by Twyla Turner
“Skotina, help me lift her onto the swing,” Ivan instructs Yury.
Swing?
Ivan guides me over to the black, strappy thing. He turns me to face away from it. I glance back and see him hold onto a large band to keep it steady. My head whips back around when I feel large, warm hands wrap around my waist. My waist isn’t small and yet, Yury’s massive hands nearly cover it.
I grip his forearms as he lifts me effortlessly and settles my butt onto the strap. A strap at my back keeps me upright as I lean back. Ivan secures my wrists in more straps that make my arms hang uselessly on either side of my head. There’s no way that I can move them any farther than a couple of inches. I try to twist them out, but they go nowhere. I’m trapped.
Ivan then slips larger straps up my legs, until they reach mid-thigh. He adjusts the straps until my legs are spread wide. I try to close them self-consciously. It’s no use. I’m dangling in mid-air and completely vulnerable.
I realize why Ivan had Chloe dress me in the wrap dress with no undergarments, as he pulls the ties that hold my dress together at my waist. He slowly peels back the silky material and lets it drape away from me to hang from the swing like a red cape. Now I’m completely bare and strapped in with nowhere to go.
I try anyway. I struggle against the bonds that hold me. All it does is start to swing me in a circle. Now I get what he meant when he said swing.
I panic, looking for any way out. For anyone to help me.
I should’ve punched Ivan in the nuts earlier and made a run for the exit before he strapped me in, but curiosity led me here. We all know what curiosity did to the cat.
I look to Yury, but his eyes are averted. Refusing to look at me. I look to the window. All I see is the panicked expression on my face. My reflection. The two-way mirror. They can see me. I can’t see them.
I look away from the vision of myself. I feel shame for already feeling the dampness of my exposed vagina. The thought of strangers watching, filling me with excitement and arousal.
Who is this person I’ve become?
Yury turns towards the door, ready to leave.
“No, Skotina. Stay.” Ivan grins slyly. “I’m going to need your help.”
I can tell the big man is trying to keep his face devoid of emotion, but I see a flash of rage blaze behind his eyes.
I’m not sure whether I’m happy he’s staying or mortified. I want him to stay. He’s become that steady presence that comforts me. I also want him to go. I don’t want him to witness what’s about to happen to me. I don’t want to see the kindness and affection in his eyes when he looks at me to fade. It would break my heart.
“Are you ready, my dear?” Ivan asks me softly as he steps closer to me.
“No,” I grit out. I let my hatred show.
“Good. That will make what’s to come even better.” He leans in closer and whispers a question in my ear. “Are you mine?”
“Fuck you,” I sneer.
“Alright. Let’s begin.”
“Skotina, come.” Ivan jerks his head towards me, and Yury walks over hesitantly. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know you want her. And I’m so proud that you’ve kept your hands to yourself. To reward you for your obedience and loyalty, I’m going to let you help me break her.
“Over there on that table are items you can use to pleasure her. But…” Ivan holds up a finger as he pauses. “Whatever you do. Don’t let her come. Do you understand?”
Yury nods. He looks at me and his sad brown eyes plead with me for forgiveness.
He has no idea, but a huge part of me is relieved that he’ll be the one doing the touching. I’ve wanted him to touch me this way for weeks. I’ve craved nothing else. But therein lies the problem. He’s the only one that can probably make the last of my resistance crumble. And with barely any effort.
Yury walks over to the table with the silver platter of toys on top. I can’t see past his wide back. When he finally turns, I see that he’s holding an item I’m already familiar with. The feather tickler.
I know what’s coming, so I breathe deep and steel myself for the sensations.
He looks at me for a while without touching me. I’ve learned many of his profound looks. This one screams, “Look at me. Just me. Forget about him.”
That’s the problem, if I forget, I’ll surely give in.
I try to focus on both. But it’s not long before I’m lost. Lost in all things Yury.
Yury touches the feather to my cheek. He caresses it down my face as if he’s touching me with his bare hands. The feather lightly dances over my lips, and they open of their own accord. Already my breath is coming faster.
He trails the feather down my neck. It trembles across my collarbone. Then down the underside of each arm. Little sounds are already escaping my lips as I watch his face take in every inch of me. Where the feather touches, I quake. Where his eyes touch, I burn.
The feather moves down between my breasts. He teases me as he strokes it under my breast. Finally, on an upward stroke, he grazes my nipple. It tightens and puckers in response. The muscles of my empty and awaiting channel squeeze, and a gasp bursts passed my lips. He quickly mimics the same caress on my other breast. I can feel how wet I’m becoming.
Yury moves the feather down over my stomach, over my hip, and up my inner thigh. He moves to the other thigh, starting at my knees and moving up my leg to where it meets the V between.
I hold my breath in anticipation. The feather trembles over my outer labia. The area is so sensitive after weeks of sexual torture, I strain towards the feather. Seeking more. The swing rocks with my movement.
“Are you mine?” Ivan whispers in my ear again, and I nearly jump out of my skin. My whole world has been centered on Yury and that feather. I forgot Ivan was there.
“No,” I say breathlessly. Definitely not as firmly as the first time he asked.
“Skotina, you can touch her with your hands and mouth if you’d like,” Ivan says, and Yury looks up at him in shock. “Go ahead.”
Ivan leans down again to speak into my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through me. “Watching him touch you makes me incredibly jealous. But you’ve left me with no choice. I’ve seen the way you look at him too. Just like how he looks at you. You want him. You’ll pay for that. For wanting a beast more than me.”
It all suddenly makes sense. Why Ivan has been torturing Yury right along with me. He could see the feelings I have for his trusted guard, and it burns him up with jealousy. So he wants Yury to see what he can’t have. To be near what he can’t have. To touch what he can’t have.
Asshole.
Yury steps closer to me, between my spread legs. I tremble with eagerness despite everything. It feels as if I’ve been waiting entirely too long to feel his massive, rough hands on me.
His finger grazes my bottom lip, and he leans down towards me.
“No kissing on the mouth,” Ivan blurts out from nearby.
Yury pulls back. I almost groan in frustration, but I keep my disappointment in check. He wraps his fingers behind my neck and uses his thumb to press up underneath my chin, forcing my head back. The calloused pad of his thumb scraping against the underside of my jaw as my head drops back limply.
I feel the bristled brush of his beard against my neck right before his lips touch my flushed skin. The skin there is ultra-sensitive and my back arches instinctively. Yury’s lips follow the natural bowed curve of my body.
Through all of the torture, Ivan has put me through, every time I’ve fought my urge to cry out and show my pleasure. But when Yury’s lips wrap around my hard nipple, my first cry is loud, breathless, and unapologetic. He circles his tongue around my areola. My vagina clenches and I buck wildly. Yury pulls away and blows lightly over my wet nipple. It draws up even tighter than before. He quickly moves to the other breast, giving it the same love.
After he’s gotten his fill, he trails kisses down my tummy. He stops and kisses, licks, and nibbles on the soft skin of my s
tomach. The same stomach that my ex made fun of and told me to do crunches to get rid of my flab. I didn’t even know my belly was so sensitive and arousing until now.
I strain against my bonds, trying to lift my most sensitive place to his lips.
“Not yet, Skotina. Tease her,” Ivan interjects, and I can’t help my reaction.
“No! Please!” I cry out.
“Aw, do you want him to taste that pussy?” Ivan asks as if I’m a toddler.
I can’t deny it. “Yes,” I pant.
“Say it, my little prude.”
“I want him to taste me.”
“Say it. Say the word. I know it’s right on the tip of your tongue.”
“I want him to taste my pussy,” the last word comes out almost as a whisper.
“Louder. Come on, Winter. Your audience wants to hear you.”
Damn! I forgot about them.
“I want him to taste my pussy!” I practically scream, my face feels flush with embarrassment.
“Good girl.”
“You heard her, Skotina.”
Ivan steps away from me to watch. His jaw ticks rhythmically. He really is jealous, but for now, he’s willing to deal with it because Yury is a means to an end.
The end goal to break me.
I face forward once more and look down at the man now kneeling between my spread thighs. Ivan calls him beast, but I think he’s beautiful. Something inside of him, his spirit touched me the moment I looked at him in Moscow.
I want this. I want him.
My feelings must be written on my face because he nods and then focuses once more on my most intimate place. His rough hands stroke the outside of my thighs as he softly brushes his beard against my inner thighs. The contrast is delicious.
His soft lips kiss the tender skin of one thigh, before he nips at it with his teeth. Then he licks at the bite, soothing it with his soft wet tongue. He repeats the kiss, bite, lick down my trembling leg.
He reaches my aching center and blows softly. The cool air against my heat makes me moan deep in my throat. He continues to tease me. Nibbling and licking at my lips. He bypasses my throbbing clit and finds my opening weeping and ready. Yury laps up my arousal like its wine.
“Yury, please!”
He growls deep in his throat. Finally, he moves up to where I want him. He devours me. I’m in heaven. He makes love to my clit as if he’s French kissing my mouth.
As quiet as he is, he is anything but as he goes down on me. Slurping, humming and moaning.
He alternates between long slow laps, quick curling flicks, and my personal favorite when he flattens his tongue against my nub and rolls it like waves crashing.
I don’t know what his history is with women, especially since he seems so shy with them, especially me, but he’s a genius at cunnilingus. The ex never wanted to go down on me. He always said it seemed unsanitary. Not that it stopped him from trying to wave his junk near my mouth every chance he got.
My thighs are quivering within minutes. I feel that tightness low in my abdomen. That itch for release in my clit. I roll my hips, stroking my button against his tongue.
After so many weeks without release, it’s coming hard and fast.
“Ah…aaaah…”
“Stop.” Ivan commands and Yury immediately stops.
“Noooo!!! Please. Please. Please! Ivan don’t do this to me!” I sob, tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
“Are you mine?”
“No, dammit! No!” I scream, forcing the words from my lips. But it is the exact opposite of what I want to say.
“I see,” he says with a calculating look.
He waves towards the mirror. Moments later, the door opens, and two women walk in.
“Rochelle, come and take his place,” Ivan instructs a voluptuous brunette with hair down to her butt.
Ivan points to a black leather chair sitting directly in front of me.
“Skotina, sit. Monique is your gift for doing so well.” Ivan says proudly as if patting himself on the back for being such a generous boss.
Yury sits down, and the woman stands in front of him. She reaches up to the spaghetti straps of her slinky yellow dress and pulls them down. The dress drops and pools around her feet, leaving her completely naked.
My breath comes fast and hot. Jealousy flaming my blood.
She is everything I am not.
She’s petite. Probably only a few inches over five feet. With a tight, toned body. And her skin is the gleaming, satiny deep mahogany I’ve only dreamed of having. As if she was molded from dark chocolate.
As she leans over to kiss Yury’s lips, I angrily try to swing away from the image of them together.
“No, Winter. You will watch.” Ivan commands before gripping my head and holding it in place in their direction. “Rochelle, you can play. Just remember she is not allowed to come.”
Rochelle walks over to the table and selects a vibrator. She turns and walks towards me with a seductive smile on her face. I’ve already come down from the climax I had been on the edge of from Yury’s talented mouth. She presses a button, and the toy comes to life with a soft hum on the lowest setting. She places it on the middle of my chest and slowly glides it down my center. She reaches my mound, bypasses my clit and dips the vibrator into my drenched folds. Coating it with my cream. I gasp at the vibration. She pulls it out and strokes it between my lips, slightly grazing my clit.
My eyes tear away from the woman between my legs. I can’t help but look across from me. My curiosity getting the best of me. The beautiful dark-skinned woman is kneeling in between Yury’s legs and has released his erection from his slacks. Her mouth does its best to take him down. My eyes widen as he pops from her mouth. Getting my first glimpse of him.
He is enormous. Wide, long, uncut, and curved.
She pulls back the excess skin, the purple tip is fat and perfectly shaped.
He has the kind of penis Faith would ooh and ah over. It’s beautiful. And just seeing someone else get to touch him fills me with more pain than finding the ex with another woman ever would.
Even though she’s the one pleasuring him, Yury hasn’t taken his eyes off of me. I can tell that he’s trying to control his reactions to what she’s doing to him. I know better. I’ve been watching him the last three weeks. Because he doesn’t speak, the rest of his body speaks for him.
His lips are pressed into a hard line. I see the hair of his beard moving rhythmically, and I know that he’s gritting his teeth. I watch his thick fingers grip the arms of the chair.
Rochelle places the vibrator against my clit, and I yelp in surprise. I was so focused on Yury that I wasn’t paying attention to her.
She rubs it in slow circles around my button. Due to days of orgasm suppression, it’s not long before I’m quickly climbing back up. But before I can reach the peak she takes it away. I groan in defeat.
She continues the torture until my skin is covered in a thin sheen of perspiration from the effort it takes not to give in.
Jealousy. It’s what finally breaks me.
I watch the beautiful dark-skinned woman roll a condom onto Yury’s length and then climb onto his lap, slowly descending on his thick erection. Her head falls back in ecstasy.
The envy, pain and unwelcome arousal I feel from watching them finally sends me to my knees, figuratively.
A sob bursts from my lips. Revealing to me how deeply I truly felt about the scarred man.
“Are you mine?” I hear Ivan speak softly against my ear again.
He’s always nearby. Watching me. Waiting.
“Yes,” I cry weakly. Broken. Jealous.
I look over to Yury. Even as she bounces up and down on his lap, his eyes connect with mine painfully.
I see defeat.
Chapter 16
“Yes,” she sobs brokenly.
That one word punches me in the gut. I know any chance of claiming her as mine is lost. Ivan will overwhelm her and then leave her an empty shell.
/> It is not her fault. She fought hard for weeks. Longer than any woman I have ever seen deal with Ivan. Most give into him within a few hours. Her manager was a prime example. Winter’s resistance is what fascinated and aroused Ivan more than anything. It is what made him almost desperate. Desperate enough to use me to help break her.
He is a jealous man. He only shares once he is done. Not before. Not during.
Her acquiescence is my fault. I could not hide my feelings for her, and he used that. He used her fondness and pity for a disfigured beast. And while he was at it, he made me pay for her fondness for me. He was jealous that her kindness only extended to me. So now he would make me watch as he took her.
Monique rides my cock with expert precision. Any other day, she would be my sole focus. A gorgeous, confident woman who actually wanted me was rare. But today, it is hard for me to focus on anything but what is unfolding over her shoulder. And as much as it twists my gut, I cannot look away.
He knew that.
Ivan smiles triumphantly after the single syllable word slips from Winter’s lips. He immediately unzips his pants and releases his dick. He doesn’t waste time undressing. He’s waited too long already.
He rips open a condom with his teeth and rolls it down quickly.
My throat works convulsively. I want to scream, “Stay away from her!”
He takes the few steps towards her. Rochelle removes the vibrator from against Winter’s tortured clit and then moves from between her legs. Ivan takes her place, purposefully angles the swing so that I and everyone watching from the other side of the mirror can witness his conquest.
Winter’s head is hanging back in defeat, refusing to see what is to come. Ivan positions himself, grips her hip, and thrusts home. All in one hard stroke to the base. Not even giving her time to adjust.
“Fuck!” He barks loudly.
Winter inhales sharply. Her head coming up swiftly.
Ivan gives her no time to orient herself. He takes her savagely. His hands wrap around her soft thighs, using them to pull her down his cock. Slamming her over his length. She can barely catch her breath, and within seconds she is coming apart.