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.”
I opened the door to see that she had left her lights off, nothing but seemingly dozens of candles illuminating the scene before me. “Mistress?”
“Come in, Spartak,” she said. I couldn't see her, but recognized her voice was coming from behind a changing screen on the right side of her bedroom, and I could just see a wisp of golden hair fly up as she put something on. “Please, make yourself comfortable in one of the chairs.”
I looked and saw that she had two chairs arranged on the other side of the room, facing each other. I took the smaller of the chairs, even though it had a back because it was lower in a position to the other, which looked almost like a Roman couch than a normal chair. Sitting straight and tall, I waited for her to come out from behind her screen.
“Did you enjoy today's test?”
“No, but it was necessary.”
“Necessary in what way?” she asked, her voice coming closer. “Don’t turn around, but look at the chair in front of you.”
I kept my eyes glued in front of me, even though I could hear her coming closer, wearing her high heels and sending jolts of electricity racing through me. Her fingers trailed over my shoulders and neck, and I struggled to find enough focus to answer. “Necessary because Sacha was trying to find men worthy enough to protect you . . .”
“I see. Eyes forward.” A black cloth appeared in front of me, dropping into my vision before wrapping around my head and being tied securely behind me. “And is my Uncle Vladimir overly concerned with my safety?”
“No, Mistress. Your safety and happiness are of primary importance.”
“To who?” she asked, coming around in front of me and sitting down. In the darkness of the blindfold, all I could do was listen as she settled down, the couch whispering as she settled in. “To Vladimir? To Sacha?”
“I don’t know them well enough to answer,” I said.
“Then to who is my safety and happiness of utmost importance?” She asked again. I could hear her arranging herself on the couch, and my nose tickled at the mysterious scent that she was wearing, arousing and airy, angelic.