Blitzed (44 page)

"
W
ake up
, my pet."

I groaned and opened my eyes, disorientation washing over me. I'd gotten used to the feeling, and knew it was a side effect of whatever the hell it was they were pumping into my container/cell. Other than plates of food that were delivered on a regular basis, I hadn't seen sunlight in what seemed like forever.

At least they'd started giving me light. It wasn't much, just a bare forty watt bulb that dangled on a wire, but at least I could see my surroundings when I was awake. Not that there was much to see, mind you. A pallet that I found was made of cardboard boxes that had been flattened out and piled up, topped with a thin foam rubber mattress, six more boxes that had been turned on their sides to create what could best be described as cubbyholes, and a plywood floor. There was nothing else if you ignored the opening with the small piece of rubber hose that they pumped whatever the hell it was that was causing me to sleep.

I didn't even know how long I'd been there. With the drugs that were most certainly inundating the air of the container, I could have been sleeping sixteen hours a day, or doing lots of two and three-hour naps that were meant to make me think a day had passed. Even when I was awake, I felt lethargic, so there was little to help me try to keep track of time.

Rolling to the side, I blinked. At least it was somewhat dim outside, roughly sunrise I thought. At least, that was what my inner compass was telling me, that the glow on the horizon was coming from the rising sun of the east and not the setting sun of the west. I shivered in my thin clothes, wrapping the blanket I'd been given tighter around my shoulders.

"My pet? Over here," the same voice repeated, and I shivered not at the cold, but at the desire to listen to that voice again. It was lilting and teasing, with that Russian accent that stirred deep within my body. I shook my head, fighting it. It had to be the conditioning, right? "Come now Felix, don't be a naughty kitty."

I looked, and had to repress the urge to swallow a lump in my throat. Even if I hadn't been under the influence of whatever drugs the Russians were using, she was a beautiful woman, that was clear. Tall, with deep blonde hair that hung all the way to her waist and ice blue eyes, she looked like someone had used her as the model for Elsa in that Disney movie. That she was wearing just jeans and a sweater that hugged every curve of her luscious body didn't help matters.

"Don't call me kitty," I said, trying to keep my anger going. I found that when I was pissed off, I at least could think a little bit more clearly. "I'm nobody's goddamn pet."

"We’ll see," she said with a knowing grin. "I'm Svetlana, your new mistress. Come, it’s passed time that you got a bath and some fresh clothes."

"I'd rather stay here," I said. “But if you're feeling generous, you can give me another blanket."

Svetlana smiled and quirked an eyebrow, and she looked more than ever like the animated Elsa — why the hell was I thinking about a Disney movie anyway? "I don't think so, Felix. You have two choices right now. You can come with me, get a shower and fresh clothing, something more appropriate for this time of year, and enjoy a day outside of this box along with some good food. Or, I can walk out. You’ll be gassed again, dragged inside, washed and strapped to a bed inside the house, where you’ll be fed gruel until you agree to behave."

"There must be a cold front moving through if you’re so concerned about getting me out of this box," I said, getting to my feet. It wasn't that I wanted to obey her wishes, but being strapped to a bed would leave me with fewer options for escaping. "Fine. What kind of food are we talking?"

"Let us get the day underway first, then we’ll see," she said. "I suppose I don’t need to remind you to not try anything stupid. I’m more capable of defending myself than it looks like."

I nodded, knowing that regardless of her self-defense skills, I was more worried about whatever other security that was around. "There’s no point in harming you right now," I said, making sure to keep a few feet away from her. As I got closer, it disturbed me to feel my attraction to her rise. Whatever they had been doing to me, it was already having an effect. “I’ll behave.”

Svetlana smiled and turned on her heel, leaving the container. I followed, noting a man with a rifle tracking me with his eyes as I stepped out onto a large estate. I could smell water in the distance, but not salt water. From my best guess, we were near a large lake or a river. Thinking about what I knew about the Ukraine, we were most likely close to the Dnieper River, which was large enough to be called a lake in certain regions. I decided to keep my knowledge to myself and play dumb. "This is quite an estate," I said instead. "Your uncle must be in with the power players of Kiev and Odessa."

"Vladimir is very generous, but your unspoken question is off on both points," she said with a small chuckle. "This property is near neither of those two cities. It’s a vacation house, given to me for the duration of your training."

"And Boris over there with the rifle?”

She glanced over her shoulder and laughed. "His name is Sacha, and he’s just security. You behave, and you won’t have to see what he can do."

We walked toward the main house slowly, my legs unsteady beneath me. Svetlana noticed. "Don’t worry, the weakness will pass."

I didn't fight it as relief washed over me, and we climbed the shallow hill to the big house. Inside it was warm, the heat settling into my suddenly chilled bones, causing me to shiver. "That’s why I decided to bring you inside," she said as I hugged my arms to my chest and shook. "Your body may have adapted some to that container, but you couldn’t have survived what is expected to hit tonight."

"How cold?" I asked, my lips quivering as she led me toward a roaring fire. I noticed a few other people out of the corner of my vision, but I had a hard time focusing on anything other than the electric feeling of Svetlana's hands on my shoulders and the warmth coming from the old-fashioned fireplace. Flanked in large stones, it looked like something from a castle.

"Minus ten," she said. I noticed for the first time she was speaking to me in English rather than Russian or French. "The container wouldn’t have stopped that much cold."

"Thank you," I said without thinking as she sat me down on a chair next to the fire. "It’s a nice chair."

She smiled at me. "You’re very lucky, Felix."

"How so?"

She chuckled. "If you’d been just some other Gypsy, you wouldn’t have been treated so well, nor given this opportunity. Thankfully, Uncle Vladimir recognizes your skills, and I happen to think American men, even half-blood French Gypsy Americans like yourself, are quite cute. If you hadn't been, you would never have left Calais. Now, warm yourself, and then we will see about getting you a shower."

* * *

A
s the days passed
, I felt myself in a constant haze, confused. Other than that first morning, I knew I was constantly being drugged, most likely through the food that was brought to me. At least I was able to keep track of the days. My nights were filled with a strange mix of dreams and words being whispered into my unconscious self, yet every time I woke up, the room was silent.

Svetlana spent lots of time with me, her presence increasingly catching my attention. I didn't know what else was being done to me, but as she spoke, her words seemed to soak into my mind, my previous life becoming more and more hazy. There was something about her, the way she spoke and the way her clothes both teased and hid her voluptuous curves that left me wanting her.

More importantly to me, was that I wanted to please her. Not necessarily sexually, but to do anything she wanted of me. Three days after she brought me into the house, after lunch, she set her spoon aside and looked at me with her head cocked and her eyes evaluating me. "You know Felix, you can’t lie around the house all day. Come, let's change clothes and use the fitness center. I won’t have you getting lazy.”

I don't know why, but I pushed myself that workout. Svetlana joined me. She went through a yoga routine that left my heart thudding even harder than my workout, and despite my trying to fight it, my cock grew stiff in the shorts I'd been provided with. She noticed and smirked, looking up at me and licking her lips suggestively. "You need to do your workout, my pet."

"Yes Mistress," I answered, a surge of pleasure going through me as I said the words. I don't know why I said them, but as soon as they left my lips I knew they were the right ones to say, and I wanted to say them again. I started my workout and lifted hard, going from the barbell to the gymnastic rings and overhead bar, pushing myself as I saw her eyes glowing with approval as I lowered myself into an Iron Cross.

At the end, both of our bodies were coated in sweat, her skin glistening as she came over to me. Her tight top showed the deep valley between her beautiful breasts, and I couldn't help but reach for her. "No, my pet," she purred. "Hands at your side."

"Yes Mistress," I immediately said, obeying. It was so good to obey her, the pleasure was almost as good as sex. The idea of sex with her, though, that was something greater than I could ever hope to have the chance to feel. She saw it in my eyes, and she smiled and stood on her tiptoes, kissing me briefly on the cheek. "Thank you."

She patted my chest and pointed toward the door with her chin. "Now, go take a shower and you can join me for dinner."

In the shower, the warm water did nothing to alleviate my arousal, my cock standing stiff and hard from my body. Closing my eyes, my mind flooded with images of Svetlana, the poses she'd held in her yoga routine. It’d been erotic torture, the way her hips had been thrust into the air, her long, lean legs slightly spread, and her breasts . . .

I reached down, taking my cock in my right hand, pumping slowly as images filtered through my mind and the water washed over my body. In my mind, I heard Svetlana groan as she pushed herself into a newer, more difficult stretch, the twinkle in her eyes as she looked over her shoulder to see me staring.

I pumped faster and faster, thinking of my Mistress and what I wanted to do for her. I wanted to feel her body with my hands, to trail my lips over her skin and hear her moan my name, her pet, over and over as I lit her nerves on fire.

In my fantasy, she called my name over and over and my cock throbbed in my fist. Sounds came to my mind, sighs and moans of pleasure from Mistress while in the background, a guitar played. The guitar was off-putting, something from another part of my life, but that couldn't be as important as my Mistress in front of me, and the rising pleasure in my cock.

T
he skies were
an out of place sapphire blue as we gathered in the vineyard for Felix's memorial ceremony. Francois, whose back was still tender and covered with bandages, held himself stiffly in his black silk shirt and tie. Charani and Syeira were both in all black, Syeira wearing a veil over her face. The other family leaders were all in suits, their faces somber.

In the middle of the circle, two photos of Felix were set up on top of a pyre that would eventually be lit. Both photos were taken well before I met him, but there was still the same smile, the same serious look in his eyes sitting in contrast above it.

"Thank you," Francois said, speaking in French so that I could understand enough to get the gist. He’d agreed that morning that when it was my turn to speak, he would translate into Romani for everyone. The few family members who didn't understand French were assisted by others who did. "We're gathered here today to remember Felix Gudada Hardy, our former leader. To me, he was more than a leader, he was my partner . . . he was my friend. The memories I have of him, on this property and others, of growing up . . .”

Francois's voice faltered and he cleared his throat before continuing. "My relationship with him wasn't perfect. We fought, we disagreed, we had our spats. We were brothers. What brothers don't have spats? But I knew that whatever happened, Felix would be there for me. If I had trouble, he'd have my back. He was a great man, and I can only hope I can live up to his example."

Francois stepped back and nodded to me. While normally those outside the family would never be allowed to speak at memorials such as this, they'd agreed that Felix's offer of marriage and my acceptance made me family in their eyes. Charani looked over and gave me a small smile of support, holding her sister's hand.

I set the violin case down on the ground, unlatching the cover and withdrawing the instrument. I had fine-tuned it that morning, rosining the bow and making sure everything was ready before taking it out. Now, withdrawing it, I saw Francois's eyes open in surprise. He hadn’t been conscious for most of the day before, recovering from his coronation. Even when he was awake, he had to lie on his stomach, making sure there was no pressure on the wounds. In any case, he didn’t know what I was going to do. The violin case had been hidden underneath the black cloak that I wore on top of my dress, and he led the procession, not seeing me for most of the time.

I blinked, the old emotions coming back to me as they had the day before next to the river. When I'd thought about what to do, music was how I spoke best. It was through music that I could express my heart, whereas words would fail in my mouth. Looking at the strings, I made sure to keep the picture of Felix in my vision as I laid my bow on the A string, ready for the first note.

I knew I wanted to do a hymn, but I wasn’t quite sure which. I didn't want to come off as false, I wanted to speak purely to Felix, the rest of the world be damned. Nearer My God To Thee and others I knew by heart, I'd played them so often growing up that the notes were ingrained in my brain, but I wanted something better for him. Thinking, sitting next to the river the day before, I settled on two choices, both of which I had learned years before. Knowing I would only have the emotional strength for one, I practiced both, placing what faith I could in the knowledge that I'd make the right decision as time drew shorter.

I drew my bow down, the first notes of the violin arrangement short and staccato, low and haunting over the quiet assembly. John Williams may have composed it, but the arrangement was all mine. I'd originally done it over a decade earlier, when the memories of 9/11 were still strong in the country and patriotism ran high. Hymn For The Fallen may have been written mostly for horns — a staple of Williams — but I'd done it first for a memorial service, and once again reached for it.

I don't know if anyone else there knew what the hell I was playing, but it didn't matter. My eyes were on the image of Felix as I poured everything I could into the playing. When the last note drifted away, my cheeks were wet with tears, the chin rest of the violin also wet. I took the instrument and laid it on the memorial, touching Felix's picture. "I love you, Felix."

Syeira spoke next in just Romani, her grief coming through clear even in the unknown language. She couldn't speak long, just a minute before the emotions overtook her, and she stepped back, unable to continue without making a scene. Despite the image of Romani women being fiery and passionate, Syeira conducted herself with the restraint of a born aristocrat. She stepped back, letting her sister lay a comforting arm around her shoulders.

The words concluded and Francois knelt at his brother's memorial, taking from his pocket the lighter he had within. A few moments later, the smoke started to climb from the base of the memorial as it became a pyre, everything burning in the hungry flames. We waited through it all, silence reigning.

As we walked back to the house, Francois took my hand. "I need you," he whispered, his voice thick with want and sadness-tinged desire. I stopped, letting the rest of the group continue on, and looked up at him. His throat worked, and he looked up at the sky before continuing. "I know it’s wrong to want you so badly after what we just did. But the best memories I have of Felix are with you. There was no other time when we've been closer."

I nodded. Maybe nobody in the world would understand. Maybe his mother and aunt would think we were committing sacrilege, but in my heart, I knew the truth. We would make our own memorial to Felix, in our own way.

"Meet me in the barn in ten minutes."