Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11) Read online

  I chuckle. “You think of me as a monster, but it would only be for her benefit. She must believe she’s being sold to me, Katrina. She must know that she is mine.”

  Katrina makes a noise in the back of her throat, but she opens the door without hesitation. Stepping into the cool room I look around. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in here but the girl, the chains, a toilet and a sink in the corner.

  Making my way closer toward her, I stand in front of her small figure. She’s trembling, but like the trained slave she is, she doesn’t chance looking up at me.

  “Stand,” I demand.

  RAISA

  His voice is deep, raspy, and commanding. My legs automatically move without me even thinking the slightest bit about it. Shakily, I stand. I curse myself for my trembling legs. Pinching my eyes closed, I hope he doesn’t beat me for it. I hadn’t been on my knees for that long, it’s ridiculous.

  “Look at me,” he instructs. His voice is soothing, and I’m surprised that he isn’t screaming or hitting me with something.

  Lifting my eyes, I look directly into his cool blue gaze. My thighs tremble again, but for another reason. He’s really handsome. He’s older, probably closer to what my father’s age is, he looks anything but fatherly. I don’t look away from his intense gaze, even though my natural instinct is to look down. He has asked me to keep my eyes up, and I don’t want to disappoint him.

  He lifts his hand, his finger tracing my hairline, down to my chin, then my lips.

  “Open,” he demands.

  My mouth automatically opens as he slides his finger inside. I don’t move, waiting for him to give further instructions. He slides his finger along my teeth, and gums, then slowly pushes it down my throat.

  “No gag reflex, good girl,” he praises. “Now, suck,” he orders.

  My lips close around his finger and with my eyes on his, I suck. He smirks and nods, a silent instruction for me to release him, which I do. I hold my breath, waiting for more demands, further examination. His wet finger slides down my throat, then toward my nipple.

  He pinches my nipple and roughly tugs. Automatically I moan, my head falling back. He chuckles, then I gasp when I feel two fingers slide inside of me. “Wet from just a little nipple tug. My God,” he grunts.

  I feel his fingers scissor inside of me before he slips them from me. “Not too tight, but not too loose, she’s been played, fucked, but not stretched,” he announces.

  My cheeks tint pink at his observance of my center. If he notices my obvious embarrassment, he doesn’t call me on it, or mention it.

  “Bend over a bit,” he demands, walking behind me. I do as I’m told, sticking my ass out and bending over without a second thought as to what is coming. I already know.

  His fingers press against my back entrance and massage me before they slip inside. It feels amazing, having him fill me. He isn’t rough, or cruel, as he eases into me. “Ass is the same. Prepared, but not abused and stretched,” he announces to the woman at the doorway.

  He pumps in and out of me a few times and I can’t help but push back as my silent beg for more of his touch. He hums, his other hand grabbing ahold of one of my cheeks and squeezing. “Ass is firm but could be plumper,” he states, his voice a bit gruffer as he gently pulls his fingers from my back entrance. I try not to whimper at the loss of him.

  My head hangs as I watch his shoes appear in front of me, again.

  “Unchain her, I’ll take her,” he says.

  The woman makes a noise, but all I can do is breathe. He wraps his hand around my jaw and forces my neck back as the woman’s heels click against the concrete flooring in the room.

  “You’re mine now,” he states, his eyes searching mine.

  “Yes, sir,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “Yes, Master,” he corrects. He smiles as his thumb runs along my bottom lip. “Moy priz,” he rasps, calling me his prize.

  I shiver at his word, at his term of endearment. I’m not a prize, and I don’t know why he would think of me as one, but I can’t deny it sounds beautifully sexy in his deep rasp of a voice.

  The man releases me, and I watch as he slips his suit jacket off. The woman finishes unhooking my chains, but I don’t make a move. I stay frozen solid in my spot.

  “I’ll call you,” he says, tilting his head to the woman as he slips the jacket over my shoulders. “Arms in,” he instructs.

  I slide my arms through the holes and am surprised when he tugs the jacket closed around my naked body. His scent envelops me, it takes over and I close my eyes as I inhale even deeper. His arm slides around my shoulders as he tucks me into his side. I blink, looking up at him in surprise.

  “Time to see your new home,” he murmurs.

  He guides me out of the room and we follow the Mistress dressed all in pleather out of the twisted turning hallways until we’re standing in a back alleyway. I stare down at my bare feet as a car pulls up. The back door opens and I’m ushered inside.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SERGEI

  She sits silently, staring at her hands, which are folded in her lap. She doesn’t fidget or even make the slightest movement. She is like a statue. I stare at her, regarding her as the driver makes his way toward my country home. I don’t know what exactly I’m going to do with her.

  I’ve rescued boys, taken them under my wing and raised them to be Bratva soldiers. A woman, a broken slave, is so much different than an angry young boy. I had to have her though. As soon as her obviously damaged pretty blue eyes met mine, there was no turning back.

  The driver pulls up in front of my home and I let out a sigh. I have a feeling I won’t be sleeping much the next few weeks. This project was probably too intense for me to take on. I can’t deny the thrill that shoots up my spine or the way my cock aches with anticipation of what’s to come.

  Wrapping my hand around her bicep, I gently tug her out of the car. She walks one step behind me, and I feel as though I should praise her for her training. Regardless of how her owner achieved his goal, he did get the job done. She is phenomenally trained.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I reach inside, pulling it out as we climb the steps to my place.

  It’s a text message from Katrina.

  KATRINA: I will send the file on her tomorrow. Name: Raisa. Health Status: Tested and Clean. On Birth control shot.

  I smirk at the things she’s decided are too important to wait until tomorrow.

  THANK YOU. I respond.

  I don’t take Raisa to my bedroom, she’ll have to earn her place in my bed. For now, I need to ease her into the way I expect her to behave with me. I don’t know what her previous owners did to abuse her, but I do know that as a slave her expectations need to be made clear from the beginning.

  Guiding her quickly through my home, I hurry us toward my playroom. I use the keypad to enter, much like the security system at the club earlier tonight, I have one of my own. My security is not only to keep enemies out of my home but also so that I can keep an eye on everyone’s comings and goings.

  There are cameras set up in this room that only I have access to. It will be the safest place to acclimate Raisa to her new life. Once we’re inside of the playroom, I lock the door behind me.

  “Go and shower. Take care of your needs, brush your teeth and hair. There are all new products in the bathroom for you to use,” I announce.

  She nods and without a single word shuffles off to the bathroom. I’m not surprised when she doesn’t close the door. I hear her use the toilet, then it flushes before the water from the shower starts. I send a text to my cook, apologizing for the late hour, but I demand that he bring me a tray of fruit, cheese, and crackers anyway. Then I also ask for a tumbler of vodka and a small bottle of water to be brought to the playroom.

  He responds quickly and assures me that he will be here within the hour with my tray and drinks. My private staff knows my sexual desires. It isn’t something I can really hide from the people I live with, especially
when my maid cleans the toys and devices that I have set up in here.

  It doesn’t bother me, I’m sure it probably should. I’ve had enough of my life, myself, violated in my past that this—my staff knowing how I like to fuck? It doesn’t mean anything to me. Hell, they could watch for all I care—other people have before.

  Raisa walks out of the bathroom, her skin pink from the shower, her hair wet and hanging down her back. It’s her clean fresh face that has me frozen in my spot. She’s spectacularly gorgeous. She stands in the center of the room, her eyes taking in all of the toys and furniture around her. All things that if she isn’t acquainted with yet, she will be soon.

  “When was the last time you ate?” I ask her, keeping my voice gentle and low.

  Her head drops, and I grunt, my displeasure clear. Her eyes slowly lift to mine and I hold her gaze with my own. “When I speak directly to you, Raisa. You will answer me, and you will look into my eyes when you do,” I state.

  Her lips press together, and her entire body shakes as she nods. “I’m sorry, Master,” she whimpers.

  “When was the last time you ate?” I ask again.

  I can tell that clearly she was punished for any little thing she did wrong. It doesn’t surprise me. I’m a strict Master, a man who will not be defied, but my methods of teaching are not abusive to my creature as a way of forced compliance. Instead, I use reward tactics. Good girls are rewarded, and bad girls are denied, not severely punished.

  “This morning. Mistress fed me,” she whispers.

  Her blue eyes hold mine until I break our connected gazes. Closing the distance between us, I cup her cheek with my palm. “I will feed you. Then you will sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day where you will learn my expectations of you,” I explain.

  “Yes, Master,” she breathes, her eyes still glued to my own.

  I like the way she looks at me. The way it seems as though she can see right through me, down to my black tarnished soul. Maybe it should make me feel uncomfortable, and in the past, perhaps it would have, but with her, it doesn’t.

  Raisa is different, I can already tell.

  Sliding my hand down to her bicep, I guide her toward a table and chair set I have in the corner of the room. She sits without being told. Anticipating my request as she’s expertly trained to do.

  Walking over to a chest, I open the large double doors, then slide open a drawer. Inside is a set of black cuffs. When she’s earned it, I’ll buy her, her own. For now, she’ll use these. The cuffs are padded on the inside to protect her wrists, ankles, and neck. The outside is black leather with metal rings to attach chains and hooks as I see fit.

  Walking back over to her at the table and chairs, I slowly bend down. Wrapping each ankle with a cuff, I use the dangling hook that I had soldered to the metal chair and hook it to the ring attached to her ankle cuff. Then do the same on the other side, the act spreading her thighs apart for me.

  Ignoring my desire, which is to inspect her cunt, I go about attaching her wrists to the hooks that I have installed at each side of the seat. Then, I wrap the collar around her neck.

  Standing up, I take a step back to inspect my new acquisition.

  I imagine her with a daintier diamond collar and I can’t help but smirk. If I keep her, that is what I’ll have around her neck, a pretty diamond encrusted collar, exquisite and feminine. For now, this black monstrosity will have to do.

  RAISA

  Strapped to this chair, I stare at the man in front of me. He’s quiet, but when he speaks it isn’t harsh, his voice is deep and commanding, but laced with kindness. I don’t mind complying when he issues orders, I find that I want to please him—immensely.

  Naked with my thighs spread and my arms immobile, I watch and wait for what is to come. This room is unlike any I’ve ever stayed in before. It’s as if it were made for a princess, not a slave.

  There is a bed, a table with chairs, and then sexual apparatuses all out in the open. My last master kept me locked in a concrete room with a drain in the middle and a bucket for a bathroom. I can’t remember when I was last awarded a luxury as fine as a completely fully functional bathroom.

  “I would like to get to know you a little bit. Mistress Katrina informed me of your first name. What I want to know is what your Master called you before you came to be mine,” he asks.

  I flinch at his question, then quickly school my features. I can feel my wet hair dripping down my back, I can smell the fresh cleaner that fills the room. But there’s him, I can smell his sensual spicy scent as well and I want to tell him every detail about myself, his blue eyes almost demand it—I don’t.

  His gaze narrows as he waits for me.

  “Derevianni rubli,” I blurt out.

  He doesn’t have a reaction at all to my response. I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to say something, to do something.

  He tilts his head to the side. “Useless money, that is what your previous master called you?” he asks, his words coming out slowly.

  I lift my chin, my eyes meeting his as my only response. If I speak right now, I will cry. Not only did he call me useless money, he treated me as such. I was nothing to him, absolutely nothing. I can already tell that even after only meeting this master less than two hours ago, he will not treat me as though I am nothing to him.

  Inhaling through my nose, I wait for him to say something else. I have no illusions about my purpose in life, to my role. However, I do believe that I am meant to find a comfortable place, to belong to a man who thinks of me as more than a useless animal to fuck. At least, that is my hope and dream.

  “That phrase is no longer applicable, nor will I ever hear it again in this house,” he announces.

  His voice is a deep growl and just his voice is so powerful I find my back arching as I attempt to draw closer to him. Tilting his head to the side, I watch as his lips twitch.

  “Krasotka is what you will answer to from now on,” he explains.

  I blink, unmoving from his word. My breath has left my body in a whoosh. He’s called me beautiful girl. I’ve never, not ever been referred to as beautiful before, at least that I can remember. I don’t recall much of my life before I was taken as a slave.

  My name Raisa, it is about the only thing I can remember, aside from the fact that I had a twin sister. She was taken as well, or maybe we were sold? It has been so long, and I’ve been through so much thatmemories of my life before, have vanished. But I’m pretty positive krasotka is something I have never been referred to as before.

  I jump when the door to the room opens. I watch as a man walks in carrying a tray. He doesn’t even look at me, as if he’s used to seeing women locked to this chair, their legs spread and a collar around their neck. My eyes find my master’s, and it’s then that I realize that this probably isn’t anything strange, I am nothing special, and the moment of lapse in my realization is now over.

  “Thank you,” my master says, glancing at the man standing next to me.

  He doesn’t speak. I hear his shoes click as he walks away, then the door clicks as he closes it. My eyes glance at the tray on the table and I’m surprised to see that there is cheese, crackers, and fruit along with a bottle of water, and a tumbler of clear liquid.

  “Open up, krasotka,” he purrs. My mouth automatically opens, and my eyes connect to his as he places a piece of cheese on my tongue. “Eat,” he softly demands.

  We spend the next hour that way. No other words are spoken aside from, open, eat, and drink, between us. I find that I rather enjoy it. My anxiety lessens, and my body relaxes as the minutes tick by, one-by-one.

  “Time for bed, krasotka,” he murmurs.

  I glance at the four-poster bed behind me. I almost sigh just thinking about sinking into the soft mattress and having a pillow to sleep on, a real pillow? It’s like a dream.

  My master tips his drink back and finishes it before setting the tumbler glass down, then he goes about unhooking my ankles and wrists from the chair.

&nb
sp; “The cuffs stay on, including the collar, unless you’re bathing.”

  He stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a thin black piece of leather. He lifts it to my neck and I watch as a silver hook attaches to the round loop at the front of the collar.

  “Stand,” he demands.

  Instantly, I rise from my seat. Standing and tipping my head down to look at my feet. “Eyes up, krasotka,” he softly orders.

  Lifting my face, I look up to him. He gently tugs on the leather leash as he walks toward the bed. My heart starts to race, knowing what is coming. He’s going to fuck me, and I hope it doesn’t kill this illusion of mine that he is better than any other man who has owned me.

  Master stops at the side of the bed and I watch as he bends slightly and fiddles with something beneath the raised platform railing. I hear something creak and only then do my eyes glance down.

  “This is not punishment, Raisa. You are starting with a clean slate, which also means you have yet to earn any privileges. Everything you receive from me will be earned. Not only by my being able to trust you, but also, by your actions. Those things go hand in hand. Now, off to bed,” he explains, dipping his chin.

  There is an entire cage built in beneath the bed. I didn’t notice it from the front because it is solid dark wood, but the sides are open bars and a locking door. Sinking to my knees, I slowly crawl on the plush carpet, making my way under the bed. My face should not be red with embarrassment, I can feel it hot, even beneath this bed it is nicer than anywhere else I’ve stayed.

  “Normally I would not sleep in here with you, krasotka. However, since this is your first night, I will make an exception. I will be above you, if you need something from me, you may ask, and you will never be punished for asking a question, or voicing a need, do you understand that?”

  Turning around, still on my hands and knees, I nod as I look up at him. Master lowers onto his haunches and reaches for my collar, unhooking the leash. His hand doesn’t leave right away, he drops the leather piece and cups my cheek. His eyes search my own, and I wonder what he sees in me, why he’s brought me here? I don’t ask him that, though.