Pain. That was all I felt as I coughed up blood and spat on the floor while still being tied to the chair in the middle of what used to be a living room. The curtains were torn and tattered while the windows appeared to be broken and filthy, covered in cobwebs. The floor laid in ruins as millions of dust particles littered the air whenever a gunmen moved around the tiny space. My attacker couldn't help but flinch as he flexed his fingers as they popped and cracked from punching me in the face with extensive force. I glared at him as my jaw throbbed with pain and blood dripped down my chin as well as my arm from the gunshot wound I suffered earlier this evening back at the cabin.
I grunted as I tried the weight of my restraints once more, but still they didn't move. I counted at least six men in the room with me as another four hid themselves in one of the spare bedrooms. Beaten and exhausted beyond my wildest dreams I still had to use the bathroom whether I wanted to or not. Now the real question was if the trigger happy Russian mobsters would even let me. Blinking slowly as my head throbbed from possibly a massive headache, I cleared my throat as I spoke in perfect Russian and said this:
Hey, assholes. I need to use the restroom. Can one of you please get off your fat ass and undo my restraints. I promise I won't try anything. You can even stand and watch me piss for all I care, I just really need to go please.
My eyes flickered to each and every of them as our stares met before finally the leader, a tall dark-haired ex-military with a tattoo on his neck, ordered one of the gunmen to untie me and escort me to the bathroom and to place a gun to the back of my head whilst I did my business. The flick of a switchblade came into view as it's steel blade glinted in the moonlight from the nearby windows. Soon my hands were free as I rubbed my wrists and walked to the bathroom next to the kitchen. I nearly gagged as I witnessed the disgusting effects of might have happened in such a tiny space. The walls were streaked with some dark brown stain while the tub and sink had rust on them. And the floor was just as destroyed as the rest of the apartment.
A single light from above the medicine cabinet flickered on and off as a moth fluttered it's wings around the source of white light. I opened the toilet lid and groaned as I looked straight ahead and unzipped my jeans. I also felt the brush of metal as it touched the base of my skull, no doubt the person holding it had his finger on the trigger. After my bladder was empty and my jeans were back on my waist, a strong hand grasped my arm and pulled me back into the living room before it shoved me back into the chair and reapplied my restraints.
Thank you. I said. I feel much better.
The hours passed, but it felt as though time was at a standstill and I was never getting out of here alive. I looked to the windows to judge the time and the sky was just starting to get enough light that I could make out Central Park far off in the distance. My thoughts turned to Brad, Roman, and Noah. Where they killed? I didn't know. But I hoped they weren't. Soon the pain became too much for me to handle and I felt myself start to drift off to sleep, but not before the leader of the group crouched down in front of me and smacked me across the face. Ouch! I said, as he smirked and took my face in his hand and lifted it upward so he could look me in the eyes. His eyes were black as night and his upper lip appeared to have a scar from some childhood accident. He of course spoke no English so he asked that I speak to him in Russian just for him.
So you're the infamous little whore who has Vlad wrapped around his little finger. I gotta say, I wasn't expecting someone to be so...beautiful. You must have the men crawling at your feet just to get a feel for you, I'm sure. Stop me if I'm wrong. But I wonder, would you pleasure me the same way as you did your clients? When I didn't respond, he had this to say, Answer the question, James. Would you pleasure me the same way as your clients?
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Touched By A Marine (Book 1)
ActionJames is a run-away with a forgotten past. Three years earlier, after being declared a ward of the state and taken into a foster home. He decides life with his new family has run its course and wishes nothing better than to pack up his things and le...