Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
He stood in the shadows, his eyes, like deep pools, watching me. Vladimir. Not the monster from old tales, but something more compelling. He was power, yes, but he also a deep, aching loneliness that immediately drew me in. His gaze did not leave mine. There was no fear in me, only a strange, dark hunger. I reached him, standing so close I could feel the cold radiating from his skin, a faint pulse beneath it.
“You look at me,” I said, “like you wonder what I will do.” He gave a small nod. “I wonder, Stella.” His voice was a rich hum, like a cello string. I lifted my hand, not to touch his face, but his chest, finding the hard muscle beneath his velvet coat. He did not flinch. “Tonight,” I whispered, my fingers pressing lightly, “you will let me wonder.” His eyes widened. I could feel the surprise, but also a hidden interest, a spark.
Vladimir’s Slutty Domme
I pushed him gently, a steady pressure on his chest, guiding him backwards until his back met the cold wall. He allowed it, his body was stiff for a moment, then relaxed into my command. I stepped closer, pressing my body against his. My hips moved, a slow, deliberate grind against the front of his pants. He let out a low, almost silent breath. His hands, which had been at his sides, now came up, but they did not touch me. He was waiting.
I kissed him, deep and slow. My lips claimed his, my tongue exploring, tasting the faint dryness, the timelessness of him. He responded, his mouth opening, his breath growing a little ragged. But I pulled back slightly, just enough to catch his gaze again. “Look at me,” I commanded. “You are mine tonight.” His eyes were dark, full of ancient longing and a new kind of surrender. I felt his body begin to tremble, a deep tremor that pulsed through him. I took his hands, one by one, and brought them to my waist, pressing them firmly into my flesh. “Hold me,” I instructed, “but I will lead.”
Then I resumed the kiss, harder this time, more urgent. My hips moved against his, faster now, creating a friction that built a heat between us. His fingers gripped my waist, his hold tightening, but never taking control. He was a statue, brought to life by my touch, by my will. I loved the way his body moved under mine, the sounds he made deep in his throat, a mix of ancient groans and pure, raw pleasure. Feeling his hunger, his need, swelling beneath my control.
I kept my eyes open through it all, watching his face, the way his jaw tensed, the flicker in his intense gaze. I wanted to see every moment of his surrender, to feel the power of taking something so old, so powerful, and making it kneel. And he did. He allowed me to dictate the rhythm, to bring us both to the edge of orgasm until the world blurred into a dark, beautiful rush. I had claimed him, if only for a night. And he had let me.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
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