Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Their eyes went wide and all three of them swallowed hard, in a perfect unison that would have made me laugh under most other circumstances. Sheepishly, they started to put their cocks back in their trousers.
I took advantage of the moment of complete superiority to solidify my control further, and at the same time to push Belkonov’s former minions past the point of no return.
“There’s going to be a fire here tonight. My friends will help you set it, so it doesn’t do anything more than make this shit-hole Boris Viktorivich called a ‘palace’ unlivable—and of course provide evidence that he’s dead at the hands of me and my friends.”
I looked each of them in the eyes.
“Say, Yes, Mistress,” I advised them. “This little whore is now a warlord, and you’re not going to forget it, are you?”
I smiled as I watched confusion and fear break out on their faces. They all glanced over at the milites, whose masked faces suddenly reminded me of my hooded trainer. A shiver went down my spine.
Who’s in charge now? I heard a voice in my head say—a voice that sounded very new. My smile got wider.
“You’re wondering whether you should say Yes, Mistress or No, Mistress,” I said, suddenly enjoying dominance more than I would ever have expected. “A single Yes, Mistress will suffice.”
“Yes, Mistress,” each of them said, as I looked at them in turn.
When my milites—well, they were mine for an hour or two, anyway—escorted me through the door of Ivan’s palace, my master and his horrible butler were waiting in the foyer. I had on a fur coat provided by the Order of Ostia agent in charge of the hastily cobbled together operation that had just with any luck created a new balance of power in the region.
I had nothing on under the coat, still. From now on, though, thanks to the new balance of power in Ivan’s house, Pyotr’s eyes would never again have the chance to leer at my nudity.
I walked up to Ivan and kissed him on both cheeks. Into his left ear, the one hidden from the butler’s view, I whispered, “I love you, Gospodin.”
Then I turned to Pyotr and spoke in Russian.
“You, little worm, are a terrible excuse for a servant. I should throw you out into the snow simply for your neglect of your master’s household, let alone for your sniveling cruelty. I suspect that my lover… and partner… and co-master here…”
I patted Ivan on the cheek and watched Pyotr’s face go white.
“…wishes to be merciful even to a toad like you, for Ivan Grigorivich honors service above everything. Is that right, Ivan?”
I turned to my master. I had only called him by his first name once, out loud, before, and he had quickly corrected me. He narrowed his eyes, and I thought I saw the merest hint of fire in those icy blue depths. I wondered if he had thought through this part of the plan yet, even with the days it had taken to unfold.
Days of Belkonov fucking me in his dungeon, of gathering my will not to want to submit to anyone but the man I love.
I tried to control my face, not wanting to give any indication of what I intended, once Ivan and I had gone behind closed doors at last. I couldn’t do it: I took my lower lip between my teeth and felt my eyes widen very slightly. Pyotr, I felt reasonably certain, didn’t notice it because he had fixed his beady eyes on Ivan just as I had.
My beloved, my master, my gospodin smiled.
“That’s right, Heather,” he said, turning from me to the butler. “Pyotr, see that you obey your mistress, however, or we will have a serious problem.”
I looked into the face of the horrible man. To my delight, he lowered his gaze.
“Say it, you little worm,” I ordered him in my most scornful voice. “Say, Yes, Mistress.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he mumbled.
I could get used to this, I thought, pushing down into my chest the mirth that threatened to rise into an open laugh.
Then my master turned the jollity into anxiety—a little creeping fear that perhaps I had gone too far.
“You may go, Pyotr,” he said. “Your mistress and I have a good deal to discuss.”
His voice seemed to have a note of displeasure that I couldn’t help thinking wasn’t directed entirely at the butler. When Pyotr’s steps had receded down the hallway, I looked up into Ivan’s face and found it stern. I bit my lip hard and felt my expression crease into a pout of worry and apology.
Ivan looked at the milites. “You may go,” he said, his voice impassive. “We can take it from here.”
I looked over my shoulder at the two hooded men, feeling ever so slightly unsafe for the first time since the wall of Belkonov’s dungeon had collapsed. One of the milites spoke in Russian.