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“No,” I beg through half-closed lips, already tasting the musk of my own juices.
“Do it!” With a single command, he makes it impossible to disobey.
My lips slip apart, and Grigory pushes into my mouth. Defeat is like a tidal wave, knocking me back. But instead of weighing me down, it knocks me deeper into that fluffy space where Grigory’s command is all that matters.
A moan escapes my lips as I go slack in his grip and accept the humiliating intrusion.
Unrelenting as always, Grigory doesn’t just give me a small taste. No, he rubs the musky juices all over my tongue, twisting and turning his fingers to make sure I get every last drop.
It’s the most humiliating thing anyone has ever done to me. Yet my hips keep bucking, new moisture gathering between my legs and dripping down my folds. I can hardly remember ever being this aroused.
“Do you like the taste of yourself?” he asks in a seductive tone, pulling his fingers from my mouth.
“No,” I say in an almost imperceptible mewl.
Shoving his fingers into my sex, he lowers his tone to a dangerous rumble—almost a sneer. “Do you like the taste of your cunt,devochka?”
God, I can’t admit to this. I writhe in protest, but he simply tightens his arm around me, dragging me deeper into the submissive headspace where my thoughts, my will, and even my desire become slaves to him. I simply can’t refuse him. So I let out a small, “Yes.” And when his wet fingers return to my mouth, I willingly part my lips.
“Clean them,” he orders, spurring me into instant obedience. I swirl my tongue around his fingers, licking and sucking even as I groan at the humiliating taste of myself. I definitely don’t like this, yet some secret part of me craves this wicked brand of dominance—his demand for me to do something I don’t like. My hips keep grinding against the hard length in his pants, and when he releases my arms and pummels two new fingers into me, all thoughts of resistance vanish in a thick surge of need.
“You’re such a horny little girl,” he sneers into my ear, pumping his fingers in and out, rubbing his palm over my sensitive clit. Just when I think I’m about to reach the peak, he pulls out both hands and changes, shoving the fingers from my pussy into my mouth and the others into my sex. “Come for me while you suck up your juices.”
Fuck.I buck against his hand as desire builds at a frightening speed, tightening and twisting within my core. With two hard thrusts of his fingers, Grigory rips the orgasm from me. Pleasure sears through my nerve endings, shuddering through my body in jerky spasms. I suck Grigory’s fingers in my mouth, moaning and gasping around the intrusion, gripping his arm like my life depended on it. And it damn nearly does.
The violent pleasure rips through my system with a force that has me snapping for air. Even as the orgasm dies down, the energy keeps swirling until the tiniest touch is like an explosion of sensation.
“Stop,” I groan around Grigory’s fingers as I struggle to free my clit from his palm.
With an amused chuckle, the sadist pumps his fingers into me a few more times, making me buck wildly and screech. Then, in his own time, he draws out and lifts me up to nestle in his lap.
The spasms become slight bolts of tremors as I come down from the high and collapse against him, a limp heap of limbs, panting and heaving.
“Such a good girl,” he croons. “Have you ever tried that before?”
I shake my head against his chest, whimpering as the aftereffects of the orgasm shudder through my body. “Never.”
“Did you like it?” His large hand settles on the back of my head, tender and comforting. All traces of degrading mockery are gone, replaced by gentle appraisal. It coaxes the truth straight out of me.
“Yes,” I whisper, burrowing closer to him as I let out the embarrassing confession. Part of me definitely didn’t like it, but him forcing me to do such a degrading thing was a rush unlike anything.
“Hmm,” Grigory hums, and when he speaks, there’s a certain kind of reverence to his voice. “You’re a true little masochist, aren’t you? Not only do you like pain but also humiliation.”
I’ve only ever thought of masochism in terms of physical pain; I never thought humiliation could fit under this term. To be quite frank, I never thought much about humiliation at all. But as the idea filters through my mind, it makes sense to call this strange desire to be humiliated masochism.
Am I masochistic like that too? I wouldn’t have expected it, but I never thought pain would turn me on either—not until Grigory introduced me to the delicious combination of pain and pleasure. So maybe this is yet another thing he’ll open my eyes to.
The idea is a little scary. But most of all, the idea of Grigory humiliating me again stirs a gentle pulsing deep within my core—a desire to do it again.
***
Grigory holds me in his arms for a long while before finally leaving for the grocery store like he’d planned.
“No sleeping,” he orders, tucking the comforter around me. “I don’t want you tossing and turning all night.”
With a satisfied moan, I curl up and slip a hand under my pillow as I hear him leave. Still dazed after the staggering orgasm, it takes me a minute to register that the door locks.
A frown knits my brows. I haven’t given him a key yet. Did Markus give him his? Or did he take mine?
