Brie's Russian Fantasy (After Graduation, #3) (12 page)

Brie realized she was breathing erratically and forced herself to calm down, afraid of fainting before they even began. Rytsar walked away from her and towards the wall of instruments. With growing dread, she watched as he thoughtfully chose a malicious-looking flogger from the wall.

Rytsar did not explain himself. He simply walked back to her, cutting the air with the whip to warm up his muscles.

Brie closed her eyes, readying herself for the initial stroke, but
nothing
could prepare her for the fire he evoked. She salivated against the tangy leather of his cat o’ nines, trying to keep her cries at bay as Rytsar lashed her back with solid, unyielding strokes. She whimpered loudly, the chains dancing around her as she rocked against the force of his blows. This was no gentle warm-up.

The sound of her lashing echoed throughout the dungeon, filling her ears. She did not drop the handle from her mouth to call out her safe word, but tears ran down her face as she forced herself to accept the onslaught.

When Rytsar finally stopped, the air seemed to still reverberate with the echoes of her surrender. He came up behind her, caressing her cheek. “The tenseness of your muscles, the whimpers against the leather, your sweet, sweet tears…they call to me.” He caressed her fiery back and then patted her ass lightly before giving the Wand a small adjustment. Brie moaned as she focused on the intense vibration, which helped to cut through the wall of pain.

“Your body must grow used to my pleasure. Much like a child learning to walk, it requires guidance.” His hot breath caressed her ear as he whispered, “You’re quite desirable right now,
radost moya
. So vulnerable and scared. It takes strength not to ravish you.”

He laid the flogger down and took the cat o’ nines from her lips. He slowly wiped her saliva from his instrument, dragging out the anticipation. “This will hurt. I make no excuses. I want it to hurt. I want you to react to the pain.” He abruptly threw the towel down and moved into position behind her.

This scene was unlike any experience she’d ever had. He wasn’t trying to ‘carry’ her into subspace; he was taking her there kicking and screaming.
I want this
, she reminded herself as fresh tears ran down her cheeks. Brie was determined to face this fear, to embrace the experience despite the fact she was terrified.

“Focus on your clit as I strip your back,” he commanded, just before the first lash of the tails came into contact with her skin. All illusions of bravery evaporated as she released an all-out scream. There was no controlling this pain. It was sharp, cruel, and more terrible than she’d ever imagined.

A second stroke immediately followed, not allowing her even a breath between. She shrieked, pulling against the chains, her back feeling as if it had been laid open and raw.

Then she felt his hot breath against her cheek. “Color?”

Brie gasped, “Red…ish yellow.” There was a part of Brie that desired to know if she could defeat the pain, overcome its fierce power and enter subspace.

“Good,” he replied. He reached between her legs and turned up the vibrator.

Brie threw her head back, her whole body shaking. Maybe the next hit would be enlightening or stimulating on a level she hadn’t experienced before.
Fear will not control me!

She heard each step magnified as he repositioned himself. She felt the swing of the cat o’ nines before it came anywhere close to her. Her scream erupted when the evil knots impacted on her skin. Hot lava radiated from each point the cat o’ nines made contact with her back. Rytsar followed it up with a second, equally forceful stroke.

Brie screamed and then sobbed uncontrollably. This was not pleasurable or enlightening. It simply hurt beyond anything she had ever experienced—and she couldn’t handle it any longer. “No more,” she begged between sobs, “no more…”

“So soon,
radost moya
?” Rytsar stroked the back of her neck lightly several times and then grasped it possessively, making her knees weak. She swayed back and forth in the chains, while the vibrator between her legs continued its relentless teasing.

“I have so much more I wish you to experience.”

There was an urging in her spirit to acquiesce to his need, but her lessons at the Submissive Training Center had prepared her for moments such as this. She shook her head and called out clearly, “Red.”

He chuckled. She felt his sharp teeth as he bit the back of her neck, wrapping his arm around her tightly. A deep and startling orgasm shook through her body. Brie twitched in her bonds until it had passed, completely stunned by it.

Rytsar kissed the bite marks he’d left before releasing her from the chains and removing the toy from between her legs. He had to support her as she stumbled to a padded table nearby. The Dom directed her to lie on her stomach.

She jumped when she first felt the icy salve. Rytsar smoothed it onto her wounds as he spoke in a low, calming voice. He shared his memories of their first encounter, recalling details that brought the scene back to life.

“My American captive…beautiful, passionate, frightened but willing. It is a good memory for me.”

She smiled, nodding her agreement. Brie vividly recalled that day. She’d been inexperienced when he’d won her at the auction, yet he had managed to fulfill her fantasy in every sense of the word while making her feel worthy of his attentions.

As Rytsar continued to reminisce, his masculine hands gently tended to the wounds he had inflicted. His aftercare was so tender, so kind; it almost made up for the pain she’d endured under his hand.

When he had finished, Rytsar helped her off the table and gathered her into his arms, albeit carefully. “You did well,
radost moya
. Your Master will be pleased.”

She shook her head against his chest, not buying it.

He murmured seductively, “I can help you learn to enjoy the pain.”

She had no doubt he had the ability, but it was not what she desired. Brie worried Sir would be disappointed as she walked behind Rytsar back to her Master.

Sir immediately put down his work and stood up when they entered the room. “How was the experience?” he asked Brie.

Her bottom lip trembled in answer.

He turned to Rytsar with a look of concern. “How did she fare, Donkova?”

“It was a decent beginning.”

Sir looked her over again, his eyes unreadable.

Rytsar kissed the back of Brie’s hand before returning her to Sir’s care. She bowed stiffly before the Russian Dom. “Thank you, Rytsar Donkova.”

He nodded his acknowledgement and slapped Sir on the shoulder. “Trainable, but no masochist.”

“I suspected as much,” Sir replied evenly.

Rytsar bade them goodbye and left them to their own devices.

Sir helped Brie off the floor and smoothed her worried brow with his fingers. “That is fortunate news, téa, for I am no sadist.”

The Dungeon

T
he two followed Titov down a long flight of circular stairs. Before they reached the bottom, Brie heard screams echoing from the other side of the door. She swallowed hard and tried to keep a peaceful countenance.

Sir whispered in her ear, “Remember, the subs are masochists. This is their preference.”

Brie nodded as they entered. The cries quickly died down as everyone turned to look at them.

Rytsar’s voice rose over the crowd. “Welcome,
moy droog
!”

He walked over to greet them both. “We have been waiting impatiently for you.” He turned to the crowd. “Please, continue the entertainment.”

Immediately a whip cracked and a piercing scream filled the air.

Rytsar gestured proudly to the expansive underground room. “I have it all here. The ultimate playground of kink.” Brie glanced around the dark and ominous dungeon. The floor was made of unforgiving stone, the walls of rough brick, and large wooden support beams dotted the room. Attached to the beams were chains and cuffs of various lengths and materials, some of which were already adorned with naked submissives.

In the farthest corner, Brie noticed several large metal cages. But the wall that held a plethora of whips, floggers, canes and other tools—the number of which was staggering—captivated her imagination and left her speechless.

The anguished cry of a submissive grabbed her attention. She glanced around at women bound to St. Andrew’s crosses, benches, or leather swings, being whipped, fucked, or tortured with unknown instruments. Brie struggled to take it all in.

Sir felt her tension and suggested, “Why don’t we visit the scenes individually, Donkova? You can explain to my sub what is transpiring.”

“Certainly,” he said, nodding to Brie.

Rytsar guided them over to a woman spread out on a bench, bound by chains. She had a large metal collar around her neck, making it impossible for her to move. “Andreev enjoys subjecting his sub to clitoral torture.” The Dom had already attached nipple clamps, but there was an extra chain that led down to her pussy. He was in the process of pulling back the hood of her clit and attaching the clamp to the loose skin. “Clit exposure allows for more intense play,” Rytsar explained.

The Dom rubbed her naked clit, making the sub whimper pitifully. He then picked up a lit candle and leaned in, licking her erect clit before dripping the wax directly on the exposed sex. The girl screamed, but didn’t call her safe word. Brie saw clearly that her pussy was red and swollen with excitement.

A more lustful cry caught Brie’s attention. She turned to a lanky female chained to a pole being whipped with a cat o’ nine tails. Rytsar grinned. “My personal favorite, the cat o’ nines. Such exquisite torture.”

She struggled to wrap her head around the fact Rytsar was a sadist. He had been demanding but playful the day she’d scened with him. Based on his actions that day, she never would have suspected his underlying need to deliver pain. Brie suddenly realized that what had been a mind-blowing experience for her must have been mere child’s play for him.

As Rytsar continued to show off his dungeon, she kept glancing back at the girl on the pole. Despite her pained screams, the Dom had already made the girl come twice. Brie couldn’t help wondering if she was missing out somehow. All of the women in this dungeon seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves despite—or because of—the pain.

Later that night, when she was lying in bed, safe in Sir’s arms, she broached the subject. “Master, do you have sadistic tendencies?”

He did not answer her question; instead he correctly read into her inquiry and turned it back on her. “Has tonight’s exposure awakened a latent desire, téa?”

Clever Master.

“I was frightened by some of the things I saw tonight, but I wonder, Sir…is it a true fear or just fear of the unknown?”

“I noticed your interest in the cat o’ nines,” he commented, nibbling her neck. “Would you like to taste its sting?”

She hesitated, the idea of it unsettling—yet alluring. “Yes.”

“Then I shall speak to Donkova tomorrow.”

“What? Aren’t you going to scene with me?”

“No. I shall defer to Rytsar Donkova’s expertise.”

“Then I would rather not,” she answered quickly.

“I believe you should,” he replied, sucking on her earlobe. “How else can you know your desires if you do not explore them?”

She tried to imagine herself tied to the pole receiving painful strokes, but as much as it enticed her, it frightened her equally as much.“Will you be there with me, Sir?”

“No, Brie. I would detract from the scene.” She tensed in his arms. “Do not fret, little sub. I will request a simple whipping session, no audience and no intercourse involved.”

She nestled deeper into his arms, suddenly excited and terrified by the prospect of scening with Rytsar. “What if I only last one stroke, Sir?”

“Then you will know where your limit lies. This is an exploration, not an endurance test.”

She smiled and kissed him. “Yes, Sir.”