Dark Days (Written Pictures #2) (7 page)

Part 2

Dressing, Undressing, Redressing

CHAPTER XVII – Tolerance

As the twin grips on the woman’s upper arms were released, she puddled to the floor. Wracked by exhaustion, she curled up protectively, waiting for the kicks that always came. This was back where she had first entered the nightmare. While everything around her was the same, everything about her was changing - from the degradation of her looks through the sallowing of once bronzed skin, to the erosion of her humanity.

Lank, dirty blonde hair slapped across her eyes as her head, in seeming denial, twisted away from the large man who dominated the room from what could only be viewed as a throne. She was glad of that matted veil as somehow she felt it hid eyes that would only display her despair.

Hunger gnawed at her but that was just one of a host of agonies that her body and soul encountered. Desperate not to add to her suffering, she scuttled quickly away from the two men, pressing herself against the step which seemed, to her tormented mind, to offer a modicum of sanctuary.

== ~ ==

Naked. Anywhere else and at any other time, perhaps it would have been normal for hands to quickly reach to cover and preserve a crumb of modesty. This was Alexei’s domain though and in that domain, nudity was just another tool to strip away unwelcome rebellion. As he looked down, Alexei could only smile at how the woman, now a hollowed-out shell who cowered against the step, had been so efficiently broken down to this feral base. And it had been so quick. How weak she had been.

There was no need to bind her anymore, so thoroughly had her resistance collapsed. For nothing more than his own casual amusement he jerked a hand in her direction just to watch her recoil further into the floor, meeting the pitiful spectacle with a laugh of deep satisfaction.

There was no sport in this one; she wouldn’t be kept. She had shattered easily. He would keep the woman clinging to his legs, however. She would symbolise his power and satisfy the arousal he hadn’t expected she would foster.

Yes. The husk could perhaps be given to the Arab instead of the woman he had now chosen. She was still an American after all – the deal had not been that specific so his side of the bargain therefore would still be kept. Provide the American woman, they had agreed. They just never said which one.

That one had been nothing but in the wrong place at the wrong time, Tomas had seen it happen. Maybe she had been different before those few days prior to her arrival but who could tell. She had been traded like the commodities traded in those glass-fronted Wall Street, London, Paris, Frankfurt offices that held countries such as his to ransom and she had already fallen into addiction by the time she arrived. He would have to make sure his needs were more precisely spelt out in future.

Slowly, Alexei nodded as he settled on an agreement with himself to consider the options further, his mind starting to form images of how the black-haired woman could be enjoyed.

An idea struck him. As a smile slithered across his lips, he reached a large hand down and laced fingers into the gleaming hair that tickled his leg. Clenching his large fist, his sure grip tore at the woman’s scalp, compelling her to turn for the first time toward the spent woman hunched on the floor.

== ~ ==

Raven hadn’t looked before; she hadn’t dared despite the commotion and Alexei’s satisfied laugh. The fire in her scalp though would brook no argument and so she turned, wincing as she twisted before settling on the sight of the cowed woman who pressed her scarred back hard against the chilling marble step.

How long had she borne the tortures? Was this a future she too would ultimately be made to suffer? These questions and a hundred more flared as Raven looked at the broken female with the long limbs. She had once been much more than she now was, that was plain, her slender legs still clinging to the memory of a formerly muscled tone.

Her breasts were generous, more so than they should have been on such a weakened frame and it was clear that in a different place, in a different time, a standard of cosmetic work had been done that was beyond the reach of a simple street whore, despite the shadow of bruising that smudged them.

There was something else to this woman though, something that held her attention, negating the need for the strong hand of Alexei that still held her head in place. She couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite work things out. Raven looked again.

In a brief meeting of submissive eyes, confusion’s curtain was drawn apart and darting around the broken woman’s face for confirmation, recognition struck her. The woman staring back at her looked like the one she used to know as Red.

Though a fleeting second and nothing more, something in Raven was sparked. Two broken women reconnected momentarily in a living hell, reforging the bond of protégé and professor. Was it her though? Irrespective, Raven felt support, comfort, a shared ordeal. All this and more arced between them. It was vivid in the reactivated mind of one but echoed emptily in the remnants of the other.

There was more though. Alexei had made a mistake. In a sadistic act designed to hint to her future and toy with her mind, Raven had been resuscitated. Hope flowered where there had previously been nothing but a desert of despair.

Red. The woman she had no more than tolerated before and used as a tool for her own selfish ends. Past the shell of what she had become it looked like her and if so, here she was, sharing her ordeal; two to find an escape rather than one. She had seen hope, just a glimmer perhaps but hope nevertheless.

Raven needed the woman now like she had never needed anyone before and as her eyes darted to the floor to hide her small triumph, she knew, for the first time in days, that the Raven would outlast them.

CHAPTER XVIII – The Blank Canvas

Alexei couldn’t help but smile as he watched a brief, shared look connect the two women. His Raven had recoiled and looked down in horror at what she saw. Two American sluts. One was the detritus of recent excesses, of no consequence other than as an offering to appease those who had the power to propel him to an unassailable prominence. The other? She would be his ornament, an adornment to his mastery of all he surveyed, testament and trophy born from success.

Raven’s breathing was heavy, that came as no surprise and as the light glinted on the seven bands of brushed steel that denoted her slavery, Alexei couldn’t resist trailing a finger up her bicep. He lingered on the cold metal band circling it before finding her shoulder and pressing his thumb into the ligaments that still throbbed with pain, just because he could.

== ~ ==

The shard that stabbed into her shoulder snapped Raven harshly back to the brutal reality of her situation. Grimacing, at first she appeared to bear it before the uncontrolled contortion of her face graphically displayed discomfort. She could do nothing but twist away, snatching another glance at the feral female to her right.

It was Red, there was no doubt, though she appeared a shadow of what she had been. Gone was the muscled tone of her athletic body. Gone was the cascading mane of flaming hair. Gone was the ambition that fuelled her spirit. In their place lay a creature with shrouded eyes, limp yellowed hair and a deadened soul.

Perhaps there was something that could be saved, some hope of salvage and yet, as Raven’s gaze loitered longer than it should, she saw nothing to further buoy her own deflated spirit. And so, she bowed her head once again as the pain nagged incessantly in her shoulder. She had to think for herself, not rely on others and assume she was alone to her fate. Alexei had already shattered and claimed one victim – she would be damned if he broke another.

== ~ ==

He loved the way she moved. There was something so naturally feline about her that first captured attention then caressed it in sensual reward. Even as she peeled away from his touch in a gasp of pain the fluidity of her movements held a luxurious promise that he couldn’t ignore.

That mouth. How he pictured using that mouth for such perfect pleasure even now as her lips splayed apart in a silent scream. He knew she was well practiced. She had served that phallic pump in a way that had left him wondering ‘what if?’ It was a surprise he hadn’t been ready for but he was ready to test it himself just to know.

Yes, she would be well used indeed and for his use alone but first there was more to be done. With a wide sweep of his free arm, as he stroked the woman’s shoulder to smooth away the pulsing pain he had caused with his other, this was set in motion.

CHAPTER XIX – Bared

The bundle of bright yellow in the arms of the small woman was decidedly out of place in the starkly monochrome room. She was nothing of note. Her functional features were untroubled by makeup. Sporting a busily efficient air serenaded by the tune she hummed, she marched forward with a length of stride that was inappropriate for her height.

The woman was out of place and that captured Raven’s attention. Turning to watch her approach, the collar pressed around Raven’s neck as she swallowed back saliva summoned by the pain that pummelled her shoulder. So every day in her demeanour. So matter of fact in the way she fussed through the bundle piled in her muscled arms. The woman wouldn’t have been out of place sorting through a grubby weekly wash in a downmarket launderette somewhere. Ill-fitting clothes hung and hid what Raven could only imagine was a repugnant figure underneath.

The first item was drawn high and tugged free from the rest then draped over the woman’s arm to wait its turn. The second was shaken from the clinging bundle and a third peeled from the pile before a satisfied grunt told Raven that the woman’s progress was going nicely to plan.

With a brief look towards Alexei, the woman carefully laid the now-sorted yellow items on the step newly vacated by the naked blonde who had scooted further away on hands and knees to protect herself from this seemingly unthreatening presence.

Satisfied with this part of her preparation and under the silently questioning attention of Raven, the woman turned and moved to an aged sea chest at the side of the room. Her gait was lighter this time, almost as if she floated across the monochrome marble. Raven couldn’t help but ponder on the mismatch that was her walk - pragmatism one minute, poise the next.

The chest was large and sturdily crafted in a way that such things always used to be. The heavy lock lay unpolished, tarnished by the same multitude of years that had dulled the painting on the side. A ship? Yes, a ship; a grey silhouette against a grey sky with a streak of thick black smoke recently belched from its funnel scarring the horizon.

Narrowing her tired eyes to try to distinguish more and satisfy a building curiosity to what may lie inside, Raven could vaguely make out the name cradling the image. Potemkin it said, or so she thought she could make out, hinting toward its first owner, Giliarovsky, who had been a spark that led to the inferno of a revolution that consumed a king and changed more than one country.

The heavy clunk of the mechanism of the old lock seemed to bounce off the high ceiling, while the absence of an ensuing creak of the hinges pointed to a priceless antique that was still well-used.

Without pause, the small woman leaned inside and rummaged around in the unseen depths of the large trunk, her posture causing her skirt to strain tightly over a bottom that five pairs of eyes could now see was actually not a stranger to the gym.

A now familiar, but still tuneless, hum issued from the trunk, occasionally interspersed with the percussion of items being moved, replaced and reorganised. “Yes yes. You and you and you. Yes yes, good good.” The woman’s strong voice resonated from the sturdy trunk as she gathered the items she sought then drew herself back upright. To Raven’s surprise, she had only the merest lilt of an east European accent.

Turning to Raven, the woman stopped, a bundle of electronics and wires dangling in a tangled spaghetti from her arms. “Cambridge. The university there,” she stated, answering an unasked question. “Now come on sweetie, come on. Time to get you ready.” She encouraged Raven to approach her with a repeated wave of her hand.

The woman’s voice was familiar but in a way that Raven couldn’t quite pinpoint, and her memory raced away into its recesses to retrieve any information that would give her that clue. Had they met before? That was unlikely and she replayed the woman’s words back in her head. Where had she heard that voice? Where? Where?

Her manner had a strangely disarming quality. So functional and yet there was something intriguing there which hinted towards something else, something not quite so every day. She just didn’t fit here. Raven had expected assured, practiced dignity, perhaps even a woman to snatch breath away – that seemed to be more fitting to Alexei. This woman though clearly belonged and had the confidence from knowing she was in the place she was meant to be. What was she? Why was she here? Was she the woman of the argument?

Intrigued, Raven released the grip on Alexei’s legs and started to move toward the woman. She should probably have made it more difficult but the woman wasn’t a threat and going to her was something a nod from Alexei confirmed as right. Picking her way around the huddled, naked female who now slunk back further, Raven crossed to the shorter woman, subconsciously smoothing her dress down her body to have it settle as it should. The feel of silk almost came as a surprise, so accustomed had Raven become to nudity or latex, and nothing in between.

“Yes yes, hurry now sweetie. I don’t have all day, lots to do, lots to do,” chivvied the small woman with a double clap of her hands. Without thinking, Raven quickened her pace to close the remaining gap. “My, you are a tall one aren’t you? No matter, Natalia can make it work. Strip!”

That single shrill command sliced into Raven and made her recoil. She was used to being naked, comfortable with the dramatic impact of her body which she had often used to disarm with a provocative display of what a woman could be. Now though she was the one being disarmed.

She felt her cheeks brush with the first rouge of embarrassment as expectant male eyes waited and watched. An audience she would normally have commanded and controlled with a sway of a hip and a swing of her hair had shown itself to be beyond her reach, leaving Raven feeling uncomfortably insecure.

“Hurry up girl, don’t be shy now.” The words of the small woman stripped away the first layer of resistance and Raven’s fingers curled as if to hide from the inevitable even as she started to reach round to her back. Her hand trembled as she slowly unfurled it and when her fingers finally found the tab of her zip, she held on to it to try to steady herself.

Then realisation struck and looking at the small woman, she heard the voice of the metallic Mistress who had admonished her time and again when she had been forced to fuck and suck for water.

“Your toys aren’t usually so reluctant to display themselves, brother.” The woman gave a knowing wink and nodded toward the tall, black haired female in the tight white dress, standing with eyes wide.

Toy. The word echoed around the void of Raven’s mind. That’s what she felt like. Drawing in a deep breath, she began to slowly slide the zip down her back, eyes resting briefly on Alexei before fluttering closed, part in denial, part in thrill as emotions conflicted for supremacy within her.

Raven went on to autopilot as she squeezed her thighs together and shimmied her hips to allow the dress to slip to the floor. An almost inaudible moan of approval from Alexei hinted toward a need for more.

A first slip? Difficult to say but there
was
a discernible reaction,
his
reaction. Maybe she could use that, maybe it was only a matter of chipping away, being provocative, being patient, being herself. Stepping out of her puddled dress, Raven stood momentarily, legs braced slightly farther apart, ankles adjusting and readjusting to deal with the height of her elegant, strappy heels.

Was it to snatch back some semblance of power or was it just to please? She couldn’t be entirely sure even in herself anymore but as she caressed her manicured fingers down her skin, she arched her back subtly to posture her body precisely.

Hands first rested lightly on her abdomen before slowly slithering lower. Sensual was the key and in a graphic display of enjoyment, Raven parted perfectly painted lips. She had to show off, had to show herself to be enjoying the thrill that was her own form. Perhaps they could enjoy it too. Her hands crept lower, finally coming to rest on her thighs, painted nails dramatic against the canvas of her white silk stockings.

So soft, so sensual, silk had always been a fabric to inflame sexual fires. She knew what it usually did to them, her audiences. It was seduction itself and to the thrill of her own touch, Raven circled her hips in a single wide sweep, drawing a second moan from the man who now watched so intently and the sound of a readjusting stance from the side.

Again the seductress at play, restored as the woman that she had first become years before to preserve her life, to prey on those she lured into her sexual web. With a deeply drawn breath, she pressed her back once again into the proud arch. It showed her physique off to its best and she damn well knew that – long neck, full breasts, concave tummy – it was a body that had ensnared and enraptured more than just men.

It was familiar. It was Raven. Easing hands around her own form, the first hints of confidence dribbled back. She could use this; use the reaction to resurrect her hope and, in time, perhaps even revive her future. She celebrated this small victory with another rotation of her hips, delighting in the feel of the straps that tugged deliciously on the pure white stockings while flimsy panties stretched still tighter across her buttocks.

Another moan from across the room was met by a contented one of her own in reply, timed to perfection, released just to please. Raven’s hands slithered around her torso, enjoying the softness of skin while taking care to emphasise the sculpture that was her body. The Raven was back, beautiful and brave. She drew in a long breath, chest rising, lower lip trembling
just so
, hinting toward the bliss that would be its touch.

In her head, she was back in the club where her stripper’s tips had helped her first stabilise her life, then allowed her to flourish. She could beat this, she knew now that she could. With a possible undisclosed ally in Red, the moans spoke volumes. They were a language she knew and they told Raven that she had an ace to play. She would win in the end just as she had before, clambering her way back from worse than nothing. This time though she wouldn’t let herself become sloppy and careless when basking in the afterglow of success.

Red. That was who had gone too far and brought it all crashing down, not her. Her only mistake had been in not slapping the shallow, sycophantic woman back in to place. Still, the fact she was here and could be useful was one card, and the sounds of appreciation told her she had another.

They were cold but she could melt them; they were finally showing that they were human after all. The flash of a smile, the twinkle of an eye, the mischief of a wink - they always caved in the end. ‘Resistance is futile,’ Raven’s inner voice lightly echoed a TV series she had once seen, only part-joking, as she narrowed her eyes suggestively, purely to highlight her enjoyment of her own display.

Luxuriating in the effect she knew she had, Raven swirled her hips once again, adding an extra sway to emphasise the symphony that was her seduction as she silently performed to the percussive pulse of her heartbeat.

A sudden tightness on her throat though exploded all thought. A spirit buoyed was sudden punctured. The grip on her throat tightened. Raven’s eyes shot open. The sneering face of Alexei. His arm flexed, gripping her tighter, cutting off her air, asserting a control he felt driven to reapply.

Raven’s eyes bulged. This wasn’t how it should be. He should be slipping under her spell. She had heard the tell-tale sounds. He had moaned. She had started to slither under his skin. But when a moan now came again, she realised it was from behind her and was soon followed by the snap of a skilfully-aimed slap and a female reprimand, “Fucking men, all the same.”

If she could have turned her head, Raven would have seen the large man known as Yuri stagger from the blow delivered by the small woman, banishing his hand from his crotch.

By now though, Raven had other concerns. Alexei’s grip was iron and had cut off her airway. “Yankee whore, you strip for Natalia when told,” spat Alexei, grabbing Raven’s exquisite bra then tearing it away from her roughly, exposing perfectly proportioned but sunburnt breasts.

Raven had never felt so naked. The tearing away of her bra also tore away the thin veneer of positivity that had skinned over her negative hell. With the collar biting ever deeper into her neck it was all she could do to struggle for each single, sustaining breath.

It wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be this way. She was Raven; devastating, dominant, desirable, but when her thin white panties were rented off too, the brief resurrection of Raven skulked away and she realised she had been wrong.
So
wrong.