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So, I do nothing but stare at the wall.
“Mr. Slavik. Mrs. Slavik. This is quite new for me. I don’t share my property, ever. You want a taste of my slave?”
Mrs. Slavik raises her eyebrow in curiosity. Mr. Slavik nods his head. “I do, Mr. Fernandez.”
“I will agree to fucking her here, against this wall, in front of you. You may look, you may touch with your hands, but you will not be fucking her. Do you understand?”
Mr. Slavik licks his lips, running his hand over his dark, gray tinted hair. “Yes, Mr. Fernandez. I understand very well.”
“Very well.” Santiago says, grabbing onto my shoulders and having me face the wall, my back to the toilet. Santiago leans down into my ear. “You be a good girl, Ivy. You be a good girl and maybe you will get a reward for your behavior.”
There is no such thing as a reward when it comes to Santiago.
His hands drop to my thighs, grazing up and taking my dress with it. He bunches it around my hips, exposing my back and front to Mr. and Mrs. Slavik on my left. Mr. Slavik lets out a grunt of appreciation as he looks me over.
He turns to his wife and mumbles something in Russian. She looks me over, nodding in agreement.
I can hear the clanking of Santiago undoing his black pressed pants. A damp line of sweat breaks out on my upper lip and I have to blink back tears of this new unknown.
“Place your hands on the wall.” Santiago orders.
I do as I’m told, pressing my hands on the dark brown wall in front of me. Santiago’s fingers dig between my cheeks, giving my legs a little slap to open wider. I spread my legs, giving him easier access. His fingers slip between my folds, expertly maneuvering between each dip and fold like he’s done a million times. He’s become a master of my private parts.
Embarrassingly, my body has also been trained to grow wet where Santiago is concerned. It took a while to train myself to do so, but Santiago would get angry with the lack of lubrication. Through enough lashings and beatings, my body knows that the moment Santiago touches me, it becomes drenched.
My scent fills the room, and I can see out of the corner of my eye as Mr. Slavik runs his hands over the top of his dress slacks.
“Good girl, Ivy.” Santiago says as he slips in from behind. I close my eyes; glad I’m facing the wall today. I can pretend I’m somewhere else, even as my body rocks to Santiago’s thrusts. He keeps one hand on my hip and his other hand circles around and holds onto my stomach. When another hand grazes the top of my dress, my eyes fly open.
“Calm down, slave. I was given orders. Only touch.” Mr. Slavik says, pulling down the top of my corsette roughly. My breasts spill out of the top, and Mr. Slavik pulls at my left nipple painfully, lust exuding from him growing by the second.
“My wife will fuck me while I watch your master fuck you, slave.”
I swallow, my throat having to work extra hard. I keep my gaze focused on the wall in front of me as Santiago slides in and out from behind. Mr. Slavik keeps pulling at my nipples, rolling them between his fingers and grunting with the effort.
“Watch Mr. Slavik fuck his wife, Ivy.” Santiago orders. I have to force myself to turn my head, watching as Mr. Slavik props himself up on the blue counter. Mrs. Slavik crouches above him, her dress pulled up around her waist as well. Her legs are bend and spread wide, and I watch as Mr. Slavik’s cock slams into Mrs. Slavik, fast and aggressive. He slams into her repeatedly, and I feel embarrassed as I watch like I’ve never watched before. My eyes are so close, I could reach out and touch where they come together if I wished. If I weren’t in a situation where I wasn’t trapped, held against my will, maybe it’s something I would consider.
His wet, thick member pulls apart her dark folds. Just as the head is about to poke out from inside of her, I watch as it slides back in. Back and forth it goes, all the way to his balls which sit heavy and full at the base of his cock. I can see her clit, thick and swollen, peeking out from its hood.
But as Santiago and Mr. Slavik begin thrusting in the same motion, and Mr. Slavik pulls at my nipples, my brain shuts down. I keep my gaze focused on where they connect, but my mind goes dark, as it always does when Santiago calls for me.
I feel a zing and my focus comes back. Mrs. Slavik bounces, scowling heavily at me with her movements. Her accent is so thick, I can barely understand her. “You will come, slave.” I believe is what she says, although it sounds more like, “Kew veal cahm, slah-vay.”
I scream at her internally.No.
I realize her finger is pressed on my clit. She moves it quickly. Tirelessly. Roughly, but not painfully. “You will come.” She repeats.
I squeeze my eyes shut painfully, not liking the sudden feeling growing inside of me. This is not something Santiago requests of me, and it is not something that I have ever believed I could force on myself. But as Mrs. Slavik rubs at my clit, and Mr. Slavik pulls at my nipple, and Santiago thrusts into me from behind, I feel a separation from my mind and my sensations.
The sensations win.
I squeeze my eyes shut painfully and clench my teeth as hard as I can as an orgasm rips through me. I can feel Santiago speed up as he races towards his own release, spasming against my walls and emptying inside of me.
“Fuck.” Mr. Slavik says, sounding more like “Fawk.” As he pistons inside of Mrs. Slavik, who is already letting out little moans, releasing my own clit to focus on her own.
“Yes, slave.” Mrs. Slavik moans, tilting her head towards the ceiling as she floats through the waves of her own release.
The three of them sit there, breathing heavily as their heart rate settles. I listen as Mrs. Slavik fixes herself and Mr. Slavik buttons up his pants, muttering something in Russian to his wife.
