by Red Phoenix
Why am I here?
I’m here because Thane invited me. I’m here because it sounded interesting and I didn’t want to be left out.
My mind starts drifting to more general thoughts…
I’m here because I needed to distance myself from what happened to Tatianna. I’m here because my father is a dick and my brothers are strangers. I’m here because I wanted to forge a new path where I am in control. I’m here to escape my past.
But, even that line of thinking feels as though it’s lacking, and I return to the original question.
Why am I here?
I’m here because God put me on this Earth. I’m here because I’m a fighter who doesn’t back down. I’ve never backed down, even as a young child. I’m here because the world needs someone like me.
Such a simple question, but one that invites a multitude of answers.
I stand a little taller and scan the room, feeling a part of the experience even though I am only a silent observer here.
All eyes turn to the stage when a man walks out and moves to the mic stand on the left side of the stage near us. He says nothing but nods in acknowledgement toward those gathered.
Four people, including Marquis Gray, walk out and sit behind a table on the right side of the stage.
I hear quiet voices behind the partition and then silence.
“We begin today’s auction with Miss Jackson.”
A young woman walks out onto the stage dressed in a tight corset, short mini skirt, and stilettos that accentuate her sexy legs. She stands confidently in the center of the stage with her head tilted slightly upward while her gaze remains on the floor.
“Miss Jackson is twenty-three and is an elementary teacher outside these walls. Her trainers describe her as an active learner. Her fantasy involves the naughty schoolgirl scenario. There are no additional changes to the sexual fantasy. I will start the bidding at seventy-five.”
The auctioneer starts rapidly rattling off numbers as the bids steadily climb to three hundred. “Going once…going twice…sold to Master Rogers for three hundred dollars.”
One of the loners in the crowd moves up and collects the submissive from the stage. He guides her to where he was originally standing and they wait silently for the next auction, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.
I can feel the girl’s palpable excitement even from where I’m standing.
Two strangers about to scene together outside the walls of this institution must be a heady experience. No wonder the vetting process is so complicated here. Allowing a student to leave in the hands of a stranger could lead to abuse in the wrong hands.
“Next, we have Ms. Adams.”
The submissive who walks out is a tall brunette. She oozes sexuality, and I can already hear low murmurs from the crowd.
“Ms. Adams is twenty-six, and a corporate lawyer outside these walls. Her trainers describe her as intelligent and open to extreme stimulation. Her fantasy involves the stripper/prostitute scenario. There are no additional changes to her sexual fantasy. I will start the bidding at seventy-five.”
In no time at all, the bidding jumps up to four hundred and fifty. The lucky winner walks up to the submissive with a confident smile, clearly pleased with his purchase.
She takes the arm he offers and he guides her off the stage, smirking at the other Doms.
The auctioneer states, “Our next submissive is Miss Reed.”
A petite woman walks onto the stage wearing the same attire as the other two women. Despite her small stature, she walks with catlike grace in those tall stilettos.
“Miss Reed is thirty-two and is a hotel manager outside these walls. Her trainers describe her as eager and obedient. Her fantasy involves double penetration. There is one change to her sexual fantasy. She requests that the two men pretend to be brothers.”
There are low chuckles among the crowd.
As before, the auctioneer starts the bidding at seventy-five.
The bids come in slowly at first, but it’s quickly apparent that a pair of Doms are determined to win her. After a healthy back and forth with another set of Dominants, the two get the winning bid at five hundred.
They both walk up to the stage and take turns kissing her before escorting her off the platform.
“Our next submissive is Miss Sanchez.”
A curvy vixen with long, wavy dark hair walks out onto the stage.
“Miss Sanchez is twenty-eight and is a stockbroker outside these walls. Her trainers describe her as assertive but pliable. Her fantasy involves sex in a public place. There are no additional changes to her sexual fantasy. I will start the bidding at seventy-five.”
The Domme who ends up winning the bid walks up to her and caresses the submissive seductively as we all watch.
I hear a soft moan escape from the submissive’s lips.
Already the Domme is delivering on the fantasy—and they haven’t even left the stage yet.
Once she’s escorted off, the auctioneer states, “This concludes today’s auction. A simple reminder for the winners. Once you have purchased a sub, you are not allowed to bid on her again for the remainder of the training.”
I’m surprised there are so few submissives. I glance at the four trainers who are talking amongst themselves as the crowd begins filing out of the commons. They get up and disappear behind the partition.
Turning to Thane, I ask hoping he will know the answer. “Why so few?”
“Marquis Gray explained that their courses are small because of how customized the classes are.”
I nod. “That would explain why the submissives are so highly sought after. There are only a few to choose from.”
Anderson folds his arms. “Hell, I would have enjoyed being part of the bidding.”
“I agree,” I tell him, thinking back on the tall brunette. “I definitely wouldn’t have minded a lap dance from the lawyer.”
Anderson slaps me on the back, chuckling as we start walking toward the elevator after the commons finally clears out.
Why am I here?
The question hits me again when I spot Gallant speaking with one of the staff members. It seems providence because I’m now certain why I have an answer.
“I’ll meet you two upstairs. There’s something I need to do.”
“Don’t you go looking for trouble,” Anderson jokes.
Thane gives me a questioning look, but steps into the elevator along with Anderson. Once the doors close, I walk over to Gallant to find he’s still in the middle of a conversation.
When he glances over at me, he quickly excuses himself and asks, “What is it, Mr. Durov?”
Suddenly feeling awkward, I mumble, “I wanted to mention that Thane Davis is an excellent teacher.”
He smiles kindly. “I suspected as much by the questions he’s peppered me with.”
Seeing he understands, I tell him, “Thane isn’t someone to mention it, but he’s looking to expand his teaching efforts in the area of BDSM once he graduates from college. I could see him being an ideal fit for the Center.”
“He’d need to gain considerable experience and credentials to be considered for a position as trainer at our Center,” Mr. Gallant explains.
“I was told that the school started up a Dominant Training course.”
He raises an eyebrow. “We have. Curious that Marquis Gray would mention it to you.”
“He didn’t tell me directly, but he did mention it to Thane, and Marquis Gray doesn’t seem the type of person to engage in idle conversation with a person.”
Gallant chuckles. “No, he does not.”
He glances at the staff member waiting to continue his conversation, so I quickly end our discussion. “Before I leave, I wanted you to know how highly regarded Thane Davis is at college, and our BDSM community at the dungeon.”
“I’ll certainly speak to Marquis Gray about what you’ve shared.”
I offer my hand to him. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Gallant.�
�
“Likewise, Rytsar Durov.”
I stride toward the elevators feeling good that Marquis Gray’s question motivated me to act. Looking around the commons, I could absolutely see Thane working here in the future.
I find my friends waiting for me upstairs near the reception desk.
“Get everything squared away in the bathroom?” Anderson asks.
I laugh. “Why don’t you go downstairs and find out.”
“Cleared the whole commons, did you?”
Thane shakes his head, smiling to himself. “I don’t know about you two, but the auction has left me needing to play with a sub.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Anderson replies, adjusting his jeans. “I’m in serious need.”
“Da!” I glance down at his straining jeans. “You look like you are about to burst out with need.”
I follow closely behind Anderson, snickering, as he walks stiffly toward the exit. Before we make it outside, Marquis Gray appears out of nowhere like some kind of specter.
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I trust you found the auction informative—as well as stimulating.”
“That’s an understatement,” Anderson jokes.
When Marquis Gray meets his gaze, Anderson puts all kidding aside, stating in a solemn voice, “I’m curious how the scenarios will play out for each sub.”
“As are we, which is why the students will return here after their respective scenes so we can debrief with them.”
Thane’s eyes widen with understanding and I can see the wheels in his head turning. “That’s brilliant. There would be a wealth of information a submissive could gain by discussing the encounter with four experienced Doms.”
Marquis Gray nods thoughtfully. “Our intent with every scene our subs experience is to help them grow in confidence and skill while they navigate their strengths and weaknesses. It’s the reason I wouldn’t train anywhere else.”
“I can certainly understand why,” Thane states with admiration.
The trainer hands us each his business card with the Center’s information. “I expect a call later detailing your thoughts about the auction.”
The look in Thane’s eyes as he takes the card from Marquis Gray leaves no doubt that my brother has found his true calling.
It brings me great satisfaction to witness Thane take this first step toward his destiny.
Snapping Point
I shoot up out of my bed from a dead sleep, screaming her name. “Tatianna!”
The loss of her hits me full in the chest and I struggle to breathe. I close my eyes, but the tears still come, knowing I will never see her again.
A sob escapes my lips as I lie back down and relive the reoccurring nightmare that has haunted me ever since that day she was kidnapped. The dream always begins with me looking in the mirror as I adjust my black tie in preparation for Tatianna’s eighteenth birthday.
Titov bangs on the door. I forget the damn tie as I rush to open it, spurred on by the desperate sound in his voice.
“He took Tatianna!” Titov screams.
A chill grips my heart knowing Tatianna is in danger. “Who took her?” I need to know whom I must kill.
“Yuri. He kidnapped her to pay his gambling debt.”
“What?” I roar, fighting the urge to punch Titov in the face for putting his sister in danger. I’ve told him repeatedly not to hang around such bratva lowlife.
But there’s no time to waste. We must find her as soon as possible!
I grab my keys and rush out the door. We waste precious time hunting Yuri down, but when we finally locate him, Tatianna is nowhere to be found.
The motherfucker refuses to tell me where she is, so I go apeshit and beat it out of him.
In my dream, just like in real life, my blood runs cold the moment he informs me that Tatianna has been sold to a slaver. With my hands wrapped around his neck, I force him to tell us exactly where she’s been taken.
I nearly choke him to death before he finally spills the location. I look at Titov and ask, “Can I kill him now?”
“Don’t,” he insists. “We may need him later.”
Snarling, I choke him until he passes out and hogtie him. Even in my dreams, I don’t get the satisfaction of killing Yuri.
It didn’t take us long to drive to the location where she was being held in real life—but in my nightmare when I start driving, my eyes close against my will and I am unable to see. I can’t open them and am forced to drive blind. I fear that at any second we will die in a fiery crash.
Still, I press down on the gas pedal knowing Tatianna’s life depends on it.
Relief floods through my body when Titov informs me that we’ve arrived at the location. Like magic, my eyes open and I can see again.
I have yet to understand the reason for the blindness in my dream, but the terror and anxiety it produces is real and haunts me hours after the dream is over.
The nightmare continues as the two of us race from the car to start up a long flight of stairs on the outside of the building. Precious minutes tick by, but the damn stairs never end.
The reality is that I never caught up to Tatianna, because the slaver left with her just minutes before we arrived—but, in my nightmare, we finally reach the top of the stairs and come to a red door. I don’t hesitate and open it.
I see the slaver dragging her away. Tatianna turns to me, completely terrified, and cries, “Save me, Anton!”
When I start running toward her, my feet sink into the floor like it is made of quicksand and I can’t move. All I can do is cry out her name while she is dragged away kicking and screaming.
That’s when I wake up—every single fucking time.
Seeing her in the hands of the slaver, knowing what he will do to her but being powerless to stop it is horrifying on so many levels.
At least in the nightmare, Tatianna sees Titov and I before she disappears…
Tears roll down my face as I lie in bed, knowing what really happened. Tatianna never knew we were minutes away from saving her.
No. She was ripped away from her family, abused by slavers, and left alone in that horrific reality—never knowing how tragically close she’d come to being rescued from all of it.
Tatianna lived that ungodly hell for five months before we finally found her. But, by then, she was just skin and bones—a shell of herself.
I live with the heavy guilt of having failed her every day of my life.
If I could, I would have died to save her that day. Instead, I rescued Tatianna, only to lose her to suicide months later.
She was my one. My soulmate, and the future mother of my children. When Yuri kidnapped her, he not only stole her future, but mine as well—and that of generations to come.
Tatianna should have only known kindness and love. The cruelty of what happened to her burns like a raging fire inside of me.
I throw off my covers and jump out of bed, needing to redirect this anger before it consumes me where I stand.
Picking up hand weights, I start pumping my arms, trying not to think about what she suffered under the hands of the slavers, but the images won’t stop and I feel the need to hurt something.
I get dressed and head out of the room to jog in the darkness of predawn.
My scalp begins to prickle when I realize that I’m being followed. I run a little faster to confirm it. When I hear the footsteps behind me pick up their pace, I smile to myself.
If this is a minion of Thane’s mother, this will be fun!
Turing around, I stare out into the darkness and roar out my challenge. “You want a piece of Rytsar Durov?”
I raise my fists, ready to annihilate the threat.
Unfortunately, the coward turns and runs. I growl in frustration when I hear his footsteps quickly receding in the darkness.
My body is in full fight mode now, but I have no release. Swallowing down the rage, I start running again.
I feel dangerous, as if the slightest thing will cause me to s
nap.
Later that same day, Anderson invites Thane and me to a kegger with his other friends. Although I don’t enjoy the taste of beer, I need to be around good people, so I agree to join them there.
Before I go, however, I visit the dungeon. I haven’t come to scene, only to observe.
In my current state, I’m far too wound up to release that kind of negative energy on a submissive. Instead, I stand back and watch while other Doms put their subs through their paces.
I take pleasure watching the expression on a sub’s face as the pain transitions into pleasure and she begins to fly, her eyes fluttering when she begins to enter subspace.
Watching their pleasure helps ease my soul.
After spending several hours at the dungeon, I finally feel prepared to face a house full of strangers as I party with my friends.
Unfortunately, I can find neither Thane nor Anderson when I arrive.
I search the multitude of rooms in the large frat house but come up short, so I decide to head out to the backyard. My anxiety increases as I bump against people crowded into the kitchen.
Gritting my teeth, I force my way out the back door.
There I find a group having a drunken pool party. A frat boy jumps into the pool, still holding his red cup of beer, to the applause of his drunk friends—but there’s no sign of Thane or Anderson.
My anxiety rises to an alarming level, as if I never visited the dungeon tonight.
I’m prepared to leave when I hear Anderson’s voice just around the corner of the house. I head there, needing his calming influence.
Rounding the corner, I bump into my nemesis.
I glower at Samantha, the pain and humiliation of that night returning in full as I stare at her. I suddenly can’t breathe as images of Tatianna flood my mind, and it all mixes into a terrible ball of fire in my gut.
She stumbles backward in shock. “I’m sorry, Ryt—” She cuts herself off before daring to say my name and sputters nervously, “I…didn’t see you.”
I glare at her, but I don’t see Samantha anymore. I see all the maggots who hurt my Tatianna, and roar with rage.
My vision fades to red as I suddenly release the intense pressure that has been building for months into a merciless storm of vengeance.