Luciano

Homeless

"You will be my Mistress," he announced when we go into the room he assigned me in the estate.

"No."

He simply grinned that devilish grin, the grin that said you have no choice.

"Be in my room at eight. You will start tonight."

Mindlessly, I brush on foundation, not truly seeing myself.

I tie the silk robe around me, and breathe.

I've resigned.

For now.

I have no energy tonight; I'm drained.

So, I navigate to his room across the hall, laying my body on the bed, carelessly.

7:57pm the clock says.

I wait, his scent enveloping me.

Desperately I try to feel myself; to feel.

8:00pm.

The door creaks, revealing a smirking Luciano.

"You made it," he taunts.

Slowly, he undresses, discarding my presence as he does.

I just need to feel.

If this allows me to feel, I'll do it.

Not like I'd protest anyway.

A wave of self hatred nearly drowns me, until soft lips against my throat lifts me from my wallowing.

Nimble fingers untie the knot that protects me from his prying eyes.

His eyes glaze over as he takes in my ivory skin; as if he were assessing if I was a good enough investment.

Worthlessness nearly chokes me to death.

His finger dust over my skin, making my belly cave under his fingertips.

Whatisthisfeeling

His lips skim my skin, warming it, heating it.

Alive.

Glancing at my eyes for a brief moment, he quickly focuses elsewhere.

Roaming hands caressing me, flickering glancing, what is air?

He palms my p***y, slipping a finger into me, just the right angle.

I arch my back, finally feeling

Whatisthisfeeling

Torturously, he pounds his finger into me, slipping in another and then another.

My climax frees me for a moment, my freedom returning to it's shackles as I come down.

Reaching over me, he grabs a square packet, ripping it with his teeth savagely.

Rolling it down his length he looks at me.

I part my legs wider, his eyes commanding me.

Burying his face in my neck, he slips into me, filling me to the brim.

His groan vibrates against my throat.

"Cazzo! Così buono."

He draws back, pounding into me, making my body jolt deliciously.

It feels good, his rough thrusts, his teeth sinking into the flesh of my throat.

He murmurs against me, his voice feeling like a prayer.

My eyes cast up to the ceiling, tears blurring my vision, making the stucco dance.

I feel

His hands grip my hips, lifting them where he wants them. Where he can use me better.

Moans slip out of my mouth, groans and pants. Pleads.

But I feel

—whatisthisfeeling

I feel

We burn brightly together, beautifully. And I feel...

I feel

He lifts off of me, withdrawing his warmth, cold rushing, seeping in.

"Get out," he instructs, throwing out the condom.

I gather my robe, feeling stripped in more ways than one.

And I feel

My head down, I nod, walking out calmly.

I feel

What is this feeling?

I feel

h o m e l e s s.