by Angel Payne
She bit her lip and stole a glance at him. Sure enough, he looked. And looked. And looked. His lips were slammed together now, working back and forth in an expression that bordered on a grimace. His nostrils flared in and out. And his stare…it was the most restless part of him, prowling up and down her body like a starving panther. The insane thing was, she actually felt like that animal under target. The sensation was incredible. She wondered if her jungle counterparts felt this too. The terror mixed with the anticipation, the pure fear of surrender, followed by the euphoria of being free. It made her dizzy. She actually swayed.
Shit. Shit. What was happening to her? Everything again rushed at her so fast, too fast. In an attempt at regaining control, she started babbling.
“I remembered how you liked the fishnets I wore on Saturday. Is red as good as the black? I didn’t quite know if the fastenings—”
“Stop.”
The unfettered snarl of his voice was enough to enforce the order. In sheer shock and more than a little arousal, she obeyed. The monologue got shoved down her throat, and she fisted her hands at her sides. After that, she braced for the backlash from her brain, sure to hit any moment. Any second now, she was certain common sense would kick in and tell her how insane this was to be standing on display for her lover, waiting for him to issue another command at her.
That moment never came. Instead, everything kept careening forward, faster and harder than before. Every moment carried Dante forward too. The aura of his power flowed off him, weaving its way into the pores of his skin, the planes of his face, the sovereignty of his stance. He was mesmerizing.
She watched, not saying a word, as he came closer by a couple of wildcat-smooth steps. “Thank you,” he said, making it sound more command than appreciation. “The fishnets are beautiful, but your silence pleases me even more. You had to think about it far more deeply than the stockings…” He reached down and unsnapped both her front garters. “Which are going to say their farewell now, anyway.”
He unhooked the back garters with both hands, letting his hands linger on the swells of her ass when he was done. Celina gasped as he palmed both cheeks, then gave them dual slaps, but a single word didn’t fall from her mouth. As she breathed out the brief stings, hanging on to Dante’s forearms for balance, a low hum emanated from him in return.
“Turn around,” he instructed, physically guiding her in the action as well. “Hang on to the back of the couch, cara, and enjoy the view.”
She wondered why there was a tantalizing edge to his tone—until she obeyed the order for the position and saw what he meant by “the view.” Because the clouds outside were now thick as soup, the patio window had become a mirror. She lifted her head to see herself, bent over and waiting for whatever he wanted to do to her. Her breasts hung down, her nipples engorged with arousal, now barely tamed by the red bra. Her ass and her thighs were flares of flesh behind her.
Hell.
She needed to feel dirty about this. Wanton. Shameless. She needed to see herself being turned into his sexual play toy by increasingly bigger stages.
Yeah, she felt all those things.
And had never been more turned on in her entire life.
As if he read her mind, Dante moved up behind her, dark and graceful in his formfitting shirt and gray jeans. With slick surety, he slipped his hand between her thighs from behind. He didn’t dip his fingers below her panties. He didn’t have to.
“What’s this I feel already, stellina? A sweet, wet pussy, getting ready for me?”
She hissed and arched, her breath coming in shaky waves, but she didn’t take her eyes off the figures in the window. She watched as if she were in an amazing erotic dream. If that was the case, she didn’t want to wake up for a very long time.
Dante only made it better, lowering behind her, taking down both her stockings on his way. When he hit the tops of her boots, he unzipped those too, then lifted her feet one by one in silent instruction for her to step free. He tossed the shoes so they landed atop her dress on the floor. In the window, she could see him flow his stare over every inch of her again. She didn’t blink or breathe as he slid a hand down to his crotch, palming the bulge there to greater hardness.
“Oh, stellina.” He emitted a sound between a groan and a grunt. “You are one magnificent creature of torture.”
Her vagina pulsed, sending another river into her panties. Driven by an unseen instinct, she staved off a shiver by starting to roll her hips. Even a sudden jarring comprehension didn’t stop her.
Hell. Wasn’t this exactly how things started the other night with Mark and Rose Moore?
“Holy shit,” he said huskily. “Keep going, baby. You’re so goddamn sexy, my beautiful cara.”
She gave him a sighing cry. Her head swirled like the mist outside, flying into an atmosphere she’d never been in before. She extended her whimper, turning it into a sound of supplication as well as arousal. She wanted more, yearned to fly higher. Her whole body shook with need.
He shifted and pressed behind her again. His hand and fingernails formed a warm pressure down the length of her spine. “It’s okay, baby. I’m going to give you everything you want, the same way you’re going to give me everything I want. I promise it fully.”
His words and his touch streaked fiery tingles through every inch of her skin. “Yes!” It left her lips before she could control it, which made the rest easier to spill. “Yes, Dante, please!”
He amped the fire by a thousand, cracking her ass with two more spanks. “Sorry, cara,” he drawled. “Guess I wasn’t clear enough the first time. Words aren’t your duty right now, unless I demand them directly from you. And believe me, I will ask for them. But right now—” He closed his grip around her shoulders, bringing her back to her feet and holding her steady for a moment. “Let’s take a little walk.”
After her footing got steady, he took her hand and tugged her behind him down a mahogany wood hallway. The clean lines and modern angles reminded her of the hall they’d walked at Dark Escape, only here there were no sensual prints on the walls. Instead, there were several alcoves embedded with shelves that held a mishmash of photos. Every person in the pictures shared Dante’s full mouth, strong nose, and longer-than-legal eyelashes. She almost felt the Tieri clan watching her walk behind their golden son, certain they all somehow knew exactly what he was about to do with her. And wishing they’d let her in on the secret.
At the end of the hall, he pushed open a set of double doors. He pulled her into a bedroom that surely had its own zip code. Celina supposed she should have guessed at the square footage just for kicks, but that option faded against the option of drowning a gasp of awe. It was a stunning room, with ivory carpet that cushioned her every step as she let him draw her closer to a four-poster bed with gauzy gold-flecked drapes that were suspended from the ceiling and flowed down each of the four corners, making decadent puddles when they hit the floor. Along the walls, artistic silhouettes of trees were backlit by deep violet lighting, making the walls look like early twilight. Tall sleek urns overflowed with live plants, their earthy freshness mingling with Dante’s signature patchouli to form an enchanted forest bouquet.
She tilted her face up to him with a little smile.
Dante was already staring at her. Not smiling.
His look made her toes curl and the deepest parts of her sex vibrate. For some reason, she got even wetter as he released her hand and set her a few feet away from him. His pose rose by a few inches, nearly like a military commander setting straight a new recruit.
“Ground rules,” he stated. “You already know the criterion for speaking, so I trust we don’t have to review that. Your attire, for the moment, is—” He cracked a small smile. “Ideal. But most importantly, let’s talk limits.”
In the pause he inserted, she lifted a confused look. Limits? Holy shit. Limits to what? She thought of the Moores again. Saturday night’s “fun” had been in a high-end bondage club with huge equipment and trusses. Why d
id they need “limits” here in Dante’s bedroom?
Again as if his brain had smart-synched to hers, Dante emphasized, “You get limits, cara, no matter where we are or how we play. We always go only as far as you say. You have words to use if you’re too overwhelmed to go on. They even call them safe words. You say ‘star’ if you need everything to stop in full. You say ‘sky’ if you need to simply slow down. Got it?” He cut short the little nod with which she responded, directing her face to him with two fingers under her chin. “Why don’t I believe you?”
She met his gaze directly. “That’s a direct question, right?”
He sighed. “Yes, cara. And I want it answered.”
“Are those words really necessary? Why don’t I just tell you to stop?”
He stepped back again. “Because there’s a good possibility you will use that one.” A small smirk again tilted his lips. “But you’ll be too hot and wet to mean it.”
She could tell he expected a crack from her at that. She didn’t have one, because her imagination proved him right. She saw herself on the bed beneath him, his hand smacking her backside and her fervent screams of “Stop!” filling the air. He was right. It pumped her sex full of heat.
“I’ve got a few surprises for you, stellina.” Neither his face nor his voice lost their overlay of sensual knowingness. “Why don’t you get up on the bed and make yourself my star there?” He used a hand at the side of her head to fix her gaze once more to his face and its darkening intent. “That means I want you on your hands and knees, head low, ass high. Are these instructions clear? You may answer ‘Yes, Sir’ or “No, Sir.’”
The storm mist invaded her senses again. Hot and cold fronts slammed together in her body. She shouldn’t love those words, and yet the harder edge to them sizzled to her sex like lightning bolts to a grounding point. “Yes,” she answered, hating the breathy edge of it. “Yes, Sir, that’s clear.”
His touch tightened by a fraction. “That’s my good girl.”
Forget the lightning in her pussy. Her whole body became live electricity now, the excuse she used for walking to the bed on legs that wobbled like a baby’s. She shook even worse as she got up on the plush cover and maneuvered herself into the position he’d dictated.
Head low. Ass high.
Oh hell.
The instructions, even issued from his incredible lips, had sounded like a first-class invitation into humiliation. But kneeling here with her body like this, in the middle of this luxurious bed and its shah’s share of pillows, she felt like a jewel. No, wait. What was that word Mark Moore used on Rose? A pet. A gorgeous, loved pet, waiting for her master to return and—
She swallowed hard as her mind filled in the rest of that thought.
She heard water splashing, some drawers sliding, and a closet door being slammed shut. Finally, Dante came back in with a purposeful stride. He’d taken his shirt off, which should have been an incredible distraction, but he took care of any appreciation she’d give his muscled torso with the kink arsenal he bore. The rolling waist-high rack riveted her stare and made her heart pump to the point of pain. Or maybe that was her body’s way of telling her what was in store for her. Hanging from a vertical top bar, about two feet across, were a hanging collection of things she recognized, like wood paddles, leather floggers, a riding crop, and even something that looked like a feather duster, but it was the tiered shelf next to the hanging toys that dealt her the blow of fear. Ohhhh hell…so many of those things would never possibly fit inside her body. Their pretty turquoise glint didn’t fool her, especially with the large tube of lubricant that sat next to them.
“Stellina.” Dante’s tone was thick with reprimand. “I believe I said head low, not face tilted around and sneaking peeks?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” She snapped her head back down, though the mental explosion had already started. She’d already seen Dante begin to reach for the rack. Shit, shit, shit; what had she gotten herself into? Safe words. She had to remember she had those. Star and sky. But even those were teasing little things. They sounded more like a couple of new anime toys for Sami rather than words to make him stop with his toys. This was insane. What was she doing here, and why did it still make her deepest folds quiver with anticipation and tighten with need? And why oh why did she shiver all over, in all the best ways, when she felt one of his hands cupping her ass…then slowly caress its way up her spine…then run its way through her hair?
“Ssshhh,” he murmured, now backtracking that hand. He pulled her hair out of the way with it. Only then did she realize she was breathing like a sprinter. “You need to trust me, cara. Take some deep breaths. Trust me.”
“I—I do.” She hoped her earnest tone told him how strongly she needed to say it. His deep hum conveyed his approval. She actually did begin to breathe easier—
Until he slipped something over the top of her head. Something with a tight band around it. Seconds later, the world went blacker than his eyes.
Oh God. A blindfold?
“Remember how you trust me?” His voice flowed around her as she felt him rustling toward the headboard, seeming to rearrange the pillows. Then his touch descended on her again, gentle yet firm, sliding down one arm. Celina almost reached up with her other hand to rip the eye covering away, but his fingers felt so good, so commanding, so encompassing as they circled the insides of her elbows and trailed like whispers to her wrist, right before he wrapped something around that too. The binding was soft and possessed the naughty scent of leather.
Leather.
Shit.
She jerked her arm, trying to move it. And got nowhere.
He’d tethered her to the bed.
By the time the conclusion hit her, Dante had already secured her other wrist.
“Stellina, you really need to breathe.”
What did he think she was doing? Celina shot the silent retort between her lungs’ effort for air. “I—” she managed out loud. “This—Dante, this is—”
The press of a strong hand came down to her head again. “Didn’t you say you trust me?” His grip tightened, pulling at her scalp a little. “That was a direct question, cara.”
“Yes.” She drew out the last of it in a fuming hiss. “Yes I do trust you, but—”
“And didn’t I tell you we were going to take this to mach five tonight?”
“In the first ten minutes?”
She tensed, half expecting him to direct some attention at her ass again because her inner smacktard couldn’t keep a lid on it. Instead, she felt him dig his other hand into her hair, then pull hard enough that all the inner chitchat was silenced too.
“Celina, we haven’t even taken off yet.”
She said nothing to that, and probably couldn’t if she tried. She fought another rush of dizziness, then wondered why. Where was she going to fall? Onto this cloud of a bed? Oh damn it all if that happened. She was, whether she wanted to admit it or not, truly safe.
With the acceptance of that, her senses were suddenly free to recognize other things. She trembled and sighed as she did just that. The scrape of the bra as her nipples now pressed at the edge of it, pouting in hard arousal. The exposed line of her body, ready for any touch from him. And oh God, the kiss of her moist panties on her sensitive labia.
“All right, sweet girl. I’m going to ask nicely just once again. Do you trust me?”
His question came in a voice she’d never heard from him before. He drew out each syllable like a caress, deliberately taking his time with them, the tone so different from his urgent commands during the other times they’d been together. There was a pressure beneath in these sounds too, but it lay tethered and coiled, waiting for its moment to strike, becoming a force all its own even through the darkness that defined her vision, perhaps because of it.
She couldn’t see him, so she imagined him. He swirled to life in her mind as an even more magnificent satyr of sensuality. She saw his arms bunching as he pulled her hair, then envisioned his sculpted bronze ch
est looming over her, and his hair tumbling against his beard. He surrounded her with his touch, his presence, his hands, his focus. A rough rumble emanated from him as he moved onto the bed with her, his weight dipping the mattress behind her.
“I’m waiting, stellina.”
“Yes.” It felt like a giant weight tumbling out of her mouth. He’d ordered her not to talk, but now it felt like dragging her tongue through mush to get simple words out. “Yes, Sir. I trust you.”
Another growl, heavier and harder, vibrated from him. “My sweet cara. Do you know how much that pleases me? How beautiful it is, coming from your lips?” With a quiet slip of movement, he tucked two fingers beneath her panties from behind. “And apparently, you’re ready to be pleasured as well.”
She groaned as he instantly found the sweet spot of her clit. In tandem to her reaction, Dante delivered a sharp swat to her backside. The sound in her throat became a shriek at her lips—but it was a sound of surprise, of wonder, perhaps a little delight. The double whammy of sting and stimulation was incredible.
“Shit,” she blurted before knowing she’d even done so. “Dante! Ohhh yes!”
His answering spank, now dealt to the opposite ass cheek, came with a grip on her pussy that punished this time. But the pinch of his fingers was a mild preamble to what came next.
“In the way,” he said tightly, before twisting his other hand into her thong. With one fierce jerk, he tore it away. She barely had time to gasp in surprise when she felt something like a small chain brushing her backside—just before something else, hard and tight, bit into one side of her labia. Before she could yelp at the shock of that, the same treatment was given the other side. The chains jingled against her ass cheeks as Dante extended them from between her legs, wrapping one around each thigh, before clasping them back on themselves. The chains hit her thighs where the fishnets had just been. The irony of the change didn’t escape her. The stockings had helped land her here, where she wanted to be, but she hadn’t fathomed it would be like this. She had no idea he was going to open her like this, plunging her eyes into darkness while his saw everything, exposing her to him in the most basic and primal way…
