Page 33 of For a Price

He slams it shut and pushes me against the wall of the dark room I’ve found myself in.

A closet of some kind.

“Very good,” he mutters, grinning through the deep shadows. “Now I will have you. Whores belong to all of us.”

“Stay away from me!”

I knee him in the gut as he closes in. He groans and half folds over before shoving me back against the wall and launching his palm at my face.

His slap has me reeling, sharp pain erupting across my cheek.

“Don’t fight,” he growls, pinning me with his pudgy body. One hand covers my mouth like earlier while the other slips under my dress.

“NO!” I scream against his hand. “STOP IT! HELP!”

“Shhhh, bitch.”

His fingers grope around my sex, shoving aside my panties in their search. He finds what he’s looking for, jamming two digits inside me to another strangled cry from me.

“Yes,” he grunts, looking me in the eye, grinning. He twists his fingers deeper and makes me wince from the burning dryness and discomfort. “You feel nice. Next is my cock. Do you want it?”

Tears have blurred my vision, slipping down my cheeks.

I feel dizzy. I feel sick to my stomach.

The moment is so fucked up and triggering, I’m on the verge of passing out.

How could this happen to me? How could I have wound up like this?

He pumps his fingers roughly into my dry sex with no regard for me or care that I’m in tears, trembling against the wall.

He removes them only once he’s decided his penis is next.

As he goes to unzip his pants, a new wave of panic erupts inside me. Some little kernel of fight that refuses to let this happen.

I’d rather the sovietnik find out who I am and put my head on a pike like Roman said than to let Leonidinsideme.

I make a split second decision.

My teeth snap shut around one of Leonid’s fat fingers and I bite harder than I’ve ever bitten anything in my life.

I bite so damn hard, I feel bone. I hear acrunch.

And I taste metallic liquid in my mouth.

“ARGHHHHH!” Leonid screams in immediate anguish. He jumps back, clutching his bloody hand, holding it up to see his finger half bitten off.

I waste no time rushing for the door.

Unfortunately, to get to it, I have to pass by him. He grabs me by the shoulder and tosses me back like he’s flinging a sack of laundry. His fist collides with my face, striking me down to the floor.

His boot comes next.

“You fucking whore!” he screams as he kicks me again and again.

I cry and cover my head, curling up into a ball to protect myself.

The attack feels never ending.

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