Chapter 31
Grace
Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.
I repeat it to myself as whatever sleeping drug Mikhail gave me wears off and I wake up in a box.
In a box! There’s no light, so I can’t see anything, but I’m lying on something soft, so the box is probably padded, like a coffin, which is not a comforting comparison.
My ankles and wrists are tied to the sides of the box, and there are multiple straps running across my body to keep me in place.
I smother a hysterical giggle wondering if there’s a ‘fragile’ or ‘this side up’ sticker on the box, or if some grumpy movers will flip me upside down.
Mikhail assured me competent people handle product delivery, but no company uses its best and brightest as messengers.
I breathe in slowly. I can’t see them, but the box must have breathing holes, otherwise I would have been long dead by now.
Judging by how thirsty I am and how badly I need to pee, I must have been asleep for quite some time.
There’s nothing to be done about either of those things right now, though, so I try to stay calm and focus on replaying the memories from the past three days which were, without argument, the best days of my life.
Quite possibly the last days, too, my subconscious adds. You need to start thinking about escaping again.
Escape. I still wince even thinking that word.
Mikhail had done a really good job of drilling into me that escape is not an option.
However, he also told me to stay alive. If an opportunity arises and escape is my best chance to survive, should I take it?
I really don’t want to disappoint my Master—Mikhail, not this sleazebag I’m being shipped to—but I doubt he still cares about the Doll brand, so he probably wouldn’t mind if I tarnished it by bashing someone’s head and running off.
It might be safer to stay put and play along, though, because these people are dangerous criminals.
Mobsters. Mikhail didn’t give me details, and I didn’t ask.
It was probably short-sighted of me, but I didn’t want to ruin my remaining time with him by worrying.
He also didn’t explicitly promise he’d come to my rescue, but I kind of assumed that’s a given with all his claims that I’m his forever.
Damn, I hope he comes to rescue me. I enjoy serving him, but I doubt I’ll feel the same about Sergei Chernov.
I don’t think heads of Bratva families tend to be sweet and cuddly like my Master.
We’ve cuddled a lot over the past three days, and I already miss having his strong arms wrapped tightly around me. The tight confines of the box don’t give the same vibe.
Over the past few days, we’ve had a lot of sex and played a lot of “games”, most involving me tied up and in some form of pain.
It was all good pain, and it was never too much for me to handle.
I got spanked in every thinkable spot and position with a wide array of tools.
The riding crop on my clit was definitely my favorite, and I actually came just from those stinging licks, which prompted another, more painful round of spanking, because I hadn’t been given permission to come.
I grumbled at Mikhail for that because I bet he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from coming if someone kept stimulating his cock, either.
My protests earned me a cock in my throat, which is hardly a punishment for me.
As terrified as I was of electricity, it actually turned out to be quite interesting when Mikihail wasn’t using it for punishment.
He has this handheld electric wand-like thing with various attachments, and we’ve had a ton of fun with it.
Well, he had fun while I squirmed strapped to the table, trying to avoid getting that thing near my clit because even at the lowest setting the tingles were painfully intense.
On the higher setting, well… Mikhail likes my screams.
I still can’t believe how much satisfaction it brings him to see me in pain.
It probably makes him a bad person by normal standards, but I don’t care.
What we have is as far from “normal” as possible but if it makes us both happy, there’s nothing wrong with it.
Those are Mikhail’s words, which I repeat to that annoying voice from the back of my mind when it spews nonsense about leaving Mikhail.
I’m never leaving him. Well, I’m being shipped away from him right now, but that’s only temporary. I hope. God, I hope it is.
We haven’t talked about the future. Or the past. I tried asking Mikhail about his parents, but he just gave me a look that promised the not-fun kind of pain if I didn’t shut up immediately, so I dropped it.
I get the feeling his parents are either dead or he isn’t in touch with them, which is fine with me.
I wish I could not be in touch with my parents.
It probably makes me a bad person, too, but it’s true.
Then I realize Mikhail won’t let me stay in contact with my toxic parents, and a smile creeps on my face.
I won’t have to go back to them again, and I won’t even have to feel bad about not contacting them because it won’t be my choice.
It’s perfect. He’s perfect, and I can’t believe he wants me.
I’m done doubting it, though, because the punishments are just not worth it.
The air in the box is hot and stuffy, my throat is parched, and my bladder feels like it’s going to burst. Mikhail told me not to worry, but I can’t help it. How am I supposed to not worry in this situation?
There’s a distant engine rumble I feel rather than hear as it vibrates through the bottom of the box. I’m in a van, most likely. Or a hearse. I snort at that. Wouldn’t that be just hilarious? Jesus, I’m going to lose my mind here. We stop then, the engine rumble fading into an oppressive silence.
It looks like we’ve arrived at our destination.
Or the delivery guys are just taking a break.
I hope not. I’m in no rush to meet Sergei Chernov, my hopefully temporary new Master, but I am in a rush to get out of this damned box and into a bathroom.
Why did I drink that extra smoothie? Mikhail argued I might not get fed much and needed to keep my strength up, but who drinks a huge smoothie right before getting locked in a box? Stupid.
To my despair, the engine rumbles back to life and the car starts moving again.
“Really?” I whine to no one in particular.
“Come on!” I’d kick the box lid if my legs were free, but they’re not, so I just curse and complain and try to do anything in my power not to think about my full bladder which, naturally, only makes me think about it more.
The car stops again not even five minutes later, making me think the first stop was a checkpoint or gate and we’ve arrived at our destination.
That’s confirmed when I hear doors opening and closing and then my box jerks and starts moving.
I shouldn’t be relieved. I should be terrified, but I’m just happy to get out of the damned box, so when the lid finally opens, I smile brightly at the men looking at me.
Their eyes slide over my naked body, and some of them smirk.
“No tits,” one notes before disappearing from my view.
“Yeah, she’s not much to look at,” another agrees, but starts loosening the straps holding me in place.
“Tit size isn’t everything,” the third one says.
His voice is deep, and even without introductions, I know he’s the boss here.
My new Master. Knowing this is the man I need to keep happy if I want to survive, I smile at him.
His eyebrow shoots up. “She’s supposed to be well trained,” he says, looking at me but talking to his underlings.
“Besides, she was free. A gift to celebrate the new deal.”
“So, we’re really going to be moving pussy for the Morozovs?
” the first one asks. There’s a thud and a pained groan from the floor.
“See what you’re missing out, Luka?” Another thud.
This time, the groan is louder. “If you weren’t a fucking rat, you could have been drowning in prime Morozov pussy with us but no, you had to talk to the cops.
Seriously, man, I thought we were friends. ”
There are more noises and whimpers, sounding like someone’s getting kicked and punched. Christ, what have I gotten myself into?
Falling back on Mikhail’s rules, I keep smiling and pretend I don’t hear someone getting kicked to death just a few feet away from me. There’s nothing I can do for him. My goal is to survive until Mikhail rescues me.
The boss, who I assume is Sergei Chernov himself, holds out a hand to me, and I let him help me sit up.
His knuckles are torn and bloodied but I ignore that, focusing instead on getting my spinning vision under control.
It must be the remains of the drugs in my system because I don’t think my balance would be quite this shot just from lying down for a few hours.
Since I can’t stand on my own, Chernov’s underling picks me up and sets me on the floor.
I sink to my knees, more or less gracefully, grateful that the world isn’t spinning as much when I’m off my feet.
Tilting my chin up, Chernov makes me look at him, then fingers the red bow tied around my neck. “Nice touch,” he smirks. “They really have the product packaging worked out.”
I glance at the box I arrived in and stifle a snort. It isn’t just any random dull box. There are cheerful kiss prints covering it along with a big “Morozov Dolls” sign and, yes, there’s a “this side up” sticker that nearly makes me laugh out loud.
The clenching of my abdominal muscles reminds me how badly I have to pee.
I shouldn’t speak unless spoken to, but what else am I supposed to do?
I doubt the big scary boss would be happy if I peed on the floor like a naughty puppy.
He might enjoy punishing me for it, but I’d rather avoid it.
I don’t want to end up a broken, bleeding mess like the guy already groaning somewhere behind me.
As gently as I can, I clear my throat. “Master?”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles as the room goes quiet. “What is it, slut?” Chernov growls, clearly irritated at having to interact with me.
Stay alive. “I am excited to start serving you, Master,” I start, carefully weighing every word, “but may I please visit the bathroom first?”
He smirks. “No, you may not. I want to play with my expensive toy, not watch it gallivant around my mansion.”
What a jerk. I try my best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Master. I need to pee,” I whisper, heat flaring in my cheeks at having to admit that in front of three men. Four if I count the one on the floor, but I doubt he’s paying attention.
“‘I need to pee’,” one of the underlings whines then bursts into laughter. “Boss, I bet Luka is thirsty. Why doesn’t she piss at him?”
“Hmm.” Chernov rubs his chin. “Yeah, why not. At least he’ll last us longer. Go on, slut.” He gestures behind me. “Piss into his mouth.”