Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11)

by Hayley Faiman

  His hand falls from my face and I watch as he closes the cage door, locking me beneath his bed, in my own little oasis. I don’t know why he didn’t fuck me or at least fuck my mouth, but I keep quiet. He seems to have a way of doing things that is different from anyone else I have ever encountered.

  I listen to him move around the room for a few minutes, the rustling of clothes, the opening and closing of doors and drawers, and then the room darkens. Crawling over to a small round pad, I curl up like a puppy and with a sigh, I lay my head down.

  I’m exhausted, and this space feels like heaven. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, that this, a small round cushion in the corner beneath a bed, makes me feel like a printsessa, but it does.

  My new master is kind but firm. However, there is a darkness in his gaze that I do not wish to see boil to the surface. I plan on keeping him happy, satisfied, and content for as long as he’ll let me. Yes, this is a master that I wish to stay with for a long time.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SERGEI

  After a fitful night of sleep, I finally give up. Sitting up in bed, I lean my back against the headboard, the sheets around my waist and I listen. I don’t know what I’m listening for exactly, maybe just Raisa’s sleeping breaths.

  I don’t hear anything and I’m mad at myself for not putting her to bed right next to me. However, if I give her everything from the start, she won’t learn about me, and my life, just as I won’t learn about her or her wants and desires.

  Everything is a two-way street, and with Raisa, she needs to be eased into a true master/slave relationship. I can tell just from the few things she said, and her body language that she was not in a healthy relationship before she came to me. Katrina made it clear, but Raisa herself makes its crystal clear just how damaged she is.

  Lying in bed, I can’t take my mind off of her. I shoot my computer tech wizard an email and ask him to meet me at my home office first thing this morning. I want everything I can get on her, on her past, and on her previous masters. If I am going to repair her, I need to know everything.

  The sun slowly rises, and I decide I’ve laid in bed long enough. Although Raisa went to bed late, she needs to get up and get moving for the day. She will soon learn that my schedule is different from day to day, and she will need to be accommodating toward it.

  Sliding out of bed, I debate putting pants, or at least, underwear on, but I shake my head, deciding she will have to get used to my naked body. I very much enjoy hers, so clothes will not be an option for her most of the time.

  Walking over to the lock of her cage, I slowly sink down and unlock it, opening the door and peering inside. She’s curled up in a ball on the large sleeping pillow in the corner. She looks like she was plucked from my fantasies.

  Not ever, in all of my fifty-five years has a woman arrested me the way Raisa has. I’ve owned slaves in the past, so the concept is not new, but I have never been as intrigued as I am by this creature. Looking at her, asleep curled in a ball, I want to haul her out of her haven, fuck her, then hold her. I want to learn her secrets, I want to make her scream, beg, and cry all at the same time.

  “Krasotka,” I call out before clearing my throat.

  Her eyelids flutter open and she smiles as she looks up at me. I don’t speak, tilting my chin down, I give her a silent instruction and see if she will follow. Slowly, she rises to her hands and knees and crawls toward me. Once she’s directly in front of me, she stops.

  Reaching out, I run my fingers over her now dry hair as I pet her. She closes her eyes, leaning against my touch, practically purring with each stroke of my hand. “Good girl,” I praise.

  Her eyes open again, and a small smile appears on her lips. “When was the last time you came?” I ask.

  She gasps slightly, probably surprised by my question since last night I didn’t even mention sex to her. However, this is a new day, her first day and she will have to begin her repair and retraining. She lowers her head for just a second, then lifts it back up again.

  “Before I went to Mistress,” she whispers.

  I nod, standing and motioning for her to come forward with my fingers. She does, staying on her hands and knees. My cock instantly hardens at the sight of her. Raisa’s full tits hang down, along with her dark hair which has dried with a bit of curl to it, and her ass is on full view. She looks like a fucking dream—my dream.

  “Follow me,” I instruct.

  She crawls behind me, my cock hard and growing harder with each step that I take. Making my way over to the metal cross I have to the side of the room. I stop in front of it. She lifts her gaze to the cross, then over to me. I can see the hesitation and slight fear in her eyes. She’s been hurt on a cross before.

  “Stand,” I instruct.

  Slowly she does, but her thighs shake. Without further instruction, she stands directly in front of the cross and spreads her feet wide. I clasp each ankle to the ring and hook, then do the same to her arms when she spreads them wide as well.

  Taking a step back, my cock aching from the gorgeous sight that is Raisa strapped to my silver metal cross, I sigh. Turning my back to her, I walk over to my chest, where I keep all of my toys. I open a few drawers just for measure. I know exactly what I want, and where to find it, but I think my krasotka needs a little anticipation to build.

  Gathering all of my items, I turn around and walk toward her. I set everything down next to her on a side table. She doesn’t look at what I’ve brought, her gaze is straight ahead of her and I hope to God she hasn’t zoned out on me.

  “Raisa,” I bark. Her body jumps, and she looks at me, her lips trembling. “I will not hurt you, krasotka,” I state. Lifting my hand to cup her cheek, I run my thumb along her bottom lip. “You need release, Raisa. Before you came to Katrina, how often did you come a day?” I ask, not wishing to know about her history with other men, but this is not about me, this is about her.

  “Several times a day, usually forced,” she admits, her voice soft and gentle.

  I nod, the understanding clear, and exactly how I’d imagined. She needs to have release, and it is my job to give it to her.

  Picking up the vibrator from the table I walk back over, stopping directly in front of her. Slipping two fingers between her legs, I gently stroke her, my eyes staying glued to her face.

  “Master,” she hisses.

  I love how she calls me that. Though I haven’t given her my real name, so she has nothing else to call me, it sounds so goddamn sexy spilling from her lips.

  Leaning forward I rest my lips next to her ear. “Are you going to come for me? Are you going to be my good girl, krasotka?”

  She moans, her breath hitching as I feel her cunt drip against my hand. Sliding my fingers inside of her, I gently pump in and out of her soft pussy. She’s unable to move much, her body confined, and I smirk as she pulls against her restraints.

  Once she’s primed, and ready for more, I take a step back. She lets out a whine in the back of her throat, which causes me to chuckle. The sound would have probably had her beaten before, but I like her little noises.

  Reaching for the curved vibrator, I slip one end inside of her snugly and assure the other is pressed against her clit. Taking my phone out, I open the vibrator’s app and start it on the lowest setting.

  RAISA

  I let out a gasp as soon as the vibrations begin. Lowering my head, I notice something in a hook shape is inserted into me, the other end is pressing against my clit. I raise my gaze to my master and he smirks as he touches his phone. The vibrating intensifies, and I whimper, trying to keep my noises quiet.

  “You may make as much noise as you’d like, krasotka,” he states. Without hesitation, I let out a moan.

  He picks something else up off of the table and turns back toward me. He clasps a chain to the hook at my neck, then quickly clamps a nipple tweezer to each of my nipples. I let out a hiss, the sensation slightly painful for just a moment, then euphoria takes over, the pain completely disap
pearing.

  “I suspected you would enjoy a bite of pain,” he murmurs as if talking to himself.

  The vibrating between my legs switches to a pulse. I can’t control the cry that escapes as my head falls back against the cross, the motion causing the clamps to tug on my nipples, which in turn sends my entire body into trembles of pleasure.

  I lift my gaze to my master and watch as he drags one of the chairs directly in front of me. He sinks into the chair, his legs spread wide and his cock hard and jutting straight up. He wraps his hand around his length and slowly he strokes.

  Licking my lips, I moan at the sight of him in front of me. His cock is long and thick, a combination you don’t see every day. It’s also straight, not curved, and I know that he would feel wonderful inside of me. He chuckles, and my face heats as my eyes meet his.

  “Soon, if you’re good, you can suck me, krasotka,” he growls.

  I whimper, and I don’t bother trying to hide it either. I want him in my mouth and down my throat. I want to please him and show him just how good I can be for him—only him. The vibration intensifies and my head flies back again, my nipples pulling taut as my first orgasm rolls through my entire body.

  It’s been too long; my body shakes as my climax takes over. “Good girl, give me another,” Master rasps from his spot in the chair.

  “Yes, Master,” I whisper, lifting my head.

  His eyes sparkle at my words and his hand strokes faster. I could watch him touch himself all day long and never grow tired of the sight. My second orgasm crashes through me, causing me to actually sob loudly, which sounds more like a scream. I don’t look away this time.

  I watch with bated breath, whimpering and trembling, as he grunts. His hand begins moving faster and then his release spills against his strong stomach. I wish that I could taste him, watching the ribbons of release against his stomach has me yearning to know how salty he would taste on my tongue.

  He grabs his phone from the floor and turns off my vibrator, his eyes just looking at me. He slowly stands and unhooks my restraints. Before he can say a word, I sink to my knees and I lick the release from his stomach, unable to resist.

  Moaning at the salty taste of his cum, it’s better than I had imagined it could be. His hand flies to the side of my head, and his fingers fist in my hair as his eyes slide closed. His breathing becomes pants before he gently tugs me off of his now clean stomach.

  “Good girl,” he rasps. “Go clean yourself, take care of your business. The chef will arrive with breakfast. You are to remain in here today. I will come by to check on you later.”

  Without another word, he takes a step back, releasing me and then he’s gone. He leaves naked, and I just stare at the closed door for long minutes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SERGEI

  My heart skips a beat as the door to the playroom closes behind me. I lock it, frowning at the simple idea of leaving her alone to go into work. Shaking off the feeling, I hurry toward my own bedroom to shower and dress for the day.

  The hot water beads on my back and I rub my neck, helping to ease my tension. All I can do is think of Raisa, of her past, and how beautifully submissive she is.

  Who could hurt such a delicate creature?

  Then I flinch.

  Am I a sick fuck for enjoying the woman, the slave, they have created in her?

  Removing my hand from the back of my neck, I ball it into a fist and slam it against the tile of the shower wall. I am a sick fuck, I know it to be true, I’ve always known it to be true.

  Why am I suddenly having a conscience about it now?

  Because of a slave?

  A woman who was trained to take whatever she’s given, her free will stripped, her goddamn pride stripped. I don’t stop thinking about her, about my attraction to her as I dress in my suit for the day. Not even as I walk down to the kitchen to speak to the chef does she escape my thoughts.

  “Breakfast for my guest. Nothing heavy. Fruit and kasha. Make her a coffee to her liking, and give her an orange juice,” I instruct.

  My chef nods, his eyes searching mine, but never judging. “Am I to believe that our guest will be staying for a length of time?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

  I grunt, lifting my chin. “She will. An undetermined amount of time. Her diet shall consist of healthy yet bland foods for breakfast and lunch. Including rye bread with her lunch. I will not be dining with her until the third meal. Her meal shall match mine for dinner. Serve her Kvass with our dinner nightly, Vodka for me of course. Make sure she has a supply of water in her room on hand throughout the day. Keep her door locked, and do not speak to her.”

  The chef opens his mouth to speak but wisely closes it without saying a word. Turning away from him, I leave him to his duties. I am demanding of him, my instructions specific, but he is used to it. I pay him well for my eccentricities and his quiet compliance.

  Making my way toward my office, I close the door behind me once I’ve passed over the threshold and sink into the chair behind my desk with a heavy sigh.

  Lifting my hand, I place my palm against my forehead and I breathe. I wasn’t expecting this, I wasn’t expecting her. Letting out a long exhale, I jump slightly when my phone rings. I glance at the name and grin.

  “What do you have for me, Oliver,” I almost demand.

  “We need to FaceTime, go over this face to face, Mr. Orlov. Unless you want to wait until I can come to your office?” his English accented voice asks me.

  I could tell him no. I could tell him to fuck himself, but he’s the best I have. I would trust nobody else with this research. I agree, ending the call and letting out a groan when he calls me again. I don’t answer on my phone, deciding to use the larger screen of my computer monitor instead.

  Oliver’s sad smile appears, and I know whatever he is about to tell me about Raisa is fucking bad.

  “Do not hold back, or I’ll instruct Alex to beat you,” I growl. He shakes his head once, his lips tipping into a grin at my mention of his lover.

  “I’ll just start from the beginning with what I could dig up throughout last night and this morning,” he begins.

  I nod, waiting for him to continues. “She was a twin, her sister named Ryska. Both of them sold at the age of fourteen. The man who bought them held ownership for what looks like one year before he sold them separately. Ryska was sold overseas, somewhere in the Middle East it appears. Her trail runs cold after she is sold.”

  My stomach twists at his words. Ryska’s trail has assuredly run cold because like many women sold into sexual slavery she is probably dead. My heart aches for my sweet, Raisa. I’m not an innocent man, I’ve had my own slaves, but after I had a child of my own, a daughter, my outlook on that particular kink shifted. Which is why the past two decades I’ve invested in clubs, like Katrina’s. Plus, they turn a fantastic profit for the Bratva.

  “The man who bought Raisa is Zakhar Shvernik,” he states, pausing as he should.

  The name sends a shiver down my own spine. For all the evil I’ve inflicted in this world, Zakhar has inflicted tenfold. He’s younger than I am, but only by ten years. His reputation precedes him. In business, he’s just so-so, nowhere near my level or the Bratva’s. He comes from money, his grandfather is extremely wealthy, one of the richest men in Russia. Personally, I’ve heard that Zakhar is crueler than I could ever imagine being, and that says a fuck of a lot.

  “I assume by your silence you know who the man is?” Oliver asks. I grunt as my response and he chuckles. “Right,” he mutters. “Katrina was at a private party where she saw Raisa. Katrina’s people kidnapped her from Zakhar’s underground dungeon. He will be looking for her, Sergei.”

  My spine straightens at his words. Katrina failed to mention that tidbit of information, although I didn’t press her for it either. Maybe it will be in the file she plans on sending over, although I doubt it. She didn’t tell me for a reason, she knows that I wouldn’t have agreed.

  This entire situation put
s the Bratva in a position that it doesn’t need to be in. As the Pakhan for Moscow, I am in charge. My word and my orders hold more weight than any other Pakhan. I must lead by example, and stay out of drama, this will be nothing but drama and possible bloodshed.

  Yet, I cannot in good conscience, send her back to him. Raisa has already wormed her way inside of me. Maybe not to my heart, but she is there, floating in me somewhere, swimming through the black abyss of my soul.

  “Thank you, Oliver. I’ve already sent a wire transfer for your work. Is there anything else you’d like?” I ask him because I know what he’ll want, I just want to hear him say it. He rolls his eyes, pinning me with a glare.

  “A caviar for Alex and a Zhostovo tray for my collection,” he grinds out. I knew what he wanted, I just needed to hear him say it, and see it. He’s fucking hilarious.

  Lifting my chin, I give him a grin. “I will have them delivered along with some chocolates,” I inform him.

  Oliver thanks me, promising to send me all of the information we discussed via email and I end the call. Leaning back in my chair, I press my lips together. A knock on my office door causes me to jump slightly.

  “Come in,” I call.

  I’m surprised to see Katrina open the door and slip through the small crack she’s given herself, closing it tightly behind her. She’s dressed much differently today, looking much more her young age of twenty-eight in a pair of jeans and a tight t-shirt. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and her face is void of makeup.

  “I have the file,” she says, her voice almost meek.

  I don’t move from my place behind my desk, watching as she makes her way toward the front and slowly places a thick envelope in the middle. She sits in the chair across from me, folding her hands in her lap, and waits.