This is Egorov’s party. He might try to force me out, but a violent altercation could turn deadly, and there are witnesses here tonight.
Egorov’s face reddens and his eyes bulge, like his head is about to explode. He would love to kill me, but apparently he’s not ready to try tonight. Still, he’s not a man I underestimate. He’s tried to have me killed before.
* * *
Natalia
For someone so huge, Alexei is handsome, almost cute even. Most very big men have coarse features, making them look more like cyborgs than men. His features are different, still very strong, with a square masculine jaw, but also pretty eyes. They’re blue and framed by long overlapping black lashes. His lower lip’s full too. I’m sure he’d be nice for a girlfriend to kiss. Though if he’s here, he probably doesn’t have a girlfriend. He has a wife, a mistress, or both. Ugh, disgusting. It’s just another thing to hate about these brutal men. Some of them turn every woman who cares about them into a whore. That’s why it’s important not to fall for them.
His English sounds too good for him to have been born in Russia, but his Russian is quite good, so maybe he’s lived there too. I want to ask him questions about who he is, but there isn’t time for that now. He’s my only possible ally in the house, and I want to explain how things must be done. I’ve only suffered the belt once before, but I know enough to want to advise him on how to use it. A slap can sound loud but not hurt too much. Or it can sound loud and hurt very much.
“Let me explain what to do,” I whisper, trying to keep him from propelling me into the study. Once inside, Egorov and the old man, Polasky, will huddle around us, and I won’t be able to talk to Alexei privately.
Alexei’s firm hold on my arm tugs me forward. I try to stop on the threshold, but his arm sweeps around me and lifts me into the room as though I weigh nothing. So strong. I like it, but also dread it.
The old man chuckles at the way he handles my attempts to resist, and even Egorov, who looks murderous, smirks a little.
“Wait,” I hiss. “I want to—”
“Quiet,” Alexei says in a low, firm voice.
Inwardly, I recoil, angry at myself for misjudging him. When Alexei pretended to have seen Egorov’s wallet on the floor and stopped Egorov from grabbing me, I thought I’d found a protector. I wasn’t foolish enough to think he wouldn’t want something from me in return, but I thought it might be possible to negotiate. Now I see he’s a hard man too, who perhaps thwarted Egorov for his own reasons.
“I’ll hold her down,” Egorov says, pointing to a desk that’s surface has been cleared. The cozy room holds several men, and they all leer at me like hungry wolves.
“Do I need help holding a hundred-pound girl?” Alexei says dismissively.
“One twenty,” I correct in English, my tone saucy. “And five. This is what I weigh on American scale.” I’m not very old, but I’m not some child either. I’m eighteen now, and I’m five foot eight inches tall. It’s not small. Except if I compare myself to this monster of a man who’s nearly a foot taller than me.
My defiance draws some chuckles from around the room. It’s the kind of thing that would send Egorov into a rage or a sulk. I steal a glance at my giant. His expression is unchanged and so is his grip. He’s not ruffled by sassy talk. But he’s also not amused by it, if his face is anything to go by. No smile, not even the hint of one.
“Over the desk,” Egorov says encouragingly. “So her face is at the right level.” He adjusts himself meaningfully, and bile rises in the back of my throat. He expects me to suck his cock in front of a room full of men while I’m being spanked? Never. I’d rather bite it off and be killed as punishment.
“One of our first in the gladiator ring. Alexei, it’s good to see you,” Polasky says. He’s short for a man, but still fairly muscular for his age, which must be sixty or older. His face has more lines than a map, and his eyes make me nervous. People say he is a money man and runs an illegal fight club for the Bratvá.
If Alexei is a fighter there, he must not be a boss. I might have thought he worked for Egorov, but there’s no way that’s the case because he is too disrespectful to him. I wonder who he works for. Certainly some Bratvá in Russia are former prison inmates who are used to fighting, but in America they seem more like businessmen who kill with knives and guns, not their fists. Maybe Alexei is just a fighter and doesn’t work for anyone. That would be good. I don’t want to rely on anyone who’s entrenched with the Russian Mafia.
I can’t believe I’ve been tricked into being near any of them. What a mess it’s been. I came here because of promises of meeting my lost family. If the offer had only been to cover my expenses, I would have suspected a trap, but my friends were paid too. And the man who found me came to an area that’s remote and poor. Not a usual place for these criminals to come to. They thrive in cities.
But when I arrived in America, Egorov was the person who met me at the airport. He took me straight to one of his strip clubs. I refused to become a stripper, so, for now, I’m cleaning hotel rooms and sleeping in a spare room with another girl. He still claims to be looking for my rightful family. I think it’s a lie, but I don’t know why he would bother trying to fool me anymore, so I keep hoping that one day my father or brother will appear and take me away from him.
I would like to search for them myself, but none of the girls are allowed to go anywhere alone. I’m mostly a prisoner. And one that Egorov and Polasky have some very nasty plans for.
Alexei draws me toward a chair and sits.
“Lie down,” he says, glancing meaningfully at his thighs.
His expression confuses me. He doesn’t look angry or mean, but he doesn’t look friendly either. I wonder what his reason is for going along with my request that he be the one to punish me.
My lips are dry, so I lick them nervously. “Maybe you’re not the best man to do this.”
“Too late.” His giant paw of a hand grabs me and tips over his lap, startling me into a gasp.
“Pull up her dress. Let’s look at her ass,” Polasky, the old lecher, calls out in his crackly voice.
The back of the dress is jerked up to my waist and bunched atop my lower back. I reach behind me to try to force it down, but a stinging swat on my ass causes me to freeze.
“Lie still,” Alexei orders, answering my mind’s question from earlier. Yes, he’s a monster like the rest.
