by Kitty Thomas
“Next,” Anton said.
It was Lindsay. He pressed the blade flat in the center of her back and dragged it down, the edge barely scraping along her skin.
“Apologize,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry I threw and broke things in the house.”
“Maybe one small mark,” he said, pressing the tip of the blade against her back.
“No! No. Please! I’m sorry.”
“Hmmm. I’ll take a payment. Anton, will you let me fuck her?”
“Yes, but it isn’t a free pass for any other time.”
“Fair enough. Annette? I can fuck you, or I can mark you with the knife. Choose.”
Somewhere dimly in the back of her mind, she remembered several men stood watching her. The blade pressed against her back, poised, ready to drag across her skin and spill blood. She’d been with the doctor once before up in his plant room. It had been a reward that day. The only reason it was a punishment now was that others were watching and the intense terror of the general situation.
“Fuck me,” she begged.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Lindsay said.
“Please, Sir, fuck me.”
“Better.” He unhooked her from the pole and led her a few feet away and then gently pushed her down onto her back on the soft bed. “Spread your legs.”
The memories of the plant room began to overwhelm her, the gentle way he’d held and fucked her. This time when he was inside her, it transported her back there. She responded to him, forgetting the other people in the room and glad he was offering her this trade. She knew Anton would be watching in that intense way he always watched when he shared her with someone else.
She came so close to her own pleasure, but she fought not to come. She was sure Anton would be upset if she did.
Each of the men took a turn terrifying the crap out of her, extracting apologies and begging from her. The blade was the threat, but there was always a trade option. Let me finger you. Stroke me. Let me lick you. Touch yourself and come for me. With most of them, there was pain and a mark anyway, but never the blade. Instead, it was the harsh smack of a hand, the bite of the whip, the snap of the crop.
Finally it was down to just Anton. “I want to finish with her alone.”
The other men left, each stroking some part of her as they passed by on their way out of the room. Anton removed the blindfold, then he brought a first aid kit over to the bed and sat down beside her. She tensed when she saw it. She didn’t need first aid. Yet.
“Kiska, the others didn’t cut you because, unlike you today, they respect other people’s property. But I will mark you. I don’t want you to ever forget this punishment so we never have to repeat it. I never ever want to see that kind of behavior out of you again. Do you understand?”
She shook her head. “Please don’t. I swear I’ll be good.”
“I know you will. I will be very careful; I won’t go deep, and it will only sting for a second.”
Annette’s heart pounded in her chest. He was really going to do this. She’d thought it was just to scare her, but he was really going to cut her with a knife. Why? It was insane.
“Please… you don’t want to mark me. Why would you want to leave a scar on me, on your property?”
“I want to leave a reminder.”
“I won’t forget. I swear.”
But he wouldn’t be moved.
“I’ll never forgive you if you do this.”
Anton chuckled. “Of course you will. This is such a little thing.”
Annette was sure she would pass out or hyperventilate.
“Turn around, pet.”
She turned away from him. “Please,” she whimpered, trying one final time.
“Trust me,” he said.
A moment later she felt a sharp sting very low on her back on one side.
“Ow!”
And then another. And then a third. Small marks. They couldn’t have been more than an inch in length each, probably less. And the third was definitely shorter.
But she couldn’t stop crying.
He pressed a cloth against her skin. “It’s done, kiska.”
A few minutes later, when the blood had stopped, he put an ointment on it and then a tight bandage.
It hadn’t hurt any more than the cane, not really. But it was just the fact that he’d… cut her. He’d been careful and controlled and hadn’t gone deep. But there would be a scar. There would always be a scar. And she might have been scared out of her mind, but she was lucid enough to know, that now, on a small patch of skin near her hip, there was a letter A.
Chapter Thirteen
Two tense weeks passed. Nothing was the same. Nothing could ever be the same again. But Annette had kept up pretense that she’d moved on from that day. She did all the right things. She was obedient and pleasing. She surrendered to all of Anton’s advances, all the pleasure he took and gave. Because she knew if she could just be a good enough liar, he would let his guard down, and she would have her opportunity.
Every day she’d spent several minutes in front of the mirror after her shower, just staring at that A carved into her skin. She watched as it healed and turned into a scar. It was clear and sharp, perfect and controlled. She loved it and she hated it. And then she hated herself for loving it. But either way, every day she saw it she knew… it had to be over. She couldn’t let him carve his initial into her soul. She couldn’t stay in that house. Not near Brian. And not near him.
Shannon’s scars would be much worse, but it didn’t matter. She just couldn’t do it anymore.
And now she had her opportunity of escape. He’d finally decided to take her to the ballet again. They were in Rome. It was her first time out of the house since the incident, and it had taken everything inside her to play this game the right way to get this chance. She ran her fingers along the outline of her passport, which she’d stolen from his coat pocket, and slipped inside her dress when he’d been consumed watching Katya on stage.
The lights came up for intermission. “I need to go to the restroom,” Annette said as nonchalantly as possible.
Anton watched her for several seconds. It was almost as if he could read her mind, as if he might know what she was planning. If he caught her lying, she could only imagine how bad the punishment he would deliver to her might be.
For two weeks, she’d managed to keep the peace. If he caught her in this lie, it was over. Forever. She knew somehow he’d never let her out of the house or out of his sight again. If she wanted out, this was her only chance.
He stood, and for a moment she thought he was going to escort her to the bathroom himself and stand outside waiting, but it seemed he was doing the polite gentleman thing some men did… standing in formal situations when a woman got up to leave.
Annette smiled nervously and quickly brushed past him.
He gripped her hand before she could get out of his reach. She looked from their clasped hands up into his eyes.
“See you soon, kiska.”
Annette gave him a weak smile and slipped out of the private box. She didn’t go to the bathroom; instead, she just… left. Maybe she should have waited and done this at Dome during one of her visits with her sister, but she just didn’t see how she could get away from him there. He didn’t allow her free reign at the spa like he did when they traveled. He was always practically on top of her, hovering there.
But they were out of the country now, and that presented different obstacles. Like money. How the hell was she going to get home? It wasn’t as though she could call her sister to come get her. And there was no one she knew who she could ask to wire her plane fare. While Anton was giving Janette money, she didn’t think things had been set up in such a way where her sister could just wire her enough money to fly overseas. How fucking stupid.
Of course she could go to the police, but what then? Would this turn into some sort of internati
onal kidnapping case? What was the penalty for that? She couldn’t stay with him in that house anymore. She couldn’t be around Brian after… She just had to go. But she couldn’t stand the idea of Anton in prison, either.
Why couldn’t she stand the idea? She’d half-convinced herself she hated him, but this deep reluctance to turn him in to the authorities belied feelings she still wanted to lie to herself about. She wanted this to be neat and clean and simple. She wanted to hate him. He deserved to be hated. She’d carried a simmering rage hidden behind sultry smiles and perfect obedience for the past two weeks.
She wandered the city for hours, unsure of what to do or where to go. As time wore on, suddenly the idea that Anton might just leave the country without her was more frightening than the thought that he might track her down and punish her for running away. At least if she was punished, she would still have a warm bed to sleep in and food to eat. Maybe.
Then again, he could just flat out give her to Brian. She’d privately sworn to herself she would never trust Anton again, never let him inside her heart like that so he could break her.
Another hour passed, and she found herself with her face pressed up against a coffee and pastry shop like some poor street urchin begging for bread. Just go back. This was stupid.
But by now, the ballet was long over. Normally they would be going to the after party, wherever it had been arranged. She backed away from the glass and turned a corner, running right into Ivan Petrovsky of all people.
She couldn’t think about why he was out here in the night and not at the after party. All she could think to do was turn and run. Ivan chased her, his heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement. His strides were longer and stronger than hers. And faster. Damn he could move for an older guy. He was in better shape than she was.
It was only a matter of minutes before he’d cornered her in an alleyway not even two blocks from where she’d run into him.
“Stop running,” he said unnecessarily.
It was kind of hard to run when a large, strong male had you pinned against a stone wall.
“Let me go,” she said, still breathless from the futile run.
“Why? Anton is looking for you. We all were looking for you. He’s worried. Why are you wandering around Rome by yourself?”
Annette shook her head, the tears flowing all at once. “Please, I can’t go back.”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you can’t go back? Has he hurt you? Is he… hurting you?”
“I… it’s complicated. I just can’t go back.”
“You look cold and hungry,” Ivan said. “Let me buy you something to eat.”
Why would Anton have his friends search for her? Was he that sure she wouldn’t give him away? Did he think she’d give up on this running plan once she’d had some time to realize her total inability to survive in a foreign country without money… or to get home? A few more hours out in the streets, and she probably would have gone to the jet to wait for him and her inevitable punishment.
Ivan led her back to the coffee shop she’d had her face pressed against.
“Go get us a seat,” he said. Ivan was so used to giving orders both with the ballet and with subs that it didn’t seem to occur to him to ask her what she wanted. He was also smart enough to know that she was so hungry by this point, she wouldn’t run again when there was an offer of free food.
Annette found a table at the back and sat with her back to the wall so she could watch the door. What if Ivan was calling Anton? No. He’d shown concern that she might be in trouble. Ivan wasn’t playing the same game Anton was. He wouldn’t call her master unless he was sure of her safety… not until he talked with her.
Ivan was a good man. He had no idea the life Anton had fallen into or the circumstances of Annette being with him. He would be appalled if she told him the truth. And he would probably believe her. But she couldn’t bring herself to betray him even though she felt so deeply betrayed.
Fifteen minutes later, Ivan returned with food—some Italian parmesan-laced version of tomato bisque soup and a sandwich. And two glasses of water.
They ate quietly for a few minutes when he spoke again. “So, are you going to tell me why you can’t go back? What did he do to you? It must be something bad for you to flee in a foreign city with no money or passport.”
“I have my passport,” she said, feeling inside the bodice of her dress to make sure the little booklet was still securely in place.
Ivan raised an eyebrow. “I see. How were you planning to get back home?”
Annette shrugged. “I didn’t think that far. I just had to go.”
He nodded. Ivan didn’t bother her with any further questions, not even the most obvious of why it was so important that she leave right this very second when she was thousands of miles from her home. He focused instead on his food while Annette focused on hers.
When she was finished, she broached the question she’d been unable to ask on an emptier stomach, but now in a nice warm coffee shop with food in her belly, she felt brave enough to ask.
“Are you going to take me to him?”
“Of course not. You don’t want to be with him. He’s done something to upset or scare you. I could reassure you that I’ve known him forever, and that he’s a good man, that it’s probably just some misunderstanding, but it would mean nothing to you. You have your experience, whatever it is. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he is hurting you.”
“Are you going to tell him you saw me?”
“I’m not sure. But I am going to buy you a plane ticket home.”
Annette was sure she hadn’t heard him right, so she asked him to repeat what he’d just said. When he did, she still couldn’t believe it. But she couldn’t refuse him. As much as she wanted to say it was too much, too kind, she couldn’t accept it… she had to. She might have been stupid enough to run away in Rome without any money, but she wasn’t stupid enough to refuse the salvation Ivan offered.
He stood and offered a hand to help her stand. Such a gentleman. Then he led her out of the coffee shop to a waiting car. As they drove, she worried he’d been lying. Maybe he was taking her to Anton. Maybe he did know about her master’s crimes. Maybe they were going to the party where she’d be publicly punished for running.
But none of these fears materialized. Instead, the car stopped at the airport.
“Give me an address, and I will send you the money for the ticket,” she said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Ivan said as he led her into the airport to buy her freedom home.
***
Anton finally gave up searching and headed back to the after party location. It was where they were all supposed to meet. And although his phone hadn’t buzzed, she could be back there now. He silently swore that if he got her back he would put a tracking device inside her jewelry going forward—or else he would escort her to the restroom and back himself like her prison guard.
When he got to the rented club, there was no sign of Annette. A few people were playing on the dungeon equipment. They were dancers and guests he didn’t know well enough to ask for help. And Katya. Finally, he spotted Ivan in a corner and strolled over as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“No luck?” he asked his friend.
“No luck,” Ivan said noncommittally. But Ivan was a terrible liar. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes when he wasn’t being honest. And his hands were always shoved in his pockets, fumbling with change.
“Can I speak with you outside?”
Ivan looked terrified. It was almost comical to see a man who was normally so in charge and self-assured seem scared. Especially of Anton. But he nodded once and followed Anton outside into the quickly chilling air.
“You found her. Why isn’t she here?” Anton asked as calmly as he could manage. He had a feeling Ivan wouldn’t tell him anything if he got too animated about any of this. It had been a risk to involve anyone else, but beyond his anger, he’d been concerned for her safety wandering in th
e city alone at night without money.
“Have you hurt her?” Ivan asked in Russian as he lit a cigarette. He’d only started smoking after he’d stopped performing as if he had to be doing something dramatic with his hands, and if it couldn’t be dancing, it could be another vice.
“No, of course I haven’t hurt her.” Anton was confident that of the two of them, he was the better liar. And it helped that he wasn’t sure what the truth was to begin with. He’d held her captive. He’d trained her body to respond to his demands without flinching. He’d had her punished when she resisted him or disobeyed. Had he hurt her?
Ivan would say yes. Even though Ivan also punished his sub and also trained her body to obey him and respond to his demands. The way Annette had come to Anton tainted everything, at least it would for the ballet master if he knew the truth. For Anton it had become the only reason to do anything, the only thing that had ever been worth doing. But he could never make Ivan understand that.
The older man took a slow drag on the cigarette, the cold air making the smoke seem even larger as it escaped his mouth. “If you didn’t hurt her, then why was she so desperate to get away from you?”
Anton shrugged. But it hurt. Maybe it shouldn’t have. What the hell did he expect? But for her to want to get away from him so badly she would choose Rome as her escape hatch, stung. He’d thought she was really there with him when they were together—body, mind, and soul. He’d thought they’d moved on from the Brian thing.
“Just tell me that she’s safe,” Anton said.
“She’s safe.” After a moment, Ivan sighed. “I gave her plane fare.
“That won’t do her any good without a passport.” Anton felt inside his pocket, but even before his hand closed over the passports, he knew he would only find one.
Ivan raised an eyebrow. “You were holding onto her passport?” It was odd for the master of control both in the studio and outside of it to accuse Anton of too-controlling behavior.
