Once I’d crossed the border out of my comfort zone, I was in a lawless, wild place. I could do whatever I wanted. Totally free of judgement, rules, or consequences.
Vasilije’s left hand came swiftly off the wall and he hooked a finger on my bra strap, tugging it down my shoulder until my breast was free. He captured my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and clamped down. It grew hot and achy. The pinch was biting, and sharp pain shot up from his twisting grip, so intense it stole my breath.
“That hurts,” I hissed, and tried to get away, but he had me wedged in the corner.
“Get used to the pain, baby. It’s going to hurt when I fuck you.”
I let go of him and slapped my palms against the walls, wanting to push off, but he didn’t relent. The pain was acute. I was about to cry out when his grip abruptly shifted, releasing my nipple so he could cup my breast.
The sudden absence of pain was . . . interesting. The lingering sting on my skin was almost enjoyable. I sucked in air through my clenched teeth and stared back at Vasilije’s bottomless eyes. I’d been watching his response when my hands were on him, and now he did the same to me.
“Pull the front of your panties down,” he ordered. “Show me your pussy.”
I leaned against the wall for support, hooked my fingers in the front of my brand new forty dollar panties, and stretched the elastic down. Although, they were his, weren’t they?
“Oh, Oksana,” he groaned. “So fucking wet. Your pussy’s weeping for me.” His right hand squealed as he slid it down the wall, and then he shoved it right between my legs. He ran his fingers through my arousal, and my knees went weak. I couldn’t help the quiet moan he pulled from me.
His touch was shocking.
It felt good. It burned in all sorts of wrong and amazing ways. Another moan bubbled up and was about to break free when he withdrew and pumped his fist, wet from my desire, on his dick.
“Stay like that,” he said in a rush.
His grip on my breast tightened, and his thumb brushed over my traumatized nipple, bringing on a fresh wave of sensation. I was a deviant, braced against the wall in heels and expensive lingerie, one side of my bra off and holding my panties down while he jerked off furiously.
The tempo of his breathing changed abruptly, and he leaned in so the tip of his dick brushed against my clit. I gasped at the jolt of pleasure, but it was covered by his louder rasps for breath. His fist sliding along him was erratic and desperate, and suddenly he was coming. Warm, thick liquid struck me, spurt after spurt as his shoulders shook violently. His cum coated my slit and dripped onto the crotch of my panties.
I trembled so hard, I was vibrating against the walls.
Both of our gazes were pointed down, watching as his fist slowed to a stop, and the last jet of cum was squeezed out onto the fabric meant to cover the most intimate part of me. It was dirty. So erotic, I stared in disbelief at what he’d done. What we’d done.
Shouldn’t I have felt something like revulsion? Disgust that he was degrading me?
I didn’t. I only felt dizzy and out of breath. There was a throbbing in my body, clambering for a release of tension.
Vasilije straightened, and his cold hands clasped on mine, pulling them away from the waist of my panties. They snapped into place and clung to where he’d painted me. I gasped, but he threaded his fingers through mine and pinned the backs of my hands to the walls.
He gazed at me with pure arrogance lighting his eyes. He surveyed me like land he’d just conquered, and he claimed my mouth as his reward. His kiss was just like him. Aggressive. Dominating.
He pulled back so he was only a breath away, and his eyes were unfocused before he blinked the haze away. Had kissing me been the cause? His expression turned sly. “Get dressed, but those cum-filled panties stay where they are.”
A new shudder rocked my body, laced with unexpected satisfaction. I had the terrible feeling he was right. Sex was all about power, and if it wasn’t already, soon it’d all be his.
11
Vasilije
I ordered Oksana to stand still while I cut the tag off the back of the bra, and then watched her get dressed in the shitty clothes she’d been wearing when I’d picked her up from the house. She moved gingerly, and I liked it. I loved the idea of her pussy sticky with my cum, reminding her every time she moved who she belonged to.
Shit, I couldn’t wait to fuck her, but lording the upcoming event over her was satisfying. I’d gotten her all keyed up, shot a load in her panties, and left her hanging. If she was a good girl, tonight I’d give her an orgasm or two, but that all depended on her.