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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.
"Say it."
"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.
