A Burning Sensation

"Ahh! Hnngh! Agh! Ah!" Anastasia's moans and gasps filled the room. The air thrummed with the intensity of it.

He lay on the bed, arms wrapped around Psyke's neck, legs entwined with the man who was relentlessly thrusting into him. It had been over a week since Psyke had last used him this way, and he'd prepared himself meticulously when Sebastian announced Psyke's summons to the pleasure room.

"O-oh! Hmmp! A-ahh! Augh! Haugh!" he groaned, the sound loud in the confined space. Psyke's pace quickened, the length of him a searing presence deep inside, each thrust seeming to reach his stomach.

Anastasia, watching, felt a surge of happiness. The young man was paying attention to her again. This was why they'd extended their stay at the Romanov mansion, far beyond their superiors' orders.

But that happiness felt precarious. A newcomer had arrived, someone who seemed to have captured Psyke's attention.

"And it's that Amazona freak," Anastasia mused, her gaze following Psyke's as he looked towards Leonariz.

Leonariz's face was a mask of shock, confusion, and fear. She watched, utterly bewildered by the scene unfolding before her. The rhythmic grunts and cries, the raw intensity of it all—it was something she didn't understand. Each of Anastasia's cries startled her. She couldn't understand the words, the meaning behind the sounds, but the feeling… the feeling was overwhelming.

A strange heat bloomed in her body, a tightening in her chest, as if the air itself was being squeezed from her lungs. She couldn't comprehend this reaction, this visceral response to what she perceived as a strange, violent dance.

Their eyes met, and Leonariz quickly averted her gaze. She saw the fiery glint in his eyes, the subtle smile playing on his lips as he observed her reaction.

"HNNGH!"

Leonariz flinched at Anastasia's sharp cry. Psyke's movements were brutal, almost careless, as if Anastasia were nothing more than a piece of paper. A moment ago, she'd been lying on her back, arms around Psyke's neck; now, she was face down, her face buried in the pillows, clutching the sheets. Psyke knelt behind her, his hands gripping her waist, his rhythm relentless. His gaze, however, remained fixed on Leonariz, her hands still handcuffed to the metal frame of the bed.

Leonariz felt the heat intensify as she watched Psyke remove Anastasia's dress, continuing his assault on the woman beneath him. Then she saw it—a series of markings etched onto his chest and arms. She didn't understand their meaning, but they seemed to amplify the strange pull she felt towards him.

Leonariz looked away as Psyke bit his lip, his eyes closed, his movements deepening. The intensity of the moment, the raw power of it, sent a jolt through Leonariz; her heart pounded in her chest.

"Augh! Hah! Bystreye! Glubzhe! Trakhni menya tak sil'no, kak tol'ko mozhesh', my Lord!"

"Augh! Hah! Faster! Deeper! Fuck me as hard as you can, my Lord!" Anastasia's voice was a raw, desperate plea, her eyes rolled back in her head, her fingers digging into the crimson sheets.

Leonariz didn't fully comprehend Anastasia's actions. She understood the words, yet something about the woman's desperate cries and pleas didn't quite fit.

"Ah! HAUGHHH!" Anastasia's cry was long and drawn out, the sound of a second climax echoing through the room.

"Ti ékane?" ("What did he do?") Leonariz wondered in Greek, her mind reeling as she watched Anastasia's body go still.

Her gaze shifted to Psyke as he stood, leaving the bed. Leonariz stared at the thick, long member between his legs. It looked like a weapon, she thought, capable of inflicting pain and pleasure with equal brutality.

"Giatí ómos eínai kolliméno sto sóma tou? Den tha ítan pio éfkolo an ítan xechoristó kai évgaine éfkola ópote ypírche anastátosi?"

("But why is it attached to his body? Wouldn't it be easier if it were separate and could be easily removed when needed?") The question echoed in her mind.

A sharp crack broke through her thoughts, followed by Anastasia's protracted moan. Leonariz whipped her head around, her eyes widening at the sight.

Psyke held a thick rope, seemingly made of animal hide, long and with a handle at the end. He stood at the foot of the bed, the whip in one hand, a cigarette in the other. He exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze settling on Leonariz's frowning face. A slow smile spread across his lips as he turned his attention back to Anastasia.

"Chto ya dolzhen delat' s etim knutom?" ("What should I do with this whip?") Psyke asked Anastasia, his voice laced with mischief. Anastasia, bent over, her bottom raised, already bore the marks of the whip.

"P-pozhaluysta! Nakazhite etu svoyu neposlushnuyu gornichnuyu, milord!"

("P-please! Punish this naughty housemaid of yours, my Lord!") Anastasia's voice was breathless, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Augh!" Anastasia groaned again as the whip struck her flesh. Her body trembled, the impact sending her into another unexpected climax.

Another sharp blow. Another groan.

"Who told you to cum? Hmm?" Psyke said, his voice low, in English.

Leonariz felt the heat in her body intensify. Shock warred with a strange, unfamiliar excitement. She watched, mesmerized, as Psyke's muscular arm moved, the sweat glistening on his skin.

Fear, a cold knot in her stomach, warred with the strange, unfamiliar heat spreading through her body. Unconsciously, she shifted, the chains on her wrists clinking.

The sound made Psyke pause, his attention diverted from the pleasured woman beneath him. Psyke saw Leonariz's confused, fearful face, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared, captivated, at the scene before her. A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. He hadn't anticipated this reaction, and a thrill of anticipation ran through him. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that Leonariz was a masochist, just as she reacted to seeing someone being dominated in front of her.

A soft chuckle escaped Psyke's lips as he brought the whip down again, striking Anastasia's backside.

"Ohh!" Anastasia's moan was a long, drawn-out sound.

Psyke saw Leonariz flinch. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he formulated a plan—a plan to awaken the monster within both himself and the Amazon he now possessed. He approached Leonariz, removing the handcuffs from her wrists. Before she could react, he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the bed. With a violent heave, he threw her onto the bed.

Leonariz squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact. She felt the bed dip on either side, and opened her eyes to see Anastasia's head resting against her chest, her body draped across Leonariz's leg, like a tiger perched on its prey. Psyke knelt behind Anastasia, his eyes locked on Leonariz's.

"Smotret' izdaleka skuchno... vot tak vam tochno ponravitsya."

("It's boring watching from afar... you'll definitely enjoy it just like this.") Psyke's grin was predatory. He moved, and the length of him entered Anastasia. Leonariz stilled, a fire consuming her from the inside out.