Mob Mistress by Renee Rose Page B

her chuckle. She preferred owner to boyfriend, somehow.
    When a bouquet of lavender roses arrived with a note of congratulations from Bobby, she wiped all resentments from her mind. She didn’t need to be a glass half empty kind of girl. Or look a gift horse in the mouth. Or whatever other metaphor fit the situation.
    Still, she found herself checking her phone that night, waiting for the text that never came.
    At 11:00, she finally gave up and changed into her pajamas, turned out the lights and went to bed.
    She woke to the sound of Bobby’s voice. “Hey, baby,” he said, climbing over the covers, reaching for her. His hands closed around her breasts, stroked down her body.
    “Hey,” she said groggily as her body warmed under his lustful stroking.
    He slid one hand down the front of her pajama pants to cup her mons. “You’re getting a whipping tonight,” he murmured in her ear.
    She froze. “What did I do?”
    “Nothing,” he said, his fingers gliding over her wet pussy. “I just want to take my belt to your ass.” He rolled her to her belly, pinning her down with his body. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me, or do I have to wait until you’re naughty?”
    His words made her squirm. Or maybe it was his hands. Her body ignited under his possessive handling.
    “You’re the boss,” she whispered, experiencing a certain power in being asked, excitement at giving him something he wanted, combined with the thrill of fear at knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt he enjoyed delivering pain.
    He grasped her hair and tugged her head back. “That’s right, I am the boss of you, aren’t I, little girl?”
    “Yes, sir,” she whimpered.
    He nipped her ear with his teeth. “I love it when you call me sir. ”
    His approval excited her further, the same way the words “good girl” warmed her.
    He climbed off her and pulled the covers back. “Put a pillow under your hips,” he demanded.
    Her heart rate increased, palms turning sweaty as she obeyed, sliding the pillow under her hips.
    In the darkness, she sensed Bobby get off the bed and walk around to her side.
    “Who do you belong to?”
    “You.”
    “Are you mine to do anything I want to?”
    She turned her head to face the direction of his voice, blinking into the darkness. “Yes.”
    “To fuck any way I want to?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m yours.”
    He moved near her head and she heard the sound of a zipper. “Open your mouth.”
    She reached for his cock, but he caught her wrist.
    “No hands,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “I want to fuck your mouth.”
    She found the head of his cock with her lips and he pushed in, aggressively.
    “I can fuck your mouth, can’t I, little girl? Because I can do whatever I want with you.”
    She made a muffled sound of assent.
    He gripped the back of her head and plunged slowly in and out of her mouth, controlling her completely.
    “And your ass? I can fuck your ass when I want, too, right, little girl?”
    She gave another muffled assent, even though the idea frightened her.
    He withdrew from her mouth and she heard the jingle of his belt buckle and the whoosh of his belt pulling free from the loops.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “Put another pillow under your hips,” he ordered, only a few strokes from orgasm.
    The way she scrambled to comply made him dizzy with lust for her, the power and euphoria of dominance surging through him.
    He folded his belt in half and helped Lexi get situated over the pillows. “Push your ass up for me,” he commanded, pressing down on her low back to tip her pelvis.
    Her lustful moan made him draw a quick breath.
    He tapped the belt to her backside, perfecting his aim in the dim light. He slapped it across her buttocks with little force, since it wasn’t punishment and he wanted to ease her into it. He continued to apply it lightly while she made little gasps and waggled her ass as if tempting him to whip harder.
    After twenty strokes, he increased the intensity, slowing