by Kendall Duke
“You do very well. A student.” He shrugged, his arrogant veneer back in place. I was preparing myself to hear all about how Alexei would be pleased by my grades when he surprised me. “I buy you pizza for celebrate. We watch movie, like old time.” I realized he was watching me from under his eyelashes. “You like?”
“Yes, I would like that very much,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat. In the weeks he’d been avoiding me I’d lost so much of my boldness, but I was beginning to feel it stirring again. “That would be really nice.”
“Good,” he said, and stood up and sauntered out of the room. I missed the Ivan I’d seen when he was unnerved by me, the one that was so taken by the curve of my ass that he couldn’t form a sentence. This Ivan was unapproachable. Cool, even cold. The Russian Bodyguard.
I settled back in my seat, thinking. What would it take to get under this guy’s skin? I felt hopeful about this little get-together he’d described… It almost seemed like a date. Had he meant for it to feel that way? I doubted it, at least I doubted his conscious mind wanted a date with me. His subconscious… Well, I don’t know if a date was exactly what it wanted. A blistering, raw fuck was probably more like it—but did that even make me special? He said he liked it rough; he gave me the impression that’s the only way he liked it… Did I even care?
It turned out, I really liked rough.
I really liked Ivan. A lot. I’d missed him terribly. And I’d be damned if he sent me off with hymen intact next month to Alexei, a blushing bride with nothing but his memory. I gathered together my remaining boldness and plotted to be my baddest on that night, my last real night with my true love.
~~~
On our drive home from class, I felt the excitement bubbling in my belly. I’d studied hard the last two days, pouring all of my energy into my tests; in spite of my resentment, Alexei’s plans would never be enough to make me sabotage my own, and I wanted to go to a university next year. I knew I’d done well. One of my professors even told me the exam was optional for me, because I already had well over the points needed for an A. I asked her for a recommendation when I transferred, and when she happily agreed I passed my exam just to give her a positive final impression. In one sense, I was really looking forward to the future.
In another… Ivan’s cool gaze took in my neighborhood, his eyes scanning back and forth under the opaque sunglasses he wore constantly whenever we were outside of the house. His cheekbones could cut glass. His ever-present five o’clock shadow was growing in, and I wondered if he would shave before our ‘date.’ He’d asked me how my exams went, and when I smiled at him he hadn’t smiled back, instead just lifting the corner of his mouth. When we pulled into the garage I heard him exhale and turn in the seat to look at me, and I couldn’t keep the hope off of my face when I looked at him.
“I call for pizza, okay? You pick movie.” One nod. That was it. Then he went inside.
I was not going to let him get away from everything that had happened between us. I could still hear his voice in my head—“my beautiful Julie.” He cared for me, I knew it, and with that in mind I went inside and carefully got dressed for the night.
I chose the same outfit I’d worn that morning he’d flipped out—short soft jersey that hugged the curve of my hips, and a cami with no bra. To pretend to be less salacious, I chose a cashmere crop sweater that I would take off once we were settled; he couldn’t stop me. What was he going to say? Touching up my make-up and brushing my hair one last time, I prepared myself.
I was going to make him take my virginity.
The time had come.
I walked down the stairs, almost silent in my fuzzy house slippers, and went over to the couch. Ivan was already there; he’d shed his coat, but not his suit’s silk shirt or pants. He was barefoot, and it should’ve looked stupid but instead it was just incredibly sexy. He smelled amazing. I sat down next to him on the couch and when he glanced over at me I could tell he was already uncomfortable. “I thought maybe this one,” I said, not giving him the chance to say anything, and quickly picked a film. He shrugged.
I couldn’t stand it. The distance was killing me. “Ivan,” I said, “I remember everything you said. I just want to feel close to someone tonight. Can I come nearer to you?”
“Nyet,” he started, but I held up my hand.
“I just want to be near you. I’m not going to…” I let the words trail away, my palm upturned. He stared at the ceiling for a minute as if in prayer, then gave me a curt nod.
I sat right up against him, so that my breasts were mashed against his arm, and rested my face on his broad shoulder. I gave him the most innocent expression I had; our lips were just inches from each other once he turned to look down at me. Part of me really, really wanted to kiss him, but I knew how that would end—I wouldn’t even get close, and then he’d carry my ass back upstairs and lock me in my bedroom. I didn’t want to rush it. He glanced down at me, and I met his gaze evenly but didn’t move. The air between us practically steamed; I could feel his pulse rising, see it in the throb of his throat. And even though technically I was teasing Ivan, I was teasing myself just as much. Maybe more. Heat began to gather in my pussy, and I licked my lips. I’d just spent whole weeks away from him, watching him from a distance; I loved him. With every inch of my flesh, and everything beneath it. Ivan just took it all in, silently, and then finally nodded. “Okay, Julie,” he said softly. “I have present for you. For celebrate.”
“Thank you,” I said, glancing around us. I hadn’t seen a present.
“This is for you,” Ivan said, leaning away from me and bringing up a bottle of champagne from the other side of the couch. I smiled at his serious expression, but his words sobered me up. “Russians like to drink. I never see you drink, not even wine, so I like you try one time before you marry Russian, yes?”
“Okay,” I said, trying to smile. I wondered if he was trying to give me the idea of getting drunk in order to get through my wedding night; I put that idea away. I could see how the effects of alcohol might benefit me in this situation though. I’d never had champagne before. Whatever the motivation, I was touched that he’d thought of it.
“I order pizza,” Ivan said, pouring us two glasses. “Not usual for champagne.” At long last, he smiled at me, his dark eyes twinkling, and I felt like my heart was going to take flight. “Is good, to make you smile, Julie,” he said softly, and we gazed at each other for a moment before he seemed to remember himself. He abruptly jumped up from the couch, almost spilling his glass, and told me he’d be back in just a minute. I settled in to wait for him.
When he came back, we sat on the couch together again at a careful distance, and he clinked his glass to mine. He didn’t meet my eyes for long and emptied his in one gulp. I took a small sip, per his instructions; it was foamy and good. I liked the taste of the it, which made Ivan smile. He said he’d bought an excellent, very expensive brand, because he knew I probably would hate anything else. “It does not taste good, alcohol, unless it is good,” he explained, and I thought that in spite of his rudimentary English he definitely made his points well. I also realized he was trying to teach me something, to prepare me for the life ahead. It was very kind.
But misguided. My life wasn’t with Alexei.
I was about to make sure of that.
The movie started and I slid a little closer to him on the couch. I tried to concentrate on the movie in cased he asked me about it, but I was thinking about other things. I was thinking about how thick his musculature was, how rugged his well-worn hands were in comparison with his sleek, beautiful face. How silky his hair must be, especially in the places untouched—places I’d seen for the first time fairly recently. I remembered Ivan naked and felt the blush rising in my cheeks immediately. He let me come even closer, and I snuggled into his armpit again, pressing my breasts against his ribcage and feeling his heavy, warm arm wrap around my shoulders instinctively. I wondered if he would be able to smell my pussy juice, since I kept getting turn
ed on.
And then I remembered that Ivan wasn’t much of a drinker either, and he’d just slammed three glasses of champagne.
Ivan’s finger tips brushed my bare arm, and I snuggled in a little closer. He began to trace small circles on my exposed skin; in half a minute it was driving me wild. I pulled away from him, eliciting a startled look on his face, and leaned back on the opposite side of the couch. He seemed almost relieved after his initial surprise, but then I rested my back on the arm of the couch so that my body was facing him, and let my legs gape open to either side while casually turning my head to watch the movie. From Ivan’s perspective, he was looking directly at my sheer-sheathed pussy, the jersey fabric digging slightly in to my cleft, and my hard nipples above. I pretended not to notice him staring; I wondered if there was a damp space in my panties to show him how I felt. “Julia,” he finally said, a shadow in his voice, “you sitting like a whore. Close your legs.”
I’d never heard Ivan use language like that before. It startled me into obedience, and I quickly sat up and leaned forward to drink some more of my champagne. A few minutes passed; I finished my glass. “Can I have some more?” I smiled up at him, using my best good girl expression.
Which was a front, of course, because all I wanted, all I wanted was to be horribly, fantastically bad. I wanted Ivan’s cock to punish me, I wanted all of him to punish all of me. Now.
And I knew he knew it, too. What I didn’t know was what he planned to do about it.
He looked at me, his gaze suddenly thoughtful. I could tell I was getting to him; his cock was a hard lump against his leg, taut under the fabric of his pants. “Da,” he said quietly. “But remember you promise.”
“I remember,” I told him. The champagne was starting to rub the edges off of my remaining inhibition, and as I took my next sip I purposely spilled the champagne onto my crop sweater. “Oops,” I said, exaggeratedly widening my eyes. Ivan just frowned at me. I stripped it off, and underneath my t-shirt was plastered to my breasts, my nipples hard and erect. “That’s okay,” I said smoothly, and before he could object I poured myself another glass and begun drinking it down.
“Julie--” Ivan stood up from the couch and began unfastening his belt as he let loose with a long string of guttural Russian. I felt fear sweep over me for the first time, but I knew he would never hurt me. Not in a way that mattered, not ever. Ivan was my bodyguard, and more than that, I trusted him. Implicitly.
I gulped the rest of my champagne down, bending over the arm of the couch away from him, my ass pointed in his direction as I slugged the rest of my glass. I was deliberately tempting him and immediately got my just desserts—he smacked my ass so hard I dropped the champagne glass and it shattered on the floor, tiny shards going everywhere. WHAM! A second solid smack landed right on my asscheek, stinging even worse than the first one. When I turned my head this time my eyes were wide in genuine surprise.
Ivan was standing beside me, his pants halfway undone. A determined look was in his eye, and one hand was raised as if to spank me again, the other one working to pull his belt free. His enormous cock was already pushing the zipper down and fighting through the opening in his pants; the sight of it frightened me, but it was too late. As I struggled to climb over the couch my legs opened further, and when Ivan spanked me this time he aimed his hand landed right on my sensitive pussy lips. “Oh!” It shocked me still, and that was when I lost my chance. Ivan’s strong fingers clamped onto the roots of my hair and pulled me into a sharp backbend, my belly pushed against the arm of the couch and my breasts pointing skyward. I felt him roughly shove his body between my legs, his own pinning mine down in the crack of the couch so I couldn’t move, and then... Something hard, hot and stiff poked my asshole. Just briefly. “Ivan!” Tears crept into the corners of my eyes; he was pulling my hair, and my back hurt. I didn’t even really know what I was begging for--sure, I was uncomfortable and helpless, but... I was also completely turned on. My juices dripped through my panties. I could feel them on my thighs, and it made me shiver.
And I knew he knew it, too. Ivan knew me better than myself. He was teasing me back.
“Too late,” Ivan growled. I discovered why his other hand was free when I felt a huge finger flick my hot little button from underneath, sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure radiating out. “You break promise. You lie to me.” His voice was thick with lust; I felt the press of his cock again and cried out; he left it there, pushing and pushing against my delicate asshole, not entering but never leaving. His finger flicked my clit again, and I moaned his name in response, not bothering to deny his accusations. He slid the tip of his thick finger along the cleft of my underwear, stroking my damp pussy, and then squeezed my asscheek. Hard.
“Ivan--” I was embarrassed, terrified, turned on. My nipples were so erect that they ached, and the wet fabric slid across them, tugging, as I tried to twist and face him. He tightened his grip on my hair and shoved me into the arm of the couch with his torso; his cock bulged against the damp fabric, the only thing saving my fragile, inner lips from his forbidden cock. I could feel the heat pressing against me, and whimpered.
I wanted it. Bad.
“You tease me too much… There are consequence, Julie.” Ivan spoke softly into my ear; my head was twisted forcefully to one side, and then I felt his hand on my waist. “Difficult consequence. I would have you. I have to have you.”
“I’ll be good,” I whispered, not sure what to say; heat was blooming inside of me as I felt his cock rubbing my pussy lips again, the length tremendous, unbending. I shivered with desire, and he felt it. I was wet with it. His hand tightened on my waist. “I’ll do whatever you ask—"
“No you won’t,” he said, jerking my head forward again. His other hand pinched the fabric at my waist and forcefully ripped my panties down the side. I started to whimper, but he didn’t stop; before I knew it, my whole ass was bare. I was laying over the side of the couch, my bare, pink pussy exposed, and even worse--my pleasure. I knew my inner thighs were now shining with my juices.
Ivan let go of my hair and reared back, all at once. I was so surprised it took me a second to move, but then I finally twisted around to look at him, sweat beading on my back. I was afraid to move out of position—his spanks really hurt.
He was sitting back on his side of the couch, slowly stroking his cock. His eyes locked on mine. “This what you want me to see?” I bit my lip, fiercely ashamed; I wanted him to do a lot more than look, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to being put in such exposed positions.
“I...” I couldn’t think of anything to say. For a moment we stayed there, just like that, me with my exposed ass and pussy pointed towards him, Ivan with his thick, hard cock getting even stiffer as he stared me down. The tables had turned. I was a woman, plain and simple, desperate with a need I didn’t understand. He fed that need. I had never wanted anything more in my life, but I knew I was playing with fire.
I realized knowing that wasn’t enough to stop me from doing exactly what I’d planned.
And then the doorbell rang. I instantly shrieked and curled up in a ball on the couch, wrapping my arms around my legs. The sound broke through the spell, making everything that had happened a little too real.
Had Ivan—my Ivan, my gentle, professional bodyguard—just spanked my bare pussy? Less than two weeks before my dreaded nuptials?
I wasn’t quite victorious yet. But soon, I was sure I would be.
“Don’t move,” Ivan said, pointing at me with one hand while he tucked himself away with the other. “Just pizza, Julie.” I smiled nervously, my head swimming a little bit from everything that had happened. He stood up, put everything back in place, and his face darkened one more time. “No… I like you clean that glass up before I get back. Be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”
I was walking a tightrope here, and I didn’t fully understand the dangers lurking on either side. I heard Ivan at the front door and raced to the kitchen to find the broom and dustp
an, then ran back and started cleaning everything up. I didn’t pay attention to the fact that I wasn’t wearing any pants--I was too nervous about what Ivan would do if I didn’t follow his instructions. I was definitely learning things the hard way.
But I was also liking the hard way.
When Ivan walked back into the room, he set the pizza down on the table and walked over to me. I’d gotten everything on the dustpan and was settled on my knees on the floor in front of the couch; one of my arms was on the coffee table. He stood directly in front of me, staring sternly down at my face. Somehow, I knew we weren’t done yet, and even though my pussy wasn’t pointed directly at him I became very aware that I wasn’t wearing anything below the waist.
His cock was growing inside of his pants again. I gulped, remembering the size of it. “I think I got everything,” I said, looking up at him. I tried to ignore the bulge in his pants while I figured out what to do next, but it was kind of a point of fascination for me--wanting to get in his pants was what landed me here in the first place.
“Be careful,” Ivan said, watching me.
“That was really your fault,” I snapped, although the accusation in my tone didn’t have quite as much to do with the glass as it did with the entire night. I didn’t care. I was falling towards one side of the dangers below me and I realized I simply did not care. Not with his cock right in front me anyway. I poked my bottom lip out. He’d made the deal; my father, Alexei, Sergei—I didn’t. “Not mine.”
Before I could move, Ivan was gripping my face in one hand, his index finger and thumb digging into my cheeks and forcing my mouth slightly open. He unzipped his pants with his other hand as I struggled, and then, before I knew it, his giant cock was free once again. I half-heartedly tried to squirm away, but Ivan was too strong for me. I didn’t really want to get away, but I liked provoking him, so I struggled and squirmed. He pinched harder and my mouth popped open; I tried to scream but then... A huge, throbbing cock slid behind my lips. I hadn’t thought about it before, but the ridge around the tip made it hard to get it out once it was in. My screams were muffled as he went further; I felt my nipples growing rock hard once more. Ivan made a grunting sound and forced more of his cock inside as he twisted his hands in my hair; my eyes began to water, but my pussy was slick and wet, jealous of my mouth. I wondered if I would have an orgasm without even being touched, the way he had; I could feel my lips flooding with blood, engorged by Ivan’s cock scraping by, and my pussy lips filling below, wishing they were full of him. Ivan held me by my hair, lifting me up so my weight was on my knees. He directed me by pulling me this way or that, and slowly, he began feeding me his cock. There was no way he could’ve missed my nipples. They were like pellets against my damp shirt. Too easy, I thought; we both liked it rough. I should make him work for this. I resisted, using my hands to push my body away from his, but that just made him push harder. The hot, wet vacuum of my mouth made him even larger, and I gagged as Ivan’s cock scraped the back of my throat, the milky pre-cum taste filling my sinuses. I choked on it, coughing, and he pulled back a little bit.
