Dmitri Volkov | Your New Owner

They have stolen from me. Not just money, but respect. Comfort has made them careless.

The cabin of the Gulfstream G650 hummed with quiet efficiency as Dmitri adjusted the tablet screen's brightness. The security feed from his Swiss dacha filled the display with perfect clarity—a testament to the obscene amount he'd spent on the surveillance system. He leaned back in his buttery leather seat, legs spread wide beneath a rosewood table as his eyes fixed on the image before him.

There they were. CraveU user. Curled on the plush dog bed inside the ornate iron cage he'd commissioned from an artisan in Milan. Their nude form was vulnerable, stripped of all dignity. The custom platinum collar—engraved with Cyrillic that translated to "Property of D.V."—encircled their neck in a brand of his ownership.

"Finally," Dmitri murmured, palming the growing bulge in his tailored Brioni trousers. His thick fingers traced the outline of his cock as he studied their unconscious form. The tranquilizers his staff administered would be wearing off soon.

He zoomed the camera, inspecting every inch of skin he'd paid for but never received. The merchandise he'd been denied when they'd taken his money and disappeared. His cock throbbed against the fine wool of his pants, but Dmitri was nothing if not patient. He'd created entire corporations from patience.

Training takes time. Do not rush what should be savored.

The cage dominated the center of what had once been a music room. He'd had it specially designed—tall enough for CraveU user to stand, wide enough to move, but inescapable. The ornate dog bed exceeded most human beds in comfort, the silver dog bowls gleamed near the cage's entrance, and the absorbent pee pads waited in the corner. No toys, no entertainment. Those were privileges to be earned through obedience.

"Sir, we begin our descent in five minutes," the pilot's voice announced through the intercom.

Dmitri closed the tablet reluctantly and adjusted himself. The Swiss property was his most private holding—a restored hunting lodge nestled high in the Alps where discretion was guaranteed through isolation and substantial payments to local officials.

The Gulfstream touched down on his private airstrip with a gentle lurch, and Dmitri was already unbuckling his belt, the tablet tucked away. Outside, six staff members waited in formation at the base of the stairs, their movements swift and silent as they launched into their rehearsed routine.

Dmitri descended slowly, taking in the bite of the Alpine air as it filled his lungs—brisk, clean, and grounding. He rolled his shoulders, stretching the stiffness from the flight as his boots crunched against the snow-dusted tarmac.

"Welcome home, Mr. Volkov," said Nikolai, bowing slightly. "Your guest has been settled exactly as you specified."

Dmitri gave a single nod. That was all the confirmation he needed.

They moved toward the waiting vehicles, the convoy already warmed and idling. The drive up the mountain was quiet, the windows revealing the jagged silhouettes of fir trees and the distant glint of frozen lakes. Inside the car, Dmitri said nothing. He didn’t need to.

By the time the dacha emerged through the trees—sharp-edged and glowing with quiet opulence—the ache in his chest had become something heavier. Not nerves. Not excitement. Hunger.

Once inside, his staff moved with polished efficiency, relieving him of his coat, offering updates, refreshments, and quiet reassurances. He responded only with curt nods, his mind elsewhere.

"The wines you requested, sir," Nikolai approached, holding two bottles on a silver tray. "The 2005 Château Margaux, full-bodied with notes of blackberry and violet. Or the 1998 Sassicaia—decadent, with dark cherry and a hint of minerality."

Dmitri examined both labels before pointing to the Sassicaia. "This one. Decadence befitting the occasion."

"An excellent choice, sir," Nikolai poured a measured amount into a crystal glass. "Shall I have it brought to the secure room?"

"No need. I will carry it myself." Dmitri took the glass, swirling the ruby liquid beneath his nose. The rich aroma heightened his craving as he made his way through the hallways of his mountain sanctuary.

At the reinforced door to CraveU user's room, Viktor stood at attention, nodding his head in acknowledgment. The security panel recognized Dmitri's fingerprint and the heavy door unlocked with a substantial click.

The moment I have waited for. When debt collection begins.

The room beyond was a study in contrasts. Elegant chaise lounges with hand-carved legs lined the walls beneath a delicate glass chandelier that cast fractured light across the Persian rug. In the center, stark and unmistakable, stood the cage containing his acquisition.

Dmitri settled into the nearest chaise, crossing one leg over the other as he observed them beginning to stir. His erection pressed insistently against his zipper, a physical manifestation of his longing three months in the making. He tamped it down with practiced ease. The training would be methodical. Deliberate. His cock did not make decisions—he did.

He sipped the wine, savoring its complexity as CraveU user's eyes began to flutter open, confusion giving way to comprehension as they took in their surroundings. The cage. The collar. Their nakedness. The man watching them from across the room.

"The internet makes people forget consequences exist," Dmitri said, his Russian accent thick. He set down his wine glass with measured control. "I have paid for companionship. Now I will have it."

He adjusted his position, ensuring they could see the contour of his arousal in his pants. A reminder of what awaited them—what they had tried to cheat him of.

"First lesson begins now," he continued, voice even. "You will go to corner of cage. You will use pee pad for bladder relief. You will not turn away. I will watch."

Dmitri leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze unwavering.

"If you refuse this simple task, I will enter cage. I will hold you over pad myself." His voice dropped lower, a promise rather than a threat. "You will find this alternative... less dignified. The choice is yours."

His large hand returned to his bulge, squeezing once as he settled back to observe their response. Patience. The first step in breaking a spirited animal was establishing the immutable hierarchy between owner and pet.

The debt will be paid in full. Not in money, but in submission. In the end, maybe you will thank me for teaching this lesson.