Lake

“I’m sorry. I’ll try again,” I whispered, trying to make my voice as soothing as I could, but not so soothing that he would think I was condescending to him.

My knees were hurting, my back stiff, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the pain that he would dish out if I didn’t make him happy.

“What the fuck good are you?” Vlad asked.

He was sitting on the edge of the king-size bed he insisted I have, his face red, dripping with sweat, his penis as soft and limp as the down pillow he had propped behind his back.

“I’m no good, sir,” I said automatically from where I kneeled between his fleshy thighs, my eyes averted as he always insisted.

“Then why the fuck should I waste my time with you?” he said through clenched teeth.

“You shouldn’t, sir. But I’ll try to do better,” I replied, keeping my voice just at the line of pleading.

Like everything with him, it was a delicate balance. If I groveled too much, it would disgust him, make the inevitable beating that much worse.

But if I was too prideful, it would anger him, make the inevitable beating that much worse.

So I walked the line, tiptoed bit by bit, hoping that I would make it through another day.

Even though I wasn’t sure why I wanted to.

It must have worked. I saw signs of life as his penis began to harden, soon standing at attention.

I swallowed down the bile that burned at the back of my throat and started to lean forward.

Was stopped by Vlad’s grip on my hair.

“Use your hands,” he ordered.

Had I still believed in God, I would have sent up a prayer of thanks. Not that this would be pleasant, but compared to the other things Vlad could demand of me, it was the best I could hope for.

So I went about the task, driving him to climax quickly, not so quickly that he would get suspicious.

It took everything in my power not to shudder when his semen spurted out of him and onto my hands.

Vlad tightened the fist he had in my hair, pulled until I craned my neck up to look at him.

“Good work, slut,” he said.

“Thank you sir,” I responded, knowing that I sounded sincere.

He tightened his grip so much that my eyes began to water.

I braced myself, trying to prepare for the punch, knowing that there was no way I really could.

It didn’t come.

Instead he released my hair, pushed me aside, and stood.

He walked over to the clothes I had neatly folded and laid on the chaise lounge.

“What the fuck is this?” he said.

He picked something up, and I quickly scrambled from my knees, furiously wiping my hands on the silk robe I wore.

“Well?” he said, when I came to stand next to him.

I squinted, trying to make out what it was, finally realizing it was a piece of lint.

“I’m sorry, sir. I must have missed it—”

I cut off when he shoved my shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, pig. Just clean this place up. You know what will happen if you don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I swallowed back bile again, part of my mind idly wondering if I had an ulcer.

I couldn’t rule it out, but I also couldn’t rule out the possibility that being in Vladimir Chernakov’s presence was nauseating.

I knew it was.

I hated him with everything inside of me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that hate had to find a way out.

Eyes still down, I buttoned his shirt, tied his tie, and then stepped aside, watching as he examined my work.

“Not as sloppy as usual.”

“Thank you, sir,” I whispered.

Fuck you, sir.

That curse, with the millions of others I had thought over the years, floated in my brain.

But I’d never speak them, would never dare.

“Don’t forget to clean this place up, slut. I want it immaculate the next time I show up,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Good night, sir,” I said.

Vlad left without saying anything else, and when I heard the door close, I exhaled.

He’d only been here for two hours, but each moment had felt like an eternity.

And now that he was gone, I could let out something like a breath.

Oh, I wasn’t calm, not by any stretch of the imagination.

For one thing, he might come back in fifteen minutes, or I might not see him again for three months.

I never knew, but I always had to wonder, worry, live with the question of when he would be back, spending each moment on tenterhooks.

And he would be back.

I had tried for over a year to figure out why, hadn’t come up with anything. Vlad was revolting, but he was also powerful, dangerous. He only rarely talked to me about his business, but I knew enough to know that he was influential. And that influence would have brought him any number of willing female companions.

But for reasons I would never understand, he was focused on me. I wasn’t especially pretty, and while I thought I was smart enough, I had never shown that to him, and he wouldn’t have cared anyway.

So I had no clue why Vlad wouldn’t let me go.

But he wouldn’t.

Maybe he just enjoyed tormenting me.

It was something he was especially good at, so good that he had enlisted me to torment myself when he wasn’t around to do it.

Maybe that was the answer.

I walked to the linen closet of the cozy, two-bedroom townhouse he had stashed me in and grabbed the vacuum cleaner.

I had vacuumed three times in anticipation of his arrival, same as I did every day.

Clearly I’d missed a spot, so I’d better take care of it.

After that spot, I made my way through the rest of the eleven hundred square-foot space, uncaring that it was one in the morning, that I was exhausted.

It didn’t matter.

Just like the reason why Vlad wouldn’t let me go didn’t matter.

The reason wasn’t important.

All that mattered was the truth, and the truth was Vlad was going to kill me, or I was going to kill myself.

But whatever happened, I’d never get away from him.