Chapter 34
Grace
It’s been two days. Or three? Yeah, probably three.
I slept twice already, and it’s evening again, so it must be three, and there’s no rescue in sight.
Is Mikhail really planning on leaving me here?
Three days ago, I would have laughed at the idea, but the longer I spend here and the more people use me as a living sex toy, the more I doubt it.
I’ve become intimately acquainted with around a dozen of Chernov’s men.
It’s impossible to say for sure because I can’t really see their faces when they take turns fucking me from behind.
Not that I want to see their faces. They all look the same, anyway.
Their features might be different, but that cruel look is always there.
I stopped counting blowjobs when I got to fifty, and I never even counted handjobs because what would be the point?
It’s not all bad, though. By that, I mean that things could be much worse.
On the second day, after finishing off poor Luka, who’d somehow survived the night, the men dragged in a girl. She was possibly even younger than me, with a curvy, full figure. Apparently, she’s been Luka’s accomplice.
I tried to block out everything they did to her, but it was nearly impossible since Chernov had a front-row seat and I was kneeling between his legs, giving him his regular torture-watching blowjob.
The girl’s screams were impossible to ignore, and I was lucky Chernov attributed the tears streaming down my face to my deepthroating him and not to sympathy with the poor soul.
I’m certain he wouldn’t like me feeling sorry for the “traitor cunt”, as they called her.
As much as they are careful with me, probably terrified of breaking the boss’ fancy toy, they were downright cruel to that girl.
That’s how I know how much worse things could get, and why I dread the day Chernov grows bored with me.
So far, he’s been enjoying his blowjobs and fucking.
He especially loves having me suck his cock while he’s in meetings with his underlings or other men.
How he focuses on business while his brain is leaking out of his cock I do not know, but as long as it spares me from torture, I’ll lick him like he’s the most delicious lollipop and gush over his amazing cock.
He’s not a bad Master. He feeds me and lets me sleep in an actual bed.
His idea of punishment is a rough ass-fucking which, while far from comfortable, really isn’t a big deal.
I realize my perspective is warped, and I should probably be more traumatized by everything, but it’s not like I haven’t been fucked in my ass before.
I guess desensitizing Dolls to this kind of treatment was a subtle but very useful part of the training.
Mikhail knows what he’s doing. But where is he?
He wouldn’t just leave me here, would he?
It’s evening, judging by the darkening sky outside the windows. The over-the-top posh lounge actually has windows, and when I’m not face to face with someone’s pubes, I get to see the sun. Lucky me.
Chernov is lounging in his favorite armchair with a drink in hand, looking all kingly, while a few of his men are running trains on me.
Tonight, there’s no one around to torture, which means I’m getting all their attention, and it’s exhausting.
I’d be content to let them use me whichever way they want if only I could close my eyes and catch some sleep while they’re having their fun.
However, sleeping is next to impossible while choking on someone’s cock, so I stay awake, hoping they’ll be entertained enough by fucking me not to do something worse.
They’ve already mentioned wanting to “make the slut scream”.
So far, Chernov has always stopped them, but tonight he looks bored too, which doesn’t bode well for me.
As I pull away from the guy who just came in my mouth, wiping the sticky substance from my chin with the back of my hand, my eyes meet Chernov’s and he smirks at me.
It’s a terrifying expression, and as he opens his mouth, I know he’s going to tell his men to torture me like they tortured the girl before.
Just as I’m about to panic, there’s a sound of shattered glass and a strange noise, like an empty beer can pinging off the floor.
The explosion follows not a second later, blinding and deafening, leaving me completely disoriented.
There’s shouting, bright lights, and gunfire.
The man who’s been fucking me shoves me, and I painfully hit my side against the coffee table.
Then, because I have no idea what’s happening, I crawl under it and press my hands over my ringing ears.
I don’t realize I’ve closed my eyes until sharp light hits my face.
Opening my eyes, I find a flashlight and a rifle aimed at me.
I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out, so I just stare at the faint outline of a helmet behind the flashlight and wonder if it will hurt when I die.
Honestly, it would be a little unfair if it did.
There’s more shouting, but the rifle disappears, and a few moments later another masked person shows up. As she removes her helmet and mask, I realize she’s a woman. Smiling, she gently but firmly pulls me out from under the coffee table. A blanket is wrapped around me, and I’m led away.
There are flashing lights, more people, another blanket, light in my eyes, someone asking questions my sluggish mind can’t understand. Pain on the inside of my elbow. A needle? The woman applying it smiles at me, so I guess everything is okay?
I must fall asleep, or my mind is just too overwhelmed, because the next thing I know, I’m in a small hospital room, hooked up to several machines and wearing a hospital gown.
The machines are silent, which feels odd.
In the movies, they always beep, although I assume it would get really annoying really fast.
A nurse is talking to me, but I don’t understand her words. It feels like my ears are filled with cotton wool. I’m tired, and I risk closing my eyes. Being in a hospital is a good thing. It’s safe. I think? Something important nags at the back of my mind, but I can’t focus enough to grasp it.
When I wake up, my mind is much clearer.
I lie still, taking stock of my body. Nothing aches, which is definitely new, and means that either I’ve been here long enough to heal or someone gave me pain meds.
Judging by the liquid steadily dripping into the tube connected to my arm, my bet is on the drugs.
I’m in a hospital. A real, normal hospital for normal people, not a place where mobsters go to have bullets removed and their wives to get their tits inflated.
The people who attacked Chernov’s place brought me here.
They must have been the police, not a rival gang.
Now that I think about it, they did have something written on their gear.
SWAT, perhaps? The details are fuzzy since my vision and hearing were affected by the explosion and my mind by the shock of everything that happened.
Chernov’s men were about to hurt me. I’m certain of that.
The police came at the right time, but they were not supposed to come, were they?
Mikhail was supposed to rescue me. How is he going to get to me now?
I bet there are police officers around, probably waiting to talk to me.
They must know who he is and what role he plays in the ring.
If they see him, they will arrest him, and I can’t let that happen.
Hopefully he’s smart enough to stay away, but for how long?
Will he even come back? I know he said I was his, and he said we’d be together forever, but what if he changed his mind?
After all, the police storming Chernov’s house just three days after I arrived cannot be a coincidence.
Someone tipped them off, and I doubt it was poor Luka.
Was it Mikhail? Was it his way of saying goodbye?
Having me rescued so he wouldn’t have to bother with me anymore?
I should be grateful, except I’m devastated at the thought of never seeing him again.
The tears come then, sobs racking my body as I curl up on the narrow hospital bed and cry.
People come and talk to me softly, telling me it’s normal to cry and that whatever I’m feeling is valid.
I doubt they’d be saying it if they knew I’m not crying because I’ve been raped and tortured but because I might never see the man who raped and tortured me.
I’m not stupid enough to tell anyone, though.
Ending up in a psych ward is the last thing I need, not now when I’m still holding on to a tiny—and possibly na?ve—hope that Mikhail might come for me.