by Red Phoenix
It is good I am headed home. I have missed her.
Although I’ve told no one I am returning, I’m surprised to find no one at the family estate. Asking the staff, I’m distressed to learn my mother is no longer living here with my father.
My protective instincts kick in as I head to the family manor just outside of Moscow, where I was told she was staying.
What has my father done this time? Why was I not informed?
Hitting the gas, I speed down the streets, not caring if I get pulled over. Once I arrive, I pound on the door, holding my breath, hoping against hope she is okay.
I stand back when I hear the lock slide, and then wait with bated breath as the door slowly opens.
The expression of pure joy I see on my mother’s face is something I will never forget. One second we are staring at each other, and the next I feel my mother’s arms wrapped around me. “Oh, Anton!”
There is magic in her touch and I close my eyes, savoring the purity of her love. It’s as if I’m a child again, safe in my mother’s arms.
She finally breaks our embrace so she can stand back and look at me.
“What a wonderful surprise,” she gushes. “You’re the last person I expected when I opened the door.”
I wipe a grateful tear from my eye on seeing that she is well. “I wanted to surprise you, Mamulya.”
She laughs. Oh, how that laughter soothes my soul. “Well, you certainly did that.” She takes a hold of me. “Come in and tell me everything!”
I sit down next to her on the antique couch upholstered in a tapestry passed down in our family for generations. Everything in this house is a part of the Durov legacy, but the only thing that makes it feel like home is the woman in front of me.
“So, tell me. How long are you here for?”
I smile, trying to hide my emotions when I tell her, “I’m home for good.”
She tilts her head, her sweet lips turning downward. “What about your degree? Don’t you still have another year left after this one?”
I hate for her to worry, so I chuckle lightly when I answer. “Simply put, college wasn’t challenging enough.”
She pats my hand, her eyes shining with pride. “You always were the smartest person I’ve ever known.”
I lean toward her and smile. “Only because I take after you.”
Hearing her trill of laughter lightens my heart. “Oh, Anton, you’re such a flatterer.”
I’m speaking the truth, even if she refuses to accept it. My mother is the only reason this family remains intact. Without her thoughtful influence, I swear my father would have died years ago by his own arrogance and stupidity.
“So, tell me about your friends Thane, Brad and Samantha.”
I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to keep my smile at the mention of her name. I don’t ever want Mamulya to know what happened between us.
I laugh again. “Let’s just say that my friends hated losing their favorite Russian, but they’re all doing well enough. Thane still plans to graduate this year. As for the other two, they’ll have to learn to struggle on without me.” To change the subject, I inform her, “Anderson has challenged you to a cook-off with his mother.”
She claps her hands in delight. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I love that about her. Even though my mother is a far better cook, I know she will make certain Anderson’s mother feels welcomed and cherished simply because Anderson is my friend. I appreciate that anyone I care about instantly becomes family to her.
That’s so opposite of my father.
“Where will this challenge be held?” she asks me.
“In Russia. You will have the hometown advantage.”
Her smile grows wider. “I can’t wait to meet your American friends.”
“It won’t be for a while, yet. However, Thane promises to visit as soon as he graduates. I can’t wait for you to meet him, Mamulya.”
She lays her hand on my cheek and looks into my eyes. “It must have been hard for you to leave them behind.”
My mother’s gaze can be dangerous because she is incredibly perceptive. So, I lean in and give her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I can’t run away forever from what happened to Tatianna, but I am glad you pushed me to leave when you did. I needed time to find a new path.”
She looks at me with compassion. “What path did you find?”
I laugh uncomfortably, pulling away from her. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”
“Anton,” she says, her voice quiet but somber. “What’s the real reason you came back?”
I hold my breath, not wanting to say a word.
Smiling sadly, she asks, “Did your father fail to pay your tuition? I’ve been worried about that.”
I let my breath out slowly, grateful that I am still able to keep my secret. “What’s going on with him? Father cut the rental on the beach house, but I figured he was just trying to assert his fatherly authority over me.”
My mother looks at me with concern and states hesitantly, “Your father has amassed a great deal of debt.”
“How? Our family has never lacked for money.”
She stares down at her hands, looking distraught. “He’s gambled it all away, Anton. It’s become a sickness he can’t control.” She sighs sadly. “I thought leaving would be enough to shake him out of it, but it’s only gotten worse since I moved out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her smile is full of love. “You’ve had enough to deal with.”
“What about my brothers? Have they done nothing to stop this?”
“Your father associates with the Koslov brothers now. I don’t want any of my boys getting involved.”
“He is consorting with the bratva?” I cry out in anger. “Has he gone completely insane?”
“Maybe he has,” she whispers, tears forming in her eyes.
I can’t handle my mother crying and immediately hold her. “It’ll be okay. I will handle this.”
She pulls away, gently cupping my cheek. “I don’t want you getting involved either, Anton. They are a dangerous family to cross.”
I squeeze her small frame tightly.
I will figure something out. There’s no way I will allow my father to gamble away the Durov legacy.
How I wish my father could be the kind of man my mother deserves. In every way, he has failed her and I snarl angrily, “I despise that man. I wish you’d never crossed paths with him.”
“No! Don’t ever say that,” she protests. “If we hadn’t married, I would never have had you.”
“I am not worth your suffering, Mamulya.”
She laughs. “You act as if it’s always been bad, but your father and I were in love once.” She touches my chest and smiles. “You were born out of that love, Anton.”
I draw her to me again, holding her tight.
I need to forget the world momentarily and concentrate on reuniting with her. I have missed my mother more than I’ve realized.
“What do you say if we made piroshkis together?” she asks.
My stomach growls in answer. “It has been far too long since I’ve eaten one of your piroshkis.”
I’ve always loved watching my mother cook. It was something only she and I shared. It was those conversations we had in the kitchen that helped form me into the man I’ve become.
I follow her into the kitchen and start getting out all the ingredients she will need for the bread.
“What kind would you like today, savory or sweet?” she asks me.
“Savory.”
My mouth waters at the thought of the meaty roll as I go to the refrigerator to get out the ground beef, egg, and onion for the filling while she starts making the bread.
As she works, my mother reminisces about her courtship with my father. Although it is hard for me to hear knowing what he has become, it does help me understand how she has remained loyal to him all these years.
“Your father was as handsome as you are,�
� she begins, smiling lovingly at me. “Tall and robust, with devilish blue eyes I couldn’t resist.”
She laughs as she begins kneading the dough. “My mother warned me not to get involved with him.”
I frown. “She was right.”
“Ah, but young love will not be denied,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with old memories. “Even when my parents forbade me to date him, I would still sneak out at night whenever Vladimir came to pick me up.”
I shake my head. Even with the knowledge I would not be alive if he hadn’t pursued her, I still wish my mother hadn’t fallen in love with him. I offer to brown the ground beef, stabbing at it to take out my aggression as I break up the meat.
She continues, lulling me with her light, pleasant voice. “I’d led such a sheltered life, but your father showed me that there was a whole new world I never knew existed.”
I feel sick, thinking what it must have been like for her the first time he introduced her to his sadism. “Were you terrified when you realized what he truly was?”
She smiles, blushing slightly. “Oh, no. If you believe that, you are very mistaken.”
“How was it, then?”
I know this is getting into uncomfortable territory considering she’s my mother, but I need to hear it.
She stops kneading and asks, “Do you really want to know?”
“Da.”
Her blush deepens. “When Vladimir took me to the secret dungeon, I won’t lie, I was excited. It wasn’t until then that I realized there were other people who craved pain as I did. The night your father introduced me to how sexy he could make pain be, my life changed.”
“So, you truly enjoyed it?” I ask, having always assumed she’d been dragged into his sadism against her will.
She nods, looking at me coyly. “But my parents would never have understood.”
“Nyet,” I agree, looking down at the pot as I stir the meat and onions together.
“I was so proud when you chose to pursue the same path as your father.”
I put down the spoon to face her. “Why?”
She smiles at the question. “Because I knew how happy you would make other women. It is a gift, Anton. And, based on what your father shared with me, you are even more talented than he is.”
I frown, surprised to hear it. “Father always found fault in everything I did.”
She looks at me with sympathy.
I don’t want to spoil this moment talking about him, so I tell her, “It is good to know you were a natural masochist.”
“Maybe now you can understand why I fell so hard for him. He not only accepted me for who I was, he let me bask in it.”
It is hard for me to imagine my father as anything but the tyrant he is now.
She finishes kneading the dough and covers it to rest. “Even though things have turned out the way they have, I have no doubt he and I were destined for each other. Seeing you here now, I am even more convinced.”
I set the meat aside to cool, while she starts the water for the hard-boiled eggs.
“You deserved better,” I mutter.
She comes up to me, her hands covered in flour, and tweaks my nose. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You, and your brothers.”
I growl under my breath.
“Anton, I know your father made it difficult to be close to them, but don’t give up on your brothers. There will come a day when the five of you will need each other’s strength.”
I huff in disbelief. “They’ve never cared about me.”
She caresses my cheek. “You’re wrong, son. Now that they are grown and out from under your father’s influence, they will connect with you.”
I shake my head bitterly. “I doubt it. The only brother I have is Thane Davis.”
She reaches out and lightly rubs the scar on my wrist. “I wondered what this was about.”
I stare down at the scar. “He saved my sanity.”
She looks deep into my eyes. “Which is all the more reason why I must meet him. I would like to have a heart-to-heart with your friend Thane Davis.”
My heart softens as I think about the two of them meeting in person. “You will like him, Mamulya.”
“If he is anything like you, I will love him.”
I can imagine the power my mother’s love could have on Thane, and I wish he’d visit sooner.
He should know and feel that kind of unconditional love.
My mother peels and chops the eggs, throwing them into the beef and onion mixture. She then gets out the rolling pin and flours the marble slab before setting the dough on it. As she rolls out small balls of dough, she spoons in the meat mixture and seals up the edges.
Once all of them are made, she carefully places them in hot oil to fry. Soon the kitchen is filled with the smell of her fresh piroshkis.
Before they’ve had enough time to cool, I pick one up and take a bite. Although the heat of it burns my mouth, the savory beef and yeasty bread melds together making me groan in pleasure. “I’ve missed this…”
She grins. “I have, too.”
Handing one to her, I command, “Partake with me.”
I stare at my beautiful mother as the two of us quietly enjoy our labor of love. I realize that the only time I truly feel at home is when I’m by her side.
Return of the Knight
At my mother’s insistence, I head out the next night to visit my favorite dungeon on the other side of Moscow. No one knows I’m here, so it should make for an interesting time when I show up unannounced.
The reputation I have at the LA dungeon is nothing compared to the one I have here in my motherland. But, as I approach the imposing castle with the extensive dungeon in the basement, I’m overcome with a sense of loss.
I have to laugh at myself. It appears I’ve grown accustomed to having Thane and Anderson around whenever I scene and now I find it unnatural to be alone. Hell, I’ve changed more than I expected by going to college in America.
I use the large knocker on the heavy wooden door to announce my arrival and stand back, my hands behind my back while I wait.
Ivanov, an older gentleman with a scar across his right cheek opens the door and his eyes widen when he realizes who is standing before him. “Rytsar Durov?”
I smile, nodding.
“Come in! This is such an unexpected surprise. We were told you were in the US.”
“I was, but not anymore,” I answer, clapping him on the shoulder. “I must say it’s good to be home, Ivanov.”
He leads me through the grand entrance. Intricate patterns of inlaid wood cover the floor, while the white walls never fail to impress me with their accents of real gold. He takes me to the impressive staircase leading down to the dungeon.
This dungeon is different than most. Only families of distinction even know of its existence. The Durovs have long been respected among the social elite, so we are a welcomed addition to any gathering, but the fact that I am a skilled sadist also makes me highly sought after in this particular circle.
Ivanov opens the door to usher me inside. I take a moment before entering to savor the unique scent of his castle dungeon. It has the alluring smell of old books mixed with cloves. I take in a deep breath, letting it enter my soul again after the long hiatus.
Ivanov waits patiently, but once I take a step through the door he opens his mouth to announce my name. I put my finger to my lips and shake my head.
He quickly closes his mouth, nods and quietly closes the door behind me. A few people glance at me out of curiosity, but as soon as they recognize who I am, they put their tools down and openly stare. I walk through the immense room and observe the various scenes, but my presence causes an odd phenomenon. The lively dungeon becomes eerily quiet as I walk from one end to the other.
As the silence drags on, I grin and pound my chest as I boast loudly, “It’s good to be home!”
A roar of agreement from my compatriots fills the dungeon.
“Return to your s
ubs,” I command. “I want to bask in their screams.”
I’m moved when many of them do not obey, releasing their subs from their bonds and instead bring them forward to kneel before me.
I stand while the other Doms offer me seven subs to scene with. The protocol is strict, so the naked submissives all kneel in the same position with their open palms up and heads bowed low.
I realize I miss the enthusiastic greetings of my American submissives, but this particular community doesn’t allow that. It is considered a sign of severe disrespect. A sub does not speak unless spoken to, and will not make eye contact out of respect for the Dominant’s status. That is the way it has always been here.
I’ll admit it took me a while to adjust to the more lax attitude at the dungeon in LA. However, there was a sense of openness there that I’ve come to appreciate.
Out of gratitude to each sub, I lightly touch the top of their heads as I go down the line. I recognize every one of them, including malikshka, whom I’ve scened with since I began as a young sadist looking to prove myself.
I cannot choose one amongst them, so I make the only sane choice—I choose them all.
“Stand and present yourselves at the wall.”
The seven submissives stand up in unison, their gazes glued to the floor to avoid any hint of disrespect as they go to lay their hands on the rough, gray stone that makes up this ancient dungeon, spreading their legs apart.
Seven women of various body types, ages, and pain tolerances stand before me. I’m familiar with each of them, but I stop to rub my hand over each sub’s back before slapping her ass—the two areas I will be caressing with my ’nines.
I call the sub by name and ask her about the level of impact she hopes to experience. I then kiss her on the lips before moving on to the next one.
Their Masters stand at a distance to watch this unusual scene play out. I nod to them, grateful for this gift they’ve given me.
This will be the first time I have ever scened with seven subs at one time, but I do not find it intimidating.
No, I find this challenge exhilarating.