Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Minutes dragged into hours as she waited for Emilio to come upstairs. The room he’d put her in was larger than her bedroom at home, but it felt like the walls were closing in on her with every tick of the clock. And the worst part was Benny had stayed planted in her room for every second of her incarceration, so she couldn’t even search for an escape. Not that she would have found one anyway, but it would have been nice to at least be able to try. To feel like she was doing something other than waiting for her execution.
After what seemed like eternity, she heard the telltale sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors outside her bedroom, moments before the door swung open, revealing the man himself standing in the doorway.
Fuck her, did he have to be so damn handsome? Maybe she wouldn’t have all these conflicting feelings if he could just tone down the sex appeal a smidge. As it was, the mere sight of him gave her pussy its own heartbeat.
Eyes locked on hers, he started across the room. “Benny, you’re dismissed. I’ll ring when we’re ready for dinner.”
With a silent nod, Benny slipped out of the bedroom door, leaving her alone with her captor. There was something different about him. She could sense the power he was keeping so carefully in check, the beast he normally kept locked away prowling just beneath the surface. Was he going to unleash that monster on her?
The idea was far more alluring than it should have been.
“I have some questions for you, piccolina.” Shrugging out of his immaculately cut suit jacket, he took a step forward. She answered with a step backward. “Your answers will determine how we proceed tonight.”
Another step forward for him, another backward for her. “How we proceed?” Confused, she frowned up at him. “You’re not going to punish me?”
“I have every intention of punishing you, but not before I have the full story of why you were really in my room last night. Let’s start with this: How long has Gio been sampling his inventory?”
Shocked by the implication, she simply stood and stared at him as he unbuttoned the sleeve of his dress shirt and rolled the fabric up over his elbow. “He hasn’t. He would never.” It was Uncle Gio’s cardinal rule that no members of his household were allowed to consume the drugs he smuggled across the border. Hell, he’d grounded her for a month the first time he’d caught her sneaking a bottle of champagne from his wine cellar.
Now standing directly in front of her, Emilio gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, searching her face with those cold, dark eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find. His expression warmed the tiniest fraction and his grip on her face eased. “You didn’t know, did you?”
“Know what, Emilio?” She tried to jerk her head away, but his hold on her didn’t budge.
Fire flashed in his eyes, but not fury. More like excitement, anticipation. The thrill of a predator finally within striking distance of its prey.
“Enjoy your defiance while you can, piccolina. Second question. Why were you here last night? And do not lie to me again,” he warned when she opened her mouth to do exactly that.
She didn’t want to lie. But it wasn’t just her life on the line if he discovered the truth.
“I can’t,” she whispered, after a long, tense silence. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“The truth at last,” he murmured, releasing her chin to cup her cheek with his hand. “But luckily for me, I have ways of loosening your tongue.”
Fear, cold and slick, slithered up her spine. “Please, Emil—Daddy,” she corrected herself quickly when his eyes hardened. “Let me go and I’ll disappear and we can both pretend this never happened. Please.”
“I think you know I can’t do that, Amara. But I believe you’ve misinterpreted my meaning. I’m not going to hurt you, piccolina.”
Relief flooded her. “You’re not?”
“Well, not in the way you’re expecting. Some of what I have planned for you tonight will hurt, but I believe you’ll enjoy the process.” His slow smile was filled with wicked intent. “Eventually.”
Again with the thumping between her thighs. She had no doubt he could make her enjoy whatever it was he was planning to inflict on her. And somehow those cold licks of fear only served to make her more aware of the need pulsing through her.
“Arms up, piccolina. Daddy is going to undress you.”
Too afraid for outright defiance, she slowly raised her arms so he could tug the offensive pile of pink fluff up over her head, leaving her completely bare to his gaze. She couldn’t help but snarl a little in disgust when he tossed the offensive garment over the back of a chair.
“Question number three.” His eyes danced with obvious amusement. “What do you have against pink?”
“It’s just so… girly.”
“What color do you prefer?”
“Red.”
“It suits you. I’m sure I can accommodate your preferences moving forward.”
Her heart tripped in her chest. “You speak as though you mean for me to stay.”
“I’ve considered it.” Lifting a hand to her breast, he rolled her nipple between his fingers, drawing a whimper from her lips. “Would it really be so bad, Amara?”
“I can’t live like this. It’s… this isn’t who I am.”
“Of course it is. This is exactly who you’ve been raised to be. The wife of a powerful man.” Those clever fingers pinched, hard, sending a shock of pain through her. Straight to her already aching clit.
“You don’t want me,” she whispered.
“Oh, but I do. Whatever you’ve done can be rectified. The penalty may be steep, but I’m not an unreasonable man, Amara.”
The reminder of the punishment she had waiting for her sent another shiver racing down her spine. “I can’t.”
“We’ll see about that. On the bed.”
He gave her a light shove that sent her tumbling backward onto the bed. Gripping both of her wrists in one hand, he jerked her hands above her head and secured them with the restraints as he’d done the night before.
Bound, helpless, hopelessly aroused, she watched him stalk the room. Removing his gun holster, opening a cabinet and removing items she couldn’t quite make out from her position on the bed. Making preparations for whatever it was he had planned for her.
“Our first order of business is your lack of respect when speaking to me, piccolina.” As he spoke, he laid the items out on a table beside the bed. “How should you address me?”
Licking her lips, she eyed the long piece of leather he still held. “Daddy.”
“That’s right.” Slipping an arm under her legs, he lifted them into the air. The awkward position stretched the skin on her thighs and buttocks uncomfortably tight, and left her feeling more exposed than ever. “A dozen with the strap, and you’ll count them. ‘One, Daddy. Two, Daddy.’ Perhaps by twelve my proper title will be imprinted in your mind.”
She was wholly unprepared for the sting of the strap when he whipped it across her exposed flesh. Her bottom cheeks clenched in response, the involuntary movement giving her a sharp reminder of the plug she still held in her ass.
“Oh, shit! Fuck, that hurts!”
“That isn’t the count, piccolina. Try again.” The unforgiving leather connected with her thighs and she clenched her teeth to keep the scream from escaping.
“One, Daddy,” she forced out between panting breaths.
“Much better.”
Two was delivered to that particularly sensitive spot where her thighs and ass met, where she knew she would feel his chastisement long after the strapping stopped. Three brought tears to her eyes. Four won him a screech of pain, and by five she was begging for mercy.
“Daddy, please. I’m sorry, I won’t ever use your name again. Please, please stop.”
“I’m glad you’re learning your lesson.”
Six was met with a sob, and Daddy quietly reminded her they were halfway done. Seven layered over two and she wondered if she’d ever sit comfortably again. Eight caught her mid-thigh, and she jerked her hips away, desperately trying to twist from his grasp. But his hold on her was iron-clad, and all her efforts won her were two extra strokes delivered to the same sensitive spot, which he warned her didn’t count. By nine she was back to begging, but she was careful not to miss her count.
“Three more, piccolina. And then Daddy will make it all better.”
Ten, eleven, and twelve were delivered so quickly she didn’t have a chance to count each one individually. Her voice trembled as she delivered the final count and her legs were lowered to the mattress. When her blistered skin made contact with the sheets, she hissed at the fresh wave of pain.
“Such a brave little girl,” Daddy cooed, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Are you going to be a good girl, now?”
“Y-yes, Daddy.”
“Spread your legs, then. Daddy has a treat for you.”
Hope fluttered in her chest that he might give her some relief from the burning ache between her thighs and she practically flung her legs open for him. Chuckling at her response, he picked up what looked like a back massager. It was a long white wand with a tapered end and a ball-looking thing attached to the top.
He flicked a switch and a soft vibrating sound began. “Do not close your legs or try to move away. If you do, I’ll be forced to punish you again.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
When he lowered the vibrating head to her aching clit, she nearly came straight up off the mattress. “Oh, fuck!” She screamed for him as pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known washed over her. It wasn’t quite enough to push her over that edge of oblivion she was teetering on, but she was so fucking close she could practically taste it. Arching her hips, she pressed her pussy more firmly against the vibrator, her core tightening with pleasure, pushing her closer and closer to that sweet release.
And then he pulled it away.
Eyes popping open, she stared at him. “Wh-why did you stop?”
“Do you want to come, piccolina?”
“Yes, God, yes!”
“Tell me why you were here last night. The real reason.”
“What?” This was his plan to get her to talk? Sweet Jesus, she didn’t stand a chance.
“If you want to come, then tell me why you were here. And tell me what was in the syringe.”
“I c-can’t.”
“Why not?” There was a bite to his tone that nearly made her weep.
Because you’ll never forgive me if I tell you. “I just can’t. Please, please don’t make me tell you, Daddy.”
“Hmmm.” Setting the now silent toy between her thighs, where she could feel it pressing uselessly against her clit, he turned back to the array of devices he’d retrieved from the hutch. “Let’s take things up a notch and see if that doesn’t convince you to talk.”
He turned back to her holding what looked like two small silver clamps. Their purpose became clear when he rolled a nipple between his fingers, forcing the small bud into a hard point.
At first, the pressure wasn’t too bad. It felt like he’d gripped her nipple with his fingers and gently squeezed. The sensation was actually rather pleasant, right up to the moment he tightened the clamp.
Electric jolts of pain shot straight from her breasts to her core. “Daddy, please,” she begged, panting. “It hurts. Take it off!”
“Why were you in my bedroom last night?” he pressed.
“I can’t tell you!”
“Then I can’t take them off, piccolina. And I’m afraid I can’t allow you to come, either.”
A sob tore from her throat when he turned the vibrator back on, deliberately placed so that it sent waves and waves of painful pleasure through her, but not anywhere near where she needed it to be to give her the release she was so desperate for.
“Please. Please.”
“Are you ready to talk?”
“C-can’t.”
“Pity.” But he didn’t sound at all remorseful about the torture he was inflicting on her.
The buzzing stopped and she nearly wept with the combination of relief and frustration flooding her. Never in her life had an orgasm seemed so out of reach and so close at the same time. And never in her life had she craved it the way she did right then.
“You practice yoga, correct? I seem to remember Gio telling me he was searching for a yogi for private instructions.”
“Y-yes.” What the hell did her workout routine have to do with anything?
She got her answer when he unhooked her wrist restraints from the midsection of the headboard and moved them to the opposite corners. From the table beside the bed, he produced a second, larger set of cuffs, which he snapped around her ankles.
“Tell me if I stretch you too far. I want to hurt you, not break you. Well.” His smirk was smugness personified. “At least not physically.”
Oh, God.
Each ankle was brought up to the headboard and hooked to the same rings as her wrists. When he was finished, she was spread wide, no part of her hidden from his view.
“Time for the grand finale, piccolina.” Sure fingers slipped the buttons of his shirt from their holes so he could shrug the garment off.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one in the room who took care of her body. He was magnificent—solid pecs with a sprinkle of dark hair, perfect six-pack abs. And, she discovered when he stripped away the rest of his clothing, he was just as magnificent from the waist down as he was from the waist up.
“Relax for me, Amara.” His voice had gone husky with need, letting her know he was as affected by this whole scenario as she was. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Whimpering, she did her best to relax her muscles as he reached for the plug she’d nearly forgotten about. She felt a tug, and a bite of pain as the fullest part of it slipped free. When it was completely gone, she was surprised to find she felt empty without it.
The bed dipped when Daddy knelt in front of her. And it was in that moment, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with her pussy and asshole on full display that she remembered his promise from earlier that morning. Holding this plug in your bottom all day will make it easier for you to take Daddy’s cock tonight.
“Daddy, please.” Her plea was little more than a whisper.
“Relax, little one. The more you fight me, the more it will hurt.”
It was all the warning he gave before he began pushing his way inside of her. Bound as she was, there was little she could do to escape the punishing intrusion.
But even more disconcerting than his threats and her helplessness was how her body responded to both. She’d always expected having her ass fucked would be more pain than pleasure, which was why she’d never bothered. And there was pain, biting, stinging pain as his cock stretched her in ways she’d never been stretched. But the pleasure, the unexpected jolts of pleasure far outweighed the pain.
When he was fully seated inside of her, he began to rock. Gently, at first, as if he were giving her time to adjust to having his cock moving in and out of her this way. Each movement was a new shock of pain, a new wave of pleasure. Harder and faster he moved, until he was properly fucking her ass.
“Tell me why you’re here, Amara,” he growled, thrusting into her.
“I can’t. Please.”
With a snarl, he picked up the vibrator and flipped it on, not missing a beat as he continued to fuck her. This time, when he pressed it against her clit, it finally sent her flying over that sharp edge of bliss and into oblivion.
But even when every bit of shuddering, spasming pleasure had been wrung from her, he didn’t move the torture device.
“Daddy, please. It hurts,” she whined, bucking her hips as much as she could to try to dislodge the toy from his hand.
“Come for Daddy, piccolina. I want to feel your sweet little ass milking my cock when you come again.”
There was no sweet-if-torturous teasing. No back and forth that left her needy and wanting. The second orgasm built so quickly she had no time to prepare for the explosion. Or the pleasure so sharp and fierce, it felt like shards of glass racing through her veins, slicing her open from the inside.
And still he gave her no mercy. He tossed the vibrator aside in favor of sliding his fingers into her pussy. His cock in her ass had stretched and filled her to the point his fingers barely fit. He crooked a finger, stroking some hidden spot inside of her she hadn’t realized existed until just then. Pressure built inside of her, completely new and yet horrifyingly familiar.
“Daddy! Stop! I have to pee!”
In response, he pressed harder, fucked her faster. “Let go, Amara. Just let go.”
She tried to hold off, but he was ruthless in his conquest. Her body recognized its master, and she was helpless to stop that final implosion. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed, just as she lost all control and liquid gushed out of her, covering his stomach. She was dimly aware of her daddy’s roar of release before he collapsed beside her.
It seemed like hours they lay there together, her still bent in half and tied to the headboard with him beside her, dragging in greedy lungfuls of air.
Eventually, he released her, rubbing the aches from her legs and shoulders as he maneuvered her into a more natural position. When she was fully free, he stretched out beside her and pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as he spoke in low, soothing tones.
The gentle words and touches soon lulled her to sleep. She was just about ready to drop off when he raised his voice ever so slightly.
“Amara. Why were you in my room last night?”
“Can’t tell.” Uncle Gio will be furious. Daddy will hate me.
“Oh, piccolina. I could never hate you.”
She was asleep before she realized she’d spoken out loud.
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