Ahksana awoke to a face full of sunshine. It took her a minute to roll over to look at the alarm clock. She groaned, not just from the pain, but from the early hour proudly proclaimed in green: it was barely ten thirty in the morning. A splitting headache made loud protests as she attempted to sit up. She sat still, with her head in her hands, until the room stopped spinning. With eyes half closed, she stumbled off the king-size bed and into the adjoining bathroom. She struggled with the decision to turn on the light, ultimately flicking the switch up to help aid her search for aspirin.
As soon as the bright bulbs lit, her head screamed in agony. Softly cursing the pain, Ahksana fumbled over the counter top, opening each medicine bottle her hands grasped. She finally found the right bottle and popped four small white pills into her mouth. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror. She froze, pills lodged halfway down her throat. She sputtered and gagged, reached for a glass and blindly filled it with water. She watched the woman in the mirror follow her movements, slowly lift her glass to her mouth as Ahksana did. She gulped down the mouthful of water at the fearful realization: the battered and bruised woman was truly her reflection. Tears welled to the surface of her eyes as she set the glass back on the counter. Tentatively, she raised her hands up to trace the black fist mark that marred her fair skin, the cause of the massive headache. It stretched fully across one cheek and from the bottom of her chin to the bottom of her left eye. The angry red cut at the top of the bruise, left by
his ring, managed to brighten her already watery blue eyes.
Her sight blurred from the tears, the full memory of the night before playing once more through her mind. She knew better than to refuse
him, especially when he had been drinking, but the thought of bedding him after he had forced her to watch as he took a willing Celest to his bed....
Celest lay satisfied, smiling lazily at Ahksana, thrilled she looked sick. Though Celest enjoyed being rubbed in Ahksana's face, she despised being thrown out of the room. Ahksana would have rather traded her places; instead she was cornered shortly after Celest's departure.
Ahksana feared the man she called her husband. She learned to be afraid the day he took her from her parents all those years ago in the Czech Republic. She knew he was evil from the beginning, when he held her arm in his grasp and killed her parents in cold blood. She found out just how evil he could be the first night he raped her. In all the years since, he had not let her forget her slave status.
When he had tossed Celest out the door, dressed in nothing but her stage heels, Ahksana knew there was nothing she could do. She was alone with him. She backed away from the bed, slowly sunk into the shadows; a small thought flittered through her mind, giving her hope that she may escape his attentions if he were already satiated from Celest and as drunk as he appeared. But her thin light of hope vanished as she struck the wall with a noticeable thump, snapping his hungry eyes directly to her half naked body.
She had not been allowed to change after working the stage at Europa, the high end gentlemen's club her husband owned. Her costume, by the end of the night, consisted only of gold, seven inch platform heels that strapped up to her knees, a brown leather thong with a mini-frill skirt, studded leather wristcuffs, and two leather ribbons: one worn as a choker, the other wrapped in her hair. Her lack of clothing made her feel more vulnerable, which fed his desire to feast upon her soft skin.
His advance blocked the doorway to the hall, but the cornered vixen is always alert for an escape from the hound. She knew he was enjoying her fear from the proud bob of his growing member; he was still nude and his rather rotund and repulsive figure was highlighted by Celest's juices. Ahksana's eyes darted around the room and found her solution: if she moved carefully, slowly, he might not notice as she made her way around to the bathroom door. For every one of his steps toward her, Ahksana made a half-step shuffle to her left, hands still behind her back, running along the wall.
Determined to make her escape, and too focused on watching her husband, Ahksana did not notice the scrap of Celest's discarded clothing that she tripped over. She did not fall, but she stumbled and turned into the wall to catch herself. She was only a few feet away from the bathroom door, and in her mind she knew if she were to make a quick dash, she would be free until he slumped in a drunken stupor. Her near fall pulled her husband out of his tunnel vision hunt; he realized she had been trying to slip away and his anger surfaced. He lengthened his steps and caught Ahksana seconds after her stumble. Her body was pinned to the wall beneath his, with her arms outstretched above her where they landed when she turned. Her frill of a skirt gave no protection against the very obvious and disgustingly sticky erection pressed quite firmly against her. Her wrists were held in his large and balmy hands, while his unshaven cheek rubbed down the right side of her face.
His rough German voice, breath reeking of cigar and alcohol, reverberated through her head, his mouth barely above her ear, "My pet thinks she can run away? How stupid can she be? Where can she go?"
Desperation to get away gave her strength. Instead of falling limp, her usual response, Ahksana struggled against his grasp, bucking back at him with her shoulders. She grit her teeth and forced her words to not betray her fear. Her sweet voice escaped her painted lips in a thick Czech accent, laden with ice, "Every pet runs free in the end. How long do you really think you can keep me?"
He transferred both of her hands under his left fist and ran his right hand gently down her cheek, under her chin, and further still to the tender skin trapped by the wall. Her struggles became more intense as she tried to jerk away from his traveling hand. "I will never let you go. Even after all these years, you still give me pleasure to own."
Ahksana turned her face back over her shoulder, facing him the best she could in her position. Her face distorted in revulsion, his very firm penis offering a contrast to the bulging soft body pinning her. "All you own is what you take by force! I curse you, Boris!" She ended her angry burst by spitting in his face.
Boris pulled back in surprise, his left hand still gripping her wrists. She arched back, trying to keep her balance, attempting to twist out of his grasp - the bathroom door was so close!
With her wriggling in his grasp, and with her spit still dripping fresh on his cheek, he pulled his hand back and hit the defiance off her face. The force of the blow knocked her to to the floor, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. She cowered in a crumpled heap, her left hand trembling as it tentatively held her cheek. Her chance at freedom for the night was gone, she was trapped. But just as the vixen cornered by the hunting hound, she refused to give in. She gathered herself and crawled backwards, stumbling with a newly broken heel.
He walked toward her and glared down at her with a mix of anger and hunger dredged across his pitted face. She once again hit the wall as he towered over her, his bulk appearing twice as large from her position on the floor. He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling a fist full out of the leather tie. Ahksana was dragged to her feet and held firmly against his bear-like furry body by one arm, Boris' right hand still clenching her hair. He pulled back on her head, straining her neck, forcing her to look him in the face. In his native tongue, he snapped down at her, "Bitch! Worthless good for nothing bitch! I will have obedience from you yet!" His mouth came down hard on her mouth, forcing her lips to open for his tobacco flavored intruding tongue; his left thumb hooked through the frilly excuse for a skirted thong and ripped the thin fabric away, disrobing Ahksana completely. Boris's hand groped greedily at her bare flesh, kneading her skin with his rough hand, and grasping her tight against his grinding hips as he began to fuck the space between their bodies.
Ahksana, with her head still pulled back, could barely breathe. She supressed her instincts to struggle for fear of snapping her own neck. In her mind she knew there was no use; she was trapped. She fell pliant in his arms; she submitted to her defeat.
Boris growled when her struggle ended and dove deeper into her reluctant mouth. His right hand released her hair and wrapped around the back of her neck, possessively cradling her to his face. His left arm scooped her thin frame up against his large body. He grunted with the effort, but showed no other signs of being out of shape. He crossed the small bedroom and threw her onto the bed. Ahksana let out a cry of pain as she landed on the old matress; springs dug into her skin, slick with the night's earlier activities.
Released from his grasp, the urge to run returned. Ahksana stumbled backwards on her elbows while her shoes caught no traction on the lumpy cushions; her broken shoe marked her retreat with freshly poked holes in the fabric. Boris chuckled, a deep gutteral reverberation that sent chills down Ahksana's spine. She stiffened and halted her crawl. She knew what came next, and had learned that it was best to succumb to his wishes, no matter how disgusting or degrading.
She lay propped on her elbows and stared in horror as he pumped himself in anticipation; his large hand wrapped around his rather thick appendage and consumed the length, the grotesque display resembling a fat toad trying in vain to lick its nose. The sudden thought of imagery did nothing to quell the trembling that took hold of her as he moved forward onto the bed. With his free hand, he reached out and slid his rough calluses up her right leg. He parted her legs and crawled between them, still obscenely stroking his stiff, stump-like erection. She lay back and closed her eyes as he drew nearer.
He covered her, snarling his triumph as he entered her. She gulped down a cry and bit her lower lip, her eyes squeezed tight. Boris bucked atop her, roughly groping her body with his large hands. She rolled her head to the side in an attempt to escape his alcoholic breath, but only managed to draw his attention to her face. While still thrusting to the beat only he could hear, Boris reached down and grabbed Ahksana's chin and twisted her neck to face him. He pulled her head off the mattress and panted, "Look at me, bitch! Such disrespect to ignore me!" An audible sob escaped her throat as she slowly opened her eyes. He smiled down at her, a menacing evil smile. His movements increased in both tempo and force, causing the tears to finally run down her bruised face. She turned her head once more to stare across the room, her body shaking from the crying as well as the man atop her.
He finished with one final push, his growl of pleasure echoing throughout the room. He pulled out and away from Ahksana and collapsed on the mattress beside her. Ahksana, too ashamed and bruised to move, half rolled onto her side and let the tears fill her vision completely.
Those tears were the same tears that met her eyes in the mirror. She had cried herself to sleep the night before, she knew, but Ahksana had no recollection of Boris leaving. She was thankful he had not bothered her when he had left; there were nights he was relentless and would not give her much rest.
She knew he had no real emotion for her; he thought of her as simply his property, a vessel to carry children and bear him sons. A piece of chattel. A brood mare. She had been fortunate to have survived without becoming pregnant, but she also feared that the longer she stayed, the less likely she would remain lucky.
Ahksana dried her tears with a washcloth. She had to get away. She would figure the details out later, but the knowledge that she would one day be free gave her the strength to pull herself together mentally. With a clearing mind, she showered, gently cleansing herself of Boris' rough possession.
