Czar Gregovivk Part 4

" The girl, Sieta says hurriedly, giving me an anxious look. — Let me go after her. I can talk to her... I shake my head and walk past her, not giving in to her stubbornness. — Make her agree to play with you...
" You know better than anyone that I hate being repetitive. I won’t drag Mabel before the council. Don’t force me to be clearer about my decision. — I stop walking when I notice she hasn’t followed me. — Sieta, come!
" What perfume is that?
I turn around to see her standing still, her nose flaring as she inhales the air deeply. Her head whips toward me, and she looks at me in shock.
" That scent coming from you is plum and strawberry? — She takes a step forward and resumes sniffing the air, watching me closely. — Now that I notice, you smell different...
" I don’t smell anything. — I shrug and keep my face serious, even while lying to her.
Mabel’s scent still clings to me. The sweat from her dark skin, the sweet and citrusy scent of her shampoo etched into my clothes after I released her from the bindings I made around her body and picked her up in my arms. If I were to smell my fingers now, I’d bet they still carry the aroma of Mabel’s body.
" What’s in here are odors; it must be coming from the salon. — I turn and walk away from her. — Or maybe Acvo changed his cologne; I passed him when I came in. — I laugh, teasing Sieta, not allowing her to see my cynical smile.
" You liar, that woman’s perfume is coming from you! — Sieta says angrily, racing after me. — I’m almost having a fit trying to find a way to save our necks, and you left me here because you were screwing...
" Sieta, stop! — I turn to her and give a warning not to take the conversation in that direction.
She blinks rapidly, looks at the floor, then back behind us where we came from, tapping her foot. And when her face turns back to me, I see her big eyes widen even more.
" It’s the scent of Miss Shot! — Her red lipstick purses together as she nods vigorously. — That sweet plum and strawberry perfume lingered in your office the day she came by. And now that same scent is practically oozing from your pores. — She squeezes her lips together more. — Oh, you bastard, you were with her until now; that’s why you’re late!
I keep walking without responding, opening the door at the end of the hallway that leads to my office.
" Christ, we have a chance! — Sieta laughs, chattering incessantly. — Tell me you two had sex... — I shrug off my jacket and throw it onto the couch, not looking at Sieta, and walk toward my desk. " Oh, come on, it’s obvious; look at that scratch on your neck!
I drop my weight into the chair as I sit down, ignoring Sieta and opening my laptop.
" You’re going to take her, aren’t you? That’s why you’re not nervous... — Sieta doesn’t realize my mood is quickly fading, second by second, as she continues talking. She pulls the chair across the table and sits down, watching me excitedly. — Are you already playing, or are you taking it slow? It doesn’t matter now; we just need to prepare her for the council. They’ll be cruel; they’ll tear her apart, making her recount every second in sordid detail...
" It’s out of the question!
" What do you mean? We talked about this... — She spreads her hands on the table and looks at me, smiling. — Greg, if she speaks, you’re saved...
" It’s out of the question. — My voice rises, silencing her, and I slam a fist of rage onto the table as I repeat the words. — I’ll deal with Morgana, and I’ll make that bitch pay for trying to screw me over, but that will be done without dragging Mabel before the council to be humiliated in front of those pigs, having to recount in sordid detail everything that happened in those profane privileges.
When I finish speaking, my chest is puffed out, and my breath is heavy. I see Sieta’s eyes widen, her body frozen in the chair.
" You’re saying you’ll spare the girl and leave the noose around your neck to avoid humiliating her...
" Yes, Sieta, that’s what I’m saying! — I relax my back in the chair and slowly tap my hand on the table. — Forget about Miss Shot; let’s look for a fourth house that could be loyal to the Gregovivk.
My cousin stands up, looking confused at the office. I follow her steps. She slowly walks toward the bar and pours herself a shot of vodka, downing it in one gulp. She inhales deeply and slams the glass on the table, refilling it. She pulls another empty glass and pours the liquor into it. Her shoulders shake as she stretches them out, slowly turning to face me with a serious expression. Her calm footsteps return to the office table, and she sits down in the chair. My eyes fixate on the glass as she pushes it slowly toward me with the tip of her finger.
She sips her drink slowly and leans back in the chair, crossing her legs. The glass lowers from her lips, and the tip of her finger traces its outline lazily.
" And even without using her to save you, you’ll keep playing... — Sieta raises her eyes to me, serious and watchful. — Why?
I drink my drink in silence and stay quiet, watching my laptop.
" Mabel is a danger to herself. — I look at Sieta. — She has no control over how much pain or pleasure her body can endure; she had a rather turbulent experience of what it means to have a sadomasochistic relationship a few years back.
" Another master?
" No! — I crush my lips in anger, knowing that the pig who touched her was everything but a master. — A worm who had no idea what he could trigger in Mabel by making her endure so much pain.
" What do you mean? — Sieta lowers the glass and sets it on the table. — What aren’t you telling me, Greg?
" There’s something different about her; I don’t know, maybe it’s just in my head... — I close my eyes and recall how she sat on the floor between my legs. — Do you remember when the old man told stories about perfect submissives... He called them alpha submissives.
" Those are nursery fables from the old guard. — She shakes her head, looking apprehensive. — Your father told that just to explain what would make a master loyal to a single submissive. No one ever confirmed the existence of women like that, theoretically, in Sodoma.
" But what if those stories were true? — I look at her more intently. — My mother was one; my father always claimed that.
" Oh, but that was due to the upbringing our grandparents gave her! My mother always said how grandma taught them to be quiet and obedient; it was a different thought, different ideas... — Sieta says, thoughtful, waving her hand in the air. — Aunt Melissa suffered the most at grandma’s hands; she was beaten like a condemned woman every day, always quiet until she became so submissive that she caught Huslan's attention and managed to escape that arranged marriage. Mom says that if Uncle Huslan hadn’t shown up in Aunt Melissa’s life, she probably would’ve died from all the beatings she took from our grandparents or from the husband they arranged for her.
" Exactly, that’s what I’m thinking... Submissives like that had to be educated, raised for this life. — I remember Mabel’s words about her restricted upbringing in her home. — Mabel was being indoctrinated; she just didn’t realize what her end would be. Miss Shot has a strong spirit; she sharpens me with her stubbornness... But when she is dominated, she shows her true essence, what she was really taught to be.
" Are you telling me there’s someone out there educating women to be alpha submissives?