Brie’s Russian Treat

  She stared at him in shock. “But Sir knows I struggle in that area.”

  “Precisely.”

  “It’s not even something I’m interested in…”

  “I am aware of that.”

  Brie stared over the serene water of the lake, feeling anything but serene.

  “You should know that your Master has kept that side of himself hidden, knowing how you feel.”

  She shifted uncomfortably beside him. It suddenly made sense that Sir hadn’t explained what would happen at the lake. He was ashamed of his own desires. But it was a fetish she’d never imagined Sir enjoyed—not in a million years. “It must be important to him,” she mused out loud.

  Rytsar said nothing.

  Brie was put off by the idea of watersports and had no desire to pursue it, yet…if it was something that turned Sir on, shouldn’t she at least keep an open mind? Wasn’t that her duty as a sub and as his lover?

  “Be gentle with me, Rytsar,” she pleaded. “You know this is uncomfortable territory for me.”

  “Gentle? I’m sorry, radost moya, I cannot.”

  Brie screamed when he swept her off her feet and tossed her into the water. She came up sputtering and gasping for air to the sound of Rytsar’s boisterous laughter.

  It wasn’t until then that she understood. Brie ignored the hand he held out to her and swam all the way back to shore. She stomped halfway to the cabin before he caught up with her.

  “Now, now…” he chuckled, encircling her in his arms.

  Brie struggled but could not break free. She pounded his chest with her fists out of frustration. “That wasn’t nice!”

  The low timbre of Rytsar’s laughter was sexy but insulting in its mirth.

  “I can’t believe you did that to me,” she cried, pounding harder.

  Rytsar grabbed her wrists and held them up so that her face was inches from his. “I am not to blame, since I’ve been forced to derive pleasure based on the limits your Master’s given me.”

  “But to joke about that!”

  “Admit it was funny.”

  Brie shook her head violently, droplets spraying everywhere. “No, it wasn’t!”

  “It was,” he insisted.

  She looked up at him and repeated, “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Watersports…”

  Brie’s frown slowly cracked into a smile against her will, as a drop of water traveled from her bangs down her cheek. “Yeah, watersports.” She giggled as he escorted her to the cabin. Before they reached the door, she asked, “Just so we’re clear. You’re not going to start peeing on me, right?”

  He stopped and answered seriously, “Only if it would turn you on.”

  Rytsar said it with such conviction that she wondered if it was something that he practiced. For a fraction of a second she actually considered it, but shook her head, shocked at his power over her.

  She suspected that the Russian Dom could convince her to try anything, no matter her level of opposition. It made the man dangerous in her eyes.

  Rytsar informed Brie that he was taking her to the underground BDSM club that evening. “Part of the reason I chose to buy this particular plot of land was the proximity to the club which meets a half-hour from here.” He chuckled wickedly. “This is like nothing you are used to in America. It’s been in existence for over a hundred years and distinguishes itself with its authoritarian rules.”

  Brie was intimidated at the thought of facing such a foreign environment, terrified that she would fail. She was desperate not to disappoint Rytsar—or Sir. “What are the protocols?” she asked him. “Just how strict are they?”

  Rytsar chuckled again, enjoying her discomfort far too much. “In this club you must stand three feet behind me, and keep your gaze down at all times. They will respect your collar, but won’t hesitate to physically punish any sub who steps out of line.”

  Brie’s anxiety increased two-fold.

  “No need to worry,” he said soothingly. “Unless, of course, you forget yourself and make eye contact.”

  “You’re not helping,” Brie groaned. “You know what a challenge that is for me.” She looked at him suspiciously and asked, “This isn’t another one of your jokes?”

  Rytsar shook his head. “No, radost moya, this is very serious. I will not be able to protect you if you insult one of the Doms at the club.”

  “Why take me, then?”

  “Are you not the top student of the Submissive Training Center?”

  His question challenged and grounded her. Brie hadn’t been in a formal setting in months, but she understood her place. Although she was afraid of accidentally breaking protocol, she was a competent submissive. She smiled at him, feeling her confidence grow when she answered, “Yes, I am.”

  “They will be watching your every move tonight.”

  The thought of accidentally breaking protocol and being punished by a sadist terrified her. Rytsar read the fear playing across her face and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  “It is very simple. Eyes down, keep them focused on my boots. Hands behind your back. Do not speak. Although my friends will be admiring your body, they will not engage you. In my circle, eye contact is a grave sign of disrespect and will be brutally punished.”

  Brie felt the panic start to rise again.

  “But you will not fail in this,” he stated firmly. “Even when we scene tonight, you must keep your gaze on the floor at all times.”

  She squeaked out, “We’re scening together?”

  “Naturally my comrades want to observe you at play.”

  “What kind of scene?”

  “One you are familiar with,” he assured her.

  “But which one?” she pressed, frightened it might be his cat ‘o nines.

  His lip curled into a seductive smile. “The cane.”

  Brie wasn’t sure if a cane was any better than the cat ‘o nines in the hands of Rytsar. “I can still call out my safeword, can’t I?”

  “Of course, radost moya, but you will not. Tonight I’m going to teach you to enjoy the pain.”

  Brie trembled at the confidence behind his words. She had no doubt that she would be crying out in both passion and pain tonight. Although she feared the Russian Dom, the prospect of scening with him did excite her.

  Rytsar smiled at her. “You are agreeable. That pleases me.”

  She felt the butterflies start. Why his praise had that kind of effect on her was a mystery, especially knowing his brand of kinky play.

  However, she had to thank Rytsar. By placing her in this new environment and setting up a challenging scene, he’d effectively sent her back to her training days. It was strangely exhilarating to find herself in unknown territory again.

  Savior

  Brie was a bundle of nerves when they pulled up to an ancient stone building that looked suspiciously like a church with its lone spire and stained glass windows lining each side. Had Brie been a simple tourist driving by, she would never have suspected the sadistic kinkiness that happened within its majestic walls.

  Rytsar helped her out of the vehicle with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Are you ready to make me proud, radost moya?”

  She smiled demurely, even though her entire body was buzzing with fear. She followed behind him at the required three-foot distance, while his entourage took their place behind her—a wall of protection she deeply appreciated.

  Before they entered the building, Rytsar stopped and took off Brie’s coat, grabbing the material of her bodice and pulling it down to expose her breasts. Her nipples instantly hardened, not liking the cold night air.

  He smiled mischievously. “It’s a requirement of the subs here.”

  Brie understood that nakedness was an effective method of humbling a sub, so she accepted the exposure with grace. She was determined not to draw attention to herself, but keep her confidence nonetheless.

  He used the huge iron knocker to announce their arrival, and the air reverberated with the deep sound
of it as it rocked the wooden door. A peephole immediately opened, and Brie dropped her eyes to the ground. Rytsar was asked a series of questions in Russian and then the heavy door swung open and he was invited inside.

  The Russian Dom walked through the threshold without looking back. Brie’s heart raced as she dutifully followed, staring hard at the heels of his boots. The conversation in the large gathering suddenly stopped and Brie felt the heavy stare of everyone in the room as Rytsar spoke to the assembly.

  Although she could only understand a few words, she did pick up Sir’s name and ‘American’. There were several manly grunts and then Rytsar strode to the back of the building. She struggled to keep up, disappointed that his men stayed behind guarding the entrance. She suddenly felt vulnerable without them.

  Keeping her eyes glued to Rytsar’s boots, she still managed to catch glimpses of what was happening around her in her peripheral vision—there was a naked girl locked in a cage on the left, and a whipping pole with two scantily clad subs attached on the right.

  By the sounds of the play, this environment was much rougher than anything she’d imagined. Brie nipple’s hardened in fear when she heard a girl gagging as if being choked to within an inch of her life.

  Yes, it was much darker play…

  Rytsar strode up to an area in the back, where he stopped to talked to several men, leaving Brie free to observe covertly while she maintained a stance that was humble.

  To her immediate right, she saw the sweaty thighs of a woman. Her legs were spread wide and secured tight with leather bindings. The sub was grunting from effort and discomfort as her Master slowly forced his fist inside her. Brie had never witnessed a fisting and found herself riveted to the spot.

  It seemed crazy that people were engaged in normal conversation around her as this woman strained to take the unnatural girth of the man’s large hand. Brie inched a fraction closer, wanting to get a better view.

  She noticed the sub’s pussy lips were glossy with lubricant, but stretched unbearably thin as her body tried to accommodate his fist. The woman lifted her hips, pushing against his hand in an attempt to break through her body’s resistance.

  He murmured low, nasty Russian words to the woman as he pushed into her. Brie struggled to breathe as she watched his huge hand slowly disappear farther inside.

  What would a fisting feel like?

  She’d never bothered to ask Mary, because she’d found the practice too kinky for her tastes, but being here and seeing it happen in front of her suddenly had Brie curious.

  The woman began tossing her head wildly, grunting in pain as the thickest part of his hand slipped inside, yet she never called her safeword. Brie assumed the scene was nearly over, but his hand continued its relentless progress until his wrist disappeared into her.

  Brie swallowed hard when he started pumping his fist.

  The woman’s chilling scream was muffled by a gag. Brie dared to glance up momentarily and saw that the woman’s eyes had rolled back in her head. Brie looked back down at Rytsar’s heels, disturbed yet turned on by the scene.

  The man did not slow down, mercilessly thrusting as the sub continued her muffled cries. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but Brie felt wetness between her legs. The girl’s willingness coupled with the man’s ruthless desire was strangely arousing to watch.

  Brie could appreciate that when a sadist and a masochist got together, it was a fierce but sexually alluring dance.

  She noticed Rytsar move away from the group of men and she obediently followed, still affected by the impassioned cries of the woman behind her. Rytsar led her to another section of the building, where a scene involving a stockade was in progress.

  The sub was locked into the wooden device, but not in the normal kneeling position. She was facing upward in a pose much more difficult to hold. Brie instantly recognized the beauty of it for the Dom, because it left the sub’s pussy exposed for punishment.

  “Higher and wider,” the burly Russian barked. Brie was surprised to hear English and had to fight off the urge to look up. She wondered if he was doing it for her benefit, as Rytsar’s guest.

  She watched as the girl repositioned herself and lifted her pussy higher, her leg muscles straining with the effort. A flogger snapped across her mound, and the girl flinched. The strokes came faster and harder, reddening her pussy and thighs.

  The sub’s legs began to quiver as she forced herself to stay in place to take the wicked lashing. When her hips dropped just a fraction, he stopped and commanded her to reposition before he started up again.

  If the sub’s pussy hadn’t been so wet, Brie would have considered his play too ruthless. However, she could not deny that the girl was not only taking her Master’s punishment but enjoying it, based on the lustful expression on her face.

  Rytsar had stated that he was confident he would be able to train her to enjoy the pain. Brie shuddered as the flogger fell again, desperately hoping he was right.

  There was a knock on the wooden door. After a short exchange, a new man wearing a superior smile entered, followed by his cowering sub. She removed his coat first and then hung up her thin shawl next to it, revealing that she was completely naked underneath. He led her to the center of the room on a leash and jerked roughly on her chain. She obediently fell to her knees.

  He barked a command in Russian.

  Those near her moved to allow the girl room as she listlessly knelt and leaned forward until her ass was in the air with her cheek touching the stone floor. She grabbed her buttocks and pulled them apart to display herself to the men.

  Rytsar’s full attention was focused on the Master, not the girl. He stepped back and put his hand on Brie’s shoulder. “Stay.”

  As Rytsar approached the new visitor, he asked warmly, speaking in English, “What do we have here?”

  The man grinned. “I have a slave in need of a Master. Notice how tight it is.” He pointed to the girl’s sex. “Sewed it myself. Makes for a more satisfying claiming.”

  Rytsar stared at the girl’s pussy as if he were genuinely interested. Brie squirmed, not caring for his interest in the girl. It was painfully obvious the sub was very young. However, it wasn’t just her age that was disturbing. There was no expression of pride or joy on her face. The girl only conveyed resignation—and fear.

  “Is she willingly compliant?” Rytsar asked.

  The man stated proudly so everyone could hear, “Oh, it obeys flawlessly. Would even die for me if I asked.” As proof, he stepped on the girl’s face, pressing his thick-treaded boot into her cheek.

  The girl didn’t move or make a sound, but when he pulled away she said, “Thank you, Master. Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

  Rytsar snorted, unimpressed. “Is she only motivated by fear?”

  “This one has grown to love me over the past several weeks,” the man declared, pulling on the leash. The girl stared up at him, her eyes communicating dread with a hint of longing.

  Rytsar laughed amiably. “Survival instinct isn’t love, idiot.”

  The man shrugged. “Who cares why it submits, as long as it obeys every command impeccably?”

  Brie gasped when the man kicked his submissive hard in the ribs. The girl only grunted, returning to her position. “Thank you, Master. Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

  The man smiled at Rytsar. “See? The perfect submissive.”

  Rytsar walked around the girl, studying her carefully. “How long did it take to break her?”

  “Wasn’t much of a fighter. Not long.”

  Rytsar nodded as if he liked the answer. “So how much are you asking?”

  The man’s triumphant smile sickened Brie as he explained to Rytsar, “I had to travel a distance to attain it, and then there was the training…”

  “How much?” Rytsar repeated.

  “For you?” The man grinned confidently as he leaned forward and whispered in Rytsar’s ear.

  Rytsar immediately snapped his fingers, and one of his bodyguards came up,
handing over a wallet stuffed with bills.

  The girl’s Master held out his hand, a condescending smirk on his face as he anticipated what looked to be a healthy payment.

  “Before I conclude our transaction, tell me how you acquired the girl. I want to know her history.”

  “Simply an exchange student from Kazan.”

  “And her given name?”

  “What does it matter?” the man scoffed.

  “I’ll pay you extra for the information.”

  The man pulled out a small notebook and flipped through the pages. “Stephanie.”

  The girl twitched but remained silent at his feet.

  Rytsar looked down at her with a grave expression, then asked the man, “Do you feel any remorse for what you do?”

  “What?” He looked at Rytsar as if he were joking. “I only provide what my comrades want.” He looked at the women chained to equipment around him and huffed. “It is no different. I do not see victims in the world, only opportunities. If it’s stupid enough to fall into my trap, it deserves its fate.”

  Rytsar’s voice was deceptively pleasant. “I agree, comrade. If you are foolish enough to walk into a trap, you deserve no mercy.”

  The man laughed, slapping Rytsar on the back. “Da!”

  Rytsar handed the money back to his guard, looking down at the girl again. “I never play with a broken puppet. I find them disgusting, but the man who commands one is beneath contempt.”

  The man snorted angrily. “What do I care what you think? I have thousands who would pay good money.”

  “And each one is as vile as you.”

  “Yeb vas,” the man snarled. “I refuse to waste any more time with you.” He called out to the others, “Who wants to bargain? You won’t be disappointed by its service.” He repeated himself in Russian when no one responded.

  “A man without a soul endangers us all,” Rytsar stated coldly. Without warning, he hit the man with a sharp upper cut to the jaw, snapping his neck around severely. He crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll and did not move.

  “No mercy,” Rytsar spat as he walked away.

  He snapped his fingers, bloody from the impact, and two of his guards grabbed the man’s arms and started dragging the lifeless body towards the entrance.