33. Ana

THIRTY-THREE

Ana

M y excitement mixes with nerves because I could find Nina tonight. She'll be safe and I'll have done something good, or tomorrow will be the same with one less place to look. I go into my room that I haven't slept in since Dima keeps dragging me out of it and he appears out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around my waist doing the same thing. He lifts me off my feet and doesn't even say anything as he walks into his room. My clothes feel uncomfortable again, tighter as he turns me around massaging my ass.I don't know how he knows but he does.

Moving his hands up to my back, he looks into my eyes and asks, "What's wrong, lisichka?"

"You have an issue with food and now my clothes don't fit me," I mumble my response as I feel every thread of the fabric touching me.

He looks me up and down as he leans back with a crease forming between his brows.

"You look perfect to me, but we'll go tomorrow, and you can pick anything you want."

It's always we, never anything singular.

If I need to shower, we step under the spray.

If I'm hungry, we get food.

If I'm overwhelmed, we listen to my book.

After a lifetime alone I've found the clingiest person in existence.

He leans down, planting his lips on my forehead before walking me backwards into his closet and my feet stop seeing my things beside his. Even my boxes of stickers are neatly set on their own shelf. Tapping his fingers against my ass, he doesn't let me go despite the words leaving his mouth.

"Get ready, lisichka."

And I don't move even though I should. I like being in Dima's arms, it's safe and twin moons always stare at me.His chest vibrates as he leans closer to me, and the deep voice has my knees turning weak.

"Now, or I'll fuck you all night."

Part of me argues not to move but the man has an obsession with orgasms. Not his own, mine. I never know how long I've been there, and I couldn't count them if I tried, he does because that stupid clicker stays in his hand and I'm going to break it one day. All I do know is that my body reaches a point where pleasure becomes unbearable while simultaneously begging for more.

The other part of me whispers one word, Nina, and I move. We're both disappointed and force ourselves to change. I can feel the heat of his stare as I strip down, and my dress doesn't allow me to wear a bra. There's a deep rumble disturbing the air, and I turn my head, looking over my shoulder. Dima has his t-shirt off, it's held tightly in his fist, the top button of his jeans is undone, and he squeezes his dick while staring at me. There's a chain around his neck with a small coin pendant that I've never seen before.

I feel like a deer watching the hunter stalk me through a scope. His control is forged from the strongest material because he doesn't take a step closer to me despite the wildness in his eyes. I like it. I want to test how strong it is and see if I can make him snap. Without looking away from him, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and slowly peel them down my legs. They haven't even touched the back of my knees when he says, "You better be putting another pair on."

There's a new edge to his voice, harder, more violent than I've ever heard come from his lips.

I shrug to hide my giddiness at the band on his restraint being plucked and step out of my panties before taking my dress down. It's short and backless to give the image that's needed, the scars are going to come into use and make people assume they were done by Dima's gentle hand.

Heat covers my back as I slip into it and it's harder to ignore him. There are no arms wrapping around my waist as I put on my boots and that edge comes out again when I stand, pretending to be ready.

"One more item, lisichka."

My laugh fights to be heard, turning into a smirk as I bend forward and play ignorant.

"Oh? The mask, I nearly forgot."

The skirt of my dress is pulled up as I lean forward, and he palms my ass cheeks. The rough denim presses against the back of my thighs, and I can feel him between my legs from all of his torture rewiring my brain to only recognize his touch.

His voice darkens with lust as he grinds into me and groans, "Walk around like this at home from now on."

I nod. Why am I nodding? I don't like not wearing panties usually, but I want to from now on only when it's the two of us. One hand leaves my ass, and a drawer opens behind me. It closes and pale pink lace is dangled in front of my face with a silent instruction. I can't stop my laugh when he's being so serious as though we're not going to see every body part in every position imaginable.

Taking them from him when he punishes me by stepping away, I pull them up my legs and right my dress. He's accustomed to how I get ready, and he reaches for the camouflage makeup to cover my tattoos. The ones on my arms are covered by the sleeves and I'll be getting my neck piece as soon as I've got Nina. When he goes further down my back to the scars, I turn, needing them to remain uncovered.

I'm stopped from giving an explanation at the sight of the small, pale pink coin pendant dangling from his chain.

"It's my sticker."

I sound breathless, faraway, my voice coming out from somewhere deep and hidden within me. Cupping my jaw, he strokes my lips with his thumb and smirks. I'm being hypnotized, I don't know who moves or if it's my mind zooming into his features, but his face is closer, and he nods.

"Seemed right considering it's going to be dangling above your face every night."

I'm definitely being hypnotized as he softly moves his lips over mine, leaving me breathless.

The Moretta mask covers my entire face, at least I have eyeholes this time. I should be happy that the straps are hidden under my hair rather than it being traditional and having to hold on to it with my teeth. How the fuck did people used to do that? It's not heavy but their jaw must have ached from being clenched for hours, and it was olden times, dentistry wasn't even a priority so they must have been spitting out their teeth when they got home from their syphilis sex parties.

I push the thought away as we're guided to our seats and Dima keeps a hand on my ass. I don't know if he's playing the part of ownership or trying to stop anyone looking at me. His anger hasn't lessened with my explanation of leaving my scars in view. I know he didn't do them, but the sick fucks need to believe he would, or we'll be seen as normal people.

Maybe I should just kill someone out in the open, then they'll see my violence. There are too many normal people mixed in to hide the depravity. It's sad that they're being tainted to give a cover for the people who want to buy children. I smile under my mask, seeing how the table next to us interact, that's what this is supposed to be. They're all respectful and treating each other like humans, even the masked people kneeling beside the others aren't being forced in a malicious way. There's no one ashing cigars into their mouths or any of the other literal shit I've seen. The person sat against the booth has a caring hand on the kneeling one's head, stroking their hair but otherwise ignoring them.

Looking away before I get caught creeping, Dima pulls me to sit on his thigh. His mask knocks against mine and he keeps his voice low so we're not overhead.

"Is that what you want, lisichka?"

No. It would bring back the memories, and I whisper back, "It's sad that they took something that makes people happy and twisted it."

His mumble is distorted through the mask, and I can only pick up the word sweet.He doesn't normally eat sweet foods, but he must be hungry, so I ask, "Do you want cake?"

His mask covers his lips like mine does, but I hear the soft laugh hit the material as he strokes up my back.

"I'll get you one to celebrate when we get the fuck out of here."

I nod and he grips my nape as he whispers in my ear, "Do you see her?"

I slowly scan the room, pausing when I see Rowan. The slimy bastard. How isn't he dead yet? There must be a long line of capable people who want him dead. Dima turns rigid, going alert and following my gaze as Rowan turns so he's fully in the shadows. The cunt must have a pact with whoever is worse than the devil because his eyes lock on to us. I'm accustomed to the predator; I grew up with him in the house, so I know what he's doing despite Dima's confusion.

"Who can you see?"

I'm glad the mask covers my full face because I can't hide my hate as I arch my back and turn so dickface Rowan can see the scars. The sick fuck will be smiling at them, and I rush out, "Use me. I trust you."

Dima doesn't move and I dig my nails into the side of his thigh. Rowan will get me closer to TRR, I'm sure he owns it or it's one of the businesses he's managed to take control over. Dima snatches my throat, there's no pressure against my windpipe and he hides his flattened fingers behind my hair.

"Remember it's me, I won't hurt you and we can leave any time, lisichka."

I write yes on his thigh, and he relaxes slightly as he roughly pushes me to my knees and widens his legs. The napkin holder falls to the floor as he knocks his knee into the table, and he doesn't look at me as he says, "Push them into your boots."

Is he stealing napkins? He has money so I don't know why he needs to, until he turns his head to me and pulls me up so I'm hovering. "For your knees so it doesn't hurt."

Oh, he's not trying to save money.

Discreetly doing as instructed, the black tissue blends into my boots as I push them through the gap around my thighs.

"Undo my belt, make your fingers shake."

I know he doesn't like this, but gratitude takes over because he's doing this to help me. The back of my head burns as Rowan's sadistic fucking eyes focus on us and I force a tremor into my limb as I tilt my shoulders, making sure the scar tissue is in full view of the freak. Ants travel down my spine and I can feel another set of eyes join as Dima's low warning gives me time to react and be at ease.

"Move your head when I grab your scalp."

Threading his fingers through my hair, he doesn't pull, and I yank my own head back to see Rowan stood with two other people. I can't see their faces due to the shadows, but the cufflinks sparkle in the low lights. Fuck! The cursive 3 gives them away but there's only one of them wearing them. The woman taps the sharp point of her heel off the floor twice before she crosses her ankles. His assistant always used to do that fucking move.

That stupid cunt is still alive?

She was supposed to be dead. I burnt her too and I can't remember if she could get out of the room because I had to run when her annoying fucking screaming woke everyone up, but I'm sure she died. It stank and she wasn't put in the doctor's room with me when my burns were treated. I'm trying to work out the chances of someone having the same idiosyncrasies as Rowan's assistant who is supposed to be fucking dead when my head is turned and Dima stares into my eyes. His voice is low with a plea working between each word.

"You've got to talk to me, B, I can't see you ."

It's too complicated to explain how Rowan uses an assessor to examine the children before he buys them, that she would walk with a clipboard, clicking her heels in that same way as she marked a sheet and then tallied their worthiness to him, so I keep my voice low as I fight the urge to stare into the shadows again.

"Later, promise."

He traces the pattern of a tick against my nape and my gratitude grows when he softly says, "Close your eyes, lisichka, remember I respect and adore you."

The words have barely left his mouth when my lashes slam shut, and I flinch, playing the part as he wraps his hand around my neck, roughly pulling me forward to his crotch to rub my face against his dick. I hold his ankle that's hidden from the sick fucks and gently squeeze, letting him know I'm okay, that I trust him, I know he won't hurt me, and this isn't really him.

Spit lands against the mask as I'm pushed back, and he taps the edge of his foot against the table leg to make it seem like I've hit my head. I'm kept on my knees by my neck with an apology in my direction.

"I'm sorry, beautiful."

Dima is too nice. I know why he did it, it's the first thing that got the announcer excited on the live stream. My voice is low as I look at him and there's nothing but conviction in it.

"I trust you, it's okay."

His thumb presses against the bottom of the mask and he guides my head to lay on his thigh, blocking them from seeing my face and the truth.He pretends again even though he knows I don't have an issue with him, and I'll open my mouth if he unzips, but his arm covers the view of my face from all angles, and I lean forward, kissing over the bulge as he tightens his hold on my neck while Rowan and his noncey friends can only see my back and the mirage of me choking. I'm smiling up at Dima when he gently traces my lips and sits taller, the movement has my face pressed against his groin and he groans, "If you ever decide to wrap this smile around me it's not going to be around these cunts."

I kiss the pad of his thumb with a promise.

"Later, when it's just me and you?" I ask.

He moves my cheek over his dick and there's even more care in his hands as he does it.

"I don't know what you've done to me that even in this place, around these people, I can't stop wanting you." His thumb moves over my lips with his own cryptic promise. "When this is all over."

I look up without moving my head and only get a broken view with the mask covering half of my vision.

"What happens when this is all over?"

He pushes the pad of his thumb over my lips and answers too low for me to understand fully.

"That's when life starts."

He pretends to tuck himself away and abruptly pulls me to stand before righting my mask.He would have made a good actor or a director. I don't have my attention on anyone else, I know they're there but Dima eclipses them to the point there's no discomfort at the thought with following through with the act. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me to sit with my back against his chest, his hand automatically going between my thighs as he shifts, pretending to sit me on his dick with his other hand around my throat.

I miss his tattoos and his hand looks weird without them.

The freaks are getting bored of us and I nip the side of Dima's thigh as I beg, "Hurt me."

He stiffens and I panic as they look at another table.

"Do it, now, please. I really want you to."

His fingers flex on my throat and I grunt as he forces my head back. My spine arches like a backwards S and I manage to croak, "Please, Dima."

Pushing his knees up between mine, he forces my legs apart and grits, "Tell me to fucking stop."

"It's a lie," I whisper before I add an accent and shout, "Please don't, sir, I'll be a good little girl for you."

The brush of air is my first warning as he forces his hand down between my legs and the sting has aftershocks. My thighs twitch, instinctively trying to close, and a pained groan floats above me, but the sick fucks are looking at us again.

"I'm sorry," I fake cry then whisper, "Do it again, I think I might like it."

"You might fucking like it," Dima scoffs as he uses more force and slaps his palm off my clit.

The pain isn't that bad when it comes from a hand that I know doesn't want to hurt me, it's nice and warm. The sting grounding me and my apology isn't faked as I push more of my weight back so my crown is touching his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for making you hurt me."

Our masks clink together as he roughly cups between my thighs and his voice is even deeper. "This is mine, I've told you before that I look after everything that fucking belongs to me. If you need pain, I'm the only one who fucking gives it to you, do you understand?"

"Is it going to be like the other torture you do to me?" I whisper.

"Yes," he says roughly. "Pain can be pleasurable, and pleasure can be painful. I don't want you hurt, I want you so overwhelmed that you can't think, that you let it all go and allow me to take care of you."

His hand on my neck flexes and his voice is deeper, vibrating through his chest into me as he grits, "You are fucking mine, hellion."

"Yes, sir," I snort.

He fits his lips beside my ear and my eyes close at the warmth washing over me. "One day, lisichka."