Fucked

(Closed)

Weapons sponsored Dmitry’s life as he hovered over the Belorussian bubble. Born to know nothing but Russian traditions in spite of his father’s American experiences and his grandfather’s ridiculous scientific and mythological predictions, Dmitry, without a close family, understood the value of selfishness. While the unfortunate wasted their lives in lines he knew that to take what was necessary for survival was always the quickest and easiest way to get ahead, be damned the gulags!

The Communist Doctrine of communal group think failed to transform these beliefs he held so firmly. However, he had converted to the idea of Russian exceptionalism and the belief in its empire. Dmitry’s initial interest in weapons and their uses, along with the sustenance and protection they provided, propelled him in the underground’s stratosphere while enabling the Soviet Empire to maintain balance and control. The man may have never been a Communist but he understood that Communism was the mode used to make money.

Thirty-six years into life and he didn’t know how many he had left. The Soviet Empire from which he grew his enterprise shrank overnight and the political world grew a little smaller. No more would there be AK-47s sent exclusively to Africa and the Middle East. With the government’s fall and the fractured states that developed under Yeltsin, weapons of varying importance and price began to disappear from the former Soviet Union’s stockpile. Dmitry was constructing the rules to a new world.

Hell came every winter and muddied every spring but the bullet managed to celebrate every season. Dmitry made the best of his world even though the sun had rarely shown upon it. Dark nights and black ink alleys became his office while run-down hotel rooms had served as his home as he hopped from one city to the next. There was always one more payday he wanted, one more sale, one more piece of weaponry to lay his hands on. Plenty of his money lied in Switzerland where the new Russian democracy wouldn’t be able to take it. But it wasn't solely the money he wanted. What he wanted was simply: More.

In an aged car he pulled into the small parking lot with his ride along. The brakes squealed as he applied pressure, killing the engine in front of a broken building.

“Stay here,” he instructed his passenger as he opened his car door. Immediately the cold Minsk winter rushed into the semi-warmth of the car as exited, taking the car keys with him. He’d left his rider alone, leaving her subject to the wrath of cold northern winds.

Dmitry walked around the front of the car and pushed past the ramshackle door and stepped inside the dimly lit lobby. After a few minutes inside where he could hardly be seen through the dusty, dirty windows he had reappeared outside.

Returning to the scene he left he moved toward the driver’s side only to say, “Let’s go. We have a room.” With as much ceremony he slammed the car door hard, knowing it’d take plenty of effort to make it stick. The message to the passenger would be as much kindness as he was willing to give. And it was more than he usually offered. The whore was lucky he gave that much; the wind bit like a bitch.

Back inside the building he climbed a few flights of stairs until he came across the room. It’d be a temporary place where he’d keep them for a week depending on how well the deal would go tomorrow night. Pushing the key into the lock he shoved the door open revealing a world no more spectacular than the one he knew the night before. A small television with an antennae sat on a broken dresser and not two feet from the screen was the foot of the bed. A couch and table both littered the far side of the room near a window which was barred. Not that it bothered him. Fires were the least of his worries and he enjoyed the life, as much as a man like Dmitry could enjoy anything.

“Get in here,” he barked. “And shut the fucking door.”

WARNING: This thread will be VERY graphically violent with extreme and shocking scenes of abject depravity.​

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Livija Zarins was been born in Riga, which was no place for a young girl to grow up. Between the Germans and the Russians, Latvia had known little of peace in far longer than Livija had been alive. Her dad had caught a bullet from a trigger-happy Russian patrol and it had been days until he died from his wounds. She and her mother had struggled on as the world imploded around them but a scant few months later her luck ran out. A drunk soldier had propositioned her, offering her money but Livija had told him to get lost. He had hit her in the face with the butt of his gun and when she came to her senses she was on her back behind a burnt out house. The vile man wasn't even done with her when he zipped his flies. He bound Livija with her own clothes and then loaded her onto his Jeep, just tossed her into the back like a sack of flour, to find herself surrounded by more men.

She had been their captive as they swaggered around occupying her country, forced to cook, clean and launder and serve them like a slave... in more ways than one. One of the guys took a shine to her, wasn't as cruel as the others. He even taught her how to shoot and how to fight with a knife or empty-handed. He only ever gave her a butterknife or a gun with one bullet and she knew if she tried anything stupid they'd ruin her. But he seemed to think that one day she would be released and need to defend herself.

WARNING: The following paragraph describes sadistic torture, gang-rape and murder.​

She had seen them turn on a girl before; beating her and taking her three or even more at a time. At the end, the guy she had originally attacked in a moment of abject terror and kicked in the balls put her on all fours and stuffed a beer bottle up her cunt. Her hoarse cry was pitiful and her puffy eyes were out of tears. He stuck his right foot into his steel toed boot and kicked her with all of his strength. The bottle vanished with the audible and unmistakable sound of glass shattering. He fucked her face, snarling abuse at her as she gagged hideously, suffocating and gradually bleeding out from her cunt. When she lost the strength to kneel he shoved her onto her back, squatting over her and slamming her her throat with every last ounce of his strength and stamina. Every time she passed out he withdrew and backhanded her until she stirred. When she was purple faced and bug eyed, he stood over her, roaring aloud and spraying ropes of cum all over her. He stood there and admired his handiwork, holding his softening, blood smeared cock. Possibly the last thing the girl ever experienced on this Earth was the sound of his sated groan as a dark and pungent stream of piss arced down onto her. Golden bubbles foamed from her mouth and then her chest stopped moving. Livija had witnessed it all from the kitchen, staying still and silent so nobody would grab hold of her amid the raging bloodlust.

After a year of captivity the soldiers announced they were going back to Russia and Livija had been praying that they would leave her behind. Unknown to her, Latvia was flexing its muscles as a newly independent nation, rounding up Russian forces and trying the nastiest men for war crimes. Nikolajs, the man who had been kindest to her, called Livija into his room. Flooding with hope that he would make sure she got away when they left, she went eagerly. He shut the door and faced her, blocking her exit.

"I'm sorry Liv." He said with quiet resignation. "We're not leaving any loose ends behind us." He raised his pistol and aimed it at her forehead. "I couldn't let it be anyone else, had to make sure this was done right."

Livija swung her elbow upwards and struck his wrist, sending the gun flying across the room. In the scuffle that followed, she knocked him off balance and he went crashing into the wall, falling to the floor unconscious with his head at an improbable angle. Livija grabbed the silencer-equipped, semi-automatic handgun. It had a full clip.

They were expecting to hear a gunshot.

She stood over Nikolajs, gripping the gun with both hands, braced her shoulders and fired at his broad chest. The kickback from the weapon caused her to blow his head off instead, which was messier and noisier. She grabbed Nikolajs' heavy coat, pulling it on over the stockings and ripped babydoll that comprised her wardrobe. Livija shoved her feet into his huge boots and stomped to the door. They were expecting Nikolajs, she would catch them off guard.

Livija was on the stairs when she encountered the first guy, who didn't immediately spot her because he was dragging his pack along the hallway. He unlocked the front door. And then saw her there. Livija blasted him in the chest and then the head to shut him up. Then she bolted through the door and ran as fast as she could in the huge boots she was wearing.

Her mother had vanished. Her home stood empty and had been ransacked. Livija changed her clothes and salvaged a few things but there was no money. A beautiful and friendless teenager, it was a matter of hours before night fell and a pimp scooped her up. She was locked away in a whore house, addicted to crack. After some months she was traded across the border into Belarus, where she fell into the hands of an enterprising Latvian gangster by the name of Andris.

It was unfortunate given the abuse she had suffered during her short life but Andris swiftly surmised that Livija was naturally sexually masochistic. The only time he ever saw her genuinely aroused was when she was being hurt and degraded. Quite deliciously, Livija's own responses to abusive treatment tortured her more than the abuse itself. Andris put the word out that she was an acquired taste, renting her out to the more discerning of his clientèle. Andris was attracting a better class of punter these days, high ranking military and affluent gangsters taking full advantage of Russia's crippled economy. Any thug could smack a woman around and call her a bitch but it took a special kind of twisted to crawl inside the head of a creature already so pitiful and start kicking things around until she despised herself more than she loathed you. Add to that her reactions to physical pain and little Livija became a rare treat. In another lifetime Andris would have kept her for himself but he wasn't the kind of man to do more than sample his wares and he was already breaking in a blonde Ukrainian with stunningly fuckable tits. Skinny brunettes like Livija with hard little apple sized bee-stings just weren't to his taste.

When Dmitry breezed into town and started using his girls, Andris knew at once that he would enjoy Livija's company. Dmitry had plenty of cash and splashed it around enough for Andris to turn a blind eye to the condition some of his stock returned in. When he talked the guy into hiring Livija, Dmitry paid up front for the whole overnight.

Andris never saw Livija again. He sent men to track her down but was soon dissuaded from pursuing Dmitry by the intel they came back with.

Dmitry had dragged Livija around for the couple of weeks he was in the area and then ditched her in the ER after she ticked him off. Livija hit the streets as soon as possible to feed her crack addiction and managed to stay freelance, getting a tiny apartment, downgrading to regular cocaine and walking a busy corner. Her looks got her noticed and soon she was circulating among those making a killing in these troubled times. She spoke Latvian and Russian fluently, along with some Lithuanian, Estonian, Ukrainian and Polish. Livija started playing people off against one another, trading information and contacts along with her body. She became a social chameleon, able to walk into the most exclusive party or march into the seediest bar without batting an eyelid or looking out of place. It was only a matter of time before she became a courier and then an assassin. Who would suspect a skinny little whore like her?

When Dmitry came back into town and their paths crossed, there was an energy between them. Livija had never allowed anyone to abuse her since she had been dumped in that ER. She had closed her mind to the disturbing fact that she was masochistic and had even convinced herself that she truly preferred sensual sex. When Dmitry stood over her once more, smirking, like he could see straight through her gut to the heat pooling in her groin, Livija's emotional house of cards collapsed. She wanted him as she had never wanted a man in her life. In that moment her guard fell away and she knew with a sudden rush of shocked self reproach that her desire was written all over her face, blazing in her eyes, the arch of her back and the barely suppressed urge to bite her lip.

Dmitry had been shocked and amused that she wanted him but he was a man who took his luck where he found it and made his own when he had to. Livija had been with a Ukrainian arms dealer that night but that didn't stop Dmitry from cornering her in the restroom. He bent her over the counter-top, yanked her into a painful arch by her hair and savagely pounded her cunt until his cock damn near snapped from the convulsive force of her orgasm. He silenced her with his huge hand, stopping her breath until he had fucked his way through her climax and reached his own. Dmitry released her when he was done, just pulled out, zipped up and left without so much as meeting her eye in the mirror. Livija had had to put her face back together and then claim her prolonged absence was due to an upset stomach. The rest of the night Dmitry was distant, treating her like a new acquaintance and nothing more. Worse than that, Dmitry took a shine to a buxom Polish girl with dark blonde hair and ice blue eyes. It took everything Livija had to stay with her client for the night and not run out into the street after Dmitry when he left with the slut.

Now Dmitry called her whenever he was around and every time Livija dropped whoever else she was doing. She was an asset to him now, with valuable contacts, a sharp mind and the total inability to refuse him anything... except when she wanted him to take it anyway. Livija didn't even like Dmitry as a person but she found him compelling. The man was a card carrying sociopath. His cold detachment, cruel mockery and shameless exploitation of her genuine desire for him made her aggravatingly weak at the knees. Livija tried to act like he was just another john but they both knew better. Dmitry knew damn well he was the only man who could beat, abuse and degrade her and still have her take his calls the next time he showed up. There was literally no other woman in his world who would take the things he did to Livija, however much she bitched and screamed at the time. It wasn't in his nature to care about her enjoyment or lack thereof and there were plenty of ways he could ensure she got nothing out of a fuck if he didn't want her to. But the cold fact of the matter was that he had maintained an acquaintance with her when few other women ever saw him twice.

So as usual, just when Livija had given up all hope of seeing him ever again...

"Midnight. Be ready."

Livija felt the jolt down her spine as his voice rumbled into her ear. She smiled... then forced her face into a neutral expression before she spoke, knowing he would hear the smile otherwise.

"Da." Livija ended the call.

In half an hour she had cleared the next week. She showered and shaved herself, washing her long dark hair. Livija leaned against the cubicle and aimed the water at her clit, strumming it until she bucked and came, mercifully before the hot water ran out. She ate a light meal, did a couple lines, sipped some vodka. Livija pulled on some lingerie in red satin, the kind of delicate scrap of nothing that Dmitry loved to rip from her tiny 5 foot frame. She wore black stockings, a black top, denim shorts and some all-weather wedge-heeled boots. When he arrived she was outside her apartment smoking a cigarette.

Livija was totally ambivalent about her feelings for Dmitry. She hated herself for wanting him and sat there wondering as she always did why the hell she still saw this guy when he was such an utter fucking bastard. Livija stared out the windscreen as they made their way out of the city. He never stayed at the same place twice and always somewhere on the outskirts of the town, where there was no police presence.

“Let’s go. We have a room.”

She flinched as the door slammed and then got out. Dmitry was not a man to be kept waiting. She hurried in the wake of his long stride and then cast an underwhelmed eye over the hotel room. Not for any other man would she stay in such a flea pit these days.

“Get in here,” he barked. “And shut the fucking door.”

She moved past him and sat on the edge of the bed, flipping on the heater. What did he want her for this time? It was never just sex. Livija drew a small vodka bottle from her coat pocket and took a swig, offering it to him. It was the most she had communicated with Dmitry since he had picked her up.

Dmitry walked by Livija as she crossed to turn on the heater. Slamming the door behind them and turning two of the locks, applying a weak chain for the last he heard the hum of the heater as he turned to face the room again. It wasn’t much but it was home. It didn’t matter if he’d never been here but he knew the place well. A warm soothing comfort ran through him like homemade vodka.

“Remove your clothes,” he stated blandly as he swung the bathroom door wide open, its hinges crying for attention. Flipping on the light it flickered its brightness until something clicked and its dim bulb remained constant. In the split mirror above the sink he turned on the water, cupping a hand underneath the faucet before bringing it to his lips. Sucking it in he splashed the liquid around his teeth before spitting into the sink.

Turning slightly, Dmitry pulled down his zipper and took out his cock. After their long drive a piss was a warm welcome. And the toilet had been so beaten it lacked a cover and had never known a seat. As he came to his end he pulled his dick back into his pants before hitting the light as he left the tiny, compact room.

There was another reason he had brought her but he wasn’t going to get into all that yet. For now he wanted something a little more enticing, “Get over here and show me why I brought you along.”

Livija arched her back and lifted her top off, casting it aside. Gooseflesh flashed across her exposed pale skin and her nipples were hard enough in the cold of the room to be aching already. Her cunt flooded with heat as she wriggled out of her denim hotpants, slowly enough to put some sex into the action but fast enough not to try his non-existent patience. She left her lingerie on, black stockings tapering down into her boots. She didn't remove the boots either as they made her taller and gave her slim calves the kind of tilt that brought out the predator in a man like Dmitry.

From a pocket of her shorts Livija retrieved a few grams of cocaine. She would need more soon not to become irritable and achy and she knew Dmitry might well be in a mood to partake. Some men couldn't get an erection on coke but Dmitry just got feral. Livija loved the way that a hit big enough to get her high made her hypersensitive and ultrahorny, bringing out a depravity in her that had even gave Dmitry pause once or twice. The hypersensitivity somehow made pain more acute and raw, whilst increasing her tolerance to his abuse many times over. It was the thing she loved most about the drug, that and its ability to numb and (bizarrely) sensitize her asshole when blown up her ass by a cooperative lover, doubling her ability to take the kind of anal rape Dmitry was fond of.

Livija crossed the room, sashaying with practised ruthlessness, looking up at him through black lined, lust glazed eyes. She was skinny and underweight still but with a sinewy strength that could make her quite the handful. She kissed Dmitry full on the lips, moaning against his tongue as he instantly took command and invaded her mouth, the tang of residual cocaine on her gums slightly bitter to his tastebuds. Livija knew not to push her luck when it came to intimacy like this. She broke the kiss reluctantly, nipping at his lower lip to fire him up.

Livija knew exactly what Dmitry meant with his question. He sank slowly to her knees at his feet, attacking one of his nipples through his shirt on the way down, her eyes mentally undressing his muscled torso and the dark curls that tapered from his belly to his cock. She unbottoned his jeans with scarlet painted nails and caught the zipper between her teeth. Her arms went behind her and locked, gripping her own elbows to prevent herself from fighting him once he got going, though that could be fun too. Her lingerie clad curves writhed at his feet as she put her whole body into tugging down his zipper by agonising millimetres till his flies were open.

Livija paused for one self-indulgent second to inhale the musky scent of him emanating from his shorts and only slightly marred by his recent piss. She pressed her face into his crotch and sought out his shaft, gently manoeuvring it with her lips and nose till it sprang free. Liv ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft and flickered it across his cockhead, a rare unfeigned moan falling from her red glossed lips. Despite the way he treated her, Dmitry never made her feel like the whore she was. She became nothing more than his lapdog, the bitch he kicked when it suited him and petted when he wanted to give it false hope. Everything else always fell completely away.

Her lips engulfed his shaft and she sucked it deep, sliding her head down it till his cockhead nudged her throat. Her gag reflex had long since been annihilated so there was no reluctance in this action, no retching or gagging. She was goading him, gripping her arms behind her back in readiness for when he took her throat and claimed her again.

He was going to take her and beat her and fuck her again and she couldn't live without it. A couple of lines on top of that and she'd be in nirvana, whether he made her cum or not.

The girl had tested his patience with the time she took to cross the room but before he threw her on the floor she planted a kiss on her lips. At once his hands gripped her frail arms, pinning them to her sides as he tested the strength of the kiss. Inevitably she broke away and sunk down. It hadn’t been long and already the bitch was on her knees. Her arms locked behind her back and his silent approval only came by the fact that he didn’t swipe her across the face with the back of his hand. Not that such an attack had been yanked off the table.

Dmitry’s eyes burrowed into the top of her head as he watched her bobbing for cock with the aid of her lips and nose. No doubt the scent of old sex and lust permeated what she had released and he’d be lying if he said he’d forgotten about whatever Belorussian bitch he nailed the night before. Aside from the Marry A Foreigner factories that had sprouted up, leaving Lukashenko’s cold shadow was nearly impossible for those girls. Who was Dmitry to turn down a wanting woman when in need of a warm night, willing to give almost anything for it?

As she suckled, bringing him deeper and deeper into her throat he moved a hand on top of her head, gripping her filthy black hair. Dmitry’s fingers clutched a clump of hair all at once, yanking her hard at the root while his hips slammed forward, shoving his cock deliberately and harshly into the hole in her face. He held her there for a few moments before he spread his legs a little wider, shoved his cock a littler deeper, and brought up his other hand to collect another tuft of hair on the other side of her head.

Then as though a pistol’s trigger was pulled, Dmitry’s lust seemed to come alive. Back and forth his hips abused her beautiful little fucked face. At the same time his hands holding her hair pulled her closer to his waist, forcing his cock down her throat with the ruthlessness with which he’d been associated. There wasn’t any give. The only respite allowed were the moments when he cleared his cock to the tip of her tongue before he drove back in, testing the endurance of her throat and the strength of the handfuls of hair he held. There wasn’t an ounce of attention given to the pain he’d be causing her throat or to the fact that she even had a neck. In that moment she was nothing more than a face that needed to be fucked and her head was the only requirement. Damn everything else.

The time that passed was like nothing for Dmitry before he finally slowed. But he wasn’t done with her. He’d hardly begun. Relaxing his hold of her hair he permitted gravity to resume control, marred only by the sweat from his palms. Dmitry held his cock in her mouth a few seconds longer before sliding it, letting her tongue taste every inch of its removal.

“What the fuck is this?” Dmitry glared at last as he reached forward, grabbing the strip of lingerie hiding her left breast. With a sharp tug he tore it free, letting her tit hang out while the other was still constrained by strands of whatever the hell cheap material someone used.

“Get out of that shit,” he ordered as he grabbed her by the hair once more, tossing her with incredible force onto the bed. “Then put your ass end up in the air.”

With a technique honed over the miserable years of her life thus far, Livija snatched minute fractions of breaths through her nose. Her chest strained as her face reddened and then purpled. The air she did manage to inhale only delayed the inevitable, there was no way to endure this for long without fainting and who the hell knew what this bastard would be doing to her by the time she regained consciousness. Adrenaline sang in her veins as he ravaged her tight throat, Dmitry's considerable length and girth pistoning in and out of Livija with the most obscene sounds issuing from her as thick saliva bubbled around his swollen cockhead. She got light headed with oxygen deprivation, shuddering violently as the world swam. Nothing existed in Livija's universe but the bone hard cock abusing her face and the two fists yanking her onto every vicious thrust. Her fingernails gouged deep scratches into her forearms, focusing the shreds of her conscious mind.

If she slipped too close to the abyss she would get careless. Allowing Dmitry's livid shaft to graze her teeth would be an act of superlative and ultimately fatal masochism. Once before he had threatened to punch any offending teeth out of her skull and it had been weeks before she could work again.

In retrospect, belligerently offering him her grandmother's phone number had been less than wise.

Livija's lips curved upwards in a crazily broad grin at the memory, dizzily light headed now. Her head began to feel heavier, her back arched and her eyes rolled up. Dmitry pulled back enough to allow her another tiny breath and she mentally backhanded herself.

Focus

Livija knelt there, her upper body completely pliable, rocking backwards and forwards at Dmitry's urging. Her hard nipples grazed his thighs through the flimsy lingerie and gripping her elbows kept her back straight. The raw burn in her throat was punctuated by milder pains in her scalp and neck. Her chest ached and burned as she slowly suffocated for him, her fevered, coke fuelled heart pumping hot blood rapidly around her throat, chest and cunt so that they all throbbed in unison, till she felt like she must be visibly and audibly thrumming.

It had taken no small amount of time to groom Livija into the perfect victim. It takes a special and prolonged type of hopelessness to over-ride fundamental and intrinsic survival instincts like struggling, screaming or trying to flee. She would keep her body loose and malleable while it was ravaged to within an inch of her life. If she fainted it wouldn't be the first time and if she died... well so what? Livija genuinely didn't care, which was precisely what made her catnip to feral bastards like Dmitry.

He slowed his thrusts and she listened to him panting above her. Livija felt a pang of disappointment, as she always did at these times. When her life was hanging in the balance she never felt more alive. As soon as imminent danger had passed she returned to her usual state of near total apathy. She took the opportunity to haul air into her lungs, inhaling saliva and precum as she did so.

He pulled out slowly and then ripped her lingerie. Livija was well aware she'd been told to strip naked but the need to hear him snarl threats at her was just too acute right now. Knowing when he was being baited, Dmitry simply tossed her across the room onto the bed. Livija hastened to obey him now. Since he'd already ruined the garment she simply ripped it from herself, the flimsy synthetic material rending easily. She kicked off her boots for good measure and looked round to shoot him a glare as he stood there fully clothed but for his open zipper and watched her shiver.

Livija got on her hands and knees, arching her back deeply and lifting her tiny pale ass. Her moist cunt glistened and being way past any notion of modesty her legs were spread wide for him. Her cunt was shaved bald and above it her tiny asshole clenched in abject terror. Livija dropped her face into the bedcovers, to keep herself from looking round at him. She listened intently to his movements, her whole body tensed for whatever he inflicted on her next.

Dmitry allowed her no respite as she fumbled her way onto the bed, working to display herself for him. While she undressed, tossing her what remained of her clothes and boots off the bed, Dmitry took his time in removing his. Although the time she was undressed and poised for sex, with her ass in the air, Dmitry had only bothered to remove his shirt. There was no hurry in his demeanor. The man could have the bitch whenever he wanted. She’d do whatever he wanted. And for nothing. No, he’d let her lie there with her pussy pleading for something to pulverize her walls.

When he was through with his shirt he let it rest on the back of the only chair in the room followed by his undershirt, along with the gun he kept close to his heart. Shoes and socks came next, sliding underneath the table. Then came the belt which he laid upon the table, the clank of it’s metal against wood resounding within the mostly silent room as he dropped his pants, leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxers from an American company.

Without a word, Dmitry reached for the belt sitting on the table. Doubling it over itself he made it ready for whipping but kept its sounds silent. The first crack the walls heard was the one of leather on Livija’s ass. Welts lied in waiting as another crack came across the right side of her ass. Then he used the strength of his back hand, decorating her other ass check the same color of red. Dropping the belt momentarily he used the time to remove his boxers, tossing them on the bed next to her kees before picking up the strength of leather again.

Standing as naked as Livija was bare, Dmitry grabbed the belt once more. But this time there would be no grace from the leather. Instead his hand held the leather tip, refusing to double it over this time. Bringing back his arm and whipping it forward, the belt sang in the air, it’s buckle battering her awaiting, accepting ass. Two more swipes came with the buckle like rattlesnake kisses before the belt also lied next to her knees.

The mattress fell a little as Dmitry moved onto the bed. The exertion he put out from the whipping heightened his breathing but he was able to keep himself under control as he placed a hand between her legs.

“You’re fucking wet,” Dmitry declared obviously as he slapped her pussy with that same hand. With the other he reached for his boxers and roughly rubbed her between her legs. Dmitry harshly rubbed her between her legs, clearing any dampness from her thighs and legs. Then he removed himself from the bed, the mattress regaining some of the bounce it used to have as he grabbed the belt again.

Moving around to the front of her he dropped the belt near her face to grab her hair, yank it back, and shove the crotch of his boxers into her mouth. Mixed with his scent and what was gathered from her legs he was sure she’d get a taste of both as he disappeared back behind her.

The mattress accepted his weight as though it had never left. Placing one hand on her back he held her in place as his hips drove forward, his cock dove inside her with the deliberation he often delivered. But he didn’t withdraw from her so quickly. With his cock embedded inside her, Dmitry pressed his body forward, his hips flush against hers as his hands easily reached either end of the belt lying next to her face.

Dmitry drew either side of the belt so it’d match up against her face, against her mouth to keep the boxers where he had placed them. Though he wasn’t about to let go. Instead he held his grip, using the belt like a bit on a horse with the knowledge that she’d have no choice but to smell, to taste their combined scent as he applied more pressure on the back of her neck considering her position. In a sense, she was locked in place.

Then his hips drew back, ramming her hard. Long, slow, forceful fucking began. It was going to be a long night.

With anyone else, she'd be face down on the bed rolling her eyes, wondering what porn inspired cliché she was going to be expected to participate in. During those encounters she was all but numb, completely disconnected from what transpired. Her performance was so well honed that there were many men out there who truly believed that she fancied them, that she enjoyed sex with them, that they knew how to please her... that they were special.

Fucking deluded morons, every last one of them.

Charming the bills out of their wallets was child's play for the most part, some of them even bought her gifts that were worn for a short while and then pawned. At all times she was the one in control, the one giving them permission to fuck her, telling them what they were allowed to do and extorting more cash for extras like anal. Many of them had fantasies of submission. They paid her money to treat them like shit.

At all times, Livija had control and often she even dominated.

Which was why her encounters with Dmitry were truly cathartic.

Tonight her synapses jack-knifed and her nerves tingled, augmented in no small part by the drugs. The sound of his buckle unfastening and his zipper descending were enough to make her bite the bedclothes as fresh wetness battled against gravity in her upraised cunt.

Of course she heard him lift the belt. Livija waited, her ass clenching, her back arching yet deeper as a soft moan was lost in the bedclothes as she waited. By the time the first blow landed she was hypersensitive enough to have cum at a command from him - perversely, because he didn't give a fuck about her pleasure. Livija had long since given up trying to rationalise the paradoxes warring within her skull. With Dmitry she could simply embrace them for what they were and what they did to her.

She kept quiet as he whipped her but yelped quietly in surprise when the buckle bit into her pale asscheeks. Her ass dipped very swiftly but she had it up in place again by the time the next blow fell. Dmity slapped her pussy, wiping away the hot juice on her pussylips as though what he wanted to fuck was a bone dry cunt. Livija submitted obediently as he shoved the fragrant fabric into her mouth, musky with the scent and taste of him, overlaid by her own.

He held her down and she smiled just before his big cock slammed into her. Wetter than she usually was for sex, Livija only moaned softly at the pleasure of his intrusion. He pushed deep, leaning over her to snatch up the belt and wrap it over her mouth. Livija closed her eyes, loving the feeling of being helpless, unable to move or escape him.

He settled into a rhythm then, slow, powerful strokes that stoked a fire in her. Most men either pounded her half to death or tried to wring their moneysworth out of the encounter by being slow and gentle. Dmitry's hard thrusts and determined pace were exactly what she needed, filling and owning her cunt but pleasuring it too. Abetted as he was by gravity, Dmitry was punching her G spot with every thrust. Livija just moaned and lifted her ass even higher, utterly uncaring about the minor discomfort of the position.

Dmitry pulled back on the belt, hard, sure the belt was biting its way into the corners of her mouth. With every deep and powerful thrust he used it as a tool to help propel her pussy back onto his cock. As though he needed a prop with this worthless cunt. The bitch was a prostitute and here she was giving herself away for nothing, letting a demented fuck like Dmitry lay waste to something most women called private and hoped to protect. But not Livija. And Dmitry wasn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste.

Every thrust meant his total occupation of her body and he knew it. Every slap of flesh against flesh meant he’d taken her one more time, meant that she accepted her role in their demented relationship.

All at once he dropped the pretense of power the belt proclaimed as both his hands reached out, grabbing her hair and yanking it violently for a brief moment. As he continued to fuck her his fingers trailed through her hair and the few strands that had undoubtedly come loose. The lie of his gentle touch continued to run across her skin until his hands came to her waist. At once they clamped upon her skin like a vice as though he had an intent on keeping her still. As though she might want to soon escape.

With little more than a few seconds forethought, he pulled his cock from her, freeing it from her pussy. Looking down at his grown cock he glanced again over her back, her hair hiding her face from him.

As he leaned forward, his fingers tightening and his cock wedged in between the crack of her ass he spoke sharply, “How much does a whore like you charge to have her ass opened?”

Then his cock pulled back so slightly, never leaving her soft skin soon shoving the head of his shaft inside her ass. His fingers were sure to leave a line of unexplained bruises and their tightness only heightened as he continued his drive inside her. Whatever satisfaction she could steal from the moment didn’t matter, whether she was in pain, terror or pleasure. It was what he wanted. And in his frenzied search for lust how tightly he was holding her or the pain in her ass… it all came in second. If at all.