My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3) (16 page)

He smacked her swollen nates. “Now, I want you to think about Sammi, and why the belt is being used on your naughty
zadnitsa
.”

She
did
feel remorse for her treatment of Sammi. The woman hadn’t deserved to be yelled at, and she definitely didn’t deserve the angry, hurtful words Caroline had spouted off at her. It had been wrong to bring up her weight as a child. Sammi worked hard for her looks. She ate well and exercised daily. Now, Caroline found herself standing in a corner with a red backside, waiting for the belt — and a very large Russian man staring at her revoltingly large buttocks.

She wanted people to like her, yet she seemed to have a pathological need put down her employees, to keep them in their place. Every now and then though, they might see a glimmer of the real Caroline — but most of the time, she kept that part of her well-hidden. With Maxim’s incentive plan, she suspected they would see this side of her more often. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable feeling vulnerable with the people she worked with though. It had been easier to simply keep them at arm’s length. If people didn’t like her, her aloofness kept her safe and sheltered.

“Caroleena, turn around, please.”

She pivoted in the corner, the leather rubbing against the underside of her cheeks, reigniting the burn in her flesh. The buckle of the belt pressed into her mound, her clit pulsing.

“Hands on your head.” His voice rumbled over her, demanding obedience. She didn’t hesitate to comply this time. He unfolded himself from the chair, walking up to her. Her pounding heart was in her throat as he slid his hand between the belt and her pussy, finding her clit, pressing and tapping on it. “So wet, Caro.”

She closed her eyes, her arousal climbing, her legs trembling in response. He eased his fingers though her juices, entering her, curling to find her g-spot, gliding insistently over the sensitive area. Her hips gyrated in helpless response to his clever, knowing touch.

“Take the belt off. Hand it to me.”

Her eyes shot open, looking for any sign of mercy or compassion in his gaze. Seeing none there, she swallowed, her trembling hands moving to the buckle of the belt just over her sex. Her arousal deflated like a punctured balloon, replaced with fear and dread. It had been a long time since she’d been spanked with a belt, and the memory of his video belting of Viktoria wasn’t helping with her trepidation one bit.

Caroline had to tug on the leather to get the tooth loose from the hole, momentarily heightening the burn in her thighs. Once the belt came undone, she held it by the large, cold silver buckle, handing it over to him, the menacing length of leather looking frighteningly like a long, black snake.

His meaty hand took it, palming the buckle, slowly folding the belt over it as he smacked the end against his leg. He pointed with the belt. “Living room.”

She walked into the well-appointed space, the white couches and accented black tables surrounding her. The sun was just beginning to set in the sky, the buildings and city below covered in a pink glow, the street lights flickering on here and there.

“Over the back of the couch.” She’d never been spanked in this position. She’d read about it and seen several videos on the spanking site of course, but she hadn’t considered the possibility that she’d ever experience such a thing herself. This position left the women vulnerable — unable to reach back to protect themselves, unable to clench, their pussy displayed and open for fondling. She’d often wondered if the belt hit their tender labia.

Guess you’re about to find out.

Even with her long legs, it took a little work and shimmying to get herself over the top of the couch. Maxim’s hand cupped her sex, hoisting her up higher, her pussy positioned even further up on the couch, rendering her feet useless, her toes not quite able to touch the floor. She had to keep her hands on the seat cushions lest she risk toppling over.

He didn’t lecture or prepare her beforehand. There was no tapping, now warning... nothing. Just the immediate, rapid lashes of his belt upon her stinging flesh.

“Ow! Oh, God, Maxim!” She tried letting go of the cushion to reach a hand back, but quickly replaced it when she thought she might fall. The stability of her legs had been taken away completely, leaving her to balance precariously over the couch.

She tried waggling her hips, but it didn’t relieve her pain at all. Soon, she was yelping and screeching with each swath of fire over her already sore bottom. He didn’t pause or give her any relief, instead continuing to thrash her bottom thoroughly. She couldn’t say she was surprised either. She’d watched his methodical, rhythmic, and brutal whippings on the spanking videos, and at the time had thought it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Well, it
was
hot all right! There was no way in hell this even came close to her fantasy though.

“I’m sorry! Maxim, please. I’m sorry!” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this helpless.

At some point, the blows ended. She didn’t know how long it had been since the belting had ceased, her pain and exhaustion muddling her memory and perception, her consciousness overwhelmed by sensation. His heavy breathing behind her told her he stood close to her, but her hiccups and sobs drowned it out virtually everything else.

“Do you think you can find a way to behave at work, Caroleena Leigh?”

“Yes, Sir!” She didn’t hesitate on the answer. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life.

“It’ll be difficult, I’m sure. But,
Ptitsy letayut ne v nashikh rot, gotovykh zharenyy
.”

She laid quietly, not sure how to respond.

“This means: A bird does not fly into your mouth already roasted.”

What the fuck?

“You can’t expect results without hard work. It will be difficult to curb that tongue of yours, Lena, but the rewards will be incredible. Come. Get up.” He held her elbow, helping her to stand, keeping his hands at her waist. “You are better than this. I do not believe that you are evil. You will apologize to Samantha. She is good girl, and did not deserve your mean words.”

“I know. I will, I promise.” She wanted desperately to rub her bottom, but she knew that would not work in her favor.

“See that you do. I will be watching closely tomorrow.” He tilted her chin up. “And trust me, you do
not
want another spanking, yes?”

“Yes... I mean, no. I don’t want another spanking tomorrow. Or any time soon.” She reached around to cup her hot cheeks in her hands, and fortunately, he didn’t chastise her for doing so. Instead, he pulled her into his arms.

“Good girl.” He lightly rubbed her back, swaying with her for a while. “Let’s get your beautiful panties back on.” He pulled them out of his pocket, playing with the zipper.

“You like those? I hoped you would. I just… didn’t expect that I’d be taking them off for a spanking.” She laughed nervously. “I’d hoped they’d be taken off in the heat of passion… or something.”

“I do like. The zipper is hot as fuck. America has amazing things.” He opened and closed them, shaking his head. He squatted, holding them open at her feet. “Step in, girl.

She pouted at him for a moment. “I think I’d feel better having nothing on my bottom. It hurts.”

He looked up at her, an eyebrow quirking. “It is supposed to. I told you this morning that you would have marks if you misbehaved. And I want to see the panties on you. How your bottom feels does not concern me right now. Step in, now.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders, stepping gingerly into each leg opening. He dragged the fabric up her legs, and over her tender thighs, the elastic stretching over her very sore backside. The zipper rasped over her skin making her gasp out loud.

“You go lie down for a nap. I’ll start dinner and wake you up when it’s done. Then we’ll have our fun evening.” He kissed her on the forehead, turning her with a small slap to her bottom, sending her on her way.

Chapter Twelve

D
erek Miller had waited a long time for the chance to destroy Caroline — and such an opportunity had just fallen into his lap.

He looked over at his assistant, and right hand man, Mark Grosseman. “You’ve been in touch with your contacts at the Immigration Department?”

“Yes, Sir. They’ve been apprised of the situation, and they are in agreement.”

Derek nodded, swiveling in his office chair, looking out the large window that overlooked Manhattan. The day was crystal clear, not a cloud to be seen in the deep blue sky. It was a refreshing change from the long, dreary — and dreadfully snowy — winter they’d just endured. It felt nice to walk without the cumbersome coats, hats and gloves, clothing necessary not only to keep warm, but absolutely critical to merely hailing a cab to not freeze your ears or hands in the blustery, brutal winds whipping through the streets.

Maybe now the Board of Directors at Turner Marketing would see the error of their ways, and once Caroline had been ejected, they’d change their minds and take him on as CEO. Of course, his first order of business would be to change the name to Miller Advertising. He’d give himself a large corner office. Yes, this would be his year — the year that he finally won the battle Caroline had started years ago.

Derek reached for his phone.

“You’re sure this is what you want to do?” Mark asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m the one who contacted
you
about the plan, remember?” He wondered if he’d been wrong to trust Mark. But the man did know the ins and outs of the Immigration Department, having worked there for years. Derek needed his expertise.

Mark nodded. “Yes, I know. I just wanted to be sure you’ve thought of the implications of this, and the potential consequences if something doesn’t go as planned.”

Derek narrowed his gaze at him. Where was Mark going with this? “Is there something you’re not telling me? Some reason I need to back out of this?”

Marks eyes widened. “I’m only looking out for you. Playing the devil’s advocate. Just wanted to give you an angle to think about before you take the plunge.”

“I’ve thought of all the angles, believe me. I know what I’m doing.” He paused, trying to figure out if he’d trusted Mark prematurely. Squeezing the phone in his hand, he took a deep breath, knowing it was now or never.

A very feminine voice answered the phone. “
The Gazette
. This is Annette speaking. May I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Annette. I’d like to speak to your top reporter. I have some information that cannot be trusted with a novice.”

Annette cleared her throat. “Sir. I’ll need to have your name and a general idea before I can forward you to the appropriate reporter.”

“This is Derek Miller, of Miller and Sons. I have some information regarding a prominent CEO in the Manhattan area, someone who is blatantly breaking the law.” He didn’t want to give too much information, but hopefully that would be enough to get a seasoned reporter. Someone he could trust with confidential information.

“I’ll forward you now, Sir.”

She put him on hold, the line suddenly filled with the painful elevator music that companies thought soothed callers. Why didn’t someone do studies to show that the “calming music” did nothing but annoy the hell out of people, making them irate before they even got the chance to speak to an employee?

Mark was watching inquisitively, so Derek put his palm over the receiver. “I’m on hold. Your contact at the Immigration Department said they’d take care of the paperwork on file there, right? Hard copy and electronic?”

“Yes, Sir. He said that he’d take care of it last night. We should be all set. He owes me a favor—his promotion was due entirely to a good word I put in for him. He’ll keep his promise.”

Derek grinned. “Everything is going as planned.” He repeatedly flipped his pencil from point to eraser on the ink blotter in front of him.

The music suddenly cut out. “Jim Powers, can I help you?”

“Hi, Jim. I’m hoping you can. I have something to tell you that is… very confidential. I think your paper would be very interested in some information I have regarding a prominent CEO here in Manhattan.” He winked at Mark, unable to contain the excitement at the prospect of Caroline’s imminent demise. “I need assurance that my identity will be kept hidden if I divulge this information. I’ll answer all the questions you have, but I don’t want this coming back to me. Can I have that assurance?”

“Yes, I can assure your anonymity.”

“I have recorded you stating that, and I will hold you to it. Is that clear?”

There was a long pause, then Jim cleared his throat. “Yes, Sir. My word is gold. You can trust me.”

“This is in regard to Caroline Turner, CEO and owner of Turner Marketing in Manhattan. Are you familiar with the name?”

Jim’s laugh on the other end of the line was sarcastic. “Heard of her? Who
hasn’t
heard of her?”

“Well, I had to check. You’re going to need to take notes on this. What I’m going to give you will be… rather detailed.”