Vik tugs on her arm, and then they head upstairs, eventually moving out of sight. It only reminds me of how alone I am. I’m safe in my husband’s arms, but now, I’m not even sure that’s the case.

Andrei grumbles under his breath and heads for the corner of the room. I would find it funny if I weren’t so scared.

“Now, I don’t agree with what Andrei did,” Mikhail says, speaking to the room. “But I liked his idea. My wife is a true submissive. She wants to make me happy.” He gently grips my chin. “Don’t you?”

I gulp. I know I do, and that’s what scares me. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, I want you to get back on your hands and knees for me.”

I really don’t want to again, but I have to choose to trust Mikhail. I submitted to him the other night to let my sisters come stay with us. I can’t go back on that now.

My body trembles as I get back into position. Mikhail doesn’t put his feet on me like Andrei did. Instead, he remains standing by my head, acting like a protector, keeping the other men away.

A man says something in Russian and makes the other men laugh, but Mikhail snaps at them. “Quiet!”

The room falls silent.

I don’t cry this time, but I’m still terrified. What is Mikhail doing? Why put on this show?

Mikhail drags the moment out for a long time. I’m not sure how long because I’m too afraid to lift my head and look at the clock, but I can tell it’s a while. The room is getting tenser and tenser as time goes on.

“That’s enough, Sofiya,” Mikhail says gently. He helps me stand back up. “Now, I need to make it clear to all the men in this room that my wife is my wife. Mine. None of you will ever touch her.”

He sits down on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. I gasp. I’ve never been this close to him before. Not in this way.

“I am going to touch you, Sofiya,” he says into my ear. “I am going to make you come.”

I jerk. “What?”

“Are you questioning me?”

I fall silent.

Mikhail leans me back against him and lifts my legs up into my chest. My face is so hot; it’s distracting. He draws the end of my dress up around my waist. All the men’s eyes zero in on my underwear. My pink, lacy, innocent-looking underwear.

I want to yell at Mikhail to stop. He shouldn’t be doing this in front of his men. I don’t want this.

And I know I could say stop, and he would stop.

But then he’d be disappointed in me, and for some strange reason, I want to make him proud of me.

Mikhail looks around the room, daring the men to speak or come closer as he slides his hand down to cup my vulva. I gasp, my hips arching into his hand on instinct. A few men chuckle. Mikhail glares at them harder, and they all fall silent.

Then he touches the edge of my underwear and pulls it down to my knees. I can hear my own breath in the quiet of the room. My heart is going a mile a minute. I’m not sure I’ll survive this.

Mikhail slides his fingers against my folds and begins rubbing me. I gasp louder as my legs clamp down around his hand. He gently pushes my legs open wider. My underwear around my knees helps to block my most intimate area from the other men. At least, I hope so.

Mikhail rests his cheek against mine, still keeping his eyes on the men before us, as he rubs me harder. His palm cups my entire vulva, grinding down. My hips have a mind of their own as they arch forward, trying to seek more friction.

I can’t believe I’m aroused right now. The sight of all these men looking at me is terrifying, not arousing. But the way Mikhail is touching me and the way he’s holding me and claiming me before these men turns me on. Strangely, I feel protected.

My head drops back against his shoulder as my eyes flutter shut. Mikhail presses his palm firmer against my folds, his fingers brushing my bundle of nerves. His thumb flicks against my nub, and I almost scream from the sensation. My lips part, and my breath comes out faster.

Mikhail is relentless with his touch. He doesn’t stop. I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think.

And then, finally, I’m hit with a pleasurable sensation that leaves me breathless and trembling. A loud gasp escapes me. And I realize I just came. I just had my first orgasm in front of a group of men.

I slump against Mikhail’s body. He continues to touch me, sending smaller shockwaves of pleasure through me until he pulls my underwear back up and pushes my dress back down.

Mikhail lifts me into his arms as he stands up. “Andrei, you and I are going to talk when I come back down.” He carries me upstairs and into our bedroom, laying me down gently on the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just woke up,” I admit.

He smiles, pleased. “I have to go back downstairs. Stay up here for the rest of the night.” He kisses my forehead and then leaves.

Without waiting, I head down the hallway to Mila’s door. She answers after I knock.

“Are you ok?” I ask her.

“Are you ok?”

“Where were you?”

A bashful smile crosses her face. “I went into the library. I was reading. I had to get away from everyone. It was overwhelming.”

“You were in the library? Reading?” The image it conjures is so sweet and innocent it makes me cry. “Oh, Mila.” I hug her tightly. She lets me cry into her shoulder.

“What happened tonight?” she asks. “Vik just said that some guy hit her. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Some guy did hit me,” Vik says, stepping out of her room. “You know, neither of you are being quiet, and I’m trying to get my beauty sleep.” She’s dressed in a simple brown shirt and pants, looking casually effortless. That makes me cry even harder.

Vik’s eyes widen. “Sofiya? What happened? Other than what I saw.”

How can I tell my sisters about what Mikhail just did to me? He made me feel amazing and protected but also vulnerable and on display. It was a show of strength to his men, but he used my body to do it. I honestly don’t know how to feel.

Vik tentatively places her hand on my back. My tears refuse to stop. My two sisters comfort me while I cry. Eventually, my tears stop, and I pull away from Mila.

“Thank you,” I tell them.

“You don’t have to thank us,” Mila says. “We’re sisters. It’s our job to make sure each of us is ok.”

“Speak for yourself,” Vik mutters.

I stare at her.

She smiles and shakes her head. “I was joking.”

“Bad time to make a joke,” I remind her.