A Thief in Venice (8 page)

Lucia:

It was December. I was still seeing Antonio, and still making rather futile attempts at the Madonna. Tonight, we were hanging out in his kitchen.

I eyed Antonio. I sensed a fight coming, and I was bracing myself for it.

“I don’t want to go with you to the Doge’s Palace Gala,” I said. There. I’d said it. Now I squared my shoulders and prepared for the fight.

“Why not?” His tone was mild. We were cooking dinner. I was in charge of chopping vegetables and Antonio was tending to the sauce on the stove. Maria’s daughter was about to have a baby, and she’d taken a few days off to go and visit her. I didn’t think Antonio could survive, but he had surprised me by being an excellent cook. And he could even do his own dishes.

“You are the museum’s largest donor. I don’t want people looking at me differently at work.”

“You do realize that most of the city already knows we are dating?” he pointed out.

I nodded. “That’s gossip, and I can’t do anything about it,” I responded. “Well, I guess I could hide out in your dungeon and never go out with you anywhere, but that seems a bit dramatic.”

He grinned at me from the stove. The heat had given his face the slightest flush, and he looked adorable. I fought the desire to walk over and touch him. The last time I had done that, we had set our dinner on fire, and it had taken three days for the burned smell in the kitchen to dissipate.

“But I don’t need to confirm or deny it by going with you to the Gala.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Really?” I was startled. I was expecting to fight about this.

He shrugged. “It’s your career. You know best. I’m not thrilled that you don’t want to acknowledge you are dating me, but that’s your call to make.”

“That’s very grown-up of you,” I said cautiously. I honestly had been expecting a scene. I realized I should have given Antonio more credit. He had always treated me with respect. I moved the veggies over to the stove, and slid them into a heated skillet.

“Did you expect me to pout and throw a tantrum?” He sounded amused. “Give me a little credit, Lucia. Can you grab some plates, please?”

I brought a couple of bowls over, and he slid pasta and veggies onto them. We took our plates over to the table in the corner where Antonio ate most of his meals, and we dug in without speaking.

“Why so quiet, Lucia?” he asked me, as the silence between us grew.

“You aren’t who I expected you to be,” I replied.

He grinned at me. “Neither are you, little thief. What are you planning for my Madonna next?”

I laughed. “I’m hardly going to tell you when I’m going to steal your painting,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows. “As I remember, you did, Lucia. You wrote me a note? Back in the summer?” He smirked, and I groaned as the memory of that particular letter came flooding back.

“Umm, I might have been attracted to you,” I said.

He held out his hand, and I linked my fingers in his. “Come show me,” he said. “You want to play?”

I nodded. We made our way downstairs.

***

Antonio:

So I knew Lucia was attracted to me, and she knew I was attracted to her. But to hear her say it?

It felt good. Really, really good.

And when she went to the cupboard where the toys were stored, and pulled out the collar we’d used just once, and handed it to me, it felt a lot better. Because actions had meaning, and there was a very specific message she was giving me along with the collar.

I looked at her intently.

“Stay with honesty or go, right?” she asked with a little smile. “Aren’t those the rules here?”

I just nodded. I don’t think I could have formed words in that moment.

She knelt in front of me, and lifted her hair, her eyes meeting mine. “Please?”

“Why?” My voice was slightly hoarse. I kept my eyes on her face.

“I’ve always trusted you in here,” she said, gesturing to the dungeon. “But outside? What you said upstairs about my career matters.” She looked at the collar. “Please?”

Neither of us were interested in anything resembling 24/7 submission. There were plenty of times when we’d had vanilla sex; many nights when we’d just curled up in bed and watched TV. In many ways, this wasn’t a major gesture.

But I knew Lucia. I knew the significance of what she offered. This was a commitment. And when I buckled the collar around her neck, we would be bound to each other.

“Stand up, sweetness,” I said. I was vaguely surprised my voice wasn’t shaking. She lifted herself up, still holding her hair out of the way, her gaze on mine. I placed the collar around her neck, and as I tightened the straps, it felt like the sweet touch of a hand on my heart.

We both just stayed there for a long instant. Then, she reached to me, and laced her fingers in mine. She gulped, and I did too, and then we both laughed a little as the tension in the room slowly eased.

When she finally spoke, her voice was wry. “Well, neither of us ran screaming from the dungeon, so that’s a win.”

I laughed. My sweet little thief. Gods, I loved her.

Lucia:

He hadn’t really even touched me, and I already felt like I’d run a marathon. I think we were both a little surprised by the emotional impact of what we’d done.

“Want to take a break from this room for a bit?” His voice was quiet.

“Please,” I said with a small laugh. I was still wearing my clothes, but I was also wearing a collar round my neck. My fingers reached out and touched it.

“Do you want to take it off while we go upstairs?” He sounded relaxed. “It’s really just for the play.”

I shook my head. “I’ll take it off tonight, but can I keep it on now?” The collar was messing with my head, and in a good way. Antonio’s eyes kept returning to it, and there was heat in his eyes. I felt sexual and owned and cherished.

We went upstairs, and we cleared up the dishes. Antonio washed up; I dried. We talked about movies and art and I teased him about his cars and watched him flush in embarrassment. Then, when we were done with the chores, he turned to me and he pointed to a spot near the kitchen table.

“Go stand there.” I obeyed.

“Take off your clothes.” I wordlessly got naked, tossing my clothes carelessly aside, my blood pounding in anticipation. He shook his head in mild disapproval. “Fold them up, Lucia,” he chided, and I rolled my eyes at him as I complied.

“Don’t be a brat,” he said. There was laughter in his voice. “Kneel where you are standing, please.”

I got onto my knees, the tile cold against me. I could feel my pussy start to clench in arousal and drip in anticipation. Goose bumps rose on my skin as I shivered slightly in sexual tension.

“Is it cold in here?” he asked immediately.

“Just anticipation,” I murmured.

He laughed. “Do you want me to take the edge off, sweetness? Make you come?”

“Yes please,” I said promptly. It was most likely a futile appeal. He would eventually let me orgasm, but it would be after he had brought me to the edge again and again. He would draw it out until every muscle in my body was screaming for release. Until my pleas turned incoherent; until I was convinced with every fibre of my being that I was going to crash into orgasm whether he willed it or not. I would be edged until I could no longer hold back, and then, and only then, would I be allowed to come. The sweetest cruelty.

He walked in front of me, pulled up a chair and seated himself on it. He unzipped his fly, and pulled his cock out. He was already erect, and I licked my lips as I met his gaze. He just chuckled.

“Spread your knees apart,” he ordered, one hand stroking his cock. I watched transfixed for an instant until my brain caught up, and I complied. My eyes stayed on his hand though, pumping his cock up and down. Gods, I loved watching a man stroke himself in front of me. It was such an intimate act.

His eyes were on me, a slight smile playing about his lips. “So, no blindfold then?” he asked me with an amused edge in his voice.

“Please, no,” I begged. I wanted to watch him come. I wanted to see him clench and explode, and I wanted to lick the ropes of come off his fingers and his stomach after.

“You want to watch?” His voice was a thin sheet of control stretched taut over desire. A shiver of anticipation ran through me.

“I want to watch,” I affirmed. “Please,” I added submissively. The wrong tone, and the blindfold would come out.

He laughed softly.

“Cup your breasts,” he ordered. “And squeeze. Gently.” His hand moved up and down on his cock, and I moaned as I watched, following his orders without really thinking about what he was asking me.

“No, no,” he chided. “If you don’t pay attention to what you are doing, I’ll blindfold you.”

I gulped and nodded. “Sorry,” I said meekly.

“Put your thumb in your mouth and wet it,” he directed, a ragged edge in his voice. I obeyed.

“Good, now rub your thumb across your nipple.” I watched my breasts as my nipple swelled under the touch of my thumb.

“Run your fingernail over it,” he ordered, and my pussy dripped as I obeyed, the slight pressure of my nail a delicious sensation on my engorged nipple.

“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “Do the same thing to the other nipple.”

I moved my thumb to the other breast, but he stopped me, shaking his head in disapproval. “Put your thumb in your mouth and wet it first,” he ordered, and I did, my cheeks flushed and my eyes sparkling with pleasure as I obeyed him.

“Are you wet, sweetness?” His voice a smoky rasp that sent need surging through me.

“I am, Sir,” I replied, and I blushed at the fact that I called him Sir. The collar was messing with my head in more ways than one. His lips twitched at that, but he let it slide.

“Show me,” he ordered instead. “Part those lips with your fingers, let me see how wet you are.”

I spread my knees as wide as they would go, and my fingers opened my pussy so that I was exposed to his burning gaze. Though my body was tingling in anticipation, I was also strangely relaxed as my lover’s eyes bored into my wet snatch.

“Stick two fingers in,” he ordered. He had stopped pumping his cock as he had watched me play with my nipples, but he stroked his hard member again. His eyes never left my body.

I pushed two fingers into my dripping folds, and groaned as my hips moved involuntarily to suck my fingers deeper. He laughed at my movement, and shook his head.
Stay still.
Damn it.

“Stick your fingers in your mouth, sweetness. Show me how good you taste.”

I obeyed, and I deliberately put on a show for him, my tongue snaking out and licking each finger delicately before I pushed both fingers in my mouth and hollowed in my cheeks. He groaned – a sweet loss of control, and his hand moved slightly faster on his cock. I could see the precum glisten on the tip, and I wanted to lick it. I growled deep in my throat in need.

“What do you want, little thief?” he asked me.

“I want to suck your cock, Sir,” I responded, blushing. The collar was putting me in a place where the Sir came out instinctively, and it was a pretty transparent tell.

He smiled at me. “Crawl forward,” he suggested, with a glint in his eyes.

I grinned back. “Gladly,” I winked, and I did an exaggerated, cat-like prowl towards him, keeping my thighs tightly pressed together to increase the aching of my pussy. His eyes were hot on my face as I moved forward, and there was open appreciation in his face.

“Next time you do that, I think I’ll add nipple clamps,” he said thoughtfully. “With little bells that chime as you crawl. Would you like that, sweetness?”

Fuck yes. The image almost made me come without any physical simulation whatsoever.

“Did you come just now, little thief?” he asked me, his voice stern.

“No, but I’m really close,” I admitted. “If I beg you to let me come, will it work?”

He laughed. “Try,” he suggested, with an amused look in his eyes. Oh, I knew that look. I was in for a one heck of a night.

“Please, may I come, Sir?” I didn’t know how he felt about the Sir, but I figured it didn’t hurt. And right now, I’d do almost anything if he’d let me come.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to suck my cock, little thief?” he chided. “You must learn to focus. Come on, get your pretty little mouth on my dick.”

I gulped. Sucking him always made me insanely wet. I was already trembling in arousal. I didn’t want to come without permission, but it was going to be a close thing. Luckily, he knew it as well. “Oh, you can touch yourself while you suck my cock,” he said. “And you can orgasm.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

I looked at him, arousal balanced with suspicion. I’d usually have to wait much longer and beg a lot harder. What was he planning?

He looked at me impassively. “Are you planning on being all day?” he asked me politely, but with a snap in his voice that told me I was about to earn myself a punishment if I didn’t get my mouth on his dick in a hurry.

I lowered my face onto his cock with a smile, gripped the base of his shaft with one hand, and my tongue snaked out and licked precum off his head. My other hand sneaked down to my pussy, and I spread the dripping wetness around my clitoris, and started tracing tight circles around it. As I got closer and closer to my climax, my pace on Antonio’s cock got more frantic, until I heard him groan, and his hands came out to grab my head and hold me in place while he spurted ropes of come down my throat.

His climax, his grip on my hair - that was all it took. I rubbed harder, tighter, and I let myself explode, shaking and groaning and slumping as the clenching waves of pleasure swept through my body.

“Mmm,” I moaned eventually, leaning against Antonio’s legs as I sat on the floor. The tile was shockingly cold against my ass.

“You aren’t done,” Antonio’s voice pulled me out of my daze. “Water?”

I nodded, and drank the glass of water he handed me. I had climaxed on his kitchen floor. I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to look at Maria, his sixty-year old housekeeper without blushing.

“What’s the matter?”

“Maria,” I said ruefully, and my lips twitched at his startled bark of laughter.

“She’ll pray for our souls,” Antonio said dryly. “Come now, drink up, take a bathroom break if you need, then I want you on top of the table, ass at the edge, keeping those legs spread.”

I wandered into the washroom in a daze, running my fingers through my hair in an attempt at curbing the tangles. My fingers touched the collar again, and I examined my face in the mirror. I didn’t look different, but I felt different. A strange languor was in me as I ceded control to Antonio. Wearing a collar all the time would do nothing for me, but right now? At this moment, the collar put me in a really good place.