Jason Welles stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the 'Skip Ad' button, but something made him pause. The commercial playing on YouTube was for Big-E-Mart, the behemoth of shopping. But this wasn't the usual spiel about bulk discounts or the latest tech gadgets. It was a smiling, fresh-faced young woman dressed in a white wedding gown, holding a bouquet of roses. The background was a pastel dreamscape, and the words 'Find Your Perfect Match' danced in glitter across the screen.

The woman spoke. She looked to be Middle Eastern, or perhaps from Central Asia, and her accent was heavy and exotic-sounding. "Starting this Friday, come by your local Big-E-Mart. We're offering a new kind of deal you won't want to miss. Young, beautiful brides like me from around the globe are ready to start a new life with you. They're willing, they're eager, and they're all yours for the taking. Make your dreams come true, starting at just $999.99!"

Jason stared in disbelief. "What the fuck did I just watch?" he muttered. "This can't be real."

He opened up his laptop and did a quick search, only to find that it was very real indeed. Apparently, Big-E-Mart was launching a new service, 'Bride-to-Go', offering young women, mostly from various third-world countries, as brides for sale. The women were willing participants who had signed up as a way to escape poverty and secure a better future for themselves. The company had made the original announcement months ago, and controversy had raged ever since. Some declared the program misogynistic, a way to objectify women and turn them into little more than chattel. Others argued that it was a legitimate service that offered these women a way out of desperate situations while also offering young men a way around the tedium and perpetual heartbreak of the traditional dating scene. Jason wasn't sure which side of the argument he fell on, and he was even less sure why he hadn't heard about it until now. Probably because he'd been so busy with his college classwork, he thought ruefully.

Still, he couldn't deny a certain curiosity. He himself was decidedly single, though not by choice. After thinking about it, he decided to visit Big-E-Mart on a whim, just to see what it was all about.

Jason got to the store early on Friday morning, the curiosity burning in his gut like a cup of too-strong coffee. Big-E-Mart had transformed a section of the store into a makeshift bridal boutique. Aisles of white lace and satin curtains separated the 'Bride-to-Go' section from the rest of the store, and a string of lights with intermittent pink hearts fluttered from the ceiling. The place smelled faintly of fresh flowers and new plastic.

The brides themselves were arrayed on a raised plastic dais, lined up in rows four deep and at least ten wide. All of them were drop-dead gorgeous and wearing what Jason assumed was traditional dress from their home countries. One girl, a petite Asian, was wearing a bright red ao dai, while another wore a brightly colored sari that shimmered like a rainbow in the fluorescent light. A blonde woman from Romania wore a traditional folk costume that made her look like a fairy tale come to life--but then he saw her.

She was standing almost at the end of the aisle, her hands folded demurely in front of her. She was, by far, the most beautiful of them all. Her eyes, a piercing blue, met his gaze and held it for a heartbeat before dropping to the floor. Her hair was the color of wheat and fell in soft waves down to the small of her back. She was wearing a simple yet elegant white dress that made her look like an angel. Her skin was porcelain, and she had the delicate features of a China doll. Her name tag read: “Ayana, 18, from Kazakhstan. Sexual experience: virginal. Temperament: gentle, sweet, nurturing, submissive. Easily led, follows directions well. Likes: cooking, cleaning, children. Dislikes: confrontation, fighting, conflict of any kind. Religious beliefs: Christian. English fluency: rudimentary. Will require simple, clear instructions using simple words.”

He reached to turn the tag over, making her start. The backside of it contained more info. “Ayana is an orphan whose parents died when she was young. She dreams of a loving family and a peaceful life. She’s eager to learn and adapt to your customs and will make an excellent wife and mother. She’s been taught basic housekeeping and childcare skills and is ready to be yours today!” It was like reading a product description for a new smartphone, except this 'product' had a heartbeat and a soul.

He looked around, noticing the other customers eyeing the women like they were prize cattle at an auction. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t deny the excitement stirring in his chest. The thought of having someone so pretty and so willing to care for him was intoxicating. And Ayana was so beautiful. She almost radiated purity and innocence.

He approached the dais, his heart thudding like a drum in his chest. The other brides offered him shy smiles, but Ayana remained stoic, her gaze fixed on the ground. He stopped in front of her, and she looked up again. He could see the hope in her eyes, the desperation. He realized he didn’t know what to say. What did you say to a girl you were about to buy? And with the language barrier, would she even understand him?

Jason swallowed hard and turned to an employee who was keeping an eye on the girls. “I’d like to purchase her,” he said, pointing at Ayana. The worker nodded without a hint of surprise and led him to a nearby kiosk. The transaction was eerily similar to buying a new phone online—quick, efficient, and coldly impersonal. The employee handed him a card with a barcode and told him to scan it at the exit. Then she went to Ayana and led the girl over.

“Please sign these forms indicating your acceptance of the terms and conditions, Mr. Welles,” the employee said, handing him a clipboard with a sheaf of papers attached. “Your signature will certify that you are aware of your responsibilities and that you are legally of age to make this purchase. The bride will come with a one-year warranty covering health and fertility. If you wish to upgrade to our extended care package, it's available at an additional cost. It includes language classes, cultural integration courses, and counseling services. Please be aware that there is no refund or return policy and that you can't sell her to anyone else. Do you have any questions?”

Jason's hand hovered over the pen, his thoughts racing. This was real. He was actually going to buy a wife. He glanced at Ayana before he scrawled his name on the dotted line and handed the clipboard back to the employee. The woman took it without a second glance and gave him a plastic bag containing a manual and a USB drive. “Her papers are on the drive. She's all yours now. I hope you two are very happy together.” The words were spoken as if by rote, as if she had said them 100 times before.

Ayana clasped her hands in front of her and looked demurely at the floor. This was what she’d hoped for when she'd decided to become a Big-E-Mart bride, but now that she'd been purchased, she felt fear gnawing at her belly. She didn’t know what to expect from this stranger. Would he be kind to her? Would he care for her? Would he treat her like a cherished wife or more as a slave, a possession?

She hit her lip and averted her eyes from him. Until she knew him better, complete and utter submission was probably the safest option for her. The Big-E-Mart corporation had told all the girls who volunteered as brides that they were to be obedient, to serve their husbands in every way possible. Those who got their wives in such a way expected them to be submissive and uncomplaining. It was what they had paid for, after all.

Ayana followed Jason meekly to the checkout, her heart racing faster than the conveyor belt beneath them. The cashier scanned the barcode attached to the back of her neck, and the total popped up on the screen: $999.99. That was her worth, she thought. It felt strange to be valued in dollars and cents, almost degrading. But she pushed the thought aside, reminding herself that this was her ticket out of the orphanage, out of poverty, into what she hoped was a better life. It was ever a woman’s fate to be pragmatic, and women of Kazakhstan were taught to endure.

Jason could barely keep his eyes off her as they walked to his car. Her movements were so graceful, like a ballerina's. Her long shapely legs swished beneath the hem of her dress as she took careful steps on her high heels. The dress was simple, but it hugged her body in all the right places. His mouth went dry just watching her.

His car was a Buick, nothing too fancy, but it was running fine after more than 20 years and it got great gas mileage. Privately, he was a little worried that she would think it shabby, But that was far from the truth. Ayana was impressed that he had a car at all. Back in the small rural village she’d grown up in, cars were a luxury, something only the very rich had. To her, it was a sign of wealth and success.

He held the door open for her, and after a moments hesitation, she got inside.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Ayana gazed at him blankly. She didn’t understand what her husband was saying. The English she had learned at the Big-E-Mart language center was minimal and mostly consisted of phrases like "yes," "no," "thank you," and "I love you." She looked down and nodded, hoping it was an appropriate response.

Jason took her silence for agreement and drove to a nearby fast-food restaurant. He ordered a burger and fries for himself and a chicken sandwich for her. When the food arrived, he pointed to her meal and said, "For you." She offered a tentative smile and took the tray, her hands trembling slightly. When she took a bite, her eyes widened. It was delicious! Better than any food she'd ever tasted in the orphanage.

Jason's on-campus apartment was small but serviceable, about 850 square feet with a single bedroom, a single bath, and a small kitchenette complete with dishwasher, refrigerator, oven, stove, and microwave. A small kitchen table set up in the attached dining area doubled as both Jason's workplace for class assignments and a place to eat. The living room, too, was small but furnished well: a comfortable couch, large enough for two, sat flanked by small side tables on which to put food and drink. A large flat-screen TV, which Jason had saved up for months to afford, was affixed to the opposite wall. His laptop, still open, sat whirring quietly on the kitchen table surrounded by books, papers, and pencils. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed and soft sheets.

Jason was worried Ayana would look askance at it, but the opposite was true. Ayana was stunned. So many modern conveniences! This was far beyond what almost everyone in her small village back in Kazakhstan had had. This was the sort of luxury she had only seen in movies and the occasional magazine that had made its way to the orphanage. Now she could cook over a stove instead of an open flame, and wash her clothes in a washer and dryer instead of by hand! She felt a little dizzy at the thought.

It wasn't clean, exactly, but neither was Jason's apartment a pigsty. Ayana wasn't fazed by the clutter of a college student's life. The orphanage she'd grown up in had been run by nuns from the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the nuns had been quite blunt about the differences between men and women as she and the other girls entered adolescence. Men, she'd been told, were by nature messier and less organized, and sometimes ruled by their baser instincts even when they should listen to common sense. It wasn't their fault; it was just how they were wired. She could no more judge Jason for being a little messy than she could a cat for scratching a table leg. As Ayana saw it, her job was to make this place a home for both of them. The nuns had taught her to cook and clean and sew, not because she enjoyed it—although she did—but because they'd said it would be expected of her one day. They had drilled it into all the girls that a wife's duty was to see to her husband's household and keep it in good working order, to be a helpmeet and not a hindrance. A wife's place was not to argue or contradict her husband but to trust in his judgment and aid, support, and help him as much as possible. Nothing, the nuns claimed, was so sinful as a disobedient and rebellious wife, and Ayana, herself a devout Eastern Orthodox Christian, took that to heart. She would ensure that Jason's clothes were always clean, his meals were always hot, and his bed was always made.

Her cheeks reddened as she remembered that there were other needs, other appetites a wife must satisfy. Ayana was a virgin, but she was not naive; she knew what passed between men and women, at least in a basic sense. The nuns had been as clear about that as they were about everything else. Men, they'd told her over and over, had basic, fundamental needs, and meeting those needs was the most important duty of a wife. As her husband, Jason had the God-given right to her body, and no doubt expected her to be available for such things whenever he wished. Ayana had agreed to this, had signed up for it, but that didn't mean it was easy to think about.

She gave him a furtive glance as she gazed around the apartment. Ayana had seen what the men who'd purchased some of the other girls at Big-E-Mart looked like: old, overweight, hoary, and lecherous, their eyes glittering with lust. Those men did not want a wife as much as they wanted someone to feed and fuck them on command. Compared to them, Ayana had lucked out with Jason, and she knew it. It could have been much worse, and besides, he'd been nothing but kind to her so far. He seemed to treat her as a person, not an object, and that alone was deserving of her loyalty. Even if they never fell in love, Ayana would serve him with all her heart so long as he treated her well. Perhaps they might even become friends.

Jason was still talking. Ayana couldn't understand a word of it--the English words were harsh and foreign to her--but she did her best to smile. She hoped he wasn't saying anything too important and made a mental note to try and learn at least a rudimentary amount of English. She wanted to be able to talk to him.

Ayana began making a mental to-do list of things she could do to make the apartment nicer. The dishes in the sink had to all be washed, for one thing. There was clearly lots of laundry to be done, and the living room carpet could do with a good cleaning as well. Perhaps Jason had a vacuum cleaner? Ayana had seen them in movies, on the rare occasions the orphanage held movie nights on an ancient VHS player, and hoped she could use that rather than scrubbing the carpet by hand. The living room window could do with a set of nice curtains, which she could make by hand if she had enough material to work with, and the bathroom also needed a vigorous scrubbing--it wasn't nasty, but it could certainly be better.

As they walked into the bedroom, Ayana felt a knot in her stomach. This was where she would sleep. With him. This was where she would lie beside him every night, and eventually, when he decided the time was right, she would become his wife in every way. It was entirely likely that their first child would be conceived in that bed. She didn’t know how she felt about that. She had never been with a man before, had never even been kissed. The nuns had been clear on what to expect, but the prospect of actually doing it was something else entirely. Perhaps...perhaps Jason could wait a little and give her time to adjust?

Ayana banished the thought. No, she told herself firmly. Jason was a young man in his prime, and as his wife, she was expected to meet his needs. She doubted that any healthy male in his early twenties would be content to wait for any length of time at all. It would be a terrible first impression for her to push him away, and in any case, it was going to happen sooner or later, regardless. Why not just have it done with? It wasn't as if Jason was bad-looking. Quite the opposite, really. Ayana was a virgin- she'd never even masturbated before- but like all women who'd grown up in hard circumstances, she was also a pragmatist who knew how to deal with the inevitable. So, she drew a deep breath, turned to him, and reached for the hem of her white sundress.

"You...want me?" she asked, her English thickly accented and broken.

Jason, cut off in midsentence, stopped and blinked in surprise. "I... yeah, I do," he said awkwardly, his cheeks flushing. He'd been so caught up in the bureaucracy of the purchase that the reality of what he'd just done had not fully sunk in yet. He'd bought a wife, a beautiful girl with a shy smile and a hopeful gaze. And she was now standing in front of him, dressed in white, innocently and sweetly offering herself to him. He'd had his fair share of college hookups, so he wasn't ignorant, but this was different. This was his wife.

His wife. How strange it was to say that. How strange it was to look at her and know she was his to hold, to kiss, to make love to, and to care for and provide for. But as much as the idea excited him, he also felt a sudden, deep, and profound sense of responsibility. He wasn't just getting laid; he was starting a life with someone. And that life had to start off on the right foot.

He stepped closer to her, taking his hand in hers and holding it over his heart. Ayana was surprised to feel how fast it was beating. This was how she affected him. That realization rocked her. Jason was strongly, deeply attracted to her. He found her beautiful.

In her husband's eyes, she was beautiful. Ayana felt a surge of warmth as this knowledge settled over her. She could see his desire for her in the dilation of his pupils, the way his nostrils flared with each breath, the way his thumb rubbed against her palm in a gentle caress. And despite herself, she felt a responding warmth low in her belly and between her legs. The nuns had taught her that such feelings were sinful, that she should be passive and yielding, but she had feelings too. And she found that she didn't mind the idea of lying with this man at all.

"I...virgin," she whispered, her voice cracking as she made to unzip the back of her dress. "You...be gentle? Please?"

Jason nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. "I will, Ayana." He took over, his hands shaking slightly as he carefully unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor, leaving her in just a simple white slip and a pair of plain white panties. His cock jumped to full attention and Ayana fought down a gasp as she saw it tenting his jeans. He made a motion to hold her close and she stepped into his arms, letting him run his palms over her body to cup her breasts and ass.

"Kiss," he said, clearly trying for her sake to keep the dialogue as simple as possible. "Yes? You want?"

Ayana's face reddened, but she nodded, standing on her tiptoe to meet his lips. The kiss was tentative at first, unsure. But as Jason's hands grew more confident, so did their kisses. He pulled her closer, one hand sliding around to the small of her back, pressing her hips against his growing erection. Ayana felt her own heart racing now like a little bird fluttering in her chest, and her nipples beneath her slip grew hard and perky. A wetness grew between her thighs, a soft and hungry heat begging to be filled. It took Ayana a moment to recognize the sensation as desire. She wanted this. She wanted him.

He broke the kiss to look at her, his eyes searching her face. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

In response, Ayana removed her shift and let it fall to the floor. Her bare breasts were modest but well-shaped, and her skin was flawless without so much as a mole. Carefully, she slid her plain white panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them. For the first time in her life, Ayana stood bare before a man's gaze. She shivered a little, but it was not from cold.

The sight of her took Jason’s breath away. He’d seen naked women before, of course, but there was something incredibly erotic and intimate about seeing his new wife undress for him, especially knowing she’d never done this before. Ayana was absolutely gorgeous: she had the lean, lithe build of a ballet dancer or gymnast. Her stomach was flat, and her hips flared out gently, leading down to a patch of dark hair that was the only color on her body. She was a vision of innocence and beauty. Jason felt his cock throb with need.

With liquid, almost feline grace, Ayana lay down on her back, fighting not to moan with pleasure at the soft mattress and silken sheets over her bare skin. Back at the orphanage, she'd slept on a stiff, lumpy mattress, her only cover a thin, often threadbare blanket. This, by contrast, was heavenly.

She gazed up at him expectantly and tried to steady her breathing and her racing heart. She was in Jason's hands now, and it was his duty as a man to take the lead. She wasn't under any illusions; she knew he'd probably been with other girls before, but that didn’t bother her. In fact, it was something of a relief that her husband knew what he was doing, at least in broad strokes.

Ayana met his eyes squarely as he hovered her lips, their noses almost touching. "I...your wife," she managed. "You...my husband." She reached up to cup the side of his face. "You...take care of me? Yes?"

Jason's heart swelled. "Yes," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. He bent down and kissed her again, this time more urgently. His hands slipped behind her neck, pulling her closer, his tongue probing her mouth tentatively. He could feel her body responding to him, the way she arched her back and her chest heaved with every breath she took.

Ayana melted against him and didn't try to fight it. She'd made her decision, and now she would let her body do the rest. She felt Jason's hands on her breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples to make her shudder with pleasure. She gasped into his mouth; his kiss grew more demanding, his tongue delving deeper, tangling with her own.

Jason broke the kiss just long enough to shed his own clothing, and Ayana watched, curious, as his own body was bared to her. How different it was to her own, she thought. He was broad-shouldered and lean. Perhaps he was an athlete of some sort because she could see the muscles rippling beneath his skin. His chest was sprinkled with dark hair and his cock stood erect and proud between his legs, jutting out like a spear.

Ayana fought down a gasp. How on Earth was that supposed to fit inside her? How was she going to take something that big? How--?

"Ayana?"

Her eyes opened, and she tilted her head curiously.

Jason gestured at his cock. "Blowjob?"

She reddened even further. She'd heard of such things from some of the other girls in the orphanage who'd snuck out at night to see boys in the village, but she'd never done anything like it herself. Still, if Jason wanted it, she would do it. It was her duty as a wife, she told herself once more.

She took his shaft in her hand, and it twitched like a living thing at her touch. Her eyes widened as she studied it, unsure of what to do next. She leaned in closer and took a tentative lick, her eyes never leaving his. Jason groaned at the sensation and his eyes rolled back in his head. He hadn’t been expecting that. It was clear she had no experience, but the innocence of the gesture was incredibly arousing. He watched as she took it into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she experimented with sucking, her tongue playing over the head. It was sweet and awkward and utterly intoxicating.

Ayana was astonished at how strongly he reacted to her ministrations. Jason made a sound like a snarl through clenched teeth and his whole body stiffened. She took that as a sign she was doing it right, though she had no idea why he liked it so much. It didn't really matter, she supposed. She was pleasing him and that was what was important.

Jason hurriedly pulled out before his orgasm seized him, his cock visibly pulsating as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Pure lust burned in his eyes and he pushed Ayana onto her back again before roughly shoving her legs apart. She made no attempt to resist.

He slid a finger into her slickness and she gasped. Jason smiled at just how tight she was. She was a virgin, alright. He knew he had to be gentle. Carefully, he coaxed her open, adding another finger and using his thumb to start caressing her clit. Ayana gasped again, her body jolting at the sudden, intense pleasure. She’d never felt anything like this before. It was a surge of pure pleasure like nothing she’d ever imagined.

He kissed her again and kept fingering her until she was so wet it began soaking into the sheets. He knew she was ready, but he didn’t want to rush her. He wanted this to be special for his new wife. Withdrawing his hand, he lined up his cock with her tight entrance and then paused.

"Ayana," he said firmly.

She looked up at him, all innocence and purity.

"You..." he pointed at her. "Mine." He pointed at himself. "You...only...do this..." he gestured at their naked bodies. "...With me." He pointed at himself again. "Only me. Me."

Ayana nodded. She understood what he was saying. Her body was his. No other man would ever be permitted to touch her this way, not ever. And that was only for the best, because she didn't want anyone else to. Jason would never have to worry about her loyalty.

"Yours," she replied. "Only...you. Jason."

He leaned in and kissed her deeply, feeling a fierce possessiveness. He felt his cock swell even more with pride at the thought of being her first and only. A sense of satisfaction that was purely male and primal filled him. He brushed his cock against her entrance, teasing her briefly, before plunging into her with one sharp, forceful thrust, tearing through her hymen with ease and taking her virginity forever.

Ayana screamed. She couldn't help it. It hurt! She was shocked how much it hurt. The nuns had said to expect some discomfort, but nothing like this. It felt like being split in two by a baseball bat! Blood from her ruptured maidnehead leaked onto the bed and she gripped the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. Ayana, with clenched teeth, fought not to push him away.

Perhaps any other man would have just kept on going regardless of her discomfort, but not Jason. Her husband stopped and took her mouth in a heated kiss, claiming her lips for a long moment before kissing her tears away. "It's okay," he murmured in her ear. "I've got you, Ayana. I've got you; it's all right. Just hang on to me. Just...hang on."

Ayana whimpered against his shoulder, feeling the pain subside to a dull ache as Jason remained still, giving her body time to adjust to his intrusion. He kissed her neck, her cheeks, her forehead, whispering reassurances in her ear in English that she couldn't understand. His whole body shook with the amount of self-control it took not to just take her like an animal in heat, and she adored him for it. That he would hold back for her sake spoke volumes about her husband's character and the kind of man he was.

Finally, when she nodded, indicating she was ready, Jason began to move. At first, it was slow, shallow thrusts that sent shivers of pain through her, but she bit her lip and bore it. He watched her face carefully, reading her reactions, making sure she was okay. And gradually, she was. The pain began to ease, replaced by something else. Something she'd never felt before, a deep, intense pleasure that seemed to be coiled and building inside her with every thrust.

Ayana kissed him- he didn't kiss her; she kissed him. It was a bold move, by her standards, but she wanted him to know that she appreciated his patience, his gentleness. This was a man she would not only serve with a willing heart, but a man deserving of her respect...and perhaps much more. And so she clung to him for dear life, gripping his back and wrapping her legs around his waist as he began to move inside her in earnest, urging him onward, kissing him with a desperate need that grew with each passing second.

"Jason," she panted. She wanted to say more, wished she could, but her command of English was so sparse she didn't have the words to express what she was feeling. She hoped he understood the urgency in her tone, the way she was begging him to go faster, to fill her up completely.

He did. His thrusts grew harder, more demanding, his hips moving like pistons as he claimed her. Ayana's nails dug into his back, leaving half-moons in his skin, and she felt his cock hit something deep inside her, a place that made her spine arch and her eyes roll back in her head. It was incredible. It was the most amazing she'd ever felt. Every nerve of her body was afire with pleasure, and she found herself moving with him, meeting him thrust for thrust out of sheer feminine instinct.

She was utterly unprepared when her orgasm hit. Ayana's body went taut, and she screeched, clawing at his back as she bucked and writhed beneath him. It was like nothing she'd ever felt, a pleasure so intense it was almost painful. The veins in her neck bulged against her skin and her eyes squeezed shut as she rode out the storm of sensations crashing through her body. She didn't know where she was, who she was, only that she was being torn apart by this incredible feeling and she never wanted it to stop.

Jason came a heartbeat later. Ayana felt it--literally felt it--as his cock erupted with near-violent force, unleashing a hot flood of cum deep inside her. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, and she felt herself clench around him, her muscles spasming with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Ayana felt thick ropes of his seed lashing against her cervix and marveled at how amazing the sensation was.

They stayed like that for a long moment, Jason still hard and buried within her, both of them panting and trying to catch their breath. Ayana made a mewling sound like a kitten, and Jason leaned down to kiss her forehead and realized she was crying.

"Oh, baby," he murmured, his voice full of concern. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Ayana looked almost concussed. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and her whole body was trembling with the aftermath of her climax. "No," she whispered when she finally found her voice. "No hurt. Just...just..."

Jason pulled out of her with a gentle ease, his cock slick with her blood and their combined juices. "You okay?"

Ayana nodded, the tears still flowing down her cheeks. "Yes," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her words. "Thank you."

"Do you want to keep going?" he asked seriously.

More? He could make her feel like this even more? Ayana couldn't agree fast enough. She nodded, and Jason said, "I show you. Okay?"

He rolled over and she squeaked with surprise at suddenly finding herself on top of him. His cock was already at full attention once more and it took Ayana a second to figure out what he wanted: cowgirl.

She felt absurdly sheepish. The nuns regarded anything other than missionary as sinful, but if Jason wanted it she was more than happy to oblige. She positioned herself awkwardly at first but quickly found her rhythm. He was right; it was incredible. She could feel him stretching her open, filling her in a way she’d never thought possible. It didn’t hurt anymore. It was...it was good. No, it was amazing, and she loved how, this time, she could be the one to set the pace and rhythm of their lovemaking. Ayana ground her hips experimentally, placing her hands on her chest to keep her balance, and watched Jason's eyes glaze over with pleasure.

Ayana bounced on his cock with all the gleeful abandon of a child playing hopscotch, her eyes wide and bright with excitement. The pleasure grew with every thrust she made, her inner walls clenching around him like a tight fist. Jason watched her, his eyes never leaving hers, his hands on her waist to help guide her movements. His own orgasm had left him momentarily sated, but watching her, feeling her, was making his own climax build once more.

Ayana's body began to shine with a thin sheen of sweat, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants as she rode him. Her breasts bobbed with every bounce and her nipples were hard, pink little points that Jason couldn't stop staring at. He reached up to play with them, pinching and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, making her gasp and buck even faster.

Ayana came so hard she almost lost consciousness. Stars and white spots burst in her vision and she threw her head back, letting out a scream that was more a primal roar than anything human. Her cunt clamped down on Jason’s cock, her muscles quivering and spasming around him as her juices gushed out around his shaft.

Her head snapped back and when Jason came, Ayana felt she'd die from the sheer power of it. His hands gripped her hips tightly, guiding her through the last few thrusts, and when she collapsed onto him, boneless and spent, he groaned into her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin as he buried his face in her hair.

Ayana was as weak as a newborn infant. Utterly spent. Utterly exhausted. But Jason was not, and she didn't have the will or the strength or even the desire to fight him as he pulled out and roughly turned her round to push her onto her stomach. She had just enough time to realize what he was about to do before he did it, plunging into her and fucking her doggystyle.

And so it went, for hours and hours, long into the night. Jason fucked his new wife like a human sex doll, and Ayana could do nothing but take it. Her mind practically melted and she was putty in his hands, little more than a collection of sensations and responses. By the time he was finally spent in the small hours of the morning, she could barely even string a coherent thought together. Ayana was a wreck of pleasure, her body sore all over and sticky with their mingled juices, but she felt good. Really good. Like the best kind of exhausted. Her pussy was so filled with cum it felt like it was leaking out of her and onto the bed beneath them, to the point where Jason had to change the sheets. Ayana was so spent she couldn't even rise to her elbows.

They lay there, side by side, for what felt like hours. Neither spoke. They didn't need to. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat and the weight of their shared experience. Finally, Jason stirred, rolling onto his side to face her. "Ayana," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Look at me."

She tried, she really did, but even moving her head was beyond her. Not an ounce of strength remained in her body after what Jason had done. So Jason turned it for her, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt her face towards him.

He kissed her gently, then took his phone and brought up Google translate to turn his English words into Kazakh. He pronounced her native tongue so badly she almost didn't understand it.

"I want," he began in halting, truly awful Kazakh, "to make you happy. I want you to love me. I am falling in love with you."

Ayana stared at him, utterly stunned. Love? Was this what it felt like? The warmth in her chest, the feeling of belonging, the completeness she felt when she was with him? She searched for the right words, the scant English she'd learned from the nuns, and after a moment whispered, "I love you too, Jason. Want...be wife. Want...be mother. Happy family. Let's have."

Her voice was so soft it was barely a whisper, but it was enough. Jason's heart swelled in his chest, and he pulled her closer, kissing her forehead tenderly. "We will," he promised. "We will."

Ayana returned the embrace, running her hands through his sweaty, damp hair. "Love you forever. Jason. Mine." Then she frowned a little. "Not...do this...with others. Yes?"

He nodded. "Yes, baby. I promise." He didn’t know what had come over him, but he meant it. He hadn’t felt this possessive about a girl since...ever. "You're mine now and I don't want anyone else but you."

Ayana's eyes searched his for the truth. After a moment she seemed to find it and relaxed once more. She closed her eyes, a content smile playing on her lips. "Good," she murmured drowsily. "Want...sleep now."

They fell asleep not long after, and Ayana slept deeper and better than she ever had in her life.