Page 493 of Rosetti Family New York
"This one leaves marks that last," I tell her, running the length of leather through my fingers. "Marks that will remind you who you belong to every time you look in the mirror tomorrow."
She swallows visibly, but her voice is steady. "Green."
I uncoil the whip, giving it a test crack that echoes through the room. Her body jerks at just the sound. I position myself at the perfect distance, calculating the angle with the precision of a marksman.
The first strike lands across her upper back—a controlled kiss of leather that leaves a thin red line. She hisses through her teeth but doesn't cry out.
"One," I count for her.
The second strike crosses the first, forming an X between her shoulder blades.
"Two."
By five, she's panting, her body swaying
"You think I didn't notice how Marco looked at you?" I ask, landing another precise strike on her inner thigh. "How they all did?"
"They respect me," she gasps, her body trembling from the mounting sensations.
"They want you." I deliver a sharp tap directly to her clit, making her cry out. "But they can't have you."
I continue working her body with the crop, creating a constellation of red marks across her thighs, stomach, and the undersides of her breasts. Each strike pulls a different sound from her throat—moans, whimpers, pleas—a symphony composed just for me.
Her breathing becomes ragged as I increase the intensity, focusing on the sensitive areas where pain transforms most readily into pleasure. Sweat glistens on her skin, making the welts shine in the low light.
"Color?" I check again, needing to know she's still with me.
"Green… but getting close to yellow," she admits, her honesty making my chest tighten with pride.
I set the crop aside and move to her, running my hands over her heated skin. "Good girl. Telling me what you need."
My fingers find her pussy, soaked and swollen. I slide two fingers inside her, and she clenches around me immediately, desperate for more. "Look how wet punishment makes you."
"Please," she whispers, trying to move against my hand.
"Please what?" I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her shudder.
"Please take me. I need you inside me."
The desperation in her voice nearly shatters my control. I withdraw my fingers and move to the cabinet where I keep my other toys. I select a black leather collar with a silver ring at the front, bringing it to her.
"If I'm going to fuck you," I tell her, fastening the collar around her throat, "I want you wearing my mark."
Her eyes darken at the symbolism. The collar is new between us—a step beyond our usual play. She swallows, the movement visible against the leather.
"Yes," she whispers. "Mark me. Own me."
I adjust the suspension system, lowering her arms slightly to relieve the strain while keeping her displayed for me. Moving behind her, I unfasten my pants, finally freeing my aching cock. I've been hard for hours, thinking about this moment.
Gripping her hips, I position myself at her entrance, teasing her with just the tip. "Who owns this pussy?"
"You do," she moans, trying to push back against me.
I
I slide into her in one hard thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, her body clenching around me as I establish a punishing rhythm. Each thrust is punctuated by the gentle sway of her body in the restraints, the leather collar around her neck a visible reminder of my ownership.
"Look at you," I growl, gripping her hips hard enough to leave fingerprints. "Taking my cock so well after your punishment."
