Page 63 of The Lazarov Bratva

My last plea, my last request.

Kristof gives me my wish and begins to fuck me against the wall like the animal that paints his skin. He growls through clenched teeth while his hips pound into me hard and fast. I have no strength to do anything but take it, and it’s utter bliss. Each deep, pounding thrust of his cock sends sparks of pleasure through my overstimulated body. His rough hands drag across my sensitive skin, caressing welts and whip marks right up to my breasts. His nails dig in like claws, groping and marking me. His mouth collides with mine once more in a deeply passionate kiss that he breaks quickly, then he kisses down my jaw and buries his teeth into my neck. His bite flares pain through my shoulder that mingles quickly with my deep satisfaction at being marked and claimed.

Is this heaven?

There’s too much for me to keep track of, and my over-stimulated mind weaves between every point of contact. Everything hits me at the same time. The pleasure builds tightly in my core from every rapid thrust of Kristof’s cock, the pain from contact to each raw mark on my skin, the flurry of tingles from each kiss and bite across my neck and shoulders, right to the burst of pleasure from the impact of his pelvis against my clit.

This is definitely heaven.

The room echoes with the slick sound of our fucking, of Kristof’s grunts and pants mingling like music with my high-pitched moans and whines. We’re becoming one, and my only distant thought is that I want to touch him.

The cuffs deny me. I’m just a doll now, fucked beyond sense by the man I’ve been infatuated with for years.

My heart races so fast that I can barely discern each beat, and Kristof’s thrusts begin faltering from rhythm. His moans get rougher, and the pleasure coiling in my gut tightens to the point that my breath catches in my lungs.

I’m suspended, caught on the cusp, staring down into an infinite abyss of pleasure. My toes curl, my nails cut into my palm, and when Kristof suddenly yells and slams his hips deep inside me, I come again with a noiseless cry that he swallows with a deep, hungry kiss.

He grinds against me, writhing his full body against mine, and the flares of pain heighten my pleasure beyond anything I can fathom. His hips shudder, and this thick cock twitches inside me as he floods me with his cum. My pussy milks his cock with each tight ripple of muscle, and for a long moment, there’s only us.

Just me, Kristof, and our mingled ecstasy.

I’m so caught up in that pleasure coursing through me with the deep satisfaction that Kristof gave me what I wanted that I don’t notice the cuffs releasing from my wrists until my knees hit the floor.

My eyes snap open, and a sharp hiss of surprise escapes me. As I open my mouth to take a breath, Kristof’s slick cock shoves past my lips. I barely have time to register the emptiness in my core from his missing cock before he thrusts all the way to the back of my throat, and I instantly choke. His strong hands tangle firmly into my hair, and he holds my head in place. The subtle saltiness of his cock washes over my tongue along with the familiar sweetness of my own slick.

“Don’t you dare bite me,” barks Kristof’s voice from above.

The words wash over me like a wave, and it’s a challenge to focus. His cock slides over my tongue, and his hands hold me in place as he fucks to the back of my throat over and over again. My lack of experience doesn’t seem to matter here as Kristof takes control. I force myself to focus as tears build in my eyes after each reflexive gag that rolls through me when the head of his cock hits the back of my throat. The noise that escapes me each time is wet and sharp, yet Kristof seems to thrust harder the next time. All I can do is relax my jaw and focus on snatching air when I can.

His cock, thick and heavy and long, feels impossibly large in my mouth, and I can’t fathom how it even fits inside my pussy. The shaft is a solid weight against my tongue, and the soft yet firm crown slides deeper into my throat with each rapid thrust. He fucks like a man possessed, with the same wild abandon that he fucked my pussy, and I’m here for the ride.

Distantly, I’m aware that I want to make this good for him, that I want to please him, but my mind is swimming with senseless thoughts all focused on how good I feel. All I can do is relax.

Then Kristof’s cock slams deep into my throat and my eyes snap open wide. The pressure of his hands against the back of my head keeps me in place while my nose presses into the well-trimmed curls of hair at his pelvis. Tears flood my eyes. I finally shift, struggling for air as the pressure in my chest swells. When I glance up, Kristof’s dark eyes stare down at me.

His cock twitches in my throat, and he moans deeply as he comes. A rush of heat and wetness floods down my throat, and I swallow on reflex, even as the urge for air swells like a balloon in my chest. As I stare up at him with fuzzy eyes and burning lungs, one of his rules drifts into my mind.

His cum over my air.

My chest tightens, and my mind drifts as I close my eyes.

Suddenly, his soft cock pulls free from my mouth, and I gasp wetly, coughing around the cum he left in my mouth. I’m in the air, surrounded by thick, strong arms, and by the time I open my eyes again, we’re on the bed and Kristof is wrapped around me like a bear.

“Good girl,” he says, his voice strong and warm. “I’m proud of you. You did so fucking good. So fucking good, Alena. You hear me?”

My body trembles from head to toe. I place one hand on his broad chest, tracing some of the ink there as he kisses my sweaty forehead and runs his hand gently over my abdomen.

“Good girl,” he says again.

My chest tightens.

“This is the kind of obedience I want to see from you. Keep this up and you’ll please me.”

Fat, hot tears well in my eyes, and an unexpected, tired sob rises in my throat. Why am I crying? Crying after sex can’t be normal, can it? I can barely gather my thoughts, never mind understand the overwhelming emotion taking over me, so words fail me. Instead, I turn into Kristof’s chest and cling to him as he cuddles me close to his body and pets my hair.

“Talk to me, Alena,” he orders.

Still, words fail me. After a few moments of crying into his shoulder, all I can think to say is, “Thank you, Sir.”

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