Gavriil (Stepanov Mafia)

“I don’t care,” Devin said. “I’d rather die than not defend my sister.”

We both knew this had nothing to do with Devin defending me and everything to do with him defending his own dignity. However, neither of us mentioned this.

“What will my sacrifice have meant if you go and get yourself killed by Gavril anyway?” I asked. “I will have endured this for nothing.”

There was a long pause, and I knew I was finally getting through to him.

“Just let me do this for you, and then we can forget about it. Don’t make my sacrifice mean nothing.”

Devin mumbled something about how much he wanted to “take care” of Gavril, but I was ignoring him. Instead, I was thinking about how more and more I didn’t feel like I was sacrificing that much at all. Gavril was rewarding me well, and I was being treated better than I ever had in my life.

A few days later, Gavril returned home without a gift or anything else for me. I was surprised but tried not to show it. I didn’t want him to think I’d come to expect payment, though I clearly had.

I was laying in his bed, the luxuriously soft sheets pulled up to my waist, my breasts exposed. Gavril had tweaked them rather hard the day before, so they were sensitive, but I said nothing as he crawled across the bed and sucked one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around me.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Better now.” He growled and slipped his hand beneath the sheets, running his cold fingers across my stomach.

He found my center and began to stroke me, instantly claiming control of my body and its desires. It was remarkable how in tune my body had become to his touch. I lifted my hips and circled my body against his finger, letting him know how much I was enjoying it. I never knew exactly how Gavril would react to this. Some days, he wanted to know how much I enjoyed his touch, how much I wanted him. Other days, he seemed to find his pleasure in making me uncomfortable, in pushing me beyond my usual limits by trying new positions and introducing pain. Today was the former.

As soft moans escaped my lips, he slipped out of his jeans and crawled beneath the sheets with me. I circled my arms and legs around his body, drawing him close as he sunk into me. Even after a few weeks of near-constant sex, I wasn’t used to the size of him. There was always a moment where I was certain I would break apart around him.

“So tight,” he groaned, burying his face in my shoulder.

I pulsed my hips up to meet his thrusts, clawing at the muscles of his back, sinking my fingers into the divots at the base of his spine. A spark was flickering in the center of me, and I was begging for it to catch, to blaze. I needed this release.

“Harder,” I whispered before I could even think about it. Why was I telling Gavril to take me harder? Had I forgotten who I was talking to?

He stiffened for a moment, probably just as surprised as I was, and then suddenly he was pulling out of me and flipping me over. My face was buried in the pillow for a few seconds, making it impossible to breathe as he crossed my wrists behind my back and grabbed both of my hands in one of his.

Then, he slid between my legs. I turned my face to the side and inhaled as my body stretched around him once again. As soon as he was buried inside of me, he pulled out and did it again, this time faster. And again, faster. And again.

Within moments, my entire body was vibrating with the force of his thrusts. With him holding my arms behind my back and his hips pinning me to the bed, I was completely helpless against his thrusts. It felt incredible.

Suddenly, I felt the crack of his hand against my ass, followed by the familiar sting.

“Is that hard enough for you?” he asked.

“No,” I said, though tears were welling up in my eyes.

He thrust into me and spanked me again in the same spot. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“What about now?”

I shook my head.

Gavril released my hands, wrapped his arm around the front of my waist to tilt my hips up, and then slammed into me at an entirely new angle at the same time his hand cracked across my backside.

He asked me once again whether it was finally hard enough, but I could barely hear the question. My face was buried in the pillow in a weak attempt to muffle my screams.

Gavril continued this violent onslaught until I felt his thighs begin to shake against me. Until the pleasure was so much that he couldn’t even hold himself up, and he collapsed on top of me. He continued the shallow thrusts and tucked his hand between me and the mattress, stroking my most sensitive spot a few times, which was just enough to push me over the edge, as well. Even while my backside still stung and my body felt stretched and raw, pleasure washed over me, pulsing through my mid-section and sending jolts down my limbs.