‘Greetings ladies. My name is Sigurd Haraldsson. Some, though, call me the Ice Bear.’
Something about this nickname immediately resonated in Adriana’s thoughts, bringing to mind what the Japanese woman had mentioned – here this man was, calling himself the ‘Ice Bear’, and she had been told to look out for someone called ‘the Tiger’. It wasn’t exactly what she was supposed to listen for, but it certainly was close enough. She pricked her ears and tried to pay close attention to detail.
‘In time, you may find out how I achieved this moniker,’ Sigurd continued, ‘but that is of little importance at the present moment. What is of the utmost importance now is that you understand the terms of your employment under me. First, I wish to—’
‘Excuse me Mr Haraldsson,’ a short, pretty girl with auburn hair said. ‘I would just like to ask if you have our passports, and whether the papers are all sorted out? Forgive me for interrupting you, but I’ve been very concerned about this issue for the last few days.’
Sigurd’s translucent eyes seemed to grow darker as the woman spoke. He walked slowly over to her, still smiling, and rested one of his huge hands on her shoulder.
‘I appreciate your concerns, my dear,’ he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. In a nanosecond, however, his expression morphed into one of hateful fury, and he roared with rage. ‘But don’t you EVER, EVER FUCKING INTERRUPT ME! EVER!’
As he said this, he clamped his other hand over her throat and lifted her inch by inch off the ground, tightening his grip mercilessly as she struggled and gasped for breath. He pulled her face close to his, glaring with murderous malice into her eyes as her face turned red, and then purple from his suffocating vice-hold. Eventually, when she was on the point of passing out, he spat on the floor and flung her, as if she were but a lifeless sack of rags, into a corner. The other women gasped and shrieked in shock and horror, and a funereal atmosphere descended upon the room.
‘Damn you all!’ Sigurd howled, aflame with phosphoric anger. ‘Understand this: you belong to ME now! You are no longer people, no longer individuals! You are MY FUCKING PROPERTY! You will never question any man here who gives you an order. You will never, ever leave this building without one of my escorts with you. You will not speak unless spoken to. If you cry, my orderlies will beat you until you stop crying. You will not display any emotion but pleasure, feigned or otherwise, when you service the clients. You will do whatever I command you to, and you will fucking obey me like the dog-bitches you are! Do you understand?!’
The women were struck mute with terror and aghast with shock, and for a moment nobody said anything, for the silence was as violent as a grenade exploding in the room.
‘I said, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME?!’ Sigurd bellowed hoarsely, the walls shuddering with the volume of his wrath.
Adriana was the first to respond.
‘We understand you, sir,’ she replied in a shaky voice.
‘Good,’ Sigurd responded, abruptly shutting down his violent wrath and instead putting on a wolfish smile. ‘It seems at least one of you whores has found her tongue. You, what’s your name?’
‘Adriana Popescu, sir’.
‘Not any more it isn’t,’ he growled. ‘You forget that name ever existed. Your name is now … Storm. Yes, that’s what you’ll be known as here. Your beauty will bring me a sound profit, yes! See that you maintain those looks of yours appropriately, Storm. You see, I already have high expectations of you, so you don’t want to let me down. Trust me, I don’t like being let down.’
‘Yes sir,’ Adriana acquiesced, keeping her shivering hands behind her back and praying that her gelatinous-feeling knees would not give out beneath her.
Sigurd then turned his gaze to Roxana, and a lustful glint entered his eyes.
‘Well well, look at you,’ he remarked with a lecherous grin. ‘You must be the teenage virgin they told me about. You are a virgin, are you not?’
Roxana nodded meekly. Her large grey eyes were rimmed with tears, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably.
‘Are you sure? You never let some urchin slip his finger into that tight little slit between your thighs, did you? A pretty thing like you must have had plenty of horny teenage suitors, all too eager to get their pricks wet, I’ll wager … now you tell me the truth, you worthless cunt: are you a virgin?! And by Loki and Odin, if you tell me a lie I’ll tear your fucking lungs out of your chest with my bare hands!’
‘I’m a virgin, sir,’ she replied, her quavering voice only barely clearing a whisper.
‘Excellent,’ he rumbled, his near-psychotic wrath evaporating in a mere second and giving way to a wolfish smile. ‘And an exquisite one at that, even if you are nothing but a Slavic peasant. Hmm, and what about you, Storm? Have you ever opened your legs to let some potato-farming oaf slip his stumpy little trowel inside you?’
Adriana shook her head.
‘No sir, I, I’ve had two boyfriends, but um, all we ever did was hold hands and kiss.’
Sigurd howled at once with derisive laughter.
‘“All we ever did was hold hands and kiss”,’ he mimicked in a mocking tone. ‘How fucking sweet! Ha! Well you’re about to get quite an education, Storm, quite an education.’ The beads in his beard rattled as he chuckled, and he folded his huge arms across his barrel chest and stared intently at each of the women in turn, the power radiating from his withering gaze causing each of them to wilt with fear. He grinned evilly and then continued. ‘Now ladies, it’s time to start your first training session. My friend Hrothgar here has been gifted with an exceptionally large male organ, and I expect you all to service it with enthusiasm, in front
