Possession Ch 07

Beth thought she would never forget the look of horror on his face. Even his proposition the previous day had not elicited such an aghast expression on her own.

"A virgin? You?" He switched back to English for her benefit, having reverted to his mother tongue out of shock.

How the tables had turned. Only seconds ago he had been oozing self-assurance. Now he looked harried, the victim of a predator worrying its prey. As if he couldn't stand to be near her, he practically fell off the bed in his haste to get away, backing up against a wall in an effort to put distance between them.

Beth would have relished the spectacle he was making of himself. Only she was far too humiliated.

She folded her legs, wincing as she moved her sore muscles, before drawing her knees up under her chin. Crossing her ankles so that all he could see of her was a tangle of limbs, she made herself as small as possible.

"You were a virgin?" he repeated, somehow making the question sound more like an accusation.

"So what?" she said defensively.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you ask?"

"Virgins don't usually offer to sleep with strange men."

She snorted at his version of events. "Offer? I hardly served myself up on a plate for you."

"I will not debate semantics!"

Beth recoiled. His words had come out sharper and louder than he had intended.

He sighed as he tried to rein himself in. "If I had known you were a virgin, I would have..." he trailed off.

"You would have what?" Beth pushed him to go on.

What would he have done? Would he have stopped himself? Or would he have carried on exactly as he had planned to until he had sated himself completely?

Dmitri knew what he would like to claim he would have done, but he was not certain as to whether or not he would have been able to have enough mastery over himself to have stayed away from her.

Yet Beth could draw her own conclusions from his silence. If he had known she was a virgin, he would not have laid a finger on her. He would not have even allowed her to come within an arm's length.

She repulsed him. and that stung. Beth was surprised to find herself genuinely offended.

Suddenly she wanted to be alone.

"If you're finished with me, can I go?" she asked rigidly.

Each word left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Dmitri had no idea how he should react. Recently deflowered virgins weren't exactly his area of expertise. Was he supposed to comfort her? Should he make some grand gesture or gather her in his arms and hold her?

But he couldn't move - not an inch. Instead he just stood there, rooted to the spot against the wall.

"Well?" She looked straight at him and Dmitri realised that was the first time she had met his gaze unflinchingly. "Can I go? Or do you want to fuck me again?"

"Can I fetch you something?" The question slipped out for want of anything else to say.

"We had sex," she said bluntly, although the meaning of the phrase only started to hit her as it left her mouth. "I'm not ill, so you don't have to be nice to me."

"Forgive me for being concerned," Dmitri was unable to quell his sarcastic retort.

Didn't she realise he was trying to be kind? He had not wanted their evening to turn out like this. It was not quite the ending he had envisioned.

"If you're done with me," Beth attempted to sound flippant, "then I would appreciate it if you would pass me my underwear."

Dmitri had never met a woman who was so quick to reject him before. Yet he was intuitive enough to know when he was unwanted.

Locating the discarded scrap of lace, he held it out to her. She practically snatched it from his outstretched hand.

"And my dress?"

He handed it to her and she struggled into it, still sitting, wishing for the familiarity of her pyjamas. Somehow she managed to put it back on without getting up from the bed. She knew he was watching her, trying to gauge her reactions. And she wished he wouldn't.

She did not want him to look on her with pity. She wanted him to see her as he had seen her before - framed with desire - and leave the last vestiges of her pride intact.

Her confusion was making her feel dizzy, but somehow she managed to get to her feet. She managed to walk past him as if she were unaffected by him, as if he were not able to take her to the peak of pleasure or the depths of despair on a whim.

But when she tried the door handle, she was stuck. She had forgotten he had locked it earlier.

That was almost the last straw. Her turbulent storm of feeling was close to overcoming her.

"Let me out!" she demanded, her voice bordering on hysterical. "Unlock this door and let me out!"

Dmitri had plenty of dealings with Masha over the years and he was practiced in discerning the difference between melodrama and genuine emotional frenzy. And Beth, he recognised, was likely at risk of the latter.

He could have baited her. He could have tormented her, bringing out that sexy flush which only seemed to appear when he had angered her. She had presented him with another perfect opportunity to exert his will over her and remind her that she was his. He had bought her for the price of her stepfather's debt.

But now he had discovered that she was previously a virgin, innocent in every sense of the word, his conscience was shouting too loudly for him to ignore it.

Reaching up, he retrieved the key from the top of the wardrobe. He offered it to her but she refused to make eye contact or move a single inch closer to him. That made him feel even more guilty. He slotted it into the lock and turned it.

The moment that the door was open, she fled.

She wanted to run until she was as far away as she could get. She needed to put some distance between herself and Dmitri.

He unsettled her, tilting her off course. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, his muscular body above her, his handsome face close enough to kiss.

But the fact of the matter was he hadn't kissed her. That stung, more than she wanted it to. Kissing was something that lovers did. But he was not her lover.

She knew not to expect any form of affection from him. She had not sought it - quite the opposite. Beth had tried to discourage him. Yet that had not stopped her from hoping for some form of warmth, some sign that she was more than an object for him to buy.

But she hated him. So why did she care?

She made it to the sanctuary of her room but she was an emotional wreck by the time that she got there. There was a pain in her head and an ache between her legs.

Why did she want him to want her? Why did him desiring her matter?

She was the one who had walked away from him, but still she felt discarded. How could he have looked at her like that? As if there was something wrong with her, defective goods to be returned to sender.

Her virginity had never been something she had particularly treasured. She just hadn't had much opportunity to meet someone whom she cared about strongly enough to give herself to them in that way. Yet she had still seen it as a gift.

And Dmitri had taken it from her.

It hadn't been a pleasant experience, and it had hurt more than she would have expected. It had only been for a brief moment but her body had struggled to stretch to accommodate him.

Beth didn't understand what the big deal was about sex, anyway. It wasn't fun, it hurt, and there were far more enjoyable ways to have an orgasm. She had been on the brink of a spectacular climax and he had spoiled it when he had forced his way into her.

What he could do to her almost made up for what he had done. Only now she felt wrung out, like he had tortured her.

It was dark outside and the window acted like a mirror. Catching a glimpse of herself, Beth froze.

She looked exactly the same as she had before.

Surely losing her virginity should have had some sort of effect, should have altered her in some way? But there wasn't a single outward sign of what had happened.

She wished she had a friend to call. But who? Jennifer was the closest person to a confidant she had, yet Beth had no idea how she could even begin to explain.

It was times like this that she missed her mother. Not the one that lay in bed, but the one from before, from when Beth had a real family, from when her life had been like a dream.

Ever since her father had left, her mother hadn't been the same. Over the years, Beth's memory had faded but she would never forget the day her mother had not come to pick her up from school.

A teacher had taken her home eventually. And then waited with Beth on the doorstep until her Mum had finally let her daughter in. looking back, she was surprised that a social worker hadn't been called.

Mrs Noble, as she had been called at the time, was in a bad state. It turned out that Beth's father had simply walked out without a word as to why.

Not knowing the reason for him leaving had been what had pushed Beth's mother over the edge. At least if she had discovered her husband had been having an affair, she would have achieved some form of closure.

Perhaps it was the not knowing why he had gone. Or perhaps it was the stress of having to face financial doom - Beth's mother had given up work when she was born and had never been particularly career driven to begin with. Maybe it was the sudden and unexpected pressure of becoming a single parent.

It could have been a combination of all three factors, or something else altogether. Yet whatever the root cause, Beth had to bear witness to her mother's descent into depression.

On some days, she would act as if anything was fine, setting a place for Beth's father for dinner and singing as she cooked their favourite family meals. Those days were rare. Most of the time, she was a shadow of her former self.

Beth's memories of her mother from when she was younger were happy ones. The woman she lived with after her father left was a stranger, sometimes incapable of doing anything more than stare into space.

That was probably why she had become so self-sufficient from such an early age. On the days when her mother hadn't even been able to get out of bed, it had fallen to Beth to take care of them both. She was the one who would do the grocery shopping, cook their meals, wash and iron the laundry.

Then her mother had met Kevin. Beth had liked her Mum's new boyfriend at last. She had been naïve enough to hope that his presence marked a turning point. At any rate, he seemed to have injected Beth's mother with new life.

Only it hadn't lasted. Every time her mother had another episode, Beth worried that Kevin would leave. But even when her depression was at its peak, Kevin had stuck around.

Beth had supposed she ought to admire him for his loyalty. After all, there weren't many men who would be willing to dote on a woman, who, at times, would not even have the energy to wash themselves.

But there was something about him that triggered her suspicions. She had seen him taking money from her mother's purse, although he had said he had permission to do so. He moved into their home within a matter of weeks and never seemed to have a job. All he did was watch television, drink beer and smoke cigarette after cigarette until their living room smelled like an ash tray.

And sometimes, when he hugged her and told her she was just like a daughter to him, the way he touched her felt far from fatherly.

Only then he had married her mother and become a stepfather. Like a parasite, he had wheedled his way into their lives and now he was impossible to get rid of.

Meanwhile, Beth's mother showed no sign of recovering. If anything, she was getting worse, not better. Now Beth looked after all three of them, and there were rarely times that she could actually have a conversation with her mother.

She had always wondered if she would go out into the world alone. Leaving home was unthinkable whilst Kevin was present. But at some point in the abstract future, Beth had planned to go her own way.

Now, by some twist of fate, she was living with a man. But she had never felt so lonely.

***

Dmitri stared at the open door, still in a state of shock and disbelief. How could she have been a virgin? As far as he knew, most modern women had sex before they had even left school and the rest of them didn't wait too long afterwards. In his world, fully grown women who were still virgins were very much a theoretical concept - their existence was possible but unproven.

Until now.

He had blamed her for not telling him. Was that so wrong? How was he supposed to know the extent of her experience - or complete lack of it.

In hindsight there had been hints. Like her wide-eyed surprise the night before when he had toyed with her. She had come apart as if she hadn't even known what was happening to her. Now he was sure she probably had no idea.

His inner caveman bellowed a possessive roar. By being her first, he had claimed her and branded her. All those who came after him would be subject to comparison.

That was the crux of his regrets. He would not have undone the actual taking of her, for to regret that would be pointless. Dmitri was beginning to realise that he would not have stopped, even if he had known she was a virgin. He had obsessed with fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck her ever since she had walked into his office.

But what Dmitri found himself regretting was that comparisons between her future lovers and him would not always fall in his favour. He knew nothing about taking a woman's virginity, but he had the experience to have known he had rushed her. If she had not been untouched, she might have found some pleasure in their union, but given that she had not even been aware he could make her orgasm, he did not doubt she had found the whole experience an ordeal.

He would never be able to wipe from his mind the image of her face scrunched up in pain as her body gave way to him. It would haunt him, making him sick with guilt, he knew it, unless he made amends.

But how? He had been on the verge of letting her go. The money owed to him by her stepfather had not mattered. He had enough wealth not to miss it. All he had wanted was a single night with the creature who had infatuated him. Exposure therapy, so to speak. As if sleeping with her would get her out of his system.

His desire for her had been somewhat uncharacteristic. Never before had he allowed himself to be overcome by such primal urges. His mother had taken care to teach her son that women were not there as entertainment. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table and eating his borscht, listening to her lecture him, telling him that although he would one day long to lie with a woman, it was more important to take his time, getting to know them.

If Dmitri was honest with himself, he had long ago forgotten his mother's lessons. Or to be more accurate, he had blocked them out. But he was always honest with his lovers, never allowing them to expect they had a permanent place in his life. He did not want them to despise him when he sent them a piece of jewellery and a bunch of roses by way of farewell.

But if he were to release Beth, she would hate him until the end of her days and into her afterlife. It wouldn't matter how extravagant a parting gift he presented he with. Dmitri had got to know her well enough to realise she wouldn't care if he gave her the largest diamond in the world. But if he kept her, would he be able to change her mind?

Those brief moments inside her had been exquisite. The tight grip of her hot wet centre around his hard cock had almost stolen his breath away. It had taken all of his self-control not to come there and then.

He did not want her to fuck him because she had to. He did not want her to lie back for him as if she were a martyr.

He wanted her to be eager, willing and wet for him. Surely if one day she begged for him to take her, he would be redeemed?

Or did he simply not care about redemption and just wanted to keep her instead?

The boundaries between black and white had blurred. All that Dmitri was certain of was that Beth's time in his house was not yet over.

***

Kevin Cotter groaned and cried out in pain. He coughed and spluttered, spitting out the phlegm that had accumulated in the back of his throat. When he spat on the floor, his saliva was tinged red with blood.

Every movement he made sent a new wave of agony through his body. He had begged them to stop, but his assailants had showed him no mercy.

The men had driven into a rough area adjoining his neighbourhood. On the back seat, the tart had held a gun to Kevin's head the entire time. When they had arrived at an abandoned warehouse, the teasing bitch had been paid off by the driver before handing him the weapon and disappearing into the night. And she had taken the cash Kevin had given her for a shag as an extra tip. Money-grabbing whore.

All Kevin had known was that she had some Eastern European name. Natalya or something similar. He should have known not to trust her. His mate at the pub had told him, only hours before, that all these Eastern European tarts were only after two things - a man's wallet and his cock.

She was careful not to use the driver's name. That meant he had few clues as to the identity of the people who had kidnapped him.

But Kevin didn't need names to know who was ultimately behind this. There was only one real possibility, and the accent had confirmed it.

These were Voronov's people.

This was all Beth's fault, Kevin was sure of it. In the darkness, he thought he recognised the driver's profile from the night that the little cunt had run away.

He had overheard the conversation that Beth had had with the man at the door. He knew that Voronov had made Beth an offer, one that she had earlier turned down, and he had listened to enough to know that the offer went beyond the usual scope of Voronov's business.

When the bitch had shut the door on him, Kevin had been ready to teach her a lesson. Little cunt wanted to protect her mother but didn't want to get her hands dirty. But then she had gone.

Kevin had thought good riddance. She didn't earn much in her dead end job anyway. Although he'd be strapped for cash without her slipping him a tenner here and there for his beer and cigarettes.

At least he knew she'd make much more lying on her back. How could he not have come up with the idea of whoring her out sooner? He could tell that beneath her frigid exterior and her stuck-up manners, she was really a common tart. Maybe Voronov would loosen her up a bit - he was doing Kevin a favour really - and when she got back, Kevin would be able to put her to work out on the streets.

Only maybe she hadn't been that great in bed after all. That was probably why Voronov's men had tracked him down. Or maybe the bitch had talked and told Voronov that there was no way he'd be able to come up with the money.

Worse, she could have lied. She could have made something up about him. that could be why he was being given the mafia treatment. Voronov seemed like the kind of man who would believe anything he was told by a piece of skirt.

Well he'd punish the cunt when he got his hands on her. He'd teach her a lesson she wouldn't forget in a hurry. And he'd enjoy every moment of it. The silly bitch should have kept her mouth shut.

Thinking about how he would make her pay helped Kevin to endure what they had done to him that night. When the driver had taken the gun from his accomplice, he had made Kevin march into the warehouse.

The floor was bare concrete, the walls were corrugated iron. It looked like a scene from a prisoner of war movie. A semi-circle of men, their faces obscured by balaclavas, were waiting for him.

Kevin felt a trickle of urine run down his leg. He had wet himself out of fear. But that had not provoked any form of sympathy from his attackers. They had merely laughed at him and called him a coward.