An occasionally true story
I was laying on the fur rug in front of the cavernous fireplace at Pyotr's house. Even though I am a vegan and an animal lover, I didn't have much choice when Peter decided to spice up his party by laying me on the dead bear skin he had brought with him from Russia and enjoying my little wet pussy in front of all of our friends.
All of the men and women smiled as I was completely dominated by Pyotr's mouth. Even his muscular tongue was intimidating as it slid though every fold and crevice of my exposed pussy. He is a large, imposing Russian, 6'10" and over 300 lbs of muscle, and I am a delicately built, 5'7" Indian pillow princess. I heard one woman mutter that this must be what it was like when Beauty had to submit to the Beast in the classic fairytale. Pyotr's hair is as black as mine, but his eyes are a deep blue. Apparently, we look beautiful, intertwined, my golden brown limbs twisted around his huge, paler body.
I wouldn't know, personally, I can never bear to look at the many photos and videos Pyotr takes of our encounters. He's very dominant and has made it clear that he believes he deserves to control access to my pussy. He takes my beauty as his due for his strength and wealth. All of our friends acknowledge Pyotr as the alpha male of our group, and agree that he would probably make the best marriage for me because of his money. But Pyotr frightens me.
Pyotr is a very stern taskmaster whenever he is disciplining me, and I don't know if I could be happy as his submissive princess for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, as with most things in our friends group, nobody actually cares very much about my opinion. Everyone thinks they know what is best for me, their beautiful little princess. I'm kind of sad to think that my life of naughty, relatively innocent fun with all of my friends is coming to an end.
I'm also frightened of Pyotr's dick. It is easily 10 inches long and seems to be as thick as my wrist. I've never touched it, but it looks rock hard. When Pyotr enjoys me, he usually has one of his other women there to take his huge dick in one of their holes while he enjoys my beautiful body with his mouth. My virginity is important to Pyotr and he's worried that one of our other friends will lose control and take it before he can take it himself. I don't know how we will fit together, but I have seen Pyotr use a special set of dildos that he had made to gradually widen the hole he plans to fuck. I'm scared of him putting those dildos in me, let alone his massive erection.
I never thought I would marry a hunter. I had hoped that one day I could find a partner who is vegan like me. I adore animals and Pyotr's house is decorated with the heads of all the animals that he's killed for sport. Their dead eyes watch impassively as I desperately hump Pyotr's coarse black facial hair, careful to gyrate my lush hips and moan as sexily possible for his cameras. It's one of his many kinks, to maintain kompromat on all of the people whom he enjoys sexually.
I didn't know about it during our first encounter, but after he showed me the dirty pictures and videos that he had taken of me from the first time, it became clear that he owned me. If he were to release his videos, my professional career would be ruined. I tried to talk to some of our friends about it, but they just said that they thought I was wasted in corporate America anyway, and that I was always destined to be a rich man's wife by virtue of my beauty. Sadly, I concluded that they knew Pyotr would record me, and they sent me over to his house anyway.
They bartered me to him, just to acquire a wealthy new friend for their sex parties. My friends assured me that this is what they had been training my beautiful little pussy for all along, and why they had so diligently guarded my virginity. They knew an oligarch like Pyotr would not want a wife who had had dozens of dicks up her twat. He deserves a gorgeous, submissive wife with a grade-A pussy.
Distracted by my thoughts, I hardly noticed when I finally came and produced my honey for Pyotr's greedy mouth, as he likes to refer to my pussy juice. He enjoys teasing me, pretending to be a big Russian bear raiding the honey pot between my legs. Pyotr is 20 years older than me and often insists that I refer to him as "Uncle Pyotr" during our encounters. He has "tea parties" with me that end up turning into extremely perverted, daddy incest sex sessions. I have to dress in innocent, virginal little white dresses and frilly panties, and then end up being spanked on a bed full of stuffed animals and licked by my "Uncle Peter" for some innocent transgression. This is just one of the many reasons why I am hesitant to marry him, despite his money.
"Her training has been somewhat lacking." his deep, accented voice rumbled. I looked up at Pyotr, surprised. My mentors are proud of themselves for the thoroughness of their training, especially since they were so careful to avoid damaging the "merchandise," my beautiful virgin pussy.
"How so?" asked one of the accountants in the group anxiously.
"While she is so well trained that she automatically opens her legs for any man who wants a taste of her pussy, I have yet to see her offer her sweet little honeypot to any of our female guests, and that is rude. The little whore should know that everyone in the house has access to her pussy whenever they are hungry for her cookie."
"My little princess should know that she is only permitted to wear panties so that she has favors to give away to her many admirers." Pyotr concluded earnestly.
He beckoned to his housekeeper, an elderly woman with heavy jowls and steel grey hair. She was dressed in a dowdy black dress and matronly buckled shoes. She sidled over, her bespectacled eyes traveling up and down my voluptuous body.
"Mrs. Zagorina," Pyotr addressed the stolid Russian woman in English, "I have caught you sniffing our little princess's panties more than once while collecting the laundry. Am I correct to surmise you are as enamored of her gorgeous little pussy as any man here?" He queried with mock solemnity.
Ducking her head in embarrassment, the old woman nodded sheepishly. She started openly gawking at my moist, exposed pussy lips, a lifetime of longing contained in her expression. I guessed that Mrs. Zagorina had been a closet lesbian her whole life in Russia, and it was probably no mistake that she had joined Pyotr's sybaritic household in her old age. Especially if she were a panty-sniffer.
I looked at Pyotr, slightly dazed. Was I really going to have sex with this sweet old lady in front of everyone? Did she really want to partake of my exploited pussy right after the master of the household? In front of everyone?
