I moaned and squirmed in my roped-off pose.
“Keep still while I beat you,” he said, and while his words were an order, his tone was bored, as if my obedience was route. “You know you deserve this, sposa in fuga.”
Runaway bride.
His Italian words reverberated off my heart like a gong, and the look of stern displeasure superseded by genuine hurt on his aristocratic face prolonged the echo.
Before I could comprehend how his regret might have changed things, his hand found my opposite thigh again in a biting slap.
Then again. Back and forth between each thigh, his palm heating the skin in rhythmic increments; the sharp initial slap, the dull burn, then again, the slap harder, the burn deeper, tunneling through my legs like new nerve endings.
I rocked into his thrusts unconsciously, tipping my hips to give him greater access to me, hoping wantonly that his hands might find my cunt.
“You are leaking all over the place,” he noted, his palm smacking damply against the evidence. “Perhaps I’m not making my point properly.”
His eyes snagged mine, his pupils blown wide so that the grey only thinly framed the wide abyss of dark want at their centers. I could read his arousal in the kick of the pulse in his throat, the way his Adam’s apple scraped against the skin when he swallowed thickly around the surge of desire cresting through his belly. The scarce evidence locked under his cold control made me pant even harder.
Then our connection broke as he angled his hand up instead of across and landed a cutting slap directly over my cunt. I almost collapsed to the ground as pain went spiraling into whorls of pleasure inside me, but Alexander’s hand on my pussy stilled me, cupping the wet flesh so intimately I could feel the slight chafe of his callous against the sensitive skin as strongly as sandpaper.
With his other hand, he pinched my chin and leaned close so that his black eyes dominated my vision. “You are going to keep completely still as I turn this pussy red and raw with my hand. I know you’ll want to come, my beauty, because you love it hard like this, but you are not to orgasm until your Master wills it. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master,” I breathed as his fingers played at the wet entrance of my sex, dipping just inside my flesh, the three points of his fingers stretching me with their width.
I tried to grind down on them, but then they were gone, my hips twisting into empty air. My groan was loud, prompting the men I’d forgotten were watching us to laugh quietly at my obvious lust.
I thought it was probably a rare thing to see one of the slaves so blatantly enjoying the ministrations of their masters. A very small dark and forgotten corner of my psyche perked up under their regard. I was a vain woman after all, and I’d always loved male attention, even when it was tainted with avaricious lust. Maybe even especially then. The exhibition was strangely tantalizing, not because I felt the men deserved to see the intimate beauty of my union with Alexander, but because a dark part of me loved to be treated like this by my Master.
Like his wanton, needy slave.
He spanked me until my pussy throbbed harder than my heart, until I keened and begged shamelessly for his cock to fill me up and take away the ache.
Then, when I couldn’t take any more, there was the thick stretch of large plastic cock burrowing into the swollen folds of my pussy. Alexander carefully pushed me down on it with a firm hand over my hip, the other holding the toy still between my legs, unmoving so that I had to be the one to fuck myself down on it. He wouldn’t take me, he told the crowd and me, unless I could prove I was worth the fucking.
So my hips churned as well as they could in the tight bindings, the lightly abrasive rope cutting over my hips the way Alexander’s punishing fingers used to, the slight chafe arrowing straight to my sex, increasing the tempo of its throb. I was panting and sweating with the effort to fuck that thick toy, whimpering slightly because it was just not enough to get me off, even with the added sensation of Alexander’s cool metallic eyes cutting into my skin like the edge of a blade. There was a wet, sucking slide that sounded clear through the room from my efforts, and it lacquered my skin with the blazing heat of a blush.
“My poor slave can’t orgasm like this,” Alexander taunted, his eyes narrowed at me in twin expressions of disappointment and derision. “You need to be filled up with more, don’t you? You want to feel me claim each one of your tight holes.”