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“So your parents are cool with you going out after your party?”
Alina doesn’t waver as she finishes her final coat of mascara, Zoya sprawled lazily over the pink duvet of her bed.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m eighteen now. And it’s my birthday, they couldn’t say no.”
It was only partially true, her parents thought she was sleeping over at Genya’s house tonight.
The redhead pops her lips, lip gloss smacking. “Zo, did Nik say our IDs are ready?”
“Yes, Genya,” Zoya rolls her eyes, “for the hundredth time. He’ll meet us at the club and give them to us.”
Genya huffs, “I’m just making sure! This is like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!”
Alina is inclined to agree.
Going to a sex club on your eighteenth birthday isn’t exactly normal.
She stands up from her vanity, twirling in her pink tulle party dress, complete with shiny gold pumps.
“So? How do I look?”
“Like bubblegum.” Zoya deadpans, “I hope you have something else packed for the club later.”
Alina rolls her eyes. “Obviously. I can’t wear my tightest black dress in front of all my family and friends.”
Zoya doesn’t reply, just unlocks her phone and begins scrolling - instagram - Alina assumes.
“Soooo,” Genya drawls, plopping on the bed beside Zoya, “Is your hot uncle Sasha going to be here tonight?”
“Oh my god, Gen,” Alina whines, “He’s been in London for two years. He’s not coming back just for my birthday. And besides, don’t call him hot.”
“Birthday and graduation.” the redhead raises an eyebrow. “And it’s a fact. Your uncle is objectively hot.”
“He’s technically not my uncle. He’s my godfather. And he’s like… twenty years older than us.”
“So?” Zoya interjects, eyes still glued to her phone, “he’s still hot as fuck. Something hot and angry swirls in Alina’s gut. Yes, Uncle Sasha is attractive. But it’s not for her friends to declare.
“Shut up. You guys are the worst,” Alina pivots, before the two girls realize how defensive she’s just become, “Do you want to take a shot?”
Genya and Zoya watch excitedly as Alina reaches under her bed, fishing out the half-empty bottle of vodka.
The girls pass it around, making sour faces as the liquor burns their throats.
“Yuck,” Genya says, taking a swig of the day-old diet coke on Alina’s nightstand.
“You’re gonna have to get used to it,” Zoya says matter of factly, as if she didn’t grimace along with the rest of them, “We’re gonna get tons of guys buying us drinks tonight.”
The three of them giggle, taking one more shot each before descending the staircase as Alina’s mother shouts for them to come down, the guests have begun arriving.
All Alina has to do is get through this party, and then she can have the night of her life.
xxx
It’s halfway through the party, and Alina is already exhausted, mingling with extended family she hasn’t seen in years, smiling politely at all the Look how grown up you are now! And Do you remember me’s?”
Half her high school is in attendance, most of them already drunk or high, given the state of their pupils. She’s a little tipsy herself, having snuck a few more shots from the bedroom in between conversations.
She’s about to retreat back up the stairs, ready to end the dull interaction with her second-cousin, when a familiar head of thick black hair enters through the front door of the foyer.
Alina’s eyes widen as they take in her godfather, Aleksander, looking dapper as ever in his crisp black jeans and light blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Raybans perched lazily over his dark eyes, heavy Rolex around his wrist.
He looks the same, but also different, a smattering of grey around his temple and the outside of his well kept beard.
Alina’s heart flutters, and she stutters an excuse to her aunt or cousin or whoever this person is - and stumbles toward the entrance.
Aleksander pushes his sunglasses into his hair, casting his gaze around the crowded house. A number of people, mostly women, have stopped to stare at him, but his eyes scan the crowd.
Looking for me, Alina realizes with a start, pushing past the party-goers.
“Uncle Sasha!” Alina calls, chest warming as his onyx eyes land on her, a smile curving onto his full lips.
He opens his arms, and Alina runs the last several paces, leaping into his chest. He catches her easily, and Alina is quickly engulfed in that familiar, manly smell of her godfather.
“You’re here!” Her cry muffled in his shirt. “How are you here?”
“Well,” he says, hint of that British accent peaking out, “I took a plane from London to JFK, rented a car, and drove here.”
Alina pulls back, smiling broadly. “You ass! I mean, I thought you couldn’t make it?”
“Why ever would you think that, my darling malyshka? It’s your birthday and graduation party. I would be a terrible godfather if I missed it.”
Alina hugs him again, not caring who was watching. If Zoya and Genya were snickering somewhere.
“Sasha!”
Her father’s voice booms through the crowd, Vlad making his way to the foyer.
Aleksander releases her, grasping her father’s hand in a kind of handshake-hug that men do.
“Hey, old man,” Aleksander switches easily to Russian, slapping Vlad on the back.
“Woah, woah. Your forties are coming for you too, brother!”
Alina rolls her eyes, pouting slightly as her father takes up Aleksander’s attention.
“Did you know he’d be here?” She demands.
Her father winks at her, “I might’ve had an inkling.”
Alina groans, rolling her eyes at the two men, before grabbing Aleksander’s hand and leading him further into the party, barreling past family members whose eyes light up at the sight of Aleksander after two years away.
She pulls him past a group of her friends, pointedly ignoring the giggles of Zoya and Genya, only letting his hand go as they make it to the less-crowded backyard.
“What was that all about?” Aleksander laughs, his face crinkling beautifully, and Alina is momentarily breathless.
“I haven’t seen you in two years,” Alina whines, “I want you all to myself.”
The smile fades from Aleksander’s face as he fully takes her in for the first time. Starting at her delicate gold heels, tracing up her bare legs, over her rounded hips and to the corset of her pink dress, lingering on the swell of her breasts, before settling on her equally pink lips.
“You’ve grown up,” He states simply. And it sounds so much better from him than some old auntie.
“Thank you,” she breathes, clasping her hands behind her back prettily, hyperaware of how her breasts push up together, “So have you.”
Aleksander laughs again, rubbing a hand over the grey in his beard.
“Brat.”
“I like it.”
Alina tentatively takes a step forward, hand trailing up the buttons of his shirt and then across his jaw, rubbing at the grey.
Aleksander’s breath hitches, just for a moment, but Alina notices.
Genya and Zoya, as annoying as they can be, are totally right. Her Uncle Sasha is hot. And she’s always known, even as a little girl. The string of girlfriends brought over to the house told her enough. But now… now there’s a fire in her belly.
“So Uncle Sasha,” she whispers, “Where’s my present?”
xxx
Alina frowns at the small, yet beautifully, wrapped box. Surely Aleksander would obtain a much larger gift for her combined birthday-graduation.
“Go on, open it,” Aleksander drawls.
Alina carefully unwraps the red bow, neatly tearing the wrapping paper, the box light in her hand.
She pops open the top, jaw dropping, revealing…
“Oh my god, Uncle Sasha, are you serious?” Alina squeals, eyes wide.
The car key is no larger than her palm.
Aleksander smiles lazily.
“Go check the driveway.”
Alina’s resounding scream draws the attention of the entire backyard, curious guests following as she races through the side gate.
A white Porsche Cayenne sits proudly on the asphalt, a large pink bow decorating the front.
Alina claps a hand over her mouth, her screams muffled by her palm as she bounces on her toes.
A crowd has gathered around, whistles and appreciative murmurs filling the air.
Heavy hands land on her shaking shoulders.
“So, what do you think?” Aleksander breathes into her ear.
Alina spins around, positively flinging herself into her godfather's arms.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” She peppers his bearded cheek with kisses as he chuckles.
“You’re quite welcome. Why don’t you go test it out?”
He releases her, nudging Alina toward the waiting, shiny car.
Carefully, as if handling a newborn, Alina runs a hand over the vehicle's side, before popping open the door. Sliding into the comfortable leather seat, she caresses the steering wheel.
She looks up through the pristine windshield, where her friends and family are taking photos. She smiles wide, waving.
What Alina doesn’t notice are her parents frowning, speaking animatedly with Uncle Sasha, looking more than displeased, while Aleksander smiles smugly.
Heat flares low in her belly as she sinks into the buttery soft seat. Tonight, hopefully tonight, she’ll lose herself in a world of debauchery, and rid herself of her pesky virginity.
xxx
Her friends insist that she drive them to the club in her new Porsche. Her parents are completely oblivious to their debaucherous plans, assuming they’re just going to sleepover at Zoya’s and drink wine spritzers.
Alina pulls into the parking lot of The Fold, a nondescript building on the edge of the city. She has to reverse and try three times to pull successfully into a parking space.
“Regular parking wasn’t on the test!” Alina cries as her friends cackle, “just stupid parallel parking, and everyone has back up cameras nowadays. It’s stupid.”
“Maybe your Uncle Sasha can give you driving lessons,” Zoya teases from the back seat.
“I’d much rather riding than driving!”
Genya and Zoya burst into another fit of giggles, while that burning flame grows hotter inside Alina’s chest.
“You’re both dumb. Where’s Nikolai, anyway?”
Right on cue, a sleek black BMW easily slides into the spot next to theirs. Alina rolls her eyes at the effortlessness of it it all.
Zoya clears her throat as Nikolai steps out of the car, handsome as ever with his windswept blond hair and black leather jacket.
Alina pounced immediately. “Look, it’s your Disney prince, Zo.”
“Shut up,” Zoya snaps, but hurriedly finger-combs her hair.
Nikolai taps on the passenger window, sliding into the back seat next to Zoya.
“Nice whip, Lina. I didn’t think your parents wanted to get you a car?”
“Her uncle Sasha did,” Zoya butts in, “he’s a hottie.”
If she was looking for a reaction out of Nikolai, she doesn’t get it. He just laughs.
“All the secretaries at my dad’s office fall over themselves when he walks in for meetings.”
“So,” Alina interrupts loudly, “are we doing this?”
“Easy, Tiger,” Nikolai says, digging into his pockets, “I’ve got three IDs fresh off the press. And my name is in the list with three guests.”
“Thank you, Nik.” Zoya simpers, snatching her ID from his hand. “You’re the best.”
Once the IDs are distributed, the girls do a final look-over of their outfits, make up and hair. Nerves explode in Alina’s belly. Holy shit, we’re actually doing this. We are going to a sex club and I am going to lose my virginity to a hot rich man. She glances over at Zoya, brimming with excitement, and Genya, whose cheeks are nearing the color of her flaming red hair.
“Alright, ladies. Let’s get freaky!” Nikolai grins, bone-white teeth gleaming in the car’s overhead light.
Alina takes a deep breath, and steps out into the warm summer night.
xxx
Aleksander takes a long sip of his whiskey, half listening as his best friend of 30+ years moans and groans over Alina’s extravagant birthday gift.
“She doesn’t even need a car,” Vlad complains for the fifth time, “She’s going to college in a couple months, and Freshmen aren’t even allowed cars on campus.”
Aleksander waves a hand, and repeats, for the fifth time, “It’s her birthday and graduation, she deserves an extra special gift.”
Vlad rubs his temples, taking a sip of his own drink. “Of course she deserves it. I just wish you would’ve warned me beforehand. My wife is never going to let me hear the end of it.”
“Better to ask for permission than forgiveness. You taught me that, that time when we were ten years old and ate all the Medovik’s your mother made for Christmas.”
Vlad throws his head back, cackling. “The stomach ache was worse than the beating.”
Aleksander grins, downing the rest of his drink.
“Thanks for the drink, brother. But I can’t shield you from your wife any longer.”
Vlad sighs, standing up, pulling Aleksander in for a hug.
“You’re a bastard.”
“Love you too.”
Aleksander kisses Miya on the cheek, smothering his smirk as she glares daggers at him.
Whistling, he strides out of the house to his Mercedes, Miya’s yells from inside the house growing louder with each step.
Aleksander slides into the car, resting his head against the seat. His cock had remained half hard for the entirety of the party, and had finally settled down.
But the thought of Alina in her pretty pink party dress, tan toned legs, round backside, sweet little breasts straining against the corset…
He’s a pervert. A downright disgusting man. When he’d left for London, Alina had been a skinny, rude little tomboy. All scraped knees and scowls, driving her parents crazy with her shitty attitude.
But now. Now her body had rounded out in the most beautiful way, her cheekbones sharper, hair lusher. A literal dream wrapped in pink.
Aleksander jolts at the growing erection in his pants. Not again.
He sighs, maneuvering his car in reverse down the driveway, and down the familiar highway toward The Fold. A night in one of the private rooms with a pretty woman, one with dark hair and equally dark eyes, might alleviate some of the pressure in his chest and cock.
xxx
He nearly misses the brand new, sparkling white Porsche in the parking lot, so focused on getting his rocks off with one of the club girls for hire.
But when he sees the custom license plate, Solnishka, in the dim lighting of the lot, his heart stops.
His first thought is that somehow Alina’s car had been stolen within the last four hours, because there’s no way in hell that his sweet goddaughter is at a goddamned sex club that he’s a silent investor in.
He rummages in his pocket, fumbling with his phone, and selects Alina’s contact.
The line dials, rings and rings… and.. Nothing.
Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system …
“What the fuck?” Aleksander mutters.
Alina is supposed to be at a sleepover at Zoya’s house, which everyone knew meant throwing a party while the girl’s parents were out of town.
“There’s no fucking way.”
Aleksander nearly sprints to the door. The bouncer nods to him. He’s been away for a while, but everyone at the club knows his name and face.
Aleksander grabs the lapels of the burly bouncer’s shirt, “Did you let any underage girls in this club tonight?”
“What? No - no, sir.” The bouncer, whose name he doesn’t even know, stammers. “I check all IDs for everyone.”
Aleksander tosses the stunned bouncer aside. “Fuck out of my way.”
He weaves his way past drunken and scantily-clad patrons. Heavy bass pumps through the club, loud and sensuous.
The majority of the club is simply a wide open space, with couches and loungers spread throughout the floor, and a large stage with women dancing seductively on poles and platforms.
Multiple bars are placed in each corner, with top of the line liquor and spirits adorning the high shelves.
Couples are allowed to engage in any sexual activities in the open, with the bathrooms being strictly off limits. Multiple private rooms are available on the second floor, and can only be accessed by private elevators. Each room has a variety of toys, lubes, condoms and more.
The club is packed tonight, despite the $250 cover at the door.
It’s not easy to spot her, and he almost doesn’t recognize her. But when he does, his jaw physically drops.
His precious goddaughter, his little Alina, is dressed in the tightest, shortest black dress, with sky high heels. Legs, ass, tits, all on display. And around her neck, the diamond A pendant he’d gifted her for her Sweet Sixteen.
The necklace was meant to represent her name, but as it sparkles in the dim lighting of the club, Aleksander thinks it looks like his brand on her.
Once he gets over the initial shock of seeing Alina in his sex club, he takes stock of her demeanor.
She’s obviously drunk, swaying in her stilettos, some sort of pink concoction clutched in her small hand.
She’s all alone, no friends to be seen, as sharks begin to circle, smelling blood in the water.
Protectiveness slams through him, and he pushes his way through the slobbering men (and women) toward his Alina.
Alina turns right in time, her glazed eyes sharpening in recognition.
He expects the surprise, but also assumes she’ll cower in fear as he towers over her, expression murderous.
But he doesn’t expect relief to crumple through her beautiful features, as she falls into him.
“Uncle Sasha,” he can barely hear her over the music, but feels her lips moving against his chest.
God.
He instinctively wraps her in his arms, her body so small, nearly trembling. Her lavender perfume assaults his senses, and he represses a groan.
“Alina,” he shouts in her ear, “where are you friends?”
“I don’t know,” she shouts back, “they left me I guess.”
Aleksander keeps his composure, slightly placated now that the slobbering men have dispersed at the sight of him. He grabs her hand, leading her to a quieter corner by the bar.
“What.. what are you doing here?” Alina asks, frowning, as if her alcohol addled brain is just now catching up to the fact that they’re both at the same sex club.
“I should be asking you,” Aleksander snaps, anger bubbling back to the surface, “How did you get in here? How do you even know about this place?”
Alina frowns, taking a step back, “It’s none of your business,”
And there’s that famous attitude.
“Actually, it is. You are my business. This,” he gestures around the club, “is my business. I’m part owner of this club, Alina. And you better answer my questions, now.”
“You - you - what? You own this place?!”
“I’m a silent investor. Even your parents don’t know about it.”
Alina stares, eyes glassy, puffy pink lips parting.
“I - I…”
He clocks the moment Alina notices that she’s in deep, deep shit.
He backs her up until she’s flush against the wall, leaning down to whisper in her ear.
“You are in so much trouble, little girl.”
xxx
Alina’s eyes blink open, and immediately her head begins to pound.
She groans, the world slowly coming into focus.
She’s in a dark room, lying on a bed, a very comfortable bed, a small lamp the only source of light.
Immediately she spies a full bottle of water on the nightstand next to her, and she reaches for it greedily, chugging half of it, mouth drier than it’s ever been.
Where the fuck am I?
Her memories slam into her, overlapping in a way that makes her sick.
She remembers her birthday party, of driving her new Porsche to the sex club, of flashing the bouncer a smile and her fake ID, Nikolai paying the absurd cover charge for all of them.
She remembers downing a sugary sweet drink as she watches in shock as couples fuck on random couches, as strippers dance naked on a stage. She remembers sucking down another Cosmo, and another, and another, and another until…
Uncle Sasha?
“Oh my god.”
The memories keep chugging like a freight train.
You’re in so much trouble little girl.
His hard, large body caging her in, his scent engulfing her senses, and then…
Then she puked. On her godfather’s shoes.
Oh my god. She puked.
And there’s a blurry memory of being swept into his arms and carried into an elevator. And then- nothing.
She stumbles out of bed, feeling her way toward a bathroom, immediately regretting when she flicks on the light.
She’s so appalled by her reflection, the racoon-eyes, smudged lipstick, wild hair, she almost misses a note taped to the mirror.
“There’s Advil in the drawer and more water in the mini fridge. We’ll talk later.”
Alina gulps, reading the note three times before she fully understands.
In the drawer under the sink there’s the promised Advil, along with toiletries including a toothbrush and toothpaste. In the shower there’s shampoo, conditioner and body wash.
She pops two Advil and sheds her ridiculous black dress. She never wants to see it again.
After a long, hot shower that makes her feel slightly better, she wraps herself in a fluffy white bathrobe and sits on the edge of the bed, head in hands.
A vibration startles her, and she realizes her phone is plugged in on the nightstand.
There’s dozens of messages, mostly from Genya and Zoya.
Alina can’t bring herself to read them, just falls back on the bed.
She must’ve dozed off, because suddenly she awakens to the door unlocking as the room is flooded with light from the hallway as her godfather steps through.
His silhouette looms large, and the door shuts with an ominous click.
Alina watches, throat dry again, as he flicks on the room’s main light.
She winces at the brightness, but jaw drops as the full room finally comes into view.
Across from the bed is a large glass case that nearly expands across the entire wall.
And inside… inside is a variety of sexy toys.
Plugs and dildos of various sizes, impact implements like whips, paddles, crops and canes, and various other items that Alina can’t begin to guess at.
“This is a private room,” Aleksander finally speaks, “guests can rent them. After signing a waiver, of course.”
Alina stays quiet. Eying her godfather with a mixture of fear and shame.
“All these rooms have been booked for weeks. I had to compensate the couple that reserved this room very generously.”
Alina hangs her head, continuing to stay silent.
His voice turns venomous. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I just wanted…” Alina begins, voice dying.
“Wanted to what? Fuck some random guy? In front of everyone?”
“No!” she protests, looking up at his furious face, “no, it was just for fun. We thought, the girls thought… it would be fun. To see for my birthday. That’s it!”
“You were terrified when I found you. And alone. Someone could’ve easily taken advantage. Fuck, Alina. Do you have any idea how badly this could’ve ended? How did you even get in here anyway?”
“Our friend’s dad is a member. And he got us fake IDs.” She looks away.
“Jesus Christ.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, standing up, still a little woozy, moving to wrap her arms around him. “Thank you for saving me, Uncle Sasha.”
She stares up at him, eyes watery, bottom lip trembling, and for a moment his face softens as he returns her hug.
“Maybe… maybe you can give me my keys and I can drive home? And we don’t have to mention this to my parents?”
She’s pushed him too far, she realizes, as he pulls away, eyes hard once more.
“Oh no. You’re not getting away with this, malyshka. First of all, you can kiss that car goodbye.”
Alina’s eyes grow wide. “What?”
“The Porsche is mine until further notice. I hope you enjoyed the last twenty four hours you had with it.”
“Uncle Sasha! You can’t!”
“I can. And you better thank me, because I’m not telling your parents about this.”
“You can’t tell my parents, because then you’d have to explain what you were doing here,” Alina snarks, crossing her arms, the fluffy sleeves of her bath robe falling. “How you own a sex club.”
Her godfather’s eyes burn. She gasps as his large hand reaches around to squeeze the back of her neck like an errant kitten.
“Careful, little girl. You’re already in enough trouble as it is.”
Alina knows it’s a bad idea, but she scoffs anyway, wriggling out of his grasp.
“Whatever. You took my car. Fine. I don’t care. I’m going to college soon anyway.”
She moves to turn away, but his arms wrap around her from behind like an iron band.
And for the first time she notices, feels his hardness pressing into her back, through the bathrobe.
“Look at the ceiling,” he breathes in her ear.
Despite herself, she does. The ceiling is a mirror.
“And at that wall.”
The sex toys gleam.
“When I saw you here last night, I was angry, yes. You were looking like a little lost deer. But I also wanted to drag you to one of these rooms, and use every toy here on you.”
Alina chokes on her breath, the air whooshing from her lungs.
This couldn’t be happening. Her Uncle Sasha, who she’s had a crush on for forever, wants her. And wants her badly from the way his erection pulses against her.
All her bravado vanishes.
“Uncle - Uncle Sasha…”
“Little Alina. You have no idea what you’ve done.” His lips graze down her earlobe. “Go pick one.”
“W- what?”
“Go pick an item from the wall.”
“I - no-”
“Go pick one or I will.”
He releases her, shoving her lightly away toward the wall of toys.
Her whole body breaks out into goosebumps, legs shaking, she examines the enclosure.
He can’t be serious, right? He’s just bluffing… right?
All the toys blur together. She looks desperately for something that looks like a vibrator, but all the dildos are huge, nothing like the tiny vibe in her bedside drawer at home.
“No,” she turns toward Aleksander, defiant again, “no!”
“Alright,” he shrugs, brushing past her, he opens one of the glass doors, and pulls something out.
A pair of handcuffs.
She nearly breathes a sigh of relief. Out of all the depraved things, that didn’t seem so bad.
Before she can blink, he’s pulled the bow out of her bathrobe, pushing it off her shoulders. Alina yelps moving to cover herself, but before she can make a move, he’s spinning her around, and the cuffs are clasped onto her wrists behind her back.
“Sasha!” She cries, nipples instantly hardening.
“Shhhh,” he runs a hand between her taut shoulder blades. “You just need a little punishment, that's all. And maybe a reward, if you’re very good.”
He sits on the bed, eyes trailing over her body several times, focusing between her legs. Her pussy perfectly waxed in preparation for her ridiculous “lose virginity’ plan.
“This is what you came here for, right? To fuck? Maybe for the first time?” He smiles wide, teeth sharp and gleaming as he clocks her answering blush, “Ahh that’s it. Little Alina wanted to lose her virginity. Poor thing. All you had to do was ask your Uncle Sasha.”
Alina whimpers, the wetness between her thighs spreading, her wrists twisting in the cuffs.
“Come here, baby.”
Aleksander manhandles her until she’s face down over his lap. Alina’s heart races.
“Your parents never properly disciplined you.”
Alina can’t help it, “You were part of the problem! You’ve spoiled me for as long as I can remember!”
Slap.
Alina yelps as his hand connects with her bare backside.
“That’s true. But we’re going to fix that.”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
His palm ruthlessly falls on each cheek.
“Uncle Sasha,” she whines, wriggling over his erection, “it hurts.”
“Good.”
For the next several minutes the only sounds in the room are the smacking of his hand and her pathetic cries.
Finally he stops, rubbing the sore, red flesh. It’s not just her ass throbbing, it’s her pussy. She’s desperately wet, definitely leaking onto his thigh. She rubs against him, tears of pain and frustration rolling down her face.
“Sasha, please. I’ve learned my lesson. Please - just -”
His fingers trail over her ass and between her thighs, swiping from hole to clit, gathering wetness.
“Oh, baby. You’re soaked.”
“Please, please.”
The world spins, and she’s hauled up and plopped onto his lap, her burning ass against his crotch.
“Look up,” he whispers in her ear.
In the mirror on the ceiling, she sees their reflection. Her, naked, small and shivering, engulfed into his much larger body.
She hears the smack before she feels it, his open palm slapping against her pussy.
“Do that again,” she breathes.
He obliges, smacking right over her clit, over and over, until she’s ready to burst.
“We’ll use a crop for that next time,” he murmurs.
Alina’s eyes roll back as he gentles, pressing and rubbing her swollen bud with his thumb, while his index finger slips inside her, moving in and out of her tight, wet hole.
Her body tenses, wrists straining against the cuffs as she comes, long and hard.
She sags against him, breathing hard.
Aleksander disengages the lock on the cuffs, freeing her wrists. She curls into his chest.
They’re both quiet for a moment, contemplating. Alina isn’t completely convinced it’s not one of her wet dreams.
Aleksander breaks the silence.
“Did you really come here to lose your virginity?”
Alina can’t speak, just nods against his shoulder.
He sighs. “Oh Alina. What am I going to do with you?”
“Maybe help me out with that?”
She pulls away, fluttering her lashes at him, very deliberately shifting over his hardness.
He chuckles. “Not yet, baby. Not yet. You’ve had enough for one day.”
She pouts, but doesn’t push. Not when he’s already proven he has no problem correcting her attitude with one of the toys on the wall.
He encourages her to lie on her stomach, rubbing soothing lotion over her ass, lazily fingering her to another orgasm.
She has no concept of time, and when they finally step out of the club it’s at least noon, the summer sun high in the sky.
He’d had someone drop off a pink sweatsuit and sneakers for her. She’d trashed the dress, much to Aleksander’s amusement.
“I could barely breathe in that thing.”
Her Porsche is still in the parking lot. She looks over at it longingly from the passenger seat of his Mercedes.
“Don’t even think about it.” He squeezes her thigh. “You’ll have to think of a proper way to apologize, little one.”
xxx
Alina shifts on the hard wood of her chair, holding back a grimace.
Her mother insisted that every Sunday be family dinner. Which normally is fine. But tonight Uncle Sasha sits across from her, sipping his wine with delight as he watches her squirm.
“Alina,” Her father cuts in sternly, “I want to hear you thank Aleksander for picking you up from the party and bringing you home this morning.”
Alina’s ready to retort, but the evil flicker in Uncle Sasha’s eye gives her pause. Round Two? He seems to ask.
“Thank you, Uncle Sasha.” Alina grits out, fork clutched tightly between her fingers, “For bringing me home.”
The bastard swirls his wine glass with a smirk. “You’re quite welcome, darling.”
“I also can’t thank you enough,” Alina’s mother gushes, laying a hand on Aleksander’s arm, “I’m so thankful to know that you’ll always be there for my little girl. Even when she breaks the rules.”
Alina clenches her jaw, forcing herself to eat a spoonful of potatoes, barely tasting them. Chew, swallow, chew, swallow.
“Of course, Miya.” He flashes his teeth.
“Can I be excused?” Alina blurts out, utensils clattering.
“No, Alina. We just sat down,” Her mother frowns, “Don’t be rude.”
“No attitude, honey. Or Sasha might never give that car back.” Vlad chuckles, as if he’s made some grand joke.
Alina wants to sink under her chair, into the floor, and die.
Aleksander winks at her, damn him. The fire she’s gotten so used to the past twenty four hours flares once again low in her tummy. She watches how his long, thick fingers deftly cut the turkey, slicing back and forth… back and forth… before bringing the fatty morsel to his wet lips…
The conversation around her fades into the background, mind going hazy, the only thing keeping her from falling into the most depraved daydream at the dinner table being her burning ass.
You’ll have to find a proper way to apologize, little one….
That night, once dinner is long past, and Sasha has finally returned home, after a very extended good-bye, Alina buries her face in her pillow, fingers sliding into the soaking wet valley between her legs.
She comes in less than a minute, groaning, spit dribbling off her lips, jaw going slack.
Before she can fully think about her decision, she reaches for her phone, FaceTiming Sasha.
He answers immediately.
“Hello Alina.”
“I just came to the thought of you,” she says in lieu of greeting. “I’m getting an uber to The Fold once my parents go to sleep. I want to earn my car back.”
Aleksander smirks.
“Don’t bother. I’ll pick you up.”