Brie's Submission (7-9) (Brie's Submission Boxed Set Book 3)

by Red Phoenix

  “But he does know we’re coming?” Brie asked, remembering how Tono Nosaka had been surprised by their visit.

  “He does, and I’m expecting his normal shenanigans when we get there. That could be the reason he hasn’t returned my call—he’s too busy planning his next prank. However, this time you and I are prepared. It’s a waste of time on his part, but nothing can deter Durov once his mind is set.”

  Brie giggled, looking out the car window as they approached the Eppley Airfield. “I wonder what it will be this time…”

  Trust Me:

  Brie’s Submission #8

  By

  Red Phoenix

  Trust Me: Brie’s Submission #8

  Copyright © 2016 by Red Phoenix

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  RedPhoenix69@live.com

  Edited by Amy Parker, Proofed by Becki Wyer & Marilyn Cooper

  Cover by CopperLynn

  Phoenix symbol by Nicole Delfs

  *Previously published as part of Brie Masters Love in Submission

  Adult Reading Material (18+)

  Dedication

  Much love and thanks to my beautiful family

  and my incredibly sexy husband.

  I want to give a special shout-out to those fans who have been with me since the beginning.

  Your support of my work and my many characters blesses this Phoenix more than I can express.

  Your friendship and loyalty over the years has changed the course of my life.

  Hugs!

  Description

  Fine vodka with a side of sadism

  Rytsar has a challenge for Brie in the woods of Russia. The bond between them will be tested when she and her Master return to Moscow. Rytsar reveals a side of himself she has never seen, making her shiver in both fear and pure pleasure as her ultimate fantasy comes true.

  But a cry for help will call Brie back home…

  Never

  Numerous times during the lengthy international flight, Sir slid his hand behind her back and lightly pulled on the belt under her dress. It hit just the right spot to cause a pleasant pressure in her loins, which further teased and excited her.

  “Tweaking the details,” he murmured in her ear, “and later today I will grab on to that belt and fuck you like a slut, téa.”

  She shivered, smiling to herself. Yes, Sir was an expert at tweaking the details.

  It was a surprise to Brie when they got through Russian security without any hassles. Even more surprising was the fact that Rytsar was nowhere to be found once they were out.

  “He’s still not answering his cell,” Sir griped as he thrust his phone into his pocket. “I guess we’ll take a cab.”

  Sir lifted his hand to hail one. It took a while before a taxi finally pulled up. While Brie climbed into the vehicle, the driver put their luggage into the trunk and asked Sir where they were headed. The instant Sir stated the address, the man’s face fell. Without explanation, he unloaded the luggage and shook his head.

  Sir spoke to the man in Russian, but he just kept repeating, “Nyet.” He gestured Brie out of his cab, then sped off as if the hounds of hell were following him.

  “Well, that was odd.” Sir put his arm around Brie as he hailed another one.

  After a few minutes, another cab pulled up. Before Sir let him take the luggage, he explained where he wanted to go. This cabbie looked alarmed, glancing around nervously before jumping into his vehicle and driving off with no explanation.

  “Okay, now I am getting irritated,” Sir complained. “What is Durov up to?”

  Sir hailed a third cab and explained where they were headed. The cabbie hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. Sir breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Keep your eyes open—Durov has to be around here someplace laughing his Ruski ass off.”

  The cabbie exited the airport, but was silent for the entire drive, even when Sir spoke to him directly. It was eerie.

  “I don’t understand where Durov is going with this ruse, but I don’t find it particularly funny. Do you?”

  Brie shook her head. “Not at all, Sir.”

  She felt chills as they rounded the corner of Rytsar’s street and she heard Sir’s intake of breath. She couldn’t see anything yet and asked, “What is it?”

  He did not respond, a frozen expression of shock on his face. As they pulled up to Rytsar’s mansion, Brie understood why. The top half of the structure was gone, looking as if it had been physically ripped off, and what was left had been gutted by fire.

  The cabbie quickly unloaded the luggage and demanded payment. Without counting the money or even looking back, he jumped back into the cab and hit the gas, leaving them standing in front of the ruins.

  The shock of the scene held Brie speechless as she took in the devastation. She shook her head, not wanting to believe it. She followed silently behind Sir as he walked around the mansion. The back of it told the story. The entire side had been blown away as if by some tremendous explosion. Sir walked through the huge hole, carefully stepping over the rubble.

  Brie finally found her voice and asked, “Do you think Rytsar survived?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s happened, Sir? What could have caused this?”

  “It looks like a bomb but, as far as I know, Durov didn’t have any enemies.”

  “Is it possible he got tangled up with the Russian mafia?”

  “The Durov family does not engage in Bratva activities.”

  “Could he have become a target because of that?”

  Sir’s voice was empty when he answered. “I can’t say.” He walked farther inside, trying to make sense of the destruction around them.

  “Rytsar…” Brie whimpered.

  “This wasn’t survivable,” Sir stated dully.

  “But he must have gotten out,” Brie insisted, needing Sir to reassure her.

  “I haven’t heard from him for three days.” Sir closed his eyes, his breathing becoming labored.

  Brie grabbed on to him, tears falling silently as she glanced around at the burnt wreckage that had once been Rytsar’s home. “He can’t…”

  “If this is related to the Bratva, then it explains the strange behavior of the cab drivers.” Sir put his arm protectively around Brie. “We need to leave—we’re not safe here.”

  “But we have to find out what happened to Rytsar,” she cried desperately.

  Sir grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “No one could survive this.”

  Brie’s lip trembled.

  He let go of her, the look of devastation on his face gutting her. Sir looked around the ruins, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s gone…”

  “But not forgotten,” a jovial voice announced behind them.

  Brie turned around, her mouth agape as Rytsar walked up, a huge grin on his face. “It was truly beautiful to see your heartfelt concern for your old comrade, but not to fear. I am alive and well.”

  Sir stared at him for several seconds before he punched Rytsar square in the face. The large Russian crashed to the ground.

  “You never joke about that!”

  Rytsar’s entourage advanced on Sir, ready to restrain him, but Rytsar got back to his feet, rubbing his jaw slowly. “Stop, no need,” he said, calling back his guards.

  Sir’s eyes burned with anger as he stared down the Russian Dom.

  “I’m so touched, moy droog. You—”

  “You never joke about death.” Sir turned away, his jaw quivering slightly.

  Rytsar’s jovial expression disappeared. “I’m sorry…” He tried to touch Sir’s shoulder, but he jerked away from the Russian.

  “Never.”

  Rytsar nodded. “You’re right.
It was a cruel joke.” He reached out and grabbed Sir in a bear hug, refusing to let go. “I am heartily sorry.”

  Sir let out an angry sigh. “Don’t ever fuck with me like that again.”

  Rytsar pulled back to look him in the eyes. “It was only meant in jest, but I won’t, moy droog. I give my solemn promise.”

  Sir pushed him away, straightening his jacket with quick, jerky movements. “See that you don’t.”

  Rytsar turned to Brie next, brushing away the remaining tears from her cheeks. “I apologize to you as well, radost moya. I did not appreciate how deeply you felt.”

  “Liar,” Sir snarled.

  The Russian Dom shook his head sadly. “I did not mean to cause a rift between us, brother.”

  Sir’s lip twitched. “I don’t forgive you, but I will look past this.”

  “Good, because I lost everything when the gas main exploded,” Rytsar said, gesturing at the ruins around him.

  Sir nodded in new understanding. “So that’s what happened here.”

  “That’s terrible, Rytsar,” Brie cried. “What a horrible loss for you.”

  “Generations lost,” he growled angrily.

  Brie remembered all the heirlooms, the fine paintings, numerous antiques—the sheer amount of history that had been lost in the explosion was devastating.

  “Mercifully, it happened on a Sunday when my staff were away,” he explained.

  “Where were you?” Brie asked.

  He raised his eyebrow. “I was…occupied at the time.”

  She blushed and looked down at her feet, trying to hide her smile.

  “Certain friends of mine pressured the local government to rebuild it, since a home of such rich historical significance was destroyed due to a faulty gas line. Construction will start once the area has been shored up and deemed safe. It is a testament to my forefathers that the foundation of my ancestral home remains solid.”

  “What about the items lost in the fire, Durov?” Sir asked.

  Rytsar snorted in satisfaction. “I am being adequately compensated.”

  “But all your family heirlooms, all those memories…” Brie lamented.

  “Da, but something of great value to me was spared.”

  “Really?” Sir remarked with interest.

  Rytsar started walking farther into the interior of the building, waving his hand for them to follow.

  Brie turned to Sir. “Is it safe?”

  “Probably not.”

  Sir followed the Russian anyway, and since he hadn’t forbidden Brie, she followed behind him.

  “As you know, Father and I never had much in common, but even he would have been pleased.”

  Rytsar led them down what remained of the stairs and opened the thick door that led down to the dungeon. Brie gasped as she stepped inside. It looked completely untouched, as pristine as the day she’d visited it last. The walls were lined with lit torches, hinting at the fact that he’d planned to show them this little ‘miracle’ all along.

  “I can’t believe it’s unscathed, considering the violence of the explosion,” Sir said in amazement.

  “It is truly a chudo,” Rytsar agreed. He walked over to the wall of instruments. “My men have been thorough in checking for damage, but have yet to report any. I have, however, discovered one pleasant byproduct left by the fire that raged above.” He picked up his cat o’ nines and dragged it under his nose, breathing in deeply. “All of my instruments retain the scent of the smoke. I find it an alluring addition.”

  He held out the cat o’ nines to Brie. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Brie walked over to take a whiff, but her body shivered being so close to the instrument, having experienced its ferocious bite. She smelled the leather, taking in the aroma, and looked up at him in surprise. “I do find it pleasing.”

  He caressed the cat o’ nines sensually and asked, “Would you like another session, radost moya?”

  Brie backed up to Sir, distancing herself from the Russian. “No, once was more than enough. Thank you.”

  Sir chuckled. “I think you have effectively cured my sub of that desire.”

  Rytsar put the tool back on the wall. “Such a shame,” he said wistfully, stroking the length of it. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

  “So, Durov, where have you been staying since the explosion?”

  “I have several apartments in Moscow. Housing is not a problem, only an inconvenience.”

  Brie crinkled her brow in confusion, wondering why he would have multiple residences when he lived in a mansion.

  “There’s still one thing I can’t wrap my head around,” Sir said. “Why did the drivers behave so strangely at the airport? It makes no sense, given that this was only a gas explosion.”

  Rytsar slapped him on the back, laughing. “I informed the taxi companies of your arrival and offered a healthy sum if they refused to take you. All but one driver, of course. Were they convincing? I promised an extra bonus if they were.”

  “Yes, Durov, they were,” Sir stated dryly. “You should dig deep into your wallet. I hope it hurts.”

  “That is good to hear,” he answered with a satisfied grin.

  When Sir frowned, Rytsar immediately realized his folly and said, “Let’s forget the unpleasantness and concentrate on the rest of your stay here. I assume you will be headed to the cabin.”

  “Actually, I had planned to stay at your home. Because of what’s happened, I suppose I can send Brie ahead until my business in Moscow is completed.”

  “Excellent! I will act as her host while you stay at my apartment, moy droog.”

  Sir eyed him suspiciously. “Before I let you have her, I’ll have to write down a list of what you can and cannot do in my absence.”

  “Only if you feel a list is necessary.”

  “Imperative.”

  “Don’t you trust your longtime comrade?”

  “After this last stunt? No.”

  “That hurts,” Rytsar said, placing his hand over his heart. “But I will make it up to you both,” he promised solemnly. “Come—we will stuff our bellies, drink a bottle or two of vodka, and go over this list together.”

  Pink or Blue

  Rytsar took them to the modern side of Moscow, famous for its towering skyscrapers and twisted glass buildings that looked more like art than offices.

  “Moscow is such a cool city,” Brie exclaimed, looking up at the tall structures, in awe of their varied architectural design.

  “It is a rare gem among the great cities,” Rytsar stated proudly. “Moscow has a long and rich history.”

  He took them to a newly built apartment building made of glass and steel. It was a marvel of modern conveniences and artful design—the exact opposite of the historic mansion he’d grown up in.

  “I can better understand why you have multiple dwellings, Rytsar,” Brie said, adding, “it gives you the chance to enjoy the old and the new.”

  “Da, I truly had the best of both worlds,” he agreed sadly.

  Brie realized that she’d just stuck her foot in her mouth by mentioning the mansion, but before she could apologize, he changed the subject. “To go along with that theme, there is a new restaurant that opened recently. Let me tantalize you with the traditional foods of my forefathers, tweaked with a modern flair.”

  She eagerly agreed, as she took a moment to survey his spacious apartment. The windows overlooking the scenic downtown reminded Brie of Sir’s home, but instead of art covering the walls, Rytsar’s place was decorated with BDSM tools, many of which looked cruel and menacing. As she glanced at the various instruments, she couldn’t help wondering if they were strictly for ornamentation or actual use.

  Rytsar kept his word and they did end up stuffing themselves, but Brie never got to partake of the vodka. A full stomach, after a long plane trip and an emotional scare, had her drifting off before the night had even started.

  Brie was bereft when she woke up in an empty bed early the next morning.

&nb
sp; “Sir?”

  When she got no answer, Brie slipped out from under the covers, and was flustered to discover she was completely naked. She looked around the room, grateful when she spied her clothes folded on a chair. She trusted that Sir had been the one to undress her but wondered, Why didn’t he join me in bed?

  After donning her clothes, she peeked her head out of the room. There sat Sir and Rytsar, chatting away with glasses of vodka in their hands.

  “Drinking in the morning, Sir?” she chided playfully when she emerged from the bedroom.

  He looked at his watch and winked at her. “Nope, we never stopped.”

  Rytsar nudged Sir and asked, “Want to toast to the morning?”

  “Why not?”

  Rytsar poured two large glasses.

  Brie stared at them in shock, surprised that they had nearly finished off two bottles of vodka. “What did you two do all night, besides drink?”

  “There was much discussion, my little sub.” Sir took the glass Rytsar handed him, and picked up a pickle before toasting. “To my bastard of a friend, who doesn’t deserve to lick my boots.”

  Rytsar’s low laughter filled the apartment. “To my grouchy comrade, who needs to find where he misplaced his humor.”

  The two clinked glasses and chugged. It was perversely interesting to watch, considering how much vodka was already flowing in their veins. They slammed the glasses down and consumed their pickles with gusto.

  Sir turned to Brie afterwards. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’ve missed your presence.”

  Brie knelt on the floor beside him and laid her head on his lap, purring when he began stroking her hair. “I’m sorry I missed your conversations, Sir.”

  “It was for the best, radost moya,” Rytsar assured her.

  Brie didn’t feel that way at all. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about these two, and knew vodka made them unusually open and talkative. “So…what did you discuss, Master?” she asked provocatively, rubbing her hand against his inner thigh.