Mabel Shot Part 4

"Well, now that you've seen the painting, liked it, and it has been properly delivered, I can go!" I quickly stand up, grabbing my bag. "It was a pleasure, sir. Thank you for your hospitality."
"If you take a step out of this room, Miss Shot, I will take that as an invitation to discipline you by spanking your ass!"
My eyes widen, and my heart races. I grip the strap of my bag tightly and look at the large man who just threatened me, still studying the painting carefully. He turns his face toward me and shifts his eyes to the couch, giving me a silent order to sit back down with my ass intact. I swallow hard, forcing the saliva down my throat, as I slowly sit back down, once again staring at my fingers. Several long, torturous seconds pass before I hear him walking around the room. I lift my head and see him moving toward the armchair near the couch, dropping his weight into it, settling in comfortably. There's something different about him, a darker look that he hadn’t given me before, not even in that room in Sodoma, nor earlier at the gallery. His face is ruthless, his mouth set in a hard line.
"I'll be direct and explain a few points that I take seriously and don't tolerate, Mabel." He rests his arms on the sides of the armchair, tapping his fingers slowly on the edge. "Lying to me makes my hand itch to make your ass so sore you won't forget me anytime soon, so I suggest you don’t lie."
I press my legs together, my knees touching, feeling the dangerous effect his raspy voice has on me as he speaks those words, causing wicked tremors through my body. My fingers clutch the fabric of my dress tighter, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
"In our unfinished conversation last Friday night, I asked you a question that went unanswered." He keeps his voice low but intimidating, locking me in his gaze. "Who was he, and what exactly did he do?"
"No one important," I answer, letting go of my bag and placing my hand flat on the couch.
"Don't test me, little bird!"
"I'm not," I murmur, shaking my head. "I'm not lying, sir. I just don't want to talk about it."
"Why?" His posture remains dominantly neutral, staring at me. "Was it an old relationship, a friend..." He shakes his head, answering his own question. "No, it was a boyfriend."
I close my eyes and nod, feeling my body sink further into the couch.
"Did you consent?" Czar's tone shifts, becoming more dangerous as his voice softens, which is precisely when it holds the most power to disarm me.
"No..." I reply sorrowfully, hugging my body and opening my eyes to meet his.
His mouth is tight, his lips pressed together. His fingers dig into the armrest, showing his anger, though his face remains impassive.
"Did he beat you?" His eyes drop to my feet, tapping anxiously on the floor, before looking back at me.
I nod, breathing rapidly. I can feel the sweat on my skin increasing; I don't want to talk about this. Why does he need to ask these things?!
"He abused you..."
"A lot happened that weekend, sir," I whisper, turning my face toward the door and fixing my gaze on it, feeling like I’m one step away from getting up and leaving, even though he threatened me.
"Weekend?" The Russian exhales deeply and speaks in a severe tone. "Look at me, Miss Shot!"
I return my gaze to him and uncross my arms, placing my hands on my knees as if that might help control the nervous shaking in my legs.
"Yes, it was a weekend." I bite my lip, not wanting to remember it. "It started on a Friday night, and the beatings, the whippings, the rapes, and the shocks didn’t stop until Monday morning."
My body curls in on itself as I lean forward, hugging my waist.
"I tried to forget, to bury everything that happened deep within my soul, silencing the screams, the tears, and the sobs that tormented me every second, invading my mind..." The words leave my mouth in a melancholic tone. "I felt so much hatred. Christ! How I hated myself!"
"Why did you hate yourself, little bird?" His treacherous voice is too deeply embedded in my mind for me to build a barrier to protect myself from it. "Mabel!"
I lift my face to him, tilting my head to my shoulder, the most miserable and sorrowful smile spreading across my lips as my eyes burn from the damned tears threatening to fall.
"Because my body responded to it." I feel twice as bad having to admit this out loud. "I couldn’t control my body's reactions, and with every new way he found to hurt me, torturing me while he masturbated me, humiliating me, my body became more aroused. I couldn’t control myself..."
I die between every sob that escapes my mouth, along with the tears, gripping my sides so tightly I feel my nails dig into my flesh through the fabric of my dress.
"He hurt me in the worst way, making me see how filthy and disgusting my body was. And I couldn’t hide it, I couldn’t forget it, not when I remember every day what I am when I look in the mirror." My nails scrape against the fabric as I press them into my stomach, knowing the damn scar is there, on my skin. "Christ, I hate that bastard, I hate him with every fiber of my being, but the hatred I feel for myself is twice as strong! What I’ve become, the point I reached when I lost control..."
Czar remains completely unreadable, showing no expression, not allowing me to see his emotions, while I’m standing completely naked before him, revealing the dirtiest, most impure parts of myself.
"I need help..."
"What exactly do you want from me, little bird?" he asks, serious, keeping his dark brown eyes fixed on mine.
"I want to try to be a little more normal again, as much as possible, find a way to live with all this depravity inside of me and have a normal relationship with someone else," I say, ashamed, leaning back into the couch.
"You could’ve asked for help from someone else. Why come to me?" He pushes me further to the edge, his dark brown eyes piercing me.
"You..." I trail off, uncrossing my arms and bringing a hand to my face, wiping away my tears. I have no idea how to tell him in a way that’s any less humiliating than it already is, that after Nate, he was the second man to truly touch me. "That night you touched me, I felt alive... I thought you could help me, that’s why I sought you out."
I search for the right words to say, but the way he looks at me so intensely doesn’t help me find them.