Her Russian Knight(3)By: Red Phoenix
Opening the door leading down to the dungeon, he turned and warned, “Watch your step, Ms. Taylor. I don’t want you to hurt yourself falling.” He smiled hungrily as he leaned close and added in a lustful tone, “I want to be the only source of your pain.”
Her little gasp set the sadist in him on fire. Today’s session would be one to remember, there was no doubt in his mind, and he pondered why he had never played with the vixen until now.
Rytsar guided her down the narrow steps and through the hallway lit by torches all the way to the dungeon gate. The sound of the iron hinges creaking as he opened it for her added to the ambiance of their deviant encounter.
Two pillar candles on either side of a lone pole provided an eerie glow.
“Strip, Ms. Taylor, and kneel at my feet.”
Lea immediately undressed, giving Rytsar his first unencumbered view of those incredibly large breasts. Although they were surgically enhanced, her physician had done a remarkable job making them look natural and very pleasing to both the eye and groin.
Rytsar watched her kneel demurely at his feet, her head bowed and her palms open in submission.
“I need to retrieve my instrument. You will wait here until my return.”
“Yes, Rytsar,” she answered with bated breath.
With a wicked grin, he blew out the first candle and then the second, leaving only the glow from the light in the hallway to illuminate the room.
Rytsar closed the gate, letting it clink into place. He had no lock, but it was unnecessary. Ms. Taylor had the freedom to leave—but would she? Only her own self-determination and desire to scene with him would prevent her from walking out.
It was a test, and a lesson of sorts—if she was willing to learn from it.
He turned from Lea and slowly walked down the hallway, his boots echoing in the dark as he snuffed out each torch, leaving Ms. Taylor completely in the dark.
Rytsar took his time stripping out of his clothes. He slipped on his brown leather pants and put his boots back on, no other clothing necessary when scening with his ’nines.
As he gathered his beloved tool, Rytsar was struck by how fortunate he was. The submission of a woman in the hands of a sadist was a truly hallowed exchange. It was extraordinary to find someone not only willing to lay down their own desires, but to accept and embrace the pain he longed to offer—and he did not receive that gift lightly.
There was a time he had, under the tutelage of his father—a man who refused to recognize his submissives as thinking, spiritual beings. His father had taught Rytsar early on that women had been created solely for the purpose of fulfilling a man’s pleasure. It never crossed his father’s mind to appreciate a woman’s submission, much less to thank her for it.
Hell, the great Vladimir Durov would not consider thanking a woman any more than he would thank a piece of steak for being succulent.
Having been cruelly treated by his father as a boy, Rytsar thought nothing of his callous treatment of submissives. It wasn’t until college, when Rytsar witnessed Thane interact with the young sub named glee, that he realized his father had it all wrong.
That realization unbalanced his world—his whole way of thinking.
Now it seemed a tragic waste that he had personally whipped and fucked countless women with zero empathy or connection. How many of the girls had enjoyed his sadistic attentions, how many had endured it because of who he was, and how many had silently hated him for unleashing his pain on their bodies?
He’d never know the answer to those questions because he’d never once cared to ask.
Safewords were not employed in his father’s circle.
In Vladimir Durov’s mind, aftercare was a joke, emphasizing the weakness of any Dominant who dared to employ it. However, when Rytsar saw the connection between Thane and glee, and her growing adoration for his American friend, he realized that his father was a fool.
Although it took years to fully convert to a version of D/s similar to Thane’s, Rytsar came to understand and embrace its raw power. When he started connecting with his submissives, he instantly noticed a change in his BDSM encounters.
While the subs had always taken an instant liking to him in whatever social group he was a part of, they now sought him out for private encounters. These women opened up themselves in ways they never had before because of the foundation of trust he’d established.