Page 21

Ania

It wasn’t as much fun working for the Bratva.

Over the next few days, he gave me a list of people to work with.

I couldn’t pick and choose my projects, but so far, all the people I pulled dirt on had it coming to them until I came across a politician who had thousands of images of children stored.

Some were so horrific that I slammed both laptops shut before I began to retch.

I blindly looked around for the bin, barely reaching it in time. I emptied the contents of my stomach and sat on the floor, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

“Is she pregnant?”

Viktor asked only to dodge a glass thrown in the air by Master, but Viktor caught it in the air. “It was a valid question. She is a Krolik, after all.”

“What is it, Bunny?”

Master asked, standing up.

I shook my head and pointed to the laptops.

Viktor walked over to stand beside Master as he opened the laptops.

“Ublyudok,”

Viktor muttered. Motherfucker.

“Can we hand it in to the police anonymously?” I asked

“Nyet,”

Master said, rubbing his beard. “We never involve the police, but I need him to get my work done, and we can deal with him in our own way.”

“As in, eliminate him?”

I asked hopefully. If the man was well connected, a police report might not work. I’d encountered this more times than I could count, and when I followed up on the cases, not all police in all the various countries did anything about it.

They both looked at one another before looking at me, making me tug on the edge of my T-shirt.

“Such a bloodthirsty Bunny,”

Master drawled. “Viktor will take care—eliminate him once we get what we want.”

“Thank you, Master,”

I said, sagging in relief.

I turned around to take the bin out of the room, but Master stopped me.

“Leave it. You’re not dressed appropriately. Viktor will take it out.”

I grinned but tried to smother it before I turned around, but Viktor’s groan made me smile.

He walked toward me and yanked the bin from my hands.

His phone began to vibrate, and I had to look away before I lost it.

I left his number on several gay forum websites. I’m sure he had plenty of hot men calling him with the advert I left about him.

“I forget how fragile women are,”

Master mused as he sat down again.

“I’m hardly fragile, Master,”

I said with a frown, thinking about all the fucked up shit he put me through.

“Emotionally.”

“And men don’t have emotions?”

I asked curiously as I sat back down.

“I don’t,”

he said, avoiding my eyes to look at his screen.

“Not even for Viktor?”

I asked since he seemed to have a bond with him.

“Simple camaraderie,” he said.

“And if he died?”

“I would make Pyotr my guard.”

“Did you feel anything when you saw those pictures?”

His lips were pursed tightly. “No,”

he gritted out. “Get back to work.”

He was lying.

“Yes, Master,”

I said quietly because, in a few days, Rurik was due to meet Master.

I was grateful that they would deal with the politician, and that was enough for me because I couldn't erase the images I found from my mind.

The young girls coming into Adrik’s whorehouse training centre didn't seem to be vetted for age, but this wasn't a subject I could address at this point.

Perhaps I was gullible to still have hope.

***

He was in a dark mood tonight.

It followed him around like a gloomy cloud hanging over his head, and when we got upstairs, it was confirmed when he went into the closet.

I pulled my T-shirt up to add some moisturiser to my tattooed back.

He could have made it much larger, but the overall design was classy, with the Russian wording creating a square with his name on top.

Master came out of the closet holding a black bag and a black mask with long bunny ears.

He had a grim smile on his face as he tossed the bag on the bed.

The bag looked heavy, and when I looked up, he was gone.

However, he came out of the bathroom with towels.

He spread two towels out on the bottom of the bed before turning to look at me.

“Take my T-shirt off and put on your bunny mask,”

he said as he unbuttoned his shirt cuff.

“Yes, Master,”

I said, rubbing the excess cream into my back.

I took the T-shirt off and walked to the bed to get the mask, trying to peek in the bag, but whatever was in it was covered up.

The mask had holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth, and it had similar lacing to the other one.

This was made of a softer material that stretched out.

I pushed my hair back and slipped it on, deftly lacing it up since I had gotten used to the other one.

Once it was on, I moved it around to get the holes in place.

I sank to my knees, feeling the bunny ears move with me.

“You always know what to do,”

Master said but the undertone in his voice told me my presumptions even though correct annoyed him.

“I’m sorry, Master,”

I said, keeping my head down.

“There you go again, anticipating my needs,”

he said, walking toward me. “Clever little fuck bunny. Stool.”

I crouched down into the stool position, wondering if male menopause was a thing.

He was thirty-five or six, a touch young for it.

His information was more challenging to find than some of the others.

I held my position when I felt a weight press down on my shoulder blades. It was his foot. I was a literal footstool for him.

“You do look good down there,”

he said before he lifted his foot off me, but he trailed it down my tail to my pussy.

I blinked at the floor, focusing on the grain of the wood because he was pushing his toe into my pussy.

He pulled away to rummage through the bag.

I yelped when he picked me up and put me on the towel-covered bed.

I might as well have been a piece of furniture.

He placed something over my collar at my throat before he strapped my wrists in and hooked it to the material beneath my neck.

With my arms secured, he moved onto my legs, pulling them out before bending them toward my head, but he strapped my ankle to the material beneath my neck.

He did the same with my other ankle.

The straps were longer than the ones on my wrists, but they kept my thighs spread open, my knees bent, and my feet strapped in the air to my neck. This was not looking good for me.

“We can't forget about your nipples,”

he said, climbing on the bed.

He lifted me by my throat, and I saw he had removed his shirt.

His head ducked down, and I felt him attach a clamp over my nipple.

The pain ricocheted within me, but after the initial pinch, it began to blossom as it always did.

He attached the second one, and I hissed as the glow of pain joined the first. When he lowered me back to the bed, my clamped nipples brushed against the towel, making me moan.

“You're going to be a good Bunny and wait for me while I shower,”

he said, climbing off the bed. “You will not cum until I give you permission.”

Which would have been fine if he hadn’t stuffed a vibrator inside my pussy.