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I swiveled my own eyes over to Papa Nicolai. Notice everything, I told myself. I didn’t have the easiest time concentrating, with Ivan’s hard cock an inch from my face—and it got much harder right then because the henchman snarled something else in Russian, which I knew just from the sound of the words must be directed at me rather than his boss. He accompanied the harsh words with a sudden movement of his right hand: he reached out and seized the back of my head, twining his fingers in my blonde hair.
My mouth had remained open: that came from my training, and if it had in fact been one of my daddies who had given me the command to get ready to suck his cock, it would have been the same. Obeying that way, instinctively and consistently, just represented a part of owning my body’s wanton needs.
Ivan started to thrust his hips forward; I could see the red-brown head of his penis coming closer, and I knew he meant just to take my mouth by force, as I felt sure he had done with reluctant girls before.
“Nyet,” Papa Nicolai said in a cold voice. That was one Russian word I knew, at least. The warlord’s face had a cruel look on it: narrow eyes and the barest hint of a thin-lipped smile. To my dismay, Papa Nicolai had a handsome face, as attractive as Daddy John’s really. He reminded me of old paintings of noblemen and kings—I thought I remembered a picture of Peter the Great, imposing and dark, that this criminal resembled.
I knew my fate probably hung on Papa Nicolai’s intelligence—and on my being able to outwit him in the end, thanks to knowing more than he did. If I had a glimmer of hope at doing that, it needed to start here. I looked into the man’s dark eyes and saw calculation, and I thought I had a shot.
What happened next confirmed my hope for the moment at least. The warlord looked back at me, and he said, his voice precisely pitched a minor third lower than his usual speaking tone, “Answer Papa Ivan. Are you hot to suck a big Russian cock, slut?”
I gave myself to the play I had made, then. I closed my mouth, as if having been given this countermanding order to speak, I had no choice. I turned my face into a mask of mortified, submissive woe, and I looked up at Ivan with wide eyes.
“Yes, Papa,” I lied. “I’m so hot to suck your cock.”
