rod with leather straps on either end. He positioned it between her knees, spreading them almost two feet, and then secured the leather straps around her legs. Next he took the ball and gagged her, then secured it around her head. The coup de grace came when he pulled out a large strap-on penis from another drawer.
“I bet she doesn’t know it’s a strap-on,” Stevie mused.
Spoltori stripped and positioned the strap over his flaccid penis and secured it. Next he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. With no preamble, he dipped a finger into the woman’s vagina. Stevie couldn’t help it. She squirmed in her chair as the woman pulled on the ropes, obviously enjoying it, but her action earned a sharp slap on the ass from Mario, stilling her.
As his finger dipped in and out of her vagina, the woman remained statue still, but her skin was flushed beneath a soft sheen of perspiration. Despite the wrongness of Spoltori, Stevie’s nether regions constricted with each slide of his finger into the woman, imaging that it was her restrained as Jack had his way with her.
When Mario slid a finger into the woman’s anus, she pulled hard on the ropes again. Earning her another slap on the ass.
Jack’s breathing patterns had shifted from normal to shallow. He felt it, too. How could he not? He was a dominant, and minus the violence and paraphernalia of the scene playing out before them it was erotically similar in many ways to their one night together.
Holy hell.
“I think it’s telling how with the exception of her fellating him, he doesn’t allow any actual skin to skin contact,” Stevie said, trying to make her voice sound normal. But the husky edge to it was undeniable. She was aroused to the point of wanting Jack to take what she had dreamed of giving him these last seven years.
“The only thing he likes about women is humiliating them,” he said hoarsely.
Jack had never humiliated her. Quite the opposite. He had infused her with power.
When Spoltori had the woman primed, he slid the huge strap-on into her. Stevie bit her bottom lip imagining Jack sliding into her.
“Don’t,” Jack growled.
“Don’t what?” she breathlessly asked.
“Make that sound.”
“I didn’t make any sound!” She still refused to take her eyes off the lens. If she looked at Jack he’d see the need in her eyes and she couldn’t say she wouldn’t stop him from touching her if he chose.
“Yes you did. It was the same sound you made the first time I slid into you.”
Stevie squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop it,” she whispered as she watched Spoltori go to Pound Town on the strap-on fuck train.
Try as she did, fighting down her raging libido was impossible. What was being played out before her with her ex-lover sitting thigh to thigh with her, their breaths steaming the space up between them, was too intense to fight. Transfixed, neither one of them flinched.
When Spoltori’s session with the woman finally ended, Stevie stood on wobbly legs. Without looking at Jack, whose hot gaze she knew bore into her, she stumbled past him and said, “I need to get some air.” Then literally ran from the surveillance room, leaving a rigid Jack sitting silent in his chair.
She didn’t go back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
T he evening was warm. The air sultry. Her body tense. The episode earlier with Jack, as Spoltori went at it with the woman, had Stevie so worked up on so many planes that she hung on to her self-control by her nails. One push and she’d be spiraling out of control.
Heavy metal music blared from the overhead speakers in her converted garage, bombarding Stevie’s brain into numbness. Sweat slickened, stripped down to nothing but a pair of black biking shorts and black sports bra, Stevie beat the snot out of the heavy bag. Each time her knuckles slammed into the leather, denting it, she smiled, imagining Jack’s pretty face exploding into thousands of pieces of blood, bone, and muscle.
She was a fool! How many
“I bet she doesn’t know it’s a strap-on,” Stevie mused.
Spoltori stripped and positioned the strap over his flaccid penis and secured it. Next he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. With no preamble, he dipped a finger into the woman’s vagina. Stevie couldn’t help it. She squirmed in her chair as the woman pulled on the ropes, obviously enjoying it, but her action earned a sharp slap on the ass from Mario, stilling her.
As his finger dipped in and out of her vagina, the woman remained statue still, but her skin was flushed beneath a soft sheen of perspiration. Despite the wrongness of Spoltori, Stevie’s nether regions constricted with each slide of his finger into the woman, imaging that it was her restrained as Jack had his way with her.
When Mario slid a finger into the woman’s anus, she pulled hard on the ropes again. Earning her another slap on the ass.
Jack’s breathing patterns had shifted from normal to shallow. He felt it, too. How could he not? He was a dominant, and minus the violence and paraphernalia of the scene playing out before them it was erotically similar in many ways to their one night together.
Holy hell.
“I think it’s telling how with the exception of her fellating him, he doesn’t allow any actual skin to skin contact,” Stevie said, trying to make her voice sound normal. But the husky edge to it was undeniable. She was aroused to the point of wanting Jack to take what she had dreamed of giving him these last seven years.
“The only thing he likes about women is humiliating them,” he said hoarsely.
Jack had never humiliated her. Quite the opposite. He had infused her with power.
When Spoltori had the woman primed, he slid the huge strap-on into her. Stevie bit her bottom lip imagining Jack sliding into her.
“Don’t,” Jack growled.
“Don’t what?” she breathlessly asked.
“Make that sound.”
“I didn’t make any sound!” She still refused to take her eyes off the lens. If she looked at Jack he’d see the need in her eyes and she couldn’t say she wouldn’t stop him from touching her if he chose.
“Yes you did. It was the same sound you made the first time I slid into you.”
Stevie squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop it,” she whispered as she watched Spoltori go to Pound Town on the strap-on fuck train.
Try as she did, fighting down her raging libido was impossible. What was being played out before her with her ex-lover sitting thigh to thigh with her, their breaths steaming the space up between them, was too intense to fight. Transfixed, neither one of them flinched.
When Spoltori’s session with the woman finally ended, Stevie stood on wobbly legs. Without looking at Jack, whose hot gaze she knew bore into her, she stumbled past him and said, “I need to get some air.” Then literally ran from the surveillance room, leaving a rigid Jack sitting silent in his chair.
She didn’t go back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
T he evening was warm. The air sultry. Her body tense. The episode earlier with Jack, as Spoltori went at it with the woman, had Stevie so worked up on so many planes that she hung on to her self-control by her nails. One push and she’d be spiraling out of control.
Heavy metal music blared from the overhead speakers in her converted garage, bombarding Stevie’s brain into numbness. Sweat slickened, stripped down to nothing but a pair of black biking shorts and black sports bra, Stevie beat the snot out of the heavy bag. Each time her knuckles slammed into the leather, denting it, she smiled, imagining Jack’s pretty face exploding into thousands of pieces of blood, bone, and muscle.
She was a fool! How many
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