by Tia Siren
“Kid,” Vlad said to my back. He didn’t say anything else, but there was a lot of unspoken meaning. I knew what he was saying, and I didn’t care. I led the woman outside and then across to my car. I helped her in and then climbed behind the wheel. I looked over at her. She was terrified.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, wishing she wasn’t afraid of me. She didn’t say anything, just stared at me with wide eyes. I turned the key in the ignition, my car roaring to life, and sped off toward my downtown apartment.
2
I knew I was in trouble. I knew I had no right to do what I had done, and I knew Mr. Black was going to come after me. I didn’t care. I welcomed it in a way. My boss was involved in sex trafficking? It was too much. It wasn’t something I was comfortable with, and it wasn’t something I was going to put up with. I would have to run or end it. As I pulled into my apartment’s parking garage, I swore to end it. I wasn’t going to run. I had saved one woman—the beautiful woman who sat beside me, who hadn’t taken her eyes off me, who looked terrified—but what about the rest of the women who had been there? The ones who had been sold before the Mediterranean beauty I had bought? Those who were sold after?
“We have to hurry,” I told the scared woman. “I want to make sure you’re safe, and then you can go. You can go home—I can help you—but you can’t yet. You’re going to have to stay with me for a bit.”
“You’re letting me go?” she asked. Her voice was low and soft; it sounded sweet like honey.
“Yes,” I said simply, and then I was out of the car and rushing around to her side. I opened her door and helped her out.
“You saved me,” she said. Then she threw her arms around me. I let her, sliding my own arms around her, and took in her scent as she buried her face in my chest. She smelled wonderful, like peppermint. She looked up at me and placed her hand on my face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. They’ll be coming for me, and you. For both of us. We have to get to safety, and then we’ll get you home. We have to get out of Brighton Beach,” I said.
Brighton Beach was the Russian equivalent of Chinatown. It was in New York, ocean on one side, city on the other. From my bedroom window I had a view of the water. We rushed upstairs, and I took a minute to glance at it. Silver moonlight was reflecting on the slow-rolling waves. A boat slid through the dark water, churning up white behind it.
My new bride of sorts stood by the door while I packed. I took my guns, some clothes, and the fifty grand I kept in cash hidden in a safe behind a painting in my bedroom. We hurried down to my car. We had only been in the apartment for five or so minutes before we were peeling out of the parking lot.
“What’s your name?” I asked the woman. She had an accent, and I was confident that I had been right about her being from Greece.
“Chloe,” the woman said softly.
“I’m Peter,” I said. We drove through the city, the night traffic not as bad as the day-time traffic but still forcing us to go much slower than I would have preferred. We were stopped at a red light when a dark sedan pulled up behind us. I kept my eyes on my rearview mirror. It was exactly like my own car, exactly like the ones Mr. Black gave all of his grunts. I realized I was an idiot for driving my own car, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I watched the vehicle behind us, waiting for the door to open, waiting for Vlad or someone else to step out and open fire. The light turned green and I pulled through the intersection. The car behind me turned, and I realized I had been holding my breath the whole time. I let it out in a gasp and glanced over at Chloe. She was looking at me, her legs pulled up, knees to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. She didn’t say anything, but she smiled at me, and I was reminded of why I was throwing my life away in the first place. There was something about this woman, something that made it all worth it.
We got out of the city and drove for two hours before we finally stopped at a small motel. It was situated along a lonely two-lane highway. The clock on the dash read one in the morning. An hour before I had stopped in a diner parking lot and swapped my plates with those of another dark sedan. It wouldn’t stand up to a cop running the plates, but it passed the eye test. I hoped I wouldn't get anyone hurt, but years of being the bad guy had given me a healthy sense of self-preservation.
We parked behind the motel and walked around to the front office. The clerk was a guy of only about twenty, and his eyes were glued to a small TV with some superhero movie playing. I paid for a room and took Chloe to it before getting my bag and joining her.
“I could use a shower,” she said, and I nodded. She went into the bathroom and shut the door, but she seemed to rethink that and opened the door back up halfway. From where I sat on the end of the bed I could see the bathroom mirror, and her reflection—facing away—as she undressed. She pulled the dress off, up and over her head, and tossed it onto the floor. She wore no bra and was now standing in just a pair of black silk panties that hugged the rounded curves of her ass perfectly. I felt myself harden. She bent then, sliding the panties down, and I got a glimpse of her pink slit from behind. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the mirror.
She stepped out of her panties and bent again, starting the water in the shower. I yearned to go to her, to take her there, bent over the side of the tub, but I knew I wouldn’t do that. The woman was almost sold into sexual slavery. She just wanted to go home. I wouldn’t take advantage of Chloe like that.
As she showered, I went over to the window, curling one finger around the edge of the blinds so I could pull them away from the window and peek out. I didn’t see anyone. In the bathroom, the water stopped after a while. I heard the floor creak as Chloe stepped out of the tub. I glanced into the bathroom from where I stood, but I could only see a sliver of the mirror, just her arm reflected as she dried off. I was still trying to peek when the door opened all the way to reveal her standing there, nude save for a towel wrapped around herself.
“I have no other clothes,” she said. I nodded, cursing myself on the inside. That was something I should have thought of.
“I have some gym shorts and T-shirt you can wear,” I said. “It will be big, but we can stop tomorrow.”
Chloe shrugged and then pulled the towel off her, letting it fall to the floor. She stood before me, nude, in all her glory. I couldn’t help but look her over. Her breasts were rounded and heavy, her nipples dark and hard. She had a strip of pubic hair above her cunt, and her hips were round and feminine. I grew hard again. She reached up, tying the dark hair that fell past her shoulders back into a ponytail, holding it in place with a small elastic band she’d been wearing around her wrist. I saw a scar there on her wrist, white and shiny in the dim light of the motel room. I didn’t ask her about it.
“I can sleep naked,” she said as she made her way to the bed and got in. There was only one bed, something else I hadn’t thought about. I had just asked for a room, and the clerk must have assumed we were together. Would she expect me to sleep on the floor? I wasn’t sure. “I’m hungry,” she said from under the blanket. It wasn’t a complaint, and she wasn’t whining; she was just telling me.
“I can go check out the vending machine,” I said, turning and heading for the door. I turned back to her as I opened it. “Don’t answer the door, not for anyone. I have the key.”
She nodded and I left. I was back quickly, worried about being seen. I had chips and candy bars and a couple of danishes wrapped in plastic. She sat up, the blanket falling from her magnificent breasts. I tried not to stare at them, but I was just a man, so I took a couple of looks, trying to keep it on the sly.
For her part, Chloe didn’t seem embarrassed. Maybe it was a Greek thing, but in America, no woman was so comfortable with her own breasts or nudity. We ate the junk food, both of us realizing we were famished. We laughed a lot, and at one point she bent forward and wiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of my mouth.
When the food was gone, we grew somber.
“What are
we going to do?” Chloe asked me, lying down and pulling the blanket to her chin once more. I missed her breasts immediately.
“We’re going to keep you safe.”
She laughed, but there wasn’t much mirth in it. “How are we going to do that?”
“I’m going to have to go after them, the men running it. My old boss. They’ll never leave us alone.”
“Are you a bad man?” Chloe asked me. I looked at her, not sure how to answer.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of,” I said finally. Chloe shrugged her shoulders under the blanket.
“You don’t seem like a bad man to me.”
I smiled and stood, throwing the wrappers from our junk food feast into the small wastebasket near the bed. “I’m going to shower,” I said.
“I’m going to sleep,” she replied.
I went into the bathroom. As I stood under the hot water, I had time to think about what I was doing, what I had done. I had put it all on the line for a woman I didn’t even know. And I wasn’t sorry about it. I knew it was the right thing. I had spent my whole adult life doing the opposite of the right thing, and finally I was doing something I could be proud of.
When I was clean, I turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. I stood in front of the sink, wiping my hand across the mirror there, cleaning the fog away so I could see myself. I still looked the same, so why did I feel like a different person?
When I left the bathroom, I was clad in just boxers. The room was dark, and Chloe was just a lump under the blanket that I could hardly see. I hesitated, and then I climbed into the bed next to her. I lay on my back, hoping she wouldn’t wake up, hoping she wouldn’t kick me out of the bed.
She wasn’t even sleeping. Shortly after I lay down, I felt her move, and then her hand was on my chest underneath the covers. I turned and saw her eyes, open and reflecting the little bit of blue light that squeezed past the closed blinds and into the room.
“I was supposed to be someone’s bride,” she said softly.
“I can get you home.”
“They told me what’s expected of me. I’m supposed to do what my husband says.”
“You don’t have a husband, though. I didn’t want that for you.”
“You bought me. You paid for me. I’m yours.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t think like that.”
She slid closer to me under the blanket. One of her breasts pushed against my arm. Her nipple hardened. I felt myself growing hard, my cock pulsing against the front of my boxers.
“You are a good man,” Chloe said softly, and when I turned my head to look at her, she pressed her lips to mine.
She tasted like chocolate since we had eaten the junk food. She had brushed her teeth after her shower with a spare toothbrush I had brought, and I tasted the toothpaste too. I pressed my tongue against her bottom lip, and she parted those plump lips for me so our tongues could dance together. Her hand slid down my stomach, her fingertips running over my abs, sliding under the waistband of my boxers. Then she was at my cock, wrapping her thin, petite fingers around my rigid member.
“Chloe,” I said softly, breaking the kiss, but she shook her head and pressed her lips to mine again. I turned on my side as she tugged the front of my boxers down, fully freeing my cock. My swollen head pressed against her pelvis, and she jerked me, sliding her fingers up and down my shaft.
I placed my hand on her breast, squeezing the fatty tissue, feeling her nipple on my palm. Her grip on my cock tightened, and I groaned. She pulled away from me then, throwing the blanket off us and onto the floor. She pushed me lightly, and I rolled onto my back as she hovered over my crotch. She glanced at me sideways and then opened her mouth and lowered her face until my cock was sliding into her mouth. She sucked the head of my hard member, swirling her tongue in a circle motion around it. Her hand was still on me, jerking me slowly up and down. She was on her knees beside my hips, and I reached down and squeezed her ass before sliding two fingers along her wet slit.
“Put them inside me,” she begged, taking her mouth from my cock long enough to speak, and then she was sucking me again, going farther, this time moving her hand as her lips slid down my shaft and the bulbous head of my cock pressed against the back of her throat.
I did as she asked, sliding those two fingers into her. We lay like that for a while, me fucking her furiously with my fingers while she bobbed up and down on my cock, her mouth warm and wet, her tongue working overtime. She cupped my balls with one hand, squeezing them softly and gently pulling on them.
Then she stopped so suddenly that I thought I had done something wrong. But then she was moving quickly, throwing one leg over my head and chest and climbing atop me that way so that her sweet pussy was inches from my lips. “Make me come,” she moaned back to me before swallowing my cock once more. I obliged, lifting my head and tasting her. Her juices were warm and flowing, and I probed the depths of her with my tongue, reaching up to rub her clit with the pad of my index finger.
It didn’t take long with my tongue and lips on her to make her come. She took my cock out of her mouth, using a tight grip to jerk me furiously as she yelled and rocked backward, grinding her pussy into my face. I felt her body spasm atop me, and she screamed in pleasure again, pressing her open mouth to my thigh to muffle the sound. Her pussy was wet before, but as she came it was soaking, her juices flowing down across my lips and cheeks and chin.
When she was done, she rolled off me slowly, and I didn’t need to be told what to do. I moved as quickly as she had before, positioning myself between the beautiful woman’s spread legs. She reached down and guided me into her, and then we were fucking fast and passionately. I bent and our lips met. When I broke the kiss I moved my head lower, taking her nipples into my mouth in turn, my fingers rolling whatever one I wasn’t sucking on.
The bed was shaking with each thrust, and her arms went around me, her hands on my back, her long, cherry-red nails digging into my skin there.
“I’m going to come,” I said, confident that she wasn’t taking birth control, and she replied in kind.
“Not in me,” she said, and though I felt a flash of disappointment, I pulled out and she shifted quickly, sliding down and sideways to take me into her mouth once more. I put my hand on the back of her neck and helped her find a quick pace, her lips flying up and down my shaft.
I grunted as I came. She slowed her pace and sucked softly on the tip of my cock, swallowing every last drop. When I was finally spent, she lay down completely, smiling up at me, my dick still hard, shining with her juices and spit in the low light and throbbing right above her face. She giggled and arched up to plant a kiss on the underside of my cock.
I fell onto the bed beside her and reached over to pull the blanket from the floor and situated it over us. She lay curled up beside me, as naked as I was, one of my arms tucked under her. We fell asleep.
3
The next morning we got moving quickly. We drove a half hour with her in the same dress she had on the night before, but then we stopped at one of those big department stores and bought her a few outfits. She took me into the changing room with her and tried on each outfit, teasing me when she undressed. She came to me in her bra and panties near the end, kissed me, and then dropped to her knees and blew me. Once again she sucked me dry and swallowed it all.
Driving in the car with her, heading farther away from the city, farther away from Brighton Beach, life somehow began to feel normal. This woman, she seemed to love me, as crazy as it sounded. I had to keep reminding myself that she had been trained for that. She had been beaten probably and brainwashed into loving whatever man bought her. I was sure she knew I wanted to help her, though, and maybe that made her love me even more. But driving, listening to the radio, having her grab my hand and hold on to it, it felt real. It felt like a better life than I should know.
I’d had girlfriends, a lot of plastic bimbos drawn to the money and danger. I was a real bad boy, and it
attracted some pretty girls. Beautiful even. But shallow and fake. I had never married anyone, never come close. They were just chicks I fucked, in and out of my bed, their beds, across the back of my couch.
Chloe was different somehow. I almost forgot what I had done the night before—buying her. Mr. Black was pissed; I knew it. He would want me dead. Driving with Chloe, I finally made up my mind. I would kill him first, and anyone else who stood in the way of me making sure Chloe was happy and got back home.
We stopped in a town called Barley. It was four hours upstate from New York City, small and charming. We arrived just after lunchtime. We stopped first at a small diner, both of us starving. We sat in a booth and ate hamburgers and fries and sucked down milkshakes.
There was a motel and a nicer hotel there, but we learned of cabins in some woods not far from the main road and drove there instead. I paid with cash, of course, and used a fake name. We went into the cabin together and didn’t leave for three days, save a trip on the first day to a small grocery store down the road.
We didn’t leave the bed much, day and night blending together in orgasmic bliss. Finally, as the sun fell on the third day at the cabin, I showered and came out to tell Chloe I was leaving. I had expected us to be found by then, but I had been careful not to leave a trail.
“You’re going?” Chloe asked me before I could even speak. She was lying in bed, naked, the bed-sheet covering her lower half, her magnificent breasts on display.
“How did you know?” I asked her.
“I can see it in your eyes, in the way you stand.”
“If I don’t go, there are men who will never leave you alone. Never. They’ll never let you get home.”
The young woman nodded, and then she smiled sadly. She looked at me, and in the evening light that came streaming through the bedroom windows, I saw tears filling her eyes.
