “Konstantin Pavlov,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand.

  He eyes my hand and smirks before turning and nodding for me to follow. “You’re on security duty. You’ll be there for a while.”

  “Follow and do not say a word, Konstantin. Understand, you are a bitch right now. Own it. Deal with it. They’ll eat you alive otherwise. You cannot care,” Vadim says into my ear, and once again, I cannot respond.

  My heart picks up the pace. Whose wouldn’t? I even catc
h myself wondering why I decided to do this. The walls of this dacha are confining. They’re a constant reminder of the leap that I took, yet I wouldn’t take it back.

  “Please, promise me that you will not allow her to fall, Konstantin.”

  I shake my head, pretending that the thoughts spill from my ears, though … that woman was fucking persistent to say the least. Several times, I’ve slammed the palm of my hand against my temple. I’ve tried to drown that voice out, but it’s impossible.

  I watch Vlad’s back, and keep my curiosity at bay. My eyes are eager to travel around my whereabouts, but my purpose is of the upmost importance. I came here for a reason, and I will keep to my duties.

  “This is where you’ll be working,” Vlad barks out once he opens the door.

  I look into the room. There must be at least twenty screens, all of them looking into different rooms.

  Vlad looks over his shoulder as he points to the cot in the corner. “You eat, shit, sleep surveillance, my friend. You won’t get a lot of rest; I promise you that. If you do well, we’ll stick the next sorry bastard in here. If you do bad ….” He pauses as he turns towards me, running his index finger along his jugular. “Then you’ll answer to the boss. Yasno?”

  I nod. “Kristall.”

  He smirks. “Excellent.”

  Once I’ve set my suitcases on the bed and have shut the door, I immediately take a seat in front of the many screens. From the outside, to the foyer, to the sitting rooms … my eyes only zero in on one.

  Her.

  She is so … skinny, lost, … sad.

  Her curves, they’re gone. She’s a shell … she’s—

  “Have you seen her?”

  I jump when Vadim’s voice erupts in my ear. Sinking into the chair, I do not take my eyes away from her trembling, feeble body.

  “No,” I murmur. “I have not.”

  “You have got to find her, Konstantin. We need to know that she’s alive and well.”