“Why do I spank your pretty ass?”
“Yes, why?”
“With a girl who likes to be spanked, it makes the sex hotter. And it’s intense. It creates a special kind of connection between a man and his woman.”
“I do not like it.”
My brow quirks skeptically. There’s no question that being punished turns her on. Does she really doubt it? Or is she just playing games with me?
“What? You do not believe me? Do you expect screams?” she asks. “Crying? This, I do not do. You must take my words.”
“You mean, ‘take your word for it’?”
“Yes, believe the words for truth.”
Stretching, I put my arms behind my head. “No.”
“Why?” A beat barely passes before she says, “Is this because you enjoy it? And why?”
That’s a question for the ages.
She’s more animated today, and surprisingly, I like it. Our chemistry is undeniable. It’s been there from the moment we met. Natalia might not react well to other men trying to dominate her, but she enjoys it from me.
“To be mean?”
Silly chatter from most people bothers me, but, with her, I’m patient. After all, that’s part of the deal. While she’s with me, she’s mine to teach and to take care of. If she wants to talk about the spankings or anything else, I’ll indulge her.
“No, not to be mean. To teach you to behave, and to make you feel things. It’s like when fighting feels good. Or sex. There’s a lot of energy, a lot of tension. It feels good to unleash it.”
She’s thoughtful for a moment. Maybe she’s trying to translate the words. I repeat it in Russian.
“I understand.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Once I was so angry after Egorov hurt someone that I took a knife and stabbed a cutting board many times. If I didn’t have that cutting board, I might have had to cut myself instead. The anger, it must get out.”
My frown is deep. “You should have cut him.”
“I do try. Then he chokes my neck so tight I almost die. I went un—” She pauses, then switches to Russian. “I became unconscious and lifeless. When I woke I was in a car trunk. Egorov thought I was dead, so he was taking my body to bury it.”
“Fucking lunatic.” What is Egorov to her really? His violent obsession with her makes no sense. If he’d just wanted to use a virgin, he could have done that by now. And if that was his kink, why not choose someone less cunning and wild than Natalia? I’m sure she’s a virgin, but she doesn’t seem like the stereotype of wide-eyed innocence. Maybe he likes that she gives him excuses to punish her?
“Why do you think Egorov made you a cage prize when he wants you for himself?” I ask.
“He did not. My passport, it is with Polasky. He helps to get me here. He pays money to my friends and to get my ticket. I think this is money from my family. My father is Russian American like you. I thought he was helping to bring me. They still claim this sometimes, but I don’t think so. Or where is he? I know this is trick. The Russian girls who are strippers all say they were told these kinds of lies, too. It’s to get pretty girls to use. And Egorov is very angry at me running away. He beats up the girl who helps me. He plans to lock me in apartment to be his mistress. He is arranging, so I decide no. I must get away from him, no matter what it takes. I make deal with Polasky and fight club. I am prize for thirty days and get my passport and also money for me and for my friends who need it. When Egorov finds this out, he is very angry. He vows to me he will be winner, and then I will be sorry. He stays around the club for hours, keeping watch on me. He says this is to protect me.” She laughs bitterly. “But really he wishes to make sure I do not escape, and that no one else touches me too much.”
I believe she’s telling me the truth as she knows it, but it still doesn’t track. With Mikhail dead, Egorov has taken over a lot of syndicate responsibilities. How the hell does he have time to sit around at Bloodsport all day? And why would that be his priority? Natalia’s beautiful, but so are plenty of other girls. Ones who would be a lot less trouble.
The men who lured Natalia here can’t have spent that much money on her. A couple thousand for a plane ticket, and then a little more for food and housing, but not so much that it would warrant hours of supervision from a boss. The girls who strip in Egorov’s clubs live in groups, four or five per apartment. They earn a hell of a lot more for the club than a month’s rent would be on an apartment. They’re an investment.
Natalia did say he wanted her to strip. Maybe it’s the principle? He and some others went through the trouble of finding her and bringing her here. Maybe he doesn’t want the other girls to see one take off without paying back what was spent? She mentioned her friends in Russia. Maybe some more was spent to get them to help him convince her to come? Whatever the arrangement, it’s got a sinister vibe.
And now, like an asshole who throws good money after bad, he bought in on the bid for her. When I won, he lost a fortune. Then he came here to offer me even more money for her. Is it really just that he can’t stand to not get what he wants? Or does he plan to have her work it off? Even if he’s involved in sex trafficking, it would take a very long time for her to earn back what he’s paid out.
Natalia leaves the bedroom, and I rise and shower, trying to clear my head. I have arrangements to make.
By the time I get to the kitchen, she’s trying to cook. The smoke alarm goes off, and I have to turn on the hood and push her aside.
“You will cook? All right. Let me see how you do it,” she says, crowding me.
Anyone else would not get away with this, but she smells and looks so good I don’t push her away.
