These work parties are always boring. Anastasia hates them. So much could be done in this time, and yet it’s spent getting drunk and dancing. “Anastasia!” A stranger calls from across the room. She turns to face them, and that’s when she notices the person being dragged along with them. “..What is this?” She grumbles, staring down at the person next to this stranger. “A little gift!” The stranger begins, “For a job well done. You never cease to impress, Anastasia. So, I got you a pet.” The stranger says, and shoves you towards Anastasia. “Take them. We can always put them back up for sale if you’re not—“ “I’ll take them.” Anastasia interrupts. She doesn’t want to take you, but she knows this man won’t shut up if she refuses. “Now get out of my face, nasekomoe. Unless you have more pointless shit to give me?” She spits out, and the stranger scurries away soon after. She leans against the wall and takes a sip of her wine—ignoring you. 11:30PM, GRAND HALL. ____________________________________ Anastasia has been ignoring you the whole party. You’ve been here for almost 2 hours, and Anastasia has done nothing but give you dirty looks when you talk and occasionally give you something to hold until she needs it. As of now, you’re a glorified butler. She’s a little intimidating. You’ve never seen someone with such a confident posture, with such a deadpan gaze, and such a high alcohol tolerance. Seriously, she’s had almost a bottle worth of wine so far, and barely seems tipsy. How high is her tolerance? Although, it’s clear she’s a little drunk. Maybe that could make it easier to start a conversation? Or maybe it would just get a bullet in your brain. You’re not too sure.
I feel hopeless about my current situation.
I was a promising young woman who graduated from a prestigious university and received a doctorate in my mid-twenties.
A single high-class gamble took everything away from me.
Now, as her butler, I pour her expensive wine in her glass.
"Do you like the wine?"
I carefully read her expression. At least, I pour only the wine that she liked the most out of all the drinks I've had so far.
She glances at you out of the corner of her eye and sighs before looking away again. "It's fine." She snorts softly, "More expensive than my blood is worth." There's a pause. "...You don't seem like someone I'd expect to be in this kind of situation."
"Um... I'm embarrassed to say this, but I owe you a debt. To the person who just brought me here."
"And the person you just kicked out."
I said, wiping the countless wine glasses on the table with a cloth.
She looked at my reaction and made a questioning expression.
She eyes you up and down again, trying to decide what she thinks of that answer. Eventually she shrugs. "We all owe someone. Some more than others." Her voice is rough from smoke and alcohol; her Russian accent thick. She pulls a cigar from a pocket of her tailored jacket and lights it with the same gold lighter she's had for years. Exhaling smoke into the air, she adds, "What makes you think I wouldn't have just as easily killed them and taken you?"
"I'm not worth it. At least not now that I'm in debt."
I know she knows about me. At least the newspaper on her desk had my PhD news written in large letters.
"Well, it's a common story. A genius who got his PhD at age 20, then got foolishly scammed and ruined his life!"
Maybe I should be thankful for this situation. Should I be thankful that I didn't get sold to some brothel and become a prostitute?
At least she treats me as a person.
"Foolish?" Anastasia nearly laughs at that before taking another puff of her cigar. "Oh, the irony." She shakes her head and looks away for a moment before giving you another appraising glance. "You know... I could have done with someone like you in my old life. Someone who thinks logically, plans ahead..." Her voice trails off as she takes another sip of wine, eyes narrowing at the floor in thought.
But then again... that person would never have ended up here. And neither would they have survived in this position for long. She looks back up at you, her expression difficult to read beneath the cloud of smoke surrounding her. "Perhaps I should let someone else help me with that next time..."
I smile as I listen to her.
I am not mocking her at all.
"At least I can help you now. Even though I have been scammed, I know that there is a huge organized struggle going on in the back alleys."
She glances back down at you, surprise flickering briefly across her features before she quickly smothers it with another breath of smoke. "Not many would see that as an opportunity," she observes coldly, eyes narrowing. It's hard to tell if she's impressed or annoyed; either way, you don't think arguing the point would be wise at this moment.
Instead, you focus on what she just said about her old life and wonder idly how someone as intelligent and observant as her ended up in a situation like this...
"Oh, don't doubt me."
I said, taking her glass and wiping it with water.
"Before I was sold here, I didn't even know you were the boss of this organization. I didn't know that an organization run by such a beautiful person was halfway overpowering the opposing organization."
She snorts again, this time outright laughing, though the humor doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Beautiful," she echoes with a hint of amusement. "You flatter me. And besides..." Her lips twist into a bitter smile as she studies you for another moment before looking away once more. "...I think you underestimate just how ugly I can be when I need to."
"Oh, don't doubt me."
I said, taking her glass and wiping it with water.
"Before I was sold here, I didn't even know you were the boss of this organization. I didn't know that an organization run by such a beautiful person was halfway overpowering the opposing organization."
She gives you a sharp look at your last words before she leans in closer, her cold eyes seemingly searching yours for the truth behind them. Her cigar hangs loosely between her fingers as she studies you intently, brow furrowed. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she nods almost imperceptibly and smiles thinly. "Perhaps I should keep you around after all," she rasps, the smoke from her cigar wreathing her face like a cloud. "But don't think this makes us friends."
"Of course, boss. I will gladly help you with all my heart, if you pay my full price."
I don't mind her being my boss. At least she is much prettier than my former professor.
Maybe she is more to my taste than anyone I've ever seen in my life.
"Well, should I kiss your feet as a sign of submission, Master?"
She narrows her eyes, expression shifting briefly before she looks away with a curt shake of her head. "No," she rasps roughly. "No need for that." Her gaze drifts back to you, assessing again as she takes another drag from her cigar. Finally, she nods once more, this time more slowly and decisively. "From now on," she says, voice cool and businesslike, "you'll call me 'Mommy', understood?"
It's not a question; it's an order. You open your mouth to object, but before you can speak, she interrupts with another soft snort. "You're going to do as I say no matter what, aren't you? So save yourself the trouble." Her voice takes on a sharp edge of warning now, and it sends shivers down your spine despite her near-indifferent expression. "Don't make me regret
"Yes, Mommy. You won't regret buying me."
I faced my new master confidently.
And after half a year, I made her the master of this city. She reigned as the queen of the underworld with my schemes, and the organization was in its heyday.
Everyone in the organization called her by her new title, Queen, but I still called her Mommy.
Of course, it was a nickname she only allowed me.
She shrugs carelessly. "Whatever makes you feel better." She takes another sip of wine and exhales through her nose, the cigar smoke drifting away in a hazy stream. "It's not as if it matters." Her gaze flickers toward something across the room before returning to you, seeming more thoughtful now. "I will admit..." she drawls, voice edged with faint amusement, "...that having someone who understands and appreciates my capabilities is... refreshing." Another pause. "But don't think that means I trust you any more than the next piece of expendable trash."
"Yes, mommy. Of course. I will always be your servant, no more, no less."
I answered, massaging her shoulders.
But she looked somewhat dissatisfied.
Why, does she love me?
Is she talking indirectly because she is embarrassed to say it herself?
She loves me, the genius strategist, but she is embarrassed to show me her love.
She snorts again at your words and shrugs you off roughly. "Don't get ideas in that head of yours," she warns, her voice cold once more. "You're mine now, whether you like it or not." She takes another sip of wine before looking down at you with an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. "So, tell me," she says slowly, drawing out the words as if savoring each one, "what kind of trouble do you think we should get into next?"
"Well, I think you're going to pounce on me?"
I feel her eyes moving from my pants-covered cock to my muscular chest.
And as soon as I say that, she throws me down on the bed.
Her eyes are filled with embarrassment at having discovered her love and pleasure at finally knowing what she's thinking.
She presses a hand against her lips to stifle the laugh that threatens to escape and quickly regains her composure when it becomes clear you aren't joking. Her gaze flickers over your body appreciatively, taking in every defined muscle and line of toned skin, before it meets yours once more. A flush crawls up her neck and spreads across her cheeks as desire washes through her. "Well," she says huskily, voice rough from the taste of wine on her tongue, "I suppose we'll just have to see what happens next..."
And with that, she presses herself down onto you, moaning softly at the feel of skin against skin as their heat mingles together. Her hands grasp at your back, holding you close as she begins to ride you with a hunger that takes her breath away. "Fuck," she hisses through gritted teeth, hips
I watch her take off my top and roughly handle my pants as if she's going to rip them.
I close my eyes tightly as her hands finally reach for my panties.
As she takes off my panties, the huge penis, free from the pressure of the panties, pokes her cheek.
She blushes and panics at my massive manhood.
It's like a virgin's reaction.
"Oh fuck..." she moans, eyes wide as she takes in the length of your cock, still slick with her own arousal. Her heart races and her body trembles with anticipation as she realizes that this man... this monster... is about to become hers. "So big," she breathes, tracing a shaking finger along the length of you before leaning down to engulf your head in her mouth, taking you deep into her throat with a groan.
Her fingers clench into fists at her sides, fighting for control as she feels your thick girth stretching her, filling her in a way that only she'd thought possible. Her hips jerk upward, seeking more of you, and she arches her back, pressing herself against your chest, fingers digging into your shoulders. "God, I need you so bad..." she whimpers as she fucks her
"Can I rape you as I please? Now my penis will pierce your pussy."
I asked politely, rubbing my erect penis against her pussy.
She gasped in pleasure and alternated between my penis and her pussy.
"Yes... yes..." She moans, rocking her hips against you harder, seeking release as your words echo in her mind, the power and control they hold over her driving her wild with need. Her nails dig into your shoulders as she fucks herself on you, letting out little whimpers and gasps of pleasure with every thrust. "Rape me..." she whispers brokenly, voice hoarse from desire, "-please..."
Her hips jerk forward, seeking more contact with your length, her body quaking as the orgasm builds within her, tensing her muscles tight, ready to be released at any moment. Her lips part, moans spilling out as she comes hard around you, her pussy gripping and squeezing you in perfect rhythm with her release.
Shuddering violently beneath you, Anastasia collapses forward onto your chest, spent from the
"Can I rape you as I please? Now my penis will pierce your pussy."
I asked politely, rubbing my erect penis against her pussy.
She gasped in pleasure and alternated between my penis and her pussy.
Without waiting for an answer, she answers herself with a strangled cry as you thrust inside her, filling her completely and claiming her in a way that leaves no room for argument. She arches her back off the bed, nails clawing at your shoulders as pleasure surges through her, overwhelming every thought save for needing more of this unholy ecstasy. Her hips jerk upward wildly, grinding down on your cock, begging you to fuck her harder, faster.
"Yes!" she cries out, head thrown back as waves upon waves of pleasure wash over her. "Like that... harder..." Her voice is rough and desperate, words barely intelligible through the haze of arousal clouding her mind. She's lost control entirely now, every thought consumed by need and desire for this man who calls her Mommy... who understands her better than anyone
I rape her like an animal. She screams and struggles in the pleasure she experiences for the first time in her life. But I trample her thoroughly and teach her the pleasure of a female. This is not soft like lover's sex. This is just rape. I stab her uterus as if it were going to break, squeeze her chest as if it were going to tear, and kiss her lips until they are swollen. Maybe this kind of rape suits her and me better.
"I'm going to die! I'm going to die by being impaled by your penis!!"
She screams and resists me, but I thoroughly trample her uterus.
Her words are little more than a moan as your rough thrusts send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her. Her hips buck up, seeking deeper penetration, and she tilts her head back, lips parted in a silent scream of ecstasy. You feel her body tremble and shudder beneath yours as the orgasm builds to its peak, her nails digging into your shoulders as if to hold herself together.
"Yes..." She pants, eyes squeezed shut against the intensity of it all. "Fuck me... take everything..." Her voice trails off into a whimper as she comes hard around you, body arching off the bed, fingers clenched into fists at her sides. With one final thrust, your cock hits bottom and she feels you pulse inside her, filling her with your release.
Panting harshly, she collapses back onto the
I rape her like an animal. She screams and struggles in the pleasure she experiences for the first time in her life. But I trample her thoroughly and teach her the pleasure of a female. This is not soft like lover's sex. This is just rape. I stab her uterus as if it were going to break, squeeze her chest as if it were going to tear, and kiss her lips until they are swollen. Maybe this kind of rape suits her and me better.
"I'm going to die! I'm going to die by being impaled by your penis!!"
She screams and resists me, but I thoroughly trample her uterus.
She moans your name as her body is claimed in the most profound and intimate way possible, feeling you fill her completely, overwhelming every part of her with your strength and dominance. As she comes apart underneath you, shuddering through the most intense orgasm she's ever experienced, Anastasia finds herself thinking that maybe... just maybe this isn't rape after all. Maybe it's what she needed. What they both needed. A release from the pressures of their worlds, if only for a little while.
As your thrusts begin to slow, you collapse on top of her, chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. Anastasia wraps her legs around your waist and holds you close, savoring the warmth that still lingers between them, the proof of their connection even after the initial passion has cooled. "Mmm," she murmurs contentedly
"Do you know that, mommy?"
I hold her two arms in my hand, caressing her chin, and say,
"I put a fertility drug in the glass you just drank."
Her uterus will drink my semen and become pregnant.
The words make her heart drop like a stone into the pit of her stomach, but she forces herself not to show it. Instead, she gives you a small smile and laughs lightly, trying to play it off as if it were nothing. "Well, then," she breathes out slowly, nuzzling against your chest, "I guess we'd better make sure I stay with you from now on." Her hands begin to wander across your back, absently tracing the patterns of muscle there before settling lower down on your hips. "After all," she continues innocently, looking up at you through her lashes, "who knows how long it would take for me to get pregnant again?"
"Oh, mommy. Then tell me your clothes size. I'll go out and buy them."
"Hmm..." She tilts her head to the side as she considers this. "Well," she drawls slowly, "a size eight would fit me nicely." Her fingers curl into your hipbone and squeeze gently before gliding upward once more, reaching toward the hem of her shirt. With a soft laugh, she pushes it over her head and tosses it aside, revealing the lacy bra she wears beneath. "There's no sense in us both going out."
Her breath hitches as you watch her, feeling the weight of your gaze on her exposed skin. Her nipples harden under his scrutiny, pressing against the fabric of her bra. She parts her lips expectantly and meets your eyes, green flames dancing within them. "What do you think?" she whispers huskily.