Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 134

POV: Dante

She lay there–naked, trembling, used–but far from finished.

Her skin was still flushed from Enzo’s torment, her breathing shallow, her limbs too shaky to resist. And yet, when I stepped forward, everything in her stilled. Like a flame recognizing the shadow of something colder.

I didn’t rush. I wanted her to feel it—my presence pressing against the air, claiming it. Enzo was the gentle one. The seductive whisper. I was the sharp edge. The inevitable pain.

I pulled a chair beside the chaise, sat down slowly, spreading my legs as I looked at her. Just looked. My silence was heavier than Enzo’s words had ever been.

She shifted slightly under my stare.

“Don’t move.” My voice was quiet, but there was no question in it. Her breath caught. Good.

She was already naked. Laid out like an offering. But this wasn’t submission yet. Not truly. That would come after I broke her down properly.

I reached for my gloves–black leather, molded to my fingers. Pulled them on one at a time while keeping my gaze locked on hers. Her eyes, wide and dark, were already flickering with nerves. And something else. Curiosity. Hunger. Perfect.

I leaned forward, dragged my gloved fingertips down her throat. Light. Teasing. Down to the valley between her breasts, across her ribs, down her stomach. I didn’t look at my hand. I watched her face.

She didn’t dare speak.

“You’re still warm from him,” I murmured. “But I want to see how deep your fire runs. How far I can push before you burn.”

Her thighs clenched. I slapped them apart without a second thought. A sharp, satisfying crack of flesh. She gasped, eyes watering. I smiled.

“Rule one: No closing your legs. Rule two: No speaking unless I ask a direct question. Rule three-”

I leaned in, pressing my mouth to her ear. “-You come when I say. And not a second before.”

Another slap. This time across her inner thigh. The sound echoed. She whimpered. I hardened.

“You’ll thank me later.”

I stood, slow and deliberate, and crossed to the cabinet we kept for nights like this–our little altar of indulgence. My fingers hovered, choosing not by whim but by instinct. She wasn’t ready for the cane. Not yet. But pain would be part of her pleasure tonight. She just didn’t know how much she could take.

I pulled out a coil of black rope, a slender leather crop, and a blindfold. When I turned around, her breath hitched.

Good, She knew.

“Up.” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to/She obeyed, shaky hands pushing her upright on the chaise.

I walked back slowly, every step purposeful. I placed the crop gently across her lap like a warning and circled behind her. My hands slid into her hair, and I pulled her head back until her throat arched.

“You’re mine tonight,” I whispered into her skin. “And you’re going to thank me for every bruise.”

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Chapter 134

She whimpered–half fear, half arousal. I kissed her pulse, then pressed the blindfold over her eyes. Tight enough that she gasped.

“Good girl,” I murmured against her temple,

Once she was blindfolded, everything changed. Her body tensed, her chest rose and fell faster, her legs shifted uncertainly, Stripped of sight, all

she had was sensation.

I bent her forward, palms on the chaise. She obeyed, perfectly submissive. I tied her wrists–tight and high above her head to the metal frame Then her ankles. Spread wide and fixed to the chaise legs. Helpless. Vulnerable. Exposed.

“You feel that?” I whispered, dragging the tip of the crop between her shoulder blades. “That’s the only touch you’ll get until you’ve earned

more.”

Then I struck.

A sharp snap against her ass.

She yelped–beautiful and raw.

Another strike. Then another. Slow. Measured. Red blooming across her skin in perfect welts.

She moaned. A sound she didn’t mean to make.

“Already dripping,” I said low, circling in front of her. “You’re filthier than I thought, little dove.”

She whimpered, shaking her head.

I grabbed her jaw, forcing her to face where my voice came from.

“No lies. You love this. You love being used. Tied. Owned.”

She didn’t deny it.

The next strike landed between her thighs. She screamed.

And I smiled.

She hung there, trembling–arms bound, legs splayed open, skin flushed from the crop’s kiss. Her chest rose in short, gasping breaths, nipples tight, thighs shaking. Beautiful. Ruined. Mine.

I crouched in front of her, watching her head tilt as if she could sense me. Blindfolded and bound, but still trying to anticipate what came next. That made me chuckle.

“You still think you get to guess what I’ll give you?” I murmured, brushing my fingers over her inner thigh–just a ghost of a touch.

Her whole body jerked. The sound she made–high, desperate–fed something primal inside me.

“You want relief,” I said, tapping her clit lightly/“But I don’t recall saying you could have it.”

She whimpered. Her hips shifted, trying to chase my hand. I pulled back instantly.

‘Don’t. Move.”

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