“What do you want with me?” I whisper, fighting to get my lips to cooperate.
“Everything. Take off your shirt.”
My free hand flies up on its own accord, clutching the shirt that I had longed for so much. Now he’s going to take it? Salvatore takes my other hand and pulls it away, then he lets me go.
“Your obedience begins as of this moment. Every time you resist me, I will cut a finger or a toe off one of your kid brothers. Between them, that’s forty strikes, then one of them dies.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re a monster.”
His eyes glitter as he laughs. “Oh yes.”
I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, dropping it next to me. “I’ll obey,” I say dully. “I’ll do what you say. I won’t make a fuss.”
A smile spreads across his fucking beautiful face. “There will be perks for you if you’re good. I won’t deny you food. You’ll get to stay in my bedroom. I might let you see the sun. You see, I can be nice too.”
I scoff and immediately regret it. “Thank you, sir,” I say and bow my head.
“Good girl. Now remove your panties too and go stand in the middle of the room. I want to see you. When you’re alone, you may use clothes. There will be more where that came from. When I’m here, though, you are to undress without me telling you.”
With my heart in my throat, I shuffle off the bed, quickly shimmy out of my thong, take a few steps and then stop, my toes panically clutching the soft, luxurious carpet. A low growl and a shuffle of feet from behind me make me freeze. I jerk hard when I feel a caress along my spine, from right above my ass, his finger dragging along my back. It’s soft and not unpleasant. He pushes my hair aside and continues up to my nape. His hands grip my shoulders and, pressing his body against mine from behind, he leans in and puts his mouth to my ear. I want to shrink away, but I force myself to remain still.
“Your submission makes me so fucking hard. Please me, and you’ll forget you ever had another life. You won’t want to leave. I may be a cruel master, but I can give pleasure too.”
My breathing quickens. I don’t want his pleasure. The thought makes me nauseous.
His hands leave my shoulder and he comes around to stand before me. I look up at him, meeting his dark gaze. There’s an unfathomable hunger in it as he takes me in, his eyes traveling my body. He puts his hand to my breast, brushing his thumb over my nipple until it turns hard. I don’t want it, but to my utter disgust, my body responds.
“You’ve healed,” he mutters. “I want you stronger.”
With that he turns and leaves, leaving me gasping with shock, and fear, and cursing my traitorous nipple. Images of my brothers flicker through my mind. Did he somehow get them out of prison? How the fuck did he manage that?
I can do anything.
I shudder and dart back to the bed. Pulling on the shirt, I then curl up and allow the tears to come.
Luciano
Much, much better. I don’t actually have her brothers yet, but it will happen soon, and she’ll never be the wiser.
I lengthen my stride as I move through the halls, leaving my private wing behind me, making sure to lock it up. These days it’s more off limits than ever before.
Images of her flash before my eyes. Images from before she ended up in my claws, images of her beaten and bruised body, and of how she looks now: mouthwateringly edible, with her long, blonde unruly hair, and her too-thin frame.
She looks like an angel, a haunted, desperate angel.
I’m not gonna fuck her, not until she pleads for me to do so, not until she fully gives in. I will however drive her to the brink of her sanity.
I’m having too much fun with the thoughts of how I’ll tie her up and hurt her and pleasure her until she can’t tell one from the other. The whores are all here for one thing, and they have already submitted the moment I call for them. Chloe hasn’t submitted, her soul still fights me, and I’ll take care to let her hold onto that for as long as I can because this will be a hell of a lot more fun than any of Elena’s girls ever are.
It’s dinner time and the sound of conversation, interrupted by the occasional booming laugh, is getting louder the closer I get. Pushing open both glass doors to the dining room with a bang, I make everyone go quiet. Narrowing my eyes, I take in tonight’s guests. Lots of random business associates and subordinates. There is Ivan of course, as always. Eric Reed and his Anna Raymond. None of my actual family is here tonight, they’re scattered all over the continent. I suddenly miss them. For a moment a dark gust of abandonment flies through my soul, the life-long feeling of not belonging anywhere, then I shake it off.
I pass the table along a row of women and men, shaking hands, acknowledging my guests by name, one by one.
Anna gets a light kiss on the cheek and a slight flush creeps up her neck. She’s still so adorably shy around me. She was on my hit list once after spilling everything she knew to the cops. We sorted that mess, but I’ve never quite let her off the hook, and she knows it. There’s still defiance in her gaze and her surprising strength despite having such a low-key persona has won me over. I’ll never let her know of course. I like to keep people on their toes. It makes them do a better job.
As I engage in conversation, listening to Ivan’s recap of the negotiations with the Russian gangster, with Eric chiming in, I keep stealing glances at Anna. Something about her reminds me of Chloe, despite them being very different on the surface. I suddenly wish I had someone I could talk to. Someone not as jaded as Elena, or emotionless like Ivan. But I can’t pull Anna aside for a little chat: ‘by the way, I have someone tied up and I want her to be my slave, what’s your advice?’. She might be on the fringes of my business, using her degree and playing lawyer with my more seasoned attorneys, but even I realize there are limits.
I scoff and decide to fucking man up. I know what I’m doing and we’re back on track. I’ll make her my obedient pet. I will have my own live-in toy, and not be dependent on paying Elena for a whore every fucking time.
I turn to Eric. “So did the Russian arrive yet?”
He gives me a curious gaze which pisses me off. He knows me too well, and he’s clearly noticed I’ve been distracted.
“Day after tomorrow. Hilton. Everything is set up per your instructions, Luci.”
Anna’s eyes flicker between me and Eric. She clearly notices something is off. Does everyone see that? I narrow my eyes as I take in the rest of the table, but everyone is engaged in vivid discussions, getting drunker by the minute.
No. I’m on top of this.
Tonight, the real game begins.
Chapter 13
Chloe
I jolt awake from someone moving in the dark room. In the first confused moments I have no idea where I am. I’m lying on something soft. The constant gnawing feeling in my stomach has abated and everything smells nice. My hair, the sheets. Then the last hours come rushing back and I freeze up. I’m in the monster’s bedroom. The images of the canes, the whips and the various restraints hidden behind that curtain shoot through my poor, battered mind. I know who’s moving in the room and my heart speeds up. He’s not going to settle for a blowjob. He’ll fuck me, and probably worse.
The door to the bathroom opens and closes. For what feels like an eternity, I listen to the clattering of the shower, then to silence, every fiber in me so tense it feels as if I’ll burst.
I can’t hide my hitched breaths when he finally emerges through a musky smelling warm mist, and when I hear the rattle of chains, a whimper escapes me. He told me not to beg, or my brothers will get hurt. Shit! He told me to be naked as soon as he was in the room! I sit up and pull off the shirt in one move, dropping it next to me on the bed.
“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice deep, sensual, so tainted with obvious arousal that it shoots spikes of distress throughout my body. “Stay.” The soft rustle of his steps on the soft carpet comes closer. “Pull up your hair.”
“What are you doing?”<
br />
“That’s a finger going.”
I gasp and tears well up in my eyes. “No! Pl—” I snap my lips closed as he chuckles. No begging. My heart speeds up as I collect my hair in my hands and pull it up on my head. Something soft, and yet unyielding closes around my neck. He’s not rough, nothing hurts, not physically, but my soul shrinks yet another little bit.
“Lie back down.”
He moves and then wraps something equally soft around my wrists and then my ankles. Pulling my arms up over my head, he then fastens them before he repeats the procedure with my legs. I try the restraints and find that I can move around quite a bit.
“Are you done?” he asks, his voice colder and with more of an edge to it.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
I don’t have to see him to know he’s smiling that fucking beautiful smile of his.
The bed sinks down on his side as he lies down. I fight not to fall over toward him. I want to beg, plead, cry, but I do nothing. All I see before me are my baby brothers. I don’t see the hardened men they turned into, but the vulnerable boys they once were.
So I clench my lips tightly closed and don’t move.
He moves. Then moves again. I lie frozen. After a while his breathing changes and I realize he’s fallen asleep. I don’t know how long I lie awake, but I must have slept eventually, because I wake to a hand tracing the curve of my hip. A ray of sunshine hits the carpet through a sliver between the closed curtains. My heart nearly pounds its way out of my chest and I hold my breath. I’m lying with my back to him, and I remain in the same position, hoping he won’t know I’m awake. His hand moves down along the outside of my thigh, then dips in between them and follows the inside up to my naked pussy, my hairless, exposed pussy. His fingers brush my nether lips and I still can’t draw a breath. I’m getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.
Salvatore leans in, his breath hot on my ear. “One day I’m going here, and you’re going to beg me to. You’ll have dropped every last remnant of the defiance you still nurture. You will be nothing but my pet, my slave. I will even be able to drop you outside on the street and you’ll hammer your fists on the gates, begging to come back to me.”
“No,” I whisper. “Never.”
He chuckles and fiddles with one of my wrists, making it come loose, wrapping his fist around it, pulling it toward him.
“Turn around. Look at me.”
I shuffle until I’m turned toward him instead. He’s naked. And he’s hard. Hard and large. Really, really fucking large. He puts my hand on his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. “Never?” His other hand slides in between my thighs again, lightly touching my closed pussy, teasing back and forth but never pushing inside. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s terrible. It’s terrible because despite all the things he’s done to me, my body reacts. I’m repulsed, and I want to stay repulsed, still a tingling builds between my legs. I bite down on my lip and try hard to stay neutral, as if nothing is going on.
Salvatore doesn’t miss a thing. He holds me pinned with his gaze and something flashes in his dark eyes. He knows, and as his fingers slide along slick wetness, my pussy opening to him, I look away, mortified. He definitely knows.
Suddenly his hand is gone from between my legs and comes up before my face. “Look at me,” he growls. “Open your mouth.”
We’ve done this so many times. I’ve let him pound that thick cock into my constantly sore throat over and over, every day for weeks, for scraps of a meal. There’s no resistance left in me as I part my lips. He pushes his fingers inside my mouth, four of them, thrusting slowly. They taste of me, and it’s infuriatingly sensual.
In the blink of an eye, he pulls out his hand and stands. “You will bow.”
I turn my face away from him, cursing the ties that limit my movements. Then it gets weird. Without another glance at me, he disappears into the bathroom. I follow him with my gaze. He’s got a huge dragon tattoo covering his upper back, the wings spread up onto his shoulders. It’s magnificent, and somehow the ink manages to look wickedly malevolent as his bulging muscles move beneath it. The shower clatters for a long time before he comes back out, still naked, still not acknowledging me. My eyes keep darting compulsively to his powerful body. He’s beautiful, and he knows it. He’s in incredible shape. There’s rich dark hair on his chest, arms and thighs. I used to be so enticed by this man, a long time ago. Now I shrink back in fear whenever he comes close. Fear, and still not disgust, not the level of disgust I expected to feel after how he’s treated me. How he treats me. I squeeze my thighs together. My pussy still tingles and I hate it.
Salvatore gets dressed, his shirt impeccable, white and without a wrinkle in sight. The dark gray suit is a perfect fit over his bulging muscles. With a last jerk on the cuffs of the shirt sleeves, he grabs his watch and his phone and leaves, the door falling closed behind him.
He doesn’t lock it. I’m chained to the bed.
“Hey!” I scream. I don’t know if the basement was really worse than this. At least there I wasn’t chained. “Fuck you,” I mutter to no one.
Staring at the ceiling, I wonder if I’ll starve. I’ve gotten used to the hollow feeling in my stomach, the eternal gnawing, but it weakens me, body and mind, and that scares me.
I jerk hard when the door opens and Ivan enters. I’m lying naked as the day I was born, cuffed, vulnerable, and still his gaze doesn’t wander. His eyes meet mine, and there’s no way to interpret his lack of expression. He’s holding a tray in his large paws and when the scent of bacon reaches my nostrils, my stomach growls loud enough for him to hear it.
Putting it on the side table by the set of armchairs, he then comes up to me. “You will be fed,” he says in his grave voice. “You can move freely in this room. You will not try to escape.” His eyes dart to the windows and I crane my neck to follow his gaze, my heart speeding up at the thought of trying. “There are cameras and guards everywhere and you will go back to the basement and to your earlier regime. Even the smallest defiance will cost your brothers a finger. An attempt to escape will cost them a limb. Let me know if you have understood these instructions.”
My eyes tear up and I swallow hard as I nod. “I understand,” I whisper. “No defiance. No attempts to—” My heart sinks like a rock. “To escape.”
He nods and hauls up a key, uncuffing the still cuffed hand, the collar, and my feet. My arm is heavy and uncooperative as I move it. I rub my wrist and sit up as I hold Ivan’s gaze. Without another word, he turns and exits the room. This time the door locks. Holding my breath, I wait for the catch, for someone to come back, laugh cruelly and chain me up again. When I realize it’s not happening, I dart out of bed, snatch the shirt off the floor and pull it over my head, locate my panties, sniff them and then put them on as well. I want a shower so bad, to get rid of any trace of Salvatore, but I can’t control the overwhelming urge to devour that enticing smelling food.
The day passes slowly. The only break from the monotony is when Ivan comes with lunch, collecting the breakfast tray, then dinner, collecting the lunch tray. I think I’m going to go crazy. A carrot has been dangled before me, an initial feeling of hope, and it’s almost worse to have it gradually pulled away as I realize I’m just as bad off as before.
I shower twice, long hot showers, the shampoo and soap are expensive brands with a masculine scent that I recognize from the monster. I’m his captive. Now I even smell like him. After the second shower, I toss the panties and rummage through the now unlocked drawers to see if there is anything else to put on. There are boxer shorts. They are much too big, but if I fold the waistband they stay up, hanging low on my hips.
Finally, I’m so bored that I almost wish for Salvatore to come back. I pace the room back and forth. Examining his cruel set of toys, dragging my fingers across the canes, the long and short whips, some with tails, other looking more like riding crops, and the shackles, I fight the nausea at the thought of him using them on me. I have no illusions. I know he will. H
e’ll force me. Tie me up. Make me plead. Make me bleed.
And I’m not going anywhere. I will protect my brothers at all costs, even if it means my life is forfeit.
I will never, ever ask Luciano Salvatore to fuck me, though. Never.
As fog settles over the lawn and the sun disappears behind the treetops, I’m beginning to get worked up. No one shows. I don’t have a watch, but I feel the hours pass by, my inner clock telling me the evening is over and that it’s getting late. I’m so frustrated I could cry. What does it gain him to have me here? He can have any woman he wants in a moment’s notice, with just a flick of his finger.
When a key finally rattles in the lock, I’m so frustrated that I’m boiling. Slowly dying in the basement was better than this shit. The lines were drawn, I knew my fate. Now I don’t know anything. Hope has sparked and died, and it’s killing the remains of my spirit.
Salvatore enters, tall, dark and brooding, his gaze oozing danger. I take a step back, wary, but then I can’t hold it together anymore.
“You suck at taking a hostage,” I scream.
He slams the door closed and locks it, then he takes a long stride, and grips around my throat, shoving me all the way back until I connect with the wall. He looks me over, his nostrils flaring. I am hypnotized by his black eyes, then my gaze darts to his shirt sleeve, which has a large stain of what is clearly blood, and I freeze in horror.
“There are better—” He licks his lips, his expression turning cruel. “And there are worse occasions to be mouthy with me. This is not a good time!” He shoves away from me and looks me over. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to get naked when I’m here?”
“I—I didn’t have time,” I whimper, my voice fading on the last word as I yank the shirt over my head and quickly pull down the boxers. His eyes narrow, then he grabs my arm and pulls me toward the bed.
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