The Price of Obedience

Lyudmila's life after the affair with T. went on as usual until her husband caused a car accident resulting in grievous bodily harm. He got distracted by his phone and at that moment hit a 14-year-old girl. Medics and traffic police were called, the husband admitted his guilt. The girl's father turned out to be a local deputy. He devoured Lyudmila with his eyes and immediately agreed to settle out of court on the condition that Lyudmila spend the night with him.

Lyudmila thought long and hard at work and still called the girl's father…

He arranged a meeting with her at a hotel, on the 5th floor. She knew it wasn't just sex. It was a sacrifice. It was her shame. And it would save her husband…

Lyudmila stood in the middle

of a luxurious hotel room, her fingers nervously clutching the edge of a black dress that hugged her mature body, accentuating her rounded hips and full breasts. The room was plunged into semi-darkness, only the dim light of a desk lamp cast golden highlights on her skin, making her even more enticing. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and something else—anticipation that hung between them like electricity before a storm. She heard the door open behind her, and her heart beat faster, almost jumping out of her chest. He was here. Dmitry's steps were slow, measured, like a man accustomed to everyone waiting for his command. His boots tapped on the parquet, each sound echoed in her head, making her swallow. She didn't turn around, but felt his presence—heavy, dominating, like a shadow about to envelop her completely. Finally, he stopped so close that she felt the heat of his body through the fabric of his uniform. His breathing, even and calm, contrasted with her ragged, almost panicked breaths.

— You know why you're here, — his voice was low, raspy, like a whisper that gets under your skin. Not a question, but a statement of fact. His fingers touched her shoulder, and she flinched, but didn't pull away. She needed this. For her husband. For herself.

— Take it off, — he ordered, nodding at the dress. His hands were already reaching for her waist, but he held back, watching how she would obey his command.

Her fingers trembled as she found the zipper on her back and slowly pulled it down. The fabric slid off her shoulders, exposing her breasts—heavy, with dark nipples already hardened from the chill of the air conditioner and his gaze. The dress fell to the floor, and she was left in only black lace underwear that barely covered her crotch. Dmitry let out a low, approving sound, his hands finally touching her body, grabbing her waist from behind and pulling her to him. She felt his erection, hard and hot, pressing against her stomach through the fabric of his trousers.

— Beautiful, — he whispered, his lips touched her neck, and his tongue drew a wet stripe from her collarbone to her earlobe. — So mature. So ready.

Lyudmila moaned, her head fell back as his teeth lightly sank into her shoulder. His hands slid up, squeezing her breasts, his fingers pinched her nipples, making her shudder with pain and pleasure. She felt her own arousal growing, how it became wet between her legs, how her body treacherously responded to his touch, despite the shame, despite knowing—this wasn't love, it was a deal.

He abruptly turned her towards him, his hands dropped to her hips, and he pushed her towards the bed. She fell onto her back, her legs automatically spread as he knelt before her. His gaze was fixed on her crotch, where the black lace was already soaked with her juices. He took his time, savoring the moment, before his fingers hooked the fabric of her panties and pulled them off her legs.

— God, you're already all wet, — his voice was hoarse with desire. — You really want this, don't you?

She didn't have time to answer, as his mouth was already on her, his tongue drew a broad, wet stroke from her anus to her clit, making her squeal. His hands held her hips firmly, not letting her move, as he began working with his tongue—first slowly, circling her entrance, then faster, his lips closing around her clit, sucking, biting, until she began to moan and writhe beneath him. Her fingers dug into the sheets, her back arched as he inserted two fingers into her, stretching, impaling her on them, until she cried out with pleasure.

— Nnn-nnn, Dimaa, p-please… — her voice broke as he added a third finger, his thumb pressed on her clit, and she felt an orgasm wash over her like a wave, squeezing her from the inside.

But he didn't let her finish. His mouth tore away from her pussy, leaving her trembling on the edge, as he rose to his feet and began unbuckling his belt. His cock sprang free—thick, dark, with a swollen head from which a drop of pre-cum was already oozing. Lyudmila instinctively propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze fixed on him, her lips parted as she felt saliva fill her mouth.

— Suck it, — he ordered, his voice was hard, brooking no argument. She nodded, her hands trembled as she grasped the base of his cock, feeling the veins pulse under her fingers. Her tongue slipped out, licked the head, collecting the salty taste, before she took him into her mouth, slowly sinking down until his cock hit her throat. She coughed, but didn't stop, her lips tightly wrapped around him as she began moving up and down, her saliva dripped down his shaft, making it slippery.

— Good girl, — he rasped, his hands tangled in her hair, guiding her movements. — Deeper. Take it all.

She nodded, her heart pounded as she felt his head press against her tight ring. He pushed, and she cried out in pain, her nails dug into the sheets as his cock began slowly sliding inside, stretching her, filling her so much she thought she would burst.

— Relax, — he hissed, his hands squeezed her buttocks, spreading them wider as he entered her completely. — You want me to cum in your ass, don't you?

— You're so tight, fuck, — his voice was full of breathlessness, his fingers dug into her skin. — You were made for this.

She couldn't answer, her body surrendered to his onslaught, her mind fogged with pleasure as he suddenly pulled his cock out and flipped her onto her back. His hands grabbed her knees, spreading her legs, and he entered her pussy with one sharp thrust, filling her completely. She screamed, her back arched as he began to move—deeply, powerfully, his cock rubbing against her G-spot with every stroke.

— You're mine, — he rasped, his hands squeezed her breasts, his fingers twisted her nipples until she sobbed with pain and pleasure. — You're my little slut, and you'll do everything I say. She nodded, her body tensed as she felt her orgasm building, squeezing her from the inside, making her scream, her nails dug into his forearms as a wave of pleasure rolled through her, leaving her trembling and powerless.

But he didn't stop. His movements became even more brutal, his breathing grew ragged as he suddenly pulled his cock out and stood over her face, his hand squeezed the base as he began to cum. The first stream of semen hit her cheek, hot and sticky, then into her mouth, salty and thick, filling her, dripping down her chin as she tried to swallow. He groaned, his body shook as he squeezed out the last drops, his cum covered her face, her lips, her chin.

She knew it wasn't just sex.