Trafficked

by Alexis Abbott

  So young, so vulnerable, and all mine.

  My tongue strokes her lower lips, diving in and going deep, tasting her arousal. Immediately, a yelp escapes her, and I have to hold her tight to keep her from squirming.

  “Careful, girl,” I warn her. “Keep squirming, and I might have to use those restraints to teach you a lesson.”

  That seems to scare her into being still, but at the same time, I can’t help but notice the next few strokes of my tongue taste more of her honey than there was before. I growl into her as I stroke, thinking that I might have to see how she likes being bound up for me later.

  My tongue dives into her over and over and draws out honey to cover her pussy, making it ready for me. The tip brushes against her clit, and I’m surprised by how swollen and needy that sensitive nub is.

  When I taste it, I feel her thighs squeeze against the sides of my head. It’s a delightful feeling, so I indulge it. My tongue tortures that nub, flicking out of my mouth over and over to make her writhe in my grasp. My face and beard are glistening with her honey, and I know that if I keep up like this, she’ll come before much longer.

  I fan her flames, letting more of my inhibitions go as I lick her clit, and just before I feel her spill over the edge of orgasm… I draw back. She gasps, looking down at me with betrayal on her face.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she whimpers.

  “No, solnyshko,” I growl, chuckling. “No, I want your first time to be with me in you.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she nods eagerly, even as her face burns with shame for being so eager for my cock. She draws her legs back, and the way she looks all curled up and naked is the most tempting sight I’ve seen in my life.

  “What does that mean?” she asks as I stand up on my knees and slowly wrap my hands around her legs, prying them apart and resting them on my shoulders. “That word you called me?”

  “Solnyshko,” I repeat, stroking her thighs gently with my rough hands. “It means ‘little sun.’ Do you like that?”

  She nods softly, licking her lips.

  “What should I call you?” she asks, eager to please.

  I press the tip of my cock to her wet, welcoming pussy, and she gasps, looking down at the thick trunk threatening to impale her.

  “‘Sir’ will do,” I rumble, and I enter her.

  She lets out a ragged, relieved moan of pleasure as my cock pushes through her petals and deep into her wet, young folds. My instincts have taken over entirely, and I feel the overwhelming pleasure of being buried within a fresh, fertile young woman who is desperate for my seed. She almost seems to melt before me, and if I weren’t guiding her, she would be nothing but a quivering mess of pleasure and wetness.

  I grasp her hips and start rocking into her, slowly at first, but to my surprise, she pushes up to match me. I give her a warning squeeze, but that doesn’t stop her.

  “You are greedy, solnyshko,” I growl, holding her tight. “You are lucky I like you, or I might chide you for being so insolent.”

  “I can’t help it, sir,” she pleads, gripping the sheets. “I need you. I never knew I could need anything like this before!”

  “You do not know what you need,” I rumble. “But you will learn, girl.”

  I reach forward and grope her breasts, and between the cock lodged deep in her and my hands squeezing her breasts, she is utterly overwhelmed. I go slow at first, letting her match my pace with her hips as I thrust into her and feel my bulging crown grind against the innermost depths of her pussy. But each minute, I get a little faster, and my steady rhythm gets faster in a steady, careful incline.

  It is not surprising that she is a fast learner. I don’t have to wait for her. She keeps up with me better than many experienced people I have been with, and she doesn’t even realize it. I pinch her nipples and play with her breasts while I fuck into her harder and faster, and soon, I feel my tightness ready to release. I am never on autopilot. I control every twinge and twitch, moving her when she needs it and holding her down when she tries to get too rebellious.

  It takes little time for her to be ready to release. I can tell that this will be strong, so I prepare myself to release with her, to build up her confidence with a man she can lean on and trust to be more experienced to guide her. I’m this girl’s protector, and I will be her teacher as well.

  “I… I think I… oh god!” she breathes, and she starts to come as she seizes fists full of the sheets and thrusts her hips up.

  I release her breasts and grab her hips, and I start rutting into her on raw instinct alone. The tense pleasure in my cock is white-hot for an instant before I feel it spooling into the orgasm, and then, it hits.

  A thick shot of my potent seed pumps into her body, and she cries out aloud as we come together. One shot after the other, I fill her up, holding her down and making her mine. Her virginity is an offering to me, and I am greedy for it.

  When it’s over, she’s still swimming in bliss, barely aware that the golden glow has come over her. Still stiff, I lean over and kiss my way from her stomach across her breasts to her neck and lips, and one final twitch empties the last of my seed into her virgin pussy.

  “You did very good,” I assure her, stroking her hair when our kiss breaks. “Good girl.”

  “Oh my god,” she breathes, her voice weak. “That was… incredible, Vladimir.”

  I chuckle, taking her chin again as we cuddle together, lost in each other.

  “With you, solnyshko, I have not even gotten started.”

  Autumn

  I can’t believe I just did that.

  Any of that.

  It still feels like some crazy dream I might wake up from at any moment.

  I lie flat on my back on the gigantic cushy mattress, the bed sheets coiled haphazardly like some giant snake at my side. My chest is heaving, my bare breasts rising and falling with every deep, shuddering breath.

  It feels as though my entire body is in a state of shock, but it isn’t scary. It isn’t painful. Sure, there is an ache deep in my muscles and bones that I’m sure will hang around for the next few hours at least, but it isn’t at all unpleasant.

  I just feel full.

  Whole.

  Complete.

  Like I have been waiting my entire life for this moment to arrive. Something has changed inside of me. I’m new and shiny and reborn—a woman now, no longer just some naive little girl. And it’s Vladimir who held my hand as we walked together through that final great barrier. I turn over on my side, propping my chin on my wrist as I watch my big, strong hulk of a man slowly stretch and languidly reach for a towel from inside one of the built-in cupboards along the glossy wall. He glances over at me with lidded eyes, that same fire still there like before, only now it’s less of an inferno and more like the soft, cozy smoldering of coals.

  He grants me a gift in the form of a tender smile which floods my heart with warmth and affection. I don’t know how he did it, but somehow, I feel closer to this man, this near-stranger, than I have ever felt with anyone else before. I feel as though Vladimir is a part of me now, an irreparable change that has transformed us both into new versions of the people we used to be.

  Vladimir sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress bowing under his weight. I wriggle closer to him, still achy and sticky with his come. He lifts one muscular arm and I duck under it, snuggling up to his chest and peering up into his sharp features with my wide, adoring eyes. He presses a soft kiss into my forehead and I can’t help but smile.

  “You are so incredibly beautiful, you know that?” he murmurs to me in a gravelly voice.

  I shake my head, averting my gaze as a blush spreads across my cheeks.

  “You must know,” he insists gently. “How could a girl with the face of an angel and the body of a siren have no idea how gorgeous she is? You are not just any common beauty, you are a rarity, Autumn. You are the rose that survives the harsh winter to bloom with even more resplendence in the following spring.”

&nb
sp; “Wow,” I whisper, genuinely flattered and impressed. “You’re awfully poetic for a man who carries a gun in his coat pocket.”

  He smirks, a twinkle in his eye as he looks down at me. “Don’t judge a book by its cover. Is that not the saying you Americans use?” he replies, almost teasing.

  “Yeah. Or don’t judge a man by his firearm, I suppose would be more accurate,” I giggle. But my laugh extends into a long, drawn-out sigh of a yawn. It dawns on me just how very exhausted I am.

  “You are fatigued,” Vladimir points out, with perfect accuracy, as usual.

  “I’m a little tired, yes,” I admit with a shrug. “Nothing I can’t survive.”

  “A girl of your age needs her beauty rest,” he says. There’s a note of an almost paternal concern in his voice that makes me feel all warm and tingly all over my body.

  “I’ve pulled a lot of all-nighters in my time,” I tell him with a smile. “Mostly in the university library during exams season. I used to lock myself into one of those designated study cells, put up some black curtains to block out the light and clear away distractions, and just force myself to pore over dusty old books and translations for hours and hours on end. I would come prepared with an electric kettle so I could make endless cups of tea, a little basket of small healthy snacks, and of course my treasured leather-bound notebooks and particular fountain pens in all different colors. Green for poetry. Blue for history. Black for prose.”

  “Sounds as though you were a very organized student. I imagine you made very good grades,” Vladimir remarks.

  Again, a rush of pride warms my soul, and it hits me just how delicious it feels to hear this man old enough to be my father telling me how good I am, how beautiful and unique and strong and clever I am in his eyes. I can’t help but lap it up ravenously. I never realize or acknowledge how desperately I crave the validation of a respected authority figure until moments like this, when I get what my heart has been aching for, and it feels better than any accomplishment or gift or orgasm ever could.

  Well, almost as good as an orgasm. I can’t deny that my climax with Vladimir has far outreached my previous heights of pleasure, probably because all those other times, I was alone. Just my hands and my thoughts and an inexpert, nervous exploration of my own body. I don’t think of myself as a prude or even as especially self-conscious about my body and what it looks like, what it feels like, but there’s no pretending it isn’t a massive upgrade climaxing by someone else’s hand rather than by my own.

  “Were you, Autumn? Were you a very good student?” he prompts me, that twinkle still glistening in his eye. I bite my lip and nod, sensing that there’s some kind of underlying sexual edge to his query.

  “Yes, sir,” I murmur, playing along. “I was a very good student. A good girl.”

  He smiles, looking like a cat who’d just caught a mouse in his teeth.

  “I bet you were,” he growls, tapping me on the tip of my nose. Then he gets to his feet and groans as he stretches again, handing me the towel he plucked from the cupboard. “Here. You can get yourself cleaned up. I’m sure you have already found and made use of the ensuite bathroom over there. You can shower, even take a bath if you would like.”

  “And what about you? Where are you going?” I ask, almost pouting as I scoot to the edge of the bed and blink up at him expectantly.

  He sighs, looking every bit as tired as I am. “I must keep watch. A man in my line of… work… has to be on his guard all of the time,” he grunts.

  “But you need your rest, too,” I insist. “Just lie down with me. We can take a little cat nap. We’ve both been awake for way too long. And I-I don’t want to be without you, Vladimir. I just feel much safer when you’re around.”

  I can tell my words are having an effect on him. He looks almost convinced by my pleading. That same muscle is twitching faintly in his jaw, telling me that he is weighing his options, thinking it over. Finally, he relents, giving me a nod and a pat on the cheek.

  “You are very persuasive, malyshka. I can see how you must have been very successful in your school essays,” he comments as he slides back into bed with me.

  I gleefully flop over on my side and wiggle up against his chest, his arms folding over me in a protective embrace. I can feel the smooth, tight layers of rippling muscle and sinew of his body, curling around me as though I am something so precious and delicate I require his protection. I have to admit, it feels fantastic. I’m not particularly accustomed to the feeling of being taken care of.

  Ever since I was a little girl and I lost both of my parents, I have had to grow up too quickly. My childhood was never very innocent. The long, painful years of my adolescence were marked by one disinterested, loveless foster home to the next. I never felt as though there was much of a threat to my safety, but I never once felt comfortable either, much less loved. I have learned to take care of myself, to not lean on anyone else, because nobody and nowhere in this world means forever.

  But there’s just something about being cradled in the powerful, capable arms of a handsome older man like Vladimir that gives me a faint shimmer of what forever might feel like. What true affection might feel like. He makes me feel safe and relaxed, even though the circumstances surrounding our encounter are undeniably dangerous. There’s a part of me that knows I, too, should be on my guard, but it’s stamped out by the part of me that is so hungry and desperate for a sense of belonging that I melt into Vladimir’s embrace happily and freely. And with that warm, tingly glow surrounding me like an aura of protection, I quickly drift off to sleep…

  Don’t stop. Please, please, for the love of god… don’t stop.

  I beg him, my eyes shining and stinging with tears of rapture as his rough, calloused fingertips slide down the smooth, nearly-virginal flesh of my body. He traces abstract shapes and ancient sigils into my skin, pressing hard on the tender bruises and aches of my back, stretching me out like some calfskin canvas, only alive and so, so much sweeter to the ink. His fingernails, clipped short as they are, still drag tantalizing pink lines down from my shoulder blades down along my arching spine to the widening canal of my hips. I sigh and roll my hips as his large hands slip around to cup my ass, squeezing them in his hands, palming them with a desperation and a hunger that makes me weak in the knees. I can feel the tingling burn between my legs that begs me to beg him, and I know if I ask him nicely enough, he will grant me the most precious gift he can offer me: pleasure.

  Suddenly, I feel hot oil drizzled down the length of my smooth back, and my skin prickles up in tiny chill bumps in response. Vladimir, hovering over me like some great horned demon in his shadowy cloak and heavy brows, sucks in a tight breath. It is taking all of his restraint to move slowly, to lull himself into the same languid rhythm he’s lured me into. His hands press into my shivering flesh, massaging away the aches and pains with the firm heel of his hand or careful pressure from his fingertips. He works me over so capably, so expertly, as though he alone holds the manual on how to please my particular body. He knows my every erogenous zone by heart, by instinct, by name.

  My cheek rests against the pillow, my eyes heavily-lidded and nearly shut. Open just enough to see the flickering white candles all around the room, casting a golden glow over us both. I can feel his hands gradually, teasingly making their way down toward my ass and thighs. He smooths down the backs of my legs with his rough hands, giving me shivers and tingles of pure delight as he goes. I sigh and moan, my teeth biting the soft pillow as his hands slide deftly between my thighs, wedging them open so he can dip down and softly breathe in my distinctive sweet scent. He hums his appreciation as he noses between my legs from behind, his hands still sensually massaging my aching thighs while he extends an exploratory tip of his tongue to taste my slick folds. I whimper and spread my legs wider, rutting gently against the sheets while he licks and sucks at my pussy lips, lapping up my sticky sweetness as though it is the finest dessert a man could order.

  Oh, it feels so good. So soft and
slow and rhythmic. His tongue lathing up and down the length of my fragrant cunny while I arch my back and push back gently against him, moaning and begging incoherently for more. He groans against my clit, sending exquisite spirals of pleasure up through my body. Every nerve and muscle in my body is so relaxed. I feel completely open, totally safe, as long as I place my body and my heart in the competent hands of my protector. He is so wise and experienced, there is no man better to guide me along the path of my life, giving me pleasure and special attention all the while. He knows just how to please me, exactly the way I like it. He anticipates my every need before even I am aware of it. As he continues to slowly devour my pulsing flower, I dance closer and closer to the edge, my pleasure mounting higher and higher with every flick of his tongue or suck of his lips…

  “Mmm. Vladimir,” I mumble, the heavy syllables of his name clumsy but delicious in my mouth as my body wakes up. I feel a twinge of regret as my sugar-sweet dream starts to fall away before I get a chance to finish.

  “No, don’t go. Come back,” I whisper, but it’s no use. The dream is over.

  My eyes flutter open and I sigh. A shiver runs down my spine and I realize I’m a little chilly now, goosebumps covering my skin. I roll over in bed, hoping to find Vladimir there beside me, but when I see that his side of the bed is empty, my heart sinks. Worry instantly floods my thoughts and I sit up straight in bed, looking frantically around the room. Suddenly, I feel so naked and exposed and unsafe. I need to be with Vladimir to feel good again.

  “Vladimir?” I call out, my voice trembling slightly. “Are you there?”

  I listen for the sound of the shower, but I hear nothing. He’s not down here. That means he must be up on the top deck, right? I mean, we’re drifting out on the open water. There aren’t exactly all too many places for a man well over six feet tall to hide.

  So, wrapping a sheet around myself in an act of sudden modesty, I trundle into the ensuite bathroom to tidy myself up. I almost snort with laughter when I see my hair in the mirror, tangled and sticking up in every direction. It looks like I took a tumble down a wind tunnel or something.