A Thief in Venice Read Online Free PDF Page B

other ass cheek, and then he was stroking away the pain. Heat rose in my body as pleasure warred with pain. Smack. Smack. Two hard blows, one on each cheek.
    “Your ass is reddening nicely, little thief,” he said quietly, his voice appreciative. “And you are being a very good girl, holding still for me.” His finger snaked a path through my dripping pussy as a reward, and it took all the self-control I possessed not to push back into his hand and press my aching pussy into him.
    He got up. His hands were on my ankle, fastening the cuff to it, and then the ankle cuff was attached to rope, that was tied to one end of the four poster bed. He moved around the other side and repeated the movement with my other ankle. In minutes, I was securely cuffed to the bed, my knees apart, my pussy and ass on lewd display. I could feel his eyes on my exposed body.
    “Ah Lucia, you are so wet, it takes every bit of self-control I possess not to bury myself in your sweetness…” His voice was warm, and every inch of my body sparked in arousal in response to his words and to the tone of lust in his voice.
    “But first, the crop. You did go to all the trouble of picking it out.” Another little sliver of amusement in his voice. He pulled back slightly, and I could hear the crop whistle in the air. I clenched automatically, and I heard him laugh. “Lucia,” he said, a caress in his voice. “Sweet little thief. Are you afraid of the crop?”
    I shook my head, but I was lying. I was a little nervous. Antonio was an unknown to me. There were no monitors in his dungeon who would stop the play if I needed it to stop. Here, I had to trust that he would respect my safe word.
    But yet. I also remembered the heat in his voice when he told me he craved my feel against him. I felt the same way. I needed him to dominate me. I needed the contrast of the gentleness in his voice and the implacable feel of the crop. When he had pushed me into his desk and spanked me hard the last time we met, I had felt more alive than I had in years. And when heat rose in his eyes as he looked at my naked body, I felt cherished in a way I didn’t feel at the club.
    “Beg me to crop you.” His voice was even.
    I turned my head to look at him. I didn’t waste my time trying to hide the need. “Please crop me, Antonio,” I whispered.
    “Crop you where, little thief?” he asked. He walked silently from one side to another. Goose bumps rose on my skin.
    “Wherever you’d like,” I said quietly. “I’m yours to hurt.”
    He leaned forward and touched his lips to my shoulder for just an instant. “Sweetness, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I want your skin to flush with pleasure.” Whap. The crop struck my ass, and I jumped slightly as a sharp pain blossomed at that spot, fading in seconds to warmth.
    “I want you to moan my name.” Whap. Another stroke, this time on the other cheek. Whap. Whap. My upper thighs. I groaned.
    “I want your pussy to drip in arousal.” Whap. The crop struck my inside thighs. I jumped and whimpered, but I betrayed my arousal by spreading my legs wider for him. “Good girl,” he said in response, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
    “I want you to hover at the edge of orgasm, and wait for me to give you permission to fall over.” Another crisp stroke on my thighs, and I moaned his name.
    “Antonio,” I begged. “Please…”
    “Lucia,” he said evenly. “You really must follow directions better. Speak only when you are spoken to, remember?”
    The crop slapped my skin. On my shoulders, my thighs and my ass. Even on the soles of my feet, though these strokes weren’t as hard as the others. As he promised, my entire skin warmed with the slight flush that the crop brought, and as it always did, the pain shaped itself into shocking lust. I whimpered and moaned, and I whispered his name. Finally, the strokes stopped, and his hands ran over my body, stroking it gently back to calmness.
    “Please,” I