He stepped back from her and then there was a sharp slice in the air and a cane landed a hard blow across her ass. She shrieked at the searing pain. But the tears that flowed down her cheeks were tears of relief that it wasn’t the knife.
“Next,” Anton said.
It was Lindsay. He pressed the blade flat in the center of her back and dragged it down, the edge barely scraping along her skin.
“Apologize,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry I threw and broke things in the house.”
“Maybe one small mark,” he said, pressing the tip of the blade against her back.
“No! No. Please! I’m sorry.”
“Hmmm. I’ll take a payment. Anton, will you let me fuck her?”
“Yes, but it isn’t a free pass for any other time.”
“Fair enough. Annette? I can fuck you, or I can mark you with the knife. Choose.”
Somewhere dimly in the back of her mind, she remembered several men stood watching her. The blade pressed against her back, poised, ready to drag across her skin and spill blood. She’d been with the doctor once before up in his plant room. It had been a reward that day. The only reason it was a punishment now was that others were watching and the intense terror of the general situation.
“Fuck me,” she begged.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Lindsay said.
“Please, Sir, fuck me.”
“Better.” He unhooked her from the pole and led her a few feet away and then gently pushed her down onto her back on the soft bed. “Spread your legs.”
The memories of the plant room began to overwhelm her, the gentle way he’d held and fucked her. This time when he was inside her, it transported her back there. She responded to him, forgetting the other people in the room and glad he was offering her this trade. She knew Anton would be watching in that intense way he always watched when he shared her with someone else.
She came so close to her own pleasure, but she fought not to come. She was sure Anton would be upset if she did.
Each of the men took a turn terrifying the crap out of her, extracting apologies and begging from her. The blade was the threat, but there was always a trade option. Let me finger you. Stroke me. Let me lick you. Touch yourself and come for me. With most of them, there was pain and a mark anyway, but never the blade. Instead, it was the harsh smack of a hand, the bite of the whip, the snap of the crop.
Finally it was down to just Anton. “I want to finish with her alone.”
The other men left, each stroking some part of her as they passed by on their way out of the room. Anton removed the blindfold, then he brought a first aid kit over to the bed and sat down beside her. She tensed when she saw it. She didn’t need first aid. Yet.
“Kiska, the others didn’t cut you because, unlike you today, they respect other people’s property. But I will mark you. I don’t want you to ever forget this punishment so we never have to repeat it. I never ever want to see that kind of behavior out of you again. Do you understand?”
She shook her head. “Please don’t. I swear I’ll be good.”
“I know you will. I will be very careful; I won’t go deep, and it will only sting for a second.”
Annette’s heart pounded in her chest. He was really going to do this. She’d thought it was just to scare her, but he was really going to cut her with a knife. Why? It was insane.
“Please… you don’t want to mark me. Why would you want to leave a scar on me, on your property?”
“I want to leave a reminder.”
“I won’t forget. I swear.”
But he wouldn’t be moved.
“I’ll never forgive you if you do this.”
Anton chuckled. “Of course you will. This is such a little thing.”
Annette was sure she would pass out or hyperventilate.
“Turn around, pet.”
She turned away from him. “Please,” she whimpered, trying one final time.
“Trust me,” he said.
A moment later she felt a sharp sting very low on her back on one side.
“Ow!”
And then another. And then a third. Small marks. They couldn’t have been more than an inch in length each, probably less. And the third was definitely shorter.
But she couldn’t stop crying.
He pressed a cloth against her skin. “It’s done, kiska.”
A few minutes later, when the blood had stopped, he put an ointment on it and then a tight bandage.
It hadn’t hurt any more than the cane, not really. But it was just the fact that he’d… cut her. He’d been careful and controlled and hadn’t gone deep. But there would be a scar. There would always be a scar. And she might have been scared out of her mind, but she was lucid enough to know, that now, on a small patch of skin near her hip, there was a letter A.
55
Two tense weeks passed. Nothing was the same. Nothing could ever be the same again. But Annette had kept up pretense that she’d moved on from that day. She did all the right things. She was obedient and pleasing. She surrendered to all of Anton’s advances, all the pleasure he took and gave. Because she knew if she could just be a good enough liar, he would let his guard down, and she would have her opportunity.
Every day she’d spent several minutes in front of the mirror after her shower, just staring at that A carved into her skin. She watched as it healed and turned into a scar. It was clear and sharp, perfect and controlled. She loved it and she hated it. And then she hated herself for loving it. But either way, every day she saw it she knew… it had to be over. She couldn’t let him carve his initial into her soul. She couldn’t stay in that house. Not near Brian. And not near him.
Shannon’s scars would be much worse, but it didn’t matter. She just couldn’t do it anymore.
And now she had her opportunity of escape. He’d finally decided to take her to the ballet again. They were in Rome. It was her first time out of the house since the incident, and it had taken everything inside her to play this game the right way to get this chance. She ran her fingers along the outline of her passport, which she’d stolen from his coat pocket, and slipped inside her dress when he’d been consumed watching Katya on stage.
The lights came up for intermission. “I need to go to the restroom,” Annette said as nonchalantly as possible.
Anton watched her for several seconds. It was almost as if he could read her mind, as if he might know what she was planning. If he caught her lying, she could only imagine how bad the punishment he would deliver to her might be.
For two weeks, she’d managed to keep the peace. If he caught her in this lie, it was over. Forever. She knew somehow he’d never let her out of the house or out of his sight again. If she wanted out, this was her only chance.
He stood, and for a moment she thought he was going to escort her to the bathroom himself and stand outside waiting, but it seemed he was doing the polite gentleman thing some men did… standing in formal situations when a woman got up to leave.
Annette smiled nervously and quickly brushed past him.
He gripped her hand before she could get out of his reach. She looked from their clasped hands up into his eyes.