He shrugged. “Do you ever search for meaning at Casanova, Lucia?” he asked, stroking my hair absently.
“Is Casanova the place to find meaning?” I countered. An image of Antonio flashed before my eyes, stretched out on the couch and drinking a glass of water, telling me about his painting.
“Perhaps not,” he replied with a smile. “It might be time for me to take a hiatus though.”
Some people could walk away from the scene without missing it. I knew I wouldn’t be able to. And I didn’t think Enzo couldn’t either. It was too integral to who he was.
“What are you going to do?” I asked him.
He just shrugged.
***
Antonio:
I had her followed, of course. And when I saw the photo of her entering Casanova, I laughed out loud as the pieces clicked into place.
She had played with bravery and ease the other day. She hadn’t flinched from the rope or the spanking. There was no crying or snivelling or whining; she had taken everything I threw at her and she had smiled and asked for more. I should have known then that she knew how to play.
More than ever, I couldn’t wait to be with her again.
Chapter 7
Lucia:
It was safe to say that my second attempt to steal the Madonna didn’t go much better than the first. No. Let me rephrase that. It was disastrously worse.
I had found out that the painting had been moved to Antonio’s estate on the outskirts of the city. One of the girls I’d befriended in my short stint as a cleaning lady had let that tidbit drop. I knew that Antonio’s house would be well guarded, but I thought I would try a reconnaissance mission around the middle of August.
It was a lovely, balmy summer night. I was dressed casually, just like a tourist, right down to the faded shorts, the torn sneakers and the folded map in my hands. No one, not even Antonio’s guards would give a tourist a second glance. We lived in Venice. Tourists were as plentiful as fleas.
I had walked outside the high walls that surrounded his home. And then, I had a thought that I would come to regret. It was the quietest, laziest Thursday evening. There didn’t appear to be a soul in sight. I tried to push open the gates and see what awaited me on the inside.
***
My disguise as a tourist was useless. I tried speaking broken Italian and explaining that I was lost, but the two guards who had intercepted me just looked amused. “Miss Petrucci,” one of them said politely. “You must think we are idiots.” He nodded to the other. “Our orders are to take her to the dungeon,” he said.
Damn it. I should have known that Antonio would be expecting me.
Chapter 8
Lucia:
Any other time, I might have gawked at the dungeon. It was a fully equipped play room, with a spanking bench, a St. Andrews Cross, whips and floggers hanging on the wall and chains dangling from the ceiling. And a large bed in a corner. But right now, I was in no mood to gawk. Right now, I was shaking with nerves and berating myself for my stupidity. I was all kinds of a fool to think that they wouldn’t have a photo of me, that they wouldn’t recognize me right away.
The guards searched me quickly and efficiently. They put a pair of handcuffs over my wrists, attached it to a chain, and lifted my arms towards the ceiling, tightening the chain till I was fully extended. Then they nodded politely, and left me alone.
***
Time passed. An hour, then another. Finally, I heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs, and the door opened.
Antonio.
He must have been out at a formal event, because he was in full evening dress. Today, he was clean-shaven. His bowtie was undone though, and as he came forward, he shrugged off his jacket.
“Lucia.” His lips curved into a smile of greeting. “You know, if you wanted to go out with me, there are slightly easier ways of asking.”
“Fuck you,” I said, but there was a familiar heat between my legs. Damn it. He had haunted my dreams for the last two weeks, and it turned out that I wanted him more than ever.
He laughed and went towards the switch controlling the chain. He flicked it, and the chain lowered, and I sighed with relief as the strain on my arms eased. He walked behind me and unhooked the chain and removed the handcuffs, his strong hands massaging away the ache in my shoulders.
“So, I’m not to construe this pitiful attempt at breaking into my house as a come-on?” His voice was amused. “Ah, little thief. Tell me why I can see your nipples harden under your shirt.”
“I’m scared,” I retorted defiantly.
He gestured towards the door. “Stay with honesty, Lucia, or go.”
Damn it to all heavens, but I wanted Antonio. Could it be true? Could I have been sabotaging myself without realizing it, letting myself be caught because I wanted Antonio to put me over his lap and spank me?
I eyed him. This wasn’t the safe space of the club. But I did know that if Antonio wanted harm to befall me, well, it would happen. My body would be discovered, floating face down in the canal. I could run from here, but if that was his intent, I couldn’t outrun it.
Knowing that, in some strange, perverse way, I felt safe.
***
Antonio:
She smiled at me, a confident, relaxed smile, and then she crossed her arms at her wrists, and extended them towards me. A gesture of submission.
“I choose to stay.”
She was so beautiful, my little thief. But we couldn’t jump right away into the play. There were formalities to be observed. I moved towards a folder I had set down by the door as I entered, and I pulled out two sheets of paper from it. The list of her hard and soft limits – the one she had filled out at Casanova. And my corresponding list. I handed them both to her.
“Your limits, is there anything you wish to add to that list?”
She looked at the list with shock. “Liam assured me that the club’s records were completely secure,” she said, her voice the merest thread of sound. “Safer than Fort Knox, he said.”
I looked at her with a smile. “They really are quite secure,” I said. “But I own the club.”
There was deeper shock in her expression as her eyes met mine. I had just told her something that very few people knew, and I could see the wheels turn in her head as she wondered why I had chosen to reveal this to her. I didn’t really know why myself.
“How many people know this?” she whispered.
“Including you? Five.”
“Am I going to end up in the canal, Antonio?” she asked directly. I didn’t share my secrets and she was clearly wondering what the cost of this knowledge was.
I laughed. She had no idea how desirable I found her. “No, little thief. I just want to play. You are quite safe with me.”
She was looking at my list of limits. “Have you played at Casanova? I’ve never seen you there.”
I shook my head. “I only play privately, Lucia.”
She handed the sheets back to me, her eyes unreadable. “I’m ready,” she said evenly.
Chapter 9
Lucia:
When he looked at me, there was a hard edge in his eyes. “I have only one more question,” he asked. His voice was level. I shivered involuntarily. “Did you fuck Enzo Peron?”
“Can’t you check the camera feeds then?” I retorted. Fuck him. Every single day in the last three weeks, I had to read about his affairs in the tabloids. His current squeeze was a half-Russian half-Italian B-list actress with large breasts, blonde hair, and legs that were about a mile long. He dared ask me who I took to my bed? He could go fuck himself.
“There are limits to how much of your privacy I’m willing to invade,” he replied. “Having you followed? That’s just sound business practise. Watching you have sex with a man? That borders on stalking, don’t you think?”
“Fuck you,” I said to him. “I don’t want to hear your thoughts about who I should sleep with. Especially if you’ve just come here from Tatiana Cordova’s bed.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t slept with Tatiana since I met you, little thief,” he said quietly. He walked towards me till he was standing mere inches from my body. “When I close my eyes, Lucia, all I can see is your face. I smell your scent when the wind blows. My heart beats faster when a brunette walks by on the street. I crave your feel against me, little thief. You’ve ruined me for other women.”
Gods, but he was good. My pussy was a molten puddle of need and my nipples were engorged. He could have been lying through his teeth, but in that moment, I wanted to believe him with every fibre of my being.
I gulped. “I didn’t sleep with Enzo,” I said quietly. My story could be corroborated by cameras. His, I would have to take on faith.
***
I knelt in front of him, and extended my arms out towards him, crossed at the wrists, keeping my head lowered. The particular pose didn’t really do anything for me, but I’d played with enough members at the club to realize that some Dominants were very particular about form and protocol. I didn’t know if Antonio fell in this category, but it was safest to assume he did.
He laughed at me. “What do you think this is, Lucia? The non-existent slave planet of some writer’s imagination? We aren’t in Gor, little thief. Get up and face me with strength.”
I blushed and rose as he continued to laugh. “Fine,” I said, my tone grumpy. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You aren’t,” he responded. “I’ll tell you what I want. And you’ll tell me what you want. Isn’t that how you normally play?”
It was. But Antonio was somehow different from my play at Casanova. Antonio was real.
“I don’t play outside the club,” I admitted.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m flattered, Lucia.”
***
He eyed me silently for a few moments. I waited. It had been a long time since I’d played with a new partner. “Come,” he said finally. “Pick a crop.”
I picked a rigid leather split crop, and eyed him challengingly, waiting for his comment. He grinned and found a large butt plug. “Too large, Lucia?” he asked politely. I flashed him a withering look.
He pulled me towards him and spanked my ass hard. “Don’t test my patience, little thief,” he said with a smile. His eyes were amused. A flash of arousal shot through me at that spank. I craved this. I craved him.
He opened a drawer, and added nipple clamps and wrist and ankle restraints to the mix. “Get naked, Lucia,” he ordered. I slid out of my t-shirt and shorts, removed my bra and panties.
“What’s your safeword?” he asked me.
“Madonna,” I replied. I did my best to strip out the defiance from my voice. From the laugh that met my reply, I didn’t think I had succeeded.
“Come,” he said to me, his voice relaxed, when he had finally finished laughing. I liked watching Antonio laugh. This man was dangerously sexy.
He led me to the bed and I waited for my instructions.
“Lucia,” he said, his voice relaxed. “I’d like you to make eye-contact whenever I’m in front of you. But no speaking unless you are spoken to, okay?”
I nodded silently. “Get on the bed,” he said. “Kneel, and put your elbows on the mattress. Keep your head down, lift your ass in the air.”
I followed the volley of instructions quietly. “Good girl,” he said, his voice even as his hands stroked my ass. I moaned a little. My pussy was soaking wet. It had clenched when Antonio walked into the dungeon. It had dripped as I had knelt in front of him, and now, as he touched me, I couldn’t hold back my whimper of need.
“I’m going to spank you now, little thief,” he said evenly, just a hint of amusement in his voice. “I had hoped that from the last spanking I gave you, that you would abandon this quest for my painting.”
I couldn’t help myself, I wasn’t going to let that sentence go unchallenged. “It isn’t yours,” I said, my voice stubborn. “It belongs in the Doge’s Palace vaults.”
“No speaking,” he chided. Smack. His palm found my ass, and the blow pushed me forward into the pillow. I could feel the mattress dip with his weight as he settled on the bed besides me. One hand held in the small of my back, holding me still. The other, stroking my ass and kneading it, stoking a fire in my pussy that spread through my body.
I wanted to push into that hand, to beg and plead for him to touch my pussy. But I knew how to play. I was in his hands. I was his to pleasure or to ignore. I waited.
Smack. Another blow on the other ass cheek, and then he was stroking away the pain. Heat rose in my body as pleasure warred with pain. Smack. Smack. Two hard blows, one on each cheek.
“Your ass is reddening nicely, little thief,” he said quietly, his voice appreciative. “And you are being a very good girl, holding still for me.” His finger snaked a path through my dripping pussy as a reward, and it took all the self-control I possessed not to push back into his hand and press my aching pussy into him.
He got up. His hands were on my ankle, fastening the cuff to it, and then the ankle cuff was attached to rope, that was tied to one end of the four poster bed. He moved around the other side and repeated the movement with my other ankle. In minutes, I was securely cuffed to the bed, my knees apart, my pussy and ass on lewd display. I could feel his eyes on my exposed body.
“Ah Lucia, you are so wet, it takes every bit of self-control I possess not to bury myself in your sweetness…” His voice was warm, and every inch of my body sparked in arousal in response to his words and to the tone of lust in his voice.
“But first, the crop. You did go to all the trouble of picking it out.” Another little sliver of amusement in his voice. He pulled back slightly, and I could hear the crop whistle in the air. I clenched automatically, and I heard him laugh. “Lucia,” he said, a caress in his voice. “Sweet little thief. Are you afraid of the crop?”
I shook my head, but I was lying. I was a little nervous. Antonio was an unknown to me. There were no monitors in his dungeon who would stop the play if I needed it to stop. Here, I had to trust that he would respect my safe word.
But yet. I also remembered the heat in his voice when he told me he craved my feel against him. I felt the same way. I needed him to dominate me. I needed the contrast of the gentleness in his voice and the implacable feel of the crop. When he had pushed me into his desk and spanked me hard the last time we met, I had felt more alive than I had in years. And when heat rose in his eyes as he looked at my naked body, I felt cherished in a way I didn’t feel at the club.
“Beg me to crop you.” His voice was even.
I turned my head to look at him. I didn’t waste my time trying to hide the need. “Please crop me, Antonio,” I whispered.
“Crop you where, little thief?” he asked. He walked silently from one side to another. Goose bumps rose on my skin.
“Wherever you’d like,” I said quietly. “I’m yours to hurt.”
He leaned forward and touched his lips to my shoulder for just an instant. “Sweetness, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I want your skin to flush with pleasure.” Whap. The crop struck my ass, and I jumped slightly as a sharp pain blossomed at that spot, fading in seconds to warmth.
“I want you to moan my name.” Whap. Another stroke, this time on the other cheek. Whap. Whap. My upper thighs. I groaned.
“I want your pussy to drip in arousal.” Whap. The crop struck my inside thighs. I jumped and whimpered, but I betrayed my arousal by spreading my legs wider for him. “Good girl,” he said in response, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I want you to hover at the edge of orgasm, and wait for me to give you permission to fall over.” Another crisp stroke on my thighs, and I moaned his name.
“Antonio,” I begged. “Please…”
“Lucia,” he said evenly. “You really must follow directions better. Speak only when you are spoken to, remember?”
The crop slapped my skin. On my shoulders, my thighs and my ass. Even on the soles of my feet, though th
ese strokes weren’t as hard as the others. As he promised, my entire skin warmed with the slight flush that the crop brought, and as it always did, the pain shaped itself into shocking lust. I whimpered and moaned, and I whispered his name. Finally, the strokes stopped, and his hands ran over my body, stroking it gently back to calmness.
“Please,” I begged him. I needed to come so badly.
“A deal, sweetness,” he said, his eyes hot with lust. “Take the butt plug and lower yourself on it, and you can orgasm.”
I flushed and nodded.
“Sit up,” he said, undoing my ankle cuffs. I sat at the edge of the bed, as he had indicated, and watched as he pulled a chair forward from a corner. He placed the butt plug on the seat, and I was relieved to see that he had lubed it first. “Come here, sweetness,” he ordered. “Stand up, turn around, bend down so I can lube your ass.”
I flushed again, but followed his instructions. He squeezed lube and his fingers spread it into my asshole, and this time, I couldn’t help myself. I groaned and pushed back into him. His touch made my insides flutter, and my entire pussy ached with need. He laughed at my movement, and I heard his pleasure in his laugh. “Keep still, little thief,” he said, smacking my ass as punctuation. I nodded silently. I was usually better behaved. But perhaps because this wasn’t the club, or perhaps because for the last two weeks, I had woken up shuddering in orgasm with this man’s name on my lips, I was dangerously aroused, and incoherent with need.
“Lower yourself on the butt plug, Lucia,” he instructed firmly. He stood in front of me, just watching, as I twisted so that one hand was holding the plug steady, and I lowered myself down. As I pushed down, I whimpered and winced. The plug was as large as any I’d ever used, and I felt almost painfully stretched. He just waited. I groaned loudly as the widest part of the plug stretched my hole, but then, the plug tapered and my closing muscles sucked it in.
“Stay on the chair, part your legs wide.”
A Thief in Venice Page 3
