Bound by Love

by Red Phoenix

  Running her hands over his muscular chest, with the dragon tattoo peeking over his shoulder, was sensual and intimate. “You look good all covered in soap.”

  “I’d look even better covered in you.”

  She giggled as she rinsed him off, giving him a bunch of wet kisses when she was done.

  Brie then turned herself around to lavish attention on Sir, but the movement created a ripple of water that cascaded over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

  “I might have to spank you for that,” Sir teased.

  “Please do, Master.”

  Brie lathered Sir’s body slowly, enjoying the rough texture of his body hair. As she ran her hands over the defined muscles of his pecs, she smiled to herself. She took great pleasure rinsing off the lather to expose his body to her again.

  “I think it’s time to turn the tables,” Sir told Rytsar.

  “Agreed, comrade.”

  Brie purred in pure pleasure as she felt the hands of both men rubbing her entire body. They tickled her toes with their thorough cleaning and made her pussy wet with their extra attention on her breasts.

  Brie was surprised when Rytsar left the tub. She watched as he wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the cupboards to get the pitcher. He walked back and handed it to Sir.

  Sir told her to relax against him. He slowly poured the warm water over her body, rinsing the soap from her skin. She shivered in pure pleasure and asked him to do it several more times.

  When the water began to get cold, Rytsar held out a towel to Brie, wrapping her in its fluffy goodness. As for Sir, Rytsar did not hand him the towel, but whipped it instead, smacking his thigh hard with the end of it.

  Sir let out a surprised yowl, snagging the towel from Rytsar, then chuckled ominously as he looked down and watched a red welt appear on his skin. “You are going to pay for that, old friend.”

  Rytsar smirked. “There is nothing you could do that would faze me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  As Sir rubbed the welt, Brie noticed the smile playing on his lips as he toweled off and wondered what he was planning.

  Once he was thoroughly dried off, Rytsar brought out a custom-made sex swing. With Sir’s help, he attached it to the anchor in the ceiling. Brie stared at it with interest, remembering her first time in one with Baron.

  “Before we begin our next round, I say we have a drink and make a toast,” Sir suggested.

  Rytsar turned to him, grinning. “Vodka is always an excellent idea, comrade.”

  “I thought you’d agree.”

  Sir made the drinks while Rytsar beckoned Brie to his lap. She sat and curled up against him, feeling completely relaxed and pliable—exactly how they wanted her.

  As Rytsar held her close he began humming his mother’s lullaby. Its haunting melody was now familiar to her since he often serenaded Hope with his mother’s song.

  “Hum with me,” he commanded. Brie did her best to keep the same rhythm and tone as they hummed it together. “Good,” he complimented. “Keep humming.”

  Rytsar surprised her when he sang the words in his native language, his voice low and melodic. Their harmonious exchange was enchanting and magical, especially since Brie lacked the actual talent to sing herself. When they were done, he chuckled warmly, kissing her on the head.

  “Very nice,” Sir praised, handing a glass to Rytsar.

  Sir pulled Brie from Rytsar’s lap and wrapped his arm around her, handing her a drink as well.

  The shot glasses were made of the same blue glass as the tub. “They’re such a pretty color,” Brie commented, staring at it with appreciation.

  Sir told her, “Another heirloom from our friend.”

  “What shall we toast to, brother?”

  “Why not brotherly love?” Sir answered Rytsar with a slight smile.

  Brie raised her glass. “To brotherly love, then.”

  “Amen,” Rytsar replied with a chuckle as he tossed back his drink. He immediately spewed liquid all over himself and started gagging as he grabbed his throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Brie cried.

  Sir started laughing when Rytsar threw him a nasty glare.

  Brie ran to get a towel and handed it to Rytsar. “What happened?”

  He looked at her with an expression of utter disgust. “Coconut water.”

  Sir held up his glass. “Here’s to getting even, old friend.”

  There was silence for a moment before Rytsar pointed his finger at Sir accusingly and started laughing. Brie joined in, looking at both men in amusement.

  “I should never have doubted your craftiness, brother,” Rytsar confessed when he could finally speak again. “But if you ever replace my vodka with coconut water again, I will kill you.”

  Sir started laughing again. “The look on your face…”

  Rytsar shook his head as he made his way to the sink. After rinsing out his mouth and spitting several times, he asked Brie, “How can you drink this awful stuff, radost moya?”

  “It’s yummy,” she told him, taking another sip of hers.

  “Coconut water is a travesty of nature and should be banned,” he growled, spitting into the sink again.

  Sir downed his drink and said with a smirk, “I do prefer a fine vodka to coconut water, myself.”

  “Is that what you are drinking?” Rytsar demanded.

  “Of course.”

  “Then give me the bottle, you mudak.”

  Sir opened the freezer and took out a bottle of Zyr.

  Rytsar snatched it from him, glugging it down as if it were milk. He wiped his mouth after several swigs and sighed in satisfaction.

  He then looked at Brie lustfully. “Are you ready to get frisky, radost moya?”

  Her answer was to kneel down on the floor in an open position.

  As if the humorous exchange had never happened, both men instantly fell into their Dominant roles.

  Brie’s body responded to their dual dominance, her pussy contracting in pleasure when Sir placed his hand on her head. “Stand and serve your Master.”

  She stood up and squeaked when he lifted her off her feet. Rytsar helped hold the swing still as Sir placed her into it, positioning her feet in the hanging stirrups. The feeling of helplessness turned her on as she swung slowly in midair, her pussy splayed out for them.

  Rytsar removed his towel, standing before her with his rigid cock ready to begin. “Are you prepared to please me, radost moya?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” she answered, envisioning him pounding her deeply.

  Her heart started beating faster when Sir adjusted the sex swing, pulling her into an upright position, her legs spread out, while she hovered a few inches above the floor. He moved her hair forward to bare her back.

  Rytsar’s low laughter filled the room as he took his cat o’ nines from out of his bag. “Yes, you have a date with my nines.”

  Brie’s eyes grew wider as he swung his instrument, cutting the air with its cruel, knotted tails.

  “As you can see, the surgery was a success. I feel no pain,” he told her with a wicked grin. “But you will…”

  Sir read her growing fear and grabbed her chin, kissing her deeply. “Enjoy this session with him. Accept the love with which it is delivered.” His sensual kiss and the truth behind his words helped her embrace this challenge with the right frame of mind. Not being a masochist, it was easy for Brie to fear the pain instead of welcoming the experience Rytsar was presenting to her.

  She nodded, taking his advice. Closing her eyes, Brie heard the nines cut savagely through the air, but concentrated on the sound of Rytsar’s heavy breathing.

  Sir whispered huskily, “Watching you submit excites me, babygirl.”

  Her pussy ached, the power exchange between the three of them as exciting for her as it was for them. She fed off the sexual energy in the room as she waited for the first stroke of the nines.

  “Feel my passion for you,” Rytsar growled as he took the first sw
ing. Her back exploded with the fiery sensation those wicked knots could create, and she cried out in pain, surprised once again by how excruciating his whip was.

  “Color, radost moya?” Rytsar asked lustfully.

  It took her a moment to speak. Her body was already tingling as the endorphins rushed through her bloodstream. Swallowing down her fear, she answered him.

  “Green.”

  The next stroke blurred out all thought, and she screamed. He had to time his strokes with the movement of the swing as he gave her another. He spoke to her in Russian, the passion in his voice, along with the seductive sound of his native language, reminding her of their first meeting.

  My warrior.

  She took the pain Rytsar delivered, harnessing each stroke to carry her further into subspace. She went beyond her endurance, embracing his pleasure over hers—connecting with his sadistic need and giving fully in to it.

  When the lashes stopped, she was trembling and whimpering softly. Sir slowly repositioned the swing so she hung in a horizontal position again.

  Both men descended on her then, hungry to connect physically with her. Rytsar took position near her mouth while Sir stilled the swing and pressed his cock against her pussy. She was flying high on the euphoria of having transformed his pain into pleasure, and was desperate for the connection they sought.

  Brie reached a new level…the transcendence of their dominance—her back burning with Rytsar’s love as she took his cock deep in her throat and Sir pounded her to a glorious release.

  Pure submissive bliss.

  It was with great sadness that Brie said goodbye to their Isle the next day.

  “Please promise me that when we return, it’ll be for longer,” she begged Sir, not wanting to leave this submissive paradise yet.

  Rytsar seemed reluctant to leave, as well, and smiled at her. “It’s a shame it must come to an end, radost moya.”

  “Agreed. Next time we go for a week, brother,” Sir said.

  “Da.” Rytsar grabbed him in a hug, slapping Sir hard on the back.

  Brie felt as if the two men had somehow been changed by their encounter on the Isle. They seemed closer and more in tune with each other.

  After an exhilarating swim back to the plane, Rytsar removed the waterproof bag from his back and insisted on helping Brie dry off. She dressed back into her clothes that were waiting and sat down between the two men.

  Brie was a contented sub with her head resting on Rytsar’s shoulder and her hand on Sir’s thigh as they flew back to the main island. She felt completely loved and incredibly spoiled.

  Although Brie was anxious to get back to Hope, she was excited that they had a long plane ride ahead because it gave the three of them a little more time together. She wasn’t quite ready for it to end.

  Once the plane had landed and they were safely on the tarmac, Rytsar surprised Brie by handing his bag with his tools over to Sir. “Hold on to this for me, brother.”

  “Will do.”

  Brie looked at Rytsar in surprise, then laughed out loud knowing he would never give his nines to another—not even Sir. “Okay, what are you up to now?”

  He looked at her tenderly. “It’s time.”

  “Time for what?”

  He kissed her on the forehead and turned to Sir. “Keep her safe.”

  “Wait…you’re not heading back with us?” Brie asked, suddenly alarmed.

  “No, radost moya. I must go.”

  Brie looked at Sir, noting the serious expression on his face. She felt a cold, prickling sensation course through her body. “What is this?”

  “He’s going after the slaver, Brie. We got the information we needed before leaving for Italy.”

  She looked at Rytsar again, shaking her head. “You can’t!”

  “I must.”

  The thought of losing him was too much for her heart to bear and she begged, “Don’t go, please…”

  “Titov is temporarily coming out of retirement to assist me. It is what must be done to end this.”

  “But I don’t want you to go…” Brie cried.

  Rytsar cradled her face in his strong hands. “But I must.” His gaze was resolute, unmoving.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, realizing that his actions during their trip to Italy and the Isle had been his quiet way of saying goodbye. She shook her head, looking at him in disbelief.

  Rytsar understood he was causing her pain and pounded his chest fiercely, explaining, “I need this, radost moya. It is not just for you and the babe. I do this also in memory of my Tatianna. I could not protect her, but I can protect you. I have to be the one—to avenge you and the babe, and finish what I could not years ago. The slaver must die, and I cannot go on knowing he still breathes.”

  Rytsar turned to Sir, putting his hand firmly on his shoulder. “I see it so clearly. This is how it ends. Everything that has happened to me has led to this moment.”

  “I can still join you, brother.”

  “Nyet. Your job is to protect your woman. I made a promise to God that I would protect moye solntse, and that is what I will do.”

  He smiled at Brie, vowing, “You will not see me again until the man is dead.”

  Brie started to cry.

  Rytsar was leaving her—and there was nothing she could do about it.

  He put a finger to her lips. “I know you will not send me off with tears.”

  Stilling the panic and fear bubbling up to the surface, Brie quieted her thoughts and dried her tears for him.

  “Good, radost moya.” Rytsar gripped her head in both hands, pressing his forehead against hers as he stared into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

  She wanted to say “No”—and she would have—if it would have stopped him from going. “Yes, Rytsar, I trust you.”

  “Then there is no need for tears. I will return.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now give me a kiss to send me off properly.”

  Rytsar grabbed her, kissing Brie passionately, his lips expressing his deep love for her. His final goodbye.

  Brie wanted to weep when he broke the embrace, but she held the tears back and told him, “My heart beats with you, Rytsar.”

  He put his hand on his chest and smiled at her. “I feel it always.”

  Rytsar then turned to Sir. “Brother, do not second-guess this path you and I are on.”

  Sir’s eyes were shrouded in pain and uncertainty.

  “Do not!” Rytsar insisted. “Victory is certain.”

  Brie could tell Sir was still struggling with the decision, but he clasped his friend’s shoulder and said confidently, “We will drink to your success on your return.”

  “Da, comrade,” he answered with a grin. “And I will drink you under the table.”

  Rytsar turned and walked away then, shouting, “Poka my ne vstretimsya snova!”

  Brie didn’t let the tears fall until he was out of sight. But, once they began, she was inconsolable.

  Blood Moon

  They had no communication from him because the risk was too great, just as it had been during the rescue mission in Russia.

  Brie was forced to put all her trust in Rytsar’s abilities. Her only consolation was knowing that Titov was with him. The two men had extensive experience with the underground world they were entering, and they were on a mission to right a wrong that had haunted them for years. They were both seeking redemption by granting Brie and the baby the safety they could not provide Tatianna.

  As the weeks dragged on, the silence became deafening and doubts began to creep in. As much as Sir tried to reassure her, she could tell he was struggling as well.

  Brie lived with the guilt that her situation had put Rytsar’s life at risk, but Sir carried the burden of knowing his own flesh and blood had created this. By not wanting to break his promise to her, Sir had to bear the weight of not being with his brother now, and she could tell it was eating at his soul.

  They simply went through the motions each day, clinging to the ho
pe that the next day would bring word from Rytsar.

  Brie began humming Rytsar’s lullaby to Hope, wanting to ensure she remembered her dyadya.

  Master Anderson knew about Rytsar’s mission and understood the pain they were suffering. Being a kindhearted man, he called Brie out of the blue to let her know that Shadow was welcomed to visit.

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do, young Brie.”

  “When?”

  “Anytime.”

  “Would now work?”

  He chuckled. “Now would work just fine.”

  Brie squealed, overjoyed that Shadow would finally be reunited with his family. The large black cat had taken on the role of comforter in their home after they’d come back from Italy. He drifted back and forth between Brie and Sir, providing a soothing presence that was complemented by the calming sound of his purr.

  However, Brie knew it was a burden for the cat because they were so deeply entrenched in their sorrow that his need to comfort them could not overcome it.

  Sir joined Brie on her trip to Master Anderson’s house. Shadow sat up front on Brie’s lap, content to look out the car window. Brie had to wonder what he was thinking. He could not know their destination. And yet, the cat was so calm as he was taken from the apartment that Brie let him out of his carrier once they were in the car. She marveled at the fact he was so trusting. How could Shadow be certain she wasn’t taking him to the vet?

  She shook her head in amazement as she petted him.

  “What are you thinking?” Sir asked.

  “I can’t believe Shadow is so trusting.”

  He chuckled. “He’s only that way with certain people. Therefore, his level of trust now speaks volumes about you.”

  Brie stroked his soft fur, grateful for Shadow. “He was there for me as support at the commune. And, later, when he came to live with me after Master Gannon died. I owe him a lot.”

  “Well, he obviously loves you, and has even come to accept me because of you.”