Page 28 of Vasily the Nail

There’s a shadow of a dimple on her right cheek. I can’t see the smile, but I know it’s there. So I know she believes herself to be joking, acting for the camera based on the books she highlighted today, several of which focused on his desire to get her pregnant, when she gives me a weak, “Yes? So don’t—”

“Don’t make you fat on Russian baby?”

“You can’t!”

“It give you tits,da?”

“It’ll ruin me,” she whimpers. The way she glances toward the monitor shows her fear is of social ruin. I’ve already done so much damage to that — no, I’ve done nothing, it’s our brothers who have done it — but if I return her pregnant, no one will want her.

My cock aches at the thought. It’s a devil. The only thing it cares about is getting women pregnant. That’s why it exists. And I let it believe it’s doing its job, but I swear the bastard knows why it gets latex jackets before clocking in for work.

It’s not just my cock aching, though. My heart burns at the idea of getting her pregnant, of no one wanting her. Because it’s not true, of course. I can’t let my bloodline continue; I’ve already decided that if I ever end up in a relationship again — as impossible as that’s always sounded since I lost Brooke — I would get a vasectomy. But if something ever went wrong, of course I would love that child. And its mother would want for nothing.

So no, that’s a lie to think no one would want her. She would be mine. Not even an issue of want.

She.

Would.

Be.

Mine.

I pivot her slightly, irritated by the chatter on the screen and not wanting to see it behind her right now. “I come in ass instead?”

Sudden terror flits over Ana’s features. It’s not something she highlighted. But again, what’s highlighted is heavy on this idea that the heroine doesn’t get to choose. She asked for blackmail porn. Men taking possession of women to prove that no one else can have them while teaching her a lesson. The women are happy to be taught these lessons, they’re excited byit, but the men mostly don’t seem to care if the women like it or not.

I do care. That’s why I gave her the safe word, same as why I’ve only touched her the last two nights, same as why I spent so much time focusing on her pleasure before finally doing what I had to on Saturday.

That’s why up on one of the links of the chain she’s hooked to, low enough I can reach but high enough it won’t be seen on camera, I’ve tied a bottle of lube. The men don’t need to see that I’ve made this consideration. Ana might not even be aware of it or understand if I use it. Her books didn’t seem forthcoming with this essential tool. But I will take care of her.

“No, Vasily,” she gasps, “please don’t.”

We’ll see.

For now, I run my thumb over her narrow but pouty lips. I’m going to be a lot for her mouth. I should have let her try this without an audience first. “Such little mouth,” I coo. “I fuck your mouth.”

The moment I move my hand away, she drops her head in defeat. Tears are pouring freely, running down her cheeks and dripping from the tip of her turned-up nose. She looks like she’s given up, like she’s giving herself over to me, but even if I hadn’t read it in the scenes she brought my attention to, I wouldn’t have expected her to give up. No, her fight will come back after her pity party.

So I don’t show her sympathy. I am her cruel kidnapper. Her brutal attacker. I am heartless and demanding. I take what I want because there’s no way she can resist me.

I’m an alpha-hole, apparently. I did my research after the fifth download dinged on my phone.

I take my pants off, and nope, my cock doesn’t have the slightest misgiving about the tears Ana is shedding or the audience hand-picked to create the most chaos. Her brother could be looking at my dick right now.

Fuck,mybrother could be looking at my dick right now. No doubt he’s losing his shit, but he’s apparently in Vegas for the night and I’ve already told Igor not to let anyone in. I told him my girl’s into some weird shit, and what she wants, she gets.

It’s not a lie. I guess we could argue about if she’s mine or not, but she’s mine this week.

I stroke myself a couple times, my grip light over the ridge of piercings. I’ve had them long enough they’re basically a part of me, but having Ana around has definitely dredged up some stuff from my past. Out of nowhere, I find myself thinking about how, when I first got them, everyone was inordinately concerned about my ability to jerk off. They thought I did it because I was high and not having clear thoughts. Yeah, I was high, but I was thinking as clearly as I could have at the time.

And I was grieving and hoping that this would prevent me from jerking off. At the time, I hated myself for having a single sexual urge and wanted it to be as uncomfortable as possible. It sounds ridiculously pathetic now; I was twenty and thinking I could never be a man again without my Brooke. That wasn’t true, and it turns out I can jerk off just fine. The feel of those bars rolling over the tissue within makes my teeth grind in the best way, every bit as good as the grind from the cocaine.

Alpha-holes seem to do whatever dumb thing they think of, so I smack her face with my dick. Right on her forehead, right between her eyes. And fire, absolute fire, in those eyes. Utter outrage, which makes her jaw drop on an incensed gasp.

Really, she shouldn’t be surprised when I take that as an invitation to nudge the head of my cock, already glistening with a bead of pre-cum, onto her pretty pink tongue.

She rears back instantly, spitting me out and glaring at my cock — for all of two seconds before she swallows. Her long, thick eyelashes lower in intrigue.

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