by Kendall Duke
“Julie,” Ivan whispered, and I felt my eyes flutter open. I was bent so far back I had to pull on my own hair to look at his face. “You… You like this?”
“Yes,” I sighed, starting to struggle. I wanted to cum for him, now. Right now. While he fisted my hair and made my body immobile, while he owned me. Now.
It wasn’t to be. All of a sudden, Ivan jerked away from me as if I were too hot to hold. My weight landed unceremoniously on my elbows, my knees buckling as he withdrew his leg and let go of my hair. He silently left the room and went to wait in the car. We didn’t speak on the drive.
I went back to school, took a test, and forgot all about the video. I was also thinking about all of the things I would miss after my sham marriage took place; I was also excited about the academic freedom I would have, now that my ties with my father were severed forever. I was quiet on the ride home for a different reason than the ones from the ride over, but Ivan was silent for his own, and he did not share them with me.
I felt the distance. I started to miss him, even though he was sitting right next to me in the car. He silently got out and went inside, and I followed. Our dinner was much the same. I felt cold inside. Afterwards, instead of our usual routine, Ivan went upstairs, took a shower, and went into his bedroom. I knew something was wrong, but I could also tell he didn’t want to talk to me, so I followed his lead. I was angry and disappointed too.
I studied late into the night. When I finally turned off my light, it was eleven o’clock and the past twenty four hours had exhausted me. I peeled off my jeans and put on a cami, not bothering with real pajamas. No shower either. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come.
Instead, it was Ivan.
I was just drifting off when the door to my room slid open. I could hear him storming across the room and standing by my bed, breathing heavily. Was this it? Was it happening?
I sat up and reached for the light. Blinking at the sudden brightness, I turned to look at Ivan but strong arms pulled the blankets back and yanked me to the edge. When my vision cleared, I was face to face with the massive cock I’d seen the night before. It was inches from my face.
“You say you want this,” Ivan breathed. I looked up at him, heat filling my body. “You show me wet pussy, say my name.” He’d seen the video—the video I forgot all about!
“Ivan, I—”
“Nyet,” he hissed. “No excuses. Your pussy belongs to Alexei. I cannot have your kiska, Julie.”
“Ivan, please—”
“You cannot do this thing you say today,” Ivan said, and there was a thread of pleading under the rasp in his voice. “You cannot give this pussy to anyone but Alexei.”
“I already have,” I said, defiantly staring up at him. “I gave it to you. You just haven’t claimed it yet.”
An unmistakable groan rumbled out of the back of his throat. I tentatively touched his bare thigh, and felt him tremble. Very slowly, I began to move my fingertip towards the thatch of hair at the base of his cock, dark and silky—“No!” When he stepped back I instinctively reached out, but he grabbed my hands in his iron grip.
“Please, Ivan,” I whispered, and watched the tremble go through him again. “Please, will you make love to me?”
He sighed, and his whole chest seemed like it was deflating. He still stayed out of my reach, but when I started to stand up he clasped my shoulders and forced me to sit on the edge of my bed. “Julie, you must stop this… This thing you do. You belong to Alexei, to pakhan, you understand this?”
“I don’t want to,” I snapped, and he bristled.
“You must,” he barked, and shoved me back on the bed. For a split second I thought he was about to mount me, in spite of everything he just said, but instead he pinned my knees back by my shoulders, exposing my entire bottom to the air.
“Ivan!” I was completely helpless, immobilized again, but it didn’t feel sexy this time—it felt terrifying. It was such an exposed position. “Ivan! Stop!” He didn’t do anything though, just held me there, and when I shifted my shoulders enough I could see his face… He was staring at the cleft of my pussy, swollen and wet, my tight underwear stretched to the limit over my skin. Just staring. “Ivan?”
“I cannot… I cannot, Julie,” he whispered. “No one can put cock in this pussy, this pussy belong to boss.” He hissed, staring down at my needy body, and then, ever so slowly, one of his pinkies slid across the skin of my ass where he held me and gently brushed my swollen labia. I shivered and cried out; Ivan’s stare broke as he took in my face, then glanced back down again. “If I make you… If I make pussy happy, Julie, promise me you not give pussy away.”
“Only to you, Vanya,” I promised, but that made his teeth clench. “Only you.”
“You must be devil,” he said, and then a long, low string of guttural Russian followed before he let go of me. He seemed to have broken the hold my pussy had on him, and I was worried he would leave—before he could move further back, I lifted my ass and slipped my panties over my hips, then yanked my top off so I was completely naked in front of him.
His chest heaved.
I spread my legs, slowly opening them, so that he could see all of me. For a long moment, he held perfectly still; he wasn’t even breathing. Finally he spoke. “Julie, I lick you pussy, I make you cum.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I do not lick pussy, Julie,” he growled, staring at me. “You understand? You only one. You only.”
I braced myself on my elbows and began to sit up, but he pushed me back down. “Ivan, I… That’s not what I wanted, I don’t want to say no to you, but—”
“You cannot say no,” he snarled. “No one can have this pussy but pakhan—I swore. But to lick it…” He sucked his own tongue in anticipation, and I felt my nipples instantly harden. “I make you pussy cum, you stop. You stop this… Torture.” Ivan stared at me for a moment, and before I could think of a reply, he was kneeling down, his broad hands roughly pinning my thighs wide open, and then, with no other preamble, he sucked my clit.
I saw stars. I came immediately—I came so hard I screamed. I screamed his name and then I begged him not to stop, and I have no idea how long I did that. I only know when he pulled back, wiping his chin with his forearm and staring at me with shining eyes, I finally caught my breath again. “Ivan, please,” I murmured, but I didn’t know how to finish my request. Did I want him to stop? It was so much… Did I want more? Yes. Even if I knew he wasn’t going to give me what I truly craved, I hoped he’d give me more of—
Ivan began licking me, just as he said he would. He licked my thighs, long, languid strokes with his tongue, and I realized he was lapping up the stray juices smeared across my skin. He gently explored the crevices between my labia, he tasted my perineum, he lapped at my vagina—never entering it. He was very careful to never penetrate anywhere, instead taking his time exploring and suckling and licking me. And after I was screaming and begging him for what felt like an hour, he placed his lips around my clit and sucked my bud so hard I knew it would be bruised. And I did not care. Not one bit.
I came for Ivan for three and a half hours. I know that because I looked at the clock when it was over. He sucked and licked me for almost four hours, making my pussy clench and my mouth plead. He gave me everything.
I was drenched in sweat. I saw him finally pause, his tongue just about to travel over my belly, as if he wanted to taste that too… And felt the spell break. He seemed to come back to himself, all of a sudden, as if my pussy was somehow a free zone for his mouth but the rest of me was off limits. I realized he hadn’t even touched me with his hands anywhere but the backs of my thighs, to spread me for him to taste. “Ivan?” I started to sit up again, and this time he let me. His big body reared back on his calves, and he exhaled, rubbing his hands across his face, before standing up in one fluid motion. His cock was still hard as a rock, but he backed away before I could touch it.
“Now you be good girl, Julie,” he said softly,
and pointed at the floor, under my bed. “You clean up in the morning. We never speak of this. You good girl.” And then he turned and walked out of the room, and a second later I heard his bedroom door shut.
I looked under my bed, and puddled on the floor was his semen, as if he’d come at least twice, without touching himself or any stimulation of any kind beyond… Beyond making me come. Begging for him. Screaming his name. I wanted to see what it tasted like, but exhaustion kept me from exploring my darker tendencies. Instead, I collapsed on the bed, thinking.
At least he used me too. A little bit. I made him come too, in a way.
It should’ve felt more satisfying. But I wanted that sticky puddle inside of me, not used as a punishment for pushing him over the edge.
I couldn’t believe my own thoughts—was I seriously considering..? I squeezed my temples with my thumbs, wondering if I’d lost my mind. I certainly felt like I had.
And just like that, I passed out. I fell asleep in exactly that position, flat on my back, my hands by my head. I woke with a start five hours later, having missed two of my classes. I decided to call it a sick day and went to go pee, then curled up with my pillow over my head and went back to sleep. When I woke up it was dinner time.
“Hey,” I said softly when I saw him downstairs.
He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Not a minute. Black circles underlined his lovely eyes, the darkness deepened by the added shadows from his long lashes. Ivan looked up at me, quiet and still, and I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for; did he really think I would acquiesce--just because he hadn’t been inside of me, did he really think it was enough?
“Let me make you some dinner,” I said, because in spite of all my questions, the way he looked just made me need to care for him. He still didn’t move, and I went over to the stove and got to work.
I made him an American meal, as I had most nights; he liked spaghetti with meatballs and so I settled on that, and once everything was ready I sat down with him and we ate together in silence. When he finished, he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head towards the ceiling, closing his eyes.
“Ivan,” I said softly, “are we really not going to talk about last night?”
His eyes stayed closed. “What?”
“I said, are we really going to—”
“What happen last night?” He said it like a sentence, in a flat voice, rather than a question. “I not sleep very good, very tired. Something happen?” He lazily dropped his gaze to mine; the arrogant, cool detachment I remembered from our first day together was in place. All the warmth was gone from his expression, only the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes telling me different.
“You licked my pussy until I came,” I growled at him. Berating, forcefully pinning me down, even shame I could handle—but this? This was cruel. “You made me scream your name for hours. That’s what happened last night.”
“You have dream,” he said, and tipped his head back again, closing his eyes. “Sound like very good dream.”
“I’ll tell him,” I hissed. “I’ll tell Alexei.”
“What?” He raised a sardonic eyebrow. I wished it wasn’t so sexy. “You tell him what?”
“That you licked—”
“Alexei know is dream,” Ivan said, abruptly standing up and sauntering over to the sink for a glass of water. “Alexei know I never eat pussy. Not since I very young, maybe first time I have sex.”
I bit my lip, I was so frustrated. I was infuriated. I was… I was desperate.
And by the time he turned around, I was naked, my bare ass perched on the edge of the kitchen table. I watched his pupils dilate, his nostrils flare. He set his glass of water down on the counter and before I could move he had me thrown over one of his broad shoulders. Ivan bounded up the stairs with me screaming and kicking until he got to the bathroom. He threw me on my back in the bath tub and held me down, his hand on my throat, pressing me into the enamel. With his other hand he pulled my legs apart and turned the cold water on.
“IVAN!” I was humiliated and furious… And turned on. The cold water beaded over my naked body, making me pant, my nipples stony and erect. His hand didn’t press on my throat, choking me, so much as keep me from moving an inch; I couldn’t believe he had just run up a flight of stairs with a dead weight on his shoulder. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. His face was locked in a grim expression, his brow low. He was muttering to himself in Russian.
Ivan reached up and changed the setting on the shower head, and the extension came alive in his hand. I started to scramble out of the tub once he let me go but he grabbed me again by the back of my throat, and all I succeeded in doing was turning myself over, so that my ass was up in the air. Ivan fisted my hair, using it as a leash, and forced me into a backbend as he changed the temperature of the water. Once again, he forced my legs apart, and the highest part of my body was my exposed pussy and ass.
“You not good girl, Julie—I ask you, I say, I make pussy come and you stop torture. You not stop torture, Julie.” He gripped my ass cheek with his hand, dropping the shower hose; I gasped as he squeezed it, grabbing the meat between his nails and shaking it before letting it go. With a sharp snap, he brought his hand back and smacked my bottom. “Can you be good girl?”
“No,” I breathed. My nipples were rock hard, and dragging on the cool enamel. I arched my back more, knowing he saw every inch of my most private place, the place I was begging him to enter.
“I not think so.” A blast of water hit my asshole out of nowhere, forcing the delicate fold open before I could clench it tightly. It felt like an invasion—painful, but also promising. Ivan smacked my ass again, harder this time. “I think you beginning to like being bad.”
“No,” I protested, suddenly worried. I tried to squirm, but his strong hand held my head by the hair and I wasn’t going anywhere. “Ivan, I just wanted—” Another blast of water hit my pussy, and I gasped. He turned on the beaded setting and aimed it slightly lower, so that it hit my body in bursts, right on my clitoris. I felt myself swelling in spite of the pain; he arced it upward and forced my anus open again, before lowering it and focusing the pressure on my pussy lips. I began to tremble, my knees shaking, and felt my body responding to the hard blasts to my most sensitive parts.
“You like this?” Ivan’s voice was raspy, harsh; I twisted in his grasp and met his eyes.
“I wish it was you,” I told him, and his gaze darkened. He focused the spray on my delicate asshole.
“You want me here?” His gaze was ravenous as he took in my body, arched into the spray, allowing it to penetrate me; my mouth dropped open as I felt myself unable to fight off the ecstasy taking me over. “Or here?” He watched, biting his lip, as I rode the blast aimed at my pussy lips, letting my hips move so that my clit could feel it, then back again, and again. I was close. I moaned shamelessly as I stared into his eyes, and then the orgasm took me and I came, helpless, our gazes locked. I rocked back and forth as the water fucked me, feeling it open me, feeling myself cum again and again.
He let me ride it until I was flat on my chest, my ass high, my voice echoing off of the tile as I said his name, over and over. He picked me up and wrapped me in a towel, taking me to my bed and gingerly laying me down before delicately drying my sore body. “I love you Ivan,” I whispered, and the last thing I saw before passing out again from sheer exhaustion was his face, frozen in disbelief.
~~~
Our last few weeks flew by in a blur. November came and went, and Ivan avoided me constantly—eating by himself, locking his bedroom door while he slept, and going on constant perimeter checks. But I have to be honest.
I was not able to stop loving him.
In spite of his deliberate avoidance, he raked the leaves and bought me groceries, always with special treats he knew I liked. He let me choose the music on the radio as he drove me to and from classes; in spite of his earlier words, he cleaned the house when I had tests so I wouldn’t worry about anything but school. He foun
d photos of my mother from god-knows-where when she lived in Russia and framed the best one so I could hang it where I liked, and made an album for the rest. He made me pirozhki and left them on the counter, every few days. One Saturday when I was feeling really sad about the turn my life had taken, I came downstairs and found a massive flower display on the entryway table. No roses. Nothing romantic. But exceptionally beautiful, and very thoughtful. In spite of himself, he knew me, maybe too well.
When he stopped talking to me, I didn’t even have the heart to touch myself again. Late at night, I once thought I heard my own voice through the door to his room and wondered if he was watching the movie I made him—if he missed me even half as much as I missed him.
I hoped he did.
Just before my exams in December he broke the pattern and approached me after dinner, sitting down at the table like old times. I truly missed him, so much, and I was excited to be with him at the same table. I looked up at Ivan’s handsome face and smiled, trying not to ruin the moment by remembering his gorgeous naked body, or the way he’d looked when he punished my pussy with the showerhead. It was a little difficult, but I managed. “Hi, Ivan.”
“Hello, Julie,” he said. His voice was husky. It seemed like he was still trying to hold on to his arrogant veneer, but it wasn’t really working. He looked down at the tabletop, then over at me. “I remember… Your exams. You are almost finished with school?”
“Almost,” I said, trying not to let the conversation derail so soon, since this made me think of the marriage to Alexei. “Christmas break is coming up after that.”
“You very good student. I am sure you do well on exams.”
“Glad you’re sure,” I said, smiling again. One corner of his mouth lifted in response. “I never feel confident about my grades.”
“But you are A student?
“Yes, but…” I shrugged. “You never know.” I lost my confidence and looked down at the table. I wished he would hold my hand.
