by Zoe Blake
Her mouth snapped shut as she lowered her eyes.
Her half naked form was prone and vulnerable. The black blanket I had placed over her earlier highlighted her luminously pale skin.
Taking a step back, I raised my arm high.
Samara let out a scream as the thick leather came down across her naked backside. I waited till the first red welt appeared on her white cheeks before raising my arm again. Careful to avoid her straining, still cuffed hands, I belted her ass again and again. Each time, an angry red stripe would appear either on her cheeks or her upper thighs.
Samara cried out in anguish with each strike.
“Beg me,” I commanded.
“Please stop!”
I hit her with my belt again, this time on the delicate curve just below her ass where her thighs began.
Samara’s body curled into a fetal position as she fell to her side. The rope around her neck grew taunt. Immediately, she laid back down on her stomach like a good girl.
The room was once more filled with the sound of leather against skin and her shrieks of pain.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried in desperation.
My belt fell across her reddened cheeks several more times.
“Please! I’m sorry!”
Finally, her precious heart tattoo disappeared as her skin burned a furious red.
Lowering my hands to the fastening of my jeans, I growled, “Your punishment isn’t over, malyshka.”
Her only response was a disheartened sniffle as she wiped her cheeks on the coverlet.
“I’m going to fuck your ass now.”
Her pussy would still be too sore from earlier tonight. If I weren’t such a savage, I would leave her alone, hoping a good belt whipping would suffice, but I was a savage, and I had every intention of teaching my future wife the harsh lesson she richly deserved.
Samara’s wide eyes turned to me. “Please, Gregor. I… I don’t want to do that. It’s going to hurt.”
“It’s supposed to hurt.”
Opening the flap of my jeans, I pulled my painfully swollen cock out. Fisting the hard length, I placed one knee on the bed and leaned toward her. “Suck it.”
Samara pleaded with me instead. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Suck my cock.”
Samara buried her face in the bedcovers.
Grabbing her hair, I wrenched her head back. She cried out.
“Suck my cock now, or I fuck your ass dry.”
With a sob, she opened her shaking lips.
I thrust my hips forward,watching as she gagged on the length.
“Get it good and wet.”
Unable to breathe through her nose because of her tears, she continued to choke and sputter as I forced my shaft past her lips. I could feel her tongue swipe the underside and had to rein back my impulse to fill her mouth with cum.
After a few more moments, I pulled free and walked to the foot of the bed.
The mattress dipped as I knelt between her open legs. I placed both palms on her ass cheeks, relishing in the heat radiating off her skin. Samara hissed in response to my touch.
Using the heels of my hands, I pried her cheeks apart.
Samara whimpered and tried to clench them back together. That earned her a hard slap on the right cheek.
Once more, I opened her ass cheeks wide, knowing the humiliation this was causing. Leaning down, I gently blew on her small puckered hole, watching as it twitched and winked from the cool touch of air. Next, I placed my tongue on her small opening. Wetting the soft ridges with the tip of my tongue.
Her entire body quaked in response. I knew she was fighting her embarrassment with her obvious arousal. I could see the lips of her cunt were slick with it. Leaning up on my knees, I pressed the head of my cock against her asshole.
I could hear Samara suck in her breath as she braced herself for the pain we both knew was coming.
Pushing my hips forward, I pressed my shaft against her flesh. I watched as the small ridges became smooth from the pressure. The delicate pink skin turned white as the head of my cock opened her hole wider and wider.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Samara whimpered. Her hands, which rested just above the curve of her ass, curled helplessly into fists.
My cock slowly pushed in till the ridge of the head was swallowed by her body. At this point, I grabbed hold of her hips.
“Who do you belong too, malyshka?”
“You,” came the muffled, obedient response.
With that, I ruthlessly thrust forward. Driving into her tight body with all my might till my balls slapped against her cunt. Pulling back, I pistoned into her tight warmth again. Her body gripped my cock like a fist just as it fought each intrusion of my shaft. I could feel the twitch and stretch of her inner muscles as she struggled to accommodate my girth. Looking down, I relished in the sight of her tiny puckered hole, stretched taut as the wide base of my cock forced it open.
Samara begged and pleaded for me to stop.
My response was to force her hips up higher, so I could plunge into her with even more ferocity.
The feel of her punished skin against my stomach drove me to near insanity as I tried to possess her body in every way imaginable.
Grabbing the silk cord from around her neck, I pulled it over her head. Then I thrust my fingers into her mouth like a bit. As far as I was concerned what I was doing did not differ from breaking in a wild, untamed animal. Pulling back on her jaw, I could feel her teeth sink into my fingers. The edge of pain only spurred me on. Her smooth back was slick with sweat and bowed, her hips forced to meet my thrusts.
Finally, I released her mouth, only to grab her beautiful hair. Twisting its long length around my fist, I kept her body in the curved position as I used my other hand to fondle her breast and pinch her nipple.
“Oh God,” she moaned as pain turned to pleasure. Her body vibrated and hummed with the intensity of her release.
Taking pity on her, I drove into her body a few more times before loosening the reins on my own desire and letting my release crash over me like a dark wave.
My cock jerked inside her tight back passage as I pumped warm come into her body.
Breathing heavily, I reached into the bedside table and withdrew a pair of handcuff keys. I uncuffed her, then rolled her slack body onto her back.
“Pull your knees up high,” I ordered.
My mouth latched onto her clit, now swollen with need.
Samara’s hips bucked. Lifting my head, I breathed against her sweet cunt. “Be a good girl, and I will make you come a second time.”
It took only a few flicks of my tongue before her body clenched with her own release.
Rising on my knees, I moved up to the head of the bed and collapsed beside her prone body.
Now that I had taken all my fear and adrenaline out on her pretty little body, my white hot rage returned. She had deliberately put herself in danger. In fact, she chose to leave my bed to face that danger alone.
Unacceptable.
“You don’t understand,” she whimpered against my chest as she tried to justify why she snuck away like a thief in the night.
I tightened my grip around her waist as I pressed her harder against my shoulder.
“I understand perfectly. You disobeyed me.”
“It’s not like that. I had no choice. I don’t belong in your world.”
“You always have a choice. And choices have consequences.”
There was an unmistakable dark threat to my words.
The shiver that coursed through her body proved she understood.
Fisting her hair, I pulled her head back and cupped her jaw. I wanted to look deep into those beautiful, changeable emerald eyes of hers to make sure she understood every word I was about to say.
“Listen very carefully, malyshka, because I don’t want there to be any more confusion. You are mine, and I protect what is mine. Never… ever… run from me again. Do you understand me?”
Samara nodde
d. “I promise. I won’t.”
She was lying.
Chapter 31
Samara
Like in bed, when Gregor took control… he took complete control.
He awoke me hours later. I was surprised to see it was already dusk.
Ordering me to dress, he made several phone calls in swift succession. I overheard one which seemed to be Gregor giving instructions to have a plane gassed and ready. A private plane?
My objections fell on deaf ears.
“You have two options, Samara,” growled Gregor, “You can either walk onto the plane or be carried, but either way you are getting on that plane.”
He was right. It was time to stop running. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Gregor, but I knew I would never sort it out until I confronted my parents, because based on last night’s attempted kidnapping, things had gotten way out of hand. As much as I hated the thought, it was time to return home.
As we entered the small metal door to the massive hangar, my jaw dropped. When he said we would take his plane back to Washington, I envisioned a grueling bumpy ride on some little Samara, single-engine four seater.
“What the fuck, Gregor!”
“Language, Samara!” he scolded as he grabbed my hand and led me toward the descended staircase. I knew better than to even ask about customs or having to show my ID knowing a man of Gregor’s resources would probably bypass such pedestrian necessities.
The plane was at least one hundred feet long. It was white with two crossing sabers emblazoned on the tail in gold, part of Gregor’s family crest. If I wasn’t mistaken, this was a Global 5000. It had a crazy security system with integrated cameras in the forward belly, quad, and even in the stabilizer fin. Some casino had sent one to pick us up when Yelena had hit big on some well-placed track bets. That was when we learned we needed to keep a lower profile.
I ducked my head as we crossed the threshold. The interior was gorgeous. Four oxblood leather club seats took up most of the space. In the front galley there was a polished bronze bubinga bar stocked with crystal decanters filled with deep amber liquids.
“Seriously. Just how wealthy are you?” I asked as I tried to remember how much this plane probably cost. I mean, there was money and then there was money. Gregor apparently had money.
At the back of the plane was a massive king-size bed covered in black and gold satin.
I met Gregor’s knowing gaze and blushed.
He led me past the club chairs to the bed.
I resisted, although the thought of someone witnessing Gregor fucking me senseless gave me a voyeuristic thrill.
Gregor stroked his knuckles down my cheek. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”
The pure unadulterated masculine arrogance of his statement made my heart skip.
A little embarrassed by my reaction to his declaration, I looked back to the bed and the various size packages heaped on top.
“What is all this?”
“Clothes for you,” he said nonchalantly as he opened his laptop.
I surveyed the signature orange Hermes bag and the glossy black Coco Chanel bags. There was even one from Louis Vuitton.
“How? Why?” I stuttered.
“I knew you would need something to wear for what I had planned, so I arranged for a personal shopper to drop those off.”
I wanted to ask how wearing designer clothes fit into his plan of us returning to Washington to reason with my father, but the tone of his voice warned me not to.
I opened the largest box from Chanel. With a delicate touch, I peeled away the tissue paper and gasped. Lifting the dress by the shoulders, I pulled it free from the box. It was a vintage Chanel dress in champagne silk. The surplice v-neckline was trimmed in small white pearls. It looked like a dress Audrey Hepburn would have worn in a movie wedding scene.
“Gregor? You can’t mean for me to wear this?”
“I do. It’s part of the plan,” he said without looking up. “Everything you need is there.”
Peeking inside the rest of the boxes, I found lingerie, a purse, and shoes. The large black garment bag next to my packages looked to contain a Giorgio Armani suit for Gregor.
“What exactly is this plan?”
Gregor closed his laptop and approached me. Without saying a word, he lifted me in his arms.
“Gregor! What are you doing?”
He took a few steps and deposited me in one of the club chairs. He then reached for the seat buckle and latched me in tightly. He gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Be a good girl and sit still for take-off. After that, get dressed without asking me any more questions.”
I crossed my arms over my chest with a petulant huff.
Just to tweak me further, Gregor teased, “You’re just going to have to trust me, malyshka.”
Two hours later, I peered out the small oval window through the midnight blue evening sky to see the orange and white runway lights of Reagan International Airport.
After our takeoff, Gregor had personally supervised undressing and redressing me with a pleasurable interlude in between.
Good lord, what that man could do with his tongue.
Feeling more than a little overdressed, I waited as the plane taxied into Gregor’s private hangar.
ThenI unbuckled my seatbelt and searched around for my purse as I prepared to disembark.
“Not just yet, baby. We are waiting for a guest first,” said Gregor as he rose from his seat and moved to the bar. He poured himself a vodka and me a glass of chilled wine.
“Gregor. Do we have time for this? I want to see Nadia.”
“We’re making time. And trust me, you’re going to want a drink.”
Perplexed by his secretive mood, I took the offered glass.
Shortly after, there was a knock on the plane door. The pilot opened the hatch and an older man in a dark suit entered.
“Gregor,” he said in warm greeting as he crossed down the aisle to shake Gregor’s hand.
“Judge Matthews. Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.”
The judge shrugged. “It’s incredibly irregular, but after that little mishap you extracted me from last year, how could I refuse the chance to return a favor?”
Gregor put his arm around my shoulders as he eased me forward. There was no mistaking the tension in my body.
“Samara. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Judge John Matthews.”
I nodded my head. “Your honor.”
The judge reached for my hand. “Well, I certainly understand your haste now, Gregor. She is stunning. If I were thirty years younger…”
“We are in a hurry, Judge,” interrupted Gregor.
“Of course! Let me just get the marriage paperwork signed, and we will get to it.”
Marriage!
I took a step back… then another.
Marriage!
Gregor moved his dark gaze to me.
I shook my head.
He took a step forward.
I held up my hand in a useless effort to hold him at bay as I continued to back up as far as the plane would allow. All too soon, my back bumped against the wall of the plane.
“Samara. Listen to me.”
I just shook my head.
Marriage.
I knew that was his aim, but never in a million years did I think he would pull a stunt like this. I thought I would have more time to convince him we would never suit. I figured he would want a church wedding and all the pomp and circumstance. I thought I had months… weeks… not minutes.
“You’ve lost your mind,” I rasped. My voice sounded strange to my ears. High-pitched and strained.
Gregor nodded. “Quite possibly.”
“You can’t actually think I’d say yes to this?”
“I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice in the matter.”
What the fuck?
“That’s not how these things work. You kind of need my permission,” I snapped as panic set in.
“Let’s jus
t say that Judge Matthews isn’t one to stand on a little formality like the bride’s agreement.”
I stared at Gregor. His shoulders were set, his jaw firm. Arrogant and confident. Holy shit! He really meant this.
“No! No! I won’t do this.”
Gregor leaned close, resting both hands against the wall on either side of my head. Nudging my hair aside with his nose, he whispered into my ear, “Do I have to remind you I will never take no as an answer from you?”
I gasped.
Gregor ran a knuckle down the front of my dress to circle the barest outline of my nipple through the delicate satin.
“If necessary, I will strip you out of this dress and spank that beautiful ass of yours red right in front of the Judge. I couldn't care less if you are married in satin or your bare skin,” he threatened.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” I asked him, my eyes wide with shock.
“In a heartbeat,” he growled.
“This is insane,” I breathed as I shook my hands in a lame effort to quiet the frenetic pace of my heart.
“Trust me, malyshka. I’m doing this to protect you.”
God, when he purred those strong, protective words to me, I almost believe him.
In a daze, he took my hand and led me back to the Judge.
Someone handed me a pen; I didn’t even know who. I tried to read the official-looking document. There were our names, neatly scrawled in permanent ink.
Samara Federova
Gregor Romanovich Ivanov
I turned to Gregor. In a last ditch effort to slow this speeding train, I asked, “What about my friends?”
“We will have a full ceremony later. Sign,” he ordered.
With a sigh, I signed my name. My signature looked delicate and shaky next to the thick slant of Gregor’s confident one.
As the pilot stood witness, the Judge began with the ceremony. I leaned heavily on Gregor as I stood by his side.
I wasn’t even listening.
It was all just a dull white noise.
“Samara?”
“Samara?”
Everyone was looking at me expectantly.
I quaked.
I couldn’t do this. This was insane.