Page 80 of Deception

A flash of metal glints in his hand, a long, glamping dagger.

For the first time, I actually start to wonder if he would go too far. If he could accidentally end me, caught up in a fit of rage and passion. The little worm of fear takes hold, and a merciless grin spreads across Alessandro’s face as he sees the dismay in my eyes.

That's when the real torture begins.

Aless starts at my neck, sampling my skin with his tongue, dragging the tip of the knife along the spit slicked skin. He tracks a long, tantalizing trail down my body, over my stiff nipples, leaving bright red abrasions in his wake.

The subtle sensations of his lips and tongue contrast with the hint of pain and it has me panting, riding the line of fascination and a full frenzy.

And then he mounts me again, pounding me until I cry out. But every time I get anywhere near completion, he stops, abandons me to tug against my bindings. He takes a lap around the room, letting me see how turned on he is, rock-hard and throbbing, his body glistening with sweat.

He’s torturing himself with this little game, too.

Then he returns, holding a riding crop. Raking it along my hips and thighs, flicking it in light cracks that leave pink welts. What feels like minutes pass as he alternates between licking my swollen clit, lapping up every drop of my arousal, and whipping my burning skin.

“I need …”

“You need to shut your pretty, fucking mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.”

I open my mouth, licking my lips, straining toward him. “Fillit up instead.”

And he does, ramming his dick all the way into my throat, making my eyes water and a deep, moaning rumble rise up from my chest. But he pulls out and gives me the most heart-stopping stare right before he ties a gag around my mouth—a soft, silk tie.

“It’ll give you something to bite down on,” he informs me and my legs turn to jelly.

And still, he’s not done.

Another silk tie covers my eyes.

I hear him cross the room, opening the chest by the wall, sliding the drawer out digging through the contents. When he comes back, he makes me wait, anticipating until I feel his lips graze my bottom lip.

He kisses me ever so lightly.

“Are you ready?

“Yes, yes.” My words are a muffled groan around the soft gag.

“Hmm. I don’t think you are.”

Sharp pain zips through my nipples as he locks the clamps over the tips.

Immediately my body lights up, electricity vibrating through my limbs. Sensations stand out, more vibrant and poignant with the constant discomfort of the nipple clamps and the inability to see what he’s doing.

My mind is scattering, scrambling.

I want him so bad.

I try to speak, forgetting about the gag and wind up biting down in frustration. My ankles and wrists chafe as I struggle.

He’s been gone too long, but I feel his eyes on me still.

When he finally touches me again, it’s not with fingers or tongue.

A smooth, velvety toy slips into my opening, making me bear down reflexively. Until the vibration starts, low and humming.

After so much stimulation, I would think that almost anything could make me come, but this doesn't. It draws out the sensations, ramping up my tension, gradually pushing me higher into tiers of pleasure I never dreamed of.

With the distraction occupying my attention, he loosens my ties enough to guide me to my knees. I barely realize what I’m doing when he positions me with my ass up, a pillow supporting my chest.

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