Sold To The Russian

by Isabella Laase

  With a shrug, Liam spoke in Russian. “The difference between communism and capitalism? In capitalism, man exploits man and in communism it’s the other way around.”

  “A lesson in politics made you blush?” Zoya whispered suspiciously. “You aren’t telling me something. I’m not asking again, or I’m going to figure out how to tell him to keep you in those handcuffs.”

  Galena swallowed hard. “He says that club you’re going to is a private bath house that Pavel belongs to.”

  “And…” prompted Zoya. “There has to be more to this. He’s smiling like an idiot.”

  “Yeah,” said Galena miserably. “He’s invited me to stay too, and he won’t tell my father that I was downtown if I do. He says that he has a special way to take care of girls who don’t mind what they’re told and get sassy when reprimanded.”

  “Why the hell would you even consider that? I mean, it’s your car, Galena. You can take the subway or the bus.” With her hands still cuffed behind her back, Galena nodded incredulously at the back of Liam’s head. “Ignore him,” Zoya snapped. “He can’t understand us.”

  “Yes, I can,” he said cheerfully. “And this whole conversation has been very educational.”

  Galena leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Look at him, Zoya. He’s fucking gorgeous. No girl in their right mind would walk away from that ass. He can ‘deal with me’ at their little club all he wants if I get to keep my car.”

  “Deal with you? What kind of place is this, exactly?”

  “He says…” Galena took a deep breath. “It is a place that he will love, and I will love to hate. He says that if I choose to go with him, he is going to strip me before he spanks my bare ass. And I don’t think Pavel is going to buy you lunch.”

  Chapter 11

  His ‘wife’ wasn’t going to sit for a week, stewed Pavel, standing impatiently on the front porch of the classic mansion while he waited for his cousin to arrive. The club’s location in the heart of a predominantly Russian neighborhood, high joining fees, and exorbitant monthly dues tended to encourage a select membership, but Liam had been there many times as his guest. As an American cop, he wasn’t always welcome with open arms, but with Pavel as his host, nobody had ever openly questioned his presence, either.

  Liam finally pulled the police car into the driveway. Sending Pavel an exasperated eye roll, he opened the back door for the girls to climb out. Zoya, with her curvy figure and long, unruly hair, kept her gaze focused on the concrete driveway and blonde, petite Galena, with her arms still cuffed behind her back, stared at the house in disbelief. The friends were polar opposites in temperament and physical characteristics, but each clearly understood that they faced similar challenges in their immediate future.

  Given her deception, a little fear was healthy for Zoya, and he’d chosen this venue to send a clear message. Eventually, he would have to find a permanent place for her, but her hesitation to return to Georgia or Russia had complicated his choices. He’d enjoyed their quiet evenings together and exploring her curves on his living room floor had been a welcome treat. A nice apartment for her in the Upper East Side would likely appeal to both of them, but she still needed to understand that obedience without question or trickery would be her only option as long as he was responsible for her safety.

  Using Pavel’s key, the four of them entered the mansion, a classic white brick structure built during the post-war prosperity. From the outside, the property looked like the rest of the residential neighborhood with well-manicured grounds framed by bright flowerbeds and a classic fountain that matched the wrought-iron fencing. The two-story entrance hall housed a solid marble floor and staircase, and a large Waterford crystal chandelier was nestled into the hexagonal ceiling that hinted toward the private bedrooms on the second and third floors.

  “This doesn’t look too bad,” Galena said to Zoya a little too loudly. Pavel raised an eyebrow, and Zoya’s little friend had the sense to cringe.

  “Do you see those stairs to the basement, Galena?” asked Liam. She nodded before he continued. “They lead to a traditional Russian sauna and the indoor pool that the club is publically known for, but there are also several concrete-walled dungeons, each with an extensive collection of restraints and other equipment used to punish naughty girls. Would you like to see them?”

  “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper and her cheeks burning a bright red. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

  Always the politician, Liam acknowledged the small group gathered in the living room. “Gentlemen, I’ve brought a disrespectful sub today who needs to be taught the boundaries necessary to keep her safe. Could I, perhaps, administer that chastisement in your establishment?”

  The men sat up a little higher in their comfortable leather chairs, putting aside their club sandwiches and crystal glasses, and the two women resting at the feet of their masters stirred with excitement. This was a man’s world and a man’s club, and the gender imbalance was easily offset by the carefully vetted application process for a woman to enter free of charge as a well-cared-for submissive. In this space, the two sides came together to explore the darker world of sex and pain to create a singular experience that none would soon forget.

  “Wait,” said Galena, taking a few steps backwards until she bumped into the baby grand Steinway nestled under the windows. “I… I can’t do this here. Can I? I mean, I thought you were going to take me to a room or something?” Turning to Liam, she whispered dramatically, “These guys probably know my father, and if he finds out I’m here, he won’t just take my car, he’ll murder me.”

  “This is a club built on absolute discretion,” dismissed Pavel. “We’ve all signed iron-clad nondisclosure agreements. Your secrets are safe, but you should sign the document, as well. Whether you choose to participate or not, we demand the same level of confidentiality from you. If you break that agreement, you will have to deal with me, and I assure you that I will not be nearly as accommodating as Liam.”

  Liam unlocked her cuffs and retrieved the requisite form and a high quality fountain pen from the mahogany desk tucked into the adjoining library. She ruefully rubbed her wrists, but continued to stutter. “But, he said… I’d be… like not wearing clothes.”

  The doms laughed, running their hands through their subs’ hair until the quiet women laid their heads on their masters’ thighs to further encourage the petting. “It would be very difficult to administer any kind of effective discipline over your blue jeans,” said Johannes Dzuiba, a local attorney. “But if it makes you feel better, we can lower some of the barriers to your indecision.” He pulled a little harder on his sub’s hair. “Strip, to make our guest more comfortable.”

  The full-busted woman easily slipped out of her clothes as the other dom gave his sub the same instructions, and the neatly folded pile of dresses and panties were stowed in a long cedar storage bench. With her mouth open in an almost perfect circle, Galena didn’t move. Pavel snapped his fingers, and she shook her head with a shudder, quickly signing the document and handing it to him with trembling fingers.

  Liam removed the police radio from his shoulder. “This punishment is unrelated to any official police business. You’re here on your own free will, and you can leave anytime you choose. Of course, that’ll end our agreement, and I’ll take you directly to your father. Let’s begin. I haven’t much time.”

  “Right now?” Galena asked, staring as he slipped out of his uniform shirt, leaving a plain white t-shirt to cover his lean frame. “You mean like right now?”

  “Once we begin,” said Liam, running his hand across Galena’s cheek, “your only acceptable response will be yes, sir or no, sir. Remove your clothes and put them in the storage bench with the others. If you prefer, we could take our guests to one of the dungeons that can accommodate a crowd, but this room is well-equipped to handle a simple spanking.”

  Zoya’s shocked expression was priceless as her friend slowly slipped out of her jeans and shirt, taking her time as tho
ugh it would save her from the inevitable. Galena’s red cheeks continued to betray her mortification, and she struggled to meet anybody’s eye, holding onto her bra and panties much too long.

  Liam crossed his arms. “If I’m late getting back to work, Galena, you will be very unhappy.” She nodded, slipping the last of her privacy to the pile which she stowed in the appropriate location. Lean and tiny, her firm breasts and shaved pussy were finally exposed.

  “Good girl,” rewarded Liam patiently. “I’ll use my hand across your bottom and nothing else. Nobody will touch you except for me and Pavel and—”

  “Pavel?” she interrupted, taking a step away from him. “You didn’t say anything about Pavel.”

  “Did I give you permission to move?” Liam growled, as she jumped back into place. “Of course, Pavel. You defied him by taking his wife to an unsafe location.”

  “They’re talking about you,” whispered Zoya, unable to follow the English conversation. “What are they saying?”

  Pavel should strip her like the others, but there were too many unanswered questions about her interest in kink, and he wanted to take his time introducing her to this lifestyle to maintain her natural enthusiasm. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. “Kneel by my side and don’t say another word, or you’ll take her place. Do you understand?”

  “You can jump in here anytime you want, Zoya,” muttered Galena.

  “It looks like this is still your punishment, little girl,” continued Liam cheerfully as Zoya knelt by Pavel’s side. “Besides me, Pavel is the only one who will touch you. I will restrain you, and I won’t leave any bruises or even any redness that lasts more than a few hours. This is your last chance to disagree. Once I start this spanking, the only way to stop is for you to use the word ‘red.’ If you do, you may dress, and I will take you home in my police car. I might even feel obligated to turn on the lights and sirens to make up for the fact that you’ve brought me this far. Do you agree?”

  “Restrained?” she asked warily. “You mean like tied up?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” said Liam. “I’m not going to spend all of my energy trying to keep you in place, and it’s unlikely that you’ll have the fortitude to remain still on your own.”

  “Like… like exactly how many times are you planning to…” She lowered her voice to a mortified whisper. “Spank me. Like how many… spanks?”

  “That’s for me to decide and you to experience. Those are my rules. Are you participating or not?”

  With her arms crossed over her breasts, she thought for a long few seconds, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I… I agree,” said Galena, bravely sticking out her chin. “I can do this.”

  “Good,” said Liam. Bending her stomach over the arm of an empty leather chair, he ran his hands along her back, sliding across her exposed bottom to nudge her thighs further apart. Retrieving a set of four straps that had been chained to the floor, he fastened the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, pulling the slack to fully display her nicely shaved pussy, already glistening with an unmet need. “How does that feel?” asked Liam softly, checking the tightness of the restraints. “Are you ready to begin?”

  “Yeah…” she whispered, but it took a solid spank before she shouted, “Wait! I don’t think I’m re—” A few more spanks rained down on her unprotected ass, and she added, “Sir… no, sir… just wait…”

  The time for negotiations had ended, and Liam was a big man with a clear understanding of his role. The first few spanks had warmed her skin, each one causing her to rise to her toes, but she closed her eyes, biting on her bottom lip as though she were determined to meet his demands. Like a finely mechanized machine, he picked up his pace, covering each part of her bottom from the ultra-sensitive spots across the middle and the place where her thighs met her ass to the fleshier thickness that could take a harder spank without causing her to shout.

  When he began to cover previously spanked skin, the bright pink turned to a beautiful shade of red, and her protests became more vocal. “That hurts,” she whimpered, pulling on her restraints. “I don’t… stop that…” Her dissatisfaction grew even louder until she cried out with incoherent sentences. “I… please… fine… no…”

  Zoya’s eyes were wide with fear, but also a hungry fascination as she watched the woman receive her punishment. She continued to lean into his leg, and the naturally submissive act caused his cock to harden. Her wiggling, however, revealed even more about her own arousal, and her hand subtly moved to rub against her vulva.

  “Twelve more, pet,” Liam said softly, rubbing the heat further into her exposed flesh. “And these will hurt across that bright red that so beautifully decorates your ass. You’ll count them, and beg me for another with the appropriate respectful tone. And then you’ll be finished and your debt to society will be paid. If I’m not satisfied, we start over. Do you understand?”

  Galena nodded, asking him respectfully for each spank, but biting her bottom lip hard enough to leave a red mark when he delivered. With overflowing tears staining her cheeks, she swore softly and took sobbing breaths between each correction, but he gave her time to adjust to the newest level of pain through the first eight. The little spitfire persevered, but the last four came hard and furious, causing her to shriek loudly.

  He nodded to Pavel who ran his hands appreciatively over her burning bottom. “Nice work, Liam. I don’t think she’ll kick a police officer anytime soon, at least not you.”

  Liam released her from the restraints and sat in the chair to pull her into his arms, offering her quiet words of reassurance until her tears slowed and her breathing returned to some sense of normalcy. He motioned to Pavel for her clothes, helping her dress and smoothing the snarls out of her hair until the only visible reminder of her punishment was the small red mark on her bottom lip.

  “You did beautifully,” said Pavel in Russian, handing her a plain white business card with a name and phone number. “This is the name of our sub master. If you’re interested in continuing with us, he’ll arrange for a complete orientation and admission. You would be a welcome addition. Any personal limitations would always be yours to define, and you may seek either a long-term relationship or spend just a few hours with a dominant of your choosing.”

  “May I arrange for a taxi or one of the staff to take you home, Galena?” Liam asked respectfully.

  “No,” she said quietly. “I mean, no, thank you, sir. I think I prefer to walk.” Turning to Zoya, she spoke in Russia. “I’ll call you soon… be… have…” She waited a second or two before adding, “I don’t even know what to say. Call me when you get home.” She left the building rubbing her sore bottom, but not before he saw the tiniest smirk as she stole a peek at Liam on her way out the door. She needed a few hours to process her experience, but he had no doubt that she’d be back.

  Turning to Zoya, Pavel reevaluated his own plans. He’d intended to deliver a similar punishment in the living room, but an inexplicable jealous rage washed over him when he stared at the men waiting for the second act to complete their afternoon’s entertainment. He wanted her all to himself, at least the first time that she experienced a true world of erotic sex. Her untrained expression writhing under his restraints would remain on him with no distractions.

  “Come, Zoya,” commanded Pavel. “While I very much enjoy a public scene, I believe we will explore the dungeons for a more personal experience. Liam, I’ll talk to you soon.” Liam nodded while straightening his uniform and reattaching his police radio, and the other men returned their attention to their subs and their lunches. Zoya swallowed hard, but obediently followed Pavel down the stairs.

  Chapter 12

  Far removed from her violent past in St. Petersburg, the sensuality embedded in Galena’s spanking had blurred the line between sex and force, but Pavel remained a non-negotiable wall of authority. She followed him down the stairs where the smell of chlorine grew stronger in the hallway lined by a row of storage lockers. He retrieve
d a large cloth bag and nodded for her to enter a small room with a frosted glass door. Contrasting with the fully elegant upstairs, the space was forbidding with white cinder block walls and a gray painted floor. A large metal contraption stood in the center of the space, and the four leather cuffs chained to the padded X pattern were the perfect place to hold a person, willing or unwilling.

  “Take off your clothes, Zoya,” he said impatiently. His red polo shirt snugged around muscled forearms decorated by the winding ink reaching to his wrists. “I’m ready to get started.”

  “Why aren’t we having a long conversation like Galena and Liam?” she asked. “They talked forever before he… he restrained her.”

  “Is that necessary?” he asked skeptically. “I established my rules the first time I held you accountable, but this is a place to learn discipline, not necessarily to receive a punishment and those are two very different things. Besides, are you really interested in a conversation or are you just stalling because I assure you that this is inevitable, no matter how long you postpone it.”

  She chewed nervously on her fingernail, but he remained patient. “I’m stalling,” she admitted. “But this isn’t my fault. You weren’t very clear with all of this… stay ‘close,’ stay ‘out of trouble’ rules. Life is very different here.”

  “Are you saying that you didn’t anticipate my anger over your lack of transparency? Or that somehow, you magically happened to be at a protest without any prior knowledge of what was going on?”

  “I…” she started to stutter, but her frown deepened and she stood a little taller. “Fine. We went to the protest because we wanted to see what it was like. I have my own opinions, and I shouldn’t have to ask you to approve them. Even I know that America isn’t like that.”

  “And how did that work out for you,” he asked with an arched eyebrow. “Are you more of an American after being shoved to the ground by a stranger, or was it your skinned knee and a ride home in the back of a police car that cemented your quest for freedom? But let’s assume for a moment that all of this is true. At what point in the conflict did you become an advocate for Chechen independence?”