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I almost don’t realize that it’s done. I feel him step up behind my shaking body, his hand on my burning hip, and his hand caresses the back of my head. “You took that very well,” he says, and I hear something almost like admiration in his voice. “You need something else now, don’t you,kotenok?”
Even the sound of him saying that dreadful nickname is almost enough to set me off, as I stand there shuddering on the edge. It’s all I can do to hold back. But I know he’s not finished with me yet. His hand cups between my thighs, and I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, knowing I won’t be forgiven if I come now.
He presses his hips against my thigh, letting me feel his rigid cock. “I would fuck you now, if I thought you could take it. Hearing the slap of leather against your wet little pussy–” He sucks in a deep breath. “I want to come all over your pretty, red ass. But I know the instant you felt my cock in you, you’d come apart.”
His hand wraps in my hair as his fingers slide through my slick folds, holding my shuddering body in place as he looks down at me, a cruel smile on his lips. “What was it you said to me this morning?” he purrs, his voice low and deep and mocking. “You don’t deserve to come, and I know you wouldn’t be able to help it.”
He pulls his fingers free, his gaze locked onto mine as he raises them to his mouth, breathing in my scent as he licks my arousal off of his fingertips. “Fuck, you taste delicious. You make me so fucking hard–” He groans, reaching down to adjust the thick bulge of his cock as he looks at me. “You fucking want it. I can see it in your face. You begged me not to fuck you earlier, and now all you can think about is being stretched by my big fucking cock.”
He leans forward, cupping my chin in his hand. “You could beg all you wanted,kotenok, and you wouldn’t get it. Not tonight. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”
With a short, cruel bark of a laugh, he reaches out, unlocking the cuff around my wrist. His hand stays closed around it, rubbing against the raw flesh, but I couldn’t have run off if I’d thought there was a path out. I’m a trembling, wet, bruised mess, and I can’t even struggle as he opens the crate and pushes me down into it.
“Get in the crate,kotenok.There’s a good girl.” He pushes me inside, none too gently. I fit with a little room to spare–at least in width, there’s no way for me to stretch out inside. I have to curl into a ball, and Mikhail looks down at me, his expression impassive.
“Will you be a good girl, and not touch your pussy?” he croons darkly at me. “Or do I need to cuff your hands behind your back, so you can resist? I’ll know if you come,” he warns. “So tell me now, unless you want a repeat of this in the morning.”
I’m aching to come. I know it wouldn’t take much, just a few flicks of my finger across my swollen and bruised clit, but I also believe that he would know if I did. I can’t take another beating so soon–and I need to get whatever sleep I can manage in my current situation. Having my hands cuffed will make that nearly impossible.
“I’ll be a good girl,” I whisper, my voice broken and teary. I hate the sound of it, hate to hear myself say it, but the fight has been drained out of me for tonight.Tomorrow is another day. I can fight back tomorrow.
The floor of the crate is cold and hard and uncomfortable, but I’m so exhausted that it barely matters. I hear the click of the padlock on the outside of it, hear Mikhail say something that I don’t entirely grasp, and then sleep rushes up to claim me.
Natalia
Iwake in the morning hungry and thirsty beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, my entire body cramped from sleeping on the hard surface of the crate in a strange, balled-up position, my thighs and ass bruised and sore. I know that if it weren’t for years of ballet training, my muscles and joints would probably be frozen beyond moving. As it is, I lie there waiting for Mikhail to unlock my cage, feeling as if I’ve been run over by several trucks.
I never knew anything could feel this physically bad. My mouth feels dry and parched after more than a full day without water. The hunger I can deal with–Mikhail wasn’t wrong when he said my years as a ballerina have adapted me to that–but thirst is new for me, and it has me feeling a little insane already.
Surely he hasn’t done all of this just to let me die of thirst?He can starve and punish me all he likes, but I’ll get sick and die without water faster than he can convince me to break, unless he uses some truly horrifying methods. I’m not ignorant as to what those could be, not after growing up with Konstantin Obelensky as my father–but it’s still my hope that his obsession with me will keep him from doing anything that could physically incapacitate me, or damage my looks.
That I can feed it enough to keep his focus on that, and not the tortures he could apply to get whatever information he’s after out of me.
It’s a new day,I remind myself as I hear him shifting in the bed from above, and my pulse leaps in my throat.Remember the plan. Give and take.
I hear his footsteps coming around to the front of the crate, and I look up at him from where I’m lying. He’s wearing grey sweatpants low on his hips with no shirt, his blond hair messy around his face, and I hate how fucking good he looks. His body is a carved statue, lean with muscle engraved into his pale flesh, down to the deep cuts of it that disappear into the waist of the gray fabric hanging low on his sharp hipbones.
I can see the bulge of his cock there, hard and thick, and I tear my gaze away before he can notice me looking and use it to mock me.
“How did you sleep,krasotka?” he asks, his voice mocking anyway. “Was your bed comfortable enough for you?” He squats down, reaching for the lock, eye level with me now as he sucks in a deep breath. “Did you manage to keep your fingers out of your pussy?”
The way I feel as he opens up the door is something I’ve never experienced before. I feel like a dog, a pet, waiting for my master to let me out. It sends a confused tangle of emotions through me–hate and anger and resentment, all of which I’m used to, and the humiliation too. But it also makes me feel something else, that warm throb again, and a feeling that I can’t quite explain. The feeling that, if he were kinder, if he were the sort of dominant man that treats his submissive with care, if I feltsafe, that this wouldn’t be so bad.
That I might actually like it. That I might unlock a kink I didn’t know I had.
Mikhail opens the door, standing back a little to give me space. “Crawl out,devochka,” he orders. “And don’t try to run, if you know what’s good for you.”
I almost laugh at that. I’m not even sure I can get to my feet right now. I glare up at him as I push myself up, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crawl. But I also know that this isn’t the hill to die on. Not today.
I’m sure he’ll give me something, before the day is up.
Slowly, stiffly, I crawl out of the crate. The satisfied smile on his face makes me want to leap up and slap him, but I focus instead on actually getting to my feet, once I’m fully out. My body complains in places I’ve never felt it fight me before, not after years of disciplined training, but I finally manage to stand up, wincing at the pain in my ass and the backs of my thighs.
The instant I’m standing, Mikhail grabs my right wrist, bringing the fingers of it to his nose. He breathes in, watching me as he does so, making it very clear what he’s looking for. “Well, well,” he purrs, brushing his nose against my fingertips. “You were a good girl after all, weren’t you,kotenok? Poor, neglected pussy. Unless–”
He reaches for my left hand, repeating the action, and then a pleased smile curves the corners of his lips. “Good girl, Natalia,” he says softly. “You’re learning.”
“You fucking beat me so hard I couldn’t have stayed awake to come if I wanted to,” I spit at him. “It had nothing to do with wanting to be yourgood girl.”
