Salvatore(31)
“No,” he said, taking my wrists and pulling them behind my back.
“Salvatore?”
That smile still plastered on his face, he dragged me forward and laid me facedown over his lap. He kept my wrists at my back while the fingers of his other hand tickled the inside of my thighs as they dragged my skirt up.
“Have you been snooping?” he asked outright once he’d stuffed my skirt beneath my wrists at my waist.
“What? No!”
He smacked my right cheek. I think I was more surprised than pained. “What the…”
“Have you been snooping?” he repeated.
I craned my neck. “What are you doing?”
Smack.
“Ow! Stop!”
“Have you been snooping?”
I shook my head, squeezed my legs together, and wriggled to get free, which was impossible, considering his size and strength.
“No?”
His fingers found the waistband of my panties and tickled the flesh there. “What are you doing? Let me up!”
I knew he heard me, he just was enjoying this. When he began to drag my panties down, I wildly kicked my legs only to have them trapped between Salvatore’s hard thighs. The swoosh of his belt made me stop struggling, and he laughed at what I was sure was my deer in the headlights expression.
“Don’t worry.” He wrapped the belt around my wrists and secured them behind my back. “I’m just planning on using my hand this first time.”
“What?”
But he began, smacking one cheek then the next, each slap screaming at my brain that this was really happening. That I was naked from the waist down being spanked!
“Stop! It fucking hurts!”
A few moments later, he did, rubbing circles over my punished cheeks.
“Let me up,” I said, wiping my wet face on his jeans.
“Were you snooping?” he asked again. This time, there was no teasing in his tone.
“Yes!” He knew it anyway; why he had to humiliate me like this to get me to admit it was beyond me.
“Good girl,” he said, his touch sliding between my thighs. “Bad girls get punished, but good girls get rewarded.”
Then, without any warning, his fingers found my sex, and I sucked in a breath.
I tensed, squeezing everything tight, but Salvatore tickled and stroked until I relaxed my legs and let them fall open, my back arching of its own accord as he smeared my own arousal over and around my clit, rubbing soft, then hard, pinching, making me cry out.
“What did you find in my bedroom?” he asked, still rubbing.
When a moan escaped me, I hung my head, wanting to disappear. How could I be enjoying this? Enjoying this humiliation?
“No…”
“Remember, good girls are rewarded, bad girls punished. Lying would make you a bad girl.”
“I hate you,” I said, not believing it myself.
“No, you don’t. You just feel powerless and are acting out in response.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I know that. Tell me what you found.”
He started on my clit again, rubbing harder, faster. “God.”
He chuckled. “God would be a first.”
“I’m…”
“Focus, Lucia,” he said, the fingers of his free hand taking one of my breasts.
“Restraints,” I said, my eyes about to roll to the back of my head when he kneaded my nipple.
“And how did it make you feel to find them?”
He eased off my clit, and I groaned, arching back again, wanting to—needing to—come.
“I...I don’t know.”
He struck my pussy, and I gasped.
“What did you feel?”
He rubbed again, and I melted into him. “Curious.”
Was it possible to hear a smile? Because I did. And then, I came. I came hard in his hand, the sounds I made foreign to my own ears, my body going limp over his thighs, my eyes closing, sleepy. When it was over, I felt him unbind my wrists and lift me, cradling me in his arms and leaning back against the sofa.
“Lucia, Lucia, Lucia. You surprise me.”
“You’ll still take me to my sister?” I asked, burrowing into his body, my eyes half-open.
“I told you I would. And we need to go shopping to find you a dress.”
“A dress? For what?”
“My father’s birthday party.”
8
Lucia
Being locked away with the nuns for five years had been easier than this. I didn’t have to face anything. I could think about it. I could get angry about it. I could blame everyone and everything, but I didn’t have to face them. Now I sat beside Salvatore in his car as he drove me to what should have been considered home to me. Thing was, I didn’t know what was home anymore. I didn’t know where I belonged, who I was. Who I was meant to be.