The Bratva's Baby (Wicked Doms 1)

So innocent, her pleas sway me. With my left hand, I lightly touch the underside of her breast before I cup the full breast in my hand, first one, then the other, my thumb flicking over the furled nipples. A tremor runs through her. I continue the gentle caress, then bring my hand between her legs.

“Close your eyes,” I whisper in her ear. She obeys. While fondling her nipples, I slowly give her what she wants, gliding my fingers through her wet folds. I curse when I feel her arousal, my mouth watering to taste her. With deft strokes, I work her closer to orgasm, patiently letting her build. If she’s telling me the truth, and my instinct says she is, she doesn’t know what waits for her on the other side of this pleasure. The unknown might frighten her, which is why I’m holding her close like this. A climax apart from me might be overwhelming, and I don’t want to overwhelm her yet.

Soon.

Her breathing hitches, her body tensing against mine. I work her faster, circling her clit and stroking her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples before I plunge two fingers in her slick core. Her breaths become ragged, her nipples hard as rocks, and I know she’s on the very brink of coming when her back arches into me.

“This,” I whisper in her ear. “This is the verge of orgasm. Your body dangles at the very edge of bliss. Your breathing changes. Your heartbeat races. The pressure and longing will build. This. This is when you ask my permission. The first few times I’ll allow you to learn your body’s cues. But once you know them, if you come without asking, you’ll earn punishment. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she chokes out, hips bucking. She writhes, her head whipping from side to side when I feel her climax rip through her and her low-pitched moan fills the room. I ease her through her orgasm, gentling the strokes of my fingers when she passes her peak. She falls against me. Gasping. Panting. Her body heated and no longer trembling from cold. Her head lolls to the side, her eyes closed. She’s exhausted.

I hold her to my chest.

“How did you like your first orgasm, krasotka?” I ask.

“It was… more than I’d hoped,” she whispers. My chest swells with pride at her words. I drop a kiss to one bare shoulder.

“Good,” I tell her. “Obey me, and you will learn to crave pleasure.”

“Mmm,” she says, her eyes closed. “I get it. Disobey, it will be the opposite.” I growl. It’s no joking matter. She’ll see, though.

I rise with her against my chest and carry her to the bed. My cock presses up against her hot ass, but I won’t take pleasure from her tonight. I’ll rub one off in the shower to ease my aching balls. I long to claim her, but I can be a patient man when I want to be. After years of exacting revenge and biding my time, I’ve learned patience.

“I don’t trust you,” she says, when I lay her down on the bed. Her eyes are closed, a faint pink flush coloring her beautiful cheeks. It would be a travesty to dress her now, when she still wears the marks of my session, lines across her back and shoulders and crisscrossed pink on her full backside. The marks will fade quickly, and in the morning, no residual reminders of our session will remain. I pull the sheet up over her body, covering her, then pull up the thick duvet cover and place that over her as well.

“Of course you don’t trust me,” I tell her. “I do not demand your trust. I demand your compliance.”

She doesn’t respond, but tucks her hands under the pillow and sighs.

“I’m tired,” she says on a yawn.

“Get some rest,” I tell her. This night could have ended so differently. Every one of them defies me at this point and earns the night behind bars by my feet. Sadie hasn’t yet. I wonder if she will. But as I stare at the gleaming metal, sitting in the corner of the room in shadow, a part of me dislikes the idea of putting her there. I want her full ass pressed up against my cock as I sleep. Her breasts within reach should I decide to touch them. Her mouth ready to service me when I demand it.

I sit by the bed and thread my fingers through her hair. It would be an almost gentle gesture, if I wasn’t touching her to remind her that I’m here. That even though she has the freedom to move around the room without restraints or shackles, she still remains confined with me. So when she falls asleep by my side, she knows who she belongs to and that freedom no longer exists for her.