She lets out a long moan of helpless pleasure.
Now I know she’s ready.
My cock is an iron bar, red hot and standing straight out from my body. It looks enormous as I place the head between those tight, round asscheeks.
I hold Cat pinned down with my knees on her hamstrings. I lube up the head of my cock, press it against her anus, and begin to push it inside.
“Oh my god,” Cat groans. “Oh fuck . . .”
“Shh,” I say.
I put barely an inch inside her. Then I wait.
The pressure and tightness are phenomenally intense around the head of my cock. I can only imagine how it feels for Cat.
As her ass relaxes, I push my cock in a little further. Millimeter by millimeter I keep going, with long pauses to let her get used to it.
When it seems like she can’t handle any more, I slip my hand under her hip and rub her clit, until her ass relaxes again.
“Take it,” I growl, pushing in further.
I don’t stop until my cock is all the way inside her, in a vise grip that’s like nothing I’ve ever known.
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to explode. I’m holding still as much for my benefit as hers. I don’t want to spoil the party too soon.
Cat is making noises like I’ve never heard. Squeals and groans, but also little whimpers of pleasure. After a moment of holding still all the way inside her, she starts to rock her hips just the tiniest bit, feeling the insane friction of my cock stuffed deep in her ass.
This is the ultimate submission.
Me taking the ultimate prize from her, and Cat giving it to me.
Enduring the discomfort for me, because I want it.
Slowly, carefully, I fuck her ass with shallow thrusts.
Cat moans in a low, desperate way I’ve never heard before. She grinds her pussy against my hand, her ass squeezing around my cock.
I fucking love it.
But I want more.
Very slowly, I withdraw my cock from her ass.
Cat sighs with relief as I pull all the way out.
“I’m not done,” I tell her. “Get on top of me.”
“You mean . . . ?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Cat straddles me while I lube up my cock even more. It has to be fully slippery to slide into that tight little ass.
This time Cat positions my cock, and slowly sinks down on it. I watch her face, delighting in every wince as my cock impales her ass all over again from this new angle.
“Do it,” I growl. “Ride me with my cock up your ass.”
Slowly, Cat rocks her hips, accustoming herself to this brand-new sensation. Her clit rubs against my lower belly, as it always does in this position. And just as I suspected, she finds her rhythm and begins to moan with every thrust, her cheeks flushing as the pleasure begins to mount inside of her.
She can’t ride me as vigorously, but the friction is so tight that neither of us could stand that anyway. Every tiny movement feels ten times as intense as usual.
Her breath quickens and her whole chest flushes as pink as her face. She’s panting. I know she wants to cum, but something is holding her back—either the edge of discomfort, or her own embarrassment at climaxing in such a taboo way.
“Do it,” I order. “Cum on my cock.”
She groans, biting her lip and riding my cock.
“I can’t . . .” she moans.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“I don’t know!” she cries, helplessly.
I seize her by the throat and grab her hip in my other hand, forcing her down on my cock.
“Do it,” I growl, thrusting up inside of her. “Fucking cum.”
“Aghhhh,” she moans, her eyes rolling back.
The orgasm hits, her hips rocking against me, her ass squeezing around my cock in rhythmic pulses.
I’ve never felt so much power, forcing her to cum with my cock rammed up her ass.
I own her body.
I own her pleasure.
She’ll do anything for me.
With that thought, I explode inside of her, cumming deep inside the tightest, most forbidden place.
I ride the high of that encounter for several days, playing it over and over again in my mind.
I’ve never felt such a rush.
The wilder and more uninhibited I am with Cat, the better it feels.
And she feels the same, I know she does.
When she lay in my arms afterward, panting and sweating, looking up at the stars through the holes in the tower roof, she said, “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever felt.”
In this new universe we’ve created together, crazy is good. Insane is even better.
That blissful state only lasts until Sunday, when I’m expected to call my father.
We haven’t spoken in over a month.
I have to call him now, before Christmas, because I know he won’t want to talk to me over the holiday.
He married my mother on December 26th. She had always wanted a snowy wedding, and the weather obliged—their photos are filled with swirling white flakes, as if the whole sky scattered confetti on their heads.
He hasn’t celebrated Christmas since she left.
“Hello, Dmitry,” he says when he picks up the phone.
His voice sounds dull and echoing, as if his office is empty, though I know it isn’t.
“Hello, Father.”
“Did you call to tell me the results of your exams?”
“We don’t have all the marks back yet. But I’m in first place so far, on the tests that have been scored.”
“Hm,” he grunts.
No compliment. No congratulations.
“How is work?” I ask him politely.
“As it always is,” he says.
I grip the receiver tightly, alone in the bank of phones on the ground floor of the Keep. I’m filled with the helpless misery that always overtakes me at the coldness of my father’s voice.
Why does he speak to me like a robot?
You would never know he was talking to his one and only son.
Trying to force some response from him, I say, “I met someone, Father. A girl.”
“I thought you learned your lesson last time,” he says. “After that embarrassing affair with Anna Wilk.”
Oh, so we remember Anna now all of a sudden, do we?
The plastic receiver creaks as I squeeze it so hard it could almost break.
“This is different,” I say.
“This is not the time for dating,” my father briskly informs me. “You need to secure your place in the Moscow Bratva. Once you have done so, you can make an advantageous match amongst the daughters of our allies.”
“You didn’t,” I say, before I can stop myself.
We never speak of my mother. Ever.
A long silence follows in which I think my father might have hung up on me. Then he says, very coldly, “And look what a love match got me.”
“Just me,” I say bitterly. “Your son.”
“Exactly,” my father says, and he does end the call, without a word of goodbye.
I’m breathing so hard I think I might be sick.
I slam the receiver down, then snatch it up again and hit the display with it over and over, until the plastic splinters and half the numeric pads pop off.
Then I stalk out of the Keep, walking so fast I’m almost running, my head a churning storm of fury and my fists clenched at my sides.