43. Healed
Chapter forty-three
Healed
(Dante)
The afternoon light streams through my studio windows, painting Danica in gold.
She perches on the highchair like a Renaissance masterpiece—all curves and shadows, naked except for her heels.
Every time I try to capture her beauty on canvas, my hands fail me.
"You have to sit still, Tesoro." I aim for stern, but how can anyone be serious when their Queen is deliberately testing their control?
"I'm not good at sitting still, you know that." She pouts, deliberately uncrossing and recrossing her legs like we’re shooting an adult movie. "I'm bored!"
"We just got started!" Paint drips from my brush, forgotten. "What happened to you being such a new, patient person?"
"I am! But this is torture. How long still?" Danica’s dramatic sigh would put theater actresses to shame.
I set my palette down, knowing I've lost this battle. Like so many before. "You're being impossible, Danica."
"Come here...maybe some kisses will make me sit still." The invitation in her voice makes my skin warm.
We both know kisses only lead to more distraction, but I'm powerless to resist. When did the feared Don Fera become so easily swayed by a seductive smile?
"You're being very naughty," I murmur against her lips. She tastes of coffee and mint and mischief—a familiar combination that makes my heart race and my dick stir.
"Darling, you know I can't be any other way." Her fingers find my tattoos, tracing the stories inked on my skin. Without a shirt, in just my sweatpants, I am fully relaxed. "I have something for you, by the way,” she adds.
I press my forehead to hers, arms locked around her like anchors. "You spoil me."
"I wanted to wait until after the painting, but clearly, that will take a while." Danica rolls her eyes, a habit she still hasn’t kicked despite being Missus Boss Lady at work now.
The black velvet box appears from her bag on the floor next to her.
"It's not my birthday, what's this now?" The box feels warm in my hands, heavy with intention.
She watches, silent for once, as I lift the lid.
My breath catches at what lies inside.
With a light touch I run my finger over the gold plate, tracing the letters.
“And? Do you like it?” Her hands clasp together, impatience warring with hope.
“It’s so…perfect.” My voice catches in my throat as I read the word again. Four letters that mean everything: MINE.
“Let me.” Danica takes the delicate gold chain from the box and helps me fasten it around my neck.
It fits perfectly, hanging loosely around my collar to rest on my bare chest.
“How does it look?” I ask, touching the cool metal.
"So beautiful, just like you." She leads me to the mirror, and for once, I don't flinch at my reflection. The man looking back seems softer somehow. Whole.
"You are mine, forever and always, Don Dante Fera. Don't you forget it." Her words ghost across my ear, her eyes meeting mine in the glass. "Now you will always be reminded who owns you, even when you can't wear your full collar outside."
"Forever and always." I turn to face her, throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, really." For the necklace. For loving me. For making me better.
Words still come hard, even after months of peace in this new life. But I’m working on that.
Never in a million years did I think I’d spend my late forties at home doing domestic chores while waiting for my Domme to come home and torture me with pleasure.
Well, “chores” is a strong word, but I do like helping around the house—often much to Missus Nell’s annoyance, who insists that I’m more of a hindrance than a help, warm smile letting me know she’s only teasing (for the most part).
My paintings are still shit, but I enjoy doing them.
Sometimes, I like to paint naked, dramatic music blaring from above as I completely shut off from the world, lost in the colors. It’s so freeing.
Danica touches my neck as we stare at our reflections. “You know I love buying you gifts. But don’t worry, I know you’re all about touch…” She brushes her fingers against my straining sweatpants, stirring my semi-erect cock to life.
“Oh god,” I mumble, inching closer toward her.
“Are you fully healed enough now, darling?” She drags my waistband down slowly, freeing my cock from the loose material.
“Yes…” My voice dissolves into a gasp as Danica gently traces the piercing decorating my cock with her fingertip. I want to tell her that I’ve been healed for weeks, but none of that matters now.
“Hmm, let’s see.” She leads me to the table, cock in hand, and I follow like a little obedient puppy—I would follow her anywhere.
As always, my wife seems to be oblivious to the suitable seats in the room, choosing instead to push herself onto the table, toppling various art supplies onto the floor.
I don’t even try and reach for anything, just let it fall; my complete focus is on the blood rushing to my dick, the fire burning through my veins, the need.
Danica opens her legs and pulls me closer until the tip of my cock is touching her pussy lips.
I hold my breath as she guides me where she needs me, rubbing her clit with my pierced head.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for three months,” she confesses, using my cock like an object as she masturbates herself.
I don’t do anything, just stand as still as I can, my cock fully hard, as I watch the beautiful twists of her expression evolve into delirious lust.
“It feels so good,” I rasp as the sensation builds. I’ve missed the feeling of her, of my dick smearing through her wetness.
If she continues like this, I’ll be bursting in no time.
But Danica knows; she pulls away before both our toes start curling.
My wife winks mischievously. “I’ve thought about other things too…”
“Like?” Forming the word steals what little breath I had in my lungs.
“Like…one day, when you’re healed proper, putting a ring through them holes so I can clip a leash onto your dick and parade you around the house.”
I swallow loudly. “Dio mio.” The mere thought of it is exhilarating.
Danica grins widely as she continues to rub me against her wetness. “But mostly, I’ve thought about what it would feel like inside me.”
“Me too,” I confess, biting down a groan. “So much.”
Danica licks her fingers before reaching down again, rubbing saliva all over my head as she massages my rock-hard cock. “Is it time?”
“Please…” There is nothing I want more; I’m feral with lust.
Danica’s hand ceases. “Please who?”
“Please…Donna Fera…Madame Danica…please fuck me.” I know how much she likes that title. I like it too. She deserves it.
She raises a single brow. “Here?”
“Anywhere you like. Please.” I need her more than I need anything I can list right now; my brain can’t think straight with all the blood drained to my dick.
Danica jumps off the table and leads me to the couch in the corner, pushing me down into a seated position like I’m made of clay instead of flesh.
As she turns around, I admire the beautiful tattoo on her back—it’s so her, so perfect. That artist was incredibly talented; the piece healed without any issues. I often ran my hands over it at night when she was asleep in my arms, tracing the shapes of the flowers, petal for petal.
When she kneels before me, I one hundred percent forget how to breathe.
A guttural groan leaves my throat as she takes me between her lips, tongue flicking over the piercing to give me my first proper blowjob since our honeymoon.
“That good, hey?” Danica seems chuffed with herself, but I can’t be amused right now. The need for release is too urgent.
I will her to stay there, to let me spill my cum down her throat, drink me dry, but my Queen has other plans.
Before I can release my load too soon, Danica climbs onto the couch, kneeling over me as she lines my cock up with her pussy. “You ready for this?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I pant, resisting every urge to grab her and force her down on top of me. We both know I’m not the one in the driving seat right now.
But this time, my patience is rewarded.
“Slowly,” Danica whispers, more to herself than to me, as she lowers herself onto my dick.
At first, it stings a bit, but then I feel nothing but pleasure.
It has been far too long since I have been inside her, inside anyone.
My body comes undone instantly as Danica clenches around my hardness, taking all of me inside.
God, I’ve missed how she feels. How tight she is. How wet she gets.
“What does it feel like?” I ask her.
Danica pushes herself up on her knees and impales herself on my cock again before answering. "It feels..." she pauses, searching for words. “Incredible. Unexpected…A little dangerous." Her fingers trace my jaw as she meets my eyes. “You still okay, baby?”
“So good…” I can’t give her a longer sentence because my mind isn’t capable of them anymore.
The feeling of being inside her again overwhelms everything.
It feels so familiar but also a bit different, the piercing adding another level of contact.
I know most of the pleasure is for me, but I’m hoping she can feel something at least.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun with this one.” Danica kisses me passionately as she speeds up the rhythm of her hips, riding my dick like it’s an inanimate dildo stuck to the wall rather than attached to a real person.
It’s a position I’m honored to accept because I’m ready.
Ready for whatever kinky and crazy ideas my Queen comes up with.
My body belongs to her.
And only to her.
A loud groan rips from my chest as I wrap my arms tightly around Danica’s body, holding her close so my ragged breathing mixes with hers, breathing the same air, trying to hold on as long as I can.
Oh, Dio mio.
If this is what retirement feels like, my only regret is not doing it sooner.
As I stumble toward the edge of the cliff, moments from toppling over, release imminent, I know, without a doubt—I was born to serve, not to lead