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“You want to be beaten?” he asked.
“No, I’ve had my fill for a while. Just thought you expected it.”
“Perhaps I’ve come to appreciate a good fuck the way I appreciate a fine cigar.”
“So, come on, Colonel, fuck me.” She pulled the sheet down off her naked breasts and put her hands to her side, reminding him of what he came for. A whimsical smile, a little laughter, a seductive twinkle in her eye. He wasn’t half the bastard he claimed he was – nor was she the slut she pretended to be now.
On the bed Jessup got a little brutal. After the initial rough foreplay, he threw her onto her stomach, raised her rear end and spanked her ass until it was hot and sore, and the juices were flowing from her pussy. When he turned her back around, she was more than ready to take him; she wanted him as much as she could ever want any man. He was hard and big and made her pussy respond in all the ways she loved. She raised her legs up on his shoulders and let him pound her hard.
It wasn’t that she needed more fucking – her pussy was sore as hell and screaming for him to stop as much as it screamed for him to go on. The rest that Shelby’s pussy craved meant little with Jessup in the room and wanting her. He actually kissed her on the mouth like he meant it. His tongue probed between her lips and she probed back. He held her and she held him, and for a long while after he ejaculated and their hot juices mingled together, they lay in each other’s embrace like lovers.
If only, eventually, she found a man like this one to own her – well, she could do without all the rampant sadism. But she could take the good with the bad if she had to, as long as there was some good in the man that purchased her. Wherever she landed in the next few days or weeks, she could hope for this much from her sad fate – along with a little mercy from a relentless God she seemed to fail every time she wanted something good for herself.
A drowsy silence in the predawn kept voices to a murmur, cries of ecstasy to easy groans. Madame was sleeping, as were her whores. Jessup and Shelby were in Eugenia’s room, while the crazed Eugenia was sleeping in Shelby’s cell.
No one stirred for a long while, all was much too cozy inside this blanket of silence – for soon the cock was about to crow the morning, and all hell about to break loose in Madame Stafania Pavlenco’s brothel.
Emerging from the woods and fields, mercenaries dressed in black from head to toe crept close to the house, finally scaling walls, moving through windows, dropping everywhere around the silent residence like enormous spiders looking for prey.
Suddenly, doors burst wide open, one by one along the corridor in the hallway of whores, until Eugenia’s door opened too, and Shelby Ryan sat up naked, looking into the eyes of a masked raider.
“Shelby Ryan?”
“Yes.” She gazed back breathlessly.
“I’m here to take you home,” the man said.
Jessup heard it all and was alarmed, although his pistol was on the far side of the room and there was no time to act – and no reason. The prayer on his lips was that the prisoner would make it safely out of harm’s way, while the rest of the brothel was left alone.
But then that was not the plan…
Shelby was lifted from bed and carried through the house in the arms of her brawny rescuer, then taken swiftly to a chopper hovering at ground level in an open field. As soon as she was lifted off the brothel’s grounds, the terrain surrounding the house was covered by a web of agents, mercenaries and local soldiers. Jessup would get away because he was trained for quick exits and he knew all the trails that led through the woods. The rest of the Madame’s operation wouldn’t be so lucky.
“Who the hell are you?” Shelby’s whisper was more of a shout. The noisy helicopter had risen like a winged beast into the morning light. She clung fiercely to the blanket that covered her naked body, unsure if this was a rescue or just another in her odyssey of capture and punishment.
“I said, I’m here to take you home,” the man whispered back, his lips right close to her ear so she could hear him clearly over the vibrating sound. “You’ve done your part, Ms. Ryan. You’re going home.”
The noise was too loud for further conversation. But the long road home had begun.
One minute a fate written from the pages of the devil’s handbook, the next the normalcy of her real life.
And she still had no idea what the hell was on that damned disk.
Chapter Nine
A knock on the door. She was barely awake. Barely back in the real world. Two days from captivity, nothing seemed real and that elusive home she was promised still seemed very far away.
With the cozy, white hotel bathrobe cinched around her waist, she peeked out the door.
Pierre Dansk, the agent in charge stood there stiff and cordial as ever.
“Shelby, there’s someone waiting for you in the lobby,” he said as she opened the door further. He made no move to step inside. “He’s anxious to see you.
”
“Who is it?”
“Shall I send him up?”
