***To choke on me.*** I can’t believe what I just heard. How did Dawn find out my identity? Is she…? Wait a sec… “How did you know that?” I keep my voice low so as not to scare her. “Don’t get me wrong, okay?” She blurts and I see the trembling of her lips. The lips I just consumed. As I was guzzling her lips with mine a while back, I’m made to believe Dawn wants me. This time it’s no longer an assumption. It’s real. The look she gave me spoke volumes And I knew without a shadow of a doubt she intentionally wanted to taste my patience, however, I loved how I claimed her lips out there. It's another means of telling people she belongs to me. Mine to claim. My possession. For a moment there I almost tell her that she looks like someone I know from my past. That I felt that familiarity the first day I saw her. I want to make her agree that she’s Russian and that she knows me. My instincts can’t be lying about that. I know Dawn from somewhere but I can’t remember because I blocked
***Horny priest.*** We exit the coffee shop with Dima holding my hand in his. It’s rough, tight, and soothing at the same time. He holds me as though he’s afraid I’d run. But scratch that, I’m not running from him again. I've come to accept him. His claims and ownership over me, I can see it’s not something I can escape. The man before me can and will do anything to pin me with him. He can find me even if I decide to run. He wants me as much as I want him. Yes, the kiss we shared a while ago is firm proof of that. He's a bratva member which makes him unavoidable, and inescapable from. Dima Kozlov has claimed me. It’s the truth I have to live with. The past few days have proven that to me. Going through the stress of finding a replacement for me at work, convincing my lecturers to share materials online with me, getting me a computer, and so on. He might be lethal, dangerous but he cares for me. Something I’ve never in my whole life thought I'd experience. I grew up hankering for
***Frat Party.*** Music blasts my ears as Mercy drives down the road. She screams and yells. Seeming overly excited about the frat party, I don’t know why. Mae isn’t left out too. These two girls can be something else. For a second I’m wondering whether breaking my virginity by a priest is worth celebrating. Whether there’s joy buried in it. The hood of the car is off and the faint glow of the sun shimmers down on us as Mercy and Mae groove to the music it draws people’s attention. Worse yet, we’re moving down to the highway which means she’s going to accelerate the speed of the car. Oh, my. It’s been a while since I felt their sheer madness honestly. Though, I somehow love this side of them. Living carefree life and doing the shits they love. I’ve never gotten a taste of that kinda life. It’s always been work, studies, work, and studies. The boring cycle that is me continues. Mae leans forward to the radio and changes the music to Rihanna’s beat “Work” and immediately gets to
****Who Owns Her.**** “These are some of the studio apartment I have for you, sir.” The realtor tries to pitch his voice above the music blaring in the club. Benson’s club. After I dropped Dawn this afternoon I had to return to Newfield for some work which took nearly six hours of my time. My portfolio manager literally clued me in on some of the newest things worth investing in, like a new shell company that was established in Morocco. Aside from my factory in Russia and some other shady businesses I do as a mafia I make series of investments in whatever I see potential in, for instance this newest oil company in Morocco. When my portfolio manager who happens to be an American told me about this, I had to seize the opportunity and gave him a go ahead order. I literally met the guy during the party we attended in Colombia. He came along with one of the mafia bosses he works for and introduced himself to me. When he told me what he specifically does I had to seize th
****Don't lie to me.**** For a moment, the music and the din of conversations go down as everyone stops dancing to catch up on what’s going on. I hate the fact that this is the third time I’m hitting a motherfucker in public because they dared lay hands on Dawn. I seriously want to mark my name on her skin so people will know she belongs to me and me alone. And for the record, I’ve finalized that decision. I’ll tattoo my name on her skin, somewhere people can see it and realize she’s owned by me. I’m filled with disappointment that Dawn hasn’t taken note of the fact that I own her. I’ve given her a free hand but now, it’s over. I’ll do it the way other bratva member does. The way Igor Abramov did if need be. I grit my teeth watching as the dude tries to step up, balling his fucked up fist to hit me. Fortunately for the cunt, Dawn steps towards me and hold me in place because I charged to send another of my fierce punch in his face. I want to destroy that oval face of his that he
***Sexual burn.*** The silence in the car is a suffocating one which started after Dima revealed he'll punish me. My heart is thrumming against the walls of my chest. My head bangs violently as though a car rolled through it. My lips are thinned in a straight line, making all the words of protest I could have spilled die in my mouth. I'm gripped by the cold hands of fear. The anxiety embraces me like a cloak. However, the twisted part of it all is that my body hums in anticipation of this punishment. With the dark hunger gleaming in Dima’s eyes, the sensual way he held me out there I can’t stop conjuring up images of how this punishment will go. In some perverse way, the punishment will be one that will tie me to him. It might be one where my innocence will be taken by the man I had always had wet dreams for. For the man, I can’t stop thinking and cooking up images in my head while pleasuring myself. The fear aside, sexual tension is flooding through me, sizzling heat gathering do
***You're a virgin?*** Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The sounds keeps blasting through the walls of the room and I keep thrashing, squirming against the restraint on my wrists and groaning and yelling but Dima doesn’t stop. “This strike should remind you I own you, Dawn.” He lands another strike against my ass cheek, my boobs jerks in sync with my body. But no matter the number of strikes Dima gives me, tears doesn’t fall. I only jerk as he whoops me. “This should remind you how fucking bad I want you.” He lands another strike and I jerk. “This should remind you, you belong to a bratva member. That bratva men don’t share what belongs to them.” Another, hot mind blowing strike. I’m wracking my mind in all possible ways to deem this act wrong. To deem it a violation but I can’t. Not when I’m feeling another round a wetness as Dima strikes me. Not when my hard nipples brush against the futon and accelerate the betraying feelings of need flooding through my veins. Not when Dima’
***She's still pure.*** Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Again and again the words rings in my head as I stare in awe at the girl kneeling before me with wetness dripping down her thighs. All the while I’ve weighed Dawn I hadn’t gotten it right. My assumptions were wrong. I thought that Dawn has been tainted by men. I thought she must have had someone in the past who have taken her innocence. I thought she must have been fucked at least by two guys…two frat boys at least, but I was wrong. My desire to prove I own her transcended punishing her by spanking her. When I landed the whip on her skin, I thought she’d disagree but to my greatest surprise, I caught a whiff of her musky scent. The scent of her nether had my mind reeling, my cock rock hard, it was making me nuts. I looked down only to see the wetness that gathered on her cunt. The liquid so alluring, I doubt any woman’s wetness is as beautiful as the one dripping from Dawn’s pussy. Unable to rein it in again, I pull my cock off f
*****Epilogue.******Six months later.**The sounds of my laughter file through the air as Yulia fills me in on Dasha’s tantrums. Something the toddler lately developed. I laugh while shoving the food down my throat, feeling more happy and safe than I’ve felt in the past year. All my paranoia vanished and now I’m even adding more weight. Jeez. I never knew I had it in me. However, I’m not eating much as the doctor advised so it'll not make my baby fat in the belly, hence difficulty in giving birth. So, that means what’s making me add weight is happiness. Wow, I never knew it’s possible until I found myself in the position. The last six months have been a water shed in my life. I thought I’d lose my pregnancy after all the torture I went through but no. I got lucky that the doctors staunched the bleeding and saved my child. Now, my belly is out and my child is growing peacefully. Dima has never stopped fussing over me and the baby. Jeez, I never knew the man
>>>>The End.>>>>I’ve been sweeping in and out of consciousness since their last bout of torture. God, my body is nothing but a house of pain. The laser they zap my body with has roped tight my muscles. I whimper, feeling the wetness gathering on my thighs. What is happening? Am I bleeding? With fear, I start to wring on the seat so my shorts will hitch up mid-thigh to reveal the wetness that has pooled in my thighs. While in my struggling process, I hear heavy footsteps edging closer to me and I peer up. There he is, waddling closer to me with a harsh gleam in his eyes. He pauses before me and I stare up at him not wanting him to smell even a string of my fear and despair. Oleg leans closer and cradles my jaw with brute force, rage gleaming in his eyes. I shudder and my inside recoils as his eyes find their way into mine. “Your knight in shining armor is out to get you.” He chuckles darkly. His thumb flicks over my parched lips. I curse him for laying his filthy
****FBI Blacksite.*****It’s hard to take in. My mind has been boggled ever since Mae revealed the truth to me. I still have some doubts. How in hell had Benson been my father without my knowing? It’s strange. It's so difficult to believe but the string of evidence Mae pulled together is foolproof. It wasn’t something she made up. No. It’s real. It’s the truth. Benson is my father. Benson is Oleg Arkadi Kozlov. The man behind my mother’s sufferings. Shit!! I can’t wait to send him into the depths of pain and let death embrace him. Not only had he caused the woman I loved pains by raping her. No, he went as far as to make her life at Vladimir’s estate a living hell. Even when she had found peace during the time Vladimir locked Benson in Volsk, he shortened her moments of happiness with the assassination. He murdered her just to be sure he never see her live a life of fulfillment. How heartless could he be? He not only hurt my mother he also hurt me. He ruined my chi
****Take me as hostage.*****I never once thought something would ever make me anxious in my life. Not even when my mother was shot dead before my eyes. No. All I felt when I saw my mama lying in the pool of her own blood was raw anger. I wanted so much to exert revenge on Vladimir because I tagged him as the cause of our plight. I was never anxious. But…too bad I am now. I’ve been anxious since I figured Faustina is evil. I’ve been anxious since I found out she was behind it all. She threw my rypka to the wolves to devour. My woman is out there pregnant with my seed and without protection. Fuck! I grit my teeth at the gaping realization and shove my fingers through my hair. My mind has been overloaded with the possibility of the conditions she might have been subjected to by now. Shit, I can’t take this. I can’t bring myself to imagine my rypka being tortured. I can’t envision the pain she'd be feeling. I swear to avenge her and my child. But most of all, I pray this very
>>>>>You're Dima's father.>>>>Whispering voices fill the air around me as I wake from my deep slumber. I wheeze a breath but I figure my throat is dry. Totally dry. I try to wet my throat with my saliva but hell, I can barely muster enough to wet my dry throat. Where am I? How long have I been unconscious? All these questions fill my head but I can’t find any answer to it. I try to peer around but darkness falls into my vision. Hell, where is this? It’s more like I have a hood over my head. I try to jerk my hands but I can’t budge. I’m tied. At that, full-blown panic sets in and I begin to whimper, budging the restraints on my hands. “Hmmm…” I hum, seeking answers while I wrack my head for answers on what literally went down.How in hell did I end up here, manacled? With the fierce intensity which I wrack my mind, things start falling into place. The golden mask festival. My flight from Dima’s house to Moscow international airport. My landing in the U.S.
>>>>It's about you and Dawn. I never knew fury can form balls and lodge into one's chest but now I do. I fucking do because the balls keeps rotating in my chest as I punish my Byki more. “Ahhh, Pakhan please!” Russell hoots in excruciating pains as I cut his finger. He was supposed to guard the entrance but the fucker left it open and was smoking pot with some of the soldiers, giving Dawn the opportunity to escape. I fucking never knew she had plans of escape. How in hell was she able to fucking do that? I fist his hair, my jaw sets as I smack Russell hard across the face again. For the past three days, I’ve been teetering on the edge of insanity knowing my woman is out there and can get in the clutches of the wolves. I’ve not in the least bit cleared my head nor closed my eyes because if I do, only images of Dawn with her bloating belly crash into my mind. How could she do this to me? How? The woman has my child with her yet she chose to flee from me. The night of
*****Freedom.******The day slips by in a blur. I can’t tell what got me engaged until it’s time for the festival to begin. My nerves are jumpy while my mind is in a state of unrest about what will happen in hours to come. All day, I just lock myself in the room, thinking the best possible way to escape from this estate. I know Dima’s men are everywhere . His soldiers are stationed at every corner of this fucking place which will only make my escape hard. Hell, if care is not taken they might catch me and bring me back to their boss and only God knows what Dima will do. I all but wrack my mind for a solution. The perimeter alarm might give me away or the drones that keep flying around the estate every twenty hours. God, as much as this sounds good, I mean my ticket to freedom sounds good, it’s risky. It’s only someone that’s versatile about Dima’s property that can make an easy escape. It’s making me doubt whether I'll continue with this escape plan. If perhaps I’
>>>>>Ticket to freedom.>>>>>The soft knock on the door has me stirring from my sleep. I’m not able to concede the person’s visit as the door flutters open and three of Dima’s servants strut into the room bearing a dresser. I scrunch my nose knowing what the cloth they are herding into the room is for. For the past two days, I have been fitting into different dress for the so-called golden mask festival. Fucking don’t see the need for that. Dima alongside Yulia had called on the best fashion designer they have here in Russia and about three of these people brought the best of their dresses, forcing me to wear them to see the one that would suit the occasion but in the end, Dima would end up disliking it. Just yesterday, the last of the fashion designer came and took my measurements, promising to make a unique dress for me that'll suit the occasion. That should be the dress the servants are wheeling into the room. And for them to bring it here, it only means Dima approves
>>>>An Email.>>>>I pin my back to the door immediately I exit my room…Dawn’s room. My heart rolls with bitterness against my chest. She hates me. When I kissed her I felt her hunger for me. For my touch but something made her remember just the amount of hatred she has for me. It breaks me to know I’m the reason for this severed ties between us. I am the fucking reason. But should I fault myself? I can’t fault myself at all. All my life I’m wired to hate one man and that is Vladimir and by extension, his household. So, the rage I felt when I found out the mark that signifies Dawn as his printsessa can’t be vaporized. I almost acted on impulse at the hospital that night. Hell, I almost shot her. Had it been I wasn’t on the run, in my hands would her blood swim. But if I had killed her I’d have killed my child too…something that I’ve desired to have all my life. I want to have a baby with Dawn and now she’s pregnant, only I can’t get close to her because she hates