It was Sarani and me at the table, and Wygotzki and Cherkov playing cards by the door, keeping an eye on the dirt track leading up to the cabin. We were waiting for the batch to arrive, but it wouldn’t be in for hours. Needless to say, we were bored.
Somehow, we began talking about sex.
I don’t remember just how it happened, but there I was, laying out the graphic details of my kinky sex life for Sarani. I suppose I was trying to shock her. Like I said, I was bored.
“Kinky girl, huh?”
I shrugged and brought a cigarette to my lips. As I reached for the lighter she grabbed my wrist.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“How else am I going to smoke it?”
“That an order?” I said, arching an eyebrow at her.
Sarani kept her firm grip around my wrist, looking into my eyes. “Do you want it to be?”
My heart skipped a beat. Thing is, Sarani is hot. All lean and sinewy, with small, firm breasts and narrow hips, a flat stomach and abs and biceps to die for. If there was anyone in the group I’d fuck, it’d be her. In a heartbeat.
I looked down at her hand holding my wrist, and then up at her face again, struggling to find a witty retort to her question, one that wouldn’t come across as either disinterested or desperate. In the end I opted for silence, but when she released my wrist I took the cigarette out of my mouth and placed it at the table between us as a wordless challenge.
Sarani sipped on her beer, reading the intent in my eyes. I didn’t look away. Finally she turned to the two men.
“Wygotzki. You’ve got the time?”
He glanced at his watch. “Twenty-two hundred. Want me to check in with HQ?”
“Nah. They’ll be here when they’ll be here. They said midnight, right?”
Wygotski shrugged. “We should be so lucky.”
Sarani glanced at the cigarette lying between us, then met my eyes. “You’ve got a safeword?”
It made her laugh. She took the cigarette, flipped it over, and stuck it into her breast pocket. “So, want to play?” She might as well have been asking for a beer. Like it was all the same to her.
“Why not?” I said with a shrug, going for the same kind of easy carelessness. “It’s not like we’ve anything better to do.”
For a moment the words hung in the air between us. I fiddled with my sleeve, stomach clenching, trying not to think about how much the prospect of a game with her excited me. She leaned forward.
“I’ve got to warn you, kid. I play rough.”
“I like it rough.”
“I’ll make you cry.”
I scoffed. “Good luck.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest and watching me with a small smile on her lips. “Stand up.”
I stood. Her smile grew predatory and my heartbeat picked up. I could feel the wetness growing between my legs.
“You into pain, Nielsen?”
“Yeah,” I said, hoarsely.
She beckoned me around table and caressed my cheek with the back of her tanned hand, then grabbed my chin and turned my face up. “Yeah, what, Nielsen?”
“Yeah, ma’am?” I guessed.
She nodded and let go off my chin. I was both relieved and disappointed.
“Do you enjoy being slapped?”
“Want me to hit you?”
I glanced towards Wygotzki and Cherkov, but she’d kept her voice low enough and they didn’t seem to have caught on yet. If it were up to me, I’d have taken this game upstairs, but if Sarani didn’t mind their presence I had no intention of letting her think that I did.
“Hell yeah,” I said.
Again, that smirk. “Ask nicely.”
Acutely aware of the guys only a few feet away I straightened my back, looked Sarani square in the eyes and said: “Please hit me, ma’am.”
Sarani backhanded me across the face. It wasn’t a hard blow, as such things go, but I turned with it, savoring the heat that rushed through me. I heard a curse over by the door, and from the corner of my eye I could see both of the guys staring at us. I touched the burning cheek with my fingertips and grinned at her.
“That all you can do? My last lover was half your size, and even she wouldn’t call that hitting.”
Cherkov sniggered, and Wygotzki made some wise-ass comment I barely heard. I kept my gaze on Sarani, whose reaction was the only one that mattered. She stood up, towering over me. I saw her pull her hand back and steadied myself.
The blow sent me staggering back against the table. I knocked over a chair that fell to the floor with a crash. “Fuck, boss!” Wygotzki reached out to steady me. “You trying to break her neck?”
I could taste blood in my mouth, mingled with the sharp, metallic taste of fear. I licked my lips, looking up at Sarani.
“Better?” she asked, sarcasm thick in her voice.
“Oh, yes,” I said, without a hint of mockery. “Thank you.”
“You’re fucked up, Nielsen.” Wygotzki helped me to my feet and slapped my back. “Get a room.”
Sarani grabbed me by the wrist and hauled me towards her. “Let’s go upstairs.”
It was a small room, just two bunk beds and a window. A place to sleep and walk away from, never looking back. A good place for a casual fuck, only there was nothing casual about what Sarani did to me.
She threw me down to the floor in the narrow space between the beds. My training kicked in and I rolled over my shoulder, coming to my feet without thinking.
“Nice.” Sarani covered the stretch of floor between us in two steps and grabbed me by the neck. “But when I throw you down, I expect you to stay down.” She pushed me down on knees and elbows, rubbing my face against the floor. When she released me I remained as she’d placed me and closed my eyes, listening to her movements.
“It’s a shame I don’t have my toys here,” I heard her say from somewhere above me. “I guess I’ll just have to improvise.”
The thought of Sarani improvising made my heart beat faster. I counted my breaths until she hauled my up to my knees and slapped my face several times in rapid succession. It was too much too fast and I got scared then, but she placed her face inches away from mine.
“Remember your safeword?”
I stared blankly at her, dazed from the blows.
“You have a safeword, Nielsen,” Sarani said, patiently, as if talking to a small child. “Do you remember it?”
I blinked to clear my eyes and nodded.
“Jesus,” I said hoarsely.
“Say it again.”
I had no idea where she was going with this, but I was not about to object. “Jesus,” I said.
“Remember it. From now on, that’s the only way for you to stop this. You can scream and beg and cry all you want, but until I hear you call out for your Lord, it won’t make a difference. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Got it.”
Sarani pulled me to my feet and ordered me to strip. She’d seen me naked a hundred times before, but this time was different. I suddenly felt nervous to stand naked before her, knowing her gaze would follow the curve of my breasts and my belly and the black hair that covered my cunt.
Sarani’s going to fuck me.
The thought hit me like a mailed fist in my stomach. My breath caught, my cunt clenched, and I felt all feverish all of a sudden.
I ducked my head to keep her from reading the thought in my eyes, and my gaze fell on her hands. Long, slender fingers, hands coarse and calloused, skin tanned dark from long hours in the sun. Her nails were short and smoothly rounded, well kept, the kind that could go all kinds of sensitive places without tearing or cutting.
I fumbled with my shoelaces, then fumbled with the belt, and all the while Sarani watched me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed under her chest, face giving nothing away. I felt myself flush again, uncertain and embarrassed, and as I put aside the last piece of clothing I had to fight the urge to cover myself up.
She crossed the floor and grabbed the back of my head, kissing me savagely. It was all teeth and tongue and the bites brought tears to my eyes. Her free hand roamed my body, caressing my breasts and belly and sliding over my cunt to feel the wetness there. I groaned into her mouth, touched her arms to steady myself. A stinging slap hit my cunt. I gasped. She shoved me up against the wall and grabbed me around the throat, lifting me until I was balancing on the tips of my toes.
“You don’t get to touch me, Nielsen,” she growled. “You don’t get to do nothing I don’t tell you to do. All right?”
A slow smile spread on her lips, sending shivers down my spine. She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest again, tapping her fingers against her arm as she watched me thoughtfully. After a while I had to look away, and from the corner of my eye I could see her smile grow.
“Lick my boots.”
She gave the order like a challenge, daring me, and I jerked my head up. My gaze darted from her face to her boots and up again. She watched me steadily, lips curving.
Heat crept up my face as I sank down on my knees before her, awkward and clumsy. Her boots were filthy, covered in caked mud and dust, and there was nothing sexy about it but I did it anyway, tasting dirt and leather on my tongue.
“Good girl,” Sarani said.
I flushed with pleasure at the praise, then flushed with shame. I was torn between wanting to please her and wanting to defeat her, prove to her that I was every bit as tough as I’d claimed to be. At least, licking her boots, I didn’t have to look her in the eyes.
She lifted my chin with the tip of her boot, then placed her foot against my chest, pushing me up to a kneeling position. “Well, Nielsen. Looks like you’d make a better slave than I thought.”
I didn’t know whether to be pleased or insulted by her words. I took a breath to mouth off at her, but she put a finger across her lips in a hushing gesture.
“Uh-uh. I decide if you get to speak.”
Another arbitrary rule, another wave of fire rushing through me. The blood was pounding through my sex and I needed to feel her on top of me, inside of me.
Sarani crouched before me and reached one hand between my thighs. I gasped as her fingers found my wet slit. She grabbed my hair with her other hand and pulled me up on my knees.
“I’m going to fuck you.” She turned my head and forced me to look at her. “You’re going to look me in the eyes while I do. Afterwards, you’re going to thank me for it, and you’re going to lick my fingers clean.”
I heard a whimper coming from my own throat. She pushed two fingers inside of me, and her thumb pressed against my clit as she started pumping the fingers in and out. I moaned, biting my lip. Sweat trickled down between my breasts.
“One more thing, Nielsen.” She pulled out her fingers and stroke my cunt surprisingly gently. “You don’t get to move until I say so. Knees apart. Hands on your head.”
I scrambled to obey. It was a demanding position and my knees were already starting to hurt. I licked my lips, trying to hold still and wishing she’d get a move on.
“You like this. Don’t you?”
I swallowed and nodded.
“Say it.” She was still stroking my cunt, rubbing her knuckles against the slit.
She slapped my cunt, making me jump. “I don’t fuck brats. Be good, or I’ll walk out on you.”
I didn’t think she would. She liked this too; I could see it in her eyes. But the thought of ending the game now terrified me, and I wasn’t about to take any chances.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, looking down. “Sorry, ma’am.”
She laughed, a wonderful, throaty sound. “That’s more like it.” Her hand started roaming across my sex again, slipping a finger inside. “Look me in the eyes.”
The finger was joined by a second, then a third. It took all my concentration to keep from bucking my hips towards her. I bit my lip, trying to swallow the moans and keep still, keep eye-contact. She slipped a fourth finger inside, then slowly curled her hand into a fist. I thought I was going to black out. Sweat pearled on my lip and ran into my eyes and I was breathing heavily, feeling the pleasure building up. Every tiny movement of her hand inside of me sent shocks through my body.
“I never said you had to be quiet,” Sarani said.
“I-” I gasped. “I can’t-”
She smiled and turned her hand. I threw my head back, gasping. “Oh fuck,” I said, “oh fuck,” clenching and unclenching my fists behind my head, and she pulled out her hand of me slowly, then began fucking me for real. I forgot about her, forgot her orders, forgot everything but the need growing inside me.
“Well?” Sarani said, a little later. I was still on my knees, breathing deeply, trying to steady myself. I felt charged, full of energy and a little shaky, not knowing if I wanted to laugh or cry.
I looked up at her. It took me a moment to figure out what she wanted to hear.
“Thank you,” I said. “Ma’am.” I wiped the sweat from my face with the back of my hand and laughed shakily.
She arched an eyebrow at me. “You think it’s over?”
My stomach clenched again at her words and I had to look away.
“I promised to make you cry. Remember?”
I couldn’t help it. I tried to bite it back, but the damn smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
“Think that’s funny, Nielsen?”
“No, ma’am,” I said, but my grin grew in anticipation of whatever she had planned. I turned my face away to hide it, but she caught my chin, forcing me to face her.
“I think you do. Think it’s all a laugh, don’t you, all fun and games?”
“No, ma’am, I-”
“Did I say you could talk?”
I looked up, confused. “I- No, I-”
“Then why the fuck do I keep hearing your voice?”
“Maybe ’cause you keep asking these stupid questions?”
She didn’t hit me, like I figured. Didn’t speak. Just raised her eyebrows, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. She looked at me until I couldn’t take it any longer, and then she looked some more.
“Stand up.” Her voice was all ice. “Grab the beds.”
She took off her belt and ran it through her hands. I watched, mesmerized, knowing what was coming and wanting and fearing it in equal measures.
“What do you think I’m going to do, Nielsen?”
I wet my lips. “Hit me, ma’am.”
“That a request?”
I badly wanted to rub my thighs together. “Yes. Please. Ma’am.”
“You’re going to have to beg a lot prettier than that.” She slapped the end of the belt against her open palm; I flinched at the sound of leather on flesh. “Who’s in charge here?”
“You scared yet?”
She swung the belt in the air towards me. I flinched.
Sarani stepped up real close to me. Her scent was intoxicating, all leather and sweat and something else, something unmistakably her. She ran the end of the belt down between my breasts, over my belly, avoiding my cunt to caress the inside of my thighs. I might have whimpered. I couldn’t figure out whether to pull back or arch towards her.
“I’m going to hurt you.” The belt moved up again, tickling my side, my ribs, the sensitive skin underneath my arms. I swallowed thickly. The metal bars were getting slippery under my sweaty palms. “You may scream. If you want to. But I’d rather you didn’t. Show me how tough you are, why don’t you?” She took a step back, coiling the belt around her hand. “Now. Beg.”
I begged. She made as if she wasn’t even listening, absently running her fingers over the leather as she examined my body. So I just kept right on, telling her everything I thought she might want to hear, pretty as please, how much I wanted it, needed it, how good I’d be, how I’d make it worth her while, oh, yes, ma’am, I would.
The first lash cut me off mid-sentence as it hit me hard across my thighs. It was sharp, vicious and without pleasure, and suddenly I believed every word about her hurting me, and I mean hurting, for real. I clutched the bed frames hard to keep from screaming, throwing my head back and clenching my teeth.
For the second lash, she made me wait until the tension was so thick I almost cracked under it. I could hear my own ragged breaths, taste the acid fear in my mouth. Every time she shifted, I winced. When it finally came it felt like mercy, and then the strokes fell on me like soft summer rain, light and rapid, making my skin tingle.
I might have laughed. I might have cursed her. The intensity picked up, harder, faster, and then I was floating, falling, out of my body and out of myself. It was glorious, every blow pushing me higher, further, my head spinning.
The slap across my face came out of nowhere. Wasn’t hard, as such things go. The room shifted back into focus, the beds, me, Sarani. It hit me like a bucket of icy water over my head, and something cracked somewhere. Don’t know how to describe it. Felt like a fucking switch being thrown in my head; one moment everything was bliss and glory, and then I was crying like a fucking baby, having never felt so lost and so miserable.
Sarani, the bitch, just tilted her head and looked at me with that self-satisfied little smirk on her lips, the unspoken “told you so” thick in the air between us.
So I hit her.
Or actually, I tried to hit her. She caught my wrist easily enough, and instead of shoving me away she pulled me into a rough embrace, pressing me towards her, rocking me and murmuring nonsense in my ear. Just made the crying worse, I can tell you that.
I don’t know how long we stood like that, her hugging me towards her, me fighting to hit her and fighting to get away and fighting to hold on and calling her all kinds of vicious names, cursing her in every single way I’d ever heard and some that I probably made up on the spot and wouldn’t repeat now if my life depended on it.
Eventually I stopped crying. There was this strange calm, that lasted for all about ten seconds, until I remembered where I was, and with whom, and what a fool I’d made of myself.
I began to pull away, opening my mouth to apologize.
“No,” Sarani said, her voice gentle, but leaving no doubt as to who was in charge here.
She pushed me back far enough to look at me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet her gaze. “You want to safeword out of it?”
It’s funny how the body works. Two seconds earlier, hot kinky sex had been the furthest thing from my mind, but with one simple question she made it all come back to me. Like some damned quick-start button. I felt my body respond, instantly, to the threat and the challenge.
I looked at her hands. At the belt on the floor. Then into her eyes again, and realized there was no way, no way I was going to let her win this thing, no way I was going to be the one to call quits. I hadn’t even got to taste her. I wanted to taste her so bad I could feel it in my mouth.
“No, ma’am,” I said, a little hoarser than I would have wanted.
“That means you do what I say.” She stood up. I began to join her but she pointed at the floor and said: “Stay.”
God, I wish it didn’t turn me on like it did. So I stayed on the floor like a well-trained dog and watched as she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it on the bed. Underneath she wore a plain black sports bra that flattened her chest, making it look almost boyish. She reached for the fly of her worn blue jeans, then paused and looked at me.
“Would you like to show me how good you can be?”
“You know what I want from you. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Yes, ma’am. Please, ma’am. I’d like to. Please.”
“All right.” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Take off my shoes.”
I noticed my hands were shaking as I loosened the laces. She lifted her feet, one at a time, and I pulled off the shoes as gently as I could, blushing as I remembered how I’d been down here just a little while ago, licking them at her orders.
If the guys ever learned about this, I’d never live it down.
“Put your hands on your back.”
She used her belt to restrain me, then stood back again to watch.
“You look good like that. Girl like you is clearly wasted on her feet.”
Just when I’d thought I couldn’t feel more shamed. What do you even say to something like that? I opened my mouth, then shut it again, looking down. Feeling oddly flattered and humiliated at the same time.
“I believe I just gave you a compliment,” Sarani said, dryly. “What do you say?”
“I-” Even after everything she’d made me do, I still choked at the words. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“I think it’s time we called things for what they really are. Don’t you?”
There didn’t seem to be more than one possible answer, but I dreaded finding out where she was going with this. I nodded, throat suddenly constricted.
“You like being naked on your knees before me, don’t you?”
“I’d like you to look into my eyes when we have this conversation.”
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I’d rather die. “Please-”
“Are you a coward, then? A little hypocrite?”
“Fuck you!” I snapped, looking up. “You’ve no right to-”
“No?” Her voice got scary silky. “You gave me the right. Remember?”
I’d never walked on thin ice and felt it crack under my feet, but I imagined it would feel something like this. It occurred to me that she would keep doing this, keep handing me just enough rope to hang myself with.
“Is your cunt wet?”
I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Yes.”
“Do you think it says something about you, that you get off on this? Kneeling, crawling, licking my boots, begging me to hurt you, begging me to touch you. Just begging, really. What’s up with that?”
I couldn’t answer. There was no words for this, no explanations, no reasons. I just watched her, helplessly, silently pleading with her to let me off the hook.
“You look pathetic. And delicious. I can’t even tell you how hot it is to see you like that, all desperate and horny and terrified and eager to obey. Spread your legs. Good. You look like a cheap whore.”
“Please,” I whispered.
“Please don’t make me– don’t–”
“I’m going to make you do whatever I want to. That’s the deal, isn’t it? It’s what you want. Isn’t it?”
I swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
“You want me to treat you like dirt, don’t you? You want me to humiliate you.”
I closed my eyes and nodded.
“Not good enough. Look me in the eyes and say it.”
It took all of my pride and all of my courage to meet her gaze and force the words out. “Yes. I want it.”
“Ask for it.”
“Please-” I took a pained breath. “Please humiliate me. Ma’am.”
“I want it. I need it. Please. It gets me off. Please.”
“I don’t know. I’m hearing a lot about you here. What’s in it for me?”
She must have seen the disbelief in my eyes. I considered and discarded half a dozen of snarky retorts, and finally settled for the easy out: “What do you want?”
She smiled. It was the kind of slow, cruel, deliberate smile that can turn a girl’s insides to ice. She reached out and touched my face, gently. Then she spat in my face.
I’d have recoiled in shock and disgust if she hadn’t grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and held me.
“Say ‘thank you’.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t force the words out. She crouched down until we were at eye level, leaned forward and licked the spit from my face. It could have been kindness, I guess, but it felt horrible, invasive and shameful, and just when I was trying to figure out how to deal with it her fingers reached my wet cunt and started stroking it, never penetrating, just coating her hand with my juices. I whimpered, pushing my cunt towards her.
Sarani laughed. “There’s just no stopping you, is there? Look at the mess you made.” She held up her glistening fingers for me to see. The scent of my own cunt was undeniable, and I couldn’t even pull away from it, the way she held me. She wiped her wet fingers against my face, then held them up to my mouth. “Lick them clean. Impress me, and maybe I’ll let you lick my cunt too.”
There is an art to sucking a woman’s fingers. You want to do it so well, so thoroughly, and with enough gentle pressure that they can’t help but start imagining what it would be like to have a cock. It’s one of my biggest turn-ons. It’s nonsensical, of course. You can’t make her come by sucking her fingers, but by putting everything you have into it, you can make it a demonstration of your willingness to serve, a proof of your skills, a tease and a promise all in one.
I licked her fingers, taking them into my mouth one after the other, sucking them, playing with my tongue, careful to keep my teeth away. I could tell that she liked it from the way she allowed me to linger over the task, sucking, kissing and licking long after any trace of my pussy juice was gone.
“Enough.” Her voice was hoarse. She stepped back and eased her jeans and boxers down, stepping out of them. Her cunt was covered in curly brown hair, and I was close enough to see that I wasn’t the only one getting off on this. I drank in the sight of her, muscular calves, the soft, pale hairs on her legs, the long, thin scar on her left thigh, her flat stomach.
“Please, ma’am,” I whispered. “Let me taste you. I want to touch you so bad.”
“What part of ‘I decide if you get to speak’ don’t you understand?” She grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. I could smell her strong, musky scent. I wanted to grab her thighs and bury my face between her legs, but the belt held my arms firmly trapped behind my back.
“You’re just a toy, Nielsen. You think I give a damn what you want?” She straddled me so that he cunt was inches away from my face. “Stick out your tongue.”
I obeyed. She brushed her cunt against my tongue, damp and hot like a fever, her curly hairs tickling my nose and lips. I whimpered as she began rubbing against me, using my face like toy to get her off. I was used to licking pussy, but this was something different. My knees were aching, and my neck was starting to hurt from craning, but she held me fixed in place, hand tangled in my hair, legs on either side of me. I struggled to breathe as she smothered me with her cunt and the taste of her filled my mouth. My whole face was covered in her juices, and as she began to groan and grind her cunt harder against my face I heard myself whimpering and moaning in response, my empty pussy desperate for stimulation.
I have never felt as used in my life.
She shuddered when she came, and I felt the tension melt out of her body as she released my hair and took a step back. I swallowed thickly, licking my lips. I knew I must look a mess, face all flushed, sticky and glistening with her juices, with pubic hair in my mouth.
I expected her to mock me for it, but she turned her back on me like I wasn’t even there and began to get dressed. She put on her boxers and jeans and pulled her hair back in the usual neat ponytail.
I made a distraught noise, and she shot my a glance over my shoulder. “What? Were you expecting me to fuck you now?”
There was so much condescension in her voice that I blushed. She sat down at the lower bunk and pulled on her boots, giving me these considering glances.
“Oh, what the hell.” Sarani snapped her fingers at me. “Get over here.”
I went to her on my knees, arms still tied together behind my back. In truth, it didn’t even occur to me to get up, and she probably would have snapped my head off if I’d tried.
Sarani wiped my mouth with the back of her hand, then looked at her hand and grimaced. “You need a shower.” She wiped her fingers across my chest, making me feel even more filthy. Still I couldn’t help but lean into the touch. A little smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She stroked my breasts, first one, then the other, running her nails over my nipples, making them harden.
“Did I ever mention what my favorite game is?”
I looked up at her, questioning. She tugged at my nipples, squeezing and rolling them between her fingers, alternating between making me gasp in pleasure and wince in pain.
“Tease and denial.” She grinned at the look on my face. “Imagine what it would be like to feel like this, all the time? To dream of sex every night? To wake up and find yourself grinding your cunt against the mattress? To not be able to think of anything other than being pounded by a thick, hard cock, having all your holes filled, being covered in cum and begging for more?”
She kicked my legs apart and placed one foot between my thighs, pressing the steel-capped toe against my cunt. I grunted and very carefully did not move, watching her with desperate, pleading eyes.
“You’re lucky I need you to be able to focus tonight. So, here’s the deal. When I say ‘go’, you’re going to rub your cunt against my boot and make yourself come. We both know you’re nothing but a whore, so there’s not point in trying to keep the noise down. But this is the only time I’ll ever let you off the hook this easy. If you play with me again, you’ll learn what it means to have to work for your pleasure. All right?”
I nodded, too desperate and horny to think beyond the possibility that there might be another time with her.
That was all the encouragement I needed. I fucked myself on her boot as she watched me, amused by the way I writhed and moaned, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. It didn’t take long for me to come.
She ran her fingers through my hair. “Well done, Nielsen. I’m pleased with you.”
It took me a while to clean myself up. After making sure that I was okay and there was nothing I needed, Sarani kissed me and left me alone, only pausing in the doorway to tell me that she hadn’t had as much fun in months.
There was no shower in the cabin, but I went into the bathroom and washed myself at the sink, replaying the events of the night over and over in my head. There were some bruises on my arms, thighs and back, but nothing that would show under my clothes. I was suddenly ravenously hungry.
When I got back downstairs, Wygotzki and Cherkov greeted me with wolf whistles and a round of applause that made me want to sink through the floor. Cherkov slapped my back and I fought to hide the wince. Over his shoulder, Sarani grinned at me.
“There’s some sandwiches on the counter. We’re moving out in thirty minutes.”
“Got it,” I said.
I finished three sandwiches in a matter of minutes, earning myself another impressed whistle.
I looked up. Sarani pulled something from her front pocket and held it out to me. It was the cigarette she’d confiscated earlier.
“Go ahead,” she said with a nod. “You’ve earned it.”
She leaned over and lit it for me, and I sat back and closed my eyes, taking a deep drag. No cigarette had ever tasted as sweet.