“So, what’s this about? My punishment?”
There is an amused look in his eyes. “I thought you might like to try out the flogger.”
Actually, I really do. My expression must betray my anticipation, because Nikolai chuckles indulgently. “Come on, myshka,” he says, “Let’s get started.”
The first thing he does is wrap a blindfold around my eyes. I pout openly. “I want to watch,” I complain.
Smack. His palm cracks down, hard, on my ass, and I jump in response. “Behave.” His voice is firm. “Or I will double your punishment.”
Ah, pouting and whining isn’t permitted. “Yes Sir,” I say meekly. I feel the heat from the spot where his hand has made contact. Desire dances on my skin, and my blood boils with lust. I am so ready for this.
I feel his hands on either side of my face, cupping my jaw in his hands, before he brings his lips down on mine. I open my mouth, automatically permitting him entry. Our tongues twine, and he pushes his body against me, backing me into the wall. I am helpless with longing.
He pulls away from my lips, and slides his hands down my body. “Do you want your punishment, Allie?” he growls at me.
I whisper my reply. “I want it so much.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “Good girl.” I feel the approval emanate from him, and his mouth nibbles at one of my nipples. His fingers, those talented, ruined fingers, play with the other. Pinching and pulling, twisting and rubbing, until I am writhing with a sensation that resembles pain, but one I welcome. I want this to go on forever.
He cups my breasts, then glides over my hips, before honing in on my dripping pussy. He zooms in, finding my clitoris with an ease that’s truly intimidating, and rubbing it.
My little noises of need intensify. So good. I am wet, and I am ready for him. I wonder if he’ll let me come? He’s certainly not holding back when he’s touching me. The sure strokes are designed to get me off quickly.
“You are absolutely not allowed to come.” His voice is implacable, and just like that, my hopes are dashed. Ah well. I should have known there was no way he was going to permit a climax so soon. And I’m not as bothered by it as I might have been prior to coming to Boston. In the few days I’ve been with Nikolai, I’ve learned the power of delayed gratification. When I am forced to wait for my pleasure, the eventual reward is so much sweeter.
I’m almost sobbing with the intensity of the sensations he’s causing, but I’m desperate to hold back and obey. But it is so difficult. My body is shivering, and I hear the squelching noises my pussy is making as his fingers pump in and out of me. I can’t hold on. I can’t.
Just when I’m at the point where I’m convinced I’m going to come, consequences be damned, he stops and pulls away. “This is exactly the way I want you, Allie,” he says. “Your skin is so pretty and flushed. Your lips are parted so sweetly, and you beg with such desperation. Such a needy little pet.”
“And you are pleased with your pet, right?” I ask boldly. “Enough to let her come?”
I can’t see the expression on his face, but I don’t need to. I feel the smack on my ass, and he chuckles. “Not quite that much contentment, Allie, not yet. You’ll just have to be patient and wait.”
Anticipation, I remind myself. The joys of delayed gratification. But it takes noticeable effort to keep from whining and begging again for my climax.
His hands encircle mine, and I feel him fasten something around my wrists. “Cuffs,” he explains as he works. “I’m going to tie your hands up so you can’t shield yourself.”
“Because it’s going to hurt that much?” I’m nervous again.
He strokes my cheek soothingly. “Because your hands might reach out to block the strokes instinctively and we can’t risk any damage to your fingers, myshka.”
Fair point. My second-chance audition is right around the corner.
He draws my hands up and above my head, and I hear the clanking of chains. “Very dungeon like,” I quip, and he laughs. He keeps working though and in about thirty seconds, my arms are completely held in place. I tug on my bindings, and I hear the chains clatter once again, but I don’t have much range of motion at all.
“And now,” he says, in an exaggerated Russian accent, sounding for all intents and purposes like a member of the feared mafiya, “you are in my control, little one.”
I burst out laughing. He sounds ridiculous.
“Now, Allie,” he interrupts my giggling. “Let’s play some music, shall we?”
The melody that fills the air is instantly recognizable. Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 3. But the acoustics of the recording are off. The tape is definitely home-made. I raise my eyebrow silently, and wish I could see his face.