I find a simple black comb on the counter and start to drag it through my hair, freeing the snarls and tangles until I manage to get it lying mostly flat and shiny again. I splash water on my face and use the towel to rub myself down, paying special attention to the sticky bits. When I deem myself decent enough for human interaction, I go to the cupboard containing my fresh clothes and select a little black dress of crushed velvet and lace, pair it with some knee-high black stockings, red flats, and a gauzy white cardigan. Satisfied with my look, I leave the master bedroom and go upstairs to the deck, looking left and right for Vladimir.
Finally, I spot him leaning against the railing at the back of the boat, his eyes scanning the horizon. There’s a rather solemn look on his face, almost sorrowful. I realize with a sinking feeling that he is staring off in the vague direction of Russia, even though no coastline or land is even remotely visible from where we are in the water. I stand there for a long moment, just watching him, wondering if it would be rude of me to interrupt.
And then, to my surprise, I hear him say in his deep, rumbling voice, “Did you have trouble sleeping, malyshka?”
Somehow, he knows I’m standing here. His instincts must be even sharper than I thought.
I come strolling up slowly behind him. “I had kind of a weird dream, actually,” I admit.
“Weird? In what way?” he prompts me, still not turning to look.
“Well,” I begin a little nervously, realizing how filthy my dream will sound to him. “I dreamed about you. But it’s a little dirty.”
“Dirty how?” Vladimir presses me, totally unashamed.
I bite my lip as I sidle up next to him at the railing. I’m too shy to look at him yet. “You were… doing things to me. I was begging for it. And you had total control over everything. You knew what I needed even before I did. I felt so safe. And… and loved. Like everything was going to be okay as long as I put all my trust in you,” I ramble, anxiously tucking my hair behind my ears as I explain.
He remains silent for a few minutes and I’m starting to worry I might have offended him when suddenly he speaks. “Do you know, Autumn, why so many Russian stories are sad?” he asks me out of the blue.
I frown in confusion and offer a shrug. “Well, I’ve studied a lot of Russian lit, but I have a feeling you know the answer better than me,” I confess.
“It is because we try so hard to be good,” he says, his voice low and growly. “We try so hard to do good. But this world—it does not always reward goodness. We try to band together, to work as a united front to achieve our goals, for the betterment of all mankind. And yet, no matter how hard we try, no matter how pure our intentions, there will always be bad men who ruin it all for everyone.
It’s like our working class. Full of brilliant, clever, compassionate, hard-working people. Good people who take care of each other as well as themselves. But the men in power, the ones who hold the money—they will never bend to that worldview, Autumn. They will always strike a good man down. They will always burn the good ideas and reap the harvest of seeds they did not sow. Try as we might, the bad man will always knock us down.”
I look up at him, stunned by this sudden burst of philosophy.
“Is that… is that what happened in Istanbul?” I ask softly, barely more than a whisper.
His face is unreadable, though the sorrow etched in the lines of his features is undeniable. He does not give me an affirmative answer either way. “Something like that, perhaps,” he says.
I lay a hand on his arm. “Vladimir, you must be so tired,” I suggest.
He nods slowly. “Da, malyshka. I have been tired for a long, long time,” he says.
“Then, why don’t you go lie down and get some rest?” I offer brightly.
Vladimir sighs. “That is not a luxury I can afford, I am afraid.”
I stare off into the distance, watching the clouds move across the velvety black sky, the black waters reflecting the pale glow of a crescent moon. I decide to push a little harder.
“Look, if you’re worried about me somehow escaping or whatever, you don’t have to worry about that,” I tell him gently. “In fact, if you’re really that concerned about it, you can… you can cuff me. To the bed, to you, whatever you think is best. I promise I won’t even try to run away, but the cuffs might help you feel more confident about that. What do you think?”
I look up at him expectantly, my heart pounding. I hope he says yes… for more reason than one. The prospect of being cuffed to him is oddly exciting to me. He seems to be considering it, but takes his time to give me his answer.
Vladimir
You are a sinful man, Vladimir, and not a single angel of heaven or hell would save you now, but for the one curled up against your crotch.
I do not move when I awaken the next morning, nor do I open my eyes. The gentle rocking of the yacht is soothing, even though this luxury vessel is made to minimize the feeling of motion under us.
The movement is just enough to make me all too aware of how Autumn is curled up into me, spooning against my front side and pushing that round, soft ass of hers against my stiff cock. It has only been getting harder since I woke up, and Autumn only keeps squirming in her sleep and coaxing it along.
I would be lying if I said last night was not the best sleep I have had in a very, very long time. Autumn’s wrist is still cuffed to the bed, but she didn’t need to be. Part of me feels bad for making her sleep like that, but another part of me recognizes that she wanted it. I am no fool. I know that tone of voice, the look in those eyes. And I damn well know the difference between how a prisoner sleeps and how a guest does.
And Autumn is enjoying a slumber as heavy and refreshing as mine.
I woke up with my arms around her, and I haven’t taken them away. I do not know if I could without waking her, and to do that would seem far worse than anything else. To disturb the peaceful sleep of someone so pure and beautiful as Autumn would be a greater crime by far.
And so, we lie there together in the silent peace. The blackout curtains are very slightly cracked, letting just enough light into the room to let me see the back of Autumn’s head and fill my nostrils with the scent of her shampoo. The sound of the waves outside is threatening to put me back to sleep, but the distraction between my legs is keeping me awake.
I can almost laugh in the darkness at how this all looks. By the standards of the kind of men I stole this yacht from, I’m living the dream. I have a staggering amount of money saved up, I’ve just cut ties with my old bosses in one swift bloodbath, and now, I’m sailing across the globe in a world-class luxury yacht with the most beautiful woman in the world quite literally tied to the bed.
And yet, I feel as much like a protective parent as I do a crime lord, and I cannot forget that I am a man on the run. A man and a woman on the run, I remind myself as Autumn shifts idly in her sleep.
Autumn is such a paradox. She’s both the reason I have been sloppy in some areas and the reason I am being so much more hyper-vigilant than I would normally need to be. She’s both my greatest liability and the most important priority. It isn’t even a matter of principle anymore that I feel so responsible for her. She needs an authority figure in her life. She may be in her twenties, but her time in Russia for college has been her first foray into the world, and it resulted in her getting kidnapped.
The girl is a walking liability, but even so, she has a brilliant mind.
I cannot let myself get too tangled up with her. Everything about her makes me want her—the way she thinks, her smile, those eyes, her body, her sense of humor, it all feels right in a way I never knew I wanted.
If my hands were free to run over my face in exasperation, I would do so. Why am I thinking like some kind of lovestruck high schooler? I am twice this girl’s age. The thoughts weaving their way into my mind and promising such sweet things are foolishness, are they not? I have never been the kind of man who spends too much time thinking things over. I act on instinct, and when I l
earn, I learn quickly. But I follow my gut. It has saved me more than a few times over the years.
And that is exactly what got me in bed with Autumn in the first place. For better or for worse, it happened, and she does not regret it—nor do I. I am sure of that. The taste of her is still fresh in my mind. I crave her again. I want to feel her tight, wet pussy sliding down my cock as I sink into her all the way to the hilt, making her cry out my name and fill the Black Sea with the sounds of our hard, fierce fucking.
As those thoughts swim through my half-sleeping, half-waking mind, my cock swells and stiffens to the point that I worry it will wake her. The underside of my crown pushes between the cheeks of her ass, a space so warm and soft that my cock’s urges to invade her become furious.
My body wants her. My heart pumps fiercely, demanding to know why I am not waking her up and bending her over to show her the consequences of teasing me with such a round, firm ass as she has.
She squirms in her sleep, and she arches her back as she gets comfortable, grinding against my cock and making it nearly impossible for me to resist pushing back. I could almost laugh at our position—she is proving to be a better torturer than some of the mobsters I’ve worked with over the years. Autumn would like hearing that, if she were awake.
Finally, I turn my head enough to look at the beam of light filtering in through the bedroom window. The first time I glanced at it, it was that pale blue light of the earliest dawn hours. Now, it’s a solid golden shimmer, which tells me it has been an hour or two, and the sun is up high enough to justify getting up.
Disturbing such a pure, beautiful woman as Autumn still feels like a sin, but the darker side of me has been curiously wondering how far this can go. The poor girl has been through a lot the past few days, and for lack of a better term, she has been a model captive, as crude as it feels to call her that.
What is she, exactly? My traveling companion? My hostage? My prisoner? My friend? She is a little of all those things, even though the safest way to present ourselves in public would be as father and daughter.
That thought makes our current position feel even more sinful—especially because I’ve taken up such a protective role since finding her. I have taken it upon myself to protect this young woman, but every moment we spend together, we get more wound up for each other, and our feelings explode in sinful lust. It’s a dizzying paradox, but all I know is that our cravings are what they are.
And out here in the middle of the sea, we might as well act on them, no?
My arms are wrapped around her, but I carefully slide my hands up to her breasts. I feel her bare skin, warm and soft to the touch as her ass is, and I close my eyes to let myself revel in the feeling. Younger, impatient men go in too quickly, and they are clumsy—careless. They are selfish, and they do not always appreciate the value of the kind of slow sensuality women like Autumn desire.
My hands cup her breasts, and my pointer fingers trace circles around her areolas. The thin skin is sensitive, and I feel an excited shiver flutter through her body. She will be awake soon, and I want her to feel safe when she does.
I hug her tighter to my own body, and I press my cock into her cheeks, letting it pulse in triumph at getting what it has craved for hours. At the same time, my hands cover her breasts, and I let my thumbs brush over her nipples while I push my face past her hair and kiss her on the neck.
A soft moan like a single musical note comes from Autumn, and my cock tightens. I am awakening an angel, truly, but she is slow to awaken. She murmurs softly, and she wiggles against me. My cock throbs with the pressure, and I grope her breast more firmly. I start slowly grinding back and forth across the valley between her cheeks, and I feel her push back at last.
I smile into her neck. She is awake.
My lips kiss her again, and she lets out a soft giggle at the feeling of my beard tickling her neck. She tries to tilt her neck to squirm away, but I manage to get a few more kisses in before I let her retreat a few inches. But even as I do so, I hold her breasts, squeezing them lovingly and massaging her nipples.
A fluttering sigh comes from her lips as I start swirling my thumbs in small circles to titillate her stiff buds. She moves, stretching different parts of her body with the sensation, but she’s still in that twilight between dreaming and waking like I was a few moments ago.
Our bare legs touch softly, carefully. She is the first to push hers back, and I feel her thigh rub against mine before I push my knee between her legs and lace our limbs together. It gives me a better angle to grind my cock between her soft cheeks, and I indulge myself gently, slowly, still squeezing her soft body and letting her feel waves of warmth and comfort as she wakes up with me.
I run one of my hands further down her body to her stomach, and I rub it gently. Her skin is so soft, and touching her is like pushing my hand into a warm marshmallow. It seems baffling that one woman can have so much about her that captivates me and holds every cell in my body enraptured. My hand wanders down between her legs, but I do not touch her in that most precious of spots yet.
My hand caresses her thigh, squeezing it gently as I cuddle into her and listen to the musical sound of her sleepy, groggy moaning. I start massaging the sides of her body with both hands, squeezing her carefully and bringing my lips back to her neck. This time, my kisses carry my lips up to her cheek, and when I feel a smile on her face, I nibble at her ear, and she turns around.
At least, she tries.
Her handcuffs are still holding her to the bed, and she gives a soft moan of protest when she realizes this. She all but goes back to sleep in a matter of moments, until I hold her hips and pull her back into my cock.
“An innocent young woman bound to my bed for me to wake up to…” I tease her in the softest of whispers. “Just what am I going to do with you, teasing me like this?”
My lips kiss her neck up and down, and I trail to her shoulders, finding her freckles and kissing them, too. My cock is pulsing with each gentle thrust, and I want to do so much more to her. She has fallen back into a dreamy state, though. She seems hell-bent on tormenting me, and I have to say… there are worse ways to start a morning.
I’ll have to punish her for this, momentarily.
And in the meantime, I will caress her with the sweetest dreams I can.
Autumn
Fingertips gliding across smooth, milky skin. Pale flesh prickling up into goosebumps in the pinkish glow of an early morning. The sun and the moon are still hanging suspended in the sky together, and it’s such a mystical sight of beauty that I can’t help but compare them to us—Vladimir the glowing orange sun and I, the soft moon borrowing his light. He shares the bed with me but he controls it all like a master puppeteer.
Every limb of my body is strung up and tied to his will, bending and arching and reaching for him always. I can never get enough, not matter how much he gives me. I am ravenously hungry for him, for his touch, his closeness, his hot breath like a caress on the vulnerable side of my neck. I shudder, feeling his cock stiffen and pulse against my soft thigh. I roll up against him, moving my ass in slow, tantalizing circles as we lay pressed up against one another, as tight and close as we can be. I’m desperate to be covered in his dominion. I want him to possess me, all of me, from the top of my brunette head to the tips of my curling toes.
Who do you belong to? hisses the shadowy man with the magic fingertips.
I belong to you, of course, and nobody else but you. My lips form and shape and kiss away the answer like a shiny wish with wings.
He catches it in his hands, holding my submission to him like a fragile butterfly in his grasp, a hollow dark cave for the little wings to beat and the tiny head to rest. Then he opens his hands and sets us both free. The butterfly flutters away, her dusty lavender wings iridescent in the hazy light of a new dawn. We both watch as she ascends ever higher in her moseying way, up and up through the motes of dust floating in the air as the boat rocks gently and soothingly beneath us at the mercy of the sea. T
he butterfly reaches the glossy ceiling and I hold my breath, wondering where she will go. Is she trapped in here with us or can she be free?
My eyes follow her path as she phases through the ceiling to the deck above. I close my eyes and smile, picturing her on a courageous ascent to the fluffy blue clouds and lilac sky, flitting ever higher and higher to heaven itself.
Meanwhile, I am living in a paradise of my own, bound and tethered to the earth but still so freeing. I give myself over to the gentle touches and caresses of Vladimir’s hands, shivering as he traces along my delicate jawline and up my cheek to my ear. He fondles the soft velvety lobe of my ear and leans down slowly to whisper words I cannot decipher. Words with harsh clicks and rivets and rolling Rs and flicks of the tongue.
It could be poetry.
It could be an incantation or some dizzying spell to render me limp and pliant as a ragdoll in his arms. The words take shape and crawl inside my head, curling up in the sun-soaked corners and glowing pillars of my mind. Images of glistening jewels, plump and ripe and plucked from the earth like a juicy plum. Flowers made of dipped gold and bluish silver. Mercury tears sliding down the marble cheeks of a woman immortalized in an arch of ecstatic release. All these beautiful untouchable things that enchant me and please me almost as much as Vladimir’s long, deft fingers and sensual lips as they dip and pinch and taste of my body.
“Do you see the world of beauty I have brought you into?”
His voice echoes and reverberates like a thousand growling wolves in my ear. I shiver, the rumbling sensation traveling down my body, igniting a bright flickering fire in its path.
“Yes, Sir. Yes, Daddy. I see it all.” My voice trembles like a leaf on a winter branch.
“And do you see also that you are the most beautiful item among the jewels?” His question makes me flush from my cheeks to my feet.
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