by Red Phoenix
She shakes her head with a devilish glint in her eye. “You claim you are incapable of submitting, but…” Tightening her grip on my cock, she leans forward and whispers, “You will, whether you want to or not.”
Through gritted teeth, I warn her, “I will never forgive you if you go through with this.”
She sits back, looking shocked. “But why?”
“I will not submit. I do not say it as a challenge. It’s a fact.”
Samantha dismisses my statement with a huff. “Well, I’ll see about that…”
She presses her red lips against the head of my cock, but her actions toward me have robbed me of any feelings of desire I had for her, and my shaft becomes limp in her hand.
“Release me,” I order again, my anger growing.
“You’re not the one in control here,” she informs me, pursing her red lips. Picking up the ball gag from my stash of toys, she says, “From now on, you’re not allowed to speak.”
I glare hard at her as she approaches. “If you care anything for me, unbind me now and leave.”
She pouts, sticking out her bottom lip. “How is it fair that I’ve submitted to you, yet you refuse to submit to me?”
“You did so willingly,” I remind her, staring at the ball gag as she brings it closer to my mouth.
“I deserve your submission,” she insists, sounding like a spoiled child.
“It’s not in my nature.”
“I don’t believe you,” she coos, giving me a flirtatious smile.
“Then you don’t know me.”
“Hah!” Samantha exclaims, pouring herself another shot. “I know all kinds of things about you, Rytsar Durov.” Smiling, her gaze travels leisurely over my naked body. “You showed me the freedom of submission and I know, once you experience my dominance, you’ll be begging to serve me.”
“You’re wrong.” My muscles tighten across my abs as I struggle against my bonds.
“No, I’m not wrong,” she says as she forces the ball gag into my mouth, buckling the strap behind my head.
Afterward, she looks down at me, smiling with satisfaction. Undoing her jeans, Samantha slips her hand underneath her panties and starts stroking her clit. “I could come just looking at you all bound and helpless.”
After playing with herself for several minutes, she takes her wet fingers and tries to swipe them across my lips, but I turn my head in disgust.
Samantha laughs cruelly. “Oh, do you think you can disrespect your Mistress like that?”
I hear her rummaging through my cabinet again. When she returns, I hear the distinctive sound of a cane cutting through the air.
I close my eyes when the first strike of the instrument explodes against my thigh. I’m determined to endure her abuse the same way I did as a boy at the whipping pole when my father beat me.
When Samantha sees I’m not responding to her punishment, she changes tactics and puts the cane down. Caressing my face with both hands, she slowly turns my head and forces me to look into her eyes. “I have a special present for you.”
Leaning over, she picks up an instrument from my nightstand and holds it up for me to see. “Do you know what this is?”
Disinterested, I glance at the metal instrument she holds in her hand.
“This is meant to stimulate the penis.” She looks down at my limp cock. “Which should help with the little problem you seem to be having.”
I hate her for making light of this abusive situation and struggle against my bonds.
At this point, Samantha is oblivious to me, caught up in her own power trip.
“My handsome Russian, you and I are going to connect in a way you’ve never experienced before,” she states excitedly, her eyes sparkling with drunken excitement.
Bile rises in my throat as I watch her meticulously clean the instrument she plans to use on me.
“I bought only the finest surgical lubricant. I don’t want anything happening to that handsome cock of yours,” she informs me as she starts coating the thin, three-inch long section of the instrument with lube.
“In case you’re wondering, it’s a pierceless prince’s wand. It seems appropriate, don’t you think?” She looks up at me, smiling with lust in her eyes.
I shake my head violently, my heart racing as she repositions herself to gain better access to my cock.
When I start grunting in rage, she gives me a compassionate look. “Yes, it will be intense, but I want you to give in to it and enjoy it. That will be your submission to me.”
I make a low, guttural sound deep within my chest as she places the tip of the instrument against the small opening of my penis. In a desperate attempt to stop her, I buck my hips hard.
The instrument flies out of her hand and I hear the metallic sound of it bouncing against the floor.
She frowns at me. “Do you realize how close you were to permanently damaging your cock? Don’t pull that on me again or we could be heading to the ER.”
A sense of dread washes over me as I watch her carefully clean it off and sterilize the instrument again before covering it in a fresh coat of lubricant.
“Stop glaring,” she admonishes. “You’re only allowed to look at your Mistress when I command it.”
Samantha takes another shot of tequila before walking over to the cabinet to grab a blindfold. In a cowardly move, she covers my eyes.
Bitch.
“The blindfold will help you to concentrate on the intense sensations,” she claims, trying to explain away her cowardice.
I feel the bed shift again as she moves into position.
I know there is nothing I can do to stop this—just like the lashes of my father’s whip when I was a boy.
A chill travels down my spine as she presses the tip of the steel instrument against the opening and begins pushing it into my cock. I choose not to react as the hard metal spreads the opening of my urethra and slowly enters my shaft.
Samantha’s breath quickens. “Oh God, I love watching it disappear inside you.” She stops her progress for a moment and the bed shakes vigorously while she plays with herself.
After coming, she murmurs while pushing it in farther, “You are offering yourself in such an intimate way, Rytsar… I’m truly moved by your submission.”
The feeling of being violated is more than I can bear and I cry out against my gag.
My beautiful Tatianna suddenly flashes in my mind, but instead of smiling, she is screaming in pain. It’s as if I’m carried back in time, and I watch the tortured expression on her face when she cries out the moment the first slaver savagely rips her virginity from her.
Tears run down the material of my blindfold as I personally experience a taste of what Tatianna was subjected to. My chest feels as if it will cave in from the heavy weight of my sorrow as I endure her violation at the same time as I experience my own.
In the ether of this strange netherworld, forces collide, and Tatianna and I meld into one another, connected by this horrific moment.
I wrap my arms protectively around her small frame as the slaver continues to thrust into her and Samantha continues to push her instrument into me.
I cannot stop what is happening, my beautiful sparrow, I murmur to Tatianna, but I’m here.
I am here with you now.
My Comrade
Mercifully, I lose consciousness, but then drift back to reality when I feel the wicked tails of my ’nines rain down on my skin. I tense, a natural reaction to any painful stimuli, but soon relax under the fiery bite of the lashes, knowing I can’t fight them.
“That’s right, my handsome Russian…” Samantha coos above me. “Relax so you can embrace the pain of your cat o’ nines.”
She has no right to touch my ’nines—much less use it on me. But, rather than give her the satisfaction of a response, I hold back my screams of fury as she continues to strike me haphazardly with the whip, oblivious to the safe zones of impact.
I feel the sting as my blood begins to ooze from multiple lacer
ations.
Holding my breath, I tense when she finally lays the whip down and grabs my shaft again.
“Your cock looks so sexy bound in the metal like this.” She begins moving her hand up and down the length of my dick as she squeezes my balls with her other hand. “I can feel the prince’s wand inside your cock, Rytsar. Do you like the feel of it when I stroke you like this?”
I make no sound, remaining completely still as I endure it, but she deludes herself into believing she has won over my submission.
“Your Mistress is pleased to see you finally embracing my dominance,” she states with confidence.
Leaning over my head, her breast touches my cheek as she slowly unties the blindfold. Her confident smile quickly fades when our eyes meet and she confronts the all-consuming rage I feel.
My gaze burns into her soul, my hatred for her is as palpable as a living beast in the room.
Samantha pulls away from me, her countenance suddenly changing to one of horrified shock. It’s as if she has only now just realized the extent of her abuse.
She looks down at my body covered in the bloody marks she has created, staring at the wounds as if seeing them for the first time.
“Oh, my God, what have I done…?” she whimpers, her hand shaking as she brings it to her mouth and gets up. She stumbles backwards, a terrified look on her face.
Some guy runs by my room, shouting drunkenly just outside in the hallway. Samantha turns toward that sound with a look of sheer panic.
Without another word, she unlocks the door and opens it slowly. Taking a quick peek, she slips out, shutting the door behind her—leaving me alone in this state.
Tears of rage roll down my cheeks as I unsuccessfully struggle to loosen the ropes around my wrists. I am stuck here, bound to my own fucking bed, my cock aching with that hellish instrument still inside me, as my blood slowly drips from my skin onto the sheets.
I have never felt so helpless…
The longer I lay there, the darker my thoughts go. Soon the loathing I feel toward Samantha slowly reverts to me. The degradation of what I’ve suffered begins to smother me, engulfing me in its dark embrace.
I cannot bear this shame.
There is a light rap on the door, so I glance down at the crack under the door, seeing the shadow of someone standing there.
My heart skips a beat knowing the door is unlocked.
I can’t let one of my college buddies catch me in this compromising position, so I hold my breath, silently commanding him to leave.
“Durov…I know it’s an ungodly hour but I need to talk.”
Thane! Relief floods through me. He is the only person I can bear to witness this humiliation.
With the ball gag still wedged in my mouth, I scream against it, praying he will be able to hear me.
I watch his feet shift, as if he’s about to leave. Screaming for all I’m worth, I start pounding my head against the pillow, causing the bed to creak and rattle.
My eyes are riveted on the door as I watch the knob slowly turn. The door swings open, and Thane’s jaw drops the instant he lays eyes on me.
Reacting quickly, he shuts the door behind him and runs to the bed, unbuckling the gag.
“Oh, my God, Durov. Who did this to you?”
Bile crawls up my throat, demanding release. The instant I am free of the gag, I turn my head to the side and throw up.
Thane hurries to unbind my wrists and ankles, before heading to my private bathroom to get towels. “Let me get you out of that bed.”
With his support, he helps me off the bed and leads me to a chair where he carefully begins to clean me off.
I have to lean against him, too weak even to sit up on my own, while I watch him attend to my numerous gashes in silence.
He works with gentle hands, even though he growls under his breath, “Who could do such a thing?”
I don’t answer, looking down at my throbbing cock instead—I need to get that thing out of me. I make several failed attempts, trying to get the damn cock ring over the head of my shaft, but my hands shake too much.
In a quiet voice, Thane says, “Let me help.”
I close my eyes, gritting my teeth painfully, as he eases the metal ring over the swollen head of my cock, then slowly pulls the long rod out.
I groan in relief once it’s out and grab the cursed thing from him, throwing it across the room.
“Who did this to you?” Thane demands again.
Consumed with shame, I finally voice her name aloud. “Samantha.”
Thane stares back at me, all color draining from his face. Before he starts asking questions, I tell him, “I never want to speak of it.”
I try to stand up, but my knees buckle underneath me and I collapse back into the chair.
“Stay where you are,” he orders.
Unable to move, I watch helplessly as he strips the bed, throwing the linens into a pile. He then picks up the hated instrument and adds it to the pile, along with the dirty towels.
“Throw away everything she laid out. I don’t want to keep anything she’s touched.”
When Thane picks up my ’nines, he looks at me questioningly.
As much as it pains me, I am resolute. “It’s been ruined by her taint. Throw it out with the rest of the garbage.”
He adds my beloved whip to the growing pile—giving me one more reason to hate Samantha.
After finding the extra set of sheets in my closet, he quickly makes the bed and helps me back into it. Going through my BDSM equipment, he finds a jar of salve and starts covering my wounds.
Thane says nothing, honoring my wish not to speak of it, but I see the building anger in his eyes as he quietly works on the gashes.
Once he’s finished, he puts the salve away and states, “Samantha must be held accountable for what she’s done.”
“Do nothing,” I insist.
Thane sits back on the edge of the bed, his face unreadable as he studies every scratch, bruise, and open wound on my body, as if cataloguing them in his head. Finally, he informs me, “I have to confront her, but I can’t leave you here alone.”
I snort in disgust. “She did.”
His eyes cloud over with guilt—a guilt he should not carry.
This is entirely on her.
“I’m going to get Anderson.”
“Nyet!” I protest, sitting up in the bed.
Laying his hand on my shoulder, Thane pushes me back down. “You need strong people by your side right now.”
“I don’t want anyone else to know,” I growl.
“You can trust Anderson.”
I shake my head, not wanting the cowboy to witness my shame.
“Durov, I can’t leave you alone, but I have to confront her—tonight. As her mentor, I’m responsible.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” I snarl angrily.
“I have to find out why she did this to you. I can’t fathom the reason behind this attack.”
“I suspect alcohol fueled her session of abuse, but I told her repeatedly to stop and called my safeword.”
She is in for an ugly awakening when the liquor wears off…and I am glad for it. I hope what she’s done fucking haunts her for the rest of her life.
I nod toward the closet. “Go ahead and get Anderson, but throw me a long sleeve shirt. He doesn’t need to see the extent of what I’ve suffered.”
As Thane hands me the shirt, he confesses, “I regret I didn’t go out with you tonight.”
“You weren’t invited,” I remind him. “I knew you would never survive a night drinking with a bunch of Russians.”
“Perhaps…” He nods curtly, but it’s clear he still blames himself for what happened.
“I will dispose of these,” he says, tying up the pile of discards in the sheet.
I watch with regret as he leaves the room, knowing another chapter of my life has ended.
I will never be the same after this.
Glancing around the room, I feel a sense
of profound sorrow wash over me. I don’t know how I will survive this…
Thankfully, Thane returns with Anderson ten minutes later.
Anderson is clearly distraught and immediately blurts when he enters the room, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t even question leaving you with her.” He shakes his head. “As a friend, I should have taken you up to your room myself.”
“I’m not a child,” I huff in irritation. “I told you to leave us. Had you tried to walk me to my room, I would have punched you in the face.”
Anderson meets my gaze and vows, “I won’t make that mistake again, even if you sock me in the face.”
I chuckle in response, but it sounds as hollow as I feel.
Anderson fishes out a package from the backpack he’s brought. “Knowing you, I bet you haven’t had anything but vodka and pickles all night, so I brought you soup.”
I look at Thane warily.
He grins. “Trust me. You’re in good hands.”
An involuntary shudder goes through me, my nerves suffering the aftershocks of the pain that Samantha has subjected me to.
Outside the door, I can hear the dorm coming back to life as the revelers return home after a wild night of celebration.
I’ve never felt this emotionally or physically raw before. I am profoundly grateful that Anderson is here to act as my shield against the world.
Glancing at Thane, I tell him. “Go. There is no need to stay.”
Thane nods, then asks, “Is there anything you want me to say to her?”
“Nyet. She is dead to me.”
I do not know how the guy does it, but Anderson gets me to eat two bowls of his Japanese ramen. Soon after consuming the last spoonful of spicy broth, my eyelids become sluggish and heavy.
To Anderson’s credit, he doesn’t question me about what happened with Samantha, choosing instead to tell me about his humorous family and their ranch, allowing me to fall asleep to the sound of his low voice.
After surviving the hellish night, my body drags me into a deep slumber I can’t escape and I sleep like the dead until late into the next morning.