Page 47 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

He’s always right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. He can read me like a book, knowing my feeling before I even have the chance to experience them myself. I don’t know how he does it, but he does it well.

“Spread your legs,” he growls from behind me. “I want to see everything you have to offer me.”

Everything. As though ‘everything’ just meant my holes. Maybe to him, it does, but recently he’s been acting like it means much more. He’s been making me believe that he cares about me in a deeper way.

“You’re going to do things for me that you could never imagine,” Kostin promises. “Not only will you be my personal masseuse, but you will also be my private whore.”

Good God, what have I gotten myself into, and why do I like it so much?

“Wait there,” Kostin says, his voice quickly fading as he walks away.

I look over my shoulder.

“Don’t move. Just wait,” he says, holding up a finger as he opens the door.

He walks out, naked, leaving me alone in the room to dwell in my shameful horniness. A week ago, I wouldn’t believe that I’d submit to Kostin again in this way, but here I am. I want to be angry about it, but I can’t when I’m so turned on. It’s only after that I know the shame will come.

It always does, but I’ll admit that the last time he used me, it felt so good to touch myself that I came three times before I left the massage room. I wonder if he heard my moans, every time I climaxed with the taste of his cum in my mouth. I wonder if he knew.

The door opens again, snapping me out of the bittersweet memories. Kostin enters, bringing with him a black leather suitcase. It looks like it could be for business, but I doubt it’s the kind of business a Mafia man brings out in the open.

He sets it down on a small, white marble table, three feet away from the massage table I’m draped over. I watch him, ogling at his muscular backside as he unclicks the latches and opens the suitcase.

His frame is too large for me to see what’s inside, but that doesn’t stop me from craning my neck in an attempt to see around him. I quickly return to my previous position when he turns around.

“Do you know what this is?” Kostin asks, slapping a thin leather riding crop against his palm.

I nod, staying quiet as he walks toward me.

“Usually, we don’t use these on people, but I’ll make an exception for a naughty girl like you,” he says, his words thick with his Russian accent. It gets stronger when he’s angry or aroused, and to be quite honest, I can’t tell which one it is right now… But his accent is as heavy as it’s ever been.

“Your ass will look better when it’s red,” Kostin says, walking behind me and slapping the crop against his palm harder.

I clench my jaw, unsure of what to expect.

A sharp sting causes me to jump, but Kostin doesn’t wait before bringing down the tight leather on the other ass cheek. He makes sure that I feel it, too, not going easy on me. I wonder if he realizes this is my first time, or if he just gets pleasure from my pain.

Oddly enough, I also get pleasure from my pain. As soon as the sting resides, it’s replaced by a buzz of excitement between my thighs. I want more.

“Do you think you can handle this?” Kostin asks.

“I can,” I reply, with more confidence than I probably should.

He brings the crop down on my skin even harder, making me jump again. I dig my nails into the table, gritting my teeth from the pain but loving it more than I thought I would. I must be crazy, but it’s Kostin who has made me this way.

I try to stay still, with the next whip, but it’s impossible for me not to jump every time the leather makes contact with my skin.

“You’ve had enough?” Kostin asks.

“No,” I say, tempting him to punish me further. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but there’s a self-destructive streak in me that has been dying to come out since I started seeing Kostin again.

“You’re a foolish woman, Bonnie. I can make you feel things that you’d never forget about. I can stain your mind with wicked things,” Kostin grumbles from behind me. His voice is so low that I can feel the vibration in my chest.

He taps the crop against my pussy, sending a jolt through me. He chuckles. “So sensitive. That’s going to be fun.”

I try to breathe normally, but my heart is hammering so hard that I’m panting over the table. I feel like I’ve been running, even though I’ve been standing still this whole time.

“Turn around, and display your tits,” Kostin demands.

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