Chapter 4: Vanja shoves Ena onto her knees, forcing her to lick Giulia’s pussy as Vanja fucks her from behind, her monstrous cock stretching Ena’s ass while Ena’s tongue drives Giulia wild—three women bound by pleasure, rivalry, and Vanja’s ruthless control.
The silence in Vanja’s penthouse had stretched for days. Or maybe it was hours. Time had lost its shape for Giulia. She trained, she attended meetings, she smiled for cameras with a calm that felt borrowed. Inside, she was a live wire, every nerve ending still tasting the memory of that night—the stretch, the submission, Lena’s hungry eyes watching her break.
The text came on the morning of the Champions League quarter-final.
VIP Box 3. After the final whistle. No excuses.
Giulia stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the screen. The roar of 75,000 fans was a distant ocean in her ears as she led her team to a nervy 2-1 victory. The win was a relief. The text was a sentence.
She showered in the team facilities, the water scalding, as if it could erase the feeling of Vanja’s skin against hers. She dressed in clean, civilian clothes—dark jeans, a simple sweater—her captain’s armor shed. The halls beneath the stadium were a concrete labyrinth, emptying now. She found the discreet elevator to the VIP level.
The box was a glass-fronted cocoon of muted opulence. Plush velvet banquettes, a low table holding empty champagne flutes, the ghost of expensive perfume in the air. The stadium lights were dimming, the pitch a vast, silent emerald sea below.
Vanja was there. And she wasn’t alone.
Ena Albrecht, the brilliant young midfielder from Frankfurt, was with her. Ena was all bright eyes and effortless talent, twenty years old and shining with the invincibility of it. She was perched on a deep leather couch, a glass of water in her hand, laughing at something Vanja had said.
Giulia stopped at the threshold. A cold knot tightened in her stomach.
“Captain,” Vanja said, not getting up. She wore a tailored suit jacket over nothing, her breasts barely contained, the leather of the couch stark against her skin. “You know Ena.”
Ena smiled, polite and curious. “Giulia. Big win. Congratulations.”
Giulia nodded, the gesture stiff. “Thanks. It was a team effort.” The professional platitude tasted like ash.
Vanja’s smile was a razor. “Ena was just telling me how much she admires your focus. Your control.”
The way she said ‘control’ made Giulia’s skin prickle. Ena, oblivious, nodded eagerly. “It’s true. I watch your defensive positioning all the time.”
“See?” Vanja said, her green eyes pinned on Giulia. “A fan. I thought we could all… unwind.”
Giulia stood rooted, watching as Vanja’s hand, resting on the back of the couch, began to trace a slow circle on Ena’s shoulder. Ena’s smile flickered, confusion dawning.
“Vanja, I should probably…” Ena began, starting to rise.
Vanja’s hand slid down, firm, pulling her back. “Stay.” The command was soft, absolute. Her other hand went to her own lap, to the fly of her trousers. “You wanted to know what my secret was. The power behind the speed.”
Giulia saw it then—the familiar, terrifying focus in Vanja’s eyes, the slight tension in her abdomen. Beneath the expensive fabric, a shape swelled, thickening, rising. Ena’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.
“Wh— what is…” she stammered.
Vanja unbuttoned her fly. Her cock, already fully formed and hardened, sprang free, thick and veined. Ena made a small, choked sound. Not of revulsion, but of stunned fascination.
“Touch it,” Vanja murmured, her gaze sliding from Ena’s shocked face to Giulia’s frozen one. “Go on.”
Tentatively, Ena reached out. Her fingers made contact, tracing the length. A shiver ran through her. “My God.”
Vanja leaned back, spreading her legs. “Get on your knees. Between them. I want to see if your mouth is as quick as your feet.”
“Vanja, we can’t… Giulia is…” Ena protested, weakly, even as she was already sliding off the couch, kneeling on the plush carpet.
“Giulia is watching,” Vanja finished, her voice dropping to a low, intimate thrum meant to slice through Giulia’s soul. “Aren’t you, Captain? Learning. Observing. That’s what you do.”
Giulia’s jaw ached from clenching. She couldn’t move. She could only watch as Ena, with a final glance filled with awe and trepidation, bent forward. She opened her mouth, taking the head of Vanja’s cock between her lips.
Vanja let out a satisfied sigh, her head lolling back against the leather. “Yeah. Just like that. Now suck it. Properly.”
The obscene, wet sound filled the soundproofed box. Ena bobbed her head, gagging slightly at first, then finding a rhythm. Vanja’s hand came to rest on the back of Ena’s head, not forcing, just guiding.
“She’s eager,” Vanja said to Giulia, her eyes half-lidded. “A fast learner. Not as shy as she looks.” Her hips gave a slight thrust, pushing deeper into Ena’s throat. Ena gagged, tears springing to her eyes, but didn’t pull away. Vanja chuckled. “See? Hungry for it.”
Giulia felt a perverse heat flooding her own body, a traitorous ache building between her legs. Humiliation and desire boiled together, toxic and inescapable.
Vanja’s free hand slipped down, pushing under the waistband of Ena’s jeans. Ena jerked, a muffled moan vibrating around Vanja’s shaft.
“Fuck, she’s soaked,” Vanja announced, her fingers working. “Dripping for it. Just from sucking cock. Is that what does it for you, Ena? The taste? The power?”
Ena could only moan in response, her movements becoming sloppier, more desperate.
Vanja’s gaze was a physical weight on Giulia. “You see what you do? You stand there, all that icy composure, and you make people wet. You make them needy. Even when it’s not for you.” She paused, her fingers pumping inside Ena. “You’re next, Captain. Unless you’d rather just watch. Again.”
The word ‘again’ was a dagger. A reminder of the bedposts, of her own helpless screams.
Something in Giulia cracked. The icy control shattered, not into pieces, but into a single, jagged spear of intent. She wasn’t going to watch. Not this time.
She crossed the room in five silent strides. Ena, sensing her movement, pulled off Vanja’s cock with a wet pop, panting, her lips swollen and shining. She looked up at Giulia, dazed and embarrassed.
Giulia ignored her. She looked directly at Vanja, whose expression was one of amused expectation.
Without a word, Giulia shoved Ena aside, not roughly, but with a definitive force that sent the younger woman sprawling onto the carpet. She dropped to her knees in the space vacated.
But she didn’t go for Vanja’s cock.
Instead, her hands went to Vanja’s waist, yanking the trousers and underwear down her thighs in one fierce movement. She leaned forward, bypassing the hard, leaking shaft entirely, and buried her face between Vanja’s legs.
She drove her tongue into Vanja’s cunt with a brutal, claiming pressure. No tease, no finesse. This was not submission. This was an assault. A takeover.
Vanja cried out, a sharp, genuine sound of shock. Her hands flew to Giulia’s blonde hair, tangling in it. “Fuuck… Giulia…”
Giulia ate her with a furious, focused intensity. She licked and sucked and speared with her tongue, channeling every ounce of frustration, jealousy, and pent-up lust into the act. She tasted Ena’s lingering wetness and Vanja’s own deeper, musky essence and it fueled her fury. She bit the inside of Vanja’s thigh, not enough to break skin, but enough to make her gasp.
“Get rid of her,” Giulia growled, her voice muffled against Vanja’s flesh.
Vanja, breathing ragged, looked over at Ena, who was pulling herself up, watching with stunned, aroused fascination. “Out,” Vanja managed, her voice strained.
Ena scrambled, grabbing her jacket, fumbling for the door. She left without a backward glance.
The door clicked shut.
Vanja tried to speak, to regain the upper hand. “You think this changes—”
Giulia shoved two fingers inside her, deep and twisting. Vanja’s sentence dissolved into a guttural groan. Her hips bucked off the couch.
“No,” Giulia said, pulling her face away, her chin glistening. She looked up, and the ice in her eyes was back, but it was no longer a shield. It was a weapon. “You don’t talk. You don’t command. You come.” She lowered her head again, her mouth finding Vanja’s clit, sucking it hard while her fingers fucked her with a relentless, punishing rhythm.
Vanja unraveled quickly, violently. Her composure, her theatrical dominance, splintered under the focused attack. She chanted a stream of filthy, broken curses, her body bowing off the leather as the orgasm ripped through her. It was raw, loud, and utterly vanquished.
When the shudders subsided, Giulia slowly withdrew her fingers. She sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at Vanja, spent and splayed on the couch, her cock still hard and untouched against her stomach.
The silent box hummed with new tension.
Giulia stood up. Her knees protested. She looked down at Vanja, at the beautiful, chaotic, impossible creature she had just forced to her peak.
“Next time,” Giulia said, her voice level, cold, and perfectly clear, “you invite only me.”
She turned and walked out, leaving Vanja in the wreckage of her own game, the taste of victory and pussy sharp on her tongue. The balance had not just shifted. It had been stolen. And for the first time, Giulia felt the terrifying, exhilarating weight of what she might choose to do with it.
The elevator descent was a hollow plummet. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drum echoing the stillness. The taste of Vanja—salt, musk, triumph—was a brand on her tongue.
City air, cold and diesel-tinged, did nothing to clean her palate. She walked without direction, the adrenaline bleeding away, leaving a corrosive humidity in her veins. What had she done? She had dismantled a carefully constructed scenario with her mouth and her fury. The memory of Vanja’s shattered composure, those shocked, rolling eyes, was a dark nectar.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Once. Twice. She ignored it, turning down a side street where neon signs bled color onto wet pavement. It buzzed again. Persistently. A loop of confrontation began in her head—Vanja’s voice, laced with angry humiliation or worse, mocking amusement.
She stopped under a flickering lamp. Pulled the phone out. The screen was not lit with Vanja’s name.
It was Lena Oberdorf.
Giulia stared. The young Wolfsburg midfielder’s face smiled from the contact photo, genuine and open. A relic from a different world. The buzz became a tremor in her hand. She accepted the call.
“Giulia? Hey. It’s Lena.” Her voice was warm, slightly hesitant. “I know it’s late. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Giulia said, her own voice strangely calm. “What is it?”
“Just saw the highlights. Hell of a win. That clearance off the line… insane.” There was a pause, the rustle of fabric. “I was thinking… we’re both in town until tomorrow. Feel like a coffee? Nothing serious. Just to talk.”
The normalcy of it was a dislocation. A coffee. Talk. After the leather and the whimpering and the taste of conquest. Giulia leaned against the cold brick wall. She saw Vanja’s Penthous statue arriving will be nextreme theta to develop bloody importance confidence.
“Giulia?”
“Yeah,” she heard herself say. “Yeah, I could do that.”
“Great! There’s that place near the Marienplatz. Ten?”
“Ten is good.”
They exchanged benign pleasantries and hung up. Giulia slid the phone back into her pocket. The invitation was a lifeline to a sanity she’d arguably left behind in a VIP box. She welcomed it. She would cling to it.
Back in her pristine, silent apartment, the shower steam couldn’t permeate her chill. She scrubbed her skin until it was pink. She drank a glass of water. She set an alarm. The captain’s routine, meticulously reassembled.
She was almost convinced it had worked when the knock came at her door just past midnight.
It was not a familiar sound here. No one visited unannounced. Giulia moved to the door, a steel poker from the fireplace held loosely at her side. She looked through the peephole.
Vanja stood in the hallway.
She was dressed down now, in a hoodie and joggers, her hair piled messily atop her head. She looked younger. She looked exhausted. And in her eyes, through the fisheye lens, Giulia saw no mockery. She saw something raw and unresolved.
Giulia unlocked the door and opened it. She didn’t speak.
Vanja’s gaze traveled from the poker in Giulia’s hand to her face. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Expecting someone else?”
“What do you want, Vanja?”
Vanja leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, her confidence seeming like an ill-fitting coat. “You left in the middle of our conversation.”
“Our conversation was over.”
“Was it?” Vanja pushed off the frame and took a step forward. Giulia didn’t move, blocking the entrance. The space between them crackled. Vanja’s scent—clean sweat and something uniquely her—invaded Giulia’s hallway. “You didn’t finish what you started.”
“I finished exactly what I intended to.”
Vanja shook her head, her green eyes locked on Giulia’s. “No. You made a point. A fucking devastating one. But you didn’t finish.” Her voice dropped, losing its edge, gaining a jarring softness. “You didn’t let me touch you.”
Giulia’s grip on the poker tightened. The statement was a key slid into a hidden lock. The ache she had carried since leaving the stadium throbbed in acknowledgment.
“Why would I let you?”
“Because you want me to.” Vanja’s hand came up, not to push, but to rest flat against the door near Giulia’ creative term. “You’ve wanted it since the handcuffs. Since before that. You want to know what it’s like when you’re not fighting it. When you ask for it.”
The poker clattered to the tile floor. The sound was terribly loud.
Giulia grabbed a handful of Vanja’s hoodie and yanked her inside, kicking the door shut behind them. She spun Vanja, slamming her back against the closed door. Vanja’s breath left her in a rush, but her eyes shone.
“Ask?” Giulia snarled, her face inches away.
Vanja’s hands came up to cradle Giulia’s jaw, her thumbs rough on Giulia’s cheeks. “Yes. Ask.”
Giulia kissed her. It was a collision, all teeth and desperate tongue, a transfer of the fury and the lingering taste. Vanja met it with equal hunger, her hands dragging down Giulia’s back, clutching at her sweater. They broke apart, gasping.
“Bedroom,” Giulia ordered, the word ragged.
“Say please,” Vanja whispered, nipping at Giulia’s lower lip.
The word hung between them, a challenge and a test. Giulia’s breath sawed in her chest, her knuckles white where they gripped Vanja’s hoodie. Please. A word for polite requests, for strangers, for everything this was not.
“Fuck you,” Giulia breathed, the denial automatic, a last bastion.
Vanja just smiled, that infuriating, knowing curve of her lips. She leaned in, her mouth brushing Giulia’s ear. “Then stand there. Just stand there.” Her hands released Giulia, sliding down to her own waistband. She pushed her joggers and underwear down her thighs in one slow, deliberate motion, letting them pool at her feet. She stepped out of them, naked from the waist down, and leaned back against the door.
She did not touch herself. She simply spread her stance, открывая себя completely to Giulia’s gaze—the dark blonde thatch of curls, the glistening folds already swollen from the aftermath of her earlier orgasm and this new tension. The sight was a physical blow.
“You can look,” Vanja said, her voice low. “You’re good at that.”
Giulia’s control, so recently weaponized, turned to smoke. A whimper escaped her, traitorous and weak. She wanted to punch the door next to Vanja’s head. She wanted to drop to her knees.
“I want you to fuck me,” Vanja stated, plain and crude. “Not with your mouth. Not with your fingers. I want you to use what I have. I want you to take it.” Her abdomen tensed, that impossible shift beginning below her navel. The thick, familiar shape of her cock began to swell into existence, rising hard and full against her stomach.
Giulia watched it happen, mesmerized by the violation of biology, by the sheer, obscene power of it. It was a demand made flesh.
“Say it,” Vanja coaxed, her hand wrapping around the base, giving a slow, possessive stroke. A bead of clear fluid welled at the tip. “Say ‘please, Vanja. Please fuck me with your cock.’”’
Giulia’s body rebelled. Her cunt clenched around nothing, a raw, empty ache. Her nails dug into her own palms. She remembered the stretch, the helpless, overwhelming fullness from the penthouse, the way her own screams had sounded foreign in her ears. She craved that obliteration again. Needed it.
The fight left her in a rush, leaving her hollowed out and shaking. She unclenched her fists. Her shoulders slumped, not in defeat, but in a savage, surrendering honesty.
She met Vanja’s waiting, green-eyed gaze. Her voice, when it came, was stripped bare, a rasp of pure need.
“Please.”
Vanja’s composure flickered. A lightning-fast blink of surprise, then a blaze of victory so hot it seemed to scorch the air.
“Please what?” she pushed, her thumb smearing the wetness from her cockhead.
Giulia’s next words were torn from a place deeper than pride, a guttural, hungry truth. “Please. Fuck me. Use it. I want your cock. Please, Vanja. Just… fucking ruin me.”
She begged.
Vanja’s smile vanished. The playful tease evaporated, replaced by a focus so absolute it felt like a physical pressure in the hallway. “Good,” she said, the word a stark acknowledgment. She kept her hand wrapped around her cock, gliding it slowly up its length, coating it in the slickness gathered at the tip. “Turn around.”
Giulia obeyed. The action felt less like submission now and more like the necessary alignment before a storm. She faced her own apartment, the sterile, ordered living room a silent witness. She braced her hands against the wall beside the door, her forehead coming to rest against the cool paint.
She heard Vanja move behind her. The rustle of the discarded hoodie. The soft, wet sound of her hand stroking once, twice. Then Vanja’s body pressed against her, skin to clothing, heat to heat. Vanja’s breath was hot on the nape of Giulia’s neck.
“Pull your jeans down,” Vanja instructed, her voice low and direct. “Just to your knees. I want you trapped.”
Giulia fumbled with the button of her jeans, her fingers clumsy. She pushed them down, the denim scraping against her thighs before pooling around her shins. The cool air hit her exposed skin, making her flinch. Vanja’s hand smoothed over the curve of her ass, a rough, possessive caress.
“You begged so pretty,” Vanja murmured, her other hand guiding the thick, blunt head of her cock through Giulia’s folds, gathering wetness but not entering. “I’ll remember that sound. The great Giulia Gwinn, reduced to a ‘please’.” She pressed inward, just an inch, a terrifying promise of stretch. Giulia gasped, her fingers scraping the wall.
“You remember this,” Vanja continued, her voice dropping to a whisper against Giulia’s ear as she pushed another inch, a slow, devastating invasion. “You remember how full you were. How you screamed.” She withdrew almost entirely, then surged forward in one brutal, deep thrust, hilting herself inside Giulia with a wet, solid slap of skin.
Giulia cried out, a sharp, broken shout that echoed in her tidy apartment. The feeling was primal, a blinding shock of fullness that stole the air from her lungs. Vanja was merciless. She set a punishing rhythm from the start, no gentle build, just deep, hard drives that shoved Giulia against the wall with every snap of her hips.
“Is this what you wanted?” Vanja grunted, her hands gripping Giulia’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding her in place to be used. “This cock? Filling up that tight little cunt until you can’t think straight?”
“Fuck—yes—” Giulia choked out, the words fracturing into a moan as Vanja angled a thrust that scraped a spot inside her that sparked white behind her eyelids. Her world telescoped to the slam of their bodies, the slick, filthy sound of penetration, the raw burn of stretch that was tipping into a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Vanja fucked her with a focused, athletic ferocity. It was all driving power from her hips, the muscles in her abdomen tight and corded with effort. She leaned over Giulia’s back, her breasts pressed against Giulia’s sweater, her teeth grazing Giulia’s shoulder.
“You came on my tongue like a wanton bitch in that box,” Vanja hissed, punctuating each word with a deep, grinding thrust. “Now you’ll come on my cock like one. Come for me, Captain. Come all over this dick you begged for.”
The command, the filthy language, the sheer physical dominance of it shattered Giulia’s last pretense of control. Her orgasm ripened low in her belly, a tight, coiling tension that Vanja’s relentless pounding was systematically hammering into release. She felt animal, undone, her moans guttural and continuous.
“Vanja—I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” Vanja snarled, her pace becoming ragged, her own control fraying. “Squeeze me. Come.”
Giulia’s vision whited out. The climax detonated through her, a violent, convulsive wave that clenched viciously around the thick intrusion fucking her through it. She screamed, a raw, ragged sound that belonged to someone else. Her legs buckled, but Vanja held her up, never stopping the deep, driving pumps of her hips, milking the orgasm until Giulia shuddered with oversensitivity.
Only then did Vanja’s rhythm falter. Her breath came in harsh gasps against Giulia’s neck. Her thrusts grew harder, shorter, more frantic. A low, throttled groan rose from her chest.
“Gonna fill you up,” she panted, her voice thick. “Mark you. My come in your cunt. You’ll feel it for days.”
The crude promise was the final trigger. Vanja slammed home one last time, buried to the hilt, and her body locked. A hot, pulsing rush flooded Giulia’s depths, spurt after possessive spurt, a claiming that was both vulgar and profoundly intimate. Vanja’s groan was long and spent, her forehead dropping between Giulia’s shoulder blades.
They stood there, locked together, panting in the dim hallway. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the soft, wet drip of spent fluids on the tile floor between Giulia’s feet. The air smelled of sex, sweat, and shattered boundaries.
Slowly, Vanja softened inside her. She pulled out, the separation making Giuli
She was still catching her breath, the aftershocks making her thighs tremble, when Vanja’s hands on her hips changed their grip. They were no longer holds of possession, but guides. Vanja turned Giulia around to face her.
Giulia expected gloating. A victor’s smirk. She did not expect the stark, unguarded intensity in Vanja’s green eyes. Vanja looked wrecked, her hair plastered to her temples with sweat, her lips parted. She looked like she’d been the one conquered.
Vanja didn’t speak. She leaned in and kissed Giulia. It was nothing like their first collision. This was slow, deep, and startlingly tender. A languid exploration of mouths. A taste shared. When she finally pulled back, her thumbs brushed the tears Giulia hadn’t even realized had streaked from the corners of her eyes.
“Bed,” Vanja said, the word soft but leaving no room for argument. It wasn’t a command to continue. It was an instruction for what came after.
She helped Giulia step out of the jeans tangled at her feet. She took her hand and led her, wordlessly, past the sterile living room, into the bedroom. Giulia followed, lead-limbed and profoundly empty in a way that felt new.
Vanja pulled back the duvet. She pushed Giulia down onto the cool sheets, then slid in beside her, on her side, facing her. The streetlight from the window cut a pale blade across the bed, illuminating the sweat cooling on their skin. Vanja’s cock was gone, retreated, leaving only the smooth, powerful lines of her body.
For a long time, they just breathed, listening to the other’s respiration settle. The city hummed outside, a distant, indifferent life.
Vanja broke the silence, her voice a raw scrape. “That ‘please’,” she said. “It wasn’t for the cock.”
Giulia turned her head on the pillow. “What was it for?”
“For this,” Vanja said, her gaze unwavering. “For the after.”
She shifted closer, her body a curve against Giulia’s. She didn’t try to fuck again. She didn’t speak. She simply wrapped an arm around Giulia’s waist, pulling her back against her chest, skin to skin from shoulder to knee. She buried her face in the sweat-damp hair at the base of Giulia’s neck.
Held.
The position was one of pure shelter. Of quiet, overwhelming possession. It was more intimate than anything that had happened against the wall. Giulia felt a different kind of surrender warm her from the inside, a slow thaw in deep, frozen places.
Vanja’s breathing evened out into sleep. Giulia lay awake in the circle of her arms, feeling the steady beat of Vanja’s heart against her back.
Outside, the first grey light of dawn began to bleed into the black sky over Munich. The alarm on her phone, set for a morning run and a coffee with Lena Oberdorf, ticked silently toward its inevitable chirp in the other room.
Giulia closed her eyes. She did not pull away.
VANJA TAKES CHARGE.