Page 6 of Vasily the Nail

I swallow at the new fear striking me with that. My father and brother have been so obsessed with my virginity that I’m not even allowed tampons. I’ve watched a couple pornos at Camilla’s insistence to know that this will work, itisbasic biology, but—

“I can’t do this.”

His lips press down on the top of my head. Although his hands continue the circles that now move everything, not just my butt and thighs but the more sensitive flesh in between, he now moves one of his middle fingers in, tracing over the seam.

I shiver against him as my breath catches and my hands clench his shirt again.

“You can. Already aroused.”

“I’m not!” But I hear it in my voice. I shouldn’t be. This is shameful. “I don’t want this!”

“Of course not. This not want. This biology.” His finger pushes in only a little, only to slide between the folds, makingme cry out in shock and anger and, yes, pleasure. “So wet, so sensitive. I make you come.”

“I didn’t.”

“But I will. This happens whether want or not. Better to enjoy, yes? Unbutton my shirt,ovechka.”

It’s the first demand he’s made of me, at least where I have to participate, so I’m irritated that I should have to do anything. But then that finger stretches up to my clit and begins to circle it. I’m blind, running on touch and the sounds of our breathing, doing my best to fight the urges building within me, the sparkles in the darkness, but the buttons help my mind focus elsewhere.

“That’s it,” Vasily croons, “You’re doing such good job, Ana. You’ve got this.” But he doesn’t say those things at my whimpers or my clenches. He doesn’t say them at my whispered prayers. No, he praises me each time I get a button loosened. I get lost in it, especially when I become too overwhelmed to get the final couple buttons done, and he switches from the praise to encouragement, pushing me on with a task I can’t do but I know I can.

I’m so close.

Button through the hole. I can do this.

“No!” slips out of my mouth when another finger suddenly slides between my legs. Not to my clit, though. This one circles my pussy for just a second before delving in to the first knuckle.

“Buttons,” Vasily urges. “Think of buttons.”

I nod, but how can I? How can I when already that single digit, barely an inch into me, is so overwhelming? How can Iwhen I feel his erection poking my belly and I can’t see it but I canfeelit? How can I possibly do this?

“Buttons, Ana.”

I struggle to get my fingers moving again as he pushes deeper, to the second knuckle. More circles, this time inside me, and I can no longer control my sounds.

Somehow, blessedly, I get that button undone, and he says, “There it is.” But he’s pushed his finger in nearly all the way before coming to an abrupt stop, and what he says next confirms why he’s stopped. “Your body yours, but brother owns this. This, I take from him, not you.”

“Oh God.”

I can’t stand upright. I dig my forehead into his chest as I fight the mindlessness from his strokes and the terror of what’s to come. I don’t want this, not the pain nor the pleasure, but I can’t do anything about this. I can only think about the last button.

“You’re so close,” he coos. “You’re doing so well, and now you just finish, yeah? You finish for me?”

“Yeah,” I cry weakly into his chest. “I . . . I’ll finish.”

“Such a good girl. You’re such a good girl, Ana. Good girls finish.”

In that moment, it’s all too overwhelming. The buttons, the circles, the pressure within. My body detonates, the world going white behind the blindfold. As I swoon, he tightens his grip, and the pleasure tearing through me is punctuated by a sudden flash of pain, but the burn fades in an instant as I melt into him.

“There. I took from your brother. Now I give you reward.”

“No, please, stop!” I cry out, but honestly? I don’t even know what that means anymore.

I’ve hit a point where I’ve simply had too many orgasms to understand what anything means.

I’m pretty sure that point was after he laid me out on the floor so he could kiss me everywhere as his hands shifted focus from my clit to my pussy, using first one finger, then two, and finally three. I begged him to stop, both because it was too many fingers and I’d already come twice more, to which he said, in the most deliciously thick, husky voice, “For now.”

Then he flipped me onto my hands and knees.

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