Wasim drags me down a corridor I’ve never walked before. The noises start to fade and the silence grows.
This seems way too careless to be an order uttered by Razzag. Maybe this is just Wasim going rogue, which makes it much more interesting, if I’m honest. A single man operating with this level of emotion means one thing only. His plan is full of flaws. We turn to the left and a small door takes us outside; the cold air filters through my body.
I pretend to fight to gauge his strength.
Fuck.
This asshole has much more strength than I anticipated he would, and my screams are being muffled by his smelly hand. I'm all alone with this man, I’m coming to the conclusion that the only way out is if I take action.
“Stop resisting, bitch!”
We practically run over the tidy grass; he walks so fast my feet can hardly keep up with these fucking shoes. Every step I take I step harder than usual, to leave my footprints clearly visible just making a mess by crushing flowers and scattering dirt as we move further and further away from the toward another building.
I could knock him out for good, but I'm trying to hold on to Anya's identity. Bruno asked me not to break character no matter what and that's what I'm fucking doing, but fuck, it's so hard not to.
We come around to a giant house. First, we walk through a luxurious kitchen, I can see some pans hanging on the wall, but I only see possible weapons.
Wasim, who is not an idiot, tows me away until he stops.
He pushes a button.
Ding.
A fucking cargo elevator.
What the fuck! Where am I?!
He pushes me into the cargo elevator and pushes a button with the number two on it. I pull back as far as I can to the opposite angle; he turns sinisterly with a half-smile at me.
“So, you taste like ambrosia? Well, let's see if that's true.”
What? What the fuck is he talking about?!
The elevator opens, and he pulls my strap again. We walk down a dark corridor, there's only a light on at the end, we march straight to a double door.
I know where we are going now, it's time to get worried.
He opens the doors and pushes me in.
I'm in a fucking room with a fucking bed.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“Slave, lie down on the bed and wait for me.” He says while he unbuttons his shirt.
What?
I look around; the room is almost completely unfurnished there is only a big untidy bed in the middle with red satin sheets, a nightstand where there are empty glasses and bottles, food leftovers and some books; to the left there is a door, possibly a bathroom.
“No.”
“No? Are you disobeying me? Do you really want to make me angry? Because I swear to God, I can't wait to hear you scream as I stick my fat dick inside you.”
I take a few steps back, looking for something, anything to defend myself, but there's nothing I could effectively use; not a damn thing!
