6. Mila
MILA
C ameras lit up the night as soon as the limousine pulled up to the museum. There was a gala going on tonight for the city of Seattle and I was to be on the arm of Tommy Lingdale. Renounced bachelor and son to the city’s Council Manager. According to his father, it was important that his son was kept on a tight leash tonight, and I was paid to keep him there.
The flashing lights did little but blind me as I stepped out of the vehicle, a practiced smile pasted on my face. Twenty-four hours earlier I had been ravaged and left traumatized by some monster and now here I was, dressed in my best Gucci gown and smiling at strangers.
I shuddered to think that the man who had broken into my apartment could be standing in the shadows watching me.
I didn’t know how to feel after everything that transpired. I’d been raped before, several times by Yulian Volkov, but could you consider what this man did as rape. He hadn’t penetrated me…technically. He’d only watched as he’d destroyed me.
I’d never in my life felt so vulnerable before or fear-stricken. This was another level of stalking. This was beyond anything I'd ever heard of.
I thought he’d hurt me if I didn’t do as he asked and I froze, time and time again, only to give him time to manipulate my body into orgasm after orgasm. Had I become so brainwashed that I didn’t consider what he did to be vile. And yet he was oddly brutal and yet gentle, as if all he wanted to do was give me pleasure.
Let me have this, Mila. Let me taste you.
His words echoed in my head, haunting me. How did he know my name? Why was he doing this?
Tommy laughed at something another gentleman had said and then excused himself as he tugged me over to the bar.
“If you’re gonna be my date you might as well enjoy yourself.”
I looked at him and gave him a small smile.
“Not much of a talker, huh? I prefer it that way anyway.” He took a shot of tequila and ordered two more.
I sighed, my eyes darting around the dimly lit hall. What was I searching for? A glimpse of him?
As another shot glass was placed in front of Tommy, I slid my hand in and intercepted it. He watched me gulp down the shot and laughed.
“Now that’s more like it!”
Getting trashed wasn’t my idea of a good time, but after the events of last night I thought it was appropriate. I spent the rest of the night listening to Tommy Lingdale go on and on about his house in the mountains and how his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, but he just wanted to be free to do what he wanted.
I just sat there, my hand on my cheek listening to this rich boy whine about how he had to do what his daddy told him if not he’d cut him off. Privileged asshole.
By the end of the night I was buzzed but I had managed to do my job and put a drunk Tommy boy in the Limousine, unharmed, and dropped off safely back home.
I, on the other hand, took myself back to a hotel. I couldn’t stay in my apartment, and if I could I’d move out right away. But the lease was good until the end of the year, and I didn’t want to reach out to Sabrina. I didn’t want to owe her any more than I already did. It had already been a bad idea to let her know about what was going on in the first place. She only cared about her business and her money. Having an escort with a stalker would most definitely damage her reputation and I couldn’t afford that.
I used the black card Sabrina had given me to get a room at the Fairmont in downtown. It was a luxury I couldn’t afford but I figured it was the least Illicita could do. If anything, I’d put it on Tommy’s daddy’s bill. I’m sure they wouldn’t miss a dime.
As soon as I walked through the door I felt safer. There was no one here who could harm me, and I was able to use a name that nobody knew in order to have some privacy. All I needed to show was the Illicita card and I had everything I wanted brought to me.
After taking a hot shower I sat down and ate a steak dinner while watching a movie in bed. Wrapped up in my hotel robe, I nibbled on chocolate covered strawberries and pink champagne while I told myself that nothing was going to happen to me tonight.
By two o’clock in the morning I was tucked into bed, my eyes glancing over to the door where a chair was perched against the handle, locking it in place. I glanced at my phone, not sure what to expect. I had no one. No friends, no family, occasionally Bonnie would check in on me, but for the most part I kept to myself. I preferred it that way. Less connections meant less drama and less people that knew my sad story.
I shut the television off and slid back into the pillows. I cuddled into the softness of the robe and as I closed my eyes I saw him, or at least a shadow of him.
I could still smell his aftershave and the scent of leather that seemed to linger on his skin. He smelled expensive and the scent was oddly enticing. He’d been rough, his hands pinning me to the bed, the callousness of his thumb sliding over my clit made me wet with need.
I clenched my eyes shut, not knowing what the hell to think but could it be possible that I liked what he did. How he did it. How he was so eager to give me pleasure but stopped there, truly not wanting to harm me. How he’d stared at me with those dark eyes when he was done, running away as if this need haunted him too.
I moaned, raising an arm and covering my eyes as my hand roamed over the curve of my breast, pinching the nipple as I remembered how hot his mouth felt there.
I knew I was triggered by sex. These men would sometimes force me to obey them and it aroused me more than I cared to admit to. But they were my private fantasies, things I never told a soul. This man had come in, taken advantage of me, but instead of crying about it I was sliding my fingers across my wet slit, remembering how good his mouth had felt on me.
I was beyond sick. A casualty of my own circumstances.
His deep voice had sent chills down my spine. His words of desperation echoed in my head as I rubbed at my pussy, racing towards that dark, sweet release. I needed to cum.
My moans filled the room as my objections turned into surrender and I slid my fingers inside of me, flicking my clit as I thought of his dark silhouette on top of me. I was as perverse as my clientele, needing release from a stranger who was clearly obsessed with me. But oh how good that obsession had felt as he dragged his tongue over my core, drenching my thighs in bite marks. Marks I still had on me as I showered the next morning.
That's it, angel. I just want to take care of you.
His words made my body shudder, heightening the pleasure I was self-inducing. I moaned a deep yes as my body began to shake.
I just need one taste.
I cried out as the orgasm crashed over me. I dragged my hand down my face in shame, biting my fist as my body shook, my fingers still brushing at my clit in a fevered fervor as I came for him once again.
I lay there, staring up at the ceiling realizing that being with Yulian Volkov had fucked me up severely. I had been conditioned to cum when I was forced. Conditioned to accept my fate. I was a lot stronger than most, but I still had residue of his abuse in me. And it manifested in the most intense orgasms I'd ever had.
Disgusting ?
Possibly.
But who are you to judge me?
I was just as fucked up as the entire fucking world I lived in. The only difference was that I accepted it, and apparently, I was fucked up enough to enjoy the darkness.
How did this truth let me sleep at night?
Like a fucking rock. Which is exactly what I did. I turned on my side and fell asleep.
My shame was my own, no one else's. And so were my secrets. They were mine to bear, mine to suffer, and mine to enjoy.