Eventually, she’s able to calm herself. I guide her over to the table where our breakfast waits for us and I gently deposit her at my feet. Raisa leans her head against my thigh and I hear her audible sigh. Resting my hand on the top of her head, I pet her.
I feed her, quietly, our gazes pointed straight ahead at the green grass and trees that make up my estate. I have an apartment in the middle of the city, but this is my sanctuary, my home. Eventually I’ll have to move her to my city apartment, it’s just much easier to work from there, but I’m dragging my feet. This house has more video surveillance and is more isolated. It’s where I’m most comfortable.
Once we’re finished eating, she sighs. Glancing down at her, I tug on a piece of her hair. Raisa lifts her gaze to meet mine, her eyes bright and alive. A change from just an hour ago when they were wild, frightened, and full of wetness.
“Ask me,” I demand. I can tell there’s a question on the tip of her tongue, and I want it, I want everything from her.
She sucks in a deep breath, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she finally works up her courage to speak. “Can I be in charge of our room, and our toys?”
I look down at her, unsure of what she’s asking exactly. I need her to clarify and she must read me. She smiles and shakes her head once before she speaks again. “Just of cleaning the toys, and the room, nothing else,” she explains.
Realization dawns on me. Panya must have cleaned the saddle and toys which for some reason embarrassed my girl. “Did having Panya see our play embarrass you?” I ask.
Raisa reaches up and wraps her fingers around my waist. “I like her very much,” she says. “I wasn’t embarrassed, I just want to feel useful,” she explains.
Her words, they cause me to stop, to freeze where I sit. Useful. I frown, looking down at her. She doesn’t find herself useful, though to me, she’s the most important person in my home. Shifting my hand from her hair, I cup her cheek, her blue eyes searching my face as they always do and I smile.
I could tell her no. I could tell her that her only use is to wait for me, to take me any way I give myself to her, and to always please me. I don’t say any of those things though, mainly because they aren’t true. She’s more than just a warm body waiting for me. I’m not sure of her exact place yet, but I know it isn’t solely for sex, she’s more than that.
Part of me retraining her, rebuilding what was broken is to make her feel useful, and that means giving in a little bit to her desires, as long as they’re something I can yield on. Cleaning is definitely something I can yield on.
“Okay, Raisa. Your duties will be to keep the playroom clean, disinfected, and ready for us at all times. You’ll be required to clean it from top to bottom every day. Change the bedding, whether I sleep there, we fuck there, or not. I will have Panya deliver all of the cleaning supplies and bring in a few changes of sheets. She’ll continue to launder them and replenish your supply. She’ll always replenish your supply of shower towels. Otherwise, the room is yours to take care of. I expect it perfect, daily.”
I expect Raisa to blink, maybe look surprised by my instructions, but she doesn’t. Instead, her lips turn up into a giant grin that reaches her eyes.
“Yes, Sergei. I will make sure it is perfect every single day.”
Shaking my head, I stand, tugging her leash up. She immediately stands. I let the conversation die, she knows what is expected and she will deliver, or I will strip her of her duties. I have a feeling that would be a bigger punishment than anything physical I could give her.
Raisa gasps when her bare feet touch the grass. Glancing back at her, I wish that she were naked out here in the warmth. Deciding that’s exactly what I want from her, I guide her toward the rose gardens. They are spectacular and secluded. Mainly, because it’s where I come to think.
I’m not a man who has been surrounded by bountiful beauty in my life. I had a daughter once, she filled me with pride and joy, but my time with her was limited, then she was taken from me.
So, I come here to see color, bright beautiful color. To see something other than the constant gray of my life. Although since bringing Raisa home, the gray has started to disappear.
Once we’re nestled in my secluded garden, I stop in the middle and dip my chin to the ground. Raisa immediately drops to her knees, like the beautifully submissive creature she is. I think about what I’m going to do to her, how I want to be inside of her, which part of her body to take and I find that between her mouth and her pussy the decision is too difficult, so I’ll need both.
She opens her mouth, anticipating my desires and I smirk. Quickly, I unfasten my belt and pants, pushing them down my legs until I’m naked from the waist down. Raisa’s eyes don’t leave mine, not even as I run the head of my cock around her soft lips.
“Pull the top of your dress down, then hands behind your back, krasotka,” I instruct.
Her movements are quick yet graceful, her tits bouncing slightly when her top is tugged down, then her back arches as she clasps her elbows behind her back. Slowly, I sink my cock down her throat, my gaze staying glued to hers. I watch as her eyes roll in the back of her head when I’ve filled her completely, my balls resting against her chin.
Sliding my hand around the back of her head, I tangle my fingers into her soft dark hair and hold her. She doesn’t know everything she does to me. If she did, then our relationship would be compromised, because she means far more than she should.
I fuck her mouth, pulling out of her before slamming back inside of her waiting warm throat. Her eyes water with tears, and I smile when they eventually fall down her cheeks. Her nipples are hard little buds, begging to be bitten, clamped, and tortured. She loves this, which fills me with emotions I’m not used to.
Pulling out of her, I twist my fingers in her hair to hold her still.
She’s a fucking beautiful disaster of tears and saliva.
A mess just for me.
My mess.
I smirk, ready to take the rest of her, ready to see the sun kiss her completely naked flesh, to see the chrome in her cuffs and collar shine. I can’t fucking wait.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAISA
I lift my head, surprised to find that I’m not only still outside, but sprawled across Sergei’s naked chest. I’ve never slept with him before, not like this. I snuggle against his warm body a little more, trying to burrow into him. The sun has started to set, and with it, the warmth has started to fade as well. A breeze kisses my exposed skin and I shiver.
Sergei’s hands wrap around my back and stroke me. After I sucked him, he fucked me then he demanded I fuck him. Which is how I ended up spread out on top of him. I hug him a little closer, pressing my lips to the side of his neck.
He has a tattoo of a dagger, appearing to be stabbed into his neck, and coming out the other side. I’m fascinated by it. I lick the blue inked mark and he grunts. “If you knew what that was for, you would not kiss it,” he murmurs.
Lifting my head, my hair falls around our faces like a curtain, hiding us from the world. My eyes look directly into his blue ones and I smile. “We all have scars and marks, Sergei. Most of mine are just on the inside. You wear yours. I would kiss every square inch of them if I had your permission to do so,” I offer.
He lifts one of his hands and wraps it around the side of my neck. “You would not. That dagger is because I murdered a man while I was in prison,” he explains. “It also means that I was and still am available for hire to commit murder. Is that what you consider kissable?”
Sergei is daring me to be frightened of him, and perhaps I should be. I know what he is. I know he is Bratva, and they are all dangerous, no matter their stature or their status. However, with this beautiful estate as his own, staff, and the fact that his entire body is covered with blue inked markings, I know that he is high ranking.
I don’t answer him, with my eyes still on his, I lower my face and press my lips to his neck. My tongue peeks out and I taste him. In
a flash, I’m flipped onto my back. He fills me in one swift move. I moan from the sensation of his cock buried inside of me, perfection every single time.
His hands are next to my head, his arms straight and his hungry gaze on my own. “You know not what you do to me, Raisa,” he rasps.
I widen my legs, lifting them a bit higher and press my shins against his ribs. Sliding my hands up his chest, I hold onto his shoulders, onto each of his inked epaulets.
“I know what you do to me, Sergei. I know how you make me feel, and I know that as bad as you are, you are equally good,” I breathe.
He shakes his head, pulling out of me before slamming back inside. “If I were good, I would let you be free, krasotka,” he groans.
My nails dig into his skin at the thought of being free, of not being his. I shake my head, my face probably showing just how his words affect me. He leans down, his nose sliding alongside my own.
“Thank fuck I’m not good, yeah?” he rasps, grinding his pelvis against my clit.
I whimper, arching my back, pressing my breasts against his chest. “Yeah,” I breathe. We don’t say anything else, our bodies too lost in pleasure to speak. He fucks me, his pounding wonderfully merciless with each stroke.
“Come on, Raisa. Come all over me,” he growls.
I shiver from his demand, from his order, and immediately my sore pussy clamps down around his cock, and I come. He slams into me a few more times before he stills and fills me with his own release. His eyes stay glued to mine, never leaving, not even when he grunts with his climax.
“I’ll never be good, but I will always treat you with fairness, my slave,” he mutters.
My heart slams against my ribs. Slave. The word, it sucks my breath from my body. He’s putting me in my place without being cruel, without being obvious and I should appreciate it. I will, later. Right now, it hurts. I shouldn’t let it bother me, it is what I am, what I have always been. I don’t remember the life I had before I became a slave.
Sliding my hand from his shoulder to around the side of his neck, I gently squeeze. “As long as I am yours, that is all that matters,” I whisper.
He lowers his head, brushing his soft lips across my own, but doesn’t say anything else. He eases himself from my body, standing. He slowly begins to dress in front of me. I watch, shamelessly and when he’s finished, completely put back together, he dips his chin in a silent instruction for me to follow suit.
I slip the tiny tube dress up my body as I stand and wait for him. “You will eat dinner alone tonight. I need to make a few phone calls. I will see you tomorrow morning,” he explains as he walks me toward the house.
I don’t question him, as badly as I want to, I don’t say a word. I wonder if the spell, if our openness and affection is now over. I went too far, we went too far. He needs to rein in control, and he’s going to do it by taking himself away from me. My chest aches with the thought. I know it’s coming and there is nothing I can do to stop it. The magic spell is now broken.
Our easiness, our comfort, it’s over. It’s all my fault. We’re too familiar. He’s going to push me away now. Lowering my head, I watch my feet as I walk through the grass, knowing that this will probably be one of the last times I’m able to feel the blades between my toes.
Once we’re inside of the house, he takes me to my room and wordlessly unhooks my chain then he pushes the door open. He doesn’t follow me inside. He shuts the door behind me, locking it tightly. I stand looking around the room and it hasn’t seemed so empty before now. Something has changed, something has shifted, and all I want to do is cry.
SERGEI
Walking away from Raisa, I know that I’m making a mistake. Reminding her of her status, as slave, was for my benefit, not her own. I shouldn’t have said a goddamn word. She knows what she is, she has since she was fourteen years old. I’m letting her in too far, too far past my wall.
I need space.
Leaving her alone in the playroom feels wrong, being with her feels like too much though. I feel too goddamn vulnerable around her. The problem is that with her… I feel.
Walking into my office, I sit down in my chair, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. I need quiet. I need silence. I need to get this woman out of my fucking head.
My solitude doesn’t last long. There’s a knock on my door a few minutes later. Cracking one eye open, I call for whoever is on the other side to come in. Walking through my doorway is Katrina. I didn’t expect to see her again so soon. Looking at her face has my body locking up, she looks terrified.
“Sergei,” she whispers.
“Tell me,” I bark.
She shakes her head, sitting down in the chair across from mine. She dashes a tear away from beneath her eye. She sucks in a ragged breath, lifting her eyes to my own before she speaks. “Zakhar Shvernik knows that I’m involved in the disappearance of Raisa. I don’t know how he figured it out, I was careful,” she explains.
“How do you know this?” I ask.
She lets out a heavy sigh, the weight of the world seemingly resting on her shoulders. “One of my girls is missing. One of the subs in my employ. Since starting at the club, she’s never left for more than an hour or two to run an errand. She walked out yesterday morning and hasn’t been back. She doesn’t even have a car, Sergei.”
I nod, her words ringing loud and clear inside of my head. “Which girl?” I ask.
“Lusha,” she whispers.
I know exactly which girl she’s referring to. I’ve had her, several times. She was always a favorite of mine. I know she would not leave Katrina willingly. Lusha’s life with Katrina is better than she’s ever had. She is a favorite of Katrina’s as well.
Their relationship I’m not sure of, but I’ve heard rumors that Katrina holds a special affection for Lusha. She was born into the Bratva, whored out at a young age, the safety that the club brings her, the protection Katrina brings her, is not something she would ever attempt to throw away.
“Do you think he knew she was Bratva?” I ask.
Katrina shakes her head. “I don’t know. Enough money could buy information though, Sergei, you know that.”
I agree, and Zakhar has enough money to find out that information. “I am going to schedule a sit down,” I decide.
“No,” she pleads. “Do not put yourself or Raisa, on his radar.”
I chuckle, finding her concern overly sweet. However, I would never jeopardize Raisa, and I am no secret to Zakhar. “You need me to make a statement, Katrina. That statement being that I back you and your club. He needs to know this. I am not afraid of the little fucker.”
She shakes her head over and over, unable to stop the motion as tears fall from her eyes, and down her cheeks. “Think of Raisa,” she pleads.
I lift my hand, slamming it down on my desk and causing her to jump. “I am the boss. I will do as I please, Katrina. Nobody will tell me otherwise. I’ll sell Raisa if I please, I’ll use her, abuse her, or dump her somewhere. It is none of your concern what I do with my property.”
Katrina lifts her hand to her mouth as she stands to her feet. Her eyes change from sad to anger and she places her palm on the edge of my desk, leaning forward in an attempt to assert her feeble dominance.
“You swore you would take care of her, Sergei. If you cannot uphold your end of the agreement I want her back,” she demands.
I bark out a harsh laugh, my gaze cutting to her. “You cannot keep the women you employ safe, Katrina. What makes you think that you can keep a slave you kidnapped safe?”
Her eyes narrow and she leaves my office without saying a word. I don’t follow after her or attempt to explain myself. I’m the one in charge here, not her. The second she handed Raisa to me, she left her in my care.
Picking up my cell I call Nikolai. “Boss,” he rumbles.
“Set up a meet with Shvernik. Tonight,” I demand.
Nikolai doesn’t respond, he ends the call and I know he’s doing what I’ve demanded. I sit in my c
hair, staring at my blank computer screen as I think about Katrina, Raisa, and Zakhar. It was coming, this meet with Zakhar. It’s just happening sooner than I was prepared for. It’s a good thing though. I need him to know that I’m watching him, that I’ll be watching him. I need him to understand who is the one in control here. If he thinks it’s him, I have a goddamn surprise in store.
My phone dances against my desk a few minutes later and I pick it up. “Tonight ten, at Katrina’s club,” he mutters.
“Who came up with the place?” I ask.
Nikolai chuckles. “He did, naturally.”
“You know, Katrina thinks he took Lusha. She’s been missing since yesterday morning.”
I hear Nikolai curse. “I didn’t. He’s picked that place for a fucking reason, boss. What in the fuck is his endgame?”
“To be the king of Moscow. He thinks he’s going to replace the man I took from power. He thinks he’s going to replace me. He is stupid, young, and cocky as fuck.”
Nikolai mutters an agreement and I end the call, requesting he pick me up at my country home two hours before the meet. Powering on my computer, I pick up my office phone and call Oliver.
“I haven’t received my last payment in full yet,” he grumbles on the other end of the line.
I snort. “It’s on the way. I need you to get me everything you can on Zakhar Shvernik, and I do mean everything.”
He chuckles, and I hear a rustling sound. “That man is evil reincarnate,” he mutters. “The little I did dig into him was frightening, Sergei.”
I flat out laugh into the phone. Nobody frightens me, not a single fucking person on this earth. Not even Raisa. My emotions toward her make me uneasy, but nothing scares me. Zakhar certainly does not scare me.
“I want it all, Oliver. There is a woman missing from the club here. An employee, not a guest. He’s the prime suspect. I’m having a meet with him later tonight. I need everything,” I explain.
Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11) Page 8
