Chapter 8
I will train Valentina and discipline her as I see fit.
ROMAN
She must be ruled.
When I am done with her, if her memories ever return, she will still fall to her knees before her king and husband—as only a true queen could do. She will know the command of her lord and master, who has won her through blood and flesh.
In the end, my lies will hardly matter compared to the extremity of her training to be mine.
When I free myself, I smile at her dumbfounded response. I know she has likely never sucked a cock, but I wonder if she has ever seen one. Probably not up close. Her eyes take in my length, the thickness, the prominent vein throbbing with hot blood. A drop of cum slicks my crown.
“Take me in your hand, Valentina.”
I’m gratified when she inches her trembling fingers closer. A muscle bounces in my jaw as she glides her fingertips along the flesh. Fuck, so soft. But I did not order her to simply touch the tips across my cock.
“Take me in your hand,” I repeat.
Lips parted, she slowly wraps her hand around my erection.
A sweet gasp leaves her throat when I throb.
But instead of pulling away, she begins to rub.
Blyat! Shit! I grit my teeth, working hard to stay in control as she explores.
She doesn’t fist me. Her strokes are slow, soft, and admiring.
That is enough for now. She will be taught everything in time.
Valentina will not only be the first virgin I will claim. All others were whores in the night.
She is my wife, but also my whore. My queen and my slut.
She is my brat, and I am her dom. But a dom without limits.
This is not a power exchange. She will kneel to me and me alone.
“Good girl,” I commend her, then curse under my breath when she cups my balls. Fuck, I damn-near burst from those delicate fingers touching my sac. “Do you like what you see, maya Valya? You may speak freely.”
At first, she purses her lips, her eyes not leaving my cock. And then… “I can’t imagine how you will fit inside me.”
“It won’t be the first time,” I lie, deadpanning with her to reinforce the lie, smirking dastardly.
“You have to be at least ten inches,” she says, trailing one long finger along the vein.
“Eleven at times of extreme arousal.”
“And you’re thick,” she breathes, closing her hand around me again.
“Thank you.”
Practical observation and appreciation. Worship, paying homage, will come later.
“Now…suck me, my wife.”
She flicks her eyes up. I twitch in her grip. When she looks down at my member again, I wonder if she will rebel again. If she bites, if she so much as scrapes her teeth on my masculine core, I will make sure she doesn’t sit down for a week.
But she leans in. She parts her lips. And she touches those supple lips to my crown in a soft kiss before her warm mouth stretches around my girth. Ah, fuck! My balls tighten. Hot blood races through my veins.
She moves slow, up and down, not a trace of teeth. My cock pulses in her hot mouth, driving me close to release.
I’ve had countless women suck me, eat me.
Whores and lovers. I only became obsessed with Valentina about six years ago.
The moment I laid eyes on my intended at a masked ball the Volkovs threw—this fresh nineteen-year-old, the glimmering belle of the ball—I knew she was not simply the woman I would marry.
She was the center of my universe. My fate. My life.
Her pink nipples harden, tightening, keen for my tongue and teeth.
I sharpen my eyes on hers, a silent command to keep going.
I’ve had far better blow jobs, but she makes up for it in eagerness.
Whether she wants to avoid another spanking or because she is truly impressed is unclear. But her enthusiasm is…commendable.
When her tongue spirals along the base of my length, I grind my jaw, then lower my hand to her golden curls, unable to resist touching her. I coil them around my fist, prepared to train her to take me down her throat.
“Yes, Moya Koroleva. An adequate attempt. But you must go deeper as you always have.”.
She looks up, her lips pausing. I let her. She inhales deeply before saying, “I don’t remember. It feels like…it feels like it’s the first time. I don’t know what to do.”
With one firm tug on her hair, I raise her chin higher, savor her gulp as I say, “I will teach you, Valentina. And I am certain you will be an accomplished learner—as you are with everything else in life.”
“But what have I—”
“Enough questions.”
Like the bastard I am, I thrust my hips, penetrate her mouth, and shove myself to the back of her throat. She gags. And coughs. But I hold her in this suspended state, letting her draw a breath before easing back down.
“Relax your throat. Stop tensing. And when I nudge your gag reflex, swallow me down.”
Her violet eyes widen and glisten with tears. She blinks them back, narrows those hypnotic orbs, and tries again. And again. It takes a few times. Deep breaths in between. It’s sloppy. It’s raw. It’s unskilled.
But it’s her. Here. Real. And on her knees before me.
After taking a long, deep breath, she sucks me down, swallowing my crown. Ahh, fuck! I begin to thrust. Slow, purposeful motions, praising her when she stretches her mouth to avoid scraping me with her teeth. My breaths quicken. Blood roars to my cock.
I am halfway to a sadist. I love it rough. I love aggression. I love teeth and claws. I love to beat a worthy woman into submission, and I am a master of the art of bringing her to the depths of pain and the heights of pleasure.
I will train and discipline Valentina as I see fit. I will also take care of my woman in the aftermath. She will never want for anything. She will associate my touch with her every desire.
When I work my cock harder and deeper, her hands fly up. My jaw hardens, but she doesn’t try to push me away. Nor does she try to yank her head free. Not that she could with my ironclad grip on her hair. Instead, her hands settle on my bare ass. Every muscle there flexes…and turns to steel.
Her throat convulses as I pick up my pace, fucking her mouth, making her take every inch. As her nails dig into my globes, I groan deeply, retract to give her air, and then shove inside her throat again.
My control is dangerous. I feed off her like the carnal predator I am. She gives me everything. Her eyes. Her tears. Her arousal. I smirk slightly because I can see her fluids glistening on her thighs, betraying her want.
She chokes again. “Open your throat,” I lower my voice before giving her another breath. “Now, touch yourself while I come, maya Valya.”
Better this time. Her brows lift, but her quivering fingers move lower. It seems to help, and I approve of how she arches her throat and sucks me stronger. Her fingers dance along her slick labia as her tongue swirls around my cock. My balls draw up tight.
Rolling my hips and pistoning inside her, I chase my release, rumbling more deep groans.
Balls slapping her chin, I jerk against her lips, slam my cock down, and bury myself to the hilt in her throat, shooting my cum inside.
She swallows at first, but then sputters, cries, and coughs.
I don’t punish her for how globs fall down her chin.
Or how she winces, whether from the taste or texture.
She will get used to it.
My cock still pulses in her mouth as I slide it in and out with slow, precise care. Ahh, fuck, she closes her lips around my head, milking the last of me. Her cheeks are so flushed, her pupils dilated, and her chest heaves with frantic breaths. And then, I know why.
Tilting my head, I focus on how she’s still touching herself, rubbing her clit in slow circles.
Before she may claim her pleasure, I take her elbows and raise her, catching her unsteady frame.
A moan escapes her throat just before I seize her mouth in a kiss—deep, ruthless, mine. One hand grips the back of her neck, the other wraps possessively around her throat, and I show her exactly how a real man kisses what belongs to him.
My cock hardens instantly, but I control myself.
Her back arches, her body rising, begging for more. There’s nothing safe or gentle in the way I touch her. She feels my cock grinding against her soaked pussy, every slow thrust a promise of what’s to come. And soon, I will sink into the hot, wet heat of her and split her open to the soul.
I’ll fuck her boneless, mindless, and heartless.
By the time I’m done, every piece of her heart will belong to me.
She’s nestled in my lap, her back to my chest, the weight of her body warm and slick in the steaming water. The bath is deep, and I sit with my back against the cool edge, holding her against me like a war-won prize.
When I undressed, I knew she wanted to ask about my tattoos, but she was too overwhelmed following the blowjob.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the world spreads out in violent, breathtaking beauty. Thin waterfalls like spills of lace cascade down the forested cliffside and into a waterway flowing to the endless, churning Bering Sea. Mountains flank the edges of the sea, crowned in snow.
“How long have we been married?” she asks, voice soft and careful.
The heat and perfume of roses drift in the air, the petals clinging to her pale gold skin like blessings.
Nothing compared to her natural femininity.
“A little over two years,” I say smoothly.
It’s not far from the truth. She would’ve just finished college. I was still overseas—earning this life the only way I knew how: through blood. Burning a rival syndicate to the ground and handing my father its bones took some time.
He changed his mind after that venture, knowing how I could enhance his empire even more. At least he kept his original bargain, my requirement for her minimum marrying age: twenty-five.
Valentina stirs slightly. The movement causes her ass to shift against my cock beneath the water, and I grit my teeth against the instant, animal response. I tighten my hand on her stomach.
“And how old was I when we got married?” she asks next.
“Twenty-two. You turned twenty-five in August.”
“And you?”
“Hmm…thirty-seven, thirty-eight in December.”
Fiery Leo. Disciplined Capricorn. A perfect match.
“Thirteen years.” She says it like she’s testing.
I feel her stiffen, and I smile slowly. She can bristle. She can sass. I’ll still have her wrapped around my finger—and clenched around my cock—by the end of the day.
“That’s quite a spread,” she murmurs.
I stroke my fingers absently along her thigh, coaxing her body to relax. “Not quite the spread some have,” I say casually, rubbing my lips along her damp curls. “Especially in our circles. Men older than me take brides younger than you.”
“So ours was… arranged?” she asks softly.
“A marriage of convenience and order,” I admit, plucking up a rose petal and trailing it down the curve of her shoulder. “Planned when we were very young.”
She huffs, just enough to be bratty. “Much younger for me.”
A soft, dangerous chuckle escapes me. Ladylike impertinence, I allow it—for now.
“Yes,” I murmur, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “But it became far more than transactional. Beyond the reciprocal, for me.”
My fingers splay wider across her abdomen, anchoring her again.
“If it were only reciprocal,” I continue, voice low and unhurried, “I’d keep a harem on rotation, fuck whoever I pleased. And I’d have no issue with you taking a lover of your own.”
I feel the subtle tension return, her shoulders drawing inward, her breath pausing.
But I don’t stop.
I press my mouth to her temple, speaking the words directly against her skin. “The moment I saw you, Valentina, I knew. You were my Koroleva. My Queen. The only woman fit for my crown. My bed. And the only one I’d ever allow to bear my heir.”
Her lips part. Her breath hitches.
But silence thickens like fog around us.
She hums, fingers idly tracing my forearm. She’s starting to settle into the lie. Into us.
Her gaze flicks toward the windows. “Were we married here?”
I nod. “On the cliff. Beneath the pines. The sea at our backs. White petals blowing like snow.”
“And who came?”
I don’t let her press. I pivot smoothly. “Does it matter?” My fingers graze the underside of her breast. “You weren’t the most beautiful walking down the aisle.”
“No?” she breathes, disapproving brows knitting low.
“No.”
My voice dips, deliberate and slow. “It was that night. After the vows. When you were desperate to get out of the dress. You tore at the seams—I had to stop you from ripping the lace. I helped you take the pins from your hair one by one, until your curls fell down your chest. And you looked at me like you were going to devour me.”
I let my hand drift lower, caressing her thigh, brushing slowly inward.
“You were even more beautiful when I had you against the shower wall. Your back to the tile. My name on your lips. Nowhere to run.”
She’s breathing harder now. Her head tips against my shoulder, giving me her throat. I press a kiss there—soft, claiming.
“What about—”
“Enough questions.”
I cut her off before she can derail the moment and slide my hand between her thighs.
Her whole body reacts. Back arching, breath gasping, skin glowing in the filtered sunlight.
And when I stroke her, I feel the start of her surrender.