by Zoe Blake
Yelena howled in pain as she pulled on her wrist binds.
“Why am I punishing you?” I demanded.
Yelena didn’t respond.
I forced my finger into her pain-clenched asshole. The tip of my finger pushing the melting ice cube in further.
I repeated. “Why am I punishing you?”
Yelena’s breath came in frantic gasps. Finally, she blurted out, “Because I was a bad girl.”
“Did you disobey me?”
Yelena nodded as she moaned. Her thighs pressed against my sides as she continued to try to close her legs to protect the delicate flesh I was abusing.
“Yes,” she whispered, turning her head to the side to bury her face in the pillow. Tears coursed down the sides of her cheeks.
I picked up the final ice cube. Yelena whimpered.
Reaching over her body, I grabbed her jaw and forced her to face me. Holding up the ice cube, I demanded, “Tell me to punish you again. Tell me you deserve the pain. Tell me how you like it rough, baby. Ask me to make it hurt.”
Her eyes pleaded with me, but I would not relent.
My fingers pressed into her cheeks. I could feel the sharp edges of her teeth through the skin. “Say it.”
“Punish me, Damien. Punish me with the pain,” she moaned.
I pushed the final ice cube into her ass. Yelena sobbed as the ebbing agony once more surged.
Placing a hand near her shoulder, I leaned over her prone body. Reaching between her legs, I tried to push a finger into her chilled entrance. The muscles were clenched so hard from the cold, I could barely fit in the tip.
Whispering in her ear, I asked, “Do you know what my cock is going to feel like when I force it into this incredibly tight, virgin cunt?”
Yelena’s eyes widened as she began to shake her head. “Please! Please don’t! It’ll kill me. You’ll tear me in two.”
I moved my finger down and teased her puckered asshole. “Then how about here?”
“No! I don’t… I’ve never… no!”
I stared into her eyes.
Waiting.
I could tell the very moment my intention dawned. Those beautiful blue eyes turned a striking shade of aquamarine. I watched the play of emotion from anger, to desire, to pride, and finally to submission.
“I’ll suck your cock,” she conceded, her voice hoarse from her tears.
I said nothing.
Waiting.
She got the message.
Swallowing a sob, she entreated, “Please fuck my mouth.”
Leaning over, I ran my tongue over her upper and lower lips, wetting them before I rose up on my knees. Straddling her ribcage, I leaned up as I fisted my cock.
“Say it again,” I commanded.
“Please fuck my mouth,” she moaned.
Grabbing the headboard with my left hand, I placed the head of my cock between her lips.
“Open wider,” I growled.
She obeyed.
I thrust my hips forward. My cock penetrated her mouth straight to the back of her throat.
Yelena gagged and began to struggle.
I pulled back slightly and thrust forward again, feeling the head press slightly into her throat.
Her muffled scream sent vibrations up my shaft, spurring me on.
Gripping the headboard with both hands now, I leaned my hips into her, forcing her to swallow my entire length.
“That’s it, baby. I want to feel your nose against my stomach,” I panted from the exertion of keeping myself in check from full tilt fucking her hot little mouth.
I pulled free and allowed her one ragged gulp of air before I thrust again. I could feel the slide of her tongue on the sensitive underside of my cock. I bit back a groan as my balls tightened. I leaned back and gripped my cock, ruthlessly pumping my fist along the painfully hard length. My own breath came in harsh pants as I anticipated the moment I would come on her face and in her mouth.
“Keep your mouth open,” I demanded. I could feel beads of sweat trickle between my shoulder blades as I tightened my grip.
Looking down at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, her lips dark and swollen from the press of my flesh, was my undoing.
With a roar, I felt the rush of release. A thick stream of warm salty come coated her lips and tongue.
Still breathing hard, I leaned back. I placed my large hand over her pussy. Warming it. Rubbing the edge of my palm against her clit, I pushed one finger into her. She was still tight and slightly chilled.
“Lick my come off your lips.”
Sliding my body down, I positioned myself between her open legs. My breath warming her cunt.
Hesitantly, her tongue poked out between her lips.
“That’s right, baby. Lick it. Swallow it.”
Yelena moaned as I forced a second finger into her cunt as my tongue flicked her clit. The heat of my skin and tongue was warming her, creating a beautiful extreme of sensations. Pleased, I stared up over her creamy expanse of skin as her tongue swept her lower lip, lapping up my seed. I thrust my fingers a little faster, swirling my tongue around her sensitive bud with the same frenetic rhythm.
Her hips raised up. I could feel the brush of her inner thighs against my jaw.
Her tongue flicked out to capture the last drop of my come off her upper lip.
Increasing the pressure and pace of my finger thrusts, I rose up over her body. Using my other hand, I grabbed a fistful of her hair.
“You’re mine now,” I rasped before capturing her lips in a savage kiss. Tasting myself. The proof of my ownership on her lips as I penetrated her with a third finger.
I swallowed the screams of her release.
Chapter 25
Yelena
I couldn’t think straight. What had just happened?
I barely even noticed when Damien released the straps on the padded wrist restraints. Tellingly, he kept the restraints themselves dangling from the headboard within easy reach.
Sitting up, I watched as he grabbed the fluffy white down comforter which had been kicked to the floor. He returned to the bed. Sitting against the headboard, he wrapped his large hands around my ribcage and lifted me onto his lap.
In my defense, I did let slip a small mew of protest but in all honesty, I didn’t put up much of a fight. There was just something about him.
His strength.
The palpable edge of danger.
The way he didn’t let me get away with any of my usual crap.
It drew me like a moth to a flame.
A very white-hot angry flame.
I couldn’t suppress a sigh when he wrapped the comforter around the two of us. I settled into his lap, even resting my head on his shoulder. I could feel the press of his cock against my hip as he reached for his glass of whiskey. Tilting the glass at my lips, he ordered, “Drink.”
I scrunched my nose. “I don’t drink scotch.”
“You’ll learn to. Now drink.”
There was no point in fighting him. I drank. The burn had an oddly restorative effect. I leaned in to take another sip, but he pulled the glass away.
“Easy, little one. Crawl before you walk,” he chuckled as he emptied the glass in one swallow. I watched the sinews of his neck as if I could see the amber liquor slip down his throat.
Fuck. There wasn’t a damn thing about this man I didn’t find sexy as hell. Even how he drank.
There was a gentle pull on my scalp as Damien slipped his hand under my hair and pulled it free from the comforter. He smoothed the curls down my back. We sat there in silence. A temporary truce, as I was soothed by the rhythmic caress of his hand.
At one point, he pressed his hand against the side of my head as he leaned in to kiss my temple.
Keeping his lips close, he whispered, “I’m never letting you go, baby.”
I sighed.
My time was up. Truth be told, I was out of options. It was clear I was not going to be able to escape Damien. It was also equally clear that if his inte
nt had been to kill me, he could have easily done so back in my condo.
Without looking up, I murmured, “I know.”
I was expecting to feel this sickening feeling of impending doom, like a big heavy door swinging shut, locking me in darkness. While he hadn’t actually asked, and I hadn’t really said yes, it was obvious he was talking about marriage. I should be feeling angry and trapped right now. In truth, I felt… safe. For the first time in my life, I felt safe and warm and protected in his arms.
Was this what it felt like to love and be loved?
Were either of us even capable of that emotion?
It seemed almost too tame and common of a word for whatever this fucked up thing we had between us was. This constant battle of wills. The need to push each other to the edge, to push each other's buttons. It was insane and twisted, but at the same time it was exciting and wonderful.
Pushing back a lock of hair which obscured his view of my profile, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
I thought about saying no just to be petulant, but the truth was I was starving. The only thing I had eaten all day was an apple and a few bites of eggs. No wonder two glasses of wine had put me quickly to sleep, giving him the advantage when he snuck into my hotel room.
Damien picked up the hotel phone and asked for room service. I listened as he ordered ravioli with a brown butter and sage sauce.
Later, when Damien set me aside to throw on a pair of jeans and answer the door for room service, I felt oddly cold and vulnerable, immediately missing his heat and strength.
After grabbing the plate, a cloth napkin, and a fork, he returned to the bed. I started to position myself on the mattress against the headboard but a low rumbled growl from Damien had me changing course. Apparently, we had already gotten to the point where I understood his growled, wordless commands. Hiding a smile, I climbed back up onto his lap.
Resting the bowl with the three large ravioli on the mattress, Damien halved one, swirled it in butter sauce and held it up to my mouth.
“I can feed myself you know.”
“Not while I’m around,” he said with a seductive wink.
I opened my mouth and groaned as I chewed the creamy, savory bite. As he pulled the fork away, a dollop of melted butter sauce dripped onto the curve of my breast.
“My turn to feast,” said Damien with a chuckle as he leaned over to lick the sauce off my skin. His cock was pressed between my hip and his stomach. I could feel it start to thicken and lengthen. It gave me a taboo thrill.
Food was forgotten. I don’t think I could have eaten another bite. My earlier hunger had been replaced by something far more primitive. A gnawing need to be possessed by this man. To be overpowered, held down, and taken. I was still untouched because I had never found a man who made me want to sacrifice my freedom for a moment in his arms. Never trusted someone to get that close to me.
Until now.
I wasn’t sure if I could trust Damien with my heart, but I knew I could with my body. I wanted him. Needed him. This. If just for now, just for this moment, I wanted to feel as though I belonged and was loved… even if it was just a devilish illusion.
Damien tossed the still-full pasta bowl onto the nightstand and pivoted, pinning me beneath his weight against the mattress.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he growled.
Chapter 26
Yelena
His hand easily spanned my slim thigh and forced my legs open. Shifting his weight, he placed his hips between my legs, pressing his already engorged cock against my core. It was both a threat and a promise. In that moment, I felt… everything. The rough brush of his chest hair against my hard nipples. The warmth of his thigh pressed against my own. The feel of his slightly callused fingers as they swept over my hip to grasp my breast.
My back arched.
His mouth descended to claim one pert nipple, pulling it deep into his mouth. The sharp scrape of his teeth had me grasping handfuls of the starched white linen sheets beneath us. He sucked hard till I cried out in pleasurable pain before moving to the next nipple, giving it the same torturous attention.
All the while, I could feel the press of his cock wedged between us.
Damien moved to kiss my shoulder, skimming his lips along my collarbone. With the tip of his tongue, he traced my jaw till he reached my ear. He whispered to me in Russian as he flicked the soft shell with the tip of his tongue. I didn’t have to understand the language to know they were dark, erotic words filled with even darker promise.
His hand slipped between us to tease my clit. Swirling the tip of his finger, testing my slick arousal before pushing it deep inside of me. I groaned and reached for him. Spanning my hands over his back, I ran my nails over his skin, rewarded with his deep, guttural growl and a push of his hips. Emboldened, I pressed my nails in harder, wanting to mark his skin as he had marked mine.
Lifting up on his forearms, he threw his head back, exposing the thick cords of muscle on his neck and shoulders. His teeth clenched as he swallowed a groan from the feel of my claws on his back. Unable to resist, I leaned up and licked his skin. Tasting him. Loving the astringent sting of his cologne on my tongue.
He gripped my hair and pulled my head back, breaking the contact. “Christ, babygirl. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.”
Incapable of speech, I shifted my hips, grinding into his cock.
He cursed again, this time in Russian, before pushing a second finger inside of me as he claimed my mouth. His tongue danced with mine, leading as I followed. He tasted of whiskey and warm butter. My arms reached up to caress his jaw with my hands. The harsh scrape of his stubble scratched against the soft skin of my palms. It felt so masculine, so him. My lips felt bruised and swollen as he ravaged my mouth, taking and giving.
He pushed a third finger inside of me.
I cried out.
My body strained to stretch around the intrusion as he pulsed his fingers back and forth, opening me. Preparing me. My toes curled and I pushed my knees up, pressing my inner thighs against his hips.
Damien leaned back. His sapphire eyes became dark and stormy. His left arm shifted higher, placing his forearm near my head. His hand reached out to cup my face as his thumb caressed my cheekbone. The three fingers of his right hand slowly pulled out of me and gripped my thigh, holding my legs open.
I froze.
My heart beat a chaotic cadence inside my chest.
Despite the pleasure, I recoiled inside of myself. It was time. I knew it. We both knew it. This wasn’t just about him taking my virginity. This was something deeper, the impact of which would define the rest of my life. This was a point of no return. Darkness crept along the edges of my vision. I feared I might faint.
Unaware of my distress or perhaps because of it, Damien threatened, “There is no escaping me now. You will truly be my padshiĭ angel.”
His fallen angel.
Fallen into the arms of a demon.
Him.
Pressing against his shoulders, my voice was high-pitched with panic. “Wait!”
His gaze narrowed as his jaw tightened. I could feel the tension and power radiating off his shoulders. “No.”
His knuckles pressed against my sensitive skin as he fisted his cock and brought the tip to my entrance. The tip nudged in just slightly.
Scared, I tried to shift upwards and away. He shifted his left hand to grip my hair. Pulling sharply, he wrenched my head back as my body arched upward.
The large bulbous head slipped inside.
Damien was breathing heavy. Leaning down, he growled against my lips, “This is going to hurt.”
My eyes widened. I tried to call out no, but the word was trapped in my throat.
He lunged forward.
Spearing his thick flesh into me.
Tearing me in two.
I screamed and began to buck and thrash. Damien subdued me with the power of his weight as he held my body, pinning it down. His hips moved. Piercing me again and again,
each thrust opening my body more. I felt every heavy inch of his cock as it moved inside of me.
Damien captured my mouth, his tongue taking possession of me as effectively as his cock. His hips pounded into me with each thrust as he clasped my face between his large hands, stopping my head from thrashing from side to side.
“God damn it, Yelena. Don’t you do this. Don’t shut me out. Not now!”
Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes as the shock of his words hit me. Taking advantage, Damien claimed my lips once more, but this time his kiss was more gentle, almost persuasive.
“Please, baby, open for me.”
My mouth softened under his. He groaned and pressed his advantage, cupping my breast as his tongue swirled around my own.
The sharp pain of him breaking through my maidenhead ebbed, eclipsed by a rising tide of pleasure. A throbbing pressure that increased with every thrust of his hips.
It was as if I was trapped inside the notes of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto Number Two. The way the music started with slow, dark determination and then built… and built… and built in intensity. The darkness rising like the coming of a storm. It ebbed and flowed on a whirling wind which spiraled and twisted. I no longer had any sense of self or awareness other than the power of the man on top of me, inside of me, claiming me.
Unlike anything I had ever experienced before, fear mixed with pleasure as I clung to him, using his body to anchor my chaotic swirling emotions. His strong arms wrapped around me tightly, holding me close as he drove into my body several more times. Riding my climax to his own.
With a roar, he filled me with his seed. Binding us together.
Afterwards, he insisted on getting me a warm washcloth. Wiping away the evidence did nothing to stop the tightening inside of my chest. I could still feel his hands on me. Feel his weight holding me down. Feel him inside of me. It was as if he had marked my soul, and the imprint of him would be with me forever.