“I won’t let you die,” Titov vows solemnly.
I appreciate his declaration, but I know how dangerous the Bratva can be, so I pour another shot of vodka and slap him on the shoulder.
“Here’s to a lifelong partnership.”
Needing to escape the responsibilities that have suddenly been thrust on me, I visit a dungeon outside the city limits.
I need to shed off the tension caused by my new position in the family and the unwanted label of hero slapped on me by the media.
I’m no hero.
I failed Tatianna, and I am fighting to make her death mean something.
I need this escape to the only place I can unwind and just be.
“Rytsar Durov!” I hear the low bellow of one of the Doms when I enter the dungeon.
The dungeons I frequent in Russia are strict on protocol. They do not follow the same practices as their American counterparts.
Some have said that the Dominants in America are soft and the submissives highly undisciplined. However, I believe it is simply a different style of D/s and feel no need to compare the two.
Regardless of style, I require only two things—a willing submissive and my cat o’ nines.
I walk through the dungeon, looking for a sub to play with. I have been out of the country for several years pursuing a degree in the States, and I see several fresh faces who have yet to experience my ’nines.
Shurik walks up and points to a girl I failed to notice because she was kneeling. Her extremely long, black hair completely covers her face.
“This one would please you,” he assures me.
“Why do you say that?”
“Her screams are quite appealing.”
Shurik has piqued my interest with that simple statement.
“What is your name?” I ask the girl.
Keeping her head bowed, she answers quietly, “I am known as kroshka.”
A smirk plays on my lips. “A crumb? As in a crumb for me to eat?”
She nods slightly.
“Look at me,” I demand, wanting to see her face.
She looks up, but her face is still covered by her hair.
I reach down to part it.
Her delicate facial features and full lips are appealing, but she keeps her gaze glued to the floor.
“Look at me,” I demand again as I take her face in my hand and lift it.
Her dark eyes have such depth to them that they steal my breath away.
I hold out my cat o’ nines. “Are you familiar with my instrument?”
She looks at the tails with their hard leather knots with hungry eyes. She smiles when she nods.
“Nyet, you are not,” I inform her smirk. “But you soon will be…”
Her smile grows wider as she stares at it.
“You will call me Rytsar.”
She seems startled when she hears my name. She instantly looks up to meet my gaze before quickly bowing her head again. I can see her tense, readying herself for the punishment she deserves for daring to look at me.
“You know me?”
“I only know of you, Rytsar,” she answers fearfully.
I am not interested in punishing her for a protocol rule I care little about, but I know that the rules of this dungeon require it.
To preserve her reputation and mine, I tell her, “I am adding a lash from a cane for your disobedience.”
“Yes, Rytsar,” she answers, visibly relieved.
I understand that, as a submissive in this strict environment, she needs the punishment. Otherwise, I would appear weak in her eyes—and in the eyes of those around me.
“Stand and serve me,” I command.
When she gets to her feet, her hair naturally cascades down to her knees, covering her naked body. This won’t do, and I order her to turn facing away from me.
I pull back her long hair and begin braiding it. The great length makes it a challenge, and it takes time. I use that time to build the tension between us, intermittently caressing her skin while I make a casual braid of her long hair. When I reach the end, I use a lock of it to wrap around the braid and tuck it in to secure it.
Placing the braid to the front, I admire her naked back—so smooth and untouched.
I feel a rush when I think of the marks she will soon bear from our session.
“Turn in place,” I command.
I watch with admiration as she turns. Her brown nipples are hard, and her pussy is swollen with need.
The slight hint of her pink clit stirs the ravenous beast in me.
Giving her a wicked smile, I grab her long braid and use it as a leash, leading her to a concrete wall with heavy chains attached. I let go of her hair and press her chest against the rough surface. “Spread your legs.”
She quickly obeys, and I brush my finger against her pussy, teasing her clit with a light touch. She softly moans at the contact.
I can be gentle or fierce. She will get to know both sides of me today.
“Open,” I tell her, pressing the handle of my ’nines against her mouth.
I growl my approval as her pink lips encase it and she holds it in her mouth. I want her to know the taste of the leather so she will never forget it.
I appreciate the old, rustic bindings found in this dungeon. They were recovered from actual dungeons throughout Russia. It gives this place a feeling of authenticity.
I take her wrist and place it in the shackle, encasing it in iron and locking it. Because the chain is heavy and the cuff is hard and unyielding, it makes a submissive feel helpless and in danger.
I bind her other wrist, purposely pulling on the chains so the sound of the links clinking against each other echoes through the dungeon. I want all of her senses to be stimulated as I scene with her.
I run my hands over her back, mentally mapping where I will leave my marks. I reach between her legs and press my hand against her mound.
“Mine to please and torture at will,” I whisper in her ear.
Her soft whimper excites me.
Taking my ’nines from her mouth, I wipe it off with her braided hair. I do it as an intimate exchange, highlighting that her body is mine to use as I see fit.
Ready to start, I wrap my hand around the ’nine’s handle and snap it near her face so she can hear the harshness of the tails as they cut through the air. I take pleasure in the goosebumps that rise on her skin.
She has every reason to be scared.
This will hurt.
But, first, I introduce her to its gentler side.
I lightly drag the tails over her skin, from her arms to her shoulders, and down her back to her buttocks. The soft caress adds to the goosebumps on her skin as I tickle her with it.
At one point, she lets out a giggle.
I take that moment to step back momentarily and gently slap the ’nines against her mound. It is a possessive move, laying claim to her pussy—it’s meant to stimulate her mind as well as her body.
She lets out a cry of surprise, then moans in response. Already my cat o’ nines is weaving its wicked spell.
Moving into position, I order her to straighten her back and move her shoulders forward. I want access to every inch of her.
I cut the air several times with my whip to warm up before we begin. Bound as she is, I want kroshka to anticipate what is about to happen.
A few subs watch us from afar. Their heads are bowed but they sneak covert glances at my cat o’ nines. I recognize each submissive, and all of them know its bite. They seem to be drawn to it like moths to a flame.