my moonsong and my breath

For Tatiana, this was bliss. All she ever wanted was time to spend with her big man, and the fact that she was currently being given it in spades meant that she was quite the happy little bunny. Having been whisked away from the only home she had ever known and losing all contact with the only family she had left, Alex was all she had, and Tatiana didn’t view him as her captor, or anything of the sort at all; no, he was her hero, and she truly believed that she wouldn’t be able to live without him. She loved pleasing him, and doting on him, and doing absolutely everything she could to earn his approval, and right now was no different; making fresh blinchki for him after spending an hour upstairs in bed taking his cock and his cum was nothing short of a perfect evening for the young girl. And…he was talking to her, too - Alex very rarely opened up to her about anything, and so Tatiana couldn’t help but listen eagerly and attentively as he spoke to her about his mother, a soft, glowing smile lighting up her heart-shaped face when he shared something so special with her. It might not have been much, especially considering how intimate they were with one another on a regular basis, but for a man like Alex - a man who shrouded himself in secrecy and kept the rest of the world at arms length - it was a miracle. Just the thought of him as a small child, picking out the raisins from his mother’s homemade bread and tossing them in his mouth to savor their rich sweetness, made Tatiana feel as if her heart was going to swell and burst; she loved Alex so much, and she wanted to know everything about him…even if it was something as trivial as his favorite foods.

Though - to be fair, food was rarely ever trivial to Tatiana.

“Shepards pie?” she cocked her head to the side curiously as she went about cracking one egg, and then another, into the creamy batter that she was preparing, before reaching for her whisk (the pretty pink one that she had asked for as a present) and stirring everything together thoroughly. “Tatia never being have that before, she not think - is good? Is, erm - how you say - like kulebyaka?” she asked in reference to yet another one of her favorite childhood meals, a savory pie composed of flaky pastry wrapped around chicken, rice, and vegetables, and once she deemed that her batter was ready to go, she set it aside so that it could rest while she started to work on the whipped cream filling. “Maybe Tatia finding recipe for it so she can making it for Shura bear! And - soda bread, too! Tatia much good at baking bread,” she said with a shy little smile as she reached for another bowl; it was true that, while there might not have been too many tasks that she was skilled at, she was quite the little expert when it came to all things baking.

Once again without measuring, she poured in about half a carton of heavy cream into her mixing bowl, quickly followed by a few handfuls of sugar - more, to compensate for how tiny her palms were - before reaching for another whisk so that she could do even more mixing. “This going get little bit messy, daddy,” she said with a sheepish little smile as she looked up at Alex; the only way she had ever known how to whip cream was by hand, and while it was a of effort - especially given how petite and dainty she was - it was what her big man wanted, and she would never, ever disobey him. Drawing in a deep breath to prepare herself, she held the bottom of the bowl with one hand and used the other to grip onto the whisk and dip it into the cream and sugar, and began to furiously whip it all together.

“Eep!” she squeaked as droplets of cream splattered out of the bowl, getting on both herself and the counter, and she let out a breathy laugh as she continued to whisk nevertheless, not at all deterred. “Da, da - Tatia being wish she having muscles like Shura so not being take as long!”

Being with Tatiana had taken Alexander for quite the unexpected turn. What had started out as bribery and the upper hand in a relationship with the Russians had turned into so much more. She was only ever meant to be a toy and a pawn in Alexander’s never ending mind games. She was never supposed to mean anything on an emotional level; just a fuck and a grand “fuck you” to her brother and the entirety of the Russian mafia. And Alex tried (in vain, mind you) to continue to tell himself that that’s all she remained to him; a good lay, an eager pet, and nothing more. Words were easier when one didn’t have to worry about bearing weight with them, however; every time he reminded himself of his supposed lack of emotional attachment to the tiny blonde scampering around his kitchen like an energized bunny rabbit, he felt his heart thud painfully in contradiction.

He cared. Bottom line. And it was turning out to be a lot stickier and more trouble than it was worth, honestly. How in the fuck did people regularly live and deal with so many emotions inside of them at any given time? It was disgusting.

“Shepherd’s pie is probably a lot different than anything you’re used to,” Alexander commented disdainfully, wrinkling his nose in displeasure at the thought of the cabbage stew or whatever the fuck it was Russians ate with their food. Did they just pour vodka directly into everything they consumed and ate whatever vegetables grew directly out of the ground, or was there a method to their madness? Not that, technically speaking, Alex had much room to talk; the Irish were known for incorporating potatoes and meat into almost every dish…

But it was different.

“Imagine all of your favorite entrees mixed together, and that’s what a good shepherd’s pie can do for you,” Alex tried to explain, oddly mesmerized by the way Tatiana baked. It was hypnotizing, the way she somehow just knew how much to put in and when. She reminded him of his mother, in that sense; Genevieve Barrett had been a natural cook herself, never needing a recipe or cookbook to guide her along on both her most classic and innovative homemade meals. It made him miss his mother with a deep, longing ache in the pit of his stomach; a yearning that had been muted for years now. Tatiana did that unfailingly, much to Alexander’s chagrin; brought out the memories and emotions that he preferred to keep tucked away in an iron lock box for safe keeping. She forced him to confront memories that were long since dormant in the back of his mind, and the worst part was…she didn’t even realize the effect she had on his thoughts and feelings. She had no idea the power she held over him.

“A little messy is just how I like it–and you, for that matter,” came Alexander’s cheeky reply, followed by a laugh as the cream Tatiana was whipping up for the blinchkis splattered all over the counter and herself. She seemed shocked and beside herself by the mess she’d created, so Alexander–finding the expression on her face to be priceless, honestly–stuck his hand in the bag of flour and withdrew a small handful.

Not that their time together would ever run out, of course - this was her home, and she belonged to him. 

Tatiana had just managed to whip the cream into stiff, fluffy peaks, making a mess all the while, when very slyly, Alex was slipping one of his big, strong hands into the bag of flour, and deftly flicking some of it at her face. Instantly, Tatiana squeaked in shock, her eyes widening owlishly as the powdery white baking substance spread itself all across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheeks. “O - oh, big man!” she sputtered indignantly, shaking her head from side to side in a ridiculous attempt to dust off the excess flour; all she succeeded in doing was getting it all in her bouncy blonde curls as well. For a moment she pouted, an endearingly-unkempt puppy of a seventeen year old girl, but when she looked up at Alexander finally, and saw the flour smeared into his dark, full beard, she couldn’t help but giggle before very quickly developing a plot for revenge. She had always been playful and mischievous at heart, and it showed on her sweet, heart-shaped face that shone with all the unguarded responsiveness of a child. And now, she would come forth with payback.

 “Ooooh - Shura bear not being know what come for him!” With a delighted little laugh, Tatiana wasted no time in climbing up onto the counter-top (using her little ladybug stool that Ronan and Declan had gifted her with for leverage), and in nothing but the over-sized shirt of Alex’s that she had borrowed after their earlier romp, she clambered over towards the edge of the marble counter where he was seated, scooting her pert little ass forward and - well - tossing her creamy, bare legs up and over his shoulders so that he was securely trapped. With her knees balanced on either side of his head and her backside rather unsteadily perched on the counter, she squeaked once more as she reached for the whisk that she had been using to whip the cream, and once she had finally grasped it - painted-pink toes wiggling with excitement all the while - she let out a triumphant little cry as she settled into her precarious position once more. Almost all of her was on display at this point; her stolen shirt had ridden up entirely to expose the lacy crotch of her panties, and just barely hidden behind that was her soft, small, pink pussy.

a flashback thread — @tanechkax

Although Tatiana very, very obviously enjoyed every single ounce of time she was allotted to spend with Alexander, it was moments like these, as few and far between as they were, that she treasured just as much as she did their romps between the sheets. Alex was an incredibly busy man, after all, and while Tatiana would very eagerly and obediently make herself readily available to him at the drop of a hat, there was something so special about being given an entire evening with him like this. Not only had he taken his time with her upstairs in his bedroom, but now he was allowing her to prepare a meal for him, something that Tatiana looked forward to just as much as when he was ordering her to her knees so that she could worship his cock. She wanted to be such a good girl for him; after all, he was her savior, wasn’t he? He had rescued her from the man who had kidnapped her so cruelly, and he had given her not just a home, but a heart to love and treasure and hold as her own - how could she ever repay him for that?

She couldn’t help but giggle when he commented about giving her some cream that she would remember; even now she could still feel him between her thighs, the imprint he had left on her making itself known in the warm, full happiness of her tummy and the bruises beginning to develop on her delicate hips. She wiggled her ass playfully from side to side as she tottered on top of the stool she had brought over for herself, only to be rewarded with a teasing little smack to one of the pert cheeks as Alex came up from behind her, clearly intent on providing her with assistance despite the fact that she had insisted it wasn’t needed. “Oh - eep! Shura bear!” she protested breathlessly, but he moved her out of the way easily, effortlessly, and without any trouble whatsoever brought down the flour and sugar that she had been reaching for so fruitlessly. “Big man being tall like tree,” she sighed, and when she turned to look over her shoulder at him so that she could stick out her tongue, she instead flushed with rosy heat when Alex tweaked at her little button nose and reassured her that, despite her tiny size, she was still very good at one thing: taking his cock however he liked.

“Do you know who else is being like leprechaun?” she began in her cheery, sing-song voice as she scampered down from her high-up perch, the bell on her collar still tinkling happily as she made her way over to the fridge. “Mister Owen! He being all freckles and friendliness and festivity, just like little green man on box of marshmallow cereal that Tatiana liking so much!” With a little giggle, she brought out both the milk and the cream from the fridge, as well as a bushel of fresh strawberries; her master had requested blinchki with whipped cream and preserves, and she would make for him just that. “Okay, okay - Tatia being get to work, da? And honey bear papa just sitting down relaxing!” she insisted with a chirping little peep of a sound, before bending at the waist to find a couple of bowls as well as the stand mixer, humming sweetly beneath her breath as she unconsciously wiggled and squirmed her pert ass from side to side, the supple curve of it that was still red from all of her owner’s spankings just barely hidden by her silky pajama shorts. 

“Tatia mama used to being make these every Sunday morning for baby Tatia and big brother Viktor,” she continued on with a wistful little smile as she went about heaping flour and sugar into her first bowl; she didn’t need to measure at all, not when the quantities were all but etched permanently into her mind. Cooking came naturally to Tatiana, especially when it was for someone she loved. “And I used to being cover mine in berry syrup, even when mama had already put so much, and then Tatia bouncing off of walls for entire day! And big brother even having climb up cherry tree one time to rescue me when cannot being get down,” she giggled, eyeballing the milk as she poured it into her flour mixture, a delighted little coo slipping past her rosy lips as the batter began to form. “Does Shura being have any recipes he liking as little baby?”

It was almost as if he could only show her affection under the light of the moon and in-between the shadows that spread across his sprawling estate. There was something decidedly intimate about sharing a meal with someone else, especially post-coitus, and Alexander tried not to put too much stock or thought into what was transpiring between himself and his little Russian doll, but it was damn near next to impossible. When Alex had first bartered for Tatiana and taken her in, he thought he’d stumbled upon a prize jewel he could use to flaunt and tease the Russians with…so when in the hell had it grown to mean so much more than that? This was no longer a simple scam or scheme to get Viktor Valentina to bend to Alexander’s will; it was so much more than that. She was so much more than that. A year ago, his only incentive to protect her would have been at the cost of what her value and worth was to his organization.

Now, though? Now, Alex was growing eerily certain he’d take a bullet for the tiny blonde without a second thought–and it wouldn’t be for the reasons he’d reasoned with so many months before.

This was getting complicated. Far too complicated.

“Tall like a tree–I think I can live with that comparison,” Alex mused thoughtfully, more to himself than to Tatiana, as he moved to stand behind her and her mountain of ingredients. They would surely make the kitchen a mess, and she would likely insist on cleaning it for him, but he had a staff who could do that for them both. Because as soon as they finished eating, he was going to spread her out on the kitchen counter like a buffet and eat her pussy like a four course meal. For now, though, he was strangely content to stand behind her, peering over her shoulder as she gathered together the ingredients and chattered aimlessly about one of Alex’s lower-ranking mob members; a quirky gentleman by the name of Owen Cavendish. Truthfully, Alexander hadn’t given much thought to what Owen resembled, and couldn’t help himself from rolling his eyes at the idea of Cavendish resembling the fucking leprechaun from the Lucky Charms cereal box. Of all the stereotypes…

Reluctantly, and with a quick kiss to her neck, Alex took up his spot across the counter from her, perched on a bar stool as Tatiana went about gathering bowls and cutlery for her baking process. Watching her in the kitchen was mesmerizing, and if Alex had all the time available in the world to him, he might be tempted to spend a good deal of it just watching Tatiana enter what he liked to refer to as “The Baking Zone”. She was a different person when she was cooking, like a butterfly erupting from its cocoon, and it was both fascinating and strangely heartwarming to watch. She seemed…happy. He blinked rapidly, startled out of his reverie, as Tatiana told him of the treats and sweets of her childhood; he didn’t know what to say in response, but then, he never did when Tatiana spoke of her past so fondly. What must it be like, feeling nostalgia and contentment so openly? Wearing your emotions on your sleeves, not caring they were vulnerable and achingly exposed to the world? Alex’s mouth grew bitter with the heart and his heart hammered a staccato as she turned the conversation towards him once more…as she inevitably always did.

His past. She always wanted to know about his past, whereas he liked to take his memories and tuck them away in a box in the core of his soul for safekeeping. 

Though - to be fair, food was rarely ever trivial to Tatiana.

"Shepards pie?" she cocked her head to the side curiously as she went about cracking one egg, and then another, into the creamy batter that she was preparing, before reaching for her whisk (the pretty pink one that she had asked for as a present) and stirring everything together thoroughly. "Tatia never being have that before, she not think - is good? Is, erm - how you say - like kulebyaka?" she asked in reference to yet another one of her favorite childhood meals, a savory pie composed of flaky pastry wrapped around chicken, rice, and vegetables, and once she deemed that her batter was ready to go, she set it aside so that it could rest while she started to work on the whipped cream filling. "Maybe Tatia finding recipe for it so she can making it for Shura bear! And - soda bread, too! Tatia much good at baking bread," she said with a shy little smile as she reached for another bowl; it was true that, while there might not have been too many tasks that she was skilled at, she was quite the little expert when it came to all things baking.

Once again without measuring, she poured in about half a carton of heavy cream into her mixing bowl, quickly followed by a few handfuls of sugar - more, to compensate for how tiny her palms were - before reaching for another whisk so that she could do even more mixing. "This going get little bit messy, daddy," she said with a sheepish little smile as she looked up at Alex; the only way she had ever known how to whip cream was by hand, and while it was a of effort - especially given how petite and dainty she was - it was what her big man wanted, and she would never, ever disobey him. Drawing in a deep breath to prepare herself, she held the bottom of the bowl with one hand and used the other to grip onto the whisk and dip it into the cream and sugar, and began to furiously whip it all together.

a flashback thread — @tanechkax

There was no feasible reason for Tatiana Valentina to be as happy as she was - after all, it had been almost a year since she had been forcibly kidnapped and stolen away from her home, and she had yet to be reunited with any vestiges of her family since then. Not only that, but she had been sold into sex slavery in the process, only to be shipped off as a commodity to settle her trafficker’s debt with the Irish mob, and it was through that exchange that she was taken to where she was now: the lavish estate belonging to none other than the Bronx Prince. Although she had been terrified beyond measure at first, especially given everything that she had gone through at the hands of her former captor, Tatiana had quickly found a home in the arms - and bed - of her new owner…Alexander Barrett had wasted no time in claiming her as his sweet and dutiful little pet, and Tatiana, as young and lost as she had been, hadn’t been able to stop herself from falling helplessly in love with him in the process. To her, he wasn’t her kidnapper, or a man holding her hostage - no, he was her Shura, her daddy, her honey bear whose initials were carved into the back of the custom-made collar around her delicate neck and might as well have been carved into her skin. 

As far as Tatiana was concerned, Alex was the sun, and she would die without him. 

Having spent the entire evening rolling around in bed with the much-older mob boss, it was past midnight when they finally reappeared from the master bedroom in favor of making their way downstairs into the kitchen. Tatiana was freshly-showered and squeaky clean, wearing her favorite pair of skimpy, silky pink pajamas and her bell collar to match, the latter of the two tinkling happily as she followed after Alex like an excited, eager little pup ready to play and take orders. It was agreed between the two of them that they were both starving - and how could they not be, honestly, after he had fucked her so thoroughly - and Tatiana wanted more than anything to prepare for him a midnight snack. It wasn’t often that she was able to spend time with Alex outside of his bedroom, and she was practically trembling as a result; all she wanted was to be a good girl for him, all she wanted was to be near him.

She waited patiently as her disgruntled big man rummaged through the cupboards in search of something already prepared for them to eat, her little baby hands clasped together excitedly in front of her tiny frame as she just barely resisted the urge to burst out with everything that she wanted to cook for him. There was nothing like a homemade meal, after all, and Tatiana didn’t like the idea of him eating something processed, or something out of a box…not when he deserved the very best, and definitely not when she was around. “Oh - blinchki! Shura bear being want Tatia blinchki!” Clapping her hands together happily, Tatiana’s sweet, heart-shaped face flushed with pleasure at the thought of one of her favorite childhood foods - light, delicate crepes filled with jam and cream that her mama had made so often for her and Viktor growing up. Thinking back on her elder brother - and her poor mama - caused Tatiana’s heart to clench with the same deep, aching pain that she felt whenever her former home was brought to mind, but she did her best to chase it away as soon as it came…her master was hungry, after all, and it was up to her to provide for him like the obedient House-Tatia she was.

“Tatia can being make those for you no problem, Shura! Here…you being sit down, okay? Shh, shhh, relax!” Hopping excitedly like the cheerful little bunny she was, she took hold of Alex’s big, calloused hands with one of her much smaller ones, and she led him over to one of the bar stools at the counter, urging him to remain seated as she doted on him so happily. “Tatia being much quick, okay? Just being need little bit flour, eggs, milk, jam, sugar, and - eep! Cream!” She let out a small squeak as she struggled to drag another chair over to the other side of the counter, and without even thinking to ask for help from her much-taller lover, she climbed up on top of it like a clambering koala bear, teetering unsteadily on her tiny feet as she reached high up towards the cupboard that held the flour. “Is - is all good, big man!”

Alexander wouldn’t say he had a best friend–not really, anyway. There was Raymond, his second-in-command and likely his closest confidant, but their relationship was decidedly unconventional, to say the least. And then there were Ronan and Declan, the trustworthy bodyguards who had served underneath and alongside Alexander for nearly as long as he’d been an extension of the Irish mafia. But with Tatiana–with her, everything was different. None of that sentimental bullshit poets wrote about, though; the sky didn’t glimmer with a brighter shade of blue, nor did the pollution and cacophony of sounds and aromas the city provided suddenly become sweet and intoxicating to him. Alexander was no fool; the world hadn’t changed simply because the people inside his own life had. But everywhere he went, he felt fire around him; the world was smoldering under the intensity of foreign feelings Alex hadn’t even realized himself capable of possessing, and if he were to be honest with himself…then he might admit how terrified that made him feel.

How terrified she made him feel, because she changed absolutely fucking everything about his life, whether or not he cared to admit it.

“Blinchki?” he responded, his tongue all but tripping over the strange conglomeration of letters. The Russian language was fucking weird. “Whatever they’re called, I like the ones you make with preserves and whipped cream. Strawberries or blueberries or whatever–just whatever we’ve got lyin’ around the place. Whaddya need for it?”

Alex was in the process of rummaging through the cupboards (particularly the ones too high for Tatiana to reach on her own) in search of some of the ingredients she’d likely need, but no sooner was he on the hunt for flour and sugar than the petite blonde was ushering him into a seat at the counter. Tatiana was very…particular about the amount of work Alexander was “allowed” to do whenever she was in the vicinity (i.e. none). It was as charming as it was baffling. Though Alexander was reluctant to admit it–even in the privacy of his own thoughts–he was surprised that Tatiana had grown to care for and look after him much like a lover would her husband. He was her brother’s mortal enemy, both by nature and design, but…none of that seemed to matter to her. She just–cared with the entirety of her heart, until her whole frame was vibrating with the need to please and satisfy those she cared for most.

She really was his little Russian doll, and Alexander’s heart clenched painfully every time he thought of the possibility of losing her. But she belonged to him now…and she always would. No one, not even her ridiculous fucking brother, could alter that.

“I could give you some cream worth remembering,” Alexander commented cheekily as Tatiana bustled to and fro in the kitchen, as excited and energetic as a bunny rabbit. The collar he’d gifted her with tinkled excitedly as she walked, and Alex had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and laughing at her easily excitable behavior. She seemed to be struggling to reach the ingredients on higher shelves (as he had predicted, naturally), and with a sigh Alexander stood, came behind her, smacked her rear playfully, and reached above her for the flour that was within his grasp but so, so far away from her own.

She couldn't help but giggle when he commented about giving her some cream that she would remember; even now she could still feel him between her thighs, the imprint he had left on her making itself known in the warm, full happiness of her tummy and the bruises beginning to develop on her delicate hips. She wiggled her ass playfully from side to side as she tottered on top of the stool she had brought over for herself, only to be rewarded with a teasing little smack to one of the pert cheeks as Alex came up from behind her, clearly intent on providing her with assistance despite the fact that she had insisted it wasn't needed. "Oh - eep! Shura bear!" she protested breathlessly, but he moved her out of the way easily, effortlessly, and without any trouble whatsoever brought down the flour and sugar that she had been reaching for so fruitlessly. "Big man being tall like tree," she sighed, and when she turned to look over her shoulder at him so that she could stick out her tongue, she instead flushed with rosy heat when Alex tweaked at her little button nose and reassured her that, despite her tiny size, she was still very good at one thing: taking his cock however he liked.

"Do you know who else is being like leprechaun?" she began in her cheery, sing-song voice as she scampered down from her high-up perch, the bell on her collar still tinkling happily as she made her way over to the fridge. "Mister Owen! He being all freckles and friendliness and festivity, just like little green man on box of marshmallow cereal that Tatiana liking so much!" With a little giggle, she brought out both the milk and the cream from the fridge, as well as a bushel of fresh strawberries; her master had requested blinchki with whipped cream and preserves, and she would make for him just that. "Okay, okay - Tatia being get to work, da? And honey bear papa just sitting down relaxing!" she insisted with a chirping little peep of a sound, before bending at the waist to find a couple of bowls as well as the stand mixer, humming sweetly beneath her breath as she unconsciously wiggled and squirmed her pert ass from side to side, the supple curve of it that was still red from all of her owner's spankings just barely hidden by her silky pajama shorts. 

a flashback thread — @tanechkax

Personal time was a concept that was wholly unaccounted for in Alexander’s life; though he lived a wealthy and comfortably glamorous lifestyle, it was entangled within the intricacies and general mess of the mafia, making it next to impossible for the Bronx Prince to do much anything of note that was entirely unconnected to his life as a crime boss. When he went out, whether it be for a drink or dancing or a baseball game, he would get wrapped up in the politics of his job. And while working as the leading crime boss for the American-organized Irish mafia was something Alexander had fought and clawed tooth and nail to deserve, it was unsettling to realize that so much of his life was mandated by what he did and who he was.

Sometimes, it made him lose sight of who he was. And in the dark of the night, when he was his most pensive and vulnerable, he found himself wondering if his mother would have been disappointed in him for that behavior and mindset.

But…he couldn’t think of his mother these days. He refused to, unless it pertained to wreaking havoc and revenge on the bastards who had ruined her.

So. Personal time was off limits (to a degree, he supposed). But fucking around with his little pet–the Russian princess, as he often referred to her as in the privacy of the bedroom–was something he had handfuls of time for. Exploring every fucking inch of her body after an exhausting meeting or in-between dealing with impossible people who tried to refuse his most basic commands and requests became a passion of Alexander’s; something he relished in the quiet spaces between the nausea-inducing headaches that had become his life. She was his light in the dark, whatever that meant; the one thing to keep him steady and afloat in a world that threatened to crash over him at any given moment.

So, realistically speaking, it shouldn’t have been that weird that the two of them had snuck down to the kitchens after fooling around for the purpose of getting post-coital food. Right? Except, he’d never done that with a woman before…he’d never been this intimate with someone before.

But it was just food, right? It didn’t mean anything–it didn’t mean anything when he looked on her and his gaze lingered for a moment or two too long; it didn’t mean anything when he fucked her and thought that he could get used to the view of her for the rest of his life. None of it meant anything…right?

As far as Tatiana was concerned, Alex was the sun, and she would die without him. 

Having spent the entire evening rolling around in bed with the much-older mob boss, it was past midnight when they finally reappeared from the master bedroom in favor of making their way downstairs into the kitchen. Tatiana was freshly-showered and squeaky clean, wearing her favorite pair of skimpy, silky pink pajamas and her bell collar to match, the latter of the two tinkling happily as she followed after Alex like an excited, eager little pup ready to play and take orders. It was agreed between the two of them that they were both starving - and how could they not be, honestly, after he had fucked her so thoroughly - and Tatiana wanted more than anything to prepare for him a midnight snack. It wasn't often that she was able to spend time with Alex outside of his bedroom, and she was practically trembling as a result; all she wanted was to be a good girl for him, all she wanted was to be near him.

She waited patiently as her disgruntled big man rummaged through the cupboards in search of something already prepared for them to eat, her little baby hands clasped together excitedly in front of her tiny frame as she just barely resisted the urge to burst out with everything that she wanted to cook for him. There was nothing like a homemade meal, after all, and Tatiana didn't like the idea of him eating something processed, or something out of a box...not when he deserved the very best, and definitely not when she was around. "Oh - blinchki! Shura bear being want Tatia blinchki!" Clapping her hands together happily, Tatiana's sweet, heart-shaped face flushed with pleasure at the thought of one of her favorite childhood foods - light, delicate crepes filled with jam and cream that her mama had made so often for her and Viktor growing up. Thinking back on her elder brother - and her poor mama - caused Tatiana's heart to clench with the same deep, aching pain that she felt whenever her former home was brought to mind, but she did her best to chase it away as soon as it came...her master was hungry, after all, and it was up to her to provide for him like the obedient House-Tatia she was.

Alexander didn’t know what tomorrow would hold–or even tonight, for that matter. He didn’t know how depraved or debauched this particular bout of sex would be, but if young Tatiana’s display at The Dollhouse and in the car on the ride to his suite had been anything to go by, then she was surely to be a hot, rough fuck he could go to extreme measures with. Her tight, nubile body was his for the taking, and as Alexander led them–fumbling and worked up–to his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind them locking out the world and its disruptive noise, he fully intended to take advantage of what young Tatiana was willing to give him. After all, Alexander–given his position in life and its corresponding luxuries–had gotten used to getting exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. And he didn’t think, given her reactions thus far, that Tatiana would be any different.

Her breathless, almost childlike comments about the size of the suite aside (though, Alexander had to admit, it was both humorous and endearing to have her ogle his temporary living accommodations with such wide, reverent eyes), Alexander could feel the hum of electric energy thrumming between them. Tatiana–the little bunny rabbit, as Alexander was want to call her–was as eager and restless for him to fuck her as he was, it would seem, which somehow only made Alexander crave her even more. To know someone was that fucking desperate for you–that willing to throw inhibition and all rational thought completely out the window, so long as they got you–was enough to drive him absolutely fucking crazy off the wall with desire.

“You’re quite a little slut, aren’t you?” Alexander asked, a hint of fondness lacing the undertone to his voice as Tatiana all but threw herself on top of him. She climbed him like a fucking tree, clearly as desperate to get to the part where they ripped their clothes off and got to fucking, and Alex had to say: he wholeheartedly agreed with her bodily instincts. She had taken to calling him “daddy”, per Alexander’s casual use of the title earlier, and he felt his lips curl back and his face erupt in a shit-eating grin in response. Oh, yes–this was definitely going to be a night to fucking remember. 

He shrugged out of his shirt as she began to frantically undo the buttons, grunting as the heavy strip of fabric floated to the ground between them. He picked Tatiana up with one hand, using the palm of his hand to support her pert ass, and moved briskly over to the bed, all but throwing the petite blonde onto his plush mattress as his hands fell to the clasp of his belt. His trousers fell to the floor in one fluid motion, and as Alexander kicked his shoes, socks, and underwear off, he stood proudly before the tiny blonde in all of his aroused glory. Tense, taut muscles strained in the moonlight that fell in slats through the window, illuminating Alexander’s smooth skin with the hue of honey and moonlight as he gripped his belt tightly in one hand.

“Naughty girl,” Alexander tsked, curling the leather belt in his hand. “Daddy gets to say when we fuck–not baby girl.” His voice was low and gruff; his cock jutting proudly between his legs as he snapped the leather of his belt against the palm of his hand once. Alexander felt his nostrils flare and a muscle in his jaw quiver and jump, the only signs of his barely suppressed arousal peeking through his otherwise stoic and stony exterior. He would play the part of the domineering daddy and see how his little bunny liked it; how she reacted to him asserting himself in the bedroom.

“Roll over,” he barked, whipping at one of her thighs lightly with the belt. “Daddy needs to give you a spanking for speaking out of turn.”

Tatiana didn’t think that she was going to be able to wait much longer; she felt as if Alexander had been teasing and taunting her ever since the moment he had approached her via one of her bodyguards and requested a lap dance, and that she could hardly stand another minute of feeling her pussy clench and clamp down so anxiously in search of a cock that just wasn’t there. She mewled and fussed in her daddy’s strong arms, and even as she squirmed up against him, he was able to hold her upright with ease - with only one big hand tucked snugly up against the full curve of her ass, he carried her towards the bed, unfettered  by the way she so desperately attempted to remove his shirt. “Daddy’s slut,” she whimpered in agreement when he spoke down to her in that low, terse voice of his, looking up at him with her big needy eyes as she all but pleaded for the stretching sensation of his dick splitting her open from the inside out. She wanted him buried so deeply within her hot little mouth of a cunt that she could feel him bulging in her creamy little tummy, she wanted to feel him pushing up against her womb and fucking her even still. She wanted anything that he was willing to provide her with, and in return, she would eagerly relinquish every ounce of control she claimed over her body so that she could give it to him instead. Tonight, he was her master - harsh, unrelenting, and effortlessly dominant.

Uncaring of the way his little fuckslut’s hips twisted and wiggled so helplessly in his arms in an attempt to get herself off by humping up against him, Alexander brought her over towards his luxurious-looking bed before throwing her onto it, causing the young blonde to let out a startled little squeak as her back landed onto the plush mattress. She arched her back with a little mew and spread her legs; wearing nothing but her soaked-through panties, she was a peaches and cream vision against his sheets, all rosy cheeks and small, bouncing breasts, and the look on her pretty, heart-shaped face seemed to convey come-fuck-me despite the innocence present in her wide, angelic blue eyes. However, something dark seemed to come over her daddy - there was a sort of fury in his movements as he began to undress for her, hot and unbridled, and by the time he was naked from head to toe, Tatiana was gifted with the sight of a muscular, chiseled man with a dick that was bigger than both of her fists stacked on top of one another, and...thicker, too. It was flushed and swollen with blood already, rock hard and shiny at the tip with pre-cum, and all Tatiana could think about was just how badly she wished she could crawl to him on her knees, perk her bunny tail up in the air, and deep-throat his cock like the good little baby bitch she was for him tonight. But - he was in charge, and he would be calling the shots.

And that was exactly what he did. Instead of fucking her as she so desperately desired, Alex took hold of the belt he had been wearing and looped it around his hand, giving it a harsh, cracking snap against his palm as he sneered down at the whore of a girl he had taken home with her. Tatiana’s eyes widened, then, and her breath caught in the back of her throat...he was going to whip her for being so needy, and the dark, sinister look in his eyes reminded the young girl that he wasn’t asking - he was demanding. “Y - yes, daddy, baby much sorry for being so disrespectful,” she whimpered shakily, each of her limbs quivering with both nerves and excitement as she hastened to roll over onto her tummy for him, and once her pert little ass was up in the air, she reached around with trembling hands to finally peel her soaked panties away from her sticky cunt, pulling them down to her knees so that the voluptuous swells of her creamy ass cheeks were fully on display, pale and unblemished and begging to be covered in welts.