The message was short but descript. Time. Place. Attire. Nothing more.


Anaïs Rosso

8/22/202218 min read

She checked her text and the time on her phone. 12:20. She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror one last time. She'd dressed in an off-white blousony dress made of textured gauze with a ruffle frill trim and a pretty tassel tie at the bodice. The color contrasted beautifully with her golden chocolate skin. The dress flowed to her ankles which were adorned with the straps of her gladiator-style sandals. At her waist, she accented the dress with a broad red belt that held a golden rose fashioned as the buckle. She checked her make-up. It was light and simple. Hues of gold and deep brown eyeshadows highlighted dark brown eyes. Her cheeks held a hint of blush, and her full lips were tinted an inviting strawberry color. Her hair, a thick riot of inky black curls, framed her face and fell loosely to her shoulders. Large gold hoop earrings adorned her ears, peaking out from behind the curls. She looked and felt soft and feminine, like Sophia Loren in one of her many iconic movies. She checked herself over carefully, wanting to ensure that she'd followed instructions precisely. Satisfied, she glanced at her watch once more—12:25. Time to go.

The walk to the piazza was short, and the southern Italian sun blazed unabashedly in the midday summer sky. The piazza was nearly empty, with almost all shops closed for the traditional midday rest. The only businesses that remained open were the small restaurants ready to greet hungry patrons. Soon the piazza will be filled with tantalizing scents and laughter. She smiled as she passed a toddler standing at the side of the large fountain in the piazza, playfully splashing the water and giggling with delight. An older woman sat close by, carefully watching the child with a loving smile on her face.

Moments later, she came to the entrance of a familiar building. She rechecked her watch. 12:28. Reaching for the keypad by the ornate door, she pressed the appropriate call button. A few seconds later, she heard a loud buzz come from the door, followed by an audible click as the lock mechanism released. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside the entrance and closed the door behind her, the sound of the lock re-engaging echoing in the marbled entrance. As she ascended the stairs, her heart began to race, and butterflies settled in her abdomen. She told herself that it was the stairs but knew it was her nerves. The message was short but descript. Time. Place. Attire. Nothing more. She took a deep breath when she reached the only door on the top floor. She rechecked her watch. 12:30. She took a deep calming breath, letting it out slowly. She knocked on the door. Her brow furrowed when the door slid open slightly upon contact. Taking the hint, she stepped inside the foyer and closed the door quietly behind her. The scent of freshly cooked food teased her senses, setting her mouth-watering and her stomach growling.

"You're on time," a baritone, heavily accented voice called from behind her, startling her.

She whirled around to find him standing at the end of the foyer. He was tall, his dark, with loosely curled hair cropped short. His olive skin contrasted beautifully with khaki trousers and a white button-down shirt he wore. He stood casually, his hands in his pockets as if he didn't have a care in the world. His green eyes glittered as his gazes glided over her, heating her skin. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him. He looked every bit predator, and she'd just stepped into his lair.

"Come here," he said, his eyes trained on hers.

She strode toward him slowly, her eyes fixed on him, her breathing hitched. The butterflies in her tummy commenced a haphazard flutter. Her eyes and head lowered instinctively when she halted before him, just out of arms reach. He towered over her by several inches, which was no easy task given her height.

"Turn around. Slowly," he commanded, the undertone of his voice dragging at something deep inside her.

Obeying, she pivoted slowly, trying desperately to swallow past the lump in her throat. Her anxiety grew as he inspected her and his silence stretched. She paused when she came to face him again, her head still bowed. She swallowed hard when he caught her chin between his index finger and thumb, raising her chin, so her eyes met his.

"You've done well," he said, his green eyes sparkling. "You've followed my instructions well so far. Let's see how well you followed the rest of my instructions. Take off the dress."

She swallowed hard as her hands came up to untie the tassel at her breast. He held her chin and gaze as she reached up to pull the dress away from her shoulders. The dress tumbled to the floor in a woosh of fabric, puddling at her feet like a cloud. He released her chin, stepping back as his hungry gaze raked over her naked form. Her nipples hardened under the heat of his gaze, and moisture gathered between her legs.

"Good girl," he half growled with approval. "Now, take the shoes off."

Bending at the waist, she began to untie the straps of her sandals. Slowly, he strolled in a circle around her. She let out a yelp of pain and shock as his hand came down hard against one cheek of her ass. A second yelp escaped her as his hand came down on the other cheek, only to linger, giving a firm squeeze.

"Such a sweet ass," he praised. "You should be careful throwing it in the air like that. Get those shoes off."

Bum stinging, she made short work of her sandals, standing upright and stepping out of the sandals and dress. He came to stand in front of her once more.

"You're here to serve today. Do you understand?" he asked, his hand lightly closing around her throat, forcing her gaze up again.

"Yes, Sir," she responded, her eyes searching his.

"Lunch is ready. We have one dish today. You know where the kitchen is. Choose a wine and bring it to the table. The glasses are on the table already as well as water. Understand?" he continued, his voice holding a low, commanding tone.

"Si, signore," she answered.

"Brava," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Now, get to it. I'm hungry, and judging by the growls of your tummy, you are too. Go." And with a swat on her naked ass, he sent her on her way.

She ambled into the kitchen, breathing in deeply the scents drifting from the stove. She believed it odd that there was only one dish. Usually, there was a primi and a secondi. Yet, she was thankful as she could scarcely keep up with eating both dishes. She raised the lid on a pot and smiled to herself at the contents. Spaghetti alle vongole. Replacing the cover, she spun, turning to the wine chiller and opening the door. He'd placed a variety of reds and whites in the chiller and a Prosecco. Her task included a choice of wine. She paused briefly, wondering if it was a test. Unfortunately, her knowledge of wine was minuscule at best. As she checked the labels, she came across one she was familiar with, a Falanghina.

"Stick with what you know," she said to herself as she placed the bottle on the counter. Grabbing the bottle chiller bucket, she filled it with ice and positioned the bottle inside with a cloth draping over the bucket. Turning back to the cabinets, she retrieved two plates and began filling them with pasta. Once done, she balanced the two plates on one arm, placed the corkscrew bottle opener between her teeth, and grasped the bottle chiller bucket. She lingered briefly to ensure proper balance before carefully walking to the dining area.

He set his phone aside, gaze shifting to her at the sound of her footsteps. He was seated at the head of the table with a place setting before him and to his right-hand side. She halted at his right-hand side, carefully placing the bottle chiller with the wine on the table. She then carefully placed a plate before him and one at the place setting to his right. Taking the corkscrew opener from between her teeth, she reached for the bottle of wine, wiped the excess water from it, and presented the label to him for inspection.

"A Falanghina," he said with an eyebrow lifted. " A safe choice."

He nodded his head, and she proceeded to remove the cork from the bottle. Carefully, she poured a small amount into his wine glass. Taking the glass, he twirled the golden liquid around a few times, brought the glass to his nose for a sniff, and drank.

"Good girl," he said with a nod of his head. With a smile, she filled his glass to the appropriate amount, then turned to fill hers before placing the bottle back in the bucket with the towel carefully draped over it. She stood quietly waiting as he unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap. His gaze met hers, and he nodded towards the empty chair.

She assumed her place, folding her napkin neatly in her naked lap. He reached for his wine glass again, holding it up, and she quickly caught on, reaching for hers and doing the same.

"To a satisfying pranzo," he said, bringing his glass to hers with a quiet clink.

She smiled as she brought the glass to her lips. As she sipped her wine, she caught the dangerous glint in his eyes. She lowered her gaze as she replaced her glass on the table. Her anxiety expanded as she sat naked while he was still fully clothed.

He picked up his fork and knife and began eating. She followed suit doing the same. She felt his eyes on her as she began to methodically free all the clams from their shells before taking a single bite of food. She brought a fork full of food to her mouth. Closing her eyes, she moaned in delight at the delectable taste of her favorite dish.

"Shall I take that as a sign of approval," he teased, smiling as he watched her.

She nodded emphatically, swallowing the mouthful of food. "Mmm, yes, Sir," she said in earnest. "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"My pleasure. I enjoy cooking for you," he said, turning his attention to his plate. "Now, tell me about your morning."

She paused for a moment, caught off guard by his request, then she began to oblige, filling him in on the events of her morning. The conversation was light, with the occasional banter spilling from the morning events to the events of the day and night before. The anxiety and tension slowly began to vacate her body as she spoke. She didn't miss how he watched her as she said, as if he was absorbing every word and detail. He asked queries that made her pause in reflection as well as made her laugh. His focus was wholly on her. Gradually, she forgot that she was naked. During the conversation, she was careful to pay attention to refilling both his and her wine glasses once more. When she attempted to pour him a third glass, he casually placed his hand over his glass and gave a slight shake of his head. He took the bottle from her hand and placed it back in the bottle chiller before she could refill her glass. Before she realized it, their dishes and wine glasses were empty, leaving only her half-full bottle of frizzante.

"Finish your water, then clear the table," he stated, nodding to the bottle of water. "Put the dishes in the dishwasher. Once you are done, you are to come back to me. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied, reaching for the bottle and filling her water glass. Once finished, she stood and began clearing the table.

She stacked the dishes and had the table cleared in two trips. She disposed of the rubbish in the proper containers, loaded the dishwasher, and started a cleaning cycle. When she returned to the dining table, his chair was out, and he was standing with one hand in his pocket. She noticed a medium-sized black box on the table where his plate was before. She eyed the scene curiously.

"Come here, piccola mia," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Obediently, she strode to him, lowering her head when she stopped before him.

"Kneel for me."

Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees. Her hands came to rest on her thighs, palms up.

"Good girl," he praised, reaching for the box. "I had this made for you on my last visit to Florence. A good friend owns a leather shop there and was more than happy to make this. Eyes up."

Eyes coming up, she watched as he opened the box. Reaching in, he pulled out a wide red leather collar embossed with delicate miniature black roses. The collar was adorned with a gold O ring and gold buckle. Her eyes widened as he presented it to her turning it for her inspection. He unbuckled the collar, holding it wide. The leather inside looked buttery soft and bore the embossed words "Piccola Mia."

"Hair up," he said, advancing towards her.

She obliged, reaching to sweep the mass of onyx curls up and away from her neck. She closed her eyes as he positioned the collar around her neck, buckling it firmly in place. The sensation of peace and comfort immediately descended over her. He stepped back, and her arms dropped, her hair falling in a thick curtain around her face and shoulders. She opened her eyes, looking up at him, her chin lifted in a proud display.

"Stunning," he whispered, trailing a finger over her collared neck. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, Sir. Very much," she responded.

"How do you feel?" he asked, trailing a finger over her full bottom lip, his eyes ablaze with heat.

Moisture collected at her core, and before she could stop herself, her tongue flickered out from between her lips to taste his finger.

He groaned, one corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing grin. "You're trying to distract me, but I asked you a question," he said, his voice thickened. "Answer me."

"I feel-" she hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to articulate all she felt.

"Use your words, baby girl," he instructed, his finger trailing back and forth over her lip. "Tell Daddy how you feel."

Her brow furrowed as she tried to find her words, her mind abruptly a haze, a fog of desire and need. She swallowed hard and began again.

"I feel peace and excitement. I feel excitement, a need, and somehow safe. It feels right," she said, searching his eyes for a glimmer of understanding. "So many things all at once, and I'm unsure if I understand."

He moaned, bending at the waist to kiss her forehead. "It's ok," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. "We'll sort it out. You only have to feel."

"But," she studdered. "I thought my job was to serve."

He chucked low and deep. "It is, and you've done well," he replied. "And you will continue to serve, but I also want you to embrace your feelings. Give me your trust. I will guide, and you will follow."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered against his lips.

"Good girl," he replied, moving back slightly, his gaze dropping to her breast. "Now, tell me your safe word."

"Rosso," she answered instantly.

"Good girl," he moaned with approval.

He let his hand descend from her neck to cup one full breast. "You have gorgeous breasts, baby," he said, his large hand gently massaging. "Mmm, I love how they spill over my hands and those nipples; they look like the most decadent dark chocolate."

She leaned forward, pressing her breast into his hand, her breathing quickening, more moisture gathering at her center. A moan escaped her lips as he rolled the nipple between his fingers.

"Oh, so sensitive," he remarked, watching her eyes glaze. "Do you like having your breast played with, baby?"

"Yes, Sir," she breathed, offering her breast up for more.

"Well then, let's see how you feel about this," he chuckled before standing upright and holding out his hand. "Stand up for me."

Taking his hand, she climbed to her feet.

"Stand tall. Head up. Hands behind your back, hold onto your elbows," he commanded.

She assumed the position which forced her breast high and out.

"Good girl," he praised. "Now stand still, for me." His hands once again found her breast and began massaging and teasing.

She chewed her lip, trying to hold herself steady. However, she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her when his mouth sealed over one nipple. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, moaning as he began to suckle, his tongue swirling over the nipple bringing it to a hardened peak. He took his time, tasting one nipple and then the other, sending shockwaves from her breast straight down to her core. She pressed her knees together to keep herself upright. After long moments of torture, he pulled away, leaving an ache in her nipples and a throbbing in her womb.

"So beautiful," he praised, his breath blowing cool air over her moistened nipples. "Such beautiful breast should be adorned, don't you think?"

She was drifting on a cloud of pleasure and need. Her eyes locked onto his sensual lips, yet his words barely registered. She had to fight the urge to kiss those lips by biting her own. Abruptly, she felt a sharp, piercing pain shoot through one nipple.

A strong arm caught her about her waist as she screamed, stumbling backward. Eyes wide, mouth agape, she stared down at her left nipple as shock coursed through her at the sight of a golden nipple clamp adorned with tiny red gems.

"Shh shhh, easy baby," he cooed, pulling against the solid wall of his body. "I know it hurts, but you can take it. Be a good girl. Take a deep breath. Breathe. In through the nose and out through your mouth."

She obeyed, breathing as he instructed, burning pain coursing through her nipple.

"That's a good girl," he praised, his arm fast around her. "Keep breathing."

He permitted her a few more deep breaths before proceeding.

"Now the other," he said, reaching into his pocket and drawing out the second nipple clamp. "Keep breathing. Eyes on me."

Gaze locked with his, she continued her breathing. A loud moan fled her lips, and her body tensed as the second clamp found residence on her right nipple.

"Breathe," he encouraged as she struggled to catch her breath. "I know they're sensitive, but you're doing so well. Look how stunning your breast look trimmed with gold and red."

Her gaze fell to her now engorged nipples enveloped in gold vices.

"Keep breathing, baby," He said, holding her close. "I've got you."

After a few moments, the intense pain subsided, giving way to a dull ache. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal.

"Good girl," he praised. "How do they feel?"

"Heavy," she replied. "Painful, but good in a way."

"Oh really?" he questioned, one dark brow raised. "How good? Good enough to make that pussy drip for me? I think I'd better check."

A free hand trailed down to her mound with one arm braced around her. "Spread your legs," he commanded. She yielded, and he groaned his approval when his fingers met the wet folds of her sex.

He kissed her then, hard as his fingers gently explored the wetness of her sex. She moaned into his mouth, her hips rocking against his hand. He pulled her tighter to him, sending pain through her nipples as he crushed them against his hard chest. Her mind churned as the pain intermixed with the pleasure of his thumb circling her clit and his finger explored her outer folds. Her body jolted, and her sex pulsated beneath his touch.

He broke away unexpectedly, just as breathless as she was.

"No, no, not yet," he growled, pulling his hand away from her. "I haven't had dessert yet. Get on the table. On your back, legs spread."

Head spinning, she gazed at him in confusion.

"On. The. Table." he commanded, slapping her ass, the vibration sending pain through her nipples.

She yelped, taking one step, and stopped, wincing in pain as she realized the gems on the nipple claps concealed weights.

"Awe, you didn't expect that, did you, baby?" he asked, gently tugging one clamp, causing her to flinch. "Keep moving. On the table. Time for my dessert."

She breathed deeply through the pain as she moved. Slowly, she climbed onto the table, settling herself in the requested position. She observed him as he stood between her legs at the end of the table. He pulled up his chair and reseated himself at the table. Without forewarning, he caught her thighs in a vice grip and jerked her to the edge of the table. Once again, the jarring motion sent pain through her nipples. She gasped at the pain and shock of the movement. His hand moved to each knee and gently pushed her legs wider apart. Involuntarily, she tensed as her anxiety flew into overdrive. He paused, hands firm yet gentle on her knees. The sound of her name brought her eyes to his. His eyes seared into hers for long moments before he spoke.

"Relax for me," he cooed, his voice low and calming. "I've got you, piccola mia."

The soothing caress of his voice and the ardor in his eyes filled her with comfort and reassurance. With a deep breath and an exhale, she allowed her head to fall back and willed herself to calm. The necessity to serve won out against her anxiety, and a wave of surrender fell over her. Her legs relaxed, the tension departing her body.

"That's my good girl," he praised, moving her legs further apart. He placed several kisses along her inner thighs before pausing to thoroughly examine her pussy. She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths.

"Mmm, such a lovely pussy," he growled, his breath fanning her sensitive tissues as his unshaven jaw gently tickled the inside of her thigh. "So wet for me."

"Listen to me closely, piccola mia," he continued as he draped one leg over a shoulder and then the other before kissing each thigh once more. "No matter what, you do not move. You keep your hands on the table by your side. You're only allowed to say one word, and that's 'Sir.' You can say it in English. You can say it in Italian. You can scream, moan, and cum as much as you want. But, know that I will not stop until I am satisfied, and I will have my fill. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Sir," she breathed, flattening her palms against the cool wood of the table.

"Mmm, good girl," he breathed.

With a groan, he dropped his head to her core, his tongue gliding over her clit twice before pressing against it in small circles. She moaned, her breath catching as pure sensation shot through her. Instinctively, her hips rose when he sank a finger inside of her. A strong hand tugged her back down, firmly anchoring her to the table.

"Don't move, little one," he growled in a low warning, slipping a second finger inside, moving both without missing a beat. "This is my body to savor or discipline."

She caught the undertone of threat in his words and hardened her resolve to heed his command and remain still. She moaned again, her hands coming into tight fists at her sides as his fingers expertly massaged and teased her G-spot. Then his mouth fastened on her clit and sucked so forcefully that electricity burst through her, her body bowing off the table. Pain shot through her nipples, mixing deliciously with the pleasure of his mouth and fingers.

"Signore!" she exclaimed, all thoughts depleted from her mind.

His teeth latched gently onto her clit, his tongue teasing the tip as his fingers stroked her from the inside. Wave after wave of pleasure flowed through her, her moans matching the intensity. Unable to help herself, she began to quiver and squirm, her hips jerking, sending blots of pain through her breast as the weights on the nipple clamps shifted with her movements. Her grasp on reality began to drop away quickly. He held her pinned to the table as he continued to use his tongue and fingers as a weapon in the most intense sensual assaults. Pressure built inside her, churning low and deep in her womb as he transported her to a peak from inside and out. He groaned when her muscles clenched around his fingers, and he doubled down his onslaught. Her moans turned to cries, mixing with his growls bouncing off the walls of the room. With one final nip of his teeth on her clit, he flung her to the heavens, and her body exploded into a million shimmering pieces. She jerked and writhed on the table as he continued, forcing her body to ride through the unstoppable wave of orgasm.

Her orgasm wained, but he persisted, using her heightened sensitivity to hold her close to the edge. She felt his lips leave her, but his fingers twisted, finding a new rhythm to work her sex. Her body jerked again, and she lifted her head, eyes meeting his, her gaze a mixture of shock and pleading.

He laughed low and deep, his emerald eyes sparkling with tiny gold flecks. His mouth and jaw glistened, covered in her juices. "Again," he said, his voice more animal than human.

His mouth found her sex again, devouring her, using his tongue as a weapon. His fingers continued a persistent beat. In. Out. Before she knew it, she found herself right back at the edge. She bit her lip, battling to hold on. Her nails abraded against the table, her hands itching to reach for his head to...pull him closer? Push him away? Her mind couldn't function.

"Sir!" she called out, pleading for what she had no idea, and her only recourse was to reach for the one anchor she knew was available.

"Signore!" she repeated, her cries rife with frantic pleading.

"Yes, baby girl," he responded, lifting his head. "Let go and soar for me."

He returned his mouth to her sex, sucking forcefully on her clit. Her last bit of control fractured as her orgasm tore through her. She tensed, every fiber taught. Desperate cries tore from her throat as her juices erupted from her core. Again, he drew out her orgasm, forcing her to ride out the sensations.

She crumpled against the table, moaning and gasping for air. She sent her gratitude to the heavens when his movements slowed, permitting her a reprieve. She felt him take one last long lick of her sensitive flesh. Her head fell to one side, and she watched through half-closed eyes. He brought his fingers to his mouth and groaned as he sucked his fingers clean. She couldn't help the slight upturning of the corners of her mouth at the sight.

"So sweet," he whispered. "Good girl."

He stood between her legs and stretched his formidable body over hers. She sucked in a breath of pain as the fabric of his shirt brushed over her clamped nipples. He caught the exhale as he brought his lips down on hers, kissing her, staking his claim on her mouth. She moaned at the taste of herself as his tongue danced with hers. He fisted his hand in her curls, pulling her head back, deepening the kiss. Instinctively, her legs enveloped his hips. She ground herself against the hardness in his slacks, arching her body into his.

"Oh baby girl, you are undoubtedly my favorite dessert," he said between kisses, his hands reaching for hers. He brought them above her head and caught both wrists in one hand.

His free hand trailed down her body, pausing momentarily to tug at one nipple clamp. He let out a chuckle at her sharp intake of breath. He trailed kisses along her jaw, ear and collar as he continued plucking at the clamp, moaning his approval with her harsh intakes of breaths.

"So responsive," he breathed, drawing back to watch her face as he played with the nipple clamps at her breast. "My good girl. Open your eyes and look at me."

Lazily, she opened her orgasm-glazed eyes. He took in her parted, swollen lips and glittering dark irises. He moaned, bringing his forehead to hers, offering her a clear view of the fire in his eyes.

"Are you ready, piccola mia?" he asked, skimming a kiss across her lips.

She glanced at him, disoriented.

"I'm still hungry," he replied, a predatory grin unfurling across his lips.

To be continued...