Chapter 11 #2
He started to spank me again then. Even harder.
Then much faster. His palm was so large that it covered nearly my entire ass cheek with every spank.
He set a merciless, punishing rhythm that was designed to break me, but I didn’t break.
I took every spank. On my left cheek. On my right.
On the left, again and again and again in the same spot.
Then the right, three times in the exact same place.
My world narrowed to the sting of his hand, the building heat of my own arousal, and the firm, commanding rhythm of his voice. He didn’t even slow down.
The pain was a white-hot blade, but beneath it, a different kind of heat was spreading through my veins.
It was a heat that made my blood sing, a liquid ache that pooled in my stomach and settled between my thighs.
My hips were bucking now, not to escape the blows, but to meet them.
It was humiliating. It was degrading. And it was the most intensely erotic thing I had ever experienced in my life.
Then, just when I thought I couldn’t take another second of the palm of his big hand, the punishment changed.
His other hand, the one not delivering the searing smacks, slid between my legs. His fingers found my entrance, my body so slick and ready for him that I was almost ashamed.
Almost.
“Ah,” he breathed out. “You’re dripping. Such a responsive girl you are when I am giving you what you need.”
With that, he drove two fingers inside me in a rough, possessive thrust that made me cry out, the sound muffled by the pillow.
He didn’t give me a moment to adjust. He immediately found that spot inside me, the one that made my vision go white, and he began to stroke it with a merciless, knowing precision.
My back arched, a muffled scream tearing from my lips. His other hand came down on my ass again, and it sent a jolt of pure fire straight to my core.
“And just think,” he reminded me. “My brothers are just down the hall, hearing everything that’s happening in this room.”
My face flushed with heat as a fresh wave of shame and arousal washed over me.
“Viktor’s probably got a stupid fucking grin on his face,” he continued, his fingers stroking, building the pressure deep inside my core.
“And Andrei… he’s probably imagining it all.
Imagining this sweet little ass turning red under my hand, wondering what sort of bad girl thing you did to earn such a hard spanking that sounds like this. ”
He spanked me again and again, the sounds loud cracks that seemed to echo in the sudden silence of the room. “They’re probably both imagining how wet you are right now. How much you’re enjoying this.”
I was so close. My body was a tightly wound knot of tension, a live wire humming with need. Every nerve ending was on fire, every muscle tensed in anticipation of the release I so desperately craved.
Fuck.
I was going to come.
Not in a while.
Not in a few moments.
Now.
“And they can probably hear you,” he added, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “They can probably hear how desperate you are to come for me already.”
My body exploded.
A ragged cry was torn from my throat. My entire world went white, a blinding flash of pure bliss. My core fluttered in a series of deep, shuddering spasms that stole my breath away.
His fingers stilled, but he didn’t pull them out. He just let me ride out my orgasm, his other hand resting on the small of my back. He waited until the tremors subsided, until my breathing evened out, until the fog in my mind started to clear.
Then he started spanking me again while he moved his fingers inside me.
Not fast. Not hard. But with a slow rhythm that was designed to stoke the fire, to build the pleasure back up from the smoldering embers of my last orgasm into another and my body obeyed. My hips bucked, and I couldn’t control myself. He controlled me.
Completely.
Oh, fuck.
I was going to come again.
“Uh-uh-uh,” he tsked, his fingers stilling inside me. “Patience, malyshka. I’m not finished with you yet.”
His other hand, the one that had been delivering the stinging slaps, slid down the crack of my ass.
His thumb found the tight, puckered ring of my bottom, and I couldn’t help but tense.
No one had ever touched me there before. Not Viktor. Not anyone.
I was not prepared for this.
“Mikhail, wait—” I started, my voice thick with tension.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Just take what I give you, naughty girl. Always take whatever I choose to give you. You’ve earned this.”
He pressed his thumb against my tight entrance, and I couldn’t help but clench, trying to fight his entry. That didn’t stop him though. He was testing my boundaries, pushing my limits, and he was doing it with a calm, confident authority that made my head spin and my pussy clench.
He hadn’t bothered to fetch any lube.
His thumb was already slick. I knew it was soaked with my own wetness. The thought was so dirty, so depraved that a fresh wave of heat washed over me.
He pushed.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
The pressure was immense. A deep, burning stretch that made my whole body go rigid.
I gasped, my hands fisting the pillow, my eyes squeezed shut.
It was too much. The burn was a cruel, insistent thing, and I couldn’t help but let out a soft cry.
My body fought him, clenching over and over again until the tip pressed through my tight ring of muscle and then I cried out as a surge of pain and pleasure shot up and down my spine.
“Mikhail, please,” I begged. “It hurts.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But you wanted this. You wanted me to take control. You wanted me to push your limits. Now you’ll submit to whatever I want to do to you.”
He pushed again and my body gave in to him, the tight muscle yielding to the persistent pressure, allowing him to sink deeper than I was ready for.
“Ayyy,” I gasped. “Oh, God.”
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Look at you. Such a good girl, taking my thumb in this tight little hole. Dirty girl.”
He pulled his thumb out—so embarrassing—then slid it back in, rotating it inside me, a slow, dragging rhythm that made my entire body tremble. The burn was still there, a dull, throbbing ache, but it was joined by a new, more intense fiery heat.
His other fingers, still deep inside my pussy, began to move again. He found that spot, the one deep inside me that made my core squeeze tight, and he started to stroke it again.
He was fucking both holes at once.
My mind short-circuited. The world narrowed to the two points of sensation.
I was being filled, possessed, and owned in a way I had never imagined.
His thumb started to move a little faster, a little deeper. His fingers in my pussy matched the rhythm, a relentless, driving beat that was pushing me higher and higher.
I moaned, my hips undulating, unable to control my body’s response. My face was still buried in the pillow, the fabric muffling my cries, his seed still sticky on my cheeks.
He pulled his fingers out of my pussy and spanked me again. Hard.
I cried out, my body jerking.
“Listen to you,” he declared softly. “Moaning like a little slut with my thumb up your ass. My little puppet.”
He spanked me again. Again. More. Harder.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his thumb plunging deep. “You like me using you like this.”
“No,” I gasped.
“Liar,” he chuckled. “Your body doesn’t lie. Your body is begging for it. Begging for more.”
He was right. My body was betraying me, my hips rising to meet his hand, my inner muscles clamping down on his fingers as he slid them back inside me. With every clench of my body around his fingers, a fresh wave of pain and pleasure raced through me, but that only heightened my arousal.
The dual stimulation was too much. The burning stretch of my bottom hole, the rhythmic stroking of that secret spot inside my pussy, was a sensory overload that was pushing me to the brink of insanity.
“Come for me, malyshka,” he commanded. “Come with my thumb deep in your ass and my fingers buried in your sweet pussy.”
His words were the final trigger. The dam broke.
A wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful crashed over me, a wild inferno that consumed me from the inside out.
I screamed into the linens beneath me as I came so hard that my whole world tilted.
A series of deep, shuddering spasms racked my body, each one more powerful than the last. I screamed.
I moaned. The euphoria that came with it was so good, it felt like I was flying.
He didn’t stop. He continued to stroke me, to spank me, to push me higher, drawing out my orgasm, making it last an eternity. I lost myself in it, in one fluttering clench after the next until I was a breathless, moaning mess.
When my climax finally receded, he pulled his fingers out, but he didn’t pull his thumb out of my bottom. He left it there, a solid, unyielding presence that was a constant, throbbing reminder of his shameful possession of my body.
“You’re perfect now,” he murmured. “Your hot, red ass all marked with my handprints. You’re all mine, malyshka.”
I was exhausted, drained, and completely spent. I thought we were done. I thought he’d let me rest.
I was so very wrong.
I felt him shift in the bed. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was moving and positioning himself behind me. I felt the hard, heavy length of his cock press against the slick, swollen folds of my sex.
“Wait,” I whimpered, a pathetic, desperate plea. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he growled. “Because I want you to.”
He lined himself up with my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against me, a hot, hard promise of what was to come.
He grabbed my hips, his hands like vises, and with one brutally ruthless thrust, he drove himself into me.