How to rule a king

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Alexei:

I woke up to feathery strands of hair tickling my nose with a familiar weight on top of me and soft skin under my palms. Blinding light hit me as I forced my heavy eyelids open to look at my young wife, who was still resting on top of me while her tiny hands held the sheets in a death grip. I gently stroked the top of her head moving her blood colored hair away from the side of her neck. Her neck, which was, once again bruised thanks to me. As my fingers traced the love bits I had left on her throat and chest I couldn't help a cocky smirk as I thought about last night's events. Having her ask me for sex had come as quite the surprise to say at least. Of course, I had thought about taking her more than once ever since I had first seen her. After all, my first thought when meeting her in her family's estate's woods had been to drag her inside the house so I could bend her over a table. Yet, the better I had gotten to know her the more I had wished for her to be sure and ready once I would take her virginity. Although I honestly had doubted her being a virgin once or twice, after all she too had spent a couple of years at university meeting numerous boys, who would have been more than willing to be her first. Therefore, realizing how deep her inexperience had run as well as feeling her tightness had only been topped by seeing the blood covered sheets afterwards, which gave me the ultimate ego boost. Being my wife's first and if I have my way only lover made me feel an, until then, inexperienced high. It wasn't necessarily the fact that I had gotten something from her no one else ever had (and would), much more had it been the knowledge of the trust she had put in me when she had decided to take this step with me.

She finally trusted me enough to care for her, to choose for her and to guide her. She no longer saw me as her simple protector and watchdog but rather as her husband and lover. Thinking about the amount of love the woman resting on top of me had made me feel for her in the short period of time we had spent together, I knew why going soft and slow with her hadn't bothered me at all. The rumors about me liking them more inexperienced were indeed true, yet it had nothing to do with me not welcoming a little roughness in bed, but much more with the fact that being more inexperienced normally meant being less used. I had never liked used things and I hadn't made an exception for the women I had fucked on a regular basis. Their inexperience however, hadn't stopped me from taking them the only way I knew, rough, hard and preferably from behind. 

I shook my head in an unbelieving manner as I felt my chest rumble with a low laughter. In a way last night had been a first for me too. I shook my head trying to get that ridiculous thought out of my mind, yet I could't deny the truth behind it. I had never gone gentle on any girl ever before. Slowing myself down so I wouldn't hurt my wife too bad had been just as hard as I imagined it to be. Of course, I had known that even if she wasn't indeed a virgin as she had (rightfully) claimed to be, I would need to slow down a little in order to not to do any serious damage to her much smaller body. Yet, her being a virgin had meant a completely different program for our first time than I had planned. No turning her on her front, no swear words or bonded wrists, instead we had done the dirty deed in the cleanest way possible, vanilla, slowly with love declarations whispered in each other's ears. Yet, I had enjoyed it. A lot. Who would have thought that Alexei Volkov, the rough asshole women had tended to seek out when they had carved a thrill, could enjoy a gentle round of vanilla with his doll faced wife. A wife who hadn't been my type at all when she first ran into me. Well, I wouldn't had minded putting her into a little schoolgirl uniform before taking her against her grandfather's wooden office desk, but at this time I preferred a more mature kind of women, being closer to my own age, since I always dreaded situations like my wife's silent tears when she first felt me inside her. Maybe I had felt this way because I had known every other girl would have had me rage in annoyance if she dared to cry when the sex got too "rough" for her. Although, I never had forced women to have sex with me as such things were beneath me, I had always warned them about my preference of roughness and pain over vanilla and love making. Therefore starting to cry and ruining the mood and my chance of getting off, would have meant severe consequences for the women outside of bed. But when I saw the pain in the eyes of the woman I had dedicated my life to, I had not only immediately stopped any movements as I tried to soothe her, but also felt a unknown amount of self-hatred at the fact that it was me being inside her what caused her pain. Starting of slow had come natural to me when she finally allowed me to move again, just as waiting for her release had. Bringing her tea after I cleaned herself from the mess we, mostly I this time, had made had occurred the most normally thing to me, something I wouldn't mind doing every day until I took my final breath.