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.  What if he didn’t want her anymore?  What if he really thought that she was a whore?

Maybe that’s what he wants, a small voice inside her head whispered, and 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 sniffed at it carefully.  It didn’t seem to smell suspicious.  She took a small sip, and decided that it was safe.  Trying not to gulp, she finished the rest of the water and laid back down on the bed of her prison.  She wished they had given her a blanket as the room was starting to get rather chilly.  That was the last thought she remembered having before falling into sleep 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 it in her head 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.  Had she managed to turn him off her so completely that he was ready to kill her? 

Sasha was playing with fire, and he knew it.  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?  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 irritatingly 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.

Sasha climbed in to the truck and carefully placed his beloved rifle beside him out of the girl’s reach, just in case.  He had a reputation even among the rest of the soldiers as being particularly ruthless and talented in killing people, and so nobody else challenged him as he left the camp, with his unconscious bruised and battered prisoner beside him.

                                                          

Suzanne woke up to find herself lying naked in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room.  The bed was warm and cozy and complete with blankets, but her stomach was growling and she was in desperate need to pee, regardless of the fact that she couldn’t possibly have a spare drop of water in her body.  She sat up and slid her feet to the floor, and experimented in standing up slowly.  Her bones ached and her thigh felt like it was burning, but she was damned if she was going to let herself fall over.  She hobbled to the door and was amazed to find it unlocked.

She stuck her head out of the door slowly, suspicious of suddenly being allowed some degree of freedom to roam in her surroundings.  When no danger was immediately apparent, she crept out of the room in search of a bathroom.  Once that bodily function was satisfied, she crept down the stairs to find out if anyone else was home.

Sasha was sitting at the kitchen table, busily dismantling and cleaning his rifle and his handgun.  Suzanne stood shaking in the doorway, unsure if she was going to anger him by having left the bedroom.  He glanced over at her, his eyes lingering for a moment on her still naked body, and then motioned for her to come closer.  She sat down in the chair opposite him and watched him work, not daring to speak.

They weren’t at the army camp any more, that much was obvious.  And although he wasn’t talking to her, Sasha didn’t seem angry with her at all.  She’d given them what they wanted, and so the pressure was now off of him.  She wondered what that would mean for their twisted little relationship.  Perhaps some day he would trust her enough to let her wear clothes again, she though to herself, her face twisting in an ironic grimace.

“What is it?” Sasha asked softly as he noticed the expression on Suzanne’s face.  She blushed slightly, looked down at the table in front of her.

“Nothing,” she whispered, her voice shaking a little in fear.  “I… just thought it would be nice to have some clothes.  This isn’t the warmest of countries in the world.”

Finishing with his prized possessions, Sasha stood up, his face stern.  The girl gulped in fear and he had to turn around so that she wouldn’t see him smile.  He washed his hands in the old kitchen sink and turned back towards her.  She stood up as he stalked towards her, backing away in fright.  He grabbed her by the throat and pinned her against the wall.

“Making demands already?” he asked softly, and she shook her head quickly.

“No!” she whispered, a desperate edge to her voice.  “Of course not.  I’m sorry.  I’m just so cold, and…”

He kissed her suddenly, sliding one hand into her hair and the other to her breasts.  She moaned softly, reaching up to cling to his shoulders and revelling in her ability to touch him for once.  She slid one hand into his hair and he groaned in contentment at her gentle stroking fingers.  Her other hand slid down and settled on his chest, feeling muscle that was well defined even through his clothes.  She gasped as he picked her up and carried her back upstairs, lying her down on the bed and kicking off his boots before settling himself on top of her, one leg between her thighs.

Oh god, she could get used to this.  Suzanne moaned softly as Sasha slid his tongue over her belly, and onto her inner thighs.  She parted her legs in anticipation, desperately trying to resist the urge to grab him by the hair and pull him against her.  He kept moving closer and closer until she could feel his breath exactly where she needed him most, and then he would move back to her other leg.  She was keening in frustration and eventually lost control of her arms.  She slid her fingers into his hair and then froze, terrified of what he would do.  He looked up at her and grinned wickedly, slid the tip of his tongue to the bottom of her opening and licked all the way to the top, very lightly and very, very slowly.

Suzanne’s hands flew back to the bed and she gripped the sheets painfully, a low moan escaping her body as she instinctively arched her hips into Sasha’s tongue.  He lifted her legs, slowly parting them wide as he settled into a more comfortable position, and started to suck.  When he slid two fingers inside her and his other hand up to squeeze a nipple sharply, Suzanne was lost. 

Sasha let the girl calm down for a couple of moments, slid his tongue into her mouth and kissed gently.  She kissed back slowly, her hands shyly moving over his clothes, waiting for him to tell her if she could remove them.  “Sasha,” she whispered softly, tugging on his shirt.  “Please…”

He’d avoided taking his clothes off in front of her in the past, except in the shower where it had been unavoidable.  He had scars and markings that he didn’t particularly like looking at himself, never mind showing them off to her.  But if he was going to keep her around, he supposed she would have to see at some point.  He pulled his shirt off over his head with a grimace, then got up to slide his pants off his legs. 

Suzanne shivered as Sasha settled his body back over hers, the feel of his skin against hers making her moan in anticipation.  She slid her fingers over the muscles in his arms, slowly at first until he groaned with satisfaction.  She traced around a scar on his left arm, stroking near the wounded flesh gently and looking at him for consent.

“Bullet,” he said softly, nodding to say that it was okay for her to touch it.  “Handgun.  Nine millimetre.”  Suzanne stroked over the marred skin lightly for a moment before moving on to another.  She spent several minutes exploring all of his injured skin, until he pushed her back down onto the bed and pressed against her gently.

“What do you want?” he whispered softly, his voice rapidly descending into desire-laden hoarseness.  “This?” he asked, pushing so that the head of his penis threatened to enter her.  She moaned in response, tried to lift her hips to meet his thrust, but he pushed her back down.

“No,” he growled as he held her against the bed.  “You don’t move.  I’m in charge.  That’s what you need, isn’t it?  That’s what you want.”  He lifted her face level with his so that he could gauge her reaction to his next sentence.  “To be controlled and dominated?  And held down and fucked?  Answer me.”

She wanted to tell herself that she said it to make him happy, but ultimately it wasn’t true.  She agreed with everything he said, and she meant it.  She enjoyed the feel of him on top of her, holding her down and pushing inside her until she cried out in pain.  Hell, she had even enjoyed him calling her a whore.

Sasha pushed deep inside the girl with a single, punishing thrust, and shuddered in satisfaction as she whimpered in pain.  He pulled out of her a little and started moving in slow, steady circles and she arched against him, reaching out her hands to pull him against her.  He grabbed her wrists and held them down above her head.

“I said no,” he growled, and Suzanne whined in frustration.  He carried on with his slow, steady rhythm and she laid as still as she could, moaning softly in pleasure.  “Good girl,” he whispered against her ear.  “Lie there and take it, there’s a good girl.”

Suzanne whined into Sasha’s neck, desperately wanting to pull him deeper inside her but knowing that he would not approve.  “Oh please, Sasha!” she whimpered.  “Please, oh god, I need you…”

“What do you need?” he asked softly.

“Deeper,” Suzanne replied, her eyes rolling back in her head at the thought.  “And harder.  And faster.  Oh please!”

Sasha stopped his circling movements and leaned into the girl so that he could push inside her hard and as deep as she could take.  She cried out sharply in pain, but he didn’t stop.  “Is that what you want, baby?” he asked.  “Do you want me to fuck you until it hurts?”

“Oh yes!” she moaned, and he growled in response.  She screamed as he came inside her, the pain mixing with incredible pleasure as she came for the second time, and gratefully allowed him to rest on top of her.