by Box Set
“Move back,” he orders, his Russian accent somewhat watered down. I recognize the voice. He was the second man in the cell with me. What did Andrei call him? “Now.” He points a finger at me.
I step back until my heel touches the bars at the back of the cage. Remembering my nudity, I fold my arms over my chest and try to cover my sex with my hand.
He pulls out a key and jiggles it into the lock, opens my cage and steps inside. He pockets the key again, and stands with his arms crossed over his chest, just inside, staring at me.
There are no scars on his face that I can see. Square jaw, dark eyes, everything points in the direction of scary, but I’m only slightly nervous. Unsure of what he’s here for, and what he might do to me, I keep my guard up, but I don’t sense anger in him. Not like Andrei - that man oozes crazy.
Walking toward me, his focus seems to be on my shoulder. I jerk away when he reaches for the bandages, but he grabs my arm in a vise grip.
“Don’t ever pull away when I touch you.” His voice is dark, deep and commanding. A tone that would have easily made me eager to follow him if we were back in New York and there were dungeon monitors walking around us. But we aren’t in New York, and this man isn’t a dominant looking for a fun night.
This man is dangerous.
“Don’t touch me,” I say and pull away again, but his grip is too hard and all I manage to do is hurt my shoulder more by pulling on it.
He shakes his head. With my arm in his grip, my breasts have been left exposed. A fact he capitalizes on. He pinches my nipple, pulling on it until I step closer to him. The burning pain catches me off guard, and I yelp.
He doesn’t release me even when I’m practically on top of him. Instead, he leans down, bringing his lips to my ear. “Every disobedience is punished. Learn this quickly and save yourself a lot of pain.”
“W-why am I still here?” I ask, choosing to ignore his turn of phrase. It’s like someone has told him all of the right things to say, but he’s saying them all in the wrong way. Because he’s not giving me options, he’s not asking me for obedience. He’s demanding it, with the threat of violence if I don’t follow along. This is not the stuff little subbies dream of.
“You are here with me to be trained,” he says like that explains anything at all. He lets go of my nipple, and I hiss again for the new burn that created. “Now stand still and be quiet while I check your shoulder.” He gives me a long stare to be sure I’m going to listen before he starts to peel the bandage back.
I can’t stomach to see the wounds on my shoulder. Once I see the black stitches, I turn away. Someone stitched me up. And they must have given me pain medicine because it doesn’t hurt like it should.
I close my eyes and turn away again when he starts to probe at the edges of the wound. When I open them, ready to tell him off for making the pain come alive again, I realize he left the door to the cage open when he entered.
He’s not holding me at all, just probing the damn wound and setting it on fire again. My heart thunders in my chest; I may not get another chance.
“I wouldn’t, but that’s just me,” he says in a low voice.
I don’t care about his warning. I bolt outside the cage and head for the main door to the room. My legs are still heavy from whatever sedative they gave me, but my mind is finally cleared.
“Fuck you.” I grab for the door handle and yank. Nothing. I yank again and again. “No! No!” I scream and smack the door. It has to open, I have to get out.
I hear a heavy sigh from behind me. Like a parent who’s already told the toddler ten times they can’t have the candy in the store.
“Glupaya devchonka,” stupid girl. His voice carries over to me. He hasn’t left the cage.
I yank harder, turning the knob, but still the door won’t open. Tears cloud my vision, but I shake them away.
“Let me out!” I demand, turning to face him. “Let me go! Now!” I scream, making my throat burn again.
He doesn’t move. The asshole looks fucking amused at my demand.
“Come back here.” He crooks a finger at me like I’m some dog going to come when he calls.
“No. Fuck you.” I shake my head.
“Magdalena, come here like a good girl, and the punishment will be much less.” Silk laces his tone.
“Let me go now, and I won’t kill you.” My promise is given with a heavier feel to it - even though it’s complete bullshit.
His lips curl, slowly at first, then he breaks out into a deep, chest rumbling laugh. “Kill me?” He tsks his tongue, still he hasn’t moved toward me.
“Yes. I’ll fucking end you,” I goad him.
His smile drops a fraction. “Come, Magdalena, it will be so much worse for you if I have to drag you back in here.”
My hands flex at my sides. If my heart would stop all the thundering in my chest, maybe I could hear my own thoughts. I’m trapped, and no matter all the threats, I doubt my strongest attack would even tickle the mass of muscle that is standing in the cage.
But to go willingly would be giving up, and I can’t do that.
His hands move to his belt and the jangle of metal echoed in the room. He pulls the strap free of his pants in one easy movement.
“Come, Magdalena,” he says, crooking that damn finger again. “Take your punishment and learn this lesson.”
“No.” I shake my head, but my lip is starting to quiver. I have nowhere to go. He’s going to win this round.
He sighs again.
“If you don’t obey me, Magdalena, my father will see your stubbornness as a reason to feed you to his men.” His tone softens, like he’s trying to reason with me. “After they’ve all raped you, tortured you, and hurt you, he’ll give you back to me and you’ll still get the punishment you’ve earned. And things will be not so pleasant for you.”
I swallow back the little whimper dying to come out. He’s telling the truth, I’d heard Andrei already make that threat. And I have no doubt it would be easily done.
His finger is crooked, he’s still beckoning me. And like a frightened puppy, I take the first step back into my cage. I need to survive. That thought carries me the rest of the way, back into the cell, back to him.
“Good.” Any tenderness that may have been there before falls away. “Stay.” And I do. I stand, powerless, watching him leave the cage and go to a cabinet at the far end of the room. I can’t see the contents, but when he returns, he’s holding a set of black leather cuffs.
He invades my space and holds his belt to my mouth. “Open,” he orders. If I keep giving in, he’ll keep taking, but if I don’t - I need to survive.
As soon as my lips part he shoves the worn leather between my teeth. “Hold that.” He spins me around until I’m facing the bars and can’t see him. My hands are yanked out to my sides. Each wrist is cuffed to a bar. I yank instinctively, but there’s no give. Did I really think there’d be any?
I bite down into the belt, holding back my plea. It would fall on deaf ears, I don’t doubt.
“Open,” he says again, tugging on the belt. My stomach rolls with the anger building inside of me. I want to scream again, but I’m not so stupid to realize that won’t get me anything but a sore throat.
I press my forehead against the bar. Readying myself. It’s not the first time I’ve had a belting, but that was drastically different. I had power. I could stop it at a drop of a word. I don’t think anything would stop this man.
Light fingertips trail down my back, over my ass. His motions stop and run to the side. He’s found my scars.
“You’ve been caned,” he says tracing the thin white scars on my ass. An overzealous Dom and too much wine. It had been a bad night. I’m lucky I only walked away with a few scars as a reminder.
“Yes.” I nod, no sense in lying.
“Why?” His question is full of curiosity - the demand isn’t there.
I crane my neck to look behind me at him, but all I can make out is his form. He’s too busy exam
ining my body.
When I don’t answer him, he digs his nail into my ass. “Magdalena, answer me.”
“Fuck,” I breathe out when he releases my cheek. How the hell to answer him?
“Why were you caned?”
“It was a game, just some fun,” I answer, feeling the heat creep up my neck and over my face.
His hands fall away from me and I hear him shuffling behind me, but I still can’t make out what he’s doing.
The first fiery strap across my ass lets me know exactly what’s happening. The next and the one after that come rapid and low. I cry out and try to twist my torso, but there’s no getting away from him. The belt lands again and again, on my thighs, on my ass, across my shoulder blades. He works the belting over my entire backside, careful not to hit the tender spots over my kidneys. He’s meticulous and careful.
I promise myself I won’t cry. I’ve taken serious floggings and beltings before, I can make it through this. But I’m a liar. This is beyond what I’ve ever experienced - and no end seems to be in sight.
I lose count after twenty lashes, and full sobs break loose. If he took a match to me, my skin would feel less burn. Panic builds in me.
“I’m- Oh! Ow!” I scream, looking up at the ceiling. “Please! Stop!” I wiggle without result.
But he ignores me. Another half dozen lashes cross my ass before he ends the whipping.
I suck in a much-needed breath. Tears cover my cheeks, dripping down to my chest. My nose is running, but I don’t care. All I care about is getting air.
His absence is short lived. Pressing his body against my back, he pushes me into the bars. A hand dives into my hair, yanking back my head until it’s resting on his shoulder.
He licks my cheek. “Your tears are beautiful, Magdalena,” he whispers. “If you had come when I first called you-you would have only been chained to the cell. But every misstep is punished. Remember that.” His words are cold, clipped.
I nod, still whimpering like a fool. “Just let me go,” I say.
“Never.” He seals his promise with a warm kiss to my cheek. “Don’t struggle against your binds or you’ll tear the stitches in your shoulder. If I have to restitch them, I won’t grant you the privilege of being sedated. You’ll watch every stitch.”
Wait. He sewed up the wound?
“Kristoff.” His name hits me, finally, I remember what his father called him. “Please.”
His hands are on my ass again, making me hiss at the tenderness. He pulls my ass cheeks apart and shoves two fingers into my sex. I bite back the moan at being filled and try to wiggle away from him. I can’t help how my body reacts, but I will not allow him to worm his way into my libido.
“Wet. Koroshaya devushka.” Good girl. He pulls his fingers out and wipes my own juices across my sore ass.
He doesn’t say anything else as he replaces his belt and walks out of the cage. I twist, trying to see him. He can’t leave me like this, right? I yank at the cuffs, but the throbbing in my shoulder makes me stop.
The brightness of the room dims as the bulb in my cage is the only one left on, and the thunderous sound of the door being shut echoes again.
He’s gone.
My chest heaves and tears I didn’t think could still be inside me flow easily.
3
Andrei sits at the dining table with his fork and knife hovering over the pile of sausage on his plate. He’s chewing when he notices me enter the room.
“You saw her?” he asks and stuffs another piece of sausage into his mouth.
I wave away the plate being offered to me and wait until the serving woman has left the room before I speak to my father.
“Yes.”
“And?” he pushes.
“And I punished her. She tried to escape.” I take several swallows of the beer set at my seat. Tricia, my father’s personal servant girl, serves him his dinner most nights. She knows what beer I drink, and always makes sure it’s at my seat. And I drink it with much appreciation tonight.
Andrei huffs a laugh. “Stubborn bitch.” He shakes his head.
“She’s just scared.” I defend her and take another long pull of my beer. I feel him scrutinizing me but ignore it. My father has his own ways and I have mine. Mine work - his don’t.
“She should be scared,” he continues. “We need to find out what she knows, how much of our operation does she know about.”
“She’s just a journalist, Andrei.” I lean back in my chair. I’ve already had her full history dug into. I don’t go into anything without as much knowledge as I can get, and training the American girl is no different.
“What have you learned about her?”
“She works freelance, she didn’t lie about that. She’s not connected to any newspapers or networks. Mostly she writes fluff shit. Celebrity stuff. But she’s been researching trafficking for a while. Her laptop is full of information - nothing specifically tying any individuals to anything.” I already had the shitty apartment she was living in cleared out. All her things were brought to me.
“She has nothing?”
“Nothing.” I nod in confirmation. At least nothing tangible. She knew where my father’s main holdings were. Whatever she really knows is locked up in that pretty head of hers, but I’m keeping that bit of intel to myself for the time being.
Andrei will want her questioned by his men if he finds out what I suspect. And I won’t allow that. Not yet.
“Then, we’ll move forward with my plan.” He goes back to eating, and I wonder briefly if he had anything else to eat besides the fatty sausage on his plate. “I want her ready in one week.”
“Of course.” I nod. Though, I have my doubts about this woman. She has all the right reactions of a captive. Fear filled her eyes when she saw me enter the holding room. I saw the shiver go through her when I touched her. She knew enough to be scared, but she didn’t let the fear overrule her need to get free.
If I hadn’t been annoyed by her not coming back into the cage when I called her, I would have been proud of her attempt to flee the room. Stupid attempt as it was, at least she tried. The women who cower so easily before me, they disappoint me - and I know they have a harder time once they are sold.
“Why don’t you eat?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
“Not hungry.” For food anyway. My cock is still rock hard after delivering the punishment to Magdalena. It wasn’t her tears, though they were fucking beautiful, or her sobs - more like music to me than cries - but her body’s response. How soft she went when I finished belting her. She didn’t enjoy her punishment - I made sure of that, but her body still reacted. Her pussy had been hot and wet when I touched her, her nipples had been erect, and when I yanked her back against me, she melted into me. My cock won’t ignore true submission.
“What of her sister, Danuta?” I ask, needing a diversion from the thoughts of the red stripes covering Magdalena’s ass.
“I have that handled. You get this one under control.” He points his knife at me.
“That won’t be a problem,” I assure him. It’s never been an issue before, and it won’t now. No matter how beautiful she is - she cemented her fate when she put her focus on the Dowidoff business.
“I have a shipment moving tomorrow, I’m heading to London to oversee it.” He turns to the door leading to the kitchen. “Tricia, more beer!” he yells.
Tricia, a short, blond-haired woman - no more than twenty - runs in wearing her usual black corset and lace panties my father forces her to wear when serving meals.
She hands him his beer and bows her head, waiting to be released. He trained Tricia himself, to suit his own needs. I know my father, and the look he gives her tells me he’s about to demand a service I don't need to witness.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, father.” I bid him good night and leave Tricia to lower to her knees and service him while he finishes his dinner.
When I get back to my apartment on the estate, I boot up her computer. Magda
lena Nowak won’t leave my mind. It’s tempting to log into the close circuit video feed in her cage, but I force myself not to. I can’t go to her again today. She needs to let her situation sink into her mind, because she’s going to have a rough time adjusting if she continues to think she can get out of it.
Instead, I dive back into her files. Checking her browser history doesn’t surprise me - not after what I saw in her cage. Kink websites, Tumblr accounts, even a few blog posts she’d written herself regarding submission.
I grab a beer from my kitchen and settle in with her laptop.
“Okay, Magdalena, tell me everything about you.”
4
Kristoff had cuffed my hands, so I could sink to the floor and sit in my cage. At first, I was grateful to be able to sit, except my ass hurt too much to have any contact with the cement.
I have no idea what time it is. My body is sore. Every inch. My head from lack of sleep, my ass and back from that belt of his. I finally gave in to my fatigue and moved down to my knees, and then onto my ass. As much as it hurt, I couldn’t hold myself awake any longer.
When I woke up, I half expected to be unbound. My stomach growls, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. Scrambling back to my feet, I relieve the pressure on my sore ass. Surely, there are welts and bruises. The skin feels so tight, I’m afraid it will split if I bend over too far.
I’ve tried to search the room, but he bound me to face the wall behind my cage. I can’t see anything other than cement blocks. And craning my neck doesn’t help.
The door opens behind me. Boots move along the concrete flooring, but no lights flicker to life. I look over my shoulder but only see a glimpse of a black shirt as Kristoff opens the door to the cage. Stupid that he locked the cage after binding me to it, but I’m not going to remark on it. I’m going to try something new.
“Tak chto on izbil tebya.” So, he did beat you? a new voice says. I turn the other way, trying to see this new man, but he stands out of my line of sight. They don't know I can understand them, and I’m not giving them that power yet, so I don’t answer him.
