by Alta Hensley
Shh… mafia princess. Shh…
I removed my hand from her mouth and pressed my finger past the entrance of her pussy, feeling the heat of her passion.
“That feels so good... so good,” Aria moaned—quieter this time.
I could be rough.
I could be sensual.
The switch gave me power; the power to control whoever was at my mercy.
Hooking my finger into the depths of the girl’s pussy, my free hand reached for the satin bag once again. I pulled out a clear dildo lined with crystals. Those crystals could be wickedly painful if used for a true fucking. Luckily for Aria’s cunt, I had other plans.
I took the clear penis and rubbed it along Aria’s wet pussy, collecting her moisture. Ever so gently, I replaced my finger with the large dildo. Just the tip. Something inside of me knew she couldn’t take the entire dildo—she seemed too innocent for that—and my intent wasn’t to really hurt her. But the tip would spread that tight little hole of hers.
“This will spread you wide but not give you the friction and satisfaction of full penetration,” I said with a hint of maniacal undertone in my voice.
I enjoyed the torture.
I fed off the mewls of desperation.
Aria gasped at the intrusion and began to gyrate her hips in sexual anguish. “Fuck me. Make me come. I need to come!”
Without pause, I flipped the girl onto her stomach. “I warned you about issuing the commands.” I swatted the girl’s creamy white behind. “You are to submit, you are to accept, you are to surrender.” I spanked the girl’s ass again, not restraining my strength in the slightest. I wanted it to hurt… to sting. “You are to do only as I request… nothing more.”
I grabbed the remaining item from the satin bag. Pulling out a steel butt plug, I rubbed the ruby that decorated the base with the tip of my finger. Smaller diamonds circled the ruby, making it sparkle in the soft light of the room.
Daddy Dearest spared no expense for his parties. Only the best toys for his guests… for his daughter.
Using his provided toys…
It was so fucking wrong and I fed on every second of it.
I loved the intricate workmanship of this toy above all. Using Aria’s wetness slipping around the dildo in her pussy, I lubricated the girl’s tight back hole with my finger.
I could have used lube, but the sadist in me wanted the girl to feel some pain as it spread her anus wide. I was a merciful asshole, however. I wouldn’t tear Aria, though the thought of ripping her father’s asshole apart in the days to come did cross my mind for a brief moment.
When I touched her anus, she tensed.
“No,” she said. “Not there.”
I slapped her ass hard again. “Consequences for not listening.”
She moaned as the punishment commenced.
In and out, slowly, I stretched the girl’s tight little forbidden hole so she would be able to accept the last of the jewelry.
My job getting this princess ready was nearly complete.
“I want you to relax,” I ordered as I placed a soft kiss to the reddened ass of Aria. Easing the implement in slowly was the only way to not hurt her.
Such a caring and giving asshole I was.
“It’s going to hurt,” she panted, though she didn’t plead for me to stop like I expected. She didn’t wiggle her body, pull against the restraints, or try to prevent the invasion.
“Yes, it’s going to fucking hurt. And you are going to love every minute of it.”
Once I could feel the girl’s puckered hole loosen, I pressed the steel plug past the tight ring of her ass. Aria moaned and bucked against the mattress. I rolled her over onto her back and took a moment to admire the jeweled beauty before me.
I bent down and pressed my lips to Aria’s mouth one last time. “Very good. You did very well.”
I considered pulling down my pants and straddling the woman’s face so she could suck and lick on me. So, she could help extinguish the heat deep within my pounding cock and tight balls screaming for release.
But time was running out, and this was just the first step in my master plan. Tonight wasn’t about pleasure. But fuck that. I would make time. No way was I walking away from this naked beauty. Tonight was about me.
But tonight was also about revenge.
Tonight was about proving a fucking point.
Don’t mess with Matthew Price.
I will fuck you up by taking what is most precious to you.
Say goodbye to your daughter, Vittorio Costa.
She was mine now.
Her body would be mine.
Mine.
4
Aria
Devils in suits.
Monsters with power.
Beasts with no mercy.
But my frantic internal efforts to ward him off had done nothing. I was weak. Craving more. I wanted to slap him. Scream for help. Demand for him to remove all these kinky items now adorning my body. But I couldn’t.
And worse, much, much worse, was the fact that my body melted beneath him, quickly eroding my resolve to fight him to the death to preserve the innocence he didn’t deserve to take, and I was—intellectually, anyway—unwilling to yield to him.
Devil in suits.
Monsters with power.
Beasts with no mercy.
If I chanted it enough, maybe my body and soul would believe the words. Maybe I could somehow talk some sense into my throbbing sex.
I would not give him my purity. He didn’t deserve the gift.
“We need to stop.” I barely squeaked the words, but I was proud of myself for somehow fighting the urge to fuck this stranger. Although I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it, I had no plan to give up the fight.
Throughout all of my valiant efforts, he had—with an annoying calm and languorous determination—made his way from peak to peak, using those big hands to squeeze my breasts from the bottom so as to present them to his mouth at their fullest as he continued to massage them rhythmically while his mouth devastated my defenses, making me want to hug him to me rather than smash my fists into his face the way I ought to.
He seemed to know when I’d had to surrender, when I could no longer actively fight against him.
He knew I was weak.
I was vulnerable to his power.
Metal bit my nipples and spread my ass. My virginal pussy was dangerously close to being conquered by the dildo resting inside me, spreading my entrance, and all I could focus on was what would this man do to me next.
I couldn’t ignore the way he felt against me. His tux shirt rubbed against nipples that had been brought to achingly anticipatory peaks by the clamps, not used to such raw treatment but unable to deny the sparks both the clamps and his clothing created between my legs.
He settled himself between my thighs as if he’d been there many times before. The dildo eased out of me, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be without an invasion for long. His dark eyes staring at me warned that more was to come.
Possession. This man gripped me in all ways. How was I his when I didn’t even know his name?
I could feel the prominent bulge inside his pants against my very exposed self, and I couldn’t keep myself from staring into his eyes as he very deliberately dragged himself back and forth against me.
As I stared helplessly up at him, I felt caught like a butterfly on a pin, unable to look away as he chafed himself against me, almost smiling at my sighs of pleasure.
“I know you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you, princess,” he said softly. “But it’s going to hurt so fucking good.”
“Stop,” I think I whispered, but maybe didn’t. I couldn’t be sure.
As much as I wanted to be reassured by his gentle—yet fucked up—words, my internal moral compass knew I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t just get fucked by a complete stranger. But my body betrayed me. No matter how much I struggled with the idea of what was to come, my body demanded more, demanded that he do just
that… pleasure me, fuck me, take me.
Pleasure me.
Fuck me.
Take me.
Words I never thought I would think, feel, and so desperately want.
There was a man on top of me, claiming what doesn’t belong to him as his.
Sick. Twisted. Perverse.
I should be throwing up. Losing sanity. Sinking into the depths of Hell.
But instead…
Pleasure me.
Fuck me.
Take me.
“You can say no all you want, but your body screams yes. I smell you, princess. I can smell how badly you want to be fucked,” he said, as he untied my hands that he’d restrained with the ribbon. But my freedom was short-lived as he fastened my wrists to the mattress as if they were bolted there by the mere presence of his fingers around them, holding them still. “But you can continue to fight me if you want. If it makes you feel less dirty. But we both know.”
Damn him. Damn him to Hell for being right.
Then, agonizingly slowly, he dragged himself down my length, tongue flicking and licking and wetting me here and there, wherever the whim took him to taste me, right down past my pubic bone and boldly venturing between lips that were undoubtedly fully swollen and quite damp.
But he stopped short of actually pressing his tongue to my clit, which was something I realized I was holding my breath in expectation of—and not in terror either, as I should have been, but in desperate, raging anticipation. I wanted to feel that exquisite heaven of release. He had teased me enough.
I was ready.
“Stop,” I tried to say. But I didn’t.
Instead, he pulled back a little, making me stifle a groan of protest that should never have formed in my throat, and skipped right over it on his way to the part of my body that, at this point, was the wettest.
After avidly lapping up as much of my juices as he could with his tongue, he moved back up a bit and addressed me, although at first, I refused to look at him.
“My, my, my, you are just a fountain down here, aren’t you? I see my guess was right about you liking to protest and fight. Fight me. Fight me all you want. You want it rough.”
Although I knew I was lying, I shook my head in vehement denial.
But he merely nodded. “I understand, I do, princess, and it’s fine with me. I love it that you so obviously enjoy what I’m doing to you. There’s a lot more where that came from.” He cleared his throat and the boyish enthusiasm he had just exhibited melted away as if it had never been, and the timbre of his voice changed such that I had to suppress a shiver. “I’m going to let your wrists go right now, and I expect that you’re not going to raise them off the bed. Knowing what I do about you now, if you do move them so much as an inch, I’m going to put you over the edge of the bed and use my belt on your bare ass. And I won’t go nearly so easy on you as I did when I was spanking you with my hand. I know you like it, and it’s going to take just that much more effort on my part to teach you a real lesson. If you move your hands, princess, it won’t be a spanking. It will be a whipping.”
He let go of my wrists then and didn’t even look to see whether I obeyed him or not, as far as I could tell. He assumed I would, and to my deep shame, he was right. He was obviously going to enjoy himself regardless of what I did. He was only too eager to take his belt to my bare ass, if that was what I made him do.
Although I kept my hands where he wanted them, I wailed behind tightly closed lips, knowing I should be brave enough to tackle him, to risk bodily injury—or at least a very severe strapping—in order to preserve the sovereignty over my own body, but I just couldn’t convince myself to do it. Especially not with the intimate glimpse he’d given me into just how unbearable it would probably be.
And he was already back in place, this time using the fingers of one hand to splay me open while the other reached up to pluck my nipples, removing the clamps as I moaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Pinching them much harder than the clamps had before, he made each one of them hurt before he moved on to the other, treating them rather cruelly. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. With my rear end already singeing the sheets beneath me, I had no interest at all—well, very little anyway—in finding out what it would feel like if he actually did to me what he said he would. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would, either.
Surprisingly, worry about being punished faded quickly from my mind, to be replaced by the unbearable aching sensations he was creating with his mouth as it settled slowly, very slowly, over the clit he had already completely exposed, laying his unmoving tongue flat over a piece of me that caused a thirst I knew I should resist.
Stop.
Stop.
“Stop,” I finally managed to say even though I wasn’t sure I meant what I said. “Stop!” I said it again, much much louder this time.
Stop what?
Stop what he was doing?
Or stop torturing me with the wait?
Matthew
* * *
This little mafia princess needed to know who was in charge fast. She needed to fear me. Hate me. Despise me. I didn’t give a fuck really, other than when I gave an order, she would damn well follow it.
No Daddy’s little rich girls allowed.
“I told you to be quiet so Daddy Dearest doesn’t hear us, and I mean what I say.”
My hard, implacable tone had her stiffening even further, but I figured from the sounds drifting up from downstairs that we had a while before we would need to leave, and I intended to get my revenge on her father by doing what I pleased to her. Having sex with Vittorio Costa’s daughter wasn’t of much interest to me. Or at least it hadn’t been when this plan was first set into motion.
Kidnap, yes.
Possible torture, doubtful though I can’t deny that it didn’t pass my mind when the fury and rage overpowered me as I came up with this plan of mine.
Ransom, fuck yes and for a lot. For more money than Vittorio Costa could come up with. He would have to beg, borrow and steal to keep his precious daughter alive. As for my paintings and every single diamond hidden within, for his sake, and his daughter’s, he better not have moved them already.
Revenge would be sweet.
He did this. This was his fault.
But daughter dearest was mine now, and for some crazy reason unknown to me, I wanted a hell of a lot more. This wasn’t just vengeance taking hold. Nor was this just a need to fuck.
I had what I needed to get my shipment back now, and I was in a mood to celebrate. And this little rich girl whimpering in my arms was a definite way to celebrate. All mafia princesses were the same. Entitled, spoiled, bitchy. But something about Costa’s daughter seemed different than the rest. Special. I had watched her for days. Studied her at the party. Something was different.
I had watched her lips all night at the party as she sipped champagne and had wanted them instantly on mine and on many other places that had long since hardened at the thought.
I was a sick bastard.
But again… Vittorio created me.
Never try to one up Matthew Price. Never.
Fucking her probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever do in my life, but from the moment I’d seen her, I’d known that I was going to risk my life, and my soul to do just that. She was just too damned tempting, with all that rich, dark hair spread out over her pillow. It wasn’t that artificial, platinum color a lot of those mafia bitches favored but looked completely natural and enticing, and I was a fool for a woman’s hair. Not to mention how innocent she looked, her face surprisingly clean and devoid of the remnants of the usual garish makeup.
Right now, my enemy was about to give up his most precious belonging. What was his, was now mine.
Mine.
“I’m a bad man. A bad bad man,” I whispered by way of apology against her bared breasts, just before taking a pert pink nipple into my mouth. “But I’m about to make you a bad, bad girl.”
5
Aria
“My father will kill you.”
He laughed, heartily at first, then less so as he saw the anger on my face. “Listen, princess—”
“Stop calling me princess. I’m not your fucking pet. You can’t demean me with little pet names.”
“Not my pet?” He smirked which made me want to reach out and punch him. “I saw how you watched the other kittens at the party. I also heard you purr for me as a naughty kitty would. Your tits, your clit, your pussy, your ass—”
“You’re an asshole!” I practically yelled at how crass he was being, as if he were deliberately trying to annoy me, but thought better of actually giving my anger free rein, for fear that I’d raise my voice higher than he allowed.
I wasn’t used to looking to someone other than my father—much less a man like him in particular—for permission to do anything, but the way my butt continued to throb against the sheets of the bed had me thinking twice. He looked so implacable, so damned sure of himself that I was having a hard time not becoming about as close to hysterical as I’d ever been in my life. “I want you to get off of me and leave my room now. If I scream, you are a dead man.”
He grinned, saying sarcastically, “Trust me, princess. I’ll get you to scream. But not in the way you think.”
“You must have a death wish.”
He smiled and kissed my forehead. “I had one long before I met you.”
“I’m not going to ask again. You can’t just come in here and take what you want and—”
“I just did. Or did you willingly give all of this to me?” The smirk he returned both gave him charm as well as brought my blood to an inferno of a boil.
“I would never had given you anything. You didn’t give me a choice, you…” I paused before continuing. I didn’t want to accuse him of just taking it. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d wanted him to. Hell… I’d wanted more. Or at least my body did. “This was a mistake. A mistake I hope to forget forever. So if you know what is good for you, you will leave my room, this party, this house, this fucking country before my father finds out what you did to his daughter and has you tortured until you are begging for death.”
