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“She’s been talking without permission, seems to think a leash is optional…” I pet Whitney’s short, silky locks. “She’s one of my favorites, but I think someone is spoiling her when I am not around. I might need your help to put her back in line. What do you think, pet?” I look down at Whitney. “Have you been forgetting your place?”
“No, Master, I–”
“No? You think you know better than I do?” I grip her hair to force her head back, exposing her neck and the soft curves of her breasts, then release her with a scoff. “You see?” I ask, turning my attention back to Anya. “I think she’s starting to enjoy provoking me. She doesn’t believe I’ll punish her anymore, which is why I brought you here, so she knows this is her last chance to prove she can be a good pet.”
Anya’s eyes flit nervously around the room like a scared rabbit. Time to give her a break. Rising from my chair, I look down at my exotic pet once again. I can’t wait to use the fun new toy I have for her tonight. “Come, I’ll show you what I mean about her trying to run the show.” Opening the cage, I latch a chain leash to the small silver loop on Whitney’s collar.
When Whitney starts to exit her cage, I give her leash a tug. “Down. Your place is at my heels,rabynya.”
I lead her to the far wall with toys, keeping her on her hands and knees. Whitney follows obediently, her ass swaying as she crawls, the strappy lingerie hardly covering her sexy curves.
“That is a good pet,” I purr.
Whitney responds enthusiastically, her hips swaying more dramatically as her speed increases. She’s definitely craving a reward tonight, and I’m sorely tempted to give it to her. But that’s not how I wrote the script.
When we reach the far wall, I unleash her and send her to fetch me a toy. In truth, nothing she brings will be the right toy, but it’s a good guess when she extends a set of nipple clamps toward me.
“No,” I say coldly anyway. “You know which toy I want. Bring me the toyIwant to play with.”
Her next guess is furry handcuffs.
“No!”
I can see the anticipation building behind Whitney’s eyes, and she returns to the wall once more, this time grabbing a flogger.
Growling, I snatch the flogger from her and throw it on the floor. “You think you’re funny,rabynya? You think this is about what you enjoy?” Not that I wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy tanning that full ass with a flogger. After seeing how greedily Whitney responds to spankings, I can’t wait to do it to her again.
But her eyes widen with fear. “No, Master,” she breathes.
“Then what toy did I want you to get?”
Whitney scrambles over to the table of toys I laid out and brings back a string of metal beads.
“Yes, so why didn’t you bring that to me in the first place?” I demand, ending her torture.
Whitney swallows and shakes her head wordlessly. She’s playing coy tonight. And I can’t wait to punish her for it.
Looping my finger through her collar, I lead her across the room to the swing. “Get in,” I growl.
Then I turn toward Anya. “This is how I punish her for being a bad pet,” I explain, withdrawing the new toy from my pocket. “It is shock collar of sorts, though I imagine you have your own more effective training tools.”
Clicking the electric dildo to life, I turn my attention to the sexy vixen before me. Her legs are spread wide in the swing’s cradles, her fabric-clad pussy on full display and easily accessible. Whitney’s breathing quickens as I spread her legs further and press the tip of the stick to her clit without easing her into it. It’s a bit like jumping into cold water, better to get it over with all at once. But what she’s about to experience is going to be far better. Whitney squeals as the toy crackles, and her back arches as she grips the straps above her.
Hooking my finger under the small slip of black fabric covering Whitney’s holes, I pull it aside. Then I ease the toy into her wet pussy. Whitney moans as her hips rock, the swing forcing her legs open further still.
“What do you have to say for yourself,rabynya?” I demand.
“I’m sorry!” she wails. “Please, Master.” Whitney moans as her muscles twitch to life, bringing her to the brink of release. But I haven’t given her permission to come yet, so she’s fighting off her orgasm. I can see the effort in the tension of her arms.
The door to our room bursts open with such force that it nearly wrenches off its hinges. Whoever the fuck thinks they can disrupt my scene is about to learn the hard way that it’s not a good idea. And the utter shock on Whitney’s face tells me the moment’s gone, the scene broken, which only pisses me off further. Carefully withdrawing the toy from her body, I turn to confront the intruder.
My stomach turns to lead as I recognize Lorenzo Marchetti’s oldest son and heir, Nicolo.Fuck.From the way he’s looking at Anya, I’m confident he’s her mysterious benefactor. And suddenly, I realize how far off I was on assessing the potential risks of this situation.
“Nicolo.” The blood drains from Anya’s face as she flinches away from him as if expecting a physical blow.
She looks genuinely terrified of the Marchetti boy, and my natural instinct would be to intervene on her behalf, simply out of the principle that no one gets to take my toys if nothing else. But with Bianka living smack-dab in the middle of Marchetti territory for school and the fact that the Marchettis have let me cross boundary lines to visit Whitney for over a year now, I know I can’t do anything. Not without severe repercussions. In truth, just having Anya in our room might be enough to bring hell down on my Bratva.
“Is this what you want?” Nicolo demands icily, striding across the room to her. “For a minute there, I thought you might not enjoy punishment, but you sure do search it out, don’t you, little slut?” Grabbing Anya’s arm, he hauls her out of her chair and onto her feet. “If you like punishment, then I can give that to you.” He doesn’t bother to so much as glance my way, and I can thank god for small mercies.
