tagNonConsent/ReluctanceHe Promised Not to Break Me

He Promised Not to Break Me


A young Finnish woman fantasizes about being dominated, but her chance met partner forces the issue and doesn't know where to stop. After their first date the man compels her to let him in to her apartment where he first teases her but soon turns his attentions to torture.


I met him when he approached me at a night club. I had noticed him watching me earlier as I walked about with my friends. I smiled to him once as our eyes met. His features were obviously Slavic and I was instantly enticed. To some French is a turn on. In my case, to hear a man speak Russian or Estonian, even three seats away in a subway train, sends shivers all over my skin. If one were to speak to me directly, the tremors would be inside me, originating from where I wanted him to be inside me. A mere accent has the same effect. I've always had Slavic classmates. Yet this fascination has never faded and these men with their sexy languages remain ever exotic and tempting.

He introduced himself as Vanya, which, I remembered, is a petname for Ivan. We went through the basic routine; are you here with friends, have you had a nice evening, do you come here often. He acted casual but there was something utterly seductive about him and I quickly found myself seriously aroused. I must have seemed a bit flustered as I had difficulties making my brain work. The sensual sounds of his accent, and the movements of his lips with them were profoundly erotic. We were both interested in nature and talked about plants, birds and fishing though he only knew the names of the species in Russian and I in Finnish. Save that, he spoke Finnish very well, but he had this air about him and an intense glare that made me a little wary of him.

Our friends were growing restless. My friends never approved of my interest in Slavs; they saw all of them as rogues or criminals. They tried to pry me away from him to dance. His friends wanted to move on to another club. Vanya wanted to stay and had a heated conversation with his friends. I had taken courses in high school, but only recognized random words like went, us, tomorrow and understood nothing. I had forgotten much of the little I learned five years ago.

In the end he gave in and agreed to leave with his friends. Russian men are very polite in courtship. They never presume to touch a woman without permission. Vanya came to me and asked "May I?" I was confused of all that was happening and blurred "Yeah," without thinking. Before I had time to savour it, he kissed my cheek teasingly just beside my ear. He whispered good night and something in Russian, of which I understood only sorry, go, want. His kiss left me trembling in desire.

My hands shook as I finished my drink. I felt terribly empty. I was sad and disappointed; we didn't even get a chance to dance. I was wet and stirred and wanted to be pressed hard against his body. I dearly wanted to kiss him, have his large hands fondle me roughly. And now I lost him. My pussy didn't feel just empty. It felt hollow.


I was moving between racks of skirts when I saw him. It was two weeks since that night at the club. He stood there, smiling at me, just three racks away. He looked less ominous in the daylight but had lost none of his charm. I adjusted my previous guess to him being about 35. He greeted me obviously happy of running into me. I was so glad I stuttered when I tried to say hi. My surprise spread as tingling to every part of me.

I had thought of him a lot and all the shameful things I had wanted him to do to me. Now that he was in front of me, I felt naked. The little hairs on my skin stood up and my nipples hardened visibly. I was sure that with those intense eyes he could see all the scenes in my mind. I looked at his hands and saw them grabbing me by the hair while he'd fuck my mouth, clasping my wrists together, forcing painfully into my pussy, pressed against my mouth to stifle my screams. I knew I was dirty, but I didn't want him to know that. He'd be disgusted.

We talked silly nothings for a while and decided to meet the next evening for a walk in Kaivopuisto, one of the city's most famous parks. The more he spoke with that accent, the slicker my pussy got. His appearance did not go unnoticed by my friends further away in the department store. I was eager to meet him where my friends wouldn't be rolling their eyes behind us. Suddenly he picked a fallen leaf out of my hair, gently brushing his hand against my neck as if he didn't mean to. He was so close to me I could smell the warm luring scent of his skin. "Birch," I stuttered. We said goodbye and I started waiting for the day to end so the next could come.

I lay in bed that night, restless and aroused, with his smile and scent in my head. I could still feel my skin smouldering where his hand had brushed it. I reached down, parted my legs slightly and started massaging my clit, moaning softly. I was so worked up that I came, whining, after just a minute of quick strokes. I rested, caressing my breasts, until I quit panting and began again to stroke myself, pinching my nipple with my other hand. I started slowly; my clit was so tender right after coming it barely stood touching. As the tenderness eased, I stroked faster and pressed down harder. I opened my legs wide and imagined, how it would feel to have Vanya pull my legs apart as far as they would go, and shove himself all the way in me in one cruel thrust.

I couldn't bear the aching hollowness in my cunt anymore. I fetched my favourite dildo and fucked myself with it, hard enough for it to hurt and leave behind a steady pulsing ache. I pushed the dildo in until I could feel it pressing against my cervix. I squeezed my thighs together to keep it in and resumed rubbing my cunt, holding my breath, waiting to cum and for the tension to ease. This time when I came, my spasming pussy cramped on the rigid dildo inside me, and the ache gave way to a sharp pain. I wailed in lust and panted heavily. I gradually slowed my hand down and finally stopped. The seething ache was sweet and cured the cold hollowness. I masturbated myself to three more orgasms before my body relaxed into deep sleep. Each one took a longer time rubbing my hand in circles, each time a shorter pause for my clit to suffer new stimulation.


It was autumn and darkness fell early. I was a bit skittish in the park after everything but a few streetlights had gone dark around us. I was relieved, there were no awkward silences or weird moments. With time I got over his erotic accent enough to actually talk with him, instead of swooning with his every word. As lovely as it was, when it got dark I realized that he was nonetheless a total stranger. The dark park frightened me as I thought what could happen to a girl in a park with a stranger. For all that, if the stranger was Vanya, the idea was as much enticing as it was alarming. I didn't think he was the type to bring his friends along to ambush and rape me.

I wanted him to touch me, but I couldn't tell if I wanted him to do it gently or by force. He offered to walk me home, to make sure I'd be all right and I was grateful. I did not like to be harassed, like a lone woman always is on a Friday night on streets and bus stops. I wasn't brave enough to tell the drunken jerks to go fuck themselves. With Vanya beside me I was safe, like he was carrying me in his arms. He probably could do that, he looked strong and, without his warm smile, frightening.

We got each others phone numbers at the door of my building and agreed to meet again soon. I didn't know what to do. I wanted a touch. There had been the brief and careful oops-don't-trip or let-me-give-you-a-hand-there probes during the walk. That had been teasing and I needed some kind of conclusion. I wanted a kiss, a real passionate one, and I wanted him to hold me, tightly like he owned me. I wanted to feel him. I wanted a strong touch that would make him real, but he was ever so polite. I didn't want to seem loose or too eager and thus didn't initiative. "Vanya," I called from the doorway, "What was it you said that night after the goodbye? You said you were sorry to go and that you wanted something. What did you want?"

He was surprised, and for the first time a little uncertain. "Oh, you understood it." He sounded embarrassed. "I'll tell you the next time."

I started up the hallway stairs but didn't hear the door slam shut. Suddenly he was behind me, breathing heavily. He shoved me against the wall, placing his mouth just above my ear. "I said I was sorry to go 'cause I wanted to fuck you raw."

I let out the breath I'd been holding and whined. His words sent a shiver down my back, which released a smouldering flush of heat between my legs. He nuzzled the side of my neck letting out a low lustful groan. He was real to me now. I could smell his scent again and drank it in. "Vanya, please," I tried. He cut me off.

"I can smell your heat girl," he hissed. "Now take me up," he said in a hoarse whisper that vibrated on the skin behind my ear, and continued in Russian, "I want to be inside you."

With his last remark, I felt the distinct tingle of my pussy getting wet. I wanted him badly, but regardless of that I was terrified of him. He was bigger than me, so if he came up into my flat I'd be helpless. I didn't want to be beaten up, have my face smashed, get cut or maimed or end up in a dumpster. I kept still. I didn't call out for my neighbours. I stood pinned, my face to the wall, and sensed how strong he was. His arms around me were like some twisted parody of a loving embrace. My panicked mind had frozen from the violent desire in his voice. If I'd tried to run I'd have had no chance.

"Vanya..." My voice was weak and pleading. He took that as a submission of defeat. He lifted me in his arms and started towards the stairs. I didn't resist. On the third floor landing I looked up, but not into his eyes. "Vanya," I whispered again, and he followed my gaze from his shoulder to my door. I picked the key out of my bra for him to see. He hesitated to let me down. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to. I was less afraid when he held me like this, than when he was a growling menace pressing against my back.

He put me on my feet with a grunt. I opened the door with my eyes on the floor. Confused, I stood in the doorway, not knowing how to go in. My hands and feet seemed paralyzed. I wouldn't lead him in like I'd invited him. Nor could I walk in, knowing he was right behind me, waiting to come at me like a hungry wolf. He resolved the situation by picking me up again. He carried me in and kicked the door shut.


He put me down to sit on the living room table. I still couldn't move. I wasn't terrified, just deeply confused. I wanted and didn't want, feared and didn't fear, seethed inside and was frozen. The one feeling I was sure about was shame. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I'd given some kind of a consent, for I hadn't stopped him from coming to my apartment on our first date. I'd acted like a slut, letting him manipulate me. He'll think I wanted this all along. Did I? I couldn't look at him and kept my head down. "не бойся," ne boisya, he said. "Don't be afraid." He took gently off my scarf and coat, taking his time. He kissed my face and my ears. "не бойся," he reassured me. Last he took off my heels. He caressed delicately my feet and ankles and stood up.

He stroked my cheek and held me by the chin until I looked at him. "I know what you want baby, don't worry. I'll use you. I'll hurt you. I'll make you scream for me, but I won't break you."

I felt another sudden flow between my legs. I wondered how long of this it would take, for my juices to start running down my thighs. He had the accent, he had the look, he had the air and he had the voice. I turned my face back down, eyes closed, wanting it all to go away. I was mortified. How could I be turned on by this? I was dirty and filthy and soon, I guessed, I'd be spoiled. I couldn't stop the tears. He saw inside me. He knew. I couldn't bear another person knowing what filth was in my mind. I stuttered between the sobs "You. No. I don't. It's not..." but I had nothing to say.

"Shh, не бойся, не бойся. Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you baby," he whispered kissing my forehead.

It took a while, but I calmed down and asking a stranger permission in my own home I whispered meekly "Can I use the toilet?"

I cleaned my face up and tried to breathe steady. I knew I couldn't back out of it. I would have to brace myself, and hope this gentle man in him would keep me from the savage beast I'd seen glimpses of before. I returned to the living room to find him sitting on the couch. He'd taken off his own coat and shoes. "Come," he beckoned. I went to him and he made me stand before him. With his hands on my waist he looked into my eyes and asked "Do you trust me?" I squirmed weighing his menacing behaviour and stern earnestness. I shut my eyes, mind racing. He let that one go. "Do you want me?"

Shit. What the hell could I've said to that? I was silent for a long time. He wanted an answer. I'd get raped, or something dangerously close to it, if I'd say yes, but his closeness made my body respond in undeniable arousal. Trembling all over I nodded.

"Baby, that won't do."

I lifted my head a little, looked at him gingerly and managed a whining, scared, "Yes."

He stood up. I still couldn't shake my shocked inertia. "Good," he said grinning wickedly. I was like a doll as he slowly, piece by piece removed my clothes. He kissed every inch of skin he revealed. I soon expanded my school vocabulary to contemporary Russian smut as he undressed me, murmuring dirty things, inhaling my scent, nuzzling my neck, licking, whispering, biting. I knew the wolf was waking and the man who'd carried me in his arms was fading. Among his obscenities was one word I clung to: душенька, dushenka, baby. He said he wouldn't break me, I repeated in my head. As long as I'm his baby he won't break me.

The mixture of rough and sweet caresses woke up my senses. I shivered, panted and moaned from his slightest touch, as he went on exploring my body. By the time my clothes were gone, along with my jewellery and hairpins, I wished he could envelope me, touching all parts of me at the same time. My nipples were hard and sensitive, eager for his touch. Yips of pleasure escaped my throat as I waited him to move down, to where I most needed him, most wanted him. I wasn't confused or hesitant anymore. I wanted him to fill me, to cure the lonely emptiness between my legs, to reduce me to helplessness and take me, hard.

His face was at my crotch and I could feel the warmth of breath on my skin. He blew air into my tuft of ginger gold hair. I murmured in ecstasy. He stroked my slit so lightly, that it was more an inkling than a touch. I cried out softly. "Are you wet for me, baby?" I felt more of his hot breath and his finger stroking me, tangibly now. Slowly, savouring the moment, he slid a finger into the pool of wetness inside. I heard the slick sloppy sound of my barely contained juices, now released, spreading everywhere. He emitted a loud satisfied sigh as he found out how my body had reacted to him. Having heard that sigh, I was suddenly too overwhelmed to support my own weight. I was about to sit down on the sofa, when he picked me up again, naked. I had half expected him to fuck me crudely on the living room table, but he carried me to my bed. To my safe bed, which would hold me together with this grim threatening man, to whose gentler manipulation my body responded beyond all caution.

He took off his sweater but left the white T-shirt beneath it on. I liked the look of him: naturally robust, ordinary, not pumped up gym meat. He sought my gaze and asked "What do you want, душенька?" My nakedness embarrassed me and I lowered my face. He gestured and, complying, I lay down prone on his lap. He stroked my back and buttocks, running his finger along my crack to tickle my glistening pussy. I let out a sharp ecstatic sigh. His hands found the sensitive spot in my neck and I arched in pleasure when he caressed it. His hands massaged my thighs with a strong confident grip. When his finger flicked teasingly on my pussy lips my body rose and arched to get the finger in. "What do you want baby?" He kept stroking me. "I can fill you up and I can make you scream. Is that what you want?" He applied pressure against my thighs and I opened them giving him access to use me. "You're burning up, girl." He blew air on my pussy and I wailed in ecstasy but still couldn't bring myself to answer him, to admit to either one of us, that my body was on the verge of collapsing from the need to have him penetrate me.

He rolled me on my back and told me to look at him. He gently spread my legs while looking straight into my eyes. I wondered what he would see in them. My cunt was contracting in expectation. I needed him. He placed two fingers on my clit, one on each side. He slid them back and forth in discord, teasing, never pressing my clit between the two. My heavy breathing paced up to loud whining gasps. He started dipping his finger in me, always one quick dip, no deeper than an inch, and an agonizing long pause 'til the next one. Tensing up, I sank the fingers of my right hand in his upper arm while my other hand grabbed the sheets. When I lifted my hips to meet the finger he'd slap me on the hip. He kept it up for so long I couldn't take it anymore. I moaned his name and he kept asking me to tell him what I wanted. He wanted me to beg and I was getting desperate enough to do it. My body needed him to deliver on all the promises of his touches. I could feel every square centimetre of membrane inside my cunt itching for him to fill me up.

He grunted with displeasure. Hands stopped touching me and he started getting up from the bed. I feared I'd angered him and that he would leave. I shouted, "Vanya, I'm sorry," and tried to get hold of him. Turning, I saw he'd stood up just to take off his clothes.

"You don't want me to go, huh?" A triumphant, hungry grin spread on his face as he got back on the bed naked.

I admired his shoulders and arms, bare for the first time, and touched his skin timidly. He positioned himself between my legs. "You like to be pinned down?" I could feel him on the entrance of my pussy. "You like to be controlled?" I whined. "You like to be used?" With every word I twitched as a spasm of dirty pleasure washed over me. "You want to be forced? You want to be hurt? You want to be helpless?" His voice was a guttural snarl, angry and menacing and I was so wet there was a trickle down my crack and a wet stain on the mattress.

"Vanya, please," I tried.

"Tell me what you want, душенька моя."

"I want you."

"Not good enough. Look at me!"

I did. Angry that he'd made me admit out loud that I loved him dominating me I snapped, "I need you in me," and more meekly, "Fuck me, please." He let out a wordless growl, and before I had finished my desperate please, he buried himself in me with one forceful thrust.

I was wound up, horny, steaming and he knew he was the cause of it. I stretched my thighs ever wider to let him penetrate me deeper and he fucked me relentlessly. No matter the position, he found ways to reach just a little too deep and pound just a little too hard. I yelped as he banged my cervix with his cock. He turned me this way and that, rearranged me to his liking, not caring how awkward a position it was for me. He fucked me from uncomfortable, painful angles I didn't know were possible. Nevertheless I liked it when it hurt, because it was his hurt. Moaning in pain beneath his heavy body only made me want more. I was on his mercy and I loved to be his.

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byGlacialisFI© 22 comments/ 104584 views/ 67 favorites

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