Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Behind me, Ivan took another deep breath through his nose. My cheeks blazed with heat.
“Naughty,” he said softly. I heard in those two musical syllables that I could steer into the skid all I wanted, but the steeply descending icy road of my wanton urges would land me in the same place however I turned. Ivan Antonov’s deep, flowing voice said that far from not caring about my desires, he would do everything in his power to make certain of them. This man would ensure that when he ripped through my maidenhead, took all my virginities, and turned me not just into a woman but into his little slut, I had begged him to use me precisely as he chose.
CHAPTER 9
Heather
When he had taken me over his knee to spank me that first night, his huge, firm hand had brought tears faster than the birch my trainer had wielded had ever done. Now, after the night of service to Devushkin and his friends, I felt the touch of Ivan’s fingers so keenly it made me dizzy. He traced the marks on the ass-cheeks those strangers had whipped slowly and carefully, seeming to remind me without saying a word what that same mastering hand could do in chastisement all by itself.
The way Ivan not only possessed me with his firm hand but, after a night like this one, repossessed me brought a sob to my throat. Bending before him for the humiliating, lewd, delicious inspection of the places he had claimed that first night, I seemed suspended in time: half of me desperately pondered the command I had received to bring my mission to its conclusion, but the other half seemed anchored in those very first moments with my master.
His fingers here and now, running gently over the welts from the birch, sent a racking shiver of need from my bottom to my toes, to my fingertips, to the roots of my disheveled hair. I forgot all about the vile Pyotr; I could think only of the man who owned me, who knew the darkest regions of my body and my mind much too well for my peace of mind.
I could think only of Ivan, here in his study, unwittingly at my mercy despite the compliance wand that seemed to enforce my absolute obedience. Of my first moments there—the paradoxical time of my first spanking and my first fucking. The time when I had against all reason, and almost without noticing it, begun to fall in love with him.
Ivan pulled me backwards and to the side, very suddenly, turning me to the left and straightening me, then refolding me over his knee, as if I were a rag doll. I gasped and gave a humiliatingly innocent, prudish even, little cry of alarm as his enormous manhood brushed against my naked thigh.
My face screwed up into a pout of girlish dismay. A man’s penis had touched me for the first time, and the sensation didn’t conform to any of the romantic fantasies a modern girl had to believe in… the soft touches, the equal frictions, the tender kisses… none of it.
Instead, a criminal had bought the girl, and the girl had as her mission either the turning or the murder of the criminal. On the way to that mission, the criminal would dispose of her exactly as he decided, whether that meant rubbing his hard, arrogant erection all over her soft skin or it meant disciplining her for her misconduct with the greatest possible severity.
His left arm clamped down, holding me motionless over his massive left thigh. I bit my lip as I felt the golden fur beneath my belly and the middle part, further down… the part that lay so close to the place that longed wantonly for my master’s attention, tender or brutal just as he pleased.
That manly hair felt soft as down, it seemed to me. although I felt a surge of anger at myself for finding it the slightest bit pleasant. Ivan’s right hand, which he brought down very, very hard on my upraised bottom from his first spank, had nothing pleasant about it.
My body’s reaction instantly broke through the generalized obedience effect of the compliance wand. I started to writhe at the first shock of the fiery sensation of Ivan’s huge, open hand on the exact center of my bottom, low down, on my sit-spot. The pain of a strict punishment always did that—I had gotten used to it at whatever anonymous training facility the Pretorian Guard had brought me to after kidnapping me. More than anything else it proved to me, distressingly, that the wand couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t actually want to do, deep down.
When a man started to whip me—or, it seemed clear now, to spank me—my body’s initial reaction came in the form of a Hell, no delivered by all my muscles. Weak as they were, they struggled against Ivan’s restraining left hand, and then—for he immediately clamped his right leg across my kicking knees—the effortless strength of his thigh. I gasped in pain and then, as Ivan just kept spanking me, three swats at a time in the middle, on my right cheek, on my left cheek, my upper right thigh, my upper left thigh, I started to scream.