Striker of The Gods

The Siberian Night

The conversation with Putin ended at dusk, where everything came to be under the name of the father of Russia, residing in the power of his king. The Russian president gave one last measured nod, equal parts respect and calculation, before leaving Caos alone with his daughter and future.

Interestingly, Russians do not refer to women as “the weaker sex”—nor do they think women are weak at all—but instead women are “the prettier sex”. As such, women do everything they can to live up to that idea. Whenever they are out in public, Russian women dress pristinely, always in high heels, regardless of the weather. Even now that it is starting to get colder and winter is settling in, women continue this custom with high-heeled boots. It would be a social scandal to wear sweatpants or running shoes unless one is on their way to the gym. After all, each woman is special for her own merit. Nothing could undershadow her greatness. In that sense, this woman was giving him a warm welcome.

Olga Mokosh did not waste time with pleasantries.

She led him through a private corridor deep within the residence, her 2.45-metre frame moving with powerful, hypnotic grace. Each step made her enormous W-cup breasts sway heavily against the tight confines of her black and gold dress, while her massive, wide hips rolled with undeniable feminine power that could freeze Tony Stark on the spot. The air around her carried the faint scent of pine, frost, and something warmer, something hungry.

The biggest moment in the life of a Russian is the day that they get married (followed closely by having children), because it revolves around the love that two people share. Russian women dress nicely to find a husband, while Russian men act chivalrously in order to find a wife. That is to say that Olga had been waiting for a long time.

They reached a secluded wing of the complex, where a private spa was built into the bedrock, steam rising from natural hot springs fed by geothermal depths. The room was vast, dimly lit by low golden lights, with a massive circular pool of steaming water at its centre. Snow fell gently through a glass ceiling high above, melting before it could touch the heated floor.

That is not to say that women don’t receive educations or have careers here, because they most certainly do and know how to deal with other obligations. In general, though, most set aside their career until their children are grade school age, meaning that they leave behind a job they might have had prior to having a child. Russians prefer to care for their children without the help of a nanny, and the idea of preschool is a foreign concept. They are completely devoted to their family and the love within it.

Olga turned to him, ice-blue eyes glowing with bold intent.

Olga:

I have trained in silence my entire life. Strength. Endurance. Control.

But tonight… I want to feel what it is like to lose control with the man who breaks every limit the world thought was unbreakable.

She let the dress fall.

It pooled at her feet like surrendered banners. Her body was breathtaking, towering, voluptuous, and powerfully built, yet impossibly feminine. Enormous, heavy W-cup breasts hung full and firm, nipples already hardened by the contrast of cool air and rising heat. Her waist tapered dramatically before flaring into massive, powerful hips and thick, sculpted thighs that could crush stone. Between them, her sex was already glistening with open desire.

Caos felt the chaos heart surge.

They came together like colliding weather systems.

Olga lifted him effortlessly, her immense strength matching his own, and pinned him against the warm stone wall besides the pool. Her mouth claimed his in a deep, demanding kiss, tongue exploring with the same intensity her father brought to geopolitics. Her huge breasts pressed heavily against his chest as she ground her wide hips forward, letting him feel the slick heat of her arousal.

Olga (moaning against his lips, voice husky):

I watched you run at 300 mph through the snow… wrestling bears like they were nothing… shooting balls at 700 km/h…

Now I want to feel that power inside me.

She dropped to her knees, still towering even then, and freed his cock with eager hands. Her full lips wrapped around him, taking him deep in one smooth motion, her throat accommodating his size with surprising ease. The wet, hungry sounds of her sucking echoed through the chamber as she worshipped him with powerful, rhythmic strokes, massive breasts swaying heavily with every bob of her head.

Caos gripped her raven hair, violet eyes blazing as he thrust into her willing mouth.

Later, they moved into the steaming pool.

Olga rode him with ferocious intensity, her enormous body rising and falling, huge breasts bouncing heavily as she impaled herself again and again on his cock. Water splashed violently around them. Her powerful hips slammed down with enough force to bruise lesser men, yet Caos met every thrust with singular power, hands gripping her massive ass as he drove upward.

Olga (crying out, voice echoing off the stone):

Yes—harder! Give me the storm! Fill me with that chaos—!

She came first: a shattering orgasm that made her entire towering body convulse, inner walls milking him with powerful, rhythmic contractions. Caos followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with thick, hot pulses deep inside her womb.

They stayed locked together long after, floating in the steaming water, her massive frame curled around him protectively.

Olga (whispering against his neck, voice soft yet possessive):

Stay the night.

Tomorrow… I want to show you something no one else has seen. A place where even the Kremlin does not reach. Where we can train together… and break more than just records.

Caos looked into her ice-blue eyes, feeling the Chaos Heart pulse in perfect rhythm with hers.

Caos:

Then show me.

The Siberian night stretched long and dark outside.

Inside the geothermal sanctuary, two forces of nature, the violet storm and the frozen titan, burned together until dawn.

To be continued…