I left him with his curiosity and carried Natalya back to the cell. I set her down, placed a water bottle beside her, and shut the door.
The stench in there was foul. Rot, piss, and despair. But that was the point.
A day and another night in darkness, filth, and silence…
That would crack her.
???
“Something’s different about you today,” theKroliksaid, eyeing me from across the desk.
I knew she wasn’t talking to the Pakhan, but I ignored her.
“We had some fun with Petrov last night,” the Pakhan offered helpfully.
My day was spent ensuring Abrasha knew every one of my duties for the days I’d be absent. The rest was compiling a thorough list of everything I’d need for Natalya. I wouldn’t deny I was borrowing the Pakhan’s method as a baseline. I’d watched how obedient Ania had been in the early stages—before the crown and claws came out.
“Hmm. I don’t know. Viktor, I saw you smiling earlier,” she said suspiciously.
I wished for the old days, when the Pakhan kept her silent in that gimp mask.
“That didn’t happen. You’re mistaken,” I said, standing to leave.
“But—”
“Bunny, leave the man alone,” the Pakhan cut in as I reached the door.
I didn’t look back. I heard the chair creak as she shifted to argue, and shook my head.
Why did they even bother leaving the bedroom?
???
After removing Petrov’s fingers and feet with Vadik, I checked on Natalya. The faint sound of her crying through the door told me exactly where she needed to be. I unlocked it to find she’d returned to the far corner.
“Get up,” I said—and this time, she obeyed.“Follow me.”
I waited until she was near the doorway, then turned and led her down the corridor. Her movements were stiff and unsteady until she adjusted to the light and began to walk properly.
I opened the bathroom door and turned back to her. She was pale, her face smudged with dirt, her hair a tangled mess falling from what was left of her bun.
She didn’t move when I began to unbutton her shirt. I couldn’t see her face—she kept it lowered—but I noticed the tremble when I peeled the fabric off her shoulders, revealing a plain white bra. I reached behind her to unclasp it. She began to shake.
Once unhooked, I traced a finger down her spine to the waistband of her skirt. Instead of unfastening it, I tore it off and let the scraps fall around her feet. A small whimper left her lips, but I said nothing as I turned the shower on.
“Take your shoes and underwear off,” I ordered, glancing back to see her covering her chest.
She didn’t argue. Her hands dropped slowly, and she stepped out of her shoes before pushing her tights and underwear down. Her breasts were small, neat, and proportional to her petite frame. She barely reached my chest.
A modest patch of dark hair veiled her cunt, and I liked that. I shoved her gently toward the shower, eyes dropping to her ass. The way her narrow waist flared into soft curves made my cock twitch.
I watched through the glass as she scrubbed herself. I nearly groaned aloud when she finally released her hair from its bun. It fell to her ass in thick, wet strands. Slightly darker than theKrolik’s, but it suited her—wild, dripping, soft.
In my mind’s eye, I pictured her hair fanned across my bed. I imagined her eyes locked on mine as I took her, letting her stareinto the wreckage of my face. My cock stiffened, and I shifted it beneath my trousers.
There would be time for that part of her training. Time for everything.
When she stilled under the spray, I reached in to turn off the water. I grabbed a towel from the rail and began drying her. She flinched but said nothing. I took my time, rubbing over every inch of her damp skin. There was a small mole just above her right ass cheek. I twisted her dripping hair in my hands, wringing out the excess water, then wrapped it in the towel.