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“So, this is what you do when your mother ends up in the ICU ward, half dead after nearly being assassinated. Why am I not surprised? You always were a selfish bitch.”
“Phffgu,” she tried to curse around the gag. The smirk on his face wasn’t exactly the payoff she had hoped for. Enraged and humiliated, she jerked against her restraints. It was evident he got a perverse pleasure to watch her struggle, naked and in vain. Proof of the black thought of laying the whip into her back as she writhed against the lash was visible in the pulses of hot blood careening into his burgeoning knob that swelled under her regard. To him, this must be all too delicious.
Blyad’! How can I even envision the treat of him pushing into my soft, wet bits.
“So, you wanna be punished? Well, I am at your service and would be more than happy… thrilled, in fact, to give you a thorough flogging.” She hissed as he brutally pinched her nipples. “A sample of what’s in store for killing Uncle Janos.”
Andrei was an expert with the whip, his skill so perfected that a sub would curl up in agony from the first lash. Not because he used brute force, but because he controlled exactly where he wanted their emotions to go without allowing them to slip into subspace.
“It seems you need to be reminded, Vanya, about the difference between being whipped by a sadist and that of a true Master. Flagellation is my métier. It is my sole province.”
Biting her ear, he chuckled when a low cry escaped her throat.
“I love that taste and the sound it makes. Do you miss it as much as I do? Never mind. I’m getting ahead of myself. May I just say what a lovely surprise, even though we find ourselves both occupying this familiar and necessary arrangement.”
Honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness, as you very well know, you prick.
She glowered at him as he responded, as if he could read her mind.
“So true. If ever there was a human trait so indulgent in its expression. An extravagance to supplement my mood because I am feeling so gluttonous tonight. Do you want to surrender to yours? Are you hearing me, Vanya? I mean, how serendipitous this meeting.” Andrei studied the familiar landscape of her body. “Who in their right mind would waste this opportunity? Here we are… again. So, let us begin with the hope that we may slowly dance together, unreservedly, in a ballet, according to our own needs and rhythms. What could be more natural?”
Vanya’s tortured groans came in measured beats that fell in sync with each lash of Andrei’s whip. Apart from the two players, not a soul was there to experience the melodic scene. The labored grunts behind the delivery of each intricately placed strike were answered in kind with a gasp as each lash bit hard into supple flesh. It was this unchoreographed, jagged duet that came to repeat itself in an endless, syncopated loop as the instrument of the source kept time with its corresponding echo, back and forth, and over and over, and over, again and again, with each and every cycle spliced seamlessly on top of the preceding one. With exquisite depth of knowledge and discipline was borne such a revelatory and masterful display in all of its searing beauty.
A shot of adrenaline dumped into her blood supply to power up her nervous system, was like high octane fuel spilled onto an afterburner. It felt like a runaway freight train racing through her chest.
She knew exactly what was coming and how it would impact her emotions—veering in a direction entirely opposite to where she was aiming for.
Andrei stood like a statue, watching her with hooded eyes, then ran his finger down the center of her chest.
“I’m disappointed, Vanya. I really am. You always were a strong woman. It seems you’ve grown weak.”
She blanched and yanked viciously on the chains as her eyes sparked with hatred. Hearing that word directed at her a second time in one day infuriated her.
“Ah, now that’s more like it.” He laughed as he patted her chin. “Still have a little spunk left in you, I see.”
The look of pure evil that glimmered in his eyes caused fear to unravel inside her and churn riotously in her stomach. The words he had snarled at her the day she had shot Janos Smirnoff flashed through her mind.
“Mark my words. I will take my revenge. You. Will. Die.”
Vanya stood resolute. If this was why he was here, then so be it. She would face her fate as she lived her life—a testament to confronting challenges head-on, embracing them with fierce resolve. Without so much as a blink or the faintest twitch of her muscles, she met his gaze squarely, her eyes speaking volumes even as her lips remained sealed instead of contradicting his statement.
The initial shock of his unexpected arrival had faded, but a myriad of unexplained emotions remained. Apart from the zing of arousal she always felt in his presence, an intense desire burned within her—to see him on his knees, begging for mercy before she extracted the retribution he was due for what he had done to her mother… and the wounds he had carved into her own heart.
Andrei moved methodically around her, keenly observing the taut contours of her form. A faint shiver, born deep within the recesses of her spine, began to ripple through her. His unhurried, deliberate steps disconcerted her and made the air around them feel as though it was infused with an eerie intent.
Just start already!The words seared through her mind. Within, a volatile cocktail of fear and anticipation mingled and created a turbulent storm of emotions that threatened to consume her from the inside out.
He stepped back, drew the whip quickly away, then brought it down in a sharp strike against her inner thigh. The sudden change in focus came as a complete surprise. Vanya gasped and tensed at the shards of pain that stabbed into her brain. A cry exploded from her chest. Although it wasn’t as painful as some of the whippings he’d given her in the past, it somehow carried a message of intent.
Andrei kept his eyes on her, watching her like a hawk as he applied a similar stroke to the left thigh. Again, she cried out as the burning pain seared her mind.
Stepping closer, he ran the rough leather of the whip over the slope of her breasts.
“I suggest you pay attention, Ms. Guzun. This is only the beginning.” Lowering the whip, he tapped it against her thighs, left, right, left, right,crack. Once more, the whip cracked against her upper thigh, then immediately, again, to the opposite one.
“Agghh!” The ball gag muted her shrill cry as it felt like a red-hot poker was searing her skin. With legs now turned rubbery, she clung to the chains above her head.
This was so much more than she had ever felt or experienced before. He had barely started, and she already felt like crying.
