The Russian Unleashed

by Red Phoenix

  He points to the other side of the clearing. “And, over there, you have a huge barn with horses, cows, and chickens to keep you company.”

  I snort. “I like your idea, minus the nuisance of animals.”

  “So be it. A rustic cabin in the woods. The perfect escape from modern city life whenever you need it.”

  I smile. “I like the way you think, cattleman.”

  As we head to the dungeon, I can tell Anderson is getting nervous by the way he rubs his hands against his jeans every few minutes.

  Naturally, I find it amusing.

  “Rest easy, Anderson. I took Thane here once and he survived.”

  “Did he?” he asks, sounding relieved.

  “Just keep a straight face and think like a sadist. You’ll be fine.”

  He laughs. “What do sadists think like?”

  “Intense pain is an act of pleasure, and these submissives crave it like no other.”

  Anderson sucks in his breath and lets it out slowly, nodding. “Got it.”

  The moment we pull up to the ancient stone building, I see his nerves return and I begin to wonder if this was a mistake.

  The historic building with its lone spire and stained-glass windows used to be a church. Casual travelers easily mistake it as such, never suspecting the depravity enjoyed within its majestic walls.

  Before we enter the building, I stop Anderson. “Remember, no eye contact with the subs. Every scream you hear comes from the lips of a woman who came here tonight wanting what we can give them.” I smirk, adding, “There’s no reason to ‘rescue’ them.”

  Anderson laughs.

  We both recall the night I introduced him to a dungeon for the first time. He was ready to beat up every Dominant there to defend the woman he thought they were abusing.

  It still makes me chuckle, thinking back on it.

  “You ready for this, cattleman?”

  He lets out an anxious sigh, then nods. “Let’s do this.”

  I use the large iron knocker to announce our arrival. The metal reverberates with a deep, satisfying sound. The peephole opens, and the doorman asks me a series of questions. After answering them correctly, the heavy door swings open and we’re invited inside.

  We walk in together and everyone stops in mid-action as their gaze moves to us. I have already forewarned my friends that I was bringing Anderson with me tonight. These men are a private lot and don’t appreciate the invasion of outsiders.

  I have assured them Anderson’s skill with the bullwhip is worth their inconvenience.

  Anderson takes off his hat as he surveys our private cathedral of kink.

  Nodding to the other Dominants, he follows my lead and hands his hat, coat, and tool bag to the naked submissive waiting to take it.

  “Feel free to observe before you pick one of my three subs over there.”

  I point to the three naked submissives bound together on a pole, each waiting to fulfill his fantasy. I have purposely given him a choice of subs who can accommodate his large girth.

  The Doms return to their own scenes, and soon the room is filled with the sounds of rough play.

  As I converse with several of my friends, I watch Anderson quietly walk through the dungeon and stop to observe a stockade scene.

  The sub has been locked in a kneeling position, her head and hands secured by the wooden device. She is completely defenseless as her Master canes her naked ass.

  There is nothing as alluring than when a sadist and a masochist get together. The union is fierce but sexually satisfying for both partners. A submissive’s open willingness, coupled with the sadist’s ruthless desire, makes for a sexual energy few ever experience.

  Her cries of pain stir me.

  Anderson must agree, because it is not long before he walks away from the scene to meet my three girls. I hang back, curious about which one he will choose.

  To my surprise, Anderson picks the tiniest sub rather than the Amazonian woman standing beside her. The reduced surface area for play will require more precision on his part, but perhaps that is what he is hungry for.

  Anderson unties her from the pole and leads her to a small wooden platform on the floor. He takes the cuffs chained to the base and wraps them around her ankles so her legs are spread apart but she has slack enough to move.

  He then grabs the cuffs above her head and lowers them so he can secure her small wrists. The beauty of this platform is that it allows for movement during the session, but the sub cannot get away.

  He pulls the sub’s head back and kisses her roughly before moving away.

  I’m impressed when Master Anderson snaps his fingers as if he is a longtime member of this dungeon. The submissive who took his things comes running with his tool bag. Anderson takes out his bullwhip and dismisses her so he can warm up.

  Not many Doms at this dungeon have seen, much less used, a bullwhip. They prefer the wickedness of the cat o’ nines. I look forward to seeing their reactions when they observe his masterful skill.

  He instantly commands everyone’s attention when he cracks his whip above his head. His little sub ditya has never felt the bite of a bullwhip and cowers at the sound of it.

  After warming up his muscles, Anderson begins. His lashes are light, barely grazing the skin. The other Doms look at each other with smirks on their faces. Clearly, they not impressed when they hear her moans of pleasure instead of pain.

  I wonder if the cattleman has forgotten my instruction until that first powerful lash strikes her.

  The scream that comes from her lips attracts the attention of all the Doms in the dungeon.

  Anderson starts talking to her in a low voice as he swings his whip around several times before each lash. Even though ditya doesn’t speak English, she responds to the commanding tone in his voice.

  Rather than vary the power behind each lash, Anderson keeps it at the same demanding intensity as he moves up and down her upper back, buttocks, and thighs. The man strikes with such precision that he creates a pattern with his marks.

  Ditya is profoundly challenged by the concentrated strokes of his bullwhip, as she whimpers and screams, her body covered in sweat. The frantic rattle of the chains fills the air as she squirms after each lash. The cruel cut of the bullwhip as it lashes the air before striking complements her passionate cries.

  I can tell the torturous but mesmerizing instrument pleases her.

  Anderson finishes by doing a sequence of cracks over his head before his final lash.

  Ditya’s seductive scream has the entire dungeon entranced.

  Anderson holds out his bullwhip to the submissive waiting on him. She quickly runs to take it and bows.

  He approaches ditya, speaking to her in a soothing tone as he caresses her trembling body. He then releases the chains above her head until her body is bent at the waist so he can take her from behind. He takes one of her cuffed wrists and indicates that she is to hold onto the chain.

  She grabs it with both hands and waits, swaying unsteadily in her bindings.

  Anderson unzips his pants and releases his massive cock in front of her. Ditya gasps when she sees it.

  I notice every eye is on them as he gets into position behind her. The entire dungeon wants to watch his huge shaft claim ditya’s pussy.

  Anderson wraps his large hands around her tiny waist—the only area he has not touched with his whip—and he presses the large head of his shaft against her wet opening.

  Ditya cries out as he slowly forces it into her.

  Had we been at Novy Soyuz, people would have been cheering and clapping by now. But, in this environment, there is only silence as he starts thrusting his cock into her.

  If Anderson didn’t have the respect of the other Doms before, he does now as we listen to ditya’s moans and the wet sound of her pussy as his huge cock claims her.

  I count at least three of her orgasms before he comes himself, pumping her full of his seed.

  After Anderson finishes, with his cock still wedged
inside her, he pulls on the chain above her head, lifting her arms until he can reach out to unbind them. He pulls her small frame against his body for a few moments, kissing the top of her head.

  I know what he is doing and smirk.

  In front of all the sadists in the room, he gives her this hint of aftercare before pulling out.

  The dungeon slowly comes back to life once their scene is over.

  I must say, the cattleman has made this Russian proud tonight.

  Snake in the Grass

  After a long night entertaining myself at the dungeon, Novy Soyuz, I’m awakened at the crack of dawn to the sound of my landline ringing—and it won’t stop.

  I groan in frustration. Everyone knows to contact me on my cell phone, so I get up and unplug the damn thing from the wall, grateful when silence reigns again.

  I crawl back into bed. Just as I get comfortable, my cell phone starts ringing. I snatch it off the nightstand angrily. I don’t recognize the number so I shut off the phone and roll over, trying to get back to sleep.

  Not twenty minutes later, there’s frantic knocking at my front door.

  My heart starts to race when I realize something must be seriously wrong.

  I jump out of bed and pull on my sweatpants. When I throw the door open, I find Titov standing there, his face pale.

  I immediately pull him inside. “What’s wrong?”

  When he hesitates to answer, I grab his shoulders and shake him. “Tell me!”

  “I don’t know where to start…”

  “Spit it out,” I demand, growing increasingly unsettled by his reaction. “Please tell me the girls are okay!”

  Titov looks devastated when he answers. It’s as if it physically hurts him to say the words out loud. “Dr. Volkov is being accused of sexually abusing the girls.”

  “What? He would never do that!”

  “I know, gospodin, but it is the breaking story this morning. It’s all over the news.”

  “Who the hell is accusing him?”

  Titov shakes his head frantically. “I don’t know!”

  I start pacing, the knot in my stomach growing into a ball of black fury.

  But then…comes the doubt.

  What if I was wrong about him? What if we were all wrong?

  I grab my phone and call Dr. Morozova, who examined Lada the first day.

  The phone rings several times before she picks it up. By the grogginess of her voice, it’s obvious I’ve woken her. However, I do not apologize because the girls’ well-being is at stake.

  “Dr. Morozova, I need you to assemble a medical team to speak to the girls as soon as possible. Dr. Volkov has been accused of an unspeakable act and we need to get down to the truth immediately.”

  Her voice is icy when she asks, “Are we talking about sexual abuse?”

  “Yes. While I don’t believe he would do that…we can’t know for certain.”

  “Have the girls brought to the hospital and I’ll have the staff meet them there.”

  “No,” I insist. “This must be done with extreme care, Dr. Morozova. Don’t you remember what happened with Lada when we tried to make her leave? It is imperative these young women not be traumatized any further. Have the team go to the facility. The girls have been victimized enough.”

  She is silent for a moment, then sighs. “You’re right. I will get the necessary staff together and visit them.”

  “Thank you.” I pause for a moment, my emotions overwhelming me. “Even if this accusation proves false, it could have devastating and far-reaching effects on these four girls.”

  “I know. I will do my best to keep their distress to a minimum.”

  “Good.”

  “I feel it would be best if you and Dr. Volkov stay away from the facility until this issue has been resolved.”

  “I agree.”

  I hear her mutter under her breath, “I hope to God they are wrong.”

  “Yes,” I choke out.

  The idea that I may have put the girls in harm’s way crushes my soul.

  After speaking with her, I call Michail Volkov.

  He immediately answers. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

  “So, you’ve heard?”

  “Yes, the press was at my door before dawn. They have been relentless. So much so, I had to send my wife and children away for their safety.”

  “Dr. Volkov, you should know, I’ve sent a medical team to check on the girls.”

  “It’s the only prudent thing to do, given the circumstances. However, I would never do such a thing and have strict protocols in place so I am never alone with the girls. What I am being accused of is abhorrent to me. And, I didn’t steal the money.”

  “What money?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Two million rubles are missing from the refuge account, and I supposedly stole them.”

  “What?” I roar.

  “Since you know the generous salary I am paid as Director, I have absolutely no incentive to steal money.”

  I am certain now that all the accusations against Dr. Volkov are false. Whoever set him up was a fool.

  “Once we get official word back from the medical team concerning the girls, I will publicly refute the accusations and we can proceed as normal,” I assure him.

  “Unfortunately, the facility may have to shut down since the integrity of the program is now in question.”

  “We can’t let that happen!”

  “While I hope that won’t be the case, Mr. Durov. I’m a firm believer in preparing for the worst. We should plan for a smooth transition of our patients, just in case.”

  “I assure you, Dr. Volkov, I will do everything in my power to restore your good name and the reputation of our facility. I won’t let this vicious lie ruin our efforts, and I refuse to allow these young women to be scattered and shoved into homes unprepared for the attention they require.”

  He sighs heavily. “That is why we must do our due diligence and start planning for an alternative. One without me as director and the facility operating at its current location.”

  I suddenly have a sinking feeling he may be right. “Blyat!”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  My lawyer, Yurlov, advises me to stay silent until the results come back. He insists any hint of abuse by the doctor will reflect badly on me personally if I stand behind him now and then am proven wrong.

  So, I watch as the scandal unfolds on the news while I wait impatiently for Dr. Morozova’s call. It’s torture to listen to the accusations against the good doctor. Even Dr. Volkov’s spotless record is called into question when the reporters start insinuating it is too clean to be trusted.

  There is also growing speculation I had some perverse hand in it, as well.

  The fact that the facility is housed at my residence automatically makes me suspect even though I no longer reside there. They begin questioning the rescue of the girl at the train station, implying it was staged to gain the public’s trust.

  Each hour that ticks by only seems to add fuel to the fire.

  I have to remind myself that my reputation is unimportant compared to the girls’ welfare. As long as they are shielded from the ugliness taking place, I can handle whatever comes.

  By noon, I finally get the call.

  “I apologize it’s taken so long,” Dr. Morozova begins. “Because of the serious nature of these allegations, we had to be thorough. We spoke with all of the staff, as well as the young women. I wanted to wait until we had everything documented and submitted before I contacted you.”

  “He is innocent,” I state, not needing to ask.

  “Yes. None of the girls reported anything inappropriate, and the physician who performed the routine physical examinations saw no evidence to necessitate a forensic exam.”

  “How did the girls handle it? Are they okay?”

  “Naturally, they were confused as to why we were asking so many questions specifically about Dr. Volkov, but I assured them their honest answers wou
ld safeguard that the facility was following procedure.”

  I’m grateful for her compassion for the girls and thank her.

  “Mr. Durov, the young women appear well-adjusted, considering their history.”

  “I’m grateful to hear it. Know that I appreciate your support, as well as your thoroughness in this matter.” But then I growl angrily, “Whoever is responsible for these unfounded accusations has not only put Dr. Volkov’s reputation on the line but could also undermine all the work being done for the girls.”

  “I certainly hope not, Mr. Durov. It would be a terrible loss.”

  “I agree. Now that I have the evidence to prove that this is a grossly false accusation, I will right this wrong.”

  I set up a press conference. As soon as I enter the room, the feeding frenzy-like atmosphere hits me as I stare at the mob of reporters. Every time I speak, I am interrupted and bombarded with new questions that perpetuate the lies.

  It appears none of the reporters wants to hear the truth.

  After fifteen minutes of pandemonium, I realize how futile my efforts are and push my way out of the conference room, directing them to check the medical findings.

  It galls me that I had no say when the public hailed me as a hero, and I am just as helpless now that I am being labeled a villain through no fault of my own.

  On the drive back to the apartment, I get a call from Andrev. Although I am in no mood to speak to anyone, I answer.

  “What?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Not now,” I snarl.

  “All of us are meeting at Vlad’s house. This doesn’t just involve you, Anton. We need to discuss what has happened and how we are going to protect the family.”

  I let out a ragged sigh, now appreciating the far-reaching effect this unfounded accusation is having on my life.

  “Fine. What time?”

  “We’re gathering there now. This has gotten out of control.”

  I snap my fingers. “Igor. We’re headed to Vlad’s.”