Page 39 of Take Me

“And how does he want me?”

Mikhail smirks. “Pliant and obedient. Ready to please. A good littleshlyukha,who can come on command, handle pain, and give good head.”

I gulp, and the movement makes my tongue piercing click against my teeth. I still have no idea what it’s for. A few days ago, Dax told me it has fully healed and I don’t need the mittens anymore, but he wouldn’t tell me what the piercing is for. They don’t even chain my arms anymore, arrogantly confident that I won’t disobey and touch my pussy without permission. And even though I sometimes consider doing it anyway to retain some kind of autonomy, I can’t. I’m not sure if it’s the threat to repeat my first devastating, lonely time in the chair that holds me back or if it’s because the mere thought of disobeying has my stomach all twisted up in knots.

“Is he the one who wanted the piercing?” I ask, hoping Mikhail will grant me some answers.

“Indeed.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Clenching my molars, I look off to the side. Once the worst of the frustration settles, I return my attention to Mikhail and change my direction of questioning. “What happens to the girls who don’t get sold?”

“Dorin takes care of them.”

My eyes must grow wide as teacups as I consider what that means. “How?” I don’t want to know, but I can’t not ask.

“Dorin might seem like a brute, but he’s really quite merciful in his way of getting rid of girls.” Mikhail sinks to his haunches in front of me and wraps a hand around my throat. “Do you remember how I made you faint on the train?” He moves his fingers a bit as if searching for something, then presses into the sides of my neck. “If I block the oxygen supply to your brain—closing off your veins—you’ll lose consciousness.”

A dizzy sensation begins to drag me down, making my body feel heavy.

“Then he snaps their neck.” A sharp sound makes me jump as he snaps his fingers. He releases me, and the fog clears, although slowly. “They don’t feel a thing. Well, at least not physically. They usually know what’s coming when he takes them away.”

My pulse pounds so hard that a wave of nausea rises at the back of my throat, and I set the bowl aside to press my head into my hands.

“Don’t worry,Koshechka.” He moves onto the mattress and lifts me into his lap. “I told you. You’re special. That won’t happen to you.”

“What if he decides he doesn’t want me anyway?” I burrow into his shoulder, so used to the contradictory coexistence of his cruelty and tenderness by now that I easily seek his comfort.

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I know him. And he keeps calling me, wanting updates. It’s bloody annoying. I keep telling him to let me do my job, but he won’t let up.”

I breathe a bit calmer at hearing this. I probably shouldn’t, though. This man just might want me for all the wrong reasons, and obsession can be a dangerous thing. But these days, I find comfort where I can—rational or irrational.

“Now, get on all fours so I can get your ass ready for your master.” Mikhail retrieves a butt plug a size bigger than the one he used on me yesterday from his pocket. He has been doing this every day after breakfast for a while now, shoving a plug inside my ass and making me wear it until he brings me the next meal. They slowly get bigger, and I’m achingly aware of where this is going to end.

But I don’t want to think about it, and as I get on all fours and succumb to Mikhail’s devastating will, it’s easy to forget. I shut off my brain and all the thoughts of my new master, the piercing, and the girls that Doringets rid of.

But once Mikhail has fucked me into oblivion with the plug seated deep inside me, fed me kasha, and held me until I stop shuddering and shaking and leaves me alone, it all filters back in.

It takes me days of nightmares and crawling anxiety to get the image of Dorin snapping a girl’s neck out of my mind, and I can’t stop wondering and worrying what my master will do to me. So I don’t ask more questions about him or this place. Instead, I start fantasizing about Nikolai again. Sometimes, the thoughts are so vivid that I fear I’m going mad. But worrying about things that actually will happen might just do the same. And I’d rather that my insanity be full of hopefulness than misery.

As I immerse myself in hopeful fantasies of fairytale-like rescues and Nikolai sweeping me away into kinky realms that are scarily similar to the one I’m stuck in, I grow convinced that I’m losing my mind.

My fantasies about Nikolai escalate to a point where they are so vivid I can barely tell reality from dream anymore. Mikhail may say he’s not supposed to break me, but I think he has actually done it.

When I’m in the chair, bound and blindfolded, I can almost sense Nikolai. I keep catching these small drifts of his fresh, earthy scent, thinking he’s there. But another inhale only fills my nose with the scent of dry basement. Then I think I feel his hands on my body, smooth and strong, stroking my skin and grabbing my throat. But every time the hood comes off, it’s Mikhail’s long fingers on my skin, freeing the straps and carrying me back to my cell, where he holds me until the shaking settles and I fall asleep.

One day, the feeling becomes so strong I can’t contain it.

“Nikolai?” I say as smooth hands run over my body, driving me insane with the mix of pleasure and pain that I first came to know as Nikolai’s special brand of affection. But now the combination has become tainted by the cruelty of this place.

“Nikolai,” I repeat as fingers tweak a nipple while a hand gently strokes my thighs.

---