A Thief in Venice

by Tara Crescent

  He raised his eyebrows. “As I remember, you did, Lucia. You wrote me a note? Back in the summer?” He smirked, and I groaned as the memory of that particular letter came flooding back.

  “Umm, I might have been attracted to you,” I said.

  He held out his hand, and I linked my fingers in his. “Come show me,” he said. “You want to play?”

  I nodded. We made our way downstairs.

  ***

  Antonio:

  So I knew Lucia was attracted to me, and she knew I was attracted to her. But to hear her say it?

  It felt good. Really, really good.

  And when she went to the cupboard where the toys were stored, and pulled out the collar we’d used just once, and handed it to me, it felt a lot better. Because actions had meaning, and there was a very specific message she was giving me along with the collar.

  I looked at her intently.

  “Stay with honesty or go, right?” she asked with a little smile. “Aren’t those the rules here?”

  I just nodded. I don’t think I could have formed words in that moment.

  She knelt in front of me, and lifted her hair, her eyes meeting mine. “Please?”

  “Why?” My voice was slightly hoarse. I kept my eyes on her face.

  “I’ve always trusted you in here,” she said, gesturing to the dungeon. “But outside? What you said upstairs about my career matters.” She looked at the collar. “Please?”

  Neither of us were interested in anything resembling 24/7 submission. There were plenty of times when we’d had vanilla sex; many nights when we’d just curled up in bed and watched TV. In many ways, this wasn’t a major gesture.

  But I knew Lucia. I knew the significance of what she offered. This was a commitment. And when I buckled the collar around her neck, we would be bound to each other.

  “Stand up, sweetness,” I said. I was vaguely surprised my voice wasn’t shaking. She lifted herself up, still holding her hair out of the way, her gaze on mine. I placed the collar around her neck, and as I tightened the straps, it felt like the sweet touch of a hand on my heart.

  We both just stayed there for a long instant. Then, she reached to me, and laced her fingers in mine. She gulped, and I did too, and then we both laughed a little as the tension in the room slowly eased.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was wry. “Well, neither of us ran screaming from the dungeon, so that’s a win.”

  I laughed. My sweet little thief. Gods, I loved her.

  Chapter 22

  Lucia:

  He hadn’t really even touched me, and I already felt like I’d run a marathon. I think we were both a little surprised by the emotional impact of what we’d done.

  “Want to take a break from this room for a bit?” His voice was quiet.

  “Please,” I said with a small laugh. I was still wearing my clothes, but I was also wearing a collar round my neck. My fingers reached out and touched it.

  “Do you want to take it off while we go upstairs?” He sounded relaxed. “It’s really just for the play.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll take it off tonight, but can I keep it on now?” The collar was messing with my head, and in a good way. Antonio’s eyes kept returning to it, and there was heat in his eyes. I felt sexual and owned and cherished.

  We went upstairs, and we cleared up the dishes. Antonio washed up; I dried. We talked about movies and art and I teased him about his cars and watched him flush in embarrassment. Then, when we were done with the chores, he turned to me and he pointed to a spot near the kitchen table.

  “Go stand there.” I obeyed.

  “Take off your clothes.” I wordlessly got naked, tossing my clothes carelessly aside, my blood pounding in anticipation. He shook his head in mild disapproval. “Fold them up, Lucia,” he chided, and I rolled my eyes at him as I complied.

  “Don’t be a brat,” he said. There was laughter in his voice. “Kneel where you are standing, please.”

  I got onto my knees, the tile cold against me. I could feel my pussy start to clench in arousal and drip in anticipation. Goose bumps rose on my skin as I shivered slightly in sexual tension.

  “Is it cold in here?” he asked immediately.

  “Just anticipation,” I murmured.

  He laughed. “Do you want me to take the edge off, sweetness? Make you come?”

  “Yes please,” I said promptly. It was most likely a futile appeal. He would eventually let me orgasm, but it would be after he had brought me to the edge again and again. He would draw it out until every muscle in my body was screaming for release. Until my pleas turned incoherent; until I was convinced with every fibre of my being that I was going to crash into orgasm whether he willed it or not. I would be edged until I could no longer hold back, and then, and only then, would I be allowed to come. The sweetest cruelty.

  He walked in front of me, pulled up a chair and seated himself on it. He unzipped his fly, and pulled his cock out. He was already erect, and I licked my lips as I met his gaze. He just chuckled.

  “Spread your knees apart,” he ordered, one hand stroking his cock. I watched transfixed for an instant until my brain caught up, and I complied. My eyes stayed on his hand though, pumping his cock up and down. Gods, I loved watching a man stroke himself in front of me. It was such an intimate act.

  His eyes were on me, a slight smile playing about his lips. “So, no blindfold then?” he asked me with an amused edge in his voice.

  “Please, no,” I begged. I wanted to watch him come. I wanted to see him clench and explode, and I wanted to lick the ropes of come off his fingers and his stomach after.

  “You want to watch?” His voice was a thin sheet of control stretched taut over desire. A shiver of anticipation ran through me.

  “I want to watch,” I affirmed. “Please,” I added submissively. The wrong tone, and the blindfold would come out.

  He laughed softly.

  “Cup your breasts,” he ordered. “And squeeze. Gently.” His hand moved up and down on his cock, and I moaned as I watched, following his orders without really thinking about what he was asking me.

  “No, no,” he chided. “If you don’t pay attention to what you are doing, I’ll blindfold you.”

  I gulped and nodded. “Sorry,” I said meekly.

  “Put your thumb in your mouth and wet it,” he directed, a ragged edge in his voice. I obeyed.

  “Good, now rub your thumb across your nipple.” I watched my breasts as my nipple swelled under the touch of my thumb.

  “Run your fingernail over it,” he ordered, and my pussy dripped as I obeyed, the slight pressure of my nail a delicious sensation on my engorged nipple.

  “Very nice,” he said approvingly. “Do the same thing to the other nipple.”

  I moved my thumb to the other breast, but he stopped me, shaking his head in disapproval. “Put your thumb in your mouth and wet it first,” he ordered, and I did, my cheeks flushed and my eyes sparkling with pleasure as I obeyed him.

  “Are you wet, sweetness?” His voice a smoky rasp that sent need surging through me.

  “I am, Sir,” I replied, and I blushed at the fact that I called him Sir. The collar was messing with my head in more ways than one. His lips twitched at that, but he let it slide.

  “Show me,” he ordered instead. “Part those lips with your fingers, let me see how wet you are.”

  I spread my knees as wide as they would go, and my fingers opened my pussy so that I was exposed to his burning gaze. Though my body was tingling in anticipation, I was also strangely relaxed as my lover’s eyes bored into my wet snatch.

  “Stick two fingers in,” he ordered. He had stopped pumping his cock as he had watched me play with my nipples, but he stroked his hard member again. His eyes never left my body.

  I pushed two fingers into my dripping folds, and groaned as my hips moved involuntarily to suck my fingers deeper. He laughed at my movement, and shook his head. Stay still. Damn it.

  “Stick your fingers in
your mouth, sweetness. Show me how good you taste.”

  I obeyed, and I deliberately put on a show for him, my tongue snaking out and licking each finger delicately before I pushed both fingers in my mouth and hollowed in my cheeks. He groaned – a sweet loss of control, and his hand moved slightly faster on his cock. I could see the precum glisten on the tip, and I wanted to lick it. I growled deep in my throat in need.

  “What do you want, little thief?” he asked me.

  “I want to suck your cock, Sir,” I responded, blushing. The collar was putting me in a place where the Sir came out instinctively, and it was a pretty transparent tell.

  He smiled at me. “Crawl forward,” he suggested, with a glint in his eyes.

  I grinned back. “Gladly,” I winked, and I did an exaggerated, cat-like prowl towards him, keeping my thighs tightly pressed together to increase the aching of my pussy. His eyes were hot on my face as I moved forward, and there was open appreciation in his face.

  “Next time you do that, I think I’ll add nipple clamps,” he said thoughtfully. “With little bells that chime as you crawl. Would you like that, sweetness?”

  Fuck yes. The image almost made me come without any physical simulation whatsoever.

  “Did you come just now, little thief?” he asked me, his voice stern.

  “No, but I’m really close,” I admitted. “If I beg you to let me come, will it work?”

  He laughed. “Try,” he suggested, with an amused look in his eyes. Oh, I knew that look. I was in for a one heck of a night.

  “Please, may I come, Sir?” I didn’t know how he felt about the Sir, but I figured it didn’t hurt. And right now, I’d do almost anything if he’d let me come.

  “Didn’t you say you wanted to suck my cock, little thief?” he chided. “You must learn to focus. Come on, get your pretty little mouth on my dick.”

  I gulped. Sucking him always made me insanely wet. I was already trembling in arousal. I didn’t want to come without permission, but it was going to be a close thing. Luckily, he knew it as well. “Oh, you can touch yourself while you suck my cock,” he said. “And you can orgasm.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I looked at him, arousal balanced with suspicion. I’d usually have to wait much longer and beg a lot harder. What was he planning?

  He looked at me impassively. “Are you planning on being all day?” he asked me politely, but with a snap in his voice that told me I was about to earn myself a punishment if I didn’t get my mouth on his dick in a hurry.

  I lowered my face onto his cock with a smile, gripped the base of his shaft with one hand, and my tongue snaked out and licked precum off his head. My other hand sneaked down to my pussy, and I spread the dripping wetness around my clitoris, and started tracing tight circles around it. As I got closer and closer to my climax, my pace on Antonio’s cock got more frantic, until I heard him groan, and his hands came out to grab my head and hold me in place while he spurted ropes of come down my throat.

  His climax, his grip on my hair - that was all it took. I rubbed harder, tighter, and I let myself explode, shaking and groaning and slumping as the clenching waves of pleasure swept through my body.

  “Mmm,” I moaned eventually, leaning against Antonio’s legs as I sat on the floor. The tile was shockingly cold against my ass.

  “You aren’t done,” Antonio’s voice pulled me out of my daze. “Water?”

  I nodded, and drank the glass of water he handed me. I had climaxed on his kitchen floor. I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to look at Maria, his sixty-year old housekeeper without blushing.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Maria,” I said ruefully, and my lips twitched at his startled bark of laughter.

  “She’ll pray for our souls,” Antonio said dryly. “Come now, drink up, take a bathroom break if you need, then I want you on top of the table, ass at the edge, keeping those legs spread.”

  I wandered into the washroom in a daze, running my fingers through my hair in an attempt at curbing the tangles. My fingers touched the collar again, and I examined my face in the mirror. I didn’t look different, but I felt different. A strange languor was in me as I ceded control to Antonio. Wearing a collar all the time would do nothing for me, but right now? At this moment, the collar put me in a really good place.

  Chapter 23

  Lucia:

  Antonio was still seated on his chair as I returned, and there was a bottle of lube in his hands. I sat on the table, and scooted my ass right to the edge, and spread my legs wide open so that he was between them.

  “Now Lucia, there was a time, a long time ago, when I asked you how many fingers…”

  Fuck. He was going to fist me. I whimpered in helpless arousal and anticipation.

  “Do you remember?”

  I mewled a noise that was supposed to be a yes.

  “How many fingers would you like, sweetness?” he asked me. His eyes held mine and I could see the heat in them.

  We didn’t have to do this. I could say four, and he would push four fingers into my dripping pussy, and he would make me come. And I would have an amazing time, and he wouldn’t be the slightest bit put out that I didn’t want him to fist me.

  But this was my deepest, darkest desire. To be so completely under the control of a partner I trusted so much that I would let him insert his entire hand into my pussy. “All of them,” I whispered as an answer, and he smiled and leaned forward and kissed my clitoris softly.

  “It might not work,” I started to say in worry.

  “Hush,” he chided. “Stop stressing. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. The journey in this case is as fun as the destination, so lie back and relax.”

  “Now,” his voice was calm, as he pushed two well-lubricated fingers inside of me. “Don’t forget your safe word,” he cautioned.

  I nodded. I wasn’t about to forget it.

  “Close your eyes, sweetness,” he ordered. His fingers pumped in and out of me, and his mouth was on my clitoris, and well, well before I thought I was even close, I crashed into orgasm, and lay there writhing helplessly on the table.

  His hands held me down, and he wouldn’t let me close my legs. “Keep them parted, Lucia,” he snapped. “We are just getting started here.”

  “Yes Sir,” I muttered compliantly. I could hear the slight crack of plastic as Antonio opened the lid of the lube, and then, he had four fingers in me, and he was pushing steadily, rotating them so that each and every bit of my vaginal passage came into contact with his curved fingers.

  “I’m going to push deeper, past my knuckles,” he said. “Stop me if it’s too painful.” His voice was quiet and even. His calmness seeped into me and I relaxed. I could stop this anytime, and Antonio would be fine. We were playing together – we would both have fun.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He pushed, his thumb circling my clitoris in soothing circles. He wasn’t trying to make me come. He was just touching me with enough softness so that pleasure filled my body. A brief pain, a slight feeling of stretching, and then, he growled softly.

  “You should see this, Lucia,” he said, his voice appreciative. “The lips of your pussy are puffed around my fingers, and I can see you drip.” I could hear myself as his fingers moved around in me, wet squishy sounds of arousal.

  “How many fingers?” I asked him. I wished I could see what he was doing. Next time, I was going to ask for a mirror. Or a camera.

  “Four, all the way to my knuckles,” he said. He moved them in and out of me, and each time, there was a slight edge of pain that heightened the pleasure that rushed in. “I can feel every twitch of your muscles, sweetness, and you have no idea what that does to me.”

  His voice was less calm now and more ragged with lust. I smiled when I heard that edge in his voice, and I said the words that I knew would bring him closer to that edge. “Add your thumb, please?” I asked him.

  “Ah fuck Lucia,” he muttered. He pulled out entirely, and
I could hear the squishing sound of lube all over his hand, and he also squirted some directly into my pussy, using his fingers to spread it around my snatch.

  “Stop me anytime it gets too much, sweetness,” he warned me, and he curled his thumb into his palm, and pushed his fingers steadily into me. I bit my lip as the pain momentarily flared in my body, but it faded quickly, and then, I felt his hand in every inch of my pussy.

  “Antonio,” I groaned.

  “I’m going to start moving my hand now, Lucia,” he warned.

  “Not too hard?” I asked.

  “No, of course not, sweetness,” he replied soothingly, and I felt silly about the need for reassurance, but still glad I had asked. Antonio was a considerate lover who always gave me pleasure, even when he was spanking the living daylight out of me, and there was no reason for my nervousness. Except he did have a fist in my pussy. Some nervousness was understandable.

  He pulled out just a little, and then he pushed back gently. I could feel my pussy open for him, and it was a strange feeling, unlike any other that I’d felt. “Is that okay?” he asked me.

  “Go just a bit harder,” I panted. I could feel the sweat bead on my brow as he took me in this most intimate of ways. I lifted my upper body and watched as his hand disappeared inside my pussy, and it was the most erotic image I’d ever seen in my life.

  “Put your fingers in your mouth, get them nice and wet, and put them on your clitoris,” Antonio ordered. I obeyed, and rubbed my clitoris, as his hand pushed inside me, and all I could feel was intense pleasure. I wanted to grab his wrist and push it inside me, deeper, so he could totally possess me, body and soul. I’d never given myself this way to a man before, and I was pretty confident I’d never give myself in this way to another man again.

  I shivered, as I felt my arousal build, the pressure of his hand in my pussy speeding up my climax, and then, I came, every muscle in my body stiffening as my orgasm swept over me, and I just hung on and let each and every pulse shoot through my body in helpless surrender.

  As I felt the clenching, thrashing waves slowly subside, I could feel him slide his fist out of my body, and then he leaned forward, and he rested his head on my hips, and kissed me gently.