Munroe and Stanka

by Daniela Jackson

  I spread her folds and dip my little finger into her tight cunt gently. She pushes her hips against my hand.

  “Easy, princess. You don’t want to lose your virginity on my finger, do you?” I kiss her throat. “Say you’ll marry me and my cock will stretch your tight cunt. Just say ‘yes’.”

  “Nie.”

  I don’t give up easily, but she’s a difficult case. Anger rushes through my veins. I will wreck her tonight, make her beg me to drive my cock into her precious cunt.

  I roll her on her other side, so we face each other.

  I run my thumb along her slit then rub it against her clitoris, dipping a forefinger in her juices. Stanka turns her face down and buries it in my neck, her hot ragged breath tickling and scorching my skin. Sending an electric current down my spine. My dick is rock hard, but it’s not about me. It’s about her. I work her clitoris harder, making her squirm in my embrace, tense and relax alternately. My forefinger trails a line up her ass crack and I push the fingertip into her other hole. She gasps and jerks her body up, but I immobilise her with my arm.

  “I will make you feel good, princess. Breathe and enjoy.”

  “Munroe,” she says in a raspy low voice. “It’s unnatural.”

  I love the sound of my name on her tongue. “It will be fun. Trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

  I hold her chin, kissing her neck as my finger goes deeper and I add more pressure around her clitoris.

  Stanka moans and melds into me, then lies on her back, spreading her knees wider so I bury my finger into her ass and focus on her swollen nub. I pump my finger in and out at a steady pace and watch her face sharpen as her chest rises and falls ardently. She breathes heavily, moans louder and louder then digs her heels into the mattress.

  Her body arches as she comes, screaming her satisfaction. The air around us is suffused with the smell of her sweat and come.

  I allow her to rest for a few minutes then I go to piss outside of the house, bring some water from the well, and return to bed to pleasure my princess again. I kiss her cunt and suck her sensitive nub until she thrashes in satisfaction. Then again, until she’s so sated that she teeters on the edge of fainting.

  I lie on my side, pulling her trembling body to mine.

  “Now listen to me,” I say firmly. “I won’t touch you again, do you understand? I won’t touch you unless you agree to be my wife.”

  “Fine. Stay away from me.”

  “You will be my wife,” I say. “Do you understand?”

  “Nie,” she says, her white aristocratic chin trembling.

  “Is this the only word you can say? You can say only ‘no’?”

  “Nie.”

  “Stanka.” I shake my head. “You will come to me.” I run my knuckles down her cheek. “Sooner or later. I can wait. I’m a patient man.” I kiss her cheek. “Sleep.”

  She will come to me and splay her thighs for me, offering me her cunt so I can stretch it with my cock.

  I will teach her to say dirty words into my ear.

  I will teach her proper English.

  She will say ‘fuck me harder’.

  She will say ‘I love your cock’.

  She will say ‘I love you’.

  Stanka

  The sound of heavy footsteps tears me out of my dream. Munroe is dressed and he leans over me.

  “Hurry,” he says in an unemotional voice.

  I raise my hand to touch his unshaven cheek, but he steps back and walks off. A wave of burning humiliation rolls over me and I regret all the dirty things we’ve done together. I should never have allowed him to touch me. I should have stolen his gun and ended my meaningless existence.

  He’s taught me to crave his body, his touch, and his kisses. Tears prick my eyes as I flop from the bed and put my clothes on. There are apples on the windowsill so I bite into one of them and walk out of the house.

  Munroe is sitting on his bike, his eyes wandering along the horizon. I settle myself behind him and hold on to him, but it feels as though I’m embracing a piece of ice. He’s a stranger to me, not the man who made me scream with pleasure.

  The stinging in my ass reminds me of my shamelessness last night and I feel my cheeks burn. Never ever again. I’m not a whore.

  I’m a lady and Munroe’s a peasant. A good and honourable peasant though. A very handsome and well-built peasant.

  The bike roars and shoots forward.

  We travel for many hours then sneak into a train standing on the railway tracks crossing a tiny village composed of merely four houses. Munroe says we’re in Austria and it’s the only sentence he’s said to me for many hours. We continue our journey like cattle. I’m sitting on the floor, pieces of straw around me, and Munroe’s seated by the opposite wall beside the bike lying in the corner of the wagon. His eyes are fixed on his bent knees.

  My body sways in rhythm of the train wagon as the chugging sound along with the hisses and screeches make me feel sleepy. A putrid smell plasters me like a piece of wallpaper, but that doesn’t concern me. Munroe doesn’t want to talk to me, doesn’t want to touch me, doesn’t want to even look at me and that makes my heart crumble into a thousand pieces.

  I just want him to touch me like before. Then I kill that desire.

  I lie down, rolling on my side and have a nap.

  We get off the train as the day is about to dawn and we jump onto the bike. We stop at the edge of the woods, eat in a mortal silence, and ride again along a basic road. The bike jumps over the holes and bumps like a crazy bull, hurting my whole body. Everything turns into a blur. A silent blur. Sometimes Munroe’s sharp command will interrupt it.

  In the evening, I start the fire expertly, spread the blankets on the ground and wait for him to talk to me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smokes a cigarette and sleeps.

  There is an invisible wall between us, thickening with each hour that passes.

  After two days, we arrive at a port where Munroe pays for a claustrophobic room in a dirty hotel surrounded by moors. He shoves me into it and disappears without a single word. I burst into tears. Then I focus on removing all the cobwebs stretching across the cracked ceiling as a girl my age brings some food and a bowl filled with warm water. I wash myself and eat, then stretch my body out on the single bed standing below the sash window with broken glass in one of the rectangles.

  I cry for many hours then I fall asleep.

  As the day is about to dawn, a massive half-naked frame lies down beside me and I recognise Munroe. My heart skips a beat then sinks as my nostrils fill with the smell of female perfume.

  He was with another woman.

  My insides turn into ice. I’m numb. I hate him so much that I want to kill him.

  Munroe

  The first sun’s rays touch her face. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying, and I stifle my urge to kiss all her pain away.

  I visited a whorehouse, amazed at how efficient the owner was repairing everything after the bombings. Well, his girls are very busy and earning a lot from all the soldiers stepping into that temple of pleasure on their way home. This business will always survive, I guess. The whores wanted to entertain me, but I wasn’t interested. I’ve always appreciated the company of a clean whore or two, but not this time. My mind and body belong to my snorting princess. I don’t want to fuck any other woman, except Stanka. Only her. Fucking hell, she feels like a sweet prison I want to occupy forever.

  I stole a few sets of clothes for Stanka, stole a pile of money from the owner, and stole a bottle of perfume. I’m a really good thief. I’ve always been a thief. I would have died of hunger if hadn’t learnt to be a thief.

  I paid a French fisherman to take us to Dover on the deck of his vessel and I sprayed a cloud of the perfume onto my chest.

  Stanka looks heartbroken and that was my plan. Maybe she’ll be jealous enough to marry me.

  Women are still very interested in me, but I’ve lost interest in other women since I met my beautiful princess. It’s that simple.
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br />   Stanka’s soft body shakes against mine and my heart fills with pain.

  “We’ll set off in four hours,” I say.

  “Thank you,” she says in a faltering voice. “For everything.” She sniffles. “Are you going to marry her?”

  “Who, princess?”

  “That woman you were with the whole night,” she squeaks like a mouse and turns to me.

  “I wasn’t with another woman.”

  “Liar,” she snorts and turns her back to me.

  Her gasps travel through the air as I lie on my back and put my forearm on my forehead, closing my eyes. Restraining myself from peeling off her shirt and fucking her like an animal.

  I’m a man of my word.

  I will fuck her only if she agrees to be my wife.

  Stanka rolls on her side to face me again. “They would never allow me to marry you.”

  This is progress. “Fuck them. You don’t have to ask them. We’ll get to Edinburgh and I’ll take you under my roof.”

  “I can’t, that’s just—“

  “What? Too low for you?”

  She sits up. “You’ve just strayed.” Her voice rings hysterically in my ears.

  I pull myself to a sitting position. “I haven’t.”

  “I can smell her on you.” She raises her hand as though she wants to slap me across the cheek.

  I grab her wrist and pin her down to the mattress with my weight, crushing her lips with mine. “I said I hadn’t, you stubborn woman.”

  “You smell of perfume.”

  “So what?” I kiss her again, longer more tenderly. “Are you going to marry me or not?”

  She spreads her folded legs. “Nie.”

  My dick is so hard that it aches and my mind clouds with anger. An elemental desire spreads throughout my body. My plan was to stay away from her, but it shatters into pieces as I plunge my hand between her naked thighs and taste her arousal. She grabs my wrist, but I take her hands and bunch them over her head, peeling off her shirt with my other hand. She’s naked beneath me.

  “Don’t,” she murmurs, but her parted lips and the gleam of her eyes say the opposite. “Don’t lie to me. Ever.”

  Right. She is very jealous and angry. She needs to shake it off.

  “I never lie to you,” I say. “You’re the only woman in my life.”

  Her mouth searches for mine and she bites my lower lip. I love it. I love her fingers digging into my back, her nails marking my skin, and her heavy breath even more. We both need to be close. So close that our bodies turn into one.

  I watch the insanity of her eyes, inserting my thumb into her mouth. Her pink tongue wiggles around it.

  I lower my head and lick her ear. “I’m going to fuck you in the ass.” I bite her earlobe lightly. “And you’re going to enjoy it.” My mouth covers hers and I bite her lower lip, suck it and bite again as she wiggles beneath me, snorting.

  I’ll go mad if I don’t sink my dick into her, but I’m a man of my word. I won’t take her virginity until she agrees to be my wife. Her ass will do though.

  Her thighs push against my hips as I dip a finger into her wet hot cunt, gently so her maidenhead remains intact, and her walls clench around my digit. Her arousal drips out of her. My naughty girl. So fucking wet for me. Her body softens, her wide eyes fixed on mine, her lips searching for mine again, but I push her down, pinning her to the mattress.

  “Do you understand what I’m going to do to you?” I ask.

  “I do, Munroe. I heard about it.”

  “Good. Tell me you want it as badly as I do.”

  “I want.”

  “I will be gentle,” I say and she nods at me as her folded legs spread wide apart. “Say you want me to fuck you in the ass.” I rub my thumb against her sensitive nub as she inhales deeply and rolls her eyes.

  “I want,” she gasps. “I want you.”

  I wiggle out of my trousers and press my naked body against hers. The sensation of her skin against mine fills me with agony and delirium. I squeeze her breast, twisting her nipple. Our lips meet hungrily and she wraps her arms around my neck.

  I need to be close with her, as close as possible, as close as she allows me to.

  I run my palms up and down her outer thighs then dip my finger in her juices and push it into her tight hole, kissing her gasps.

  I work her with my fingertip until she softens so I push my finger deeper, stretching her in circles.

  “Munroe,” she hums into my mouth.

  “I love you, princess.” I kiss her ragged breath, pulling my finger out of her.

  Her hands grab my head and she clings to me as though her life depends on it. I love that feeling.

  I turn her on her side and settle her back against my chest, grazing along her neck. Her head is lying on my arm. She pushes her ass against my groin. I dip a finger into her arousal and push it into her tight hole once again.

  Pinching her nipple, I gently add another finger and stretch her asshole. We kiss and I pull my fingers out, holding my throbbing cock, moistening it with my saliva. The head touches her tight opening and I move my hips, sliding it into her. Her heat grips on my cock as she hisses and stiffens against me. I fight my urge to go deeper.

  I kiss her desperate gasps and don’t move, waiting for her body to accommodate the head of my cock. I’m on the brink and can barely manage to control myself. My fingers stroke her nipple as my mouth caresses her neck. I search for her clitoris and massage it in circles, making it swell. Her cunt is soaking wet, moistening her inner thighs. I slide my cock into her slowly, until I’m half-buried inside her. The sensation of her heat and tightness is divine. Consuming, like never before.

  Stanka trembles against me, moaning and hissing alternately.

  “Breathe, princess,” I say and kiss her lips. “I love you so much.” I put my arm under her folded knee, pulling it up and push my whole length inside her.

  She cries out so I stop moving and wait until her body softens.

  Stanka

  My insides burn as though a real fire has seized them. Nausea rolls over me. The stinging pain from his intrusion grows in strength and pulsates, paralysing me. I’m floating in this pain, unable to move, but Munroe’s body against mine gives me a kind of relief, makes me crave more. Then the pain starts fading.

  Munroe touches my sensitive nub with his finger and massages it expertly, sending flutters of pleasure into my tummy.

  I’m impaled, dominated. Filthy, like never before.

  He guides my hand so I can stroke my clitoris myself and moves his hips against my ass. A moan escapes my mouth at the dirty bliss surging through me. I surrender to this sensation. His body slides against mine as his cock fucks my ass slowly, gently, and my pleasure builds inside me in a torturous tension I want to satisfy at all costs.

  Vilma never mentioned that a man might take a woman like this. She told me to obey my husband if I had one. She told me to be modest.

  Vilma knew my future husband wouldn’t love me or care about my pleasure. She didn’t want me to know that a husband could pleasure his wife so I wouldn’t crave it.

  My brother mentioned something about the pleasure of fucking a woman’s other opening to my father, but I thought I hadn’t heard properly. This is not the pleasure a lady should know. Yet, I’m learning it now, enjoying it, craving more, craving harder.

  Munroe’s heavy breath puffs into my neck as he thrusts into me harder, faster, and I start moaning loudly, stroking my swollen nub with more impatience, seeking relief, rising towards my bliss.

  Munroe’s raspy moan fills my ear. I’ve never heard him moan. That sound rolling off his mouth makes my mind hazy and bubbly with desire and sends more of a dark fever into my veins. I want him to moan into my ear like this for eternity. He fucks me deeper until I ascend into forgetfulness and disintegrate.

  There is a fog in my head.

  A sentence wafts through my mind, Munroe’s beautiful declaration ‘I love you so much’. I crave his love, but I
’m not allowed to take it.

  Munroe’s cock pulls out of me, and he encloses me with his body.

  “Sleep, princess.” He kisses my temple and inhales deeply.

  So I sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Munroe

  She wakes after an hour, and I feel that something is very wrong. She doesn’t look at me, but through me like I’m a piece of glass.

  “How are you, princess?”

  A sigh leaves her mouth.

  “Here are some clothes for you,” I continue, pulling my trousers on. “Hurry. The fisherman is waiting.”

  Stanka crawls from the bed and rummages around the room to pick up the clothes. As she smoothes the wrinkles of her navy flowery dress with her hand, I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head.

  “Your aristocratic innocence still safe, huh?” I say with sarcasm. “Nobody will know that you can fuck like a whore, except me and you.”

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “You’re better than a whore. Tighter. Softer.”

  Anger blazes in her glance as she buttons up her jacket. “I was born to be a wife.”

  “My wife,” I say with passion.

  “Never,” she says in a cold voice.

  I want to twist her neck, but stifle that urge. I shove her towards the door then grab her wrist and drag her across the town to the vessel that will take us to Edinburgh via Dover.

  The nauseating odour of fish whips my nostrils as we check on my bike then go under the deck and collapse onto a wooden cot.

  Stanka starts suffering from the seasickness as soon as the sea waves swing the boat. She’s curling into the straw mattress and groaning as I ruminate on my plan on how to make her marry me.

  Something went wrong. It was deliriously pleasant, but wrong.

  She’s a lady.

  Maybe they don’t fuck at all. This is the only explanation. I’ve seen a lot of married dandies in pubs and whorehouses, embraced by women.

  The problem is she can fuck, better than any whore or married woman I’ve had before and she can enjoy it.

  Stanka retches so I pass a bowl to her, stroking her back as she throws up. As her stomach spits out only bile and then is so empty that she only retches, she lies down, rolling on her side and lets out quiet groans. For three hours. I don’t say anything to her, but my heart crumbles into pieces at her suffering.