Page 94 of Forced By the Bratva

The first stroke of the whip was light—more sound than sting—across the curve of my ass. I moaned. The second landed firmer.

“Ugh,” I winced, reveling in the sweet pain coursing through me. “Whip me, Daddy. I’ve been a naughty little slut. Punish me.”

The third cracked sharp and bloomed into heat. I pushed back into it, hands still cuffed, shoulders straining.

The next rounds that followed were more pleasure than pain, and my body flinched on each strike.

He set the whip aside and leaned in. His breath first, then his tongue. He licked a slow stripe over my ass and pressed deeper, eating me with the kind of fervency that made my legs tremble.

“Oh, my God.” My eyes rolled back as my cuffed wrists flicked in response to the icy mint of his tongue in my backdoor.

At the same time, two fingers slid into my pussy, curling, stroking. The double sensation ripped a cry out of me.

My thighs shook. I dropped my forehead to the sheets and moaned into the mattress while he worked me open with tongue and fingers, steady and thorough.

“Ilya—fuck—”

He didn’t stop until I was dripping and trembling, right on the edge. Then he pulled away and left me aching.

I heard him shift. A moment later, he uncuffed my hands and was on his back against the pillows.

I rolled my wrists, basking in the sweet ache in my flesh before cuffing his hands to the headboard.

The sight of him like that—powerful body stretched out and bound, cock hard and wet against his stomach—twisted something low and hungry in my belly.

“Your turn,” he said, voice rough.

I climbed onto the bed and straddled him, my knees sinking into the mattress. I leaned in, kissing his lips and caressing his broad chest.

With my panties already shifted, I sank down onto him in one slow, continuous push.

The stretch forced a long moan from both of us. I stayed still for a second, adjusting, feeling him throb inside me. Then I started to move.

I rode him slow at first, rolling my hips, lifting almost all the way off before sliding back down.

The red light painted everything in heat. Petals stuck to my knees and his thighs. Every downward stroke dragged a low sound out of him.

I watched his face the whole time—the strain in his jaw, the way his arms flexed against the restraints, the helpless hunger in his eyes because he couldn’t touch me.

“You look so good like this,” I whispered. “Tied up. Mine to use. Does it drive you crazy that you can’t put your hands on me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I leaned forward, fucking myself on him harder and faster. The wet slap of my body meeting his filled the room. I reached back and unhooked my bra so my breasts swayed with every movement.

I placed my palms flat on his chest, my face twisted in pleasure while I rode that cock. My hips rolled back and forth, side to side, and up and down as I chased the feeling sprinting through me.

“Fuck, I love you so fuckin’ much,” I confessed between moans. “It fills me up so perfectly.”

His legs trembled beneath me, and his groans grew deeper by the second. “Oh, Iris, you ride me so well.” He locked eyes with me, his expression dark with desire. “I love it when you’re in control.”

I rode faster, moaning loudly as I closed my fingers around his neck. My hair spilled over my face, and I bent over to reclaim his lips, swallowing every sound he made.

“This cock belongs to me and no one else,” I growled, holding his gaze.

“It’s yours forever, my love.”

“Say it again.”