by Alta Hensley
Kitties.
Grown, beautiful women crawling on all fours and acting as animals as they were led around by a collar. Powerful men in suits. Sounds of strict orders, mewls, purrs, and the occasional moan or cry as a naughty kitty was disciplined for not behaving.
I watched from the distance reminiscent of when I used to sneak to the top of the stairs as a child and peer down below. Only this time, I watched with a glass of champagne in my hand and an occasional glance from a man on the hunt for his very own kitty. I never stayed long. I kept to myself and put of an aura that I was not interested. Occasionally a man would approach, and I would just brush him off. If he only knew that I was saving his life. If my father saw me acting as someone’s kitty… well that someone would be killed without a second for explanation.
No one touched his daughter. His mafia princess.
No one.
Luckily, not everyone at the party was a kitty or a pet owner which aided me in just blending in. Some guests just attended and enjoyed the ambiance rather than partaking in the kinky play. They drank expensive wine and champagne, ate caviar, and worked the room as if it were completely normal for a woman in a kitty tail to be curled up at the feet of the person you discussed business with.
I never recognized the guests, which also worked in my favor. My father liked to invite different people each party to keep it interesting. He also invited more than our house really should hold, so it was easy to find a corner somewhere and only move when my father was getting too close to where I stood.
To the right of me, a woman…kitty… was on her knees with a cock balls deep in her mouth. Her eyes opened and connected with me which oddly sent a current of sensation between my legs. Closing my thighs tight to force the throbbing to ease, I quickly looked away although the dirty side of me wanted to watch as the kitty had her face fucked beside me.
It was the time of the night that this always happened to me.
I reached the point where I had entirely too much to drink. The sexual chemistry, the forbidden fantasies, and the absolute need to defy my father made me want to get down on my hands and knees and become a pet to the first man who would look at me.
It was time for me to leave.
I knew this.
It was always the same.
Plus, if I stayed too long, my father could see me, or someone he works with closely would spot me in the crowd. I didn’t want to press my luck, and as much as I wanted to act out some of these kinks around me myself, I knew that was never going to be an option.
“Not interested in being a kitty?” a deep voice asked from behind me as I took a large drink of my champagne so I could leave without wasting.
I struggled not to roll my eyes, as I was used to at least a few men to attempt to pick me up during the night. Some were tempting, and others weren’t. “Just a voyeur.” That response usually worked for me, and the man typically got the idea that I wasn’t interested in having any real fun with him.
The man handed me a new flute of champagne, and I almost rejected it but saw I only had a couple of sips left in the one I held, and another drink wouldn’t exactly hurt…
“Thank you,” I said, as I placed my old glass on a table and took the one offered. I tried to never make eye contact with anyone, but for some reason, I looked up into his eyes.
They were dark. Powerful.
But I didn’t find that fact shocking. Everyone at my father’s parties were dark and powerful to some degree. I quickly looked away and stared straight ahead hoping my inattentive behavior would be enough for this man to grow bored and move onto the next party guest.
“I’m surprised your father allows you to attend his world famous pet parties,” the man said casually.
My heart stopped. The champagne flute rested on my lips mid drink as my entire body froze. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
The man chuckled as he drank from his own glass. “I take it from your response, that Daddy Dearest is unaware of your presence here.”
My eyes darted to where my father stood by the table of expensive meat and cheeses as he laughed loudly at whatever story the people circling him were telling him—a kitty was at each foot rubbing seductively against him. He was distracted. But for how long?
I stole a glance at the man who recognized me but couldn’t say the same about him. I had never seen him before, or at least not that I could place. We traveled a lot and never stayed in one state long, but I was usually good at remembering faces at the very least. This mystery man even recognized me with the mask and the wig, which meant that I hadn’t done nearly as good of a job concealing my identity as I had thought. If this stranger recognized me, then it was just a matter of time until my father did as well.
But who was this man?
He had black hair slicked back, a strong jaw line, thick eye lashes that hooded the dark eyes that oozed sophistication and wisdom. Older, but not as old as my father or even as old as most of his colleagues. I could tell from his suit and the Rolex that he wore, that he possessed money, but anyone attending one of my father’s parties was wealthy to some degree. He was clearly in good shape, extremely easy on the eyes, and in any other ordinary situation, I would appreciate being in the same presence with him. But not now. I needed to flee and fast. But I also was terrified he would then walk over to my father and reveal my secret. It would surely earn him some points with the feared and respected Vittorio Costa.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I won’t say anything.”
Keeping secrets from Vittorio Costa would get you killed.
Not wise.
This man was not wise at all.
I didn’t want to thank him because that would be admitting that he was right in his assumption that I was in fact Aria Costa.
“Excuse me,” I said as I turned to walk toward the balcony to get some fresh air. I wanted to run to my bedroom and slam the door, but I also didn’t want this man to know without a doubt that I was Aria. My ears were ringing, and beads of sweat were forming on my upper lip underneath the kitty mask. I needed to regain my composure and get as far away from this man—that I refused to look at—as I could get.
He took hold of my arm. Firm but not aggressive.
“I would stay here, if I were you,” the man said. “If you walk away alone, all eyes will be on you. You are by far the most beautiful woman in this room which means even Daddy Dearest will take pause to look at you.” He tightened his grip. “You’re safer here with me.”
I didn’t know what to say. Or do.
I swallowed hard hoping that I could somehow hide how nervous I was. My heart pounded even harder against my chest. Was I more afraid of being caught? Or more afraid of this man?
Tall. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark everything. A suit that screamed success and class. Hands that were big enough to grasp my entire arm.
Was he my savior or my enemy? Did he know my father? Would he tell him and deliver me to him to earn points with my father’s in his line of yes men?
He spun me around so my back was facing the main room and I was directly in front of him. He placed his hand on my throat and spoke softly. “What would a kitty do right now?”
I remained silent, but I didn’t break away from his hold. I didn’t want to draw any attention my way.
His eyes glanced over my shoulder, and I was tempted to turn and see if indeed he was staring at my father or if this was all a sick way to dominate over me. I was pretty sure this was a man who was used to getting whatever he wanted… most likely by simply taking it.
“I wouldn’t turn around if I were you. Your father is looking this way.”
I tensed as tears welled in my eyes. Emotion prickled the back of my throat, and I wanted to run as fast as I could but also knew that was not an option. His hand remained around my throat and though I should be terrified or at the very least appalled, I remained completely still and trusted this stranger at his word.
“Don’t worry. All he can see is your bac
k. Stay still. Play the part.”
My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. I refused to show just how scared I was. My father would kill him for touching me. I wouldn’t put it past my father to kill me for the shame this would place on him—especially be found out like this in front of his colleagues. Temptation to turn my head and see for myself was quickly squashed as his hand tightened, restricting my airflow just enough to warn me to stop.
Fingerprints on my neck.
But my father… what would he do to me? I had no idea but feared it would be far worse than death.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” the man said as he pulled me closer to him with his hand still tight around my neck.
Possessive.
He was showing the room that I was his.
His.
“I’m not afraid,” I finally spoke, my lips entirely too close to this man’s face. It was hard to breathe, but not just because this man held my neck.
Fear and lust blended. This man… this fucking man. Who was he? Why did I just stand there and allow him to hold me in such a dominating way?
“You should be. You should be very afraid.” His eyes glanced over my shoulder. “Your father’s coming this way.”
He’s working the room as he always does. I should have already left by now.
My knees weakened, and if it weren’t for the fact that this man still held me by the neck, the overwhelming apprehension of what was to come when my father discovered me at his pet party would have made me crumple to the floor.
The man released my neck just as quickly as he placed his palm there and exchanged my flesh for my hair. He took a handful of my pink wig and pulled me even closer, claiming my mouth with his. He pulled away enough to command, “Kiss me as if your life depends on it.”
Practically feeling my father’s steps behind me, I knew the only way to prevent him from walking up and greeting us was to engage in something that my father wouldn’t want to interrupt.
God forbid him acting as a cock block to any guest in his house.
So, I kissed the stranger.
I kissed him with as much passion as my frightened body could muster.
His tongue darted inside my mouth and caressed my own. Smooth, warm, intoxicating.
My first real kiss. My first real man. This was not a schoolboy kiss by the outside bathrooms. This was not a kiss from a boy who walked me to the front door but was too awkward to do anything else.
No, this was a kiss that commanded every sensation in my body.
Was my father watching?
Was the show of affection enough for him to walk away and to go greet other guests?
Or would this be my final kiss?
Regardless, I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want it to end. And I also knew that I needed to allow this stranger to be in control of when it did. He was saving me. Protecting me.
The stranger pulled away enough to nip my lip as his eyes looked over my shoulder again. He released my hair but moved his hand to my lower back, pulling me even closer to him if that was even possible.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he directed.
I did as he instructed. My body trembled, and my breathing came out in small puffs of air. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I could feel the pulse in my neck as a mixture of desire and terror blended to an inexplicable tonic of need and hunger for more.
No.
No.
I needed to run away.
But I couldn’t. Not just because of my father, but because of this stranger.
I was trapped. Captured by his hold, his commands, and his entire presence. I couldn’t leave him.
I didn’t want to leave him.
I could hear the seductive moans of other kitties nearby. I wanted the moans to be my own. I wanted to purr for this man. I wanted to dig my claws into his back and unleash. I wanted to break free from this suffocating bubble I lived in.
Champagne, this stranger, the need to act out against my father’s hold, and sexual lust were a deadly combination…
Chapter Three
Matthew
“I should go… I have to…” Aria managed to take a couple of steps backwards.
“Stop,” I said as I closed the tiny distance between us. My eyes locked with Aria, and any resistance she could have offered was swallowed up by a thick and overpowering sexual desire that couldn’t be denied.
She opened her mouth to argue. I knew she wanted to, but at the same time, I could feel in my own highly charged libido that she didn’t want to break the spell that we most certainly had between us. The energy in the room sizzled with lust. Even the Pope himself would have struggled to remain chaste in this sinner’s den.
When I arrived at the party, it didn’t take me long to spot Aria among the guests. I already knew from my past experience at some of Vittorio’s parties that his precious daughter would often sneak inside for a few minutes’ debauchery viewing and then quickly disappear into the shadows. I knew I had to act fast if my plan for the night was going to work.
I took Aria’s hand and led her away from the main room to find the princess’s bedroom. I grabbed one of the goodie bags that was lined up on the side table as we passed it. Yes, I had no doubt I would find the tools of the trade for the night inside.
“Let’s go have a little fun away from the chance of Daddy Dearest seeing us. Show me your room.”
“If he finds us…” was her only retort.
I expected more resistance from her, but I was also pleasantly pleased that my plan was coming together so easily.
Sneaking away into her bedroom upstairs, far from the party, wasn’t as difficult as I worried it would be. All the security remained on guard outside, and anyone who had passed the threshold of the mansion was considered vetted so there was no real need for Vittorio’s goons to remain present for the festivities.
As we entered Aria’s room, I smelled her arousal as I pushed her onto the bed without asking permission or trying to seduce in any way. I hated awkward conversation and wooing.
I didn’t woo.
I ripped off her dress and panties with little care for her comfort or even an ounce of gentle caress.
Tonight was about me.
Tonight would be about taking what wasn’t mine.
Fuck you, Vittorio Costa. Your daughter will be mine.
I was the hunter and she was the prey.
A shame really. That she would be the innocent victim in this sick and twisted game that I would win.
Collateral damage.
But again… tonight was about me so I pushed any guilt or shameful thoughts to the dark recesses of my soul.
I could almost taste the sexual need of the dark-haired beauty splayed naked across the bed. Her silken curls concealed parts of her breasts, allowing her hard nipples to peek between her cascading hair. Her tan body glistened in the moonlight reflecting the night’s snow outside the window as she writhed in want.
“What’s your name?” she questioned.
“Tonight’s not about that,” I answered softly.
“I want your name.”
“Yes, we all want things we can’t have, princess.”
I had been secretly watching this little girl—Aria—for a few days in preparation. It sickened me knowing Vittorio’s blood ran through her veins, and she would have to pay the price for his actions. Her sweet smile. Her angelic appearance. The way she drank entirely too much throughout the evening to ease what was clearly discomfort by being in a room with such rampant sexual dynamics. She was curious, even longing for the kink. But she didn’t belong. She was pure and innocent. That much was obvious.
But all things could be corrected.
“Place your arms above your head,” I commanded.
Aria hesitated for a moment, but she had no power of refusal left inside of her. The seductive drug from the fear of being caught, and the dominance I knew I had over her overpowered consent. Her dilated eyes twinkled with champagne-induced arousal as she
gradually brought her hands over her head. Her lips parted in desire, beckoning me for the simplest of touches. She arched her back just enough to thrust out her hardened nipples, pleading for me to take them under her control.
The woman blazed in hunger.
She needed something. Anything.
This was exactly how I wanted her. It’s how I liked all the women I fucked. I loved to have their forced consent but only in the most twisted and fucked up of ways.
I reached for the goodie bag and looked inside with a wicked smile.
Perfect.
Sinfully perfect.
Vittorio had provided me with everything I would need to soil his perfect dove.
I reached for each of Aria’s wrists, wrapped them with a black ribbon that was inside the bag, and tied them to the headboard of the bed. I had left enough slack so that Aria’s body would still be flexible enough to achieve whatever I wished to do to my victim.
“Kiss me,” Aria pleaded between ragged breaths.
I could see the moisture along the soft folds of her recently waxed pussy as she gyrated her hips in desperate need to be satisfied. I knew exactly how Aria felt. The fire that burned to fuck was all-powerful. Craving, needing, longing, and begging for more. I could feel the hard, throbbing hunger between my own legs. Just the short taste of her lips on mine had left me ravenous for more. Each movement I made had her groaning for me to go even further. Aria’s exposed pussy delicately dripped in anticipation for what I had in store.
“First rule is never command. Never speak until spoken to. You are not the one in charge. You are not the spoiled rich girl with me. You don’t get what you want.” I straddled Aria and pressed my cock that tented my pants against her pussy.
Dick against pussy, a sizzle of electricity shot through my core. Though I would much prefer my pants to be out of the way, the sensation helped soothe the need for touch.
