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I let out a long, whimpering moan as I felt the emotional consequences of a dominant warlord making me his sexual servant, my mission to destroy him notwithstanding. His deflowering my virgin pussy, his making its newly opened sheath into a tight little cunt he clearly enjoyed fucking, above all his bringing me to helpless climax after helpless climax that way… it made mehisat a level I could scarcely comprehend.
And, to my utter dismay, I wanted it to go on and on. Him, standing over me, straddling my legs, his knees bent to lower his manhood to the height necessary for fucking his new concubine. Him, gripping me around my waist, holding me motionless atop the ottoman so that he could seek all the pleasure he had bought inside the cunt he had acquired for the purpose. Him, thrusting his huge penis into me over and over, making me come again and again despite my inexperience… my precious innocence… my pretense of innocence… all the things I had always told myself about what sex meant to me.
I heard a catch in my master’s breathing. His fingers tightened a little under my ribcage, and then his right hand moved from there to the back of my neck. I cried out in mingled fear and pleasure as the simple touch of Ivan’s fingers there in that terribly vulnerable place brought another orgasm, another clench inside, on the hot iron bar of my owner’s driving cock.
He grunted, the sound coming from what seemed deep inside him, from his very core. For the very first time, I felt the special throbbing pulse of a man coming inside me. For a moment he held himself in at full length, the head of his cock pressing my cervix so that I sobbed in passionate discomfort. Then, as I felt his seed spurt from him, he moved his hips with the irregular rhythm I would come to know and to long for despite my inner conflict, and the growling grunt came again, with words this time.
“There… there… good… good girl.”
For what seemed like an endless amount of time Ivan crouched over me, his manhood still huge and hard inside me and his breathing deep and even. The waves of pleasure crested and fell, but even though my pussy, newly stretched on my master’s rigid penis, had begun to feel very sore, I didn’t want him to pull out.
His muscular body over mine, dominating me with his gripping hands and his straddling legs and the looming size of his very presence, seemed like proof that I had begun my mission well. Ivan wanted to keep the most important part of his body inside mine, to keep claiming me that way even as I became aware for the first time of its size growing smaller, its hardness decreasing. That told me my owner had enjoyed himself, that he found me pleasing.
That meant that I could indeed, perhaps, bring him down. I told myself it didn’t mean any more than that—I didn’t feel anything more than a professional satisfaction in having endured my defloration at the hands of a criminal warlord.
I definitely didn’t feel like I wanted Ivan Antonov to treasure me because I found him…
What?I demanded of my wayward heart, my wanton pussy.Charming? Fascinating? What the fuck is wrong with you? He just finished fucking you exclusively for his own enjoyment, his own verification of your suitability for sexual servitude. He didn’t give you permission to come in order for you to feel pleasure, but in order to dominate you that way, too.
The conflict inside me raged so high that it drew a sob from my lips.
“Shh,” Ivan said. “I’ll pull out when I feel like it, Heather. This little cunt belongs to me, now.”
I made another noise, an even more submissive one, a moaning whimper. I felt my eyes go wide as the sound seemed to make Ivan’s hardness begin to stiffen again inside me.
“See?” he said, his voice teasing. “That is because you gave me so much pleasure.”
For a moment I thought he would simply begin fucking me again, and it sent my heart racing. To my dismay, I couldn’t even tell why—pride in my master’s praise and how evident the truth of it was, from the reawakening of his manhood? Fear for how sore he would leave me? Or anxiety that my strange feelings for him would get in the way of my mission?
But to my mingled relief and disappointment, Ivan pulled his cock from my pussy at last, and stepped back.
“You may go wash up,” he said. “There’s a bathroom through the door over there.”
I wondered, my heart pounding, whether he had forgotten about his stated intention, his menacing promise with regard to his next act of defloration. The mixing of my thoughts and feelings became even more confusing.
But my master put a quick end to that question, at least.
“I will wash up as well,” he informed me. “And I will get the lube.”
The memory of standing in the little bathroom off Ivan’s study, shivering a bit after leaving the warmth of the fire, cleansing the evidence of my lost virginity from my thighs, took hold of my mind as, here and now, he controlled my head atop his enormous erection. I had become so skilled at letting him have his way in this fashion, upon my knees in front of him, that my mind could wander a little.
My jaw ached slightly, but even breathing kept the gag reflex well at bay. Ivan’s own shallow breaths told me how thoroughly he was enjoying himself, but I knew that just as on that first night, he would want to climax elsewhere—undoubtedly in the same place his associates had so gleefully used me at the Devushkin palace.
That thought made me wonder again why Ivan had brought me home early. The last time he had shared me, he had left me with his friends until the small hours of the morning, before bringing me back here to fuck me himself, as if he wanted to place a sort of exclamation point on his own absolute ownership.
Tonight seemed… well, an idle thought wondered, more of a comma? A semi-colon? Definitely more of an interruption in the flow of his mastery than a decisive, final point of punctuation.
CHAPTER13
Ivan
I pulled Heather’s mouth off my raging erection. With both hands around the back of her skull, I tilted her head up toward me. Her eyes wide and a little wild as if at the suddenness of the movement, she gazed back into my face, mouth still wantonly open, lips shining with her saliva and my pre-cum, tongue stuck out just a little. My cock leapt and my hips twitched at the surge of arousal that swept through my loins, just at the sight of my precious bed girl’s naked beauty, at the abandoned, submissive expression in her eyes.
“Do you remember when I fucked your ass for the first time, girl?” I asked, my voice emerging in a low growl, under the influence of the rampant sexual need and my will to dominate the lovely young woman who knelt so provokingly before me.
Provokingly… Yes, my hardness seemed to say, as if a man’s cock had a mind and a voice of its own,Heather Foster is the kind of girl who provokes the lust of the man who owns her, isn’t she?
My reason, my rationality, the part of me I used to make decisions in the daylight, protested. My American concubine hadn’t asked to kneel and suck my cock, had she? When she did beg to serve me, she pled for my mastery because she had on the one hand the threat of a whipping and on the other the promise of her own pleasure only after she had satisfied my lust.
