In Vino Veritas by Delta James
Smiling, Seraphina Vilotti stood at the back of Dante’s, the most elaborate and secretive BDSM club in Florence. The place where she could leave her inhibitions and burdens at the door, free to be the best version of herself, if only for a few hours a week. In order to get in, you had to be an Italian citizen, experienced in the lifestyle, and sponsored by two separate members who had each been a member for more than a year. It was expensive to join, but so worth it.
Sera had become attracted to the lifestyle, not so much for the enhanced sexual pleasure, but for the ability to relinquish control. She’d been a frequent player at many of the clubs in San Francisco, her birthplace, for years. Sera had sold everything and followed the man of her dreams to one of the cultural centers of the Renaissance. The only problem was he had a wife and children. With nothing left for her in the United States, Sera had bought a dilapidated row home and turned it into a successful B&B, Casa Dolce.
She had been approved for membership at Dante’s last year and had experienced some of the most incredible scenes of her life. Not only were the Dominants the highest caliber individuals, but to have privileges at Dante’s was a grueling ordeal. To be a submissive was nothing short of paradise. Submissives were considered Dante’s greatest asset and were treated as such.
The last several years had marked an enormous turn around in her life. After ten years, she had become an Italian citizen, become best friends with Catherine DeMedici, and been accepted into Dante’s. The latter had been the biggest surprise. Her application had been rejected earlier in the year. Then suddenly, she received the invitation to become a member. When she asked about the reversal, she was simply told one of the club’s patrons had made a special request that she be allowed to join.
She swirled the glass of DeMedici wine and watched, squeezing her thighs together and feeling her pussy pulse in rhythm with the action in the center of the room. One of the ranking Dominants, an Italian god who always wore a mask, was on stage, wielding a four-foot whip on one of the subs. Everything about the man bespoke his Italian heritage and dominance—black hair, black stubble, bare chested with an ornate tribal tattoo on his shoulder, encompassing the front, back and upper half of one arm on one side of his body. He wore black leathers and boots, and the bulge in the front of his pants held the promise of delicious excess.
Known only as The Wolf, he and the whip moved with a power and grace that signified many years of practice and use. The snapping of the whip right before it touched the submissive’s skin was more intoxicating than the wine. Sera had watched him before, and from talking to those who had experienced it, knew it would leave weals, but not actually break the skin. They described it as nothing more than a heavenly sting, enhanced by a long-lasting warmth. Sera had always been intrigued by the whip, but once she’d seen The Wolf wield it, it had become a bit of an obsession.
The chances of ever feeling the kiss of The Wolf’s weapon of choice were slim to none. He preferred tall, lanky blondes with luxurious tresses and gorgeous bodies. Sera didn’t fit the bill. She was average height with a more pear-shaped than hourglass body and had short, dark hair. But when she fantasized, either with a partner or a vibrator, it was The Wolf’s strong, muscular image she imagined.
“He is most skilled with a whip, is he not?” asked Alessandro, one of the other Dominants she had played with in the past.
“He seems to be. Do the other Doms know who he is?”
“No. The Wolf’s identity is known only to a few.” He ran his hand down her back and cupped her bottom gently. “Would you like to play tonight?”
“Thank you, but no. I have an early day…”
“It has been a while since you did anything more than watch. Has someone caused you concern, or is there something you seek we do not provide?”
Sera turned toward him, casting her eyes down in respect.
“No, Sir. Everyone here is always so kind, and the experiences I have had have been the best of my life. I’m just having some trouble getting in the right mindset to let go.”
He tilted her chin, inviting her to make eye contact. His eyes were gentle, but his expanded pupils conveyed his arousal.
“Sometimes, little one, the right Dom can help you with that. There are those who need the strength of their partner to force or at least coerce their release.”
Sera thought about it as she watched The Wolf remove the blonde du jour from the cross, his hands moving sensuously across her body, the connection deeper than casual, almost palpable. The way he swept her up in his arms was the stuff of fantasy, but his reputation for providing the most exquisite aftercare, including multiple orgasms, was whispered about among the other submissives.
“Perhaps you are right, Sir. Maybe next time.”
“Any time, little one.” He kissed her softly. “I think if you allowed it, you would find you wouldn’t lack for partners. You should know anyone who uses any of the more advanced techniques must be certified by at least three other Doms. We will not allow our submissives to be abused.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she responded, then headed for the changing room.
She found herself alone—all the other submissives either weren’t at the club or were engaged in sceneing, watching, or enjoying some form of sex. Sera smiled sadly. She would go home to her B&B, to a lonely bed and dream of The Wolf as she tried to alleviate her pent-up stress. The bright spot in her week was she and Catherine having dinner tomorrow night at Adagio Firenze, the place where Catherine’s beloved Marco had begun to court her in his own over-the-top dominant way.
* * *
The Wolf stood under a shower at Dante’s, letting the water sluice down his body. He had finished with his submissive after everyone else had gone home, ensuring she had come down from subspace and was safe to return to the real world. He’d seen her into a cab, tipping the driver heavily to ensure she got home safely. While she had returned to reality, Florence was not always a safe city, so he insisted she text him when she was in her apartment. Once his submissive had been cared for, The Wolf turned to his own needs.
Standing under the pounding water, he thought of her. He had seen her standing at the back. He’d worked off some of his pent-up sexual energy, using and controlling the whip. This evening’s submissive was an extraordinarily beautiful blonde, a hard-driving, international attorney named Claire, who he’d helped sub out. His aftercare had included multiple orgasms—all achieved with his fingers and tongue. It had been a long time since he fucked anyone. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the talons of arousal clawing at him—an almost constant companion. It was the one he knew to be his fated mate had stood at the back of the club and just watched.
When Alessandro had talked to her this evening, it had been all he could do not to tear the man’s throat out. Intellectually, he knew Alessandro had done nothing wrong and wasn’t the cause of his anger and sexual frustration. No, the blame could be laid at the doorstep of Seraphina and her best friend, Catherine DeMedici, the Madonna of his pack and mate to his Alpha. She had decreed Sera to be off-limits. That would have been fine except for one small problem—Sera was his fated mate, and he no longer had a desire to fuck any other woman.
* * *
“Catherine, you will use the car and driver while you are in the city,” Marco growled at his mate.
“Marco, for Ch… heaven’s sake,” she said, amending the curse word before completing it. Marco hated it when she swore and, if already annoyed with her, would generally take her to task.
“Do not vex me further, tesoro. I am beginning to believe the Madonna of the DeMedici Pack needs to have her pretty bottom spanked to remind her that she, too, answers to its alpha.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighed and almost kept from rolling her eyes at her passionate mate. “I just think you’re being overly protective.”
“There is no such thing as overprotective where my mate is concerned,” he growled.
Realizing she needed to placate him, or he’d force her to cancel her plans with Sera, she relented.
“Yes, Alpha,” she said meekly.
“Do not play me for a fool. You will have the driver and one of the bodyguards with you at all times. DeMoncada has made it known he believes himself to be at war with the Coalition, and you would be quite the prize. If you cannot behave, I will not allow you to go.”
Catherine growled, stomped her foot, and lifted a piece of Etruscan pottery.
“Enough, Catherine. It is clear you have no intention of behaving, so you are forbidden to go. As always, Seraphina is welcome to come to the Villa, but you are grounded.”
“You sonofabitch,” she said, launching the valuable earthenware at his head.
She didn’t really want it to hit him, but the sound of it crashing was satisfying. She might have gotten away with her display of temper had they been in their room, but in the middle of the grand hall, Catherine should have known Marco had no intention of allowing it to go unpunished. He growled and came toward her. Realizing too late she had pushed him too far, she squealed and made a mad dash for the main staircase.
She had no illusion of getting away or avoiding the spanking she was sure Marco meant to inflict, but she hoped to at least circumvent being tossed over his shoulder and having her bottom spanked as he carried her to their room. Marco wasn’t big on settling their differences with an audience, but he gave as good as he got, and as she had acted out in front of several members of the pack, he felt he was under no obligation to keep her discipline just between them. Who was she kidding? The entire pack knew whenever he spanked her.
Catherine made the first landing before his hand reached out, fingers tangling in her blonde mane, drawing her back to him.
“Marco, please?” she said sweetly. “I’ll behave.”
The powerful alpha of the DeMedici tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing and growled quietly, “Yes, my tesoro, you will.” He gave her one hard swat, the sting making her yowl, then proceeded up the stairs. Opening their bedroom door, he entered, kicked it closed behind him, then set her on her feet.
“Strip and go to the corner,” he snarled.
“Marco,” she said, smiling seductively, “I’m so sorry for my display of temper. I shouldn’t have growled at you,”—she ran her hand down his chest and rested it on his belt—“or thrown the pot.”
“No, my mate, you shouldn’t have.” He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them. “I accept your apology, but it is clear to me you have been too long from over my knee. Get naked and go to the corner, else I will think your beautiful backside needs to be decorated with a set of welts.”
“Marco, please?” she said, trying to mitigate his anger.
“Catherine. Enough. Now.”
“If you’re going to spank me, just do it and be done with it. I’m not going through the whole ritual. And you can bloody well sleep by yourself tonight,” she snarled, her temper getting the better of her. The feral gleam in his eye should have reminded her that her mate didn’t make idle threats.
His hand snaked out, grasping her upper arm and hauling her into his body. He walked over to the window seat by the side of the French doors, sat down, dragged her across his hard thighs and rucked her skirt up, tucking it into her waistband and exposing her buttocks. Despite knowing the best thing to do was soften her body and accept his punishment, Catherine kicked and struggled to get away. Marco held her fast, trapping her legs between his and pinning her arms behind her in his strong grip.
“Mar—” she started before his hand descended in the first of many staccato swats to her upturned rump. Catherine yowled and Marco spanked her with harsh blows, targeting each of her cheeks, covering her entire behind with the print of his hand. God, she hated this… almost as much as she loved him. She knew she needed to yield, but it seemed beyond her ability to do so.
“Beloved, please stop.”
“No, my Catherine. I have been lax of late, and you are in need of my attention to assure you of my love and devotion.”
“No,” she wailed. “I know you love me. Please, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Ouch, Marco!”
“I’m glad to hear you have no doubt about my feelings for you, but I will not allow your misbehavior to go unchecked or unpunished.”
Again and again, he swatted her ass, never landing one in the same place, ensuring he covered her bottom completely. For the most part, he concentrated on the fullest bloom of her cheeks, directing the occasional strike to her sit spots or the back of her thighs. As usual, the longer he spanked her, the harder his cock became. She could feel it throbbing in the same rhythm as his spanking and her pussy. Marco continued to punish her backside until finally, she slumped over his thigh and began to cry in earnest.
“There’s my good mate,” he crooned lovingly and helped her up off his lap. “Go stand in the corner, hands on the wall, bottom pushed out, and legs spread.”
When she reached back to untuck and smooth her skirt, he growled. Catherine sighed. She hated this almost as much as the spanking, and he damn well knew it. He wanted her derriere on display because, as he had said to her far too many times, what he uncovered stayed that way until it pleased him to cover it back up.
Catherine stood in the corner, quietly crying. Her ass was on fire. Marco was a man who knew how to give a spanking that was painful in the extreme. She blamed him for the agony that was her ass, but she also blamed herself. She knew better than to give rein to her temper, especially in front of others.
“Marco?” she sniffed.
“Yes, my tesoro?”
“You know I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to sleep by myself.”
He chuckled, the low rumble coming from deep inside and wrapping itself around her like a warm cashmere shawl.
“Yes, my tesoro, and you are aware you do not dictate where I sleep or when and what I will do with you.”
“Yes, Marco,” she said in a conciliatory tone.
She asked herself for the umpteenth time why she allowed herself to get put in this position. But the answer was all too clear--by losing her temper and becoming a wolf and mate to Marco DeMedici. He rumbled again, and she shuddered, feeling his lust and dominance wash over her.
“Turn around, my beloved, and remove your clothes,” he said, sitting back, stretching and crossing his legs in front of him, making the bulge in the front of his trousers more prominent.
Catherine smiled, secure in the knowledge her mate not only loved her completely, he lusted for no other. She kicked off her sandals as she unbuckled the belt at her waist and tossed it to the bed. She slithered out of her skirt and slip, allowing them to puddle on the floor as she gracefully stepped out of them. Marco had forbidden her panties almost from their first meeting. Catherine unbuttoned her silk blouse, button-by-button, and let it slide from her body, leaving her clothed only in a lace bra that closed in front. She softly stalked toward him, growling her own need as she removed it, flinging it toward him, so he caught it in midair.
“Corner, Catherine. Place your palms…”
“I know, beloved, bottom out and legs spread, so you can see my arousal and fuck me into oblivious forgiveness,” she purred, positioning herself so her mate could grasp her hips to steady her, mount her and drive his cock to the end of her heated core.
Growling, Marco joined her in the corner, reaching around her and cupping her breasts, thumbing her stiffened peaks, making her moan. He continued to rumble at her, stroking her body before holding her in place to be mounted and claimed yet again. One hand held her hip as the other unzipped his fly, allowing his large cock to escape from the confines of his pants. Grasping the other hip, he lined up his staff and plunged to the depth of her sheath.
“Oh God, Marco!” Her body responded to his dominant possession with a powerful orgasm, which had he not been holding her tightly, would have driven her to her knees.
Marco plunged into her repeatedly, hammering her pussy. His hold took away her ability to move; to do anything other than respond in the most primal manner. Over and over, he thrust into her, growling and groaning, and elicited climax after climax until finally, he wrapped his arm around her middle, the other hand coming up to cup her breast and pinch her nipple. Catherine screamed as he held her tight, surging forward one last time, his cock pumping his seed deep inside her. She shuddered, her body convulsing as her pussy contracted all along his length, milking his cock.
“I love you, my Catherine,” he said as he uncoupled from her. Picking up her languid body, he carried her to the enormous wingback chair. Sitting, he held her close, rumbling quietly to her as she snuggled in his embrace.
“Forgive me my bad temper?” she asked, nuzzling his neck.
“Yes, my beloved. Always.”
“Marco, please, may I keep my date with Sera? We were both looking forward to it, and she didn’t do anything wrong.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure she has done much to be punished for but so far has eluded her mate.”
“He may not be a wolf, so she might not have to put up with all this male dominance crap,” she teased. “Please, my Alpha?”
“If I were better able to deny you, I might not have to put you over my knee so often.”
“Perhaps, but I think, my Alpha, you don’t mind spanking me nearly as much as I mind being spanked.”
“I’m not so sure of that, my Catherine, I have yet to spank your beautiful bottom and not find you wet and wanting when I am done. I will allow you to see Seraphina, but you are to keep the bodyguard and driver with you and be back here at the villa before midnight.”
“Thank you, my Alpha,” she purred. “Since my skirt is wrinkled, I think I’ll wear the new sapphire blue dress you had sent from Milan.”
He growled appreciatively. “No, you will not. You will wear a pair of linen trousers.”
“Marco, no, you know that won’t be comfortable. They’ll be scratchy and will hold the heat from your discipline in.”
“And will remind you that you have been spanked.”
“Trust me, you great sot, I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”
He chuckled. “If you behave yourself, I will soothe your bottom when you return this evening.”
“Oh, you are so good to me…”
“I am indeed. I will expect you to repay my largess when you return. Up you get.” He helped her rise, and as she started toward their closet/dressing room, he gave her backside a loving swat.
“Behave, my Catherine.”
She stopped at the French doors into the dressing area.
“Yes, my Alpha.”