by Nora Flite
Was his smile worse than his frown? I couldn't decide. "Celeste, stand in front of me right now, or this will become more dire."
I am that weak. Yes. The chains rustled until I stood in touching distance of him.
"Good girl."
Fuck, how I hated when he called me that.
The device he held jingled as he swung it idly. "Stand very still. If you try to move, or stop me, I'll happily punish you. Got it?"
My mouth was so dry. "Yes, sir."
Kneeling at my feet, a position I so rarely saw him in, Leonide touched my knee. "Hike up your dress." Tangling my hands in it, I lifted the hem high. At the sight of my ruined panties, Leonide chortled. "Such a mess. Did you manage to get off?"
God, the embarrassment. "No, sir."
"Too bad." He peeled the underwear down, my juices leaving trails as they went. "Oh, goodness!" His laughter was terrible. I imagined kneeing him in the nose, but fear kept my limbs like stone. "Your little cunt is puffy with need." His thumb came down, an inch from my twitching clit. There was no way not to whimper. "Would you like me to do it for you, make you cum like the first time I saw you naked?"
It was a suggestion that created hair-splits along my mind. Did I want to cum? I needed it, not wanted! For him to mention that night—how he'd licked me, tasted and teased and and and...
"Celeste, tell me. Do you want to cum?"
Squeezing my eyes shut so hard I saw colors, I nodded my head.
Metal rattled; leather straps crossed along my thighs. Baffled, I stared down while he finished locking the device into place. Now that it was on me, I knew exactly what it was.
Leonide patted my hip, voice wistful. "It's too bad I don't care if spoiled girls get to cum or not."
I broke. Help me, I broke down. Sobbing in distress, I tore first at the chastity belt he'd locked onto me. The front and back were pure metal, thicker than a piece of bread. I could feel nothing beneath, my nethers imprisoned from even me.
The straps were strong, might as well have been steel for someone without a blade of any kind. A lock sat on each side of my inner thighs, dangling, taunting me with how they kept the device in place.
Leonide chuckled; I saw him wave the key.
The next thing I tore at was him.
Reaching out, screaming so much my throat went raw, I clawed for his hair. With how he was kneeling, I caught him unprotected. I'd actually done it. Down we went, tumbling on the floor boards. My cuffs and belt were singing, reminding us both that I was handicapped.
It was also what gave me strength.
One of my nails caught him beside his right eye. It was a tiny thing, the cut even tinier, but it saturated me with pure fucking joy. I hurt him. I actually hurt him! I...
Oh. Oh no.
I managed to hurt him. Oh god.
He was stunned, sitting under me while I hovered with my fist by my head. The precipice of doom, it waved before me. I'd done the thing I'd wanted. Injured the man who had kidnapped me and planned to force me into some arranged marriage.
A man who had no issues hurting me back.
I am stupid after all.
Leonide moved so slowly—or was it my response? His slap threw me sideways, toppled me off of him. On my stomach, hair in my face, I didn't move. I treated Leonide like he was a wild grizzly. Play dead, he'll leave you alone.
Rolling me over on my side, his second slap put me fully on my back. The ringing in my ears was spectacular. I expected to taste blood. Instead I tasted his lips.
What's happening? All of his weight was on me, mouth buried, stealing what was left in my lungs. This was a man who had wished me harm. Why, then, was I feeling his tongue send trembles to my belly?
All too quick, he pulled away. It was the first hint of my own confusion reflected in his face. Did he just... lose control? I had imagined it. I must have. Those charming features were contorted in disgust, fingers wrenching in my hair to force my head back.
In a burst of clarity and self-preservation, my voice returned. "I'm sorry!" I screamed, tears rolling like a dam burst. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry! Stop, please, sir!"
"You actually hit me," he snarled, "you... fuck! You just..." He let me go, my skull thumping to the floor. It was hard to focus. I watched him run fingers over his scalp. The cover returned, his calm collection hiding whatever I had done to him. Gently, he touched the small cut on his temple, wiped away the line of blood.
Why was I crying so much? "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Don't you ever, ever, dare harm me again. Celeste, do you understand me?"
I didn't stop nodding my head until he got off me, not until after he left me there, crying in the darkness with no one to see.
I was sorry.
I just didn't know why.
****
Leonide didn't visit me for two days.
Food came and went, familiar faces from the women. Sitting by myself was the worst punishment devised. The chastity belt kept me from touching myself, and my brain couldn't erase the way Leonide had lost himself and kissed me.
Touching my lips, I remembered how he'd tasted. Like whiskey, like a fucking thunderstorm that wanted to swallow me whole.
I needed to get out of this place.
Sitting in my filthy dress, the white front dotted with stains, I kicked my feet in the air. The cuffs were starting to chaff, the straps around my thighs were no better. I'd examined the belt many times. The only thing that proved useful was that it still allowed me to urinate. Part of me relished the idea of ruining everything Leonide gave me; clothes, the bed, the room...
My nails brushed my cheek. Myself? Wouldn't that be something. He wants to sell me. What if I damaged the goods? Muscles vibrated, fingers poised beside my face.
Remembering the cut I'd given Leonide made my limb fall.
I'm a coward. I can't hurt anyone, never mind myself.
Gripping my greasy hair, I wished for a mirror to see how long my roots were getting. It was a clock I was racing, and losing. The truth about my hair color would come out soon.
I didn't hear the door open. "Hello, my sweet girl."
Crab-crawling up the bed, my eyes stretched to the whites. The last I'd seen this man, he'd been in a furious rage. He'd slapped me, thrown me, he'd... He kissed me.
"Good to see you, too," he chuckled. Sweeping his stare over me, furrows crossed the bridge of his nose. "I came just in time. How would you like to clean up, hm?"
Hugging myself, I kept my attention on his hands. "I'd... like that." I swallowed loudly. "Sir."
Kindness seeped from him. "Then let's go." Reluctantly, I let him take my hand. He felt how I jerked with fear, said nothing about it. "Hurry now. You smell wretched."
It was a solid truth.
Together we wandered the halls. I vaguely recognized the room he took me to. Those women, this was where they... My feet locked up on the threshold.
Leonide ignored me, turning on lights and running water in the tub. I spotted clothes folded on a dresser, black heels on the floor. Everything, I looked at everything, but all I saw was me, spread eagle in the tub.
Glancing back, he furrowed his brow. "Get in here." The hard edge was back in his voice. I trusted that sound, it was more reliable than when he was sweet. Inching inside, I leaned away when he walked towards me. He kicked the door shut, scrutinizing me. "What's wrong with you?"
I darted my eyes at the tub.
Taking my wrist, Leonide guided me towards the big basin. Steam was rising from it, catching the lamp light. "Relax. It's only water. Won't it feel good to get clean? To get those cuffs and belt off of you?"
He's taking it all off? Gawking up at his gentle grin, I looked for a hint of trickery. There had to be a catch here. After everything, why would he make this so simple? "You'll... you'll really take it all off, sir?"
Kneeling, he unlocked the chains on my feet. It was strange; I tested my legs, felt like I could fly away. "Now, you take off the rest, and I'll remove the chas
tity belt."
My clothing came off unceremoniously. I discarded it like garbage, impatiently watching Leonide and his amused smile. I was bare breasted and I didn't care at all. To be free of the contraptions... I was plain ecstatic.
"Well, that was easy." Shaking his head, he slid a key into the tiny padlocks inside my thighs. With a few twists, the belt unwound. Warm air tickled my flesh, hair sparse and regrown. "Now," he pointed, "get in the tub."
Testing it with my hand, the hot water felt glorious. I'd been so scared before, memories of waking up and being paralyzed. It isn't the same this time. My foot sank in, the rest of me following. Why isn't it the same? I didn't feel like arguing with myself. It warmed me where it touched, the suds crackling the deeper I went. Once I was sitting, only my knees and head poked out.
It was perfection.
"Nice?" he asked, sitting beside me on a stool. Looking over, I realized he'd removed his jacket. In a silver button-down, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looked less intimidating.
Wiggling in place, my muscles started to ease. "It's amazing."
Lifting a sponge, he twirled a finger. "Good. Let me wash your back."
Now my intuition was prickling. Holding the edges of the tub, I spun so my vertebrae were aimed at him. Warm, just rough enough, Leonide scrubbed the sponge over my shoulders. It was a chore to relax.
Humming quietly, the man rubbed at my knots. He was too good at finding where I was tense. It helped that I was tense everywhere; how could he miss? Eventually I leaned forward, closing my eyes and enjoying the rhythmic motion.
Inhaling steam, I listened to the quiet drip of water from the faucet. How strange. He's being so caring with me. Leonide hummed, voice metallic with all the porcelain around us.
Under his breath, I caught a few words. "Spi mladyenets... moi prekrasný." It lulled me, my nose bobbing over the hot water. "Bayushki bayu..."
"That's beautiful," I whispered. Instantly, the sponge stopped moving. "What does it mean?"
Leonide turned away. His silence left me cold—more so, I was curious. Twisting in the tub, I came face to face with a straight razor. "We're wasting precious time. Let's keep going." Catching my giant eyes, his lips became a thin line. "You know what this is for." Of course I knew. "Shall I do it, or can I trust you to not attempt to slit my throat?"
And then I understood. This was less about washing me, more about being a test. Last time we were together, I attacked him and cut his face. I couldn't see a scab or scar, it had healed and vanished on his tan skin. But he remembers. We both do.
"Celeste."
My eyes bounced to the blade.
"Celeste, answer me."
Shaking, I lifted my legs from the water and spread my knees. Leonide didn't even look, he was studying my unsteady fingers. "I'll do it," I whispered.
Sliding his stool back, he gave me the razor. It was strange to hold something so deadly. I'd never felt such a rush; I was close to dropping the weapon. I'll cut myself if I'm not careful.
Gingerly, I scraped it over my skin. It took all of my concentration; I ignored Leonide entirely. It was for the best. If I considered what he was watching me do, my effort not to nick myself would be wasted.
Rinsing myself, then the tool, I finally looked at him. His face was stoic, words silken in my ears. "Good. Now give it to me."
The blade glistened as I extended it. In that second, we balanced on an edge just as sharp. If I gave him the razor, I was showing he could trust me. If I resisted, threatened myself or tried to slice him...
He gave me an extra few seconds, taunting me with his lack of anxiety.
I could cut his throat right here.
I didn't struggle when he took the blade.
"Now," he said, slipping the razor away, "get up. Let's dry you off."
Water sluiced from my body as I stood. He appraised me with open appreciation. Helping me from the tub, Leonide scrubbed me softly with a towel. It was so unlike what the women had done. This experience was... Nice. This is almost nice.
Through the thick towel, wandering hands stroked my ribs. They traveled along the outside of my breasts. My cells were rustling, skin sensitive to his touch. Despite his comment to hurry, he took his time to dry me. Each inch was lovingly explored. By the time he reached the junction of my thighs, I'd shut my eyes in anticipation.
No towel grazed me; his fingers were cool compared to my skin. I jerked in surprise, looking from his wicked grin down to his hand on my pussy. "What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"I—that's..."
"You were begging me to make you cum the other night." One finger each, they slid forward and back over my vulva. "Has that changed? Do you no longer need release?"
I slid my heel back. "Wait, you're wrong."
"Wrong?" Laughing, he squeezed my ass cheek with his other palm. I was stuck between, moaning while he calmly tweaked my stiffening clit. "This hungry cunt says I'm right. Am I not helping you? Isn't this kind of me?"
Through my haze, I bit my tongue. "I'm not—"
"Or do you only like me when you have to fight for it?" He shoved me; on the slippery floor, I lost my balance. "Get up, you spoiled girl." The poison in his voice put my senses more alert. I didn't know how to handle this man. He changed his mood too fast for me.
Carefully, I rose. I didn't look away from him for a second. "Just tell me what you want from me."
"Everything." With the steam collecting in the bathroom, I was reminded of a dragon's lair. I'd awoken Leonide from his slumber. Now, I had to face his wrath. "I want everything from you, Celeste."
My head was splitting. "Then why not just take it? Why mix me up like this, make me feel one thing, then another?" Brushing back my hair, I groaned. "Just take it and let me hate you!"
He threw back his head, scoffing at my distress. "There are better ways. Funner ways."
He's provoking me. I let my hands fall. "Whatever you want to do, get it over with."
"There you are, commanding me again." He sighed, but I knew the sadness was false. "Taming you has been interesting."
"I'm not tamed."
"I know," he agreed. "Not yet."
His threat was cryptic. I buried it down with the rest of his comments. If I was going to be tamed it would only be because I chose to pretend.
That was all I had to do.
The moment ended, diffused by his quick air-jab at the mirrored sink. "Finish getting ready."
An easy request to fill. I was burned out by standing around so exposed.
He stood by while I brushed my hair, gave advice on how I should do my makeup. It was heavier than I would have done, but not a fight worth having.
The dress was flowing, tight on the bodice, opal in color. It surprised me, the cut more sweet and demure than anything he'd given me so far. The heels were the usual too-tall style that cramped my toes.
"Spin for me." He waved a finger. On the spot, I turned in place. "Wonderful. Now you're ready."
"Ready for what?" At his glare, I quickly added, "sir."
Smoothing his shirt in the mirror, Leonide unrolled the sleeves. I was regretting that; his forearms were like carved marble, easy on the eyes. "Today the girls will teach you how to cook and clean."
My eyes narrowed dubiously. Cook and clean in this outfit?
Catching my look, he faced me. "A good wife must look beautiful, be put together, even when she's doing chores. It's expected by my clients."
I wasn't going to argue. I was too aware that he hadn't added my chains back on. Was it a mistake? No, he wouldn't be so careless. It meant... it meant he was starting to trust me. By not taking the opportunity to slice him up with the razor, I'd passed a hurdle.
No chains!
Every bit of freedom was a joy to me.
It took great effort to not skip after him down the hall.
- Chapter Five -
Celeste
Chores were a welcome respite from being stuck in my room. Leonide still expected
me to serve and eat with him, only now I was actually preparing the meals.
The women were not kind. They were expectant of me, and their efficiency was ruined by my first forays alongside them. They snapped at me, rapidly spit words I didn't grasp. Without language, I learned to read their bodies more and more.
It was a trial by fire.
Quickly, I understood to grab what they pointed at. To whisk eggs for breakfast, or knead dough upon chunk of dough. I took a mean pleasure out of it when they began smiling approvingly. And Jones said I was no good at cooking, that I was lazy.
If he could see me, what would he think?
Brushing thoughts of my ex aside was easier and easier. It was Leonide who became a prickly rose, thorns clinging inside my heart, petals coating my taste buds. The first time I set a plate of food in front of him, one I had made, and he complimented it...
Fuck. I nearly swooned.
Focusing on my tasks kept me sober. I buried myself in the cooking, cupped every egg as if it were fine china. Covered in flour and sweat by the end of each day, muscles sore from the labor, it was nice to be so active. In my attempt to avoid thinking of Leonide, I began to notice something else. Something that had been scratching at me since the first breakfast.
Why was there always so much food?
There were days with only me and one other woman. On those, I noted we made meals for a household. I still hadn't seen anyone else besides what I came to think of as the maids. I could rationalize that amount of food, though. Leftovers, stock, whatever.
But the rest of the week, four or more women baking bread and chattering sweetly?
Something is going on.
One day, after finishing lunch with Leonide, a thought hit me. Covertly, I studied him as he sat across from me in the muted sun. His pale green dress shirt had the top button undone. I glimpsed the dip of his throat, trailed it down where it stopped. He always looked so clean-cut. "Sir?" I asked gently.
He watched me from under his lashes. "Hm?"
My gaze bounced to the women working, then to him again. "I was wondering. Will the man I'm going to marry—ah. Will he be Russian, like you?"
The slight way he narrowed his eyes set my veins pulsing. "Oho, so you think I'm Russian?"