The shift at McDonald's had finally ended. Arisa stepped out into the night air, her shoulders rising and falling in a tired sigh. The city around her was alive in the distance—bright neon signs, the muffled roar of traffic—but here, on this stretch of road between residential blocks and old commercial shops, everything felt strangely muted.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, the faint squeak of her sneakers echoing against the cracked pavement. Her breath made small clouds in the cool Russian night, and she pulled her jacket tighter. It was late. Too late. The last bus had probably already gone. Still, she walked quickly, head slightly down, humming faintly under her breath—a small melody, something only she could hear.
From the corner of the street, a pair of headlights flickered. A black car slowed, engine low and smooth. Arisa's eyes flicked up, cautious. Nothing unusual. Cars passed here all the time.
But this one didn't pass.
The vehicle rolled to a crawl beside her, tires whispering against the asphalt. She tightened her grip on her bag. Her pace quickened.
Inside, Rafael's heart was hammering, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. His gaze was locked on her silhouette under the pale streetlight—the curve of her hair bouncing with each step, her tired yet graceful stride. The sight pulled a heat from his chest that made it hard to breathe.
"Now," Rafael murmured.
Tony slid open the back door, moving with a predator's precision. "Dobro vecher, krasotka…" he muttered under his breath, eyes catching hers.
Arisa froze. For a split second, confusion and alarm flashed across her face. Her mouth parted as if to speak, but before sound could form, Tony's hand clamped around her wrist.
"Wait—!"
The cry barely left her lips before a cloth pressed against her mouth, muffling it into a broken gasp. Her bag dropped to the ground with a dull thud. She struggled, twisting sharply, but Max was already there, sliding out the other side of the car. Together, their movements were practiced, efficient—too fast for her to react.
The street stayed silent. No witnesses. No footsteps. Just the low purr of Rafael's engine.
Her arms were yanked behind her, wrists bound tightly with coarse rope. A blindfold slipped over her eyes, plunging her world into black. Then came the cold bite of restraints on her ankles, rendering her steps useless. A final muffling cloth sealed over her lips, silencing her frantic words into soft, desperate noises.
Rafael watched it all from the driver's seat, chest rising and falling with sharp anticipation. He could hear her muffled protests, her panicked breathing, and instead of pity, an intoxicating thrill flooded his veins. This was it. The moment he had replayed in his mind a hundred times.
"Get her in," he ordered, voice steady but thick with hunger.
Tony and Max lifted her easily, sliding her between them. The smell of her shampoo, faint even under the night air, filled the car as the door shut. The engine hummed louder, tires beginning to roll.
Rafael glanced into the rearview mirror. Even bound, even blindfolded, her presence was overwhelming. The subtle rise and fall of her chest, the small jerks of her restrained legs, the muffled whimpers—everything about her screamed vulnerability, strength, and fire all at once.
He gripped the wheel tighter, lips curving into the faintest of smiles.
Finally.
The streets stretched empty ahead, a silent witness to what had just happened. Rafael's pulse raced with every passing second, his eyes drinking in the image of her tied form in the mirror. For him, this wasn't the end of a pursuit.
It was the beginning.The M4 CS roared quietly through the long, empty streets, headlights cutting through the faint haze of early evening. Rafael's hands gripped the wheel with calculated control, but his eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror, where the chaos he'd orchestrated was unfolding in slow, tense reality.
Arisa was wedged between Tony and Max in the back seat, her small frame crushed slightly by the two burly boys on either side. Her wrists were bound tightly, ankles secured, and the blindfold over her eyes was soaked from tears, pressing cold against her skin. Her gag muffled her soft, panicked whimpers into inaudible squeaks.
Tony leaned in just enough to whisper a shaky warning to Max. "Bro… we—this is insane. Her dad would—if anyone knew…"
Max grunted, uneasy, his hands gripping the edges of the seat to keep balance. "Focus. Just… keep her still. Rafael's driving like a maniac, 220 km/h is no joke."
Arisa shivered violently, trying to wriggle free, but every movement just made her tighter between them. Her soft cries betrayed her fear, echoing faintly despite the gag. She felt every muscle tense, every heartbeat thunder in her chest, the blindfold pressing her vision into complete darkness.
Rafael's voice cut through the tense silence. "She's fragile, but we stay in control. Don't hurt her—just keep her still."
Her muffled sobs made his pulse skip, and yet, in that moment, his focus didn't waver. Every curve, every tremble of her restrained body was etched into his mind. The wet blindfold clung to her cheeks, the way her shoulders shook with silent panic, the subtle tilt of her head as she tried to understand what was happening—it was all too real, too perfect in its helplessness.
Tony's voice trembled again. "Bro… this is legal suicide if anyone sees…"
Rafael ignored him, glancing at the mirror once more. "It's fine. One mistake and we pull back. But right now… she's ours to get somewhere safe."
Arisa's heart pounded, every instinct screaming at her to escape, to fight, to scream. But her hands and legs were useless. Every muffled breath, every tremor of her body, was all she could give. And yet, even in that terror, her mind raced—thinking, planning, imagining the ways she could turn the situation in her favor if just given a chance.
The city lights blurred past, and in the deafening roar of the engine and the rush of wind, the car became its own world—one where control, fear, and raw desire collided. Arisa was trapped physically, but mentally sharp, every nerve screaming, every thought calculating.
And Rafael, driving with uncanny calm, knew one thing with absolute certainty: no matter the chaos, no matter the risk, he would not let anything stop him from keeping her close.She couldn't see. Could barely hear. Her eyes were covered, her ears blocked, her hands and legs tied so tightly she could barely move.
Tears ran down her cheeks, her sobs muffled against the gag. She tried to swallow, but the fear caught in her throat. Her chest heaved uncontrollably. She didn't know where she was. Didn't know why this was happening. Didn't know what these boys—these strangers who claimed to know her—were planning to do.
A whisper of movement to her left, a shift on her right. She flinched. The faint scrape of shoes against the car floor, the low hum of voices just at the edge of comprehension. Male voices, talking too quickly, too quietly, something about "parents," "law," "doomed" that made her stomach twist even more. She had no way to understand fully. All she knew was that she was trapped. Completely trapped.
Her body shook—not from cold, not from exhaustion—but from fear. Every nerve screamed. Every thought raced. I can't, I can't, I can't… Her mind kept circling, desperately searching for a way out, any way to escape—but there was none.
A hand brushed the back of the seat. She jerked violently, crying out, muffled, her vision still blackened by the blindfold. A voice she couldn't place murmured something, low and hurried, and she flinched again, shivering. The car leaned around a corner. She hit her shoulder against the seat. Panic tightened around her like a vise.
She could just barely make out the sound of the engine, the occasional thump of something hitting the car frame, the faint sound of breath—three different breaths around her. She was surrounded. Completely.
And in that space, suspended between motion and fear, Arisa realized something horrifying: she had no control. No voice. No sight. No leverage. Just her trembling body, her racing heart, and the unknown intentions of the boys around her.
And somewhere, somewhere close enough that she could almost sense it, a presence—watching, calculating, waiting. She didn't know who. Didn't know why. Only that she was utterly exposed.
The car surged forward. And she cried harder.
her tied hands pressing against the hard seat, her gag muffling each sob. She couldn't see, couldn't move, could barely breathe without panic clawing at her chest. The voices around her were low, urgent, but she couldn't make out the words—only the tone, sharp with fear and calculation.
She felt the car slow, tires crunching on gravel, and the sudden stop made her hit the back of the seat. A voice—deep, sharp—cut through the blur of sounds.
"She's… she's not our problem once we drop her off," one of them said, panic threading through his tone.
"Yeah," another voice answered, trembling. "If anything happens… parents, cops… we're done. You know it's serious."
Arisa's mind raced, heart hammering. She couldn't see, but she sensed the tension building like a storm around her. Whispers bounced off the windows, quick planning, urgency, fear.
"She'll be Riven's responsibility," the first boy said. "We drop her there, and if anything goes wrong… it's on him. He can't drag us into this."
"Exactly," said the second, voice small, almost pleading. "We can't take the risk. One slip, one complaint… gone. Completely gone."
Riven, silent until now, shifted his grip on the wheel. His jaw was tight. He understood. He couldn't argue. The law, the parents, the social consequences—they couldn't be ignored. He would take responsibility if he had to, but dragging the other two was out of the question.
Arisa felt the subtle movement of the car again, the engine's hum fading slightly as the vehicle slowed to a stop. She pressed herself against the seat instinctively, knees pulled up as much as the restraints would allow, shivering. Her gag scratched against her lips, damp from tears, and she whimpered silently.
"You'll handle this," one voice said quietly, almost as if reminding themselves. "All responsibility falls on him. Got it?"
Riven's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles white. He didn't answer, but the silence carried understanding. He would do what was needed, and the others would vanish from the picture.
The car moved again, tires crunching over a driveway. The air smelled faintly of pine and asphalt, and Arisa's body tensed, every nerve screaming that she was close to somewhere unknown. Her mind raced desperately, trying to map possibilities, escape routes—anything. But there was nothing.
The last whisper came from one of the boys in the back. "Just… make sure she's safe, Riven. That's all we care about. We don't want… anything more."
Riven nodded slightly, even though they couldn't see him. He already knew what he had to do. The doors clicked open, and the car slowed to a halt.
Arisa's body shook violently, sobs tearing through her gag. Her mind was a whirl of fear, confusion, and helplessness. Every step of the process was unknown, every second stretching into eternity.
Riven opened the door first. The cold night air hit Arisa like a slap, and she gasped, trying to adjust—but the gag and the ties made every breath labored. Carefully, Riven leaned down, his hands gentle but firm as he helped her step out.
"This way," he said softly, his voice calm, measured. "I'll take care of everything. Just… stay with me."
Arisa could only nod, silent, terrified, every muscle trembling. Her mind screamed that she was utterly exposed, utterly at the mercy of a world that had suddenly turned upside down.
And as the car drove away, the other two boys vanished into the night, leaving Riven—and the weight of every consequence—alone with her.
The dimly lit room of Rafael's grand mansion hummed with an unsettling quietude. Arisa, bound tightly with rough ropes and thick cloth strips around her wrists and ankles, lay sprawled across a plush velvet chaise longue in the center of the study. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird, each frantic beat echoing the fear coursing through her veins.
Rafael, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, stood before her, his dark eyes glinting with a dangerous hunger as they roamed over her helpless form. "Arisa," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as silk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment."
He stepped closer, one hand reaching out to trace a finger along her jawline, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost tender, but it sent a chill down her spine. "You're mine now, completely at my mercy." The words were a soft promise, laced with threat.
His other hand moved to the knot securing the ropes around her wrists. With practiced ease, he loosened them, letting the coarse fibers fall awayhe couldn't help but savor every precious moment of her helplessness and vulnerability. A thrill ran through him as he realized he finally held complete control over the woman who had once eluded him.
With deft, precise movements, he untied the remaining ropes, ignoring her whimpers and pleas for mercy. Arisa trembled, both from fear and a shameful surge of desire that stirred within her at being so utterly stripped bare before him.
"I must admit, watching you from afar these past months has driven me absolutely mad with lust," Rafael continued, his voice dripping with dark promise as his eyes raked hungrily over her naked form. "The way your luscious curves beckoned to me, begging to be claimed by my hands... I've dreamt of ripping those flimsy coverings off your exquisite flesh and worshipping every inch of you with my mouth and hands until you're writhing in ecstasy beneath me..."
He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of her neck as his hands made quick work of removing her bra and undergarments. Arisa gasped, instinctively trying to cover herself but Rafael's firm grip prevented such foolish attempts.Rafael's fingers traced slow, deliberate paths across Arisa's exposed skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He circled her breasts with feather-light touches, deliberately teasing her as he avoided her hardened nipples. Arisa arched her back, trying to press against his hands, desperate for the contact yet dreading what would come next.
"Patience, darling," Rafael whispered against her ear, his breath hot and moist. "I want to savor every inch of you." His fingers finally closed around one peak, squeezing just enough to elicit a sharp gasp from Arisa. "So responsive," he murmured approvingly, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. "I knew you'd be perfect."
Arisa bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the moan rising in her throat. It was useless; a low whimper escaped anyway as Rafael's mouth found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. His teeth grazed the skin there, sending sparks of pleasure-pain straight to her core. "Rafael..." she breathed, her voice thick with unwelcome arousal. "Please..."
"Please what?" he countered, nipping lightly at her earlobe. "Rafael's fingers trailed lower, following the curve of Arisa's waist down to her hips before venturing between her thighs. The moment his touch brushed against her most sensitive flesh, she jerked violently against him, a muffled cry escaping past the gag. "Haaah... you're so warm," Rafael murmured, his voice rough with desire as he stroked her gently. "So wet already... for me."
He circled her clit with maddeningly slow precision, watching with dark satisfaction as her body trembled beneath his touch. Every shudder, every involuntary arch sent waves of heat rushing through him. "Does this feel good?" he whispered, increasing the pressure slightly. "Do you like being touched by me?"
Arisa couldn't answer—her mind was a blur of conflicting emotions. Her body wasn't on her control , a traitorous part, was melting under his skilled hands, craving more.
"You're mine now, Arisa," Rafael growled, suddenly pinching her clit between two fingers. She arched off the chaise with a sharp cry. "Every inch of you belongs to me.