The Mafia’s Obsession

He brushes a finger over my clit, and my flesh ripples in response. He smiles. “I think she does want attention. I can do that. I can do that.”

Alessio slides down to the floor, kneeling in front of the couch. My legs start to close, and he forces them back open, giving my pussy a slap. “Don’t close them. If it happens again, you’re getting a spanking.”

I nod, thighs quivering as I hold my legs as far apart as I can. He makes approving eye contact, then starts to kiss my inner thighs and pussy lips, everywhereexceptfor my clit.Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

Oh, fuck. He loves teasing me like this. Giving me almost what I want, but not quite. I would hate him for it if I didn’t love it so much. The orgasms he gives me after a round of teasing are hard to even describe.

He kisses his way up one of my thighs, all the way to the knee, then back down. Then he does the other thigh while I glare at him. He just smirks. “You’re going to get what you want when I decide, not when you decide.”

When he finally wraps his lips around my clit, I’m ready to burst.

I moan into the ball gag, throwing my head back. His lips and tongue explore my bundle of nerves, each tiny movement sending pleasure sizzling through my body.

“You have my permission to come whenever you get there,” he growls, making eye contact. “Just this one time.”

All I can do is moan in response, my climax building. He keeps his face buried between my legs, licking and sucking me as I squirm my pussy against him.

Even though he already gave me permission, I still imagine myself asking for it, and him granting it to me, as I come. At this point, it’s just part of the routine, and I like it. It makes me feel connected to him. I like that my orgasms are for him.

I writhe on the couch as the pleasure tears through me, burning down everything else. Before my pussy is even finished twitching, Alessio is unbuckling, and then thrusting himself inside me.

“Oh, fuckkkkk,”I gasp as he pulls the gag out of my mouth. “Oh my god, Alessio…”

He grips my thighs, face screwed up with concentration as he fucks me with everything he has. His shirt hangs open and I see his abs flexing with every thrust, the V-lines that lead down to his crotch rippling.

“Yes,” he grunts, closing his eyes. “Oh, fuck yes…”

His cock twitches inside me, filling me with a spreading warmth. He pulls it out, shooting the next couple of ropes all over my pussy, navel, and boobs. Some of it even reaches my neck. He looks down at me with satisfaction in his eyes.

Mine, is what I want him to say. But he doesn’t. His face hardens, and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m going to the gym.”

What? He’s leaving? Now? I have no idea how to respond to that. I want to cuddle. To talk to him. To feel close.

“Is the gym open this late?” I ask lamely, swallowing my hurt feelings.

“The one downstairs is 24 hours.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“I might be. Feel free to go to bed without me if I get back too late.”

Alessio

The next day, I get a call from Sal. “Bad news, boss,” he tells me. “Couple of our boys got into it with some Irish kids at a South Side bar. No one killed, but there were some injuries. Tensions pretty high.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Have your people on alert. Have you been able to get in touch with Colin Maroney?”

“Yeah, I put out a feeler. He wants to meet. One on one. Not sure if it’s a good idea.”

“Tell him I’m amenable to a meeting if we pick a neutral location.”

“You sure about that? Colin’s a real tough customer.”

I think of Ayla, trapped at home until this business concludes. “I’m sure. I need this bullshit over with.”

Ayla

That afternoon, I decide to leave Alessio’s apartment. I don’t need groceries or anything, and honestly, I’m not even really going stir crazy yet.

What I want is to get his attention.

There’s a bubble tea shop right across the street from the penthouse, and it has outdoor seating. I get myself a drink and sit outside at one of the tables, somewhere I know he’ll see me as he pulls into the parking garage. Is it immature? Maybe. But I know it’s going to get me punished, which is what I want.

Last night felt bad. By the time Alessio finally came back from his “workout,” I had been in bed for at least an hour. And he barely spoke a word to me this morning before leaving the house.

In the back of my mind, my father’s words continue to haunt me. If Alessio knows something about our engagement that he hasn’t told me, that hurts. But not as much as him pulling away. In the aftermath of the car bomb, all I want is the security of our growing closeness.

At least if I earn a spanking, he’ll be forced to focus on me again.

I watch the street nervously, my eyes catching on every Tesla that passes by. Then I realize he doesn’t have a Tesla anymore, just a rental car I haven’t seen. Shit, I won’t even know when he gets home. This is slightly nerve-racking.

Alessio will probably be angry with me, scold me for putting myself in danger. Except I’m not! He admitted himself that this neighborhood is safe. And I know from growing up in the mob life that families aren’t targets.

I shift in my seat, unable to relax. I’m expecting to have a very sore ass by the time I go to bed tonight.

***

Alessio

My vision catches on something as I pull my rental car into the garage at my penthouse. It’s the cafe across the street. The woman sitting at the table outside looks surprisingly like…

Itis. God dammit. My eyes narrow as I recognize Ayla, looking pretty as anything in a short white skirt and tights, sipping her drink. The moment I park my car, I get out and cross the street.

Ayla sees me coming down the sidewalk, and I can tell she’s been expecting me. Jesus Christ. She’s only been at home for two days and she’s already breaking the rules I set down for her. Is she trying to get herself fucking killed?

There are going to be consequences. Serious ones.

“How’s your boba?” I ask, stopping in front of her table.

“Pretty good,” she says, eyeing me guiltily. “I figured since I didn’t leave the neighborhood, and you said the neighborhood was safe-”

I silence her with a look. She shudders, glancing down at her drink, and then at me.

“We’re going home,” I say, holding out my hand.”Now.”

She shudders again, then stands up and takes my outstretched hand. We cross the street, and I don’t let go of her until it’s time to unlock the front door.

Once we’re inside, the tension is palpable. Ayla knows she’s in trouble, and she’s waiting on my word.

Yeah, she’s in trouble, all right.

The moment our shoes are off, I grab her by the waist, drag her over to the living room, and throw her over my knee.

“Hey!” she protests as I flip up her skirt and yank down her tights, exposing her ass. Her perky cheeks tempt me, separated only by the thin strip of a turquoise thong.

Right now, though, I’m worried about more than sex. The skin on her ass is currently pale, but soon it will be red with my handprints.

“I think I made the rules very clear,” I growl, delivering hard spanks to each of her cheeks. “You knew exactly where you were going to end up, leaving the apartment like that. Right here. Right fucking here.”

Ayla starts struggling, trying to get away, but I hold her in place, pinning her arms behind her back.

“Bad girl. You don’t try to get away from me when I’m punishing you. You just made things a lot worse for yourself.”

I pepper her ass with spanks until she whimpers, then hook my fingers under the waistband of her panties. She tries to stop me, managing to pull one of her hands away from my grasp, but I just pin it again, giving her ass a hard slap for the trouble.

“You want to be a bad girl, you’re going to get punished like one.”

Pinning her wrists with one hand, I use the other to work her panties down her legs. They dangle at her knees along with her tights, her pussy now fully exposed to me. She squirms in place, grunting with frustration.

“You knew damn well this would happen,” I hiss furiously, stroking two fingers from the back of her knee all the way up to her hips. “You were testing me. Testing the boundaries.”

“Maybe,” she admits.

“Well, congratulations, you got what you wanted. Now you deal with the consequences. I hope the boba was fucking worth it.”

With that, I start methodically spanking her ass, pulling my hand back and then slapping it down with force. She yelps with every impact, butt jiggling pleasingly. I focus on the left cheek, and then the right, going back and forth, and soon, a red handprint starts to form on either side.

“We are on the verge of a fucking mob war,” I growl, continuing to punish her. “My job is to keep you safe. And that means”-I punctuate my words with a spank-“you stay!”-smack-“in!”-smack-“this!”-smack-“apartment!”

I finish with a hearty spank across both cheeks, giving Ayla a chance to catch her breath.

“Okay, fine,” she grumbles, trying to get off of my lap.

I chuckle grimly, holding her in place, then remove her tights as she struggles. “Did I say your punishment was over? You keep your ass exactly the fuck where it is.”

“I think you’re just being-” Ayla’s words are cut off as I stuff her panties into her mouth. She glares at me, quivering.

I sink my fingers into the back of her hair and push her head down into the couch. “You don’t disobey me, Ayla. Not in situations like this. There are cute infractions, and there are serious ones. This is a serious one. The most important rule I have is preserving your safety. There willalwaysbe firm consequences for breaking that rule.”

I return to spanking her, making sure that she feels every swat. Soon, she’s yelping and whimpering, her ass cheeks a bright shade of crimson. I keep the punishment going until I can see the surrender, feelthat she’s nearing her breaking point.

“Spread your legs for me,” I order, roughly squeezing one of her cheeks.

She surrenders meekly, sniffling with her panties still in her mouth. Her legs part, and I see that her pussy is very wet.

“I’m going to give you pussy spanks, and you’re going to count. If I take your panties out of your mouth, are you going to be a good girl and count for me?”

She nods, face red.

“Okay. Show me that you’re submitting now, and I’ll only give you 15 swats instead of 25.”

She groans, earning a spank.

“Enough of that. Full submission, or this punishment is going to last a lot longer.”

Her shoulders slump, and even though a gentle growl rumbles in her throat, she nods her head.

I take the panties out and give her pussy a slap. She moans, trembling.

“One,” Ayla whimpers, voice shaking.

“Good girl. Keep counting for me.” I spank her pussy again.

“Two…”

We get all the way up to 12 before I sense any hesitance. But on the 13th slap, she pauses several seconds before saying the number.

“Ayla,”I growl, squeezing her hair. “Am I going to have to start over?”

“No,” she says hurriedly, as though snapping out of it. “Thirteen.”

I smirk, allowing my finger to brush against her clit and enjoying the resulting twitch. “That’s what I thought. Two more. Count.”

I pause, drawing out the tension, and then deliver the 14th swat.

“Fourteen,” my wife whimpers.

For a moment I just examine her on my lap, all of her delicate parts splayed out before me. She’s so much smaller than me, so soft and feminine. I just want to touch her and rule her and own her all the time.

Then the memory of my Tesla exploding flashes into my mind, accompanied by that awful pang of loss I’ve never been able to escape. I can’t feel that again. Not with her.

As long as Ayla is with me, I won’t ever be safe.

“Fifteen,” she gasps as I deliver the final hit. “Sir.”

A satisfied growl rumbles in my throat at the word.

Sir.

I’m going to miss that. Badly.

I pat her ass, then motion for her to stand up. “Okay. I’m going to get your plug now.”