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Question for Day 8: What is your drink of choice to keep warm on cold nights?
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** You can find this unique shot glass in my store by clicking here: http://www.cafepress.com/redphoenix69/10704429
Excerpt from Brie Embraces the Heart of Submission:
It was just as much of a struggle as the first time, but she drank it all without any help. Afterwards, she took a big bite of the salty pickle and grinned at both men.
“You are now an honorary Russian,” Rytsar proclaimed, giving her a spirited pat on the back that sent her tumbling into Sir’s arms.
“Had enough?” her Master asked.
It took a few seconds to formulate the correct answer with all the warm yumminess coursing through her. “If it pleases you, Sir.”
He put her glass down and answered, “It does, téa. I think you’ve had enough.” He gave his own glass back to Rytsar. “I, however, would like another.”
Rytsar gladly filled it up. “My turn for the toast.”
Sir nodded with a grin. “You are the host.”
Brie had expected to hear a witty insult. Instead Rytsar said, “To you, moy droog. You have seen me through great troubles.”
Sir’s face suddenly became solemn. “Same here, my friend.” The men clinked glasses and downed their drinks, giving each other a heartfelt embrace afterwards. It was the most vulnerable Brie had seen Sir, other than with her. In that moment, she understood how close the two really were—like brothers.
Rytsar cleared his throat afterwards. “One more?” he asked, holding up the vodka bottle.
“No. I need to remain clear-headed,” Sir replied.
Rather than giving Sir a hard time, Rytsar nodded and poured himself a drink, then downed it easily. He gave a satisfied sigh and smiled at Brie. “Nothing like vodka to open up the soul.”
Brie giggled, flying on the warm cloud that was consuming her from the inside out.
“Come, Brie,” Sir commanded. She looked over to see him sitting on the couch with his legs spread open.
As she approached Sir, she asked, “How would you like me, Master?”
He patted the area next to him. She giggled, finding it funny that he didn’t want her between his legs. She gracefully sat down next to her Master. Sir told her to lay her head on his lap, and he began stroking her hair.
Rytsar joined them, sitting on the other side of Sir. He sighed loudly after he’d sat down. “I will miss you, peasant. It has been good to have you in my homeland.”
Sir continued petting Brie’s hair as he spoke. Tingles of electricity ran down her spine as his deep voice rumbled. “It is a shame it must end, Durov. This has reminded me of old times.”
Rytsar chuckled. “Da.”
Brie closed her eyes and fell into the pleasant warmth of the vodka and the soothing feel of Sir’s touch.
Her Master continued, “I can’t imagine why I waited so long to visit.”
“It’s all right, idiot.”
Brie giggled on Sir’s lap. They definitely sounded like brothers.
“Did your sub just disrespect me?” Rytsar asked.
“I’m not sure.” Sir lifted her chin. “Did you just disrespect my longtime friend, téa?”
Brie looked at him and smiled. “No, Sir. I respect your friend very much.”
He smiled and cradled her face. “I suspected as much.”
Rytsar huffed. “If giggling is a sign of respect, I need another drink.” He got up and poured himself an additional glass.
The warm feeling coursing through Brie must have been coursing through Sir, because he suddenly changed positions, pulling her up and kissing her forcibly on the lips. “Undo my pants and grind on me,” he growled huskily.