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Softly he traced the edges of her breasts where the bra straps were beginning to cut into them. “What can I do with these?”
“Anything you desire, Master.”
Even as she said the words, Sam knew they were the truth. Despite her protestations, she had no resistance where he was concerned. She was his willing slave.
She heard the rasp of a zipper and opened her eyes to see him taking his cock out of his pants. It was already hard and thick, the golden olive skin stained like wine with his arousal. Sam’s gaze locked onto it as his fingers wrapped around the shaft, pumping his fist up and down his length until he was fully engorged.
She licked her lips, swallowing nervously as she recalled her dream. He was so big, she wasn’t sure she could take him without choking. But if that’s what he wanted from her…
He chuckled. “No, my pet. That’s not what I want from you. This is.”
Clasping her breasts in his large hands, he pushed them even closer together until they spilled upward in a fountain of flesh. Then he stepped forward and thrust his cock between them.
She gasped, the hot shaft forcing a path between her compressed breasts until he was buried to the hilt. Then he began to massage her breasts, his fingers and palms rocking, pushing and pulling. He never touched her aching nipples, only the sides of her breasts, massaging his cock through the medium of her flesh.
Sam whimpered, a broken cry of distress. He couldn’t have made her position any clearer. If he brought her body to unbearable ecstasy, that was because it was what he wanted to do. And if he used her body for his own pleasure, with no thought for hers, that was also because it was what he wanted to do. He could take her in any way he wanted. And so long as she was his slave, she had no say in the matter.
Her pussy pulsed and throbbed in time to his rough massage. She wanted him, ached to have him inside her, filling her, thrusting in and out to the pounding beat of her heart.
“Put your hands on mine,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.
She placed her trembling hands over his, feeling the flex of his muscles as he rubbed and tugged on her breasts, rolling them up and down the length of his cock.
“Now squeeze your breasts, just like I was doing.”
He took his hands away and she continued the rhythm he’d established. Not touching her painfully tight nipples. Not trying to increase the pressure to find some relief for herself. Just rolling herself up and down his length, his low groans telling her when she’d done it correctly and his silence a dreadful warning to do better the next time.
His fingers slid into her hair, tipping her head back so that she looked up at his face.
“Madre del Dio, that feels good. What would you say if I came right now, spurting all over your chest and stomach?”
She shivered, trembling at his words and more turned-on than she could believe. She wanted him to lose control, to bathe her in his cum. In this strange dynamic of powerlessness, it would be the ultimate power.
Swallowing twice before she could force words through her too-tight throat, she whispered, “I would say, ‘Thank you, Master’.”
He groaned, fists tightening painfully in her hair. Then a mighty shudder racked his body and he cried out in agony.
His limp cock slipped from between her breasts. It was completely dry.
Sam threw herself to the floor before him, hugging his khaki-clad legs and kissing his loafers. “I’m sorry, Master! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
“Stop that. You didn’t hurt me.” He pulled her free of his legs and nudged her into a somewhat more upright position.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “But I heard you cry out. As if you were being tortured.”
“No. I’ve been tortured. That wasn’t it.” He lifted her to her feet and pressed a gentle kiss first to her forehead and then to her lips. “You did nothing wrong. I told you, until I give you your ultimate pleasure, I can not find sexual release.”
“But, Master—”
He pressed one finger to her lips, silencing her. “No. You did nothing wrong. Pain is very close to pleasure, as you know. It is enough.”
He tucked his limp cock back inside his pants, hiding it behind the closed zipper. Picking up his blazer, which had fallen to the floor, he snapped it sharply, ridding it of any dust or bits of yarn that had adhered to the weave.
Sam bit her lip, watching him. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for her and it couldn’t be enough for him. But if that’s what he needed to tell himself, who was she to argue? She’d been doing nothing but lying to herself in the name of ego preservation since she met him. But no more. It was time for her to admit her true nature.
She was a submissive and probably a slave. Her body came alive at the thought of being a man’s pawn, his pet, his plaything. Her problem before now was that she’d chosen the wrong men.
Men like her ex-husband, who were controlling, macho tough guys. But unlike Master Giacomo, he wouldn’t have been concerned with her feelings, certainly not enough to tell her twice that she’d done nothing wrong. And he’d have been more likely to yell at her to shut up than to give her an explanation. He would have found a way to turn the situation into a pity party for himself while Master Giacomo accepted his situation and acted forcefully to change it for the better.
