When eighteen-year-old Heather Foster was delivered to Ivan Antonov for use as his concubine, she expected him to enjoy her virgin body thoroughly, punishing and ravaging her in the most humiliating ways imaginable. Being shared with his friends didn’t come as a surprise either.
Despite her tears and blushes, she’d even suspected she might like some of it.
…or maybe all of it.
What she hadn’t anticipated, even in her most shameful fantasies, was falling in love with him.
Author: Emily Tilton
eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95
Length: 53,800 words
My adorable bed girl’s first time—her first sight of a man’s hardness, her first spanking, her first time over a man’s knee. The memory stirred my heart even as it made me just as hard, here and now after her interrupted visit to Devushkin’s palace.
I had the enchanting vision of Heather’s whipped bottom before my eyes, but I found my mind still dwelling on her very first visit to my study. I had the compliance wand in the pocket of my robe—my chauffeur Yuri had brought it to me a few moments before Heather arrived. With my left hand still caressing the naked girl’s taut, lovely backside, I slipped my right into the pocket and took out the little device.
I didn’t need it anymore; Heather obeyed me now without hesitation, even when I commanded the most degrading acts. That could mean playing with the sweetly complicated, blushingly pink folds of her adorable bare pussy, her eyes—according to my instructions—on my face as I gazed alternately into her beautiful hazel irises and at her wanton fingers slipping up and down along the length of her private lips… or holding herself still without any physical restraints as I birched her simply to remind her of her station as an owned fuck toy… or presenting her anus for fucking, prostrate on the rug with her hands behind her to open her punished bottom-cheeks and show me the naughty spot where she had earned a long, vigorous session on my rigid cock. Whether I used the wand or not, my sweet girl’s compliance had become instant, her need for my mastery clear despite the lovely blushes that still accompanied her submission to her owner’s humiliating whims.
All those memories passed through my mind as I pushed the wand gently into the small of Heather’s back. Each one brought a little leap of arousal to my iron-hard erection, along with a throb of affection at the knowledge that the gorgeous Heather Foster, raised an independent American young woman, belonged to me fully—to love and to care for as well as to play with in the dark, obscene-yet-ecstatic way we both needed.
Her obedience without the help of the wand told me that, and her eyes said the same thing when I looked into them even as I used her body with all the roughness my dominance demanded. So did the trembling of her hips as my left thumb traced the pretty marks the birch had made on her pert little hind-cheeks.
I didn’t need the wand, but something about its effect on Heather made me want to have it near me. I had felt a good deal of reluctance this evening, lending it to Devushkin. Giving another man, and his friends, the ability to command Heather’s sexual obedience didn’t seem to have the same charm it had a few months ago—before…
Before falling in love with her.
She let out a little whimper, deep in her throat, as she felt the pressure of the wand’s rounded tip.
“Were you a good girl tonight, Heather?” I asked.