Page 22 of Twins for the Bratva

Once we arrived at the office, he quickly checked his schedule. After clearing his meetings, he smiled at me. “Right, let’s go,” he said, holding out his hand.

Konstantin took me back down the stairway leading to the rooms in the small corridor. This time, we went to another room. The floor in this room was covered with thicker foamflooring. It was much softer and harder to walk on. We removed our shoes at the door so we wouldn’t damage it.

There were no tables in this one. In the middle of the room was what looked like a puffed-up scarecrow. The arms were out to the sides. The entire thing was covered in cloth. On both sides of the room were similar apparatus. However, the one was made of wood with no covering. It had wooden sticks protruding from it, facing different directions at varying heights. The other one looked a lot like a punching bag with a ball to the side and one for a head.

Konstantin walked to the center of the room and turned to me as he spoke. “Ready to start?”

I felt slightly nervous. Yet, I was excited and maybe a little scared as well. As I stepped closer and nodded, I felt my smile running from ear to ear.

Konstantin smiled back at me as he spoke. “First, I’m going to show you how to get out of a rear naked choke hold.”

I couldn’t contain my amusement. The name of the hold was absurd. I burst out laughing. As I bent over, gasping for air, Konstantin stepped in behind me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and his other arm around my throat, pulling me up against him.

“Push your head and lower your chin as much as you can,” Konstantin breathed over my shoulder. “Now grab my arm with both hands. Hold my arm on the sides under your cheeks.”

I took hold of his arm, feeling his muscles tense as I held him. A fresh, minty odor flowed over my shoulder. Closing my eyes for a second, I felt my stomach knotting.

“Now, lift your feet into the air while holding tightly and swing back down. As you land, bend forward and turn. Try to go down on one knee and twist me to the side.”

Lifting my legs fast, I got enough movement. As I came back down and kneeled, I bent my head down and twisted out of his grasp. Konstantin went down to the mat with ease. Stepping back, I clapped at myself. “Yes,” I huffed. “I can do this.”

“Slow down, sugar,” Konstantin said as he stood back up. “Remember you’re pregnant, and you must take it slow.”

“I totally rocked that move,” I huffed, feeling excited. “What’s next?”

“Let’s move to the punching bags,” he said, walking to the side where there were three different kinds of bags. One was a round ball hanging from the ceiling. Next to it was a long bag also hanging from the ceiling. The last one was also a long bag with a big ball at the top. It also appeared to have arms of sorts. To the sides were thin straps with round balls on the ends.

We went through some basic kicks and practiced punches on the bags. Once we covered this, it was lunchtime. Konstantin ordered chicken wraps and had the food with fruit juice delivered to the practice room. We sat on the mat, having lunch.

After lunch, he showed me how to get out of another chokehold. This time, we were on the floor. Konstantin softly sat over my thighs and leaned forward, gripping my neck. “If someone sits over you and tries to choke you, there are a couple of things to keep in mind,” he said, smiling down at me.

My mind drifted slightly feeling his breath pass over me. Nodding my head, I listened as he continued. “You can grab at my wrists and pull my hands to the side while lifting your butt to push me forward.”

I did as he instructed but only managed to lift him. “Right,” Konstantin said. “Now, once you have your assailant in the air, roll over to one side and get up.”

He repositioned himself over me again. This time, I moved with force. I heard him breathe out hard as he rolled over, and I got up. “Very nice,” Konstantin commented as he stood. “You can also jab the person in the throat or the solar plexus.”

We did two more simulations so I could practice before we started sparing. “Place your feet about a foot apart. The best is about shoulder-width apart,” he said, looking down at my feet. “Good, now take half a step forward with your dominant foot.”

Konstantin watched as I did what he asked. “Bring your hands up bending your elbows so your hands are before your face,” he lifted his as he spoke. I couldn’t help but notice the muscles popping on his arms as he did this.

“Now you are ready. Turn your hands so your palms are facing me. This way, you can stop a hit with the least impact.” He made a fist and slowly imitated punching me. As he brought his fist closer, he continued to instruct me. “Use your palm to stop my blow, or you can also turn your hand and slap the inside of my forearm. This way, you will be hitting my fist away from your face.”

We did this several times until he was sure I was doing it correctly. “Now, when you want to hit someone, you simply close your hand into a fist.” He was still talking when I swung my fist at him. Grabbing hold of my hand, he laughed a little. “Slow down. You need to form your fist correctly, or you will break your fingers, sugar.”

He gently pulled my fingers open. His touch made my stomach turn. I felt my lips pulling into a smile as he showed me how to close my fist properly. We started sparing but I noticedevery hit and touch he made was soft and light. Most of the time, he barely touched me. I wanted him to touch me, I wanted to feel his skin against mine.

As we practiced, I felt my anger growing. I wasn’t made of porcelain. I wasn’t going to break. I wanted a real practice. I needed to get rid of the stress building up inside. He either dodged every swing I took or grabbed my wrists and moved out of the way when I swung at him. I wanted to fight. I had to work off my frustration, but he wasn’t allowing me to do so.

He was handling me like a child, and it drove me up the wall. Pulling all my strength, I made sure the next hit landed hard. I struck him center just below his ribs and must have hit his solar plexus. Konstantin puffed as he bent forward and gasped for air.

I wanted him to take me seriously. But he straightened out and carried on as if nothing happened. I would swing at him, and he would step past me and tap my arse. By the third time, I could feel my blood boiling.

As he stepped past me and turned to tap my rear, I swung around. I threw an uppercut at his jaw. I was slightly stunned as his head bobbed sideways. Looking back at me, I noticed a flash of anger crossing his eyes. He shook his head and grinned at me.

Stepping forward, I lifted my leg and kicked out. He stepped back, still grinning, which only made me angrier. As I swung at him again, he softly took hold of my arm, and in a swift move, he turned me around, pulling me to his chest.

Placing his arm around my neck and the other around my waist, he whispered in my ear. “If I had a knife, you would be dead, sugar. Anger doesn’t help in a fight.”

---