Page 94 of Little Deer
I don’t answer that, just wait, watching.
He moves to stand behind me, and I hold my breath. I already know what’s coming, but I still don’t stop the yelp, then the moan, as his hand comes down hard on my ass. The burn and pain is familiar, but different. More intimate this time. My core clenches, and I try to adjust myself, try to close my legs so I can get more friction on my clit with each slap I know is about to come, but the bindings don’t allow it.
Fuck.
Massimo slaps my other cheek, and I jerk forward instantly, before I arch myself back, straining for the burn. “Your ass is so pretty and perfect like this, Lucy,” Massimo rumbles, his hands gripping my hips to hold me in place. “It’s flushing a pretty pink for me.” Suddenly, I feel his teeth sink into my right cheek, and I let out a loud cry, even as arousal gushes down my thigh. He repeats it on the other side and I'm a quivering mess when he finally pulls away. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groans. “You love the bite of pain, don’t you,cerbiatta?”
“Massimo,” I moan, desperate. My clit throbs, needing something, anything to ease it.
“Look at this needy, wet pussy,” he murmurs, reverent. His fingers trace down the crack of my ass to my soaked folds, slidingthrough them and torturing me more. “So fucking perfect.” He continues to explore, sliding through the wetness that coats me, but never touching me where I need him most.
“Massimo,” I cry desperately when he pulls away. “Please.”
“Not yet,cara mia,” he taunts with a low chuckle. “I want you to turn your head and watch in the mirror while I give you the rest of your punishment. You have eight more. And if you look away I add one more for every time you do. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Massimo,” I gasp out, turning my head and staring at the mirror. It’s fucking hot as hell to see him standing there in all his tattooed glory, his cock pointing eagerly at me, but being completely ignored as he brings his hand down on my ass.
He keeps the slap measured, controlled, but it doesn’t ease the sting, or the way my flesh ripples with the strike. I cry out, stiffening my body to keep from looking away. As much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t want to delay the pleasure I know is coming.
My body burns, my arousal growing with each slap, with each burn of pain. The discomfort spreads, even as my pussy drips. Fuck, I want him so fucking bad. I need him.
And from the flushed look on his face, the tick in his jaw, he’s enjoying it just as much. Or when he delivers the final one, and swiftly pushes his fingers back into my folds, feeling how wet I am, he has to use his other hand to grip himself once more. “Fuck,” he grits out. “I need to feel you,dolcezza. First, I want to make sure you’re good and ready for me. You’re to tell me if you feel any discomfort, do you understand me?” The question is guttural.
“Yes, Massimo,” I pant. I spread my legs as wide as I can, curling my back like some kind of wanton feline, ready for her mate to take her. I don’t care how I look, or what I might feel like. I only want him. I need him. I want him to see it, smell it, taste it. All of it.
“Fuck, you look so fucking good like this, Lucy,” he rasps, even as he slides one finger carefully inside me. I gasp at the intrusion, making him still, but I push my hips down more, taking more of him into me, silently letting him know I’m alright.
He inches more inside me, stretching me carefully. “That’s it,” he coaxes me, bracing one hand on my hip to hold me in place. “I’m going to add a second finger, Lucy. You tell me to stop if you need me to.” I can only whimper, watching him in the mirror, at the concentration on his face. I stare with fascination as he pulls his finger all the way out, completely coated in my arousal, before pushing them both back in, slowly, carefully.
I groan at the fullness, my fingers digging into the ottoman’s edge as I try to hold myself still. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s an adjustment.
“You’re doing so good, Lucy,” he praises. “So fucking good. Just a little more for me.” Then he slides the hand on my hip inward, over the top of my mound and down through my folds to find my clit. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” His finger circles my clit, before starting to work it just the way I need.
The cries out of my mouth at the sensations are loud, too loud. I look away from the mirror, burying my head in my arm as I scream as loud as I dare. It’s so fucking good. My hips move of their own accord, grinding, driving down onto his fingers as he continues to move in and out of me and circling my clit. He groans as my inner muscles clamp around him, as my orgasm builds.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses. “One more finger, Lucy. One more.” I don’t even answer him, too far gone as the pleasure just builds and builds, the pressure deepening, expanding.
The third finger is almost too much, but I can’t seem to stop. My body is operating on instinct now. Nothing else matters. Just the orgasm building.
Another curse, and then he pulls away, and I cry out in despair, my orgasm starting to ebb. “No!”
“Shhh, I have you,cerbiatta. I need to taste you this time,” he rasps. I whip my head around to stare at him in the mirror. He’s getting onto his knees, then he pushes my thighs as wide as they can go, before he flips around so he can sit on the floor, balancing his head on the end of the ottoman. I don’t even fight him, too far gone, as he quickly grips my hips and yanks them down to his mouth.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s so…so fucking hot.
I stare in dazed shock at the sight in the mirror. Massimo on the floor, his head between my thighs, my body rolling and grinding down into him. With the angle of my body, I can only make out the bottom of his face, but it makes it so much hotter. I can see him, but only experience the sensations of his mouth on my clit, sucking and licking as he pushes me right back to another orgasm.
My wrists and arms strain at the ties, desperately wanting to reach for him, to hold him in place, but I’m helpless as he drives me mad.
He groans, increases his suction, and then moves two fingers back inside me. Going faster, harder this time. I see the wetness of his fingers in the mirror, feel the suction of his mouth, the light rasp of his beard against my sensitive skin, the lash of his tongue, and I’m done. I can’t hold back anymore.
I buck, grind and undulate all over his face as I come. The waves roll through me, stronger and faster with each one, my cries loud and sharp as I yell Massimo’s name. His groans, and the way his tongue takes the place of his fingers as my inner muscles clench around him, only sends me into another one sharper than the last.
When he finally pulls away, I’m a shuddering, quivering mess, and I have to lower my face to the ottoman as I try to get myself under control.
“Fuck, that was so fucking good, Lucy,” Massimo praises, easing back to his feet and pressing kisses all along my ass and lower back. “You taste so fucking good. I can’t wait to do that again.” He continues to murmur words of encouragement and praise, stroking and calming me, clearly realizing I need a minute to get myself back under control.
I’m pretty sure my soul has left my body. And I’m completely okay with that.
