My eyelids peel back slowly as my body jolts back and forth in a small space. I can hear the crunch of tires and smell exhaust fumes. My wrists wrench against the bindings, and I sigh. He tied me up.
Goodie.
Before everything went dark, I recognized that accent, that voice. All growly and possessive, and mostly annoyed that he wants my ass that badly.
He can’t help it. My ass is pretty amazing.
Georgiy.
He came for me, all the way from the other side of the country to punish me. He does actually care. I knew he did. Knew he wouldn’t just ghost me like that. I have no idea what he has planned, or what finally broke him, but I’m here for it.
I’m literally here for it—tied up, which is my kryptonite. Tie me up anywhere, anytime, and my dick will be eager for a nice orgasm. It’s getting hard now, actually.
Ready to play.
Ready to see what Georgiy has in store for me.
Suddenly, the car stops, and I hear the ignition cut off. My heart rate accelerates and my dick hardens.
Yes. Gimme.
I hear footsteps, and then the trunk pops open. I blink up through the sunlight at Georgiy, who is staring down at me. He’sas put-together as always in a trim black suit, his hair perfectly coifed, his skin flawlessly moisturized.
He’s a specimen. I’d wear him if I could, but then he’d be dead, so I won’t do that. Georgiy can live. I lick my lips and open my mouth to say something, but he reaches toward me and duct tapes it shut.
“No need to speak, Bane of my existence.”
Rude, I think as he reaches his arms under me and picks me up, pulling me into his chest. I can’t help but inhale the scent of him. Ammonia and some kind of aftershave.
He smells even better when it’s all mixed with blood.
My nose nuzzles up against his neck, and I hear him grunt as he walks me somewhere. From what I can make out, we’re in the middle of a large forest up in the mountains, a small trailer sitting in the distance. Seems he has plans for me.
I wonder what they could be.
I can’t fucking wait to find out.
He swings the trailer door open, and the scent of musty furniture and a long-closed space wafts over me. He carries me inside and dumps me on the queen-size mattress in the back. I can’t help but arch my ass up toward him, offering it up. It does need a good spanking and fucking. But it goes ignored, much to my dismay.
“Put that down,” he murmurs, and I wiggle it just for fun. “Blyat. You never listen.”
I don’t. I have very selective hearing most days.
I hear him rustling with something, and then a moment later, I’m being jostled around the mattress. My face is smashed into the sheets by his large hand, and I feel my clothes being peeled from my body. No, not peeled. Sliced. He’s slicing them with his scalpel.
Oh, oh yes. Please.
It’s extremely sharp. Just the perfect tool, so versatile.
“You won’t need these,” he murmurs.
He’s right. I won’t. I’m very much okay with being naked around him. It seems to be the state he usually keeps me in when he’s frustrated with me.
When I’m finally laid bare, I look at him and see that his hair is slightly mussed. Love it when he looks like that, all disheveled and angry.
He looks furious right now.
Good. Maybe he’ll take it out on my ass. It could use a good pounding.
