Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Feliks
Zinovy would call me an opezdol if he were here right now. He’d say I’m an idiot for not doing research on my woman before claiming her. Of course, if he were here, I’d have to put a hole in his head for seeing what I’m seeing right now.
I’m glad, when I heard Hollis’ voice through the bedroom door, I took a moment to listen and figure out what she was up to.
I’m unsure how long she expected me to be away tonight, but I’m guessing she expected I’d return much later.
There’s no way her little ass would be so bold if she knew I was here.
Fuck, who am I kidding? Hollis dares to do whatever the fuck she wants to do.
I think it’s part of why I’m so obsessed with her.
Her audacity and zero fear attracted me the instant I laid eyes on her, but her strength and determination to be a great mother, despite the young age when she gave birth to Dru, sealed the deal. How could I resist?
I only needed a minute or two to figure out, at least for the most part, what’s going on.
The Vor maintains a handful of porn sites, and even a few apps, because they’re great ways to launder money.
Skin sells, and let’s be real, if there’s a market that fits within his moral code, Anatoly Balakin wants a piece of it.
So the sounds of tokens plinking into digital tip jars and a sultry siren providing spank material isn’t unfamiliar to me.
Maybe, I should be pissed she’s camming from my house, behind my back, but instead of fury blinding me, the need to fuck steals my breath. She wants to put on shows? I can help with that. Quietly, I push open the door.
“Didn’t the cleaning service relay that the cleaning sprays can be found in the butler’s pantry?
This method of polishing the frame is rather creative.
” My deep growl startles Hollis, her arm outstretched to paint her arousal along the gilt edge of a picture frame I’ve never bothered noticing before now.
She topples to the side, the skirt of her skimpy maid dress flipping up to reveal a pussy bare of all but the tiniest landing strip of hair. Her gasp of shock is authentic, her calculating gaze as she turns her head to look at me even more so. This is the true Hollis McCrea.
Versatile. Quick thinking. Brilliant. She clocks my intention to join her scene and roleplays it as though it were intentional all along.
“Oh no! Mr. Throbwell, I’m so sorry! I noticed a spot on this frame, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving your room untidy!” Hollis hams it up for the camera mounted on a tripod in the corner.
Instead of scrambling to her feet as I expect, she stays on her back. One arm drapes over her bared breasts. The other slides down her tummy until her fingertips graze the seam of her pussy. Nothing is hidden, but she’s giving the illusion of being shy and demure.
I fucking love it. My cock, already hard from simply listening to her through the door, pulses with need so immediate it nearly doubles me over.
I’m going to fuck Hollis McCrae on camera for everyone with internet to witness.
And she’ll be paid for every minute of it by all the duraks, fools, who will never be good enough for more than a glimpse of my woman.
“Yes, well, it’s clear you, yourself, are quite the mess. Lazing on my bed like a spoiled princess instead of an employee diligently tending to her obligations.” I inject disappointment into my voice.
Sounding autocratic and stern is damn hard when all I want is to busy my face between her legs.
My mouth waters to lap up every drop of the wetness I see glimmering in the bright light of her film set up.
I press the heel of my hand against my cock to settle it down.
If I want to dominate Hollis in her own space, and this is definitely her space, regardless of the mortgage I pay for this building, I need to do this right.
“O-obligations, sir?” she stammers. In the background, the muted sound of viewers contributing funds to the scene is nonstop now, but I ignore it as she does.
“Yes. You are my employee, missy. Therefore your time belongs to me, does it not?”
“I-it-it’s Holly, sir.” The stutter sounds so authentic I can almost believe she’s nervous. When her eyes narrow on my approach, though, I realize it’s not fear making her nervous. It’s lust.
Hollis’ fingers tremble where they cover skin, and I see her heart racing where the skin flutters in the hollow of her throat. The cam show may be business, but what’s happening between us right now is one hundred percent bona fide.
“Fine. Holly, then? I think I need to discipline you for being so irresponsible. Don’t you?” I’m not really asking. She nods, and I see her realizing where I’m going with this.
“Then stand and right your dress, missy. Because you’re going over my knee for a naughty girl spanking.”
She rises from the bed and tugs her dress into place, covering the pussy I’m dying to get inside of. I lift my hand to halt her before she can tuck her breasts back into the bodice.
“Leave those out,” I command.
“But sir—” she starts.
“Backtalk will earn you more swats. I expect my employees to be obedient. Now, over my lap you go.” I’ve never roleplayed with a partner. This is actually fucking awesome.
I sit on the edge of the bed, closest to the camera, and spread my thighs to make room for her to lie across them. Her hips grind down over my erection where it’s trapped in my slacks, drawing a sharp gasp from both of us.
“Are you sure about this?” she whispers.
I think about my position as Anatoly’s obschak.
The need for privacy. Professionalism. It all flashes through me at the speed of light, and it all pales in comparison to the inferno of need burning me alive.
I nod and indicate we’re going to proceed, turning her face to the camera.
In the mirror above the dresser behind the camera, I see the dramatic look of fear she makes for the viewers.
“Count them and thank me for each one, Miss Messy. And then I’ll show you how I expect things to be cleaned in this room.” The slap of my palm across the fleshiest part of her soft ass is punctuation.
“One, s-s-s-ir! Thank you,” she whimpers.
I crack my hand over her ass six more times, her wails never loud enough to breach the walls of this room, but a quick glance at her laptop screen shows her viewers hear her pitiful sobs.
She’s so adept at the theatrics, I’d almost believe her tears were real, but I smell her arousal and feel the wetness of her sopping cunt soaking my pant leg. Hollis McCrae has an ass meant to be spanked in worship, and I’ll gladly receive sacrament at this alter.
“Seven, thank you, sir!” she sobs.
“Very good. Three more,” I demand. The final three land on top of one another, turning her ass a hot cherry red I can’t wait to slide my cock into. But not yet. First, my little actress has a cleaning lesson to finish.