Grigori
The little bird has spunk.I watch her body as it ripples under the force of my blows - bowing and bending but never breaking. Red lines bisect her back, thighs, and ass, a few of them weeping blood and lymph, but not enough to cause alarm. Grunting, I let the whip fall one last time against her back before studying her closely.
Her plush lips quiver as more tears drip down her face, only to slide over the swell of her breasts. At least she’s pretty to look at, especially as she cries. Running my hands along her body, I slide my digits along each welt, double-checking the extent of her injuries. She’ll be uncomfortable, but no lasting damage or marks. She whines and twists about, pulling herself away from my touches.
With a frown, I coil the whip and hand it over to one of the masked men before touching her some more. Her whimpers go straight to my cock, making it ache and pulse with need. As much as I hate having her thrust upon me, there’s something to be said about her plump curves and luscious body. Pulling her back into me, I skim my mouth against her abraded skin, my lips curling up at each pained inhale. I pull back for a moment and open my lips, blowing out hot air against her body, pulling even more glorious keening wails from the back of her throat.
Reaching around, I drift my fingers across her ribs, noting the deep impressions in between each bone on my way up to her breasts. I grip them tightly, stifling a moan as they fill my palms and spill out between my fingers. Lips curved up against her shoulder, I pluck and twist at her nipples, delighting in the breathless moans and squirms. Pulling away, I nip at her earlobe before adjusting my cock and walking over to one of the other faceless submissives.
“Undo my belt and pants and kneel at my side.”
The brunette rushes over to me, her head bowed low in respect. Ahh, the sweet, simple act of submission. Without hesitation, she settles down, knees spread, and reaches for my pants. Her pale thighs glow in the flickering light, and I can’t help but slide my tongue over my lips as I imagine what she would taste like.
My cock twitches as her fingers brush against me, the accidental caresses sending fire racing through my bloodstream. A flush starts at her forehead and engulfs the parts of her face not covered by her mask before spreading out over her shoulders. I roll my hips just a touch, enough that her knuckles scrape against the hard length. I want to see just how far I can make the blush spread.
She parts my fly, keeping her fingers as far away from my shaft as possible. The more I grind against her, the more her movements become jerky and hesitant. The blush doesn’t extend much further, but her breathing is fast and erratic. The moment my pants are undone, she jerks back into her heels and stares at the floor.
A smirk eases across my face as I lean down and tip her chin up so that she’s looking at me. With smooth movements, I slide my thumbs behind my suspenders and draw them up to my shoulders. Her throat works as I ease one strap down, then the other, letting them fall by my sides. Keeping my eyes locked onto hers, I reach down and pull the front of my underwear down, moaning as the air hits my skin.
Bright eyes blink from behind the mask, but the submissive remains silent. Over at the cross, Chelsea still cries, the sound of her sniveling and snorting filling the room. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to turn and look over at her, anger churning in my gut. Glancing back over to the quiet submissive, I curse Jeremy for saddling me with such an unruly girl.
I could get out of it. We haven’t been through the ceremony yet. I stare at her quivering form, thoughts whirling through my brain. Sighing, I rub my hand over my face. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to deal with a submissive that can’t actually submit; however, in the time allotted, it’s the best I’m going to get.
My gaze skims over her naked form, my cock pearling with anticipation. She is a pretty little thing, after all. The crimson lines crossing her back makes me ache even more. Though I wanted a tried and true submissive, maybe there’s something to be said about breaking one in. Beneath my disgust, a small sense of pride worms its way to the surface. With all I’ve put her through, she’s still yet to break.
“Bring Chelsea over here.”
Two men amble up to her wrists. Their size dwarfs her, and for a moment, something akin to concern drifts through my mind. Shaking my head, I shove it out before it can gain any traction. Through slitted eyes, I watch them as they handle her. Every movement is studied and scrutinized. One false step and they’ll wish they never even laid eyes on my submissive. She may not be the one I wanted, but she’s mine now. I own her, and no one fucks with my property.
Her steps are halting as she fumbles towards me, held up by the men. Each step is agonizing and slow. This can’t be good. I’ve barely put her through her paces, and she’s already faltering. Thick streaks of mascara paint a pitiful picture down her face. Her large, chocolate eyes stare up at me, spite glistening in their depths. I can’t help but feel a burgeoning sense of pride at her display, misplaced as her actions might be.
She’s standing tall and proud now, but soon, she will buckle under my dominance.
Frowning, I look her up and down as they put her on her knees in front of me. I’m going to need to work on her stamina. Life as a school submissive has made her soft and weak. Smiling, I fist my cock and slide my hand up and down the shaft as she looks at me with those wide eyes.
“Open.”
She kneels there, mouth clamped shut. Smirking, I hunch down and slide a finger down her cheek.
“I admire your spirit, Lastachka, but at some point, you’ll need to learn which hill to die on. Trust me. This is not that hill.”
I brush my fingertips against her face one more time before slapping my open palm against her cheek. It cracks loudly in the silence. The look of shock on her face jerks my cock up, dragging her gaze towards me.
As her lips fall open, I motion for the submissive to get behind her. Eyes narrowed, Chelsea scoots away from her and hisses, her voice dripping with vehemence.
“Get away from me, Bethany. I don’t need your help. I’ve swallowed a cock or two. Unlike you, Ms. Pillow Princess.”
“You don’t swallow, bitch,” she hisses in response, eyes blazing. “You made that very clear when you started torturing Melody.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment as I think through my options. This is why I wanted to take my time with my submissive; groom her, mold her. Unfortunately, time is the one thing I don’t have. Before the two can get into a cat fight of epic proportions, I hold up my hand, clearing my throat to get their attention.
Leaning back over, I grab Chelsea’s hair and pull her to her feet. Bethany has the smart instinct of shuffling back into the sea of submissives where she’ll be free of my wrath.
My fingers flex in her hair as I drag her up my body. I catch a groan in my throat as her warm skin slides up against my shaft. Anger and arousal are a dangerous combination. Looking out at the heads of The Society, I clutch her close to my side.
“Council, I ask you, why should we wait? If it is agreeable to you, I will claim my little sparrow tonight.” I look down at her, a grin crossing my face. “I feel it’s best to clip her wings early. Don’t want her getting any ideas.”
Dean Anderson inclines his head and motions towards the bed. This is not how I wanted my first mounting with Chelsea to be, but the fiery minx has tipped my hand. Threading my fingers back through until they are brushing against her scalp, I grip her hard, ignoring her whimpers, and drag her over to the bed.
Tossing her facedown, I pin her with my hand at the back of her neck before snapping my fingers at the two men. I point to her wrists. Without further prompting, they each take one and hold her down.
She thrashes about between them, and I just stand there for a moment and watch her. Never in the time that I’ve been a member has a submissive been so willful and disobedient. As I slip one cuff around each wrist, keeping her arms spread out, I contemplate the actions of claiming her.
Her spunk amazes me. Instead of nursing her wounds like a hurt animal, she’s lashing out at everyone around her. That could be very useful, but only if I can tame her. Frowning, I slide my belt through the loops before folding it in half and tapping my palm.
Jerking my chin, I watch as the two men back away. I filter everyone and everything out of my brain and focus on my new submissive. She cranes her neck back to look at me, and I simply shake my head as I make my way around to her ass. Her body quivers in the bonds, the fine trembling the only thing giving away her fear.