Page 51 of Entangled Mafia Princess

Except I love being able to breathe too, and eventually, I struggle against him. I grunt and buck. What if he miscalculates how long I can last? How the hell am I supposed to say my safe word?

Actually, it doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’m going to use my safe word this early into our play.

I do my best not to panic, but I don’t think I can take much longer. Shit. Let me breathe!

And he does. Loudly, I release the carbon dioxide that had been building and inhale sweet, sweet oxygen.

“Oh my god,” I murmur.

“Again,” he says.

“How many—?”

But, clamping his hand over me, he cuts off my question. I try to refocus on his fingers stroking my clit through the flimsy fabric of the G-string, which rubs against me, adding to the sensations down there. My concentration doesn’t last long because I can’t stop wondering how many times he’s going to make me go through air deprivation.

My eyes start to water. Standing on one leg, with my wrists bound behind me, I have little leverage. I do push my ass against him, trying to create some separation. I need air.

I try to wriggle free, but he has me crushed against him. He’s so much stronger than me. The deprivation of sight seems to make things worse, intensifying how painful it is not to breathe. Pressure spreads through my chest and into my head.

I need air, I need air!

Finally, Jack drops his hand. I get the air that I need and pray that he gives me a break from the breath play.

“Wow,” I sigh, leaning against him. I feel a little tired and want to sit down, but I can’t. Worse yet, I have to stand on one leg in heels.

“I was worried there,” I tell him. “Sir.”

“Worried already, princess?”

Pulling aside my G-string, he rubs my flesh. Damn, that feels good. Like crazy good. I groan in delight. I could actually come like this, standing on one leg.

But he withdraws his fingers. I feel them pressing between my lips. Parting them, I take in his digits, tasting myself.

“Taste good?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” I mumble with his fingers still in my mouth. “Will I get to taste you, Sir?”

“You want my cock?”

“Yes! Sir.”

Taking his fingers out, he wipes them on my breast. “You’re going to have to earn it, princess.”

Bring it on.

I hear him walking away. What is he planning on getting from that bag of his?

Apparently nothing because I hear the door open.

“I’ll be back,” he says.

“Where are you going, Sir?” I ask.

“Subs don’t need to know.”

The door closes, and I’m left alone. I hope he just needs a potty break, or maybe he realized he forgot something. But there was a hint of something in his voice. Something sinister? Naughty?

I hope he comes back soon to resume his fondling. His fingers felt so damn good. And that breath play. A little scary but exciting too. Now that I have my breath, I feel so alive, so aware. I want him back now. My pussy aches for his touch.

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