Brie’s Russian Treat (Submissive in Love, #5) (7 page)

“Did your Master tell you what is on the list?” he asked.

Brie sighed nervously. “No, he did not.”

Rytsar nodded his head thoughtfully. He led her out onto a wooden pier, his expression solemn and frightening. “I was told to challenge you.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“One area in particular.”

Brie swallowed hard, dreading his answer. “Which one?”

“Watersports.”

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

B
rie 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.