The oldest profession. (closed for leondreamer)

[VelvetDarkness]

She didn't have the words for different foods and Anya was already so nauseous and in so much pain that even the thought of eating made her feel worse. She shrugged and smiled as though to suggest that anything would be fine, which was true as it was unlikely she'd get much down her and keep it there. She snuggled against him, nuzzling him in order to hide the pain in her expression as a vicious cramp gripped her stomach and bowel. Her bones felt like they were splintering and it wouldn't be long before she was shaking and sweating. Anya started silently willing him to leave the house so she could take her last little hit.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas could see that she didn’t understand what he was asking, so he decided he would just get them chicken or something. He was actually quite an accomplished cook, but he felt too drained by the day’s activity to do that now. And he didn’t really want to leave her with full access to the house. But again the sense that if he didn’t trust her, then this whole thing was just stupid, convinced him, convinced part of him anyway, that he should let things be, surely she wouldn’t try to escape, she had no idea where she was, against the voice that said be careful, he said, “Ok, I’m just going out to get us some food ok? Chicken? That be all right?” And he hugged her, gave her a kiss on the lips, said, “You just wait here for me ok? I won’t be long, I promise.” And with that he left, locking the front door of the house, in reality still far from sure that he had done a sensible thing.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

The moment he had left, Anya returned to the bathroom where her clothes lay crumpled on the floor. She searched frantically through her jacket until she found the wrap and then hurried to the kitchen, where she fired up a ring on the gas stove and opened up the little twist of foil to reveal a greasy looking brown substance. Within a couple of minutes, it was smoking and bubbling and Anya leant over the foil, gulping down the thick smoke rising from the smack. For a moment she wondered if she could eke it out and have a little more in the morning but there was so little in the wrap that it was almost pointless and she had no idea when Lucas would next leave her unsupervised.

The relief that washed through her slim frame as the fumes hit her system was incredible. There wasn't nearly enough to give her any kind of high but just the temporary alleviation of her withdrawal and the gnawing craving was an amazing feeling that made her spirits lift for the first time since she had arrived here.

Anya flipped off the gas, ran the burnt foil under the cold tap and then crumpled it into a tiny ball. She threw it into the rubbish bin. The fuzzy edges of her recent hit faded and she looked around the kitchen with fresh eyes.

Lucas was a decent man and Anya knew he would never allow her to take drugs here. It wasn't as though she wanted to be a heroin addict but she was far too scared of withdrawal to try quitting while her life was such a mess. She still didn't know how far she could trust this guy or what he was truly capable of.

What the hell was she doing here?

Anya looked down at the clothes he had bought her. It angered her suddenly, to be wearing clothes that he owned just as surely as he thought he owned her. Anya returned to the bathroom and changed into her own things. They might be second hand shit that Dimitri had bought her but at least they didn't belong to Lucas. She moved into his bedroom and looked through a few things, leaving everything as she found it but pocketing a watch and some cufflinks. Moving through the house to a workstation set up in the lounge, Anya took a digital camera and an MP3 player.

She was moving towards the door when her nerve failed her.

She had no money, nowhere to go, very little English... who was she kidding? How did she expect to walk up the street and run into a drug dealer who would accept a camera as payment from some foreign girl? She would be mugged and back to square one and the nearest kerb in five minutes flat.

Anya dumped the things more or less back where she found them and changed into Lucas's clothes again. She sat on the bathroom floor and burst into tears as the hopelessness of her situation fell in on her. There was nothing to be done yet. She would have to play along and just hope she could persuade Lucas to let her down gently off of the drugs.

The stress and exertion of the day finally overwhelmed her smacked up, emaciated body and Anya fell into a doze as she leaned against the bathroom wall. Nothing really mattered anyway, not any more... least of all what happened to her now.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas knew there was something wrong the minute he walked through the front door. First of all was the funny smell. He followed it to the kitchen, and his anger, which he had put away so easily, came close to the surface again. Surely she hadn’t. He didn’t really know what the smell of drugs was like, only going on what he had seen on the news, and in badly scripted police dramas. Marijuana he knew the smell of, some of his colleagues used it at parties, and of course around the university there was always the faint whiff of it coming from somewhere. So while he had no way of identifying what the smell was, he put two and two together, the needle marks, her haggardness, the smell, and he was furious. In his house, shit the fumes were that strong that the neighbours were sure to notice. In his mind the newspaper headline, “History professor shoots himself (up)!” He could see his whole career, his comfortable and insulated lifestyle, all vanishing. He looked at the clock, if he took her back now they would be hours overdue-there was no way he could take her back to the little pimp with his anger and his gun. He was stuck with her, and he didn’t want to be stuck with her, he wanted to be stuck on her, he wanted her to be stuck on him. And this was her gratitude.
Lucas slammed the trays of takeaway food on the table. Drugs, harlot, money, the words raced through his mind. He went to his desk, things had been moved, he ran upstairs, in his bedroom, things not quite where he had left them. Where was she? He raced to the cellar but she wasn’t there, surely she hadn’t run away. Finally he went to the bathroom, and relief mingled with his anger. No way could she be left unrestrained after this. What if she did try and get away, and the neighbours saw her. She was so out of place in this neighbourhood that the police would be called immediately. The newspaper headline, “Professor’s secret smut nest.” What had he got himself into?
“Stand up!” he said, and grabbing her arm, so pathetically thin, he pulled Anya to her feet. Clutching both her wrists, he shook her, “how could you! How could you!” and he dragged her to the cellar, threw her on the bed, “don’t move” he ordered. Lucas went over to a locked cupboard, took the feet restraints and chain, dragged it over to where Anya was slumped on the little bed. He manacled one of her feet to the chain, shook it several times to make sure it would not come off, then locked the chain-which he was now glad was so long, to a pipe in the little toilet room, shook that to check it was secure, then went back to lock the little cupboard. There on the shelf was the riding crop his embarrassment had let the sex shop assistant talk him into buying. Against his normal nature, his anger spurred something within him, he could feel his cock twitching and growing, he walked over to Anya, she deserves this he thought, to do what she had done after all he had done for her…

 

[VelvetDarkness]

She watched him return with the crop and got to her feet, pulling the chain with her, her hands raised in a placatory gesture as she pulled her English together.

"No! Lucas please! I am sorry... very sorry... I have only that little drug," she gestured with her finger and thumb for good measure, "no more... only that little... and I need so much... for the night. I am sorry... I been like this very long time... is very hard to stop everything... I'm sorry Lucas."

They were doing an odd sort of dance now as Lucas advanced on her and she tried to evade him. Anya did not know if he had noticed that she had touched his things and she was too scared to risk informing him by apologising for that too. She had been too spaced out to open a window in the kitchen, a stupid mistake.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas slashed the little whip down on the bed as he passed it, and the sound was amazing. A new feeling of power rose in him, the sound of the whip, the terror in Anya’s eyes, the frightened pleading in her voice. Of course, she was an addict, and this thought stopped him, he stood looking at her. She had no control over her urges, he knew that. She needed help, he knew that. She had thought of stealing his things, he knew that too. He continued his advance on her, she was backing herself into a corner, he nearly had her trapped.
“What about my stuff,” he said quietly, “what were you going to do with my stuff?” and he kept getting closer, unthinkingly waving the crop around in the air as he did so. And the look of helpless terror in her eyes, he felt a strange sense that she expected him to hit her.
Lucas had never in his life hit a woman, or anyone else for that matter. He had always relied on his intellect and his mastery of words to get him what he wanted with his career, and as for his private life, well, occasionally he regretted not marrying, but usually it didn’t bother him, because it was easier that way, to not have to take others into account all the time. The words that best described his life would be-everything was under control.
At least up until the last few weeks, that crazy night he had gone out and picked up a whore. That was when the control had started to slip, and now was worse-here was this strange woman, this whore, drug addict, slut-and he had brought her to his house, and she was going to disrupt everything. She had to be brought under control, that was it, his life had a certain order about it, and Anya had to fit in.
None of this was going through Lucas’ mind as he got closer to Anya. What was in his mind was a conflict, the knowledge that she deserved pity and help, the knowledge that she had tried to steal from him, had used illegal drugs in his house, had betrayed his trust and his care.
He grabbed Anya by the arm, dragged her back over to the bed, even in her fear she was no match for him, she was so thin and light and small. He threw her onto the bed, the overwhelming feeling in him now was the desire to know-what would it feel like, to slash the whip across that tiny arse. That was it-he had to know what it would feel like. He had no real awareness of the sudden hardness of his cock, he just had to know how it would feel.
His arm went up in the air, the riding crop whistled and then he heard the crack! as it slashed across her arse.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

Anya cried out and curled into a tight ball, protecting her head and chest. The stroke across her backside burned and she knew it would raise a hell of a welt. She spoke quickly, her accent strong and her words garbled as she tried desperately to placate Lucas. He towered over her, his arm rising again.

"I saw your things... I was wrong and... stupid. I saw your things and I saw drugs... I know you want me to stop drugs Lucas and... it has been long time... I very scared to stop... I want to stop... I want to but I so scared. I return your things... because I sorry... please Lucas don't do this!"

Anya cowered pitifully, her thin chest rising and falling, her eyes wet with tears and mutely begging him for mercy. She was absolutely no match for Lucas, who was so tall and strong. She had known there was some reason he wanted her here but this... this was brutal. He had hit her with that crop as though he wanted to flay her flesh from her bones. His eyes blazed with anger and contempt, utterly remorseless.

"P-p-please... Lucas." She sobbed, shaking violently from head to foot.

 

[leondreamer]

Afterwards, when he tried to think about it, Lucas was terrified. But for those minutes, there was only a never before experienced sense of power and elation. He held on to Anya with his left hand, twice as big as the hand that it gripped. His right hand held the little whip, which did a manic dance through the air-slash, across her arse again, slash across her back, slash across her belly when she squirmed to escape it, slash her arse, her back, her back again, her belly, thighs, eventually the beautiful nightie he had bought her was torn, his arm was tired and the amazing roaring in his ears had quietened. There had been a strangeness in his hearing, as if he had earphones on, one side there was yelling and crying and pleading, the other side heard what seemed like his voice, “Liar! Liar! Liar!” had he been screaming that?
He stood over her, panting. She lay curled in a ball on the bed, not trembling, more like convulsing almost. He looked at the whip in his hand, looked back at Anya, and a wave of nausea swept through him, he raced from the cellar to the kitchen, leant over the sink, dry retching but nothing would come. His whole body was shaking and the feeling that he was going to vomit would not go away, he wanted a cigarette but didn’t trust his legs to carry him to the table.
As his body calmed slowly, only then did he consciously become aware of a stickiness-he had ejaculated. He was ashamed, and he hated her for that.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

Anya lay there in total shock, unable to comprehend how her latest captor had metamorphosized into a sadistic tyrant so rapidly. The latest welts and lacerations sat on her already battered, belted and abused flesh. Her muscles were tensed so fiercely that they were cramping agonisingly as she continued to cower. Anya hardly dared to believe he had finished hitting her and was not about to rape her brutally.

The despair she felt was total. Her body shuddered and convulsed with dry, empty sobs that burned her throat and stung her eyes with tears she could no longer shed. When had her tortured soul become so filthy and defiled that every man she encountered wanted to hurt her? Rational deduction should have told her that Lucas had brought her here to inflict lusts on her that he couldn't satiate elsewhere, that he had already invested in shackles, a crop and a basement lair for exactly this reason. Anya was simply too mentally and physically destroyed to connect the dots; her body was too overwhelmed with injuries, fear, pain, drugs and the terrible paranoia that only a cocktail of heroin and adrenaline produced. This was a whole new level of her personal hell, as her latest sword of Damocles hyperventilated loudly, somewhere close by.

Her life would never again be more than this; more than pain, humiliation and gradual destruction. 'Life' was completely the wrong term for the hell she had inhabited the last year or so.

'Enough now.' Anya thought, an eerie calm descending over her wasted and abused body as it finally stilled. It was so simple and brilliant and foolproof that she was staggered it had never occurred to her with such blissful clarity before.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas splashed cold water over his face, his mind a fog of nothingness. Deep inside there was a feeling of revulsion at what he had just down, there was a feeling of helplessness at the situation he had put himself in, there was a wish to turn the clock back a month, to not watch that movie about the woman who went to bars, to go to bed early that night, and never meet a little Russian whore called Anya. His ability to reason had abandoned him.
So he sat at his table and had a beer, and that didn’t help either. He had to get out, out of this house, be amongst normal people, people who could affirm that he was still normal himself, something he was sure he no longer believed.
He dragged himself out of his chair, noticing the food he had brought home. The picture he had had of the two of them, sitting at his dining table, drinking wine, candles, all that just seemed a cruel joke now. How could she ever forgive him, and he saw that was what he wanted, he needed her to forgive him, to acknowledge that he was not a brutal thug like the others she knew. That was what was important. With a feeling of great affection for her, he made up a tray of the food, plate, knife and fork, he even put a glass of wine on it, he couldn’t eat, he had to get out of the house for a while. But he took the tray downstairs to her cellar.
Anya was lying there on the bed, a look of strange calmness on her face. Lucas had heard of women who got off, as the students called it, on being beaten. Maybe Anya was one of them, he had no idea, for the first time in years he had to admit that he had put himself in a situation he did not understand.
He put the tray on the bed, checked that the chain was still secure.
“Here, have something to eat.” Would she even understand if he apologised? “The chain will reach the toilet, if you need it, and…and here…” and he also put on the bed another one of the little nighties he had bought her. “I have to go out for a while. I won’t be long. I’ll see you soon ok?” And he stood stupidly, hoping for some kind response from her. After a moment of helplessness, he shrugged his shoulders, and left.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

Anya paced as much of the cellar as her tether reached, listening to Lucas leave the house and wondering if she could accomplish what she wanted to do before he returned. She was resolute now. The longer she waited, the more she risked the withdrawal that always hovered in the background and despair like that would demoralise her and kill her motivation. She ate a little of the food and swigged down the wine, looking around to see what she might be able to use to end her life. After about 15mins deliberating how she could kill herself, Anya settled on smashing the wine glass on the floor so that she had a sharp shard. It was thin, brittle glass and she wasn't sure it wouldn't break off in her wrist. She held the glass over her wrist for a long time, contemplating how it would feel to plunge it into her flesh. How it would feel never to feel anything again.

Perhaps she should slash her neck? That would be messy but more effective. Anya ran her hands over her neck, feeling the fragile veins there. She let the glass rest against her throat and felt its sharpness, pressed just enough to break the skin and draw a little blood, then she lost her nerve. Her pulse pounded in her ears as Anya sat numbly and stared at the blood smeared shard in her hand for what seemed like an age. She put it down.

There must be something else, something more foolproof.

She picked up the knife from the tray but it wasn't at all sharp. Could she plunge it into her stomach? Maybe if she wedged it somewhere and took a run at it, got some momentum?

Anya went and held the knife against the nearest wall, pointed at her stomach. She closed her fist around it and held it there. She moved back as far as her arm would allow and then lunged forwards, crying out as the blunt tool burst through her quivering flesh.

Automatic survival reflexes stopped her there. The knife was maybe an inch or so through her skin. It burned with a sickening pain and it took every ounce of Anya's will to prevent her from retreating. She stood there and watched the blood drip down her body, strangely disconnected from the shock that should have been overwhelming her. A terrified sweat dewed her pale, lacerated flesh, stinging where the recent beating from Lucas had broken her skin. Anya fought to control her breathing, keeping it light and shallow.

'I can do this.' She thought. 'I have nearly done it now.'

Her vision clouded as her recent memories crowded in on her. Tears dripped down onto the knifeblade, her fist around it, mingled with the blood she had shed just to get this far.

She gingerly moved forwards another inch or so. It was torture but she was too detached to react much to the pain. Her shallow breaths were leaving her light headed and the euphoria was rising within her, making the last step easier to accomplish. There was a puddle of blood at her feet now, snaking down her lower body and then creeping across the concrete floor.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas almost swallowed the first half-pint whole, trying to control the trembling of his hands, his insides, everything was trembling. By the time he got to the third drink, he had calmed somewhat, and he listened distractedly to the jabberings of some junior lecturer for a while, then excused himself and left.
The drive scared him, it seemed to him that everything was scaring him now, he knew he was over the legal limit, but fortunately it wasn’t far and the roads were quiet.
He was half expecting, as he opened the front door, to hear Anya screaming for help, but the house was silent. Resolving to apologise, to arrange for assistance for her addiction, he went down to the cellar.
And he was horrified. Blood, a puddle of it around her body. And, consistent with the selfishness of how he had lived his life, his concern was not for her, but for how the fuck was he going to deal with this, what had she fucking done to him.
“You dumb, dumb fucking cunt,” he practically roared, as he raced over to her, slumped on the floor. “You stupid, stupid fucking whore.” Nothing in the life he had lived had prepared him for this.
He knelt beside her, careful to avoid the blood. Taking her wrist, he could tell she was still alive, that was something anyway, and the pulse was quite strong. He lifted her, seeing how she had pushed herself on the knife, and carried her to the bed. What to do now? A doctor was out of the question, a hospital even more so. A thought flashed through his mind to just take her in the car, find a back street and just dump her, but no, too much chance of being seen.
He ran upstairs to a closet, took some towels and ran back down to the cellar. Stripping her of the nightie, he washed carefully at her wounds, knowing this was his fault and refusing to accept responsibility. Fortunately the cut, though deep, was not near anything vital, not near any arteries, and he soon managed to stop the seeping blood.
Lucas carried Anya upstairs, and put her in the bath, washing her all over, getting rid of the dried blood.
“You stupid, stupid bitch,” he kept muttering. “You poor, poor, sad stupid bitch.”

 

[VelvetDarkness]

She didn't regain consciousness until he put her in the bathtub. It felt strange to be immersed like that and as the warm water enveloped her and his hands moved over her body, Anya rose up through levels of consciousness to wonder if this was what being dead felt like. A splash of water hit her face and she reluctantly opened her eyes a little. Lucas was washing her, his face like thunder. It shocked her that she could see no pity or remorse there. Perhaps, like her, he was angry that she had failed and caused him so much inconvenience. Her stomach ached with every movement and every breath. Anya found that she did not care.

Lucas noticed that she had awoken and he spoke some words that Anya made no attempt to comprehend. His strong arm moved out from under her neck and he appeared to be trying to sit her upright but it caused her stomach too much pain and she cried out as he pulled her upper body forwards. Lucas released her reflexively and Anya fell backwards, slipping under the water. She allowed her knees to bend and her body to become submerged. Crying out had emptied her lungs and she felt them tug, demanding air that she no longer wanted to continue breathing.

She closed her eyes, hoping that Lucas would leave her there. He appeared to be hesitating, he had not tried to save her again yet. Maybe he would leave her in peace this time.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas watched for a minute. It would be so easy, he thought, to just let her lay there, maybe even wait until she fell asleep. Then, somehow, get her out of the house, dump her by the river, just another junkie whore who came to a bad end.
And he hated himself for even thinking it. Lucas Walker was a decent man, fully aware that he had stepped willingly into a world he did not understand, and fully aware that he could not abandon this young woman, regardless of the complications.
He reached into the bath and gently pulled Anya into a sitting position. He held her up, one hand behind her head, the other holding her arm, waiting for her to regain a bit of awareness. Then he lifted her from the pinky water of the bath and carried her to the shower, sat her on the floor, and turned on the water, doing his best to keep it at a decent temperature. As the shower washed the blood-stained bath water from her skin, he squatted at the side of the shower, still holding her arm, not caring how wet he was getting.
“I will help you,” he said softly, “I will help you through this. We will come out at the other end, all better.” And he smiled, but his stomach sank. He had absolutely no idea how to begin.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

The water cascading over her was warm but Anya was tensing now, her body curling as the withdrawal began to set in. There was agonising pain deep within her bones and despite the shower, she could feel that she was beginning to sweat profusely. Lucas was being nice now, tender and remorseful but Anya knew from experience what a short life these sentiments had with abusive men. As her body started to keen with need, she met Lucas' gaze and spoke with urgency.

"Lucas, I am going to be sick... very sick. There is drug... like heroin but not... doctors give. Maybe you can get some? Maybe I not so sick? Or maybe heroin but just... very little? Please Lucas... you can't let me do this with nothing. I'm scared... I'm so scared... please."

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas helped her from the shower and dried her, unable to resist enjoying the contact his hands made with her breasts, her lower back, her belly, her mound, perhaps, given the circumstances, taking a little too much time drying between her legs.
He took Anya by the hand, and led her back to the cellar, sat her on the bed, and took yet another brand new nightie from a drawer, a pale blue, knee length one which he intended removing from her when he got back home again. For he had made a big decision, a very dangerous one, more dangerous than his decision to abduct her.
“All right, I will go and get you some…ok…some heroin…” and his stomach quaked at this admission out loud of what he had decided to do. He lay Anya on the bed, and used the restraints he had bought to tie her wrists and ankles to its corners.
“This is so you cannot hurt yourself again…understand…I will be back soon, do not hurt yourself…” and feeling terribly afraid, he left the house, it was just after midnight now, and he had no firm idea in mind as to how he was going to do this.
Lucas walked a few streets to where some pubs were, caught a taxi, and rather unconvincingly made out to the driver that he was an annoyed married man out for a good time, was there anywhere he could recommend?
Fortunately the driver took him in the opposite direction from where Anya had worked, and they were soon in a run-down, cheap night-club district part of town.
Once on the street, Lucas searched his mind for things he had seen in movies, looking at all the people on the footpaths as he walked, looking for someone he could buy heroin from, someone who could turn out to be an undercover policeman, someone who could end his career forever. The presence of uniformed police strolling through the crowds only made his nausea worse.
Finally he had to enter a dirty looking bar, buy a whisky, and smoke another cigarette, his fingers trembling, his stomach in an uproar. Then from the corner of his eye, at the very back of the bar, he noticed a man pass a small package to a girl, money seemed to change hands, this was his opportunity, and he had to take it, before his nerves failed completely.
She was dressed as Anya had dressed on her corner, so this part at least was easy. As she walked past, Lucas said in a very shaky voice, “Excuse me, can I talk to you for a moment.” She looked at him, he had nice clothes, and his face was far too frightened for him to be a cop.
“Sure,” and she sat on a stool next to him at the bar. Lucas bought her a drink, she was disappointed that he wasn’t interested in her, but when he explained what he wanted, and how much he was willing to pay her to get it for him, she smiled brightly and agreed, telling him it was going to cost a lot, because the man in the corner only sold top quality stuff. Lucas had no way of knowing if this was true, or if he was being conned. But he had no choice but to agree.
It was a complicated transaction, and Lucas was glad he had taken so much money from the bank that morning.
It hit him then that it had only been that morning when all this had begun, and it scared him. So much had happened, so much had changed.
Finally the girl came back and, pretending intimacy, slid a large packet into the pocket of his jeans, noticing the half bulge in them she offered her services again, he smiled no, and bought them both another drink, he could still not calm the trembling in his fingers. She assured him it was enough to last a user like ‘his friend’ two weeks, and with that he left.
The taxi ride back to his neighbourhood seemed to take forever, as did the walk home. It annoyed him that no pub nearby was open now.
He went straight to the cellar, untied Anya’s wrists so she could sit up, and showed her what he had bought her.
“It has to last,” he said, “do you understand?” And he sat on the bed beside her, his natural curiosity aroused as to just how this was done.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

Anya unwrapped the packet and smiled. Someone had had the foresight to put some works in with the large sale of heroin. It wasn't uncommon but she was grateful to whoever had done it all the same. She picked up the sterile syringe and needle and popped them from their wrappers. Anya asked for a spoon and lighter, miming what she needed. Lucas was streewise enough to understand almost immediately. Anya cooked up a little of the brown substance and then drew it up into the syringe, carefully expelling airbubbles. She took Lucas's hand and placed it on her arm above the elbow, pressing until he understood and squeezed the slender limb. She had not injected into her arms for some time now so the veins there would be good again. She picked one, watched it rise and then pierced it with the needle, drawing back a little blood to ensure she was in the vein properly and then injecting herself with the warm liquid. She waited till Lucas lifted his hand and then removed the syringe, occluding the puncture wound with a finger. After a minute or two, the needlewound sealed and Anya put the cap back on the syringe. It could be boiled and re-used and there were a couple of spare needles in the pack.

She lay back on the bed and smiled at Lucas, thanking him dreamily in her native Russian. This was some good shit, not the diluted crap Dimitri junked their veins with. For the first time in a long time, Anya had taken enough heroin for a decent high and she lay there smiling as her eyes rolled up and she drifted away. All the tension had left her body and her addled synapses were firing haphazardly as she lay there and blissed out.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas was not really happy with helping Anya inject herself, but at least now she was calm and content. He felt a mixture of pity and contempt towards her. Pity that she had been reduced to this, contempt that at some point she must have allowed something to happen that had eventually resulted in what she was now, a weak, dependent little slut who could, it seemed, only be happy when her mind was numbed and useless. Lucas lived in a world dominated by the rigorous use of the mind, a world of thinking and analysing and deducing and inferring, a world where care of the mind, keeping it clear and strong, was probably more important than care of the body. He shut out the thought that it was also more important than care of others. He was caring for her wasn’t he?
So as he watched her drift into a no-where world, his lip curled a little, and he despised her in a way. In another way, adding this to the other ways he despised her, another attitude to conflict with his affection for her, with his pity for her, and with his excitement that here was a beautiful body totally at his disposal.
After watching Anya lay back, her eyes closed, Lucas stood and undressed. He sat back on the bed next to her, and lifted the nightie to her waist. For some moments he looked at what he had revealed. Her hip bones jutted prominently, the falling away to the hollows between them and her belly, the rise of her mound, smooth and hairless, the beginnings of the crease that sloped away between her thighs. He reached his hand out, placed it on Anya’s mound. The heel of his hand pressed into her mound, the soft smooth hairlessness of it, he wondered how long it took for stubble to appear, he had no idea of some of these things. He parted his fingers, two on each side of her mound, and started firmly stroking in the hollows between her mound and her thighs, pressing down in them, closing his fingers, squeezing her lips between his fingers, squeezing them together, enjoying how that looked and felt, then caressing in the hollows again, deliberately keeping his fingers from opening those lips, deliberately making a bit of mystery of what lay between them, that essence of her womanhood, as people called it sometimes. Strangely, as he was doing this, his mind wandered now to that notion, that the essence of a woman was between her thighs. It seemed odd to him, given the years of feminism and the shift in attitudes towards women, areas his course that year at the university had covered. For all those advances, was the essence of a woman still considered to be that beautiful mystery between her legs? Was it all still that primal? And is so, where lay the essence of a man? He resolved to look into that, perhaps it could be a seminar topic for senior students. Then the oddness of having these thoughts in his current odd situation struck him, and he felt confused and uncertain again. Pressing the lips of Anya’s vulva together, then relaxing his fingers and tickling and stroking at the sensitive hollows, he moved his middle finger over her slit, felt the folds yield under the pressure, stroked at the inner lips, felt her clit, and a slight warm moisture where her pee-hole was, it dawned on him he could act out any fantasy he wanted with this doped out little slut. With his free hand, he reached out and took Anya’s hand, placed it around his hardened eager cock. He reasoned that if she used condoms with all her clients, then she would be clean in there, and he could fuck her however he wanted. He tightened her hand around his cock, and pressed his middle finger into her entrance.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

Anya was so inured to sexual abuse that she barely registered Lucas touching and probing her. It didn't seem important so she simply elected not to focus on it. She was floating, high above all her pain, self loathing and fear. Nothing could touch her here and she never wanted to leave.

One of her hands felt hot and she opened one eye slightly to see that it was being pressed against a hot, hard cock. She looked up and Lucas and smiled euphorically as her fingers closed lightly on reflex. She felt him moving her hand on his cock but found it hard to care. A gentle finger pressed into her sensitized pussy.

Lucas was kneeling beside her on the bed and he seemed to tower over her prone body like a god. Perhaps he was a god? Her eyes wandered up his body to his eyes but focusing on him was dulling her high and weighing her back down towards the present and that basement. Anya closed her eyes and floated away again.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas was a bit surprised by Anya’s reaction to the heroin. Her hand on his cock was softly teasing, but apart from that he had the impression that she was barely aware that he was there. He had been expecting-no, not a manic activity-but a brightness, a happiness. And all that she seemed to be doing was sleeping. His contempt grew a few degrees, what on earth was all the fuss over something that just seemed to make you comatose. He could feel his annoyance growing. Anya’s delicate little fingers weren’t exactly doing what he had expected, in fact fully suggested to her. He decided to do something he had never done before, had always despised in other men when he had heard about it. He wanted Anya, and he decided to take her, even if she was not aware of what he was doing.
He removed the restraints from her ankles, and knelt between her legs. He had convinced himself that she was indeed disease free, he had read somewhere that emaciated addicts like Anya had difficulty getting pregnant, he ignored the little voice that tried to tell him he really had no idea about these sorts of things.
Lucas moved up the bed, took his cock in one hand, leant over Anya, supporting his weight with the other. He guided the tip of his cock to her folds, slid it a few times up and down that pretty little slit, then moved forward and entered her, lay over her supporting himself with both hands now, and pressed his cock up into her. Added now to the familiar feel of her tightness was a greater, much greater, awareness of the moistness and warmth of her around his cock. He wanted it to last, to savour the feel of her cunt around him, and he began to thrust, slowly.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

Anya opened her eyes, wild with fright as he entered her. Lucas was restrained however, filling her slowly and then thrusting with care. She savoured the sensations for a few moments and then tried to pull back and detach herself. Something stopped her. Anya looked up into his face and saw the lust and triumph in his eyes that she had witnessed on so many men. His cock hardened and throbbed inside her and Anya asked herself belatedly whether she had consented to this. He was bare inside her, hot hard and slick as he used her body.

She focused on him lazily and Anya's fingers slipped down between her legs. A good orgasm would elongate her high. Her small tits quivered and bounced as he fucked her and Anya looked down along her pale torso and groin without a great degree of interest. She could see where his body fused with hers, the health and strength in him.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas stretched his arms out, his hips thrusting into Anya as he now watched her fingers as they played slowly on her clit. It was erotic to watch that, it occurred to him that this was the first time they had fucked on a bed, the first time they had fucked in the light. His eyes took in her body, the helpless thinness of it was also arousing, her small breasts, her ribcage fully revealed, moving with each breath, her belly, so flat, bounded by the protrusions of her hip bones, her mound, its apparent height above her belly accentuated by her thinness. It was all arousing, stimulating, and his hips moved faster, pressing his cock deep into her, he watched it, watched it withdraw, bringing her inner lips out with it, plunged back in, the lips followed, out again, her thinness making all this so much the plainer to see. He arched his back and began to feel his body tightening, he pressed his cock deep into her, he wanted to wait for her responses, didn’t know if he could, to slow himself he looked around the room, caught sight of the whip with which he had punished her earlier, the sight of it, the memory, aroused him further, he realised now he had enjoyed it. He sat back on his heels, his hands under her arse, he lifted her arse from the bed, looked to her face for her response and was met with dreamy blankness. As he thrust as far into her as he could, another thought occurred to him. He had enjoyed hurting her, he wanted to again now, he dug his fingers tightly into her puny arse cheeks, the heroin was the key, she wanted it, he wanted to hurt her, fuck her and whip her, hear her come and hear her scream. His fingertips dug into the crack of her arse, spreading her cheeks as wide as possible, opening her to him, he thrust into her, fucking her hard, feeling his balls bang against her, fucking her, she wanted the heroin, he could provide, it, she needed it, he could force her to beg and plead, and do whatever he wanted to her, and no-one in the world knew where she was. His cock jumped inside her as all this went through his mind, and he could feel the pressure becoming too much, almost, and he gripped hard on the cheeks of her arse, and banged her against him, and grunted, “your cunt feels so good, you little slut. Do you like what I brought you? Do you want some more, do you cunt?” and behind the pressure of his approaching orgasm, he could feel the excitement of the whip slashing across her body.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

He seemed grotesque to Anya now, his face contorted by lust and contempt. She had seen the distaste in his eyes as she shot up and she could see it now as he fucked her. Lucas became savage, lifting her buttocks and slamming into her deep and hard enough to cause her real pain. Anya started moaning. She should have been screaming but it was beyond her right now so what fell from her lips was a low keening sound. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see his face like that, all thought of her own climax obliterated by the pain he was causing her.

His fingers dug into her buttocks and she yelped and bucked, going nowhere. She was utterly at his mercy, her legs spread painfully wide as he took her. Lucas got faster and harder, grunting and sweating obscenely as his livid, malevolent countenance stared her down. Addled by the heroin, Anya felt the force of that look on his face as though he had slapped her.

“Your cunt feels so good, you little slut. Do you like what I brought you? Do you want some more, do you cunt?” He growled.

She closed her eyes as the words flowed over her, reminding her what she truly was. Her face contorted with both the physical and emotional pain and she turned her head away but Lucas seemed to be assuming that she was enjoying this somehow because he became even more frenzied as his climax approached.

 

[leondreamer]

Lucas saw the confusion in Anya’s face, and in his urgency assumed it was a result of a blend of approaching orgasm and the effects of heroin. A bizarre chant began in his mind as his thrusts became more rapid and frequent, the tightness of her cunt, her wetness and heat, spurring him on, the feel of her actual skin and flesh on his cock, I have my own fuck slave, was what his brain was chanting, and it was odd because it was something he had never contemplated before.
He loved the little yelping noises she was making, they mingled with the little slurpings of her cunt around his cock, and recalled her cries and pleas when he had whipped her.
He lowered her arse back onto the bed, lay his full weight on her, could feel her almost writhing under him, his whole body tightening and tightening and he came, he raised his hips and thrust into her and his body shook and shuddered as his fluids burnt through his cock and out into Anya, not into some artificial sheath but into the realness of her flesh, he spasmed again and another burst of his come erupted into her and he gasped and pressed his mouth onto hers, forced her lips open as another shudder sent more of the white wetness from his cock into her cunt and his tongue flicked uncontrollably in her mouth, and he could taste the heat of her breath and he gasped again, and then was still, and he lifted his head and looked down at her face, his hips wiggled, and he felt his cock slip from inside her, but it didn’t matter, there would be countless opportunities, she was his, and he could do whatever he wished, and he wondered just what were some amazing things he could do with her that he had never imagined.
And the new darkness in his mind wanted the time when she would want heroin again, so she would plead and beg and scream when her body paid the price of his giving it to her.

 

[VelvetDarkness]

She saw the rage and hatred ebb from his expression as he came inside her. Anya was dimly aware that Lucas had fucked her bare but she had been emaciated and drugged up for so long that the chances of her getting pregnant were very slim. She could not immediately recall when she had last had a period. It was yet another incentive for grubby little fucks like Dimitri to keep her strung out on smack.

Lucas withdrew from her body and Anya wondered if he was going to leave her in piece now. When he had cum he had kissed her fiercely, forcing his tongue into her mouth and it was clear that he got off on the knowledge that she could not refuse him. She could see the power corrupting Lucas but was powerless to do anything about it.

As soon as he dismounted however, Anya found it hard to care that she had been beaten and raped by her new captor. Nothing mattered except her heroin induced nirvana and she avoided looking at Lucas as he lay down beside her and got his breath back.