Chapter 11 #3
I cried out, my body bowing in half pain and half shock.
He was big, bigger than Viktor, a thick, hard stretch that burned in a way that was both agony and ecstasy.
He’d given me no warning, no preparation, and my body, already over-sensitized from my last orgasm, rebelled against the sudden intrusion.
His thumb was still in my ass.
And now his cock was deep inside my pussy.
I was full.
So incredibly, overwhelmingly full.
I moaned, my hands fisting the pillow, my knuckles turning white. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but there was no stopping the sounds of pleasure escaping me.
He pulled all the way out, then slammed back in, a mercilessly hard drive that made my entire body jerk.
Then again.
And again.
My body responded instinctually, my inner muscles clamping down on him. His other hand came down on my already sore bottom once more. I yelped, a pathetic, humiliating sound that was immediately swallowed by the sheets beneath me.
“You’re getting wetter. I can feel it,” he announced, his thrusts becoming faster, more demanding. “You like this, don’t you? You like me using you like this.”
I couldn’t answer. The pain, the pleasure, the overwhelming sensation of being completely dominated, with both my holes filled by him at the same time. It was too much. It was not nearly enough.
Oh, God.
“You’re mine, Katerina,” he growled, punctuating each word with a powerful driving thrust and a simultaneous smack. “All of you. Inside and out.”
His thumb, which had been still, started to move again, a slow counterpoint to the punishing rhythm of his cock.
“Aaaah!” I cried out. “Oh, fuck! Mikhail!”
I lost control. My body, my traitorous, treacherous body, started moving on its own. My hips bucked, my back arched, my legs shook, and there was nothing I could do to make it stop.
He let out a groan of pure triumph. He knew he had won.
I knew it too.
He set a punishingly ruthless rhythm, a brutal, driving beat that was designed to push me to the very brink of my endurance.
And he did.
The sounds we were making were obscene. The bed creaked in protest, the headboard banging against the wall with a rhythmic thud that was a clear, undeniable announcement of what was happening in this room. I was being fucked. I was being used.
And I was loving every second of it.
“Mikhail,” I sobbed, my face buried in the pillow. “Please… I can’t… I… can’t come… anymore.”
“Yes, you can,” he demanded. “You’re going to come for me again. And this time, you’re going to scream my name while you do it.”
His thumb plunged even deeper inside of me, until his fingers were curled over my ass cheek, which gave me the final push I needed.
I came hard, even harder than any of the times before.
My orgasm crashed over me, a blinding, soul-shattering wave of pleasure that left me panting and trembling. Euphoria burst through in a series of fireworks that soared through my entire body, making me see stars flicker right before my eyes.
His grasp on my hip tightened, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, harder, and more erratic. I could feel him swelling inside me, a hot, demanding pressure that was an undeniable sign of his own impending climax.
He drove into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His body went rigid, a deep, shuddering groan tearing from his chest as he poured himself into me in spurts that burned me from the inside out.
“Mikhail…” The word was a gasping whisper.
“My Katerina,” he answered in a low rumble. He stayed inside me until the last shudder passed through him.
Slowly, carefully, he pulled out, the sudden emptiness leaving me feeling achingly vulnerable. His thumb slid from my ass, and a fresh wave of heat washed over me at the loss of it.
He shifted, and I felt the bed dip beside me.
His hands, surprisingly gentle, turned me over.
I lay on my back now, utterly wrecked. My body was a canvas of sensation.
My ass throbbed with a dull, hot ache, my pussy was tender and swollen, and a sticky mix of our combined releases coated my inner thighs.
He reached out, his fingers tilting my chin up, forcing me to look at him.
“You were such a good girl for me,” he murmured.
My face flushed with heat, a fresh wave of shame and arousal washing over me. I tried to pull away, but he held me fast, his thumb stroking my jaw in a gesture that was both comforting and possessive at the same time.
“Time to get you cleaned up,” he announced huskily.
He stood up, a tall, imposing shadow in the dimly lit room.
He held out a hand to me in an unspoken command.
I took it, my smaller fingers disappearing into his large, callused palm.
He pulled me up, and my legs, still unsteady, nearly gave out.
He caught me, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him.
My body, still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, responded instinctively.
I leaned into him, my head resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a soothing rhythm against my ear.
I realized he was still fully dressed while I was his naked, defeated toy, held in his arms. He smelled of sex, sweat, and a faint, clean scent that was all him.
For a moment, I let myself just be held.
But I didn’t let that moment last very long.
I pushed away from him, just enough to look up at him, a slow, sassy smile spreading across my face.
“Are you going to bathe me now, Daddy?”
The word hung in the air between us, a deliberate, provocative jab.
His expression didn’t change. There was no surprise, no flicker of amusement in his eyes. He just looked at me, his gaze dark with mysterious intent, and smiled, showing me that he was still utterly, terrifyingly in control.
“No,” he said, his voice a low, calm rumble. “You will bathe Daddy.”
My smile faltered. The sassy retort died on my lips.
“And then,” he continued, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face, “Daddy will watch you bathe.”