Page 25 of Valentine's Slave

Pausing his attack, he rubs my breasts in little circles, squeezing my nipples until my toes curl, and a thrill shoots down my spine. When he thrusts again, it takes me by surprise, sending a little shockwave of pleasure through me.

Every time he pauses, plays, and starts again, the energy inside me soars like a monster lurching out of the sea. And then, after tortuous minutes of the stop-and-go, he thrusts hard and fast, plunging deep. The sizzling heat inside me combusts together and explodes through my veins.

I arch and buck against him, feeling the climax inside me sizzling from my convulsing core and out my arms and legs.

Valentino tightens and groans his release, his dick throbbing inside me with three more thrusts as he comes.

My heart is still pounding, and I open my eyes without realizing they’d been closed. The room is still dark, but I make out shapes easier, and as I lift my head and look to the left, I realize I can see a shadow of us in the mirror, his figure, tall and dark, standing up behind me, his chest heaving up and down just like mine.

He’s studying me, and I watch his hands rub the last bit of massage oil into my ass, his hands running up and down my back, moving my hair off my shoulders so his hands can knead my skin. His dick is still buried inside me, and I like the feeling of being connected, even if he’s nothing but a demented dom who just strapped me to his torture table and fucked my brains out.

The massage feels strangely intimate, filling all the spaces in my heart just like his dick filled every last bit of emptiness inside me.

I don’t think I realized how lonely I’ve been since Shawn and I broke up, how I isolated myself and took the blame for everything, including getting depressed and losing my job. I was so hard on myself. I felt like I had to hide it from everyone, and yet, maybe all I really needed was some love and human connection. Even if ‘love’ came in the form of being a stranger’s ‘sweet little slut’. It sounded half-romantic when it came out of Valentino’s mouth.

He pulls out of me, and I wait for him to undo my bindings, but he doesn’t. He leaves the room without a word, and I hear him turn on the bathroom sink. So, he gets to pee and clean up, but I don’t? My wariness of him from before comes rushing back, and I remember why I was so suspicious of this man. As good as he is at sex, he’s nothing but a selfish bastard looking for a woman to plunge himself into while leaving his heart on the shelf. Typical male.

I’m fuming all over again by the time he gets back. He still doesn’t bother to turn on a light, which annoys me since I at least want to get a glimpse of him naked so I can see him properly. With his broad shoulders, tall stature, and that heavy-duty dick that he just drilled me with—I want to see it for real.

I do, however, see the smile on his face when he walks over to me. I strain my neck, lifting my head above the headrest so I can see him.

“Are you ready for round two, my little slave?” he asks sweetly.

My face must register my confusion because he chuckles.

“Did you really think I’d be done with you after only one go? You don’t know me very well. But you will.”

He runs a finger along my lips, and despite my warring feelings, they part for him.

“That’s a good girl,” he croons as he places something long and crusty between my lips. There are thorns on it, and I’m so caughtoff guard, I don’t even roll my eyes at him. He just put a fucking rose in my mouth.

“You hold that nice and tight while I give you your spanking,” Valentino says, rubbing his hands together.

My pussy tingles at his words. I turn to look at him, and there’s a fire in his eyes.

“You’re allowed to be nervous”—he’s using that same deep, rumbly voice that sounds both comforting and menacing at the same time— “but you’re not allowed to drop the rose.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and everything in my body freezes, not sure how to react to this news. Do Iwantto go again? Not that there’s going to be more sex. He did say ‘spanking’. But what does that really mean? It’s not like I have a choice. This is what I signed up for, after all, for him to use me all week long.

Something about that last thought sends a shiver down my spine. Maybe I like not having to think about what to do or even if I want to do it or not. I just follow along as willingly as possible, letting my body wake up and turn into a flushing mess of emotions and sensations just like it did five minutes ago. It’s all for the money, anyway.

I watch Valentino walk over to the small wicker box. He comes back, and the only thing I see is what he holds up in front of me—the blindfold.

“It will enhance your sensations,” he explains, slipping it over my eyes, encasing me in darkness. Maybe Valentino just doesn’t want me to see him at all? I think he likes the power of feeling and touching me while I’m still practically clueless as to who he is and what he even looks like, though I definitely know the feeling of those powerful muscles pressed against me.

He turns on some music, instrumental, like a movie soundtrack, slightly haunting, building, a full orchestra, gentle and rising in a crescendo. It makes me feel like I’m inFiftyShades of Grey, except that in that story, the protagonists fall in love.

I jolt back to the present moment when Valentino’s large, warm hands slide down my back, rubbing and pressing again in that glorious massage. This man should have been a masseuse the way he works wonders with his hands. I let myself meld into the relaxation, knowing it’s probably about to turn dark and nasty very soon.

You’re safe, I tell myself, and whether or not that’s true, it helps me be present in my body, to feel the way his fingers cup the curves of my back and work on the ridges and knots. I breathe in deeply, long through my nose, letting my eyes close, still holding the crusty rose stem between my teeth.

His palm slaps against my ass hard and fast, and I gasp as a ring of pain sears through me. I slam my mouth closed so I don’t drop the rose, and Valentino caresses my skin, rubbing slowly, warming and calming, one finger sliding suggestively between my ass cheeks, which sends an involuntary shiver through me.

He keeps up the attention and then smacks his palm against my skin again, the sound echoing above the music. My gasp turns into a whimper as he rubs the pain in, and it slowly begins to evaporate, mixing with a strange swirl of pleasure that oozes down from deep in my core. My heart is a pitter-patter, and my body tenses and aches, anticipating the next spanking.

The slap comes when I don’t expect it, harder than before, wracking through me, followed quickly by a second, and I cry out as my pussy dampens on the spot, shaking.

The sensations all churn together, the pleasure, the pain, the waiting, the anticipation, and when he spanks me again, I scream, arching my back against his hand, which is now massaging my ass, his slick and warm finger finding that little shrivelled rosebud, fingering my entrance.

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