Page 39 of Volatile Waters

I took a step back to offer confirmation. “And no one will touch her.” Kirill and Adrian took a step back also. “Only you.”

Sam’s body moved with Crash’s as he started to struggle for breath. He switched to Russian while growling words at me. “Yury, you said she’s mine. That I could save her.”

I lied. “And she is.” I was sure to speak in English so Sam would know Crash was trustworthy. “You can save her, as long as you want her, but she still has to be a part of what we are.”

Crash argued, “That means ‘training.’ Not part of our deal.”

“What exactly do you think you’re claiming her for? Cupcakes and tea parties?”

“You fucking prick.”

“As long as you use yours, she will be safe. Now, speak English.”

His jaw locked, and his nostrils flared. “I don’t trust you.”

You shouldn’t. “Why? I have kept my word.”

“What happens when I go home?”

“Meh.” I shrugged. “What do you want to happen?”

His hand sheltered her head. “Take her with me.”

“Done.” Never going to happen. “Just follow the rules while you’re here. Example,” I gestured down the hall in the direction of the stairs, “she is always to follow you. She cannot be treated as your equal.”

Crash’s voice shook, “Yury, you know I can’t—”

He stopped when Sam grabbed the front of his shirt, peering up at him again. “Get me through this and back to America.” Her eyes welled. “I want to go home.”

I internally smiled, listening to her plead. I knew Crash couldn’t deny her, even though he was the wiser of the two. His expression was already apologizing for all that was to come while he forced a slight smile and nodded. Taking hold of her leash, he told her, “Upstairs is going to shock you, but I won’t let you become one of them.” Their stares locked on each other as she, reluctantly, released him and moved to stand behind him. Crash inhaled and stepped away from the wall. “No one is to touch her.”

Seeing naked, kneeling slaves did make Sam gasp. I was surprised when Crash demanded, “Eyes down,” as he led her up the marble stairs toward my bedroom. Sam appeared startled at his harsh tone, but she did as told.

Behind the two, I nodded to Kirill and Adrian, impressed that Crash had learned more than suspected. No wonder he feared for Sam and knew what was going to be asked of her.

In the bedroom, after locking the door, I poked the young bear with a reminder. “Clothes are not an option.” I laughed as Crash barreled into me, knocking us both off-kilter and into my nightstand, the lamp falling to the ground with a thud. “I guess I need to train you first.” Grabbing the back of his neck, I tossed him off me. Backing away in the direction I threw him, Crash corralled Sam behind him, not daring to turn his back to me. Picking the lamp off the ground, I smirked while telling Sam, “He does not get to eat until you strip.”

Before she could respond, Crash growled, “I’m fine with starving.”

I answered in a casual tone as I headed for the door, “That is irresponsible training, Crash. It has already been two days. How much longer can your pet last?” In the hallway, I turned around. “I’m going to the kitchen to eat my dinner now.” And I shut the door.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

They lasted two more days…

Sam was the one to cave. She had to be. Crash was never going to ask her to strip for me. He begged her not to, probably knowing it would eventually lead to more, but she touched his concerned face then unbuttoned her shirt. Her breasts were small and lacking fullness that comes with age; hence, why her future Master wanted her. When she took off her pants, it was confirmed I wasn’t into bodies that had yet to mature. I seriously doubted I was going to be able to complete this training.

On her knees in a submissive form, she waited to be fed. Crash couldn’t seem to lift his hand that held a piece of cheese and place it in her mouth. Not until she softly said, “Please. I’m so hungry.” Shaking his head no, Crash placed food in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she moaned, chewing as fast as she could, relishing in substance soon headed to her stomach. She claimed, “This cheese is sour, but I don’t care.”

Avoiding staring at her body, he offered her more. “No good ol’ American cheese here in Russia.”

Sitting on my bed, observing the lack of technique and discipline, I explained, “Americans know nothing about good cheese. And, she should be punished for speaking without permission.”

Crash eloquently told me to mind my business. “Fuck. Off.”

A chuckle, full of admiration, escaped me.

It was a surprise, but while Crash gave Sam more food, he slightly smiled back at me. I guess he appreciated that I found his disrespect humorous.