amy_rashelle: (ilena - distant)
[personal profile] amy_rashelle
    She had left the window open to cool her body down.  It had stopped snowing outside, but the window ledge still had a thin layer of melted snow dripping down to the floor.  She was wrapped in a single thing sheets that covered her up to her waist as she lay on her stomach.  It was unusual for her to be given this much time alone.  The customer had left some time ago and the bouncer had simply allowed her to sleep in.
    Four men in one day was nothing, even after only six months living in the house.  It had taken her time to adjust to the lifestyle, but with being preferred came the privileges that other girls didn’t have.  Nicer clothes, better rooms, and less men.
    The room was softly decorated with lavender wallpaper and an antique dresser off to the side.  The bed was the centerpiece of room, naturally, and with 500 thread count sheets.  It was the suite of the brothel and Ileana was lucky to be one of the best
    Perhaps too lucky.
    She didn’t hear the door open or the two men step inside.  The first man was her employer, Vasily Kilyenko.  He had a thick moustache and a potbelly that just kept growing.  He was mostly harmless to the girls.  He left discipline to the enforcers around the house.  They kept the clients in line and the girls ready to receive them.  Ileana had only slapped his face once when he was drunk and he never had her retaliated against for it.
    “She is beautiful, yes?” he asked in English proudly.  “Just look at skin.  Ivory.”
    The man beside him was such a stark contrast that it was rather neon in appearance.  His face was smoothly shaved and his suit was designer brand and tailored.  He was young for this business, maybe in his forties, and well cared for.  Men tended to be slobs, like Vasily, or elite, like this visitor.
    “She is clean?” he asked, stepping beside the bed.  He smoothed his hand down over Ileana’s arm.  The sensation woke Ileana up and she jumped, pulling away quickly.  Her eyes widened as she looked at both men and swallowed hard.  She didn’t like surprises.
    Vasily stepped forward, grinning.  “Ileana, my dear, this is Lord Joseph Malcolm.”
    Ileana looked up at the stranger.  She had come to rely greatly on her instincts.  The fact that her stomach rolled uncomfortably told her all she needed to know.  Malcolm’s dark blue eyes gazed over her with cold appreciation, making her shiver.  Or perhaps it was the open window letting in the cool air.
    “I must test her first,” he insisted after staring at her for a minute.  Vasily smiled again happily and walked out of the room to give them privacy.
    Ileana watched as Malcolm began to undress.  It was unusual for men to go through this much effort.  Usually dropping their pants was enough.  He carefully set all his clothes on a nearby chair until he was completely naked and climbed into bed with her.  Ileana had to admire his impressive physique.  He was well built and conditioned with numerous tattoos that could all be hidden by his suits.  Not vor v zakone, but just as dangerous to the English realm.
    He hovered over her with the same cold expression.  “You haven’t been a whore very long,” he said matter-of-factly in Russian.  It was a perfect accent.  She could have believed he was a native.  “You still smell fresh.”  He dipped his head down and sniffed delicately at her throat and hair.  “You don’t know pain.”
    “Yes I do,” she said coldly.  “But there is nothing you can do that will make me cry in self pity.”
    “Don’t tempt me,” he threatened.  “I can do more than make you cry.  I can make you wish your life had been forfeited at birth.  I can have you being fucked on all fours like a dog.”  He leaned in and whispered.  “Or you can be a lady serving a king.  The choice is yours.”
    “You mean a slave serving a master,” she shot back.
    He smiled coldly.  “That is the life you have chosen.  If you are good I will make sure it is a long and pleasant one.”  His tone didn’t reach his eyes.  Despite herself, Ileana swallowed hard.  She didn’t like being put into these situations.  Usually role-playing was a part of the entertainment offered, but this was real. This was frighteningly real.
    Malcolm lowered his head and began to kiss her on the lips.

    Vasily was sitting next to the door when Malcolm walked out, fully dressed.  He put his overcoat on and nodded to him.  “I will take her.”
    Grinning, Vasily quickly stood up.  “Excellent!  Did she behave?  Was she all right?”
    Malcolm rubbed a hand over his jaw where she had slugged him at one point.  “She was perfect,” he said softly.  “I trust she does not have family?”
    “Her mother abandoned her when she was five and her grandparents died four years ago,” he assured him.  “She has no one who may come looking for her.”
    With another pleased nod, Malcolm stuck his hand into his jacket and pulled out a thick stack of American one hundreds totaling well over twelve thousand dollars.  “This should be enough,” he said and began walking down to the foyer.  “Have her downstairs in five minutes.” 
    Vasily quickly counted the money and licked his lips.  It was more money than any girl brought in a week.  This selling business was proving to be quite profitable.  He put the money away and walked into the room. 
    The bed was empty and for a moment he feared that Ileana had jumped out the window.  A slight groan turned his attention to the corner.  She was sitting naked with her legs drawn up tightly into her chest and her face resting against her knees.  He could see deep bruises forming down her arms and sides.  There was only the slightest bit of compassion as he pulled a purple dress out of the closet and set it on the ground next to her.
    “Get dressed,” he ordered.  “You’re going to London.”
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