My Russian Master (Service & Submission Book 3)

by Michaels, Megan

  Guess you’re about to find out.

  Even with her long legs, it took a little work and shimmying to get herself over the top of the couch. Maxim’s hand cupped her sex, hoisting her up higher, her pussy positioned even further up on the couch, rendering her feet useless, her toes not quite able to touch the floor. She had to keep her hands on the seat cushions lest she risk toppling over.

  He didn’t lecture or prepare her beforehand. There was no tapping, now warning... nothing. Just the immediate, rapid lashes of his belt upon her stinging flesh.

  “Ow! Oh, God, Maxim!” She tried letting go of the cushion to reach a hand back, but quickly replaced it when she thought she might fall. The stability of her legs had been taken away completely, leaving her to balance precariously over the couch.

  She tried waggling her hips, but it didn’t relieve her pain at all. Soon, she was yelping and screeching with each swath of fire over her already sore bottom. He didn’t pause or give her any relief, instead continuing to thrash her bottom thoroughly. She couldn’t say she was surprised either. She’d watched his methodical, rhythmic, and brutal whippings on the spanking videos, and at the time had thought it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Well, it was hot all right! There was no way in hell this even came close to her fantasy though.

  “I’m sorry! Maxim, please. I’m sorry!” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this helpless.

  At some point, the blows ended. She didn’t know how long it had been since the belting had ceased, her pain and exhaustion muddling her memory and perception, her consciousness overwhelmed by sensation. His heavy breathing behind her told her he stood close to her, but her hiccups and sobs drowned it out virtually everything else.

  “Do you think you can find a way to behave at work, Caroleena Leigh?”

  “Yes, Sir!” She didn’t hesitate on the answer. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life.

  “It’ll be difficult, I’m sure. But, Ptitsy letayut ne v nashikh rot, gotovykh zharenyy.”

  She laid quietly, not sure how to respond.

  “This means: A bird does not fly into your mouth already roasted.”

  What the fuck?

  “You can’t expect results without hard work. It will be difficult to curb that tongue of yours, Lena, but the rewards will be incredible. Come. Get up.” He held her elbow, helping her to stand, keeping his hands at her waist. “You are better than this. I do not believe that you are evil. You will apologize to Samantha. She is good girl, and did not deserve your mean words.”

  “I know. I will, I promise.” She wanted desperately to rub her bottom, but she knew that would not work in her favor.

  “See that you do. I will be watching closely tomorrow.” He tilted her chin up. “And trust me, you do not want another spanking, yes?”

  “Yes... I mean, no. I don’t want another spanking tomorrow. Or any time soon.” She reached around to cup her hot cheeks in her hands, and fortunately, he didn’t chastise her for doing so. Instead, he pulled her into his arms.

  “Good girl.” He lightly rubbed her back, swaying with her for a while. “Let’s get your beautiful panties back on.” He pulled them out of his pocket, playing with the zipper.

  “You like those? I hoped you would. I just… didn’t expect that I’d be taking them off for a spanking.” She laughed nervously. “I’d hoped they’d be taken off in the heat of passion… or something.”

  “I do like. The zipper is hot as fuck. America has amazing things.” He opened and closed them, shaking his head. He squatted, holding them open at her feet. “Step in, girl.

  She pouted at him for a moment. “I think I’d feel better having nothing on my bottom. It hurts.”

  He looked up at her, an eyebrow quirking. “It is supposed to. I told you this morning that you would have marks if you misbehaved. And I want to see the panties on you. How your bottom feels does not concern me right now. Step in, now.”

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, stepping gingerly into each leg opening. He dragged the fabric up her legs, and over her tender thighs, the elastic stretching over her very sore backside. The zipper rasped over her skin making her gasp out loud.

  “You go lie down for a nap. I’ll start dinner and wake you up when it’s done. Then we’ll have our fun evening.” He kissed her on the forehead, turning her with a small slap to her bottom, sending her on her way.

  Chapter Twelve

  Derek Miller had waited a long time for the chance to destroy Caroline — and such an opportunity had just fallen into his lap.

  He looked over at his assistant, and right hand man, Mark Grosseman. “You’ve been in touch with your contacts at the Immigration Department?”

  “Yes, Sir. They’ve been apprised of the situation, and they are in agreement.”

  Derek nodded, swiveling in his office chair, looking out the large window that overlooked Manhattan. The day was crystal clear, not a cloud to be seen in the deep blue sky. It was a refreshing change from the long, dreary — and dreadfully snowy — winter they’d just endured. It felt nice to walk without the cumbersome coats, hats and gloves, clothing necessary not only to keep warm, but absolutely critical to merely hailing a cab to not freeze your ears or hands in the blustery, brutal winds whipping through the streets.

  Maybe now the Board of Directors at Turner Marketing would see the error of their ways, and once Caroline had been ejected, they’d change their minds and take him on as CEO. Of course, his first order of business would be to change the name to Miller Advertising. He’d give himself a large corner office. Yes, this would be his year — the year that he finally won the battle Caroline had started years ago.

  Derek reached for his phone.

  “You’re sure this is what you want to do?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’m the one who contacted you about the plan, remember?” He wondered if he’d been wrong to trust Mark. But the man did know the ins and outs of the Immigration Department, having worked there for years. Derek needed his expertise.

  Mark nodded. “Yes, I know. I just wanted to be sure you’ve thought of the implications of this, and the potential consequences if something doesn’t go as planned.”

  Derek narrowed his gaze at him. Where was Mark going with this? “Is there something you’re not telling me? Some reason I need to back out of this?”

  Marks eyes widened. “I’m only looking out for you. Playing the devil’s advocate. Just wanted to give you an angle to think about before you take the plunge.”

  “I’ve thought of all the angles, believe me. I know what I’m doing.” He paused, trying to figure out if he’d trusted Mark prematurely. Squeezing the phone in his hand, he took a deep breath, knowing it was now or never.

  A very feminine voice answered the phone. “The Gazette. This is Annette speaking. May I help you?”

  “Good afternoon, Annette. I’d like to speak to your top reporter. I have some information that cannot be trusted with a novice.”

  Annette cleared her throat. “Sir. I’ll need to have your name and a general idea before I can forward you to the appropriate reporter.”

  “This is Derek Miller, of Miller and Sons. I have some information regarding a prominent CEO in the Manhattan area, someone who is blatantly breaking the law.” He didn’t want to give too much information, but hopefully that would be enough to get a seasoned reporter. Someone he could trust with confidential information.

  “I’ll forward you now, Sir.”

  She put him on hold, the line suddenly filled with the painful elevator music that companies thought soothed callers. Why didn’t someone do studies to show that the “calming music” did nothing but annoy the hell out of people, making them irate before they even got the chance to speak to an employee?

  Mark was watching inquisitively, so Derek put his palm over the receiver. “I’m on hold. Your contact at the Immigration Department said they’d take care of the paperwork on file there, right? Hard copy and electronic?”r />
  “Yes, Sir. He said that he’d take care of it last night. We should be all set. He owes me a favor—his promotion was due entirely to a good word I put in for him. He’ll keep his promise.”

  Derek grinned. “Everything is going as planned.” He repeatedly flipped his pencil from point to eraser on the ink blotter in front of him.

  The music suddenly cut out. “Jim Powers, can I help you?”

  “Hi, Jim. I’m hoping you can. I have something to tell you that is… very confidential. I think your paper would be very interested in some information I have regarding a prominent CEO here in Manhattan.” He winked at Mark, unable to contain the excitement at the prospect of Caroline’s imminent demise. “I need assurance that my identity will be kept hidden if I divulge this information. I’ll answer all the questions you have, but I don’t want this coming back to me. Can I have that assurance?”

  “Yes, I can assure your anonymity.”

  “I have recorded you stating that, and I will hold you to it. Is that clear?”

  There was a long pause, then Jim cleared his throat. “Yes, Sir. My word is gold. You can trust me.”

  “This is in regard to Caroline Turner, CEO and owner of Turner Marketing in Manhattan. Are you familiar with the name?”

  Jim’s laugh on the other end of the line was sarcastic. “Heard of her? Who hasn’t heard of her?”

  “Well, I had to check. You’re going to need to take notes on this. What I’m going to give you will be… rather detailed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jason walked into their bedroom to find his wife standing in the corner as he’d requested. He sat on the long, white bench at the foot of the bed, staring at her gorgeous ass. Two children and fifteen years of marriage, and he swore he loved that woman more today than the day they had married.

  Karen had put on her punishment dress. In reality, it was the top to a baby doll nightie lingerie set. When she stood in the corner, it ended just above her ass with a soft feathery hem that framed her gorgeous, white ass. Later, that same fringe would be in stark contrast to the red he’d paint her naughty flesh. After the time she’d first worn it during a punishment, it had been put into a special spot in her closet — and only worn for bad girl spankings.

  He got up, opening the drawer in his nightstand and pulling the oak paddle. Jason moved to stand directly behind her, perhaps two feet away. “Turn around, please.”

  She slowly swiveled, her nipples already erect and showing through the lacy, sheer material. Her shaved, sexy pussy was also visible, the white fur hem not quite covering it. He clenched his jaw, staring into her eyes. Without a word, she gracefully fell to her knees, taking a submissive position, sitting on her calves, the tops of her feet flat on the floor, knees widely spread. Then she lowered her forehead to the floor, arms outstretched, palms up.

  He quietly watched her. After a few moments, he said, “Sit.”

  She straightened, though remaining on her knees, her eyes downcast, her hands palm-up on her thighs. Tears tracked slowly down her cheeks.

  “Tell me why you’re crying, bad girl.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Because I disappointed you, and I’m going to be punished for putting my life, the kids’ lives, and the house, at risk. I was reckless and careless. And I hate being disciplined.” Her gaze rose to his. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Not as sorry as you’re going to be, trust me. You were on social media, of all damn things!” He had to move. Just the thought of it made him fear he’d lose his cool again. He thought he’d gotten over the anger — but he was wrong. He didn’t understand the use of the damned application to begin with; he found it a silly and foolish waste of time. Social media caused an untold number of fights, and divorces, and, as far as he was concerned, it was just a useless distraction.

  “You put everything I love at risk. What if I hadn’t come home when I did? There would have been a fire within minutes, Karen.” He raked his hand through his hair.

  “I know. But the smoke alarms would have alerted me. I wasn’t trying to be careless…”

  He stalked back to her, grasping her chin in his hand. “But you were. I’m watchful and cautious — and from now on you’re going to find out just how vigilant I can be. Things are going to change around here, my girl.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Stand up.” She rose gracefully, a reflection of her years of practice as his submissive. He pulled a baggie from his pocket, extracting a large finger of peeled ginger.

  “Oh,” Karen whined, quickly swallowing her comment.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t even start. You asked for everything you’ll be receiving tonight, girl. By the time I’m done with you, your ass will tingle just opening your social media page.” He sat on the bench, patting his leg in silent command.

  She shuffled over to him, placing her beautiful body over his legs. The full purpose of the punishment dress was demonstrated as she bent over his lap, the furred hem rising to the dimples on her back, just above her buttocks. He ran his hand over the soft, white nates, squeezing them. He’d never tire of spanking her.

  He spread her cheeks, exposing her anus. “No clenching. Push out, Karen.”

  She complied and the tight whirl of muscle spread open minutely. He pressed the cool, moist ginger to her puckered hole, pushing insistently until it popped into place, the wide flange visible between her buttocks. She sighed in relief once it went in, momentary though that relief would soon prove to be.

  His cock hardened. He loved seeing a piece of ginger or a butt plug in her, the way it peeked out from between trembling nates. He twisted and tugged on the end, forcing the juice to coat the tender skin.

  “Oh! It’s burning.”

  “Good. Just as I planned.” He cupped her sex, her juices spreading over his palm. He slid a couple fingers into her heat. “Let’s put some of the ginger in your hot little cunt. Turn up the fire there too.” It didn’t take long before a low keening sound erupted from her throat.

  He’d waited long enough. It was time to start with a hand spanking to warm her up. She could barely contain herself over his lap from the figging alone. His hand would definitely ramp up the wiggling even more.

  He swatted the center of her bottom — hard. She stiffened, her legs going straight out behind her with a loud shout. “You will never leave a pan unattended at the stove again, will you?” He rained down hard, fast slaps to her now pink ass. His large hand covered most of her backside, so it didn’t take more than a couple slaps to turn up the heat. She clutched his ankle and when her feet started to rise trying to cover her backside, he pinned her legs down with his right thigh. He’d been ready when her hand shot back, catching her by the wrist and pinning it to the small of her back.

  “The smoke had filled the kitchen. You were so busy talking to your friends on that damn program, you didn’t even notice.” He focused on the underside of her bottom and her thighs. Her wiggling and scooching had pushed her even further over his left leg, effectively jack-knifing her body. He slapped her sit spot, the punishing blow sending the tips of fingers snapping against her labia too.

  Her sobs confirmed that she’d been brought right to her limits. He knew her well enough after all these years — and many, many punishments — when to stop. He’d never want to bring her to the point of using her safeword — and in a discipline session she’d been told that her safeword wouldn’t necessarily stay his hand. He’d stop and listen — always — but the spanking would continue until he felt true remorse had been exhibited.

  He lightly rubbed her hot, red nates, stopping to twist the ginger within her pink rosebud.

  She stopped sobbing long enough to whine, “Oh, Sir!”

  “Such a naughty girl.” He released her hand and legs, rasping his rough hand over the freshly spanked skin, squeezing and plumping it. “You have no idea how scared I was to see the kitchen filled with smoke. You could have been overcome with smoke if I’d been home even fifteen min
utes later.”

  “I know. I’m s-so sorry.”

  “I know you are, girl. But we aren’t done by a long shot.” He grasped her arms, helping her to rise. The white baby doll fell back down, stopping at the crest of her reddened backside. He loved the contrast of that pale fabric against angry, reddened flesh. He leaned forward, kissing both cheeks, the heat stark against his comparatively cool skin. He didn’t miss the opportunity to twist the ginger again, sliding his forefinger through her puffy red labia. The evidence of her arousal coated her hot cunt, the spicy scent filling his nostrils and hardening his cock. He unzipped his pants, pulling out his now turgid member.

  Digging his fingers into her hips, he backed her up, until she sat upon his hard penis, her blistered ass warming his groin as she sank down onto him. Her tight sex squeezed him like a vice as he penetrated her fully.

  “But... Sir, the ginger—”

  “Stays. This is for me. You know that in a punishment your comfort is of no concern to me. You will only come if I give you permission. If the ginger burns, it’ll be a reminder of how you ended up with a figging to begin with.” He increased the pace with which he bounced her up and down, her slick sheath gliding tightly over his cock.

  “Oh... Oh, God. Jason, I think I’m coming. Please!”

  He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. His own body stiffened, spurting hot fluid into her Karen reacting and screaming with her own release, milking and wringing him to the point of pain. He groaned between clenched teeth, his head falling back, the tendons in his neck tightening.

  He realized he’d been clutching her hips in a death grip when his nail beds began pounding. She’d have bruises on her hips tomorrow.

  “I’m sorry. Did you give me permission?” She looked over her shoulder at him, and then gently leaned back, resting her head on his chest.