Glazov (Born Bratva Book 1) (9 page)

Glazov

I sat in the corner of the restaurant and watched my little Ptichka. She really was quite naïve for such a savvy businesswoman. I could only attribute her ignorance of my lifestyle to the fact that she had never dealt with the likes of me.

In her world, people might be underhanded, but they weren’t violent. She was sorely underestimating me, and it was beginning to irritate me. She didn’t want to do that, but it was too late. She had crossed that line one too many times. I had tried being patient with her, but my patience was wearing thin.

I guess, in a sense, I underestimated her as well. I mistakenly believed the little bastinado session I had with her would have convinced her not to run away. Yet, she still believed she could just hop a plane and leave town without telling me. Perhaps something more sinister than a little foot whipping was in order.

I waited until she finished lunch with her client before I made my presence known. I held my glass in the air and saluted her as I cocked my head to the side. The look on her face… well, let’s just say it was priceless!

She made her way over to my table, and I motioned for her to sit down.

When she attempted to speak, I shook my head and placed my finger to my lips to signify that I was not in the mood to hear her excuses. I would be the one doing the talking.

“Your little friend is upstairs with Yafon right now. She is bound to a chair and gagged while he awaits my instructions. I would hate to think you were the cause of her children growing up motherless. My patience is wearing thin with you, Ptichka. I warned you I was not a patient man, yet you continue to provoke me. Now, I remember, quite clearly, you threw her under the bus and told me to kill her, but I wonder if you truly understand the impact of sanctioning her murder.”

I leaned in and glared at her. “The issue at hand is that I see this as a golden opportunity to feed the sadist within me. I’m intrigued with the thought of making you watch me torture her before Yafon kills her. Imagining what happens during a torture session is one thing; actually viewing it is another. Add in the fact that she is your friend, and I can assure you it will be you screaming for her mercy, not her. Torture sessions can become very intense. I’ve chosen to hire men who are able to not only endure watching them, but they also
enjoy
watching them. However, I have witnessed cases where full-grown men needed to leave the room. Think before you speak, Ptichka, because you very well could be getting more than you bargained for.

Kathleen

I eyed the waitress as she made her way over. Glazov never dropped his gaze from my face and just shooed her away with his hand as if she were some pest. Though his outward appearance remained calm, I knew he was pissed, and it only made me even more fearful. I didn’t know what he was going to do.

I straightened my back and squared my shoulders before I spoke, “What do you want from me, Glazov?”

He snarled as he leaned over the table and hissed, “I want you!”

“Why?” I answered.

“You have the fucking audacity to question my motives, Ptichka?”

“Yes, I do. Am I just property to you, or do you actually care about me?”

“Both! Now, get your fucking ass up, and don’t you dare make a scene,” he growled.

I was led out to a limo and driven to a tarmac where he escorted me onto his plane.

I sat in the seat and immediately started protesting. “I don’t have my clothes or my laptop, and where is Robin?”

He sat stone-faced and unresponsive until the plane took off. His answer, when he finally did speak, only baffled me further. He eyed me coldly and commanded, “Strip!”

My hands shook as I stood up and stripped down until I was completely bare.

He stood up, and I couldn’t help but back away, feeling intimidated. Nothing could have prepared me for what he did next. He calmly led me to a table, bent me over, and strapped me down. My legs were spread wide, and I could feel the heat of embarrassment rising in my chest and face.

I was almost standing on my toes and completely exposed. I was horrified at the thought of the stewardess or, worse yet, one of his male employees viewing me this way.

I began pleading with him. “Please, Glazov, I don’t want anyone to see me. I’ll do anything.”

He bent down next to the table and spoke to me facetiously. “Good, that means you’ll take your ass whipping with a good attitude.”

He stood and made me watch as he slowly removed his belt. I couldn’t help but notice the hard outline of his manhood straining against his tailored pants. He was sexually excited by my vulnerability. I wondered if he was more excited that I was bound and at his mercy than he was with having a full view of my sex.

He bent down behind me and began running his tongue up and down my exposed slit. “You taste so good, girl.” He sucked and kissed my clit with his full lips while he tongue fucked me until he brought me right to the edge of climaxing. At that point, he stopped and started to whip me with his thick, black, leather belt. He repeated this process over and over again—his tongue and then the belt. It was a veritable onslaught of pleasure and pain, purposely blurring the lines between the two.

I begged him to fuck me as my body reveled in the drugged like state of my endorphin high. As if complying with my pleas, he dropped his pants and laid his body over mine, fucking me from behind as he whispered in my ear.

“All the dopamine and endorphins being released into your system have got you on quite the high, little girl.” He twisted his fist in my hair and jerked my head back as he pounded in and out of me.

“When are you going to get it, Ptichka? I own you!”

He owned me for more reasons than just the money my assistant owed him. He owned me because he had made me his by introducing me to his deviant sexual practices. I would never be satisfied with another man now, but I’m sure that is exactly what he wanted. He wanted me to crave the things he did to me—things other men would probably find appalling. How could I ever go back to straight sex after experiencing Glazov?

Glazov

“You little bitch! You little bitch! You little bitch!” Like some mantra, I repeated the words over and over until, shockingly and without thinking, I said, “I hate you for making me love you!” I had done something I swore I would never allow myself to do. I had fallen in love.

I pulled my pants up from around my ankles and gently released her from the table. I wrapped her in a blanket and held her against me until we arrived home where I placed her in my bed.

I knew losing her would make me crazy. I had to find a way to tighten my death grip on her. Not having Ptichka in my life was simply not an option. I had lost too many people in my lifetime. While I held her on the airplane as she slept in my arms, I had made up my mind. I damn sure wasn’t going to lose her. I’d been tossing around some ideas in my head that would guarantee she wasn’t able to leave me. I would do whatever it took to keep my little Ptichka from flying away.

Kathleen

I woke up and headed straight for the shower. Conflicted feelings plagued me. They seemed to always be a part of my thought process now. Meeting Glazov had unleashed a side of me I never knew existed. For the life of me, I still could not figure out why Glazov’s rough treatment turned me on so much.

The warm water spraying over my body helped to ease my sore muscles. Now, I just needed to find out what happened to my assistant to ease my mind.

I got out, wrapped a robe around my body, and made my way back into Glasov’s bedroom.

I was shocked to find him seated in a chair by the bed, wearing nothing but drawstring pants. It was obvious he had cleaned up at some point after inducting me into the mile high club.

I stared at him, shocked, as he sat there and went through my phone as if it were normal behavior to do so. Hell, maybe it was for him.

“Ptichka, you look at me as keeping a heavy, protective hand on my property is a difficult concept for you to understand.”

“I’m not your property.”

“Maybe you have a point. I need more ownership over you. Perhaps taking on my last name would help burn my right of possession into your psyche.”

“I’m not marrying you, Glazov!”

“Hmm, you say that as if you have a choice.”

I looked up in disbelief to see men entering the room. They acted as if I were invisible as they carried in my possessions and started to unpack them.

“Excuse me!” I shrieked, “I can unpack my own lingerie.”

Glazov barked out something in Russian, and the men quickly scurried away.

“I guess you aren’t crazy about the idea of them seeing my undergarments either.” I rolled my eyes just to let him know I wasn’t some shrinking violet.

He tossed my phone onto the bed, apparently satisfied I hadn’t stored some lover’s number in it.

“Your little friend informed me that she asked you to call me. Now, see? She understands that crossing me is not a smart thing to do. She told me all I needed to know, and I’m certain she will continue to inform me of your whereabouts in the future. She has come to the very intelligent conclusion that it is in everyone’s best interest to not hide things from me.”

“Yes, Glazov, she is so smart that she borrowed money from a Russian thug! You seem to forget she works for me, not you. Firing her is always an option for me.”

He rose from the chair, and I immediately started apologizing.

“Too late,” he growled before he tossed me onto the bed, removed his pants, and straddled me. He pulled open my robe, and the look in his eyes as he raked them over my body was all consuming.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve something, and I didn’t realize what it was until I felt the sharp bite of a clamp on my nipple. My nipples are actually so small that he had to fasten them to the skin surrounding them. He began to tighten the clamps as he spoke.

“You live here now. You may not go out of town—ever—without my permission.”

He tugged at the chain connecting the two nipple clamps, and I yelped like a little puppy whose tail had been stepped on.

“That hurts!”

He grabbed my hand and rubbed it over his hardened shaft.

“Tell me how badly it hurts, Ptichka. It makes my dick hard. You fight the pain, yet you’re sexually excited by it. You must feel so conflicted.”

He tugged at the chain a little harder, and once again, I cried out. I could feel his manhood jump under my fingers, and I knew my pain was turning him on.

I started to stroke him with more enthusiasm as I begged, “Please don’t hurt me, please.”

I purposely teased him, stroking and begging.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, and I gasped.

“You little cock tease!”

I lifted up my head and ran my tongue under the sensitive part of his manhood when he released my hair.

I tormented him, enjoying the control I held over him.

He viciously grabbed my hair again and pulled me off him.

“See, this is why I like you, Ptichka. You fight submission, yet you enjoy making me take you. Use wisdom, little one. You need to know just how far to push me. I am unlike any other man you have dealt with.” He cocked an eyebrow at me in challenge. “Be careful, little bird. Be very careful…”

His warnings did nothing but spur me on to use the control I held over him. I enjoyed toying with the man who held the power of life and death in his hands. Knowing he wasn’t a man given to forming emotional bonds with the women he fucked, yet he was addicted to what we had together, was a powerful aphrodisiac for me. We were connected, whether we wanted to be or not. Something inexplicable deep within us cried out to be united with the other. We fed each other’s dark side and would continue to do so until we completely consumed one another.