Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Please, Master. Please allow me to come,” I plead. I’m starting to sweat. I can feel it beading against my forehead and I clench my fists as I continue to hold off my climax.

  Master lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, searching me and he grins. “Will you make this pretty pussy squeeze me, Raisa? I want to feel your cum coat my entire cock and drip down my balls,” he rasps.

  It’s that moment, that exact moment where my back arches and I scream as my orgasm rushes through me. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I see stars as my entire body locks up solid and the most intense orgasm of my life rolls through me.

  “Fuck,” Master curses above me and I feel his hips jerk then he freezes and his warm cum fills me.

  He doesn’t release me right away like I expect. Instead, he falls over me, his chest pressing against mine and his face nuzzles my neck, his lips touch my skin and it sends a chill throughout my body.

  “You are mine, Raisa. Such a complex surprise,” he rasps.

  My eyes close and for the first time in my life I feel—peace.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SERGEI

  I frown as I look at the picture in front of me. Oliver, my faithful man, he’s sent me this photograph. It is the original documentation of Ryska and Raisa’s sale. Fourteen years old, sold into a life of servitude. The name on the sale, aside from the buyer, their father.

  Tipping my head back, I am surprised to see that the home is in a decent part of town, older but not a ghetto. Good hard-working people live in these houses, except for the blue house I stand in front of. This man is not hard working. This man is a father who sold his daughters.

  As a father, I could not imagine selling my own child into the life he sold his. In fact, I made a contract for my Tatyana to ensure her safety. I also distanced myself from her for the same fucking reason, abandoning her for her entire childhood and early adulthood to keep her safe. Not like this piece of shit.

  “Boss?” Nikolai asks.

  He’s one of my men, a good man, but nothing like the ones I’ve lost over the years one way or another. I miss the men of my old crew, men that were like children to me. I miss the way the Bratva was, at least some of it. These days it’s all political and I hate that shit.

  “This is a personal errand,” I explain.

  He clears his throat, buttoning his jacket. I glance over to him. “It’s not that personal, stay prepared,” I bark.

  He gulps, obviously a bit intimidated by me, and I don’t blame him. I’ve killed men for less, a lot less. Nikolai follows behind me as I take the steps leading up to the front door of the small home. Ringing the doorbell, I wait.

  Nikolai stays quiet behind me and I’m grateful. He can be a bit talkative and tedious at times. The door opens and standing in front of me is a man near my own age, if not a bit younger. He is wearing jeans and a clean white t-shirt. His clothes aren’t what truly has my attention though, it’s his eyes. They’re the exact same shade of blue as my Raisa’s, although his aren’t as haunted as hers, aren’t as deep.

  “Help you?” he asks.

  Tamping down my instant rage, I smirk as I push past him and into his living room. He moves to the side and sputters before he shouts at me, asking me what the fuck I want. I turn around slowly in the room, taking it all in. Everything is clean, newer, as a matter of fact, it looks like all of the furnishings are around ten years old.

  “You sold them to make yourself more comfortable,” I announce.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he shouts.

  I don’t answer him, mainly because I don’t answer to him. He can fuck himself.

  “Your wife home?” I ask, ignoring his question.

  “What is all the shouting about?” a woman asks, walking down the stairs. When she sees me her body tenses, locking up tight and her eyes widen.

  My breath is stolen from my lungs. Her eyes are different, but her face is an exact replica. They could be sisters. “You’re their mother,” I breathe.

  Nikolai stays quiet, thankfully, as my brain processes how a mother could sell her children into a life of sexual slavery. Even Tatyana’s mother who was a slave herself agreed that she did not want her child to be like her. She wanted Tati to be contracted to a good Bratva man.

  Her eyes well with tears at my words, my meaning hitting her immediately. “It isn’t like you think,” she whispers.

  I shake my head, pulling my gun out of my shoulder holster with lightning speed. She cries out, backing up against the staircase wall. The man, attempting to be a man, stands in front of the bullet, between my gun and his wife.

  “Why don’t we all just calm down, what is this about? What do you want?” he asks, holding his hands up in the air in false surrender.

  “Nikolai, bring the woman into this sitting room,” I order.

  He grunts, and I watch him move quickly, wrapping his hand around her bicep and pulling her into the room. I smirk when he practically tosses her onto the couch. I chuckle, flicking my wrist, a silent order for this fucker in front of me to join his cunt of a wife.

  “Now, do tell, how many children do you have?” I ask, sitting down in the chair across from them.

  I cross my ankle over my knee and lean back, keeping my gun visible and my senses alert and ready to shoot at any given second.

  “Answer my question,” I bark, my voice deeper and more intimidating than it was only seconds ago.

  The wife jumps, lifting her hand to dash her tears from beneath her eyes. “Two daughters and two sons,” she whispers.

  “Where are your sons?” I ask.

  The man growls, but the wife is a bit smarter, at least when it comes to keeping herself alive. “They are away at university,” she announces, puffing her chest out. I see it for what it is, a complete lie.

  “Nikolai, call Oliver. Find out where the boys are, he’ll know what I’m referring to. Ask him where Raisa’s brothers are.” The woman’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head, lifting her hand to her neck for dramatic effect. It doesn’t really mean much to me.

  “Why did you sell your twin daughters?” I ask.

  This time the man speaks before his wife. “They were little whores anyway. Why not make some money off of them?” He shrugs as I grip the handle of my gun tighter.

  “Whores at fourteen?” I ask, my voice calm against the raging hatred flowing through my body.

  He shrugs again. “Well, they would have been eventually. I sold them pure and untouched, made a fortune. What’s it to you?” he asks, his voice a loud boom.

  “I’m just trying to figure out what kind of man sells his child for his own financial gain,” I say slowly.

  He narrows his eyes, opening his mouth and every word he speaks makes me want to fill him with bullets that much faster.

  “Plenty of people have arrangements for their children. I just did the same, except I’m not in a position to do anything other than sell,” he states.

  I nod, agreeing with his words. My own daughter was contracted for marriage, but not to line my pockets, I did it to keep her from whoring. To keep her from turning into Raisa, a toy for men’s pleasure, and nothing else.

  “It’s true, plenty of people do draw up contracts for their children. However, most would not sell them to the highest bidder. Most would not sell them to monsters and pretend as if they no longer exist.”

  The door opens a few seconds later and standing in the entryway are two boys. One is in his early twenties, one his late-teens. Both very obviously Rasia’s brothers.

  “Bring them in here,” I order Nikolai.

  “What’s this?” the older one asks.

  “Sit,” I demand.

  He does, along with the younger one. Four people looking back at me, all bearing resemblance to my Raisa. The boys are strong, healthy looking, and I know why they were kept. They will get good jobs, help their parents for life, and have families. Raisa and Ryska would never give their parents financial help, they would be lucky to find good men to marry them and
maybe have families with.

  “Your parents sold your sisters, you know this, I assume?” I ask. The younger one’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, but the older one looks guilty as shit. “How does it feel, knowing those pieces of shit sold your sisters to men who had one purpose and one purpose only?”

  “What was that purpose?” the younger one asks. He doesn’t look naïve, but perhaps he is, or maybe he needs to hear the words aloud.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Tasher,” he says, clearing his throat.

  “Tasher, they were sold as a set to one man for sexual pleasure. After a year they probably looked too much like women, and less like the young girls he purchased so he sold them separately when they were fifteen. Ryska was never heard from again, she was sent somewhere in the Middle East. Raisa was kept by an abusive man here in Moscow for ten years.”

  I continue to tell them about the man who held Raisa, how he didn’t allow her actual food for a decade and give them just a taste of what she went through. By the time I’m finished talking, tears have either formed or fallen from all their eyes.

  “These boys, they’re important to you?” I ask, looking to the parents.

  “They’re our babies, of course…” The mother trails off, realizing what she’s said.

  “Nikolai, we need some new talent in the ring. Maybe in the whore houses as well. Whatever they can be useful for, we’ll use them. Go with Niko now,” I mutter.

  The boys stand without hesitation but the mother screams, reaching for the eldest’s arm and tries to pull him back down to her seat. They ignore her pleads and screams and walk right over to Nikolai, much to my surprise.

  I stand, pointing my gun at them. She’s sobbing, but he looks resolute.

  “Bang,” I whisper. They both jump, but I don’t kill them, not like I want to. I want them to suffer, for a long fucking time… maybe.

  Nikolai grabs Tasher by the arm, and I take the other, ignoring the people behind us. The woman is wailing, the man is yelling and following us. I twist around, lifting my gun but then lower it and point it at his knee, pulling the trigger and smirking when he falls to the ground with a shout.

  We shove the boys in the backseat and I instruct Nikolai to take us to my office. He does, the car ride silent for the first few minutes.

  “I’m not good at fighting, and I don’t want to be a whore,” the oldest one rasps.

  I chuckle, turning back to him. “What would you like then?”

  “To be Bratva,” the other one announces.

  He tips his head to my hand and I look down with a grimace. My finger tattoos, ones that I’m proud of, ones that I’ve earned but also ones that always give me away on sight.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Zeno,” he announces proudly.

  “Zeno, you will have to earn my trust, my men’s trust,” I say.

  They both nod. “Our sister, she’s okay?” Zeno asks.

  “She is mine,” I state.

  They wisely don’t say anything else. When we arrive at the training facility, I take them into one of my holding rooms where I sometimes question people, if they need questioning and I lock them inside.

  “I want surveillance on them at all times. I want them stripped and to begin training,” I grin.

  Nikolai chuckles. “My favorite part.” He doesn’t say anything else, turning away from me, he gathers the boys.

  Their torture, their training will start immediately. By the time they are on the streets, attempting to earn their places in the Bratva’s structure they will be the most hard-working soldiers on this fucking earth.

  I head toward Raisa. I need her. I need to touch and taste her, to know that she’s safe, and that those people will forever live with the guilt of what they’ve done to their children. They will remember them, all four of them, until the day they die. Which I planned on being a long time from now, but my goddamn finger is twitchy.

  Deciding to make a detour, I go back to the parents’ house. Walking into the living room, I’m not surprised to see them huddled together, the father trying to console the mother. His leg is bleeding, and I smirk.

  They both look at me, and it is with horror. Lifting my hand, I pull the trigger twice. My aim is true, as I watch the room spray with their blood and gray matter. It’s a beautiful sight, really. The death of two sick fucking souls. I’m sure someone will think the same exact thought when I am finally put down.

  Today is not that day.

  Lifting my phone to my ear, I call a cleanup crew to handle the mess. I don’t bother waiting for them, they will do their job, and do so pristinely.

  I head home, to my Raisa who will be waiting for me, naked and on her knees because my krasotka aims to please me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RAISA

  I hear the jiggle of the door handle and I lift my head. I’m kneeling on the floor, naked, as per my master’s request. I’ve been in this same position for the past hour, knowing that he would be here soon, hoping that he would, at least. Slowly, I place my hands on the floor, on my hands and knees, I lift my head and watch as the door slowly opens.

  “Goddamn,” I hear him hiss as the door clicks closed behind him. “Come to me,” he orders, his jaw clenched and his eyes darker than their normal ice blue.

  With ease, I slowly crawl toward him. I stop directly in front of his expensive shiny black shoes. “Eyes, Raisa,” he quietly demands.

  Lifting my gaze up to meet his, I let out a breath. He’s beautiful, commanding, and gentler than any other man I have ever been around. Last night he gave me pleasure, then filled me and fucked me, it was, dare I say… magical.

  I never want to leave him.

  I want him to keep me—always.

  He reaches forward, cupping my cheek with his palm. “The chef says that you ate your fruit and bread today, all of it,” he hums. I nod, leaning into his warm hand, my eyes automatically closing with the sensation of his touch against my skin.

  “Good girl, Raisa. I can see the color in your face appearing with each day,” he murmurs.

  My eyes open, and I look back up to him. He’s smiling, his eyes searching my face. His hand falls but he doesn’t move, and I miss the touch of him, more than I should. With this man I’m unable to control my feelings, unable to hide myself. He sees me.

  “Tonight, you will not eat until later,” he informs me.

  I watch as he walks away, toward the biggest armoire in the room and stops, opening it up and picks up a large black box looking thing. I frown at the sight, unsure of what the device is, as I’ve never seen one before. It takes a lot for me to be confused by sexual apparatuses. I wait. Watch and wait.

  He pulls the bedding completely off the bed, placing the device in the center on top of the fitted bottom sheet. Silently, he walks over to a dresser and opens the drawer. There are a couple things in his hands and I recognize the devices as he walks back to the bed.

  “Climb up, Raisa,” he orders, his voice deeper and huskier than it was just moments ago.

  I crawl toward him, climbing up on the bed and sitting back on my heels to wait for further instruction. He reaches forward, tweaking my nipples before he adds the familiar clamps. They’re the same tweezer ones he used just a couple days ago. I moan as soon as they pinch my nipples, my eyes closing from the pressured sensation.

  Master chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the sides making him look sexier than I even thought possible. “Perfect, krasotka,” he rasps. “Now, climb up,” he says patting the black thing in the middle of the bed.

  I look at the seat, that’s exactly what it is too, a rounded seat with what appears to be a vibrator in the middle. Master must register my hesitation of the unknown and thankfully he doesn’t become angry.

  “It’s a vibrating saddle of sorts. I want to watch you ride it, unhindered. I want to see how you’ll ride my cock when I give you permission to do so, krasotka,” he explains.

  My center clenches
at the thought, remembering when he used the vibrator with the app on his phone to watch me come when I was strapped to his cross.

  “Climb on up, Raisa,” he grunts, his voice deep, sexy, and if I’m not mistaken—needy.

  I climb onto the saddle, positioning the vibrator against my center and slowly take it inside of me. It isn’t big, in fact, it doesn’t stretch me at all.

  “Lean forward,” he instructs.

  I do as he says, moaning when I feel something press against my back entrance. He slips the plug into my ass, and I sigh at the way it fills me, wishing it were him. I wonder when he’ll take me back there. I’m impatient for him to own every part of me, to fill every piece of me with his thick cock. The butt plug begins to vibrate, and I let out an audible moan at the sensation.

  He reaches around me and flips a switch, causing the vibrator in my pussy to turn on as well. My entire lower half is vibrating and my eyes close, soaking up the way they make me feel, as I breathe for just a moment.

  There is movement, and I hear his clothes rustling. I open my eyes, smiling as he stares at me, shirtless and sitting in a chair, a chair that he’s placed directly in front of me. I watch as he lifts his phone up, and my eyes widen.

  “I want to save this. I want to watch the way you come anytime I so desire.” My entire body breaks out in a shiver. “Now, krasotka, ride that like you wish you could ride my cock.”

  Keeping my gaze completely focused on him, I ride. The stimulation feels nice as my entire bottom half is completely vibrating, but that isn’t what has me lost and climbing toward my release.

  It’s him.

  It’s the way he’s looking at me.

  I’ve never felt beautiful. I’ve felt possessed. Like an object for physical use, but never in my life have I felt truly beautiful, until this man walked into my life. I have never wanted anything as much as I want to stay here with him, to please him.