Page 39 of Shame

“Did I tell you to speak?”

I moan and shake my head.

“Then shut the fuck up.”

He drops my head. It bounces once as it hits the mattress. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the worst I can imagine.

His hand travels down along my back, still just a soft caress, then it dips in between my legs, his fingers thrusting into my unprepared pussy. He laughs as I flinch, adding more fingers, thrusting hard, in and out.

Salvatore gets off the bed. I can’t decide if I want to look or not, but then the decision is made for me as an unimaginable streak of pain hits my butt. My eyes fly open and I wail. I don’t even recognize my voice. He’ll tear my body to pieces! The cane bears down again, a little lower this time, setting my skin on fire. The next stroke feels as if I’m being flayed. I can’t hold it together. I scream and plead, tears streaming down my face.

When the beating stops and nothing is heard, I open my eyes a sliver. Crouching next to the bed, his head level with mine, sits my tormentor.

“There you are,” he whispers as he catches a tear and touches the wetness between his thumb and index finger. My backside burns infernally. He stands and removes his suit jacket, vest, opens the top buttons on his shirt and pulls it over his head. His eyes never let go of mine as he pulls down his pants and briefs and then stands naked before me. Strong, rock hard all over, dangerous. He can kill me. He might kill me. After him choking me earlier, and the gun a while ago, I’m not so sure he won’t.

He climbs between my spread legs and grabs my hips, yanking my butt up. His fingers push into my ass and I arch from the pain. My stomach clenches. I knew it. I just hoped he’d show mercy. He pushes his thick cock against the tight, sore opening and I scream into the pillow as Luciano Salvatore violates my body yet again.

The door opens and a thin sliver of light from the hallway falls on the floor. A shadow I recognize as Ivan looms in the doorway.

I can’t see his eyes, his face is shaded, but I know he can see mine. Fresh tears are still falling. Every little move I make stings.

He walks up to me and crouches next to the bed, looking me over. Tilting his head, he pushes the mess of hair off my face and tucks the strands behind my ear. He frowns and then begins to free my wrists and ankles from the straps. I glance over my shoulder at the sleeping Salvatore, then back at Ivan. He gives me his hand and pulls me up.

I wince and bury my teeth in my lip to stay quiet.

Ivan looks me over, his eyes as unreadable as ever, but a muscle in his jaw keeps clenching. In one move he pulls off his T-shirt and hands it to me. I stand like an idiot, holding the fabric, looking between the shirt and Ivan. He motions for me to put it on, so I make quick work with pulling it over my head. It falls to mid-thigh. It’s gigantic. I look up at Ivan, and I don’t know why I ever thought anything else, but he is a very well-built man. Broad around the waist, pure muscle, like a boxer. I always thought he was bulky, maybe a bit heavy, but there’s not an ounce of extra fat on his body. In his own brutish way, flat and broken nose and all, he’s really handsome.

He takes a careful hold of my arm and pulls me out of the room, into the too-bright corridor, before he closes the door to the torture chamber that is Salvatore’s bedroom.

“Can you walk, Carmen?”

I look at my naked feet, my ankles red and chafed, traces of dried cum along the insides of my legs.

Ivan follows my gaze.

“I… I need a break,” I whisper and sway, the walls around us tilting.

“Come here.”

He scoops me up and cradles me like a baby to his warm broad chest. It hurts where he touches me, but I steel myself against the ache in my back. It’s no use showing him the state I’m in. He already knows it. He’s got a thick carpet of blond chest hair and he smells of cologne, a little on the heavy side, but not unpleasant. I wonder what he’s doing here. I wonder if he’s as evil as Salvatore. He’s given me the odd glance of pity, something no other man in this place has done.

“You can just call a cab.” My voice is barely audible, but in the dead silent house it carries anyway.

Ivan scoffs. “The driver is waiting for you outside.”

My chest clenches. It hurts more than any cane ever did, knowing I’ll have to face Lucas with who I am, with what I let these people do to me.

Too soon, we’re at the entrance door.

“Want me to carry you to the car?”

“No! It’s all right. I can walk.” I am so close to adding ‘see you’, but by God, I do not want to see any of them ever again.

“Take care of yourself, Miss Moreno.”

“What’s your last name, Ivan?”

“Sokolov.”

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