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But one thing that’s become abundantly clear to me during her little escape attempt in Moscow is that my wife is a woman whose word can’t be trusted.
I reach for the far end of the sink, where I’ve left a can of shaving gel, clippers, and a razor. Caterina’s eyes go wide as I turn the clippers on, intending to cut down the length of her pubic hair before I shave her—every inch of her pussy—bare. Myself.
“Viktor, you’re not going to—”
“Oh, I am,” I assure her. “I told you I wanted this bare. You didn’t do it yourself, so now you’ll endure the embarrassment of having me do it for you. And you won’t breathe a word of complaint.”
Caterina’s lips go very thin, pressed together tightly, and I see her breathing quicken, her chest rising and falling as I bring the buzzing clippers very close to her spread pussy, all of it bare and open for me to see exactly what I’m doing.
She gasps when the buzzing touches her folds, her hands clenching the edge of the countertop as the clippers cut through the hair. “Who’s going to clean up the hair?” she asks through gritted teeth as I slide them up one side.
“The maids, of course, in the morning,” I tell her with a tight smile. “Who else?”
“Viktor!” She gasps my name. “You can’t—they’ll think—”
“They won’t think. That’s not their job.” I give her one more swipe with the clippers, the hair short enough now for me to take the razor to it with ease. “As for your own personal embarrassment about it, you should have thought about that before you disobeyed me and ran away from me. You undercutmyauthority in front of all of my men, Caterina. You defiedme, embarrassedme. Do you understand? I can’t allow that. And now you’re going to reap the consequences.”
Caterina gasps again when I touch her with the shaving gel, spreading it over her hair as I turn on the tap, rinsing off the razor once before bringing it towards her pussy. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat when I make the first slow swipe, moving closer so that she can almost feel the heat of my breath against her inner thigh, spreading her folds with my thumbs as I inspect my work after each pass. I go as slowly as I can, wanting to draw out her humiliation, enjoying her discomfort. It’s not turning her on as much as some of the things that I do to her, but I can see the gathering dampness, the way she twitches each time I touch her. She’s aroused, and I intend to make that arousal much more unbearable for her as the night goes on.
When she’s entirely bare, I stand up, reaching for a washcloth and running it under hot water. Caterina starts to close her legs, and I slap the inside of her thigh with one hand, hard.
“Not until I tell you that you can,” I say sharply, wringing out the washcloth and coming to stand between her spread thighs again, running the warm cloth over her sensitive skin as I wash away any remaining trace of shaving gel or hair.
Caterina looks mortified, her cheeks burning red, and she won’t meet my eyes, not even when I finally stand back and tell her that she can get off of the counter.
“Go and take up that same position on the bed,” I tell her. “Back against the pillows. Unless you want another spanking?”
Caterina looks thoroughly alarmed at that, shaking her head as she slides down from the countertop. I see her sneak one glance at her newly shaved pussy in the mirror before slinking towards the door, slipping through it, and back into the bedroom.
To my surprise, when I walk back in, she’s obeyed me perfectly. She’s leaning back against the pillows, her thighs splayed open, feet flat on the bed. I walk around to the foot of it, sitting casually on the bench there as I look at her bare, flushed pussy, and take note of the glistening folds, the way I can see her clit poking out, red and swelling from arousal even though she hasn’t touched herself yet.
“You were so wet earlier, after your punishment.” I raise an eyebrow. “You must have needed to come very badly. That’s a reward you’ll have to earn. But perhaps you can have a little pleasure after enduring all of that.”
Caterina blinks at me as if unsure of what I have planned. She’s right to be suspicious, of course. Everything I have planned for her is intended to be a torment.
“Touch yourself,” I tell her, one side of my mouth curling up in a half-smile. “However you would like to be touched. I want to watch you get that pussy dripping for me. But—” I raise a finger, narrowing my eyes at her. “You’re not allowed to come. If you do, you’ll regret it for days, I promise you that.”
Caterina’s lips part, her eyes widening, and I know she wants to argue. I know that pleasuring herself in front of me is the last thing in the world she wants to do. But she also knows that dragging it out and making me ask again will only make things worse for her in the end.
Slowly, her hand drifts down, her throat twitching as she swallows hard.
I watch her as much for my own pleasure as anything else. I enjoy having a woman on display, watching her touch herself in her unique way, and the idea of watching Caterina like this has always aroused me, fiercely. I just haven’t had an opportunity yet to torture her in exactly this way.
Now I do.
Her fingers slide over her folds, drifting slowly down, tracing the edges of her swelling flesh. I can see the edges darkening, the skin growing puffy and aroused as she touches herself, avoiding her clit. I know why—she doesn’t want to lose control, to get really and truly turned on, the way she would if she touched herself in earnest.
“Don’t hold back,” I tell her sternly. “Touch yourself the way you would if you were alone. I can tell the difference.”
Caterina bites her lower lip, and then her fingers slide slowly, reluctantly up towards the swollen red bud between her folds, the spot that I know she wants so desperately to touch.
She can’t hold back the moan that slips from her mouth as her fingers brush over it. Her head tilts back slightly, her lips parting, and her fingers move faster as if she can’t help herself.
It’s intoxicating, watching her. Her hand twitches, wanting to stop, wanting to continue, and I can see the arousal leaking from her pussy, coating her folds, making me wish that I could taste her. If she behaves well enough, maybe I will.
Not tonight, but soon. I imagine torturing her with my tongue, bringing her to the edge again and again, and then backing off, seeing her squirm and hearing her whimper and beg.
The idea of it is exquisite.
