Page 107 of For a Price

The fact that he’s added ‘badly’ onto the threat of punishment makes another wave of dizziness roll over me. I give a nod as he slips the eye mask over my head and takes away my sight.

“Please,” I murmur softly. My bottom lip trembles, I’m so shaken. “Don’t make me do this.”

“Silence. He will be here soon.”

I’m left to sit in silent darkness as the door snaps shut once Borys leaves. I almost rip the mask away and continue to search the room for any potential weapons. Then I realize it’s useless even trying. It’ll only backfire and it won’t be pretty.

You will be punished badly.

With no way to tell time, it’s difficult to say how many minutes pass before the door opens again and I’m joined by someone else. Every second I’m in wait, I’m on the verge of tears,praying a miracle will happen and Roman will show up and save the day.

He’ll find a way to come in at the last possible moment and stop this from happening.

But like with most things in my life, my wish doesn’t come true.

Roman doesn’t show up.

When the door next opens, it isn’t him. It isn’t even Borys returning to scold me some more. It’s a person who enters in eerie silence, his footsteps slow thuds on the wooden floorboards. I draw in a sharp breath and forget to release it, digging my nails into the microfiber material of the duvet.

I can hear him. Sense his presence.

Practically feel him taking up the air in the room.

What does he possibly want with me?

He’s stepped toward the armchair and sat down. Ice chinks against the glass of vodka that was waiting for him. He’s taking a sip, seemingly in no rush at all.

I begin to question if this is a new form of torture. Some kind of psychological torment where someone is made to believe they’re being sold to do perverse things and then are tested to see how far the situation can play out before they break.

A cold chill blows through me as minutes must pass and nothing.

And then, out of the silence comes his voice, spoken in a smooth Russian accent.

“Strip.”

One word that deals the final blow. The last chilling dose of reality that this is happening.

No one is coming.

Not even Roman.

It’s possible he’s forgotten about me already. He’s deemed it too risky to ever come for me. I was just some pet of his he was having a good time with.

My hands quake as silent tears slip from underneath my mask, rolling down my cheeks. I don’t bother uttering a word following his instructions. Just tug down the straps of my bra and then reach behind myself to unclasp it.

It’s my foster father all over again.

I’ll just have to stay quiet and do as I’m told like I did then. I’ll just have to shut up and get through it.

Never mind the psychological and emotional damage being done. Those are things I’ll have to deal with at a later time… if I’m ever able to sort through them at all.

Once my bra falls away, I hook my fingers under the waistband of my panties and lift my hips to shimmy them off. They slide pitifully down my legs into a pool of fabric on the ground.

I want so desperately to cover myself. Run and hide behind the room divider in the corner.

But I already know that, if I even try, it won’t end well.

The man takes another long sip of his drink.

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