Possession Ch. 03

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What Beth will do for her family.
3.9k words
4.57
83.8k
79

Part 3 of the 7 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 09/27/2013
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taniarice
taniarice
448 Followers

"What?" Beth stared at Dmitri in disbelief.

"I told you to strip."

Beth shook her head, her brain suddenly submerged in fog and unable to comprehend what she had just heard. Her eyes flicked from Dmitri to Ivan.

In her mind, although Dmitri was the bad guy, she had come to see his employee as a potential future ally. True, she had only spent an hour or so with him in the back of a car, albeit not engaged in activities that would have encouraged them to get to know one another, but she thought he was the decent sort. Only he did nothing. He just sat there, impassive, while his boss ordered her to take off her clothes. Her expectations that he would come to her aid were dashed. It was obvious she would receive no help from him.

But did Dmitri honestly expect her to undress in front of him?

"Here? Now?"

Dmitri nodded. "Da."

"No! I can't!" She stepped back towards the door, wanted to bolt, to run away from the awful situation she had found herself in.

Dmitri snapped his fingers. "Ivan, call my men. Tell them to wait until Miss Noble returns to her home before they visit her family. I want her to witness what the consequences of her refusal will be first hand." He took another sip of his vodka.

A chill crept into Beth's bones. She did not want to contemplate what those consequences would be.

"Please! Don't!" She lurched forward, as if she was preparing to snatch Ivan's phone from out of his hand.

"And why not?"

"Please!" She heard the desperation in her voice and it was pathetic. She lowered her head, her voice dropping so that Dmitri had to strain his ears to hear her. "My Mum – she isn't very well. Please, don't hurt her."

Any tinge of guilt was overcome by the elation of triumph. Dmitri knew he had her. When he was younger, his father once told him that someone who knew what your weaknesses were was someone who owned you. Now he had discovered what Beth's weakness was, she was his. Casually, revelling in his victory, he transferred his glass from one hand to the other before placing it on a nearby side table.

"Miss Noble, I will make this clear to you once and only once. By entering into this arrangement, I will write off your family's debt. In return, I expect nothing more than your complete obedience, devotion and loyalty for the next two months. Your family, including your mother, will be completely unharmed. At the end of your service, you will be free to go your own way. But until then, I own you. You are mine. Do you understand?" Dmitri pressed the tips of his fingers together as he waited for her acknowledgement.

"Yes, I understand," she replied bitterly. "But – "

"No buts, Miss Noble," he cut her off. I do not want to have to fight you every day. I will not tolerate your arguing with me constantly," he rebuked her sharply before his lips slowly curved into a smile. "But as it is your first night, I will allow this indiscretion to slide. Only I warn you, do not always expect me to be this lenient." He picked up the glass and drained it until it was empty. "Now take off your clothes, or Ivan will make that telephone call."

The tone of his voice was utterly without mercy and told her this was no idle threat. Then again, Beth did not think that Dmitri was capable of making idle threats. And yet she could not bring herself to move.

The fire in the room burned brightly, the air was warm, but Beth shivered. Her legs had turned to jelly and trembled like they were about to give way beneath her.

"Do I need to repeat myself again? Strip. Now!"

Something about the command snapped her out of the trance she had been in. Beth slid the robe from her shoulders, allowing the threadbare fabric to fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. Biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood, she toed off her slippers. The carpet pile was soft and thick beneath the soles of her feet, plush and luxurious like all of Dmitri Voronov's surroundings.

Then she hesitated. Should she remove her pyjama bottoms or her shirt first?

"Please," she whispered, beseeching him. "Please don't make me do this."

"Go on," Dmitri brushed aside her entreaty. "Continue. Bystro!"

"Please," Beth begged. "I can't!"

"My patience is wearing thin, Miss Noble. Take off your clothes or I will not hesitate to remove them from you."

"Dmitri," Ivan interjected with quiet calm, "My friend, perhaps this is not the way – "

"No, Ivan," Dmitri held up a hand to silence him. "She needs to learn to obey."

Learning to obey was, at that moment, the hardest lesson he could have insisted on giving to Beth. Hell, differential calculus would have been easier – and Beth was absolutely useless at mathematics.

Hot tears pricked the corners of Beth's eyes. Closing them, she undid the string of her pyjama bottoms, bending to push them down her legs, taking care to keep her knees together and squat so that the motion was as unsexy as she could make it. She stepped out of them, sucking in desperate gulps of air, forcing herself to gain some semblance of control, to not to break down in tears. She didn't wear panties to sleep in, but always pyjamas, so the sensation of her most intimate parts being bared was somewhat foreign.

She had to remind herself that, although Dmitri had given her the order, it wasn't he who she was undressing for. She was doing this for her mother, to keep her mother safe, to protect her family and her home. This was just a hoop she had to jump through. Yet jumping through hoops offered her little comfort. At least the flickering glow of the firelight would disguise the marks on her body and hide her bruises.

Her hands were shaking as she struggled to unbutton her shirt. Even with her eyes shut, she could see what she was doing in slow motion. It was as if she had detached herself from her body. All too soon, the buttons were undone and the front of the shirt flapped open. Removing it completely, it joined the pile of her clothes on the floor. Beth covered herself with her arms as best she could. But she could not rid herself of the sensation of being watched.

Dmitri held his breath. To call her beautiful would be a lie. But then one did not need to be a model to have allure. Her curves were as generous as he had imagined them to be. Her breasts were pert, her hips begged to be grabbed.

The way she undressed revealed she had never had a career as an exotic dancer. But that was just another attraction. Her awkward movements, her discomfort, how her eyes kept flicking towards Ivan, not to entice, but because she didn't want him to see her – it all just stoked his desire. Her innocence was endearing. Her lack of awareness turned him on. There was so much he could teach her about her body. He couldn't wait to begin.

On the one hand, he was glad that she didn't look at him like she looked at his friend. It was obvious she was uneasy with Ivan's presence. He did not want her to always be uneasy with him. But he did want her to know he was there and not to ignore his presence.

"Open your eyes," he demanded.

Beth did so, but stared at the ceiling.

"Lower your arms."

It took great force of effort to wrench her arms away from her body, but she willed herself to comply. It was not cold but she felt exposed. Her nipples were hard and stood self-consciously on end, dusky pink and begging to be kissed.

"Look at me."

That was the hardest command to follow so far. First she looked at Ivan. Fortunately his eyes were averted and he seemed to be studying his glass of vodka.

"Not at my friend. At me, Beth."

At the sound of her name, Beth's head jerked in his direction. As soon as she met his intense gaze, she was trapped, unable to look away, unable to move, like a deer caught by headlights.

Her mouth went dry. She knew Dmitri was a handsome man, in an objective way. Yet she had never realised how cruel and brutal attraction could be. She might not have any experience with the opposite sex, but she was sufficiently sensible to acknowledge that she was not completely immune to his good looks, no matter how much she wished she could be.

She wanted to run. She was completely naked, utterly exposed to his scrutiny, every flaw and blemish revealed for his judgement. Her ears were hot, her face burned with embarrassment. No man had ever seen her undressed, not even her stepfather, no matter how many times he had tried to walk in on her whilst she was changing.

Why wasn't he saying anything? He was just staring at her, completely silently. Did she repulse him that much?

Beth knew he had money and power. He was probably used to tall, leggy blondes and model types. Not petite girls with hair that was almost ginger. The only reason why she was thin was because she couldn't afford to overeat. A hamburger cost a couple of pounds but a carrot was just twelve pence in the local supermarket.

She had at least shaved her legs and underarms before she had gone to Dmitri's club, thank goodness. That was one small blessing. But between her legs was a different matter.

She had not expected that anybody would be seeing her unclothed anytime soon and had never made the effort to groom herself there. One of the girls she worked with had gone to a salon to get a brazillian done a few months ago and had complained about how much it had hurt. That had completely put Beth off going bald. And at least the pubic hair helped to hide her most intimate parts.

"Some more vodka, Ivan?" Dmitri casually asked his friend.

"Da," Ivan replied, grateful for the reprieve. He did not think he could bear watching the poor girl being tormented any longer.

Ivan stood, taking Dmitri's empty tumbler. Beth heard the clink of glass against glass as he poured both of them another drink.

"Thank you, my friend."

Meanwhile, Beth's eyes remained locked with Dmitri's. As he drank, his lips caressed the rim of the glass. She flushed even more, the gesture conjuring the image of his sensual mouth caressing her skin.

The two men quietly finished their drinks. Ivan barely looked at her – in fact, he seemed intent on avoiding having to look at her. Dmitri, on the other hand, never stopped staring. She felt like a sculpture, on display for Dmitri's viewing pleasure. Just another piece of art to add to his collection. Although she was hardly as beautiful as some of the paintings she had already seen.

A few minutes later, Ivan stood.

"I should go home. Maria did not want me to stay out all night. With the baby coming, I should at least be there for her in the morning." He knocked back the last of the vodka.

Dmitri chuckled, still not moving. "You married types. Go," he motioned towards the door with his chin. "Go home to your pretty wife. I will see you at the club tomorrow night at eight."

"If I am still alive," Ivan grumbled. "After the tongue lashing I am going to get, I will be lucky to escape. Do svidaniya, my friend."

"Do svidaniya. Shall I see you out?" Dmitri looked away from Beth and she breathed deeply in relief.

"Nyet. No need."

Ivan skirted past Beth as he moved across the room, careful not to make contact with her. She had not realised he was married and couldn't help but wonder what his wife would think about him having watched her strip for his boss.

"Oh, and Dmitri – take care of Miss Noble," he said.

With that parting, he left and closed the door behind himself. The instant he left the room, the atmosphere transformed. Beth was acutely aware that they were alone and that she was naked in the presence of a man for the first time in her life. She wondered what he was thinking, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Dmitri observed her fidgeting. To be more accurate, he observed every little detail about her. He drank in the view of her like an alcoholic downs glass after glass of wine – never satiated, each sip making him a tiny bit more intoxicated. Like the mole on the inside of her ankle, the tiny birthmark on her hip bone, the scar from where she had her appendix removed.

Dmitri knew he was being harsh. He had not planned to humiliate her. But when he saw her again, he wanted revenge. It may have been petty to punish her for turning him down, not once, but twice, but he had to make her pay.

At least the angle in which he was sitting meant she couldn't see his growing erection. He had no intention of letting her know how much his body craved hers. Not yet, at least. After all, if she knew she had any sort of power over him, even if that power came from the face he just wanted to see her spent body collapse after he had fucked her, he wouldn't even come close to getting her in his bed.

But everything about her called to him. Dmitri practised self-restraint in all walks of life, but simply seeing her brought his control close to breaking point. She was like a siren, he was unable to resist. She filled him with single-mindedness. He had to have her, to take her, to make her realise that she was his and only his.

"Close your eyes," he ordered.

Earlier on, not being able to see him had reassured her. Now, the prospect made her fearful. He tilted his head just a fraction to one side, his jaw tensing with impatience. Reluctantly, she shut her eyes.

Dmitri approached her leisurely, taking his time. He circled her deliberately, pacing out a spiral with her at the centre. When he was standing directly behind her, he stopped.

Reaching out, he brushed her bare shoulder with his fingertips. She flinched and started forward.

"Still," he instructed her firmly.

Beth instantly went rigid. She was completely thrown off balance by the scenario, and it did not help that she could not look at him.

"Don't open your eyes," he cautioned her, as if he had read her mind.

Beth squeezed them shut, even though her instincts were screaming that she was in danger. The adrenaline had hit her bloodstream and she had to subdue her impulse for fight or flight, remaining impassive and in control of her motions when all she wanted to do was knock Dmitri out and get as far away from him as possible.

Meanwhile, Dmitri was working out the opposite – how to bring her as close to him as possible. Not even coming into contact with her skin, he lifted the hair that hung down her back, picking it up and allowing it to fall over one shoulder. Then he touched her again, applying only the tiniest hint of pressure, so gently that she wasn't sure if it was real or a panic-induced hallucination. Wherever his fingertips went, she felt a frisson of something, although whether or not it was excitement or dread she had no idea.

His hand moved lower and he traced a line down her spine, following the arch of her back. As he came closer and closer to her pert behind, Beth's throat tightened and her pulse quickened. Just when she was on the verge of abandoning any semblance of calm, he moved away.

"Relax, girl. I will not harm you," he leaned forward and spoke softly in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

Suddenly she could no longer sense him and she realised he had put some distance between them. For a moment she considered herself insulted. He had made her undress, and for what? To play with her hair? If he was going to force her to have sex, there was no need to toy with her.

Suddenly his palms were on her hips. The peaks of her nipples scraped against something – his shirt? They were so responsive, so alert, that although she knew Dmitri Voronov was the type to only wear shirts of the softest cotton, the fabric felt coarse, like sackcloth. From his proximity, she guessed he must have been positioned directly in front of her.

Firmly now, exerting more pressure, his hands moved upwards. They coursed up her waist and paused just below her breasts. When he felt their underside with the pads of his thumbs, an involuntary gasp escaped Beth's lips. She had not thought she was so sensitive.

Again she flushed. She could sense him smiling at her reaction. She did not need to see to know that whilst she was naked, his face was wearing a smug grin. Cautiously, she opened her eyes to find out she was right. He was clearly satisfied at having elicited such a reaction. Her palm itched to backhand him.

He tilted his head, his smirk daring her to fight him. Beth refused to be goaded into taking the bait. She straightened her back and clamped her hands against her sides.

Yet that only presented her breasts to him. And Dmitri planned to take full advantage of that gift. They were firm and pert, enough to fill his hand and in perfect proportion to the rest of her body. Done with soft touches, he squeezed one nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Ouch!" she yelped, alarmed.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "Does it really hurt?"

His tone had changed. Before it had simply been deep. Now it was richer, layered with husky seduction.

Ignoring how good the reverberations of his voice felt, she thought for a moment. It wasn't a wholly unpleasant sensation. Just unfamiliar. "No," she whispered. "It doesn't really hurt."

"Good," he breathed.

He tightened his grip and she hissed. Yet when he let go, she missed the pressure of his fingers. She caught herself leaning into him, as if seeking him out.

"Easy there," he crooned.

She was so confused. Just moments ago, she had wanted to hurt him. If she were honest with herself, she still did. But aside from that, she was also having feelings towards him that were somewhat less malevolent.

That was why she did not try to stop him. In her conflict, she was helpless. She had not wanted to undress for him, but now she had, she did not know what further boundaries he would try to cross – and what crossings she could prevent.

Again he moved so that he was behind her. Wrapping one arm around her in a sort of embrace, he cradled her against his body. The white material of his shirtsleeve had been folded over on itself, rolled up to his elbow, and his tanned forearm contrasted against her pale skin.

"Try to enjoy this," he murmured with encouragement.

Beth tried to twist her body round. As she lifted her face to him, her lips were slightly parted. Dmitri felt a sudden urge to kiss her, to taste her. But he refrained. It would not do to encourage any sort of romantic notions, and with a girl as inexperienced as Beth, a kiss could easily be mistaken as having some sort of significance.

So he simply held her in place, firm and gentle. With his other hand, he tangled his fingers into the thatch of curls between her legs. His touch was explorative as he cupped her. Only then did she start to squirm.

"Stay still," he said, only he said it as if it were a promise – if she stayed still, something would happen.

Slowly he ran a finger along her slit. Beth tensed. Yet he carried on stroking her until she relaxed. Then he sought out her tiny bud of pleasure, the pearl-like bid of flesh which caused her chest to heave, her muscles to quiver, her entire world to contract to that single centre.

For once, Beth's inner-voice was silent. Her mind had gone completely blank, empty of all thoughts, consumed by physical sensation. All that she was aware of was her body – and his. His frame behind her was a masculine wall of toned muscle. She could smell his aftershave, and beneath that, something else – a scent that was uniquely his.

And his palms against her bare flesh – she thought she could distinguish his fortune lines, the bump on his ring finger from how he held his pen and a slight callous on the heel of his hand.

The touch between her legs had become infuriating. His finger was moving too slowly. Her hips twisted and writhed, trying to draw out the contact.

Inside her core had contracted, a spring winding tighter and tighter. Summer lightening flickered through her body, sparks of energy igniting a fire that refused to be quenched.

And only when she thought she could stand it no more, she soared. She had seen skydivers on television and never understood why anyone would want to hurl themselves out of an aeroplane. Now she knew – free fall. The world rushed past her in a blur and she felt weightless.

taniarice
taniarice
448 Followers
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