Sex, Torture, And The Derevko Girls
1. "Eat Me"
"What did you tell Arvin Sloane when he told you I was out and about?" Anna asked, coolly, professionally smirking at my discomfort at the situation. I had agreed to a meeting; I hadn't expected to agree to quite as much as I had.
"I told him," I said, rattling my handcuff against the metal frame of the bed, "I thought you were dead."
Anna laughed, sliding the ice cube down my thigh to watch me flinch and squirm and shake just a little more open. "Oh, Sydney," she said. "You told a bald-faced lie? You?"
"I'm my mother's daughter," I said, shutting my eyes. "There had to be a little of me that's a liar, right?"
She leaned over and blew on the trail of condensation. I tried not to scream, and managed only to bite my lip and make kitten sounds.
"You tell lies all the time," Anna corrected me, smooth as silk when she pulled out the riding crop. "That you're nothing more than a good agent of the United States, doing your duty. That you are a virtuous human being. That you don't like it when I do this..."
One blow, cracked against the top of my thighs. I cried out, twisted in the cuffs.
"I don't like it," I said. Anna smirked, pressed one finger into a hard nipple and looked at me without saying a word. "It's an autonomic response."
She slid a finger between my lips, where I was wet and aching and then licked it, eyes half-closed with pleasure.
"Also an autonomic response?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to sneer. Bravado in tight situations was half the battle. "It means eat me."
Anna's mouth was suddenly hovering against my ear. "I knew that."
2. "Branded"
It's getting hot and heavy when I see the mark on her, scarred into skin in a way that I recognize and makes me clench my gut and pause in the grope, lick, and bite that has been going down.
"Faith?" asks Nadia in her sexy voice, big eyes full of panic. "What's wrong?"
"Who did this to you?" I ask, tracing the mark with my fingertip, feeling Nadia freeze up and go somewhere far away. Definitely not her idea of a good time.
"You wouldn't understand," she says, and I think now is maybe not the time to explain the Five Groups of Torture to Nadia. Probably never is the time to explain them.
"You'd be surprised, babe," I say, continuing to finger the scarred, raised skin. "Does it bother you to have it touched like this?"
Nadia swallows. "I'm not sure," she says.
"How about like this?" I ask, using the very tip of my tongue to trace it. She whimpers, shuddering into the contact. "You're so fucking pretty, Nadia."
"When she gave it to me, the woman who did it," and the tremble in her voice has me getting wetter and wetter, "She told me it was so my sister would see where she'd been."
Her sister? And where has her sister been? I shudder, but my nipples are taut against Nadia's bare back, and I got my hand on her thigh and it's moving up.
"Make it go away," Nadia pleads, arching her back and smelling so good, like vanilla and sandalwood and leather and pussy. "Make it feel good."
I'm a bad, bad girl. Instead of telling her it won't go away like this, I grab and squeeze a breast, loving the way she's moving with me. "I'll make it all better, babe," I lie the promise into her ear, nipping at the earlobe.
"No, you won't," Nadia says. "But I won't feel it when you're fucking me."
3. "Honor Among Thieves"
When he wakes up to find me tightening the collar, Jack doesn't particularly flinch. He seems resigned to his fate, though his eyes betray the slightest flicker of interest at his position.
"You didn't think I'd react well to you killing me, did you?" I ask.
"I thought you'd be dead, but given that it's you, I suppose that was too much to ask for," Jack says dryly.
I favor him with a smile. "Lesser men than you have tried," I remind him. "And found themselves in much less comfortable positions."
"I fail to see how being naked except for a tight leather collar with the leash in your hand...and with candles just out of my reach...qualifies as comfortable," Jack snarks at me.
"I could be Arvin," I say.
"Your point is made."
My point is hardly made, and to prove that, I pull on the leash until Jack is red-faced and wheezing for breath, and then I push him back against the mattress before straddling his chest.
"What I find most discomforting is your lack of faith in my honor," I say, reaching for one of the candles.
"Honor?" he gasps.
"Honor," I answer. "I am entirely faithful to my work, Jack. And you know that I would never bring harm to either of my daughters without a reason."
"And you know that I will not let you harm Sydney, no matter how good your 'reason' seems to be," Jack said. "Our daughter, Irina. Not yours to dispose of in pursuit of Rambaldi."
"And not yours to give to the imperialist overlords of your country or Sloane's hidden pursuit of Rambaldi, either," I reply. "And secondly, you're impugning my honor again, Jack."
"How's that?" he asks.
"You think this is torture," I say, tilting the candle suggestively.
"What else would it be, Irina?" Jack asks, awaiting the fall of wax.
"Foreplay?"