“Yeah, I think my krasavitsa–my beauty–likes it when I make it hurt because it feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?” He growled those last two words. “Hmm,” he kept stroking between my legs, so close to my opening that I anticipated and feared what he’d do. “I own this.” His words were lazy, as lazy as his touch when he covered my pussy. Nikolai leaned in closer so his mouth was right by my ear. “I’ll do what I want with it.” He added more pressure and I made a mewling noise. “I’ll do whatever I fucking want whenever I want with it, and you’ll ask for more.”
Why did it feel so wrong to hear him say such obscene things to me, to see me as an object, something he owned? Why did it make my body tense and my mind send out a warning signal?
Why do I want him to do it again and again and again?
I shifted on his lap, just the smallest of movements, but I felt how hard he was, the huge length of his erection digging into my bottom. He leaned in closer so his lips were brushing the shell of my ear, his fingers stroking me slowly, slipping through my folds.
He said something under his breath, no doubt feeling how wet I was, the slickness of my arousal coating his fingers.
“Do you feel how hard I am?” His words were nothing but a growl and I felt that vibration all the way down my body, to the very core and soul that made up… me.
My eyes closed on their own and I started breathing harder, not able to answer him. But I knew he didn’t want a response. This was just another way for him to put me on edge, to embarrass me with my inexperience. Because it turned us both on.
“I’ve never been so hard in my life, knowing that no other man has touched you, that my fingers are the first and only ones to ever feel all this honey.” He took a thick finger and circled my opening, not penetrating me, just teasing the edge and drawing out more slickness from me. “Jesus Christ,” he snarled and then said a string of words in Russian, ones that sounded coarse and hardened. “To know that my cock is going to be the first… the only one to ever feel how tight you are, to ever feel how wet you get…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, just gently pushed the tip of his finger into my pussy. Although it didn’t hurt, his finger was large, wide and thick and filled me. The pressure was intense, the fullness enough to have my inner muscles clamping down.
He made a gruff sound and pulled his finger out, circling my entrance once more. “Fuck, you’re so tight, I can envision how it’s going to feel pushing past all that resistance, popping that little cherry of yours.”
His words were so crude, unlike anything I’d ever heard before. Yet they pulled a moan from me, had my nipples tight, aching. Painful. It was then I realized the towel had come undone, the loose knot that I had secured around my chest now open so the material was pooled at my waist. I made a surprised sound and was about to reach for it to cover my chest once more when he made a disapproving sound so that I stilled.
He pulled back and I knew he was looking at my chest, could feel his gaze on my breasts so profoundly I felt my nipples tighten even further.
“No, no. You’re going to leave that right where it’s at. You’re going to let me look at these perfect little tits shake as I a finger fuck you and make you cum on my lap. And you’re going to blush like hell for me, your cunt getting all juicy because it embarrasses you knowing the position you’re in for my enjoyment. Isn’t that right?”
A strangled noise left me, one of embarrassment and pleasure.
“I bet you’ve never heard such filth.” That thick, tattooed finger stroked down my cleft. “I bet I’m scandalizing my pretty new virgin wife”
I bit my bottom lip, my teeth pulling at the flesh hard enough I felt a flash of pain and the flavor of copper coat my tongue.
Nikolai had the fingers from his hand that wasn’t buried between my thighs gripping my chin a second later, turning my head in his direction.
“Look at all this perfection, all this unblemished, perfect fucking flesh,” he murmured. “My girl is so pure. But I’ll change that real fucking quick.” And before I knew what he was doing he was dragging his tongue over my bottom lip and groaning. “So sweet, kukolka. That’s what you are, my little doll to do with as I please.”
I was scandalized, humiliated, so turned on I couldn’t breathe. Nikolai had done things to me in a matter of one day that I’d never experienced firsthand, that I never could have envisioned.
“How much do I frighten you, Amara?”
The way he said my name, the way his accent was thicker on that lone word, had my inner muscles clenching painfully. Another drag of his tongue over my bottom lip and then he was pushing it into my mouth.
“You don’t,” I said and I couldn’t believe the words spilled from my mouth. Of course there was a part of me that knew I should fear him, but I also knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t know how, didn’t know why those thoughts reassured me, but I knew that to be the truth.
He pulled back just an inch, our faces so close that I didn’t even think a sheet of paper could pass between us. Nikolai stared into my eyes, his free hand sliding up to wrap around my throat, his fingers tightening ever so slowly so that I felt the breath start to leave me as my heart beat a static rhythm.
“And now? Do you fear me now, little doll?” He didn’t add any more pressure. He wasn’t going to hurt me. He was testing me, testing the waters of whatever this was between us.
That's what I told myself anyway.
But I said nothing, and instead leaned into his hold, bringing our noses close enough they touched. His eyes became hooded, his nostrils flaring. All I smelled was that addicting, spicy scent of him. It filled my head, made me drunk, as high as Nikolai surely was after smoking that joint, that sweet scent saturating the room.
And still he kept stroking my pussy slowly, almost sweetly, as if he were trying to be gentle for me.
But I needed more. I didn’t know what that more was, but I felt it claim me, wrapping it’s tight fist around my body and holding me where I needed to be. And I knew Nikolai could give it to me. He was the only one who could.
A keening cry left me when he pushed one finger into my unused body. He tightened his fingers on my throat marginally, making me stay right where I was, making me take what he gave me.
“You’ll take it, won’t you?” He didn’t phrase it like a question. “You’ll take every single fucking thing I have to give you and you’ll only take it from me.”