Page 117 of Dirty Mafia King
Her lips curve ever so slightly.
Fuck, she’s asking for it.
More confident, she frees her breasts, sending them bouncing. I’ve never seen such full and perky globes, reminding me how young she is.
But as she climbs onto the bench, positioning herself over the hump and raising her juicy ass, I realize I don’t fucking care if she’s the youngest, and most inexperienced, woman I’ve been with.
A small moan escapes her. Resignation? Acceptance of the fact she’s powerless and I’m in full control? Or maybe—knowing how the little Lolita’s been begging for my touch—she’s excited?
I study the scene before me, my dick thickening with blood.
“You a naughty little submissive?” I grind out, my eagerness getting the better of me.
“I think so,” she whispers.
“One last chance. You understand what I’m about to do to you?” Though I ask the question, if she says no, it’s debatable whether I’ll let the little cocktease go.
“My body’s innocent,” she murmurs, “but my mind isn’t.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “I like art films.”
My eyebrows lift. “Art films?”
“Girl porn.”
She’s fucking perfect. Sweet yet filthy to the core. I remember how she responded to being spanked—loved it, didn’t she? I cross the room to the table and pick up the leather flogger. Marring her smooth skin with the soft lashes is now foremost on my mind.
Her eyes track my movement until I position myself behind her. “I’m going to leave marks all over that pretty ass. You’ll feel the burn for days.”
“And if it hurts?”
“Oh, it’s going to hurt.” I’m rock hard at the thought. “Give me a word,” I grind out, “and if it’s too much, use it.”
“Pasta.”
I frown. So young. So at my mercy. “Just remember…” I raise my arm, ready to unleash. “You begged for this.” I snap the leather, and it strikes her right cheek.
Her body tenses, then relaxes.
I bring the flogger down again, making a perfect crisscross. I might have lost interest in this type of play for a while, but I haven’t lost my touch.
“I wish I could see your expression,” she informs me, then in a breathy voice, she tempts me further. “Go on. Do your worst.”
Her words are like tossing candy to a teen who’s forbidden to eat sweets. “Worst, huh?”
I return to the table, then stand beside her on the bench. “Lift onto your elbows,” I command.
She rises off the smooth leather as I open the first clamp. “Know what these are?”
“Nipple clamps.”
“Let’s see how far I can push you.”
She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, then winces as I fasten the clamps.
“It’s going to hurt like a bitch when I remove them.”
