by Rina Kent
I want him to do this to me. Not only because of the punishment, but also because this is my wildest fucking fantasy. Jas is letting me live to the very last detail.
My first orgasm takes me by surprise, ripping through my body with a shocking combination of force and need. Jas fucks me like I’m just a doll, driving his cock inside me like he's merely using my holes to get off. Like he doesn't give a shit whether I'm enjoying this or not. To my horror, it only serves to turn me on more.
"You filthy slut," he murmurs in my ear. "Dressed that way. Tempting every fucking man. You knew this was going to happen, didn't you, Petal? You wanted to get raped."
Another orgasm, this time even more heart-pounding than the last. I'm groaning, whimpering, when he finally pulls the gag free. I'm still handcuffed, gulping down sobs as he rolls the ball all over my pussy, soaking it in my juices.
"Be nice and quiet now, Pet.”
I nod, my bottom lip shaking. Wordlessly, I watch him make the ball drip with my juices before shoving it back in my mouth.
"I want you to taste what I'm tasting. The sweetest little cunt I've ever had. How is anyone supposed to resist you, Petal? Every man dreams of raping that filthy cunt of yours.”
He lifts my legs apart and plunges his cock in again. Fucks me hard and fast and relentless. I stop counting after the third orgasm. Stop existing after another hour of his torture. It's like he's determined to break me with the sheer force of his cock. I'm coming apart beneath him and he doesn't even care, fucking me into such a mess I'm soaked in tears, spit and my own juices.
I don't know how much later it is, but I'm gasping for air when he removes the gag again.
"Nice and quiet, remember?" He reminds me, and I nod breathlessly. "Good girl, Petal. Now I'm going to give you a special present because you were so good tonight. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
I nod again as he lovingly touches his fingertips to my cheeks. He's so gentle.
But not for long.
He slaps my cheek, hard. The shock is enough to make me drip and I stare into his eyes defiantly.
"More," I whisper.
His lips lift in a dark, cruel smirk. "You want to be hit again?"
I nod.
He backhands me.
The sting of the slap feels surreal – surreal enough to make my legs open wide. Surreal enough to have my juices leaking from me.
“Again,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
He slaps me again, from left to right and right to left and when I cry out it’s because I’m coming. Coming as he hits me. Jerking my hips like a slut as the shock of each slap has my body reeling.
I just came by being hit and called a slut.
Oh, God.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
The shame of it all is too much to bear, and I bury my head in the pillow while Jas plunges his cock into me and fucks me like a wild animal. He's relentless, driving his cock into me as he leans down to whisper in my ear.
"Good girls get rewarded. You know I didn't put on a rubber, don't you?"
"N-No," I lie.
"Oh, you know. And you fucking love it, just like last time. Maybe next time I'll take your pills away, too. Make sure when I feed this tight cunt with my seed, it’ll take it all."
I cry out a pathetic whimper. I've never been used and abused like this, fucked so hard I don't even remember how long it's been before I had a cock inside me. I'm a puppet now, doing anything he says. And I've never been more turned on in my life.
"Beg me to fill you up. Beg for my cum."
"Please," I manage.
"Properly." He slaps my pussy hard and I erupt in dry sobs. "No more fucking drama, Pet. Beg."
"Please, Jas... Fill me up, I want it."
"More."
"I want to drip with you... I want to feel your seed inside me when you leave."
"Good girl." He grabs my neck, his eyes connecting with mine as he drives himself inside me again, then stays in place. I feel his enormous cock throbbing in me, and it's enough to drive me wild. "Feel that, Petal? That's my cock fucking claiming you because you’re mine. Only mine."
He starts off slow, easing out of me, before slowly pushing all the way deep. He feels enormous. I know he’s ready to blow. I clench my pussy around him when he’s buried deep and it’s enough to make him hiss.
“Slut,” he says, tightening his grip on my throat as he fucks me fast until it really does feel like I’m on fire.
I come one last time as he unloads inside me. When he pulls out, he immediately replaces his cock with his fingers, fucking his hot cum into me.
"Don't let a drop go to waste," he tells me. "All of it inside you. Want it here, Pet? Want me to massage it into your clit?"
"Yes," I whisper. "Fuck it into me, too..."
"My greedy little slut." He watches in fascination as my body eagerly responds, then sighs, stepping away and pulling his pants up. "I'll be back for more, Pet. You're a good little rapeslut now. You'll do this for me again and again."
He undoes the handcuffs, and my arms lie limp by either side of me.
Jasper leaves a tender kiss on my cheek and whispering one last good girl in my ear.
Then, just like that, he's gone.
19
Jasper
The taste of my little Petal is still on my lips as I drive all the way to Wisconsin.
That’s a lie.
It’s not only her taste that stays with me. Her screams, her cries, her sobs still echo like music to my ears.
Who needs those studio-made sounds when I can play my little Petal like my custom-made instrument?
Now that I figured her buttons and saw her unravel, begging for more as I wrenched orgasm after orgasm from her, I won’t be able to stop.
Not now.
Not ever.
In order to go back to her, to light both our bodies on fire, I need to take care of this fucking ordeal first.
I tuck my little Petal’s taste and cries at the back of my mind where they join images of her spent, with a soft satisfied smile on her lips.
No idea why I want to see that smile over and over again.
That smile is only mine.
Just like my little Petal is.
I stop near a shabby old building on the outskirts of Wisconsin and put on black aviators. Instead of driving through the poor, shitty neighborhood, I leave the car at a public parking lot and walk the rest of the way.
The neighborhood isn’t only old and poor, but there’s a certain depression lurking in the air like another layer of atmosphere.
Curious glances fly my way and I try to walk normally without attracting any attention. This isn’t the Costas’ turf. There are other gangs, local and even Russian, and they don’t react well to the name. They won’t hesitate to come after me if they know Lucio Costa’s hitman is in town.
He might be feared, but he’s not liked and when the shit hits the fan, his enemies will always try to bring him down, not offer him a hand of help.
I’m risking a fucking gang war here. Some of those smudge-faced kids and the whores who pretend they want to give me head will tell their pimps and I’ll soon have a crowd on me.
These people always know when there’s a stranger in town.
So, I have little to no time to get the information I need and get the fuck out of here.
I step inside the bakery shop without making a sound. The two patrons at the table lift their heads. The waitress’s face is caught in what resembles a grimace and is in no way a smile.
“What can I get you, darlin’?” she asks in a thick accent.
“Sarah. Where is she?”
“S-Sarah?”
I pull out my gun and point it at her face. The two patrons scream and scramble out of the shabby bakery. The gangs are coming for me anyway, might as well make it worth their trip.
“Sarah,” I repeat. “Say one wrong word and your brain will be gone.”
The waitress’s face turns white as she points
behind her with shaky fingers.
“I’m here.” A quiet voice pulls my attention.
A woman stands behind the counter, wiping her hands against her apron and wearing a serene expression. Her white hair is pulled into a bun under the kitchen cap and her wrinkled face eases as if she’s relieved.
She knew someone would come to find her one day, and to delay that as much as possible, she moved into a territory that doesn’t like the Costas.
Sarah Lisette, a former cook at the boarding school and a current nobody, but she’s smart. She knew to stay out of the Costas’ reach, but she kept close enough to Chicago to check on a certain someone.
I stride toward her and stop close enough that only the counter separates us. I place my gun on the marble, a clear threat that if she doesn’t tell me what I want to know, I won’t hesitate to kill her.
“You’ve grown, Jasper.” Her wrinkles crease as she smiles. “You used to like rocks, but it looks like you changed toys.”
Interesting. Not only does she remember me, but she also knows me. Weird that I don’t have a clear recollection of her, which means she did an excellent job at staying in the background.
“The new toys hurt more.” I finger the trigger of my gun, even though the safety is still on. “Don’t make me try it on you.”
She throws her hand around as she retrieves dough and proceeds to twist it. “I’m old, my boy. Death will come for me one way or another.”
“You get to decide whether it hurts or not.”
“No wonder he keeps you.” She shakes her head. “That fucking brat and his thirst for the best things never changed.”
She knows Lucio.
This is getting more interesting.
“Is that why you hid the boy from him? Because you knew he’d mold him into his thing?”
“Mold him?” She scoffs, her attention never wavering from the dough. “He wouldn’t have been able to with you in the picture.”
I freeze, my finger stopping at the trigger. I was hoping it isn’t true, but —
“Remember Joseph?” Her wrinkled eyes meet mine for the first time, they’re tired. So fucking tired. I haven’t seen tired eyes like hers in a long time. “You used to protect him, used to make the other boys eat dust before they laid a hand on him, and you didn’t care that you’d be punished for it.”
“Your point?”
“You’ve changed toys to hurt him now. You can’t expect me to tell you where he is.”
I pull the safety and point the gun at her head. “Then you’ll die with that knowledge.”
“Death doesn’t scare me.” She meets me head-on. “I signed my death certificate the moment I snatched Joseph from Costa’s blood pool and gave him a safe place to stay.”
“Safe place?” I chuckle without humor. “You might think yourself a saint, but you’re not. That fucking school was anything but safe. He was a weak little fucker and would’ve been raped then killed if he was left to fend for himself.
“But he had you.” Her wrinkles crease again, revealing crooked teeth as she smiles. “You don’t want to kill him.”
Doesn’t mean I won’t.
Joseph’s fate was sealed the moment Paolo shot his seed into his mother’s womb.
He will be killed either by me or Costa’s men. The only difference is that, if I do it, I get to live, if I don’t, Lucio will lose all trust in me and would turn the whole fucking city against me.
But Sarah doesn’t need to know that. We’re finally going somewhere and if she thinks I’ll protect him instead of killing him, she’ll talk.
I retrieve my gun and tuck it away.
Her hands work absentmindedly at the dough. “It wasn’t easy to get him to where he is today. He suffered a lot.”
Spare me the history lesson.
Still, I listen, with my hands clasped in front of me.
“After he left, his new family didn’t want him, because he was too quiet.”
I don’t remember Joseph being too quiet, he never shut the fuck up.
“He had a few foster homes until he graduated from high school.” She molds the dough into small shapes but doesn’t continue.
“Then?”
“Are you going to kill him?” She meets my eyes.
“No.” I don’t hesitate and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like a lie.
She nods sharply. “Return tonight and I might have something for you.”
“How about now?”
“George and his men will be here in two minutes. They’d love to send your corpse back to Lucio.” She raises an eyebrow. “You killed his brother three years ago.”
That George. Fuck.
“I’ll be back tonight.” I brush past her and into the kitchen.
“I was going to say use the back entrance.” She smiles. “Jasper?”
“What?” I throw one last glance at the old woman.
Her face creases into a smile. “Thank you for protecting Joseph back then. You’ll love the person he became.”
“Tonight.” I wave the gun between us and step out straight into the pouring fucking rain.
Fantastic.
I go into a back alley and take cover between two closed shops. No one is here, so I’m temporarily safe from George’s gang.
Retrieving my phone, I put on the listening devices I installed in my little Petal’s house.
I should’ve put cameras. I tuck that idea away for later use.
No sounds come out, which means she must be at her shift. A smile tugs at my lips as I think about the way she walked to her car this morning.
She was so sore, she had to take an hour off to have a bath. There’ll be a lot of baths in her future. I’m sure about that.
Baths with me, where she’ll be tucked all over my body as I make her soreness better and worse at the same time.
If obsession has degrees, I’m at the drunk stage where everything and anything is up for grabs.
And my little Petal is my poison.
I spend a few hours at the local library, going through public newspapers from the time Sarah saved Joseph.
There hasn’t been nation-wide news about the disappearance of a boy, and Joseph’s mother is still a mystery.
I know she was Paolo’s woman, but she was neither his wife nor his whore. He never married before or after her.
I don’t know why I think Joseph must look like her. He couldn’t have been with her since he was an orphan at the time, from the mother side at least.
The Costas were gods by then. Before that, they had the Vitallios up their asses, making them lose one deal after the other, then Emilio, Paolo and Lucio wiped them off the face of the earth in a cowardly mass shooting.
Since then, everyone else bows to the Costa power.
The other families don’t obey them out of respect, but out of fear. They know the Costas have no moral code or mercy and would do the same to them as they did to the Vitallios.
After a fruitless search in the newspapers, I quietly sneak into Sarah’s bakery through the back entrance. It’s early evening, but I don’t have time to waste.
I need to get this over with so I can go back and break my little Petal a little more, get under her skin a little more.
Problem is, she’s getting under my skin, too and there’s no way to stop that.
My feet halt of their own volition near the kitchen’s ajar door. The stench of something metallic and potent fills the air instead of baked goods.
Blood.
I flatten my back against the wall and bring out my gun as I slowly push the door open.
If that fucker George is starting something here—
“Took you long enough.” Lucio stands over a corpse, a scowl written on his face.
Beside him, Stephan and Marco grin, their hands bloodied, droplets smudging their faces and shirts.
Sarah —or what remains of her— lies cold on the floor, her head snapped, lolling to the side at an awkward angle. Her nails are chipped, an object pro
trudes from between her breasts. Her panties are bunched to her ankles, soaked in blood.
The fucking animals.
They raped an old woman dry in the ass. An old fucking woman.
I’m tempted to put bullets in their heads, but I force my hand to drop to my side and to wear the blank face I’m so good at.
“I needed her for information,” I say in a bored voice, but a fucking fire rages inside me.
She was the last person who knew me and Joseph.
“I got it myself.” Lucio kicks her lifeless corpse. “You’re getting sloppy, Jasper.”
“I found her, didn’t I? The cleaners,” I motion at Stephan and Marco, “only followed me here and took credit for my job.”
“A job you’re not doing well.” Lucio appears calm, but I know when he’s at his limit.
He’s been dreaming about being the leader since his father was alive, and now that he has it within reach, he won’t allow anything or anyone to sabotage it.
“What did she say?” I throw a fleeting glance at Sarah’s corpse.
She was loyal to Joseph, but considering the torture she endured, she must’ve talked. At a certain point of torture, the brain shuts down and will do anything to stop the pain.
“He’s in the city,” Lucio says. “He’s hidden well, so he could be in a safe house or under some fucking witness protection program.”
“Is that all she said?”
“What else should she have said?” he asks.
“Just asking.”
Interesting. Sarah knew exactly where Joseph was, and she contemplated telling me, thinking I’d protect him. But when Lucio was involved, she kept her loyalty until the bitter end.
She really was ready for death.
“What happened to his mother?” I rip my gaze away from her and focus on Lucio.
“Where is that question coming from?”
“She could be hiding him.”
“Impossible.” He clicks his tongue. “I killed that bitch with my own hands.”
So that option is out. Back to the drawing board.
“I’ll find him,” I tuck my gun away and turn around.