Chapter 37 #4
He positions his cock and enters my pussy in one smooth stroke, settling into a brutal missionary pace.
Each thrust grinds his cock against my clit.
Soon, he’s pushing my legs higher, folding me in half with both ankles on his shoulders like a pretzel.
My top is shoved all the way up, exposing my breasts completely.
He leans down, sucking one nipple into his mouth hard while pinching the other, his hips never stopping their brutal rhythm.
“You’re such a bad brat,” he growls against my breast, teeth grazing my nipple. “Such a bad fucking woman. Always testing me, always pushing boundaries. You never know when to stop.”
He sucks harder on my nipple, then switches to the other, biting lightly before soothing it with his tongue.
“But fuck, I’m addicted to it, Vedma. Your attitude, that smart mouth, the way you never just obey.
Don’t ever stop. I don’t care how badly you act.
I fucking love it. I love every bit of this fire.
Keep being a brat. Keep putting yourself first. I’ll fuck the attitude out of you every single time, and then I’ll beg you to do it again. ”
His cock drives deeper. It’s too much. I come hard, my pussy clamping down on his cock, my back arching as he continues sucking my nipples and driving into me.
Alexei groans deep, his control fracturing.
“Fuck…Vedma… Are you gonna be a good mummy for me now? Or are you still going to act like a brat after I fill this cunt?”
I can barely form words, but the filthy question pushes me even higher. “Yes… I’ll be good…fuck, I’ll be a good mummy…”
He pulls out suddenly, leaving me empty and gasping. His hands grip my ankles, pulling my legs down from his shoulders. Before I can catch my breath, he’s dragging me off the edge of the table.
“On your knees,” he orders, voice rough and commanding.
I slide down onto the floor of the photography studio, kneeling in front of him. His cock bobs in front of my face—thick, slick with my arousal, still rock hard.
“Remember how you used to sing on your OnlyFans?” His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back at the perfect angle. “And I told you I could teach you how to be a better singer?”
I nod, confused and desperate, my pussy still throbbing from how hard he was fucking me against the table.
His eyes gleam with dark amusement. “Well, baby, grab my dick and open that pretty mouth wide. I’m about to make you the next Rihanna.”
Before I can process what he means, he’s sliding his cock between my lips. He doesn’t ease in—just pushes deep until I’m gagging around him, tears already pricking my eyes. His other hand wraps around my throat, squeezing lightly, feeling himself moving in and out.
“Yes,” he groans, feeling me gag and choke around him. “That’s it. Those sounds, baby.”
He starts fucking my throat in steady, brutal thrusts, using my hair to control my head completely. I try to breathe through my nose but his grip on my throat makes it nearly impossible. More tears stream down my face.
“Oh my god, listen to you,” he pants, voice dripping with mock admiration. “You’re a star, baby. You’re a fucking star.” He squeezes my throat tighter, groaning when I gag harder. “How much do I have to pay for this beautiful concert? Your voice is amazing.”
I can only make wet, choking sounds as he uses my mouth, drool running down my chin and onto my chest.
“See? I told you that you could do so much better.” He pulls out just enough for me to gasp desperately for air.
Before I can catch my breath, he leans down and captures my mouth in a bruising kiss—tasting himself on my tongue, biting my bottom lip hard enough to sting. He moves to my neck, sucking and biting marks into my skin while I pant against him.
“Pitch perfect,” he murmurs against my throat, then straightens back up and slams his cock back into my mouth without warning.
The hand on my throat squeezes again, and he watches my eyes water with sick satisfaction.
“Such beautiful music,” he muses, fucking my face harder. “Should I record this? Add it to your portfolio?” His thumb strokes along my stretched throat, feeling his cock moving beneath the skin. “Fuck, I can feel myself in here. Can you feel it, beautiful? Feel me owning this pretty throat?”
I make a strangled sound that’s somewhere between a gag and a moan.
“There it is—that’s the note I was looking for.” He grins down at me, completely unhinged. “You know what? Forget Rihanna. You’re gonna be bigger. The Zoya Show—live performances only, exclusive audience of one, only for ME.”
He thrusts deeper, holding me there until I’m genuinely struggling, then pulls out. I gasp and cough, drool stringing from my lips to his cock.
“Encore?” he asks with dark amusement, not waiting for an answer before pushing back in.
After a few more brutal thrusts that leave me a complete mess—tears streaming, drool everywhere, throat aching—he finally pulls out completely.
“Standing ovation, baby,” he says, hauling me back onto the edge of the table and flipping me onto my back. He yanks my hips to the edge and slams back into my pussy in one brutal thrust, throwing my legs back over his shoulders.
I cry out at the fullness, still trying to catch my breath.
“Now let’s finish what we started,” he growls, pounding into me relentlessly. Within seconds, he stills deep inside me, his cock throbbing as he empties himself. I feel each spurt coating my walls.
For a moment, we stay locked like that—both of us breathing raggedly, my tits and pussy throbbing from his rough treatment, my throat raw and aching.
He eases my legs down carefully, and withdraws his cock, and I feel his cum begin dripping out of my pussy and down my legs. He becomes gentle all at once, rearranging my clothes, kissing me with surprising softness, his hands caressing the places he spanked and slapped.
“Did I hurt you?” Worry colors his voice as he kisses me tenderly.
“No… it was perfect.” My voice is hoarse from screaming.
He helps me sit up slowly, his hands supporting me. I wince slightly as I move, feeling the ache deep in my pussy and the soreness on my skin.