Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

“That’s it, girl. Show him what’s mine.”

My fingers slide down, my arousal easing my descent. As my fingertips glide over my sensitive nub, a breathless moan slides past my lips. I lean my head back to rest on Master Girgori’s shoulders, but he pulls back with a hard jerk. My head falls back, my brain ricocheting about in my skull for a moment.

His fingers move from the front of my throat only to grasp the back in a painful grip. I gasp as the sharp pain shoots from my skull and down my neck. I stifle a gasp as he digs into me angrily.

“No, no. I want you to look at him, Lastachka. Do not take your eyes off of Ivan.”

He straightens up behind me, the edges of his shirt rubbing against my skin, the buttons grinding into my back. Hot breath ruffles my hair as he speaks to Mr. Ivan, a flurry of Russian words passing between them. I don’t even try to keep up. I have many talents, but being multilingual is not one. What draws my attention is when Mr. Ivan eases the belt from his buckle, his eyes turning back to me.

Dumbstruck, I arch my neck back to look at Master Grigori, but his grip holds firm, forcing me to watch Ivan’s striptease. It feels wrong somehow, like I’m cheating, even though I’m being forced to watch. My lashes flutter down as I look at the floor, making an intense study of Mr. Ivan’s shoes. He must have conveyed this to Master Grigori because a moment after, his hands encircle my throat, squeezing hard.

My pulse, thick and sluggish, pounds through my head. The skin around my face gets hot and tight, stretching over my skull until I feel like it will split. Spots dance before my eyes and my head lolls about my neck. For a few moments, I’m weightless. Light flickers about my consciousness, the darkness encroaching my vision before he lets go.

My heart stutters a moment, my stomach flopping about in my gut as blinding light sears my eyes. For a moment, I’m devastated. The short flight left me boneless, just out of reach of some Nirvana I’ll never know. The rational, smart part of my brain knows I can’t go any further. To reach for that pinnacle might end up actually harming me. The fact that Master Grigori stopped when he did is for the best. But there’s still this churning inside me, this dark longing that yearns to go back to that place, that pure nothingness where everything just disappears.

“Lastachka, I believe I said to watch him, not the floor.”

Pulling me flush against his body, the heat from his chest pours into me, driving the chill away. I watch again as Mr. Ivan continues his slow removal, his eyes flicking from my pussy up to my face. His cock strains against the zipper, pushing against the fabric of his pants until I’m worried it’s going to burst out. With a pained expression, he adjusts himself before inching the metal tab downward, the clicking of the separating teeth permeating my mind.

His cock is monstrous - thick and veiny, it juts out hard and proud. Precum wells at the top of his thick head and slides down the underside of his shaft. My eyes follow the drop until it disappears into a thick thatch of dark curls. Swallowing, I look back up at Mr. Ivan, noting his satisfied smirk.

“You see, Ivan here has been in my employ for what, ten, twelve years, give or take?”

“Da.”

Just one word, but from his lips, it sounds like a curse being spat out. Shivering against Master Grigori, I back up into him as far as I can go. Something about him makes my insides tremble. Maybe it’s the unabashed lust simmering in his eyes? Whatever the reason, he unnerves me in a way I never knew possible. As if sensing my discomfort, Master Grigori chuckles against my ear and wraps an arm about my shoulders, pinning me to his body. I shouldn’t feel safe. I shouldn’t want to stay in his arms, but for a moment, I feel calm, centered, grounded.

“He likes challenges,” he whispers before snaking out his tongue to trail the shell of my ear. “As do I. So, this is how it’s going to be. You are both going to get yourselves off. Beat him, and you can have your orgasm. If he beats you, you will not be allowed to come until I give you permission.”

Mr. Ivan’s grin grows wider as his fingers glide up and down his swollen member in long, lazy strokes. Indignation burns deep into my gut. None of this is fair! Then again, just being at the mercy of The Society makes life go in that direction often. The familiar burn of tears assaults my eyes, but I shake my head, determined to not let them see my weakness.

“Objections Lastachka?”

He releases his hands enough for me to turn and look at him. Where do I begin?

“I feel that the challenge is rigged, Master.”

His lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile.

“Oh, do you? And how is that?”

“I don’t know what type of stamina he has. What if he’s a one-minute wonder?”

From the corner of my eye, I watch in horror as Mr. Ivan draws up, making himself even bigger. Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say.

“Tsk tsk. You never damage a man’s pride like that. You should know better. Your errant mouth will be the death of you, I swear. Ivan, your belt, please.”

Heat drains from my face. I’m already in agony from the first belting he gave me. What will happen with another?

“Such a look! I’m not going to beat you again, my dear. Though heaven knows, I’ll probably have to beat you daily to bring you to heel. This is merely a tool to help you. Hands behind your back.”

“But I -.”

His eyebrow quirks up, his lips thinning.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

Dropping my head to my chest, I slide my hands behind me.

“No, Master.”

“Good.”

He threads the loops about my wrists, making a makeshift cuff. I test my bonds after he stops fidgeting, dismayed to find them holding up rather well. He doesn’t say a word. He only nods to Mr. Ivan, who begins slamming his fist up and down his shaft with gusto. Panic flutters through my body as I frantically pull and tug at the belt.

“How can I -.”

“Shush, Lastachka. Watch Ivan. Keep your eyes on him. Open your thighs a bit more. I’m proud of this beautiful pussy, and I want to show it off.”

Heat infuses my cheeks as I wrench my legs open, forcing them as wide as they can go. I compel my eyes to stay open, watching Ivan as his fingers go up and down over and over. Master Grigori slides his own fingers across my opening, ripping a groan from my lips.

“So wet, so needy,” he murmurs, sliding even further until he can ease a digit inside.

The thrusts are light and shallow, giving me sensation but not nearly enough to do anything. Arousal flares through my body like a wave of heat, swamping me with sensation. Everything feels so much - the rough scratching of the belt, the bruises and welts littering my body. All of it crashes together like an erotic symphony playing through my body.

“Please,” I whimper through clenched teeth. “Master, please.”