Massimo's lips twitch. "It's a thigh sling."
I walk over to it and run my palm over the smooth leather inside. Then I rub the sharp metal studs. I cock my head, asking, "What's it for?"
"It's so you don't have to hold your knees in the air. Allows me to get inside you deeper," he states, wiggling his eyebrows. He traces a D-ring. "I can use these to attach other things to you—or you to them." Blue flames sear into mine.
"Like what?" I ask, unsure why I'm so mesmerized by the leather strap.
He points to the ceiling over the bed. "Those restraints. Or this." He picks up a mouth ring gag. "Of course, I could always attach you to that." He glances at a steel-colored object. It looks like a tool my father would have had in his garage. Yet, there's a pale-pink vibrator in the shape of a cock on it.
"I don't know what that is," I admit, feeling very naive. Gags and restraints were Ludis and Leo's thing. I've never been exposed to toys or most of the things in this room.
"It's a fucking machine," he casually declares.
I furrow my eyebrows, blurting out, "Why would I want to use that when I'm with you?"
Massimo steps behind me, holding me tight to his frame. His hot breath hits my neck, sending tingles racing down my spine. I shudder as he warns, "It's a punishment, dolce. And since you're so interested in it, the next time you disobey me, I'm going to put you in the thigh strap and restrain your hands above your head."
I take a deep breath, imagining my body naked, restrained, spread wide open for Massimo to do what he pleases. My pulse creeps up. I lean my head against his back, inhale his woodsy cologne, and ask, "Then what?"
His hand slides down the front of my body. He bunches the hem of my dress until his palm cups my pussy. His tongue hits the back of my ear, and I shudder. He states, "I'm going to have that machine fuck you for hours, my little dolce. I'm going to record you begging me, crying to let you come. Every time I allow it, which won't be too often, I'm going to watch those blue eyes roll. Then I'm going to slow you down until you're dying to come back up."
His index finger slips under my panties, gliding into my body. I arch my ass into him, taking as much of his digit as possible while moaning.
He drags his other hand over my neck, fisting my hair, then tugging my head back until his face is hovering over mine. Blood heats in my veins. My cheeks flush, and my breath hitches. He mutters, "While the machine is working you over, I'm going to taste your pussy. It's going to make everything more intense. Tears will fall down your sexy cheeks. Your body will be mine to control and manipulate how I see fit. Do you understand?" He curls his finger in my pussy.
"Yes, sir," I whisper, wondering what I can do so he'll punish me sooner rather than later. I've never had a punishment from Massimo I wouldn't want to repeat.
"Ah, but you like your punishments, don't you?" he asks, as if he can read my thoughts.
"Yes. You know I do," I admit.
He yanks his hand out of my panties and spins me into him.
I gasp, my breath shaking and butterflies going crazy.
He grasps my jaw, tracing my cheekbone with the same finger that was inside me. The scent of my arousal permeates around us. A woman's soothing voice sings a long note, making me forget about anything but Massimo and this room.
He studies me. It seems like hours, but I don't flinch, keeping my eyes locked on him. He finally remarks, "I made this room for you—for us. Only us."
My heart soars, and more surprise hits me. "You did?"
"Yes."
"It's beautiful," I say and mean it. Every foreign object represents a new adventure for Massimo and me. It's intimate and naughty yet still classy. "I love it."
His eyes morph into blue crystals. Satisfaction fills his expression. He holds the back of my head and leans closer, lowering his voice so I can barely hear him. "You've been bad again, dolce."
Delicious zings ping around my body. I fall into my role, questioning, "How, sir? What did I do?"
"I told you to find out your vacation time. You didn't do it," he asserts.
Guilt crashes through me, and reality hits. The vision of the employee handbook makes me cringe inside.
This relationship isn't real. He's a means to the end.
I cringe at the thought then think,the end of what?
The end of my life.