Bratva's Brat (Loftry University Playthings 2)

Master Grigori is relentless as his hard palm rains down smack after smack. After a few more minutes, I'm twisting and writhing, arching my body to avoid the blows. Who would think that just a barehanded spanking would hurt so much? He wedges his leg in between mine and forces them further apart, putting more strain on my hands and arms. I gasp as the stretch becomes almost unbearable. His questing fingers slide across my lips, embarrassingly wet with arousal. Leaning down, he groans in my ear as one hand grips my right cheek and the other as he sinks his fingers deep into me. I'm so wet he slides right in with no effort at all.

"I'm supposed to be punishing you, Lastachka. You're not supposed to be enjoying it so much."

"I'm not," I wail out, fingertips scrabbling at the wooden edge.

He drags his fingers out, smearing my essences on my inner thigh.

"You certainly are wet enough to fool me."

The smacks continue as he peppers the insides of my thighs, the wet smacks sounding lewd in the small office. Pain and heat bloom across my skin as he imprints on me just how much he doesn't want to talk about his job. He's certainly getting his point across. I no longer even want to think about the word mafia, much less say it out loud. Thankfully, he turns from my inner thighs but then switches gears and lands the blows across the back of my legs. I buck against the pain, my ass bumping hard into him. His grunt of pain tells me I hit somewhere I shouldn't have. I tell myself I should feel bad about it, but I don't. He's freaking spanking the skin off of my body; a bump into his cock isn't going to be the end of the world.

His hand leaves my asscheek and lays across my low back, pinning me to the desk. The virgin skin of my thighs clenches with every stinging swat. Pain, much worse than before, crawls up the backs of my legs and settles deep into my core. I don't like pain, I chide myself, forcing my brain to ignore the swirling heat. Even as he moves to the sensitive areas where my ass meets my thighs, the pain and heat morph into pure arousal. Maybe it's him and not what he's doing? I strain against his arm, wishing desperately to be free from these conflicting emotions, but he just holds me there, granting me no quarter.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally lets me up. I bend down to tug at my pants, but he stops me by jerking them out of my grasp.

"You think your punishment is over? I don't think so."

He wraps his strong arm about my waist, and I sink into his heat before I can stop myself. As I snuggle closer, his arm tightens around me, keeping me pressed into him. With his free hand, he pulls open a drawer and rummages about for a moment before pulling out a silver plug with bells hanging off the end. He lays it on the desk and picks up his phone, muttering to whoever answered before pointing to a corner of his office.

"Stand in that corner and don't make a sound. I promise you, you don't want to test me any further today."

* * *

Grigori

Watching her sassy mouth turn down into a pout as I point to the other corner has my cock hardening with every second. Would she actually obey me? As she shuffles over towards the wall with small, careful steps, pants down around her ankles, I smile to myself, allowing just one moment of satisfaction that she obeys without too much of a fuss. Perhaps there's hope for her after all. Her ass blazes red against the pale skin I hadn't spanked yet. The contrast is so satisfying to look at.

As she stands there, her legs shifting about, I smile and pull my laptop over. Finally, I can get some work done without her nosey self butting into my business. How does she not have any self-preservation? Was she really that sheltered at the university? Perhaps I should talk with James at some point. These submissives are just not acting with any common sense.

As soft knock pulls a gasp out of Chelsea. She whirls about, covering her ass with her hands. Shaking my head, I motion for her to turn back around. Her eyes shift between me and the door before she inches her way back around. Her hands are still firmly planted on her ass. Clearing my throat, I wait for her to do the right thing, but she doesn't.

"Move those hands, or you're going to get spanked again in front of whoever is at my door. This is part of your punishment. If you did what I told you and dropped it, you wouldn't have to deal with this embarrassment."

What the hell is wrong with me? I should have flayed her alive, and yet, here I am, spanking her instead. She’s turning me into a softie. I knew it. The feeling is alien and uncomfortable as I examine it. I give her a few moments to comply before calling out for Dmitriy to enter. I'm not firing Ivan yet, but I don't want him around Chelsea any more than he has to be. As the door opens, she huddles even deeper into the bookcase. As if that will somehow shield her from someone seeing her ass. Lucky for him, Dmitriy doesn't even blink in her direction. He hands off the skirt I asked him for and waits for my dismissal, eye locked onto my desk.

"Take care of the Jimmy problem. I have my hands full with this hellcat."

Chelsea makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't move. After Dmitriy leaves, I have her stand there for a few more minutes - long enough for me to finish some emails without her prying eyes. I can't fault her completely. She was never raised in the Bratva way. She doesn't know how dangerous questions are or how completely disrespectful it is to question the leaders. Closing my laptop again, I pick up the buttplug and jingle it in my hands.

"Come here, Chelsea."

She turns slowly and pauses before coming to stand in front of me. I motion once again for her to turn around, and I plant her hands onto the desk. Skimming my palms down her leg, I lift up one ankle to remove the pants leg, then the other. I grab the skirt and do the opposite, shimmying the skirt in place. With a firm jerk, I grab her hips and bring them to me, making her upper half lay flat on the desk. With a flick of my wrist, I flip her skirt back, exposing her once more. Reaching over, I grab the plug and run it across her lower lips, nudging her piercing a few times before bringing it back to her core.

A deep inhale is the only indication that this is having an effect on her. I ease the plug deep into her channel, gathering her essence with each dip into her body. My cock aches as I watch the metal disappear inside. But I can't indulge myself. That just leads to us getting far closer than we need to be. This is a transaction, and I need to treat it as such. That doesn't help my cock any. Precome wells up my shaft, making my underwear stick to me as I shift around. After adjusting myself, I pull the plug out and notch it into her tight ring.

She tenses against the intrusion, but I push forward anyway, not letting her escape this. The bells jingle as I jostle it into place. Peeking up, I see her staring at me, her face as red as her ass. For good measure, I smack her cheek, keeping my eyes locked onto hers the whole time. The bells chime out from her ass, bringing a chuckle out of me. I've had these here for years and never once used them. The look on her face is priceless. Expressions war across, as if her mind can't decide if she likes this or not.

Standing her up, I drop the skirt in place and twist her hips back and forth. The ringing is still there, but not nearly as loud as before. No matter, I'll still have fun with her this way. I rise next to her and push her over towards the door. She pauses, her eyes wide and frantic.

"People are going to hear me," she hisses, her face beet red.

"That's the point, my dear. If you want to continue being nosey about me, then you'll have to handle others being nosey about you. Not so much fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?"

She looks down, shaking her head as she scuffs her toe back and forth. Bringing my finger up under her chin, I force her to meet my gaze.

"I can attach a leash to it. Would you like that as well?"

"No, Master!" She yells out, shaking her head back and forth.

I stifle a smile as I take her arm and lead her out of the room. Her short, halting steps are amusing as she tries in vain to keep the bells from jingling under her skirt. Lucky for her, I let my men stay in the shadows where she can't see them. I want her to learn her lesson, but I don't want her mortified beyond all reason. Each inch we gain is pure agony. I want to be buried deep inside her again, not dragging out her punishment. I give her a glance, noting the concentration etched in her features. It takes all my willpower not to laugh. Instead, I clear my throat and lay my palm against the flat of her back. With gentle shoves and nudges, I get her to pick up the pace, if only infinitesimally.

Other members may chide my efforts as foolish or that I’ve gone soft. I’ve already committed violence on her person; now is the time for a softer approach. I need to make her crave me - make her desperate to please and submit - make her want me with the same violent fervor that she wanted Jeremy. Just thinking about his name sends a wave of anger rolling through me.

It’s irrational, though, and thus, I ignore it, shove it off like a pesky fly. The small shove forward sets the bells to tinkling even harder, making my little bird seize up and freeze.

“It’s either walk of your own free will, or I force you on your hands and knees to crawl the rest of the way. I can guarantee the bells will ring much louder that way, especially if I flip your skirt up. Just imagine all my men staring at those red globes, decked out with shiny bells.”

She picks up the pace, lips set into a thin line. It’s not that hard to control my wayward companion; I just have to find what she absolutely detests and threaten her with that. She may not be easy to humiliate, but there’s a flicker of self-preservation. It’s a game, really, seeing which buttons light her up and which have no effect. I do so enjoy dissecting her every movement like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Before too long, a smooth panel of stone comes into view. Most people would walk right past it, never knowing what secrets lay within its depths. Pausing, I wait for Chelsea to stop as well, and I point out the filigree texture hidden within.

“Every day, at five, I want you standing at this wall, head bowed, feet apart, hands grasped behind your back. Understood? Get into position and repeat what I just said.

* * *