The Pomegranate Society

Nineteen: Alina Starkov

HERE THERE BE SMUT. 

Nineteen

Alina Starkov

Alina had always wondered how true the myths and legends about women were. They were always told by old men, it seemed, and old men seemed to get a lot wrong. Was Persephone forced into taking the pomegranate seeds? Or did she grab onto them herself? She'd been under her mother's thumb before. Perhaps she took them, shoved them into her mouth one by one, and relished in their juices. Then, when she went to the Underworld, she made friends with the dark as it kept her hidden from those she didn't want to find her.

When she signed the contract, Alina wondered what part of her soul she'd just given away. Part of it, or the whole thing? She didn't know. All she knew was that she'd seen Mal in the hospital bed, unconscious, and talked to billing about his expenses.....and she couldn't let him get lost like that. The Doctors were pressuring her from the moment that she walked into make a choice.

"He's on life support right now, Miss Starkov," they said, "he might not wake up. He's designated you as the overseer of his affairs...it's up to you to make that call."

The call. The call to pull one of her oldest friends off life support. The boy that had been practically like family to her. She couldn't do it. That was when she remembered Aleksander, the necklace, and everything Genya had said about that stupid, secret society. She would be compensated for her time with them if she joined.

It was for Mal, to help keep him alive. What choice did she have?

She hated everything about this. The white dress she wore was supposed to be for her friend. Now here she sat in her Professors office, signing herself away just to keep Mal alive. Aleksander, however, looked pleased.

He took the black box from the desk and walked around to where she sat. "Excellent," he said, "why don't we put this on now? You will, of course, have to go through the initiation the same as everyone else. But it's more just a formality. The contract has already sealed everything. Turn around, would you?"

She did. He pulled her hair over her shoulder, and then he took out the delicate necklace and placed it around her neck. "I can't where this all of the time, you know," she said, "I'm still going to sign that contract with Nikolai...."

He smiled. "Of course. The Society would never want to interfere with your personal relationships. Especially not when they benefit us. But in my presence, or at the clubhouse, it must always be on."

"The clubhouse?"

He nodded. "We have a headquarters in the University District. We find it quite efficient for our rendezvous, shall we say. That way we can keep track of all of the group's comings and goings. What's more, the staffs less likely to talk when they're part of the group too."

"If I can't pay this money back," said Alina, "what happens?"

"Then, you will pay it back in other ways," he said, "it could be something as simple as marrying that Prince of yours and letting us use you for political gain."

"Oh, simple," she snarled.

"Or a million other uses, you'll soon see."

"I suppose now that the contract is signed, you own me?"

"For lack of a better word, yes." He grinned.

"Is this the part where you take me over your desk and fuck me?" she challenged.

He laughed. "Oh no, Miss Starkov. You see that would give you pleasure and you.... haven't earned that yet. I think I'm going to torture you instead. I will save the fucking for the initiation night."

"Torture?" she whispered. "What does that mean?"

His eyes glanced down between her thighs, a smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, Miss Starkov, has your soldier boy fucked you yet? Or your prince? Have you known pleasure between your legs? Perhaps from yourself, even?"

She blushed. "How is that..."

"I own you now, Miss Starkov. Remember. To use in anyway I see fit. Answer the question carefully. Of course, if you feel you can't live up to your end of the bargain----"

She licked her lips. "The first time I touched myself, it was to thoughts of you..."

"Of me doing what?"

"Fucking me in your car," she whispered.

He groaned. "Saints," he murmured, "well that is going to happen, you precious thing. But not quite yet. Right now, I want a show. Lift your dress up for me please, Miss Starkov."

Slowly, she lifted the skirt of her white sundress up, revealing her thighs.

"Up, up, up," he said, "and I want to see----ah. Cotton panties. Plain, simple, so naively innocent...."

He was stretched out in his seat now, his long legs pushing his chair back, and she could see the bulge in his pants. She hadn't even done anything but just the sight of her, lifting her dress in his office to show him her underwear, had his cock straining against his pants.

"What now?" she whispered.

"Stretch out for me in that chair," he said, "I should like to see those lovely legs of yours."

She stretched out for him, and he sat forward in his chair, his eyes taking all of her in.

"Now, Alina," he whispered, "now I want you to stick your hand in your white, cotton panties as you imagine how hard I am going to fuck you in that sleek, black Mercedes Benz of mine. And I want you to rub as you picture my cock driving into your own, compact little body until you scream my name."

She stuck her hand into her panties, and there in her Professors office, in front of him, she rubbed her cunt. She rubbed her cunt, picturing her darkest fantasy coming to life, the one she'd craved for months. She rubbed, and rubbed, until she was slick with need for him. Her toes curled, her legs clenched, and a cry escaped her.

One so loud it echoed off of the walls of his office. Aleksander grinned, and clapped his hands together. "An A+ performance, Miss Starkov. Welcome to The Pomegranate Society. You may leave now."