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Vasha

My heart hammered against my ribs.

The man in the suit circled me, a pungent scent of tobacco, vodka, and mothballs made my eyes water.

I knew who he was, why he was here.

And I’d never been more scared in my life.

Growing up under the care of Grigori Popov, I’d known fear before, but not like this.

This man, Vladimir Bykov, would own me.

I was to be his bride, but I knew what that meant.

Obeying his every command, letting him touch me, do things to do me…

and I’d have no say in the matter.

I was an accessory, something to own and play with.

Bile rose in my throat as he trailed his cold, clammy fingers down my arm.

There was a stain on his shirt and sparse silver hair peeked from the neck of the button-down.

I didn’t know how the buttons hadn’t popped off his rotund figure.

I had nothing against older men, but this one…

revulsion filled me.

The thought of lying under him nearly made me throw up.

“She’s perfect,” my soon-to-be husband said.

“And properly trained?”

“Vasha! Present yourself to your husband,” Grigori demanded.

I swallowed the knot in my throat and sank to my knees, head bowed, hands in my lap.

The picture of subservience.

It was the last thing I felt.

I wanted to scream, to hit them.

Instead, I knelt and did nothing.

Just the way I’d been taught.

Sit quietly, be meek, and take whatever punishments I received without complaint.

“Good,” Vladimir said.

“And she can take a cock?”

I felt the blood drain from my face, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to prove it.

Grigori had a woman from a brothel come every week and teach me the proper way to please my husband-to-be -- orally -- by using a ten-inch dildo.

I tried not to look at the man’s crotch, but I seriously doubted he was anywhere near that big.

Not that I wanted to find out.

The mere thought of putting him in my mouth made vomit rise up my throat, but I choked it down.

If I let it spew across the floor, or the men, there would be hell to pay.

“Of course,” Grigori said.

“She’s been instructed on all your desires and needs.”

“Her virginity is intact?”

“Yes. You’re welcome to examine her to be certain.”

No !

I wouldn’t, couldn’t stand the thought of such a humiliation.

I’d already suffered at the hands of a so-called physician checking for my hymen, sticking his fingers inside me while Grigori watched.

It was something I’d endured every year since my fifteenth birthday, when my true training had begun in order to prepare me to be a proper wife.

“If she does not bleed on our wedding night, I’ll be back for a refund.”

“We honor all our transactions,” Grigori said.

“If the merchandise is damaged, a refund is reasonable.”

Merchandise.

Because I wasn’t a living, breathing woman.

Just collateral.

Something to be bought and sold.

Useless except for providing use of my body and popping out kids.

Although, the man purchasing me as his wife couldn’t have children.

I’d already been informed of that.

As well as what would be expected of me to ensure he had heirs.

It wasn’t common knowledge my husband-to-be was sterile.

Instead, I was to spread my legs for his guards, while he watched, until they got me pregnant.

I’d do anything to escape my fate.

Anything!

When I was finally dismissed, I practically ran to my room.

Anatoly was waiting, his gaze full of concern as I dashed away the tears on my cheeks.

It was a sign of weakness to cry, but the situation was so hopeless.

I was doomed to a life of misery.

“I can’t do it,” I said, my voice breaking.

“I can’t!”

I knew he understood.

Anatoly was only a few years older than me, but he’d been my assigned guard since I’d turned fifteen.

Before that, I’d considered him a friend, almost a brother.

We were still close, but we could never allow anyone to see.

They would use us against one another, and we suffered enough already.

“There’s only one way out of this. You understand? There’s no going back if I do this, help you escape. It would mean leaving Russia, living with a stranger. Would it be better to let Vladimir have you, or to offer your body to a man you’ve never met in a country you’ve never seen?”

No one could be as horrible as Vladimir, could they?

Being with him would be like having an animated corpse fuck me.

It’s what he reminded me of…

a bloated, disgusting dead body.

Except he moved and spoke.

“A stranger would be preferable.” At least then I’d have a chance.

Or so I hoped.

Anatoly nodded.

“I’ll see that it’s done. Be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, Vasha. We only get one chance at this. One! If it fails, then we’re both going to die. Or perhaps you’ll only wish you were dead.”

I knew this would cost him.

I wouldn’t be the only one leaving Russia.

If Anatoly stayed, once my absence was noticed, then he’d be tortured and eventually killed.

It gutted me to think of the sacrifice I asked of him, but maybe a life elsewhere would be better for both of us.

“Do it, Anatoly. I need out of here. I’ll suffer anything if it means I don’t have to let that man touch me.”

He gave a nod and came closer, pausing a moment to kiss the top of my head.

“Rest. I’ll set things in motion.”

We’d had this discussion before.

Several times.

There was a website on what Anatoly called the Dark Web.

A place where women were bought and sold.

He said I’d be a mail-order bride, but I knew I’d likely end up someone’s whore.

As long as it put me far from Vladimir’s reach, I didn’t care.

Well, I mostly didn’t care.

The thought of ending up in a brothel somewhere was frightening, but it was a risk I had to take.

Whatever was asked of me, whatever was required, I’d do it.

Even marry a stranger, sight unseen.

I could only hope the man who chose me wouldn’t change his mind.

If he sent me back to Russia, I’d end up right back with Grigori, then things would become much, much worse for me.

He had a wide reach in Russia.

Sneaking out would be difficult enough, but the moment I returned I’d be at his mercy again.

I’d never been much of one for prayer, but I’d kneel every night and beg God if that’s what it took.