Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  “When did you know we had a prisoner with us?” I ask her, my tone razor sharp. It angers me that she put me in this position, and have a hard time believing that she’s innocent. Why didn’t she leave well enough alone?

  In Bratva life, you learn that betrayal runs deep, that few are to be trusted, and that appearances aren’t always what they seem. For all I know, she’s a spy hired by a rival, and she lies.

  She looks away and bites her lip, a dead giveaway to guilt. Without another word, I yank her out in front of me and slam my palm against the fullest part of her ass. “Answer me.”

  She yelps out loud, then her eyes go wide and fearful.

  “After I came outside,” she whispers. “I just came to take some pictures of the flowers. I swear I didn’t take any of you.”

  “She lies, sir,” Rafael says, shaking his head and swiping through her phone. “There are several of you and Nicolai both.”

  Son of a bitch.

  Her thick obsidian hair is wrapped around my fingers, and I pull so hard she comes up on her toes to escape the pain. I hate that she betrayed me. It’s hard enough knowing I have few friends in this world, that enemies press in on all sides, but when someone I trust betrays me, it’s a twisted knife wound straight to the heart. I’ve learned to dull the pain, but this one burns.

  “No!” she screams on a sob when I yank her by the hair again, pulling her toward me.

  “I will have the truth if I need to whip it out of you,” I hiss. “I despise a spy.”

  “I’m not a spy,” she sobs. “I promise. Oh, God, you have to believe me. Stefan,” she chokes. “It was an accident.”

  I nod my head to Rafael and hold Taara tightly. “Get the restraints.” I look toward Nicolai. “You finish the clean-up. We’ll summon our men once she’s been dealt with.”

  “Do you need any other tools, sir?” Rafael asks. His narrowed eyes are focused on her though he’s speaking to me. He would do anything I asked of him, including extracting the truth from her himself if I wanted.

  But no. I’ll deal with her personally.

  “Fetch me a cane.”

  “Of course,” he says with a frown, giving her a stern look. He likely thinks a spanking is taking things far too easy on her, but I don’t give a fuck what he thinks. I have questions that need answers, and I won’t mindlessly take another human life. Not tonight. Not yet. And if my suspicions are right, a woman like Taara will cave when punished.

  Rafael returns with a thin, supple rod in one hand, and a pair of shining silver handcuffs in the other.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, as casually as if he just fetched me a cup of coffee. I slide the cane into my back pocket and open the metal rings with my free hand.

  I almost lose my resolve when her tear-stained eyes meet mine. “Stefan, please,” she begs in a small voice that breaks.

  I’ve heard pleas before. I’ve been betrayed by those I thought I could trust. And if she’s innocent, a punishment meant to extract the truth won’t have a lasting effect. She may never forgive me, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

  I don’t respond but lift her arms up to a post that’s so high over her head I pull her to her tiptoes. We have rings fitted for just this purpose, though our prisoners usually face a worse fate than she does.

  I can still see every single captive we’ve ever held here. I can still hear every scream, every plea. It’s unnerving the way a man’s deep voice becomes shrill and feminine under duress, or hoarse with begging. We reserve the more severe methods of extracting truth from our most hardened adversaries. Old-fashioned means of inflicting pain works most effectively for those on the cusp of caving. Taara won’t need severe methods.

  In this room, I’ve been both witness and executioner. I’ve meted out pain and ordered others to do so, though it’s never been someone so young, so fragile, so fucking beautiful. But I haven’t made it to my level of power by quaking in the face of duty.

  I snap the rings on her wrists and take one stolen moment to admire the beautiful sight before me. Her vivacious, curvy form still clad in thin cotton shorts dotted with daisies, so ironically innocent, and a tiny ivory tank top against stunning dark skin the color of cream-laced coffee. She has a birthmark on her upper left thigh peeking out just below the hem of her shorts. I never noticed how long and slender her fingers were until I saw them gripped on the bar to support herself. In another life, she could have been a pianist or a sculptor with hands like that.

  Standing behind her, I tap the cane on the palm of my hand. Even the lightest touch on my toughened skin ignites a flare of pain. I imagine painting her body with stripes from the cane in foreplay, bringing her to the edge of orgasm until she begged daddy to let her come.

  Whoa.

  Christ.

  Where the ever-loving fuck did that thought come from?

  I can’t entertain that thought tonight. Hell, not ever. She’s young enough to be my fucking daughter, and worse, I’m about to punish her for betrayal.

  I snap the cane on my palm again to school my own thoughts and temptations. To remind myself of my purpose.

  The slim tool concentrates all impact on such a small surface area, it hurts like hell, making it very effective for certain methods of interrogation and punishment. In kink circles, it’s considered one of the most severe tools for impact play. The cane has a deep history as a successful tool for punishment across Europe and Asia.

  We have other, far harsher methods of punishment and interrogation at our disposal, and I’m experienced in yielding every one of them.

  I take my position behind her. Rafael stands with his arms crossed on his chest, watching, and Nicolai, now finished with his job, stands beside him with the same stern, immovable expression on his face. I hold his gaze for a moment, then he nods. As pakhan, I don’t need permission from either of them, but I don’t want to punish Taara. Still, knowing they stand behind me in solidarity makes it easier to follow through.

  I turn back to Taara, rear back, and snap the slender rod against her ass. Though it has little impact, I know the pain level is intense. She flinches, howls, and squirms in the restraints, but she can’t get away.

  I pause. “Tell us why you were here.”

  “I told you!” she says, a note of anger in her voice now. “I came out here to take pictures.”

  I nod. “Yes, but I want the real reason. So, you didn’t know we were out here when you came?”

  Silence.

  I snap the cane on her again.

  “Ow!”

  “Answer me.”

  She says nothing for a full minute. Steeling myself, I lift the rod and bring it down with deliberate, steady strokes. I know how to wield this implement, each line of pain building on the next. It would be more effective on bare skin, but the shorts she wears are so thin I doubt they provide much of a barrier, and there’s no fucking way I’m baring this girl in front of Rafael and Nicolai. After the sixth stroke of the cane, she screams.

  “Okay. Okay! Oh, God, stop. Please, Stefan.” She’s breathing heavily, panting, and a bead of sweat runs down her nose. It falls off her chin and splashes on the concrete floor.

  I pause, the cane tucked under my arm when I cross my arms on my chest. Christ, my cock’s a rod of steel. I hate that I’ve gotten a hard-on punishing her like this. I don’t want this to be sexual. We aren’t alone and this is no foreplay, but it’s undeniably erotic having her under my control before my men.

  I ignore the deep desire to punish her and keep my tone aloof and stern. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I—I did know you were here. But I was just curious. I never intended on actually witnessing anything. I had no idea what you were going to do. Just listen!”

  “I’ve got all night,” I say with forced nonchalance, my teeth clenched. I hate that she’s put me in this position, and I’m eager to mete out the rest of the punishment she’s earned for doing this, for putting me in this position, for risking her very fucking life by being here.r />
  “I came out to take pictures of the flowers. It’s true, I swear! Swipe through my pictures and you’ll see.”

  I nod to Rafael, who does just that. He nods as he scrolls through the images on her phone. “Before the one of you and Nicolai, there are mostly flower pictures.” He pauses, then surprises me when he smiles. “Though there are a few here you might want to see yourself.”

  “Nooo,” Taara whispers. “Shit.” She whispers, then she closes her eyes and one lone tear rolls down her cheek.

  What the hell is this? Why is he amused and why does she look so pained?

  “Hand me the phone.” I reach for it with my palm facing up, and Taara starts to flail in her restraints.

  “Stefan,” she says, a note of real panic rising in her voice. “No! Oh, please don’t look, please sir, I beg you.” But her pleading only solidifies my decision to see what Rafael did. What is she hiding?

  The first few pictures are, as he said, of me and Nicolai, but they’re blurred and at an odd angle. Several more before that are all flowers, confirming what she’s told us, but when I continue to swipe, I feel my brows rise heavenward.

  Why does she have so many pictures of me on her phone?

  I’m dozing by the fire in one, smiling at someone in the distance in another, and a third is an older shot of me in my younger years.

  It’s unnerving. I’ve gone from thinking of her as no more than an employee, to believing she was an enemy, to now wondering what her intentions are.

  “Seems you have more to answer for than I thought,” I say, taking up my position once more. I hate that she’s done this. She should be safely tucked away in her bedroom, away from all of this, apart from me. I’m tempted to dismiss her, but she’s seen too much. She knows too much.

  “Why the hell did you take pictures of me and Nicolai?”

  “By accident! I swear!”

  She’s lying. The pictures of me on her phone are not accidental.

  I let the cane fly.

  She sobs and twists in her restraints but can’t get away from the harsh strokes.

  “Look! Look at them!” she screams.

  I pause. “Look at what?”

  “The other pictures. I take good pictures. Why the hell would I take such a bad picture of you and Nicolai? My camera was open and on and I must’ve accidentally taken some. Delete them!” She sniffs. “I don’t want them. And I won’t tell anyone.”

  “How do we know that to be true?”

  She doesn’t answer at first.

  I cane her again.

  She screams and writhes. “Because I’m loyal to the brotherhood! Because I believe if any of you kill someone, it’s justified, and you had good reason.” She sobs. “Because I’d rather die than betray you!”

  I turn to Rafael and shake my head. “Destroy her phone,” I order.

  “No! Oh, God. Please don’t!” she begs. “I’ll lose all my pictures. You can’t just—”

  But I’m out of patience. “Quiet!” I snap, emphasizing my command with a sharp cut of the cane. She flinches, then falls into silence and hangs her head.

  “Destroy her phone,” I repeat to Rafael. “Be sure no pictures are stored remotely. I am not convinced of her innocence or her guilt, so she’ll remain in my custody.”

  Rafael drops her phone to the ground before digging his heel through the glass. She flinches but doesn’t speak. He lifts his foot and brings it down again and again, until all that remains are bits of shattered glass and metal.

  “Nicolai, call a meeting,” I tell him. “I want everyone here within the hour. It is best if we keep everyone apprised of what’s happened so there are no questions, and no one suspects foul play.”

  Though there are times I need to keep certain decisions hidden, and initially wondered if what happened in this room tonight was one of those times, I value transparency in the brotherhood. I want my men to know they can trust me. We also found out information in our interrogation that has a direct impact on all of us, and it’s time I made them aware. Though I make the final decisions, I prefer hearing input from those who are loyal to me.

  Nicolai nods and takes his leave.

  “Rafael, Tomas and Caroline arrive at the airport at nine o’clock. I planned on fetching them myself, but since I’ll be otherwise occupied, I’ll ask that you go and arrange to bring them back here.”

  “Yes, sir.” I wait until Nicolai and Rafael leave before I turn back to her.

  A part of me longs to end her punishment now, to draw her to my chest and soothe her tears. To forgive her.

  But another part of me longs to give her the spanking of her life, to shock her into fear of me, for she’s put herself in harm’s way and I will not allow that.

  I take in a deep breath and stand behind her once more.

  “You will tell me the truth, now, Taara. All of it.”

  “I did, sir,” she sniffs.

  “Why did you have pictures of me on your phone?”

  If she’s working with an enemy, she’s had more private access to me and my home than anyone else on my payroll. When she doesn’t answer, I lift the cane and give her half a dozen firm, measured strokes, one on top of the other. Slower than the previous smacks. Harder. I ignore her cries and wincing while I administer a spanking she’ll feel for fucking days. If she’s betrayed us, she’s earned this. And if she hasn’t, I’d rather her have to lay on her belly for a week than endanger her life.

  “Let’s try this again. Why did you have pictures of me on your phone?”

  “I told you, it was an accident—ow!”

  She pauses in her lie when I cane her mid-sentence. She knows I’m not speaking of the ones she took accidentally.

  “The truth, Taara. Not the pictures you took tonight. The ones of me. Are you working with my enemy?”

  She doesn’t respond at first. The blood pumps hot in my veins, and I have to take several deep breaths to steady my anger. I step toward her and yank her head back with a fist at the nape of her neck.

  “You tell me the truth, Taara.”

  She clamps her mouth shut.

  With a shuddering sigh, she lifts her head, her eyes closed tightly.

  “Taara, I need the truth,” I say, my voice gentler as I look at this beautiful woman in distress, sweat pouring down her face in rivulets, mingled with her tears. She’s been good to me, so good to me. Perhaps she hasn’t betrayed us after all. And then it dawns on me, a possibility that didn’t even occur to me until just now.

  Is she… no, she can’t be…

  But it would explain so much.

  Is Taara infatuated with me? Does she have a schoolgirl crush?

  Could that be why she won’t tell me? Is she embarrassed?

  Fuck.

  I step in front of her and look down. She stands a full head below me. Though her eyes are still closed tightly, they flutter open when I grasp her chin, slippery from tears, and lift her gaze to mine.

  “Are you embarrassed to tell me why you have pictures of me on your phone?” I ask quietly.

  Her eyes search mine, hopeful and full of something I can’t quite put my finger on, perhaps because she isn’t sure how she feels herself. I imagine she’s run the gamut of emotion tonight, and if what I suspect is true…

  I decide to try a different tactic. Brushing her damp hair from her forehead, I gentle my voice once more. “If you tell me the truth, Taara, I’ll end this punishment and we won’t need to speak of this again. Can you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

  She holds my gaze for long seconds before she finally nods.

  “I like looking at pictures of you,” she whispers. “I promise, Stefan, that I had no ill intentions. Never. But…” she tries to break eye contact, but a sharp yank of her chin brings her gaze back to mine. She swallows hard. “I had… I had a crush on you.” Then her voice hardens, and she meets my gaze unblinking. “But no more.”

  I release her, unsure of what to think or how to react. But I know this session
is over.

  I put the cane away and remove her restraints. She’s crying quietly, and I wonder if she’ll turn to me for consolation. But when she’s free from restraints, I merely cuff her wrists in front of her again.

  I watch her reaction carefully. She pulls as far away from me as she can, her eyes cast down and head hung low. When I tug her cuffed wrists toward the door, she walks with me, wincing with each step that she takes. It only takes minutes to reach our house. I marvel at how quickly things changed. Just a few hours ago, she was preparing my bedroom for me to sleep for the night, and now…

  I shake my head. I’m not sure what happens next.

  I open the door to the house and place her unceremoniously inside before I close the door with an air of finality.

  My relationship with Taara—that of boss and paid staff—has forever changed. I’m not sure if I believe her. I’m not sure what will happen next. But until I do, she’ll remain my prisoner.

  Chapter 4

  Taara

  How could I have ever thought I loved this man? How? I was so naïve. Foolhardy. I thought he knew compassion and kindness.

  But not this man.

  This is a side of Stefan I didn’t know existed.

  He dragged me around like a prisoner. He beat me. I can’t believe how much that rod he used on me hurt, so much more than I ever expected. I felt I’d die under the onslaught, and I was so grateful when he finally stopped. I can feel every stripe on my skin, every flare of heat, and I know that if I remove my clothes I’ll be welted.

  How could he have done that to me?

  I was so stupid for getting involved, for not staying where it was safe.

  I saw a man killed tonight, and Stefan believes I spied.

  I didn’t mean to.

  But I won’t beg him again.

  I hate him. I don’t care if he beats me again, I won’t beg. I have too much pride.

  Every single step back to the house hurts. I’m aching with the pain of the beating he gave me, and when I think of the fact that others witnessed this, I want to die. Not only did he punish me, he did so in front of others, who all believe that I’m a liar and a traitor. I hate that. I hate it so much.