Switched (5 page)

Chapter
Three

     She hadn't had the nightmare in
over two years. Now it was back. She woke up with sweat drenching her nude
body. Brad didn't even shift next to her. He must have been exhausted after her
breakdown earlier.  Slipping quietly out of bed she made her way into the
kitchen for a glass of water. It was no wonder the dreams were coming back. It
was the first time she'd had a Dom since Victor, though Brad was nothing like
Victor - not even by a long shot.

     Detail after horrifying detail of
the night Victor branded and tattooed her and then gave her to his cronies to
play with, played slowly through her mind as if it was happening all over
again.  It was a Saturday like any other and she was in the house putting
together dinner. Back then Victor used to locked up all her shoes when he
wasn't home and there were armed guards all over the property so there was no
way she could run. Of course in the beginning she never even considered
running, nor did she understand why he locked up her shoes. On that day, the house
slaves had been boxed in the garage for the day because they were being
punished for not ironing Victor's shirts to his liking. One of those house
slaves was Kali’s best friend, Misha.  She remembered being afraid for Misha’s
safety because it was hot that week.

     Victor had been cranky that entire
week because the authorities had been nosing around one of his import
operations. Being that it wasn't legal, Victor had every reason to be
concerned. Of course nothing Victor did was legal.

     He arrived home that night with
four of his henchmen and another man she didn't know. Toward the end there he
frequently called her
Kúrva
and
Súka
which she soon learned were
the Russian equivalents to whore and bitch respectively. During dinner she sat
nude on the floor next to Victor at the table, propped up on her knees,
awaiting Victor's every instruction. She was use to him parading her nude in
front of his friends, and forcibly bringing her to orgasm, his fingers
skillfully working her clit until she couldn't hold back, in front of everyone
in the room. Sometimes she even enjoyed the humiliation. Victor had been, in
the beginning, a fantastic lover and an incredible Dom.

     That night after she'd cleared the
table and cleaned the kitchen, she was called into the living room.

     He called her Laura, but it sounded
more like Lara through his thick Russian accent.  Now, just thinking of how he
said her name made her cringe.

     Holding a glass of Stoli
elit
vodka, his favorite, aloft in one hand he patted the coffee table in front of
him. "Laura, come here pet, lay here, on the coffee table, on your
belly," he told her.

     There was a fire in the fireplace
and the man she didn't know was stoking the fire, which she remembered thinking
was odd since it was a gas fireplace. Not to mention it was the middle of
summer. She remembered how her mind screamed at her that something wasn't
right, but she did as she was told anyway. At that point she still loved Victor
and couldn't imagine not doing as he said.   

     As she laid down on the cold,
wooden surface, she saw the man remove the brand from the flame and come toward
her with it. She tried to lift herself up and move, but Victor and his men were
quicker and held her down. Victor put his hand on the back of her neck and his
four cronies each held a limb. Helpless to struggle against them, she felt the
searing pain on her left hip as the brand met her skin and she screamed. It was
a bloodcurdling scream so foreign, primal, and distant it surprised her that something
that loud and terrifying had come from her. When the man pulled the brand away,
Victor dumped the remaining glass of vodka on the wound, causing her to cry out
again. The men laughed and let her go.

     Victor slapped her ass. "Now
you belong to me. You stay right there and we’ll put another mark on you so no
other man will have you, no?" 

     "Where do you want it?"
The guy asked.

     "On the shoulder. Doesn't
matter. She’s
Kúrva,
a whore." Victor sat back and lit a
Camel
.
His hand smacked her right ass cheek this time.   "She is my whore,"
he clarified to his henchmen with a laugh, "But she is a good whore. When
we're done here I’ll show you."

     On command she felt hands on her
arms and legs holding her down. The tattoo artist got to work and she felt the
needle go over her skin. She tried to fight, she did, but they held her down
firmly. It was no use to struggle, so she stopped and Victor gently petted her
head until the tattoo was finished.

     She didn’t recall how long it was,
just that when it was done, Victor pulled her up from the table and handed her
to a dark-haired man with a goatee. He was the first to take her and have his
way with her as Victor and the other men watched. The man who branded and
tattooed her had disappeared somewhere in there. She didn't remember when. 

     She remembered going through the
motions. Looking where Victor told her to look, sucking what she was told to
suck, and trying to stare off into the distance as if it would erase the
faceless heaving, sweating male bodies and hands groping and rubbing every inch
of her. Their stiff erections probing her mouth and ass, pounding her pussy,
taking her over and over again. All the while as one penetrated her, two would
hold her and the third forced her to orgasm with a vibrator. Each time she came
she was made to say how good it felt and that she wanted more pussy attention,
and she was praised for being such a horny, wet little slut. When the men were
done, Victor penetrated her ass with hard, fast strokes while the vibrator was
held against her clit. She remembered little after that because after she came
and he finished, she was let go and she passed out from sheer exhaustion. After
that Victor started making it a habit to have her fuck other men in front of
him.

     He said he liked watching her come
with a thick, long cock inside her and a vibrator on her clit.

     After that night, all she knew is
she woke up feeling used and ashamed for being brought to orgasm while being
fucked against her will. Victor told her repeatedly that she got off on being
raped and liked it; usually as he spanked her clit with a riding crop. Every
time after that, when he made her come he would say nasty things and make her
say it with him as she was coming and at that moment she really did want
everything he told her she wanted no matter how depraved or frightening it
sounded. You want twenty men to fill you with come, don't you? You want a cock
in every hole, don't you? You want to fuck Miguel, or Frank, or Linus (or
whichever one of his friends he knew he would be seeing in the next few days).
You want a dildo in your pussy and a butt plug up your ass while we go to
dinner tomorrow night, don't you? You'd like to be fucked with a beer bottle,
wouldn't you, you dirty little slut?  You want to be tied up and fucked with
(insert his object of choice here)?

     Then Victor would make it happen,
using her orgasmic agreements as consent even if she balked at the idea later.
Then he started with the games. He'd attach dildos to furniture, walls, and the
seat of the car, windows, or any other place he could think of, and made her
fuck them while he rubbed her off. Oftentimes in front of other men. Or he'd
drop a bunch of dildos on the floor and tell her to pick them up with her pussy
or ass and bring them to him. She could use her hands to position them and get
them inserted, and she could suck on them to make them wet enough to get them
in, but she had to crawl, with the dildos inside her, to him and have him
remove them. He usually did after first fucking her vigorously with each one. 

     After enduring months of this, she
felt like nothing more than Victor's fuck-toy. There was no love there. Only
lust and her body was little more than entertainment for him. His rule was she
had to be penetrated and brought to orgasm at least once a day. It was his duty
as her Dom to make sure this happened and her duty as his submissive to do what
pleased him. It was Misha, one of the house slaves, who finally convinced Laura
that she was just a glorified house slave who didn't get boxed up when the
chores weren't done right. She escaped the harsh beatings they got. But she was
used sexually more often.  It's when his sadism went too far that she realized
just how selfish he was and that Victor loved no one but himself. After that
realization, his lovemaking lost its appeal and became arduous torture.

     It was the night he tied her to the
dinner table and used her body as a serving platter for twenty dinner guests,
men and women, that she finally realized she had to get away from him. But it
was the night she watched him murder a man that she found the courage to
actually do it.

     A swell of emotion filled her. She
hated the memories. Closing her eyes she tried to wipe the humiliating and
terrifying memories away. His hand on her shoulder made her jump.

     "Sorry, Kal, didn't mean to
scare you. I woke up and you weren't in bed. You okay?" Brad pulled her to
him and kissed the top of her head.

     "You scared the crap out of
me," she said, her heart still pounding in her chest. She clutched at his
strong arm and relaxed against him. "My throat was dry. I got up for some
water."

     She gently pushed away from him and
got the water. He watched her drink two glassfuls before pulling her to him
again.

     "It's three in the morning.
Come back to bed." He kissed her head again, coaxed her to leave the
glass, and then led her back to bed keeping a protective arm around her.

     When they reached the bedroom he
climbed into bed first and she followed, snuggling against him. It couldn't be
real, could it? She had loved Victor once, too. Had thought he was a good man
who would never hurt her. Of course Victor's kisses were fake, and in the
beginning when he pissed her off he tried to buy her affections with jewelry or
clothes. Sadly, she would forgive him, naively thinking he spent money on her
because he loved her. Now she knew Victor only bought her things to lull her
into a false sense of affection so he could get her to do whatever he wanted.

     But Brad, he wasn’t like that. When
he pissed her off, which he’d done, he actually apologized and seemed genuinely
sorry. Brad also didn’t try to buy her affections with clothing or jewelry. If
anything, he seemed to shy away from buying her more than dinner or a movie
ticket.  If he invited her out, he paid. When she insisted on paying, he would
narrow his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He seemed to understand that she still
needed her independence and some control in the relationship.

***

    It was a relatively new tradition to
get together with Eric and Amy once a month, but Kali seemed to really enjoy it
and Brad liked it, too. Sure, he worked with Eric and Amy, but lately they’d
worked the schedule to where he and Eric were almost always never at the store
at the same time and sometimes Amy worked with him and sometimes she worked
with Eric. When they were at the store, it was often more about business than
anything else. It was nice to just get together as friends and leave work at
the door. Tonight they’d invaded Amy and Eric’s. They were just getting ready
to start a round of
Pictionary
when Brad’s cell phone rang.

     Brad took the call in another room
away from the laughter and voices. It seemed inconvenient that Ted Agares would
be calling him after seven p.m..

     “Mr. Hudak?” came Ted Agares’
voice.

     “Speaking.” In his mind, however,
Brad just wanted him to spit it out.

     “Well I found your girl’s real
name. It appears her name is Laura Callista Stanton. She’s from L.A., born to
one Carla Karen Michaels and Jason Robert Stanton. She had her name legally
changed here in Massachusetts to Kali Michaels. There was no reason listed.
However, I did find some leads…”

     Agares didn’t elaborate. Brad let
out an exasperated sigh. “Well, go ahead and tell me.”

     “It appears your girlfriend has a
closed juvenile record, and she was arrested at age twenty-two for drug
trafficking with her then boyfriend Victor Kolknov, but the DA dropped the
charges. Looks like some key evidence went missing.” Agares paused, then said,
“They were arrested at a bdsm club called Dungeon Fifty-Two. Evidently she
worked there, and he’s the owner.”

     Brad swallowed the lump forming in
her throat. So his girlfriend had a bit of a rocky past, but she was clean now.
At this time in her life, Kali didn’t even smoke.

     Agares took the silence as a sign
to continue. “You know, I have to go to Anaheim for my niece’s wedding next
week. If you want, I can stop in Los Angeles and visit this Dungeon Fifty-Two
and see if anyone there remembers her and knows why she left. I guess it
depends how far you want to take this?”

     “How much?” Brad almost couldn’t
believe he’d asked it, but curiosity got the better of him. That feeling in his
gut was too strong.

     “I can’t imagine I’d be there more
than two days. How about a thousand dollars? Since I’m already going to
California it will give me something to do before the wedding other than hang
out with my relatives.” Agares kind of laughed.