Mafia Kings: Roberto: Dark Mafia Romance Series #5

The town car dropped me at Mei-ling’s apartment building at 6 PM sharp. I told the driver to go back to the hotel and that I would call a cab when I left.

As I walked into the lobby, the guard nodded at me from behind his desk. “Ms. Chan said you would be coming.”

He had me sign in, then walked over to the elevator and scanned his key fob so I could go up to the 57th floor.

When Mei-ling opened her apartment door, she smiled shyly. “Hello.”

My reply was to sweep her into my arms and kiss her.

She yielded completely, opening her mouth to mine.

After 30 seconds, I finally pulled away.

“You look beautiful,” I said – because it was the truth. She was wearing a dark blue dress that hugged her curves, and her hair was arranged in an elegant updo.

“Thank you. What’s this?” she asked, tapping the box I was carrying in my left hand.

“A gift. For later.”

“Ohhh,” she said with a playful smile. “I can’t wait. Please, come in.”

She led me to the kitchen with her hand in mine. I laid the box on the kitchen island and sat on one of the bar chairs.

“I have a confession to make: I’m a terrible cook,” she said with a laugh. “I can make eggs and boil pasta, and that’s about it – so I had something delivered before you got here.”

“Fine by me.”

She laid out a selection of foods:

Dim sum in bamboo steamer containers…

Roast goose with crispy skin and pink, succulent meat…

Sauteed bok choy…

And bowls of wonton noodles with shrimp and pork dumplings.

Everything was excellent. We drank white wine with our food as we chatted about De Sade, Hong Kong, and life back in Italy.

Once we’d finished eating, she brushed one finger over the box. “Do I get to open it now?”

“Sure.”

She untied the bow, lifted the top – and gasped. She ran one of the silk scarves through her fingers and looked up at me with a radiant smile. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I noticed there was some slight wear-and-tear on what we used last night. I hope I’m not overstepping.”

“Not at all,” she said, then blushed the tiniest bit. “Um… about last night…”

“Uh-oh,” I said playfully.

“No, it’s not anything bad. It’s just that before I do something like that, I usually have a specific conversation beforehand.”

“What kind of conversation?” I asked, not quite understanding.

“About consent and boundaries. It’s standard practice in the BDSM community. At least, amongst those who practice responsibly.”

“Is there something about last night you didn’t like?”

“No – it was wonderful,” she said, and blushed again. “But I’d like to make sure we keep it wonderful.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Great.”

“So, how do we proceed?”

“I’ll ask you a series of questions. You’ll tell me if you’re interested in doing certain things, and I’ll tell you if I’m interested. Once we say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ there’s no pressuring the other person to change their answer – and no shaming them if they give a response the other person doesn’t like. The purpose is to see what we each want and are comfortable with.”

“Alright. Ask away.”

“Bondage.”

“With you as the recipient?” I clarified.

“Yes.”

I smiled. “Very interested.”

She smiled back. “Same here. What about me tying you up?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

She went down a checklist of various things: blindfolds. Chains. Collars. Handcuffs. Gags. Leashes.

“Stocks,” she said.

“I assume you’re not talking about the kind listed on the New York Stock Exchange,” I joked.

“No,” she said with a tight smile as though trying to suppress an eye-roll.

I actually knew what stocks were (restraining devices for the feet, often used in medieval times), but I was less familiar with some of the other devices she mentioned, like spreader bars.

I’d never done most of the things she listed, though I was willing to try them as long as she was the sole recipient.

Mei-ling was enthusiastic about penetration, which was good. I wasn’t sure if I could hold off again like I did the previous night.

“I enjoy incorporating sex toys,” she said at one point. “Dildos and vibrators, in particular.”

“Fine,” I said.

She seemed a bit surprised at my response, but pleasantly so.

What I didn’t tell her was that Vittoria had used sex toys before we got involved, and we had incorporated them into our sex life at her request. I wasn’t threatened by them in the slightest.

“Choking,” she said.

“No,” I answered.

“I meant you choking me,” she said.

“I know what you meant. Still no.”

When she gave me a slightly surprised look, I said, “There have been a number of medical studies that show even a slight interruption of blood to the brain can cause long-term levels of increased depression and anxiety in the person being choked. Plus, it’s incredibly dangerous and can result in brain damage if you go too far – and it’s difficult to know what ‘too far’ is until you’re already past the threshold.”

“You really are an accountant, aren’t you?” she asked in amusement.

I gave her a playfully reproachful look. I knew she didn’t mean ‘accountant’ as a compliment. “I thought there wasn’t going to be any shaming involved.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted. Besides, if it’s euphoria you’re after, I think we can find other ways for you to reach it.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that. How about pegging?”

I raised one eyebrow. “That’s where you use a strap-on on me, right?”

“Correct.”

“NO.”

She smirked. “I figured.”

After a few more questions, she asked, “What about you? What do you want? Fellatio?”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“That would be nice, but it’s not mandatory.”

“What is mandatory?”

“Nothing, per se – but I would prefer to have sex without a condom.”

She looked alarmed. “No.”

“I’ve been tested since my last partner. I’m clean.”

“No.”

“Have you been tested? And are you on birth control?”

“Yes to both, not that it changes anything,” she said, annoyed. “Maybe you don’t remember, but whether a person says ‘yes’ or ‘no’ in this conversation, it’s non-negotiable.”

“Maybe you don’t remember, but I like to ask three times,” I teased. “And I don’t like being told ‘no’ a fourth.”

“Then don’t ask a fourth.”

I smiled in amusement. I knew a losing battle when I saw one. “What about anal intercourse?”

“Mm.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“‘No’ at first. We’ll see in the future.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I do, but it has to be done very carefully and very slowly.”

“I’m nothing if not careful. And I think I proved last night that I can take things slow.”

She looked at me from the corner of her eyes in playful distrust. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I like to… how should I put it… ‘push the envelope.’”

“Meaning?”

“I like to take without asking.”

Mei-ling swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell if it was because she was turned on, or if there was a bit of distress in her reaction.

“So… consensual non-consent,” she suggested.

“I haven’t heard it put it that way before, but it sounds accurate.”

She bit her lower lip, which I found incredibly sexy.

“There’s a way to gauge your partner’s comfort level in a scene,” she said. “There are – ”

“‘Scene’?”

“That’s the term for the physical place that BDSM activity occurs, as well as the acts the participants engage in.”

“Ah. Go on.”

“So, a person’s comfort level can be described using three colors. Green means that the person is fine and the scene can continue. Yellow means that the person is slightly uncomfortable but doesn’t necessarily want to stop – just that the partner should slow down and be mindful. And red means complete discomfort and an immediate full stop.”

“Okay,” I said.

“You should check in periodically with your partner, especially if you’re entering unfamiliar territory.”

“So how does that apply to consensual non-consent?”

Mei-ling took a deep breath as though psyching herself up. “I’ll agree to you… ‘taking’ without asking… on the condition that you check in every so often. And if I say ‘red,’ you immediately stop whatever you’re doing.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “I also have a time-honored system from Italy that I’d like to suggest. It might be a bit quicker than your three colors.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

I took her right wrist in my left hand. “If there’s something I’m doing that you don’t like…”

I lightly touched her breast with my right hand.

“…just do this…”

I forced her hand to slap my wrist with a light thwap!

“…and I’ll stop.”

I immediately withdrew the hand she’d slapped.

She laughed. “Time-honored system from Italy, huh?”

“Yes,” I said with a grin.

“Somehow, I imagine it’s regularly violated by Italian males.”

“Not by me.”

She laughed again, then took my hand in hers and pressed it back against her breast.

“Is this what I do if I want you to do something?” she asked in an alluring, teasing voice.

As I felt the softness of her curves, my cock immediately sprang to attention.

“That works just fine,” I growled.

“In the time-honored Italian system.”

“In the time-honored Italian system,” I agreed, and leaned in to kiss her.

She opened her mouth to me, and I hungrily groped her breast as we kissed.

She pulled away.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she whispered.

I nodded.

She grabbed the box of silks I’d brought her…

And then took me by the hand and eagerly pulled me out of the kitchen.