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“Stay.”

I remained exactly where he placed me.

The fire warmed my tender, welted bottom from behind, a strange, soothing counterpoint to the deep ache left by his belt. My head bowed between my shoulders while my body trembled with a mixture of pain, shame, and nervous anticipation.

The leather remained loose around my throat, but I could feel its weight.

Feel him holding the other end.

And after everything he had just done to me, I made no attempt to move.

He circled me like a predator, admiring me from every angle. He stopped behind me, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze on my welted, exposed flesh.

He knelt down behind me, and I felt the heat of his body close to mine. The belt remained loose around my throat. Then, I heard the sound of a zipper, a gradual rasp of metal teeth that seemed to echo in the quiet room. It was followed by the soft rustle of fabric, and instinctively, I knew he was freeing himself.

Without a word, he guided the thick head of his cock between my thighs, teasing my slick, swollen folds. He dragged it through my wetness, coating himself in my arousal, but he didn’t enter me yet. He just teased me, making me squirm as a desperate, whining sound escaped me. He tapped my clit with the tip, sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting straight through me and making my entire body clench.

“Please,” I gasped. “Please, Sergei.”

“Please what, little pet?” he murmured.

“Please… I need you inside me.”

He chuckled, a dark, triumphant sound. “You’ll take what I give you, pet.”

He continued to tease me, dragging his cock through my folds, tapping my clit, pushing the head against my entrance but never quite breaching me. I was soaking—I could feel my slick dripping down my thighs—my body aching with a need so profound it was nearing actual physical pain. My hips rocked back of their own accord, trying to draw him in.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “So eager. So ready for Daddy.”

He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, the friction of his shirt against my skin—and the renewed awareness of my nudity before his fully clothed body—sending a fresh wave of fire through me.

“Beg for it,” he commanded, his breath hot against my ear. “Beg Daddy to give you his cock.”

The words were humiliating. Degrading. And they were the most erotic thing I had ever heard.

“Please,” I sobbed. “Please, fuck me. I need your cock inside me. Please, Sergei.”

He drove into me in a single, brutal thrust.

The sudden fullness was a shockingly delicious stretch that stole my breath away. I was so wet, so ready, that he slid in all the way to the hilt, his hips and the fabric of his trousers slapping and rubbing against my tender, welted bottom. He stilled for a moment, letting me adjust, letting me feel the sheer, overwhelming size of him.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised.

Then he began to move.

No.

He began to fuck me.

He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust hard, deep, and formidable. He gripped my hips and held me in place, using me for his pleasure. The sound of our bodies meeting, the slap of skin against skin, filled the room. He drove into me again and again, driving me crazy with every thrust.

Then he tugged on the belt, pulling my head back and forcing me to arch my spine, which changed the angle of his penetration and hit that deep, sensitive spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.

“You take Daddy’s cock so well, little pet,” he grunted, his movements becoming more erratic, more forceful. “This tight little pussy was made for me.”

My entire body surged with heat.

“Come for me,” he commanded. “Now.”