Chapter 7 #4
It was the most intense orgasm of my entire life.
The world narrowed to the white-hot pleasure consuming me, to the feel of him, to the sound of my own cries.
I could feel my ass constricting around his cock, tighter and tighter as my pussy fluttered and clutched at nothing and my legs shook with sensation as I struggled to pull in a breath.
When the waves of bliss finally receded, I was left panting, my body trembling, my mind a hazy senseless fog.
And then I realized something else.
I was sore.
My asshole burned and as he continued to pound into me, it clenched and pinched and sent a wave of pain up and down my spine that I couldn’t control.
I thought he was done. I thought he would pull out, let me rest. I was so wrong.
My fucking wasn’t over.
If anything, he went harder after I came. Faster. The sounds of our bodies slapping together, the obscene noises of him fucking my ass filled the room. The pain was like an open wound that was being rubbed raw with every merciless thrust.
“Andrei, please,” I sobbed. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he growled, his hands gripping my hips even harder. “You will.”
And he just kept fucking me, pushing me past my limits, taking everything I had to give him and more. He was showing me what it meant to be owned by a Dragunov.
He wasn’t asking me to accept him.
He was teaching me how.
I held still for him, boneless, used, and utterly owned. The aftershocks of my orgasm still trembled through me, but they were nothing compared to the all-consuming sensation of him claiming my ass and the overwhelming awareness of my own submission.
His fingers found my clit again.
He didn’t rub it. He didn’t stroke it. He pinched it. Hard.
A sharp, gasping cry was torn from my throat. A jolt of white-hot fire shot through me, a sudden, overwhelming wave of pleasure that was almost shockingly painful in its intensity.
I cried out and gasped for air, my body arching, my hands clenching the quilt.
Just as the pleasure started to crest, building into another orgasm, he let go.
The pure ecstasy finally reached a crescendo, leaving me panting, aching, and bereft. My clit throbbed, a desperate, needy pulse that was a cruel counterpoint to the throbbing in my ass.
“Andrei!” I shrieked in a desperate, frustrated sob. “Please!”
“Please what?” he asked, clearly amused.
“Please… let me come.”
“Maybe,” he purred, and then he pinched my clit again, harder this time, and my whole body bowed as a scream tore from my throat.
He kept doing it. Again, and again. Building me to the brink of orgasm, only to deny me the release I so desperately craved. Each denial was a new form of torture, a fresh wave of humiliation that made my pussy clench and my body tremble with a desperate, hungry need.
I tried to push my hand beneath me, to rub myself to orgasm, but he grabbed my hand and pinned it to the bed.
Then, in a final, brutal drive, he buried himself to the hilt inside my burning asshole. I felt the hot, thick pulse of his release, a deep, satisfying throb that filled me completely.
My body, denied its own release, trembled with frustration.
He pulled out of me slowly, leaving me feeling empty and aching. A trickle of his release slid down my thigh, a sticky, humiliating reminder of what he had just done to me.
He stood up, and I could hear the rustle of him pulling up his pants, the clink of his belt buckle. The casual, everyday sounds were a jarring counterpoint to the feral intensity of what had just happened between us.
I lay there, my face buried in the quilt, my body trembling, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I was humiliated. I was angry. I was turned on beyond belief.
He stood over me, his shadow tall and imposing in the dimly lit room.
“Now that your ass is nice and sore,” he drawled, “you’re going to take this serious, little slut.”
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my body protesting with every move. I glared at him over my shoulder, my eyes narrowed, my jaw clenched.
“Next time,” I said in a dangerous purr of my own, “I’ll just let you come in your pants, asshole.”
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of surprise in their depths. Then a smile spread across his face. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was a predator’s smile. One that promised retribution.
“Is that a threat?” he asked.
“It’s a promise,” I shot back.
“You keep making promises you can’t keep, Katerina,” he replied with a chuckle.
“I keep every promise I make,” I snarled back. “Just ask your brother.”
And with a sudden surge of energy, I flipped myself over onto my back, my legs splayed open wide in a shameless invitation.
And I started to touch myself.
I didn’t wait for his permission. I didn’t wait for his command. I slid my hand down my stomach, my fingers finding my clit, already swollen and sensitive from his rough treatment. I started to circle it in a coaxing rhythm that was designed to drive him crazy.
I was going to come right in front of him, and it was going to be just for me.
His eyes darkened, a hot, hungry fire burning in their depths. He watched me, his jaw tight, his hands flexing at his sides. He knew that I was pushing him, testing the limits of his control, and he was loving every second of it.
“Go on,” he challenged. “Show me how you do it. Show me how you come with a welted, well-fucked little ass.”
I didn’t break eye contact, but my face flushed with heat, probably going as bright red as my ass already was. I kept my gaze locked on his, my fingers moving faster, a more urgent rhythm, building the pleasure, chasing the release.
My breathing stopped, my hips arching off the bed.
I was so close. So fucking close.
He didn’t move. He just stood there, watching me, enjoying the show. The control was mine now, and it was a heady, intoxicating feeling.
“Come for me, slut,” he commanded. “Let me see you fall apart.”
His words were the final push I needed. The world narrowed to the aching, desperate pulse between my legs, to the heat building in my core, to the image of him watching me, to the sore pulsing inside my ass.
My orgasm crashed over me, a slow, deep wave of red-hot bliss that left me breathless and trembling. I cried out, a long, shuddering moan that was a mixture of relief and defiance. I kept my eyes open, watching him, making sure he saw every second of my climax.
When the waves of pleasure finally receded, I lay there, panting, my body limp, a sated smile on my face.
I had won this round.
But then he laughed. A deep, amused sound that was both infuriating and incredibly hot.
“Impressive,” he rumbled. “But you still came with my cum dripping from your used little hole and my belt marks all over your ass, little slut. Now, get up. We’ve got work to do.”
Fuck.