Chapter one

 

Siri’s life wasn’t actually a life as much as it was an Easter egg, carefully painted layers of chocolate to cover all the things that should have been there and weren’t. She’d dreamed of leaving since she was fourteen and after ten years knew exactly where she’d go - Eastern Europe. To be sure, it wasn’t the safest of destinations for a woman travelling alone, but an ideal choice for anyone hoping to disappear. At Helsinki West Terminal she boarded the M/S Baltic Princess with the firm intention of never to return. What ever she would decide to do, Siri was confident that no one could trace her from a country like Belarus or Slovakia and she would be in peace.

 

***

 

As it was 2000s Siri had expected to get by relatively well with English, but she didn’t. Neither did her moderate skills in Russian help her as much as she had hoped for. In addition the rather romantic expectations she’d had of her chosen refuge to large extent  proved to be misconceptions. Eastern Europe was loud, pushy and restless and the gipsy life proved more taxing than she’d anticipated. She took in the flood of people, colours and sounds without resorting to her medicine, however, after the hustle and bustle of Warsaw she was in desperate need for silence.

 

She changed busses at the Ukrainian border and in a few hours felt the tightening in her chest ease as she gazed out the window at the fields, moors and lakes of Shatskyi national park. After a careful study of her map Siri got off the bus seemingly in the middle of nowhere. From where she stood stretched out an eight kilometre hike to one of the smaller lakes of the area, hopefully a paradise of peace and quiet.

 

She skirted fields and crossed through thickets of deciduous trees among open fields of short grass. The ground was even and the day wasn’t particularly hot but the marching tired her out quickly. She reached the lake hours later than she’d estimated, sweaty and utterly spent. Feeling faint she struggled to put up her tent and fell asleep as soon as she had her sleeping bag and mattress unrolled.

 

She slept fitfully, shivering from cold, drifting from one terrifying nightmare to another. Every time she stirred she gulped down large amounts of water, and eventually she had to pee. Too spooked to unzip the door to the unknown she urinated into the bowl of her Trangia, too befuddled from the fever to feel the slightest bit silly.

 

When dawn chased the darkness away her fear let go and she slept for a few straight hours. Besides that the morning brought little in the way of relief. By ten o’clock the temperature inside the tent had climbed to uncomfortable levels but Siri was too sick to move her bed outside. She had only one litre of water left which meant she would have to move before it ran out completely. In one of the Shatskyi lakes the water was said to be safe to drink, but it wasn’t her lake.

 

It was near eight o’clock when Siri forced herself up on wobbly legs and left her camp. She staggered towards the road, but the whole world was gibberish. She clung to her map and compass but couldn’t bring her sluggish brain to remember how to use them.

 

Dusk fell and her unease returned. Startled by every sound and shape she hurried on, consumed by her fear. Tears streamed from her eyes and she talked to herself in whispers, hanging on to the last semblance of self control. She had long finished the last of her water when in the looming darkness her eyes suddenly focused on a tiny distant light.

 

Hope went a long way. She let her backpack thump on the ground and ignored her thirst, aches and fever. She kept on for another two hours until the light went out and the house that had emanated it was consumed by darkness. In an instant the hope that had sustained her died and took with it all her strength. She took a few hesitating steps but her knees bent and she collapsed. Just before fading into nothingness, she saw the first promises of a new sunrise in the horizon.

 

Chapter two

 

Choma carried the girl in the house and laid her carefully on the sofa. He might have walked right past her had his ears not picked up the sharp wheeze of her breathing. The girl looked like death and his mind was in shambles. He knew the first priority was to get off her wet clothes but it didn’t feel right to strip the poor girl naked. He needed help. Larisa would know what to do but he didn’t like leaving her alone in the state she was in. Yet, too worried not to, he covered her in blankets and hurried to his battered old truck.

 

***

 

“What is she doing in those wet clothes?” Larisa exclaimed walking in the room. “Choma Danylovych, what on earth were you thinking?” It was the first time in years Choma heard Larisa swear. “You old fool, it’s the wrong bloody time to be a prude.” Choma hung his head. Larisa was right and he was ashamed of his earlier sheepishness. “Off with you then. Put water to boil and bring her something dry to sleep in,” she said hurrying to remove her clothes.

 

Roma returned with a long cotton shirt. “You’ll have to help me. I can’t dress her on my own. Don’t be ridiculous, Choma, God knows it’s not the first time you see a naked woman.” This isn’t a woman, she’s a girl, he thought dismally but didn’t contradict.

 

“Prop her up,” ordered Larisa and Choma slid his hands to the small of her back and lifted. As her body rose into a sitting position, the blanket slid down and Choma saw her beautiful round breasts with tiny half erected nipples. His thoughts instantly wandered to what they would feel like in his hands, how would it feel to press his lips to that soft flesh.

 

As soon as it had appeared the sight was gone; Larisa had gotten the girl’s hands into the sleeves and buttoned the shirt up commanding him to carry their patient upstairs. Her soft body felt soft through the thin fabric and, shivering, Choma took her into the small bedroom and lay her on the mattress. There was something disturbingly erotic in her unconscious form on the bed before him, but Larisa’s voice woke him to reality. “Bring some juice and all hot water bottles you have. And a decent book if you don’t mind, I’ll get under the covers to warm her up.”

 

“Will she be ok?” asked Choma.

 

“I honestly don’t know,” answered Larisa shaking her head.

 

Choma tried to go about his work but was plagued by images of the girl’s naked breasts and the two women huddling tightly against each other under the blankets. He couldn’t concentrate and spent the day walking around aimlessly, his thoughts constantly on the room upstairs and the sick girl within. In the evening Larisa took her leave imploring him to vigilance, “She has a high fever, keep a close eye on her. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how she’s doing.”

 

Choma sat with her the whole night wiping her face with a wet cloth. Larisa had remade her dishevelled braid, and it ran on the duvet leading Choma’s eyes once more onto her chest. He tucked the coil of hair in with the girl to rid himself of the image of her breasts. Choma expected to unravel her mystery but though she kept murmuring and babbling it was impossible to make out what she was saying. At times she woke up from a nightmare, eyes wide in terror, but when he tried to talk to her she didn’t respond and fell back asleep.

 

Choma took pity on her. She was restless, tossed and turned, kicking her duvet aside. Dutifully he tucked her back in, each time trying to ignore her pale legs and thoughts of placing his hand on her thigh and sliding it up along her soft skin all the way beneath the hem of her shirt. His solitary life had mellowed his passions, but to have someone enticing and vulnerable there for his taking rekindled the needs he’d long subdued. No, he said to himself countless times during the night, don’t even think about it.

 

Come morning he woke up from his chair, every muscle stiff. The girl looked angelic in the soft orange light. Choma reached for her braid and slid it in his hand; his crotch stirred and so did his quilt. It was wrong of him to desire her. Too young, he chided himself and snorted, too unconscious. Still, he neglected his work and hovered over his little patient, stroking her brow and soothing her when she got restless.

 

Sometimes her distress had a wanton shade and she grasped his petting arm, writhing against it, trying to push it down towards her crotch. When she got like that, it took all his self discipline to pull his hand away and leave the room. It would have been so easy to convince himself then that she was willing, and use her inert body to sate himself.

 

He said nothing of those moments to Larisa when she arrived to check on her as promised. However the remedies of Larisa Ivasivna didn’t extend much beyond common sense and there was nothing more she could do for the girl. They would have to let the fever run its course.

 

Chapter three

 

The first thing that registered was the smell of an old house. Knowing she wasn’t at home, she sat up slowly to find herself groggy in a strange dark room. She had shattered recollections of someone holding a cup to her lips, of fleeting voices and a rough hand stroking her forehead. She looked around her and listened - nothing. She wasn’t in a town or a city, for there was no light coming from the windows or any sounds of traffic. Fear swelled in her chest, fear of dark and of strangers. They’ve taken care of me this far, she reminded herself but the fear ran deeper than that.

 

Her hands shot up to her chest to fumble the long white shirt that covered her down to her thighs - it wasn’t hers. Feeling small and very much alone she saw in her mind a vague human shape stripping her, cruelly stealing from her the privacy to her own body. Her hands sought out her braid to hold on to something familiar, but she could tell at once it wasn’t of her own making.

 

Sitting still was impossible. She had to know where she was. She eased herself off the bed and on her shaky legs. Cursing every creek of the floor she shuffled to lean on the wall and opened the door. Behind it was a landing with stairs going down and two other doors. She detected a weak source of light from downstairs and proceeded to the first step. It took a moment to think up a best way to climb down and finally she sat down on the first step and one step at a time slid herself down.

 

Roaming in a strange house made her feel guilty but she didn’t want to announce herself just yet. She wanted to know who her hosts were first. On the last step she reached for the railing and pulled herself up. The hallway seemed to spin around her and she leaned against the wall, willing the world to stay still while she made her way towards the light.

 

She peeked into a cosy living room with an old fireplace and shabby furniture, a man sat in a chair facing the fire. His hair was touched by grey and his skin darkened by a lifetime spent outdoors. With her legs inevitably tiring, Siri studied Choma’s profile holding her breath. It’s his shirt. He’s touched me. Her nipples hardened and she realized she had no underwear. Has he used me? Her pussy tingled but there was no pain. Would I feel it if he has--, while I slept? Siri saved herself from the stain of the word. Christ, there may be semen welling in me right now. What will he do to me? Oh, I have to get out of here!

 

She meant to get her things and run but Choma had sensed her presence and looked up from his book. Surprised to find her up he hurried to her. Siri felt surreal for the man’s speech sounded like Russian but she couldn’t understand any of it. She closed her eyes in brink of tears and cowered against the wall pleading, “No, please, no,” when he approached. Choma, ignoring her silly fear, put a hand under her arm and led her a few clumsy steps, sitting her down on the worn sofa.

 

Disoriented and scared, Siri recoiled from him and backed in to the corner of the couch. Choma stepped back from the trembling girl. Waiting for his little ward to wake up he’d done what he could to make himself presentable and thus was a far neater looking man than the unkempt near hermit that found her. He’d shaven, trimmed his hair and found some clothes that hadn’t seen too many runs in the workshop. Still, he was a rugged, serious looking man and the long years alone hadn’t improved his social skills. He tried his best to look unthreatening but doubted his success.

 

He crouched to be on her level. “Listen, you’re safe here. I’m Choma, this is my house. I found you when you were sick.” She snatched an old quilt and covered herself. Choma was disappointed, he had expected a more cheerful moment than this. With his hands held up he rose and moving slowly past the girl sat down on the armrest of a chair next to the sofa. He kept his tone calm trying his best to reassure her but the confusion following her awakening was persistent and hard to penetrate. She starred at him with eyes bright with fever, her hands clutched the quilt and she cowered if he so much as shifted slightly.

 

They sat there a long while, her shock lessening and her breathing slowing down. As the minutes passed, and the man seemingly didn’t intend to harm her, Siri’s tense muscles loosened up. She closed her eyes and finally her brain picked words she understood. He said ‘my name is’.  “Choma,” she murmured sleepily and, as the drowsiness of fever flooded her head, added “I’m… Ya Siri.”

 

She stirred to his hand stroking her hair. Choma was standing right next to her, smiling a warm smile that deepened the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. That particular touch had since childhood been a promise of love, shelter and caring and Siri gave in to it. If Choma had wanted to hurt her he could have done so. With her eyes half closed she leaned her head against her rescuer in a silent plea for solace. When he slipped his hands under her arms and hauled her up she didn’t question it.

 

Choma led the woozy girl back to bed. Siri was unsteady on her feet but Choma kept his strong arm around her and didn’t let her fall. He tucked her in and she muttered, “Hyvää yötä,” her eyes already closed. “Na dobranič,” he replied automatically and sat down on the little chair in which he’d lately spent so many hours.

 

Siri fell asleep quickly, too tired to be aware of strangers or danger. Choma watched her. His flesh throbbed where she had laid her head. That intimation made him feel even more protective of her than before. Yet at the same time the image of her cowering form, bare legs and frightened eyes haunted him. Her small hands had squeezed so hard on the quilt which she had trusted to hide her vulnerability.

 

He had wanted to give her a reason to fear, to be the man she had thought him to be. Those legs had led not just his eyes but also his imagination to the secrets hidden in the shadows under the shirt. Choma imagined her face if he had taken the blanket from her and cupped her little pussy in his hand. His penis swelled and bent uncomfortably in his trousers. He grunted softly and shifted to let it bounce straight. He looked at the sleeping form of the girl, Siri, and gathered his strength of will to exit the room.

 

***

 

She was floating in shallow water. Their faces hovered over her. She tried to explain but they wouldn’t listen. They wanted her to swim where the water was so dark she’d be drawn in to the abyss. A weak current tugged at her feet. “I don’t want to,” she whispered at the faces, but the current got stronger and pulled at her body. “I won’t! You can’t make me!” she yelled, petrified of the unknown. The faces closed in to devour her and she screamed. 

 

Her dream was penetrated by whispers and shushing. A warm and real hand stroked her clammy forehead. She noted a faint rustle of clothes and sensed the man standing right beside her. Choma’s hand cupped her cheek and he leaned closer. In a heartbeat all traces of sleep were gone. He brought his nose to her neck and breathed in her scent. Oh, god. She nearly twitched when the nausea hit her. What happened while I slept, she thought with a choking feeling in her throat. Frozen still she waited for Choma to crush her beneath his body and force himself inside her. Her terrified mind could feel her legs already spread and a man between them. Not this. Please.

 

She wanted to plea but as long as he thought she was asleep there was a chance it would all go away. Her chest was tight as she desperately held back a sob; she could almost feel his hands roaming her defenceless body and his fingers parting her nether lips for his cock. If he raped her, she had no choice but to lie down and let him. He was too strong to fight and besides, where would she run without clothes. She didn’t even know where she was. Before a tear escaped from beneath her closed eyelids he stepped away from the bed and left the room. She heard a very heavy sigh as he closed the door.

 

Chapter four

 

In the morning Siri felt a little better and sat on the bed plucking up courage to leave the room. Her clothes waited on a chair, washed clean, panties and all. She remembered some flashes of last night and was uneasy to face the man again. She desperately wanted to wash. The not knowing of what he had or hadn’t done to her while she was out ate at her. Her cunt itched and wouldn’t let her mind rest. The doubt of having been soiled was unbearable. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stop thinking about sex! She wondered if her mind was racing so because she had gone off her medicine or was it her instincts crying out to warn her.

 

She found him in the kitchen preparing what turned out to be a rather awkward breakfast. Choma, although trying hard to hide it, resented that Siri was still obviously afraid of him. He wanted to be understanding but her suspicion made him feel stupid for looking after her. Her memory, on the other hand, was coming back and she knew she was in Ukraine, but not getting any further answers was infuriating. She was grasping at straws trying every language she knew and a few she didn’t. She kept coming back to English and Russian but the man didn’t show any signs of recognition. Siri buried her face in her hands, hot tears burning in her eyes, and Choma took pity on the disheartened girl. “Larisa will be glad to see you up. Larisa is my friend.” Siri looked up. “She helped you too.” He felt stupid talking to her as if she was a lackwit, “Larisa will come visit.”

 

The woman Choma later led to the living room was in her fifties and emitted purposefulness that bordered on intimidating. Not bothering to slow down her speech, she greeted Siri kindly introducing herself as Larisa Ivasivna. She shooed Choma out of the room and prompted Siri to take off her shirt and bra. She was embarrassed but Larisa laughed it away and assured her in a no-nonsense voice. Gingerly Siri undressed and the older woman looked her over front and back. Feeling fragile and exposed with her breasts bare, Siri’s thoughts wandered to Choma and his visit during the night.

 

Siri couldn’t understand what Larisa was saying and her imagination conjured up one scary explanation after another. She was stiff with fear, sure that Larisa was a brothel keeper here to buy her. The thought of strange men looking at her nakedness burned and froze her simultaneously and her nipples hardened. She stared at the ceiling willing what ever was to come to be over soon.

 

Her breath caught in her throat when Larisa pressed an ear between Siri’s plump breasts. Siri held her breath, humiliated to be naked in front of a stranger and shocked to be touched. Larisa said something and exaggerated her breathing and Siri resumed to take in air. The woman straightened her back and turned Siri around. Her ear pressed against Siri’s back and she dutifully breathed for her. Larisa started chattering and though Siri didn’t understand the words she recognized the tone from a hundred check ups, after which followed the doctors statement of everything being ok.

 

Siri put her shirt back on in a hurry. Seeing that her patient was decent Larisa called Choma back in and explained him that Siri’s lungs were fine. Choma’s smile was relieved. He looked at Siri but she cast her eyes down, still uncomfortable to have been examined so brusquely.

 

Choma invited Larisa to stay but she declined, charging Choma with the care of Siri. He was glancing frequently at her, her meek eyes meeting with his. Larisa ended her speech in a cheeky joke embarrassing the both of them, though Siri had no grasp of the contents of it. Siri could tell it wasn’t the first time Larisa met her and she wondered which of them had stripped her and put her to bed.

 

The front door closed and Siri and her benefactor were alone. The floorboards creaked under his feet as Choma returned to the living room. Siri crossed her arms to hide her erect nipples poking through her shirt. It didn’t help her to relax that she was thinking the whole time if he had seen her naked. Does he know what I look like under my clothes? Is he thinking about it? Did he touch me when he undressed me? Siri’s pussy smouldered and she felt his phantom finger stroking her unconscious body. A shudder ripped through her and she was powerless to subdue it. Choma rushed to her, alarmed that she would suffer a relapse. Siri was thankful he’d never know of the real source of the shudder, of the throb between her legs.

 

Choma broke the silence by taking her to have a look around his homestead. Most of the house she’d already seen, but outside a big yard was framed by a shed, a workshop, a sloping blackcurrant field of some 40 bushes and a small kitchen garden with fruit trees. The house was a bit run-down alike those she’d seen in pictures taken of Russian Carelian countryside. Where the slope ended flowed a little stream, a stretch of which Choma had widened into a bathable pool. In the middle of the yard stood a chicken coo with its cackling inhabitants and a greenhouse pieced together from old windowpanes. Siri was impressed for the farm was not unlike some of the more utopistic dreams of down to earth life she’d harboured back home.

 

Still, she wanted to know where she was, where was her backpack, her passport, her everything. In her honest believe that everyone everywhere had to know some English – if just a few latent words picked up from pop lyrics – she tried to reach him. Choma stared at her apologetically, feeling cruel for not answering, but as much as he wanted to he couldn’t.

 

With no helpful bystanders there to translate, after a series of unsuccessful attempts she fell into tears shouting at him in Finnish, desperate and frustrated not to get through to the only person she had to ask anything from. He got up and walked to her. More clumsy than the previous night he hugged her to him, and she was in such a state that this intimacy with a stranger didn’t throw her off, she just buried her face to his chest, mewing. He stroked her hair and tried to calm her down, speaking softly. The sofa wasn’t three meters away but he scooped her up and carried her to it.

 

He lay her down and she felt very vulnerable. Siri was afraid he’d take advantage of her but he fetched a blanket from one of the chairs and threw it over her. He said something to her she couldn’t understand and left the room. Soon after she heard him leave the house.

 

She went on sobbing for a long time, huddling in a foetal position beneath the blanket. When her body had no strength for sobs left, silent tears streamed down her face, welling in the hollow of her eye. The little quilt pillow under her head was wet as was the blanket she had dried her tears with. After an hour of regretting ever leaving home she fell asleep.

 

Siri woke up with Choma crouching beside her and his hand stroking her forehead. She sat up quickly, startled to wake up to a strange face looming over her. It took a while to remember who he was. According to the grandfather clock in the corner he’d left her for over four hours. His clothes were wet and behind him she saw her backpack. Seeing her smile, Choma looked like a daddy watching his little girl’s joy unwrapping a new doll on Christmas. He dragged the pack to her and she started unpacking, searching comfort from her familiar things. Everything was damp but undamaged except things made of paper. The brochures were a disgusting grey paste but her passport, notebook and map were safe each in their own ziplock bags.

 

Squinting over the map, she deduced she was on the opposite side of the lake than where the bus route ran. Choma reached his hand for her notebook, and she let him take a look at it for he wouldn’t be able to read her Finnish anyway. He studied the different tickets and poured over her drawings nodding apprecietatively. He turned the pages back to the title of the very first page. “Koti?” he asked. “Home,” she answered, “doma,” and took the book away from him. She needed no remainders that if she wasn’t happy at her old life, this new she had chosen, this vagrancy, was not making her glow with happiness either.

 

She showed him the calendar and the day she got off the bus and Choma pointed at six days from it. She felt uneasy, the man had had her in that room for three days, helpless and senseless. He lives here alone. Everyone has needs. Would he have used me? Her pussy prickled, and deep inside her vagina a burning sensation began where his imaginary semen would have settled.

 

The knot in her stomach didn’t leave her alone and she felt him inside her the whole evening. When ever he looked at her or came close she shuddered and winced as her cunt cramped. Her skin smouldered with goosebumps when she thought of how he’d hugged her, what it had felt like, her breasts pressing on his chest, his arms on her back pressing her gently against him.

 

Finally it was late enough to get up and say goodnight. Her walk was stiff as she made her way back to her room upstairs. Her whole body was tense after the wandering of her restless thoughts and, mind whirling, she couldn’t sleep. She wanted to touch herself but didn’t dare in this unfamiliar place. And what if he’ll catch me? She could subdue the moans almost completely but he might hear her heavy breathing. After a while she heard the stairs creek as Choma came up. His steps on the landing pierced her heart and she realized how wound up she was. He stopped outside her door for a moment and she could feel the beats of her heart as bulging pressure in her ears as she waited for him to turn the latch.

 

Then the floor creaked and he walked away and her body went limp. She breathed trying to catch the breath she’d been holding. It was not fear, not derision - her body wanted him.

 

***

 

In the night she stirred, the door to her room had opened. He came in, trying to avoid the creaking floorboards on the path to her bed. She tensed and stopped breathing as he came close and placed his hand on her forehead. When he caressed her, she couldn’t stop the air from escaping her lungs in a tiny gasp and her legs squirming to ease the pressing need in her pussy. Choma hastily withdrew his hand and left the room.

 

She lay awake for a long time and finally after hearing his low rumbling snores from behind the wall she dared to slide her hands on her pussy and bring herself off. She wished she had something inside, filling her pussy, on which her muscles could clamp on. Remembering that all her toiletry bottles were still downstairs with the pack she cursed.

 

***

 

On their second day she followed him around when he went about his work. She traced his steps as he walked between the rows of blackcurrant bushes checking the progress of the crop. She handed him tools as he fixed the fence of the chicken coo and listened keenly to his chatting. When she heard a word she recognized she repeated it and nodded, relieved to understand something. Her Russian was mostly ridiculous but she kept trying.

 

In the evening she came to his workshop and after watching him work for a while, she reached for his old apron, wanting to help. Choma was happy for she certainly prettied up his old shed. Her eyes were full of laughter, squinting into green teasing cat eyes and Choma never knew if the seduction in them was innate, intended or only of his imagination. When she smiled the crack between her front teeth made Choma want to smile with her. He wondered what her hair looked like. She always kept it tightly braided but as cute as it was he wished he could watch her brush it out and see her long strawberry blonde hair flowing down her shoulders.

 

Chapter five

 

At first the girl had been nothing but his chance to make amends, but watching her and nursing her had given him a feeling of power over her. She was in his hands and he couldn’t help being turned on by it. When she woke up and turned out to be the picture of innocence, shy and girly, he’d been ashamed of himself, but through her sweetness he felt her gazes on him, too intense to miss. She was hard to read but in any case the dirty thoughts he had pained him and made him feel guilty. She was older than he’d thought when he found her, but twenty four was still twenty two years younger than him. She was too vulnerable for him to have her in his head naked and moaning. Yet every night there she was.

 

Each night there was also more tension in their parting to sleep in their respective rooms. He’d begun to think of it as her room and every day it was more difficult to remember what the house had been like before her. In the evenings he liked to sit in the living room with her sitting nearby crouching over her journal. He wished he could understand her strange language for the notebook could probably answer many of his questions.

 

The girl had been well enough to travel for a few days but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Not that he complained, it was nice to have company. It was difficult to understand though. Where had she come from? She must have been on her way to somewhere when he’d found her but what the hell was she doing out there in the middle of nowhere alone. Since she travelled with such a backpack she might be just another tourist but his homestead wasn’t much of an attraction. He’d checked her passport and the stamps traced her steps from Finland through the Baltic states, Belarus and Poland all the way to Ukraine.

 

The name she’d given him was none of the three first names listed on the passport. Was that important? What did she want? Why was she staying? Choma had his own sinister suspicions but he’d left that life so long ago. If she had been sent to search for Vakhno she’d have a passport to match any name she went by.

 

Chapter six

 

The work of the day was done and Choma was reading on the couch. Siri came to him, sat down and looking at him timidly leaned her head in his lap. He didn’t know what to make of it and the situation might have been very awkward but she was so calm that it rubbed on him. She lay still, occasionally rubbing her head in his lap, drinking in some kind of solace but he didn’t feel drained, on the contrary he felt invigorated. He put a hand over her head and she let out a long sigh. A moment later she was asleep. It hadn’t been sexual but now she was sleeping his mind raced and he had to wake her up. Her petrol blue t-shirt had a wide rectangular neckline and he could see the tops of her breasts. They didn’t look so much sexy as they did pretty. Like all of her her breasts seemed innocent and soft. He wanted to cup them in his hands and close the whole girl in his arms, but it would be a disaster to have her wake up to his stiffening penis poking at the back of her head. Stroking her head he woke her up and sent her upstairs to sleep in her own bed.

 

Siri couldn’t sleep for her thoughts wandered to the moments during the day he’d stood so close to her that a deep breath would have made them brush against each other. Little ripples of warmth travelled on her skin and she sensed acutely the cool cotton of the sheets on her and the weight of the duvet. She was hot and pushed the duvet from her chest, imagining all the sensations of his big warm hands exploring her body, searching a way in. His imagined touch reached her knees and she spread her legs, straining her tendons as wide as she could to invite him to touch her. The duvet slid down to the valley between her legs and the bundle had her aching for Choma’s heavy frame there, his flesh against hers. She bent her knees and reached her hands to her crotch. She’d made herself wet, the juices from inside her had leaked out and spread as she had writhed and gyrated in her imaginations. Her whole pussy was sticky and glistening.

 

Her own touch was not what her body craved, but when she parted her wet lips and rested her fingers over the fold of flesh that hid her pearl it didn’t matter, she just needed to get off and fast. Rubbing wildly she let out two little moans while writhing in her fantasies, but anyone could moan faintly in their sleep. When she came she moaned louder and cursed as her startle took off the sharpest edge of her orgasm leaving her angry, wanton and disappointed.

 

Her annoyance stopped as she heard creaking from behind the wall. Choma had gotten up. Too nervous to breathe she lay back down and straightened her night shirt. She tried to kick the duvet back to cover her but managed only to reveal her other leg in its entirety. She was aware of the smell of her steaming pussy in the air above her. She quickly hid her smelly rubbing hand under her ass and blew the air from her lungs to disperse the cloud around her. The metallic klick of the door latch opening froze her.

 

Through his sleep Choma had heard her moan. After all his solitude he was sensitive to noises in his house. He’d heard a moan just like the ones she’d let out in her fever delirium. He walked carefully to the landing and entered her room. The girl had kicked the covers aside and her brow was hot and sweaty. Her breathing was closer to panting than the deep breathing of a sleeper. “Please don’t get ill again little angel,” Choma whispered and wiped the clammy sweat from her forehead and stroked her as he had so many times before. She was a sweet thing. He stared at her bare leg, the old shirt askew, lips slightly open, chest heaving. He shivered at the sight, knowing that if he slid his hand up her leg he’d find the hot moist snatch of a sleeping woman. He wanted her. He looked at her breasts, the soft shapes he could more remember than see in the darkness.

 

Without thinking his hand brushed down the side of her head. When his hand touched her neck above her collarbone she whimpered and twitched. Quickly Choma removed his hand, embarrassed if the girl should wake. She didn’t move again and the sweat hadn’t reappeared and her breathing had normalized. Perhaps it was just a nightmare. He stood still for a moment and as the girl slept peacefully, straightened her duvet to cover her from neck to toe.

 

She waited for him to touch her, she wished for him to touch her, but he walked out. Her clit smouldering, she wanted to speak up, to ask him to come back and make it all better, but what would he think of her? His opinion had become to mean something to her. She had had plans where she was to go after the lake visit, in Ukraine and further, and she was well enough to travel again, but she was reluctant to resume her hikes, bus rides and nights in strange hostels. All of that had diminished into an insubstantial haze in her mind after she had waken up in Choma’s house. The man and his way of life interested her, a man who on other hand made her laugh and on the other hand brooded like no other. Where between those two aspects of him could she ask him to grab her tight, strip her and take her?

 

Here on his homestead had happened the thing she had searched all the way from Estonia to Slovakia and now Ukraine. She had forgotten the anxiety that had driven her to escape her life back home, she’d lost the nagging thoughts that had driven her mad. In this house in the middle of nowhere, where everything was strange and yet so very simple, could she finally breathe and be free from the life she’d been born to, the madness of shopping, competition, degrees, career choices and the little happy pills that got people through it all. If only time would go faster. She wanted him but she didn’t want to be a slut and loose his respect or his friendship, for she felt so right being there.

 

Chapter seven

 

They’d been picking blackcurrants all morning. She had to take off her t-shirt in the mid-day heat even though she knew her sweaty chemise showed through more than it hid. The moment of embarrassment was fleeting and the unpleasantness was smothered by the familiar rippling sensation on her clit. Let him see. She closed her eyes and imagined Choma staring at her intently, breathing in ragged bursts. They were both wearing romantic peasant clothes and his gripping eyes held her gaze and stiffly he took a few steps, closing the distance between them. She was petrified and did nothing when he seized her, blazing with unrestrained desire. Such fire in the generally calm man scared her and she fought back when he proceeded to fell her on the dry ground. “Choma!” she shrieked but no echo took up her plea.

 

He pushed her skirts up and yanked her bloomers down. “Shh,” he commanded and sticked his berry purple fingers in her mouth to be sucked. “Open your legs,” he demanded. He pulled his hand free and leaned it in the dirt beside her head. “No help from upstairs,” he murmured raggedly positioning his other hand, clean of saliva, on her crotch. When his fingertips brushed her pussy she moaned loudly and her body, having waited for this moment for days, arched up to beg him to enter. Her labia, glistening with her secretions, gave no resistance and his dry fingers slid right inside her to search for the opening to her pussy. “You should have told me you needed a man this badly,” Choma sneered as he roughened his advances. Siri yelped when he shoved sharply with his fingers and scratched the linings of her pussy forcing his way in. “Have you been walking around dripping all this time? Little slut, I’ll teach you to hold out on me.”

 

She was sitting up to undo his trousers when Choma called for her. “What are you staring at silly girl? Has the sun made you faint? Where’s the hat I gave you?” Siri realized she’d been staring at his body with glazed hungry eyes for god knows how long and, blushing terribly, looked down mumbling something unrecognizable.

 

***

 

Though his house had a bathroom with a bathtub Choma liked to wash in the stream that ran along his backyard. He crouched over the cold stream every morning and after the day’s work was done. He thought she slept when he walked to it early each morning but Siri watched from her bedroom window as he took off his clothes folding them on a rock and waded up to his waist in the stream, soaping his naked body and crouching down to rinse. It had been mere curiosity at first but as her feelings towards him grew more and more erotic, she watched him with longing, wishing she could join him. She crept back under her duvet to touch herself but often the frustration kept her from getting off. On such mornings sitting opposite him in the kitchen was awkward for she feared he could smell her like a mare in heat – seething, hot and needy.

 

In the evening Choma lifted the blackcurrant crates to his truck and they drove half an hour to a dilapidated cannery. The proprietor, Oleg, grinned when he saw a girl on the passenger seat.  “And I thought you didn’t have any children.” Both men watched as Siri walked timidly to stand a few steps behind Choma.

 

“Sorry to be the one to break this to you old friend, but she’s too pretty to be of your issue.”

 

“Very funny Oleg, very funny,” Choma growled as Siri held out her hand to be introduced.

 

From behind the corner Oleg’s grandson was watching the three, hankering to tell everybody about Choma’s young friend, for there had to be something really dirty in this new piece of gossip.

 

Chapter eight

 

His thoughts were a mess, for Choma hadn’t slept that well since Siri had been with him. His dreams were restless and full of images he’d rather not think about: Siri bent over his workbench buttocks quivering, Siri kneeling in front of his chair her throat bulging with his cock, a naked crying Siri pinned against her bedroom door, a terrified Siri thrown on the ground with her dress torn. He had fought these thoughts for almost two weeks but as she was present at every part of his home and at every moment of his day it just wasn’t possible to block her from his mind. Once his sleep was disrupted and he lay awake in his bed, the smooth touch of the sheets on his skin became the touch of her skin and the warmth of his duvet nest the warmth of her body, and any attempt to get back to sleep was doomed.

 

He visited her room every night, sometimes more than once but the pleasure it had given him when he was looking after her was gone and now it only left him feeling constricted and choked. She always slept on her right side, clutching a pillow in her arms and looking lost. His desire to protect her throbbed ardently and the only thing that throbbed more was his cock. She was too sweet to hurt but he wasn’t sure for how long he could trust himself to fight the urges her presence woke up.

 

That night when they parted on the landing Siri looked him in the eyes saying “Na dobranič,” and added in Finnish “I’m waiting for you.” In the night Choma came as he always did and she pretended to sleep while he laid something on the bedside table. She could tell it was a book, but in the darkness it was impossible to find out more.

 

***

 

Early the next morning Siri woke up, instantly reaching for Choma’s book - an old and worn English-Ukrainian dictionary. She raced downstairs in her white nightshirt, running straight to the kitchen looking for Choma. He turned to face her and laughed to see her so excited. “Now I can talk to you!” Siri whooped wildly and ran to hug him. Choma was stunned as the girl, the warmth of her bed still clinging to her, thumped against him. To Siri the second was a long one before Choma stirred and stiffly put his arms around her. She could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin cotton fabric and didn’t move even after the duration of a normal hug was well past.

 

When she felt a restless stir in her body, she let go of him and stepped back. She gestured him to wait and consulted her new friend. Finding the word Siri read it out loud, “Happy.” When she looked up, Choma’s expression was restrained; his eyes were fixed on her and she realized that in the rays of morning light beaming through the window, his old shirt must have shown through quite a lot. Suddenly very self-conscious, she gave him a hesitant smile and bolted to the stairs.

 

Heart pounding she ran into her room, closed the door and stood her back against the back wall breathing hard. All the piled up sexual urges attacked her with vehemence. “No, no, no,” she murmured to herself until the door creaked open. Choma stood in the doorway staring at her, his hands gripping the doorframe. She didn’t move, only stared back with every muscle rigid and let out a weak whine.

 

Choma had invaded her personal space but Siri didn’t shoo him away. She was frozen in place, staring at him with her lips slightly apart. He could feel every ounce of his own strength and when she let out that insecure little whimper, there was nothing that could have stopped his hunger. He stalked towards the girl and she yipped in fright, reflexively lifting her hands in front of her. Yet Choma smiled for she hadn’t dodged.

 

He reached around her and pulled her to him. His other hand was in her neck, keeping her still as he leaned down to kiss her. She wriggled, fighting his embrace, and her hands tried listlessly to push him away but all the time she was kissing him back, her fingers digging into the flesh of his upper arms. Her lips were silky soft and he couldn’t wait to touch the rest of her. His swelling cock pressed hard against the girl’s belly and Siri whinnied. She tried to back away from him, but Choma took a step forward and effectively pinned her between himself and the wall. He moved his hand down and reached for her pussy.

 

Siri struggled at his rough attempts to cop a feel. If she hadn’t resisted he could’ve done it more gently, but without her cooperation he had to use force to part her lips and find the entrance to her secrets. She yanked herself free but her spinning momentum caused her to crash hard on her bed and Choma was on her like a wolf. He straddled her, restraining her legs and took hold of her hands, pinning them beside her head. There he paused.

 

The girl had panicked but at first she had been undeniably enthusiastic. Now there was fear in her eyes but there didn’t need to be. If she calmed down Choma was sure she’d like it. He hadn’t forgotten how eagerly her little body had pressed against him in the kitchen - she longed for him just as bad as he longed for her.

 

He kept his hips in the air so she wouldn’t feel the erection that had spooked her. “Shh,” he breathed, leaning to rub his cheek on hers. He told her not to be scared but couldn’t be sure if she understood, however, the fact that she wasn’t fighting back was an invitation to him. The amount of blood rushed in his cock almost hurt; he shifted and it straightened in his trousers. When he leaned back to her it pressed against her tense body and she let out an anguished moan. 

 

He licked her neck slowly from her collarbone all the way to the spot behind her ear. She resisted and tried to get her hands free but he held her tight. She moaned angrily, but when he started kissing and nibbling her neck softly, she arched into him and her moans petered out into gasps and whimpers.

 

Letting go of her hands, Choma brushed his palms lightly against her breasts and Siri’s pebble hard nipples raked his skin. He was amazed of her responsiveness for her reactions to his touch were impressively powerful. She gyrated her hips, bucking into him, wordlessly asking to be touched stronger, harder, more. Every caress made her squirm and moan, and her hands grabbed his flesh, kneading like a cat in rhythm with her spasms. She didn’t resist when he one by one undid the buttons of his old shirt and revealed her body. Siri felt the fabric pushed aside but she was well past playing coy, for she wanted to be touched and taken.

 

Choma slid a finger to her opening, circling it, hardly able to believe the amount of wetness pouring out of her. She cried out and bucked impatiently onto the finger but he pulled back, playing with her. Her desire was volatile and aggressive and in a burst of anger she yelled at him until her rage broke into a plea. She was tense, her body resting on her shoulders and butt, her back rigid.

 

He didn’t have the heart to torment her any longer and he slid his finger inside her. She wailed loudly, and her sensual mouth curved into a blissful smile. The tight hole sucked on his digit and he dived slowly deeper. She urged him on, deeper and faster and as he put in more fingers, her pussy clamped on him, welcoming the touch.

 

He wanted to bury himself into that wetness but watching her was too interesting to stop. She lifted her ass in the air and fucked back, impaling herself harshly on his fingers. He fucked her harder yet she wanted more and more. He pressed her hips down and held her still. He tore into her pussy adamant to teach her not to ask for more than she could take.

 

His nail scratched her labia and the tiny amount of blood that smeared on her steaming vulva was enough for him to taste it in the back of his throat. To his surprise the crueller he was, the more she spread her thighs for him and her hands, previously flailing about, acquired new determination. She placed her delicate fingers on her slit and started masturbating. She hadn’t hidden her pleasure before but this was new for Choma - so much lust in one deceptively shy girl.

 

She twisted her leg between them and put her heel behind his bent elbow. She nudged his hand towards her, not letting him pull back from her cunt anymore, demanding him to get deeper and deeper. He’d stopped to his knuckles, when her pelvic opening resisted further advancement. Now she was kicking his hand deeper. When he pushed against the unyielding opening of bone her face cringed in pain but her heel on his elbow didn’t let up. “Make me feel alive. Make me scream. Please Choma, help me, I’m so hollow I can’t take it anymore.” She had to talk to him even if he didn’t understand.

 

She stopped rubbing herself and looked him in the eyes, “Make it hurt, please.” Her request, as earnest as it was, brought back memories he’d tried to forget. He didn’t want to do it, mix abuse and power games with sex because for him that way lay madness. However, to his chagrin, his willpower lasted but two whole minutes against the feel of her pulsing hole around his hand and the sight of the sweating wanton Siri. Growling at the horny girl he rammed his hand forwards, furiously attacking her vagina. Siri screamed and bucked when the punch hit the tissue surrounding her pelvic passage.

 

Choma ignored her distress. Fuck you bleating little princess, you asked for this.  On his third try the fist plunged through, jutting out of her like a skewer. Howling, Siri pressed her thighs together squeezing his forearm between them. She curled into a ball, sobbing faintly. They were quiet for a long time during which Choma listened to her breathe in sharp gasps, trying not to amp up the pain. He was elated. He didn’t want to, but he’d loved to make her scream for him.

 

The blood circulation in his hand had stopped due to her tightness and his hand was going numb. Siri writhed trying to get used to the fist piercing her body. She didn’t feel hollow and cold anymore, it was better, but she needed to feel safe now, she wanted him inside her, warm and strong. She wanted him to lay on top of her, cover her with his body and completely hide her from the world.

 

“I need you in me,” she sighed. “I have to have you inside me.” But how could she ask that of him. So many times in the past had she been turned down and now she really needed him and there was no safe alternative. Her coil had been due to replacement a year ago and no longer worked. Wincing she turned on her back and straightened her legs, his arm still sticking out of her cunt. She rose slightly and touched his fly. Choma was dumbfounded of her initiative, for her to ask more was the last thing he’d expected. She caressed his penis through the fabric and he grunted. He moved the hand inside her and Siri yelped but opened her legs for him. He had no patience for fisting any more though, and he pulled his hand agonizingly slowly out of her pink hole while she huffed and whimpered in pain.

 

She lay still, looking shy and vulnerable as he got up from the bed and removed his clothes. A small flicker of fear passed in her eyes when she saw his large cock, fully erect and demanding. He got on top of her, pinning down her shivering body. “Shh,” he whispered to her but she flinched as his penis poked her crotch. “Choma,” she said in distress, “Choma, Choma, Choma,” she repeated quickly and shoved him off her. When her hands were free she lifted them to her chest mimicking cradling a baby. Choma cursed furiously, don’t play with me princess, not now.

 

Siri turned timidly on her side and reached to stroke his cock. She ran her fingers along his shaft and continued to run them on her skin until they reached the cleft between her buttocks. “You could… here,” she mumbled shyly, not daring to look at him in the eye. It was so dirty and he was larger than she was usually willing to take in her ass. Yet it couldn’t be helped now – she wanted him too much. It took a while for Choma to understand her meaning and those moments out on a limb burned her. Please don’t hate me, please.

 

Choma had only once done what she was asking and have this innocent eyed girl shyly propose it drove him wild. He remembered Her and how she’d screamed when he ripped her apart. Roughly he rolled Siri on her stomach and lifted her ass up a little. “Choma,” she cried, her voice fearful, and reached for a bottle of hand cream. “Use this,” she whispered and settled back down, her body tight as a bow string. She jolted to the sound of the tube’s cap flicking open and waited for his hands to spread her plump cheeks. “Slow,” she repeated in five languages including Ukraine while Choma was lubing up. Her attempts to communicate were endearing but they couldn’t reach the savage beast taking over Choma’s mind. She felt small, lost and afraid and she needed him. Please Choma, she thought, make me safe. The entry would hurt even if he would be gentle, but after that, she knew, it would all be pure bliss.

 

She lay beneath him, prone, legs apart and reached her hands to spread herself for him. Her buttocks quivered just like in his fantasies as the tip of his cock touched her asshole and she flinched and immediately apologized for it. Her eagerness to get his cock to fulfil her most secret place was incredible. She whimpered when he started to push and the resistance of her little hole surprised him - he would need to push hard to get her gate to yield.

 

When he pushed harder she started pulling back. “Slow,” she yelped but he wanted in. He slid his hands just above her shoulders so she couldn’t move away from him. He applied strong steady pressure and felt the center give way and painfully slowly open wider. He kept on the same strong pressure and the girl started bucking and shouting. She reached for him with her hands and tried to push him off but he was stronger. He pushed on and stretched her ass despite her shrieking. It felt so good to have something that private of hers to yield to him.

 

The head of his cock plopped inside and Siri wailed, “Out! Out! Take it out!” She rolled over to her side and lay twitching and mewing with his cock inside her. Her hands were against his hips but it did no good to push him anywhere anymore, he was in. He wanted to stroke her hair and comfort her but on the other hand it turned him on to see her cower under him in pain.

 

 

Impatient to be completely buried inside her sweet body, he wanted to lunge inside her, to conquer her hidden depths and impale her on him. He’d finally own the lovely creature fallen into his life and all the strangeness of whys would be gone. Relishing in her grunts Choma pushed his thick shaft deeper into her young ass. First it resisted his intrusion but slowly her walls expanded and her colon gave way to the head of his cock and opened up. Siri grimaced but forced herself to relax her back passage for him. Her sphincter hurt badly but deeper his advances felt pleasant and she turned back onto her stomach. With big strong hands Choma grabbed her and obediently she rose her hips to meet his.

 

Siri gasped as Choma buried himself deeper with short strokes. It burned, him stretching her with every penetration, but Siri wanted him as deep inside her abused little fuck hole as he could manage. Finally he leaned into her so he could feed her his whole length and, enjoying the alien fullness inside her, Siri fucked back and endured the stomach cramps that resulted when Choma’s cock hit bottom. The pain was so beautiful and cured all aches and itches she’d harboured since waking up in his house.

 

Choma began working rhythmically, plowing in and out. Hot lines of pleasure flickered across his mind as the walls of Siri’s ass were dragging at him, sucking the cum from his balls. After all those days of frustration he couldn’t hold out for long and soon spewed his seed inside the slightly disappointed girl. She wanted to flop back on the mattress in her lovely warm fugue but felt too dirty to lay back and enjoy. She wrapped her towel carefully around her and walked barefoot to the stream where Choma had erected an old barn door for her privacy. On a little stool waited the basin which she filled up with the crisp cold water and poured and splashed on herself. She liked bathing outside, resting her eyes on the scenery as the water refreshed her but the plunge was never as easy for her as it was for Choma, who was used to washing in cold water.

 

***

 

Siri had been quiet since she got back in the house. She’d said nothing while they had breakfast and quickly turned her head away if their eyes met. Her embarrassment saddened Choma for there was no need for it. He used every chance and excuse to touch her and Siri accepted his clumsy displays of affection with nervous smiles but hardly looked up at him. Her ass had a comfortable ache reminding her how he’d gently but firmly broken through her confused resistance and pumped her full of the liquid that warmed her to the core. Yet she’d never gotten over the stamp of dirtiness sodomy carried and owning up to liking it came hard. The day passed slowly for both of them but come evening the competence Choma radiated had calmed her and when he touched her she reciprocated.

 

That night he took her to his bed. She felt like a sacrificial animal as Choma purposefully led her upstairs in complete silence.  He walked her past the smaller bedroom and into his own to stand in front of him. She was absolutely still, waiting for his lead, but careful not to in any way express unwillingness. Without a word Choma stripped her garment by garment, slowly tracing his nose on her bare skin savouring her softness and scent. He reached behind her and slid the elastic band off her braid. He carefully combed out her hair with his fingers until it tumbled down over her shoulders. The tips of the wavy strands touched Siri’s hardened nipples tickling her.

 

Choma couldn’t believe the nymph in his bedroom was real. She fidgeted and moved her arms to cover her breasts and crotch. The sudden change in their relationship, how ever welcome, scared her and it made her look so fragile Choma could hardly bring himself to touch her.

 

Her eyes were shut tight but she opened them when he took her face in his hands. How could she look so innocent and scared when it wasn’t twelve hours past she had groaned with his cock up her ass. She let him walk her to the bed and obediently lay down as he tucked her in. Standing at the foot of the bed he took off his own clothes while she watched.

 

Siri loved to close her eyes and surrender to him. Being powerless intoxicated her and with his coaxing her juices quickened. She wanted to shout at him to touch her or grab at his hands and put them on her flesh but it was exciting to give him all the control.

 

When his fingers stroked her awaiting pussy her body jolted and she gasped sharply. She moaned when he parted her lips and slid his fingers inside. The pocket was full of slick juice and Choma shivered – all that was for him.

 

Siri didn’t know what she had expected but when Choma rolled her on her stomach and lined his cock with her puckered little anus she let out a sharp cry, “No! Not there, it’s too soon, I’m hurting! No, please, no!” Choma didn’t’ care, he poured some of the hand cream on her and started pushing in as she squirmed in his grip and screamed.

 

Her sphincter resisted less than earlier and his cock lunged into the warm passage. He fucked her as he pleased in search for another orgasm and let her pleas and tears lift him into the bliss of coming ecstasy. After he came and pulled out, her tiny hole retracted and kept all of his thick cum inside, spilling nothing. “Good little angel, now let’s make you cum.” He turned her on her back and she didn’t resist when he opened her legs and rubbed a finger up and down the opening to her pussy.

 

Flicking her clit with his other hand Choma started pushing all five fingers inside her. Siri was quiet as she was still recovering from the assrape. Feeling filthy she wished only to be set free to clean herself up.

 

“What the hell is this?” His fingers fumbled inside her.

 

“Ouch,” Siri humpfed as Choma tugged at the chords of her contraceptive coil. “Stop! Youre hurting me!” Siri cried but Choma had a grip on the cords and pulled. It felt like a knife inside her belly as the the sharp plastic T bent into a Y and scratched and dragged the linings of her womb.

 

“Why didn’t I notice this the first time I had my fist up your lying little cunt?” Siri cried out but Choma held her still. “What’s this, girl? What are you keeping inside?” Choma was enraged, he’d been played a fool. She was working for them and god knows what stash he’d just found. “They’re keeping track of you? Or are you supposed to poison me?”

 

She tried to get away from him but Choma held her fixed. She was terrified and couldn’t understand what had angered him so. Her cervix didn’t want to give way to the coil and resisted opening up. Siri fought back as Choma tried to force the thing out. It had looked so tiny, no bigger than a postage stamp, when the gynaecologist had inserted it with a little straw all those years ago in the University clinic but now it felt anything but small. Yet her body was no match for brute force and the mouth of her cervix expanded to allow the coil inside the tight passage. The new pain gave Siri strength to amp up her resistance but it only earned her a hard smack from Choma and she almost passed out. Almost.

 

She lay dazed and wailing as the bloody plastic object was torn from her body without doctor’s skills, tools or pain relief. “What the fuck is this?” Choma yelled at her brandishing her coil and Siri had no idea why he was mad at her. Too much in pain to mimic cradling like last time this issue was on the table, Siri started singing the first lullaby that came into her swooning head. Choma stared at her obviously disgusted and stormed out of the room leaving her to bleed on the white cotton sheets.

 

***

 

Fuck, Choma thought, fuck, fuck, fuck. He had taken the little object into his workshop and studied it and finally smashed it into pieces. Certainly it was nothing dangerous and he had an ominous feeling that it was a contraceptive of some kind. Fuck. He’d hit the girl hard and was too ashamed now to go and see her.

 

Slowly he ascended the stairs and opened the door to the master bedroom. Siri was huddling under the duvet staring out the window with glassy eyes, humming the same song she had tried to convince him with. The mattress under her was badly stained with blood. When he came in she didn’t react. He sat on the bed and put the smashed coil on the nightstand clearing his throat. “I’m sorry little angel, I’m so sorry. I thought you were…” I thought you were what, a spy, an MP. “I’m sorry,” he said again and left the room.

 

Siri slept in the next day. Choma took meals and water to her but she hardly reacted to him. Fuck, did I spoil the whole god damned thing now? When ever he tried to touch her she recoiled as if waiting to be hit again. Jesus Christ, if I only could explain what happened, he cursed as if an explanation would guarantee forgiveness.

 

On the third night Choma got sick of her aloofness and started kissing and caressing her in the bed. She didn’t react in any way but let him fondle and make love to her. After she was oozing his semen from her rectum she simply turned to face the window again and went to sleep.

 

Next morning she wasn’t as icy though anymore, and during the day her behaviour warmed up to something closer to normal. In a few days they were almost where they had been before the incident. Still, there was no erasing it, and for Siri everything was different now she knew what rage lived inside him, and what she could invoke without even doing anything wrong. It had been a shock to get struck but the rest of it, now in hindsight, had actually been pretty thrilling. All that pain and being afraid of the one person she had trusted her wellbeing to.

 

Chapter nine

 

She was always fucking back, trying to get him even deeper. He rammed her hard but she never got enough. Broom handles, rough sticks, tools from his workshop, cold, hard, bulgy – she let him do anything. When he approached her during the day she turned her eyes down and blushed but when he grabbed her and tore her clothes off his finger always found her little snatch wet. She was embarrassed of herself but when he got her under him, trembling and confused, and started touching her, she soon lost control of herself and changed into the starving little creature that wanted nothing more than him inside her every hole. He’d fucked her face until she puked up bits of the summer’s first strawberries he’d so lovingly fed to her, and when she had caught her breath she’d pulled him back into her mouth.

 

Choma had no idea how far he could go before he would lose himself. At first he was uncomfortable to hurt Siri, seeing Her under him instead, but it didn’t take long for his passion to overrule any uneasy conscience. Siri was so intense she soon inhabited every part of his thoughts and drove ghosts away. After a good scare he soothed her and massaged her clit tenderly, making her feel safe and warm again. She was his to use and his to love and she was such a good girl.

 

Now he had her on all fours on the living room table. In a small bowl he had green baby tomatoes he was going to stuff inside her. She had obeyed him without question and her pussy eagerly slickening.

 

Her crotch was exposed to him and she waited quivering in anticipation what was to come. When the first tomato touched her rear entrance she squirmed and tried to turn around. She could tell it was not flesh against her skin. Choma put a hand on her head. “It’s ok angel.” He stroked Siri’s hair and she settled down. It made her nervous not to know what he was about to force in her tiny hole.

 

Choma stroked the raw vergetable over her bud and she tensed up each time. To her its surface felt like plastic. She felt his thumb rubbing spit on her and hoped the thing wasn’t anything too big, for after the first times Choma used no lube but his own spit. He liked it that way, intimate. If he was feeling generous he might scoop some of her juices to smear on her little backhole before going at it, but most of all, he liked to make Siri squirm under him and cry out when her tender flesh was stretched and torn. It was beautifully obscene to fuck her ass but it was driving him crazy and even angry not to know what her pulsing pussy would feel like gripping his cock. He could smell her heat and it was driving him mad to bathe his fingers in her but not being allowed a real fuck.

 

He didn’t open her up with a finger and just pushed the first tomato until it popped through. Siri yelped in surprise and tried to turn to look back again. “No baby, eyes closed, that’s it.” He took another one, sucked it wet and let it push the one before it deeper. She was visibly uncomfortable not knowing what was in her and by the third in some pain. Still, he inserted one more as she squirmed and whined. “Feeling full?” Siri didn’t answer and he asked a question he knew she understood. “Like it?” She still didn’t answer.

 

When his fingers touched her pussy she whinnied in surprise. “Let’s see how full you are.” With intentional roughness he shoved his fingers in her cunt and she moaned wantonly. Her vagina was welling with her excretions. “Good girl, you did like it.” She wanted to beg him to enter her cunt, the stretching his fingers caused was such teasing, but she didn’t want to live waiting in fear if her next period would ever come. He massaged the tomatoes through the thin membrane and she jerked from the slight stab of pain. “Easy girl, you’re not that full. Yet.”

 

Siri heard him open his fly and realized he was going to fuck her ass despite what was already in. She started pleading but Choma grabbed her waist and pulled her ass to him. “Spread it,” he ordered, but had to nudge with his knee before the girl understood what was expected of her. When he pushed the head in, giving her no time to adjust, she screamed as the tomatoes travelled deeper up her colon. Her moans grew in shrillness and intensity as the head of his cock pushed further and he started feeding her his shaft. She felt the resistance of her colon opening up for the chain of spheres. Her innards burned and she wept but Choma still had inches to go and she knew he’d bury each one in her. 

 

After opening her up Choma pulled out. Siri was in no state to resist as he pushed in a fifth tomato. He proceeded to fuck it in and had to use some force to get his whole length in her. When he was done he pulled out and added a sixth. Now Siri was howling and begging but she was too well trained to move from the position she’d been ordered to. “Good,” he said petting her hair, “good girl, now scream for daddy.” Siri moaned ruggedly, her hands clenching in pain. When he pushed the tomatoes deep with his cock she jolted and cried out. “That’s my sweet angel,” Choma mused.

 

Sweat beaded on her soft body as she tried to bear the pain she couldn’t stop or escape. He leaned down his cock still deep in her ass and whispered into her ear, “I love it how you let me hurt you.” She gasped when he pulled out and eased the strain of pressure on her insides. A seventh raw cherry tomato was pushed in her raw canal.  “Do you think there’s still room for me?” Choma growled and rammed in. He started fucking her like a beast, trying hard to make it as painful for her as possible. Siri’s resolve failed and she started kicking and screaming, trying to escape. Choma had to take a tighter hold of her to be able to continue burrowing deeper. 

 

A hand clamped on her mouth and Siri screamed into it, trying to tear it off to beg him to stop. She tried to stay him with her hands, to stop the brutal piston raping her, but her little arms were powerless to stop the crazed man. Unable to hold herself up longer Siri sank downwards to lay on the table to which Choma reacted by picking up her legs and fucking her in a wheelbarrow fashion.

 

She tried to tear free but his grip held and her fighting only made it necessary for him to be rougher. She put up a good fight, the pain driving her insane but there was nothing she could do against his brute strength.

 

Even though she ate nothing for the rest of the day she had terrible constipation and it took well to the next evening for her to poop out all seven tomatoes. She was lucky to get through her ordeal without a serious obstruction and a visit to a hospital. While writhing in pain and pushing out with her muscles she thought how much more cruel things Choma would come up with if she still would keep him out of her pussy.

 

Chapter ten

 

After the tomato episode Choma gave her a couple days to rest. However, after one by one getting each tomato out from her system Siri’s body soon started craving for more sex. He had made her feel so deliciously chastised and desired. The problem was, with only anal being possible, the need of prompt washing afterwards always took away the afterglow, the chance to just lie together, sweaty, out of breath and satisfied.

 

Denied a good fuck Siri teased Choma nonstop until on the evening of the third day Choma gripped her arm and marched the smug girl upstairs. He knew just what to do to wipe the grin from her face.

 

Siri laughed when Choma tore off her clothes and giggled when he threw her on the bed but when the head of Choma’s cock prodded her pussy lips she shouted, ”No Choma stop, it’s going the wrong way!” and dodged his penis. Choma tried again to rest the tip on the entrance to her pussy. Siri reached down to guide him to her naughty hole but Choma snatched her hand and returned it above her head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Easy girl,” he said shaking his head. ”No, Choma, no,” she growled as he kept trying to enter her. “You know you can’t put it in there!”

 

She struggled him fiercely for ten minutes. Choma was breathing heavy, getting pissed at her obstinacy. “Calm down!” he shouted and forcefully spread her body open under him. Siri realized she’d never win the fight and moved on to begging, her rage evaporating to let fear in. Choma didn’t care, couldn’t care. He had to be in her. Finally. He could almost feel her soft warm folds around him. If she got pregnant then so be it but he had to have her now, truly have her, not just her ass.

 

“Shut up baby. You love my cock, I know you do. Now let me in. I’ll make you feel good. I’ll pump you full with my seed and you’ll thank me for it.” Choma pushed himself in and she wailed a “No,“ that extended into a shrill panicked cry until her voice broke and she slumped down. Tears streamed from her eyes as she lay limp and let him rape her.

 

Nothing they’d done before compared to the intimacy of being inside her pussy, not the eager little ass she offered to him so willingly, not her soft wet mouth. There was no better way to make a woman understand her situation than to spear her between her milky thighs and rape what was inside. He wanted to show her his strength: enough to take her, enough to protect her from anyone else trying to use her.

 

She wasn’t wet but damp like a bed of moss and for every one of his thrusts she gave an angry grunt and kicked the air behind him with her feet. Slowly from deep inside her some wetness emerged to ease his movements but it gave her no solace as he stuttered to her all the sensations her pussy offered him. Her infrequent outbursts of rage made her pussy twitch heightening Choma’s arousal.

 

Her façade wasn’t long lived. There was no denying the pleasure his cock in her neglected cunt gave her and gradually her grunts and moans got an added tone. First it was annoyance but soon it was clear she was enjoying his rough thrusts despite not wanting to. She wept at the thought of pregnancy yet bucked against him in need to have him deeper inside her. “Put a baby in me you bastard and I swear I’ll dump the squalling little monster on you and lea—.“ Her last word died in a wanton cry or pleasure and she grabbed his shoulders and slammed her hips towards the invading cock.

 

Choma moved his hands on her throat, he didn’t want to hear any more of her venom. He wrapped his fingers around her throat and she closed her mouth, understanding the threat. Siri was so beautiful, her face confused, lewd, angry and frightened all at the same time, contorted into expressions of lust and hunger. She kept her eyes closed, which bothered Choma, to make it real he had to have her look at him. He wanted to hold her gaze as he plunged inside and took her. He wanted her to see it was him spreading her pussy with a thick cock, him making her moan and spasm.

 

“I know you’re scared,” he spoke to her gently caressing the side of her head, “but you’re safe here, you’re safe with me, nothing bad will reach you here. You’re mine and I protect what’s mine.” He watched her face keenly and saw a single tear run down her soft rosy cheek. He wiped it away and in answer she lifted her legs and locked her ankles around his back. Her hands grabbed his upper arms, “Choma,” she whispered, squeezing his flesh when jolts of pleasure rocked her body. Her head was arched back and her mouth open. Loud, unrestrained moans flowed from her red swollen lips. The grip of her legs around him tightened and she pulled him to her. “Look at me, angel,” Choma coaxed, “look at me.” Siri grabbed the hair in his neck and pulled his face down to kiss her. As their lips met she opened her eyes and held his gaze as he continued his relentless pounding. “Fuck me honey,” she hissed in his ear, “I love it when you force me.”

 

Her confession sent bolts of pleasure soaring to his brain and he could feel the cum boiling in his balls. After a few desperate lunges he couldn’t hold back any more and humped uncontrollably until his cock started spewing out semen, filling her tiny vagina with hot white cum. Not stopping to breathe yet, he used her body to milk himself, burying all he had in his balls inside her. When finally done, Choma rolled over to lay on his back on the bed, head swimming with sensations.

 

Pussy welling with his seed she got up. Choma was too delirious to bother to stop her when she staggered outside, cum running down her thighs. He heard her retch on the landing outside. She could feel the semen working its way to her womb and she had no way to kill it. She didn’t want a baby, a leash, a noose around her neck. Pleasepleaseplease, she prayed as she sat in the stream trying to get water inside herself and wash out all he’d put in.

 

Choma stirred when Siri didn’t come back. He found her, wrapped in a quilt, hugging her knees on one of the armchairs in the living room. He unclutched her hold on the blanket and when he pulled it aside he saw nothing running from her opening, nothing smeared on her thighs. “Who said you could wash?” he growled, angry that she had so carelessly washed his mark away.

 

His finger travelled to play with her labia. She jolted and tried to turn away but with his other hand he held her still. It’s ok Siri, I’ll take you to a doctor tomorrow, he thought but said nothing to alleviate her angst. She moaned in derision as he went on fingering her. His fingers squeezed the clit their fucking had left sensitive. She tried to get off the chair but he pushed her back. “Be still, I don’t want to make you but I will if you resist.” She sat back down, but her body didn’t relax, she was tense and uncomfortable as he fucked her with his fingers.

 

He pulled her by her legs to the edge of the seat. “You’re dry again angel, that won’t do. Spread your legs.” She didn’t understand anything he said, but it didn’t matter. He arranged her body as he wished and lifted her legs on his shoulders. Her sex was splayed in front of him.

 

He fingered her until she was glistening wet. He spread the wetness around and begun rubbing her swollen clit. The sensations coursing along her nerves overwhelmed her, and smiling blissfully she twitched under his touches. Siri felt the heavy tension of an orgasm building and it caused her whole body to seize until a whirlwind climax tore through her and she screamed and heaved as Choma went on rubbing her oversensitive nub.

 

He wanted to have her again and make it right this time. His semi hard cock was barely stiff enough to get it in her but Choma helped it with her hand. Inside the newly orgasmed cunt it soon gorged itself back to full erection. Siri was limp and groggy and easy to maneuver to lean over the couch. Choma slipped his cock back inside and petted her tousled hair. ”Perhaps I won’t take you to the doctor after all. Perhaps I’ll fuck you every day until I get you pregnant. I’ll watch you waddle with your big belly and bend you over to rape you again and again. When the baby comes I’ll watch you scream as it tears through your cunt. Maybe I’ll fuck you in the ass while you’re in labour, would you like that angel?” He knew she didn’t understand and better that way for he didn’t mean her to, but the thought made him harder and accelerated his second orgasm. It was painful, trying to cum again so soon, but he wanted to mark her, have her smeared with his semen. He grabbed her hair and spoke into her ear, ” I’m leaving everything I’ve got buried as deep inside you as I can go, and this time you’ll keep it all in, angel.”

 

His milk spurted and he kept stroking in and out, coating her cunt until he was too limp to get in anymore. “Good girl,” he huffed and walked the meek girl by the hand back to the master bedroom. The jizz leaking out from her pussy made slick sounds the whole way as she tried to squeeze her legs together to keep it from dripping on the floor.

 

On the bed there was still one thing Choma wanted to do. He nudged her thighs and obediently Siri spread her legs for him. She groaned as Choma’s fingers entered her but stayed still when he told her to. “I want it everywhere angel,” he whispered as his fingers slid back and forth, rubbing and poking at her cervix. “It’ll work inside you all night.” Silent tears ran down Siri’s face when Choma closed her in his arms for the night.

 

***

 

For once Siri woke before Choma. She slipped from the bed and walked to the stream. She waded in, sat on the sand bottom and opened her legs to the cleansing stream. She had barely sat down as she saw Choma walking down from the house. He removed his towel and got in with her, sitting just behind her to hold her in his arms. “Dobrogo ranku,” good morning, he rasped playing with her breasts and Siri gasped, “Huomenta.” The fear of pregnancy was still a knife in her gut but Choma’s playful good mood swept her with it and she laughed as a hand travelled down her stomach to stroke her slit. ”We have somewhere to go I want you clean for my friend.”

 

It was the second time Choma took her with him to the village Pidmanove. They passed Oleg’s cannery and stopped in front of an office. Inside she found a doctor’s waiting room and Choma touched her stomach and whispered, “I promised you were safe with me.” While filling up the paperwork Siri shivered thinking how much of the past days activities the doctor could see as marks on her body.

 

Dr Savchuk had heard of Choma taking in the wandering girl, but the thought of them having a sexual relationship was disturbing. Frankly he had thought Choma to have more sense. When the girl walked in his office he couldn’t help noticing that she was very tense. He wondered if she was merely nervous to see him or if there was something wrong with her situation. After shaking hands he led her to sit down.

 

“So, Miss Lavonen, how can I help you?” he started and Siri bristled to hear her own name – she’d almost convinced herself that Enni never existed. A well educated man, the doctor spoke excellent English, but it did little to ease bringing up the topic.

 

“I need,” she took a long pause staring at her hands until she got mad at herself for acting a child and looked the doctor straight in the eye almost defiantly, “I need contraception.” It was the doctors turn to pause.

 

”Listen, Miss, Choma Danylovych is an old friend. I’d hate to see him used ill. I can’t say I understand the situation that well, but what ever your plans are, I hope you’ve made them clear to him.”

 

“You presume too much Doctor. Besides how do I make anything clear to someone who doesn’t understand what I say?”

 

“He understands more than you think. Just talk to him.” Savchuk spread his hands, “Well, I take it you’ve been in this situation before. What was your previous method of birth control?”

 

“I’ve had a contraceptive coil, if possible I’d want one such now. I don’t want pills, too many side-effects.”

 

“I see. Hmm, I don’t keep an extensive stock of supplies, especially this sort. But as one of my patients recently changed her mind about having a third child I have one here now. You have children, Miss Lavonen?” The question and his tone were equally condescending.

 

“No, I don’t. My doctor was of the opinion it wasn’t a requirement to have a coil,” She answered more snappish than was necessary, for a doctor with such an opinion had not been easy to find.

 

“It would certainly make it easier. Was the insertion painful?”

 

“Of course it was,” se huffed, “but not unbearable.”

 

Savchuk asked her further about her menstruating and health in general. He was a genial man but nonetheless Siri only wanted the visit over with and answered him tersely.

 

“You see Miss Lavonen, I don’t know what kind of a coil you had or the size of it. The one I have isn’t such a modern item as doctors in your home country have access to. Present-day coils are considerably smaller than what coils used to be and what we still use. In Ukraine putting a coil for someone that hasn’t given birth is quite unheard of. A bigger problem than my professional opinion is that I don’t have any equipment. The nearest sonographic machine is in Shatsk. Without one the insertion gets considerably more complicated, not to mention painful, especially with your birth canal.” Siri’s expression changed from hopeful to fearful. “Think carefully, there are other options and I can explain the situation to Mr Vasylenko for you if you so wish. Are you sure another coil is what you want?”

 

“Yes,” she said uncertainly, “I am. But please Dr Savchuk I assume patient records are confidential in Ukraine as well, but can you please tell me he’s healthy. As we—I don’t want to get—” she turned to look away, “I don’t want to get ill.”

 

“I’m sorry, but that you must ask from Mr Vasylenko himself. I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m here to give advice. To my knowledge you’ve known each other less than a month and to me this kind of a decision seems very hasty. You could take time to consider your options and come back if you decide you want the coil.”

 

She was scared by everything he’d said but the need to have Choma inside her was stronger than fear of pain. “I thank you for your concern, but I’d like it done now.”

 

“For the last time, I want to remind you, this will be extremely painful. Are you sure you want this?”

 

Her back was rigid with fear but she nodded. Lying on a gynaecologists table all exposed was enough to nauseate her at any time but under these circumstances it was so much more humiliating. What the doctor must think of me, she rued.

 

“I suggest you ask Choma in. I’ll need his help to restrain you and you’ll need all the support you can get. I can’t say I wholly approve his allowing you to go through with this.”

 

He called Choma in and gave him a shortened version of their conversation in Ukrainian. From his sharp tone Siri assumed he also gave him his opinion on putting coils in girls that haven’t given birth, generally irresponsible sexual behaviour and mostly of reckless decisions made by grown men while blinded by lust.

 

She had to get naked from the waist down and though Dima had seen her naked dozens of times his presence only made the situation more humiliating. The Doctor attached stirrups to his examination table and both men turned their heads discreetly as she walked to the table and lay down on it. The doctor guided her feet to the stirrups and had her inch down until her hips were just on the edge of the table. It was an instinct to cover herself, and she had unknowingly brought her thighs together and the doctor had to part them for her. Choma was standing right behind her head and she felt his eyes on her. It was horrible to have him see another man touching her.

 

 “Are you comfortable Miss?” asked Dr Savchuk.

 

 A god damned stupid question, thought Siri but nodded stiffly.

 

“Good. Don’t be alarmed, I’ll put a restrainer belt around your waist. As I proceed with the insertion your body might reflexively convulse and with my tweezers inside you there’s a risk you’ll stab yourself on them and be injured.”

 

Siri’s skin crawled as she was strapped down but his reasoning was indisputable. Still, the sound of the buckle closing made her twitch and Choma squeezed her shoulders like saying, “It’s ok.”

 

She tried to convince herself she was safe, Choma was with her and Mr Savchuk was a doctor but her helplessness didn’t allow her terror to abate. She saw a strange room in a strange country with two strange men looming over her restrained naked body. She wanted to scream for them to let her go, but forced down the impending panic. She made herself remember why she was here. She sought out Choma’s hand and when he squeezed her fingers reassuringly she remembered what it was like to have him inside her and filled her head with his weight on top of her.

 

“Now Miss Lavonen, I’ll begin.”

 

She hadn’t heard the snap of latex and realized he was going to put his hand inside her naked. It was an unpleasant thought not to have the clinical glove as a barrier between a doctor and a patient, making the touch as asexual as possible, but facilities and practices in rural Ukraine were not up to those in Finland.

 

She had tensed up and her whole body jolted as the doctor’s finger prodded for her opening. Choma shushed her stroking her hair.

 

“It’s ok,” said the Doctor, “I’m just making the preliminary examination. I’ll warn you when I start inserting the coil.”

 

When he peeled open her labia to insert his fingers in her vagina he saw abrasions on her mucosae and bruising around her opening. He frowned and instinctively glanced at the man standing by the woman’s head, feeling very uncomfortable. He regretted having Choma present for he felt like he should ask the girl about her hurts.

 

He inserted his fingers deep inside the woman and examined her thoroughly. Not finding anything abnormal, he inserted the specula, gave the patient the heads up and picked up the coil in his tweezers. She was brave and started moaning only when he started poking around the bottom of her vaginal cavity in search of her cervix. He could view his goal in the opening of the specula, but when he started to insert the coil his hand obstructed all vision. Savchuk tried for several minutes ignoring her distress until the first traces of blood appeared on the tweezers.

 

“Miss, how are you feeling? There’s some bleeding. Do you wish to stop this?”

 

“Do it,” was all Siri could manage.

 

Savchuk grimaced but tried again. His patient cried out in pain regularly as he pushed the coil in her tender flesh. He didn’t want to fail in the attempt after what she had already gone through and kept pushing the tweezers deeper waiting to hit her cervix.

 

After several more minutes the Doctor sighed and pulled out. “I can’t afford to poke you blind anymore,” he said in an I-told-you-so tone. “You’re bleeding too much. This might feel uncomfortable but I will insert my fingers in your rectum and guide the tweezers from there. Try to relax, I’m sure this will be over soon.”

 

It was degrading but Siri was too hurt to contradict, all she wanted was for the pain to stop. She breathed in sharp gasps as Choma’s breaths were heavy, almost rasping. He was obviously agitated. Dr Savchuk’s finger prodded her anus and again against her conscious efforts her body tried to escape the invasion but the belt kept her still. All she had to experience was made more horrible by the knowledge that if it was a fantasy she’d be wet and masturbating. The irrational fear of the doctor somehow sensing her sexual thoughts made her grasp at any other thought in her mind.

 

She drifted to another doctor’s office, in another country, in a mental ward of a hospital and a succeeding six weeks during which the mad world outside the hospital hadn’t grown any less greedy or tragic. But here it was different, here she didn’t have to think about any of it, here was Choma and when he fucked her that world, in which everything was her problem, didn’t exist. All this pain had a purpose.

 

The Doctor’s finger weaselled in, pulled back and returned as two and then three. Her well used back door didn’t resist much and she was ashamed for the doctor would guess why. The fingers moved around and she groaned in shame and discomfort. Choma’s hands were rigid on her shoulders, his fingers dug into the thin layer of flesh on her bones. He’d stopped talking to her and just breathed loudly. The Doctor’s fingers touched the pincers through the thin membrane separating her anal and vaginal cavities. The movement of the pincers got more deliberate and soon the pain of random stabs to her bloody insides changed into the agony of cutting her flesh as Dr Savchuck found her cervix and started pushing the new coil through the closed canal into the small pouch of her womb. She cramped and thrashed and the belt bit into the soft flesh of her belly.

 

Holding her down while another man made her scream dimmed Choma’s reason and his cock swelled. Like all the amends he’d tried to make suddenly came to nothing. He could see blood on the doctor’s fingers and wished he’d make her scream out loud again. The blood took him back at the unit and her struggle against the strap made him wild. His mind wandered and he saw Yevhen fucking her while he gagged her with his cock and a third man inserting torture implements in her defenceless rectum. Since the doctor was present he pulled himself together. He talked softly into her ear, but what he really wanted to say was how hard her pain distorted face was making him, how he wanted to fuck her bloody pussy and lick tears from her reddened face, how he wanted to force things into her ass – bigger and bigger – and see her body squirm in agony. Then he’d feed her his cock all the way down her throat and make her gag on it.

 

Innumerable horrible things had happened under soviet rule. He was one of them, in detention centre Volkov 27. What ever they did to the arrested men was nothing compared to what was done for their wives and grown daughters. Choma had seen women raped until they lost their minds. The guards had been kept in training until the atrocities they witnessed moved them no longer, until they believed it was necessary and justified for the greater cause, for the good of all the Soviet Union. He loathed himself for letting their brainwashing get to him and even more for enjoying his power over the captives and relishing in the cruelty. Those three years were enough to deem his soul forever to hell.

 

He’d stood guard as the wolves raped the women until they were too traumatized to speak. Then they’d cut them or use the special built machines to begin again their screams and terror. Beatings, injections, enemas, electric shocks and fire – anything, until the torturers achieved complete breakdown, body and soul. The ‘interrogations’ were recorded and the tapes played for the victims' husbands and fathers, the screams ringing in their cells until the men said and signed whatever the Commander wanted them to. Wolves, Volkov was full of them.

 

One night a daughter of a captive, stripped, fondled and insane with fear, pleaded to Choma’s better nature to help her. She was scared witless though all the officers so far had done was to threaten her. What he’d done to that young woman never left him alone after that night. The MPs locked him up in isolation for three days and those hours in the dark were a wake up call, the revelation that made him see what kind of a man he’d made of himself. When they let him out there was no investigation, no disciplinary actions. Everywhere he was greeted with smirks and pats in the back and it made him sick. By deserting with Volkov’s politically sensitive personnel files he’d in one action written his own death sentence and bought a chance for a different life.

 

Choma couldn’t believe he’d done a thing like that. That man was a stranger yet it was him. All these years he’d kept him buried but this girl had prodded his demons awake and now this. He cursed himself for ever entering Yevhen’s office.

 

The rest of the visit was a haze. Siri came to in the car when the doctor gave his last instructions. “I know the bleeding looks bad but it should slow in a few hours. If it doesn’t you should come back here. And this is clear without saying, but with all your haste I’ll say it anyway: no intercourse for at least three days. You need time to heal Miss Lavonen.”

 

Though Choma drove carefully, the ride with all the bumps in the road was agony. Every jump made her feel the alien object inside her, poking at her belly. At the homestead Choma watched her laboured walking. She’d groaned and mewed stepping out of the car and her face cringed so enticingly as she made her way to the door. He tried to find his calm. He tried to find the state of mind in which the girl was fragile, a thing to be protected. Instead his head filled with interrogation rooms and his bloody cock coming out of her gaping hole. His blood rushed to his cock, swelling it until it was so engorged the stretching of his skin ached. He knew if he just got inside her his cock would be a stabbing knife where the piece of metal in her womb would bite her.

 

Chapter eleven

 

In the end reason won, backed by the fact that a second visit to Yevhen‘s clinic would rise the good Doctor’s suspicions. Three days was a long time to keep away from Siri and to pass the time he often left the house to deliver machines back to their owners. He always explained where he was going but Siri hardly understood more than when he’d be back.

 

It was a warm day and Siri put on the sundress she’d brought with her and went behind the workshop to pick strawberries. She had two crates full when she heard a car approaching. It wasn’t even noon yet so Choma was early. With a giddy feeling Siri ran to welcome him home. It’s the third day today, perhaps we can... But the car wasn’t his or Larisa’s. It was another banged up truck but there were three strange men in it. She didn’t like it and backed slowly towards the door.

 

The men stepped out of the car and all greeted her politely. They smiled at her apprehensive stance at the doorstep and joked among themselves. They walked closer and the driver, Rustam Ilkovych, asked her where Choma was, “I thought he was expecting us.” The girl, he could see, was already nervous and obviously didn’t understand.

 

Searching for words Siri tried to say in Russian that if they wanted Choma he wasn’t there. “Here soon,” she lied.

 

Their presence made her feel unsafe. The driver motioned the two to stay put and approached her. She knew she was probably being ridiculous but instinctively she opened the door and stood just inside it, ready to slam it shut. “No Choma now,” she said to the driver in poor Ukrainian and loathed herself for the obvious fear in her voice.

 

Rustam laughed and lifted his hands up, “Easy, easy,” he said keeping his hands in front of him and inched closer. “I just want to talk to you.” She didn’t like his tone or the leers on the others’ faces. She stepped back and slammed the door shut but the fumbling with the old fashioned lock was too slow and she didn’t have time to turn the clumsy key before the man yanked the door open and her tight grip on the handle had her fall in his feet.

 

Rustam smiled wickedly and offered Siri his hand, ”All we want is a little hospitality. The whole village knows you’re his whore.” Siri aimed a kick at his thigh but failed to get him out of the door.

 

“Kost, Drijka, move!” Rustam barked in a steely voice. “She’s putting up a fight.” He lifted her head from the hair and snarled at her, their faces almost touching, “I’m gonna have me some of what he’s been getting. Don’t worry, it’s just as easy to spread your legs for us as it is for him.” Kostyantin and Andrij grabbed her arms and hauled her up. “Where you come from? Eh? Where you come from?” He looked at his friends and laughed. ”The bitch doesn’t understand a thing. Man, Choma has a good thing going, a tight little pussy eager to bend over and none of the nagging.” He leaned close again “If it’s cock you want you could’ve found younger meat. Don’t worry, we’ll give you a ride you won’t forget.”

 

Siri moaned and her body started heaving with sobs. “That’s a good little whore. That much you understand,” he said and squeezed her crotch through her clothes. Siri, hanging from Kostyantin’s and Andrij’s grip, screamed and kicked with her feet. “That’s it bitch, I tried to be nice. Take her through there, let’s get that dress off.”

 

Siri cried at the top of her voice. She called for Choma hoping against hope that it could bring him to her. The men let her scream, Choma didn’t have neighbours for miles and miles as far as she knew. “No!” she wailed as their hands started pulling at her dress. They laughed and mocked her with their harsh language. She tried to stop them but their six hands were all over her and they pulled the dress over her head.

 

She wanted to curl up to hide her body from them, but their hands kept her arms pulled wide and both Kostyantin and Andrij had a foot spreading her legs apart. Andrij had her hands pinned over her head and Kostyantin was cutting the straps of her bra with a knife. She heaved her body left and right, trying to pull free, but the men were strong.

 

“Fuck,” swore Kostyantin, “I cut her.”

 

“Don’t be a pussy, it’s just a nick,” spat Rustam.”I wanna see her boobs.” His hand travelled up her leg. “The old man must have his hands down your collar all the time, eh bitch? Does he let you wear clothes at all? I bet he’s a real dog.”

 

Siri was blinded with panick. She could think of nothing but their dirty hands on her. Andrij was licking her face and kissing her roughly. He stuck his tongue in her mouth and it tasted like vodka. Kostyantin mauled and kneaded her breasts sinking his fingers into her tender soft flesh. The third assault came from below where Rustam had knelt in front of her spread legs. He’d been massaging her sex through her panties, smelling the scent of her warm crotch. He’d taken the knife from Kostyantin and slid it slowly up from her ankle to her thigh. He slid it under the side seams and cut off her last piece of garment. Her cries of protestation went ignored as fingers travelled up her thigh towards her pussy lips.

 

“Fuck! Stay still cunt or I’ll stab you,” Rustam bellowed. “I don’t mind fucking your corpse as long as you’re still warm. Kost, smear some of that blood on her face, see if she understands.” When Kostyantin lifted his bloody hands in front of her face and Rustam pressed the edge of the knife on her slit, she froze.

 

Knowing she was going to lose the sovereignty of her own body for forever, defeatism overtook her.  Her heart sank and she could see in her mind how they would bend her over and rape every hole she had in her body. “That’s better,” Rustam smirked as Kostyantin and Andrij turned to look down at his hands. Siri’s groans were shrill as the fingers slithered closer to her crotch.

 

Tears streamed on her cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to live with their touch on her. She’d never be able to wash them away or forget them on her. She wailed as she thought her heart was breaking. Choma, they’ll take away everything.

 

The alertness of the sensory nerves on her labia sharpened into an unbearable tension as the fingers reached her slit. I can’t let him in. Rustam talked to her as if she was loving it. “Don’t cry baby, I know you’re wet inside. Don’t hide from me.” Her skin crawled and she cried out for Choma in tears.

 

Rustam parting her lips and the finger invading her vulva exploded Siri’s panic. In one roar she let out all her desperation, anger and fear. She kicked out and smashed her knee on Rustam’s grinning face. Simultaneously she heaved her body, yanking herself free from the two men pinning her to the wall, and the men - gawping at the howling Rustam - lost their grip on her.

 

“Get the bitch!” Rustam roared holding his broken nose, “I’ll kill her.” Almost toppling over in her panic haste she managed to lunge for the basement door. Yanking the key with her, she slammed the door shut on her tormentors. Her momentum threw her to tumble down the stairs. On the bottom she hit the shelves knocking down some boxes while upstairs the men cursed her and pounded on the door.

 

In a few minutes they frustrated with her and Siri heard the door bang and soon after a car driving away. She looked at the mess she’d made. Papers and files cluttered the floor. A little scared she picked one up. They were written in Russian, personnel files with pictures of soldiers. She couldn’t read the old-fashioned handwriting and started to stack them back to the box.

 

One of the faces was Choma’s. The name was the same as in the dictionary he’d given her. It had belonged to a Vakhno Palahnyuk, but when she’d asked who it was, Choma had said he was dead. Siri was confused, they could have been twins and yet a brother would surely have the same surname. She sat in the cellar until she heard the floor above her creak with steps. First she thought the men had come back, but the steps were slow rather than aggressive.

 

***

 

The books he’d left on the living room table were strewn on the floor among muddy footprints and one of the chairs had been thrust aside from its usual place. He saw Siri’s ripped dress thrown on the drawer and her underwear on the floor. “Siri,” he uttered and then called, “Siri?!” Retracing his steps he found more signs of struggle from the hallway, where a faint noise halted him. He shouted her name once more and stopped to listen, the sound came from beneath him. He raced to the back end of the hall but the basement door had no key. “Hold on!” He shouted and fetched the spare key from the kitchen.

 

When he got the door open she was calling his name in a pathetic little voice. He found her wrapped in his winter coat sitting on a rough wooden chest. Her hair was tousled and she had obviously been crying. She hid her face from him as he approached but didn’t stop repeating his name. When he stood next to her and put his arms around her she grabbed him like a drowning person and buried her face under his arm. “What happened?” he asked, so shocked at the state of her he almost asked her in English.

 

She was completely naked under the coat, her little tender nipples hard in the cold room. There were smears of rusty brown on her chest and a bloody crust on a cut beneath her left breast. “Jesus, you’re hurt. Where are your clothes?” He tried to get her to look at him but she refused. From somewhere in his shirt she whimpered in the smallest voice, “They touched me,” and the last word mingled into a mewing moan of anguish. In an instant rage ripped through his whole being. Someone had been there and they had molested her. “What happened?” She answered him only with shrill keening. Her sense of dirtiness intensified with his touch. Her crotch burned her and she tore herself away from his grasp.

 

He lifted her into his arms wishing he could have done it more gracefully, but his old bones lacked the practise of Prince Charming. How did I ever get her here from the moor, he thought as his knee joints ached when he staggered up the basement chairs. He put her down on the sofa as he had the night he found her. She had lit up his grey existence and the rage of someone daring to defile her tore him so violently it was hard to concentrate on helping her. He’d find out who they were and he’d make them pay. The girl was shocked and unable to tell him what they had done. He feared the worst and saw her screaming and crying while those beasts held her down and raped her everywhere. “They’re dead men.”

 

Somehow he managed to get the girl upstairs. While he fetched a bowl of water and a cloth, she’d curled into a ball on the bed and he had to coax her to lie back. He could understand her sense of filthiness, he’d seen it often enough.

 

“Take this.”

 

She turned her head away, disgusted by the alcohol smell of the horilka. “I don’t drink.”

 

“You do now, it’s medicin.”

 

Reluctantly she swallowed the liquid that felt more like gasoline in her throat, burning. Choma moist the cloth and started to wash her slowly, talking to her all the time. “I’ll lift your arm a little, it’s ok. I’ll rinse this. Shh. I’ll wash your shoulders next. It’s ok. It’s just water.” She relaxed and let him wipe the sharpest edge of her violation from her skin.

 

“Open your legs baby, it’s safe. I’ll help you, I’ll take it all away. You can do it.” He nudged her thighs gently. “It’s just you and me here. Let me make it better.” She snivelled but parted her thighs obediently as he knew she would. “Good girl, I’ll make it better.” There was no mess, no blood. Her little pussy was so vulnerable. She mewed as his cloth approached and he shushed her. He pressed the warm cloth against her slit and slid it along her lips. He did this several times. Rinsing and wiping again and again until her whimpers died down. He put his other hand on her lips and parted them, she tensed up immediately. “Angel, it’s just you and me, remember.” She nodded, her eyes still shut, and tried to relax but only managed halfway there.

 

Choma spread her vulva open before his eyes and rubbed her with the cloth. She twitched a little but didn’t complain. “Did they hurt you? Did they touch you here?” She answered in English “Three. No. They held me down I,” her voice broke, “I couldn’t –“ and she sobbed again. Choma lay his head down and kissed her thigh. His hand cupped her mound. “I’ll take it away, trust me.” She nodded. He pressed his head on her moist pussy and whispered, “What ever it was they touched in you, I’m going to take it back.” He stroked her slit with his nose, parting her lips. When he reached her opening he nudged it with the tip of his nose. She twitched and he shushed her, putting his hands on her thighs to keep her still. He sticked his tongue out and tasted her.

 

Siri grabbed Choma’s hair. “Please no, I feel so dirty. Don’t touch me when I’m like this.” Choma shushed her and licked slowly. His tongue dipped inside her hole and dragged on her pussy. Gradually the imprints of Choma’s touches covered and dimmed the handprints of the three men on her skin. “Please Choma, make it yours, I want it to be yours, only yours.” She reached for his arms and pulled him on top of her.

 

His penis was semi erected but her proposal made it harden in one shudder that rocked his body. To have her want and beg for him felt so good. Those were the moments she was his like no other had ever been. Which ever date of birth stood on her passport, in her mind she was still a child needing to be held and filled with the feeling of not being alone in the darkness. He positioned himself on top of her. She shivered slightly and he kissed her forehead. “It’s just you and me here.”

 

“Please Choma, wipe them away, be in me and chase them all away. Give me your cum.” She spread her thighs wider and reached down to spread her pussy for him. “Make me yours Choma, make me yours.” He forgot tenderness and rammed inside her while she screamed in satisfaction. “More Choma, harder, own me, please, I need you.” There was desperation in her sudden need, for her voice broke again with her last words and she wept, tears rolling on the pillow on both sides of her head as he fucked her. Nonetheless, she kept asking him to do it harder and faster.

 

“Make it hurt Choma, I want you to make it hurt. Take me hard, make me yours. I want to be only yours.” He  grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, making his cock go in as deep as it could in that position. She screamed in pain and still begged him to hurt her more. Too late he understood what she was doing and stopped. “Move! Fuck me!” she cried in a shrill angry voice, she opened her eyes and her gaze was furious, blazing. “Fuck me you bastard! Fuck me!”

 

He lowered himself on top of her, leaning all his weight on her. He moved his lips to her ear. “I’m not them. You are mine. You’ll always be mine. Always. Nothing will change that. You don’t need to punish yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She grunted in anger and tried to throw him off her but he was stronger. “You did nothing wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You want me inside you, you’ll get me but not like this.”

 

“Fuck you,” she whispered and her chest heaved with sobs again. Choma rose and wriggled inside her for a moment to get himself fully erect again. He started moving slowly in her. She tried to buck against him but when she did he stopped altogether. “Please Choma, take me hard,” she kept asking and he kept refusing. “I won’t punish you. I just want to wipe it away from your mind. Don’t be afraid, I’ll never leave you alone again. I want you and I’ll keep you. I’m sorry angel, I really am.”

 

He fucked her slow and though it wasn’t what she wanted she stopped cursing him for it. When she lay still for him he told her to get on her knees. Choma reached his hand on her mouth. “This is me, this is all me,” he whispered and speared her. She screamed in pain as he knew she would and the hand didn’t muffle her shriek much. He slammed himself against her ass taking advantage of the position he could penetrate her the deepest. She screamed and bucked and tried to escape but he had her tight in his grip. “You wanted hard, this is hard, you wanted more, this is more. I’m taking what’s mine. Scream baby, let me hear you hurt. He lifted his hand and listened to her panicked screams. “Please Choma, please,” were all the words she could form.

 

He grabbed her braid and pulled her head back. “Still want harder? You’re a little whore, but you’re my whore, mine alone. No one else has the right to call you that, you’re only mine.” She groaned loudly as he quickened his pace close to cumming. “My. Whore. My. Angel,” he stammered in the rhythm of his laboured breathing. “Say it!” He slapped her on her butt and she yelped. “I’m your whore!” she shouted, desperate to please. “Again.” “I’m-your-whore. I’m-you’re-whore.” Each word came out as another of his thrusts hit the bottom of her cunt until he bellowed and Siri felt his hot cum spurting into her. Cursing, the shuddering man collapsed beside her and Siri lay down beside him. He’d spoken without thinking and wasn’t sure what he’d let slip.

 

Word by word, uttered with tears, he got the story out of her. “Bastards. Beasts.” She’d whispered two names with hateful spite, the rabid lapdogs of Rustam Ilkovych. He thanked heavens she was able to escape or they’d have shattered her soul and killed her warm heart inside her living body. He’d met three hollow ruins that were the girls unfortunate enough to have no one to protect them from beasts like Rustam. It would have been kinder to kill them than leave them alive, which was the only reason they lived.

 

***

 

In the evening Siri approached him with the dictionary. “Liar,” she whispered faintly. “You speak English. Propably Russian too. It’s you, isn’t it. Vakhno.” The name was difficult to pronounce, “Who are you? All this time you knew what I was saying and you didn’t answer me once. Don’t you understand how alone I was without no-one to talk to?”

 

Now he was sure he’d lapsed in his dizzy spin of desire and spoke English to her. He didn’t want to meet her gaze and admit that he hadn’t trusted her. “Enni, we all have pasts somewhere. When it’s dangerous or sad, it’s better no one knows.”

 

He’d used her real name and she realized that he’d gone through her things at some point. “The Doctor knows.” No sooner were the words out than she realized how childish she sounded.

 

“He thinks he knows, it’s not the same.” Those were the only words of English Siri got from him though she was sure he could have spoken perfect English had he wished to.

 

Chapter twelve

 

Larisa came by to fetch some eggs and return the scarf Siri had forgotten on her visit the previous day. Choma had had errands that couldn’t wait and kept to his promise not to leave her alone again. She had spent the day at the farm of Larisa and her family.

 

They were all having tea in Choma’s kitchen when Larisa changed the subject to local gossip. “I wonder if you’ve heard there’s been an accident at Hordiyenko farm.  All three farm hands are in Shatsk hospital - the strangest injuries I’ve ever heard a harvester make. Rustam Ilkovych was unconscious when old Danylets found the boys. It’s not known if he’ll ever wake up. And our Doctor Savchuk was so busy he wouldn’t see them and sent them straight to Shatsk. That was strange.”

 

Choma said nothing and hid behind his mug. Young Rustam had been strong but he didn’t have Choma’s training. The pain of knowing that Siri had cried for help and he hadn’t been there for her, ate him from inside out. All that guilt he took out on him. Choma hadn’t planned to kill him, but when he saw his leer he thought of him and his friends spreading Siri naked against the wall, and the terror and shame he’d barely been able to get her to let go. Rage blurred the world around him and he’d beaten him until he fell and kept kicking him until his face was but a bloody mess.

 

Siri heard many names and it was difficult to pretend clueless until Larisa left. She’d heard their names. Larisa had had a weird look on her face. Siri wondered if she knew what had happened to her and felt sick. Night came too soon and they sat in the bed both waiting for the other to speak first.

 

“You killed them, didn’t you?” Her voice was cold.

 

Choma closed his eyes and sighed. “I tried to kill him.”

 

“Don’t you understand,” she screamed grabbing at him, “I don’t want to lose you Choma. You’ll go to jail.”

 

“He’s a monster. No one will say anything - another farming accident. Should he die the village will be the safer for it. He deserved it.” A pause. “Siri,” Choma’s voice thickened, “he had no right.” He was afraid he’d choke if he tried to say any more and lay his hand on her head, pulling her closed to lean his chin on her head.

 

“But to kill a person?”

 

“Trust me, compared to what he was going to do to you his faith is merciful. Siri,” he turned to look away, “I’m not a good man. You saw the files. I was a soldier. Killing was my job. That and worse things.” He took her hand and looked at her, “He tried to hurt you. No one does that.”

 

There was nothing Siri could have said to that. Her hatred for Rustam was bitter but murder was incomprehensible, unreal. Yet she felt more his than ever and whispered, “Hold me.”

 

They sat in silence for a long time. None of it was her business but it was getting harder to keep secrets from her. At last he told her about his military service and the interrogation center he’d been assigned to.

 

“I raped her and god help me I enjoyed it. I called other guards in and we took turns on her, eleven men for five hours, using batons and guns to rape her when no cock would stand up anymore. I left when she stopped moving but the others called in more and more men to use her and by the morning she was dead.”

 

Siri didn’t say a word and didn’t even look at him when he got up and left. Hours later she opened the door to the half lit workshop. On the workbench in front of Choma stood a tiny glass and a half empty bottle of horilka.

 

 “I want to hate you but I can’t.” She took the glass from his hands and squeezed them, “Neither can I forgive you on her behalf, but I’m not ready to lose you. Look at me.” She took his head in her hands. “You are good - to me. Before,” the break was so long he thought she wasn’t going to say more, “…to have everything and live knowing that other people have nothing...” It was enough from that particular can of worms. “It’s better here. There’s balance, and if I get the least bit anxious, all you have to do is fuck me stupid and I’m calmer than any pill ever made me. Please promise me I won’t lose you. They’re not worth it. Nothing is. Not even She.”

 

“Siri--”

 

“What do you want me to say? It was twenty years ago in another world, and the man you described isn’t the man I know. So please, let him stay dead. What you and I do together doesn’t compare. I’m happy here. Please, come sleep with me. You’ve had enough to drink.”

 

Choma got up and shoved her harshly down back against the table. He pushed her nightgown up to her waist leaving her pussy bare. “Does it turn you on to know what I am?”

 

She stared at him, face unreadable, her hands grasping the wrist of his invading hand, but not pulling it away. When he felt her with his fingers she was so wet it was as if her labia wasn’t even there. “Stay still or it’ll go bad for you,” he hissed and started removing his pants. He entered her in one smooth movement and she cried out in delight. He moved his hands to grip her neck and squeezed. He was careful not to block her breathing altogether and yet in an instant he felt her cunt flood as she flushed with excitement. “Harder, harder,” she wheezed looking him straight in the eye.

 

“My sweet angel, you’re mine, forever. If you ever try to leave I’ll bring you back and rape you ‘til you love me again.” The words were like an impulse to Siri’s spinal chord and her body arched taking his cock deeper. “Yes,” she croaked just before Choma filled her once more with his sweet load.