CHAPTER 27
Gabor gradually grows more sadistic in his ways of using me. For a while, it’s almost innocent compared to everything he’s done. Even simple breast torture is enough to get his rocks off.
I’m not unfamiliar with erotic pain. I’ve experienced it many times in the BDSM clubs I frequented back home. It would always be a major turn-on, and my body hasn’t forgotten. As long as I hold on to Janos and he holds on to me, I’ll get through it. Sometimes, I’ll even get wet as Gabor twists and turns my nipples until I scream. He finds great joy in taunting me with my warped need. I want to combust under the weight of shame as he tells me what a disgusting whore I am for liking it, but when I gaze into Janos’s eyes, I don’t feel dirty. His eyes might hold the same sadistic pleasure as Gabor’s, but where Gabor’s eyes are cold and dead deep within, Janos’s gaze has a spark of warmth that lights me up and makes me want to cast myself at his feet and beg him for the same pain.
Slowly, things worsen. Gabor’s breast torture turns into punching my ass and thighs, kicking me like he’s done before, and slapping my face. The latter is even worse than the kicking. Humiliation is like hot coals burning me from within as he forces me to face him while raining pain and degradation down over me.
Tears are streaking down my cheeks, and my chest is coiling tight with onsetting panic as Janos says, “Wouldn’t you enjoy watching instead?”
Gabor looks up, and his eyes brighten with cruel glee. He wipes the side of his mouth with his thumb and takes a step back. “Sure, Janos, have at it.”
I look up to find Janos’s eyes glimmering with sadistic lust, and Gabor’s features pull up into a wide smile as he notices the same. I think Gabor holds a certain respect for Janos and his sadism since he sometimes lets Janos participate as more than just a helping hand holding me in place and muffling my screams.
Janos doesn’t hold back. He puts in the same strength as Gabor, and the size of his hand makes it hurt even more. It’s brutal, degrading, and painful, and I cry the whole way through. But having Janos do it—seeing the warm flicker in his eyes—makes the whole difference. The devastation morphs into this sort of erotic, intimate experience, and when Gabor says he wants to see me come, I combust in an earth-shattering orgasm as Janos slams his cock inside while slapping my face.
For a while, I almost look forward to Gabor’s visits because they allow me a sort of intimacy with Janos I can’t have when we’re alone. Janos’s potent combination of brutality and care awakens a buzzing fire inside me that I want to experience over and over again until it consumes me so much I don’t exist beyond him.
But the slapping and punching isn’t enough for Gabor. There’s a dangerous urge within him that keeps driving him to more extreme brutalities. One night when Janos comes into the apartment, wearing his suit, the scrawny henchman on his heel, and drags me into the bathroom, alarm bells go off in my head. They become deafening when he starts filling the bathtub and turns the temperature way down low. Janos never does that.
When the tub is full, Janos fires off a quick text on his phone, then joins the other man at the side, taking a passive stance—the guard on duty I so often forget that he is.
Only ten minutes later, Gabor comes in, and worry has my eyes darting back and forth as Gabor undresses—which he never does. Stark naked, he crosses the room and dips a hand in the water that must be ice cold. A cruel smile spreads over his face as he turns to me and says, “Just the right temperature.”
I hope he “only” plans on throwing me into the water and fucking me while I’m shaking from the cold, but part of me knows it’s going to get so much worse. The foreboding feeling only grows when Janos strips down too and steps into the water as Gabor drags me across the floor to make me kneel in front of the tub. Shudders spread through my body, churning my stomach and racking up my pulse to a deadly speed.
I stare up at Janos, who is now crouching in the water, placing towels over the edge of the tub in front of me. I don’t see the point. The terry cloth dips into the water and gets soaked all the way up to the edge within seconds, and it only drives my worries higher.
When Janos finally looks at me, his gaze is cold and closed off. Professional. And I know there’s no help. He won’t get me out of this—whatever this may be.
Gabor shoves my upper body forward, bending me over the edge and sending my head and chest straight toward the cold water. But Janos catches me, right above the surface, and I manage to grab onto him just in time before my arms fall in. But I know all too well I’m only delaying the inevitable.
The irony of the situation strikes me as I stare into the water, clinging to Janos’s arms for dear life. So many times, I’ve tried to let go and plunge into water—the river, the tub—but never have I succeeded, and now someone else will do it for me. And I’m terrified.
I try to push against Janos to get up, but Gabor shoves me back down with a flat hand on my back, and my hands fall into the freezing water as I lose my grip on Janos. I gasp as I fling my arms back up to grab onto Janos, who tightens his grip on me in return. But I know it’s only for now. In a moment, he’ll be the one holding me down.
Tears gather in my eyes, and small drops fall into the water like a leaking faucet. Drip, drip, drip. Ripples form around the drops, and I watch them with terror, digging my fingers into Janos’s muscular arms.
Please don’t let me go, I beg inwardly. But I know it’s wishful thinking.
“Let’s begin,” Gabor says.
I tense, trying to hold my breath but hyperventilating instead. I can’t stop it, and my breathing only grows more frantic as I think about how water will flood my nostrils and mouth in a moment when Janos dunks me in.
“Let me try to calm her first. Then you’ll be able to go on for longer.” Janos’s voice is cold and detached, but I know he’s trying to help me. Otherwise, he might as well have spoken Hungarian. This is his way of telling me he’s got me—as much as he can.
With a frustrated grunt, Gabor gets up and paces behind me.
Janos repositions me to lie over one of his arms while resting his other hand on my back.
“Breathe,” he says close to my ear, voice low and soothing like he isn’t going to rob me of the very air he’s now trying to give me. But no matter how absurd, ironic, and hopeless it all is, I can’t resist the effect of his voice. When he starts moving his hand in circles on my back, I’m lost to him. I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath, focusing on the soothing motions and his hand.
“Are we ready?” Gabor asks impatiently, and when Janos doesn’t give him the answer he wants, he leaves the room with an annoyed huff. I wonder why he doesn’t just order Janos to begin anyway. Maybe it has something to do with Janos being here to make sure things don’t derail, or maybe Gabor simply trusts Janos’s judgment, abiding by it when he’s not caught up in his own sadistic lust. After all, he does seem to hold a great amount of respect for Janos.
Leaning over me, Janos whispers in my ear. “I’m gonna help you through this, Rebecca.” He keeps up the circling motions for a moment before saying, “Take a deep breath when I give you a small squeeze.” He flexes his hands on my stomach to demonstrate. “Can you do that? Then it won’t be so bad.”
Won’t be so bad. I almost want to laugh, but I need his comfort more than anything else right now, so I nod.
“Good girl,” he whispers, placing a kiss on my hair before sitting back up to call out something in Hungarian.
Janos repositions himself to hold both arms under me as the sound of footsteps approaches. When Gabor enters, I tense every muscle and am close to ruining whatever calm Janos has instilled in me. Once again, Janos saves me, moving his thumbs back and forth over the sensitive skin on my stomach, and my breathing slows back down.
Gabor sinks to the floor behind me and prods a finger at my pussy. “Begin,” he orders.
There’s the tiniest squeeze on my stomach, and I suck in air with a loud breath as I squeeze my eyes shut. And then I fall, headfirst, into the water. The cold bites through my skin, sending a shock wave through my system. I beat wildly at the water, trying to get my head out, but there’s no out. One or two sets of hands—I can’t tell—hold me down. I’m about to expel the air I just pulled in when a large hand grabs mine. I recognize the tight grip of Janos instantly, and when his thumb starts stroking my skin, the panic draws back, and I realize I have enough air to go a little while longer.
I’m about to descend back into blinding panic when Janos releases my hand, but then I’m out of the water. Two strong arms hold me steady right above the surface. I suck in air with a force that has me drawing in the water running down my face. I cough and gasp, cough and gasp, digging my fingers into the arms, praying they’ll keep me above the surface. And they do. Thumbs stroke along my stomach, soothing and reassuring, almost making me forget the fingers between my legs. That part of my body just isn’t important right now.
When I feel another squeeze on my stomach, panic flares in my mind, but with Janos’s words lingering in my head, I manage a deep breath.
I desperately try to hold on to him, but when he releases me, the same arms that saved me are the ones to push me underwater. All sound disappears, muffled by the water oppressive covering my ears. I always thought the sound would be peaceful, shutting out the world and all its chaos, but nothing is peaceful here. It’s cruel and claustrophobic.
Using all my strength, I push against the bottom of the tub to get up, but my strength holds no ground against the unyielding hands on my back. Bitter hatred courses through my veins, but it dissipates the moment Janos pulls me out again. There’s just no way for me to truly hate him. He might be my worst nightmare, but he’s also the only one who can save me from it, and I cling to the latter part because it’s the only thing I have.
This time, I manage to control my breaths a bit more, drawing in small gulps of air between my chattering teeth. My whole body is already shivering, and my hands are weak when I grab on to Janos.
A gasp has me drawing in more water when two fingers jab into my pussy. They pump in and out with a force that shoves my hips into the tub with each thrust, and I thank Janos inwardly as I realize the towels are meant as protection. Soon, Gabor replaces his fingers with his massive cock, but I barely register the painful intrusion as a small squeeze on my stomach draws all my attention to the small task of breathing.
This time, I’m quick to realize that I have enough air to stay underwater for a while, and the panic hovers in the distance as I force myself to stay calm. I notice the hands on my back, and when I don’t fight them, it’s almost like they are just resting there, soothing me, and before my need for air grows urgent, they pull me back up.
Gabor is fucking me now, pumping in and out as Janos keeps dunking me into the water and pulling me out. I always manage to get in a good portion of air before I go under, and Janos always saves me before my need to breathe becomes critical.
I’m shaking from the cold all over, and my mind keeps teetering on the edge of panic, but with Janos’s guidance, I keep my focus on the task of breathing, and somehow this is not the devastating horror show I expected.
But Gabor isn’t happy. Grunting in frustration behind me, he suddenly grabs the back of my neck and shoves my head into the water. With a forceful thrust, he slams me into the edge of the tub, nearly making me open my mouth as the urge to scream claws at my throat.
Without Janos’s warning, I only manage to shut off my airways before going in, and what little air I have won’t last me long. Within only a few seconds, my chest jerks with the need to breathe, but no one pulls me out. Gabor’s hand remains a vise around my neck, and I scratch and claw at it, then flail my hands blindly when it doesn’t work. My breathing reflex is just about to set in when strong hands push at me from below, forcing the hand on my nape to let up.
An angry growl slices through the air behind me, and the thrusts within me become punishing.
I’ve barely caught my breath when Janos gives my stomach a small squeeze, and I only manage a feeble inhale before he drops me. I try to find the same calmness as before, but with the shock still pounding through my system and my lungs convulsing with the need to breathe, it’s impossible.
My world narrows to a black pit of panic when Gabor leans over my back, effectively holding me down. I grapple for purchase above the water, and when large hands find mine, I hold on for dear life. It’s a small relief, but when what little oxygen I had in my lungs runs out, I pull free to shove at the bottom with all the strength I have left. But it’s not enough. Nothing is. Gabor doesn’t even budge. It’s like I’m trapped under a boulder.
Panic sets in. I need air. Now. It takes everything I have to subdue the instinct to open my mouth and heave for air. This is the absolute last thing I have any say over—the choice to breathe or not to breathe. But even this isn’t mine to control. My body takes over, forcing my respiratory muscles into action. My mouth falls open, and my lungs suck for the air they need. But there’s no air. Only water. It fills my nose, mouth, and throat, seeping into my lungs. I’ve never experienced anything so horrible—my body betraying me so detrimentally, the feeling of water seeping into my lungs, choking me.
I barely notice that some kind of fight has broken out above me. Arms try to pull me out, but the weight on my back remains, heavy and unmoving. One more expansion of my lungs has more water invading my airways, and my consciousness starts slipping away, like a balloon rising to the sky. I can’t catch it; I can only watch it go.
A few slowed, brutal thrusts shove my hips into the tub’s edge—Gabor coming. And then the weight is gone.
Arms pull me forward, bringing my head out of the water even as my whole body is dragged into the tub—into icy water and a warm body. My knees hit the edge on the way, but I barely register the jolts of pain. I barely register the sharp cold engulfing me as the water claims my body. All that matters is that my head is above water and I can get air into my lungs.
But even that is impossible. The water is also in my lungs.
I’m shoved to my side, and I try to cling to the arm keeping me above the surface while I heave for air without getting any. A massive hand forces my body against its reflexes, slamming down between my shoulder blades, making me spasm with fitful coughs that force the water from my lungs. Suddenly, my airways are clear, and I’m heaving to access precious oxygen—heaving so hard it hurts.
Everything hurts.My throat, my lungs, my pussy, my legs—the biting cold that has my body shivering all over. Fat tears roll down my cheeks and into the water as devastating sobs rip up my sore throat, making my stomach contract in painful spasms and blocking the newly freed passage to my lungs.
Next thing I know, I’m hoisted into strong arms, and the person carrying me jumps out of the tub, placing me on the floor. I squirm to process the pain and panic pounding through my body—inside and out—but I’m forced to my side, my chest angled toward the floor.
“Breathe,” an urgent voice demands. “Slowly.”
I try, but I can’t seem to drag in air.
“Slowly,” the voice repeats, and a large hand splays over my chest to demonstrate the motions I should make. The palm lifts slightly off my chest, then presses down. Up and down, up and down. In and out, in and out. Gradually, I fall into the steady rhythm, and the air reaches a bit farther down with each breath.
I keep crying as I go. Crying and breathing. It’s all I can do.
Someone bustles behind me, speaking a foreign language, then leaving. An angry growl next to me prompts another set of feet to leave, and the front door slams, and then I’m carried to bed. Still crying.
The arms don’t release me. They position me to lie against a strong, warm body, pull the comforter around me, then they wrap around me, rocking me gently, trying to calm me. But it doesn’t work. Just like my cold body refuses to give up the shaking, the panic lodged in my mind refuses to abate.
I desperately cling to Janos. “Why do you let him do this to me?” I cry into his chest, and when he doesn’t answer, I repeat the words over and over, shaking him with what feeble strength I can muster. Then I pound his chest with my fists. I’m as desperate for an explanation as I was for air. “Answer me!” I demand, the force straining my throat and making me cough. But I don’t let up. “Why?!”
“Because I owe him my life,” a regretful voice finally says.
I keep banging my fists until everything is so hopeless I just curl up on myself and weep.
A small eternity seems to pass before he finally expands. “If it wasn’t for Gabor, I would have been dead long ago. Or in jail for killing someone. I was so angry. A hand grenade without a pin waiting to explode. He taught me discipline and gave me the skills it takes to make it in this world.”
“Can’t you just quit? Stop being his henchman?” I pull away to stare at him with desperate hope in my eyes. “Start a new life somewhere and take me with you?” For a short moment, I think he’ll feed my fantasy to soothe me—make me believe I’ll get out of this, if only for a moment.
But he won’t even give me that. “I’m sorry I can’t be the hero you want me to be.”
“But you’re not the cruel man he makes you, either.”
“No?” Janos’s lips twitch like a hungry predator. “You don’t think I’d find my own girls to rape if I wasn’t Gabor’s henchman, as you call it?”
My eyes dart back and forth between his steel-gray ones. I want to say no, but I wouldn’t believe it myself.
“Who’s to say I wouldn’t have forced myself upon you if I hadn’t tipped off Gabor about the sweet, little, submissive woman down by the river?”
Everything stops. I stare at him with parted lips, my breath barely moving. All this time, I thought Janos was just following orders, but really, he was the one who dragged me into this nightmare? He’s not just some man forced into some shady business in order to survive. He’s the instigator—the very reason I ended up in Gabor’s claws—and he doesn’t show the tiniest sliver of remorse.
I thought Gabor happened upon me by chance, but really, he was there that day to check me out. Because Janos had tipped him off. It all makes sense. Men like Gabor don’t frequent restaurants like that.
“But… how? How did you find me? How did you know I was submissive?”
Janos huffs. “I came by one day. You were talking to a customer at one of the outside tables. Some rich, bossy guy who flirted with you, and your eyes kept flickering down. Your whole posture was teeming with submission. You’d probably have gone home with him if it hadn’t been for your boss coming out and yelling at you to get back to work. Am I right?”
I remember that day. That man had called upon my every submissive instinct in a way few people have. He was competent, confident, and dominant, with a hint of arrogance that made me incredibly turned on, yet he seemed friendly. Protective too, as he barked at Iszák for yelling at me. But I tucked my tail between my legs, ran into the restaurant, and stayed hidden until he was gone, too embarrassed that he had seen Iszák yell at me like that.
“Why didn’t you take me yourself?”
“Your potential would be wasted on a one-time fuck, and I wasn’t interested in a toy of my own.”
Tears pool at the corners of my eyes, but it’s not because I feel betrayed. It’s not because this man is someone else than I thought him to be—because he’s not. The tears well because I can’t make myself push him away. I know I should hate him, scream for him to leave, wish to never see him again, but I can’t do either, and once the most immediate shock settles, I realize this new piece of information changes nothing. The only thing that shifts at this new information is my self-respect, and that is already on a slippery slope toward its full demise.
I still want Janos. I want him with a burning desire unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Even after he’s helped Gabor nearly drown me and confessed he was the one to deliver me into the claws of the devil. Even after he’s told me he would have raped me himself, I still want him.
It doesn’t matter how I ended up here, and whatever intentions he had at the beginning make no difference. I don’t care that he would use and abuse me even if Gabor wasn’t involved. Or maybe I do. But not the way I should. In some fucked up way, it only reinforces the strong pull that keeps me gravitating toward him.
I need his unmerciful power—his sadistic yet caring brand of brutality. In some way, I think that’s what draws me to him so strongly. It’s not just Stockholm syndrome or the fact that he’s the only person showing any kind of concern for me. Most of all, I want him because he sates this sick craving for unwavering, all-consuming dominance that I’ve always had.
At this very moment, I realize something crucial. I no longer want to escape. It doesn’t matter that Gabor’s sadistic games are only getting worse; all that matters is that Janos is here with me through it all.