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With his eyes fixed on mine, the Don invades me with the strength with which I was already ready to say anything, admit whatever he wanted to hear in order to get it. I roll my eyes and open my mouth, screaming my lungs out at the invasion.
Vittorio slams his hips against mine and the restraints on my wrists and ankles make everything so much more intense, because I can't touch him, I can't move, I can't do anything but take the brunt of his thrusts and embrace his full force with satisfaction rushing through my body looking for a way out that can only be found in the enjoyment that is being denied to me.
“Why. Did. You. Go. To. The. Tea. Gabriella?” Each of the words is punctuated with a deeper thrust than the previous one.
“Because your mother invited me!” This time, I respond in a hurry, terrified of the prospect that he'll stop if I take too long, and I won't be able to stand it. I simply couldn't stand it if he stopped.
“And?”
Vittorio leans in, almost pressing our bodies together and increasing the torture by putting his face so close just for it to be one more thing being denied to me. The hand that was on my hip slides up to my neck with gentle pressure, but breathing was already difficult before and now it becomes a practically impossible task.
“I-I'm nothing! She's your mother and she's better than me!” My screams are suffocated by the lack of air, turning into muffled whispers.
The strength I put into words matches my level of despair even though the volume at which they sound doesn't come close to expressing this reality.
Every brush of our hips is a provocation. Vittorio’s every refusal to kiss me is a punishment. Every drop of pleasure his dick inflicts on me is more intense than it has ever been before. Every slam of his pelvis against mine shakes my entire body, shaking my breasts and making my joints feel like they're about to snap.
“Why did you go even though you knew you would be alone, Gabriella?” he asks, tireless in torturing me with his cock and with the answers I don't want to give.
His sweat runs in beads from his forehead, chest and torso, and drips onto my belly and legs. The smell of sex permeates the air around us, making it heavy, making it impossible to escape the oppressive atmosphere even if I had any desire to do so, but I don't.
“Because I'm stupid!” I breathe another truth that I would have kept to myself forever if Vittorio's hips hadn't been coercing me into delivering it.
He rolls his hips, rubbing against my walls, reaching spots I didn't know existed in my pussy, taking me further on the climb to orgasm than I believed possible. Cum. I need to cum more than I need to breathe, and my vision is starting to close due to the lack of air.
“Why did you let them humiliate you?” This time, Vittorio stops, completely buried in me, waiting for the answer.
I don’t want to say. If I still had any control over myself, my next words would never leave my mouth, but it's too late for me, the frenzy he's driven me through is the only one controlling my decisions.
“Because you did it first!” The words have practically no sound, because not a drop of oxygen feeds them. Despite this, the pleasure continues to hit me in waves and force them to expel themselves in almost silent movements through my lips. “You published those photos!” I accuse, feeling myself breaking, even though Vittorio is completely still. “You exposed me, because they are better than me, and you would never do that to any of them.”
The orgasm finally overwhelms me, devastating what little is left of my consciousness as Vittorio moves again, prolonging my destruction for what seems like eternity. My vision goes completely black as my entire air supply is cut off at once. I feel each of my limbs being wracked with uncontrolled convulsions, and the tightness in my throat is relieved. I take in a huge amount of air through my already open mouth, but I don't open my eyes for several minutes. My mind is lost in a time thatis not present, past, or future, it is pleasure. Pure, true, and indomitable.
It's a brush of fingers against my wrists that launches me back into the here and now. Each gentle rise and fall sliding off my skin pulls me a little more until I am able to find reality again.
I lift my eyelids and find Vittorio's blue gaze fixed on my face. The tension in my arms is gone, and I realize they are free. I lower them and spread my hands on the Don's back who is now lying completely between my legs, with his arms tucked under mine and his hands firmly holding my shoulders.
He kisses my collarbones, my chest, and my neck, crushing me with his weight, waiting for me to completely stabilize. I continue swallowing large portions of air while I follow the movements of his mouth with my eyes until it reaches mine.
The feeling of his lips on mine is a balm I didn't know I needed. Vittorio starts moving again and only then do I become aware that he is still inside me. I inhale deeply through my nose, feeling his presence in every inch of my body when his low voice sounds between us.
“Do you think my mother and those women are more important than you, Gabriella?” he asks, burying himself deep inside me, now, slowly and, in some impossible way, still finding some pleasure to give me. “Do you think they are smarter than you?” His hips move back and roll. I let out a long sigh, because his movements no longer consume me, they caress me.
“Do you think you're insignificant compared to them? Ah,bambina!” Vittorio makes a guttural sound that is neither laughter nor groan, and which my mind is too clouded to try to interpret. “Do you think that I humiliated you and that, therefore, you had the right to let yourself be humiliated by them?” He asks each of these questions with his lips brushingmine and breathless words that betray his own satisfaction. “None of that matters, Gabriella. Because none of this takes away the unquestionable truth that you are mine.”
I dig my nails into his back, feeling as much pleasure in hearing the statement as in the sensations caused by the movements of his hips.
“Say it, Gabriella,” he demands, keeping the promise of the touch of his tongue hovering over my lips.
“I'm yours,” I admit, and I'm finally presented with his taste when Vittorio joins our mouths in a slow and delicious kiss.
My tongue searches for his, anxiously, but he guides each of the movements, coordinating them with the rhythm of his swaying until we need air.
“And what does that mean, Gabriella?” he asks when we break the kiss, but we keep our mouths open and glued together.
“That only you can hurt me.”
“Did they hurt you, Bellamia?”
