The dinner (Sylvia POV)

Jerry grinned at me after I snapped at him.

“Yeah, you may not eat that, but you won't get anything else. Have you forgotten what I told you to do two days ago?” I heard him say, and damn it, he was right. He had caught me not wearing those uncomfortable high heels. It was a ridiculous rule.

But rules were rules, and who was I to question them?

My inner rage at him ordering me a pizza with pretty much everything I didn't like was still boiling. Moreover, was my frustration at having just masturbated with a dildo in front of him, matching the tempo to a damn metronome. The pace was just fast enough to arouse me and fuel my desire for more, but not nearly enough to bring me to orgasm. My pussy was still wet, and I felt it twitch slightly as I rubbed myself gently against the chair. Damn, I was so wet that even my thighs were partially covered with my juices.

Why had he ordered me a pizza like this when he knew what I ate and what I didn't eat? Was it part of the punishment for not wearing the high heels, or was it something else entirely? I just couldn't tell.

I felt my stomach starting to rebel at the mere thought of the ingredients. On the other hand, I was also pretty hungry by now.

“What, aren't you hungry?” Jerry asked me, tilting his head.

“Yes, I am... but like I said, I don't like any of this,” I replied, pointing to the pizza in front of me, which was still steaming.

“You can pick off the toppings and just eat the crust with the sauce and cheese...” he suggested. I saw his eyes wandering back and forth to my breasts, which rose and fell with every breath I took.

I could literally feel his gaze, as if he were touching me. His grin irritated me even more every time I moved my hips so that my pussy rubbed lightly against the chair, and he let out a soft, amused snort.

And my nipples, oh damn, my nipples were so hard. Hard as rock and sensitive to even the slightest breeze. When I leaned forward to take a slice of pizza, they touched the edge of the table. The difference in temperature and the friction sent a shiver down my spine, and I involuntarily bit the inside of my lower lip. I took a sharp breath and quickly leaned back and started picking the toppings I didn't like off the pizza.

“See, it's not so bad...” he said in a mocking tone. “You still look good,” he added more gently.

“Thanks...” I replied to his compliment, but inside I wondered why I was sitting naked in front of him in the kitchen. Jerry continued to eat his pizza with relish.

“I hope you have beer...” he said. “Come and get me one...” he demanded.