Reese Gabriel - Captured!--On Film

Often she would bring him a little something to eat. Something her aunt had cooked or perhaps she herself. A bit of meat and gravy, some stewed fish, a spiced omelette. He would chew hungrily, trying in vain to savor. He wished to give no offense by plowing it down. She would never do anything but smile, though. It seemed there was nothing about him she was not capable of appreciating, at least not for that short amount of time each day.

He certainly appreciated her. The way she smelled, her slim body, long legs and above all her face, perfectly ovaled like a teardrop. He burned to make love to her. She would have been the first, too.

It wasn't as if nothing at all had happened between them, though. On their last day, the routine was broken. At the time he did not know he would never lay eyes on her again. As she wiped his chest and hands with the moist, white towel she always carried in her basket, he noted there was no food this time, only a small jug of wine, wrapped in wicker. He longed to ask her, but he hadn't the words, and besides, he could not get past the feel of the towel, on his hard stomach, dabbing at his nipples and lightly swabbing his neck.

She set the basket on a crate behind her, the one he'd placed their for her use. There were invariably hundreds of these at a time, stacked a dozen high, forming a series of walls, like a wooden maze about them. It was hardly the perfect protection from discovery, but it did afford a little chance for them to create a world just for two.

Giovanni would arrange them as best he could each time to make their secret place. She would laugh and clap her hands as he flexed his muscles for her and built her a new home every day. He would even provide her furniture, chairs and a makeshift table for the food basket.

More than anything their play was a state of mind. The perfect mix of her beautiful, delicate spirit-enough to make any man weep-and his own uncompromising vision. A vision that could turn crates into a mansion, and which would one day turn raw cinematic elements into some of the greatest stories ever told on the big screen.

He looked for the answer to the wine mystery in her kiss. It began with the usual proffering of lips. The kiss had lingered, though and instead of breaking off as she was wont to do after a few minutes, she began this time to nibble, sucking at his lower lip, making tiny dabs with her tongue. His hands clenched to fists. The strong cords of his muscles tightened with young desire. He was nearly overcome with the need to have her.

She stepped back and he feared it was over for the day. But there was something new in her smile that told him not to lose hope. Marie took the wine bottle and popped the cork. Her eyes never leaving his. Deep as the sea, and chalk blue as the sky. She flipped back her hair, the gesture inflaming him. Putting the bottle to her lips she drank, deep and full. Not a lady's sip, but the swallow of a whore. When she was done, she licked her lips and passed him the bottle.

He did likewise, wanting the burn of the sharp red wine in his belly. Under the beating sun, undiluted, it would go quickly to his head, but he didn't care. The woman already had him intoxicated. Giovanni handed the bottle back and by this time her strange smile had turned to a demonic glow.

"Hey, what's this?” He cried as she tipped the bottle, pouring the contents over his chest.

Marie tossed it, empty onto the ground. Her hands were behind her, unzipping the light blue dress. A moment later she pulled it over her head. He drew a sharp breath at the sight of her, stark naked. Her nipples were peaked, the loveliest shade of pink. She was clean-shaven between her legs. He could see her lips, the same shade of pink. His cock throbbed in his pants. He wanted to throw her over the crate, grab her ankles and spread her wide so he could sink himself to the hilt. He wanted to bury his face in that small, exquisite bosom. He wanted their bellies suctioned together. He wanted to fuck and fuck till they were both out of their minds. He wanted her screaming, loud enough for the whole dock to hear. He wanted her coming, harder than any woman had ever come in the history of lovemaking.

He wanted her owned, possessed, completely unable to ever bear another man's touch … or child again. In short, he wanted everything, no compromise. What he got was a different sort of bliss, though every bit as fulfilling. Had he been wrong in thinking her the sweet virgin she was or had he merely brought this out in her himself?

Marie began with another kiss to his lips. A naked kiss, one that promised satisfaction. She was going to ease his ache today, finally, personally. She tasted of wine and lust and when he moved to put his hands in their familiar place on her hips, she moved them instead to her ass.

Her cheeks were full and firm. He squeezed them at her urging. She squirmed in response, opening her lips against his. She wanted and received the presence of his tongue inside her mouth. Her hot hard nipples burned his wine soaked chest. He pulled her closer, gripping each cheek till her pelvis was so tight to him he could feel the outline of her sex. She was gyrating now, using her arms and legs, like they were actually fucking. He wanted to put her down, to take his clothes off, but she wanted to continue directing.

Taking his hand, not breaking the kiss, she showed him how she wanted to be spanked. He obliged with a sweet, timid thwack. Marie broke away, flush, panting, and frustrated. Turning herself about, she leaned forward, pushing her palms down on the crate. She was exposing her ass and cunt both.

Was it an invitation to fuck? Alas, he knew it was not. She wanted more of the punishment, more marks to match the red handprint. Several times she smacked him with the flat of his hand. Each time he saw more of the liquid, glistening at the crack of her shaved pussy. She made some slight moaning sounds, but these seemed to be as much in frustration as pleasure.

Looking over her shoulder, her hair damp with perspiration, she said a word in Italian. He did make it out at first, so amazed was he at the attempt. She said it twice more, pointing, and finally he understood. She was talking about his belt. It took him a moment to grasp the meaning, His face darkened as soon as he did.

" Per favore ?” She begged, again using his language.

Incredible. His shy beauty wanted the sting of his belt on her ass. She wanted to be whipped like a slave. Giovanni opened his pants and took out his cock instead. Soaking in the sight of his lovely victim, naked, legs spread, bent over for him he began to stroke himself. He had intended simply to masturbate, but as he tightly clutched his member, the urge overcame him as it had her. The urge to cross the lines of propriety and normalcy.

Marie got her whipping. Five times, hard, he lashed at her pretty, soft ass, blazing red across her cheeks, kissing her with pain. She danced on her bare feet, though her palms never left the crate. Her discipline, her surrender was perfect. When the fifth and final mark had been imposed he seized her by the hair and pulled her to him. She knew at once what he wanted. One more kiss, searing and hot as a brand and down she went, all the way to her knees on the concrete.

Of her own volition, she put her hands behind her back, completing this picture of perfect subservience. For a few minutes he let her lick and kiss, getting used to the counters of his shaft. She swathed it thoroughly with her tongue, honoring every inch, top and bottom. She was not afraid to turn her head, to move her body to maximize his pleasure. Biting with her lips, she went up and down the vein on the underside, pausing to lap at his balls like he was some kind of god.

Finally he took her, twining his hands in her hair and driving himself deep. She did not gag. It was how she'd wanted it, not soft and beautiful but hard and commanding. She'd wanted, needed even, to be put in her place. To be treated like a slave, compelled to give pleasure, marked for the master's whim. No blow job had ever compared. Marie took him whole, and when it came time to explode himself, she never balked. She drank him down whole, taking his semen obediently down her throat.