Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

S ofia

I put my foot down.

This was fucking ridiculous. Massimo was being an overbearing ass about all of this. I wasn't in any danger. My father was just a tailor, for Christ's sake. He didn't have any enemies. Fuck, he'd gotten arrested on some bullshit tax stuff, not for first degree murder. Massimo didn't need to worry about me, and neither did Papa.

Massimo needed to go home and go about his life. He had far bigger fish to fry than babysitting me. I was a girl who could take care of herself and that was exactly what I was going to do.

I'd figure my shit out.

I huffed, fixing my makeup. On some level, I knew I was toying with Massimo, pushing his buttons to see how far I could go and how far he would let me. Would he drag me out of here? What would he do if I refused to go?

I stared at my reflection, my lips forming a perfect, defiant pout. Sure, it was childish, but I couldn't help myself. Massimo had always been so controlled, so dominant. I wanted to see if I could break through that calm exterior, even if it was just for a moment, for the fun of it, really. Would he force me to go after all of this?

"Sofia," his voice called out, firm and insistent. "What are you doing in there?"

I ignored him, applying another coat of mascara. He could wait. My eyelashes were more important.

The seconds ticked by, and I could almost feel his patience wearing thin. I smiled to myself, relishing the small victory. But then his tone changed, growing darker, more serious, and it did strange things to my insides that I decidedly wanted to ignore.

Things I thought about late at night with my hand between my thighs when my dad was asleep, and Massimo wasn't anywhere close by.

Things that I was deeply ashamed of and would never admit to anyone.

Things like how it would feel if Massimo held me down and forced his big, thick cock between my legs until I screamed his name and flew apart beneath him.

I shivered hard, staring into the mirror. Turning back, I looked over my shoulder.

Did he think those things too or did he think I was just some silly little girl?

My shame struck me like a slap across the face, and my cheeks heated so hot that I felt like they had caught fire. I was losing my mind. I couldn't be thinking like this. There was no way Massimo saw me as anything other than his best friend's kid and that was that.

I had to bury my fantasies somewhere deep and never think about them again.

" Bambina ," he said, the Italian word for little girl making my heart skip a beat, "if you don't open this door right now, I'll break it down."

I froze, the mascara wand hovering in midair. He sounded really angry. My heart pounded in my chest. Was he serious? No. He couldn't be. That would be crazy.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Massimo wouldn't actually break down the door. He was just trying to scare me and force me into being compliant. I took a deep breath and continued fixing my makeup, taking my time just to spite him.

The next thing I knew, there was a loud crash, and the door handle broke off. I jumped, my heart racing as the door swung open. Massimo stood there, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

" Bambina ," he growled, stepping into the bathroom, "I told you to open the door."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Apparently, he hadn't been bluffing.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, dropping the mascara wand into the sink. "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

His eyes softened slightly, but the anger was still there, simmering just below the surface. There was something else in his eyes that I didn't recognize. Was that desire like I'd maybe seen before?

No. It couldn't be. I was just imagining things. Maybe I was going crazy and just making stuff up in my head? Maybe I was going into shock over everything that had happened today.

Or maybe this wasn't a game after all.

I thought I was just toying with him, that I was just being coy and that he'd eventually give up and leave me alone here in my home so I could slide into bed later that night and touch myself while thinking about what could have happened instead.

This was definitely not that.

"I don't have time for games, Sofia. Your safety is more important than your stubbornness," he said, reaching out and taking my arm. "You're not hurt, right?"

"No," I said softly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Without warning, he moved closer, his eyes dark with mysterious intent. He reached out and ran his hands over my body, his touch firm yet gentle. My breath caught in my throat, and a shiver ran down my spine. Every nerve in my body seemed to come alive under his touch, and I could feel a blush spreading across my cheeks.

His hands slid over my shoulders, down my arms, and across my waist, lingering for a moment on my hips. I felt a thrill of something more than just fear—something deeper, more primal. I enjoyed it for what it was, but I was a bit too ashamed to admit it, even to myself.

"You're coming with me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "No more games."

"No," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I don't know why I still refused him at that point. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have, but I needed to stand my ground.

I didn't need him. I could take care of myself.

Without another word, his eyes darkened, his fury simmering just below the surface, and I suddenly got a very bad feeling about all of this, but at the same time, my clit throbbed to life. I could feel my nipples hardening, still safely encased in my bra-lined shirt, and I hoped it was thick enough to hide both tight little points. His hand gripped my upper arm, firmly but still somehow gently as he guided me toward my bed.

Why was him manhandling me like this so hot?

Wait.

Why was he leading me toward the bed? What the fuck was going on? What was he going to do?

The next thing I knew, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling me over his lap. The world tipped sideways, suddenly his hard thighs were pressing against my belly, and I was staring down at the flowery quilt on my bed with my hands out in front of me. I yelped in surprise, struggling against him as his hand pressed down on my hips, pinning me down in place.

"Wait, Massimo, what are you doing?" I exclaimed. He ignored me, his hand moving to the hem of the pretty white lace skirt I was wearing.

What the fuck was happening right now?

"I'm a very powerful man, bambina , and right now, you and I are going to have a very frank discussion about what happens to little girls who tell me ‘No.' And for once, you're going to listen," he said softly and my whole body went rigid. What was he talking about?

Wait.

He couldn't mean to…

No.

He wouldn't spank me, right?

This wasn't what I'd ever imagined, or even remotely fantasized about. I'd thought about him taking me in hand a whole other way, one that involved his cock and me screaming and coming and trembling with how hard of an orgasm he could give me.

Nothing like this.

I mean, Papa did say he was a powerful man, but I'd always seen Massimo as his best friend, an uncle maybe, but nothing more than that. I had never truly understood what that meant until now, until this very moment.

And I had been toying with him like it was a game.

My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and something else—something more exhilarating. I wasn't afraid that he would hurt me. Massimo had always been protective, always caring toward me, but now I was seeing a different side of him, a side that made me realize the weight of my actions and quite possibly regret them.

"Wait, please, Massimo, we can talk about this," I tried.

"I'm done talking, piccola ," he answered, and I stiffened, trying to push up against the bed, but his hold on me meant that I wasn't going anywhere.

Then I noticed something else.

He was hard.

Like really fucking hard.

As in his rock-hard cock was pressed into my belly and all my wiggles and struggles were simply rubbing my body against him and making him harder.

What did this mean?

Did he like this? Did he get off on this?

I swallowed hard, a mix of embarrassment and arousal swirling inside me. He shifted beneath me, his erection unmistakable, and it sent a jolt of desire straight through me.

Wait … What did this mean for me? Why was I aroused right now?

I shouldn't have found any of this even remotely sexy, but my clit throbbed, and the more I struggled, the more his hardness rubbed against me, my core squeezed tight with heated desire, and a strange warmth spread over my skin. What the absolute fuck was wrong with me?

This was humiliating.

Massimo was about to spank me like some kind of disobedient child because that's what this was, right?

But the way his erection kept pressing into me… Maybe that meant something else. What if he just wanted to bare me? Shame me somehow as punishment, maybe? No, that seemed ridiculous.

A man didn't put a woman over his knee for something like that.

I was about to get spanked.

It didn't matter that my mind was trying to come up with anything to dispute the fact that I was in trouble and the consequences of my actions were finally catching up with me. The reality of it was simply that I was about to get spanked for the very first time in my life.

Then he reached down and brushed his fingers against the back of my thighs, right beneath my skirt and I stilled, this all becoming very real, very fast.

"Don't do this, please," I protested.

"It's too late for that," he murmured, and his fingers pushed further under the fabric and began raising it. Each second seemed like an eternity as my skirt lifted, exposing my ass inch by inch until there was nothing but my pair of cheeky white lacy panties covering me.

I felt so exposed. And so impossibly turned on.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Massimo paused for a moment, and I could feel his gaze on my ass, my legs, taking in the sight before him. My cheeks turned molten, and I was suddenly very grateful for my curtain of long, dark brown hair covering my face so he couldn't see the shameful arousal written all over it.

Then, without pomp or circumstance, he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of my panties and shucked them down until they were at the backs of my knees.

Oh, fuck. I hadn't expected that.

My ass was bare in front of Massimo for the first time and not in the way I imagined it being bare so many times before.

Sure, I understood spanking was a thing, but I thought it was for errant children and for fictional men in romance novels. I never thought it could really be something that I would ever experience in my life, especially not from a man like Massimo and not as a fully grown woman either.

A quiet cry escaped my lips as another realization slammed into me.

I was soaked. Not just a little, but the kind of aroused that probably meant that I was dripping.

Could he see it? I pressed my thighs together, trying to hide myself as best as I could, but I was so exposed that a part of me knew that I couldn't escape him seeing, no matter how hard I tried.

Right now, my wet pussy and my bare, vulnerable ass was on display for my dad's best friend, whether I liked it or not.

He cleared his throat and placed a warm hand on the small of my back, his palm heavy and possessive. Each second felt like an eternity, and my nerves were on edge, waiting for him to make his move.

"You've made your point, Massimo. You don't have to do this… you don't have to sp-spa… spank me," I squeaked, my voice trembling far more than I wanted it to.

"The time for talking is over, bambina. I'm going to deal with you as I see fit and then you and I are going to leave together. Am I clear?" he replied.

"Crystal fucking clear," I muttered.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Was I provoking him for a reason? Did a part of me want him to spank me?

No. That was crazy…

Then why was my pussy clenching just at the thought of his big, warm hand, the same hand that had held mine and walked me across the street when I was a young child, spanking my bare ass until I was one very, very sorry girl?

That's it. I was insane.

His palm cracked against my ass for the first time, and I swallowed back a cry of shock at the terrible sting that came along with it.

Oh, fuck .

That hurt. A lot.

He didn't let up though, and the second swat was even harder than the first.

Holy shit.

"This isn't funny anymore," I tried, squirming over his knee, but his other hand still held me firmly in place. I couldn't move an inch.

"It's not meant to be funny, Sofia. It's meant to be a punishment for a very naughty girl who needs a very hard spanking," he countered, and my eyes opened wide as another hard swat landed.

"Please stop," I begged, but the words were hollow, and they fell on deaf ears. A part of me knew that I didn't fully mean them. I hated that and I didn't know how to handle that, but fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the spanking continued and I didn't have to think about it anymore.

I tried to take it gracefully, but his hand stung, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my cries of pain from flying off my lips left and right.

He didn't seem to care and just kept on spanking me, and as the seconds wore on, the burning sensation only grew worse, and so did the pulsing ache between my thighs.

I had never been more humiliated, and I had never been more aroused in my life.

This wasn't how he was supposed to see me naked for the first time. It was supposed to be sexy. He was supposed to see me as a beautiful woman, not an errant child who needed her bare bottom spanked to be set in line. The reality burned into me as I realized that my fantasies were being taken away from me once and for all.

A harsh swat burned into the lower curve of my ass, right where my cheek met my thigh, and I squealed, the sting far more intense than I could ever have imagined. My toes drummed against the bed, and I tried to roll off him, but his hold kept me firmly in place.

This was so not fair.

Another spank, even harder than the last. A few more followed, each one landing in a new spot and reigniting the fire in the skin that had just begun to fade.

"Stop! I've had enough," I cried out.

"Not even close, bambina. I'm going to spank this bare, defiant little ass bright red before I'm through with you. You've more than earned it," he replied.

And I could tell he meant it.

My body burned with a mix of shame and pleasure, and each time his palm connected with my ass, the scalding sting grew more and more intense. He spanked from the tops of my cheeks to the middles of my thighs, which burned more than anything. I struggled and whined over his knee, but he didn't let up.

Soon enough, I was beginning to panic. Maybe he really meant what he said. Maybe he truly meant to punish me and that's exactly what he was going to do.

Maybe I shouldn't have provoked him after all.

"Massimo!" I whined.

"Bad girl," he growled, and his hand peppered my ass even harder. Before I knew it, my entire ass was on fire, my eyes were beginning to water, and there was no end to the spanking in sight.

He was in control.

I wasn't.

And that was making my pussy sopping wet and his cock as hard as a rock beneath me. The more I struggled, the wetter I got and the harder he was underneath my belly.

Oh, God.

How long was this going to last? How much was my ass going to burn by the time this was over?

My ass bounced under his firm hand, the stinging pain searing through me, and the shameful pleasure of being so helpless, so vulnerable, so very much under his control was too much to bear.

I wasn't supposed to enjoy this.

I wasn't supposed to want this.

I wasn't supposed to be this girl who was getting spanked by a man twice her age who wasn't even her father.

I blinked, my eyes watering more than before, and I suddenly worried that he was going to make me cry, that that was what he meant by truly punishing me.

I pressed my right hand back, trying to block his hard hand from smacking my ass again, but that only resulted in him pinning it behind my back before he lit into me once more.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I cried.

"Your bare bottom is a very nice shade of pink right now, little one, but I think it can handle a bit more, don't you?"

"No!" I wailed.

He just spanked me harder. I was sore and sorry and ashamed I was wet, and I wanted nothing more than to roll back time, take back everything I'd said and done to provoke him just so my ass wouldn't hurt this much. The spanking went on and on and on, and soon enough, my resolve was fading and the pain was growing too intense for me to even attempt to ignore.

He spanked harder and faster, and the sound of his hand cracking against my bare skin was almost deafening. It echoed throughout the room and I briefly worried that the next- door neighbors could hear me getting a spanking. That made everything worse, including the state of my own arousal.

The longer it lasted, the more I tried to stop tears from starting to leak out of the corners of my eyes. I sniffled, trying to blink them away, but it was no use.

"Please. I'm sorry. I'll be a good girl. I'll go with you!" I wailed, a last Hail Mary to try to save myself from getting spanked any longer or much harder, but it didn't work. I don't know why I expected it to.

"Good. Then we're finally getting somewhere," he growled.

He spanked my thighs exclusively for several long moments before he finally stopped. I sniffed back tears, proud of myself for taking such a hard spanking and not crying for at least the moment, but also knowing that he'd taken me right to the edge. If he decided to spank me any more after this, there was no doubt in my mind that I would end up sobbing over his knee.

My pussy pulsed at the thought of that.

For a moment, he paused, and I could feel him staring down at me. Self-consciously, I pressed my thighs together, but they were slick, and they slid against one another. A soft whimper escaped my lips, and I clamped them shut.

Gently, he released my wrist and lifted me off his lap to my feet, but there was a stiffness to his movements that wasn't lost on me. He stood up behind me and we both breathed shakily enough for the other to hear.

Had he noticed my arousal, because I certainly did…?

Maybe a wet pussy was just a natural reaction to a hard spanking like the one he'd given me.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe something was wrong with me.

Then, without a word, his arm wrapped around my waist, and I couldn't help but notice that his hard cock was pressed between my bottom cheeks. With my panties still tangled around my ankles, my skirt had fallen back into place, but that did little to hide the way his turgid length was throbbing against my scalded ass.

He reached down and deftly unbuttoned my skirt, one by one, until it was hanging on by a thread. Then he pushed it down past my hips so that I was entirely bare from the waist down.

My heart pounded in my chest.

What the fuck was happening?

He'd just spanked me to within an inch of making me cry, and now he was baring me. What did this mean?

Was he going to fuck me now? He had to know how wet I was. I'd lost hope of hiding it while I was kicking and squirming over his knee. Would he think less of me because of it? Would he hate the fact that I was a virgin?

A million questions swirled around in my head and none of them stopped when he took my arm, turned me around to face him and then pushed me backwards, step by slow step, until my back brushed up against the wall and then he pinned me against it. I hissed when my ass touched the wall, pain flaring for a moment and taking my breath away.

Massimo's raw power finally hit me in that moment. He'd not only manhandled me, but he'd spanked me, and if he wanted to, he could fuck me right here against the wall in whatever hole he wanted, and I wouldn't have a choice about it.

The realization made me even more wet, and the heat that had built in my core was spreading out to every inch of my body, including my sore, well-spanked bottom.

I stared up at him, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to think.

His hand brushed against my bare thigh, almost touching my pussy, and I started, but I didn't dare move. My breath hitched, and his eyes met mine. They were dark, stormy, intense, and full of a primal hunger that made my stomach twist into knots.

The moment stretched out between us, and my heartbeat was the only thing I could hear.

His usual air of calm control seemed to be fraying at the edges, and it played out all over his face. The set of his jaw, the furrow of his brow, the way his eyes flickered with unspoken desires—each detail spoke volumes about the struggle raging inside him.

He was just as aroused as I was.

He was trying to regain control, to mask the turmoil that all this had stirred up. In his eyes, there was a flash of something raw and powerful, quickly hidden behind a veil of restraint.

I didn't say anything, too pissed, too overwhelmingly aroused, pouty over my spanking, and too confused to really know what I wanted next. Did I want him to kiss me? To fuck me? To actually play out all those fantasies I'd had of him in real life?

My mind was spinning. I couldn't deny how badly I wanted him, but I had no idea how to tell him, no idea what would happen next.

But then I leaned in, my eyes slipped down to his lips and then back up, and something in his gaze snapped. I gasped, the heat of my arousal too much, too fast, and then his fingers brushed across the expanse of my inner thigh and grazed the slick arousal dripping down them.

"Sofia," he breathed.

"Massimo," I said, my voice nothing but a hot breathy gasp. He growled deep in his throat, the sound sending a visceral vibration straight down to my core. I let out a moan without meaning to and then it was too late to take it back.

He growled again, louder, and his fingers slipped further up the inside of my thighs until his fingertips were touching my aching pussy. He hissed in a breath.

I was panting, breathless, and all I wanted was him.

"You're dripping wet for me, bambina ," he purred, and I had trouble standing on my own two feet at that point, especially when his fingers were gliding across my clit, circling, rubbing, and driving me insane with sudden consuming need.

He was barely touching me, and I was about to shatter.

Then his other hand moved up my chest and his fingers curled around my neck, and he leaned in close, his mouth only inches from mine.

I could scarcely breathe.

"Fuck. You don't know what you're doing to me," he snarled, and my breath hitched in my throat.

I had an idea, and I didn't know if I should want it or I shouldn't, but I did know that whatever happened next was out of my control.

And maybe even out of his.