Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  Like everything else, Russians didn't fool around with sex. They fucked passionately, in love or lust, pounding springs and flesh to a beautifully chaotic release.

  Dmitri didn't make the mystery gal moan and gasp in their frenzied lovemaking. He made her scream.

  I lay awake until dawn, wondering if he was torturing her. My ears pricked up and heated beet red as I listened to her call out to God again and again, before her pleas melted into a shriller orgasmic chorus.

  The jealousy I remembered from hearing their tryst surged. I stared at him, feeling a little more relaxed, alone together in the night's quiet.

  Goosebumps bristled my flesh. The Russian stepped forward, wondering why I hadn't answered.

  “Is everything alright? Boris is perfectly capable of getting you anything you need during the night. You know this, yes?”

  I nodded. “It's not that. I'm just surprised to see you awake right now. This isn't my first walk through the house at this hour...”

  His eyebrows quirked up, the same as his masculine lips. Dmitri never revealed too much, even when we sat down for dinners and opera – the expensive, foreign recorded performances he insisted on watching instead of action flicks or comedies.

  “A man has his best thoughts in the dark of night. Regrets, worries, re-living old victories. Everything I have in this room is...comforting.” His English was impeccable, but on certain words steeped in emotion, he sometimes paused, choosing them very carefully.

  My eyes returned to the tiger. Somehow, the vicious grin forever frozen on its face didn't look too comforting.

  “I shot it myself,” he said. “Happened shortly after leaving the army, soon after Germany unified and we were all called home from our bases. An old comrade I knew in Afghanistan took me on the hunt, deep in Siberia.”

  He swirled the vodka and raised it to his lips. I smiled mischievously, wishing I could taste it myself.

  Soon. Russia doesn't have our stupid drinking laws. I'm nineteen years young, and that's plenty old here.

  “We didn't see the animals for days,” he continued.

  “It was winter, shortly after that little village in the taiga we stayed in celebrated New Years. We were about to retire for another day. Tired, cold, and empty handed. Then I turned and saw its golden eyes peering through the darkness, angry and ready to cut my friend to pieces. I raised my gun...”

  He made a motion like putting up a rifle. My heartbeat quickened at the tension in his words, neatly concealed behind that charming accent.

  “I got this after I mounted the tiger's head and kept its skin.” He pulled his robe aside, exposing more of his hard pecs.

  A striped tiger's paw was stamped on his chest in dark ink. The tattoo drew my eyes like an unexpected burst of fireworks.

  “You've had so many great experiences.” I shook my head.

  I had a feeling I'd barely scratched the surface. Even before we left America, Dmitri entertained us every night, telling us all about his poor life in a Ural village, his Red Army days, the way he'd funneled supplies into his whole province when Soviet infrastructure collapsed.

  He fed and clothed half a million people with charity and sharp business sense. They rewarded him with a fortune.

  How the heck can silly old Masha come from this man?

  The lone unanswered question lingered in my mind. Smiling, he pushed his robe closed and raised one hand, inviting me deeper into his private study.

  I watched his broad shoulders bob as he walked to the table where he stationed his refreshments. He poured hot water from a samovar's spigot and gave me a sweet citrus tea I was starting to like.

  “What's troubling you, little Janie? What keeps you up, prowling my halls? When I was your age, everybody worked themselves to the bone all day. Men and women alike. Youth collapsed in darkness, too tired to even drink or fuck.”

  I blushed and almost snorted out my tea. Hearing the crude word from this refined Russian oligarch's mouth was like finding fool's gold in Red Square.

  It also took the edge off how he made me feel like a shadow, an inadequate little girl, the very thing he called me, too paralyzed to really live her life in any meaningful way.

  Well, Mister Adventurer, maybe it's time I took a page from your book.

  “I'm restless, Dmitri. I want to get out and explore the country. It's such a big change for me. Jesus, I haven't even figured out when I'm going to take Russian lessons.”

  He chuckled. “I'll help teach you myself one day. Provided you start calling me Mister Yezhov like a good, respectful Russian girl should.”

  I sipped my tea and smiled, sloshing the sweet, sunny liquid in my mouth. I thought he was joking, but his face said otherwise.

  “Have patience, little Janie. You'll get to the streets in good time when Masha returns. Perhaps I'll send you out with Boris or bring on another assistant, just for you two. This country isn't nearly as bad as it was ten years ago, but the streets aren't safe at night.”

  “What if I want to go alone? Or only with Masha and nobody else?”

  “Nyet.” His big hands stiffened on his knees, hiking up his robe little by little, almost enough for me to see the hard bulge in his middle.

  Holy shit. Is he really naked under that thing?

  I gulped more tea. I didn't want to imagine the punishment I'd get if Dmitri knew I was thinking about him in such a naughty way.

  Or did I?

  If I really understood anything about him, he was a conservative, traditional man. He believed in the old ways. On the other side of the room, a Cossack sword inherited from an ancestor, a gold Orthodox cross, and an old portrait of the Tsar exposed his inner beliefs.

  “Maybe we can work this out later,” I said softly, nervously wetting my lips. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He relaxed and sat back in his chair, blanketing me in a stare that burned almost as hot as the big fire next to us.

  “Do you miss your wife?”

  “Very bold.” He smiled, seemingly pleased and surprised. “Every single day. We married for the same reason everyone does, even in the West. I married my sweet Nastya for love. We loved and warmed each other like no one else, and she still touches me to this day.”

  His face darkened. Sad, but disconnected too, as though I'd awakened long lost memories.

  I shook my head. Total disbelief echoed through my brain.

  Do you really think I didn't hear you with her the other night? I wanted to scream it.

  If he were anybody except a hulking Russian man sculpted like a perfect statue, I would've told him to cut the crap.

  “Funny, you don't seem like a soft romantic. Never heard of any romantic going after random hookups and whores.” I softened my tone as much as I could, gingerly balancing my words to avoid pissing him off, without losing my one shot at the truth.

  “Whores? Oh, you mean my beautiful friend. My lover, brought here to satisfy the animal within.” He turned toward the fire.

  “She satisfies my needs. Nothing more. But I have hungers even she can't reach...”

  Is that...pain in his eyes?

  Despite the hot, uncomfortable silence, a chill swept up my spine. I wondered what could hurt this cutthroat warrior and empire builder.

  Can't money buy everything? Why should he have any hungers go unsatisfied?

  “God has a special fate for every one of us, little devochka. No matter our wishes or our desires.” He turned his eyes briefly to the high ceiling, as if searching the heavens for his destiny.

  “I picked Natasha for her beauty and expensive price. Top tier in this city. It also helps that she's a wonderful submissive.”

  I coughed. Thankfully, my tea had cooled and didn't burn, but it was like drinking something acrid and overly hot just the same.

  “Submissive?”

  He looked at me again, a coy smile forming on his lips. My eyes wandered lower.

  I didn't dare stare at his lap long enough to be sure, but it looked like something the
re was growing harder, obviously aroused at the memories he'd made in the bedroom with his high class hooker.

  Fuck.

  I gripped the armrests tightly. Any sane woman would've hated the way he was looking at me, but I adored it.

  It made me feel feverish with delight. And I loved it just the same, however crazy.

  “You are too young to understand these things, little girl. Besides, I shouldn't be discussing what goes on behind closed doors with you, my young friend. Having the right woman is very, very important to me. And very private.”

  He stood, smoothing his robe until it buried the lump below his waist.

  “The average Russian woman doesn't understand pleasure and submission like Natasha. Perhaps I would've had better luck if I stayed in America longer. What's rare for Russian girls seems natural for a beautiful and intelligent American girl.”

  I pressed my thighs together. Wet heat flared.

  I figured this man offered a sort of forbidden fruit to women, the same way he drew me to him, but now I was beginning to realize just how taboo and wild that fruit tasted.

  “If she's so great...then why aren't you with her right now?” His face hardened as I asked the question. “You have the money to buy her every night, don't you?”

  “You are a nosy little girl, aren't you?” I watched his large chest rise and fall, heavy with a sigh. “My submissive is very beautiful for her age and in perfect health. Except that she's barren inside.”

  Again, the tea changed, bitter and hot. So, it was more than just a passing affair, a fling marriage that might be annulled after either of them got bored.

  I held my breath and slowly released it. All I could think about was how dumbfounded Masha would be if she wound up with a little brother or sister young enough to be her daughter. Or rather, how she would've had one, if this whore was capable of giving him what he wanted.

  Dmitri's bright colorful eyes stared deeply into mine. As if he had a sixth sense, I swore I felt the moment when he sensed my realization.

  “Don't be concerned. We will work things out. There's always a way to solve any problem, even if it takes time and energy. I worship my submissives, taking them to greater heights than a sweet young girl like you should imagine. And they give me total loyalty. Everything. Even if they cannot give me what I really need...”

  “I'm glad,” I said smartly.

  Still numb by all this, I didn't rise until he motioned. I set my empty tea cup down and flushed with embarrassment.

  “I'm sorry. It's probably time for me to go to sleep now.”

  “You're very pretty for a young girl, Janie. A young woman...” He stood, taking several steps toward me. “Please, promise me one thing.”

  His arms went around me. We had never really touched before. Never like this.

  Instant heat exploded, meandering through me like warm honey, thick and sticky sweet. I lowered my face to his shoulders, cheek stroking the soft robe, and inhaled his scent.

  Oh my. No boy in High School smelled like this. Not even the popular guys I danced with a couple times...

  “Anything.” I said, without thinking about my words.

  I looked up and met his eyes. His bright pupils became hungrier, and I sensed him devouring my light, eager to draw me into his unbelievable life.

  One more stark experience. One more conquest.

  And a part of me deep inside – a big part – actually wanted it. Just as long as I was his final submissive, his very last triumph.

  Everything. I can give you that.

  “I know you're a virgin, pure as you are beautiful.” He showed his perfect white teeth. New redness swiftly painted my cheeks.

  “But please, don't throw it away on just anyone. You deserve a real man. When you go out on the streets, don't be fooled the stupid boys here. Russia has its share of worthless pretenders, just like in America, though they may be harder for you to see them in this country...”

  “I'll remember that. Thank you.”

  “Now, go back to bed, my little beauty. In the morning, I'll find you someone to show you and Masha the best Moscow has to offer. Just remember – they will be answering to me.”

  He escorted me to the door and ran his hand down my back one last time before I left, like a large cat pawing at something delicious. I stood in the hall, dazed as the door closed behind me.

  Back in my room, I rolled in my sheets, trying to convince myself the bizarre conversation had really happened. It sank into my brain and made me think about lots of things, but mostly sex.

  Sex! What would fucking Dmitri Vladimirovich Yezhov be like?

  All the sounds stamped on my brain ignited my desires, throbbing and real as the late summer heat. I thought about him with my imaginary version of Natasha. Dreaming about Dmitri moving with passion and fury ignited my fire, but seeing her, another woman, doused everything.

  Frustrated, I threw my blanket off. I let my hand wander beneath my gown, through the elastic strip on my panties, toward that demanding little nub that had never been touched by a man's fingers, tongue, or erection.

  I rubbed my lips raw with my teeth. I masturbated like meditating, using the extra energy conjured by lust to fuel my memories and my imagination.

  I touched myself hard and watched them fucking in my mind, despising my virginity the entire time. When I came, all I saw was Dmitri in my mind, smashing a me into the sheets, jabbing his hips forward the same way he hunted and made money.

  Ruthlessly.

  Being a virgin is pure and beautiful? He's got that wrong. Totally wrong.

  I breathed deep, my flesh sticky and slick with guilt. I shouldn't have been having these thoughts about my best friend's father at all.

  But I'd gone too far to stop them. For now, all that mattered was living, and thinking about what my virginity really represented stacked up against his brute experience in sex and domination.

  Being a virgin when you're young and alive is a fucking crime. Almost as big a crime as that beautiful man wasting his seed where it can never take root.

  II: Carnal Discoveries

  It took Dmitri a couple weeks to take on some new staff. I was introduced to Mikhail, a balding middle aged man who looked like a former spy.

  Masha returned shortly after. I learned her father was planning to send her to a fine academy in St. Petersburg, where she'd learn to mix business and the fine arts come winter.

  Mikhail's new presence didn't phase her. After a lifetime of pampering and servants, she was used to one more servant.

  Having a dead eyed, stilted man chauffeuring us around wasn't ideal. But if it meant exploring beyond the mansion's walls, then I'd suffer through his creepy aura all evening.

  One night, just as the autumn air filled with the world famous Russian chill, Masha pressed the button to lower the glass separating the limo's front and back.

  “Mikhail?”

  “Da?” He answered, curt and demanding as he looked at our reflections.

  “Let's go where the young people hang out.” Masha gave me a sly smile. “We wanna party tonight.”

  I tensed, watching his bright eyes flash toward mine in the mirror.

  Please tell me Dmitri doesn't have any special orders on file. I need to make some friends. Maybe a boyfriend or two...

  “You are sure about this, Miss Yezhov?” His dark eyes narrowed, but betrayed nothing, as unblinking and deadpan as his tone.

  “You heard the lady,” I said, my courage rising. “I want to see the finest club in Moscow. Chop chop!”

  I scissored my hands together and giggled nervously. Maybe if I acted like my beautiful friend, I'd start to feel more confident.

  And boldness was what I needed in stratified Moscow, where divisions ran deep between oligarchs and modern peasants.

  Mikhail didn't answer. Our handler simply tapped the button on his end and raised the glass.

  It wasn't until we turned down a narrow alley that I realized he had gotten the message. My heart swelle
d and sang.

  I was so happy I could've leaned in and kissed our driver right on his cold bald head if the glass wasn't between us!

  Masha raked her sharp rainbow tinted fingernails over my hand. “We're going to have so much fun tonight! I hope you remembered the condoms.”

  I looked at her in shock, unsure whether or not she was joking. The sly smile on her face revealed nothing.

  Her small teeth showed from the small slit in her lips. Perfect, just like her father's.

  Soon, my eyes were twinkling with neon rainbows far brighter than my best friend's nails.

  Pinks, cobalt blues, and seaweed greens raced across my eyes, bursting from their neon cases and spilling their magical hues across the shadowy Moscow landscape.

  The city was a strange place for a young Russian girl, but doubly so for a foreigner. The streets divided the business, entertainment, and the administrative sectors where hard faced men conspired to make their Motherland a great world power again.

  But the Krokodil Club sat on the border, between all these places. From what I'd read, it's location made it a magnet for the most fascinating, debauched teens and twenty-somethings in the whole city.

  There, the daughters of moguls like Dmitri partied with bureaucrats' sons. It was also ground zero for foreigners like me – though most of them were far wealthier than I'd ever be. The first voices I heard when we stepped out twanged English with a London accent.

  A cold, firm hand fell on my shoulder as I stood in line. I turned and went a little pale.

  Mikhail stood behind me, tall and unsmiling. “Miss Kohl. The boss will not let you into the disco without me accompanying you. If you must go in there, perhaps we should speed things along.”

  Masha looked at me. We stared at each other in stunned silence.

  I watched him step out of line and walk straight up to the bouncers in their Secret Service sunglasses. A man with short cropped hair leaned in close to my attendant.

  His face tensed, relaxed, and then they both looked directly at me. Mikhail waved me forward, but it took several seconds to process what was happening.

  “I will be here near the entrance. Waiting and watching.”