Stop that! She chided herself for her own stupidity. It didn't matter what they would do to her, because she would not be giving them any real intel, period. And she did not need this man -- this sick and evilly twisted man, at that -- to rescue her. What she did need was time. Time to get herself into a position so that she could do what she came here for, and -- hopefully -- time enough to get back out again.
She squared her jaw in defiance, and looked at the man sitting smugly in front of her. "We all have to do what we feel we must," she said, and he nodded. He motioned to the guards who tied her dangling from the ceiling again. The ropes cut into her already-raw skin, but she didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her wince. She had to do what she had to do.
Sasha arrived, walked up to her and took her jaw in his hand. He was much cleaner than she remembered, and had also made the effort to change into a clean set of clothes. The effort hadn't gone as far as shaving, however, so he maintained his rather brutal look. "Am I going to have to break you?" he said softly, stroking her cheek gently. He didn't look like he was looking forward to the idea. He slid his mouth to her throat and nuzzled, and Suzanne's breathing became erratic. "Give him what he wants, and I can protect you," he whispered into her ear.
"Not good enough," Suzanne replied. "I want to go home." Sasha's eyes darkened in anger. His grip on her jaw became cruel.
"It's the best you're going to get!" he growled. "You're in no position to make demands. Maybe you don't quite understand? You are mine. Once he's done with you, it's me who decides what happens to you. Now you can either do as I say, or you can spend the rest of your life being raped by the 200 hungry Serbian soldiers outside. And I'll warn you, they won't care how much they hurt you as long as your body is still warm. It's up to you."
Suzanne glared at her captor defiantly. "I hope you rot in hell you evil son of a bitch!" she growled, and spat at him for good measure. Sasha released his grip on Suzanne's jaw, throwing her head to the side in disgust. When she looked back at him, she got a glimpse of something moving towards her face at high speed, and then there was the familiar sickening *crack* of a fist connecting with her face.
This time, Sasha's boss did not stop him, and the beating continued for an eternity. When it became apparent that Suzanne was about to pass out, he stopped. Not out of kindness; he just didn't want her to miss any of her punishment. She was weak from hunger and dehydration, and she hoped that he would let her sleep for a while, but he had other plans. He slapped her until she focused her eyes on him groggily, made sure that she was awake again, and then the beating continued.
Suzanne didn't think that she could possibly have any tears left, but Sasha managed to make her cry again. And whimper, and scream. After a particularly long bout of punishment, Sasha paused as he thought that Suzanne was about to pass out again. However, she surprised them both by dry heaving violently; her body had nothing to throw up but it made her suffer shuddering pains nonetheless. He hit her another couple of times, but she was fading in and out of consciousness every few seconds. It was time to stop.
Sasha joined his superior officer and left Suzanne hanging alone while he went for some food and a drink. It occurred to him that the woman had not eaten or drank anything in over 24 hours at least, which was probably a good reason for her fainting constantly. He returned to find her still out cold. He allowed his fingers to wander over her body, enjoying the feel of her cool, soft skin. He was amazed at the delicate texture which was a stark contrast to the hard calluses on his hands. The smaller bruises on her body were being disguised by the larger ones caused by the latest beating that she had endured, and she still looked beautiful.
Suzanne woke slowly to find rough fingertips stroking over her skin. She tried to pretend that she was still asleep, but her pretence was spoiled when the fingers traced over her nipples and she moaned as the callused skin aggravated her bruises. Her assailant slid his palms fully against her breasts and squeezed, and Suzanne instantly recognised the hands as Sasha's. She leaned her head back and relaxed into him, trying to avoid provoking his aggression.
Sasha slid one hand up into the girl's hair and pulled her head upright, then leaned in and kissed her. She moaned again, arched against him until he slid both hands to her arse and held her against him. He started to grind against her slowly; he was aching to be inside her straight away, but he wanted her to beg this time. She broke the kiss and whimpered "Oh god, Sasha!" into his ear, her breathing ragged. He smiled smugly, slid his middle finger into her mouth and let her suck for a moment until it was slick with her saliva. He slid it over her clitoris for a couple of seconds, then pressed gently.
Suzanne yelped as Sasha stroked, easing his wet finger inside her. The pain inside her had lessened considerably since she woke up and his movements inside her were beginning to feel good. She knew that she shouldn't let him do this, that she should fight or scream or do anything but cooperate, but when he touched her like this it took away the pain from the rest of her body. And that was worth an awful lot right now. He continued to stroke until she was squirming, dangerously close to orgasm. And then he stopped.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered into her ear hoarsely. Suzanne whined, a pained look on her face, but he wouldn't touch her.
"Please let me come," she whispered softly. She was shocked at hearing the words come out of her own mouth, but the temptation to avoid pain for a few moments was overwhelming. Sasha stroked his finger over her clitoris again slowly, but only once.
"Is that all you want?" he asked, and she shook her head. "Then tell me. What do you want, baby?"
Suzanne closed her eyes, her cheeks burning in shame. "I need you inside me," she whispered, and he stroked her again in encouragement. She moaned in pleasure.
"You can do better than that," he whispered, and she sighed shakily. She knew what he wanted her to say.
"Please fuck me, Sasha," she whispered. After another moment, she added: "hard." He growled softly at that, slid his tongue back into her mouth and kissed her, his mouth bruising hers brutally. She arched against him again and opened her mouth as she kissed back. Sasha reached up and released her wrists from the rope again, then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.
He didn't speak as he carried her back to the room and locked the door behind them. He set her back down on her feet and threw her against the wall, pinning her with the weight of his body. He slid his hand into her hair, holding her so that she had to look him in the eye.
"Tell me again," he growled, his eyes burning into hers. Suzanne felt a wave of heated shameful pleasure ripple through her body at the thought of having to repeat herself while looking into his eyes. She remained silent for several moments, too embarrassed to say what he wanted to hear.
"Fuck me," she eventually whispered, almost too quiet for him to hear. Then louder: "Fuck me hard." Sasha shuddered in response and pressed his mouth against Suzanne's ear, giving her some much needed privacy without compromising the intimacy of their embrace.
"Tell me what you want," he growled again. "Do you want to be on top?"
"No," she replied, and Sasha smiled against her ear.
"You want me on top of you?" he asked softly, and Suzanne had to slide her hands to his shoulders and cling on to stop herself from feeling faint. "Do you want my weight on top of you, holding you down? Do you want to feel dominated, baby?"
"Oh god," Suzanne whimpered as Sasha whispered into her ear. "Oh please!"
Sasha leaned back and looked into the girl's eyes again, let her see the look of barely-contained desire and just-controlled violence on his face. She moaned in shock, her eyes darkening in pleasure at her ability to drive him so totally wild. He grasped her chin viciously as he wiped all traces of desire from his face and replaced it with the cold brutality that had made her so wet when he first touched her. She gasped, half in fear, and half in anticipation.
Sasha pulled the girl away from the wall and threw her onto the bed, turned away from her as he kicked off his boots. He turned back towards her as he dropped his knife, his gun and its holster to the floor. Suzanne was sitting up in the middle of the bed, her hands braced against the mattress, and her legs slightly apart and shaking violently. She skittered as far away as possible, pressing her knees together hard as Sasha unzipped his pants and stalked towards her, utterly predatory.
He grabbed her as he got onto the bed, dragged her by the legs until she was back in the middle, then forced her thighs apart. He wedged himself between her legs, tugged his underwear out of the way and pressed himself against her opening, pinning her wrists above her head. She cried out in pain as he thrust into her hard and settled his weight on top of her. Her heart was beating crazily with fear, but her body betrayed her as within what seemed like only moments, her muscles clenched around him and her back arched in orgasm.
Sasha groaned in pleasure as he felt the girl's vaginal muscles contracting around his penis erratically. He continued to thrust hard inside her, waiting until she had recovered from her orgasm. When her eyes started to focus on him again, he leaned down and slid his mouth against her ear.
"Did you like that, little girl?" he growled, his voice guttural again in arousal. For the moment he had lost the ability to think in English, and had switched back to his own language. Suzanne had quickly learned to expand her vocabulary of Serbian smut over the past several hours, and she was able to understand exactly what he was saying as he went on. "Do you like being held down and fucked by a killer?" The girl whined in response, arched against him as she whispered "oh yes," into his ear.
"You moan like a whore," he whispered in English, sliding his hand to her arse so that he could pull her against him even harder. "You're a beautiful, dirty little slut. Aren't you?" He switched back to Serbian for a moment as he growled "moja mala kurva" into her ear. Little Slut.
Nobody had ever spoken to Suzanne like this before, and her face was burning in shame. But her body was burning twice as much as he called her a slut and a whore, and she liked it. She had never felt so desired in all her life. "Yes," she whispered in reply, and he shuddered.
"Say it," he growled, releasing his grip on her arse so that he could force her to look at him. "Tell me what a slut you are."
Suzanne didn't have a clue how to go about saying this in his language, so she had to resort to English. "I'm a slut and a whore, and I need you so much! Oh god Sasha, please don't stop!"
"Do you want to feel me come inside you?" he asked, his voice hoarse and his head spinning. His eyes rolled back in his head with pleasure at the thought of the girl calling herself a whore for him.
"Oh god yes!" she groaned. "But please not yet!" He smiled intensely.
"You want more?" he growled, sinking his teeth into her throat.
She cried out in pain, the sound turning into a desperate cry: "Yes!"
"You still need more, little slut?" he asked. "What does that make you?"
"I'm a total whore for you, Sasha," she whispered. "Oh god, please let me come!"
Sasha slid his hand between their bodies and rested just to the side of Suzanne's clitoris. She whined in need and he smiled, a sadistic glint in his eye.
"You're mine," he growled. "Say it." She did as he asked. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you scream for me like this every night. Do you understand?" She did. "And nobody else is ever going to touch you, do you understand that?"
Suzanne whispered another yes to Sasha's final question. She would have said yes to anything. He slid his thumb on to her clitoris and stroked gently, then harder. Suzanne went rigid and screamed as she finally exploded into orgasm again. The contractions were even harder this time and they pushed Sasha over the edge into his own sexual bliss. He groaned "Oh, fuck!" as he thrust into the girl one final time, shuddering as his orgasm took control of him completely and he collapsed on top of his exhausted, beautiful little captive.
Sasha left Suzanne alone in the dingy room once again. She drew herself into a ball and shivered in the darkness. Her head was a lot clearer with him gone, and she growled angrily as shame-filled tears started to fall down her face. She was going to have an awful lot of trouble ever looking him in the eye again. Did he really think of her as a slut and a whore, or had he only said it to get a reaction? Even though she'd had little choice but to let him screw her if she wanted to survive, she couldn't help but feel used.
His opinion of her mattered to Suzanne, she realised suddenly. And so it should. He had said he was the one who would decide what to do with her once his boss was done. Her tears intensified as a cold feeling of dread fell over her. He was rapidly becoming her only possible escape route. What if he lost interest? She sobbed in confusion. She had no way of knowing what he wanted or what he was thinking, so there was little point in dwelling on it. She was thirsty and aching and oh, so hungry...
On closer inspection of the room Suzanne noticed that Sasha had left a glass of water on the floor for her, and she reached out an aching arm until she managed to lift it towards herself. She wondered for a moment whether the water would be drugged or poisoned, but she dismissed the idea. Sasha enjoyed inflicting pain far too much to cheat himself out of his grand finale. Trying not to gulp, she finished the rest of the water and laid back down on the bed of her prison. Curling into a ball, she shivered against the cold until sleep claimed her once again.
He'd said he could protect her.
The thought tumbled round and round in Suzanne's head as she dangled from the ceiling of that damned room yet again. She repeated this to herself like a mantra as Sasha stood in front of her, that familiar brutal expression on his face. And a knife in his hand. She still hadn't managed to acquire any clothes, so the knife couldn't be intended for use as an aid to undressing this time. She'd already received her customary beating for the day and she felt like she was going to faint; were they going to make her suffer even more? Oh god. She was going to have to think of a way to make them believe that she had given them what they wanted. Preferably before they killed her.
Sasha was playing with fire, and he knew it. He had never before met a woman who was as stubborn as this girl. She had more training and was a lot tougher than he had originally suspected, and he was glad of it. He respected her tenacity, regardless of the fact that she was making his life rather difficult. Plus, she was so beautiful -- bruised and bleeding and most of the time scared out of her mind. He'd beaten her, raped her and humiliated her, and for some reason, she still wanted him. His commanding officer had warned him that if he wasn't successful in getting the girl to talk today, he was going to throw her to the grunts. Sasha wasn't prepared to let that happen; he wanted her for himself no matter what the cost.
He admired her courage, but in the end it would come to nothing, and they both knew it. She'd give them what they wanted, it was just a matter of time. His knife, usually a favourite instrument of torture, felt cold and alien in his hand. He didn't want to do this. He had no problem with hurting her -- he'd already made her scream until she was coughing up blood -- but that had been with his own hands. It was intimate and personal and he'd never done any permanent damage. This was going to be a different thing entirely. And she would never be the same afterwards. It wasn't right. He was the one who carried the scars.
Suzanne had fallen into a faint, but the sharp pain of a knife pressing into her throat woke her with a start. She flinched back from the pain to find Sasha standing in front of her again, the knife still in his hand. "Am I going to have to make you bleed, or can we stop now?" he asked softly. Suzanne moaned softly in fear, but she said nothing. He sighed, and moved closer so that the girl was leaning on him, her head on his shoulder. He rested the point of the knife on the back of her thigh and paused for a moment.
"Tell me to stop," Sasha whispered gently, but she didn't reply. With his face out of sight of both the girl and his commanding officer, he closed his eyes and frowned in apprehension. Her teeth bit down on his shoulder as he increased the pressure on the knife until he broke the skin, and he slid his free hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and stroked gently. She released her bite in order to moan softly in pain, the moan quickly rising into a scream as the blade cut deeper.
Sasha grimaced as he noticed the blood running down the girl's thigh to drip off her foot and collect into a red puddle on the floor. He slid his mouth to her ear, whispering so that only the girl could hear. "Let me end this. Please."
Suzanne gasped at the emotion in Sasha's voice. He didn't want to do this. There were some lines that he still didn't want to cross. Maybe, she dared to allow herself to think. Maybe he does still want me? If that was the case, perhaps she would still have a chance of escape if she gave them the information they wanted.
The sharp pain of the knife helped to focus Suzanne's thoughts temporarily, and she was able to decide on the details of the information that she would give to Sasha's superior. However, she had to make it look convincing, and Suzanne would never accept being made to look cowardly. So she gritted her teeth and remained stubborn for as long as she could possibly stand.
She wasn't sure how long she managed to hold out, but it didn't matter. In the end, she told them when they wanted to know. She was going to have a scar, but at least the searing pain had stopped.
Sasha turned to his superior officer to find him standing up to leave, and giving him a nod of satisfaction. "We're done with this one," he said to the sniper, and then walked towards them. "Get rid of her," he said, as if he were talking about yesterday's old news paper. "And go home, get some rest." He patted Sasha on the shoulder like an old friend as he said "you've earned it."
She'd passed out again, Sasha realised as he turned back towards the girl, reaching up to unhook her from the ceiling. He didn't bother to wake her as he untied her wrists and carried her off in search of some clothes. Ten minutes later, he had her dressed (after a fashion) in a spare soldier's uniform, and was carrying her out to one of the waiting vehicles, his rifle slung on his back. He received some quizzical looks, but nobody dared to challenge him until he put the girl into the truck.
One of the Commander's lapdogs -- Sasha thought his name was Boskovic -- put his hand out to stop Sasha from opening the driver-side door and getting in.
"Cavoski hasn't told me of you needing a vehicle today," he said, trying to look important while tapping a pencil on his clipboard. He was a weedy little scumbag of a man with an irritating nasal voice. Sasha resisted the urge to sneer, and instead fixed the smaller man with a look of stony intimidation.
"I also need some fucking indigestion tablets," Sasha spat back. "Do you need to know that too?" Boskovic lifted his jaw in an attempt to look intimidating, and this time Sasha couldn't resist the sneer. He grabbed his rifle and liberated it from its harness, holding it in front of himself in a not altogether unthreatening manner. The intruder took several steps back in fear, and mumbled some sort of apology before suddenly finding great interest in a pile of sandbags several metres away.