by Jaden Wilkes
She felt him run his hand up her thigh under the table while Nico was going over some logistical arrangements. Places to stay, fake identification, the kind of boring details they were grateful to have him for.
She finally had enough; she stood up and brought their dinner meeting to an abrupt end. “Okay,” she announced, “I’m tired.” She took Dimitri’s hand and pulled for him to follow her.
“I am suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue myself,” Dimitri said, following behind. When she looked back, Nico was sitting with an unreadable expression on his handsome face.
Part longing and part annoyance at having his plan interrupted she thought, but something else.
He looked lonely.
She thought about bringing that up to Dimitri at some point, how Nico needed love and couldn’t they hire some hot young maid for him to play with. Not now though, now she could feel his cock pressing into her as he swept her up, laughing and rushing to their bedroom.
CHAPTER FOUR
DIMITRI
He rolled off Columbia and brought her head to rest on his chest. His scars ached, they always did after extreme effort and there was nothing more extreme than fucking Columbia.
She was relentless, always keeping him on his toes, never a dull moment with his girl. He had held her throat in his hands with such force he felt he had almost gone too far.
It never seemed enough for her though, he had to exercise the greatest of caution when choking his love, she didn’t have any boundaries so it was up to him to maintain control.
“I can’t believe we’re killing him today,” Columbia whispered into the quiet room. They were in Paris, had been for a few days. Like any other tourist couple, they had enjoyed sipping wine on the banks of the Seine, wandering down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées purchasing anything Columbia desired…and of course exploring each other’s bodies in the city of lights.
“It feels surreal to me as well,” he replied and closed his eyes. They knew what time Sergei was going to meet his mistress and they knew exactly where they needed to be in order to lure him and knife him.
They’d gone over the route a few times now, checking for timing and visibility from the alley they’d chosen.
It wasn’t more than a narrow gap between two historic manor houses now converted into low rent apartments for American ex pats and international students.
As with anything in Paris, it was on a beautiful and busy street…this one located in the 10th arrondissement.
“Let’s get some sleep, little dove,” he told her, “We have to be at our freshest when we confront him.”
“Yes, sleep now, then kill and fuck,” she said and bared her teeth at him. In the light of streetlamps from outside, she looked dangerous. Nothing like his little lover, but more like the dark queen of old, ancient and single minded in her killing.
He loved that about her, his cock responded to her single-minded nature, so much like his.
“Or fuck, sleep, then kill,” she laughed and grabbed his hard thickness and pulled herself up to mount him.
He laid in the semi-darkness, with just the streetlights for illumination, and watched his beautiful love writhe on his cock, snaking her body and swinging her long hair like a woman possessed.
He thrust up inside of her and came again, losing track of time and place, feeling only the pulse of her cunt tight around him, milking him and blending her body with his.
She fell on him; her forehead was damp and the tendrils of her thick hair spread over his chest like so many tentacles.
“You are going to devour me one day,” he told her. “Drag me into the deep and chew on my earthly remains, spit out the bones.”
“But the bone is my favourite part,” she replied and smiled against his ear.
She always had the cleverest responses to his moody ponderings. He loved that about her, among everything else that kept him enthralled.
“That bone will always be yours,” he replied. He held her against him, feeling their hearts flutter against their flesh as if in protest at being kept apart. They fell asleep like that.
*****
They paused at a small café, enjoyed the weather and each other while waiting for Sergei to make his appearance.
Columbia was on fire; her eyes alight with anticipation and her skin glowing in the bright Parisian sunshine.
The waiter was in love with her the moment he caught her eye, he stuttered and stammered his replies to her terrible French. Of course Dimitri told her it was improving, she was the kind of woman who would give up in a fit of anger if she didn’t feel she was mastering something immediately.
Not her best asset, but one that was a true testament to the strength and stubborn will that had kept her alive all those years being abused.
Dimitri’s hands still clenched in response to it, wishing he could have been the one to tear that fucker apart. He hated the thought of his beautiful little dove being preyed upon all that time when he was half way around the world, fucking whores and spending money on stupid shit.
He wished he could have rescued her sooner, destroyed the man who did it, and saved her before she had torn into her own flesh.
He knew it was a stupid thing to crave; she was exactly the woman he loved because of the life she had lived. Had he intervened earlier, would he love her as much? Or, more importantly, would she have loved him?
Their imperfections were a large part of the reason they had opened up to one another so quickly. They were both ripe for love when she’d fallen into his lap. Overripe perhaps, like rotten fruit bursting at the slightest touch.
He smiled and watched her sip her coffee. His beast’s heart had woken when she’d exploded on his hand that first time, tearing down the earth and sky and rebuilding his world with her as the centre.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious. In all her beauty and poise, she still possessed the soul of a little girl. One who believed herself ugly, who had nothing but scraps to live on and hand me down threadbare clothes to wear.
“You are beautiful,” he said, speaking the truth, “I was laughing because I love you so much.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” she replied and took his hand, “but I totally get it.”
They laughed together for a couple seconds, a shared hysteria over the moment at hand and their mutual delight at having found each other last year. It felt like they were sharing the greatest, most delicious inside joke of all.
They spent a short time at the café, loving and talking and taking in the beautiful city. When they pulled away from a kiss, Columbia saw Sergei.
They followed him and it all went according to plan. Dimitri’s heart froze the moment he saw Sergei, the man who had been his mentor, like a father to him, and the man who had tried to kill him.
He understood this was almost a game to Columbia, so he let her have Sergei’s life in her hands. She took it swiftly, and with a small smile on her lips. Her eyes were huge when she realized what she had done, and Dimitri feared that she had regretted her part in it. He regretted allowing her to take the knife.
He was wrong though, her eyes had widened with a bloody fascination at the power of life and death. Once again he had almost underestimated his little dove, and her love of killing. She took to it with ease, and enjoyed herself more than anyone he’d seen.
They left the alley and Dimitri felt as though he were the one most affected by Sergei’s dying gasp. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, killing the man who had been his biggest ally, but he didn’t expect to feel. To give a fuck.
They headed right back to their hotel room; Dimitri tossed the leather gloves he’d been wearing in a trashcan along the way.
They strolled, but their pace quickened for the last few blocks. Anyone who saw them would mistake it for the excitement of lovers heading back to spend time together.
It was, on one level, like that, but it was more the excitement of co-conspirators rushing back to discuss their shared event.
“We did it,” she finally breathed out five blocks from their hotel. They were both breathless, from rushing or adrenaline, he wasn’t sure.
“We did,” he said, “you did.” He squeezed her hand and stopped walking. She turned to him surprised and he kissed her. He needed her taste, her touch and her urgent desire at that moment. He needed to know he was still feet down, planted on the sidewalk, moving towards their future together.
Dimitri was not a sensitive man, but he was given to bouts of anxiety and obsessive thinking. Columbia had broken him of this when she came into his life, but having just seen the culmination of their efforts realized, Dimitri was stricken with a sense of unease.
He feared that getting rid of his old nemesis would simply give way to bigger and badder creatures that went bump in the night.
Columbia broke their kiss and pulled away, not out of his arms but just to look at him. Her eyes were searching his face, questioning what she saw there.
“Are you okay, Dimi?” she asked.
“I am excellent,” he said to cover up his fear. He swept her up in his arms and swung her around to the disgust of several people walking close to them. He even heard somebody mutter, “Fucking Americans,” in perfect Parisian French as he set her down.
“You seem nervous,” she replied, “anxious about something.”
He traced his finger along her cheek and brushed a stray hair from her forehead. It fell back in place immediately. He smiled, made sure to cover the anxiety in his eyes with the warmth of his smile, and said, “I am excited…I want to get you back and fuck you senseless.”
“Are you sure you’ll be safe? All alone with such a dangerous creature?” she asked and smiled coyly. She really was eating this up.
“I’ll take my chances,” he growled and nuzzled her neck. He grabbed her hand and took her back to the hotel room where they stripped each other and fucked their cares away.
Some time later, after their carnal celebration was over, Columbia fell asleep tucked under Dimitri’s arm, curled next to his body. He laid in the dark and listened to her breathe, her back expanding and contracting into the hollow of his arm.
“You are my silver branch,” he told her, remembering a line from a poem he had studied when he was learning English. It meant his protection, the one thing that would save him from grief and despair. She was his silver branch; as sure as he was hers.
She sighed and wiggled her ass against him. Her breathing stopped, she was silent as if waking.
His cock responded immediately, so he moved against her and found her cleft as easily as finding his own face with his hand.
She cried out as he entered her, pushed herself against him and said, “Oh Dimi, I was just dreaming about this.”
He fucked her then, claiming her for the millionth time and settling his nerves. She was his, and his alone, and nothing in the earth could tear them apart.
He wouldn’t stand for it.
CHAPTER FIVE
IOANA
She shuddered under the relentless blows of the cane and almost collapsed to the floor. She was on her hands and knees, her stomach was visible, seemingly engorged, and her baby protested this treatment with angry kicks to her bladder.
She felt warm liquid break from her body and had a momentary panic. It was too early for labour; she must have pissed herself.
The men gathered around the long dining table laughed and clapped their hands, as if this had been the most uproariously funny thing they’d ever seen.
She looked at each and every one of their faces, etching them in her memory so when she made her way back to Boian, he would make them pay.
She stood on shaky legs, the warm piss pooling around her feet on the cool marble floor.
They were somewhere in Western Europe. Germany, she thought, or maybe Spain. These mansions all looked the same to her now.
It had been four months since she fled Boian and his underground kingdom. She’d been so, so very stupid. How could she have possibly thought life away from him would be any better for their child?
Now she was hanging on by a thread. A very small, frayed, delicate thread. She was only hanging on for the baby. And the faint hope that she would see him again.
The handler pinched her and brought the cane down across her back for not paying attention. She spoke Romanian and fairly good English, what they were saying to her was an incomprehensible garble of nonsense she thought.
He indicated that she should dance, entertain the wealthy men gathered to watch.
This was her life now, hired out by her owner, a deviant pleasure for those wealthy enough to afford it, and those rich enough to be bored by the usual.
A pregnant whore was high entertainment for them. She suspected they’d placed bets on when she’d go into labour. Would it be while she danced? While she was beaten for their enjoyment?
Or would it be when she was fucked by each and every one of them, unable to deny them access to her body, unable to keep anything away from them.
She swayed to some shitty pop music’s techno beat and considered fighting, just this once.
But she would end up dead. That’s what happened to girls like her, pregnant or not.
So Ioana gritted her teeth and kept herself going as she moved her body, and while the men ate their dinner throwing scraps of food at her.
While she scrambled to eat what they had thrown, her dignity replaced with a need for survival long ago.
While she let herself flee behind a barrier in her mind, like the baby in her womb, at least part of her could be safe from their attentions.
She barely felt it when they fell on her, cocks out, yelling and encouraging each other to acts more and more depraved as the night went on.
She barely felt it when they held her down and fucked every hole, sometimes two at a time.
She barely felt it because she was safe in her head, behind a barrier of grief and rage so strong that if it were unleashed, she would end up dead. Her baby would end up dead.
And so would more than a couple of these men.
Instead she stayed calm and thought of Boian, and if he’d take her back. If he’d join her in her vengeance when their child was safe and she was whole again.
She only opened her eyes to look at their laughing, cruel faces, so she could etch them on her very soul and laugh into their eyes as they burned.
She let them have their way until the time she could kill them all.
CHAPTER SIX
DIMITRI
“She’ll be here in minutes, put your pants back on,” Columbia ordered him. He grinned and grabbed her around the waist, pulled her to him. “I’m serious,” she added, but already he had her skirt pulled up to her hips, ready for him.
“You can never say no,” he said and ran his finger along her perfectly toned ass. He loved her ass, he loved her breasts, he loved her cunt, her hair…fuck, he thought, he just loved everything about her, plain and simple. What a lovesick fool.
“You know that, so you need to exert the control that I simply do not have,” she replied and moved against his finger. He found the crease and followed it to her entrance, the wet heat that ruled his world.
She tipped herself against him and opened up, ready to fuck when seconds before she was protesting.
They were in the master bedroom, supposedly getting ready for Eden’s visit, but obviously failing badly. The worst thing about having her sister here was being forced to wear clothes and fuck only in the bedroom.
The best thing about it was seeing Columbia’s joy, her face lighting up as she spent time with her little sister. Eden was, after all, the reason Columbia hadn’t ended her life all those years her stepfather was raping her.
“Columbia!” Eden called from downstairs. “Where the fuck are you?” She sounded peeved, probably at her visit being put off for some lame summer camp, as she’d called it. In reality, they had decided to leave her in Vancouver while they killed Sergei.
“We really ha
ve to talk to her about her mouth,” Columbia sighed and pushed Dimitri’s hand away. “It’s fucking atrocious to hear a teenaged girl talk like that.”
She slid her skirt down and motioned to Dimitri’s pants. He slid them on over his hips and jammed his cock inside before zipping. It would take a few minutes for it to soften, he always felt sorry for it when he brought it out to play and it didn’t get to taste Columbia’s pussy. He smirked at Columbia when he realized what she had said.
“I know what I said,” she replied, “I didn’t talk like that at her age though. It’s fucking shameful. Go wash your hands.”
He threw her another smirk, dodged her playful slap and washed the scent of her from his fingers.
“Coluuuuuumbia!” Eden called again. “Seriously, where the fuck are you?”
The two of them made their way down the curved marble staircase. Eden was standing in the foyer, a punk rock goth contradiction to the classic white marble of the mansion.
“Fuck, there you are!” she squealed and didn’t wait until Columbia had found the bottom step before leaping into her arms. She might think she was all grown up, but Dimitri could see she was still just a little kid. She was smaller than Columbia, flat chested and lean. Skinny even, but she might fill out to be a beauty like her sister.
Dimitri had never seen a photo of the stepfather, Eden’s father, but he suspected she had his nose, which was just a tad too large for her to ever be as elegant as her older sister. She had dyed her hair a neon orange colour, it stuck up in wilted spikes and was a stark contrast to her all black leather outfit. Boots to skirt to jacket, all black leather studded with metal accessories. Dimitri would have hated to be caught behind her in airport security.
Still, she was a clever and funny girl, prone to fits of anger and hysterical crying, but Columbia always assured him that’s what teenaged girls were like in the West.
“Eden, I’m so pleased you could make it,” he told her and gave her a polite hug. He wanted her to feel welcome in their home; they were now family, after all. He was as devoted to her happiness and safety as he was to Columbia’s. His loyalty was old fashioned perhaps, but he would protect the flesh and blood of the woman he loved, even if they didn’t deserve it, as with her mother.
