Her First Submission (Kathryn's Training) by Aya Fukunishi Read Free Book Online Page B

back by his security, their weapons drawn. I remember Alexei pushing his way through the waiting crowds straight into the ward, yelling out for a doctor while my blood dried on his white shirt.
    I was sedated, and I slept for hours. When I finally awoke I found a fresh cast on my arm, but otherwise I seemed fine. No concussion. Miraculously my arm wasn't even seriously broken. My wrist had a hairline fracture, but other than that I escaped with just cuts and bruises.
    Alexei sat by my bed all day, waiting to apologize when I woke up. He missed his appointment at the UN. There was uproar in the media in the following days, at least until the story came out about what he was doing while the Assembly waited. Suddenly he was a hero; he was an everyman, someone the people could relate to. A good guy in a world of shady politicians.
    So that was how I found myself in Ashambe three weeks later. When I was discharged from the hospital I was met at the door by Alexei's Ambassador to the US. He handed me a check for $10,000 - to pay for a new bike, he said (Alexei never did understand the value of money) - along with a plane ticket to the capital via Istanbul, Turkey.
    Hidden in the envelope was a note, handwritten by Alexei himself, offering his heartfelt apologies for the accident and explaining that in his culture there was only one way to make things right. He'd have me in his home, an honored guest for as long as I pleased until the debt had been repaid.
    I was shocked. Over the moon, really. I'd never left the States, and the idea of visiting a country far from the tourist trail excited me. What's more, I'd get to stay in a palace. Me! I grew up in a two bedroom house in the suburbs, and at that time I was sharing a cheap studio with a fellow student who had a bad habit of bringing a different guy home every night.
    I was so excited that I didn't really notice the warning look in the eyes of the Ambassador. His words didn't seem to match his expression. He told me it was a great honor to be invited to the home of the Romanovs, but there was something not quite right about his expression, almost as if he was trying to discourage me with his eyes.
    The flight to Istanbul was incredible. First class. I was plied with champagne and fed dishes I'd never even heard of (my usual diet was ramen noodles and Diet Coke). I felt a little out of place in my sneakers and jeans, but the flight attendants treated me like royalty.
    It wasn't until we reached Istanbul that things started to go awry. I was led from the plane by a couple of security guys, all black suits, Aviators and bulges where they obviously carried pistols, just like in the movies. They led me out through a few fire escapes down to their car, a beat up old Toyota, and drove me out to a private hangar far away from the terminal.
    The plane waiting for me was... well, it wasn't first class. I don't know airplanes, but it was some kind of military model. A huge panel in the ass of the plane was lowered down to make a ramp wide enough to fit a tank, and the guys drove right in.
    As soon as we were on board the back of the plane closed and I heard the engines begin to run. The guys climbed out and left me in the back seat with the child locks on. I was worried now, getting angrier by the minute, wondering what was going on. I really needed to pee but there was nobody to shout to. Just me, in a car, in the middle of a huge cargo deck.
    A little after take off I climbed to the front seat to try the doors, but they were also locked. The horn worked, though. I blasted that thing for ten minutes until someone heard me. The man who finally arrived wasn't one of the men who'd driven me onto the plane, but a military looking guy in fatigues and a red beret. By that point I was screaming bloody murder, banging on the windscreen with my palm, and when he finally sauntered over to the car I was ready to kick the door off its hinges.
    That was the moment I realized something was seriously wrong.