by Zoe Blake
“Fuck!” I cried out in sheer frustration.
“What did I tell you about language, young lady?”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I yelled stamping my foot again for emphasis.
Gregor’s hands went to his belt buckle.
I watched in horror as he slowly unbuckled it and slid the belt free.
My jaw dropped. He wasn’t serious? He couldn’t mean to…to…
Gregor took a step toward me.
With a raised arm, I warned him. “Don’t you dare take another step. I’ll scream for the guard.”
“That guard and I have an understanding. He won’t be coming to your rescue.”
Quickly I scanned the room, but the only exit I could see was through him.
Before I could decide what to do, Gregor lunged.
I screamed anyway.
The force of his body pushed me back against the wood paneling so hard I could hear the glass window crack. Before I could utter a sound, his hand was at my throat.
Squeezing just hard enough to scare me, he stared down into my eyes.
There was only icy determination in the hard-silver depths of his.
Leaning down, he whispered into my ear, his low voice making his anger that much more ominous. “I warned you, malyshka. With me, there will always be consequences.”
“Please,” I choked out. “Just let me go.”
“No.”
Using his other hand to grab my upper arm, Gregor swung me around till he was behind me, his fingers still wrapped securely around my throat. We stood in front of a two-foot-wide leather padded bench in the center of the gallery.
“Kneel.”
I shook my head as the tears slid down my cheeks. It scared me. For the first time in my life, I was really fucking scared. At least in my apartment, I didn’t know who or what I was dealing with, confusion and the need for answers kept the panic at bay but now… now I knew only too well.
Switching his hand to my hair, Gregor twisted the curls around his fist. “It wasn’t a request,” he growled before forcing me to kneel on top of the bench.
Using the back of my hand, I swiped at my eyes and begged, “Please, Gregor. I promise I’ll behave.”
Ignoring my plea, he commanded, “Lift your dress.”
I sobbed. “Don’t make me, Gregor.”
He snapped the belt in his hand. The sound of the leather hitting leather reverberated around the small room.
I fell down onto my forearms, burying my face as I cried.
“Now, Samara.”
With one shaking hand, I reached back and grasped a fistful of fabric. I lifted it up.
“Higher. Show me that heart tattoo again.”
Oh God! My tattoo. The small pink heart just above my right ass cheek. That he had seen it made my face burn hot.
Afraid to anger him further, I rose on my haunches and lifted the back of the dress with the pink crinoline in both hands before leaning back down. The layers of sheer ruffles flipped over my head, partially hiding my shame as I could feel the cold air hit my bare ass.
I jumped when Gregor put his hand on my lower back. His fingers dipped between my cheeks to grab the thin band of my thong. I could feel his knuckles rub against my skin as he made a fist.
Knowing what was coming, I braced myself.
With a yank, he wrenched my panties off.
They were just a flimsy piece of silk, but at least it was something. Now I was completely exposed.
Those same knuckles caressed my left cheek before the tip of his finger traced the heart outline of my tattoo.
Then I felt nothing.
He had removed his hand from my body.
I held my breath.
There was no sound, just tense silence.
It was worse than when he chastised me.
Then, I heard the thin hush of air before the awful sting.
Hard leather connected with soft skin.
The thin strap of his dress belt seared my ass, leaving a trail of heat and pain.
Balling my hands into fists, I buried my face between my forearms and cried.
Again, and again he punished me with his belt. My throat was hoarse from my sobs. My skin felt raw and bruised as the pain spread down my thighs and up my spine.
Humiliation at being found in this position kept me from crying out for help.
Fear kept me from trying to escape his wrath.
My body rocked forward with each swipe of the leather. My small passive way of trying to lessen the pain.
“Move your ass again, and I will flip you over onto your back, spread your legs, and whip your cunt, do you understand me?” he ground out. His harsh words came in bursts from his own exertions.
From that point forward, my agony only increased. Holding my body rigid, I absorbed each crack of his belt on my vulnerable ass, afraid to move so much as an inch.
Finally, it stopped.
Instead of his belt, I once more felt the tip of his finger. He traced the outline of my heart tattoo.
“You can barely see it. I like that you have the perfect way to tell when I have punished your ass enough. From now on, I won’t stop till I see your skin blush the same dark pink as this little tattoo.”
Even the slight pressure of his finger hurt.
I couldn’t even think straight. I could only feel. Humiliation, pain, fear, fucked up desire, all rushed over me in dizzying waves.
I stayed where I was with my head hidden behind the pink ruffles of my crinoline. Afraid to face him. Afraid to move without permission.
His hand trailed over my ass to slip between my thighs. Two fingers caressed me.
“Are you still a virgin or has someone taken what was mine?”
Shocked, I opened my mouth but couldn’t utter a sound.
“Fine, then.” I could feel him step closer. The back of his hand brushed my bruised skin as he worked the fastening to his trousers. I could hear the metal clicks as he slowly lowered his zipper.
“Please, Gregor. Please don’t,” I cried, completely humiliated.
“Then answer me,” His words were clipped and tight.
“There’s been no one,” I whispered against my fist.
I hissed in pain as he laid his right hand over my ass cheek. His thumb moved in small circles as he slid it closer and closer. Then the pad of this thumb brushed over my virgin asshole.
“No! No! No!” I screamed as I tried to rise back on my haunches.
Gregor responded by whipping the leather belt around my throat and arching my body back.
“If I want to fuck your ass, I’ll fuck your ass because I own you, Samara.”
He pushed me back down onto my hands and knees. The belt strap was still around my throat, secured by his left hand, which he held in a fist at the center of my back. His fingers continued to rub along the seam of my ass. A threat. He pushed a tip against my asshole again, wrenching a sob of panic from me. Then he slipped lower to the entrance of my pussy.
“This is going to hurt,” he warned.
I remember him giving me a similar warning three years ago when I was perched on his lap with his hand between my thighs.
This time he used two fingers, not one, driving them deep into my body till he felt my maidenhead.
There had been no one since him. Not only was I too afraid to trust anyone, deep in my heart, I’d felt like I would have been betraying Gregor. It was crazy, of course. He was the reason why I was running away in the first place. Despite what he repeatedly claimed, he didn’t own me. I owed no loyalty to him and yet… I couldn’t bring myself to allow another man to touch me.
The belt tightened and choked off my scream as my body pitched forward from the power of his thrusting hand. He pulled free and thrust a third finger in.
Oh God, it hurt.
I was so tight and small. His entire body dominated mine, inside and out.
Something twisted and unfurled in the pit of my stomach.
The fabric of his trousers scraped a
gainst my raw skin as the ridge of his shaft pressed against me, so not for one moment did I forget the sting of my punishment or the threat that he could still use his cock to punish me further.
Deeper and deeper he pushed. Forcing my body to accept, to accept him and worse… forcing it to respond to his brutal touch. I could feel a dark rising tide of sensation. Slipping my arm beneath my kneeling body, I pressed my fingers between my thighs, teasing my clit as the thrust of his fingers quickened.
With my back arched and head tilted back, I could only breathe in short gasps as the belt tightened each time, he pushed his fingers inside of me, moving them in and out in a steady rhythm as my body clenched around him.
Bright stars formed behind my lids as the threat of death only heightened my senses.
Suddenly, he let go of the belt. Wrapping his arm around my waist from behind, he cupped my left breast and pulled me up and back. The new position tightened my inner core, sending a shock wave of sexual heat up my spine.
Gregor groaned in my ear as his hand tortured my pussy. My fingertips rubbed circles around my clit.
“Has any other man ever touched this pretty cunt of yours?”
Rolling my head back and forth on his shoulder, I shamelessly spread my knees as wide as the bench would allow and moaned. “No. No, only you, Gregor. Only you.”
He leaned down and bit my bare shoulder while he once more teased my back entrance with the pad of his thumb.
I clenched. “Stop! Not there.”
My body bounced up and down as he continued to push his fingers in deep into my pussy repeatedly.
The air was heavy with the scent of my sweet perfume and the musk of his cologne and the sounds of our heavy breathing.
“V odin prekrasnyy den' ya sobirayus' vtisnut' svoy chlen v etu tvoyu tuguyu kisku, poka ty ne vykriknesh' moye imya,” he growled into my ear.
The guttural harshness of his Russian as he threatened to force his cock into my tight pussy one day soon sent me over the edge.
“Damn you,” I sputtered as I could feel an orgasm uncoil and rise from within me. “I hate you.”
I hated him with every fiber of my being for adding the ultimate degradation of forcing me to come from his assault.
“Should I make my bad girl lick my fingers?” he threatened.
Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into my hair as I imagined him once more forcing me to my knees to endure the intimate act of opening my mouth so I might taste myself on his hand.
“Please stop.”
“Beg me.”
“Please. I’m begging you. Please… please… please… no more.”
“That’s how my malyshka should always beg me.”
He pinched my nipple through my dress. My orgasm was so fierce it knocked the wind out of me. The weight of my whole-body collapsed into his grasp. He released his arm, so I might fall back onto the bench. The leather felt cool against my hot cheek.
I cried out in fear as I stretched out my arms to hold on to the bench.
As the final ripples of my orgasm still racked my body, he slid his wet fingers out of my pussy.
When he stepped away, my knees buckled and my hips shifted to the right. I curled up into the fetal position. I could feel my arousal drip out of my pussy to dry on my inner thigh.
I watched through half-closed lids as he picked up my torn thongs. Hunching down, he twisted the silk fabric into a knot which he then forced between my lips. My eyes widened in panic.
Giving my outer thigh a kiss, he then forced my knees open till my body rolled onto my back.
He rubbed his cheek against my inner thigh as he inhaled deeply.
“My turn,” he growled as his left hand grasped the end of the leather belt still secured around my throat.
His tongue swept over my pussy before pushing between the lips with the tip.
I moaned around my panty gag as my fingers clawed at the leather bench.
Using his other hand, he spread me open and licked again, this time flicking my sensitive nub.
My body jolted as my hips rocked upward.
I could feel the vibrations of his groan. “This pussy is so sweet and all mine.”
A man had never… touched me… let alone licked me down there before. It was nothing compared to using my hand. The feeling was overwhelming. I couldn’t breathe. The sensations were too intense. It didn’t take me long to come a second time. Digging my fingers into his hair, I pulled as my thighs clenched around his head.
Dizzy and disoriented, every limb felt both weighted down and as if I were floating at the same time.
Weakly reaching up, I pulled my panties from my mouth. I hardly recognized my own thin and raspy voice when I asked, “Now will you let me go?” My own thoughts scattered yet still focused on my one driving need to get as far away as possible from this dangerous and powerful man.
Now more than ever, I realized he would be the end of me. I didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he could do things like this to my body with only the touch of his fingers and tongue!
What would happen if we ever fucked?
Gregor brushed back the hair from my tear-stained cheeks as he pulled my dress down over my hips to cover me. “No.”
Then everything went black.
Chapter 13
Samara
I woke up in my loft.
The night before was a traumatic, fucked up blur. I can’t ever remember being so overwhelmed. By the time Gregor had finished with me I was so emotionally and physically exhausted, I passed out.
That’s actually not true. Why lie to myself? I passed out from oral sex.
From oral sex, not actual sex… just the touch of his mouth!
I passed out from utter sated exhaustion… from a mind-blowing orgasm.
That it came after he humiliated me and caused me pain just added to the twisted, fucked up situation I found myself in.
And the worst part is, if that man ordered me to my knees again, I’d probably have done it.
Fuck. My. Life.
I remember Gregor lifting me in his arms and carrying me out of the museum, not one guard stopped or questioned him. I can only remember little bits and pieces of the time in the limo. The only glaring thing I do recall is spending the entire time on his lap.
After that, nothing.
With a sudden thought, I lifted the sheet and looked down at my body.
I was naked.
Damn him.
Rubbing my eyes, I swung my feet off the bed. It felt like I had a hangover, even though I barely drank two glasses of champagne.
A small piece of paper caught my eye. I picked up the note.
Drink.
It was written in an aggressive, slanting penmanship. A man’s hand.
Next to the note was a glass of water and two aspirin.
With a resigned sigh, I drained the glass of water, more than a little annoyed he knew I would need one.
As I stood, I noticed the curtains, which I usually forgot about, were drawn tight. My favorite big cozy sweater and a pair of yoga pants were laid out on my vanity chair.
Looking around, I quickly pulled the sweater over my head and scrambled to push my legs into the pants.
It suddenly occurred to me he might still be here.
Instinctively, I reached under my pillow for my revolver. It wasn’t there. I then remembered that Gregor probably still had it.
After pulling on a pair of socks, I inspected the rest of the loft.
It was empty.
Had he left me alone?
Wasn’t he worried I’d run?
On the kitchen counter was a plate with a note next to it.
Eat.
On the plate were some fresh orange slices and a croissant. There was also a glass of what looked like cranberry juice. Turning away, I headed to the coffeemaker.
On the stove was a frying pan with a note resting on the lid. I picked it up.
I mean it, Samara.
Opening the l
id, I found there were scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and some sautéed potatoes.
“What the hell?” I said out loud to no one.
Considering my refrigerator had only a half-eaten container of lo men and a single stick of butter, he would have had to have gone out for all this.
And I slept through the entire thing?
Had he slept next to me, too?
I rushed back to my bed. Falling onto the mattress with my knees, I leaned down and sniffed the pillow next to mine. It didn’t smell like his cologne.
Standing, I paced.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the easel in the center of my painting area was empty. The painting of the falling girl was gone; so were the stacks of my other paintings.
There was another note taped to the wooden crossbeam of the easel.
I have an unavoidable morning meeting.
Pack up the rest of your things and meet me at the below address at Noon.
And Samara, don’t do anything stupid.
G -
P.S. I’m keeping the paintings.
Crumpling the note in my fist, I kicked the easel in frustration, instantly regretting it when it toppled to the side, taking another easel with it.
My front door swung open at the sound of the crash.
Two men dressed in black shirts and cargo pants with visible gun holsters strapped around their shoulders entered my loft.
I screamed and backed away. Picking up one of my paint brushes as a weapon, I waved it uselessly in front of me.
“Are you alright, Miss Federova? We heard a crash.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Your security. Mr. Ivanov’s orders. When you’re ready to leave, we are to assist with your bags and take you to his home,” answered one of the guards.
Well, I guess that answered my questions as to why Gregor was confident enough to leave me alone.
“I’m fine.”
Both men nodded and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door—and my only exit—behind them.
Throwing the note on the floor, I walked away in a huff. What I needed was a long, hot shower. I would figure out my next move later.
Entering the bathroom, I leaned over the tub and turned the nozzle for the shower. As I straightened, I noticed yet another note on the mirror.
