by Erika Masten
Is that...humor in his voice?
I smiled sweetly at my unwanted protector. Creepy or not, he'd certainly proved himself useful.
Masha grabbed my hand. I walked with her past the bouncer and immediately had to stop and let my eyes adjust.
If the colors outside the club were a beautiful waterfall of vivid neon hues, then inside the Krokodil they became a raging ocean.
The place looked like a former palace, modernized and transformed into a bar and a glassy dance floor. Colorful swirls splashed me, radiating through the spectrum. I pushed forward, easing myself past several tittering German girls, deeper into the heart of the dance floor.
“Go on, J. We don't have to be joined at the hip. I'm gonna grab a drink and leave you to explore. Use your time alone wisely.”
I jumped a little as she grabbed by ass. Laughing, she slid into the crowd, before I could react.
The flashing lights left me disoriented in their glamor. I watched her small shadow disappear in the sea of young partiers before I moved again.
Half the people were high. They didn't reek from weed or cheap beer like my High School parties.
I smiled, imagining my new, sophisticated peers had access to equally wondrous and expensive drugs. Not that I was ready to indulge in that.
I just wanted to dance. A Russian techno song blared over the speakers. It sounded like a man calling out numbers, but I couldn't be sure.
I'd only learned to count to ten in Russian. These were crazy long digits.
The DJ howled them out in the split second pauses between thumping bass and shrieking dubstep.
I didn't care about the words. I understood the beat just fine.
I worked my way to an open space on the floor and started to twirl around. I popped my hips, grounding myself on my heels, feeling new possibilities surging within me.
The couple in front of me ground against each other. They rubbed their bodies hard, like animals, far more ferociously than anything I'd seen in my limited experience back home.
A handsome young man who might've been Dmitri's double, except with twenty years to spare and leaner shoulders, sidled up to me.
He began speaking in Russian. When I shook my head, he switched to English.
“Here all alone, pretty devochka?” He bathed me a wicked smile and wrapped his long arms behind my back, pulling me in before I could say anything.
I blinked and struggled for words. I smiled, trying to keep it together.
“You're just in time. I was looking for a dance partner...”
“Ah, an American girl!” He said, genuine enthusiasm burning in his voice. “Can I be your first Russian boyfriend?”
His hips pushed forward, closing the small gap between us. The bulge behind his trousers met my panties, exposed as he stuck his hands on my thighs and pushed up my skirt.
Warm heat rushed to my face. I practically melted in his arms, wilting as the unexpected emotions bloomed.
He bared his teeth. His hips pushed forward, spiking into me again, and I felt a little more of his hard cock with every stroke.
I bent my knees, pushing into him. We rubbed just right, sending fiery curls straight to my clit. Muscles deep inside me clenched, hungry as hell.
That moment, I didn't care if we scraped our pants raw. I even forgot about Dmitri, if only for a second.
“You like that, sweet devochka?” The word made me think about the older man again.
I pushed at his shoulders, but he didn't budge. He breathed hard, leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. His lips went lower, hotter, releasing a wild tongue that seesawed down my neck.
My lungs pinched shut. The stranger's hands tightened on my arms as I fell, diving deeper, giving myself to him.
“Fuck!” He laughed at my foreign curse. “Right there. That feels really good...”
God! What am I saying here? And doing!
“I got something that will make you feel much better. Here, devochka. Take a little bite of this.”
His hips fell away. I struggled to regain my balance and opened my eyes.
Blues and reds flashed across his palm from the ceiling above us, illuminating the small white pills in his hand. I looked at his eager eyes with panicked questions in mine.
“Go ahead. Take it. You'll come so hard the minute I go inside you. It won't let up until I pull out either. Take it.” The last time, he had a little more urgency in his voice.
As if to show me it was alright, he popped the pill into his own mouth. His eyes rolled as he fished in his pocket for a second pill.
His free hand ran deeper to my inner thigh, pushing my panties aside. I flushed, starving for his touch, but frightened and ashamed to be exposed like this on a public dance floor.
This isn't how I wanted it...
But everything was well into motion. What else could I do but go along with it?
Trembling, my fingers reached out, but I never got the chance to grasp the pills.
His fingers split. The young man howled in pain.
His hand disappeared and the little tablets soared high into the air.
Several couples dove to the floor as soon as they clattered to the ground, seeking the mystery drug for themselves.
I spun around, just in time to see Mikhail's fist retracting toward his body. He smiled faintly at me, and it wasn't a happy smile.
“This way, Miss Kohl. Mister Yezhov will not let you be in danger like this. His rules.” He grabbed my wrist.
Masha sputtered next to him. Her hair was wet and reeking of vodka. She cursed like an angry cat in Russian and twisted her wrist in his big hand, to no effect.
I looked behind me and saw the young man knocked out cold on the floor. I straightened my skirt, still reeling from all the changes.
I can deal with this. I can deal...
The mantra echoed in my head. As Mikhail bustled me out of the club, I started to believe it. Until I saw the small black sedan next to our limo with Dmitri and Boris inside.
Masha's father stepped out a little ahead of us and got into our car. Mikhail held the door open for me, but I just stood there, staring at the cavern where one pissed off Russian step-father was waiting for me.
“Get in,” Mikhail hissed through his teeth when I looked back at him.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Half a foot into the car, Dmitri grabbed my wrist, yanking me the rest of the way inside.
I screamed. His hands went underneath my armpits and held me close, pulling me to his chest.
“I warned you about these wolves,” he growled. “And this is how you repay me? This is how you listen?”
“You're not my father!” I spat.
I instantly regretted the words when he turned me around on his lap. Especially because I'd never known my real Dad.
The car began to roll forward. I saw Masha through the dark glass in the passenger seat, her head slumped against the leather, exhausted and defeated.
Deep in his eyes, I saw hurt. Anger. Betrayal.
“Look at you, Janie. You're dazed and confused. Dressed like a whore. And ready to give yourself up like one too. I expected better.”
His disappointment stabbed me, and it cut deep. I wanted to hit him with another quip, but the words spoken through that slick accent with such brutal precision disarmed me.
Defeated, I turned away, hating the tears surfacing in my eyes.
How could I have been so stupid? I just wanted to have a good time. Now, I have to deal with this. All because I couldn't keep my hands off that stupid pill popping boy.
The stranger's touch still lingered on my thighs. The abrupt end to our encounter left me more sexually frustrated than ever. But remembering his touch only brought disgust.
I turned around, trying to struggle out of Dmitri's lap. His hands shot around my waist and held me close as the car wound through the dark and icy streets, heading for Moscow's outskirts, where our mansion was buried among the rest of the city's wealthy homes.
Burie
d. Well, I wish I could cover this night and forget it all forever.
I hung my head limply. He spoke softly behind me, and it took me several seconds to realize he wasn't speaking to me.
I stared at our reflection. Dmitri had his phone pressed tight to his ear, looking sterner than I'd ever seen him.
“You really want me to do this?” He paused. “Yes, she's been very bad. And so have you. Mikahil barely pulled her out of danger before the clock ran out. Fine. As long as I have your cooperation. But don't think this absolves you of your punishment, Masha.”
I peered through the dark glass. Masha was on her phone, speaking quietly, her eyes turned up to the rear view mirror, following my outline in the backseat.
“I want to see Masha,” I muttered. We'd just taken a step inside, and Boris closed the door behind us.
My friend ran out ahead of us, straight for her room. I only caught a brief glimpse of her skirt swaying on the second floor as she disappeared around the corner.
The mansion felt a hundred degrees hotter than the icy, empty air outside. In here, so did my blood.
“No. Not until I deal with her,” he said, turning toward me. “It's my job to discipline my only daughter. And in this house, I'm responsible for you too. It's your turn, Janie.”
His face ticked for a second like he wanted to smile, but wouldn't allow his muscles to flex. I stared up, watching his huge arms bulge behind his jacket, like a titan sent from the heavens to command mere mortals.
And now his dominion over me was total.
Shaking, I didn't resist as his hands moved forward, wrapping warmly around me. He lifted me right out of my loose heels and carried me in his arms, down the long hallway leading toward the wing of the house that was mostly reserved for him.
I expected more tea and brutal words in the study. His hands touched the dark hose I wore on my legs. Angry energies foamed up inside me, the lightning of resistance, but also lust.
God, what a confusing fucking night this has been. I just want to bury myself in bed and black out.
Suddenly, I wished I had taken a few stiff drinks at the bar after all, or maybe that pill my immature partner offered. Mostly, I just wanted the punch to the face Mikhail had given him – anything to send me into blissful forgetfulness.
I breathed deep. Even through the outrage, there was something weirdly comforting about the Russian's scent. He smelled heavenly, spicy as smoked wood with a richer, smoother masculine overtone beneath it all.
I drank deep. If he was going to discipline me as he said, then I was going to use anything and everything to soften the blow.
I lifted my head when we were halfway across the hall. My face tilted in confusion.
We passed his study without entering. He dragged me further, toward one of the locked guestrooms I had never explored.
A small key chain jingled in his hand. We stopped in front of a dark wooden door at the end of the hall and I watched as he slid an old silver key into the lock.
He pushed the door open. Dmitri reached into the darkness and tugged the cord on an antique lamp while he gently kicked the door shut behind us.
There was a second of darkness, and then I was surrounded by...us.
My eyes darted around the room. The vast circular walls were lined with mirrors, and nearly every one was dominated by our presence.
In his arms, I looked like a little girl. He let me drop to the ground gently. I stepped forward, taking in the rest of my surroundings.
I quickly realized it wasn't any guest room I'd ever heard of. It had a fireplace, a small bathroom fixed to the side, and several cherry wood tables perfectly in line with comfort and splendor.
But then I saw the racks.
Two Medieval looking instruments with three different sized holes for head and hands. A monstrous selection of BDSM instruments hung on the wall behind them, everything from jackal-like masks to simple gags, blindfolds in black and burgundy, and giant steel phalluses formed to give pain and pleasure across the whole spectrum.
“So, you want to be a whore?” He said behind me.
I turned to look at him again, my face reddening. The slur sounded so much darker in his mouth, twisted by a sharp Russian accent and a fury boiling just below his athletic exterior.
“No!” I protested, nearly falling over myself to take a step backward.
Of course, a single step brought me closer to all the fantastic bondage gear hanging in his room, closer to that huge bed in the center, closer to him.
“Don't lie to me, little devochka. Pure young women don't go to strange clubs and let men offer them drugs and sex. Mikhail told me everything. You were on the verge of throwing yourself at that skinny little weakling. And you were enjoying his touch...”
Dmitri shook his head. I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped.
“It didn't have to come to this.” He lifted his head and grabbed me by the chin. Holding my face in his hands, he brought us closer, until his lips were only a few inches from mine.
“Remember, little devochka, you opened this door. You invited it. I let you out for a night in the city as a test. I had my suspicions something like this would happen, but I thought you'd prove me wrong.”
He smiled. A chill swept up my back, even as my cheeks warmed and blushed around his fingers.
“You are so hungry, so eager to explore, ready to throw yourself at a naked man. You think it will make you a woman, and you're right.” His face came closer, until his bottom lip was about to touch mine.
“Well, sweet devochka, you have a lot to learn. Sex corrupts and purifies in equal measure. Giving yourself to an inferior man who knows only corruption will turn you into a whore. A real man, on the other hand, knows how to transform you into something more beautiful than you ever imagined.”
His hands lifted, disappearing behind me. Dmitri kissed me deep.
My eyes sprang open in shock, and then narrowed into bright crescent moons as he poured his pleasure, his experience into me.
His kisses were hard and confident, like he'd known my lips his whole life.
The thought made me squirm in his arms, but he locked his arms around me, spreading his huge hands on my ass. He squeezed my cheeks tight, filling his hands, forcing me deeper into his grasp.
The waning rational part of my brain wanted to resist his caresses. I should've struggled away, swore at him, and stomped out of his secret bondage room.
I shouldn't have fallen into it, surrendering myself to his feral, sucking kisses and clenching hands so willingly. But his touch had a strange magic, a magnetism that distorted everything I thought I knew about myself and my young body.
Like a virgin desperate to slough off her shameful inexperience, I surrendered. I gave myself up to the hard, predatory Prince I'd admired for so long.
I began to kiss him back, gingerly licking his tongue as it coursed over my lips, before marauding deeper into my mouth. I imagined it as preview of something bigger and much more delicious sliding into me.
I raised my hands, wrapping them around his broad neck. He growled, seemingly satisfied.
The tense massage on my ass lessened. His lips parted, broke from mine, diving to my snowy neck, my cleavage.
When he reached the soft canyon where my breasts lay together, he dove deep, sucking and swirling my flesh in a way that sent brute current throbbing through me.
I jumped, jolted by the sensation. I moaned loudly into his ear, wondering why I'd never heard myself make such a desperate sound before.
You know why, a little voice said inside me. Because you've never given yourself to a man like this. You haven't sucked, fucked, or even kissed with passion. And you never imagined a god would be wrapping his steely hands around you, peppering your virgin surfaces with his heat.
Steam billowed up inside me.
Humid. Sticky. Overwhelming.
“Back over here, little devochka. The time for virgin kisses is over.” He led me to the other side of the room, not far from a p
added bench and an alcove where several huge mirrors joined together.
I looked at him tenderly, eager for more kisses. But Dmitri didn't intend to oblige until I'd given him something more.
He stood behind me, grasping me gently at first, moving one finger in Z motions along my neck. Goosebumps grew tall across my skin, spreading and burning everywhere his finger touched.
“A whore or an angel?” He asked, voice low and smothering.
I blinked at my reflection in the mirror. It wasn't easy staying conscious as his light, teasing touch moved across me like a stream, hiding his true power.
“Huh?” I sputtered, all I could manage as his movements quickened.
He pushed forward. I felt the bulge between his legs, pressed tight to my ass, thick and ripe. I gasped.
“Answer the question. What are you?”
His hand left my neck and circled to the front, rising toward my lips. His finger lingered at the corner of my lips, tempting me to kiss and bite.
“Maybe both,” I whispered, lost in my thoughts.
His free hand returned to my neck, pinching it fast and hard, a cruel cousin of his lighter touch. My face tightened in alarm.
“Unacceptable. You're undecided, my precious virgin, and that's exactly the problem. Only one way to find out...”
He grabbed the back of my blouse and pulled. Hard.
The shearing fabric echoed off the glassy walls. I whimpered, surprised as he tore it all the way to my belt.
His hands rolled on my arms, shoving the remains of my clothing away. His restless fingers went straight for my bra clasp, unbinding it as aggressively as he'd torn my shirt.
I choked, sputtered again, simultaneously horrified and enchanted. My bra popped away, and he wasn't done, tearing at my clothes like the prized tiger hanging in his study.
He shredded my skirt. His rough hands nearly split it clean in two, and it fell limply off my legs.
“What are you doing, Dmitri?”
He stopped, fingers positioned at the waistband to my panties. My legs trembled, expecting him to dive to my most private place any second.
But he wasn't going to give me that satisfaction just yet.
“Don't call me that. If you won't call me Mister Yezhov, then I'll have to settle for sir.” His hand left the steaming, wet place between my legs and smoothed its way over my neck. He grasped my hair in a tight fist and yanked it toward the floor.
