Grigori
What in thehell am I going to do with this girl. On the one hand, she exasperates me to no end. On the other, she lets her gentle, vulnerable side show. Part of me wishes she'd just keep defying me. It would make things easier in the long run. Sighing, I let my gaze drift up the curve of her ass as she shimmies about turning the water on. My brain and cock are at opposite ends. My mind wants to keep it strictly business. My cock wants me to bury myself inside her and forget everything else.
Shifting my hips, I slide my underwear off and lay it with my other clothes. Looking about the bathroom, it's clear something happened last night. Everything lies scattered about in haphazard piles - different from the bedroom. That has a look of rage about it. What she doesn't seem to understand is that simple submission would rid her of most of these issues. This is why I deal with trained submissives only. We don't have to play this stupid cat and mouse game. They know what's expected of them, and they know what's expected of me.
Rubbing my forehead for a moment, I slip into the shower with her, letting her body brush against mine for a moment before reaching past her for a cake of soap. I need to find a way to get through to her. I'm not the enemy here. Her attitude and disobedience are what's going to get her into trouble every single time. Looking down, I watch the soap bubble up as I lather it in my hands, a small, unwelcomed prick to my conscience tapping me in the back of the head. In some ways, she's right not to trust me. She's just a pawn in a game she knows nothing about.
Crushing the soap in my fists, I toss it aside and grab onto Chelsea. I whirl her about, slamming her against the back of the shower. I need to drown out these voices telling me to both draw her close and let her go. She's not the submissive I chose, but she's mine now. Already the thought of sending her away raises my hackles and demands I slay the real monsters that will come after her. Catching her lips with mine, I force my tongue in between her teeth, thrusting in and out in a mockery of what I'd rather be doing.
In a smooth glide, I grab her hips, lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around me. Careful to not put any extra pressure against the piercing, I prod her entrance with the head of my cock, delighted as I easily slip through her folds. Muffled whines cascade from her as I thrust in, filling her up to the hilt. She's so snug about me, hugging my shaft as if she's made just for me. Shoving that sentimental thought out of my head, I force myself to look at her as I do all the other submissives I've had - a hole to slake my lusts and nothing more.
Unfortunately, I can't do that. Try as I might, I can't keep myself separate from her. Something in her calls to me - soothes me - even as she makes me want to tear my hair out, there's a part of her that's so endearing. It's like recognizing like. Though I'm not naive enough to believe in insta-love or soulmates, I do believe in compatibility. Her spice keeps things from getting too boring, and her body responds well to my punishment. If we can make it past the foreseeable future, there's a chance she could be the one for me.
Gripping her ass in my palms, I dig deep, agitating the bruises that still linger like dark jewels on her skin. Though she wails from the pain, she becomes all the wetter, my adorable little pain slut. Using her as a vessel, I pour all my frustrations into her. She gives as good as she gets, raking her nails down my back, bucking her hips to meet mine. Maybe now we can come to a truce, some sort of understanding. She will forever be my fucktoy, and she'll enjoy every minute of it. Reaching between us, I use feather-light strokes to stimulate her clit, taking extreme care of her piercing. Though Ivan will probably have my head for this, I want to show my little songbird the beauty of obedience, the pleasure of submission.
Her body ripples around me as she rides me harder, searching for completion. Gripping her close to me, I lower us to the floor, letting the water cascade over my back, shielding her from the spray. I ride her hard and deep, pistoning in and out in punishing strokes. Her body bows up as I strum even faster, the first of her orgasms breaking over her. Moaning and writing, her pussy spasms around my cock, gripping me, milking me. I keep teasing her little nub as I ride out her first orgasm and into her second. Her eyes fly up to mine as shock fills her face. The second orgasm comes crashing through, leaving her heaving and jerking underneath me. Her lips spill pleas to a deity that has nothing to do with the pleasure I'm bestowing on her.
Pulling her hips further underneath me, I hoist her legs up over my shoulders, almost bending her in half. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips moving in wordless pleas. From this angle, I drill into her, not letting her go until I wrest yet another orgasm from her decadent body. Her head thrashes back and forth as if begging me to stop even though her body begs for me to continue. A few more thrusts, and her third orgasm hits her. Her fingers claw at my arms as her pleasured wails fill the bathroom. Burying my head in her neck, I grip her shoulders and keep pumping until my own orgasm barrels through. My balls tighten up as electricity zips up and down my spine. Holding her close, I bottom out one last time, filling her with my seed.
Roaring my release, I slide in and out a few times, riding out that high. Feeling her clench around me, milking me for every last drop, sends shivers through my body. I push back up on my elbows, keeping the bulk of my weight off of her. Now that I've sated myself for the moment, I'm able to see things a bit more clearly. Post-orgasm haze threatens to engulf me, lull me into a false sense of security, but I can't let it. I have to stay alert, in command. Her soft whimpers and moans as she stretches out tug at my heartstrings, but I have to harden myself against her. I can't let myself feel anything. As much as I crave the notion of a submissive of my own, the very real threat to my family takes precedence. I can't sacrifice my cousin for a wet pussy and pouting lips. My cousin is all the family I've got left in this world. Cunt is a dime a dozen.
I pull out of her, taking care to let the water run over us, washing away my release. Easing her off of the floor, I grab the bar of soap and proceed to do what I came in here to do. My movements are brisk and perfunctory, nothing sensual or languid. Chelsea looks up at me, her eyes asking a million questions while her lips stay silent. Of all the times for her to be quiet, this would be the one. Satisfied that she's clean, I help her out into the bathroom and hand her a towel from the linen closet.
"Before bed, I want this bathroom spotless. I don't expect any less of you than the university did. Don't make me have to implement inspections."
"Yes, Sir."
I steal a glance over at her as she rubs down her body, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. Fuck. That's the last thing I wanted to do, but perhaps it's for the best. The sooner we sever any emotional ties, the better. We both have our roles to play, and doting dominant isn't mine. Grabbing my clothes off of the counter, I leave her to get ready.
"Ivan will be standing right outside your bedroom door to take you down to breakfast when you're ready. I wouldn't waste time if I were you; he's liable to pop in to make sure you aren't doing something you're not supposed to."
Head hanging low, the meek nod of her head sends a shaft of pain and guilt to my heart. I need to get out of here before I make an even bigger fool of myself.
* * *
My long strideseat up the hallways as I head down to the dining room. Determination fills me as I gain distance from her. That's all I need. Distance. As I enter the room, I pause to look at the table setting. With me at the head and her right next to me, there's no way I'd be able to keep from touching her, teasing her, wanting her. I pick up her place setting and move it to the very end of the table before heading back to my spot. Chef Romero makes his way in, looks at the new arrangement, and says nothing. Instead, he walks over to the small closet and pulls out a thick pillow, and shows it to me.
I shake my head and turn to concentrate on the immaculate table, forcing my brain away from the thought of her kneeling at my side as I feed her from my hand. Thankfully the chef says nothing but returns to the kitchen for our food. Not that I have to answer to him, but not having to explain myself really helps in these moments. I'm still trying to figure them out for myself.
As he walks back in with steaming trays of food, I sense movement by the door. Looking up, I spot Chelsea standing in the doorway, damp hair curling at the ends, pale blue shirt, and form-fitting pencil skirt. I shift in my chair and order my libido to the background. She worries her lower lip as she stares at the table. But of course, she'd expect to eat next to me. I just fucked her. No doubt she's looking for a bit of intimacy. Unfortunately, I can't give her what she needs or wants. Not if I want to stay sane.
She shuffles over and sits in her chair before casting a glance my way. She looks so small and forlorn as she twists her hands about, looking between the table and me. The chef places the food on my plate before hurrying over to fill hers up as well. Giving him a weak smile, she picks up the fork and stabs at her food, and moves it about. Ravenous, I dig into my own plate, not caring if she decides to eat or not. Despite my threats, I'm not her father. I'm not going to force her to consume food.
After what feels like an eternity, she forks some eggs and stuffs them in her mouth, chewing slowly, looking everywhere but at me. Motioning one of my men over, I slide a folder to him and nod over in Chelsea's direction. With a stiff nod, he picks it up and walks it to her, startling her out of whatever thoughts were bouncing around in her head. No doubt she's trying to figure out how I'm going to kill her or maim her. A smile tugs at my lips. Her active imagination is going to get her into trouble someday.
I finish my plate, wipe my mouth, and walk over to her. Large eyes look up at me, searching for something. Unable to completely resist her, I slide my palm over her cheek, relishing in the soft warmth. She nuzzles into me, a faint smile crossing her lips. Clearing my throat, I pull back, ignoring the hurt blazing in her eyes. She's going to have to get over it.
"Just because you're in my household doesn't mean you get a free pass on your studies." I tap the folder before sliding my fingertips under her chin to force her gaze to mine. "This has all the information you need to start doing your classes online. It's a go at your own pace situation, but trust me, you don't want me to start managing your time. Today, I let you sleep in, but no more. You will awaken at eight, get ready for the day, and come down for breakfast. You will complete your schoolwork from nine until twelve, at which time you will do various physical training." Her eyes get a suspicious gleam, pulling a chuckle out of me. "Not that type of physical training. I want you to be able to defend yourself if need be. I have a lot of enemies. Many will think the quickest way to bring me down will be through you. I don't want to have to worry about you. At one, you will break for lunch, then go back to your schoolwork. At five you will have a different sort of training. This one will be with me. You are not the submissive I'd hope you would be, so we will be going over protocols, pain management, and brat control. At six, we will stop for dinner, though depending on the lesson for that day, training may lead into dinner. Once dinner and training are complete, you are free to do as you wish until bed. I will not give you a bedtime unless your other duties fail. Are we clear?"
She nods.
"Words, submissive."