Page 19 of Crazed

I shake my head.

He flogs my ass again. I jump, but he moves in front of me, using his body as a wall. "Did you forget about the shower when I left this morning?"

A guilty flush fills my cheeks.

Arrogance flares on his face. "You think I didn't know you played with that sweet pussy? It wasn't enough, though, was it?"

My blush deepens. I can't deny it. I was still in bed when Massimo went home. He woke me up with a kiss, gave me a quick orgasm with his tongue, then left. It only made me need more. I got myself off in the shower, but that didn't work, either. All I wanted was him back in my arms, so I put on my red outfit and called. I didn't think he'd be free but was happy when he came right over.

"You practically pulled my hair out when you came in my mouth this morning. But you're a needy girl, aren't you?" he states.

I nod, wanting nothing else but for him to do it all over again.

He steps back, sniffs hard, then glances at the window.

I struggle not to look but keep focused on the mirror. A long silence passes, then he turns back to me. "We have more viewers. Should I show them how long I can eat you, keeping you on edge until your entire body is full of sweat and shaking?"

I don't answer, wanting him to do it but aware he'll drive me crazy. When Massimo decides to punish me, he can go hours making me wait for my orgasm. My clit's already swollen. My walls are dying for his body. And my legs started shaking as soon as he started doling out my punishment for disobeying him.

He traces the outline of my hair, repeating on my other breast the same thing he did with the rope earlier.

I whimper, once again wondering why everything feels so much more sensitive.

He drops the flogger and cups my pussy. "If I lick and suck your pretty little cunt, everyone is going to see how greedy you are. Is that what you want?"

I don't respond, knowing he might do the exact opposite of what he's suggesting if I do. Right now, my senses are so overloaded, I need him more than ever before.

"You aren't sure? I'll decide, then," he states, then positions the ropes so they rest against the top of my nipples. He drops to his knees and tugs my thighs on top of his shoulders.

I push my hips closer to his face, and he freezes, arching an eyebrow and glancing up. "Did I say you can look at me or move?"

I reprimand myself then shake my head. I refocus on the mirror.

"If you take your eyes off the mirror or move your body before I give you permission, I'm stopping."

I vow not to disobey him. All the training I had from Massimo about how to obey and have control over my body, I muster. I focus on the scene in front of me, unable to stop my muffled cries as his tongue and lips slowly work me over.

It's erotic torture, a scene better than any porno film could ever be because it's not two strangers. It's Massimo and me. I reposition my hands and squeeze the blood-red rope so I don't move. The muscles in Massimo's back flex. His warm skin makes me hotter, and I'm soon glistening with sweat, shaking, and begging him. Not that anyone could understand my pleas with the gag stuffed in my mouth.

He taunts and teases me without mercy. I want to grind into his face and look at him, or even the window, but I refrain. When Massimo warns he'll stop, he will. I learned that lesson early on. And I want to come, but he hasn't told me I'm allowed.

It feels like hours pass before he slaps my ass and commands, "Ride my face."

It's another form of his punishment. The more I circle my hips, the worse my urge to release gets. I can no longer hold my emotions in, and my tears drip off my chin. The mirror becomes blurry. I barely hear him order, "Come now," when adrenaline explodes in my cells. White light mixes with the heat of the sun's hot rays, and my entire body shakes.

He doesn't let up, extending my orgasm from a mix of biting, sucking, and flicking his tongue. Everything intensifies—the dizziness, the tremors, and the never-ending supply of endorphins racing through my veins.

The only sound in the room is my suppressed cries. I don't even know if I'm still looking at the mirror. Nothing is in focus. It's all heat, surges of adrenaline, and so much sweat and tears.

I barely hear his metal belt clang on the floor. He rises, keeping his palms on the back of my thighs, and enters me.

"Oh!" I scream, his length and girth stretching me. It's another thing I love about him. No matter how much he prepares me, taking him all at once is a delicious shock.

He presses his forehead to mine, thrusting at a slow pace, breathing in shallow breaths. The scent of my orgasm flares in my nostrils. His fingers grip deeper into my thighs. The control in his eyes strengthens. In a firm voice, he declares, "If you come with my cock in you before I say to, I'm leaving you here for the rest of the day, tied up for all of Queens to see."

Fear and newfound determination fill me. I don't dare test him. He'd do it to teach me a lesson. When we're like this, we aren't equals. He's the boss. My role is to submit fully. Anything less, and he has no choice but to follow through on his word.

He kisses my nose, slowing his thrusts more, creating havoc on my walls. His voice softens. "Good, dolce. Stay with me. From now on, you only look in my eyes."

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