Epilogue
A year and a half later…
WILLOW
We live most of the year in Marslov now, but we’ve come back to the house in California to visit my family.
Sergei and I have taken Tatiana for a walk in the rose gardens, and he’s cradling our daughter in his big arms as if she’s a precious jewel. She’s nine months old, fat-cheeked and happy. Two of her teeth just came in, so we’re finally getting some sleep.
Lukas is so proud to be an uncle that he could just about burst. He’s already drawn us so many beautiful pictures of her that we’ve bound them into a book. He’s home in Sweden, because he’s been enrolled in school, living a normal, settled life. Kris and Marya are his caretakers, but he knows the truth – that I’m his sister, and that I will always love him and be there for him. We’ll bring him here next summer for vacation.
Tatiana is babbling when Sergei suddenly stops dead. He stares at our daughter’s face in amazement.
“Did you hear that?” he cries out to me.
“Hear what?” I hurry over, worried. Is something wrong? Is she choking? Coughing?
Then I see that he’s looking at her with so much love and pride that it’s transformed his rough face into something almost angelic.
“Say it again,” he croons at her. “Dada.”
“Da. Da,” she crows, and waves her fat pink fists.
“Oh my God,” I cry out in wonder. “Talking already.” I mock pout at him. “And she’s a daddy’s girl!” I lean in and give her my biggest smile. I stroke her fat cheek with my finger, and she gurgles with joy.
“Sweetie,” I croon. “Who carried you in her belly for nine months? Who loves her baby? Me. Say ‘Mama’. Mama, Mama.”
She breaks into a huge smile, with her two little top teeth showing. She waves her chubby fist. “Dada.”
Sergei throws back his head and roars with laughter, and I pretend to be angry with him, but truly, I’m glowing like the sun.
When I was growing up, I could never have dreamed of such happiness. Such freedom. Such love.
Darya and Grigor are coming to visit us next week. They married shortly after we did, and she’s expecting.
The surgery has helped a lot. She’ll never gain the vision back in her right eye, though. But Grigor tells her she’s beautiful all the time.
She’s still working at Reforma, and she loves it. Sergei bought Grigor his own auto repair shop in St. Petersburg, and business is thriving.
Sergei is the roof for Grigor’s business, but he provides his services for free. Because it’s still not possible to do business there without a roof. Some things will never change, unfortunately, but a lot has.
Nobody else has come into the Pevlova Oblast to replace Cataha. A few have tried, and every time, Sergei’s people have wiped them out to the last man.
The police chief’s family were able to come back home. There’s a brand new Akim at Reforma, and the paper continues to thrive and grow. Sergei’s construction, shipping and warehouse business are all entirely legit now, and he’s opened up a new brick factory in Pevlovagrad to supply his construction company, and also invested in turning it into a tech center, creating jobs and hope there.
* * *
SERGEI
Later that evening, I have our nanny take Tatiana, and I take Willow by the hand and lead her into our bedroom. It’s in a separate wing of the house, so I have her all to myself.
And it’s soundproofed.
I shut the door behind me.
“You’ve been a bad girl,” I tell Willow.
Her eyes widen with indignation. “I have not!” she protests. “What did I do?”
“Well, first of all, we’re in our bedroom, and you forgot to say sir. We agreed.”
“Did I ever agree to that?” she sniffs. “As I recall, on our honeymoon, you ordered me to say sir whenever we were in the bedroom, and I couldn’t argue because I had a ball gag in my mouth.”
A smile curves my lips.
I love it when she talks back to me. And I love that the dress she’s wearing is so light and filmy.
“And secondly,” I continue, “and a much graver offense. I hear that you’ve been working to undermine my authority with the troops.” At her puzzled look, I explain. “Rumor has it that you spent all day long trying to get Tatiana to say Mama instead of Dada. There I was, slaving away in my office, talking to suppliers, securing our future, and you were betraying me. You even bribed her with sweets.”
She gasps. She does not even try to deny her treachery. What would be the point? Her eyes are enormous, her mouth an O of shock. Her breathing quickens, betraying her arousal.
“How did you know?”
“How did you know, sir?” I correct her.
She starts to argue, then sees the look in my eyes. “How did you know, sir?”
“Sweetheart.” I look at her mournfully as I shake my head. “Come on. That’s almost insulting. I always know what you’re doing, every minute of every day. Because you’re mine, and I pay particularly close attention to the activities of my favorite piece of property. And you love that.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Only sometimes, sir. Other times it drives me crazy.”
“How unfortunate for you. Because I’m never going to change, and you’re never getting rid of me. Now, you’ve got two strikes against you, and you know what comes next.”
I look down at her, at the dreamy look on her beautiful face.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers, her gaze cast downward. Her nipples are hard. Which is perfect for what’s coming next.
I point at the wooden box that I’ve place on the nightstand. “Walk over there and pick out your punishment.”
She walks slowly, and when she opens the box, I see her look of confusion.
She reaches in and pulls out a silver pair of nipple clamps, with little weights dangling from them. “That’s all that’s in the box.”
“What a shame.” I’m taking off my shirt while we speak. As I walk over to her, she backs up against the bed and stifles a cry.
“Those look as if they really hurt!” she protests.
“Yes, that’s exactly the point. That’s why it’s called punishment.”
“But…I’ll be a really good girl. I’ll go down on my knees. I’ll suck your cock.” She looks at me hopefully. I reach out and grab the front of her dress and rip it, and she jerks back with a curse.
“I loved that dress!”
She isn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts are exposed to me now. The shreds of her dress slide off her shoulders and hang around her waist.
“Oh, boo hoo. I can buy you ten new ones. Put your hands behind your back. Now.” That last part comes out on a vicious growl, and I am rewarded with her gasp of fear.
It doesn’t matter that we’re married, that she’s the love of my life. It hasn’t changed my essential nature. I am still a man who will be obeyed, and I can still deal out serious pain when she defies me.
She quickly puts her hands behind her back. I grab her left nipple and pull it towards me, and she grimaces in pain as I snap one of the nipple clamps onto the tender flesh.
I am rewarded with her sharp hiss of pain.
I lean in and suck her right nipple, that sweet little rosebud. Then I nip it hard enough to make her yelp in pain, and quickly snap the nipple clamp on. This time she can’t keep from crying out.
“Sir! Please! Sir, it really hurts!” she wails. Tears are welling in her eyes, and I see her trembling from the effort it’s taking her to keep her hands behind her back, to refrain from freeing her breasts from their torment.
She should know better by now. Her pleas have a direct effect on my cock. They make it really hard.
“On your knees, and those clamps don’t come off until you’ve sucked me off and swallowed my come.”
“You bastard,” she hisses, but she sinks down as I’m freeing my cock from my slacks, and she takes me in her mouth faster than she ever has before, engulfing me in her wet heat.
Her head bobs, and she sucks and sucks, her tongue swirling. She strokes my balls with her fingers as she mouths my stiff member and one hand grasps the base.
“Yes,” I groan. “That’s it, sweetheart. So good.”
I groan in pleasure as she begins moving up and down, tormenting and pleasing me with sensation.
Heat burns through my body, racing down my nerves. The pleasure grows and grows, and I’m about to come when I manage to pull myself back from the precipice. I grab her hair and pull her off me just in time. I almost exploded in her mouth, but I’m not ready yet.
Because I’m in control.
I’m always in control.
“Please!” she wails.
“On the bed. Hands and knees. Back right up to the edge.”
“You promised!”
“I’m a lying motherfucker. Do it!” I bark at her.
She scrambles to obey.
When I slide my cock into her tight pussy, she’s so wet that she’s oozing.
“Mmmm.” Her tortured moan of pleasure nearly makes me come right there. But I won’t come alone.
I reach around and find her clitoris, pushing back the hood and rubbing the sensitive nub, pounding into her again and again. Every thrust makes the weights on the nipple clamps swing, and her wails are a mix of pain and pleasure. She slams back against me, urging me on.
I pause. “What’s your name?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. I’ve trained her too well.
“Willow Volkov!”
“And who’s your master?”
“You are, sir! Please let me come, please, please, please!” She’s forgotten about the pain of the nipple clamps, because the sweet agony of her desire is a far worse torture.
So I give my love what she wants. I pump into her again and again until she shudders and convulses, her tight sheath squeezing my cock. My own climax crashes down on me, hard, and I explode, filling her with my hot seed. No condoms anymore. I hope I’m putting another baby in her, another beautiful baby in my beautiful wife. I’d love to see her belly swell again, her breasts heavy with milk, her nipples darkening.
Then I slide the nipple clamps off her, and she slumps to the bed, moaning in relief. I lie down next to her and wrap my arms around her. Her back is to me, and she squirms in pleasure as I begin stroking her arm. She’s so soft, so yielding. My cock is still half hard as I press it against her ass. I’ll be ready for round two within minutes. And she’d better be ready to receive my cock anywhere I choose to put it.
“Willow Volkov,” she sighs again, as if to remind herself, and she presses back against me and we melt together as if we’re one.
Thank you so much for taking this journey with Willow and Sergei!
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THE END