in-between was unnatural for him, was he going to kill or fuck? He did not know.
He ran his hands along her body looking for a pocket. A smile curved at the corner of his mouth as he ran his hand along her firm thighs. She was such a delicate creature. Who had sent her? Was she one of Sergei’s or contracted out by somebody who worked for him?
He found no weapons and nothing to indicate where she came from or her identification. In the hoodie pocket she had a torn Skytrain ticket, a wadded ten-dollar bill with some loose change, and a receipt from 7-11 for one Coke and a couple lottery tickets. He found no tickets.
He took the items and laid them on a low table near the platform. Inspecting them gave him nothing. He knew no more about her than he had five minutes ago.
She made a small noise, a moan in the back of her throat followed by a long sigh. Dimitri leaned in and watched her face; she appeared to flutter her eyelids under the blindfold and grew still. He felt her pulse; it was throbbing under her skin, as it should be. He could see light red finger marks blooming on her neck. His hands had done this. His cock responded to the thought of her struggling under him, fighting him off, trying to get away.
Boredom and frustration did strange things to a man. Years earlier he never would have imagined choking such a beautiful woman while driving himself deep inside of her, but at the moment this image became almost all consuming. He reached out and placed his hand around her throat, lining his fingers up with the bruises forming on her flesh. He squeeze d, ever so softly, and felt his body respond to her flesh. She moaned and moved her head. She was regaining consciousness so he removed his hand and watched her carefully.
She wiggled her hands against the ropes; her entire body shuddered ever so slightly. The smallest of movements snaked through her limbs, she was testing her bonds. She was awake.
He didn’t move, stilled his breathing. This was one thing he still excelled at, avoiding detection.
She strained against the ropes, pulled her right foot and found her limits. She twisted and struggled, stopped and exhaled loudly.
“Who’s there?” she demanded. Her voice was low and throaty. A bedroom voice, a sensual voice. Dimitri immediately knew the kinds of noises that would erupt from her throat in the act of pleasure. He wanted to make her moan, sigh, scream his name and beg him to never stop.
But he still didn’t know who she was or if she had been sent here to kill him. He said nothing, did not move.
“Is anyone there?” she called out again, louder this time. “I know you’re there, fucker! Who the fuck are you? Why am I tied up?” she continued. “Hello,” she said, her voice drawn out into a near whimper. Dimitri felt a slight tug of empathy for the girl on the platform, but it was lost immediately under his need to learn more about her intentions.
“Listen, asshole,” the girl said with a determined tone, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but people know I’m here. They’ll come for me.”
Her chest rose rapidly with her breathing, panic was creeping in as she realized the extent of her situation. Dimitri stayed still for a few breaths and finally walked to her side. She heard him and turned her face towards him. “Who are you?” she asked, tension thick in her words.
He leaned close to her, inhaled her scent, vanilla and flowers, and said, “I think the real question here should be…who are you?”
She flinched at the sound of his voice and ineffectually tried to pull away from him. “It doesn’t matter. I think I’m in the wrong place,” she replied, her voice cracking with pent up hysteria. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”
He moved slowly to the other side of her head and whispered, “So you weren’t sent here to kill me? I find that hard to believe.”
She flinched again and edged away from the sound of his voice. She was breathing rapidly, her
He ran his hands along her body looking for a pocket. A smile curved at the corner of his mouth as he ran his hand along her firm thighs. She was such a delicate creature. Who had sent her? Was she one of Sergei’s or contracted out by somebody who worked for him?
He found no weapons and nothing to indicate where she came from or her identification. In the hoodie pocket she had a torn Skytrain ticket, a wadded ten-dollar bill with some loose change, and a receipt from 7-11 for one Coke and a couple lottery tickets. He found no tickets.
He took the items and laid them on a low table near the platform. Inspecting them gave him nothing. He knew no more about her than he had five minutes ago.
She made a small noise, a moan in the back of her throat followed by a long sigh. Dimitri leaned in and watched her face; she appeared to flutter her eyelids under the blindfold and grew still. He felt her pulse; it was throbbing under her skin, as it should be. He could see light red finger marks blooming on her neck. His hands had done this. His cock responded to the thought of her struggling under him, fighting him off, trying to get away.
Boredom and frustration did strange things to a man. Years earlier he never would have imagined choking such a beautiful woman while driving himself deep inside of her, but at the moment this image became almost all consuming. He reached out and placed his hand around her throat, lining his fingers up with the bruises forming on her flesh. He squeeze d, ever so softly, and felt his body respond to her flesh. She moaned and moved her head. She was regaining consciousness so he removed his hand and watched her carefully.
She wiggled her hands against the ropes; her entire body shuddered ever so slightly. The smallest of movements snaked through her limbs, she was testing her bonds. She was awake.
He didn’t move, stilled his breathing. This was one thing he still excelled at, avoiding detection.
She strained against the ropes, pulled her right foot and found her limits. She twisted and struggled, stopped and exhaled loudly.
“Who’s there?” she demanded. Her voice was low and throaty. A bedroom voice, a sensual voice. Dimitri immediately knew the kinds of noises that would erupt from her throat in the act of pleasure. He wanted to make her moan, sigh, scream his name and beg him to never stop.
But he still didn’t know who she was or if she had been sent here to kill him. He said nothing, did not move.
“Is anyone there?” she called out again, louder this time. “I know you’re there, fucker! Who the fuck are you? Why am I tied up?” she continued. “Hello,” she said, her voice drawn out into a near whimper. Dimitri felt a slight tug of empathy for the girl on the platform, but it was lost immediately under his need to learn more about her intentions.
“Listen, asshole,” the girl said with a determined tone, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but people know I’m here. They’ll come for me.”
Her chest rose rapidly with her breathing, panic was creeping in as she realized the extent of her situation. Dimitri stayed still for a few breaths and finally walked to her side. She heard him and turned her face towards him. “Who are you?” she asked, tension thick in her words.
He leaned close to her, inhaled her scent, vanilla and flowers, and said, “I think the real question here should be…who are you?”
She flinched at the sound of his voice and ineffectually tried to pull away from him. “It doesn’t matter. I think I’m in the wrong place,” she replied, her voice cracking with pent up hysteria. “I’m not even supposed to be here.”
He moved slowly to the other side of her head and whispered, “So you weren’t sent here to kill me? I find that hard to believe.”
She flinched again and edged away from the sound of his voice. She was breathing rapidly, her
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