Breaking the Submissive (SLOW UPDATES!!!)

Chapter 3

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Kyle was suddenly jostled awake, falling onto the floor with a grunt. He snapped his head up and reached for his dagger...That wasn't there. Fuck. He looked back, his eyes locking on Antonio. He snarled.

"Silence Pet." The tan man said, reaching down and strapping a collar around Kyle's neck, despite protest. It was a simple collar. Black with a small D-ring and a black bone shaped tag with Kyle's name in silver block letters. Antonio then stepped back and sat down on the oak chair, leaning forward. "Come."

Kyle sat, his eyes bored and small bits of dried drool still remaining on the corner of his mouth. "I ain't gonna ask you again." His voice was firm, eyes hard.

Kyle made a point of leaning back against the small table beside the bed. Antonio stood, stomping over to the submissive and towering over him. He gripped Kyle by his blond hair and shoved him forward, "Move."

"Муда́к," Kyle muttered under his breath, dragging his knees along the floor.

"The fuck did you say?"

"Муда́к." Kyle taunted, suddenly spending three years in Russia didn't seem like such a bad thing.

"Fucking communist, huh?"

Kyle froze, his head swiveling around. He growled and stood, his own height matching Antonio's. The dominant seemed unimpressed, crossing his arms over his chest and sizing Kyle up. "отвали, мудак, бля!"

"Russian," Antonio confirmed. Kyle got in his face, looking him in the eye.

"Call me a communist one more time, I swear to god-"

"You speak Russian...communist."

Kyle drew his fist back and slammed it into Antonio's jaw. Antonio, expecting the outburst, braced a foot behind himself, balancing, and then lurching forward, latching onto Kyle's shoulders and throwing him to the floor. Kyle gasped as the air was suddenly pushed out from his lungs, but he moved his head to the left to avoid the punch headed for him and then rolled themselves over, pinning Antonio.

He gripped Antonio's fist in his palm, pinning it above his head and then using his other hand to lash out at Antonio's face and chest. Antonio shoved his boots into Kyle's navel and pushed him away. The blond felt his head connect with the wooden bed frame and then felt a swift kick to his ribs. He groaned and rolled over, small drops of blood on the side of his face. He looked up and growled, heaving himself into Antonio's leg, knocking him onto the floor. His fist slammed into the dominant's eye and leaning over to bite roughly on his hand.

Antonio yelled trying to remove his hand from Kyle's rough grip. Kyle bit down harder, feeling blood well up in his mouth and hearing a crack echo in his ears. The tan man screamed and kicked Kyle in the stomach, sending him reeling into the wall. He stood, gripping his hand and seeing the blood leak onto the floor. Kyle rubbed the back of his neck and then looked up at the Master, smirking and spitting red.

Antonio left, leaving Kyle to relish in his victory until he came back with the mask. "Now I see why you wore this." He spat, pinning Kyle to the ground with a boot on the back of his neck as he secured the steel. "You will wear this until further notice."

Kyle watched the blood flow from Antonio's hand and onto the floor with a satisfied grin from within the mask. I win this round bitch.

Муда́к. - Asshole

отвали, мудак, бля! - Fuck off, asshole, fuck