Home > 365 Days (365 days # 1)(23)

365 Days (365 days # 1)(23)
Author: Blanka Lipinska

“I’ll repeat it one last time: move or I’ll move you myself.”

Again, I couldn’t help it—his tone made my hackles rise. I wanted to resist, if only to see where it took us. I also knew he was pretty good at punishing me and making me do things, but was that something I was entirely against?

“You order me around like a dog. I am no dog.”

I inhaled, intending to berate him for treating me like that, but I didn’t manage to say another word. Massimo pulled me out of the car by force and then threw me into the front seat. He pulled my hands back, behind the backrest.

“Not a dog. A bitch,” he hissed, tying my hands with some kind of strap.

Before I realized what was happening, I was sitting tied to the passenger seat, and the Man in Black sat behind the steering wheel. I started to wriggle my fingers, trying to feel my way around, and discovered that I was tied with the same bathrobe belt as back in the plane.

“You like to tie women up?” I asked as he was fiddling with some settings on the dashboard.

“It’s not a question of preference in your case.”

He pressed the ignition button and a woman’s voice from the GPS directed him as he started to drive.

“My back hurts. And my arms,” I said after a couple of minutes.

“Well, I’m hurt, too, but for an entirely different reason. Want to compare?”

I knew he was angry or frustrated. I couldn’t differentiate between those two feelings in him, but I had no idea what I had done to cause this. And even if it wasn’t my fault, he was taking it all out on me.

“Ty cholerny, uparty egoisto,” I whispered in Polish. You damned, stubborn egomaniac. “As soon as you untie me, I’ll smack you so hard you’ll have to look for your teeth on the ground,” I ranted, still in Polish.

Massimo slowed down and stopped at a traffic light, turning to me and fixing me with a furious glare. “Now repeat that in English,” he growled.

I smiled disdainfully and spewed a whole litany of profanities in Polish—all directed at him. He didn’t move, but his glare was growing more furious by the second. As soon as the light turned green, he stepped on the accelerator.

“I’ll get rid of your pain. Or at least take your mind off it,” he said, and started unbuttoning my pants with his right hand. His left hand was still on the steering wheel, but the right one slipped under my panties. I squirmed and jerked in my seat, cursing him and begging him not to do it, but it was too late.

“Massimo, I’m sorry!” I cried, trying to get out of his reach. “I’m not in pain anymore! And what I said in Polish—”

“Not interested in that anymore,” he said. “But if you don’t pipe down, I’ll have to gag you. I’d like to hear the GPS if you don’t mind, so shut up.”

His hand slid deeper into my underwear, and I felt a wave of panic flooding me. At the same time, I grew completely docile and stopped resisting.

“You promised you wouldn’t do anything against my wishes,” I whispered, leaning back.

Massimo’s fingers irritated my clitoris, smearing it with wetness that appeared as soon as he touched me.

“I’m not doing anything against your wishes. I’m just making sure your hands aren’t in pain anymore.”

His touch was growing harder, and the circular motions were sending me down the abyss of his absolute power over me. I squeezed my eyes shut and reveled in the feeling he was giving me. I knew he was acting on instinct—he had to divide his attention between two things: driving and punishing me.

I squirmed in my seat, rhythmically rubbing my hips against the leather, when the car suddenly stopped. I felt his hand leaving, though he really should have kept working on it for a couple of minutes more. Then my ties loosened.

“We’re here,” Massimo announced, killing the engine.

I stared at him from half-closed eyelids. A voice in my head was screaming, raging and cursing him. How could he leave a woman on the cusp of ecstasy and despair like that? I didn’t have to say it aloud. I knew well enough what his motivation had been. He wanted me to beg him. He wanted to show me how much I desired him, despite rebelling against anything and everything he said and did.

“That’s great,” I replied, rubbing at my wrists. They hurt so much I nearly went mad. “I hope whatever was hurting you has stopped,” I called provocatively, shrugging at the same time.

Here it was—that big red button in his head again. The Man in Black shot out with an arm, pulling me over himself, so I sat astride him with my back to the steering wheel. He grabbed me by the back of my neck and pressed my snatch against his hard cock. I moaned, feeling him rubbing against my sensitive clit.

“What hurts me,” he hissed, his fury threatening to boil over, “is that I haven’t come in your mouth yet.”

His hips were undulating lazily. That movement and the pressure of his penis made me breathless.

“And you won’t for a long, long time yet,” I whispered, my mouth close to his. I licked his lower lip then. “I’m beginning to enjoy the game you make me play,” I added cheerfully.

He froze, watching me closely, looking for answers to questions yet unasked. I don’t know how long we spent there, looking at each other, but our silent battle was interrupted by knocking on the window. Massimo lowered the glass, revealing the not-too-surprised face of Domenico. That guy certainly looks like he’s seen everything, I thought.

He said a couple of sentences in Italian, ignoring our position, and Massimo shook his head quickly. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it was clear the Man in Black wanted to have nothing to do with what Domenico was suggesting. When they were finished, Massimo opened the door and stepped out, keeping his hold on me. We headed toward the hotel he had parked the car next to. I was still clutching him, my legs around his hips. I could feel the surprised stares of the other guests as we passed them without a word, Massimo keeping a poker face.

“I’m not paralyzed or anything,” I said, raising my eyebrows and shaking my head slightly.

“I hope not, but there are a few reasons why I won’t let you go. At least two I can think of off the bat.”

We passed the reception desk and entered the elevator, where Massimo propped me against the wall. Our lips touched.

“The first one is that my erect cock is about to rip through my pants, and the second that yours have a wet stain on them and the only things that could cover it were my hands and your hips.”

I bit my lip, hearing this. He was making sense.

The bell in the elevator signaled that we reached our floor. Having taken a few steps outside, Massimo used the card he had gotten from Domenico to open the door to our monumental apartment. He put me down.

“I’d like to take a shower now,” I said, looking around for my bags.

“Everything you need is in the bathroom. I need to go out and deal with a few things,” he said, putting his cell phone to his ear and vanishing into the cavernous living room.

I took a shower and applied a hefty dose of vanilla lotion, which I found in the bathroom cabinet. I left the bathroom and walked through the apartment, finally finding what I was looking for—a bottle of my favorite bubbly beverage. I helped myself to a glass, then another, and another. I watched TV, drank champagne, and wondered where my oppressor had gone. Sometime later, out of boredom, I started to explore the apartment. It took up most of the hotel floor. When I reached the last door, I opened it and went in. Suddenly I found myself in pitch darkness. My eyes had to adjust for a while.

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