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He pulled back, the heavy head of his cock resting just within her lips. Sam whimpered again, swallowing frantically, trying to draw him back inside her mouth.
His fingers gently massaged her scalp.“Good girl. You want this, don’t you?”
She couldn’t speak with his cock in her mouth, could only nod her head in short, emphatic arcs. Just to make sure she got her point across, she licked the head of his cock, her tongue sweeping up and down his slit.
Master Giacomo groaned, his fingers tightening briefly.
“Yes, you want this. You want me filling you hard and deep until you’re drowning in my cum. Don’t you?”
Hot tears slid out the corners of Sam’s eyes, tracking down her cheeks to her ears. Yes. God help her, yes. That’s exactly what she wanted.
To be his toy, his tool, his plaything. To give up everything in order to create one perfect moment of bliss.
She must have nodded or whimpered or otherwise indicated her agreement because suddenly he was thrusting into her mouth hard and fast, over and over again.
Sam struggled to relax her throat and take him deep, to let herself go limp and not fight him despite her body’s natural choke response. Then she felt his rhythm pounding in her blood.
She breathed in time with his thrusts, drawing musky air through her nose as he withdrew, exhaling against his skin with his grunting surge forward. Her head spun from lack of oxygen as she breathed the same moist air she’d just exhaled.
He filled her mouth and throat, and her pussy wept with loneliness. Hot and aching, it throbbed with need.
Her breasts brushed against his thighs, the hairs on his legs teasing her budded nipples. She leaned into him, crushing her breasts against his flexing muscles.
Hot fluid ran down the inside of her spread thighs and splashed against the carpeting under her knees. Her pussy pulsed and throbbed, clenching the empty air. And still his cock strained to fill her mouth and throat, swelling thicker and longer.
There was nothing but him. His cock deep in her throat, his fingers gripping her skull, his musky thatch bury
ing her nose. He groaned again, his fingers digging painfully into her scalp.
And then he was coming, hot salty fluid shooting down her throat. She swallowed over and over again, and it wasn’t enough. Cum spilled out her open mouth, dribbling hot and sticky onto her breasts. She sucked harder, desperate not to spill any more, terrified that she might displease him. With mouth and tongue she milked his limp cock, draining the last of his seed as he groaned with pleasure.
He slipped out of her mouth and she cried at the loss. Then realized she could speak now.
“Did I please you, Master? Did I do well?”
“Oh yes, my pet. You did very well.” He chuckled softly, his fingers rubbing slow circles in her hair.“And for that, you deserve a reward.”
The steel weight was suddenly in his hand. Then he dropped to one knee and pressed the ball of the weight between her legs.
The cold steel touched her hot pussy and Sam trembled with uncontrollable need.
“Please, Master! Please! Don’t torture me!”
He laughed darkly.“Not now at any rate.”
Then he thrust the weight inside her, filling her pussy the way his cock had filled her mouth. Sam gasped, her senses completely overwhelmed, and shattered.
He sat on the floor, her trembling body cradled in his lap, and murmured soothing nonsense to her. Or maybe it wasn’t nonsense, but it was Italian, so it made no sense to her. She didn’t need to know what he was saying. All she needed to know was that she was his and she had pleased him.
Her heavy eyelids drifted open, confusing her when she saw the rotating blades of her ceiling fan in the dim light filtering through her windows. She was not in the workshop with Master Giacomo. She had fallen asleep while waiting and had the most delicious dream.
Her breasts ached slightly as if she had been pinching and twisting the nipples in her sleep. And her monkey-patterned boxer shorts were unpleasantly damp. It had been one hell of a dream.
Recalling Master Giacomo’s total possession of her, her body tightened with eagerness to turn her dream to a reality. Sighing, Sam got out of bed. Silently easing her dresser drawer open, she reached for a fresh pair of shorts then changed into them.
He could never know how deeply he affected her. Because she’d learned her lesson. She was never again becoming merely an extension to a man’s ego.
She gave her hair a quick brushing and checked her moon-washed reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were still too big, too soft, but she blamed that on the lack of light. Once she got to the workshop, there’d be no sign of her weakness.
