by Poppet
“Just go, Victor. I can't be near you.”
“You called this meeting, not me.”
“It was a mistake,” I spit, angry with myself. Now I want him more than ever, and I'll never have him.
For a man who looks so good when he's calm, he's on fire when he's furious. If I stay around him I'd make it my life's goal to keep him pissed off.
“What happened? Why are you being so pissy? Are you on?”
“I told you I'm not on anything! I don't lie, not to you – not yet,” I say, annoyed he thinks I'm a junkie.
“Not yet?” he growls so long it sounds like foreplay.
It makes me squeeze my legs together to squirm away from the way that voice and wrath makes my sex sizzle. “I'll lie to save my life, Victor. Until you threaten my life I'll speak my truth.”
“Why are you being like this? I'm the one who should have the pissy attitude, you ask me shit that's no one's business.”
“Exactly, and you have issues. I thought I had issues but I'm Tinkerbell compared to you.”
“Polina, respect me, treat me with respect because I have instincts that kick in when a woman gives me attitude. Watch your mouth.”
“No, you watch yours,” I bitch, crossing my arms and giving him the 'face'.
He should watch his mouth or I'll kiss it again and then he'll really piss his pants.
“Go inside, and don't call me unless it's a fucking emergency.”
“Yes papa,” I smile, using the fake smile.
“I'm not your papa.”
“You act like it. Are you old?”
“Compared to you I'm ancient,” he laughs, and it's rife with scorn.
“Is that why you don't get laid? Is your wife sick?”
“Goodnight, Polina.” He's ending this, walking away into the dark, and I stare after him long after he's vanished.
I can still feel him out there and want to hold him here for as long as I can. He calls to my heart like a vampire and I touch my lips, still feeling his memory on them.
Lucifer, yes he is. No wonder he was God's favorite.
•
Mikah:
“Daragaya, ya doma!” I call as I walk in at 9 p.m. on the fifth day since leaving her to her own devices, finally realizing I'm tired when I sag against the front door, closing it. (Darling, I'm home.)
Shit, I really must speak English to her or she'll never master her homework. Right, new mission, drop the Russian and educate Polina.
Clearing my throat, I call again, “Darling I'm home, where are you?”
“In here,” calls to me from the bathroom.
Now that's what I call perfect timing.
Dropping my bag of laundry I unclip the nagyka and stride to the bathroom, halting at the sight of her with my razor next to her clit. “What are you doing?” I ask carefully. If she's doing a home circumcision I'll cut her pretty face into ribbons.
Big innocent eyes engage mine, a naughty smile playing on her full lips. “I've been preparing for you. The lady on the DVD has no hair so I'm taking mine off, look, I've already done one side.”
My eyes are glued to it, trust me. I have a disturbed vibe that she's playing with me, sitting there on the toilet lid with her legs so wide I can see inside her, I can see it glistening. Instantly I'm hard, my plans vanquished because she's derailed me being in control of this moment; she's playing poker and has all four queens.
Looking away from the blade on my prize, I say as casually and deadpan as I can, “Preparing for me, how?”
“I had a good long think and decided conditioning my body would be the best way to please you, so now I can drink without getting drunk, I can exercise for an hour without getting tired, and I can have an orgasm in under thirty seconds. I didn't know when you'd be home, I kinda wanted my pussy to be bare before you got back, it's smoother and sexier right?”
Fuck. How can I discipline you for breaking the rules if you did it for me? Your reasoning is hard to argue with, but now I'll have to drug you if I want to get you out of your mind.
“Right?” she asks again, now with worry in her penetrating gaze.
“Definitely, if I can watch you take it off,” I smirk, edging closer, my shadow blotting her pale skin. “Why'd you decide to prepare for me?”
She sucks her cheek in, concentrating while she shaves the other side, and I notice she first trimmed it short. Good thing I keep a decent stock of new razor blades because I'm not using that one now.
“Eve was a good wife to Adam, she did what God told her. I'm trying to fill the big shoes, Mikah.”
Watching her rinse the blade in the basin next to her with one heel balanced on top of the toilet roll and the other on the rim of the bathtub, running her finger over her pussy to check for errant strays, I'm mesmerized by the way she pulls the hood over her clit up, exposing the tiny pearl underneath it – and it's hard. She's horny!
“I hate to break it to you but Cain and Abel weren't Adam's kids, they were God's kids. If you want to follow Eve you'll have to let God do you before I do.”
She drops the razor in the water, shock and terror squeezing the vitality from her seduction. The coy queen is no longer in control, she's horrified.
Laughing I lower to her level, to my haunches, staring her in the eyes, “Let's hope he isn't witnessing this conversation.”
“Can he see us?” she squeaks.
“He can see everything, zajka.” (Bunny.)
“Why you call me zajka and not kisa?”
“Because when I pay you your rib we'll be fornicating like rabbits.”
“You really cut out your rib for me?” she smiles, happiness reentering her expression.
“I did. Take good care of it milaya (darling), it's not a gift without consequence.”
“Meaning?” she frowns, moving to close her legs and sit properly but I grab her thighs and hold her open, deliberating positioned so my breath washes into her.
“Meaning you have my bone, you are part of me, and if I tell you to do something you do it because you are now an extension of me, like an arm or leg or heart. That's what Eve was, she was part of Adam, if he had a thought she shared it, she never argued because they shared the same body. His will was her will. Understand?”
“Oh,” she whispers, her mouth moving while she thinks, in such a way that her bottom lip pouts provocatively.
I really want to fuck that mouth but have no clue how bad her molestation was when with Oleg. I don't need her biting down which is why I planned to get her drunk, and now I have to get her high instead.
“What do you think of finger puppets?” she asks me, her tone soft and sweet, big clear eyes watching me with a demure expression of awe, respect even.
My instincts still yell that she's playing with me, she's toying, and it's a dangerous game if she is.
In answer I slide my fingers inside her, widening the narrow channel and suffering my nuts shriveling up to my neck at the heat and wetness of her. “I like finger puppets, if I do this you'll be my puppet. I can make you do things with my fingers inside you you can't imagine.”
She stares at my hand, her eyes tightening at the edges. “You like to do that?”
“Yes.” Because it's mine, all mine. The slick walls clamp on my fingers with impressive strength and I have a moment before I can swallow. The anticipation is fucking killing me. “Come, let's drink,” I order, standing, offering her my hand, not the one I just slid out of her. I like this new Polina, a man could grow accustomed to eager trust.
She nods, standing, reaching for her clothes instead of my hand. Slapping the fingers, I glare at her, “No. God gave you that skin, your spirit is clothed. Now come,” I demand, snatching her hand and clamping it in mine, my hold tight while I pull her after me to the sitting room, pointing to the couch, “Sit, I'll get our drinks.”
“But you just got home, shouldn't I get the–”
“What did I just say about not arguing with me?” I snap, giving her my death glare.
> “That we share one mind –”
“Exactly. Now sit there and think of how often you've stuck your fingers on that pussy since I've been gone, and I'll get us a drink. I know you finished the vodka, luckily I brought some home with me.”
“How do you know–”
“Polina! Enough! Do as I tell you.”
“Yes Mikah.”
But her face is defiant and it's making me even harder, because if she gives me lip I have a reason to slap it.
Stalking to the kitchen, grabbing the vodka from my bag on the way, I slip the medication into her glass, pouring more vodka in her glass than I'd have after seven shots, to speed the process along. Tonight I'm going to do her every way possible and I'm not in the mood to be met with resistance. Returning to her I give her the Bloody Mary, as I know she likes them.
I have mine straight up. Why mess with perfection?
“Drink,” I command, knocking mine back in one swift move, then going to the bag and extracting Foma's rib. I wait for her to drink half her Mary before moving to her, kneeling in front of her and offering her the bleached rib on my open palm. “I give you this bone, and the one in my pants is a constant reminder to you that I cut out a part of myself for you. If you accept this bone you accept them both. Every day Polina, without exception. Tonight I'm going to satisfy my desires because I've waited a long time for you. If you take this bone you will not deny me a single thing tonight no matter how hard your past life was. Now you're a woman, you know pleasure, so understand I require it too. It's healthy, it's natural, and you no longer have the right to say no.”
“Yes Mikah,” she grumbles, and already I see her pupils dilating with the contraband. It's fast acting, we use it often at church because it's so effective in communion wine, and her high makes my boner throb. We're so close to consummation.
She doesn't hesitate, taking the rib off my hand, holding it in her little hand as if I'd just given her my beating heart. She clutches it to her breast, like it's precious.
It occurs to me that in the past she wasn't given anything. She was in captivity a long time, between her father, Oleg, and Foma. I bet she didn't once get a birthday present. When life gave her the opportunity to receive a gift she made sure it was irreplaceable and sentimentally valuable. It is to her, I can see it.
My heart gongs with realization.
At times I want to fold her in my arms and cradle the pain from her soul, but that instinct wars with the rampaging lust riddling my bloodstream. Closing her eyes she slumps sideways, holding her head, battling to focus, widening her legs to me. “You bleed for me, I bleed for you. It's okay, at least it wasn't a tooth for a tooth because I like my teeth.”
Her innocence has a way of stabbing into my spirit and I lean over her, kissing her with all the urgency pulsating in my jeans. I don't want blood on the couch so lift her with me when I stand, striding to the bedroom and dropping her on the bed, stripping my clothes off as if they are on fire.
Sliding myself between her legs I sink my hips, holding her hands above her head in mine in case she has a fight reflex. Getting both wrists in one hand I use my free hand to position myself at her entrance, guiding in, and stopping to squeeze the blood from my brain and bones, fighting the instant urge to shoot. She has to remember this even if she's high, she has to remember with every step she takes tomorrow, she has to know who her master is.
Once I've diminished the urge I start thrusting, hard and deep, straightening my arms and bracing when her hands remain slack. Her arms stay relaxed, her eyes closed, silent as the cosmos while I glide in and out, every slalom feeling tighter than the last.
She's pretending. I can feel the tension in her pussy, I can feel the resistance. Why pretend to be slack and relaxed when she's clearly not? Why can't this woman just be normal?
I'll get a reaction out of you! You won't deny me the satisfaction of taking you for the first time as an adult, I demand you give me the pain and vulnerability. Sliding my hand away from her head I can just reach the drawer, fumbling while I lean to the hidden compartment, extracting her switchblade and snapping it open.
Her eyes snap open with it, wide and alarmed. She's lucid enough for memory and reaction, just not to struggle with me.
Smiling, still plunging in and out of my new addiction, distracted from cumming with this little deviation, I brace over her, tracing the tip of the blade around her eyes, pressing just enough to pinprick into her skin.
A teardrop of blood blooms onto her cheekbone, wicking like a melted candle, and it makes me iron hard. Driving into her I pummel until everything on her jiggles, until the resistance of her pussy surrenders and she's slick with viscosity.
Climaxing, I can barely breathe with the clench and sensation of release. Christ, so wet and tight. Lifting my weight off her hips I stare down at the wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I'm still hard, zajka.”
“I know, I can feel it.” Her voice is strained, her jaw clenched. It's the knife, she's watching it instead of me.
Time to distract her from her toy.
“On your knees,” I command, pulling out of her with a sloppy schluck. My cock is coated in blood, and it makes me want to laugh the cackle of the demented.
“Why my knees?”
“Because you're my bitch and I'm going to fuck you like one.”
“Will it hurt?”
“No.”
She rolls onto her stomach, getting her legs under her and kneeling, shakily supported by her arms, her strength drained by the opiate, and the sight before me could make angels ache.
“Put your hand on your clit, like the lady showed you.”
She does as I tell her.
“Play with it Kisha, fuck that button until you're tight with desire.” She doesn't argue, which I'm finding odd. Polina always has words, always has an opinion, always has questions. But tonight it's like she's complacent, like she lost her fight while I was gone.
“Mikah?” she asks softly.
“Mm?”
“Thirty seconds, I told you. What must I do?” her voice is watery, like forming words is a challenge.
“Balance on one hand and play with your nipples, I'm going to take you now, it'll feel good because you're horny.”
Silence, but the hand not holding her up moves to her breasts, and watching her play with herself has me aiming at the ceiling again. Positioning behind her, I slam in, shunting her off balance. She face plants the bed and I leave her like that, rutting in and out of her like a demented psycho, the sounds of her choking heightening my throb. I'm so hard I'm surprised I'm not splitting my own skin. She's so hot and slippery it's mind altering, and when she shudders with her own orgasm sweat squeezes out of my pores. I'm trying to prolong this but I'm like a kid with a new toy, I just want to blow over and over, fuck every hole until it's loose and broken, covering her in jizz. I've screwed hundreds of women, but never a virgin, never a brand new pussy that's not been used since being adult. And my fuck it's sensational.
Leaning back I snatch up the nagyka, employing one of my favorite vices, winding the leather whip around her neck and reining her. Using the handle of it I slap each butt cheek until they're both pink, fucking her while yanking on the noose, floating into the crest of my impending orgasm. It's so close, but she's not made a sound and that fucks me off. Releasing the nagyka I curl over her to grab her breasts in each hand, her position now supporting both of us on her face. Holding onto her, I have her nipples pincered tightly in my fingers when I spasm. I convulse like a universe lived inside me and it needed to explode into existence.
It's the orgasm of my life, better than my teenage faps, better than the first time I came inside a chick's mouth, better than losing my virginity. It drains me, robs me of all strength, my thighs quivering and my stomach hollow. My abdomen feels alien, my climax so brutal it's like I blew my soul into her along with my innards.
Jesus!
Everything prickles, my spine gilded with chills, the aftershocks ting
ling my cock, my nuts numb, my thighs devoid of any sensation. Breathing like a marathon runner I sag over her, licking her spine, smelling her perfume and the vanilla scent of her long hair.
This time I squeeze my arms around her, hugging her into me, her body so tightly suctioned to mine I can feel the wall of her uterus against my tip.
God is so good to me!
I release her, straightening my spine which still ripples with feverish shivers, my skin taut across pumped muscles, gradually sliding my dick out of her while contemplating her virginal ass waiting for penetration, when she slumps sideways, exposing her face and the slackness of her expression, her lips blue.
She couldn't breathe!
Fuck!
FUCK!
I killed her!
~ Chapter 16 ~
She was giving me oral sex, and she got carried away
. . . So I choked her.
~ Arthur Shawcross
Polina:
When he tells me to think of touching myself I automatically think of Victor touching me, and I see his reason for ordering me to think about that.
It has an instant result, the strange sensation that makes me feel like a different person grows inside me. It's like possession, like having a dormant demon sleeping inside you that wakes when you fiddle with its alarm clock.
I ache for something but I don't know what the something is, not really, I just know the ache goes away with rubbing, with the dildo inside too. It is sex, and God must be very evil to make women want this more and more, always in lust with the man who penetrates into us. This is why God gave Adam a mature lady, so she'd want this. I want it. I hate Mikah for knowing I want it. He trained me to want it and only now do I realize this.
He's cunning. Never trust a man with a dead voice, with an even tone, it hides the devil inside him.
Maybe that's why God did it? So we'd want the sex and have babies. God likes babies, he said so. Oleg liked babies too.
Mikah comes back, giving me the Bloody Mary. It's very symbolic. He's telling me with my drink that I'm going to bleed, so I drink it, telling him it's okay cos he bled for me, it's fair I do for him too.Plus I'm going to imagine he's Victor the whole time, it's very sexy. I even feel sexy lying here with my legs wide, teasing him. I'm playing with the cobra and he's probably going to fill me with venom, but once the poison kicks in I'll stop hurting.
