A few minutes later, Martin walked in and headed toward her. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
She stood quickly. “Much better. Thank you for asking.”
He smiled. “I’m so happy you’re here, Sabrina. I was devastated when you didn’t contact me after you graduated. I thought someone else had snatched you up.”
She bit her lip. He wasn’t completely wrong. “I would have if I could, Martin,” she said sincerely. “There was nowhere else I imagined going.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but just smiled again. “Well, you’re here now and that’s what counts.” He glanced at Jayson. “Since the two of you are dancing together, I’m expecting you to help her out.”
“Of course,” Jayson said with a nod. “I’d planned on it, even if we weren’t dancing together.”
Martin gave an approving nod. “Good.” He looked at Sabrina. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve partnered, but Jayson’s a good teacher. Watch him, ask questions. Get used to his presence. It’s different, dancing on your own versus dancing with another person in your personal space. Watch him in the mirror and try to match his movements.”
Sabrina nodded and glanced at Jayson, who smiled. “It’ll be okay. We have plenty of time to get ready.”
As they started to warm up, Sabrina watched Jayson and tried to match his movements. He was easy to follow . . . and a good-looking man to study.
“Sabrina, it’s okay for me to adjust to your body, too,” he whispered. “You don’t have to copy me on everything.”
“I’m just trying to get used to things. It’s easier if I follow you.”
He smiled. “Okay.”
During the cross-floor jumps, Martin scolded Jayson for lessening the power of his moves. “I bet she can keep up with you. Give it your all.”
The next set, he out-jumped her on the first one, but she caught up on the second. By the third, they were in sync.
“Good job!” Martin exclaimed when they finished. He beamed at her, then grinned at Jayson.
Jayson smiled as they walked to the back of the room. “You’re a fantastic jumper, Sabrina. Women can’t usually jump that far.”
“It’s always been one of my strong points, but I rarely get to do it full strength.”
*****
After lunch, they started rehearsals. Jayson and Sabrina worked on their pas de deux until mid-afternoon when school let out and the kids were available for rehearsal of the first act’s party scene. Sabrina did her best to not be distracted by Jayson dancing so close to her, but it was a challenge. The only time men were around her in her past was for sexual reasons. Jayson touched her, picked her up, and it was all totally innocent. This was partnering. But Sabrina was confused. Her mind knew and understood. Her body, on the other hand, became stimulated.
At break, she went into the bathroom and cried. How could she be a professional dancer if she couldn’t stop thinking about sex every time a man touched her? And it wouldn’t only be Jayson. She would dance with several men throughout the ballet. No wonder Ramon didn’t want her partnering.
What a disgusting creature she was to not even be able to handle dancing with a man.
Maybe Jayson would be willing to help. They’d already slept together and he’d said he enjoyed it. Maybe he’d be willing to do it again.
No, she couldn’t ask Jayson to help with something like that. He’d probably be disgusted with her again. She’d have to figure something else out. Somehow.
She glanced at her watch, splashed some water on her face, and headed out. The studio hummed with the excited chatter of the younger dancers milling around and showing off. Sabrina lingered by the door, uncertain of what to do. She didn’t know anyone in there.
Most of the boys were older, probably mid- to late teens. A few of them were taller than her, and she found herself a little relieved. She’d been afraid she’d look out of place.
When Martin arrived, he paused, looking at her. “You okay?” Sabrina nodded and looked at the floor. He squeezed her shoulder gently. “You’re doing great, Sabrina. No worries.”
He gave her a kind smile, then moved to the center of the room and began to explain what would be going on for the next few weeks. When Martin announced Aiden Lang would be playing Herr Drosselmeyer, Clara’s quirky godfather, the girls all erupted into excited whispers. Sabrina had no idea who he was and made a mental note to ask Liz when she got home.
Martin introduced Sabrina and asked the tallest boy to come forward. “Sabrina, this is Holden. He’ll be your dance partner for the party.”
Holden grinned at her. “Hi,” he said enthusiastically.
Sabrina nodded. “Hi,” she replied nervously. She prayed her body would stay under control.
Rehearsal went quicker than Sabrina expected. Dancing with Holden was easy enough to deal with, mostly just holding hands. Sabrina sighed in relief at the end of rehearsal when she felt almost normal.
The downstairs lobby was full of parents, so Sabrina squeezed her way through the crowd and outside into the crisp fall air. By the time she made it back to the apartment, she felt better. She warmed up a microwave dinner and sat down at the table.
When Jayson arrived home a few minutes later, he sat down across from her. “How was rehearsal?” He’d been rehearsing with Rachel, the Sugar Plum Fairy, while Sabrina was with the kids.
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” She wouldn’t tell him about her troublesome body. She didn’t want to see the look on his face if she confessed her struggle.
“Who’s your partner for the party?”
“Holden.”
Jayson narrowed his eyes in thought, then nodded. “I think I remember him. Tall and blond?”
Sabrina nodded.
“He’s a great dancer in the pre-professional program. He’s worthy of you,” he added with a laugh.
Sabrina pressed her lips together. The pre-professional program . . . The program she’d been invited into when she was Holden’s age. The sting of the loss struck her heart. If she hadn’t been taken, maybe she’d have changed her mind and come back to Boston sooner.
So many what-ifs.
“What’s wrong?” Jayson asked, tilting his head.
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you look like you’re going to cry?”
Sabrina shrugged. “Who’s Aiden Lang?” she asked, changing the subject.
Jayson looked shocked. “You don’t know?
She shook her head.
“He’s a movie star. Big one. Why?”
“Martin said he’s dancing with us.”
After thinking a moment, Jayson exclaimed, “Oh! Drosselmeyer. That’s right.”
“Yeah. The girls got all excited when his name was mentioned.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know who he is.”
Sabrina looked down at her dinner and took a bite. There was so much she didn’t know. She hadn’t thought it was a big deal before now, but apparently, it was.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
Sabrina shrugged. “No biggie.”
“After you finish eating, we’ll watch one of his movies.” He smirked. “I’m sure you’ll see what the girls got excited about.”
Sabrina smiled. “Thanks.” She didn’t want to look like an idiot when she met a big movie star for the first time.
They settled onto the couch and Jayson started Brave Saturdays. It was a romantic comedy about a guy who signs up for speed dating every Saturday in the hopes he’ll find the love of his life. It was cute, and Sabrina found Aiden very good looking. The movie was only a few years old. Sabrina wondered how he’d play Drosselmeyer.
Chapter Eighteen
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
I jump as a voice yanks me from the p
ainful memories of my parents’ too-recent deaths. I turn from the window I’ve been staring out of for hours and see a stocky Mexican man with cold, dark eyes standing in the doorway of the room I’ve been raped in for the last three days. A taller man with similar coloring stands behind him, leering at me. I grasp at the blanket beneath me, trying to cover my nakedness, but the shorter man shakes his head.
“No need for modesty in mi casa, Sabrina,” he says in a heavily accented voice, walking toward me. “I am Ramon De Sousa. Bienvenido.”
I ignore his welcome and pull the covers over my body. He clicks his tongue. “I am not a patient man, señorita,” he says, yanking the blanket out of my hands. “You will do what I say when I say, or there will be consequences.”
My eyes burn from the hours and hours of crying, but I hope the glare I turn on him conveys the hatred I feel. I’ve already been raped repeatedly. What else can he do to me?
I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I hate the way they look at me.
Without warning, he lunges at me, grabs me by my hair, and yanks me to my feet. I struggle against his hold and gasp when he tightens his hand in my hair. “No, no, little one. You are here for my pleasure.” He cups my breast and I slap his hand away. He laughs. “Ah, you haven’t had the spirit fucked out of you yet.” He grins wickedly. “I always enjoy breaking in a new girl. Your Master warned me you might fight.” He leans into me, his face inches from mine. “I was hoping he wasn’t exaggerating.”
He pinches my nipple hard. I squeal while trying to pull away, but his grip is too strong. He pushes me to my knees and I glare up at him. He caresses my cheek. “So much spirit in such a little girl.”
My eyes narrow farther.
“Let me explain how things work in mi casa,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “As I said, you will do what I say when I say it and things will go well for you. Well, mostly. They will certainly be less painful . . . but not painless. I do enjoy seeing a woman in pain.” He smiles. “You will learn to obey me and the men who come to you. You will learn to enjoy the feel of a dick in your mouth, your pussy . . . and anywhere else he may want to put it.”
I make a face at the thought of a man’s penis in my mouth, making him laugh. “So naïve.” He swings me around, pushing my face into the bed and smacking my rear.
I yelp and kick. “Leave me alone! Let me go!”
But he only laughs and pushes down on my back, making me arch. “Look, Miguel. Look how pretty her cunt is.” He smacks me between the legs. I screech in pain.
I kick at him again, making contact. I think I kicked him between the legs because he releases my hair. I get a few steps across the room, away from him, before an arm wraps around my waist and I’m yanked back against a hard body.
“Take her to the stocks,” Ramon says in a pained voice.
I smile, knowing I hurt him. Miguel picks me up. I kick and swipe at him as he carries me down a brightly lit hallway. He pushes open a door and walks into a dimly lit room.
It’s big. Several rows of benches sit in front of a wide-open area with a sandy floor. Ceiling lights illuminate the area, and I freeze when I see a dark stain on the sand. Is that blood?
Miguel laughs. His voice is deeper than Ramon’s. “You will spend a lot of time in here. You will spill your blood for our pleasure, just like the other girls.”
I swallow hard and look up at him. He looks amused.
In the center of the open floor is a table, straps and chains hanging from it. When he starts walking toward it, I begin squirming again. Miguel just laughs. He drops me onto the table and, quicker than I could have imagined, straps me down. I’m unable to move, except to turn my head to the left and right.
I scream, begging him to let me go, but he only laughs. When I’m secure, he walks away without saying another word.
Dread fills me. The room is silent and creepy. I pull against the straps, but they don’t budge.
Finally, in my despair, I begin to cry.
I lie there for a long time. There’s no way to know how much time passes. I close my eyes, trying to think of anything except what might happen when someone returns. I remember Chase, dancing with him . . . talking with him . . . his kiss . . . It was less than a week ago when all that happened, yet it seems like a lifetime.
I start remembering the various ballets I’ve danced in, replaying them in my mind. Dancing in my memories.
I’ve gone through Swan Lake and am halfway through Giselle when the door opens and Ramon walks in, followed by Miguel.
Ramon says something in Spanish to Miguel, who then walks across the room and disappears through a door in the back. Ramon comes over and looks down at me, a frown on his face.
Then he raises his hand and slaps me hard across the cheek. “Never, ever do that again, bitch, or you will regret it.”
My cheek throbs as I glare at him, but don’t say anything.
He walks to my head and fiddles with something. My head drops back and I’m face to face with his hips, albeit upside down.
I squeeze my eyes shut as he starts to unbuckle his belt. I hear a zipper, then feel something at my lips.
“Open,” he says. I shake my head. “Open your mouth, you fucking bitch, or I’ll force it open.”
I don’t want to, but I don’t want to be hit again, either, so I squeeze my eyes closed even tighter and open my mouth a tiny bit. But that’s all it takes for him to shove his penis into my mouth. I gag as it hits my throat.
He grabs my head and slowly thrusts in and out. I cough and sputter. I use my tongue to try and keep him out, but it does no good. He is insistent and forces his way in. When he pushes his way down my throat, I spasm and pull against my bonds, but I can’t move. I grunt and gag, panicking that I can’t breathe.
In desperation, I bite down. He howls and leaps away. I gasp for breath, spit and drool dripping down my face. My eyes water, so I don’t see the fist coming, but I feel it when he hits my cheek.
He lets out a string of what I assume are curse words in Spanish and hits me again. I turn my head, the only part of me I can move, but it does nothing to stop him from raining down punches.
When he finally stops, my face feels like a balloon. Everything hurts. Blood runs down, and it feels like a thunderstorm rages inside my head. I wonder if he broke something.
Maybe he’ll kill me and I’ll be done with this life. There’s nothing to live for anyway.
Through swollen eyes, I can barely see Ramon as he glares at me, but something catches his attention and he grins.
“I will teach you the consequences of rebellion one way or another, bitch,” he growls.
I feel dazed. He props my head back on the table and moves to my side. He holds something up and I squint to see what it is. All I can see is something long and glowing red.
He brings it down to the top of my breast. A moment later, I scream as it scorches my skin and I smell burnt flesh.
“If you think a dick down your throat hurts, bitch, wait until I’m done using this on you.” He holds up the rod and looks at it, almost adoringly. “I’m so happy to have a new canvas to work on. This left scars on the others like you, but your Master claims you’ll heal with no permanent marks.” He tilts his head and his mouth screws into a twisted grin. “This was a gift from him. Almost a thousand degrees of torture.”
He presses it on my other breast, making me scream again.
Top. Bottom. Side. Nipple. I screech at each touch, pulling at the straps on the table, but nothing stops the relentless cruelty of this man. The scent of burnt flesh fills the room and I can hardly breathe for the pain and the stench.
Ramon nods to Miguel, who adjusts the table to pull my legs apart and push my knees to my chest. I feel very vulnerable . . . very exposed.
“Consequences can be painful,” Ramon says as he moves between my legs.
At first, I think he’s going to rape me again, which would be a welcome relief from the horrifying last few moments, but then he tilts his head, widens his eyes, and shoves his arm forward. At first, I don’t understand. But then the pain starts anew and I realize what he’s done. The horror of the thought suspends the pain. For a split second. And then I feel it.
I let out a blood-curdling scream, struggling like mad to escape the immense pain. But there is no escape.
I will never escape.
Sabrina sat up in bed, sobbing and shaking. Sweat dripped down between her breasts and she whimpered at the ghostly pain deep inside her body.
She remembered that horrible day. Or was it days? The day she met Ramon. Very quickly, she learned that he meant what he said. She learned to do disgusting things just to avoid that terrible pain. She learned to enjoy sex and all the other horrible things Ramon did to her and made her do, painful and otherwise. Or at least appear to enjoy it. Because if she didn’t, she was quickly back on that table.
That was also when she learned about her ability to heal. That was one of the terrible things about being Immortal. Her body always healed itself, so each time he tortured her was like the first. There was no getting used to the pain, except mentally. Her body didn’t adapt, didn’t dull to the agony.
I hate being Immortal. Sabrina buried her face in her hands and sobbed. I hate who and what I am.
Strong arms wrapped around her. “Another nightmare?” a gentle voice asked.
Jayson.
She nodded and buried her face in his chest. He held her, rocked her, told her everything would be okay. Slowly, the pain subsided and she stopped shaking.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. She was afraid to speak, afraid that it would release a torrent of tears. Tears she was tired of shedding. She just wanted to forget about everything.
“Lie down. I’ll stay with you until you fall back to sleep.”
Master of My Heart Page 12
