Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

"Really? Permanent mutilation? No, my dear. That would be if I actually cut your clit off like you thought I did. Once you've healed up, if we were to take the piercing out, the hole would be gone in no time, leaving you with a perfectly intact clit. Again, a consequence of your own actions. I'll admit the plan was to pierce you at some point, but just like when I claimed you, I wanted it to be sensual."

He pauses to slide his fingertips down my arm, sending goosebumps exploding over my skin. His voice is pure decadence as he whispers into my ear. Heat pools low in my belly as he weaves his seductive spell around me.

"Orgasmic," he continues before snaking his tongue to lick the shell of my ear. "Instead, you challenged me, demanded I show my ownership over you. Would you have rather I branded you? That would have been permanent, and again, well within my rights."

"How in the hell -."

"Should we revisit your folder? I recall mentioning that no hard limits were listed. Technically, if I wanted to, I could rip out your fingernails. You couldn't say no. Or if you did, I wouldn't have to listen."

"But you just said not to permanently damage your submissive."

"Did you miss the part where I said unspoken? It's understood, not demanded. If you were being kept at the school, that would be off the table. There's no way to hide something like that from other students. But you're not at school. You're in my domain. If it comforts you at all to know, John did demand that I didn’t kill you. So, in that way, you could say, hard limits and death are the only rules on the table. But then, you didn't list any limits. Did you."

Blood drains from my face as the enormity of his words sinks in. I thought I was in trouble before; this is way worse. Now it makes even more sense why Dean Anderson kept insisting I put something, anything down. Why didn't I listen? I was too concerned with being forced back home to care what happened to me. Now, I'm stuck in a worse hell of my own making.

"Do you see now why it's important to take these kinds of things seriously? I'm a monster, yes, but some men hold onto the veneer of civility based on what's written in black and white, not on what's morally correct."

"C-can I change my limits?"

Chuckling, he pulls me into his arms, confusing and comforting me all at the same time. A mixture of emotions swirl within me, and I can't even tell what I'm feeling. Fear and relief tug back and forth as my brain tries to interpret these actions. If he were really going to harm me, would he be hugging me right now? But what if he's hugging me because he's about to do something even worse than he has already? What the hell can be worse than what he's already put me through? Fuck, I don't even want to know!

"I'm not going to rip out your fingernails, Lastachka," he murmurs, sliding his lips across my crown. "Just be grateful you belong to someone morally ambiguous instead of morally corrupt. Obey me, and things will get much better. Keep defying me, and you'll only bring yourself more pain. I do enjoy causing pain, sweet one. Never doubt that." Grabbing my hand, he places it on the tent in his pants. "Seeing you in agony gets me harder than anything ever has. But there can be pleasure in the pain. I want to give you that pleasure."

Letting go, he pulls back and brings my hands back out front. He plants a soft kiss on both tops before turning them over to reveal my palms. His actions confuse me, but I'm so relieved he's not going to pull out my nails that I don't care what he does at this point. With a soft chuckle, he pulls out a small flashlight and weighs it in his palm before looking at me with dark intent.

"No more games. Did you either touch yourself or try to touch yourself."

Gulping, I stare back up at him, unsure of what to do. I want that pleasure he promised with a desperation I've never known before. But if I tell him the truth, he'll probably not let me get off. Swallowing, I give myself a moment to figure out how I'm going to word this.

"I mean, you told me not to...." I trail off, letting him draw his own conclusions.

He shakes his head, giving a small sigh as he brings the flashlight up and turns it on. I watch in dumbfounded amazement as my fingers light up purple until it gets to my fingertips. Smears of fluorescent green light the pads, somehow revealing what I've done. I try to pull away, but he grabs my right wrist in a crushing grip.

"Now, I cannot say you lied to me since you never gave me an actual answer, but your fingers don't lie. Before putting you to bed, I smeared the shield with a non-toxic film that's only visible under a UV light. The only way you could have gotten that on your fingers is if they played around where they shouldn't have been."

He clicks off the light and stares down at me with that smug smile. It's too much to bear. Flinging my arms about, I barely miss his shoulder as I rant at him.

"What am I supposed to do? You freaked me out, making me think that you took my whole clit off. I had to make sure it was still there!"

"Right. And that's why your naughty little fingers went under the edges, trying to get at your clit. Tell me, did it hurt? One of the reasons the shield is there is so that you won't touch yourself without permission. Think of it as a chastity belt with fewer limitations. You can't touch your clit, but I can still enjoy you in any sexual way I want. The other reason is that it needs time to heal. Of course, you'd be freaking out about what happened to you. The shield helps you keep your nasty hands off of it."

My shoulders crumple as his words sink in. He was just lying when he talked about pleasure in pain. This man only cared about his pleasure, nothing of mine.

"Stop looking so sullen. It's not a good look for you. I was going to give you an orgasm before breakfast, but now that I know for certain you disobeyed me, you'll just have to go without."

Without a preamble, Master Grigori grabs me by the waist and hauls me up onto the counter, spreading my knees. I go to bring them back in, unwilling to subject myself to any more of his scrutiny. The loud slaps as he rains his hands down onto my inner thighs fill the room, drowning out my pained squawks. My skin burns under the onslaught of his hands, the skin turning multiple shades of red.

"Enough of this. I will not fight you at every turn. If you keep insisting on acting like a child, trust me, I will treat you like one. I'm sure my chef will have no problems coming up with some sort of mush that will be spoon-fed to you while you're bound helplessly somewhere. You'll also have to either ask for permission to go to the bathroom or wear something to catch it when you do. Does that sound appealing?"

I shake my head, shameful tears gathering in my eyes.

"Also, children don't get orgasms. Ever."

My blood chills as he stares me down. I don't doubt that he means every word. I don't embarrass easily, but just the thought of the things he threatened makes my skin flame in mortification. Lowing my head, I slide my legs open, letting my hair fall around my face, hiding my shame. His fingers skim the burning flesh of my thighs, fanning the irritation even further. When his hand settles on my chest to lean me back against the mirror, I go without a fuss.

Mr. Ivan shuffles over, gloves on his hands and a small tray in his grasp. As he kneels down in front of me, I cast a worried look over to Master Grigori. He needs to know I didn't ask for this. I'm not trying to seduce him again. His gaze is trained at Mr. Ivan's head, a frown marring his chiseled face. He doesn't seem to be upset at me, which is a relief. A sharp zip of pain is the only warning that Mr. Ivan is at my clit, removing the shield so he can take a look. They both speak to each other in low tones, the Russian sounding harsh and angry.

"At least you didn't harm yourself last night. He will leave the shield off for now and put it back on before bed tonight."

Nodding to Mr. Ivan, I watch as he slinks away, casting glances at me as he exits the room. Alone with Master Grigori, a chill races down my spine. It feels like we're at a stalemate with neither of us knowing what to do. As if finally making a decision, he starts to undress, starting with the cufflinks at his sleeve. Holding the cuffs up to me, he slowly undoes the link before setting it down on the counter with a soft plink. He offers me his other hand, waiting patiently for me to take hold of it and loosen the cufflink. I set it down next to the other and look back at him, the hunger in his eyes searing me inside and out.

Without the shield, air freely swirls about my clit, kissing the skin, with phantom flicks too close to that of a tongue for comfort. I squirm as he stands in between my knees, his hand on his hips in expectation. With trembling fingers, I reach up and start unbuttoning his shirt. Each gap reveals the smooth expanse of his chest. Going lower, I tug the shirt out of his pants and finish opening it. His muscles bunch as he rolls his shoulders, sliding the shirt off and down. Instead of letting it fall to the floor, he folds it and lays it next to the cufflinks.

Seeing my chaos next to his tidy sends a pang of regret that I didn't actually clean up after last night's freakout. He either doesn't care or is choosing to ignore it. Based on the methodical way he's placing his clothes, though, it's safe to assume he's ignoring it for now. He clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him and the task at hand. I take in a deep breath as I unbutton his pants and lower the zipper. He's hot and hard behind the cage of metal, and I want nothing more than to release him and feel him in me again, even if it's just my mouth.

Swallowing, I shove the pants down, only to be stopped by his hand circling my wrist. It's gentle this time, not harsh and demanding. Pausing, I look up at him, trying to read his expression. Pulling back, he slides out of his pants, not crumpling them like I was, leaving him in just his underwear. His cock strains at the fabric. Emboldened, I slide my palm up his erection, shivering as his moan fills the room.

"We're going to be late for breakfast if you keep that up."

"Well, you did threaten to feed me a tasteless slop that's high in nutrition."

He smiles at me for a moment before grabbing me about the waist and pulling me off the counter.

"Get into that shower before I blister your ass for insolence."

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