KATYA

Present

 

I STARE AT the scars on my legs as I remember the first night I met Pavel Fedorov.  I had only been sixteen, too young and naïve for what had happened to me.  But he beat me and stole my innocence that night, and I morphed into someone I didn't even recognize — a hard, unforgiving shadow of my former self.  Someone who could never trust or love anyone ever again.

I waited for my prince to come save me, just like in those stupid fairy tales.  But after spending years in captivity, being beaten and tortured on a daily basis, I stopped believing in white knights and happy endings.

They simply didn't exist for someone like me.

I had to grow up quick at the hands of that monster, but I revel in the fact that he never truly broke my spirit.  Not completely anyway…no matter how hard he tried.

When I hear the toilet flush and the sink turn on in the bathroom less than ten feet away behind the closed door, it snaps me out of my reverie.  Quickly, I swallow down the burning anxiety threatening to come up in the form of this morning's breakfast.

Sliding my fingers down my tall, lean form, I fidget with the hem of the pink and black teddy that I slipped on moments ago.  I know my husband won't appreciate it and will most likely rip it off the moment he comes out of the bathroom, but I'm forced to wear something sexy each and every single time.

Like a soldier getting in the right mind space before heading out to battle, I steel my nerves and plaster a big, fake smile on my face.  I've grown accustomed to pretending.  Hell, I've been doing it on a daily basis since I was a young girl.  And I must say, I'm quite good at it now.

The door opens a second later and out steps the devil himself.  Sweating profusely, even though he just took a shower an hour before, Pavel steps towards me with an evil smirk on his fat, red face.  He's naked; his small cock flaccid between his thick, hairy thighs.

"You look good enough to eat, Katerina," he says with a sneer, and it takes all of my willpower to keep the smile on my face.

Standing stock still, I don't even flinch when he begins to rip the lingerie from my body in a few, short, hard tugs, the fabric cutting into my skin and probably leaving marks.

"Knees," Pavel commands.

And like the obedient little doll that I am, I fall to my knees before him.  He shoves his tiny, fat cock in my mouth, and I try not to gag at the taste.

"That's it," he groans, stroking my head roughly like a pet.  "Take it all, bitch."

I work him until he's satisfied that he's had enough.  Placing his hands under my armpits, he hauls me up off the floor and marches me towards the open door to the balcony.  Anyone can see in here, and that's exactly how Pavel likes it.  He likes to show me off — his pretty, little subservient wife heeding to his every command.  He wants people to hear and see him conquer me.

Suddenly, Pavel whips me around in his arms and shoves his cock inside of me from behind without even preparing me.  I tense as I feel my inner walls protesting against the intrusion, and I moan in agony.  I'm dry as a bone, but that never mattered to the bastard before.  In fact, I'm sure he'd rather I didn't enjoy it.

His stubby fingers glide up my throat and wrap around my neck, squeezing hard.  "You know, you think you have me fooled, Katerina," he hisses in my ear as he fucks me from behind.  "But I know you're not truly submitting to me.  You're just pretending.  Always pretending."

I shiver at his words and how true they are.  I thought I had fooled Pavel into thinking I was finally submitting after all this time, that I was tired of the abuse and just giving in.  But of course, the bastard figured it out.  The devil knows everything.

Pavel grunts and forces his way inside over and over again.  "I beat you.  I starve you.  I keep you locked up.  Nothing works."

His hand squeezes my neck harder, cutting off my oxygen.  My lungs scream in protest, wanting to drag in some air, but I don't fight him.  Not yet.  It's worse if I fight.

"I'm going to have to beat the submission into you, girl," he hisses in my ear, his own words working himself up into a frenzy.  His free hand digs into my hip, no doubt leaving bruises.  "You're mine.  Forever.  I own you.  Do you understand?"

He doesn't even give me a chance to answer, and it's not like I could even if I wanted to.  I'm on the verge of passing out.  Little black dots cloud my vision, and I feel myself becoming limp in his arms.

"Come for me, you little bitch," he demands.

Against my will, as if my body is attuned to his commands, my entire body convulses with a powerful orgasm.  The lack of oxygen and the pain are the only real things that can get me off.  I've been conditioned to accept them.

Pavel finally releases my throat, and I cough and choke, trying to drag air into my lungs as he continues to stick that pathetic excuse for a dick inside of me.

Tears fill my eyes as I try to withdraw into myself, pretend that this is not my life, that I'm someone else…if only for a moment.

No.

Shaking my head, my hands curl into fists at my sides as Pavel continues to fuck me.  He wraps his hands around my waist possessively, and I cringe from the contact.

I have to stay focused, I think to myself.  This is my only chance.

Pavel finally pulls out of me, fisting his cock and finishing himself off.  While he's distracted, I go to our luggage, unzip one of the compartments and take out the small pistol I found while he was in the bathroom.

I know how to shoot.  My father taught me when I was a little girl, not long before Pavel came along and took me away from my family. I just hope my aim is still good.

Pavel works his dick in his hand, spurting his seed around the room before he huffs out a satisfied groan.  When he turns around and sees me holding the gun aimed straight at him, his eyes grow wide and his voice trembles as he asks, "What are you doing?"

In my native tongue, I tell him, "What I should have done a long time ago."