Master

by Catherine Taylor

  His collection of whips, floggers, canes and bondage devices had been lovingly added to over the years. With his willing victims, he had honed his skills and played out the scenes of his desires. Natasha had taught him the value of not limiting himself to women, with many men seeking far crueller punishment.

  In the shed, he was Master, with trusting bodies offered to him like a sacrifice. The drama of submission and dominance was different every time, as he came to understand each person’s needs. For some, it was the need for pain and punishment. For others, it was the desire for humiliation, exposure and vulnerability. He met all their needs, used their bodies and cared for them after, often leaving himself in a heightened mental state for days.

  Capturing his work with a camera became another passion. A lot of peace came with just gazing at the photos of his participants. Sometimes he would take time just to bind them in rope with intricate patterns over their bodies, seeing how exposed and vulnerable he could make them in their bondage.

  After a few days he would destroy the photos, keeping an occasional one where there would be a look or pose that excited him. It was only that day when he had stood back to look at the developed photos of Lena, had his heart beat faster. Her innocence and vulnerability were as real as the emotions that radiated from her.

  Natasha had remarked about Lena’s simplistic need for discipline, likening it to asking da Vinci to finger paint, but Jahn disagreed. Lena provided all the challenge he would ever want, and more emotion than he was prepared to deal with. Now all those emotions had to be switched off.

  He was coming up against a man who knew nothing of love or kindness, a man whose killer instinct and sadism had no boundaries. If ever Jahn had needed to be in control, this was the time. Natasha’s life and his own were going to depend on it.

  As he turned off down the overgrown road that led to the mine, his instincts came to life. Stopping the car, he got out and looked at the tyre tracks in the dirt. An unfamiliar vehicle had used the road in the last day.

  The revelation gave him no satisfaction, and threatened to overwhelm him. Natasha was sending him a very clear message, one that he had never wanted to contemplate. The shed was theirs, never to be shared with anyone, and nothing would make Natasha give it up, nothing but her imminent death.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Reaching into the car, Jahn killed the engine, put the car into neutral and pushed it well into the bushes, until only the back of it was exposed. The boot was opened and he unzipped his bag, studying the array of equipment he had brought with him. He examined the gun, checking the magazine and shoving it down the back of his jeans. A knife with a three inch blade, was secured into the sheath on his belt.

  Once he was inside the shed, there would be other things that would make useful weapons. Getting in undetected would be the hardest task. To gain the advantage, he would have to know what he was up against.

  Grabbing the binoculars, he went to zip up the bag and paused. Rummaging through, he found a small remote control and stared it at it, before pushing a button. A bright green light glowed back at him and he breathed deeply before shoving it into his pocket. A miniature torch was shoved into his other pocket and a rope slung on his shoulder.

  After covering the exposed end of the car with branches, he made his way up the track as far as he dared, before pushing his way into the thick growth. Crouching down, he pulled out the binoculars and directed them to the structures in the distance.

  The only movement was the long grass swaying in the breeze. The bright, sunny day was going to present a problem, making him visible between the bushes and the buildings. Sweeping his vision to the last of them, he gazed at the old stone shed.

  This was where he had to get to, and he knew that Taras was expecting him. Jahn cursed that he had not thought of it sooner, and could have arrived first, and been waiting. He knew why he had avoided it. For Natasha to give it up, she had to be in a bad way. The message she was sending him was not one he wanted to think about.

  It took a while for Jahn to find the entrance. It had been years since he had used it and the ground level door was overgrown. Clearing the vegetation, he pulled on the rusty, iron handle and was relieved when the door opened easily enough, though creaking on its rusted hinges.

  His heart was pounding as he shone the torch into the dark hole. He had been a lot younger and smaller when they had constructed the tunnel. The fearless confidence of youth hadn’t considered the dangers of collapse. They had simply followed the design of the mine, in a much narrower version. Two feet of a vertical drop, should lead to over a hundred feet of a cramped, horizontal shaft.

  With a deep breath, he crawled into it, head first, positioning his arm to hold the torch. It was going to be a long, slow, uncomfortable journey and already the dangers were obvious. The wooden beams showed signs of decay, and the air had the smell of rotten eggs, making breathing hard and unpleasant.

  As he moved, he stirred up dust, choking him and stinging his eyes. The ominous small sprinkles of falling dirt inspired the thought of being buried alive. He kept moving, but thought of Lena, the softness of her body, and the round, plump cheeks of her arse.

  He imagined her squirming over his lap, as his palm administered a sound spanking. There was no doubt of the satisfaction she had brought him. He knew now, too late, that she would have been more than enough. When he could have taken her away, his pursuit of revenge had blinded him to what a happy life might have been. As his chest tightened, and his eyes stung with tears, he had to believe that it was because of the dust. Regret was not going to save Natasha.

  An end of the tunnel loomed before him, and he was able to kneel upright in a small vertical shaft. Near his head was an opening covered by a wooden board, that he prayed was not blocked. He was encouraged by a waft of sweet fresh air filling his nose, and he breathed in deeply.

  Getting comfortable, he became still, listening for the slightest sound. An hour past before he heard the first chilling noise. Someone was weeping and pleading, only to be momentarily silenced by a rifle shot.

  Jahn was ready to burst through the door, but he stopped as he heard the long drawn out scream. It died down to weeping. His heart was a confusion of relief and disgust. It was no rifle. It was the crack of his own bull whip, and despite its sinister meaning, he now knew where they were.

  He lifted the board slowly, wary of any noise it would make, or any traps that might have been set. Looking at the floor he could see the dust had not been disturbed for a long time. Spider webs glistened in the torch light. The cellar was little more than three feet high, its purpose for storage still obvious with the stacks of boxes lying about. Above it was the floor of the shed.

  A sweep of the torch revealed the manhole he still had to get through. Another crack and a scream filled his ears, ending quickly in weary sobs. Crawling silently, Jahn moved to the area under them, looking for any gap in the wooden floor. He found one and pressed his eye against it.

  He could see nothing and as he searched for another, his heart sank as he saw the wire hanging down through the boards. Even if his brother was a maniac, he was no fool. The microphone had picked up his presence.

  “I don’t know how much more he can take. Judging by your arsenal here, you would know better than I do. I suggest you come up and join us, Damyen.”

  The voice made Jahn cringe. It had been so long since he had heard it. The only difference in it, was its icy composure. Not willing to hear Natasha hurt again, he hurried to the manhole and pushed it open. Taking a deep breath, he climbed out to face his brother.

  The reaction in both of them was immediate. Taras gazed at him with a slackened jaw and heaving chest. Jahn stared back murderously, but the curiosity was still there. Seventeen years had added many lines to his brother’s face. The long black hair was gone but the eyes were like staring into a mirror. They were now the same height, and Taras had filled out, but was not as broad as himself. He looked calmer than he ever had, but Jahn
knew that it was something acquired with years of killing.

  “Damyen, it really is you. I haven’t dared to believe it right up until now.”

  Jahn’s gaze shifted to Natasha and his blood ran cold. She was chained to an upright rectangular frame, her hands and feet stretched to each corner. Her naked body and face were awash with blood. Her eyes were swollen shut, and teeth were broken and missing. Dark congealed blood obscured her mutilated genitals.

  Glaring at Taras, Jahn snarled viciously. “You fucking cunt. Why didn’t you just stay out of my fucking life?”

  Taras shrugged. “Fate really. I heard of the blue eyed freak going up against Rabinov. An incredible man, they said, with his wild black hair, and his strange blue eyes and the body of a Greek god, who fought like Bruce Lee, not that Lee did Muay Thai, of course, but they didn’t know that, but I did. Martial arts used to be illegal in the Soviet once, so where does a man learn to fight like that?”

  “So why did you kill Rabinov? The fight was mine anyway.”

  “I could read you like a book. You were going to let him live. What kind of entertainment is that? Besides, Makarov had no intention of allowing you to leave. I just evened the score for you.”

  Jahn stared at him with contempt. “Where the fuck does that accent come from?”

  Taras laughed. “My apologies. I lived in London for several years. I was part of MI6 for a while, can you believe it? A double agent, and I did a lot of damage.”

  Jahn didn’t believe it. Taras was too volatile for the discipline of such an organisation, but he obviously had delusions of grandeur.

  “You were an assassin,” Jahn said, keeping the venom out of his tone. “That’s why I could never find you, but I looked.”

  “As did I.” Taras looked furious. “And I find you, like an animal in a cage, with your prison tattoos and your tribute to Thailand. I see the whores and freaks you call friends, and I am disgusted.”

  Jahn smiled. “I have urges. They provide an entertainment for me, nothing more.”

  “And the little chubby one. What is she to you? I contemplated killing her, but at least she wasn’t a mongrel, a whore or a freak. I didn’t want to completely alienate you.”

  “Were you hoping for a happy reunion?”

  “I was,” Taras sighed. “There is no need for us to remain separated after all these years. I see this place and I realise how perverted you have become, but I can forgive that. It also helps me to understand why you would keep company with such a foul creature as this one. It can’t even decide whether it wants to be male or female.”

  “What do you want from me, Taras?”

  “What else would I want but to have my last remaining family with me? The past is the past. We didn’t get along back then, but there is no reason we shouldn’t get along now.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? After what you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry.” Taras looked at Natasha. “This type of thing isn’t right. It may have served a purpose once, but you don’t need it anymore. Besides, it broke too easily, giving up this place. It said that you would come here and here you are. What type of strength is that? You and I would have held out.”

  Jahn knew exactly why Natasha had given it up, but something wasn’t right. He had made no mention of their family.

  “Why didn’t you use the gun to kill Makarov instead of ruining my fight?” Jahn watched for reaction. “Especially after what he had done to our parents, to our sister. Surely you wanted revenge too.”

  “Of course I did,” Taras insisted. “It just wasn’t the time. Makarov had men everywhere and what I wanted was to start a panic and get you out there. It worked. You should be thanking me.”

  Jahn nodded. “Yeah, maybe I should, but it’s a bit hard when you have a gun pointed at me.”

  “I’m not stupid, Damyen. There is a lot of history that has passed between us. I’ve never forgotten what you and our father did to me that day, humiliating me.”

  “Poppa gave me a hiding too.”

  “Yeah, but it was no secret how he favoured you. For all his bullshit pacifist ways, he had some distorted sense of pride in what you were doing. It’s just a pity he didn’t feel the same about his homeland.”

  Natasha coughed and choked, and heaved a stream of bloody vomit into the air. Jahn’s adrenaline flowed through him, and it was difficult to speak without rage.

  “Let me get her down. She’s finished anyway.”

  His comment sent Taras into a rage. “It’s a not a fucking woman. It has a fucking cock, or what’s left of it.”

  “She saved my life,” Jahn yelled back, but calmed his voice in the next breath. “We’ve known each other for many years. She is the reason I’m still around.”

  “Yes, it told me plenty about your life.” A smile returned to Taras’ face. “The army, the KGB. I’m proud of you, Damyen. You finally accepted your heritage, unlike our traitor father. Like me, you would have found yourself out in the cold when they tore it all down, our beloved Soviet Union. It is understandable that you have turned to this life, but it doesn’t have to be like this. We can make it great again, men like you and me.”

  Jahn nodded, his eyes flashing to Natasha. “It was always my plan, I just didn’t know how to go about it.”

  “You did well finding Makarov. I wanted to find him myself. Another traitor. The girl, his granddaughter, she has access to his money?”

  “Yes.”

  Taras beamed. “I judged you too quickly. Take your strange friend down, but first discard your weapons. We have a long road to go before we can trust one another.”

  Jahn removed his gun and knife and lay them upon the ground with the torch.

  “Kick them away.”

  He did as he was told, and Taras slowly approached him, his gun directed on him as he used one hand to pat Jahn down. He stopped at the pocket and shoved his hand inside, bringing out the small remote.

  “What’s this?”

  “The car alarm and immobiliser.”

  Taras put it back and continued his search. Standing back, he nodded. “Away you go.”

  Jahn hurried to Natasha and began to undo the leather cuffs at her feet. She had passed out, but startled awake. He stood up, and undid the cuffs at her wrists, holding her as she fell against him.

  “Jahn?” Her voice was weak.

  “Yeah Natasha, it’s me,” he whispered.

  “It’s cold, fucking cold.” She coughed, spitting blood out and her face contorted with agony. “Fuck it hurts.”

  Jahn’s throat became thick. “I know. I’m so sorry, Natasha.”

  His eyes skimmed over her. Taras had mutilated her. The injuries to her genitals were horrific and she had lost a lot of blood. Her body was blackened with bruising and bleeding welts, and Jahn could only imagine what internal organs had been damaged.

  “Did you bring it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me do it. You can still get out.”

  “Not without you.”

  “I’m finished. I can feel it. Don’t leave me like this. ”

  Jahn’s face contorted as he fought back tears. “Natasha…” He tried to talk but couldn’t find words.

  “It’s all been said, my dearest friend. Just tell me that Lena is ok?”

  “Lena will always be safe.”

  Natasha smiled. “We did something good, Jahn.”

  “We did.”

  “Now let me have the last word.”

  Holding her carefully, he lowered her to the floor. Stripping his singlet off, he used it to cushion her head.

  “That’s enough,” Taras demanded. “Move away.”

  Jahn held her hand for a moment longer, tears running down his face. “I did it. I told Lena I loved her.”

  Natasha smiled. “You old softie. You’re going to be alright.”

  He nodded. “And while I’m at it, you know how I feel about you.”

  “Then say it.”

  “I love you, Natasha. I’ll al
ways fucking love you.”

  “Make sure you wash my blood from you. We never did try out that old tub.”

  “It will work, I know it.”

  “Of course it will,” she grimaced. “Just don’t come back to me. Promise me.”

  Jahn nodded solemnly, before laying a kiss on her forehead. His hand slipped away from hers and he stood up and turned to Taras. His arms and chest were covered in blood, and he pointed to an old cast iron bath on a distant wall.

  “I’d like to get this off me.”

  Taras stared at the blood. “Good idea. It’s probably riddled with diseases.”

  They walked across and Jahn ran the tap over the bath and began to wash his arms.

  “Why the hell do you have a bath in here?” Taras asked cynically.

  “As you can see, it gets messy in here sometimes. Hygiene is important to me.”

  Taras kept the gun on him while his gaze swept the shed. It was more like a small warehouse in size. Along one wall was an assortment of punishment apparatus, whips, paddles and canes. The exposed wooden framework in the roof had chains hanging from it, with leather cuffs. At various parts of the shed there were restraining benches and frames fitted with more leather cuffs.

  “The two men you had in cages, I put them out of their misery. From the extent of their wounds, I trust you had already extracted whatever information you were after.”

  Jahn grimaced and looked across to a corner where several large dog cages sat in a row. On the floor of two of them, lay the unmoving naked and bloodied bodies of Ivan and his friend. He sighed, but couldn’t summon too much regret.

  “Who were they?” Taras asked casually.

  “Arseholes,” Jahn replied. “The world is full of them.”

  “This is a strange set up for interrogation. It reeks of sexual perversity. What type of man have you turned into, Damyen?”

  “A bitter one. It seems the score was evened when I was brought back here against my will. We both spent our adolescence hating where we were. You only had to endure it for nine years. Seventeen years later I’m still stuck here.”