A Thief in Venice

by Tara Crescent

  When I was naked, he took my hands in his, lead me over to his desk. He pushed me down on it firmly. My breasts were crushed against the cool glass top, my hair cascaded all over in a wild, tangled mess, and Antonio firmly held my hands behind my back.

  “Beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. “Lucia, I want you to keep your hands where they are.”

  “Yes, Antonio,” I said dutifully. Lust had taken over and I was putty in his hands.

  He moved next to me and put one hand in the small of my back. Pleasure coursed through me as I responded to the firmness of his hand. He made me feel soft, fragile, and very, very feminine.

  His hands slid over my ass, kneading the flesh, stroking me and touching me. I shifted slightly. Arousal coursed through my veins and pulsed through my body. I parted my legs slightly in mute invitation.

  He laughed. “You’ll need to beg me for that, Lucia,” he said. I groaned into the top of the desk, unable to keep silent in the face of my need.

  “How many spanks, do you think? You’ve been stealing for seven years. Ten for each year?”

  I groaned again, and this time, there was a trace of fear in my moan. Seventy hard spanks, and I wouldn’t be able to sit down the next few days without discomfort. But I didn’t complain. I was in no position to complain, and besides, I wanted this too.

  “Lucia. You can moan, you can cry out, you can scream. But you must keep still, and you must keep your hands where they are. Do you understand? If those hands move, we start again.” His voice was very hard. I gulped and nodded.

  Whack. His hand came down my left buttock, hard. I whimpered as I felt the sting, but his hand calmly stroked the sore spot, replacing the pain with a rush of pleasure.

  Whack. Now on the right buttock, just as hard. I squirmed a little as the pain flowed through me. Whack. Whack. Two quick spanks, one on each buttock, targeting the same spots again. I writhed in pain and moaned.

  “Hush, Lucia,” he said, his voice gentle. “Take your punishment bravely.”

  “Yes, Antonio,” I said, through clenched teeth, but there was compliance in my voice. I would be brave for him.

  Whack. Whack. Whack. Three quick blows on the base of my ass. I groaned again, as the heat from my rapidly reddening cheeks radiated through my body.

  “So beautiful,” Antonio muttered. “Hold still, baby.”

  The blows fell furiously now, and my flesh felt like it was on fire. I floated in a haze of pain and pleasure. Pain from the hard spanks, pleasure from the way he stroked me between the blows, ran his fingernails over the throbbing flesh, causing me to moan as every nerve ending in my body responded to his touch.

  My pussy dripped as I imagined the way I looked. Breasts pushed into the glass table, legs slightly parted, my hands clasped submissively behind me. His hand was pressed into the small of my back, holding me in place. His other hand kneaded my throbbing buttocks. I shifted my legs almost involuntarily, parting them still further. I wanted him to touch me, to push his fingers into my dripping pussy, to take me and lay claim on me.

  “You’ll beg for it before we are done tonight,” he said quietly. Jerk. He was almost cocky in his confidence, but then again, he could see the juices drip down from my pussy and smell my arousal. He had every reason to be cocky.

  He resumed spanking me, the strokes falling evenly on my exposed ass. I squirmed but didn’t move, careful to keep my hands securely locked behind my back. I just let the feelings from his hand sweep through me, let the sound of the blows fuel my arousal. I felt myself push my ass into his hand, silently begging for more.

  I could feel my ass redden and throb. His strokes were random and I couldn’t tell where or when the next one was going to land. I moaned. I was so close to begging and pleading with him to push into my pussy. I was so in need of his touch on me.

  The cadence of the spanks changed slightly. His hand gentled, the spanking had a definitely erotic flavour now, and I responded in kind, wiggling my ass against his hand, pushing it towards him in invitation.

  “Antonio,” I groaned, when he didn’t respond to my invitation.

  “Lucia,” he replied, his voice amused. “Something you want to ask me?”

  “Touch me,” I begged.

  “Touch you where, sweetness?”

  “Touch my pussy,” I begged again.

  “Not going to happen, baby.” His voice was level.

  “Why not?” I winced when I heard the whine in my tone, my need clearly evident in my voice.

  “Sweet Lucia,” he said, laughing at me. “You stole from me. Why would I reward you? I think you should try to make amends instead.”

  I turned to look at him, and I smiled at him and licked my lips. I could play this game. “Antonio,” I said, not bothering to hide the need in my voice. “Will you put your cock in my mouth?”

  He laughed openly and appreciatively. He removed his hand from the small of my back, opened a desk drawer and retrieved two lengths of rope. “Still want to play, baby?” he asked, his eyes on me.

  But I was drowning in lust and longing and I was not afraid of the rope. “Yes,” I moaned. “I want to play.”

  He pulled me onto the table so that my entire body was resting on the surface. My knees were bent upward and my ankles were quickly tied to my hands in an efficient hogtie.

  I should have felt fear, but my body only tingled as I felt his expertise. His calm control acted as further fuel for my arousal. He spanked me as he tied me down, hard and fast, and the sound echoed around the room, as did the sound of my answering moans.

  “Do you want me to put my cock in this pussy, Lucia?” His voice was hard, as his fingers touched my dripping wetness for the first time. I jumped slightly in my bindings, as the electricity of his touch pulsed through my body. He pushed one finger inside me, his thumb on my clitoris, rubbing me firmly. I groaned.

  Whack. “I didn’t hear your answer, Lucia.” Antonio’s voice was silken.

  “Yes,” I moaned. “I want you to put your cock inside me. Please.”

  “All in due time,” he said lazily, adding another finger to the one already in my pussy. I groaned and thrust back into him.

  Whack. The sound of the spank echoed around the room. “Tell you what, Lucia,” he said, and now I could tell that he was struggling to hold back the laughter. “You say - I’m sorry I stole your painting, Antonio. And in return, you get to orgasm. Fair trade?”

  I groaned, but I kept my lips shut. I wasn’t sorry I stole his painting. It belonged to the Doge’s Palace, not in some thief’s office.

  He laughed again. “Ah, baby, you’ll do whatever I tell you before we are done here, and you’ll thank me for it…” His fingers resumed thrusting in me while with his other hand, he scratched the tender skin of my ass in lazy circles. Heat rose in me, a dangerous heat that threatened to consume me.

  His fingers left me and their withdrawal caused me to groan in protest. “Antonio,” I pleaded.

  “Repeat after me: I’m sorry I stole your painting, Antonio,” he said easily. I was engulfed in longing, and it would be so easy to relent. But I stiffened through the lust. Damn him. I was going to do no such thing.

  A warm chuckle. “Stubborn Lucia,” he said, moving around, unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out, and placing it at my lips.

  Chapter 5

  Antonio:

  She was so brave, so stubborn and so aroused, my sweet little thief.

  I was more than a little aroused myself. My cock sprang out of my pants as I lowered the zipper, and I held it to her lips. To her credit, she didn’t try to pretend she didn’t want it. She parted her lips and took my length into her warm, willing mouth.

  I thrust into her, and she took me like a champion, not choking, not gagging, just a sweet surrender of her mouth, a swirl of her tongue, a suck of her cheek. Full of surprises, my little thief, she knew how to give head, and she would have me exploding in her mouth if she kept this up.

  Growling, I pulled out. She was going
to apologise for stealing my Madonna before we were done here. I was determined.

  ***

  Lucia:

  My pussy gushed as he thrust down my throat. I was helpless to resist. Hands tied to my legs, unable to move, my breasts pressed into the desk. I was as turned on as I’d ever been in my entire life.

  He pulled out of my mouth with a growl. “Not just yet, little thief,” he said easily. “First, your apology.”

  I laughed. I wasn’t going to apologise.

  He didn’t look annoyed at my laughter. His lips twitched. “Lucia,” he chided softly. “You are going to regret your stubbornness.”

  He straightened and wandered away to the refrigerator. “Want some water? Still? Sparkling?”

  “Still, please,” I said. There was a depth to Antonio, something more than just the obvious mobster persona. He surprised me.

  He poured the water from a bottle into a glass and held it to my lips, helping me drink. He pushed back a curl as I drank, kissed my forehead softly. “Ready to go again?” he asked, when I was done.

  I nodded.

  He chuckled, removing a cube of ice from the glass and running it over my lips.

  “Anytime you want to apologise, Lucia,” he said, amusement threading through his voice, “do let me know.”

  He sat down on his chair and pulled me towards him, lowering his mouth onto my dripping pussy. His tongue took leisurely licks, avoiding my clitoris. I groaned as the tingling pleasure swept through me, and pushed into him as best as I could. I could hear his chuckle vibrate through me.

  His mouth pulled away and the ice cube replaced it. I squirmed and yelped, as his hot mouth traced the same path as the cube. I groaned again. The cold, contrasted with the heat of his mouth, and all I could feel was pleasure. I was so aroused it was almost painful.

  A flick of his tongue on my clitoris, and I almost jumped off the desk. “Antonio,” I begged.

  He didn’t relent. His tongue took me higher and higher on the path of arousal. I was so close to the edge, I could almost feel the shape of my orgasm.

  He stopped, removing his tongue from my clitoris. His mouth nibbled my inside thigh. “Still waiting for that apology, Lucia,” he said.

  I growled in frustration. I had been so close.

  The cube of ice dripped cold drops of water all down my pussy. His mouth followed, licking the drops up, leaving a heated path in his trail. I couldn’t take it anymore. My pussy was drenched, and my brain was lost in a haze of lust.

  “I’m sorry I stole your painting,” I whispered. “Please, Antonio, please make me come…”

  I could hear the smile in his voice as he bent his head down. “Gladly, little thief,” he said, as his tongue lapped at my pussy, and flicked at my clitoris, and I was rising, rising, the arousal threatening to overwhelm me, till at last, the pulsing waves of pleasure overtook me, and I exploded in a thundercloud of sensation.

  Through the haze, I heard the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open, and then Antonio held my thighs apart and entered me in a swift, powerful thrust. I groaned. He started moving deep inside me, his fingers rubbing circles on my clitoris, barely letting me recover from my first orgasm before propelling me to a second one.

  My insides clenched as I felt him move in me. The tension built, and I moaned as I once again approached that point of no-return, where every nerve in my body responded to him. Then I shattered, screaming out his name, and I felt his body stiffen. His fingers dug painfully into my thighs and he exploded with a growl in me.

  ***

  Afterwards, we were seated on the couch. I had a drink in my hand.

  I looked at him. He was stretched out on the couch, relaxed, with an air of effortless ease. Dangerously attractive.

  I had a question for him; one I was wondering if he was going to answer. “The Madonna,” I started. “Why is it important to you?”

  He looked at me. I could see him assess me, debating whether to answer or not. Then his eyes softened.

  “Such an obscure piece, the Madonna,” he said quietly. “Do you know, it’s only been exhibited once? More than twenty years ago, one exhibit on seventeenth century religious art. That’s it.” He looked pensive for a second. “I was sixteen when I saw it at the Doge’s Palace. I stole it three months after the exhibit closed. It was my first major job.”

  “You stole from the Doge’s Palace when you were sixteen?” My voice was astonished.

  He laughed at me. “I became the Head of the Thieves Guild for a reason, Lucia,” he said. There was no arrogance in his voice. He was simply stating a fact.

  “Why did you take it?” I asked.

  “Why did you?” he countered.

  “There’s a serenity in her eyes,” I said softly.

  “It would be a shame to send her back to the Doge’s vaults, don’t you think?”

  I looked at him. “It isn’t yours to take,” I said. “It doesn’t belong in your private collection.”

  He laughed but his eyes were hard. “But yet, here it is, and here it will remain.”

  ***

  Antonio:

  It was a week after my encounter with Lucia, and I was still trying to get the woman out of my mind. Every time I saw a brunette, I thought of her. I couldn’t look at my desk without thinking about the way she had looked that night, pressed down on it, offering me her ass to spank.

  I glanced at the note I’d been handed.

  Antonio Moretti - a warning. An attempt will be made to steal the Madonna on August 29th. Guard her well.

  “Where did this come from?” I asked Giovanni.

  He shrugged. “Some kid handed it to me as I was getting out of my house this morning,” he said. “Why, what does it say?”

  I didn’t reply. The paper even smelled like Lucia.

  I laughed aloud. “Do your best, little thief,” I muttered to myself. I couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 6

  Lucia:

  The stinging of my ass faded quickly, but my failure to steal the Madonna rankled. I sent Antonio a note announcing the date of my next attempt. It was a reckless act. You do not taunt the head of the Thieves’ Guild. Yet, I did exactly that.

  Dreams of Antonio plagued me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had tied me, quickly and confidently. I couldn’t push out of my mind the way he had watched me with heat in his eyes. I couldn’t help remembering the gentleness in his voice as he told me to take my punishment bravely, and the feel of the strokes of his palm against my skin. Night after night, I dreamed of Antonio, and every single time, I woke up drenched with sweat and shuddering from my climax.

  Finally, I gave up. There was a restlessness in me that could only be soothed by one very particular cure. Club Casanova.

  ***

  I was twenty one when my father had put a bullet in his brain. He loved my mother too deeply to think of life without her. But it wasn’t an act of romance. It was an act of selfishness. In the space of twenty four hours, I had lost both my parents.

  For months after, I was trapped in my rage at the way my parents had abandoned me. I engaged in every possible self-destructive behaviour as I coped. Drugs? I did them. Alcohol? I abused it for a few months, until I woke up one morning in a bed with a stranger I had no recollection of going home with. Sex with seriously flawed men? More times than I could remember.

  One of these flawed men turned out to be my salvation. He liked to tie women up and beat them until they pleaded for him to stop. But I never begged him to stop. I only begged him for more. His whip was the lifeline thrown to me as I drowned in my despair, and I seized it and I lifted myself up.

  I left him soon enough. Healed, I had no use for seriously flawed men. Then I’d found Casanova, and in the club, I received fulfilment of my very particular needs.

  ***

  From the outside, the club simply looked like another palazzo in Venice, one of the many that had been converted into apartments. Only the members knew what it was.

  �
�Top or bottom today, Miss Petrucci?” The bouncer at the door was Irish, as was the rest of the club staff.

  “Bottom.” I very rarely wanted to top. The ability to let go of control in a safe space was tempting enough for me. I held my wrist out. A pale blue wristband was placed on me, and I smiled at the bouncer and entered the club floor.

  Club Casanova was the only bondage club I’d ever belonged to, and so I didn’t have any basis of comparison with other clubs. But from the talk of the other members, it was relatively unique. There was a small public stage for the very rare occasions when someone would want to play in public. Most of the time though, the area downstairs was used so people could pair up and go to one of the well-equipped play rooms upstairs.

  The club wasn’t particularly crowded today. Membership was prohibitively expensive, and the selection process was arduous. I had understood why the first time I had walked in the club, and seen both a judge of the High Court as well as the Chief of Police in there. Everyone playing there had something to lose, and this, more than anything else, kept the existence of the club hidden.

  I walked in and grabbed a drink of club soda from the bartender. Only one drink a night, unless you didn’t intend to play at all. I was there to play.

  “Lucia.” A familiar voice greeted me, and I turned and smiled.

  “Enzo, I haven’t seen you for a while,” I laughed, hugging the Chief of Police of Venice.

  He smiled at me. “Want to play, Lucia?”

  “I don’t want to fuck tonight, Enzo,” I told him. Enzo wielded the whips better than anyone in the club. He would have me begging in an instant. But I was mindful that I had dreamed of Antonio every single night, and it felt wrong to sleep with someone else. Especially someone like Enzo, who I very much liked and respected.

  “Good. Neither do I,” Enzo responded. I looked at him quickly. There was a trace of disquiet in his tone.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him. But he shook his head and snapped his fingers. I shut up and followed him to a private room.

  ***

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him again, when we were done. Everything hurt in the best way. I was wrapped in a soft robe, and leaning against Enzo’s chest.