- Where is this time? The scarred man asked in a bored tone. Vika noticed that with the blindfold she began to pay more attention to the surrounding voices - timbre, intonation, breathing, reprimand and other details that she had never attached to before. Her personal bodyguard was called Gena, so she mentally gave him the nickname "Crocodile." He was not verbose, harsh and obviously greatly missed his work, which was rarely seen among guards and bodyguards. However, why would she judge such things? Most likely just the fear prompted her mind to look for some logic in everything, some kind of loophole, and for this it was necessary to understand those who were nearby.

“VIP Room,” readily said a nasal male voice unfamiliar to her. - That is still a hole, but for some reason it is popular in Paris among celebrities.

- The name doesn't matter to me anyway.

- So what are you asking? To you, I see, our princess managed to scratch her face. Because so gloomy you sit?

The crocodile did not answer, but Vika for some reason involuntarily blushed. However, after everything she read in the apartment, where she was brought for a couple of hours, so that she could put herself in order and relax, shame practically did not leave her for a minute along with fear. At other times, it seemed to her that she would simply go crazy with the nightmare in which she had to plunge, but these sensations were, of course, an absurd exaggeration, because a person is capable of enduring much. Even more than he thinks. Sometimes she managed to force herself not to think, not to think at all, just like now.

The limo stopped, and almost immediately someone touched her shoulder. She turned her head in a meaningless attempt to orient in space, but she was firmly squeezed by her forearm and pulled forward and then to the side. The armored door opened, and at once, distant beats of some kind of disco music, the noise of the crowd, the sound of engines of cars passing by, broke into the air. In general, a night city lived around, that part of it that does not sleep at night. Vika got out of the car and, carefully walking on thin heels blindly behind her guide, tried to focus only on not falling.

Maybe she should scream right now? But she did not even know where she was and what was surrounding her. Moreover, the punishments ... now she will always remember the punishments ... Maybe it is really worth becoming obedient and then two months will not be as painful and scary as her imagination draws her? No matter how she tried to control herself, everything inside her became cold, and her legs involuntarily weakened when she was put into some room. The music was already beating on the ears, the air became warmer and thinner, the voices and other people's bodies were closer - she felt their heat, energy, and sometimes - occasional touches, which made her tremble.

When they stopped, Vika moved her head around meaninglessly - blinded, stunned by the rhythm of the shock and panic. Her hands were clasped behind her with the same leather handcuffs, she was wearing the same leather dress, she was only given new black lace panties, and her stockings were made to put on thick, black and short ones — just on the palm above the knee. When something warm suddenly touched her cheek, she started and rushed, but someone, probably the Crocodile, pulled her back behind the chain between leather bracelets, and someone else, standing directly in front of her, with both hands pulled her face to him and pressed his lips to her ear:

“So you're here now, Raven?”

She was burned by strange breath, alien intimacy and the very familiar scent of men's perfumes - nutmeg, bergamot, lavender, tangerine ...

“Even a man like you now has a boss?” - continued enveloping unrecognizable whisper. Vika swallowed the lump in her throat and all tensed up, trying to pull away, but, leaning back, she rested her back on the iron figure of her bodyguard. Other people's sensual hands slid freely down her neck, shoulders and arms, then suddenly disappeared somewhere in the space invisible to her. The trembling involuntarily passed through the body, the breath was completely lost. She barely moved her lips to answer anything, but suddenly open lips touched unexpectedly wet lips, at first with light short teasing kisses, subtle, like pulse beats. Vika turned her head away, but gently persistent hands caught her face again, and her lips and tongue devoured her confusedly open mouth for a couple of seconds. For some reason, she was pleased and did not want to dodge, only inexplicable excitement and remorse because of their own accessibility sharpened her from within. She tried to convince herself that she was just taken by surprise. Her lips were pulled back for a while, and then they began to burn again, prudently interrupting exactly at that moment when she most wanted to continue, and finding her mouth at that moment when she no longer believed that she would receive a new batch of caress.

“How did you become timid and submissive ... It turns out wildly ...,” said a soft whisper, either sincerely or with irony — she never managed to determine intonation. One hand of the stranger raised the edge of her dress, stroked her thigh and pubis, covered with thin lace panties.

“No,” she blurted out, as if waking from delusion, and rushed, but the Crocodile bent her elbows behind her back with a kind of bloodthirsty readiness. She arched back to not allow herself to be hurt, and immediately found herself in the arms of a stranger, whose hand unceremoniously crept into her panties and gently stroked smooth sensitive closed petals and a barely protruding bud between them.

“If suddenly it becomes unbearably hard, follow my advice,” whispered sweetly in her ear a quiet voice, whose owner shamelessly continued to thrill her entire already nervous system to the limit, “Trust yourself and your instincts ... as it is now. ..

Vika closed her eyes tightly to cool herself and to control herself. Stars danced in front of my eyes, everything between my legs burned with fire.

- Who you are? - She babbled.

“Take off her mask,” the voice already commanded quite loudly, as he had to shout out music, and Vika was finally convinced that it was not Victor.

“It’s not up to you to decide,” muttered Crocodile behind her back. There was a pause. The hand that caused her torment and pleasure was suddenly removed from her panties, and the warmth of someone else’s closeness evaporated, as if it had not happened. Vika licked her dry lips, wanted to ask something else, but she didn’t see if this person was here or had already left, so she had to go back to where she was led, until Crocodile quietly commanded "stand" and did not hold her apparently intuitively feeling that she can barely stand. The music suddenly subsided considerably, and the hubbub of human voices, individual applause, whistling, shouting, laughter filled the whole circle. It seems that in the noise of the crowd warmed by merry, she sometimes guessed the enthusiastic, the contemptuous, the dumb Raven. Or did it just seem to her?

The bandage was suddenly removed, and phosphorescent violet neon light hit her eyes. He was everywhere: streamed, reflected from the matte-white glass ceiling, silver columns, metal panels on the walls, painted white leather sofas, white steps, white cubes of tables. Here and there, the tongues of candles loomed with coral lights. She was surrounded by a motley youth crowd - well-warmed, intrigued, thirsty for spectacles. In it, she tried to find someone who managed to so easily disarm her with kisses.

Vika didn’t even immediately notice Victor sitting right in front of her in the middle of a huge white sofa curved in a semicircle in the company of three girls in challenging cocktail dresses and two boorish-looking young people touting the image of the jaded dandy with idle life. On Victor, there was no longer a jacket and vest - only the same black silk shirt without a tie, unbuttoned at the chest, and the same black classic ...