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I want to tell him no. That I’m not. That I’d never do that. But I already know it would be a lie. I can feel myself clenching, tightening around it as he fucks me with the knife hilt, slow and steady like a smaller version of his cock, and I’m hovering on the very edge, helpless moans spilling from my lips as he watches my face, fucking me steadily to the climax I need so desperately.
When the fingers of his other hand touch my clit, I’m lost.
I hear myself scream, as if from outside of myself, as I come. I feel the gush of my orgasm over the knife hilt, over his hand, my clit throbbing as the orgasm crashes over me, tightening every muscle in my body to the point of pain. I hear him murmuringgood girl, come for me, come so fucking hard, that’s my good kitten,come on my knife like a good little slut,but it all goes past me in a fog. The world narrows in front of my eyes, the edges of my vision going black as my body is wracked with wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure as I finally come hard on the knife hilt that he’s still thrusting inside of me, stroking my clit until I can’t bear it any longer.
I hang there, shuddering and moaning, trying to hide that I’m crying as I feel him slip the knife hilt free of my drenched pussy, my entire body still clenching with the aftershocks. I hear the clatter of it on the table, wait for his hands on me, for his cock to fill me, or to hear the slap of his hand on his swollen flesh, the hot splash of his cum on my skin, but none of that happens.
Instead, I hang there in a daze, everything around me a swirling haze of color and blurred vision, until suddenly the blackness rushes up to engulf me, and I feel myself descending into darkness.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, I pass out.
Mikhail
For a moment, I think she’s faking.
Natalia hangs there in the ropes, her body slack where she was shuddering a moment ago, her head pitched forward. I reach for her, picking her chin up, and I realize that she’s passed out.
I took it too fucking far.
The thought shocks me, startles me out of my haze of lust.Too far?I hadn’t even drawn blood, as I’d planned to. I hadn’t hurt her at all. Instead, I’d ended up taunting and stripping and teasing her to a forced climax again, torturing her with pleasure instead of the pain I’d planned. Just as I’d done before.I got caught up. Lost sight of my plan. She does this to me.
I should end it. Dress her unconscious body, drug her so she doesn’t wake up, and put her on a plane with me to New York. I should take her to Viktor, as I’d planned. Without the information that I’d hoped to get from her–and I’m beginning to believe that her father really did keep her entirely in the dark–but at least with the means to get his revenge too, for what the Obelensky family did to him.
As I begin to undo the knots to bring her down, I tell myself that’s what I’m doing. That I’m going to leave with her. Finish this. That I’m not so caught up in my obsession, my need for her, that I’m going to keep her here longer, so I can continue to enjoy her.
My cock throbs in my jeans, hard and aching beyond belief. I need to come desperately, and the urge pulses through me to fuck her now, here, or to at least stroke myself to a quick shuddering orgasm before I proceed. The room smells like sex, hot and thick, and my cock throbs again, close to climax whether I want to or not.
As I release her legs from the ropes, I bend forward, holding her in my hands as I run my tongue over her pussy once more, tasting her. I want to come inside of her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my fucking life.
The obsession has gone too far. If you lose control now–
I remember her taunting me earlier, telling me I’d come in my pants while I made her orgasm. I’d been all too close. Now I’m on the verge of fucking her here. The thought of her waking up with me inside of her, the way she had that first night, sends a rush of pre-cum from my cock, dangerously close to being the real thing.
I don’t want to let her go yet. The thought of getting on a plane to New York with her gives me that same visceral feeling that I’d had the first day I brought her here.A little more time. Just a little longer, to enjoy the prize I worked so hard for.
I reach up, undoing the knots that hold the ropes wrapped around her wrists and arms, and she falls forward. I catch her, cradling her against my chest, and something bursts through me, a wholly unfamiliar feeling.
I want to hold her closer. My hand slides up the back of her neck, holding her head against my shoulder as my fingers run through her hair, almost of their own accord.
For a long moment, I stand like that, just holding her. The unfamiliar feeling pulses through me, a strange, tangled desire to protect her—but from what? Frommyself?
There’s the flicker of guilt again, the feeling that perhaps I’ve gone too far. I’ve never in my entire life thought of whether my actions were forgivable or unforgiveable, or considered whether that mattered. I’ve always done my job, whatever that meant.
But for the first time, I find myself wondering if I’ve done wrong. If there’s something I missed. If I made the wrong choice.
I feel her stir in my arms slightly, a low, pained moan slipping from her lips, and my chest contracts as I hold her a little tighter.You can’t take her to New York right now,I tell myself as I walk up the stairs to the main floor, still cradling her against my chest.She needs food and water. If I’m too hard on her, she won’t make it there.
That’s why I need to take care of her, to go a little easier on her for a while, let her recover. To keep her alive for Viktor. To finish this.
Somewhere in the depths of my subconscious, I know I’m making excuses. I know I’m telling myself things that will excuse wanting to keep her here longer, instead of finishing what I’m supposed to.
Carefully, I carry her upstairs to the master suite, into the bathroom. She feels chilled, her skin cold and clammy against mine, and I realize faintly, as I start to run the hot water in the tub, that my desire has faded. The driving, frantic lust that I’d felt minutes ago is replaced by the thoughts repeating through my mind over and over, that she might be in shock, that I might have gone too far, that I need to make certain she’s alright.
I think of the lie she told in the dance shop, the story about being pregnant. It was a ridiculous lie, of course, but I can feel the invasive thought rattling around with the others,what if it were true? What if she was, and I’d hurt her?
It would make me no better than the monster that I’ve been seeking revenge on all this time.
She stirs as the tub starts to fill with warm water, her head lolling to one side as she moans again. I move to crouch behind her outside the tub, keeping her upright as the tub fills, making certain she doesn’t slide down too far. I can feel her starting to come back to consciousness, and I gently push her hair out of her face, watching as her eyelids flutter and her lips part on another low groan.
