My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3)

by Michaels, Megan

  “Stick your bottom out. You know better than that, you’re receiving three from the paddle for that bit of disobedience. Bottom out!”

  She sobbed pitifully — he’d finish soon. She dipped her back, that luscious ass spreading. He slapped the crest of her backside several times, quickly finishing with the hard ending volley. She’d dropped her forehead to the seat of the couch, sobbing quietly.

  Done.

  He thread the belt back into his pants, watching her compose herself. She took deep breaths, exhaling slowly. She’d calmed down enough that they could progress to the next step.

  “Take your pants and panties off completely, and then walk upstairs to our room.” She hated this part. Hated walking up the stairs partially naked, with her red, freshly spanked ass right in front of his face, knowing he’d be watching her jiggle and sway with each step. And this was why he’d made it a common part of their punishment sessions.

  The seam of her ass still milky white, a stark contrast to the bright red of her inflamed bottom, as she lifted legs one-by-one to untangle her pants wadded at her ankles. She stood, turning slowly looking adorably embarrassed, her cheeks red with her blush. He pointed toward the kitchen, for her to walk in front of him.

  “Move slowly.” She halted, forcing herself to move at a more measured pace, having been punished for disobedience in that regard before. Jason made sure to stay at least two paces behind her on the stairs to have a perfect view of her pear-shaped ass sashaying up each step. Each wobble and jiggle had his cock turning to steel, throbbing, seeking release. He’d never tire of fucking that woman, squeezing and plumping each cheek while pounding into her.

  She entered their room, standing with her head down, waiting for further instruction.

  He walked past her to their dresser, pulling out the large oak paddle from the implement drawer, placing it on the bed. Her eyes glued to it, worrying her lip between her teeth.

  “Get the dress.”

  Subconsciously she cupped her ass, remembering the rule about no rubbing, yanking them away again.

  “That’s four with the paddle.”

  She resolutely walked to the walk-in closet, coming out with a sexy fire engine red dress that he had no doubt she’d look amazing in, but she’d be returning it as soon as her paddling was over. He took it from her, hooking it over the door, which meant it would hang in her view from the corner.

  “Stand in the corner.”

  She stood with the red dress within inches of her face, and Jason sat on the bed enjoying the view of her ass. She usually did well with the bills, but at least once a year she’d miscalculate or lose an envelope, causing a painful lesson to be doled out.

  Having waited ten minutes, he called her. “Come bend over the bed, Karen.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Bending over, clutching the bedspread between her fingers, she rested her head on the bed. He lifted the heavy, oak paddle, the handle fit his hand perfectly. He tapped her bottom, her body going rigid in anticipation.

  “Breathe, girl.” As soon as she inhaled, he swatted her twice on each cheek — hard and fast. She screamed on the last one unable to hold her reaction.

  “It’s over. I’m sure you’ll do fine with the checkbook, but you’ll be returning that dress after your nap. Clear?”

  “B-but it looks so—”

  “Do I need to start a second lesson with you? Is that what you want?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He unzipped his pants, letting his cock out. She rose looking over her shoulder as soon as she heard the metal teeth, smiling, subconsciously licking her lips. Jason slid the head through her slick lips, coating himself with her warm sticky juices before thrusting into her. Her head rose, eyes closed, mouth open, sighing at the intrusion.

  Her walls rippled around him, squeezing and quivering, taking his breath away, he grit his teeth, restraining himself from spilling his seed too soon. His hands squeezed her hot flesh, her cries of pain from the unwanted attention to the area causing his penis to twitch inside her, bouncing off her slick flesh.

  She rose up on her hands, pushing her ass back, bouncing her soft flesh off his hard groin, the slapping and moist sounds of sex filling the bedroom. He inhaled her spicy scent, pistoning, his ass clenching on each forward thrust, her keening coming faster and louder until she shouted, “Permission, Sir.”

  “Yes!” It was all he could muster in his pre-ejaculation state. His body went rigid, spilling his seed into her just as she screamed, locking his cock into a vice-like grip. He groaned in ecstasy and pain, throwing his head back until the soft tremors and quakes of her residual orgasm stroked him like a soft blanket, winding down, until he opened his eyes again, seeing the world through sexual haze.

  He slapped her ass as he pulled his semi-erect cock out. “Time for your nap, girl.”

  She didn’t fight him, she knew she’d be asleep within moments.

  “I’ll wake you up so you can return the dress before the store closes. You won’t do this again, will you?”

  “No, Sir. Never.”

  He chuckled at her seriousness. “I have no doubt that you mean it. But, I’m just as sure you’ll find something else to get paddled for. Sorry, girl, but you can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”

  He kissed her forehead, tucking the blanket around her shoulder, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  Maxim prepared dinner, thinking about the past two weeks of employment with Caroline. He’d established enough of a morning routine that Caroline stopped having her fits every day. She woke up with enough time to spare to eat a healthy breakfast, drinking her coffee before she left for work. Her refrigerator had been stocked with food for snacks, and for those days when she might forget her lunch.

  Maxim had taken her weight and measurements and instituted a workout regimen for her to follow every day after she came home from the office. Since she wasn’t a morning person, it had been decided she’d exercise in the evening.

  Even though it had only been a couple weeks, she already seemed to be either losing weight, or toning up — or both. He told her that they wouldn’t be doing a weekly weigh-in or measurement session. He didn’t see a benefit in that, and such a regime might actually discourage her. The body needed time to settle, and change didn’t occur that quickly. Better to wait and let her see real results.

  Tonight, he’d be talking to her when she returned home from work about her treatment of her employees. No one should treat people the way she did, and he would make her stop — one way or another. From the little interaction he’d observed between Caroline and her staff, along with talking to a few of them over the course of his first two weeks at her house, the dynamic was not at all healthy. Her staff largely viewed her as mean and insensitive, most of the time.

  The elevator dinged, and a moment later Caroline called out, “Maxim, I’m home!”

  “Come. I am cooking dinner.”

  “This smells amazing!” She closed her eyes, sniffing loudly.

  “You have time to go change, I will finish up soon and will be ready when you come back.”

  “That sounds fabulous. I’ll be right back.” She stood and rounded the island, heading toward her room.

  “Hey, before you go, leave your badge so we aren’t looking for it tomorrow.” She pulled the badge’s lanyard up and over her head, placing it on the counter before him.

  As soon as she left the room, he examined the badge, removing the small button he’d secretly pinned to it over the weekend. Unbeknownst to Caroline, it was a camera that had been taping her interactions with her staff for the past three days. He’d been watching off and on during the day, and had put together a little presentation for her to watch on her laptop. The best learning tool around was watching your own behavior.

  He could think of a few other methods that also worked in changing bad conduct, but this would be a good way to start.

  * * *

  “
That salmon smells amazing, Maxim.” She really enjoyed having dinner made for her every night. The burden of trying to eat healthy, yet not having the energy to cook it herself, had been taken care of nicely with the hiring of the handsome Russian. He’d proven to be an interesting person. She enjoyed their conversations together at dinner.

  He’d been educated in Moscow, but having lived in New York City for years before, he had knowledge of American customs and foods. He was well-rounded, intelligent, and kind. Yet, there was an intriguing quality about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She swore she’d met him somewhere before, but when they’d discussed where he lived and worked in New York, nothing really rang a bell. Certainly, New York was a huge city and it was easy to miss certain areas, but still she was convinced.

  “Come. Sit. It’s just about ready.” She took a seat at one of the stools at the island counter, the varnished cherry wood cool against her backside. Eating at the informal dining area in the kitchen had become habit for them most nights. It was comfortable and easy, not intimidating in the least — and she got to watch him prepare the food. She loved watching him using the knives in a deft, precise way she knew she could never hope to match. His talent amazed her.

  He slid a glass of white wine in front of her, flipping the salmon, putting the salad and tabbouleh on the plate before sliding the hot salmon next to it along with some fresh wasabi. He sat down next to her and they sipped their wine, eating dinner and talking about her day, world and national events, even Hollywood gossip, until both were full and sated.

  Caroline pushed her plate away, dropping her napkin onto it. She looked at him, her eyes hooded from the wine. “I could get used to having you here. I enjoy you. You’re a very interesting man, Maxim.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it, Caro. I like you too.” He waved his arm at all the dishes on the stove and counter. “Let me get all of this out of the way.”

  Finishing the last of his wine, he stood, clearing and cleaning the counter. Making quick work of the mess, he turned to her, wiping his hands with a dishtowel. “Before we have dessert, I want to have a serious discussion.” He slid the laptop in front of them as he pushed back into the barstool next to her.

  She swallowed, watching him intently. “Okay.”

  What did I do?

  She felt guilty, and wasn’t even sure why. He looked so serious setting up the laptop in front of her.

  “You know how we’ve been discussing that your attitude and emotions affect the body? That it can influence your cravings and eating as well as how your metabolism functions?”

  “Yes.”

  Where this was going?

  He cleared his throat, leaning his large muscled arm on the back of the barstool. “Well, I did something that I’ve done with other clients — something you didn’t know about. I had to do it this way though because it only works if you are unaware.”

  He leaned over and picked up what appeared to be a button battery that was sitting on the counter. “I put this on your work badge. It’s a camera, and it has been sending a feed to my laptop since Monday. It’s voice activated, so it only tapes when you speak.”

  Her heart began to race, and she felt a bit dizzy. Here it was again. Men simply could not be trusted. He had invaded her privacy and taped her without her permission. “You did what? Are you serious?” She rose from her chair. “I should have you arrested.”

  He grabbed her arm and growled. “Sit.”

  She hadn’t planned on sitting, but the sound of his voice made her fear what might come if she continued her defiance.

  “I’ve done this before with other clients. It works, Caroline. It’s a good lesson on how you feel, what your emotions are, and how you interact with others.”

  “But I didn’t know you did it. You should’ve told me. You broke my trust. I could fire you for this, you know!” Her heart continued to race, pounding in her chest, making it hard to catch her breath. Hot tears welled in her eyes.

  “Yes. You could fire me or call the police. Is that what you want to do?” He sat waiting for her to answer the question.

  She knew she probably should get rid of him. She’d fired people for much less than this. But she really liked him, and had grown used to having someone to talk to in the evening. In a shockingly short span of time, she’d become attached to him in some weird way. His opinion mattered. She found herself doing things to please him, hoping for even the smallest sign from him that she’d made him proud.

  Why would you need him to be proud of you?

  “No. It’s not what I want to do. But I just feel... I don’t know. It’s so fucking dishonest.” She crossed her arms over her chest, staring angrily at his neck, unable to actually make eye contact with him.

  “Answer one question. If you knew the camera was on you, would you have changed how you spoke and acted with staff?”

  She glared at him in silence, while inside she agonized over what to do. She wanted to say the answer was no — but she knew she would have acted completely different. And that was the reason she felt so upset. She’d be embarrassed and feel shame at her behavior. “Yes. I probably would have changed my behavior… if I had known.”

  “And that right there, Lena, is your answer. First, I couldn’t tell you and get an honest reading of your emotions at work. Second, if you know you would have changed how you spoke and acted, what does that say about your emotions and behavior at work? Mmm?” He lifted an eyebrow at her, letting her process the questions.

  “It says that sometimes I’m… not nice.”

  “Let’s take a look and see.” He slid the computer closer to her to enable her to get a better look, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he hit the play button.

  The first video that popped up was of her and Sammi.

  “Should I get you a coffee from Starbucks? I mean… Maxim probably has said you shouldn’t drink those. They have a ton of sugar and fat in them, right?” Sammi looked afraid, her eyes were large and there was a slight tremble to her voice. Caroline had never noticed that before. How had she missed that?

  “I don’t care what he wants. He’s not here. Do you see him here? I don’t. What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Fuck him. Get me my coffee. Now!” She snuck a glance at Maxim part way through her onscreen rant. He had that tic in his jaw that men get when they were upset. The screech of her own voice made her cringe inside.

  Mean.

  Her eyes had narrowed, and watching the playback of her disregard for both Maxim and Sammi bothered her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She didn’t want people to be afraid of her. She wanted them to have a healthy respect, yes, but not fear.

  Maxim paused the video, sitting quietly, letting her caustic words sink in. “It feels pretty awful to see yourself that way, I’m sure.”

  “It does.” She played with the seam on her skirt, pulling at a small piece of thread. No wonder she had a hard time keeping a boyfriend. Just when she thought she might be able to meet someone or have a relationship with Maxim, she screws things up. He’d be totally turned off from her after this.

  “There’s more.” He reached out and pressed play again.

  This time the video showed a conversation with another office employee named Joe. They were in the conference room after a meeting, discussing a deadline. Everyone had gone home, leaving her and Joe alone.

  “Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything but this damn deadline. I have to present a finished product by Friday. If you have to live here until Friday, or stay up all night, this has to be done. No excuses. Either I have it Friday morning, or you’re fired. Is that clear?” Again, her voice screeched. She hadn’t even tried to say it calmly or rationally. She’d practically shouted at the man in a bitchy, mean voice.

  Joe stared at her and then said, “My son has his last ball game Thursday. I promised him I’d be there.”

  “Go! By all means, go to the game. Don’t let me stop you. But you better fucking get that projec
t to me the next day, or that ball game is the last fun thing that happens to you this week. I’m not saying you can’t go, but that damn project has to come first.”

  Maxim paused the video. She remembered feeling bad almost the instant the cruel words had left her lips. Her father had missed so many of her own games and plays. That fact had caused more than a little bitterness in her. But she couldn’t miss her deadline.

  “What were you feeling as you watched that?” His calm voice held perhaps a hint of sympathy.

  She looked at him, relieved at what she saw in his expression. Yes, he was disappointed, but he wasn’t angry. She’d expected to see rage, even disgust in his gaze.

  “I feel bad. I didn’t want him to miss the game. I really didn’t. But I needed to meet my deadline. I didn’t know what to do.” Her eyes filled with tears, a few spilling down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away.

  Reaching over to the tissue box, he pulled a couple of them out, pressing them into her hand. “Do you know that anger is sometimes result of fear? Not always, but many times. You were afraid of missing your deadline. It is understandable. What is not understandable is making someone feel like that. He must have felt terrible.” He lifted her chin with his hand. “Do you see how you probably hurt him, and made him angry in response?”

  “Yes, Sir. I just... I did it wrong.”

  “Yes, you did. If you had been supportive and instead said, ‘Absolutely. Don’t even think of missing his game. I wouldn’t want you to break a promise at all. But would you be willing to work late every night the rest of this week? I’ll pay you overtime. This project is so important to us as a company. Is that possible?’” Maxim tilted his head. “How do you think he would’ve reacted to that response?”

  “Joe’s a good guy. He would’ve worked late every night, I have no doubt.” She blew her nose, noticing that her hands were shaking.

  “Why did you respond in such an angry way then?”