Her Russian Returns (Brie's Submission Book 15) Page 3

  “Moy droog, bind her tight, spread-eagle. I don’t want her able to wiggle out of my ’nines’ caresses.”

  Rytsar stood back and watched with pleasure as his brother bound his trembling sub using rings screwed into the floor and suspended chain hanging from the ceiling. It gave him an unobstructed view to admire her form.

  Brie’s nipples were pert and erect, alerting him to her level of fear and anticipation. She also watched her Master intently as he tied her up. He was slow and meticulous, making sure the rope was taut and his ties secure so she was completely immobilized once he was finished.

  Thane moved away from her, standing beside Rytsar. “I’ve never seen her this nervous before.”

  “It is intoxicating, isn’t it?”

  “I do enjoy bringing her to the edge of her endurance from time to time.”

  Brie kept her gaze straight ahead, trying to keep a brave face, but the shallowness of her breathing gave the truth away. It was endearing that she tried to hide it. But as always, Rytsar wanted his beautiful radost moya to experience both pleasure and pain.

  The two of them began circling her, touching her in random places, leaving a kiss or a nibble as they teased her with their dual attention. Being unable to move, Brie was a slave to their seduction and fed on the sexual tension the two created.

  She moaned in pleasure when Thane leaned in to kiss her while Rytsar pressed up against her back, the hardness of his cock resting between her butt cheeks.

  Rytsar claimed the sensitive skin on the side of her throat as Thane kissed her deeply with his tongue. Their message clear—a spirited threesome would be her reward after the session.

  Brie gasped as Rytsar bit down, wanting to mark her skin before he began to play.

  When Thane pulled away, he followed suit, leaving Brie tied, fearful and helpless, before the two men.

  “Radost moya, do you remember my three rules from the last time you and I played together at the cabin?” he asked her.

  Brie nodded her head.

  “Tell me,” he commanded.

  “First, I must be courageous. Second, I must be honest with you. And third, I need to trust you.”

  “Da. Do you still agree to these things?”

  “Yes, Rytsar.”

  He smiled as he picked his ’nines back up and approached her.

  Instantly, Brie tensed.

  Rytsar glanced at his comrade and nodded in the direction of her tense back muscles. Thane raised an eyebrow, communicating his curiosity at how Rytsar would handle it.

  He swung the wicked instrument in the air, letting Brie hear its dangerous promise as the knotted tails cut through the air, and was rewarded with her soft whimper.

  Ah, such an alluring sound.

  To begin the session, Rytsar chose to surprise Brie. He trailed his ’nines over her skin, starting with her arms and moving down her back. She shivered involuntarily, goosebumps rising on her skin. He grazed her shapely buttocks, slapping them ever so lightly with the knots, then he moved in front of her so that his ’nines could caress her beautiful breasts.

  Brie shifted her gaze to him, knowing he preferred eye contact when they played together.

  “Do you like my ’nines, radost moya?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Right now, yes.”

  His chuckle was low and seductive, wanting her to appreciate his favorite instrument so she would invite the pain he longed to give her. He swiped one hand against her pussy and was pleased to find it wet.

  “Your body is telling me it wants more. What does your mind tell you?”

  She stared at his cat-o’-nines for several moments before lifting her head and looking into his eyes. “I am up for the challenge, Rytsar.”

  He leaned in and kissed her deeply, his cock straining against the material of his leather pants. “Let me guide you to rai then…”

  When he stepped away, he could feel Brie’s fear wash from her like waves of the sweetest ambrosia. She was courageous and she was willing despite her fear—this was her gift to him.

  Taking his stance, Rytsar readied himself to deliver the first lash across her back. The seconds before that initial contact were a divine moment for him; a physical thrill as his body rushed with excitement.

  He let his ’nines fly and closed his eyes in ecstasy when she let out that first sensual scream. His cock throbbed as he readied to deliver the next stroke. Brie was impressive this time around, taking his first round of four healthy strokes without calling her safeword.

  While he paused for a moment to let her body prepare for the next set, Thane came to her, wrapping his hand around her throat and plundering her mouth. Tag-teaming her this way would help Brie to associate pleasure with the sting of the cat-o’-nines. An association he hoped she would grow to crave given time.

  “Ready for more?” he asked her, anxious to continue.

  “Da, Rytsar,” she said breathlessly when Thane released his hold on her.

  Needing more from her, he gave her six strikes the second set, leaving red welts covering her back. Still she did not cry out her safeword, although the tears had started to flow.

  “Impressive,” he murmured seductively. Rytsar handed his ’nines to Thane to hold for a minute while he approached her, wanting to examine her red back.

  So many love marks to count…

  “Your endurance is inspiring, radost moya,” he told her, pressing his hard cock against her body. “Do you feel how inspired I am?”

  Brie looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks, attesting to her appreciation of his sadistic attentions. When she lifted her chin for a kiss, he grunted in satisfaction. It was a second level of submission—this acceptance of her desire and need to receive his pain.

  Rytsar was not gentle as he claimed her mouth, wanting to ravage it with the same ferocity he wanted to ravage her entire body.

  “The smell of you excites me,” he confessed, noting a difference in her scent. It made him crazy for her, and he had to remind himself to hold back.

  Brie was still a novice when it came to exploring the sensual world of pain with him. As much as he needed to feel her fear and hear her screams of delicious agony, he did not want her to become afraid of him.

  “Are you ready for more?” he asked as he moved back into position.

  Her whole body shook in an involuntary shiver, but she nodded her head yes.

  Rytsar smiled at Thane. He understood this would be the last set, her body already so tense and resistant, she would struggle not to stop his ’nines’ final caresses. But it was important to show her a hint of what she was missing, even if she was not quite able to appreciate it yet.

  “Enjoy, radost moya…” he growled seductively as he let the knotted tails loose.

  She threw her head back and let out a terrified scream as two more challenging consecutive lashes crisscrossed her back.

  The two men descended on her at once, wanting to take her mind from the momentary feeling of terror the ferociousness of his ’nines had wrought.

  With the pain came the pleasure…

  They quickly unbound her, guiding her to the bed amid a volley of kisses and praises. She shifted her gaze between them both, unable to speak but responsive to every whisper, every kiss, every lick and nibble.

  Rytsar and Thane worked together like a well-oiled machine as they brought her to her first orgasm after the session, forcing another scream from her.

  “Do you think you could handle both of us at once as I minister to your back?” Rytsar asked lustfully, needing to feel his hard cock deep inside her and unable to wait.

  “Yes,” she begged.

  While Thane grabbed her head to kiss her, Rytsar ran his hand over the smooth skin of her trembling stomach. But something was wrong.

  He shook his head, trying to figure out what it was, feeling as if he was missing something.

  Looking up at Brie, he cocked his head. “Radost moya.”

  “Yes, Rytsar,” she answered breathlessly, smiling d
own at him.

  Looking at her stomach again, he asked, “Where is the babe?”

  Rytsar woke up to the chill of the cold night air. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized it had only been a dream. He groaned in pain as he moved to relieve the pressure on his side.

  He heard whining above him.

  The damn dog was back.

  Unwilling to be tormented by its whining all night, he yelled, “Go!”

  Rytsar saw movement in the dark as something fell from the opening. He heard it hit the cement a few feet in front of him.

  The dog whined again.

  The smell of meat met Rytsar’s nostrils and his stomach growled in response, the hunger pains now impossible to ignore. He inched his way over until he could pick it up. It was a portion of cooked chicken, the smell of which drove him mad with hunger.

  Brushing off the dirt and ignoring the fact it had been in the beast’s mouth, Rytsar tore into the flesh and chewed with animal-like ferocity. It didn’t take long for him to finish and he looked up at the outline of the dog’s nose. “Glupyy, I need more.” Rytsar could hear the dog’s movement and had to assume it was wagging its tail vigorously.

  “More,” he called out again.

  The dog disappeared, leaving Rytsar alone. He started nibbling on the thinner bones while he waited, ravenous for more.

  It wasn’t long before he felt the rush that protein caused as it flowed into his veins. He moaned in satisfaction, hope rising again from the power rush.

  The stray returned a short time later with the back end of the bird. The dog nuzzled it through the bars until it fell into his cell. Rytsar grabbed the meat and began tearing at it, feeling as if he could never get enough. After he finished the last of it, he looked up again and crooned to the animal. “You have done well, Glupyy.”

  The dog whined softly in response.

  Wanting the beast to know he was truly pleased, Rytsar said, “Good dog.”

  The sound of vigorous movement above let him know the dog was wagging its tail excessively. Rytsar smirked to himself. At least the beast was easy to please.

  From that point on, Glupyy came to him only at night delivering scraps—the dog appeared to be the master of thieves. On the rare nights it couldn’t find anything, the dog provided Rytsar with companionship. The animal gave him comfort by just being there with him, especially during those times when the pain became too great and the night too dark.

  Rytsar was certain that Thane was doing everything possible to release him from this hell, but he prayed his comrade would fail. Anyone making the mistake of a rescue attempt would die a similarly torturous death. The Koslov brothers would not suffer interference, and Rytsar could not stomach any more deaths on his account.

  Titov understood the danger and, although he had been willing to stand beside Rytsar and die with him, he respected Rytsar’s wish that he carry on and make sure Thane, Brie, and the babe were kept safe in the years ahead.

  Titov understood that promise meant far more to Rytsar than sacrificing himself in solidarity.

  Rytsar chuckled to himself thinking about Titov. There was no doubt in his mind that his longtime companion had a bottle of vodka and shot glass waiting for him even now. It would remain where it was up until the day Rytsar arrived to drink with him or Titov drew his last breath. He was not a man to break a promise.

  Tatianna would have been proud of her older brother.

  Rytsar wiped away an obnoxious tear.

  Despite the tragedies he’d suffered, he had been blessed to know exceptional people. People worth fighting and dying for.

  “Glupyy, how do you find yourself in such a sad predicament—nursing an ungrateful Russian? I’m curious if you were the pet of a soldier who has died or were you always a stray fighting for survival.”

  The dog made a happy little woof and turned in circles.

  Mamulya

  The sweet lullaby his mother used to sing to him as a little boy lingered in Rytsar’s mind as he tried to fall asleep. It gave him comfort—that haunting melody sung in his mother’s beautiful voice:

  Darkness is falling,

  The moon will be rising

  The stars will be shining

  The sun’s gone to sleep

  Close your eyes

  And I’ll rock you gently

  And wish you sweet dreams

  While you sleep

  Good night,

  Good night

  Now it is time to sleep

  Tears came to his eyes, the memories of his youth flooding back, the period before the whipping pole and his introduction to pain and the cruelty of his father at the tender age of five.

  As a young boy, he’d loved to sit in the kitchen and watch his mother cook. Although she could have had the staff do it, she’d insisted she be the one to feed her family.

  She smiled down at her son as she divided the large dough into small balls to make her delicious Russian pirozhkis. “Anton, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “An astronaut!” he answered with confidence.

  “Ah, a brave man who explores the heavens.”

  Rytsar sat up straighter and puffed out his chest proudly.

  He watched as she pinched off two small pieces of the dough and handed him one. “I have always loved the sweet taste of yeast in raw dough,” she confessed.

  He grinned, grabbing it from her with his small hand and popping it into his mouth. He agreed with her, it was a special treat whenever she made bread and was part of the reason he enjoyed sitting in the kitchen when she cooked.

  As they chewed the dough, Rytsar was struck with a thought. “Mamulya, what did you want to be when you were little like me?”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” she said, her smile widening.

  His eyes grew big. “A teacher?”

  “Da.”

  “Are you sad?”

  “Why?” she asked, tilting her head charmingly, her delicate eyebrows raised in interest.

  “You are not in a classroom.”

  His mother laughed softly as she began rolling out the small balls of dough. “I may not be in a traditional classroom, but I have you five boys to teach every day.”

  Rytsar grinned at her, happy she was content to simply be their mother.

  “When you fly up in the rocket, I will be with you in spirit,” she told him, rubbing the top of his head. “I’ve always wanted to see our blue planet from space.”

  “Me too!” he piped up, watching her carefully spoon the seasoned meat, onion, and egg mixture onto each circle of dough before she folded them over and crimped the edges. He skootched his chair closer to the stove so he could watch her fry them.

  “Keep a safe distance,” she reminded him gently.

  “Yes, Mamulya,” he answered, his mouth already watering as she placed the first one into the hot oil. The smell of frying bread filled the kitchen as she set each one into the large pot and turned them, making sure they were golden brown on both sides.

  She placed the cooked pirozhkis in a basket to drain. Rytsar was sorely tempted to grab one, but had learned from experience that to do so was folly. He would only end up burning his tongue and not be able to taste his mother’s delicious meat pies.

  When enough time had passed for them to cool down, she handed him one. “I want you to grow into a strong man like your father and grandfather.”

  He chomped down on the crunchy bread and moaned in pleasure as he chewed the savory bite. Speaking with his mouth still full, he answered, “I will be stronger, Mamulya.”

  His father walked into the kitchen just in time to hear the last of their conversation. “Stronger than your father? Hah!” he replied, taking a pirozhki. He looked accusingly at his wife. “How can he become a strong man when you baby him like a girl?”

  “I am not a girl!” Rytsar protested.

  “Well, you may not be wearing an apron like your mother, but boys don’t play in the kitchen.”

  Rytsar was
offended and frowned at his father. “I love Mamulya.”

  His father ripped a bite out of the meat pie and ate it, staring at him. After he swallowed, he said, “Growing into a mama’s boy, are you?”

  “I’m not a mama’s boy.”

  “Vladimir,” his mother said, wiping her hands on her apron before placing them on his chest, and looking up at him. “All of your sons are strong men, just like their father.”

  He gave Rytsar a sideways glance. “I don’t like seeing him in the kitchen.”

  She smiled sweetly. “What harm does it do? We talk about important things while I cook. The time is not wasted.”

  “Still, the kitchen is not a place for a son of mine.”

  Rytsar’s mother handed him another pirozhki, saying in a sweet voice, “Did you never spend time in the kitchen, getting treats from your mother while she cooked? I believe those extra morsels are how you grew up to be so big, strong, and handsome.”

  He smiled down at his wife lustfully, taking a large bite of her pie. “I want you in the basement right now, woman.”

  Mamulya bowed her head, taking off her apron, folding it neatly before laying it on the counter. She winked at Rytsar as she walked out of the kitchen, telling him, “Only one more, my little astronaut. I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.”

  Rytsar could not stop the tears as he thought back on that sweet moment that was countered by the surprised look on her face as her life blood spilled onto the floor when she took her last breath.

  She’d deserved so much more from life. Why fate had been so brutal to such a kind soul was a complete mystery to him.

  Rytsar thought back on the day after her death. He’d spoken to Titov about revenge, and then headed directly to his brothers. Although they had gone their separate ways after reaching sweet adulthood, they were still his family and needed to know the truth about their mother’s death.

  “I don’t believe it,” Vlad, his oldest brother, stated.

  Pavel, the youngest, whose eyes were red from crying spoke up, insisting, “Father would never hurt Mama.”