A Thief in Venice

by Tara Crescent

He sank to his knees in front of me. His hands were on my thighs, keeping them spread as he lowered his mouth on my pussy. “Ah, Lucia,” he groaned as his tongue snaked a path up my slit. “I’ve wanted to do this since I walked in the door.”

  His tongue sopped up my dripping wetness as he murmured his appreciation. “Such a tasty treat,” he said, not lifting his mouth from my pussy. I flushed in pleasure at his tone. His mouth moved to my clitoris, and his fingers pushed into my vagina. I groaned as his fingers thrust in and out. “Antonio,” I moaned.

  A hard spank on my pussy, and I arched off the chair as heat radiated through my body. I bit my lip, but I could feel my body respond with renewed wetness. “Kitten, you still need to keep quiet,” he said, watching me intently. I nodded slightly, and he grinned and kissed my thigh. “Such a good girl, Lucia,” he said.

  His tongue flicked at my clitoris, setting a steady rhythm that had me moaning in need. His fingers thrust in and out of my pussy. The butt plug in my ass kept me feeling full, a steady background pressure that provided an intense counterpoint to his fingers and tongue. I felt my orgasm build up inside me, steadily, as a response to his hands and his mouth. My thighs quivered as I strained to keep them open. Every instinct was begging me to clamp them shut, pull his head closer into my aching vagina, and freefall into orgasm.

  “Antonio, please…” I begged, mindful that I needed to ask permission.

  He lifted his head and smiled at me. “Please let me come,” I begged, my voice strained. I was close. So close. It was everything I could do to stop myself and ask him for release.

  He nodded his consent. “Come for me, sweetness,” he said softly, as he sucked my clitoris between his lips and teeth, and that movement coupled with his permission was all it took as I exploded, twisting and writhing, as waves and waves of pleasure washed through me.

  He kept his mouth on my clitoris and his fingers continued their steady assault. I moaned and flailed as every nerve ending in my body came alive. The muscles in my pussy clenched around his fingers, and I grabbed his head and I groaned his name and waited for the tidal wave that was my orgasm to pass.

  I could feel him lift me off the chair and push me backward on the bed. “Spread your legs, little thief,” he instructed, his eyes fiery with need. I opened them wide, and arched my hips upward towards him in unspoken invitation. When he had taken me the last time, I had been face-down, and he had taken me from behind. This time, I was on my back and I could look into his eyes as he entered me.

  I discovered I really wanted to see his face as he thrust into my body.

  His eyes met mine. “Keep your eyes on me, sweetness,” he instructed. “Don’t close them.”

  I nodded my compliance. This was not an order I was going to have trouble obeying.

  His fingers quickly removed his clothes. Shirt, belt, pants, briefs. I stared shamelessly as his cock came into view. He was beautiful and long and thick, and I instinctively spread my legs wider.

  A condom wrapper was retrieved from the pocket of his pants with a little tsk of impatience. The clothes were tossed aside carelessly and the condom rolled on. Then he reached towards me and pulled me to the foot of the bed. He moved my legs over his shoulders, and in one swift, ramming motion, he thrust, pushing his entire length into me.

  I screamed. I had just come; everything was sensitive. And the butt plug added an extra dimension of fullness, making me feel almost overwhelmed. Yet, I felt my hips rise towards him as he pulled out, looked at me intently, and thrust himself back into me again.

  “Fuck, Antonio,” I groaned, shutting my eyes for an instant.

  “Keep those eyes open,” he snapped, punctuating his statement with two hard spanks on my thighs. My eyes flew open, and I bit my lip. Too much. My vagina was quivering, every muscle tensing around his assault. My butt was clenching around the plug.

  “Beg,” he said, as he pulled away till he was almost completely out of my body. He held his cock there, waiting and intent. That beautiful head was right at the entrance of my pussy, and I would have to beg him to slam it into me.

  “Please,” I begged him. He didn’t move. “Please fuck me,” I whimpered. Nothing. “Please, please, Antonio, I need you, I’m going to fall apart, please, I’m begging you…” The words were streaming out, with my mind only dimly aware of what I was saying. “Please,” I begged again, helpless need in my eyes. “Please fuck me, Antonio. Make me yours.”

  He smiled at me, as he slammed into me so hard my entire body moved back on the bed. His hands quickly pulled my body back into him, and he pulled out and rammed me again. I screamed and moaned and moved my hips to greet each and every movement of his body.

  “Move the plug with your hands,” he ordered. “I want to feel it move in your body in rhythm with me.”

  I obeyed mindlessly. There was a dim hurt in my ass as my fingers pulled the plug out, and pushed it back in. He was slamming into me, hard and fast, and I twisted my body slightly and tried to match his speed. In the back of my head, I knew my ass would be sore tomorrow, and so would my pussy. Right now, I didn’t care. He was hurting me in the best kind of way. The way I needed. And yet his gaze held mine, and there was only warmth in his eyes.

  Finally, I felt his body tense, and his hands grip my thighs cruelly. “Fuck, Lucia,” he said with a groan as he came, finally closing his eyes in that final moment of release. He ground into my pussy and stayed buried in me as his breathing steadied. “Fuck, Lucia,” he repeated, his voice softer as he pulled out.

  It startled me that I felt bereft without him.

  Chapter 10

  Lucia:

  “Ready to go again?” he asked me after a few minutes of silence. He had removed the butt plug from my body, and our bodies were side-by-side on the bed, close enough that I could hear his even breathing.

  “Can I get a drink of water?” I asked him.

  He nodded and rose from the bed, comfortable in his nakedness. “Still, yes?” he asked me.

  It made me a little nervous that he had remembered my preference from the last time. I didn’t know what to make of Antonio. But I just nodded. He found a bottle in a small refrigerator I hadn’t noticed, right next to the bed, and handed it to me. I took a deep, refreshing drink. I didn’t know what was in store next, but much of my earlier disquiet had faded in the face of the pleasure he had given me.

  “Sit up at the foot of the bed,” he said, walking towards me with a length of black rope in his hands. He took my left breast in his hand, and wound the rope around it, going around and around till my skin was hot to the touch, and my breast was bulging obscenely from its binding. He moved to my other side and repeated the procedure to my right breast.

  “How does that feel?” he asked me. I could feel my skin throbbing, a dull ache filling my chest.

  “They hurt a little,” I admitted.

  He laughed and showed me the nipple clamps. “And they are about to hurt a lot more,” he said silkily. His eyes were on mine though, searching for signs of unease or fear.

  I looked up and grinned at him, a relaxed, insolent grin. “Do your worst,” I drawled.

  He laughed again. “Ah, Lucia,” he said, his voice appreciative. “How does that attitude of yours go down at Casanova, I wonder? They must belt your ass black and blue if you sass them like this.”

  I didn’t answer his question. I was well-behaved in the club. Antonio seemed to bring out every little defiant bit in me.

  He pinched my heated nipples quickly and attached the nipple clamps to them. I hissed in pain as my breasts throbbed even more. He waited for me to process the sensation, and I took several even breaths to calm myself. “Okay?” he asked me quietly, when I finally looked into his eyes.

  I nodded.

  “Say it,” he insisted.

  “Stop treating me like a child,” I snapped. I had no idea why I did it. I wanted Antonio to throw everything he could at me, and I would take it and beg for more.

  His lips twitched, but
he ignored my outburst. His hand reached out and stroked my hair, and then he brushed it from my neck and grabbed a bunch of it. “Up,” he said, his grip tightening on my hair. A gush of arousal from my pussy was my body’s response to his grip, and I fought not to shudder, not to reveal how much pleasure that brought me.

  He noticed though, and his lips brushed gently at my exposed neck. “Do you like that, little thief?” he asked softly. “Do you like when my hand tightens in your hair?”

  I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak.

  He guided me to the head of the bed, my hair still tightly wound around his hands. “Lie down in the center of the bed,” he ordered. “And spread those legs, sweet Lucia.” I followed his directions silently, and he placed a pillow under my head and brushed a hand across my lips. I kissed his hand automatically, not even realizing what I was doing, and blushed furiously when awareness dawned on me. Not good. I couldn’t get fond of Antonio Moretti. He was a play partner, nothing else.

  His eyes met mine as my lips brushed across his hand, but thankfully, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just took my wrist in his hands, and fastened the cuff around it, and then stretched my hand out and tied me to one end of the bed. He repeated the procedure for my other wrist. My ankles were pulled up and cuffed next to my hands at the head of the bed. I was doubled over, my pussy and ass obscenely on display. I was entirely under Antonio’s control.

  I shivered slightly. It almost caused panic in me to realize how comfortable I was. How much arousal I felt, and how little fear. Antonio was pure pleasure.

  “I want to know every inch of your body, little thief,” he murmured. He walked away, and returned with a small bowl filled with clothespins. I winced. If he put them on my pussy or my breasts, I could deal with the pain. Anywhere else, and I’d turn into a whimpering ball of agony, and I’d safeword in minutes.

  “What’s the matter, sweetness?” he asked quietly, seeing my shudder.

  “Where are you going to put them?” I asked him. There was trepidation in my voice.

  “Your pussy, Lucia,” he said. His eyes were intent on me. “Okay?”

  I nodded. “I can’t take them anywhere else, just on my pussy and my breasts,” I admitted.

  He smiled at me. “My intent is not to make you shudder with pain, little thief, it is to make you ache with pleasure.” He sat at the foot of the bed, between my wide-open legs, and teased a clothespin into my dripping pussy. I shivered and groaned.

  “You don’t have to ask for permission,” he said to me. “Come whenever you feel like, sweetness.”

  Oh dear. Something made me think that I was in for the ride of my life.

  He slid a finger inside my dripping pussy. “One finger,” he said. He pulled it out, and then, a slightly increased pressure on the walls of my pussy. “Two now. How many fingers would you like, Lucia?”

  Ah crap. I was going to have to beg; to reveal my darkest desires to Antonio. “More,” I whispered, my eyes closed in shame.

  He chuckled quietly. “How many more, little thief?”

  All of them. My darkest unfulfilled desire, but I wouldn’t ask for it, not yet. That was an intimacy that we hadn’t yet earned. “Two more,” I begged instead, and watched his eyes heat up with pleasure.

  “Sweet little thief,” he muttered, and pulled his fingers out. I felt pressure at the entrance of my pussy and a dull ache as he pushed four fingers into my body, and the walls of my vagina clenched automatically around his fingers. He hissed. “Ah Lucia, I can feel every quiver of your body.” He thrust his fingers in and out of me for a few minutes, as my vagina stretched to accommodate the invasion.

  “Now, count them as I put them on,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

  “One,” I whispered, as the first clothespin pinched on my outer pussy lip. I whimpered as the ache spread through my body, and my breasts throbbed in response. “Two,” I winced, as the second clothespin was pressed on the same lip, slightly lower. “Three,” I groaned, as the third was added. “Antonio,” I begged.

  In response, he pushed his fingers into me, almost to his thumb. His other hand strummed my clitoris, and I crashed into my first orgasm. As I shuddered and clenched around him, three clothespins were quickly placed on the other pussy lip.

  “Four, five and six,” he said evenly.

  “Four, five, six,” I repeated dutifully. My brain was a fog. I was still shuddering from the strength of the climax that had ripped through me. He pushed his fingers in and out of my pussy, and my hips arched as my body responded to him. “Again,” he said intently, his other hand finding my clitoris again, and I obediently crashed into my second orgasm.

  “Please, please, please,” I begged mindlessly. His fingers moved away from my clitoris as the quaking in my body eased, but his other hand still pumped my pussy. I could hear myself make a keening, moaning noise of ecstasy. Awareness had fled from me. At this moment, all that mattered was his fingers in my pussy. He controlled me. He controlled the ache in my pussy and in my breasts. He controlled my pleasure. He controlled my pain. I was his, in every way possible.

  I crashed, unbidden, into my third orgasm, and then lay, limp, drained by the pleasure that had flooded through my body. Dimly, I was aware of his fingers pulling out. The clothespins and nipple clamps were removed and the rope binding my breasts was unravelled. And then, I was pulled into Antonio’s hard body, and his hands ran over me, soothing every aching inch, until serenity returned.

  ***

  He cradled me into his body, and I remained there for a few minutes, my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

  The silence between us grew. It was a companionable silence and I didn’t want to break it.

  He finally spoke. “Will you stay the night, Lucia?” he asked me.

  I shook my head. Staying the night was the one thing I never did. It had to be only about sex. Never anything more. The whip might have assuaged the pain of my parents’ death, but it hadn’t managed to heal the deepest gash inside me. I wanted nothing to do with love. Love was heartache. Love was watching your mother wasting away as the cancer ravaged her body. Love was finding the body of your father with his head blown away. There was no room in my life for love.

  ***

  Antonio:

  I didn’t want her to leave. She left anyway.

  She belonged to me, this little thief. And I belonged to her. I was the head of Thieves’ Guild. Not a man given to fancy, but I knew this feeling to be the truth. Silly phrases that I would have once mocked – that we were meant for each other, she was my destiny, and I was hers – they were all true when I thought of Lucia.

  We fit together. She was the daughter of Guild thieves. My world was her world. The demands of my job she would deal with in her strong, feisty manner. And when she played? This woman played like no one I’d played with before. This woman played fearlessly.

  For the first time in my life, I was falling in love.

  Chapter 11

  Antonio:

  Twilight in Venice. I was in a water-taxi, winding my way homeward. The most normal and innocuous of things to do in Venice.

  “Stop here for an instant,” I told the taxi-driver. But this was no ordinary taxi-driver. Giovanni was my second-in-command. Only a very few were privy to my secrets; Giovanni was one of them.

  A man came walking towards the taxi, treading the relaxed footsteps of someone taking an after-dinner walk. Had someone been watching us, any attempt at furtiveness would have aroused suspicion. He walked towards the boat and got in. Giovanni nodded a greeting at him and got out. The exchange had taken seconds, and we were sheltered from sight by a cluster of buildings.

  I moved to take Giovanni’s place and the boat moved again, heading towards more open waters. Finally, we were past the point where our conversation could be heard, and I turned towards my passenger.

  “Enzo,” I greeted the Chief of Police of Venice. I didn’t move towards him. I was playing the role o
f a water taxi driver, and anyone could be watching the boat.

  He rolled his eyes at me. “This is all very cloak-and-dagger, Antonio. Our usual meeting couldn’t have sufficed?”

  Enzo Peron and I had breakfast together once every two weeks. Another secret, one we both guarded. The Chief of Police could not be seen together with the head of Thieves Guild. Not without people assuming that Enzo’s loyalty was for sale to the highest bidder.

  The truth was something else entirely. Enzo and I went way back. We had grown up together; we were like brothers. Brothers who had taken two very different paths in life. But brothers nonetheless.

  “I need to ask you something,” I said. My voice was reluctant. The question I was going to ask Enzo – the wrong answer would gouge a hole in my heart.

  He raised an eyebrow and waited for me to continue.

  “Lucia Petrucci.” My voice was harsh. “Is she important to you?”

  “I gather by your tone that she’s important to you,” Enzo replied dryly. “How did the two of you meet? You don’t play at Casanova.”

  I didn’t tell Enzo that Lucia moonlit as an art thief. He was still the Chief of Police and he took his job seriously. “We didn’t meet at Casanova,” I said. “Is that the only place one might meet Lucia Petrucci?”

  He ignored that, and answered my earlier question instead. “I like Lucia,” he said. “But she doesn’t have a hold on my heart, if that’s what you are asking. We have slept together though.”

  I shrugged. What did the Americans call it? Realities on the ground. She had slept with other men, and I had slept with other women. I couldn’t waste any sleep over it. The past was the past. I was more concerned with the present and the future.

  “I like this girl,” I said, declaring my intentions openly. If there was a problem, Enzo could speak up.

  “She doesn’t get involved,” Enzo warned.

  “I’ll take my chances,” I replied. The water taxi turned and swung back towards Venice.

  Chapter 12