On Her Knees: A Mafia Bully Romance by Sara Fields – Extended Preview

Col stared down at me, his eyes dark and intense, and there was a tiny part of me that began to feel afraid. Maybe I had been too overzealous in coming here. I’d known him a long time and despite the rumors about him, I’d never thought he might hurt me… but maybe I had been wrong.

There was something in his eyes right now that was different. The look told me there was something I hadn’t known existed within the man who’d found me homeless on the streets and fed me dinner. I should run from him right now, but instead I pushed him.

“Back off, Col. You won’t like what happens if you don’t,” I growled, trying to keep myself strong despite the anxious feeling growing in my core. I tried to act fierce. I tried to put walls up to protect myself, but he was making me nervous right now.

“You play a risky game, Blaire,” he whispered before his fingers rose to grip my chin. He forced me to look up at him, his hold on me tightening as he surrounded me with his massive form. I’d forgotten just how big he was but with him this close to me, it was impossible not to notice. I could feel his body heat and I swallowed heavily, trying to quell the edgy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Take your hands off of me,” I warned, sneering up at him. I tried to turn my head, tried to break his grip but he held me firmly in his grasp. His fingers dug harshly into my skin.

“I’m just beginning to put my hands on you, little girl,” he responded.

My insides twisted with fear and unexpected arousal. The way he called me a little girl made my thighs quiver and my heart pulse. I bit my lip, trying to subdue the quiet anxiety that was catapulting inside of me, demanding to be let out.

“Lay off, Col. I win. You lose. End of story,” I countered, and he just smiled with amusement. His gaze darkened even further. I wanted to knee him in the balls just then, but something stopped me from moving. Maybe it was the dark look in his eyes. Or the fact that somewhere deep inside me, I’d always wanted Col to look at me with the sort of dangerous hunger he was staring at me with right now. Honestly, I didn’t know what it was.

“You see, little girl, the rules don’t apply to me. I get what I want, when I want, no matter the cost. The law doesn’t matter. Society doesn’t matter. And right now, I want to teach you a lesson about the dangerous games you play with information that isn’t yours to fool around with,” he replied, his tone chilly and laced with seductive power.

The hand not holding my chin reached for my shoulder, taking a hold of the thin strap of my sundress. He paused for a long moment and stared down at me, before sliding his fingers against the bare skin of my collarbone. I shivered at his touch and sucked in a heated breath.

Then he wrapped his fingers around the strap of my dress and tore it in one single, strong motion as though it was simply a sheet of paper. My mouth went dry.

I stared at him in shock. He’d torn my dress.

I didn’t know what to do. No one had ever done anything like this. No one had ever questioned or challenged my position before, especially when I had information that could lead to his demise. I always won. I was the queen of Stonewall Academy and no one questioned me. They were afraid of me but in a single moment, Col had taken my crown and crushed it beneath his boot.

He released my chin then and dropped his hand to the other strap of my dress. With determination, he ripped that one too. I tried to grip the fabric and keep myself covered, but he knocked my hands away. Then he gripped the neckline and pulled his hands apart, tearing my dress apart and exposing the front of my body. The thin cotton hadn’t stood a chance. The breeze from the overhead fan chilled my bared skin and I trembled, biting my lip to keep a cry from escaping my throat. His eyes dropped to look at me, to see the lacey white bra and panty set I was wearing, and I whimpered quietly, feeling a sense of shame wash over me. I hadn’t chosen to show him my body. He’d taken that power himself.

He continued to tear my dress until it fell to the floor at my feet, a pile of shredded designer fabric that would forever be unsalvageable. He took the time to look up and down my body, looking at all of me before he reached into his pocket. I shivered with embarrassment, exceedingly aware of every single inch of my body. I could feel my breasts grow heavy with desire, my nipples pebbling beneath my bra, and I could feel my pussy clench with unwelcome pleasure at the feeling of his eyes on my skin.

I dropped my eyes to see what he was doing, and I instantly regretted it.

In his hands was a switchblade. He held the pearl inlay handle in his palm and then flicked the spring-loaded lever with his thumb, opening the blade swiftly in a fraction of a second. The edge of the knife looked vicious and I wondered if he was about to kill me. He lifted it and brought it closer to me, but his movements were careful. Calculated. My mouth opened in surprise and I drew in a nervous breath, watching as he slipped the knife underneath my bra, right in between my breasts. I didn’t dare move, fearful that he would cut me.

“Don’t,” I breathed, pleading with my gaze as he stared into my eyes.

He didn’t listen.

He flicked the blade upward, slicing my bra in two. The lacey fabric popped open, revealing my breasts, and I cried out. My fingers left the table and I tried to cover myself, but he quickly knocked my hands away once more and stared down at my chest. My nipples hardened under his gaze and I felt my pussy tighten with desire.

“I’ll tell everyone you did this to me,” I countered.

“Do you really think it will matter?” he replied curtly, lifting his eyes to meet mine. He continued to remove my bra, cutting each shoulder strap until it fell to the floor beside my tattered dress.

“They’ll arrest you,” I said.

“No, they won’t.”

He edged his fingers along the hem of my panties, and I stiffened. Then he took the edge of the knife and just grazed the blade against my skin, just above my underwear. I stopped breathing entirely. The knife’s edge was sharp, threatening, and I stilled, fearful of what he might do next.

I was almost entirely naked in front of him, wearing just a pair of panties and my favorite pair of black and silver kitten heels. I’d never bared myself this way for anyone but right now I didn’t have a choice. He’d taken my clothing away from me. He’d decided to strip me and that’s what he was doing.

When I finally drew in another breath, he cut through my panties, quickly and efficiently. The fabric fell to the floor, ruined, and I whimpered quietly, now fully naked to his view. He looked up and down my body and I felt my shame rise from the very depths of my soul. But that wasn’t all. A jolt of pleasure raced down straight to my core. I could see his desire for me in his darkened gaze. He wanted me. For a few seconds, awash in my deep-seated shame, I felt something else. I felt powerful.

But it only lasted for a moment.

Then he grasped me around the waist and threw me over his shoulder. I screamed; the maneuver was so unexpected that I didn’t even have time to defend myself, to punch, to kick, or even try to squirm away from him. His palm settled over my naked backside and I stilled completely, too shocked to know how to react.

Something like this had never happened to me. My mind went blank and the only thing I felt was fear. But there was something else. Something simmering deep in my core at having my clothes torn and cut away from my body, at being manhandled against my will. As the seconds ticked by, I soon realized what it was, and I was horrified at myself.

I was becoming aroused.

He stalked into the front sitting room with my body balanced over his shoulder, my naked ass high up in the air. Then he maneuvered me downward and sat down on the extravagant leather loveseat in front of a large picture window. Quickly, he draped me over his lap and held my hip with his hand, effectively locking me into place over his lap. His other hand settled threateningly on my naked backside once more and I squeaked out in surprise.

What the hell?

He’d put me across his knees. I was naked in nothing but a pair of heels, with his palm on my ass and a great big window putting me on display for the entire neighborhood. If I had felt ashamed before, I felt even more so now.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice high with the nerves exploding in my chest.

“I’m going to teach you that you’re no longer in control. You’re going to beg. You’re going to scream and you’re going to cry for me, but I’m not going to stop until I’ve decided you’ve learned that you shouldn’t play dangerous games with criminals, little girl,” he warned, and his palm cracked hard against my ass then.

He’d spanked me. He’d fucking spanked me.

I screeched.

“You’re not going to get away with this!” I cried out and he laughed.

“You don’t get how serious this is, do you?” he asked me then.

“Let me go,” I growled, trying to kick my way off his lap.

He smacked my ass again, this time on the opposite cheek.

“Ow! That hurts! Stop it!” I yelped.

“I haven’t even begun, little girl,” he replied and then the spanking really started.

He didn’t start slow. Not even remotely. Those two smacks paled in comparison to how hard he was spanking me now. His palm cracked against my naked cheeks, again and again. I quickly lost track of how many times he spanked me. The number didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the painful sting of his palm against my naked bottom.

I’d never been stripped naked and forced over a man’s knee. I’d never been spanked before. I’d pushed Col and this was the result. I thought I’d be able to threaten him out of Stonewall, but he was showing me that I had been very, very wrong. He was teaching me that I wasn’t in charge, even when I had thought I was.

I tried to remain stoic and keep quiet, but I quickly began to whimper and cry out with each harsh smack to my naked backside. He spanked the entirety of my ass and even down my thighs. The ones to the backs of my leg hurt far more than the rest and I tried to kick and squirm my way out of his grasp to escape from it, but he met his mark, each and every time.

Finally, the spanking stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He reached for my feet then and took off my heels, one by one before he shifted me over his lap. I went to get up but then he quickly draped one leg over the backs of mine, which locked me back into place over his knee. I couldn’t kick. I couldn’t squirm away. Most important, it was clear that I wasn’t going to be able to escape until he decided my spanking was over. Fuck.

I cried out and then he began again.

The pain grew exponentially, and I bit my lip, trying to hold back my cries but I was unsuccessful. It hurt and I could feel myself beginning to lose control. To him. For him.

I begged him to stop. I pleaded with him.

“Please. I’ll keep your secret. Please, just stop spanking me,” I cried but he didn’t listen. Instead, he punished me harshly, over and over again and I squeezed my eyes shut.

He’d never seen me cry. I didn’t know if I was ready for such a thing, but I no longer had a choice. If he wanted to punish me until I was sobbing, it was his choice. Not mine. I knew that now.

I whimpered, trying to arch out of his grasp but I could hardly move. My toes drilled against the carpeted floor and I turned my head.

If anyone looked in the window right now, they’d see me getting spanked. They’d see that I was naked and over Col’s knees, getting my bare ass thrashed like a naughty little girl. I’d seen the men guarding the perimeter. I’m sure they knew I was here. If anyone was in the house, they’d hear my cries and the sound of his palm spanking me right now. If anyone drove by or walked by on the sidewalk, they’d be able to see me.

I cried out in shame and the realization that someone might see this undid me.

I whimpered. I moaned and I suffered over his knee. I blinked hard several times, trying to hold back my tears but it was useless. One escaped and dripped down my cheek, followed by another and another. I stopped trying to hold back and then I began to sob openly.

The spanking didn’t end but I stopped trying to fight it.

I accepted that it would end when he wanted it to end. It was like a switch that flipped inside me and my body relaxed, taking what he wanted to give me. My bare backside burned, the harsh sting of his hand striking against my naked flesh, again and again, while I cried as he continued to punish me.

Then he paused, taking his leg off the back of mine. His arms wound around my waist, and he lifted me off his lap, only to place me back down on the couch on my belly. I turned my head, looking up at him as he dropped his hands to his belt.

I gasped and cried harder as I watched him unbuckle it and slide it from the belt loops of his dark-colored jeans. I turned away when he folded it in half and stiffened when the cool leather draped against my naked cheeks. I folded my hands together in front of my face and wailed when the belt left my skin, trying to prepare for the inevitable. I heard it cut through the air before it smacked against my ass and although I had tried to ready myself for its painful lash, nothing could have prepared me for the brutal line of fire that burned into my bottom then.

I had thought just his palm had hurt as much as a spanking could hurt. I was wrong. The belt was far worse.

He whipped me hard and every lash was harsher than the one before. He spanked me with it, ensuring to punish every square inch of my backside, including onto my thighs. The belt even occasionally caught small portions of my inner thighs, glancing just against the folds of my pussy before I pressed my legs together in hope that I could prevent it from happening again.

Everything hurt and still my punishment continued.

I sobbed until I thought I could cry no more. Still, the belt didn’t stop. I wondered if it ever would.

“Little girl, you’re messing with a world in which you don’t belong. A dangerous one. Now you’re going to tell me how you found out about my real name. You’re going to tell me everything you know,” Col said firmly, and I cried, nodding through my tears. I’d tell him anything he wanted right then. I’d do anything to make the spanking end.

I obeyed even as the belt continued to thrash me.

I told him that I’d heard about rumors about their relationship and how that led me to stay behind after class was over and listen to him and Professor Giordano, how I’d hidden outside the classroom door and heard the professor say his name and that he’d been in hiding all his life. I told him that I’d eavesdropped on their conversation until the bell had rung and I’d had to go to second-period calculus and that I’d been planning my revenge ever since. I sobbed as I confessed all I knew to him and I hoped it would be enough.

“That’s everything you heard,” he questioned.

“Yes. Everything,” I breathed. I tried to hold myself together, but the tears kept falling. His fingers trailed across my punished backside, overtop of the welts I could feel rising and I hid my face in my hands.

“I live in a perilous world, little girl, and if you expose me, you’ll inevitably get drawn into it too. I don’t want that for you,” he said then, using the edges of his nails to scrape against my skin, making me gasp and whimper at the unexpected pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “I won’t tell anyone who your father is.”

“But you wanted to. You came here to teach me a lesson and drive me out of Greenwich, but your actions would have had very serious consequences. Do you know what they are?” he asked, and he stood back up, laying the belt against my already scorched bottom once again.

“No,” I wailed, and he drew his arm backward but then he paused.

“If you expose me for who I really am, you will inadvertently tie yourself to me. The Lucchese family has enemies. Many of them in fact and they would kill you because of what you might know and then they’d come to kill me without a second thought, just because it would make them more powerful,” he said, and I whimpered in fear.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

The belt whipped my ass then, far harder than it had before and I cried into my hands.

My pussy clenched hard. I hid my face in the couch, coming to the mortifying conclusion that I was wet. Not just a little bit. I was positively soaked. I pressed my thighs together, trying to hide my arousal.

The belt whipped me again. Harder this time and I wept, inadvertently letting my legs drift apart then. His fingers pressed against the back of my neck and then ventured into the hair at the base of my scalp. His fingers closed in a tight little fist and I cried out when he wrenched me off the couch by my hair, his movements brutal and sure. He slammed me roughly against the wall of the sitting room and forced me to open my legs by pressing his knee in between my thighs. I hissed when my welted backside pressed against the drywall, the hard surface igniting a fresh wave of pain across my scalded flesh.

“You came here to threaten me, thinking you held the power, but I’m bigger than you. Stronger than you. I know things about this world that would give you nightmares, little girl,” he said. He took one hand and laced it around my throat, constricting the amount of air that I could draw into my lungs. For a moment, I panicked and then I realized that I could still breathe but I could feel the raw strength in his fingers against my skin. I could feel his power and for some insane reason, it turned me on. I should be afraid. I was naked. In danger. In the hands of a man who could very well be a monster and take me right here. Against the wall. Against my will. He was a mafia kingpin’s son and right now, that was making my pussy very, very wet.

“You see how easily I can overpower you. Imagine what the real criminals would do,” he continued, before letting go of my hair and venturing downward with his fingers. His nails scraped against the flatness of my belly and down between my legs. His fingers slid easily along my wetness, discovering my shameful secret.

“They’d take you, right here against the wall without a thought. They’d leave you bloody, bruised, and broken, just because they could,” he warned, and I shivered with need at the threat.

“If you tell anyone my real identity, that I tore the clothes from your little body and that I punished you or even forced myself on you, it’s not going to matter. I’m not going to get arrested for assault. I’m not going to even get a slap on the wrist. None of it would matter because I’d be dead long before anyone could do anything about it,” he continued, as his fingers slid up and down my wet folds.

I closed my eyes and shook before him.

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked shakily. I finally opened my eyes and looked into his gaze and I couldn’t find an answer there. I had thought I had known him this morning. I had thought that I had the power to take him down, once and for all. Now he was a mystery to me. I had no idea what he was about to do to me, and a jolt of desire shot through my body.

“I don’t know yet,” he answered, and I shivered, trying to fight back against the rising tide of arousal in my body. I’d never been treated so harshly before but there was something about it that I was definitely beginning to enjoy.

His fingers left my pussy then and he held them up before my eyes.

“Look. What do you see?” he asked.

His fingers glistened with my wetness. They were soaked with it. I moaned with shame, feeling my cheeks redden with embarrassment. There would be no hiding my body’s reactions from him. Not anymore. He knew that his rough treatment of me had turned me on, that the way he’d forced me to be naked and whipped my bare backside had made me this wet and that the possibility of him forcing himself on me right now had me positively shivering with desire.

Something was wrong with me. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. This was wrong.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded.

After a moment of hesitation, I obeyed. He pressed two fingers onto my tongue, the same two fingers that were soaking wet with my own arousal.

“Clean them off,” he said firmly, and I trembled as the musky sweet taste of my wetness washed across my tongue. I could feel my nipples hardening as I swirled my tongue around his fingers. I was as thorough as I could be. I didn’t know if he was done with the belt or not and I didn’t know if my poor scalded backside could take any more. When he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers from my mouth and returned his palm to cup my pussy.

I moaned but then his fingers left my flesh.

The sound of skin hitting skin echoed around me before I realized what had happened. He’d spanked my pussy. For a long moment, I trembled with my shock and then when the sting hit me, I cried out. It was terrible and intense and shameful and then I realized I wanted him to do it again.

“I should spank this little pussy bright pink,” he murmured, and I shivered as a jolt of pleasure made my clit throb with incredible need. I felt my hips unconsciously rise to his touch and then he spanked my pussy again.

His other hand rose to caress my nipples, before pinching one of them harshly, followed by the other. Pain radiated across my breasts, overwhelming at first in its intensity but as it simmered to a gentle burn, I felt my core throb with need.

“Each time I spank your little pussy, your nipples harden for me,” he observed, and I shivered with shame. He took my right nipple back between his fingertips and pinched it harder than before, causing me to cry out in agony. Or pleasure. The line was beginning to blur, and I was no longer sure where one stopped and the other began.

His palm returned to the place between my thighs and he quickly spanked me there, several times in a row. I moaned; the rising pain unbearable but I took it anyway. I don’t know what was happening and why it was turning me on, but I was so aroused. I was so confused. Why would this make me want more?

“You’re soaked, little girl,” he said, and I shook my head, trying to deny it. I begged and pleaded for him to stop spanking my pussy, for him to leave me be, but he shook his head.

“Your hard nipples and this wet little pussy are telling me exactly what you need,” he murmured, and I moaned with shame at his words. A flurry of harsh smacks against my sensitive folds took my breath away then. I cried. I keened. The pain and pleasure rose to incredible levels and I knew that I was just moments away from orgasm. If he kept spanking me like this, I was going to come all over his hand. The wet sound of his palm smacking my flesh sounded dirty and wrong, but so incredibly right.

The smacks paused and his fingers lightly brushed my pussy, sliding against the wetness that had begun to drip down onto my thighs.

I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life.

Col Lucchese had turned my world upside down in a single day and I didn’t know if I would ever be the same after this. He’d stripped me. He’d spanked and belted me until I was sobbing and now, he’d overpowered me and spanked my pussy, showing me that he could take me if he wanted, all to teach me a lesson and now I wanted nothing more than to orgasm and lose all control right in front of him. Right in front of the big picture window in his house.

I would have never dreamed that being treated this way would arouse me. Not like this. Never like this.

Every inch of my body felt like it was on fire with desire. Every part of me wanted to come. My nipples throbbed with my need. My clit pulsed with it and my freshly spanked pussy stung. I was positively soaked as he pinned me against the wall. He’d overpowered me and now I was as wild as a cat in heat.

I lifted my head and stared back into the darkness in his eyes. I drew in one breath after another as we gazed at one another and then I licked my lips.

He was dangerous. He’d hurt me. Manhandled me into submission and taken every single ounce of control away from me that he could. Threatened to take advantage of me just because he could. There was something about him that was pulling me in and now I wanted more of it. He was addictive. Like a drug and I just wanted another hit of it. I wanted all of it.

I wanted him to fuck me. No. I didn’t just want him to. I needed him to fuck me.

My hips rocked into his touch, pressing my clit against his fingertips. He moved them slowly, lightly circling my needy bud and I moaned with pleasure. Liquid heat gathered between my thighs; my skin slickened with it. Then he pressed two fingers inside me and his grip around my throat tightened.

He had taken complete control of me. And now I wanted him to take everything else.