Dragon Ring

Late evening. My favorite cafe. An unexpected call from Erika and a request to meet. I rush to her, canceling a board meeting. I throw my car into the parking lot. I burst into the cafe, tossing my fur coat into the doorman's hands on the way... I sat at my usual table by the window. The waiter, without asking questions, quickly brings and places a glass of my favorite Sauternes on the table. Erika-Rika-Rita, what else could she have gotten herself into? A small sip of wine. I wait for her, watching the entrance door. Erika-Rita, my closest friend, my love, my lover. An adrenaline junkie and a lover of thrills and adventures in sex. Another sip of wine, not tasting the flavor or aroma. Only her husband could have come up with another

escapade, that petty nobody, that lover of perverted games. With what pleasure and delight I would beat him.

How many times on hot nights, on damp, rumpled sheets, listening to Rita's whispers, I imagined her husband, that nobody, groveling at my feet begging for mercy. His perverted desires, which she fulfilled, always left me baffled—what could force her to indulge his whims? Public sex, sex with strange men in front of him, and the utterly disgusting and incomprehensible sex with a dog. When Rita told me how he forced her to have sex with a dog—I shook with disgust, and it excited her. Gasping with excitement, she told me in detail how her husband watched as a German shepherd fucked her. The details left no room to think she made it up. Brutal. So what could possibly attract her to her husband? As delicately as I could, I asked—what captivated her about him—drugs, blackmail, money? And I was incredibly surprised by the answer—love. I don't understand that kind of love. Offering your beloved woman to other men, watching her get raped, and enjoying it? Is that love?

Thoughtfully, I twirled the glass in my hand—the dragon's eye on my ring flashed a sharp gleam. No, sorry, that kind of love is incomprehensible and unacceptable to me. I raised my eyes—Rita entered the restaurant, bright and sunny, and the gazes of all the men followed her, undressing her on the spot. She sits at the table, leans toward me, touches her lips to mine.

"Hello Ildeka!" "Hello Rita!" She falls silent, embarrassed. Looks away. The waiter places a glass of martini.

"Did something happen, sunshine?"

Rita looks away, embarrassed. Silent. Drinks the bitter martini. Sighs, looks at me with her brown eyes.

"I've decided to meet with them!"

I look into her eyes, not understanding. She can't hold my gaze and looks away.

"With whom?"

"Ildeka, don't be angry, I decided this myself. It's a couple, a man and a woman. Sadomasochism enthusiasts."

My heart clenched from a sharp pang. No, this simply can't be! My eyes involuntarily narrow with rage, my upper lip lifts, revealing a wolfish snarl.

"Have you completely lost your mind? Isn't everything your husband does to you enough?"

"Don't be angry, my love... I just want to understand what it is. To understand not from others' words... but to experience it on my own skin. It's just a GAME. I don't plan to be their permanent slave."

I inhale and exhale several times, restraining the surging emotions.

"But why do you need all this? What's with all these extremes? Or do you need a man? I can pay for a male escort for you."

"I want it this way and I've already agreed to the meeting. It's completely different—I want to be a slave. Just for a little while."

I look away. I can't believe it... It just doesn't fit in my head... My imagination helpfully paints horrific pictures of a dark dungeon lit by torches and naked Rita surrounded by sweaty men. Chained to a wall, with a wide steel collar. Lecherous ghouls, mocking and humiliating her, brutally, like animals, raping Rita. I shudder and the vision disappears.

"Tell me, who are they and what did you discuss? I have to know, or you're not going anywhere!"

Erika's fair-haired head looks away, the martini untouched... I feel she's not with me right now, but somewhere far away, with strange people I don't know, and my heart clenches from an unbearable feeling of jealousy and rage... I throw my wine glass on the floor. The waiter looks at me, perplexed.

"Bring a clean glass!"

"Ildka, you're angry. I'm afraid to tell you. You might do something stupid."

I lower my eyes. Erika reads my thoughts. I just vividly imagined my security boys entering a gloomy dungeon and kicking all those perverted ghouls, long and with feeling. And I personally participate in it.

Erika sighs quietly and places her hand on my fingers.

"Calm down, it's not as terrible as you think. I met them at a cafe. A very decent couple. She's 35-38. Well-groomed and expensively dressed. Calm and balanced. She smiles."

"Don't be angry, but you would like her."

I nervously pull my hand from under her fingers.

"Don't talk nonsense. How could I possibly like a bitch who enjoys torturing girls?"

Erika sighs sadly.

"Okay, I'm calm."

"He's a bit older than her. Over 40, such an elegant gentleman."

I quietly seethe, holding back comments.

"He sat silently and looked at me. Drank cognac, smoked brown, fragrant cigarettes. And she asked me what I could do, wanted to do, and was willing to do."

The waiter silently placed a new glass of wine. I reached for the glass. The dragon on the ring flashed its eyes disapprovingly.

Find out the meeting place and arrive before Erika. Have a nice chat with those ghouls. Explain the consequences. If they're not suicidal, they'll understand correctly. Erika will get a light version without any consequences. And her desire for such adventures will pass. Having made the decision, I calmed down a bit.

"And what did that b... hmm... ask you?"

"Well..." — Erika's ear tips blush with embarrassment.

"At first, quite neutral. Was I ready to wear a collar and walk with it like an obedient bitch."

With great difficulty, I restrain the rage tearing out like an awakened dragon. (The ghouls in the basement groaned loudly, getting kicked in the balls)

"And?"

"Ildeka, do you even hear yourself?"

"What's wrong?"

"There's an icy cold in your voice. That tone is only for funerals." — Rita smiles.

"Alright, alright! I'm calm and listening to you carefully (the ghouls get another round to the balls)"

"Well, also if I could demonstrate myself to them."

"So, how's that?"

"That's... showing my pussy and ass openly. If you're going to react like that—I won't tell you anything else." Rita turns away, offended. And I'm glad she can't see my eyes.

"No, my love, I'm just worried about you."

"Well, also masturbation in front of them, with fingers and toys. A whip. Handcuffs and all that stuff."

"Then, more explicit questions—oral sex with her and with him. Do I love sperm. Will I take it in my mouth after pussy or after anal."

I try to stay calm. A sharp needle pierces my heart. Erika—so tender, trusting, bright like a sunbeam. I can't believe and can't imagine her with a slave collar on her delicate neck. I just can't accept this (the ghouls in the basement are moaning, crying).

"Okay, sunshine, I need to know where all this will be. (The dragon on the ring quieted down)"

Erika looks at me suspiciously.

"Why do you need that?"

"Well, so I don't worry and just in case (the ghouls in the basement unanimously agreed to become impotent)"

Erika is silent for a long time, takes a tiny sip of martini.

"Ildeka, when I get a chance, I'll send you an SMS... You just don't notice anything around you. Look—the waiter is afraid to approach you. And all evening, not a single man has come over to us—even though judging by their looks, you and I have been sitting here naked and fucked for an hour. They're afraid of you. You radiate cold. And that dragon on the ring you love so much—it's not on the ring. You let the dragon into your heart and allowed it to settle there. You just don't notice, when you appear in your office—conversations, laughter, jokes fall silent. Everyone tries to tiptoe around. I guess you're okay with this situation—always being alone. Alone on an ice floe with a dragon in your soul."

I try to stay calm, holding back tears in the corners of my eyes.

"And what, is it better in a slave collar to lick feet? To let them wipe their feet on you? To be a sexual rag? Is that what you want? (rays from the dragon's eyes refract in the glass of Sauternes)"

Erika silently looks at me. From her silence, from her eyes, my soul becomes unbearably heavy. Or is it really the dragon squeezing my heart with its clawed paw? I just can't understand her motives, what could be attractive in that filth? And I realize with horror that I won't be able to stop her, I won't be able to talk her out of it, and worst of all, I don't want to stop her. Resentment at her words burns me like nettles. I would do anything, anything for her. But... but... unfortunately, I don't want to admit she's right... It's stronger than me. I am always right! I don't taste the wine. Bitterness on my lips, on my tongue. Bitterness in my soul. The dragon squeezes my throat and doesn't let me hold onto Rita. A tear slowly rolls down my cheek. I watch as Erika slowly walks away from me.