Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11)

by Hayley Faiman

  “You failed to mention that you kidnapped her, and her owner is Zakhar Shvernik,” I announce.

  Katrina doesn’t look the least bit surprised that I already know this information. Instead, she nods, gulping loudly as her eyes lift to mine. They are swirling with an emotion that I cannot quite read.

  “The party was something I had been trying to get invited to for months. There were murmurings that he had a harem of slaves and that they were being mistreated. Not just by him but by his party guests. I did not wish to get the Bratva involved, or you involved. Not unless I had to.”

  “You involved me without my consent,” I point out. “And the fact that you are running that club means whatever you do, the Bratva is involved,” I growl.

  She nods again, her gaze lifting to mine and I expect to see regret or at least an apology swimming in her eyes, but neither are there. She looks much like the Mistress she plays at night, her gaze hard and unyielding, strong and in charge.

  “If you had seen what I had, Sergei.” She shakes her head before she continues. “You would not have left her there. She has been in his care since she was fifteen years old. Ten years of torture. Ten years of abuse. Ten years of that beautiful submissive creature being ripped apart piece by piece.”

  Her words, they hit me, each one like a punch to the gut. I don’t understand my reaction, but I know enough to realize that it is because of Raisa. Katrina was right to have me meet her and bring her home before she told me how she obtained her. Had I known, I would have never seen her, I would have turned her away without even a moment’s hesitation.

  Now? Now I cannot imagine anyone taking her from me, or not having her in my playroom. Her submission, her sweet grace, she is beauty and softness personified—she is mine.

  “I will protect her,” I vow.

  Katrina grins. “I know, Sergei. It is why the instant I saw her, I knew you had to have her. She will be a good addition to your hard, roughness.”

  I grunt, lifting my hand and waving her off. “He doesn’t know where she is, but I know that he will find out eventually. You will keep her safe here in your impenetrable mansion, will you not?”

  My eyes meet Katrina’s and narrow slightly. She is seriously questioning me? “You need not even bring that up as a question. Do it again and you might find yourself on the other side of a whip, girl,” I growl.

  Katrina’s eyes widen, but a coy smile slowly appears on her lips. “Yes, I knew you were the correct choice.”

  She leaves my office without another word and instead of opening Raisa’s file, I move toward my computer and find my home camera system. I click on the playroom and look in on my sweet temptation—krasotka.

  RAISA

  The chef silently brings me a tray with a bowl of fruit, a bowl of warm kasha, and a glass of orange juice. One sip and I know it is freshly squeezed. I cannot remember the last time I drank something so heavenly in all of my life. He then leaves six small glass bottles of water before he slips out of the door, locking it behind him.

  Glancing around the room, I let out a sigh as I reach for the spoon that is resting in my kasha. Lifting a bite to my mouth, I moan. It is considered a bland food by most, but it isn’t that to me. This is the first time, aside from last night, that I have had anything other than tasteless meal replacement protein powder for years.

  My stomach rumbles as I take my fourth bite of kasha. Between last night’s fruit and cheese, and today’s fruit and kasha, I’m not sure how my stomach is going to react to all of this new and tasty delicious food. Deciding to let my stomach relax, I set my spoon down and walk over to the water, taking one and twisting the top off.

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do all day, and as I glance around the room, I’m not sure there’s much of anything to do. After taking a few sips of water, I yawn.

  I’m tired.

  After being with the same owner for so many years, this shift and change is different, exhilarating and exhausting all at once. Sinking to my knees, I crawl into the cage beneath the bed.

  I need a nap, especially since I have no clue what to expect later today. I need to wrap my head around everything that’s happened lately. Mistress taking me from my old master. My new master and his completely different style of domination. Everything in my life has been flipped over and turned around.

  Everything is changing. I just hope that I’m strong enough to live and thrive through it all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SERGEI

  The day did not go as I had planned. I wanted to spend most of it with Raisa, but unfortunately work got in the way. When money is involved, you cannot just blow shit off for the woman sleeping beneath your bed. Tired, annoyed, and drained I make my way toward the playroom.

  Bringing my phone to my ear, I call the chef and tell him that I would appreciate dinner to be served in an hour. He agrees, and I end the call.

  Slipping my key into the lock, I twist it open. I know where Raisa is, she’s still beneath the bed, sleeping on her giant pillow like the goddamn printsessa she is.

  My printsessa.

  No.

  My koroleva.

  My queen.

  Slipping my shoes off next to the door, I make my way over to her cage. The door is closed, but not locked. She probably feels more comfortable locked in her cage, just like she felt more comfortable with Katrina chained to the wall.

  Crouching down, I peer into the cage and smile. She’s curled up into a small naked ball, sleeping soundly. She looks like a sweet little pet—my pet.

  “Raisa,” I call out. She doesn’t move except for a small snore that escapes which causes me to laugh. “Krasotka,” I say a little louder and watch as her gorgeous blue eyes flutter open.

  “Master,” she breathes.

  I give her a smile and lift my hand, crooking my finger for her to crawl toward me. Her cheeks pink with a slight blush as she shifts to her hands and knees and follows my silent request. When she’s at the entrance of her cage she lifts her gaze to me and waits.

  “Go to the bathroom. Shower and take care of your business before dinner arrives. Tonight will be a long night for you, krasotka. Tonight, you start to learn about my expectations of you, my pet,” I say.

  She nods once, waiting. I stand, then move to the side and watch as she crawls out of her cage. I grin, watching her. “When I’m in this room, I think I like you like this, Raisa. Unless otherwise instructed, you’ll be on your hands and knees the moment I enter the playroom, is that understood?”

  Raisa turns her head to look back at me, her spectacular ass on display making it difficult to look at her face. “Yes, Master,” she breathes.

  “Good girl,” I smile.

  Her face tints pink again, she turns back toward the bathroom and slowly crawls toward it. She makes a fucking show of each gracefully elegant move she makes, a show just for me and I can’t deny the entire scene has my cock harder than it’s been in my life.

  This creature, this pet, she is a goddamn dream come true. One that I could never deserve no matter how many good deeds I complete in my later years. My early years of death and destruction can never be atoned for, but she makes me think that perhaps someone upstairs has decided to give me a taste of Heaven on earth, at least for a little while.

  Raisa doesn’t take long to shower and prepare herself for me. Without asking or instructing, she crawls toward me just as the chef is delivering our dinner. He doesn’t give us a second glance, setting the tray of dinner down before quickly hurrying out of the space.

  I’m pleased to see the Kvass is on the tray per my request, along with my vodka and some more bottles of water.

  “Come to me, Raisa,” I call out.

  I see her movement out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t pay her any attention. Instead, I spend time busying myself with organizing our meal. She stops at my feet but doesn’t move otherwise. “Sit on your heels. I’ll feed you from there today,” I offer.

  “Yes, Master,” she nods.


  Her voice is soft and sweet just how I like it. Just how I like her. I don’t get sweet often in my life, and having it here, waiting for me, it’s something I’ve decided I’m going to keep—at least for now.

  Taking a bit of meat in my hand, I look down at her as I guide it toward her lips. She opens them immediately, her eyes wide as she takes it into her mouth as if she’s surprised to have the cuisine. My eyes scan her body and I bite back the groan. She’s covered head to toe in a sheen of shiny oil, and I know when I touch her, I’ll want nothing more than to fuck her. The perfectly wicked girl.

  “How long has it been since you’ve had meat?” I ask.

  Raisa’s eyes immediately fall down to her lap where her fingers are twisting, then she slowly brings her gaze back up to meet mine. “Ten years,” she whispers.

  I bite back a curse, wondering exactly what that fucker fed her. “What did you eat while Zakhar had you?” I demand.

  She flinches, unused to my harsh voice. I cannot control myself just thinking about the amount of abuse this fucker has inflicted on her.

  “Plain protein shakes,” she breathes.

  Reaching out to her, she flinches again when my hand cups her cheek. I try not to let it affect me. She has been hit for much less, I’m sure. However, I need her to realize that I will never hurt her, but I know it will just take time. I’m not extremely patient, but I have a feeling this is something I’m going to be learning when it comes to Raisa.

  “We will take your new diet slowly, krasotka. But know this. You will never not eat with me. You will always have food in your belly, real food,” I vow.

  She gulps, giving me a nod, then her lips tip in a small smile. That smile makes me feel fucking victorious. How she gives it to me, I don’t know, but I’m thankful and grateful for it. “How about some bread?” I ask.

  She nods enthusiastically, and that is how we spend the beginning of our evening. I hand feed my Raisa little nibbles of food between my regular bites. I don’t want to overwhelm her system, and by integrating food slowly, I hope that I don’t.

  I make a mental note to contact my physician to check her out completely tomorrow. I have a feeling not even Katrina knew exactly how my Raisa had been treated in her past.

  RAISA

  He’s kind and gentle, a contradiction to the harshness of his light blue gaze. His eyes speak of evil truths, something that he cannot hide, yet when he touches me or talks to me, he’s so… tender. I don’t know if he’s trying to lull me into safety before he rips the rug out from beneath my knees. I don’t know what is to happen next, all I know is that I’ve been taught to never, not ever, put my trust in another human being.

  For now, I will wait, patiently for him to show me all of himself. Until then, I will play whatever game he wishes, after all, that is my sole purpose in life—to yield to men’s wants, desires, and games.

  Silently, I watch as he stands, our dinner and Kvass consumed. I feel good, a little warm and happy. I haven’t had alcohol in years, even the small amount that is in Kvass has me feeling its effects. It’s such a low amount, given to children, but my food and drink consumption has been regulated so strictly for so long, that any change has a huge impact on my body.

  “After tonight you will know what it is to be mine, Raisa,” he announces.

  My head automatically tips back, and my eyes meet his without a second thought to my actions, something I haven’t experienced in years. I always question my actions and the repercussions of them simultaneously.

  “Yes, Master?” he asks, lifting a brow.

  My lips lift into a small smile before I speak. “Yes, Master.”

  He reaches forward, cupping my jaw, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. I part my mouth for him and he takes the opportunity to slip his thumb inside, pressing it against my tongue.

  “I am not your savior, Raisa. I am your owner,” he announces oddly.

  I suck on his thumb, enjoying the way it tastes, the way he tastes, remembering how his cum tasted just a few hours ago. His eyes darken the longer I suck his digit before he finally pulls his hand away from my face.

  He tilts his head to the side, reaching for his tumbler of clear liquid, presumably vodka. I watch as he drinks the remnants of the glass, setting it down as he works the liquid down his thick, muscular throat. I want to lick his neck, to taste the salt from the day on his skin, to taste him—only him.

  “Tell me what is working in that head of yours, krasotka,” he demands.

  There is no room for question from the tone of his voice and I suck in a breath before I reveal my thoughts. “I want to taste your neck. I want to lick your entire body, I want to taste you again. You tasted better than I’ve ever had,” I admit, shamelessly.

  His lips twitch and he shakes his head once as if he cannot believe the words I’ve just said to him. Without a word, I watch as he begins to unbutton his shirt. The material is bright white, not a stain in sight. His pants look as if they were made for him, expensive and luxurious. Everything about him screams distinguished, and I wonder what type of man he truly is.

  He isn’t a politician; his eyes tell too much for that career. He isn’t a regular businessman; his eyes scream of too many horrors for that. He is someone dangerous, someone in charge, someone not to be defied—ever.

  Once he’s completely naked, my eyes scan down his toned abs to the thick length jutting straight between his thighs. He’s hard, unbelievably so, and my entire body jerks awake and ready for his ministrations. My orgasms from earlier forgotten. I’m suddenly needy and craving his touch. Feeling as though I haven’t had release in years.

  I notice his blue tattoos. I was too lost in my orgasms this morning, too drunk on my need and desire for his taste, to see. He is not a politician or a businessman.

  He is Bratva.

  “Do you deserve this?” he asks, wrapping his hand around his cock.

  His words shake me of my thoughts. I frown, my eyes lifting from his length to his face. “No,” I admit.

  I don’t deserve anything. I know that. Not only because I haven’t proven myself to him, but because I’m a slave, nothing but a slave.

  He clucks his tongue and he chuckles. “Crawl over to me, show me how good you can be to me, pet.”

  I gasp, dropping to my hands immediately. Crawling toward him, I stop when I’m directly in front of his body. Sitting back on my heels, I look up at him through my lashes and sigh, opening my mouth and waiting.

  “Hands behind your back. Grab ahold of your elbows,” he orders through gritted teeth. I do as instructed, a thrill running up my spine.

  I expect him to slide down my throat, but he doesn’t. He reaches toward my breasts and gently tugs on my nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger a few times each. A groan escapes from the back of my throat at the feeling of his rough fingers tugging and twisting my sensitive buds.

  Master chuckles, releasing my nipple and slowly slides his cock down my throat. He eases past my lips and fills me, taking his time, probably to ensure that I don’t gag. I won’t. I’ve been well trained, tortured and versed in how to take cock.

  He groans once he’s completely seated down my throat. Breathing through my nose, I keep my eyes on his. He looks lost, in a complete daze and my chest fills with pride at the sight. One of his hands wraps around the side of my neck and he gently squeezes.

  “Fuck,” he breathes.

  He doesn’t say anything else as he eases out of my throat, fucking me shallowly a few times, then fills me completely again. His eyes never leave mine.

  My master. My owner. Mine.

  The thoughts are foreign, but they’re mine and so loud that they pound in my head. Mine. Mine. Mine. The word repeating on an endless loop as he fucks my mouth, his movements becoming faster and harder, his finger gripping the side of my neck, assuredly bruising my flesh.

  My pussy is aching, wet and needy for his touch. I could come right here if I wanted to. I could let my mind take me there w
ith as turned on as I am at the sight of his enjoyment of my body, my mouth. He pulls out of me, taking a few stumbling steps back, his eyes wild as he looks over at me, his chest rising and falling quickly with his panting breaths.

  He lifts his hand, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “I did not expect you,” he rasps. “I did not prepare properly,” he admits.

  I don’t know what he means, but he looks baffled, almost unbelieving. In an instant, he’s in front of me again, picking me up and carrying me to the bed. The moment my back hits the mattress, his cock fills me. Crying out, I’m unable to stay quiet, his cock stretches me, his mouth touching the side of my neck.

  He fucks me. It’s hard, fast, unyielding as he takes full enjoyment of my body. His fingers wrap around the backs of my knees, spreading my thighs far apart, holding my legs against the mattress as he renders me motionless.

  He’s standing on the floor, straightening his back, his head tipped as he watches the way he disappears in and out of my body. My eyes travel to his chest, taking in all of his blue tattoos. I wish I could concentrate on them, make them out, but I can’t. I moan instead, feeling him fill my body over and over.

  “Krasotka,” he groans so quietly that I don’t quite hear him.

  His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he continues to fuck me, his head tipped and his focus nowhere but his dick sliding in and out of me. One of his hands leaves my knee and slowly slides down my thigh until he reaches my clit. His thumb presses against my clit and I let out a sigh.

  “Are you ready to come, Raisa?” he asks, his voice a deep growl.

  “Yes,” I nod.

  His lips twitch and he shakes his head once. “Beg me, krasotka, beg me to allow your pleasure.”

  My entire body shivers from his words, my thighs shaking and my pussy squeezing. I’m on the verge of my release. I bite the inside of my cheek, drawing blood before I exhale. He doesn’t stop his hips from rolling, his cock driving in and out of me, or his thumb rolling against my clit.