“Was the champagne not to your liking, Mrs. Rezanova?”
Olivia turns to acknowledge her, a tight smile forming on her luscious lips.
“It gives me heartburn.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Polina gushes. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s not your fault.” Olivia puts a reassuring hand on her arm. “Something else has left a foul taste in my mouth.”
Polina correctly reads the tension emanating from my bride and hurries away. Olivia returns her attention to the window. Her focus on the view doesn’t waver as the plane accelerates down the runway. It isn’t until we reach our cruising altitude and Yan announces it’s safe to get up and move around the cabin that Olivia looks at me again.
Unfastening my seatbelt, I get to my feet. I hold out a hand to her. “Come on.”
Olivia blinks twice. “What?”
“Come. With. Me.” I enunciate each word clearly since she didn’t register what I said the first time.
Olivia unclips her seatbelt and stands. She obstinately refuses the hand I offer her. If that’s the way she wants to play, so be it. Gripping her upper arm tightly, I lead her to the back of the plane. I shove her through the door into the bedroom and she stumbles to a stop. Her shoulders stiffen as she takes in the pure white linens on the bed, scattered with blood-red rose petals. This is Polina’s doing. I’d imagine most women would see it as romantic, but when Olivia turns to me, her furious expression suggests she views it more as a taunt.
“What is this?” she demands.
Glancing past her, I shrug. “It looks like a bed.”
“Don’t be obtuse.” Her lips thin as she makes her disapproval clear. “I know it’s a bed. Why are there rose petals on it?”
“I suppose Polina thought it was romantic.”
Olivia folds her arms across her chest. “Why would it need to be romantic? Why are we even in here?”
“Now who’s being obtuse?”
Olivia’s lip wobbles, and she sucks in a breath. “Do you really plan to do it right here on the plane?”
“Do what?” I’m not letting her get away with such vagueness.
“You know.” She waves a hand in the air, then throws up her hands in exasperation. “Ugh! Have relations.”
Have relations? I don’t know why Olivia’s so outraged by the notion. It’s like she’s regressed to the Victorian era.
“I intend to fuck my wife,” I tell her bluntly. “Does that offend you?”
“Of course it does. The idea of you jumping on me the minute we’re alone is pretty offensive. I might as well be one of those sex dolls.”
“You think I want to fuck an inanimate object?” I throw back my head and laugh at the absurdity of her remark.
“An inanimate object would probably suit you better. It wouldn’t bother you with thoughts and opinions.”
“Oh, no, my dear sweet wife, I want you, a flesh and blood woman, not some toy.” I give her a moment to digest that. “And I’m not going to jump on you. I’m going to possess every inch of your body so thoroughly you’ll never be free of me.”
Olivia makes a strangled sound that could be shock, dread, desire, or a combination of all three.
“But first we’re going to play a game.” My hands go to the buckle of my belt.
Olivia’s face blanches. “What sort of game?”
“One where I ask you questions and then punish you for each lie that spills from your beautiful lips.”
My wife’s eyes widen. “Punish me how?”
Rather than answering, I slowly unfasten my belt and slide it through the loops on my pants. Doubling it over, I snap the two halves together. The crack makes Olivia jump.
“Piotr?” She backs away, but there’s not much room in here and she soon comes up against the wall. “What are you doing?”
“First, I’m going to spank you with my hand for the lies you’ve already told. Then I’m going to ask you some questions and use this belt on your ass every time you lie to me again.” I crook my finger, beckoning her closer. “Now come here. I want you out of that dress.”
Olivia doesn’t move. She wrings her hands together and swallows so hard I hear the gulp from across the room.
“Come here, Olivia.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t do this.”
“Of course you can, malyskha.” I hold my hand out to her. “What happened to the woman who’s stood up to me all this time? What happened to feisty Olivia, who made me wait for her and refused to promise to obey me? Was she another lie?”
Olivia closes her eyes. She hunches over her shoulders, and an air of defeat surrounds her. I hate to see her like this, but she soon composes herself. She breathes in deeply and then looks up at me with enough fury in her eyes to make a weaker man piss himself. That’s the woman I want.
“Let’s get this over with.” She marches toward me and spins around to offer me her back. “You’ll need to help me out of the dress.”
“With pleasure, malyskha.”
The delicate fabric of her gown is held together by a hundred tiny pearl buttons. My fingers are too big for the task of unfastening them. I only open two of them before I realize this will drive me insane. Taking the knife from my pocket, I flick it open. Olivia turns to me with startled eyes.
“Don’t look so frightened, malyskha. I’m going to cut the dress, not you.”
“I like this dress,” she protests.
“So do I.” The gown is stunning on her, the soft white beautiful against her lightly tanned skin. “But it’s in my way.”
“And you destroy anything that gets in your way?”
“Hmm, you know me well.”
Olivia huffs. “I don’t know you at all.”
“You’ll know me a lot better by the time we’re done here.”
A shiver runs through her body as she takes my words as a threat. I’m not sure if I meant them that way. I put a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady as I slide my knife between the delicate fabric of her dress and her skin.
“Hold still,” I warn her. “I’m not opposed to a little blood play, but I suspect you’re not ready for that.”
Olivia gasps in horror. She needn’t worry. I was only trying to get a reaction out of her. I have no desire to cut her beautiful skin, so I take great care not to nick her accidentally as I slice through the back of her dress, right down to her hips. She shimmies out of what’s left of the gown and steps clear of the fabric that pools at her feet. She turns to face me. In her white strapless bra, panties, and lace-topped thigh-high stockings, my bride takes my breath away.
“If I’d known you were wearing this beneath your dress, we’d have left the wedding a lot earlier.”
I make a circular motion with my finger, instructing her to turn for me. She spins around quickly, denying me the chance to take in every inch of her as I wanted to.
“Try that again,” I command. “Slowly this time.”
She does as I asked, rotating on the balls of her feet to perform a perfect pirouette. My wife has incredible form. If I recall correctly, she said she was outside a dance class when she was subjected to the ordeal of an attempted abduction. I wonder if she’s kept up her training as she’s gotten older.
“Beautiful,” I say when she comes to a stop.
Olivia’s body is lean, her limbs long and elegant. She has a mole beneath her left breast, but no other obvious blemishes on her skin. Her hair is still up in a knot, accentuating the length of her slender neck. She’d be stunning even without the effort she puts into her hair and makeup. But my wife plays the part of Mafia princess well and is never caught looking less than perfect. Now that she’s my queen, she’ll continue the illusion in public. In private, I want something real.
“Let down your hair, malyskha.”
Olivia reaches up and removes the strategically placed pins keeping her up-do in place. It’s not like in the movies, where a woman takes out a single clip and her hair tumbles over her shoulders. It takes almost a minute for her to carefully pull out each pin. When she’s done, she runs her fingers through her hair.
“What now?” she asks, a hint of defiance in her tone.
“Get on the bed. I want you facing away from me, head down and ass up.”
“Piotr!” She all but stamps her feet.
“Do it, Olivia, unless you want to incur more punishment.”
She sends me one last withering glare before turning and climbing up onto the bed. She gets into position with her arms beside her. I doubt she’ll have the self-control not to reach back when I spank her, so I remove my tie to bind her wrists.
“Hands above your head, wrists together,” I order her.
Olivia does as she’s commanded, but takes her own sweet time about it. She makes a show of stretching her arms out over her head and then rotating her wrists before laying her hands down on the mattress. The little brat won’t submit without a fight, but nothing good ever came easily and I’m prepared to put in some effort to have her where I want her. She doesn’t utter a sound of protest as I wrap my tie around her wrists and secure it with a neat bow.
“How does that feel?” My intention is to prevent her from interfering with her punishment, not to cut off her circulation.
“Fine.” Her tone is one of supreme boredom. Let’s see how long that lasts once I get started.
Positioning myself at the side of the bed where I’m able to watch her face while I spank her, I draw my hand back and bring it down hard on her bottom. Olivia exhales sharply as her flesh ripples beneath my palm. If she imagined I was going to give her a few gentle taps to warm her up for my belt, she’s mistaken. I want her to feel every bit of this punishment, to realize how seriously I take being lied to.
My palm connects with her firm ass four times in quick succession before I stop to admire the pink bloom on her skin.
“So pretty,” I murmur.
“Just get on with it,” Olivia snipes.
I hunch down low and grab a fistful of her hair, forcing her head back so she’s looking into my eyes.
“You think you’re in a position to make demands?”
Olivia glares at me for a minute, then lowers her eyes submissively. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Her tone oozes sarcasm. I let go of her and push to my feet. Little minx. After her initial fear, she seems determined to prove she’s got a backbone. That’s commendable, but she may push it too far.
“Let’s see if you’re still mouthing off a minute from now, Olivia.”
I resume the spanking, lavishing attention on every part of her ass. My palm cracks off her left butt cheek and Olivia gasps. It’s a breathy little sound that shoots straight to my cock. I adjust my stance and pick up the pace, spanking her harder and faster. My beautiful bride squirms on the bed.
“Hold still.” At my command, she freezes. I pause for a moment as she burrows her face into the mattress. “Olivia, look at me.”
She turns to me, glowering through tear-filled eyes.
“Five more,” I say. Her ass is a fiery red now and her lips are twisted in discomfort.
Olivia doesn’t respond, but I didn’t expect her to. She rests her face on the mattress and continues to scowl at me as I spank her quickly, four more times. Her lips maintain their pout as she steadfastly refuses to make a sound. There’s nothing she can do to stop the tears from falling, though. I draw my arm back and bring my hand down across the width of her ass for the last time. Olivia yelps, then quickly composes herself.
“You did so well, malyskha.” I am genuinely impressed by her fortitude. If she’d shown any signs of weakness during the spanking, I’d have gone easier on her, but it seems my bride is made of tougher stuff than most people realize. “Now for the fun part.”
[divider]
Olivia
If I said I hated being spanked, it would be a lie. Do I like pain? Not really, but I enjoy the exhilarating rush the sharp sting gives me each time Piotr’s palm connects with my ass. What I am into is the vulnerability of being laid out for my husband to punish. Lying on the bed while Piotr reddens my ass is strangely intimate. I enjoy being bound and helpless more than I could ever have imagined. Ceding control to a man like Piotr is remarkably freeing. Of course, I wouldn’t want to submit to him outside of the bedroom, but from what I’ve seen he isn’t going to ask that of me.
I get a huge kick out of knowing I’m affecting Piotr. His breathing is a touch heavier than normal and there’s no mistaking the bulge in his pants for anything other than a massive erection.
“I want you to keep looking at me, understand? I want to see your face.”
“Okay,” I agree.
Piotr snaps the ends of his belt together and the sound makes me jump, despite my resolve to maintain my composure. While his hand might as well be made of steel considering the impact it made on my ass, I didn’t fear being spanked with it. The belt is an entirely different prospect. It’s a thick strap of leather and it’s going to sting like hell. Could it break the skin if Piotr’s not careful? I hope not. I guess I’ll have to trust he knows what he’s doing.
“Okay, Olivia, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to give you one lash of the belt so you know what you’re in for if you dare lie to me.”
I brace myself, afraid of how much this is going to hurt. Even the word lash sounds more vicious than spank. I twist the bedcover between my fingers and wait for the belt to land. It does with a crack that seems to ricochet off the walls. My stoicism evaporates and I scream as fire dances across my flesh.
“Breathe, Olivia,” Piotr says as I scramble to get control of myself. He waits for a few seconds until he’s satisfied I’m okay. “First question. Who is Dario Maroni to you?”
“I told you already. He was in high school with me.”
“Yes, you told me that, but I’m asking about your relationship. Was he your boyfriend?”
“No.”
The lie is instantly punished as the belt smacks off my ass. The initial sting makes me yelp, but it’s the painful tingling sensation it leaves that has me wriggling on the bed trying to find relief.
“Oh, Olivia, don’t fall at the first hurdle,” Piotr says with mock pity. “Let’s try that again. Was he your boyfriend?”
It isn’t worth continuing to lie. “We dated a little.”
“I see. Has he ever touched you?”
“No.” My response comes automatically.
I scream as the harsh leather falls across both butt cheeks. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands.
“We both know that’s a lie,” Piotr says.
I realize it was stupid to lie when Piotr saw Dario touching me at my house a couple of days ago.
“Well, yes, he touched me, but I thought you meant, like, down there.”
“Down there?” Piotr laughs derisively. “We are going to have to do something about your vocabulary. Now, tell me, did he ever touch your pussy?”
Why does Piotr using that word make me all warm inside? I decide to be honest. “Maybe once.”
“I see, and what else?”
“There’s nothing else.”
I hear the lie in my voice, but I don’t want to go into detail about the things Dario and I did. Piotr can thrash my ass all he likes, but there are some secrets I intend to keep. That resolve shatters when the belt slaps down on my throbbing backside again. I let out an animalistic wail.
“I’m telling you, Piotr, there’s nothing else.”
“Olivia,” he warns. “I can do this all night.”
He can, but I can’t.
“Alright,” I yell before he can spank me with that damned belt again. “He put his fingers inside me, but I didn’t like it.”
“He hurt you?” Piotr’s tone is murderous.
“Not really. He just wasn’t…” I don’t know how to explain the revulsion I felt when Dario pawed at me. “It wasn’t like when you did it.”
“Are you saying you enjoyed my touch?”
“Yes.”
Piotr runs his hand over my aching butt. I rock my hips and moan as desire floods me. His touch does unbelievable things to me.
“Are you trying to distract me from questioning you, Olivia?”
“No.” It hadn’t occurred to me to try, and his tone tells me it’s just as well because he’ll see right through any attempted manipulation.
“Okay, so tell me, Olivia, what was delivered to you at the wedding?”
“Nothing important.”
“If it’s not important, you can tell me.”
This isn’t a conversation I want to get into. “It was nothing, I don’t even remember it.”
Another flash of heat sears my skin as Piotr spanks me with the belt once more. Tears stream down my cheeks.
“It was just a message.”
“Saying what?” Piotr demands.
I breathe in sharply. “Does the Pakhan know what a slut his new wife is?”
Burying my face in the mattress, I cry in earnest. I don’t want Piotr to know about what happened between me and Dario. I hate that some faceless asshole has called me a slut. That term cuts right through me because it’s the last thing I am.
The bed dips as Piotr sits next to me. He gently rolls me over so I’m lying on my back. I hiss as my undoubtedly swollen ass hits the mattress.
“Why would anyone say such a thing about you, malyskha?” he asks gently. “Why would anyone think that?”
“I don’t know.” I bring my bound hands down to cover myself as he brushes the hair from my face, making me feel cared for in a way I didn’t think he’d be capable of.
Amazingly, he doesn’t press me for more information. He seems to understand I’ve reached my limit and can’t take any more. He unties my wrists, then pulls me onto his lap. I sob against his chest for a minute, wetting his shirt as I purge the emotions I’ve built up during a stressful week.
“I like you this way,” he says.
I look up at him in shock. “You like me crying?”
He shakes his head. “No. I like you soft, seeking my comfort.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to make of that. An awkward silence grows between us. “Are we going to fuck now?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
I look up at him, stunned he would make that concession to me. I know how marriages work in our world. It’s important to formalize the union. Faced with Piotr’s enemies and business associates alike, our bond has to be unassailable. Besides, despite my reservations about Piotr, I am deeply attracted to him and I’m ready to do this.
“I want to.”
Piotr gets up and deposits me carefully on the bed. He strips off his clothes, removing his shirt first. He’s muscular without being heavy. A couple of tattoos are inked on his glowing skin. The one on his shoulder is of an eight-pointed star, which I believe signifies his high rank within the organization. The tattoo over his heart is in Cyrillic script. I have no idea how to read it.
“Moya zhizn’ za bratstvo,” Piotr says with an air of pride when he catches me staring. “It’s my pledge to the brotherhood.”
He removes his shoes and socks before unzipping his pants and lowering them along with his boxer shorts. My mouth drops open as his cock springs free. It shouldn’t surprise me that this man is well-endowed, but I wasn’t prepared for this first sight of him. Logically, I know he’ll fit inside my body, but I can’t help but wonder how.
“Lie back,” Piotr instructs.
I scramble into position, not knowing what to do with my hands as Piotr climbs onto the bed. My ass is sore, but that’s soon forgotten as he parts my thighs and stares down at me as if this is the first time he’s seen this intimate view. Strictly speaking I suppose it is from this angle.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to fill it with my cock.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I both love and hate the way he speaks so plainly about sex. Dario tried to talk dirty to me, but like everything else about him, it left me cold. I still don’t know how I fell for his golden boy football star persona.
Piotr grabs my foot and kisses the side of it. My lips form an O. Who knew that could be so erotic? He drags his lips slowly up my leg to my inner thigh, making me squirm as anticipation builds. Parting my legs farther, he swipes his tongue along the length of my pussy. The most intense humming sensation travels through my lower body. I can barely stand it.
As Piotr laps at my sensitized flesh, I wriggle. When he pushes his tongue inside me, I lift my hips from the bed. Piotr splays a hand across my abdomen to hold me down as he continues his intimate exploration. Holy shit! I have never felt anything like this. He swirls his tongue around the edge of the hole and my eyes roll back as the pleasure grows. I’m close to orgasm when Piotr pulls back. I whine in frustration.
“When you come, you’ll come with my cock deep inside you.”
He positions himself over me. Propped up on his palms, he studies my face.
“Is this your first time?”
“Yes.” My tone is indignant. I’m insulted by the question. I already intimated to him that night at my house I’m a virgin.
“Then I’ll take it slow.”
I shake my head. Slow and steady is not what I want. It won’t satisfy my needs. “No, just do it.”
“You’re sure? It will hurt.”
I know it will, but drawing the moment out will only make things worse. I want to get past the pain and onto the pleasurable part. Piotr can make this good for me. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. A man like him prides himself on his ability to make a woman come.
“I’m sure.”
Piotr wastes no more time. He shoves his cock into me, hard. I squeal in pain and shock at the sudden invasion. He holds still as my eyes fill with tears.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” At least I will be. Though I can’t read concern on his face, the fact he’s checking I’m alright helps me relax. My body softens a little as I get used to having his massive cock inside me. I’ve read descriptions of this moment, of feeling stretched, experiencing fullness, but I never expected being joined with a man to be so overwhelming for my emotions. I want to laugh and cry at the same time.
When Piotr moves, it’s with shallow thrusts at first, but he soon picks up the pace. I wrap my legs around his waist and try to match his rhythm as he fucks me ruthlessly, too wrapped up in chasing his own release to worry about whether he’s hurting me. I assume my gasps and moans tell him I’m enjoying this.
I dig my nails into his broad shoulders to spur him on. This wild, abandoned version of Piotr is what I craved without realizing it. I’ve never seen the stoic Russian so close to losing control. Knowing his lack of composure is for me is exhilarating.
“So perfect,” he murmurs. “My bride takes my cock so well.”
He toys with my nipple, flicking a finger back and forth over the taut peak. Goosebumps spread across my skin as my clit beats a rapid tempo. My body clenches around Piotr’s length. My back arches off the bed and I scream as an orgasm grips me and refuses to let go.
A tsunami of pleasure threatens to sweep me away, but suddenly Piotr is lying next to me, dragging me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest and listen to the reassuring beat of his heart as the tremors shaking my body slowly subside.
“That was incredible, malyskha.” He kisses my forehead. “Just as I knew it would be.”
I turn my head to look at him. While I feel like a sweaty mess, he doesn’t show any signs of having exerted himself. The man clearly has greater stamina than me.
“Did you come?” I ask, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
“Yes, malyskha. I came harder than I thought possible.”
I wring my hands together as anxiety grips me. “So, I guess we’re compatible, then.”
Piotr strokes my arm. “When it comes to fucking, at least.”
That’s not the reassurance I was seeking, but I guess it’s something I can build on. This marriage may not have been what I planned for my life, but I’m going to make it work.
I shiver as a cold waft of air breezes over me. Piotr draws the sheet across the bed to cover us. It strikes me as a sweet gesture. Perhaps he has a caring side. Snuggling under his arm, I revel in the closeness. I shut my eyes and will myself to sleep.