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“Perfect, isn’t she,” Vik says, his voice low.
“Absolutely perfect,” Lev replies.
“This is what you could have had if you weren’t being a fucking asshole. Now you’re going to have to work harder than ever to make up for making her feel like fucking us was a bad thing. You’ll watch Dimi and I fuck her and pleasure her, every fucking day until she forgives you. You’ll watch our perfect little cum slut wife take load after load of our gifts, knowing that it could be you giving it to her, if you hadn’t made her feel ashamed and guilty for using her husbands like her sex toys.” All of the playful enthusiasm has drained from Vik’s voice and he sounds the same way he did this morning, when he explained why he was spanking me.
Blinking, I force my eyes open and look up at Lev. His gaze is downcast and his shoulders are slumped, but he’s nodding. “I’ll go and let Roza know you’ll be down in a minute,” he says, retreating from the room.
“You’re punishing him,” I whisper.
“Yes,” Vik acknowledges, his voice clear and strong. “He deserves worse, but he’s my brother and I love him. If he was anyone else, I’d fucking kill him, but I can’t do that. But I can’t let him off the hook either. He hurt you, so this is his penance. There is nothing shameful about wanting us. You shouldn’t ever have to feel guilty about embracing your new life, and he made it seem like you should. Making you stop hating us, and eventually, hopefully learning to love us, won’t happen if he keeps being a little bitch, because he’s jealous and stupid. So yes, I’m punishing him and he’ll take it, just like you took your punishment, because we’re a family now and from now on that’s how this family works. We all work together, we all play by the rules and if any of us step out of line, they get punished.”
“Are you going to spank him too?” I giggle, unable to stop myself.
“Hey we’re punishing Lev, not me.” He chuckles. “Let’s go and eat, then I’ll run you a bath and Dimi will give you a massage, you’re too skinny, we need to take care of you.”
Climbing off me, he helps me to my feet, picking up the robe from where he dropped it and helping me into it.
“I need to clean up,” I protest weakly.
“Nope. Go pee, but nothing else. Everything else stays on you and in you, until one of us washes it off. You understand?”
“I’m dripping,” I cringe.
“I have a plug that could help solve that problem, but your ass looks sore, Baby. Your choice.”
“A butt plug?” I gasp.
“Yep.” His smirk is full of salacious excitement.
“No, that’s not… no,” I argue, shaking my head frantically.
“Dimi stretched you out good with his cock, the plug’s smaller than him. But if you don’t like the idea of me plugging your ass, maybe I’ll save it for the next time I have to punish you.”
I feel my eyes widen, and when Vik notices, he laughs. “Don’t worry, Baby, you’ve been such a good girl, no more punishment for you today.”
Scooping me off the floor, he carries me with a hand under my sore ass into the bathroom, placing me down beside the toilet. “Two minutes, then I’m coming back to get you.”
Nodding, I watch him leave, then use the bathroom. Peeing hurts, so does wiping and I feel myself wincing with every step as my sore, well-used muscles clench as I move.
“Come here, Baby, let me help,” Vik says, half cooing, half mocking.
“You broke me,” I groan, letting him pick me up.
“You’ll feel better once you eat.”
I don’t protest as he carries me bridal style down the stairs and back into the dining room. A scowling Dimi and a chastened Lev are sitting round the table, salads in front of them. Instead of placing me down in my chair, Vik carries me to Dimi.
“Someone needs some TLC. She thinks we broke her.” Smirking, Vik hands me off to Dimi, like I’m a toddler.
“Are you okay, Malishka?” Dimi asks, his expression full of concern as he pulls me into his lap, holding me close.
My mom did the best she could, but I realized early on that although she might tolerate me and possibly even love me in her own way, she loved drugs more. It didn’t matter which drug it was, she liked them all, and if given a choice between them and me, she picked them every single time. I was ten when she died and, by that time, I cooked, cleaned, paid the bills when we had the money, patched her up if her clients got rough, and sometimes even bought her drugs for her if her junkie ass was too far gone to score for herself.
After she died, I moved in with Darla and she was okay. She kept a roof over my head, food in my belly and she didn’t abuse me in any way. But she never loved me and I never expected her to. She was distant, in a disinterested kind of way. I don’t hate her, because she cared enough about me to take me when she didn’t have to, and for that I will always be grateful.
But neither my mom nor Darla were the warm, motherly, comforting presence that other people talked about their parental figure being. I don’t remember being hugged, or embraced. I lived in my bubble and Mom and then Darla lived in theirs.
I have never, ever, in my twenty years of life, been snuggled on someone’s lap the way I am now with Dimitri Belov, my kidnapper and fake husband. For the rest of the meal, both him and Vik coo over me. Taking it in turns to touch me and comfort me, they even try to feed me when they decide I’m not eating enough and I know… I know that I shouldn’t like the way they’re doting on me, but I do.
