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It feels good to look at.
Tatyana’s lips tighten before she explodes into a sob as she looks her father over. Her brows contract in anger when she turns back to me.
“Why?” she asks in raw emotion. The dark curls of her hair are wet with tears, a few strands sticking to the sides of her face. I brush them away, running my fingertips along her jaw.
“Your father is responsible for many lives. He instigated the attack on our village.” I answer in a soft but emotionless voice.
Tatyana’s face changes from a helpless, bewildered girl as she shakes her head at the truth I just revealed to her.
“You lie…” she says in a shaky whisper.
“What reason would I have to lie?” I ask.
Her jaw tenses and I can see her teeth grinding as she looks at me. “You liar!” she screams as she lunges, throwing her fists at me.
I catch both of her arms by her wrists and stand us up as she twists and swings her legs at me. I yank her arms to me, forcing her to rise to her feet. She keeps swinging her legs at me. With her next attempt to kick me, I release one of her arms and sweep her leg, tripping her backwards into my grasp. She continues to fight, pushing her arms and digging her nails into my chest. I roll her body tighter to me to keep her steady and walk towards the St. Andrew’s cross standing at the wall, setting her down in front of it.
She looks at the cross, down at the foot pedals, then quickly back to me.
“Get on it,” I command as I loosen my belt.
She steps away from me, backing into the cross.
I slide my belt out of the loops in my pants, holding it folded in one hand and step close enough for our bodies to touch. My eyes stay trained on Tatyana’s doe-eyed stare. I fall into a trance, thinking of being inside her last night, feeling her wanting me. She may not feel the same way anymore, but my cock hardens, telling me there’s at least some part of me that still wants her.
I won’t allow myself to be distracted by lust.
“Get. On.” I say, punctuating each word.
“Fuck you!” she screams as she darts towards me. I loop the belt around Tatyana’s neck, pulling her back to my body. The more she fights, the tighter I close the loop around her neck. Her hair brushes against my chest as she gasps and struggles, waking my cock up even more. I feel it grow in my pants as her body struggles against mine. This is definitely not the time to get turned on, but it’s something I can’t control when I’m around Tatyana, regardless of the disdain I have for her father.
I step back, pulling the belt around Tatyana’s neck so she’ll have no choice but to follow me. She wobbles on her feet, pulls against the belt, loses her strength, and then tries again. I yank her back as she tries to recover her breath, loosening the belt the closer she gets to the cross. I step aside and push her backwards to it. She startles and looks at me when her legs bump into the cross.
“Don’t make me do it,” she pleads.
I have no mercy for her. As I pull, the belt tightens around her neck and I see the skin above it redden, extending to her face. She tries to hook her fingers into the loop around her neck but can’t squeeze them inside.
“Obey me,” I say as I watch her strength fail.
When her arms fall to her sides, I once again loosen the belt around her neck. She rips a few desperate breaths of air into her lungs, looks at me in defeat and raises herself onto the foot pedals. She’s almost at eye level to me now, leaned against the large wooden X of the St. Andrew’s cross. I loop the far end of the belt on the meat hook hanging close by.
The cross stands at the opposite end of the room for a reason. It directly faces Tatyana’s father… whatever is left of him. I want her to know my wrath. As I punish her, I want her to see her father’s corpse directly behind me, so she’ll remember it can always be worse. There is no limit to my cruelty. If Tatyana defies me, she’ll discover that for herself.
“If you jump off this cross, you’ll hang yourself,” I warn her. Her eyes switch between me and her father’s corpse laying behind me as she comes to terms with her helplessness.
I walk to the rack with the instruments, wondering if she’s desperate enough to attempt an escape. There’s a part of me that wouldn’t blame her. I’m not sure how far I’ll go.
The top of the rack has the same instruments from earlier today, minus the ice pick that’s still plunged into Pyotr Ivanov’s body. Most of what’s left are stabbing instruments. I pull a lower drawer open and browse through an assortment of clamps, ties, and ropes as if I’m shopping for new clothes. My eyes drift back and forth, looking for exactly what feels right, picking some instruments and sliding the drawer closed.
Tatyana is leaned flat on the cross as I’d instructed. Her eyes are closed tight and the tears she’d been crying shine when the light catches the sides of her face.
I lay the tools I’d selected onto the edge of the cart carrying her father’s body and turn back to her. She whimpers when I touch her hand and trail my fingertips up to her collarbone, following to the center where both of her collarbones meet.
“Now I know what you meant when you said you wished you could make things right,zaychik.” I look up and shake my head at her. “But it’s not possible.”
She sniffs back a sob as a tear drops off the edge of her nose. I raise one of her arms and tie it to the end of a thick wooden beam on the cross, then do the same on the other side. She tries to pull back against her restraints, but just like her neck, she’s secure and under my control.
My finger runs along the edge of her shirt collar, reach the other side, and return to the center, hooking my fingers into the top of her shirt.
