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stassi

A Month Later

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Dimitri turned toward me when the judge finally pronounced us man and wife and grabbed the back of my neck, forcing my lips to his. He smelled like liquor.

“Kiss me back,” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“Sorry.” I hesitated. “I was caught off guard.”

This was the first time I had ever seen a civil wedding in America, and it was nothing like what I had imagined.

Most of what I’d seen on TV were grand affairs, but this was far from that.

I’d always pictured getting married to someone who proposed in some epic, memorable way.

Instead, here I was with a guy I vaguely remembered from childhood—a cocky, hockey player who had always been the center of attention.

Back then, he’d seemed larger than life, but now, as he leaned in for my first kiss, it felt anything but romantic.

His tongue pushed into my mouth, rough and uninvited, and I stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do.

When the judge coughed, my new husband, Dimitri Sokolov, pulled away. “Good.”

I knew his reputation before I married him; it was the same as when we were kids. He was notorious for being hot headed and difficult to deal with, traits that hadn’t softened with time. His previous agent had even quit, unable to handle Dimitri’s unmanageable temper.

My mind flashed back to the whirlwind of events that led to this moment. We barely knew each other, but circumstances had pushed us together into an arranged marriage.

The thought of managing such a volatile personality had kept me awake at night.

Now, here I was, married to him. The reality of our situation was a painful blur, a far cry from the tender, magical first kiss I’d always dreamed of.

Instead, my first kiss felt like a violation.

It was rough and forced, with none of the warmth I had imagined.

He stepped back, his intense gaze locked on me. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “N-no.”

I lowered my head and followed him down the aisle.

We had initially planned to tie the knot a few months after I moved here, but our families insisted that sooner was better.

My mother was convinced this was the best path for me, assuring me that he’d support my skating dreams, and all it required was a “small” sacrifice on my part.

Being young and impressionable, I believed my parents knew what was best, so I agreed to rush our marriage.

With a quick courthouse ceremony, we were officially hitched, and our parents sanctioned our cohabitation.

“We’re going home to consummate the marriage now.”

I refused to cry in front of him. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed myself forward.

This wasn’t just going to be my first kiss; I knew what came next.

When I confided in Layla that I’d never had sex before, we researched together, trying to prepare for what comes after marriage.

I knew I would have to sleep with Dimitri.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. He is cute,” she had said while helping me pack the few belongings I had from home.

Home.

Whatever home was.

“I-I don’t know what that means.” Despite the hours of porn I watched with Layla the last week, I didn’t know what I was expecting from all this.

As soon as we stepped out of the Orange County courthouse and into the blinding sunlight, he seized my wrist. The sudden contact jolted me, and he pulled me close. “You will fuck me until you bleed all over the sheets. You will take it. You will not cry, and you will give me pleasure.”

His demands were filled with “you” statements. “I-I’ve never...”

“No, of course not. I had to confirm you weren’t a slut and sleeping with your ice partner.”

I winced as his fingers dug into my wrist, pain shooting up my arm.

Despite what the media assumed about Ivan and me, we were nothing more than close friends. I wondered if Ivan had found a new partner by now. Meanwhile, I was still searching for that connection, struggling to balance my dreams with the expectations weighing me down.

My mother’s words echoed in my mind. “Focus on being a wife,” she had said. “You need to prioritize your future when you finish skating.”

Dimitri’s grip tightened, and I bit back a cry of pain. The sadness of my first kiss, the cold reality of my marriage, and the loss of my dreams all converged in this moment. I closed my eyes, trying to summon the strength to endure.

“I need to call my friend, Layla, and let her know everything went okay and that we’re going back to your place.”

He was now dragging me through the parking lot. A few people stared, but I kept my head down. I reached into the pocket of my white minidress for my phone, but he stopped and snatched the phone with his free hand.

“You don’t need to call her ever again. You have a question, you ask me.”

My heart sank. “What about if I need to call my mom?” My voice trembled, a mixture of desperation and fear creeping in.

He nodded, his expression cold and unyielding. “She’s aware that you’re learning to be the best wife possible. You can call her once a week at a prearranged time or while you’re at practice.”

A wave of devastation washed over me. The sinking pit in my stomach grew deeper, the reality of my situation crashing down on me. I wished I’d been taught better or had a clearer understanding of what was supposed to happen. This wasn’t what I had imagined—this felt like a prison sentence.

“Get in,” Dimitri demanded.

I reluctantly piled into the car, a surge of relief washing over me as he was forced to let go of my wrist.

I looked out the window as he peeled out of the parking lot, my eyes blurring with tears. The day etched itself into my memory forever as my wedding day—a day of heartbreak and entrapment. A day I’d always remember with a mixture of dread and resignation... if I even made it that long.

“Undress,” he demanded.

We were back at his apartment, and he didn’t even bother showing me around.

“Can I get a tour?” I asked, desperately trying to avoid this.

The man in front of me was my husband, and I had no idea who he was.

“No.” He stalked toward me, and I turned around, quickening my pace to get as far away as the apartment would allow.

It was pretty much one room and was clearly decorated by someone else. The design was minimal, with a cold and sterile feeling. This was exactly what I would have imagined his place to look like.

“Can I get to know you? I feel like we should talk to each other first?” I asked, but his hands gripped around my waist, holding me in the air as I screeched.

“Please,” I begged. “I want to know you.”

“The only thing you need to know is where my cock is.”

More tears. I was certain I had cried everything out in the car, but that was far from the truth.

“Keep crying, wife. It turns me on.”

I closed my eyes as he yanked down the zipper on my dress. My heart was beating erratically. My palms were sweaty. My head was here, but I was trying to escape from this.

“Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

“I-I don’t know how to do that. I never...” I shook my head. “Please, Dimitri. I want to get to know you. I don’t understand... Did I do something wrong?”

Why was he being so cruel? I didn’t want to be married either, so this was as much a punishment to him as it was to me.

“You’re mine. My property. This is how a husband treats what is his.”

My parents didn’t have the best marriage, but this wasn’t how he treated my mother.

He yanked off my dress and shoved me to my knees. I cried in pain as they hit the cold cement floor.

“Open your mouth.”

I shook my head. “Please. Don’t do this.”

He brought his hands to my face and thrust his thumb into my mouth. I gagged and thought I was going to puke, but he used it to loosen my jaw and pry my mouth open.

“This is what a good wife does. If you’re forced to be my wife, then you’ll take it.”

“Why?” I tried to ask, but the words came out garbled.

He held me in place, one hand unzipping his pants while the other was shoved into my mouth.

I wanted to bite down and run, but where could I go?

Layla was already with our team, and they had found another roommate.

I was alone in Orange County. My mother wouldn’t believe me if I told her what he was doing.

Everyone in my life dictated my actions and choices. I never had a say in who I married, the career I pursued, when it would end, the place I lived, or the friends I made. I never had a say... ever.

So, I didn’t bite him. Instead, I endured it from my new husband.

His veiny cock sprang out, and I didn’t cry this time.

I relaxed my jaw as he shoved his dick down my throat like he did with his tongue when he kissed me.

He pulled out only to slam back in. Tears formed in my eyes, not because I was sad, but because of the pressure of him filling me up.

He held onto my head as he thrust into my mouth.

“That is what a good wife does. I expect you to be on your knees and ready every time I’m home from practice.”

Another slam into my mouth. More tears.

“I expect you to have dinner on the table,” he demanded, continuing his assault.

Desperately trying to dissociate, just as I did when Coach would yell at me, I escaped into a familiar routine, one I knew by heart.

In my mind, I watched myself glide effortlessly across the ice, performing a perfect pirouette.

My body spun gracefully, arms extended, as the cool air rushed past. Each move was precise and fluid; the sharp edges of my skates carving patterns into the ice, my body arching and bending with practiced elegance.

I was free, in control, and lost in the rhythm of my ice-skating routine.

“I have always been the best, Stassi. I’ve been the best hockey player, becoming the youngest captain. I was the best player in Moscow. My father told me I was nothing growing up, but I’ve always proved him wrong. Therefore, I will have the best wife.”

I nodded, trying to understand him. Maybe he was acting this way out of fear, shaped by whatever his father had done to him.

I convinced myself that if I followed his rules, he’d eventually see that I was different—that I wasn’t like his family.

This marriage was my only way to stay on the ice and keep pursuing my dreams. I was desperate to prove I belonged on the USA team, terrified of aging out and missing my chance.

If being with him was the price I had to pay to keep skating, then I’d pay it.

Besides, I wanted to appease my parents, who were certain they knew what was best for me, setting me up for success.

I embraced this path, hoping it would lead to everything I’d worked so hard for.

“I’ll be good,” I said as he pulled out.

He paused and then thrust again. “I didn’t want this fucking marriage. I wanted to go out with my teammates. I wanted my freedom, but I was stuck with you. I hate you. I hate what you stand for. I hate everything between us.”

I felt bad for him momentarily. I wanted to tell him that I could relate. I felt the same way. I was stuck with him, and I didn’t want to be here either.

“I-I—” but my mouth was full of him, and I couldn’t speak.

“I hate you,” he cried as he slammed inside me. “I fucking despise you.”

Tears sprang from my eyes as he continued, but this time because I was sad for him.

“He took this from me. He took this from me, and I’m going to show him that he can never control me again after this. Never again.”

He pulled out, and I looked up, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Who is he?” I asked.

Dimitri’s eyes were wild, dark, and distressed. “My father demanded I marry you. He ordered that I have children, and then maybe I’d finally learn how horrible of a child I was to him.”

He shoved his cock in my face, but I popped off when I heard his voice drop an octave. “I never learned fast enough. I was never good enough for him.”

I hesitated. “Dimitri.” My voice was soft. My heart was racing. I wasn’t sure I wanted to even ask. “Who taught you how to do this?”

A glazed look passed over Dimitri as he looked out the window.

His father did. I didn’t need his confession.

“I can help you,” I told him. “Let me help you.”

He shook his head before slamming his cock between my lips.

“Learn to cook,” he demanded and spat in his hands.

I nodded quickly as he rubbed his fingers around his cock. “I will. I promise.”

“Good, now lie down on your stomach, open your legs, and show me your virgin cunt.”