“Not exactly.” She shuddered. “But something touched my foot.”
Chuckling, he carried her under the pagoda and sat in a chair, settling her in his lap. He wrapped a towel around her, drying her off and checking her now-sandy toe for marks, although it was clear he wouldn’t find any. He remembered sitting here with his friends less than a year ago and showing them her picture, and bemoaning his fate. Now here she was on his lap, and he wouldn’t trade her for all of the girls in the world who were supposedly “his type.” Now his type was Varushka.
“You’re okay. Your toe is fine.”
“I know,” she murmured into his neck. “But I like sitting on your lap.”
“You’re trapped here with me. I’m far more likely to eat you than a shark is.”
She smiled at him shyly. “I might scream.”
“If you don’t, I’ll try harder.”
The girl blushed and pushed her face in his shoulder.
His heart felt light and floaty, like Varushka had felt in his arms in the ocean. “You make me happy, little bird.”
She smiled sunnily, her even teeth and dimples flashing at him. “Are you sure? You seemed cross with me in the house. You made me crawl on the floor.”
“Oh, I wasn’t angry.” When he saw she was confused, he went on. “I was turned on, and doing those things to you, and you allowing it, pleases me.” He stroked her damp hair back from her face.
“You like bossing me around and being mean.”
“You don’t like it?” he asked with concern. Maybe he’d been misreading her acquiescence as enthusiasm.
“I—” She started a slow squirm in his lap. Unable to resist, he cupped one of her breasts, enjoying the way her nipple responded to him immediately. She sighed with pleasure as he ran his thumb over it. “I do like it. I don’t know why, but you being the boss of me makes me want you more.”
“You want me?”
She bit her lip and nodded, staring into his eyes. “Sir, is it true that hardly any girls in America are virgins when they get married?”
Maybe he wasn’t the person to be asking. He had a vested interest in convincing her sex before marriage was normal. “That doesn’t matter. It’s your body. It’s up to you.”
“I think if so many people here are having sex before their wedding, they can’t all be going to Hell. Maybe they tell girls that so we don’t get pregnant before we’re married, but you know how to keep that from happening.”
“We can wait, Varushka.”
“Maybe I don’t want to wait,” she said, frowning. “I know your cock doesn’t want to.”
He wanted to throw her onto the table and take her—feel her tight body clutching at him as she wriggled and squealed her way through the million orgasms he wanted to force out of her. What he wanted didn’t matter, though, not that his dick was listening. It had to be prodding her ass.
“Your body wants mine, but mine wants yours too.” She smiled deviously. “Will you show me how to pleasure you with my mouth today?”
He groaned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” He’d last about half a minute before it’d go off like a fire hose.
“You don’t like that idea?” Her ass was rocking slowly against him, forcing him to respond and move with her.
“I like it too much. I’ll end up coming in your pretty mouth.”
They rubbed against each other for a few minutes, until Konstantin couldn’t stand any more.
Her mini growl of frustration was adorable. “I don’t really know what that would be like, but if it’s not bad for me, I don’t care.”
Shit. Since they’d started fooling around together, he’d gone down on her several times, but had never suggested she reciprocate. The idea of her taking him in her mouth had seemed too much to ask of her, but if she was offering . . . He was a human being, not a saint.
“You can try it if you want. I’ll put my hands behind my head so I don’t grab your hair,” he said, more to himself than her.
She slid off his lap, and tugged at the ties on his shorts, unlacing them. “You can grab my hair, Sir. I like it.”
Hell.
He helped her free his cock from his shorts, and smiled at the way she sank back on her heels and stared at it like it was possibly a girl-eating snake in disguise.
“How am I supposed to fit that whole thing in my mouth?” she asked incredulously.
Could he even explain a blow job? His first girlfriend in high school had figured it out without directions. Maybe he should have shown Varushka a video of that too.
“Uh . . .” Knowing her, if he told her to do whatever she thought was right, she’d end up doing something bizarre. She was too sheltered not to give her at least some direction. “You don’t have to put the whole thing in at once. Just lick and suck. Avoid using your teeth.”
“If it’s called a blow job, how come I’m not supposed to blow?”
He barely caught his laugh before it escaped. It was bad form to laugh at a girl who was about to take his dick into her mouth.
“You just aren’t.”
“Okay.” She exhaled nervously, then prodded his cock with her finger.
“Be nice. If you hurt me on purpose, I’ll punish you.”
Her eyes widened, and he caught a flare of lust there.
“I should be careful with my teeth,” she repeated.
He nodded.
Carefully, Varushka wrapped a hand around his cock. He was about ready to crawl out of his skin. She kissed the very tip of it so lightly that he gritted his teeth. A drop of precum beaded there, and the tip of her tongue flicked out to taste him. He shivered and she grinned up at him. Damn. The girl was getting his number way too fast.
“I like how you taste,” she whispered.
Was it bad to cry while getting a blow job? She was going to fucking kill him at this rate. Impatiently, he buried a fist in her hair. When she gasped, he slid his cock partway into her open mouth.
“Suck,” he commanded, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.
She complied, and her eyes narrowed to slits, like a sleepy, pleased cat. Without any more prompting from him, she swirled her tongue and sucked on him, making him clutch convulsively at her hair. She gasped and moaned on his cock, and the vibration forced him to struggle to catch his breath.
Her enthusiasm made up for her lack of finesse. The arousal in her gaze grew as she watched his reactions, nearing the limits of his control. Looking determined, she forced her way down onto his cock, then gagged, her eyes watering. She pulled off him, gasping for breath, then forced herself down again. Konstantin let go of her hair and dug his fingers into the wooden arms of his chair.
“Stop, Varushka.”
Through streaming tears, she pulled off of him. “No.”
“You’re going to get a mouthful,” he warned.
The girl forced herself down on him again. He stroked her hair, but then his jaw locked and his head dropped back as she wedged him farther into her throat. She gagged again and he went off, helpless to stop himself. Pleasure and relief swept through him as he emptied into her. Seconds later she pushed away, and went to her hands and knees, wheezing. She heaved once, but was okay after that.
He pulled her into his lap and petted her, cleaning her up with the towel that had fallen off of her at some point. Her red face and runny eyes were somehow hotter than all of the well-practiced blow jobs he’d gotten in his life. There was something so vulnerable about everything she did with him, and the lack of pretence made him value all of it more.
“Are you okay?”
Varushka coughed and looked at him from under lowered brows. “It came out my nose.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No you aren’t.” She started to laugh. “You warned me.”
“Next time swallow faster.”
She glowered at him adorably and swatted his arm. He should have reprimanded her, but he was too relaxed. Instead, he cuddled her to his chest and enjoyed the
way she felt, warm and soft, and burrowed against him.
“Did I do it okay?”
His chuckle was pained. “If you did it any better, baby girl, you would have killed me.”
Although she squirmed, they stayed cuddled up that way until she finally grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand between her legs. Apparently someone wasn’t done with him.
Chapter Nine
She was not done with him!
How could he make her so needy, then just . . . cuddle her? She growled in frustration when he pulled his hand away from between her legs.
“You need to practice some self-control, Varushka.” He lifted her to her feet, then stood as well.
She pouted up at him. “But why do I need self-control?” Had he expected his other girlfriends to just wait around for him to use them? Was this part of the BDSM experience? If so, she wasn’t so sure she was cut out for it. He’d awakened something inside her and he had to deal with the consequences of that.
Staring down at her, he said, “Because it’s not your job to say where or when you get pleasure.” He took her hand and towed her toward the bedroom.
She had the urge to stomp her feet and scream but thought that might earn her a spanking. Though she liked them, at times, right now she had interest in only one thing.
“But . . .”
He silenced her with a stern look over his shoulder. After marching her into their shared room, he placed her outside the attached bathroom door. “I’m going to take a shower and you’re going to kneel here and wait for me like a good girl. Aren’t you?”
Unable to help herself, she glared up at him. This was not fair. Bratty or not, she couldn’t hold back her feelings.
In an instant, he had her bent over the bed. She yelped but he pinned her with a hand on her lower back.
Then he spanked her. She winced into the mattress and gripped the sheets. He kept going. She cried out. He hit her harder.
“I’m sorry!” she shouted and kicked her feet.
He continued for a few more then he stopped. Her bottom stung and she wanted to rub it but was too afraid it would make him start again. A second later, he pulled her up by the arm and arched a brow at her.
“You don’t glare at me, little girl.”
She nodded, feeling sorry for herself probably more than she should. But it was hard to be contrite when her clit ached for attention.
“What should you say when I give you a command?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Gently, he stroked a hand down her hair, then paused, cupping her cheek. How could he be so rough one moment then so gentle the next?
“That’s better,” he said, smiling slightly. “Back to your position.”
On shaky legs, she lowered herself to the floor, kneeling outside the bathroom. She was to stay here while he showered? But her body needed relief now!
With almost exaggerated slowness, Konstantin undressed, then ran the shower water, whistling tunelessly. The sting of her ass didn’t curb her frustration like it probably ought to have. He seemed to be torturing her on purpose.
Her pussy was wet and slippery against her heels. She squirmed, then gasped at how sensitive she was. It’d be so easy to slip a hand down and relieve herself. She’d finish before Kon had even washed his hair. He’d told her she was not to pleasure herself without his permission, but he wouldn’t know if she was quick and quiet about it, would he?
Besides, this was all his fault. He’d used her mouth, then tossed her aside like she was nothing. He really couldn’t expect her to ignore her desperate need, and the throb between her legs. She snorted to herself. He certainly hadn’t complained about her fixing the need between his legs.
The more she thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. She’d ignore his rules just this once and he’d be none the wiser. Her fingers slipped down her belly to the heat of her pussy. She thought back to the way he’d felt in her mouth. His cock down her throat, his hand in her hair, the way he took control of her . . .
Little moans escaped her but she tried to keep quiet. Her eyes drifted shut as she stroked around her needy clit, teasing herself the way he did it, even though it felt better when it was his rough fingers instead of her own.
The way he’d gasped when he came replayed in her head. It was the sexiest noise she’d ever heard, and she’d been the one to make that happen. The heaviness in her lower abdomen increased, making her squirm and whimper.
The shower would turn off any minute. She had to hurry.
Desperate, she pinched her clit hard the way Konstantin sometimes did. She imagined the way he said “come for me” when he knew she was about to orgasm, the husky growl making her teeter on the edge for a long moment before she tipped over the edge.
She came, falling to brace herself on one hand while the other took a crueler grip on her clit hood and dug her nails into it. After so much frustration, her orgasm went on for so long, she was afraid the tremors would never stop. When the small shocks finally subsided, she opened her eyes and gasped.
A pair of legs were only about a foot away, covered in little droplets of water. She looked up, terrified. Konstantin stared down at her, arms crossed over his chest.
“Chyort,” she whispered.
He nodded in agreement.
Yes, she was fucked. She whimpered, frowning up at him. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“You will be.” He didn’t look that angry, only serious as he left her there and walked across the room to retrieve something from the closet.
Trembling, she asked, “Are you going to punish me?”
As he sifted through the closet, he said, “Were you supposed to touch yourself?”
“No, Sir, but—”
“Do you really want to make this worse by making up excuses?”
She sealed her mouth shut and stared down at the ground. Her eyes watered. Guilt twisted in chest, made worse by the feeling of euphoric afterglow that she’d stolen and hadn’t asked him for. She’d disappointed him. She should have followed the rules. It wasn’t like there were that many. And he probably would have pleasured her eventually, if she’d just waited. What would he do to her now? She was too afraid to look up to find out.
A moment later, she heard the bed creak under his weight. “Come here, slave.”
The word made her shudder with anticipation, fear, and deep arousal. She hesitated a moment, not wanting to go to him while he was irritated, and not sure whether she should walk or crawl. Taking a guess, she crawled to him, trying not to let her tears fall. She should take her punishment like the tough girl she was and not be a baby about it.
Once she reached his feet, she stopped and knelt, still staring at the ground.
He placed something under her chin, then pushed her head up with it. As her head tilted up, she saw it was a thick wooden cane. A shiver ran through her. Was that what he was going to use to punish her?
Afraid, she couldn’t stop the tears anymore.
“Do you think you deserve to be punished?” he asked, placing the cane across his legs.
Sobbing now, she nodded, trying to keep her gaze on him, though her vision was blurry. Maybe he’d see her regret and change his mind. Could she take a cane on her skin? He hadn’t used anything more than his hand yet and even that had hurt.
After he watched her a long moment, he took her hair in a gentle grip and leaned down so his face was inches from hers. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t give you more than you can handle.”
She tried to nod but he was still holding her hair.
“Do you trust your Master?”
Master? She hiccupped once, then calmed her shaky breaths. He’d never called himself that before. But the title felt right. There was no question that he’d mastered her.
She’d displeased him and as her Master, he had the right to punish her. Through her fear, there was a sense of safety there. She trusted him to take care of her. But that cane looked so evil. Did he even know how much she could take? Woul
d he break her—unintentionally?
“I . . . I trust you . . .” At the last second, she added, “Master.” She hoped her trembling voice didn’t give away her doubt.
He didn’t say anything for a moment and when she raised her eyes to his, he was grinning. At the chance to punish her?
“I like hearing that word coming from your beautiful mouth,” he admitted.
She gave him a shaky smile. Couldn’t they be friends now?
His smile faded and he traded it for a grim frown. “Get on the bed.”
Her shoulders drooped, her chest filling with dread. Slowly, she rose, then climbed up on the bed.
“Forehead on the bed, ass in the air,” he ordered.
She obeyed, feeling so open and vulnerable this way. Everything was on display and he was holding a wooden stick. She started to cry again.
It whooshed through the air once . . . twice. She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally preparing herself for the pain.
Nothing happened. Her chest tightened, waiting. Was this part of the torture? If so, it was especially cruel.
Still nothing. She dared to open her eyes. Had he left?
No. She could see his shadow against the wall where her head was turned. He was just standing there, staring, still holding that damned stick.
“Master?” she squeaked.
Finally, he sighed, loud and aggravated. The stick dropped onto the bed and he hovered over her.
“I can’t be distant with you,” he said.
What? Would he not punish her now?
He pulled her so she was kneeling upright, then gazed down at her. “This is my usual punishment for naughty slaves but . . .” He shook his head, as if he were annoyed with himself. “You aren’t like other girls and I just can’t make myself do it.”
She felt her eyes widen. “So you’re not going to—”
“Oh, you’ll still be punished.” With that, he yanked her down the bed, then positioned her over his knee. “Ah, yes.” He rubbed his hand over her ass. “This is much better.”
Some of the fear ebbed, though she knew his hand could do quite a bit of damage to her poor skin too. Ultimately, she knew she needed this. She needed him to follow through. Konstantin came with discipline—it was part of the package. Without it, their relationship would feel . . . wrong. Even though she was nervous, and sad she upset him, she wanted the punishment.
To Have and to Master Page 13
