He raises my sweater, lifting it up over my head, revealing my bra. “There are many kinds of pain,” he replies, reaching for my right nipple and squeezing it lightly. “Some are more pleasant than others.”
He tosses the sweater aside, staring into my eyes as he undoes the button at the top of my jeans. “You will learn that pain can be comforting. It can help you focus. It can teach you right from wrong and you were wrong to run.”
He slides the jeans down my legs. “Lift your feet.”
I obey him without realizing I’m doing it. I could hit him and run, grab the key off him, get the hell out of here before it’s too late. I could but I don’t even try.
The jeans come off, leaving me in my underwear, my nipples rock hard, feeling every thread of my bra. My pussy gets wetter as he runs his fingers up my legs.
“Your wedding dress is coming and you are going to try it on. You will behave and you will be rewarded, Mila. Devushka.”
He steps back from me and I can’t resist glancing down. His cock is creating a huge bulge at the front of his pants. I swallow as he continues. “But first you will be punished for running. Bend over.”
“What?”
“You will obey without question.”
He grabs me, pulling me into his lap as he sinks into the armchair. I fight his hold but his arm is like solid steel, gripping me in place with his left hand in the small of my back. I can feel his cock digging into my stomach as I fight to get free from him.
His right hand yanks my panties down to my thighs. “You are a naughty girl,” he says, his hand slapping down onto my ass, spanking me with a smack that sends pain shooting through my body. “You will learn to obey me.” His hand slaps down again in the same spot. The pain grows but so does the heat between my legs.
I squirm in place as he spanks me over and over, a fire inside me burning out of control as his palm slaps down again and again.
I gasp for breath, begging him to stop. “Please, you’re hurting me. Stop, Alexsei, I beg you.”
“You really want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers gliding over the spot where he spanked me, moving between my thighs. “I bet if I touched your pussy it would be wet.”
“Please, don’t.”
“What you fear is not the pain, is not me. It is your reaction to this. Your arousal. When you learn to drive, they teach you to turn into a skid so your car does not spin out of control. Turn into your fear. Walk up to it, embrace it, let it in. Then it can do you no harm. You will be free.”
He yanks my legs apart, bunching up my panties into his enormous fist. “Soaking wet,” he says. “Is that why you didn’t want me to touch there? There is no shame in enjoying being spanked, in being controlled, in submitting to me. The fear you feel will vanish if you look closer, like a mirage. Allow yourself to enjoy the sting of submission.”
“Please, let me go, Alexsei. I’m begging you.”
“And I’m telling you that if you disobey me in future, the punishment will be worse. Stand up and pull your panties back into place.”
He lets go of me at last. I get to my feet, my legs wobbly. I stagger but then right myself, pulling my panties over my still stinging ass.
He crosses his feet at the ankles, folding his arms across his chest, smiling up at me. “You are a bad girl who was punished for misbehaving. If you misbehave again, you will suffer a lot more than a simple spanking. I see you want to tell yourself you still hate me, that you did not enjoy that at all. Lie to yourself if you wish, it changes nothing. We will be married and you will obey me.”
There’s a knock on the library door. “That will be your wedding dress. I will leave you with Mrs. Aldova.”
He walks over and unlocks the door. As he walks out, two women come in carrying an ivory floor length gown. Behind them a third woman carries a tray of food. She sets it down on the table in front of me, saying nothing about the fact I’m standing in my underwear on the verge of tears.
“You are better off eating after you try it on,” the oldest of the three says. She has white hair and a gaunt face, like she’s had a lifetime of not eating enough. She turns her bony hands toward me. “Shall we get you into the dress?”
“I’m not wearing that,” I tell her, grabbing my jeans and pulling them on, ignoring the sting in my ass as it slides over my butt.
She shakes her head. “You must try on your dress so we can see if it needs altering before the ceremony in the morning.”
“The morning? He wants to marry me in the morning?” I grab my sweater and pull it over my head. “I’m not marrying that asshole. Look, call the cops. Tell them I’ve been kidnapped.”
“You have not been kidnapped. You are here to get married. It has all been arranged.”
“Are you listening to me? Help me escape. The man’s insane.”
“Mr. Volkov is many things but he is as sane as you or I.”