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“Please—”
“Tell me,” he says, as my legs fall open for him and let his hand snap against my pussy again.
I buck wildly.
“I was looking for a way to contact someone,” I admit, kicking my feet pathetically. “I just wanted to check in. To see if they were okay or what’s happening—that’s all—I—” Salvatore strokes my pussy for the truth until my vision crosses. My words become a high-pitched whine, holding back my cry as I tremble against him.
Come on, come on, come on—
He spanks me again, stealing my breath as another sharp pain interrupts the flow of pleasure ready to burst inside me. I cry out at the denial.
“I just can’t be in there anymore. I can’t. Please.”
I’m begging him on two fronts.
“It’s not enough—”
The double-meanings fall without meaning to, my thoughts jumbled, body rocking on his hands as he spanks me pink and teary-eyed. He runs his huge hand up and down my pussy, soothing it, stretching it, making me grind my hips. And then he smacks it again and again, until the same sting builds on the most sensitive parts of me.
I don’t know if I’m going to cry or come.
“Do you know what could have happened if you’d run into the wrong person out here in these halls?” Salvatore asks as he smacks the already vibrant welts along my backside. I hitch and cry out. “One wrong misstep, that’s all it fucking takes in a place like this, Contessa. Do you understand? You do not leave that room without my permission. Ever.”
A final smack of his hand finally makes me sob.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, the words pulled out of me like teeth. “I’ll be good. Please—”
“Get up,” he says.
I’m reluctant. Even with the threat of Salvatore’s hand right against my burning ass, I don’t want to move when the pleasure is still pulsing right alongside the pain. I’m so close. He could bring me over the edge if he wanted, I know he can.
“Please—”
He doesn’t give me a choice. He hauls me to my feet.
“You’ll walk back to the bedroom. Calmly. If you want any respect or dignity in this house, you have to stop playing stupid games like this.”
It hurts just to pull up my jeans.
“It’s not my fault if stupid games are the only things that keep you interested,” I mumble.
Salvatore smacks his hand against my ass for that comment. Even through denim, it nearly buckles my knees. He commands me to walk.
My pussy is slick, ass aching, and Salvatore makes me feel every step between me and that awful bedroom.
11
Salvatore
If Contessa has taught me anything, it’s that you should always leave long enough to be missed.
I didn’t plan on being away for two nights. Gio was slow to take the bait, more cautious than I thought he would be with his own daughter on the line. We had drip-fed Lovera a false trail for a few days, cooking up a story that Contessa was being held at one of our strip clubs and being made to dance under the stage name Princess.
All it took to sell it was shitty lighting, some makeup, and a woman with the right sized tits and dark hair. The second night she was on stage, Gio committed. He sent three men armed to the teeth to breach the back of the club. The whole job went cleaner than I expected. You plan for control, but you expect chaos.
One, I took for myself. The other two, I let the fish have.
The messier I can make this for Gio, the better. Every called-in favor, every man behind bars, every failed attack and hostage taken—each one is a string holding up Gio’s support structure, snipped away at, one by one.
