8. Titus
TITUS
Two days since the rare bird was caught. As requested, she’s being held at one of my warehouses. Ignat has been keeping me abreast of her situation and making sure none of my men do her any undue harm. As far as I’ve been told, she has remained untouched.
She wasn’t behind Natalie’s shooting. She couldn’t have been. Someone sniped her from somewhere beyond my gates. I have to assume it was her brother. By the time my guards got there, he was gone. I’ve had the brigades looking out for him since.
The easier thing to do is to torture his sister, make her bleed a little until she reveals his location. I have to admit, the idea of doing such a thing feels abhorrent. Like destroying a Van Gogh. There are other ways to torture a person, however.
We’re driving to the warehouse now and Ignat’s been quiet for most of the ride. I can sense that he has questions, thoughts about what my intentions are with this girl. I’m thankful he’s chosen to keep those questions to himself.
“What state is she in?” I ask him as we pull the car up to the entrance.
“State, sir?”
“I asked that she be made reasonably comfortable.”
“She has a cot to sleep on,” he says. “And she’s been fed three meals a day.”
“Has she spoken to anyone?”
“Curiously enough, she’s refused all attempts at communication.” Ignat regards me for a moment. “If you were hoping the isolation would break her, you may need to give it more time.”
“Perhaps. Shall we?”
We both get out of the car. Ignat grabs the bag I requested from the backseat and hands it to me. “Your implements of torture.”
I take it from him and we walk into the warehouse.
This warehouse is one of the cleaner ones that I own.
Boxes line the walls on the first floor and the floors are regularly swept.
There are five offices in back, all of them cleared out except for the barest amenities for anyone we choose to hold here—cots, a bucket for pissing in, a functioning sink to wash in.
We get to her room, and Cyril is sitting in a chair by the door, rubbing his healing chest. His second encounter with her left him with more bruises and a fractured rib.
His attitude has been edgy since that last encounter with her as well.
I imagine if I told him to go in there and shoot her dead, I’d barely get the words out before he was at the door.
He sees me and sits up. “Sir,” he says.
“How is she?”
“Last check, she was fine.” He pauses, looking over at Ignat. “Cleaned out her room as requested.”
“And the chains?”
“Slapped on about thirty minutes ago. She was less than happy about that.”
I nod. “Gentlemen, why don’t you two leave me for a few hours? I’ll call you if I need you.”
Ignat’s eyes widen slightly in a do you think that’s wise kind of way, but all he says is, “Yes, sir.”
They both leave. I wait until I can no longer hear their footsteps before I open the door.
She’s sitting on the cot in the corner, the shackles of her chains locking her wrists together in front of her. Her long, dark hair is loose around her shoulders and she’s got a faint bruise on her jaw. She looks at me, her light eyes darkening as she glares.
“So, we meet again,” I say. “You know, there aren’t too many who can best Cyril in hand to hand combat.”
Her full lips turn up into a slight smirk. “How’s his nose?” she asks.
“Physically? He’s healing.” I walk over to the metal table on one side of the room and set the bag down.
“Mentally, though.” I tsk and shake my head.
“He’s not used to being beaten so succinctly.
Where did you learn to fight, by the way?
Surely, your father didn’t fund skills like that for his daughter. ”
She doesn’t say anything. Her smirk dies away and she just glares.
“Ah, I see. So, it’s to be selective responses.
Interesting. All right, then. I will be direct.
” I walk to the center of the room, just far enough away from her so that she can’t reach me should she try to test the chains, but close enough for her to see the seriousness in my eyes.
“Your brother escaped us. I’m fairly certain he’s the one responsible for my housekeeper’s death. I’d like to have a word with him.”
She scoffs. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Don’t you? Surely, you can give me some clue.”
She shakes her head. “Sorry. We got separated in the madness. If you haven’t found him yet, I imagine he could be anywhere.”
Smart woman. I believe her, at least partially. “Hmm. That’s a shame,” I say. “On to other business, then. We need to settle which way you’d like to live out your last days on earth.”
She continues to glare, and while she shows me no sign of fear, I can see a little of it in her eyes, shining up at me in the darkness.
“You have two options. Stay here in this room. You’ll be fed regularly, though no one will offer you anything else. You will see only these four walls for the rest of your days.”
“And the other option?”
I smile. I can’t help it. “You give yourself to me.”
She frowns slightly. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
She doesn’t respond. Her frown just deepens.
“I’ve fucked a lot of women in my time. Beauty comes and goes for a Pakhan. It’s almost part of the job. You, though… There is something about you. From the first moment I saw you, I have been captivated by one singular thought. That breaking you in would be a very, very interesting prospect.”
“So,” she says, “you just want to fuck me. I do that, and then what?”
“There is no ‘then what?’ We aren’t negotiating the conditions of your release, my dear. I am telling you that you will become my own personal fuck toy. You will give over your body to me to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Or you will stay in this room and rot.”
Her eyes dart, looking me up and down quickly. Surveying me. “You’re just going to leave me here? Forever? Unless I agree to be your personal sex slave?”
“That’s about it. Think of it like this.
Tomorrow morning, you could wake up to the gray light coming into this room after a long night on a lumpy mattress or you could wake up on a soft, luxurious bed, sore and maybe a little swollen from the night before, but in much better accommodations.
No chains, better food, a nicer shower. A much better life than this. ”
She licks her lips, then turns away from me as if trying to hide the sudden blushing around her cheeks. “And if I tell you where my brother is—”
“It will continue, my dear,” I tell her. “As I said. We are not negotiating. You’ll stay here or you will be mine to use however I want.”
She purses her lips and looks away from me again for a moment, her fingers tracing the stitches of the mattress under her. “This… this is blackmail.”
“It is the terms of your imprisonment, Princess,” I say in a firm tone. “You seem to know a lot about vengeance, don’t you? Looking for me because I took out your father. Have you considered that I might be on my own mission for justice? For what he’s done to me? You will be my sweetest revenge.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes, the blushing covering the bridge of her nose.
“I am collecting the spoils of this war,” he says. “Be thankful that I’m bothering to offer you a choice at all.”
She seems to debate it. Her eyes dart around the room, looking for answers or anything that might save her. There is nothing. The elegance of the situation is what’s trapped her.
And I can be an impatient man. I sigh and say, “A non answer is still an answer,” I say. “Have a good life tucked away in solitude.” I turn to leave.
“Wait,” she says as soon as my hand touches the doorknob. I turn around and she says, “Okay.”
“Say the words. Tell me that you are mine.”
She swallows hard. “I… I am yours… to do whatever you want.”
Good. Now that that’s settled… “What’s your name?”
“Sofia,” she says softly.
“Lovely.” On the other side of the room, there is a panel holding the chains. I walk over to it and open the metal door. “In case you were unaware, my name is Titus. But I consider it disrespectful for you to address me as such. You are beneath me, Princess.”
Inside the panel are several buttons, each of them with a specific function for the chains. I press the one pulling them upward. Her hands jerk up over her head, lifting her off the bed.
“Your name for me…” I press another button to drag her to the center of the room. She gasps with surprise as her feet drag behind her. “How about Daddy? You are a fatherless whore now. Seems appropriate.”
She blinks at me with wide eyes, her mouth open slightly as her breath quickens.
She’s wearing the clothes that she had on when she was caught.
A black tank top and tight black yoga pants.
They look good on her, highlighting her curves.
I walk over to her to get a better look.
The crotch outlines the lips of her pussy and the curve of her peach shaped ass.
“Wait,” she says. “We’re doing this now?”
“Oh, yes,” I tell her. “You didn’t think I’d risk taking you out of here without making good on this deal, did you?”
She watches me as I continue to circle. I stop in front of her and say, “Now. That’s the last question you’ll ask without my permission. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not move unless I tell you to. And you will take everything that I give you. Am I understood?”
She nods and I grab her face, pulling her to me.
“Use your words, Sofia.”
“Y-Yes… Daddy,” she says, her voice cracking.
“Very nice. I’m going to want you to speak up next time. Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of practice until you get it right.” I let her go and walk to my bag, unzipping it.
“If you take off the chains,” she says as I take out the toys I plan to use, “I can give you head. I’m very good at sucking dick.”