Page 21 of Dance with Death

“On your knees. Crawl toPapà.”

Papà.

If he says that word one more time, I might vomit all over his leather seats.

I obey because I have no other choice, though that feeling of betrayal still haunts me. I bend carefully, shifting all my weight to my right foot as I lower to the floor. I attempt to be graceful about it, but really, I’m only letting myself fall, catching myself on hands and knees.

There is nothing graceful about me with this horrid injury, and I feel tears spring to my eyes at the thought of it. I was once one of the most graceful ballerinas in the world—it kills me to think that this injury won’t be treated, it won’t heal correctly, and as a result, I may never dance again.

It’s a possibility I can’t fathom so I force that thought away, back to the dark corner in my mind.

Even with my weight off it, I feel a whole new kind of hurt as the floor pushes against the top of my ankle, forcing extension of my tendons and stretching them painfully. Thankfully, it’s not far to travel, crawling to him as he asked. It’s a few short drags of my swollen ankle across the floor before my head is in-between his knees.

I look up at him and wait.

“You know what I want you to do.” He reaches down and unlatches the buckle of his belt, but he returns his arms to the back rest before finishing. “Do the rest. Take care of yourpapà.”

I swallow the bile that threatens to force its way up my throat. I shuffle forward on my knees and I have to put my hands on his legs to steady my wobbling, queasy body.

I reach forward to finish what he started—to unbuckle his belt, unhook his button, pull down his zipper. Vigo bites his lip as he regards me with his head cocked to the side and a satisfied smirk.

“Show me how well Nikolai has trained you. Take out my cock and suck.”

My eyes remain open though it feels like they’re closing as my mind drifts inward. It’s incredible how easily I can slip back into servitude for survival’s sake, doing what’s commanded of me in order to endure for another day.

Nikolaihadtrained me well, truthfully, and so I knew how to get through this. It’s nothing more than a job, a task I have to complete.

I’m sorry, Ezra.

I have to obey to survive.

Still, Vigo’s aura manages to make it all the more repulsive. There’s something wrong with him, something unnatural about him that screams madness. Somehow, I think giving him a blowjob on his private jet will only register as a one on his sickness scale to ten.

I do what I have to do.

I pull down the elastic band of his underwear and free his gradually hardening cock. His girth doesn’t outmatch Nikolai, but his length does, enough that he could easily choke me with his erection.

But comparing two monsters is pointless. Neither of them are Ezra. Neither of them could ever compare to the way Ezra could fulfill all my wants and needs. I gave him my heart and soul completely, and he gave me his. Regardless of the fact that this sexual act is forced beyond my control, it feels like infidelity, disloyalty.

The shame of that is heavy on my mind, though I try to drift away like I’d always done with Nikolai. I inhale courage and freeze my soul with an icy barrier to grant myself fortitude. I lean forward and suck the tip of him into my mouth.

Vigo groans and his large hand lands on the back of my head. “Sì, that’s a good girl.” He presses down. “All the way.”

He gives me no time to adjust to his intrusion as he pushes my head down hard. I cough and gag around his length, my stomach heaving as he sinks into the back of my throat. My eyes widen and I feel them begin to water. He holds me in place though I try to lift my head away. I huff in breaths through my nose and he simply won’t let up.

His hips lift from the seat to pulse his cock inside my mouth, impossibly deeper, as his fingers dig into my scalp, burrowing in painfully hard. I force my eyes to close, trying not to vomit, focusing on the shallow breaths through my nose.

But then he takes that away from me, too.

His fingers come down to tightly pinch my nostrils shut.

My eyes snap back open as I gag and splutter and truthfully fight for air.

“Si, la mia piccola bambola Russa,” he moans. “Take it.”

My heart races as adrenaline kicks in, panicking me into fighting him. But it’s no use, his grip on my scalp is tight and his cock in my mouth is oppressive. He’s not letting me get away. The sooner I accept that, the better.

Iknowthat.

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