Sir closed his eyes, obviously reliving it in his mind. “I ran, but he had already disappeared into the house. I headed directly for the bedroom even though I knew it was too late. I entered the room to see my father pointing a gun at my mother. He vacillated between aiming it at her and the naked boy toy. For a second, I thought he would shoot her dead, but then he lowered it. The only thing he asked her was, ‘Why?’ My mother said nothing.”
He opened his eyes and stared blankly ahead. “He turned to me and said, ‘I’m sorry, son’, put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger before I could move to stop him.” Sir’s voice caught, but he cleared his throat and continued. “I ran to him, begging him to hold on even though I knew…”
Sir turned to Brie, the rawness of his pain written clearly in his face. “I watch the life ebb from his eyes…heard his death rattle. It is a terrible thing to witness—the death of a loved one.” Sir looked away. In the barest whisper he added, “It haunts me to this day.”
Silent tears rolled down Brie’s cheeks as she put her hand on Sir’s and squeezed tightly, wanting to impart her strength.
His voice was devoid of emotion when he spoke again. “My mother was a convincing liar. She kept my father’s estate and all his assets while she trashed his reputation to protect hers. She stripped everything from him… So I disowned her, legally distancing myself from the whore.”
Brie braved a question. “How did you move on from it, Sir?”
“I am my father’s son. I must strive for excellence in everything I do. I went to college, graduated with honors. Even though I had sworn myself away from women, my Italian blood would not be satisfied. I was wired to explore the female body. Thankfully, Rytsar introduced me to the BDSM lifestyle in college. Although he has preferences that I do not share, I found the lifestyle itself fascinating. Yet, it was the level of trust required in the D/s relationship that was the most appealing. It was the only sane choice for me.”
“I’m glad you found a way to move past it, Sir.”
“On the outside it may appear that way, but for most of my adult life I have been emotionally dead. My satisfaction has been in helping others explore their limits, because I have been unwilling to explore mine.”
“And now, Sir?”
In answer, he covered her in a blanket and put the mask over her eyes. “Try to sleep, Brie. I have a feeling Donkova is going to keep us entertained from the moment we land.”
Brie woke to Sir’s light touch. “We’re here.”
She popped up in her seat and pulled off the mask, then quickly gathered her things. “I can’t believe it!” she whispered, conscious of the other travelers still snoozing. She was thrilled to be one of the first ones off the plane. Sir led her to the immigration area, where she was confronted with the long lines.
“And this is where we wait,” Sir said with resignation.
Brie pulled out her passport in anticipation, but the lines weren’t moving. She craned her neck to see what the holdup was when a severe-looking security guard with mirrored sunglasses grabbed the passport from her hand.
“Hey!”
Sir tried to take it back, but two similar men showed up. The one with her passport took Brie by the arm, dragging her away. Sir attempted to follow her, but the other two men held him back. He fought against them, but was unable to break free.
“Brie, I will come for you! Don’t do anything or say anything until I find you.”
“Sir!” she cried, reaching out for him.
She was led to a small room filled with black and white monitors. Once they were inside, the door was locked and she was directed to sit down by a daunting woman built like a bulldozer. Brie sat down reluctantly, noticing another male guard behind her. She had no idea what was happening and was tempted to make a break for the door.
The large woman snapped a command Brie did not understand. The woman said it again and tried to spread her legs apart.
Brie fought against her, slapping the woman’s hands away. Are they going to do a body cavity search? She began to panic.
“Nyet!” Brie cried, saying one of three words she knew in Russian.
The male guard behind her leaned in, inches from her face. All she could see was the reflection of her own terrified expression. He said in perfect English, “Open your legs.”
I know that voice!
Brie timidly removed the sunglasses and looked into his piercing blue eyes. “Rytsar.”
He stood up and rocked the room with his laughter. “Radost moya, you recognize your previous Master. I’m impressed.”
Brie glanced at the screens and saw a camera shot of Sir. He was still fighting against the two guards. Rytsar followed her gaze. “Ah, yes. My friend is not happy, is he?”
He nodded to the woman, who immediately left. “I wanted to spare you both the long lines, but… Well, I could not help amusing myself. What do you expect from a sadist?”
A sadist?
She looked at the friendly Russian Dom again, believing he was just making a joke. Brie turned her attention back to the screen and watched as Sir was taken out of the line.
Rytsar’s mirth greeted Sir as he entered the small room. “All is well, moy droog. Your sub has not been touched.”
Sir held out his arms and Brie raced to them, grateful to be in his protective embrace.
“She seems to be satisfied with you. Would not even open her legs for me,” Rytsar said, chuckling.
Sir kissed the top of Brie’s head. “I’d forgotten your propensity for practical jokes. Should have seen this one coming.”
“Yes, I was surprised you did not. However, it was far more amusing that you didn’t.” He smiled charmingly at them both. “Shall we be off, then? I am anxious to introduce you to my friends.”
Brie was surprised to learn that Rytsar lived in an old mansion. She should have suspected it with all the aristocrat talk, but she’d never quite believed it until they pulled up to the large estate. The impressive red brick home even sported narrow turrets, giving it a regal appearance.
“This is really your home?” she asked in awe.
“It has been in the Donkova line for centuries,” he replied without arrogance.
Brie glanced at Sir. He seemed unaffected by the grandeur. She decided to take his lead and not react to the splendor of the place, even as they walked through the halls and she saw the gold accents, painted ceilings, and antique furniture begging to be admired.
“Please take a moment to refresh yourselves before you join us in the dungeon. My friends are dying to meet my American comrade and his new sub.”
All Brie heard was the word ‘dungeon’.
“I assume we just head downwards?” Sir inquired.
“Titov will direct you.” Rytsar pointed to a servant, who nodded curtly.
“Fine.” Sir took Brie’s hand and guided her upstairs. Once inside the privacy of the room, Sir gathered her into his arms. “I know this seems a bit much, but I did warn you. Rytsar has eccentric tastes. It’s not too surprising he has his own dungeon.”
Brie thought back to Rytsar’s statement that he was a sadist. It conjured all kinds of frightening scenarios. “Will I be asked to scene, Sir?” she squeaked.
“No. Tonight we are guests and will simply observe. It is no different than visiting one of our clubs back home. I suspect his friends want to show off their various talents. However, you should be aware that Rytsar’s tastes run on the sadistic side. I am sure his friends are of equal bent.”
Brie sighed nervously. Although she had witnessed a few scenes at The Haven, it was not something she had personally sought out. Not having expressed interest in masochism, she had been spared the more sadistic side of BDSM play during her training.
“Take this opportunity to explore new horizons, Brie. It is part of the reason I chose to come here. It is my belief you cannot know your desires or limits unless you expose yourself to them.”
Brie understood Sir’s reasoning and even agreed with
it, and yet she still felt uneasy about exploring the darker side of pain.
The Dungeon
The 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.”
She closed her eyes, reminding herself of that the next day, when she was naked and bound in chains before Rytsar.
The broad-chested Russian removed his shirt and smiled down at her. “I am thrilled to introduce you to my ‘nines’, radost moya.” He held up his multi-tailed whip reverently so she could admire it. The baldheaded Dom walked around her slowly. She remembered the ferociousness of the dragon tattooed on his muscle-bound shoulder. Like the dragon, Rytsar was beautiful—but dangerous.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as he caressed her with the tails, her body anticipating the violent sensations the knots were about to provoke. He pressed the handle to her lips. “Hold it, while I prepare you.”
Brie opened her mouth. The leather tasted of the salt from his hands. He proceeded to twist her hair, pulling her head back. The chains clanked in reaction to the sudden movement. “We shall see how deep your dark fantasies lie, my willing sub.” He deftly tied her long hair into a knot with a leather string.
Rytsar had already placed a Magic Wand between her legs and bound her to it so that the vibrator was firmly pressed against her clit. Once her arms were pulled taut above her head, he turned the wicked toy on. She squirmed, her pussy instantly responding to the vibration.
“I use this tool on submissives new to the dungeon. It helps acclimate them to the ecstasy of pain.”
She moaned, a quiet panic setting in. The dark oppression of the dungeon, along with the lonely silence of the great room, made her anxious. However, it was the nagging sense of fear that had her entire body on alert.
Rytsar ran his hands over her naked skin. “I can feel your fear, radost moya. It…turns me on.”
It was disconcerting to think her genuine fear was an aphrodisiac for the Russian Dom.
“Subjecting a submissive to intense pain is much like deflowering a virgin. I enjoy the journey of penetrating a sub’s will with my desire.”
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 ra
n 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.