Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
He holds me tight against his body, clamping one leg over both mine to lock me in place and slapping my upturned ass with a steady rhythm. I could orgasm from the spanking alone. My entire body buzzes, pussy quivering. Moisture leaks onto my thighs. If only I can get my fingers…
Carlo catches my hand and bends it behind my back. “Naughty angel. Did I say you could touch yourself?”
“Please, Carlo,” I pant. I don’t want him to stop, I want more. I need release, desperately.
“What happens if I catch you with a swollen foot?”
Despite the fact that I want him to drop the subject and move on to my pleasure, I argue with him. “That’s not really fair, Carlo. I can’t always drop everything and put my foot up.”
He slaps the backs of my thighs, which makes me yelp. “Bambi, are you actually arguing with me?”
“Ow,” I laugh and wriggle as he continues to spank. “No! I’m not arguing. Sorry!”
He stops spanking me, massaging my heated ass. “What happens if I catch you with a swollen foot?”
“I get punished.” I sound sulky.
“I will consider the circumstances.” He brushes my hair from my shoulder and smoothes it away from my face.
I give him a bit of a boo-boo lip, which seems to amuse him.
He squeezes my ass. “Stand, cara mia.”
I push to my feet and rub my tingling cheeks.
“Hold out your hand, palm up, with your fingers spread wide.”
Curious, I obey.
He scoops up something that jingles from the bed table beside him. On each of my fingertips, he lays a single dime, until I balance five coins. “Put the fingers of your other hand on top, so you’re sandwiching the dimes. Good. Now turn your hands so they’re vertical and lift them above your head. If you drop any of the coins, you lose your turn.”
“My turn?”
His grin is devilish. “Yeah, your turn. Now, do it. When I give you an instruction, I expect obedience.”
Oh, the things he says sometimes. The task is easier said than done. Keeping the pressure even on the pads of each of my fingertips takes concentration. Slowly, I stretch my arms overhead.
Carlo grips my waist and moves me back to stand in the center of the bedroom. Already my arms tremble. He walks a slow circle around me, observing my body with a heavy-lidded gaze. He’s still fully dressed, while I stand naked and vulnerable.
Walking to the dresser, he picks up a little brown bottle and unscrews the cap.
I lick my lips, watching.
He puts his fingertip over the top of the bottle and inverts it. “Peppermint oil.” He rubs a circle around my nipple. He repeats the action with the other one, then blows on them. They go cold—a burning cold that makes me shift my hips from side to side in frantic need.
Carlo sinks to his knees at my feet. Gripping one ankle, he pulls my feet apart. He brings his thumbs to my labia and spreads me wide.
My legs and arms tremble with the exertion of holding the position. “What are you doing?”
“Just looking, bambi. Looking at your beautiful pussy. You have a porn pussy, you know that?”
I almost lose the dimes as I suppress a giggle. “What’s a porn pussy?”
“This. This fucking gorgeous, shaved little pussy that drips for me right now while I watch.”
It seems he’ll never lose the power to make me blush. “Carlo,” I choke.
He smiles up at me, showing he understands how hard I find it to stay in position. Pulling back the hood of my clitoris, he extends his tongue and gives the sensitive nubbin one quick flick.
I buck, barely managing to hold my fingertips together.
Carlo repeats the action—just a single cruel flick—enough to send spasms of sensation jolting through my core, but not enough to bring satisfaction.
“Carlo, please.”
He smiles again, the leonine grin. “I like it when you beg, principessa.”
I shiver. My elbows bend of their own accord, and I start to lower my arms.
Carlo’s look turns disapproving, and my arms shoot back up toward the sky. “Do not disappoint me, bambi. I expect your complete obedience.”
“Carlo, I can’t.” But I do. I don’t know how we arrived at this unique relationship so suddenly, but here I am, obeying for no other reason than that he demands it.
Well, that’s a lie. I obey for a multitude of reasons, and most of them revolve around the insane number of orgasms Carlo provides.
To my disappointment, he stands and walks back to the dresser, getting more peppermint oil, which he mixes with something else. When he returns, he stands behind me and grasps my throat, as if he might choke me, but his fingers are gentle. Still, the symbolic position has an effect on me. Fear—the pretend, role-playing kind—shoots through me, making my knees buckle, so the hand at my throat holds me up. Knowing that Carlo is, in fact, a dangerous man only heightens my excitement. Those same strong fingers have closed around other throats with genuine threat. They’ve certainly ended lives. Yet I feel completely safe in his hands, my trust in him absolute.