THE SOLDIER

Pavel

The next morning, I edge my little slave for hours with my mouth between her legs. She weeps, pounding her fists against my shoulders, begging for release. She’s such a good subbie, waiting for my permission. Not that I would punish her if she did come.

Not after I broke her last night.

Even if she isn’t, I’m still too raw from it. I’m starting to think there’s no pain I inflict on her that I don’t feel myself. Strange for a stone-cold sadist.

When I’m about to die of need myself, I put her on her knees and forearms and fuck her until she sobs. This time I don’t feel bad about her tears. This is the only kind of crying I want out of her. The too-much-pleasure variety that leaves her wrung-out with bliss for hours afterward.

I wait until my climax comes on hard, then bark, “come,” as I bury myself balls-deep and die a small death. Kayla’s muscles squeeze around my dick, milking it for all its worth, and then I topple us both to our sides as she sobs out her breath.

When I roll her onto her back and wipe her tears from her face, she gives me a dreamy smile. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her.

She lets out a limp moan.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“I managed to get you into the spa today.”

She blinks, obviously trying to come back to reality. Her hair is spread in a golden halo around her head, her face flushed a pretty shade of pink.

“Your first appointment is at one. I need to take care of some business, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Her lips part. “Oh.”

“Yes, Master,” I prompt to head off the line of questioning I sense is about to start up.

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower before I go.” I swear to Christ I’m not the kind of guy who talks just to hear himself talk, but Kayla’s vulnerability, especially after a scene, forces me to communicate far more.

“Me too,” she murmurs and sits up.

I take her hand to help her off the bed and lead her into the bathroom where I wash her from head to toe. My soft, pliant slave-doll, who I will avenge like a fucking nightmare today.

I texted Dima when I woke up this morning asking for Ensign’s address, he replied, Wait until noon. Nikolai, Oleg and I are flying out to lend a hand. I’ll text when we land.

I stared at my phone for a moment, trying to identify the unfamiliar feeling swirling in my chest. Gratitude. I knew my bratva brothers had my back in business, but this thing with Kayla has nothing to do with them. Nothing at all. They’ve never even met her, and yet three of them dropped everything to back me up on this.

Maybe it was just that it came on the heels of Kayla’s unbelievable acceptance of my patricide, but I’ve never felt so… open. My armor got knocked off last night, and it feels like I don’t even need it.

I send Kayla out of the shower, so I can wash myself. When I come out, she’s naked in the room, holding my phone. “Dima says they’re outside?” She turns the screen around to face me.

Well, fuck.

“Should you be reading my texts, slave?”

She’s unfazed by my stern tone. “No, sir. Why are they here? Can I meet them?”

“I told you, we have some business to take care of.”

She folds her fingers underneath her chin and bats her eyelashes. “Please? I’ve been dying to meet your housemates. Who’s here? Both twins?”

I don’t know how the fuck she even knows I live with twins. Oh yeah-Sasha, of course. Really, what I didn’t know was that she had any interest in my housemates at all.

“Yes, the twins. And Oleg.” Gah. I run a hand through my hair. There’s no harm in her meeting them, I guess. I don’t know why it makes me break into a sweat. I liked keeping Kayla to myself, I guess. Keeping our relationship in the dark. In a hotel room. Where the outside world can’t find us or affect us.

But it seems Kayla craves something different.

“You have ninety seconds to get dressed,” I tell her, mostly to watch her scurry around while I pull on a pair of black jeans and a dark t-shirt. Wouldn’t want to get blood stains on lighter clothes.

She’s ready before I am, dragging a brush through her hair quickly as I open the door.

“Just for a minute. To meet them. We’re not hanging out.”

“Okay,” she says brightly.

Something shifts in my chest. This girl.

I take her downstairs and outside where I spot a white passenger van with familiar plumbing magnets on the doors. “Over here.” I take her hand, and we walk across the street.

Nikolai climbs out of the driver’s side when we approach. “Wait… is she coming?”

“No, you dumb fuck,” I tell him as I reach out to shake his hand and thump his shoulder. It’s a rare show of appreciation on my part, and Nikolai recognizes it by thumping me back.

The other two guys pile out of the van.

“Kayla wanted to meet you guys.” I rest my hand on her lower back. “This is Nikolai.”

“Nikolai! Great to meet you.” She throws her arms around his neck.

“Don’t touch him,” I growl.

“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” She releases Nikolai and goes for Dima. “You must be Dima!” Another hug. This is Kayla in normal company. An adorable, friendly girl from Wisconsin who hugs people she’s never met before.

It’s so far from my world I feel like I stepped into a colorful rom-com movie instead of the darkness and shadows that make up my life.

“Seriously,” I mutter, grinding my teeth. “Do you want me to have to kill my own brothers? Don’t touch him.”

Kayla forgets to be my obedient slave. She ignores me completely.

“So this is what Pavel’s like in love,” Dima deadpans as he accepts my handshake and shoulder clasp. “Even meaner than he was alone.”

“Yeah, love doesn’t look good on you, bro,” Nikolai agrees.