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)
Ivan’s right hand in front, taking an easy, possessive hold of my left breast, pinching my tiny pink nipple to aching stiffness between thumb and middle finger.
Ivan’s rigid penis pressed against my hip, making me bite my lip at the sheer naughty idea of a naked man simply touching me that way, his lewdest part exposed—jutting so arrogantly out from his lap that it brushed almost casually across my flank… so naturally and yet obscenely that it made terribly clear my subjection to my master’s every degrading wish and cruel whim.
Worst of all, because it felt much too good, at first, Ivan’s left hand. Behind me, two fingers abruptly pressed between my spanked cheeks where only a little soreness lingered now from my punishment over his knee.
I heard a tiny whimper come out of my throat. My hands, their fingers intertwined behind my head, shook with the tremors that traveled up and down all the muscles in my back and my arms. My knees moved, too, bouncing up and down so that, to my mortification, it seemed like I meant to rub that forbidden place between the little apples of my backside against the probing fingers.
My master’s fingers, slick with a substance I knew about but had never before experienced. Lube… cool despite the warmth of Ivan’s hands… slippery… useful for making a girl’s tightest hole easier to enjoy…
The whimper became a sob, which seemed to reach my ears from a long way away.
Ivan brought another part of his body against mine: his mouth, soft against the back of my right ear. I could feel his golden hair brush my arm on that side.
“You are going to lie on the ottoman on your back,” he told me. “You will raise your knees and hold them open for me. I want to see your face when I enter your bottom for the first time.”
I looked up into his face, kneeling before him now, with the knowledge that I would have to proceed with my mission very soon but overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on my head, tilting my gaze up to his, stealing all my thoughts and turning them backward, to that first night.
Our first night together.
The idea—the way my brain put it, then, as if Ivan Antonov and I represented some conventional romantic couple, of the sort who could remember a first night together—brought a little sighing moan from my throat. His ice-blue eyes, slightly narrowed the way Ivan always did when he wanted to evaluate and assess, seemed to reinforce that strange connection despite the memory’s utter lack of any ordinary romance.
My first night with Ivan… the leather top of the ottoman against my back… my knees held wide and high so that I felt utterly exposed, utterly available to my master.
My hands hung at my sides, because Ivan allowed me to use them to pleasure him only with express instructions to do so. They began, to my dismay, to creep backwards, fingertips moving across my whipped bottom-cheeks, each welt from Devushkin’s birch bringing a terrible, thrilling little stab of soreness that faded immediately into the humiliating arousal I knew so well.
I had the little globes in my grasp now. Without any order from Ivan, without a command except the shameful urging of my wanton nature, the awful need to show my master how thoroughly I belonged to him, I spread my bottom-cheeks. I touched my little anus, so sore from my degrading trip to the mansion of my owner’s friend.
So thoroughly used, and yet still small, tight, and suited to the pleasure of a dominant man who knew how to use me properly.
I watched Ivan’s eyes flick slightly downward, and I knew he had noticed my mortifying display.
“Yes, Heather,” he said softly. “Right there. I fucked my little slut right there, did I not?”
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, my lips closing over the r of master for the first time since my mouth had engulfed Ivan’s enormous cock, and he had used his strong fingers to hold my face in place as he thrust the rock-hard shaft of his penis in and out so deeply. As always, my lips felt strange—different from the way they felt when my mouth belonged to me… when I could use my body to do what I chose, instead of putting it completely at my master’s service.
“Put your finger inside, girl. All the way to the second knuckle.”
I felt my face crumple, my cheeks blazing with heat even as the helpless arousal took hold anew between my thighs. A sob tore itself from my throat, and I obeyed the degrading command. My hips jerked with need at the forbidden feeling, the wicked finger going where it mustn’t, inside the naughtiest place of all.
“Fuck yourself with that finger,” my master instructed, “and tell me how it felt to have your bottom opened on my cock for the first time.”