9. Sofia
SOFIA
Four times. Four times in… I’m not sure how many hours. All I know is that when I opened my eyes after my last orgasm, the light from the windows was changing from darkness to the bright gray of morning.
Sore, legs shaking, and practically dripping with cum and sweat.
He brought me a bottle of water from his bag, then he wiped me down with a cool, damp rag.
I lay on that mattress watching him clean me up.
His silver hair was mussed and falling into his eyes, but I could see a sheen of sweat on his skin.
He’d taken his shirt off with his pants at some point, so the rest of his body shone in the grim light of dawn, highlighting all his tattoos…
including the strange spider tat on his throat.
Bratva tats are almost always the same in a way. There’s always lots of Russian writing and images of ferocious animals and sometimes, even, of things like the Kremlin and other such institutions. His tats are like that… except for the little black spider on this throat.
I was too tired to bother inquiring about it. I doubt he’d tell me if I did, anyway.
He came prepared with that little bag, tossing me one of his dress shirts while he put his back on. “Get dressed,” he said, and nothing more after that.
Now, I’m sitting in the back seat of his car as we drive onto the property, wearing practically nothing but this dress shirt. I pulled it up under me as I got into the car to shield my bare ass from the leather of the seats. It’s a good thing the afternoon heat hasn’t kicked in, I guess.
I’m achy and tired, but also…
I can’t explain what I’m feeling. Perhaps because I don’t want to.
Last night was like one of the dirty dreams that I started having after I first met Titus.
It was electric and intense and powerful and even a little scary.
I’d never say it out loud, especially around him, but I enjoyed every fucking minute of his torture.
I honestly think I’ve lost my mind.
His driver hasn’t spoken a word to him since we started driving.
They talked a little back and forth as I was being escorted to the car, but otherwise, it’s been nothing.
I can sense some tension there. It makes me think that maybe he’s more than just his driver.
If I had to guess, I’d say that he’s probably his sovietnik, his own personal internal spy.
When we turn onto Titus’s property, I find myself looking along the tree line for Adam. I know he’s not there. It’s been days since we launched an attack on the property. If he were somehow still waiting there, I can’t imagine he’d still be alive.
I hope he’s still alive. I hope he’s run as far as he can from this place.
The lane up to the house looks different in the daylight. The large expanse of land and trees, the high, pointed tops of the iron bars around the area in the distance that just barely touch the bottoms of the tree line of the small patch of woods between properties…
It’s beautiful. And really open. I’m legitimately shocked that I wasn’t spotted as soon as I set foot inside the grounds.
The car finally stops at the curb before the steps leading up to the door. “Sir,” Titus’s driver says, “we should have a word—”
“We will. Not now.” And with that, Titus opens the door and gets out of the car. A second later, my door opens.
He leads me up the stairs to the door and lets me in. As I walk over the threshold, I note little spots of blood on the concrete. The woman Adam shot. Titus said something about her being his housekeeper. He must have been walking her out for the night.
“Your brother is a fairly good shot,” he says to me as we walk into the foyer. “Or a very bad one. I don’t imagine he was aiming for my housekeeper, was he?”
He looks down at me, expecting an answer. I’m too tired to stonewall him. “No.”
He smirks and the action lights up his eyes, even in the dusty amber glow of this area. “Of course not. Come on. Let’s get you settled.”
We walk through the living room. Leather couches, glass coffee table —modern as all hell, just like I thought when I glimpsed it through the window. Only now, I have the added sense of smell. The room kind of smells like him in a leather jacket.
“There are rules that I expect you to follow,” he says as we walk up the stairs to the second floor.
“First, you will stay in your room at all times… unless, of course, I say you can leave it. Don’t worry, it’s not as oppressive as the warehouse.
You’ll have everything you need at hand.
And anything that you don’t have, all you have to do is ask for it. ”
The second floor reminds me a little of one of those old motels.
There’s one large hallway with doors on either side and near the end, it branches off into other hallways that lead to other rooms. The decor is…
clean. Off-white carpet, beige and gold wallpaper.
This is a house that’s well taken care of.
“The one thing you will not do is wander these halls unescorted,” he says as we turn the corner and walk down a short hallway that ends with a door. He pauses at the door, resting his hand on the knob. “Once you are in your room and I leave it, you will be locked in. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Speak, Sofia.”
“Yes, um, Daddy.”
He tilts his head slightly. “When we’re not engaged in your training, you’ll call me ‘Sir’.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He gives a short nod of satisfaction, then opens the door.
The bedroom is less of a bedroom and more of a small apartment. It’s huge. In the center of the room is a queen- or king-sized bed with a thick, black comforter over it. The bedframe is made from heavy wood and has intricate carvings around the small posts at the headboard and around the legs.
There’s a matching dresser across from the bed and two night stands.
On the left of the bed is a large window with heavy curtains blocking out the light, a mirror that takes up half the wall and not so coincidentally has the bed in its reflection.
On the other side of the bed are a small couch and table and a television facing the little arrangement.
A bookcase stands adjacent to the couch, filled with books, of course…
And a door that’s half open. I can see from here that it’s a bathroom with what looks like a monstrous jacuzzi.
Standing at the doorway on this soft carpet, I can’t wait to take my shoes off and walk through it. I can feel its plushness through the soles of my shoes. Honestly, for being the fuck toy of a Pakhan, this is more than I expected.
“You will be given three meals a day,” he says.
“You will eat breakfast and lunch in this room, but I expect you to join me for dinner. After tonight, that is.” He walks over to the mirror wall and presses it.
A door opens to reveal a room with empty shelves and hangers.
“I’ll send in someone to take your dress size.
I want you dressed properly for dinner.”
“Properly? What does that mean?” His eyes harden slightly. “Sir, I mean. What does that mean, Sir?”
“Semi-formal,” he says. He walks across the room to the bathroom. “As far as hygiene, you will shower daily.”
I scoff and he whips his head around to me. “Sorry, I just… I’m not a child. I know how to wash myself.”
“Did I ask for commentary from you?” He doesn’t make a move toward me, but the way he’s looking around at me, his gold eyes darkening, it sends a chill up my spine.
I shake my head. “No, Sir.”
He narrows his eyes slightly. “We’ll work on curbing that mouth of yours.
As I was saying, you’ll maintain appropriate hygiene and your hair…
” His eyes observe my hair, darting around my head as if he’s touching every strand.
“Keep it long. In fact, I’d like to see it braided in a single braid for our next lesson. ”
I hold back another scoff. He thinks of sex as ‘lessons’ and ‘training’. That’s a trip.
“And your nails,” he says, looking down at my hands. “Grow them out. I’ll have someone come in to help you maintain them. I like them long and sharpened to a manageable point. If you have any questions, ask them.”
Questions? Ha! He’s making this whole thing feel like a business meeting. “What about fresh air? I guess I’m not allowed to go to the mall or the park or anything like that. What about just taking a walk around the property?”
“All of that comes with trust, Princess,” he says. “And you haven’t earned it yet. You will stay in this room at all times unless I say otherwise.”
Hm. Guess on the day he lets me suck his dick, I’ll be able to move around freely. At least I have some kind of gauge. “You said three meals a day. What about snacks?”
“Hmm. No, I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean, I don’t think—”
“Are there any other questions, Sofia? Or are you trying to waste my time?”
Something in his voice makes my jaw slam shut. It rumbles with warning like a lion’s growl. “No,” I say. “No, Sir.”
He nods. “I’ll give you the day to recover,” he says. “So, shower, relax, rest. We’ll start again tomorrow.”
Start again. I’m equally afraid and excited for that prospect. He leaves at that point without so much as a goodbye. So… I stand in this room as he walks out and wait until I hear the locks engage.
Terms of my imprisonment, huh? I guess this could be worse in a lot of ways. It certainly would have been worse if I’d chosen not to fuck him. At least I’ll be able to shower. I walk over to the dresser and open it. There’s nothing in it. Guess I’ll have to wait for clothes…
But I don’t have to wait for a shower, and right now, I’m desperate for one. I kick off my shoes and let the soft carpet caress the bottoms of my feet.
I might sleep for days after this shower.
I’m barely watching this show. Not that I could focus if I wanted to. At this point, the television is just on for the noise.