Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(75)
I heard slow clapping, and I turned to see Sacha, his scowl again slightly lessened, spreading his arms and crashing his palms together over and over. It took me a minute before I realized he was applauding me. “Well done. Few have even survived to this point, let alone been victorious. Why did you kill your last opponent?”
I felt sweat mingling with blood as it dripped down my body from my wound, and wiped at my eyes, clearing the sweat. “His sword would have run me through, he was trying to kill me.”
“Do you regret killing him?”
I nodded, then shook my head. “I do, but if the Mistress had been here and he was threatening her, I would have no regrets.”
Sacha nodded. Going over to one of our dropped packs, he opened it up and reached inside, taking out a small towel. He tossed it toward me, where I caught it in the air. “Wipe your face and clean as best you can. The Mistress will be here in five minutes to see the results of your test.”
Exhaustion dropped away with each wipe of my sweat, dirt and blood onto the towel, which had started a soft tan but ended a filthy, nondescript blackened mess. I tossed it into the pack, looking around for the Mistress.
In seconds, I could see a car approaching, a black Mercedes sports car that I had seen around the grounds of the house before. I could see two people inside, and could barely contain my excitement as the car stopped and she got out of the passenger side, her driver staying inside. She was wearing the outfit that I thought looked sexiest on her, a simple pair of pants and a sweater that hugged each generous curve. I held my position, my hands behind my back and my feet rock steady on the ground.
She saw the results of the testing, clucking sadly over the crumpled body of my last opponent while medics came from the army building to assess the injuries of the others. Some were already sitting up while others were still sleeping their lumps off. “Sacha, you always create such a mess when you insist on these tests,” she said, giving him a raised eyebrow. “And how expensive will this one be?”
“Your uncle won’t find it excessive, Mistress Svetlana,” Sacha said. “Only one death, maybe two if that idiot who broke his leg can’t find his way back to the house.”
“That idiot was a graduate of the University of Leipzig, and a European champion in taekwondo,” she corrected him.
I bristled when Sacha laughed. “Then maybe his teacher should have taught him to look where the f*ck he was going. It would be a mercy if I were to go back into the woods and shoot him in the head, so he can’t continue to pollute the gene pool.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning her attention to me. “And my new pet? How did he do?”
“Brave one there,” Sacha said. “He’s not bad.”
She smiled and reached up, touching my face. I shivered, blood rushing down below even from the slight caress. “Considering I've never heard you compliment a test taker at all before, I’m impressed,” she said, before lowering her voice to speak directly to me. “You have pleased me.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m honored.”
“Then when you return to the compound, you will be rewarded,” she said, patting my face. “Maybe I'll let you do something about that bulge growing in your pants.”
She turned to walk away, my eyes fixed on her beautiful figure when I heard a metallic snicking sound behind me, and the ching of a metal tab popping. The grenade arced from out of the left side of my vision, where it bounced once on the ground before rolling to a stop a mere meter from her. “No!”
Without thinking, I jumped, pushing her out of the way even as my body stretched out, flattening itself to land on top of the grenade. I turned my back to her, hoping that if I kept more of my body between her and the grenade, she would be uninjured. I closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion.
It never came. Instead, the next feeling I had was Mistress touching my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to see her genuinely smiling down at me. “It was a dummy grenade. You have passed the last of Sacha's tests.”
I looked down at the ball in my hands, realizing that it was, in fact, just a snap top dummy grenade instead of the real thing. I looked at Sacha, who still held the pin in his hand, and who was now not scowling, but looking at me with a modicum of respect. He came over and helped me to my feet, brushing off my shoulders as he did. “Good, Spartak. There’s hope for you yet.”
Mistress watched us, then touched my shoulder, gaining my attention. “Come to my room at eight, after the dinner meal,” she said, whispering in my ear. “And make sure you are fully bathed and cleaned up.”
* * *
Now, hours later and my stomach satiated, I still had the trembles as I checked my clothing. It had been laid out for me when I returned, Sacha letting me ride in the back of a pickup truck from the training area. I'd taken over an hour to bathe and clean each of my wounds, noting with displeasure that I’d have bruises on my face that I couldn’t hide. I was filled with shame, with nervousness, and with tightly controlled arousal. Even as unworthy as I was, I couldn’t help but see what was in her eyes when she told me eight o'clock.
Just before the clock in the wall started chiming the hour, I tapped on the door lightly with the heel of my right hand, my knuckles being too bruised and abraded to be useful for knocking. “Come in.”