by Red Phoenix
A half an hour later, Anderson bursts into the room with Durov following behind him. Seriously? He brought the Russian in on this?
“Leave me alone, Durov,” I growl angrily, not in the mood for games.
Without warning, he physically grabs me and starts dragging me toward the door. “You’re coming with me,” the Russian insists, shoving me out into the hallway.
I stand up and straighten my clothes, unruffled. Nothing is going to deter me, and I say with disdain, “I have zero interest in getting drunk tonight.”
Durov only laughs. “Trust me, comrade. I have something far more interesting in mind for you.”
Something in his tone catches my attention.
I stare at him, noting a mischievous glint in his eye that seems to speak to something much bigger than a simple night on the town.
I look at Anderson. “You have any idea what he has in mind?”
Anderson shrugs. “Not a clue. He won’t say.”
“I will only offer this opportunity once, comrade. After tonight, it will be closed to both of you forever,” Durov tells me, his tone serious.
“What kind of opportunity?” I demand, believing his secretiveness to be both unnecessary and childish.
Durov looks down the hall before he answers in a low voice. “It’s a chance to visit a private club I frequent. It will change your life. But I warn you, it is not for the faint of heart.”
I have to admit he has my attention. However, if he expects me to sacrifice a full night of study, I need more details.
The Russian flatly refuses. “Either you trust me or you do not.”
Trust is not something I give easily, but I respect Durov. Somehow, despite the fact that he spends far too much time flirting with women and drinking vodka on the sly, the little fucker still excels as a student. Unlike me, he doesn’t have to devote hours to studying.
“Why pass up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, buddy?” Anderson asks. “It’s not like your books are going anywhere.”
I’m still not convinced. I look back at the room and at the huge textbook sitting on my desk beside the piles of notes. For reasons I can’t fathom, I suddenly feel a sense of exhilaration I haven’t felt since I was a boy.
I’ve already made my decision to go, but as I look at Durov, I mutter, “Why do I have a feeling I will live to regret this?”
The Russian flashes a wicked grin. “If truly living for the first time in your life is a problem for you then, yes, you will live to regret this night, comrade.”
Anderson slaps me on the back. “Here’s to having our minds expanded outside the realm of college studies.”
As the three of us make our way through the campus, I suddenly realize what this is all about and stop cold. “Durov, your ‘private club’ wouldn’t happen to be some kind of illicit drug den, would it?”
He bursts out laughing, attracting the attention of passersby.
“Let me assure you that my drug of choice is naturally produced. Although…” He looks me over critically. “…it may be too harsh for the likes of you.”
Now he has my defenses up and I insist, “I’m not squeamish, Durov.” I nod over at Anderson. “Although, I can’t speak for my roommate…”
Anderson punches me in the arm. “Fuck you, Davis. If you’re trying to call me a sissy, I’ve got a bullwhip I’d like you to meet.”
Durov nods at Anderson. “It was actually your experience with the bullwhip that got you invited tonight.”
“Wait. Don’t tell me. You’re part of a Russian cowboy club. Is that it? I’m not surprised to hear you Ruskies like to ride steers for fun on the weekends,” Anderson jokes.
“I ride something, yes, and it often grunts and squeals with pain,” Durov replies with a slight smirk.
Based on Durov’s cryptic answer, I realize there’s a dangerous element to him I haven’t noticed until now.
Anderson frowns at me. “I don’t know what kind of crazy shit you’re getting us into, Davis.”
“Me? You’re the one who started this.”
“Hey, Durov’s your friend, not mine.”
Durov grins. “You will both thank me once the evening is over. Trust me.” Placing his hands around both our shoulders, he adds, “This is a solemn gift I offer to you. Whether you choose to pursue it or not is your choice, but I guarantee you’ll be changed by what you experience tonight.” He squeezes our shoulders in a painful, viselike grip before letting go—then laughs to himself.
Foolish or not, I’m now thoroughly intrigued and follow the Russian as he leads us to the shadier part of town, taking us down a labyrinth of dark alleys until we come to what looks like an abandoned warehouse.
There, he knocks on the door three times in quick succession.
A voice from behind the door asks, “What’s the one truth?”
Durov answers, “All is fair in passion and pain.”
The door opens, and the man gives Durov a curt nod, but he gives the rest of us a look of intense distrust.
“These are my friends,” Durov explains. “I spoke to the Dungeon Master about bringing them tonight.”
The man doesn’t acknowledge his reply. However, he does open the door wider. Growling under his breath, he glares at both of us as we pass.
Durov seems unconcerned about the man’s hostility toward us.
As we walk down the hallway, he explains, “Tonight you will act as observers.” He then adds with a dangerous glint in his eye, “Keep your distance from the scenes—unless you want to get hurt.”
As if on cue, I swear a woman screams somewhere below us. “What the hell is going on? Are people being tortured here?”
The Russian answers my question with a roguish grin. “What some consider torture, others consider ecstasy.”
I hesitate before descending a long flight of metal stairs. Just then, I hear the woman let out another tormented scream. Soon after, I clearly hear her cry, “Please Master, more! More…”
A chill goes through me as I put my hand out to stop Durov before he opens the door. “I have an eerie feeling I won’t be able to look at you in the same light after this.”
“Da,” Durov agrees. “Tonight, you will both be required to address me as Rytsar.”
“That’s Russian for the word ‘knight’,” I tell Anderson.
Turning to Durov, I shake my head. “You can’t be serious.”
Durov’s expression suddenly becomes somber, as does the tenor of his voice. “I assure you, I am.”
Anderson bumps my shoulder. “Knight…Asshole…it’s all the same.” He gives Durov an exaggerated bow. “So be it, Rytsar Durov.”
We hear a commotion on the other side of the door. Several men cheer loudly as a lone girl cries out in pain after an extremely loud snap.
“What’s happening to her?” I demand.
“There is only one way to find out, comrade,” he answers, gesturing to the door.
The exhilaration I felt earlier increases as I reach for the handle. Durov claps me on the shoulder, stating proudly as the door slowly creaks open, “Welcome to my world…”
“Rytsar!” a young woman shouts excitedly from deep within the large basement. She is bound, naked, to a pole set in the center of the immense room. It’s obvious she’s thrilled to see him, which seems odd considering her body is covered in angry red marks as if she’s been mistreated.
Durov leaves us, confidently striding over to the young woman. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulls her head back and kisses her passionately.
Anderson and I remain rooted where we are, watching in stunned silence.
I glance around the warehouse basement. It is dank—made up of cold brick and cement flooring. Strange contraptions line the walls, with heavy chains hanging from the ceiling and wooden poles set throughout the room. Severe-looking men dressed in black leather, as well as a preponderance of naked women, populate the huge area.
“What the hell is this, Duro—Rytsar Durov?” I ask when he
returns to us.
He gestures to the massive room. “This is a BDSM dungeon, comrade. Down here, we fulfill our darkest fantasies with those who hunger for our brand of ecstasy.”
I watch in disbelief as a woman parades another, more petite, woman into the room from a separate entrance. The first woman is leading the second by a leash.
“Strip for your Master,” the woman commands.
The girl immediately undresses in front of us and bows her head as she stands there naked and the leash is detached from her collar.
Durov takes over. “Lift your hands above your head,” he orders.
She obediently places her wrists into metal cuffs above her, not objecting when he secures the locks and jerks on the chain to make it taught. Observing her closely, I swear she has a look of adoration on her face.
Durov begins muttering words in Russian, speaking in a menacing tone as he circles the girl. As she watches him, the lust in her eyes becomes tainted with what looks to be fear.
I understand I’m about to witness something dark…something perverted…and yet, I cannot look away as Durov picks up an ominous, multi-tailed leather whip and swings it in the air.
That instrument of punishment has no business touching, much less striking the girl, and yet Durov laughs seductively as he begins lashing her with it.
Her cries fill the dark dungeon as he lets loose on her back.
My mouth goes dry as I watch. The idea of purposely causing someone else pain is a completely foreign concept to me, and it would be upsetting if it weren’t for that devoted look in the girl’s eyes every time he pauses between volleys.
Even as Durov delivers those demanding strikes, she breathlessly begs him for more, shuddering and moaning in pleasure. When he’s finished, the Russian moves up behind her and reaches around to play with her pussy. The girl tilts her head upward as she cries out in desire, orgasming in front of us.
I never knew this kind of sexual power was possible—the idea of delivering pleasure with intense pain.
Glancing over at Anderson, I can tell the concept fascinates him, as well. Durov releases the girl from her bonds and gives her one last, lingering kiss before smacking her hard on the ass. She squeals in pleasure, giggling afterward.
“Clean up,” he orders.
Durov then strides over to us with a self-assured look on his face. “What do you think, comrade?”
“I’m not quite sure what to thin—”
A scream of pure terror interrupts my answer. I immediately turn to see a woman bound, spread-eagle, on a wooden table. The man attending her is whipping her pubic area repeatedly with a different kind of leather whip.
Durov glances at her and says, “The girl is being grossly disobedient and must be punished for her willfulness.”
I cannot allow such a thing to happen and move toward them to intervene, but Durov grabs my arm to stop me. “It is not your place.”
“But he’s hurting her!” I growl.
“Hurting her, yes. But not harming her, comrade. There is a difference.”
Anderson is equally riled. “I’m with Thane on this one. We are witnessing blatant abuse and are required to stop it.”
Durov shakes his head. “Each girl here comes of her own free will, knowing full well what will happen once she enters the dungeon.” He gestures around the room. “These submissives want this. There is no need to feel sympathy for them. This is what they live for.”
I shake my head as I watch welts rising on the woman’s thighs. “Well, it fucking looks harmful to me.”
“What you are witnessing is consensual play between two adults,” he insists. “She understood she would be punished for disobeying her Master. She wanted to push him so he would punish her. Do you hear her calling her safeword? Every submissive has one. Unless she calls it, he has her permission to punish her however he sees fit.”
“It’s not right…” Anderson growls, responding to her desperate cries of pain.
Rytsar grins. “Ah, but it feels so right. I have played with submissives since my father first introduced me to BDSM when I was fifteen. I guarantee you, I understand women far better than either of you.”
“And, you’re saying they like this stuff?” Anderson asks incredulously.
“Many do, in fact. Imagine a woman laying down her will, allowing you to do whatever you wish to her body…”
“Well,” Anderson says in a sarcastic tone, “if I had my way, the only beating I would be doing is slamming my gigantic cock into her.”
The Russian raises an eyebrow as his gaze settles on the bulge between Anderson’s legs. “There are plenty of women here who would beg you to challenge them with your asset.”
I can see Anderson is starting to warm to the idea.
“As far as your bullwhip goes, think about it. Isn’t there a part of you that would like to lick a woman’s body with the instrument as you watch her squirm in pleasure?”
Anderson glances around the room, staring at the girls in various states of arousal, and I see a new appreciation dawn in his eyes as he mulls over Durov’s words.
The Russian puts his arm around my shoulder. “The power exchange between two souls is intoxicating, comrade. It is like a drug—nothing compares to it.”
“I’m sorry, Durov. I could never whip a woman.”
“Did you not hear me when I said you could do whatever you wished? You are in control.” He stares at me with those piercing blue eyes and says in all seriousness, “You are full of tension—I can see it in your face—and it’s holding you back in your studies. The best way to break your stress is to release it on a willing partner. Trust me.”
I chuckle. “So, is that how you maintain your high grades?”
“Da,” he answers without shame. “I am stress free thanks to the devotion of my subs. I can think straight because of it—unlike you.”
The sub from earlier walks up to him with her eyes focused on the ground. She bows at Durov’s feet. “How may I serve you, Rytsar?”
He looks at me and grins. “This is a virgin Dom. Introduce him to our world.”
The girl doesn’t miss a beat, looking up at him and answering with a confident smile, “Yes, Rytsar. It would be my pleasure.”
She turns to me and bows. “What would you ask of me?”
Glee
My heart starts racing. I’m unprepared for such responsibility as I look down at the submissive bowing at my feet.
Taking a deep breath, I take the girl’s hand and help her back to her feet. “I would like to speak with you.”
She cocks her head to one side, seemingly surprised, but answers, “Certainly, sir.”
Durov’s look of shock amuses me.
Although he may be the type of person to jump into a new experience, I need time to assess. I explain to them both, “I’d like to know a submissive’s perspective in this power exchange.”
Durov shakes his head in disappointment. “My gift wasted…”
Anderson winks at the sub. “If you’re looking for something more, darlin’, come see me afterwards. I’m a virgin, too.”
She covers her smile and quickly looks down at her feet. I squeeze her hand as I guide her to a quiet area in a corner. I need to know if Durov’s assertion, that this treatment is something she actively, wants is real.
“Absolutely,” she assures me when I ask. “This is the only place where I am totally accepted for my kinky desires and needs.”
I spend the next hour talking to her. I find it fascinating, the way her eyes light up when she talks about her various Doms. “Each one is so different.” Her eyes drift to Durov. “But, I must admit, Rytsar is my favorite.”
“Why is that?” I ask, wanting to know what his secret is.
She shakes her head, smiling at me. “He gets me. That man knows how to soothe my spirit even as he makes me cry out in severe pain.” She lowers her eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Please do.”
“I’ve never come a
s hard or as often as I do with Rytsar.” She raises her eyes to meet my gaze. “He’s able to mix my fear with sexual desire, and the results are the best orgasms of my life.”
I glance at Durov with newfound respect. There is no doubt in my mind that she enjoys what he does to her.
“Being new at this, how does a Dom know what his submissive wants—or, more importantly, what she doesn’t want?”
Her eyes sparkle when she tells me, “Communication. Sometimes we talk before a scene, especially if we are new to each other. Other times, I rely on my safeword.”
“Durov talked about that. What is it, exactly?”
“It’s the word my Master and I have agreed on to stop a scene. That way no one gets harmed.” She grins. “Make no mistake, all of us subs at this dungeon are masochists, so we are hoping for pain. However, we trust our Masters will never harm us.”
“And the difference between harming and hurting you?”
“Harming someone goes beyond the set limits and can result in permanent emotional or physical scars. That is not allowed here.”
I look around the room at the women being whipped and tormented and see their experiences in a new light. “You can guarantee everyone here enjoys this?”
“Here? Yes. But there are places that do not adhere to safe practices. Those dungeons are dangerous for a girl like me. That’s why I only play here.”
“What makes them dangerous?”
“Not all dungeons vet their Doms. Nothing is more dangerous for a masochist than a wanna-be Dom. They seek only their own pleasure and do not care about us or the harm that they can cause.”
“How were Anderson and I allowed in, then?”
“You being here means Rytsar has taken personal responsibility for your actions. He must really trust you both.”
“I had no idea…” I say, glancing back at Durov.
“Rytsar is a good judge of character. Plus, I trust my own instincts and only get positive vibes coming from you and your friend.”
I smile at her. “Most people find me too closed up and serious.”
“They must not be picking up on your natural dominance. It’s understated, but very powerful, sir.”