Page 49 of Pretty Plaything

Alessandro’s lips spread into a smile I don’t like at all as his eyebrows lift at me. “That’s not the way you’re supposed to greet me, wife. Especially when I was so nice and got you your stuff. Everything’s in there.” He nods at the bag. “Your mom was glad to hear that you’re happy here.”

“Fuck you!” I’m furious that he lied to my mother and said who knows what to my family.

Alessandro moves so fast I barely see him before his hand roughly winds into my hair. “Get down on your knees and apologize, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

His face is deadly serious, but his eyes are swirling with hunger.

I glare at him, even as he forces my head back. “I fucking hate you! Did you tell my family that, you son of a bitch?”

I don’t know what came over me, but watching the expression on his face change into a twisted smile makes me want to take it all back.

“Fine. You want to be punished, so punishment is what you’re going to get,” he says with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

“No!” I thrash against him as his hand buries in my dress, almost ripping it off me.

No matter how much I struggle, it’s futile. My dress is on the floor, and Alessandro grabs a rope and ties it around my wrists.

I scream at him as he drags me to the middle of the room. He attaches the rope to a hook that’s hanging from the ceiling, forcing my arms up.

The tips of my toes barely touch the floor. I try to tug at the rope to free myself, but I can’t.

Alessandro watches me like a starving wolf, circling around me.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean any of that,” I say, hoping I can sound convincing enough. “I’ve been trapped in here for too long, and it’s messing with my mind. I’m going to do whatever you want.”

“Yes, you will.”

It doesn’t look like he has any intention of letting me go. I watch him as he picks up a riding crop.

“Please,” I say softly, even as heat spreads through my body.

He smacks my thigh with the crop, making me yelp. He traces the crop over my body, sending shivers of delight all over me, and then slaps my breast with it.

I groan.

I want to hate what he’s doing to me, but I can’t.

He moves behind me, trailing the crop down my back. He flicks it over my ass a few times. My pussy is already dripping wet with need as he keeps teasing me.

After he lowers the crop to a nearby bench, his arm snakes around me. He brings his palm hard on my ass over and over again, and then forces my legs apart, his fingers exploring my slickness.

“So wet,” he whispers into my ear.

When he lets go of me, I moan in protest, desperately needing relief for the bubble of pleasure inside me.

He returns with something in his hand.

“Nipple clamps,” he says, and my eyes widen.

I yelp as he snaps a clamp on my right nipple and then on the left. It hurts, but a shot of electricity goes straight to my core.

He tugs on the clamps, and I cry out.

“Shh,” he says, and catches a tear that slides down my cheek with his tongue.

I shudder, pain and pleasure mixing together.

The pressure inside me begs to be released.