Cruel Enforcer by Maggie Cole

17

Kora

Sergey commands me all night.At times he edges me, pushing me past the brink of where I think I can go. Sometimes he spanks me. It makes me wet. I don't understand why, but it does. He always praises me for it while dipping his fingers in my sex and rubbing the sore skin on my ass until I come.

He puts nipple clamps on my breasts then takes a flogger to me. When he releases the clamps, all of my skin is on fire. He sucks on each sensitive nipple, and a sensation I've never felt before assails me with pleasure.

I don't understand why I like what he does to me. It confuses me, but I'm an addict who can't get enough. Everything he does is with expertise, as if he knows my body better than I do.

Several times, we have intercourse. I'm not sure if it's the insomnia or just him, but he's always hard. Within minutes of releasing inside me, he's erect again.

We're in a room similar to the dungeon. Some of the items hanging on the wall or placed on the shelf look scary. Sergey leaves the room to get more water. There's a stocked refrigerator in the room, but we've gone through several bottles. I don't want the juice in the fridge, and he has a thing about keeping me hydrated. As soon as he leaves, my curiosity gets the best of me. I go to the wall and pick a few of the toys, not understanding how they could be pleasurable or fun.

When he comes back into the room, I'm touching the points of a tool. They're sharp, and a chill crawls down my bones.

Sergey wraps his arms around me then takes the item out of my hand. He hangs it back on the wall. "I don't think this is for you."

I sink into him and turn my head. "Did you use this on her?"

He stays quiet and keeps his gaze pinned on mine.

"Is this something you need?" I asked, and for a brief moment considered letting him use it on me.

In a stern voice, he replies, "No. She needed it. You don't."

"But you enjoyed using it on her?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"No."

Surprised by his answer, I asked, "Why didn't you enjoy it?"

His jaw spasms. "You really want to know this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I reach for his jaw and put my hand over his tics. "I want to know about you. Not the parts everyone else sees but these pieces."

He hesitates. Nerves enter his expression. He finally replies, "It's too close to the thing I'm most talented at."

"What's that?"

"Not anything I'm going to disclose to you."

I stand straighter. "I'm not going to judge—"

"It's not about your thoughts on the matter. You agreed to accept not knowing about parts of my life."

The truth of our verbal contract hangs in the air. He's right. I hate not knowing everything about him, but I did accept his terms.

Silence fills the room, and he doesn't move, as if he's ready for me to argue or bolt away from him.

I decide to try a different angle. "If you didn't like using that on her, then why did you?"

Something dark flares in his eyes. "People need different things, lapa."

"How do you know I don't need it?"

Why am I asking him this?

"You aren't a masochist."

I take a deep breath. "But I like when you...the pain..."

A smile plays on his lips. "Yes." He palms my pussy.

I shudder.

He kisses my cheek and murmurs in my ear, "You like a bit of pain, but you don't need it to come."

My insecurities spin in my mind. He was with her for years. What if he does need a masochist?

He seems to know my thoughts and squashes my worries. "I prefer to get you off anywhere we are. Don't you?" He moves his thumb over my mound.

I think back to our dinner date and can't stop my smile. "Yes."

"Good." He gives me a chaste kiss on the lips then guides me to the bed. "It's rest time."

"Rest?"

"You need some sleep. Don't worry though. I'll wake you up." He winks.

I laugh, and we slide into bed. He puts his arm around me and strokes my thigh and hip. He's warm and makes me feel safe. I quickly fall asleep until little flutters erupt on the back of my body.

"Mmm." I don't open my eyes. I'm still in a sleepy state. Sergey's scent and warm flesh consume my senses. His lips travel down my spine, and his hands follow.

I attempt to move, but my wrists are bound again. They're still under the pillow. How did he restrain me while I was sleeping?

Probably because he exhausted me.

I'm not sure what time it is or if it's the next day already.

"On your knees, lapa," he commands. "Keep your head on the pillow."

I don't think and assume the position, pulling my knees toward my breasts. My insides pulse.

He inhales deeply. His hot breath is on my exposed privates, and the throbbing intensifies. His warm hands palm my ass, and he kisses each cheek.

In a quick move, he slides his hands between my thighs and spreads my legs apart.

I gasp from the surprise.

His mouth hits my pussy, and I arch into the bed.

I grip the top of the mattress. "Oh God!"

He grunts, splays his hand on my back, and caresses me while teasing my clit until I'm sweating and begging him.

His tongue moves faster and faster until I'm shaking and screaming out his name.

When I'm coming down, he drags his teeth across my marbled nub. It sends another shot of adrenaline through me, and I jerk my arms, but there's nowhere for them to go.

He lurches over me. His muscular frame hums against my back. "Morning," he mumbles near my ear then slides his tongue behind it.

"Morning," I pant, aroused and pressing my ass into his erection.

"Are you relaxed?"

"Is that a question?"

"Good. I need you to stay that way and trust me."

I freeze.

His voice turns to amusement. "You already failed."

I fill my lungs with as much oxygen as possible and slowly exhale. "Sorry."

"I'm going to make you feel really good, my lapa." It's a statement with no room to question.

I nod, not sure how anything can feel better than what he just did to me.

"Clasp your hands together if they aren't."

I let go of the mattress and lace them together.

He strokes my hair. "Squeeze your hands together but nothing else if you need to."

"What are you—?"

"Shh. Look at me."

I turn.

His smoldering eyes are more intense than usual and drill into mine. The smell of my orgasms flares in my nostrils. His finger circles the tight opening of my ass. It's wet and slightly cold but quickly warms.

I take a deep breath.

"Stay relaxed, lapa."

I nod. I don't do ass play. It's one of those things where I've been curious about the hype but never trusted anyone I dated. I could say stop, and he would, but I trust him.

"My guess is no one has taken this pretty ass before?"

"No," I admit and swallow hard.

A satisfied, cocky smile appears. "You know the code word." His eyes never leave mine.

A moment passes, as if he's waiting for me to say stop.

I don't tear my gaze from him.

He finally nods. "Submit to me, lapa."

"I—"

"You're thinking. Feel. Don't analyze. Let me control your body." He raises his eyebrows, as if in a challenge. "Unless you want to say the code word?" His finger inches in and out of me, and a new sensation I've not experienced before takes hold.

I pant out a, "No."

He kisses me. I stick my tongue out of my mouth, but he pulls away, then refocuses on my eyes. He removes his finger, and I feel the loss.

It surprises me when I instantly want it back in me.

His lips twitch, and something bigger replaces his finger. I focus on breathing and briefly close my eyes.

"That's it, my lapa. You like it, don't you?"

"Yes," I say, and my cheeks scorch.

"Why are you blushing, gorgeous?"

I don't reply. I've never considered myself a prude, but something about admitting I like him playing with my ass feels taboo.

He pushes it farther in me and then twists it while pulling it back out. Each time it passes my barrier, a whimper flies out of my mouth. Heat courses through my veins, and drops of sweat slide down my skin.

His lips brush against mine. "I want all of you, Kora. All the things you never let anyone else do to you, I want to do."

"Yes. Please," I whisper, not worrying about anything I ever have in the past but wanting to experience this with him.

He plays with me for a few more minutes. His cock is hard, and pre-cum drips on my leg.

I beg him again. "Please. I want you." Everything Sergey does to me, I enjoy. Many things I've never done before. As good as he makes me feel, I love it the best when he's inside me. I want to see what it's like with him in every part of me.

He glides his tongue in my mouth. I attack it with mine and moan as my body continues to throb.

His warm palm flattens against my ass with whatever he put in me fully lodged. He pulls out of our kiss, readjusts his body over mine, and leans on his elbow. His arm slides under my torso, and he pulls me up close to him.

I misunderstood what he was going to do. The tip of his cock hits my sex. His deep voice murmurs in my ear, "Your beautiful pussy needs some attention, don't you think?"

I'm so full. I'm not sure how it's possible, but I shimmy my hips to try and sink over him.

"Greedy girl. Stay still."

I freeze.

"Relax." His tongue flicks my lobe.

I inhale a slow, shaky breath.

His cock begins to slide in me, and my mouth becomes an uncontrollable O. Every thrust is slow. The friction from his shaft seems more intense than ever before. I don't know how he fits inside me. Every inch feels as if I've reached the maximum capacity, but he keeps moving farther in until his pelvis is flat against my ass cheeks.

His hot breath hits my face. "Okay, lapa?"

"Yes."

"Feel how hard I am for you?"

"Yes." My insides slowly spasm on him.

He quietly groans. "Are you squeezing your hands together?"

"Yes."

He kisses my cheekbone and begins to thrust. "Now you can move."

I meet his movements, matching his lazy speed.

"Fuuuuck," he grunts.

"Sergey...oh God..." I barely get out. My body tries to clench him, and tremors move from my toes up through my body.

His arm under me tightens, holding me so I can't fall away from him and into the mattress.

I squeeze my hands, bringing them closer to my head, but the silk's tension is already at its maximum. Adrenaline teases me, giving me pleasure and hinting at a tidal wave of chaos. Our sweat merges. His chest heaves against my spine. Tingles race down my neck from his kisses.

"Everything about you is good, Kora," he mumbles into the curve of my neck.

The typhoon hits me. I grip my hands, and white light consumes me. I lose any control I have left of my body. It shakes uncontrollably into his hard flesh. Sergey pounds harder and deeper, keeping me spinning through orgasms and crying out incoherent things.

His low, throaty groan hits my ear. Right before he detonates inside me, he pulls whatever is in my ass out.

"Oh God!" I scream as his erection stretches me so full, the white light turns black, then white again, from the additional surge of endorphins.

In our aftermath, I lay in a heap of fluids. Sergey collapses on top of me, kissing the back of my neck with his forehead pressed to my head. His heart beats into my shoulder in a rapid rhythm. He moves so he's on his knees and slides his arms over mine then releases me from the silk ties. He rolls off me, rises, then picks me up.

I'm still breathing hard. I slide my hand around his neck. "What are you doing?"

He pecks me on the lips. "I'm ready to get out of this room."

"Oh?"

His lips twitch. He carries me through his penthouse and into his bedroom suite. He sets me on his bed and puts a throw over me. "I'll be back." He reaches for the wall switch and flips it. The fireplace on the opposite wall lights up.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

He puts both elbows near my head. "Have you always asked tons of questions, or did they teach you that in law school?"

I wince. "Always."

He chuckles. "It's a quality I love about you. Don't change it, and don't go anywhere." He winks, and my insides flutter.

I curl into the pillow, appreciating his muscular frame and wondering about the ink on his back.

Several minutes pass, and he scoops me back up, then takes me to the bathroom. He said it was morning, but I'm not sure if it is. Blackout shades cover the windows. Candles light the room. He sets me in a bubble bath and slides in behind me.

I lie in his arms, happy, content, feeling a connection I can't explain. I don't know him very well. He's a mystery and hasn't hidden the fact there are things about himself he won't tell me. I know he's capable of bad things, but I only feel safe when I'm with him.

I tilt my head and circle my arm up, gliding my hand in his hair. "Tell me about your back tattoo. It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it.

His body stiffens, and his jaw tics. Hatred fills his eyes. In a flat voice, he replies, "My guy knows what he's doing with ink."

I pull my hand from behind his head and over his jaw.

He closes his eyes.

Why doesn't he want to talk about his tattoo?

"Sergey, did I—"

"Did you tell your work you wouldn't be in today?"

"No. Not yet. What time is it?"

"Close to seven."

I roll closer to him. "Are you going to sleep at all?"

"Maybe after this bath, I might get a few hours."

"So, will you eventually crash for a long time?"

"Typically. It's why I wasn't thinking clearly when I left Saturday night."

"What do you mean?"

"I had just woken up. It was the first time I slept in days. When I got the call, I just bolted."

"What call?"

He stares at me. His face hardens.

Right. I don't get to know.

I signed up for this.

Why can't he tell me?

It's best if I don't know.

"How long have you had insomnia?"

He turns to the window, focusing on the drawn shades. "Since I was twelve."

"Did something happen that you can link it to?"

The spasm in his jaw intensifies. He closes his eyes.

I suddenly wonder if he's asleep. I whisper, "Sergey?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes, and they're glassy. But he also looks tired.

"Do you want to try and sleep?"

"Yeah. Let's get out and lie down."

"Okay." I get out of the tub and reach for the towel. I dry off and secure it around my body.

Sergey rises.

I grab the other towel before he does. I hold it out and wiggle my eyebrows. "Spin, and I'll dry you off."

A cocky expression appears.

I softly laugh. "Don't be too eager."

He grunts.

I dry off the front of his body, kissing his cock, torso, and chest. "Spin."

He reaches down and picks me up.

"Hey!" I cry out.

"You're making me hard again."

"What are you going to do about it?" I taunt him.

He carries me into the bedroom then sets me on my feet. He removes my towel. "Get in bed."

I obey.

He dries his back off then tosses the towel on the floor. "It's my turn to rest."

"We should try to sleep."

A smirk appears. "Not what I had in mind."

"No?"

"No. Get on your knees."

I do as he says.

He wiggles his finger, and I move my legs until I'm at the end of the bed. His arms circle my waist, and he palms my ass. He spins, taking me with him so he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and I'm straddling him.

I reach around his neck and start to slip my hands down his back, and he grabs my hands and repositions them behind me.

He opens the drawer of his nightstand, picks something up, and quickly ties my hands behind my back. He leans into my ear. "You ever ridden a guy while tied up?"

"No," I admit.

He moves his hands to my hips and slides me over his erection. "Good."

All my years of riding men during sex doesn't compare. I could say it's the restraints, but it isn't just that. It's Sergey.

He may have said he wanted to rest, but he gives the same attention to me as any other time we've done anything. When we're done, he slides under the covers, tugs me into his arms, and kisses my head.

He lights a bowl, takes a puff, and offers it to me. I take one and realize it's the first time he lit up since I arrived.

"Turn on your side," he instructs.

I follow his orders, and he wraps his body around mine.

"Didn't know you were a spooner," I tease.

He kisses the spot where my jaw meets my neck. "I'm not. You're special." His voice is teasing, but every part of me wants it to be true.

We both fall asleep. I wake up in a panic. I forgot to tell my office I was skipping work.

I creep out to the family room and pull my phone out of my purse. I call my assistant and tell her I'm fine and sorry for not giving her a heads-up I wouldn't be in today. I breathe a sigh of relief. I didn't have appointments and planned on doing paperwork and research.

When I walk back into the room, Sergey is on his stomach, with the sheets down to his waist. The fireplace creates a warm glow, and I stare at his toned upper body.

He's delicious.

I sit on the edge of the bed, in awe of the beautiful abstract piece of art on his back. I can't help myself and lightly trace over the pattern then freeze when I discover bumpy skin.

I glance at Sergey, but he hasn't moved and appears to still be asleep. I inspect his ink further and cautiously touch spots all over his back that have damaged skin.

What happened to him?

Is this why he wouldn't let me dry his back?

Who did this to him?

Anger fills me. Someone hurt him. There isn't any way his skin would be destroyed without it being intentional. The scarred tissue is in a pattern with perfectly pointed stars which can't be the cause of an accident.

I can't help myself and kiss his back. Each star, I press my lips to, as if it could somehow make it better.

It won't. I'm not stupid, but emotion overcomes me, thinking about what could have caused this.

He's been hiding his back from me.

It's a realization that slaps me in the face. Besides the one time he angrily sat on the edge of the bed at the club, he's never turned his back toward me. And he froze when I hugged him. This beautiful, strong man hides his agony. If it weren't painful, Sergey wouldn't have covered it up with tattoos. He wouldn't hide his back from me.

My heart wants to slide behind him and hold him, but I'm worried he may wake up and be angry. I finally go to my side of the bed and get under the covers. The minute I do, he pulls me into him.

"You're awake?" I whisper.

He tightens his hold around me but never answers. His lips rest on my head, and his heart beats faster into my shoulder. I don't move or speak again.

How do I get him to trust me enough to tell me what happened?

How do I help him?

It takes me a long time to fall back asleep. The voice in my head keeps saying he won't, and this is what you agreed to.