I said, “You just got punished. The next time I punish you, I’m going to smack your thighs.” Svitlana closed her eyes at this, and said nothing. I’d go for more explcit consent shortly, but that would do for now.

I leaned down again so our bodies were touching and she had some of my weight on her, and kissed her. “You don’t want to be in control. But luckily, I do.” I trailed my snail-wet fingertips up along her fluttering stomach and between her breasts. “Yes?”

Svitlana nodded. She was starting to take this seriously. “Ublyudok, tak. Yes!”

I took it that “ublyudok” was uncomplimentary, but it was more important that she’d said yes. I said, “good girl.”

I held my fingers, wet with her arousal, to her mouth, and she opened obediently and licked them clean. I started to pull out but she bit very lightly. I stopped. Svitlana licked and sucked, though every molecule of her would be gone. Her head bobbed earnestly, and she held my wrist to stop me getting away.

She was showing that some skills are never lost, even after years of non-use. Her eyes gazed into mine, and I smiled back approval. But in her expression there was something like awe, not at me, I knew, but at the situation she’d found herself in and the emotions she’d found in herself. 

So we began. I said, “Roll onto your back.” That was easy, and Svitlana obeyed without hesitation. She probably didn’t have a qualm, either. I wanted qualms, so I said, “Now spread your legs.” She obeyed that too, relaxed and happy. I said, “I want you nice and open. Wider.” She obeyed, but for the first time there was a faint frown. I said, having thought of a properly uncomfortable word, “Gynaecologically open.”

The frown deepened, and Svitlana’s left leg, the one closer to me, moved microscopically closer to the right, further from me. She was trying to obey but ready to rebel. That balance made a good starting point.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, I was sure, she suspected that I’d punish her for that little movement. But I leaned over and kissed her. She kissed back, enthusiastically. I was still a good thing, and my affection was reassuring. The kiss held for a minute and then another, because we were enjoying ourselves. Svitlana had her hand in my hair when I broke the kiss and raised myself on one elbow so I could look down at her.

I stroked her cunt, fingertips very slowly strumming down her lips, and down again, and again, but not slipping inside her. I didn’t need to test if she was wet. Of course she was. I wanted her to want more, and not get it. Svitlana made a little desire sound, and her left leg moved back towards me, to where it should be.

I said, “Keep still!” She froze. It was probably the first time she’d heard the command voice in sex. Then I slipped two fingers inside her, to be wetly held. Svitlana rocked herself gently against my hand. I’d have to talk quickly or I’d lose her attention.

“Svitlana. Here’s what’s happening. You do exactly as you’re told. I give you orders, and you obey them. Do you understand?”

She was frowning and grinning at once. “I understand that’s what you want.”

“No. It’s what you want. You give up control, and I take it. Then I do things to you, and make you do things, that you don’t choose. My guess is that you’ll like that. A lot.”

“Mm hm. Maybe.” So I took my fingers out of her cunt, fast, meaning to shock her. She said, “Awff!”. She was definitely shocked. She stared at me in disbelief.

Svitlana ignored me. “I came to dinner because I was with Debs and Barbs. I’ve got a broken heart, you know.” I didn’t know that sort of thing about her, but I kissed her sympathetically for that. She ignored that too. “They’re looking after me. But at dinner, I liked you. I know you thought I was silly when I cried, but you were sweet to me. And then you couldn’t stop looking at my tits.”

“You wouldn’t stop pointing them at me.”

She hummed a little tune, with her eyes rolled upwards. “Mm-hmm. So I decided I’d come back and see what happened. I thought we’d probably just talk.”

“And here we are.”

“Talking about carpet burns.”

“Um. About what Kerry told you: I don’t actually get off on hitting women. Or not like she means. I don’t do, you know, violence. I don’t like bullies. If I smack your bottom, or bite your nipples, or whatever, it’s meant to hurt a bit, but it’s about sex. Um, and consent. And both of you getting what you want and feeling good. It’s complicated. And sexy.”

“Yes, I do know that.”

“And Sade was an absolute creep. I’d never call myself a sadist. Yucko Sade bleurk.”

“Yucko Sade bleurk?”

“That’s my mature and considered opinion.”

“I’ve never read much Sade. But what I read wasn’t very appealing, no.”

Yeah, fucker.

“So shall we start again? From about where you said, ‘make me’?”

Svitlana turned onto her side to look at me. She put her top teeth over her lower lip. Then she poked her tongue out. Properly. Then she scowled.

“No,” she said. “Make me.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Svitlana looked away, and I saw her neck and left cheek glow pinkly. When she turned back to face me she was blushing. “I thought that would be up to you. Not me. But I thought you might -. Oh, this is really embarrassing, seriously.”

“You thought I was going to come and get you, and let’s see… Maybe I’d have turned you round and smacked your bottom till you said you were sorry. Then you might have to promise to do as you’re told.”

“More or less. And maybe you’d have pushed me onto my hands and knees and fucked me on the carpet.”

“Bloody hell. Look, that was the first idea I had. Close enough. But I wasn’t sure enough that it was what you wanted. Or sure that you were ready for it. But you were hoping I would?”

Svitlana was still very pink, from the slopes of her breasts upwards. Her face was warm when I reached and traced my fingertips down from her ear to the corner of her mouth.

Her mouth quirked. “No. I wasn’t hoping you’d hit me. Oh, yes and no. Kerry, she’s one of Barbs’ friends, she told me you were a sadist. You get off on hitting women. She said it’s a disgrace that Barbs even works with you.”

“Oh, that’s cool! I’m the kind of man you were warned about?”

“Sort of.”

“I’ve never been that before. As far as I know, anyway.”

“Well, she wasn’t really warning me. She wouldn’t think she had to. It’d never even cross her mind that I’d fuck you.”

“But it was good advertising.” I frowned. “So did you come to dinner because you thought there’d be a man there, who might fuck you on the carpet outside his bedroom?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. It was just something that I knew about you. I mean, there was what Kerry told me. There was another woman who gave you a good review, actually. Anyway, I didn’t think it’d become relevant. I didn’t think we’d be in bed together.”

There were more important issues for me to pursue, but vanity won. “Hang on, who was that? Who gave me a good review?”

I let her fingers run along the underside of my cock, catching my breath when the sensation got too intense. “No. But I will soon. I’m happy.” But she wasn’t happy. She wanted to have served me and served well. I said the most ridiculous thing I’d said in ages, though it was true enough. “You were amazing. It was a privilege to fuck you.” 

She laughed. “You did like my tits. You really liked my tits. Jaime Mortimer likes my tits.”

“Likes your cunt. Likes your belly. Likes lying on your belly. Likes your ass. Um. Loves your ass.” 

Svitlana let go of my cock and brought her hand to her mouth. She put her tongue out and wet her palm thoroughly with her spit. Then she resumed stroking my cock, wet palm and fingers surrounding me. I sucked in breath and let her have her way. I was in her hands, and her hands made me gasp, and jerk my hips convulsively. I had nothing more to say. Nothing I could think of.

Svitlana said, “Yes, okay. You’re not just going to fuck me and pull out. But you smacked me. My bottom. When I bit you. And you liked that. I know you liked it. And in the corridor, when I teased you,” she grinned lop-sidedly, her mischief grin, “I thought you were going to, oh.” She stopped.

I said, warily, “you thought I was going to … what?”

Venus and Mars, Botticelli. The war is fucked out of him, the lance is too heavy to lift, and her sweet piece rains.

For a long time we lay on our sides, smiling, kissing sometimes, not saying much. Then Svitlana lifted herself on one elbow. She said, “you were very patient. Thank you for staying until I – Well. Till I came. I didn’t expect that.”

I’m not brilliant at taking compliments. “Thank you. You were very … very fuckable.”

“I was very nervous! But I didn’t expect you to be so patient. I thought…”

“Post coitum omne animal triste est”, etc. But animals aren’t sad after sex; they just want to be flattered.

“Mmmm?” I was hoping for something flattering about how other men were selfish bastards who just came and pulled out and went to sleep or something. But it wasn’t other men she’d expected impatience from: it was me.

“I thought you wouldn’t put up with me. Taking so long.”

“What? I wasn’t ‘putting up’ with you. That’s crazy.”

“I thought you’d just have me, I mean come in me and finish. Not worry about me.”

“Ahhhh.” I began to see. “And that would have been kind of hot, wouldn’t it?” Svitlana said nothing. She was embarrassed, and while some other time I might have enjoyed that and tried to make it worse for her, just then I wanted us to keep talking. I had things I needed to know. “You liked the idea of serving, right?”

She nodded.

I pressed on. “And serving a man, that’d the wickedest thing there is, in some social circles. Like yours, for example. And you wanted to be really wicked.” She buried her grin in my armpit, then kissed me there. “But you also liked getting fucked until you came. I heard you.”

Svitlana lolled onto her back, no longer meeting my gaze. She took my cock in her hand, and began stroking. I was still mostly hard. I hoped she’d come back and kiss my cock, then take it in her mouth, but I couldn’t complain about the stroking.

She spoke to the ceiling. “You haven’t come yet, have you?”

So then we did have sex. Vanilla sex.

When I’d dragged the last of her clothes of her and joined her on the bed, her body was the colour of the moon and seemingly all breasts and hips: a body for sex, for holding and lying upon. I petted and kissed her cunt, the pinkish brown of a semi-dried apricot, lightly furred. There was a moment when I slipped into Svitlana’s slipperiness, that I felt a crass kind of triumph. The sad truth is that I was thinking of her women lovers in triumphant and competitive terms (she’s mine, now!), and that my cock was moving into – had taken – occupation. As I said, it was crass. Sometimes I’m stupid, and that’s that. At least I mostly keep it inside my head.

Even at the time I knew that was stupid. I thought instead about how I could make her first fuck with a man after such a long gap as good as possible. That was fairly stupid too, because I had no reason or right to care whether she fucked men or women when she wasn’t fucking me. I had no reason to think of myself as some kind of cock demonstrator. (“The maintenance cost can be higher in some models, madam, but you’ll find this is the superior product.”)

Anyway, this was vanilla sex, so I lifted Svitlana’s shoulders off the bed so I could kiss her while we fucked, and began to move gently, stirring her, rocking her cunt like a cradle. Eventually she took her feet off my ass and pointed them at the ceiling, which I took as a sign of appreciation.

It was vanilla sex, sure. But in some ways it wasn’t. All really intense sex seems to go a little bit bdsm, doesn’t it?

She took a long time to come, though I twice felt her getting close. I did the things you do to encourage a lover to go over the edge, but each time it seemed to dissipate. Eventually I just settled into a rhythm she seemed to be comfortable with, allegro ma non troppo as her friend Shostakovich would have said, and stayed there, reliable old me, so she could concentrate on the things she needed to make this work. Sometimes we rolled so she was on top of me with me holding her breasts, and sometimes she was on her back being fucked, but always at the same speed.

Svitlana rode and was ridden until, after nearly an hour had passed, a very pleasant hour though uneventful, she started making little cries. Her movements under me became erratic, then fast, then – with the cries metastasising into screams – frenzied. Then she screamed once at a higher pitch, and her cunt contracted, fiercely, around my cock. She screamed again, at exactly the same pitch, and then sucked in air.

That reminded me to breathe, which I hadn’t done in a while, and we slowly came to a halt. It was a cold night, but her hair was wet with sweat, and my own sweat had soaked my hair and was stinging my eyes.

Svitlana was a healthy girl, about my height, firm but not skinny, and I wouldn’t have wanted to carry her far. But from the corridor to my bed would be easy. I pretended that carrying her was effortless.

“Suchyj Syn! Fuck!” She kicked, with calculated ineffectiveness, but didn’t roll out of my arms or hold onto the door. So I carried her inside, put one knee on my bed and lowered her carefully onto her back.

She sprawled, red hair over her face, her knees up and apart. She pulled down a pillow to support her back while she glowered up at me. I joined her on the bed, and started to pull the jerseys up past her stomach, and off her breasts. She raised her arms and lifted herself a little so I could get them over her head and off.

I tossed the jerseys onto the floor and began work on the buttons of her shirt. Svitlana had stopped pretending to defend her virtue.

I opened the shirt and pushed the vest up to her collar bones, exposing her breasts. I said, “Suchyj Syn?”

“It means ‘son of a whore’, you son of a whore. Offspring of sex workers.”

I pinched her right nipple, experimentally. She didn’t react. I frowned, and pinched it harder, and she sighed. Luxuriously. I’d thought so. I kept up the pressure while I said, “On the other hand, you said ‘fuck’. Don’t you have a Ukrainian word for that?”

“Yeah. It’s ‘fuck you’. Oh!” The gasp was because I’d taken her other nipple in my other hand, and squeezed both at once. She breathed, and her stomack muscles tightened spectacularly. “Oh, kurva.”

“Oh, kurva?” I put my hands on her arms, holding her down, and leaned down to kiss the right nipple, then the left. Then I bit, lightly, taking turns. Svitlana put her arms and legs around me. I was in a Svitlana-trap. It was nice. “Yeah. Fuck. Let’s.”