The price of comfort

Chapter 11

Chapter 13: The Dress

Della was trying to focus on the book in her lap when the door to her apartment swung open. She looked up, heart racing, to see King Nikolai standing in the doorway, a predatory smile on his lips. He held a dress in his hands, the fabric shimmering black like his tailored suit.

"Put this on," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Della took the dress, her fingers brushing against the luxurious material. She rose from the couch, her legs trembling slightly, and nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

She retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The dress was floor-length, sleek and elegant. As she slipped it on, she noticed how it barely contained her breasts, the neckline plunging provocatively. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, leaving little to the imagination.

In a normal circumstance, she would have been thrilled by how stunning she looked. She had always enjoyed dressing up and feeling beautiful. But now, she felt exposed, vulnerable. She knew the King would want her even more in this dress. She said a silent prayer that none of the prisoners would stare at her.

Della took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection showed a woman who appeared confident and composed, but inside, she was a bundle of nerves. She quickly brushed her hair, letting it fall in soft waves around her shoulders, and walked out of the bathroom.

She kept her eyes downcast as she approached the King. He let out an audible groan, a sound of raw desire. "I am not going to be able to control myself with you looking that good," he said, his voice thick with lust.

Della's stomach churned, but she forced herself to remain calm. She didn't meet his gaze, instead focusing on the floor.

King Nikolai turned to his guards, a smirk playing on his lips. "If this was a random prisoner here, what would you do?"

The blond-haired guard, whose name she had learned was Victor, stepped forward with a lecherous grin. "There was a redhead last night," he began, his voice dripping with malice. "f****d her until she screamed. Her screams only made me harder. I'd love to hear this one scream with my c**k in her tight ass."

The other guard, a brutish man named Sergei, laughed and added, "Does that mean I get her p***y or her mouth?"

Della felt a wave of nausea, her skin crawling with disgust. The guards' crude comments made her feel sick, but she remained silent, her fists clenched at her sides.

King Nikolai's expression darkened, and he placed a possessive hand on Della's shoulder. "It's a good thing you're mine," he said, his voice cold. "And you'll do well to remember that."

Della nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Come," he said, leading her out of the apartment. "We have business to attend to."

The car ride to the secure portion of the camp was tense. Della kept her eyes fixed on the window, trying to steady her breathing. The King sat beside her, his hand resting possessively on her thigh. She felt trapped, a beautiful bird in a gilded cage.

When they arrived, the air was thick with the stench of death. The smell hit her like a physical blow, and she fought the urge to gag. The King led her into a large room, where the bloodstains on the floor told a grim story.

"Today," King Nikolai announced, "we will listen to some of the prisoners and determine their fates."

Della followed him to the front of the room, where two thrones were set up. The King pointed to the smaller one beside his. "Sit."

She sat down, her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. She could feel the eyes of the guards and the other officials on her, but she kept her gaze focused on the floor.

The first prisoner was brought in, a young woman with tears streaming down her face. She fell to her knees, begging for mercy.

"Explain why you are here and why you want to leave," the King commanded.

The woman sobbed, her voice barely audible. "Your Majesty, I was accused of theft, but I swear I did not steal anything. I have a family, children who need me. Please, let me go."

King Nikolai looked at her with cold amusement. "And why should I believe you?"

The woman cried harder, but before she could answer, the King lifted his gun and shot her in the head. Her body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around her. Della's heart lurched, but she forced herself to remain composed.

The next prisoner was a man who spoke calmly, presenting his case with dignity. The King listened, then nodded. "You will be set free."

Della felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly extinguished as the executions continued. Many prisoners were shot after pleading their cases. Some merely entered the room and were shot without a word. The guards dragged the limp bodies away, leaving a trail of blood and despair.

King Nikolai glanced at Della occasionally, as if gauging her reaction. She kept her face as neutral as possible, though inside, she was screaming.

The hours dragged on, each one more agonizing than the last. Della felt like she was drowning in a sea of blood and horror. She wanted to run, to escape this nightmare, but there was nowhere to go.

Finally, the King raised his hand, signaling a pause. "Enough for today."

The guards began to clear the room, dragging the latest body away. Della sat still, her mind numb from the horrors she had witnessed. She felt the King’s gaze on her and looked up to meet his eyes.

"You did well," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "You didn’t flinch. I’m impressed."

Della forced a weak smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stood and walked over to her, extending a hand. "Come. Let’s get you back to your apartment."

She took his hand, her legs feeling like jelly as she stood. He led her out of the blood-stained room and back to the car. The drive back to her apartment was silent, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on her.

When they arrived, the King escorted her inside. He pulled her close once more, his hand lingering on her hip. "Remember, you are mine," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "And you should be grateful."

Della nodded, too exhausted and terrified to respond. He kissed her one last time before leaving, the door closing with a finality that made her shudder.

She collapsed onto the couch, her body shaking with sobs. The horror of the day replayed in her mind, the faces of the prisoners haunting her. She had to find a way to escape, to end this nightmare. But how?

Della lay there for hours, her mind a whirlwind of fear and despair. She knew she had to be strong, to keep fighting. But each day brought new horrors, and she wondered how much more she could endure.

As the night wore on, Della made a silent vow. She would survive. She would find a way to escape and bring this regime to its knees. For now, she had to endure, to play the part the King demanded. But one day, she would be free.

The thought gave her a small measure of comfort as she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams filled with the faces of those who had suffered and died before her. The road ahead was dark and treacherous, but Della was determined to find her way through it. She would not let the King break her spirit. She would fight for her freedom, no matter the cost.