Page 10 of Volatile Waters

CHAPTER FOUR

The Unveiling

Ten years later…

Cold and calculated, that is what I became. I allowed myself no wants, no attachments. If I had a sexual desire, I simply had it met. The only emotion I allowed myself to feel was the sick power of control.

After a morning stretch, I sat up in bed with an erection begging for release. In the corner of my bedroom floor, I knew she would be there: my newest pet, with the lightest green eyes I could find. I had yet to understand the need for such a rare color and believed oral sex was the answer. “Did I give you permission to use that blanket?”

Pet, huddled on the dog pillow provided, slowly shed the blanket I tricked her with, exposing all her bare skin. I knew that, by leaving the blanket next to her sleeping quarters, she would assume it was permitted. I’d set her up to fail so I could punish her. In punishment, I found pleasure. “Come.” I pointed to the carpet at my feet, between my legs.

As her eyes watered, I became even more aroused. Due to what I did to her last night, she knew I was still nude. My heart thundered as she forced herself to crawl to me, knowing I would soon be inside her mouth. Kneeling between my thighs, my pet slowly peered up to me.

In the rush of excitement—having complete power over her—I moaned.

She shook.

I whispered, “Yes, feed my dark soul,” as tears dripped down her lovely face, tan from working in the fields in America. As my uncle had demanded of Marina, forcing me to watch, I repeated his demand and the cycle he and my father had paved. “Open your mouth.”

After, as I slipped into slacks, there was a knock on my door. I stepped around Pet, who was attempting to hide her vomit by pushing it under my bed. I smiled while opening my door, knowing another punishment was coming, and lifted my chin to my cousin in the doorway while buttoning my pants. “What?”

Cousin’s eyes raced to Pet. He smirked. “Your father wants to speak with you, but I see you are busy.”

Heartlessly, I spoke to be overheard, “She needs more practice swallowing what is given to her.” Glancing over my shoulder, I chuckled. “And keeping it down.” I patted his shoulder as I exited my room. “See to it.”

“Master, please!” begged Pet, with an accent gained from being born and raised in Oklahoma.

Fire raced up my spine as I faced her in a hurry. In the doorway, I glared at her. “Did you just speak to me without permission?”

Terror crossed her expression as she realized her morning was quickly becoming a nightmare. Silently, she pleaded, begging for mercy I was incapable of giving. I told my cousin, “Take her to your room. Don’t give her back until she learns to stomach ejaculations.”

As I descended the stairs, hearing her cries fade down the hallway, I thought of all the mothers and wives in my family and how they lived in fancy homes, not asking where the money came from, and how their sons and husbands earned their immense wealth. Only Uffe’s wife dared to question our line of work.

The guilt not only belongs to the ones committing the crimes; it also belongs to the ones willing to turn a blind eye and reap the rewards.

Entering Father’s office, I saw him sitting behind his desk watching a TV monitor. The live feed was coming from one of the rooms in the basement where cameras had been set up to make us more money. Kirill had been correct. Many are willing to pay high dollar to watch all kinds of abuse.

What was being filmed at this time was a young woman being whipped across the back. Her throaty screams announced the damage being done to her skin. The punisher wore a full, black ski mask over his head, to not be identified when law enforcement watched the video. They could always find us and other criminals online; they just weren’t able to locate the establishment where the crime was taking place. Callously, we would laugh at their frustrations, knowing they wanted to rescue the person being raped, while they watched.

Staring at the screen, I commented, “That whip is leaving permanent marks.”

Father turned off the screen. “Yes. We have a client who likes to lick scars. She is to be delivered in two months.”

“Trained?”

“And with anal scars.”

I took a seat while voicing our motto, “They pay. We deliver.”

He shuffled paperwork. “Yes, and others are willing to pay while we prep her for delivery. Hence the live feed.”

“You should triple the fee for the anal scarring. That’s a rare one.”

He placed a file in a desk drawer. “Already done. Very pleased with the profit.” He leaned back in his chair and ran a palm over his face. “What a bloody mess that was.”

From the leather chair in front of his desk, I sarcastically said, “Sorry to have missed it.”

“All in the name of money. Speaking of, Uffe’s wife has gone into hiding.”