Viktor has one arm chained to the bedframe by a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs, but that’s about all of him I can see. Two naked women make up the rest of the picture. One of them seems to have lost her tongue down his throat. The other must’ve lost hers somewhere between his legs.
Before I can gag, I pull out my gun and aim at the bedpost looming over Viktor’s head. Even with the silencer screwed on, the pop of the discharge is enough to make both women scream.
Neither one screams as loud as Viktor, though. I suspect that has something to do with the second woman reacting to the unexpected noise by clamping her jaw closed.
He’s cursing up a storm and clutching himself as the women scurry in search of their clothes.
“Looks like you’re bleeding, brother,” I remark.
“Pity. I was hoping she
