I met him when he approached me at a night club. I had noticed him watching me earlier as I walked about with my friends. I smiled to him once as our eyes met. His features were obviously Slavic and I was instantly enticed. To some French is a turn on. In my case, to hear a man speak Russian or Estonian, even three seats away in a subway train, sends shivers all over my skin. If one were to speak to me directly, the tremors would be inside me, originating from where I wanted him to be inside me. A mere accent has the same effect. I’ve always had Slavic classmates. Yet this fascination has never faded and these men with their sexy languages remain ever exotic and tempting.
He introduced himself as Vanya, which, I remembered, is a petname for Ivan. We went through the basic routine; are you here with friends, have you had a nice evening, do you come here often. He acted casual but there was something utterly seductive about him and I quickly found myself seriously aroused. I must have seemed a bit flustered as I had difficulties making my brain work. The sensual sounds of his accent, and the movements of his lips with them were profoundly erotic. We were both interested in nature and talked about plants, birds and fishing though he only knew the names of the species in Russian and I in Finnish. Save that, he spoke Finnish very well, but he had this air about him and an intense glare that made me a little wary of him.
Our friends were growing restless. My friends never approved of my interest in Slavs; they saw all of them as rogues or criminals. They tried to pry me away from him to dance. His friends wanted to move on to another club. Vanya wanted to stay and had a heated conversation with his friends. I had taken courses in high school, but only recognized random words like went, us, tomorrow and understood nothing. I had forgotten much of the little I learned five years ago.
In the end he gave in and agreed to leave with his friends. Russian men are very polite in courtship. They never presume to touch a woman without permission. Vanya came to me and asked “May I?” I was confused of all that was happening and blurred “Yeah,” without thinking. Before I had time to savour it, he kissed my cheek teasingly just beside my ear. He whispered good night and something in Russian, of which I understood only sorry, go, want. His kiss left me trembling in desire.
My hands shook as I finished my drink. I felt terribly empty. I was sad and disappointed; we didn’t even get a chance to dance. I was wet and stirred and wanted to be pressed hard against his body. I dearly wanted to kiss him, have his large hands fondle me roughly. And now I lost him. My pussy didn’t feel just empty. It felt hollow.
I was moving between racks of skirts when I saw him. It was two weeks since that night at the club. He stood there, smiling at me, just three racks away. He looked less ominous in the daylight but had lost none of his charm. I adjusted my previous guess to him being about 35. He greeted me obviously happy of running into me. I was so glad I stuttered when I tried to say hi. My surprise spread as tingling to every part of me.
I had thought of him a lot and all the shameful things I had wanted him to do to me. Now that he was in front of me, I felt naked. The little hairs on my skin stood up and my nipples hardened visibly. I was sure that with those intense eyes he could see all the scenes in my mind. I looked at his hands and saw them grabbing me by the hair while he’d fuck my mouth, clasping my wrists together, forcing painfully into my pussy, pressed against my mouth to stifle my screams. I knew I was dirty, but I didn’t want him to know that. He’d be disgusted.
We talked silly nothings for a while and decided to meet the next evening for a walk in Kaivopuisto, one of the city’s most famous parks. The more he spoke with that accent, the slicker my pussy got. His appearance did not go unnoticed by my friends further away in the department store. I was eager to meet him where my friends wouldn’t be rolling their eyes behind us. Suddenly he picked a fallen leaf out of my hair, gently brushing his hand against my neck as if he didn’t mean to. He was so close to me I could smell the warm luring scent of his skin. “Birch,” I stuttered. We said goodbye and I started waiting for the day to end so the next could come.
I lay in bed that night, restless and aroused, with his smile and scent in my head. I could still feel my skin smouldering where his hand had brushed it. I reached down, parted my legs slightly and started massaging my clit, moaning softly. I was so worked up that I came, whining, after just a minute of quick strokes. I rested, caressing my breasts, until I quit panting and began again to stroke myself, pinching my nipple with my other hand. I started slowly; my clit was so tender right after coming it barely stood touching. As the tenderness eased, I stroked faster and pressed down harder. I opened my legs wide and imagined, how it would feel to have Vanya pull my legs apart as far as they would go, and shove himself all the way in me in one cruel thrust.
I couldn’t bear the aching hollowness in my cunt anymore. I fetched my favourite dildo and fucked myself with it, hard enough for it to hurt and leave behind a steady pulsing ache. I pushed the dildo in until I could feel it pressing against my cervix. I squeezed my thighs together to keep it in and resumed rubbing my cunt, holding my breath, waiting to cum and for the tension to ease. This time when I came, my spasming pussy cramped on the rigid dildo inside me, and the ache gave way to a sharp pain. I wailed in lust and panted heavily. I gradually slowed my hand down and finally stopped. The seething ache was sweet and cured the cold hollowness. I masturbated myself to three more orgasms before my body relaxed into deep sleep. Each one took a longer time rubbing my hand in circles, each time a shorter pause for my clit to suffer new stimulation.
It was autumn and darkness fell early. I was a bit skittish in the park after everything but a few streetlights had gone dark around us. I was relieved, there were no awkward silences or weird moments. With time I got over his erotic accent enough to actually talk with him, instead of swooning with his every word. As lovely as it was, when it got dark I realized that he was nonetheless a total stranger. The dark park frightened me as I thought what could happen to a girl in a park with a stranger. For all that, if the stranger was Vanya, the idea was as much enticing as it was alarming. I didn’t think he was the type to bring his friends along to ambush and rape me.
I wanted him to touch me, but I couldn’t tell if I wanted him to do it gently or by force. He offered to walk me home, to make sure I’d be all right and I was grateful. I did not like to be harassed, like a lone woman always is on a Friday night on streets and bus stops. I wasn’t brave enough to tell the drunken jerks to go fuck themselves. With Vanya beside me I was safe, like he was carrying me in his arms. He probably could do that, he looked strong and, without his warm smile, frightening.
We got each others phone numbers at the door of my building and agreed to meet again soon. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted a touch. There had been the brief and careful oops-don’t-trip or let-me-give-you-a-hand-there probes during the walk. That had been teasing and I needed some kind of conclusion. I wanted a kiss, a real passionate one, and I wanted him to hold me, tightly like he owned me. I wanted to feel him. I wanted a strong touch that would make him real, but he was ever so polite. I didn’t want to seem loose or too eager and thus didn’t initiative. “Vanya,” I called from the doorway, “What was it you said that night after the goodbye? You said you were sorry to go and that you wanted something. What did you want?”
He was surprised, and for the first time a little uncertain. “Oh, you understood it.” He sounded embarrassed. “I’ll tell you the next time.”
I started up the hallway stairs but didn’t hear the door slam shut. Suddenly he was behind me, breathing heavily. He shoved me against the wall, placing his mouth just above my ear. ”I said I was sorry to go ‘cause I wanted to fuck you raw.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding and whined. His words sent a shiver down my back, which released a smouldering flush of heat between my legs. He nuzzled the side of my neck letting out a low lustful groan. He was real to me now. I could smell his scent again and drank it in. “Vanya, please,” I tried. He cut me off.
“I can smell your heat girl,” he hissed. “Now take me up,” he said in a hoarse whisper that vibrated on the skin behind my ear, and continued in Russian, “I want to be inside you.”
With his last remark, I felt the distinct tingle of my pussy getting wet. I wanted him badly, but regardless of that I was terrified of him. He was bigger than me, so if he came up into my flat I’d be helpless. I didn’t want to be beaten up, have my face smashed, get cut or maimed or end up in a dumpster. I kept still. I didn’t call out for my neighbours. I stood pinned, my face to the wall, and sensed how strong he was. His arms around me were like some twisted parody of a loving embrace. My panicked mind had frozen from the violent desire in his voice. If I’d tried to run I’d have had no chance.
“Vanya…” My voice was weak and pleading. He took that as a submission of defeat. He lifted me in his arms and started towards the stairs. I didn’t resist. On the third floor landing I looked up, but not into his eyes. “Vanya,” I whispered again, and he followed my gaze from his shoulder to my door. I picked the key out of my bra for him to see. He hesitated to let me down. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to. I was less afraid when he held me like this, than when he was a growling menace pressing against my back.
He put me on my feet with a grunt. I opened the door with my eyes on the floor. Confused, I stood in the doorway, not knowing how to go in. My hands and feet seemed paralyzed. I wouldn’t lead him in like I’d invited him. Nor could I walk in, knowing he was right behind me, waiting to come at me like a hungry wolf. He resolved the situation by picking me up again. He carried me in and kicked the door shut.
He put me down to sit on the living room table. I still couldn’t move. I wasn’t terrified, just deeply confused. I wanted and didn’t want, feared and didn’t fear, seethed inside and was frozen. The one feeling I was sure about was shame. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’d given some kind of a consent, for I hadn’t stopped him from coming to my apartment on our first date. I’d acted like a slut, letting him manipulate me. He’ll think I wanted this all along. Did I? I couldn’t look at him and kept my head down. “Ð½Ðµ Ð±Ð¾Ð¹ÑÑ,” ne boisya, he said. “Don’t be afraid.” He took gently off my scarf and coat, taking his time. He kissed my face and my ears. “Ð½Ðµ Ð±Ð¾Ð¹ÑÑ,” he reassured me. Last he took off my heels. He caressed delicately my feet and ankles and stood up.
He stroked my cheek and held me by the chin until I looked at him. “I know what you want baby, don’t worry. I’ll use you. I’ll hurt you. I’ll make you scream for me, but I won’t break you.”
I felt another sudden flow between my legs. I wondered how long of this it would take, for my juices to start running down my thighs. He had the accent, he had the look, he had the air and he had the voice. I turned my face back down, eyes closed, wanting it all to go away. I was mortified. How could I be turned on by this? I was dirty and filthy and soon, I guessed, I’d be spoiled. I couldn’t stop the tears. He saw inside me. He knew. I couldn’t bear another person knowing what filth was in my mind. I stuttered between the sobs “You. No. I don’t. It’s not…” but I had nothing to say.
”Shh, Ð½Ðµ Ð±Ð¾Ð¹ÑÑ, Ð½Ðµ Ð±Ð¾Ð¹ÑÑ. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you baby,” he whispered kissing my forehead.
It took a while, but I calmed down and asking a stranger permission in my own home I whispered meekly “Can I use the toilet?”
I cleaned my face up and tried to breathe steady. I knew I couldn’t back out of it. I would have to brace myself, and hope this gentle man in him would keep me from the savage beast I’d seen glimpses of before. I returned to the living room to find him sitting on the couch. He’d taken off his own coat and shoes. “Come,” he beckoned. I went to him and he made me stand before him. With his hands on my waist he looked into my eyes and asked “Do you trust me?” I squirmed weighing his menacing behaviour and stern earnestness. I shut my eyes, mind racing. He let that one go. “Do you want me?”
Shit. What the hell could I’ve said to that? I was silent for a long time. He wanted an answer. I’d get raped, or something dangerously close to it, if I’d say yes, but his closeness made my body respond in undeniable arousal. Trembling all over I nodded.
“Baby, that won’t do.”
I lifted my head a little, looked at him gingerly and managed a whining, scared, “Yes.”
He stood up. I still couldn’t shake my shocked inertia. “Good,” he said grinning wickedly. I was like a doll as he slowly, piece by piece removed my clothes. He kissed every inch of skin he revealed. I soon expanded my school vocabulary to contemporary Russian smut as he undressed me, murmuring dirty things, inhaling my scent, nuzzling my neck, licking, whispering, biting. I knew the wolf was waking and the man who’d carried me in his arms was fading. Among his obscenities was one word I clung to: Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°, dushenka, baby. He said he wouldn’t break me, I repeated in my head. As long as I’m his baby he won’t break me.
The mixture of rough and sweet caresses woke up my senses. I shivered, panted and moaned from his slightest touch, as he went on exploring my body. By the time my clothes were gone, along with my jewellery and hairpins, I wished he could envelope me, touching all parts of me at the same time. My nipples were hard and sensitive, eager for his touch. Yips of pleasure escaped my throat as I waited him to move down, to where I most needed him, most wanted him. I wasn’t confused or hesitant anymore. I wanted him to fill me, to cure the lonely emptiness between my legs, to reduce me to helplessness and take me, hard.
His face was at my crotch and I could feel the warmth of breath on my skin. He blew air into my tuft of ginger gold hair. I murmured in ecstasy. He stroked my slit so lightly, that it was more an inkling than a touch. I cried out softly. “Are you wet for me, baby?” I felt more of his hot breath and his finger stroking me, tangibly now. Slowly, savouring the moment, he slid a finger into the pool of wetness inside. I heard the slick sloppy sound of my barely contained juices, now released, spreading everywhere. He emitted a loud satisfied sigh as he found out how my body had reacted to him. Having heard that sigh, I was suddenly too overwhelmed to support my own weight. I was about to sit down on the sofa, when he picked me up again, naked. I had half expected him to fuck me crudely on the living room table, but he carried me to my bed. To my safe bed, which would hold me together with this grim threatening man, to whose gentler manipulation my body responded beyond all caution.
He took off his sweater but left the white T-shirt beneath it on. I liked the look of him: naturally robust, ordinary, not pumped up gym meat. He sought my gaze and asked “What do you want, Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°?” My nakedness embarrassed me and I lowered my face. He gestured and, complying, I lay down prone on his lap. He stroked my back and buttocks, running his finger along my crack to tickle my glistening pussy. I let out a sharp ecstatic sigh. His hands found the sensitive spot in my neck and I arched in pleasure when he caressed it. His hands massaged my thighs with a strong confident grip. When his finger flicked teasingly on my pussy lips my body rose and arched to get the finger in. “What do you want baby?” He kept stroking me. “I can fill you up and I can make you scream. Is that what you want?” He applied pressure against my thighs and I opened them giving him access to use me. “You’re burning up, girl.” He blew air on my pussy and I wailed in ecstasy but still couldn’t bring myself to answer him, to admit to either one of us, that my body was on the verge of collapsing from the need to have him penetrate me.
He rolled me on my back and told me to look at him. He gently spread my legs while looking straight into my eyes. I wondered what he would see in them. My cunt was contracting in expectation. I needed him. He placed two fingers on my clit, one on each side. He slid them back and forth in discord, teasing, never pressing my clit between the two. My heavy breathing paced up to loud whining gasps. He started dipping his finger in me, always one quick dip, no deeper than an inch, and an agonizing long pause ‘til the next one. Tensing up, I sank the fingers of my right hand in his upper arm while my other hand grabbed the sheets. When I lifted my hips to meet the finger he’d slap me on the hip. He kept it up for so long I couldn’t take it anymore. I moaned his name and he kept asking me to tell him what I wanted. He wanted me to beg and I was getting desperate enough to do it. My body needed him to deliver on all the promises of his touches. I could feel every square centimetre of membrane inside my cunt itching for him to fill me up.
He grunted with displeasure. Hands stopped touching me and he started getting up from the bed. I feared I’d angered him and that he would leave. I shouted, “Vanya, I’m sorry,” and tried to get hold of him. Turning, I saw he’d stood up just to take off his clothes.
“You don’t want me to go, huh?” A triumphant, hungry grin spread on his face as he got back on the bed naked.
I admired his shoulders and arms, bare for the first time, and touched his skin timidly. He positioned himself between my legs. “You like to be pinned down?” I could feel him on the entrance of my pussy. “You like to be controlled?” I whined. “You like to be used?” With every word I twitched as a spasm of dirty pleasure washed over me. “You want to be forced? You want to be hurt? You want to be helpless?” His voice was a guttural snarl, angry and menacing and I was so wet there was a trickle down my crack and a wet stain on the mattress.
“Vanya, please,” I tried.
“Tell me what you want, Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ° Ð¼Ð¾Ñ.”
“I want you.”
“Not good enough. Look at me!”
I did. Angry that he’d made me admit out loud that I loved him dominating me I snapped, “I need you in me,” and more meekly, “Fuck me, please.” He let out a wordless growl, and before I had finished my desperate please, he buried himself in me with one forceful thrust.
I was wound up, horny, steaming and he knew he was the cause of it. I stretched my thighs ever wider to let him penetrate me deeper and he fucked me relentlessly. No matter the position, he found ways to reach just a little too deep and pound just a little too hard. I yelped as he banged my cervix with his cock. He turned me this way and that, rearranged me to his liking, not caring how awkward a position it was for me. He fucked me from uncomfortable, painful angles I didn’t know were possible. Nevertheless I liked it when it hurt, because it was his hurt. Moaning in pain beneath his heavy body only made me want more. I was on his mercy and I loved to be his.
Sometimes, when he really pounded me, my hands would instinctively shoot up to protect myself. He would grab my wrists in one big hand, and bend them forcefully behind me until I stopped struggling. He was evil and skilled and he felt so good. I’d had this yearning building in me the whole night and I was desperate for release.
“Vanya, please let me come. I need to come.”
He banged me especially hard and made me wail in pain. He clamped his hand on my mouth and growled in my ear, “My little girl wants more? Ð½Ðµ Ð±Ð¾Ð¹ÑÑ, I’m nowhere near finished yet.” He adjusted his position so I could reach my clit. “Go on baby, come for me.”
He’d kept me aroused for hours and within one minute of needy strokes I cried out in pleasure, my pussy spasming. He quickened his pace and I was moaning and wailing as my climax ebbed. He rammed into me making an indescribable animalistic noise, and shot his load up my thoroughly used pussy. I loved the primal feeling of being marked as his property by having his seed in me. Even though I wouldn’t get pregnant, the atavistic meaning of mating turned me on. I cherished the sensation of being filled with something that came from inside him, from his deepest urges.
He panted on top of me lowering his head on the mattress beside my ear as I stroked his sides with my fingers. It was an awkward moment: he having to strip the role of beast and me the role of prey and us to meet each other, naked, spent and trembling, as lovers on the bed we made love in. He recovered some and rose from atop me, giving my face a few gentle kisses. He stroked my forehead and neck muttering in his language and I relaxed blissfully into his touches.
His cum was still dripping from me with my own juices, when he told me to lay still and got up. He returned soon with a glass of water and a dishwashing brush. He told me to drink and settled me back on the bed.
“I need to clean you up a bit, baby,” he said and parted my swollen pussy.
It prickled but didn’t hurt the first times he put the brush in me. Soon he was rapidly chafing my insides raw like he was sanding a block of wood. Pink pussy juice appeared on the bristles. First I yelped in exitement. Then I begged. Finally I screamed. I hadn’t gotten my sweet Vanya back after all and I tried to close my thighs to shut him out. He stopped with the brush and leaned over me, looking right into my eyes.
“Spread them. Now. And this time you’ll spread them wider and thank me, when I fill your cunt.” This was the beast, the man from the whisper in the night club. There was no mercy to be had with him. I reluctantly spread my legs, knowing it would be hard not to squeeze them shut again as the pain started. He got me to really splay them before he was satisfied. “Mind your manners now.” I tried to form the words thank and you from my moans and screams, but he ravaged me with such force I soon lost the ability to think. He gagged me, for he did not want alarmed neighbours calling the police. A few times he took the gag out, not wanting to miss out on all my shrieks. The brush went in and out, never slow, always fast to induce the maximum pain. My legs were strained and muscles hurting, but with him in this mood I dared not move from the position he had ordered me in. He made sure he treated every spot, all the while murmuring what a good girl I was and how he knew I was loving every second of it.
When he was satisfied I had no area of intact membrane inside me, he laid beside me leaving the brush jutting out of my cunt. He stroked my cheeks.
“Rest your legs for a while.” He took the gag from my mouth, stroked my lips with his finger and kissed me. “I’ll tie your legs up next ‘cause I will need you to stay still.” He kissed me on the forehead and in a twistedly loving manner put the gag back. I had grasped at his first kind words, thinking that I had now endured what he wanted me to, and realized what he’d said only after I was gagged again. I was in so much pain inside, bleeding and burning. Please Vanya, no more.
He was gentle again as he tied my ankles to the headboard with belts. He talked soothingly while working, changing to Russian and back. I listened really carefully to hear that Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°, baby. Somehow it would mean that what ever he planned next, I’d make it through. My legs were splayed wide again. At least I wouldn’t have to support their weight myself. Though I could relax my muscles and dangle from the ropes, I knew this position would soon become uncomfortable and painful. He was ready with the knots and took a moment to pet my head. He smiled and shook his head, “You’re so brave,” but he didn’t call me Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°.
He sat on the bed in front of my vulnerable crotch. I tried to see what he was doing, but couldn’t see below the horizon of my belly. “Babies come out of there,” he said in a pondering tone and brushed my labia lightly. “Yeah, there are hormones that prepare the pussy before giving birth, but mostly it is all about the ability of your pussy to stretch.” I heard a squirt and he was rubbing his hands together. I was shouting to my gag, begging him to stop before he even pulled the brush out of my throbbing poor pussy. He put his fist on my opening. “You were really tight on my cock,” he continued casually, “so this might hurt.”
He was a stocky man with big strong fists. I felt his hand slide in. He started with fingers. He dipped them in, getting his hand wet with pussy juice, semen and slowly seeping blood. There was the squirt again. Perhaps he pities me and found some lubricant. His hand started going in, balled into a fist. The chafing against the bloody walls of my pussy burned and I squirmed in my restraints. The burning got worse - a lot worse - worse than it should have. He noticed my writhing. “But I thought you liked lemon juice - you had it in your fridge.”
Vanya made a violent thrust with his fist eliciting more gagged screams from me. He kept pushing deeper. As I was tied up, I couldn’t even angle my pelvis into a better position to ease the way of the invading fist. “Open up, let me in.” If I managed to lift myself up a bit to escape him, there his fist would wait when I’d loose my strength. I’d slump down on it with all my weight and aid his raping ball of pain further inside. Vanya had decided from the start that I wanted to be his. It was a guess that made this not exactly a rape, but it wasn’t sex either. I was too scared and hurt for it to be sex. I didn’t want him to tear me apart. This savagery was beyond what I could handle.
The flesh of my pussy walls got crushed between my pelvic bone and his knuckles as he pushed. These were the same fingers that earlier caressed me into flowing wetness. I wanted to beg, but I couldn’t speak. I may have consented to having sex, but this pain was too much. I wanted it to end. I couldn’t think. I feared I’d go insane. All I could do was to scream into my gag and desperately try to escape his fierce punches. He hadn’t gotten past my pelvis by gradually pushing, so he’d moved on to pounding his way deeper. I struggled but all I got was more pain inside my cunt. Every once in a while he’d pull out, coat his fist again in lemon juice and push back in. Juice rubbed in the brushed sores and the balled hand stretched bruises from his earlier thrusts.
My thrashing angered him. “Hey!” He pinched my clit cruelly and my back arched in pain. “Stop your fidgeting. Don’t make me shove my other fist up your ass.” Please stop, take the gag out, please. I tried to make him understand with my eyes that I couldn’t take it anymore, but Vanya was unswayable.
His merciless efforts had forced my pussy to give way. He'd punched his fist a few centimetres further to lodge the widest part of it in my pelvic opening. Behind it he would find a deeper well, ending in my cervix.
“It’s gonna hurt real bad now. Take it. Be a good girl for me.” He gathered his strength for one last punch. I shrieked, sweating. He forced his way through and I, with my restraints and splayed sex, had no chance to stop him. His fist plopped through. “God, I love to stretch your tiny cunt.” I sobbed in pain and shock with his arm spearing me.
He tried to open his fist inside me but I was so tight he couldn’t move his fingers much. My pussy strangled his wrist slowing the flow of blood into his hand. He wrenched his thumb free and sunk it into my strained flesh. I had no strength to scream anymore. I mewed loudly when he moved in me. Gradually the pain numbed my mind and I started going limp. He smacked my face. “Stay with me!” New pain singled out from the sea of hurt. He was putting pressure on my cervix. “I’d love to force my fist into your womb to see if you’d pass out from the pain.” He was pushing his thumb in the closed opening.
I moaned, begging, pleading with my eyes. I had a contraceptive coil and having it inserted had been agony. That was done by forcing a little tube, no wider than a straw, into my uterus - not with a fist and a thick finger in an already bruised and battered cunt. The tissue was yielding and there were no muscles to defend the passage to my womb. I screamed despite my exhaustion. He applied pressure until his thumb got through. It had not the length to start torturing my innermost cavity but the pain of the forced penetration alone was terrible. He tried to push more of his forearm in, but his fist would go no further. Vanya wriggled his finger in the narrow passage to stretch it. He fucked his finger back and forth, transferring inside as much of the lemony cunt juice as possible to burn me. He ended his violation of me by tugging slightly the strings of the coil, making the sharp plastic object chafe inside me. The stomach convulsions nearly made me throw up. “Good girl,” he murmured, prizing the expressions on my tear-stained face.
Retracting his hand, he paused at my pelvic opening playing with his fist. His arm had had time to stretch the passage and his fist went through more easily. My pain hadn’t eased though as the tissue around the opening was ravaged. He fucked me with his fist until I went limp and felt nothing anymore.
It was night. I don’t know how long he’d let me sleep. “Wake up baby, you must take a wash.” I was groggy so he helped me to the bathroom. Walking wasn’t easy with the excruciating pain in my pussy and stomach. Doesn’t he need to sleep? He got me in the little room and explained. He wanted me to masturbate in front of him with the shower hose. I was to lean on the sink, offering up my pussy. He wanted to fuck me from behind and see my face in the mirror when I’d come. My pussy was so torn I thought I wouldn’t even feel him entering me. The pain couldn’t get any worse.
There was a touch on my asshole. I winced, but he told me to shut up. He applied pressure on my little bud, and I instinctively moved my hips forward to escape the probe. “I’m trying to be nice Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°. Move again and I’ll tear you apart.” The last words were growled menacingly in Russian and I knew he meant it. I forced myself still and the hard rigid thing plopped through. It was a little ointment tube he’d found. It didn’t hurt, but there was an uncomfortable stuffed feeling and a need to push it out of me. He pushed its whole length in and squirted a load of cold salve in my rectum. I waited for pain, for something to burn me like the lemon juice, but after removal of the tube I felt only a prodding finger, and another.
I took effort not to wince as he added fingers. He opened me up surprisingly gently compared to his treatment of my pussy. He stretched me painfully a couple of times: suddenly, giving me no warning. I moaned but didn’t beg - he wouldn’t have listened. His cock rested on my salve-smeared anus. I’d held my head down, ashamed, my eyes closed. He grabbed me by the hair and bent my head back. “Look at me,” he said in a voice empty of emotion, emphasizing every word. I gingerly opened my eyes. He wanted me to witness his degradation of me. I braced myself, but he didn’t want to damage my sphincter permanently, and eased the head of his cock in without using force. “See baby, wasn’t so bad was it?”
Having said that, he immediately started making me scream. He fucked me rough and had to gag me with a towel. “Look at me,” he hissed, and I did, afraid to defy him. He held on to my hips, pulling me on his cock as he rammed it in, opening me up deeper. He lunged, slammed, stabbed and drove in to me. He pulled back until just the head was in me and rammed in again in one brutal thrust, trying to reach places yet to be stretched and tortured. Between efforts to make me burn deep inside my ass, he paused to stretch my sphincter by moving the head of his cock rapidly in and out. My ring of muscle stretched repeatedly, violently. Skin chafed, tore and bled. No matter what he did, the pain was everywhere, my cunt still a bloody ruin.
He was grunting with satisfaction. Tears ran down my face and I screamed until my head felt hot and swollen. He told me to push against him, I pleaded I could not. It hurt too bad. I couldn’t speak through the gag, but he understood all the same. He threatened me with a can of hairspray. “Do I have to spray on your raw pussy and ram this up your cunt?” I started to fuck back, my stomach convulsed from the pain and the deep penetration. I heaved but had nothing in me to throw up. He had enjoyed the spasms. He reached his hand around my hips and smacked me hard between my spread thighs. He said it made my muscles twitch so nicely around his cock, and kept on smacking my unprotected pussy. I jerked every time a blow landed. I wasn’t all there anymore, it was hard to keep my head from lolling. The torture was getting to be too much. I’d been on the verge of collapsing for what seemed forever, and he just kept punishing me with his cock, raping my back passage.
I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to stand up. Something trickled down my leg but I could not look down. He wanted to see my gagged horrified face during all of it. He loved to make me cry and wanted to see my tears. After fucking me raw - I don’t want to know how raw I’d have been without his merciful dose of lube - he paused to calm down. He didn’t want to come yet. Now that I could feel his every movement in my burning, battered anal tract he he entered me gently. “I want you to cum for me Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°,” he whispered lovingly. “I raped your ass and you got all wet.” My cunt twitched and a shiver ran down my spine. He felt it too. His dirty talk still aroused me no matter how I hurt. I heard a satisfied smirk in his voice. “I want to see your face when you cum my little slut. Don’t worry, I’ll be inside you all the time, just the way you like it.”
My knees buckled but Vanya caught me. He shoved me against the sink and shook me by the hair, keeping his erection buried deep inside. He slapped me and shook me until my eyes started to focus again. He ran cold water from the tap and splashed it on my face and head. He calmly repeated his instructions. I fought to support my weight and did as I was told. I’d have done anything for him – out of fear or some more complex emotion I still can’t say. My clit smarted from his smacking, but I flooded it and tried to brace myself before every thrust of his cock. All the while he kept murmuring good girl, good girl in my ear and I was turned on by the words alone but his accent too. The stimulation on my clit didn’t lessen the pain any and I grunted when he moved, though he tried to be kind.
The warm flow of water coaxed an orgasm out of my exhausted body. He could feel me starting to climax, and forgot sympathy. He used me brutally, howling his own pleasure in animalistic growls as he lost control over his thrusts. It hurt so much; my tormented cunt was renewed in burning pain by intense convulsions and my torn bleeding anus spasmed around his cock. I spat out the gag and screamed in pain, heat and satisfaction until he put his hand over my mouth. Vanya bent my head to reast on his shoulder and shushed me until I quieted.
My orgasm subsided, the spasms and twitches weakened. He had come inside me, but my flesh was numb for the sting of his salty seed. He stayed inside me, nuzzled my neck and whispered, “You’re mine now, Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ° Ð¼Ð¾Ñ.” As sick as it was, a wave of warmth surged from my chest - a wave named Vanya, that would surround me, float me and keep me safe. My both holes were one big throbbing mass of pain but they both held his seed, his. My feet gave way and I fell on the floor. I was vaguely aware that he washed me softly, dried me and carried me to bed in his arms.
He lay with me, letting me rest my head on his chest. He stroked my hair talking soothingly in Russian. Gradually I came to and he noticed me stir. I tried to move but couldn’t from all the pain in my body. “Shh, Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°, it’s all right. Lay still. I put pain tablets in your ass and pussy, but you’re going to be really sore for a while.” As the words sank in I started to cry. After all he’d done to me, this made me feel ashamed and filthy. He’d shoved a painkiller up my ass while I was unconscious. I’d been violated. During the rest of it I at least were awake. Then I remembered I had cum in the bathroom. After having been tortured in my cunt and raped in my ass, I’d had an orgasm while he watched, while he was inside me. The shame made me want to storm away, to get to a place where he couldn’t look at me. I tried to get up, but sank back down groaning through my teeth, when my pelvis moved. He’d never want me again now. The sobs aggravated the pain and he held me tightly against him, shushing me. He comforted me stroking my hair and whispering affectionately, until I fell asleep my head against his shoulder.
I woke up on Saturday afternoon. I was wet. My ass and cunt had trickled blood, semen and fluids during my sleep. I was disgusted. The pain had abated some, but I couldn’t sit up and put pressure on my battered insides. Vanya came from the kitchen bringing me water and some fruit. He said I shouldn’t eat or drink much as relieving myself would be agony. He’d gone shopping for the fruit while I slept. He left. And he came back. It’s silly how giddy I was, but he’d come back to take care of me.
He said I should get up and walk some though it would certainly hurt. He helped me up from the bed kissing my cringed face. My eyes teared up, standing up was rough. The pain was not only in my pussy and ass. My stomach had suffered from the punches and the relentless assrape, my back ached from being tied up. It felt like someone had kicked me. He walked me to the bathroom again. I hesitated. He took me to the sink and said he would wash me. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice,” he said. “I got some anesthetic gel while I was out. It’ll help you.” He took the shower and adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature. He crouched down to my crotch and aimed the stream on me. He rinsed my pussy lips thoroughly. “Open up, baby,” he asked gently but I hesitated. “Open up, I won’t hurt you.” I spread the little I could; I couldn’t stand bowlegged because of the cramps and the pain.
When Vanya ran his fingers along my slit I gasped, on the outside I wasn’t so hurt. He moved his finger on my opening and I stiffened. “Vanya no, please, don’t --“ I started but he cut me short.
“Shh, I won’t fuck you but I have to wash. You don’t want an infection. Besides I need to check I didn’t tear you up bad.” He pushed his finger in savouring it, he enjoyed this too much for it to be just a check. He felt my membranes and muscles probing carefully, missing nothing. He pulled out once in a while “to check there isn’t blood,” and pushed back in making me cramp forward in pain. “Trust me baby, it’ll be ok.”
After the first check he said he’d have to check my pelvic pass and cervix as well. I begged, tears already running down my face, but he argued it was necessary. “I want to take care of you baby, it’ll be over soon. I want to make sure there’s no permanent damage.” In he went again, deeper. I soon needed the gag again. His fingers probed deep, chafing my sores and pressing against the bruised flesh. With lingering fingers he felt around the edges of my pelvic opening, the most bruised part of my pussy. Sobbing I begged him to stop. He told me to relax and be brave. I don’t know if he noticed, but it was the exact same thing he said me the night before inflicting this damage. When he was satisfied he rinsed my cunt thoroughly, even spreading my opening and pushing the water hose five inches inside me. He caressed my butt cheeks while I moaned as the surge of water stung my sores.
“Turn around now,” he prompted.
“Vanya stop, not that, really I can’t--“
“Listen, I tried to do this last night but it was dark and you were out. I know it hurts, but I have to check there’s no muscle damage or need for stitches. I… I don’t want any real harm to come to you. It’s difficult to hold back when I’m… inside of you.”
“But Vanya it hurts!”
“Would it be different if I told you to do it, if I ordered you to stay still and let me in?”
I turned around and tried to think about the earnestness in his voice. He’d said it was all right, that he wouldn’t fuck me. As his finger went in I doubled over in pain. He took his time probing my ass. I don’t think it was as innocent or as detached from our earlier roles as he tried to convince himself and me. He’d linger to massage a spot in my rectum and go on despite my convulsions and pleas. He spread my hole with his fingers again and again, insisting it was to check if it would shrink back again as it should. A time or two I thought I heard a satisfied grunt as I cried out in pain. Neither was I as unmoved by his treatment as I’d like to think. I kept moaning and my head filled up from the endless well of my shameful nasty dreams.
After he finished my thorough anal examination he turned me around again, hands on my hips. There came blood with his fingers from both my holes but not enough for it to be serious. He started to rinse my pussy again, his face leaning very close. I felt his breath on me. The water stream lowered and lowered as his face touched my mound and he nuzzled it sighing, rubbing his face on me. He put the shower head on the floor and used his free hands to part my lips. I was hurting but the more excited I got the less I took notice of the aching and burning. “Oh jesus,” I moaned when his tongue rested itself on my clit. I was afraid of the pain I’d be in with orgasmic convulsions but it was more important right then to have him touch me.
He ran his tongue up and down my slit. He parted my lips with his hands and licked teasing circles around my clit without actually touching it. I pleaded for him not to tease me.
“What do you want baby?”
“Please don’t stop. Let me cum.”
He let out an aroused growl and sucked my clit between his lips squeezing gently. I moaned in pleasure as he rolled his tongue over my clit sideways in a rhythmic motion. He alternated between fast and slow, gentle and fierce, pressing harder and flicking lightly. I leaned my buttocks on the sink and focused all my thoughts on what his mouth was doing.
He hummed while pressing his face against me. The vibrations lifted me so close to an orgasm I stood rigid, holding my breath, waiting for the final surge to send a raging whirlwind of sparks through me. Keeping pressure on my clit with his finger he said quickly, “I should put another pill in you. Want me to do it now?”
I moaned something resembling, “Yeah.” I was too aroused to think. He fumbled the pill from a little cup on the sink, put his finger on my pussy and his lips back on my clit. I felt his finger start sliding in, hurting me. His touch had made me wet again. His tongue returned on me and he hummed against my mound. The pain radiated from his inwards pushing finger and I shouted out a howl of fulfilment as I came. My juices bathed his hand. In the throws of my climax I felt a finger on my anus. Vanya carefully deposited a painkiller in there too. It hurt badly, but it had been the pain, pain he’d given me, that made me cum. His finger slowly slid out of me. I shuddered and he stood up just in time to support me as I sagged against his chest, exhausted.
He walked me to the bed. Sitting down I braced myself for the pain. I thought, that during our time in the bathroom, I’d have had time to adjust to it, but it was as fresh as ever. I wailed until I was on my back, my weight off my pussy and ass. I lay there recovering from my orgasm wondering what Vanya was doing.
“Close your eyes,” I heard him say, voice suddenly stern. He didn’t sound like he had a surprise for me - a surprise I’d like that is. Apparently he’d decided that if I was ready to come, I’d be ready to be used again.
“Vanya I really hurt,” my voice sounded panicked, scared. “Please. I haven’t even started to heal yet. You promised you wouldn’t, please don’t hurt me.”
“I said close your eyes Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°. I won’t ask nicely again.” I closed my eyes and heard him walking to me.
He blindfolded me. A hand slid on my thigh “Spread ‘em.” I started crying and begging him. I curled myself as much in to a ball as I could with my bruised insides. Vanya wasn’t happy. He gagged me and dragged me to the center of the bed, rolled me on my back and yanked my thighs apart. “I take you when ever I feel like it,” he growled menacingly in Russian. “Understand?” He let my legs fall on either side of him and spread them further by uncaringly pulling them wider. He had a plastic syringe which he used to fill first my cunt and them my rectum with the anesthetic gel. Going in, the unyielding plastic tool scratched the membranes that were raw to begin with. I cringed but only a little whine got through my gag.
He sat between my legs looking at my exposed crotch and getting more and more aroused. He started fucking my ass with a finger, rougher than earlier in the bathroom. “You’re ass is slippery baby, you’re making me so hard I’ll soon have to take you again - hurt or not. I think I’d choose your butt. There is something so deprived in pumping you up the rectum, enjoying your sobs and screams.” He smacked my pussy hard to punish me for trying to get away from his finger. He pushed in and out, adding another finger and relishing my jerks of pain. “But, if I was to fuck your cunt, I could fill your arse up with a pretty plug and make you feel all nice and full.” I felt cool heavy silicone resting against my thigh. What the hell, did he go shopping for that too?
This time Vanya had gagged me with duct tape instead of a rag. I could make no sound but a stifled nasal whine. Nonetheless I tried to scream for him to stop.
“Relax Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°. It won’t hurt too bad. I want the gel to stay in, don’t I. I wouldn’t want you to be in pain.” He tried to fake a loving tone, but couldn’t hide the sadistic lust beneath. I was afraid to be gagged like this. Unlike a rag, I couldn’t breathe through duct tape. What if I start to cry and snivel? If my nose fills up with snot will I suffocate?
I felt something on my anus pressing to enter. To make sure I’d keep still, Vanya put weight on his palm resting between my naval and my mound. He pinned my hips down pressing on my gut, exactly where the pain was. He pushed the plug through my sphincter giving me no chance to adjust. It hurt, but it hadn’t been excruciating. His hand held me still and the invading plug continued to burrow deeper. It stretched the cuts he’d just opened up again in the bathroom. I thrashed and tried to escape. I wasn’t tied down, but with him it didn’t matter. I would never escape from beneath his large frame.
The plug had bulges on it from smaller to bigger and my hole got stretched in increasingly excruciating pain for four more times. When Vanya got to the third and fourth ball he stopped to pull them back out and repeated my painful stretch, relishing in my pain. The last was the worst: the big bump meant to keep the plug in me, no matter how I’d spasm or push. I couldn’t scream, but I could cry and I did. This kind of pain would have been maddening at any time, but after my anus tortured bloody not twelve hours past, the agony was unthinkable. Vanya please, you promised you wouldn’t break me. He pushed in slowly, making me feel it. My little hole struggled to give way. I had no way of knowing how much more was yet to come, how much wider he’d force me.
Vanya stopped, the widest part of the last ball spreading my opening obscenely. “You want me to take it out baby?” I nodded my head and kept nodding in desperation. I couldn’t plead with my eyes or my voice, but he could see I wanted it out. He saw I was in pain. “Ok, we’ll see what your ass wants.” While I was nodding, Vanya had pushed the plug in just a few millimetres further. Being past the ball’s equator my muscles started contracting. As my tight ring struggled to shrink back, it travelled down the plugs surface, eagerly sucking it in.
I cried and sobbed uncontrollably as it dawned on me how my own body had betrayed me. I had never felt more humiliated. Not this. I’m filthy, I’m filthy, I’m bad. He manipulated my helpless body to make it seem my tortured butt was begging him for more abuse. My body complies with him despite my will. He really does own me.
“Oh, your greedy ass is loving it. Can you feel it filling you, my lovely little slut?” The pain stopped getting worse. The plug sat snug in my rectum, where my own tortured body had sucked it in.
Vanya let me close my legs. The plug felt strange inside me. The mattress heaved as he got up from the bed. His weight returned and moved on top of me, straddling my chest and arms. He stroked my nose, my only source of air.
“Take a deep breath.”
I knew what he would do and sucked hungrily until he clamped my nose shut. I panicked instantaneously. If he’s a killer this is it. But he can’t be. He wanted to take care of me. He washed me, he held me. Could he suffocate me? I tried to wrench my head free but he was too strong. I need to breathe. I tried to throw him off me but he was too heavy. Will he kill me? Did he say Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°? I couldn’t remember. I need air. I can’t remember. I got to breathe.
He let go and I sucked in air and snot through my nostrils. He let me breathe for a minute and put a finger on my nose again. I fill my lungs, and the minute I stop sucking air he squeezes my nose shut. He didn’t say it. I was sure. Why won’t he talk to me? My lungs burned. I need to see his face. I don’t want to die like this. I tried to breathe through the duct tape though I knew I couldn’t. Will he really kill me? If I could just see his face I’d know. I need to breathe. I thrashed desperately but he was too heavy to shift or to get my hands free. I need air. Please let me breathe.
Thankfully he let go of my nose before I blacked out. He repeated this about seven times. I’m not sure. He allowed me three or four breaths of air between chokes. It was like I’d lived my whole life in the dark, waiting for a little hole to open, through which air would come. All other thoughts were gone. I was sure he’d continue until once he wouldn’t let go anymore, and I would have to suffer the burning pain in my chest until I’d die in panic.
I realized I had breathed free for some time. He tore off the duct tape and I gasped enjoying the safety of two airways. He stroked my face. He still hadn’t said anything and I didn’t like it. He’d made me afraid many times but his silence was worse, unnerving. It reminded me of psychopathic killers in movies.
He put one of his fingers in my mouth. I knew the meaning of that and sucked on it gently. He sighed. Perhaps he’d be gentle if I was. He took hold of my head by the hair and shifted his weight. His cock touched my lips. I kissed its head and teased him, flicking with my tongue. I was eager to please. I didn’t want to die. I needed to make him say something. I sucked him deeper into my mouth where I could massage him better with my tongue. As more of him slid inside my mouth he groaned “Ð±Ð¾Ð¶Ðµ Ð¼Ð¾Ð¹,” bozhe moy, oh god.
My hands were pinned by his thighs but were free from elbows down. I lay my hands on the backs of his thighs and nudged gently to imply he could control the rhythm himself. He groaned and pushed his way inside, seeking the depth where I’d start gagging. He started murmuring, but with words so blurred and incoherent I couldn’t make them out. His Russian made me safer. That flow of resonating buzz could not carry cruelty. I knew he wasn’t going to kill me.
He fucked my mouth slowly, keeping regular breaks letting me swallow some phlegm and breathe. When I was uncomfortable I’d touch his thigh lightly and he’d let me cough or lubricate him slicker with saliva. When we’d established a routine, he started moving faster and plunging deeper. He reached behind my head and removed my blindfold. The light stung my eyes for a while, but I was relieved to see his face again. He wanted to look into my eyes when he would push into my throat the first time. Just as he had wanted when he first thrust himself in my pussy or penetrated my ass. He fed me his whole length, not stopping when I began to gag. He buried his shaft deep, it tickled my larynx choking me. I kept his gaze defiantly. My pussy twitched in pleasure and my muscles tightened around the plug filling my throbbing butt. Vanya kept his hold on my head moaning, groaning and mumbling.
Wetness welled in my cunt when he started fucking my face for real. I was helpless: hands pinned down, head propped for easy access, mouth vulnerable and a cock down my throat blocking all screams and pleas, my face covered in drool. He had a rhythm of five or six fast shallower thrusts and a single slow one down my throat. He pushed until his balls were resting against my chin and he could get no deeper. I masturbated, massaging my clit faster and faster, while I licked his cock sliding past my tongue. Every time he paused to rest his length in my throat, enjoying my gags, my pussy tingled. I was wretched and I was horny and I loved his unyielding weight on me. He forced himself again down my throat and stayed there for a longer moment, not letting me breathe, murmuring to me what a good girl and how dirty a slut I was for him. His smut talk instantly washed me over the edge and I came, unexpectedly and violently. My throat spasmed and he kept groaning dirty things to me, as my third hole milked him as frantically as the others had. I felt like I was throwing up his cock. My legs thrashed uncontrollably. Rigid, cramping and convulsing, I rode an extended orgasm. He pulled out and I gasped for air, my slit still throbbing with arousal. I lay there dazed and content after my orgasm as he kept on using me. His pace got faster and faster until half of his frenzied thrusts bumped into my lips and cheeks.
He started moving down my body, shaking. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna c… I’m sorry baby. The plug, gotta feel,” he panted. “I need to cum inside you.” At least I think it’s what he said for he had resorted to Russian. He’d lost his Finnish fucking my throat. He shut my mouth with his hand, rested his weight on his other hand by my head and eased his way in my aching burning cunt. He made a few slow strokes in and out to lubricate himself. I was dripping my own wetness and the gel he’d put in me.
He was too worked up to go easy on me and began pounding wildly inside me with desperate shoves. He bellowed the whole time, his back rigid, his stabs becoming more and more savage. He’ll make me bleed again. He was so close to coming, it took only fifteen seconds of cruel abuse of my cunt for him to explode inside me in uncontrollable shakes. It was an eternity for me though, every thrust agony, every bump against my hips torment. I had the plug up my ass which made my pussy even tighter, even less able to accommodate an invader. It was a good thing he had cupped his hand over my mouth because I howled in pain.
He collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily. Reaching down between my legs he whispered exhausted, “Be still now, I’ll do this as gently as I can.”
There wasn’t a way to do it gently. My sphincter had retracted closer to its normal state. He would force it open without any easing, and pull the plug out the biggest ball first. How would he be able to make it anything but excruciating? I started crying before he even touched the handle of the plug. He put his lips on my ear. “Ð¸Ð·Ð²Ð¸Ð½Ð¸Ñ‚Ðµ Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ° Ð¼Ð¾Ñ.” Izvinite dushenka moya, I’m sorry baby.
The mass of pain that was once my pelvic region throbbed in agony. It hurt just to lay down and have my weight pressing it into the mattress. I could feel my heart beats in there as new blood gushed to the veins. By this time I was convinced that his anesthetic gel was placebo. He put the side of his hand between my teeth and started to pull on the plug. He was feeling guilty and didn’t want me to suffer the pain alone.
I tried to pant, relax my ass, to brace myself, to adjust my butt to a better angle, but nothing changed the fact that the thing would tear my anus yet again. He kept a steady pull on it. At first the plug dragged the skin and tissue around my anus outward with it. Slowly my sphincter started to stretch, showing a growing little circle of plug around its base. Vanya kept pulling and I bit down and tried not to scream too much so the neighbours wouldn’t hear.
The pain was so shocking my tears had stopped. I hated Vanya. I was furious. I was already hurting like hell before he took me to the bathroom to use my battered body again. He knew how raw and torn I was and he’d put me through more. He had no right. I remembered the buried alive panic when he held my nose shut while my mouth was taped. I stopped holding back and used his hand as a gag. I bit down on it as he pulled my insides out through my tiny opening, which would probably be a gaping hole by the time he’d get the plug out.
The anger helped me bear the pain. I seethed and hated and bit down on his hand and groaned.
“It’s almost out, just a little left,” he assured me but I couldn’t stop the scream anymore. The widest part was coming through. I knew after it the pain would abate, but it did not make these seconds any easier. The seconds were long. Vanya didn’t dare to pull harder and kept the same, steady, agonizingly slow pace. The last times he’d abused me, I had mercifully passed out, but now I wasn’t exhausted enough to receive the same pardon. Finally I felt the pain lessen. The plug came out, the smaller balls eliciting less intense twangs of pain. When it was gone my butt felt really strange. The raw aching feeling was familiar but the sense of void I’d never had in my butt before.
Vanya rose up and sat on the side of the bed looking at the floor. He was obviously anxious. I lay still and tried to get myself together.
“I’ll…” Vanya muttered, and stood up taking a few hesitant steps. “I…” he started but couldn’t finish.
I rose, fury overruling the crippling pain, and lunged at him. There was a disgusting slick feeling between my buttocks and thighs. I managed to surprise him with a hard slap in the face. I beat him in the chest and everywhere else in my reach and kicked him.
“God damn it Vanya, never fucking ever duct tape my mouth! I thought you were going to kill me when you pinched my nose you lying bastard! You said you wouldn’t --” At some point during my outburst I had started crying. I shouted and sobbed and pounded my fists on his chest. Me hitting him was like a ladybug hitting a sparrow, and when he’d had enough he simply put his arms around me and hugged me to his chest until I gave up trying to get a hand free to hit him. His hand was purple from where I’d bit him.
“Listen for a moment.” Vanya’s voice was distressed. “I knew you wanted me at the club. I felt it, an energy, like a hum you tried to hide.” His shoulders slumped a little. “Then I had to leave. My friends, remember?” He emphasized the word friends in a mocking tone. “When I ran into you, I, I didn’t plan… this. I just wanted to see you again. See if you... if you’d still hum for me.” He’d lifted his hands on my face. He stroked my cheeks looking me in the eyes. “In the park I felt it, strong, but you were holding back. I knew you wanted me to touch you, take you even but you didn’t want to say it. A pretty little thing like you, just aching for it, and so scared that what you want is wrong.” He took my hands in to his, holding them between us. “I had to make sure. I asked if you wanted me, but things got really intense. I know now I went too far but when I learned you liked to be hurt, liked to be dominated, I got excited and didn’t know where to stop.”
He’d unwittingly started squeezing my hands and looked down. “I knew you were sore from last night but I got so aroused. You moaning and I…” He shook his head and looked at me again. “I didn’t say I wanted to fuck you raw. I said I wanted to sleep with you.” He was quiet for a moment and asked a little embarrassed, “How much of what I’ve been saying have you understood anyway?”
I lifted his hand and pressed it against my cheek. “Some. I understood Ð´ÑƒÑˆÐµÐ½ÑŒÐºÐ°,” I said with a little smile.
He never used me as brutally again as on our first night. That was his way to establish exclusivity, to demonstrate his ability to dominate me, to mark me as his. He kept administrating the gel and the pills during my healing and carried out daily examinations of how my healing progressed. When during these examinations the feel of my pulsing wet holes or the sound of my pained and excited moans overwhelmed him, he did not force himself on me. Instead he fucked my face. As I found his cock in my mouth particularly exiting, he fed it to me very often. Sometimes I tried to resist the urge, but every time eventually gave up to my rising excitement of being dominated. I lowered my free hands on my throbbing clit and rubbed myself with fast impatient strokes desperate for deliverance. Every time no matter how hard I masturbated, I came only while he talked dirty to me keeping his cock down my throat choking me.
As soon as I was physically up to it he resumed experimenting with my need to be forced into sexual agony, but being more careful not to overdo it. He used me, hurt me, cleaned me up, saw to my hurts and held me – just like I had fantasized he would have after he was taken from me at the club. After our first night together I never had to feel cold or hollow inside. I’d walk around every day with more or less throbbing and aching. His reminder of the love he had for me.