I watch the doors shut as his body leaves my view. The loud click fills the bathroom and I finally wrap my arms around my body. I feel stunned. Confused. And scared. More than anything, I feel lost.
I turn the water on and let the steam fill the room before I finally get into the shower. The heat feels like absolute heaven on my sore shoulders. I stand under the stream, letting the water hit me as I absorb everything. It takes a long while for me to reach for the soap and and wash the grime of the cell away. When my fingers travel lower, the anger comes along with bitter disappointment. I let him touch me.
I scrub my body harder and turn up the heat. The reality of the situation makes my breathing become ragged.
I close my eyes as the tears leak out and lean my body against the cool tiled wall. I slowly slide down until I’m on my ass and holding my knees to my chest.
I don’t know how I’ll ever get out of here. But I will.
Part of me thinks I should be grateful. The fucking psycho who took me is at least giving me space and letting me stay in a beautiful prison. It could be worse. But it’s still a prison. And I don’t deserve this. It’s better than death. I can’t deny that. I’m safe for now. Or at least I’ve been given the impression of safety.
I’ll obey him to save myself from punishment, but I can’t forget what's really going on here.
I can’t let him break me. I can’t let him win.
The first chance I’m given, I’m running and never looking back.
It takes me an hour before I finally go back to the bedroom.
I stop in my tracks when I see a tray on the end of the bed. I walk closer to it with disbelief. Sitting on the tray is a sage green teacup with the corresponding saucer on top to keep the heat in. And next to it are two melatonin pills.
I reach down and slowly move the saucer; the steam spills out beautifully from the freshly steeped chamomile tea.
He was watching. I already knew that though. I knew he would be watching me.
I’ve read countless books where the heroine is taken and forced to submit. I pick the teacup up and put it to my lips. I close my eyes as I take a sip and sit down on the bed. I look around the bedroom, the one he designed with me in mind, and think back to all those dark romances.
I’ve already read this story, but this is different. The way this story ends is entirely up to me and my choices from here on out.
Anthony
I pull the covers closer around me. I do it every night as though they’ll protect me, but they won’t. No one can protect me. This is something that has to happen. I ruined her life. When she had me, everything changed. She’s hurting because of me. Dad’s never nice to her anymore. He always makes her cry now. When he hits her, she hits me. It’s only fair, she says. I deserve it. I should never have been born.
I hear the door creak open and shut behind her. I know it’s coming. The belt comes down hard and I cry out as little as possible. I hear her, but I ignore it. I feel the pain, but I pretend I’m numb. I think about Tommy. As long as she stays here, he’s safe. He didn’t do anything. It’s not his fault. It’s my fault. I try to be good and stay quiet, but the belt whips through the air and smacks across my face. I can’t help that I screamed.
I can’t help it. I hear them coming. No! I shake my head as she shoves the belt under the covers. My heart beats faster. I tried to be good. I tried. Please forgive me.
My eyes slowly open and and my body seems frozen. It takes a moment for my heart to calm. I’m used to this. Everything will be fine. It’s nothing that matters anymore. My racing heart is the only indication that I’ve had that fucking nightmare again. I clear my throat and get my shit together. I do my best to feel nothing, and for the most part that’s true.
I don’t feel a god damned thing reliving that memory.
I look over to my alarm and move the switch before the clock has a chance to display 6:00 AM and go off. I can’t remember the last time the alarm actually had a chance to go off. It doesn’t matter though, as long as I’m up to start the day.
I check my phone again. Vince still hasn’t written me back.
I look at the last message he sent me. It reads, 1 month. I have one month with her until the Cassanos want proof that she’s dead.
One month, my ass. I’m not giving her up in a month. No fucking way. I’ve only just gotten my hands on her.
I calm myself by thinking about how she’s safe here. Having her in her room soothes the beast inside of me. My kitten is where she belongs, and she’s adjusting well.
She cried for nearly an hour last night. I hated watching her break down like that. It’s only natural though. And now that it’s out of her system, she’s taken to her surroundings well. She checked everywhere for an escape though. I chuckle as I make my way to the monitors in the closet.
Her alarm is going to go off at 7 a.m., and she’s still curled up in bed. I imagine she’s going to want to fight me on this one. She’s used to getting up at 8 a.m. I’d be happy to let her have the extra hour, if she asks. I may prime her to ask for permission so she can see that I’m willing to adjust for her. But I’m not sure she’ll bring it up and risk going back to the cell. She might be afraid that even just asking me will displease me. Her fear is a big part of what’s holding us back. I just need to give her time and let that dissipate.
I watch her sleeping peacefully and something inside of me seems to shift into place. I know everything is going to work out perfectly. Every ounce of worry leaves me.
I walk with purpose to the bathroom and go about my daily ritual. I look at my reflection in the mirror and run my hand over the stubble on my jaw. I need to get myself together before I go to her. And she should be doing the same for me. She isn’t though.
I cluck my tongue before pulling out the razor and shaving cream.
I’m happy about that. This will be a perfect training opportunity. I asked her if she needed me to explain what being a submissive means, and she said no. She was wrong. Obviously my little kitten missed some vital information in her books. She should always be presentable for me. I can’t wait to show her what happens when she doesn’t meet my expectations. My kitten’s in for a treat.
As I rinse the razor in a hot stream of water, my phone pings. I close my eyes with frustration.
I’ve told them I’m taking some time off, but Tommy insists I’m needed. I’d do anything for my brother, but sometimes he gets on my fucking nerves.
I text him back that I’ll meet him later tonight. I just want to enjoy this, but instead I feel tense. It’s because I know they’re going to take her from me.
They can’t.
He said I could have this.
He gave me his word.
I don’t give a fuck about the business that we get from the Cassanos, or what their expectations were. I bought her, so she’s mine to do whatever I fucking want with her.
And right now, I want to get information from her, whip her ass for not being ready and then have her writhing beneath me.
My shoulders loosen up and I let out an easy breath as my dick springs to life. Maybe if I just keep all the blood in my cock I won’t get so fucking worked up over Vince and his lack of a god damned backbone.
I splash some water on my face and pat it dry. I’m only in pajama pants that are hanging low on my hips, and my erection is obvious. That’s good though. I want her to know how much I want her.
I look back in the mirror and breathe easy.
It’s only me and her right now.
Time to play with my kitten.
Catherine
I wake up with a shriek ripped from my throat as a hard hand smacks against my ass.
I bolt upright from the bed and grab the covers, pulling them close to my body as I stare wide-eyed at Anthony. My heart beats rapidly with fear, but then is replaced by something else entirely. The brief dread that I feel fucking vanishes.
Holy fuck, he looks like he came straight off the cover of my favorite smutty novels.
That chiseled “V” at his hips and his hard and lean muscular body are exactly what I've longed to wake up to. Except that he just spanked me, and he’s looking at me like I kicked his puppy.
I have no fucking clue what I did to piss him off. I slowly move into a submissive position, watching him cautiously. But his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on my ass and probably admiring the bright red mark he left.
“Nice of you to wake up.” He finally gives me a clue as to what I did wrong. His tone is playful and it eases a small part of me, but I can’t forget. This is an illusion and a game to him. I can’t relax; I need to keep my guard up. I pull at the hem of the nightgown I'm wearing. It’s the longest one I found in the dresser, but it still shows far too much of my ass.
My eyes home in on the clock on the nightstand, but I can’t see the time. I vaguely remember smacking that annoying fucker when the alarm woke me up earlier. My heart sinks, and my stomach drops with fear. Day one, and already I've fucked this up. I didn’t fucking know, although I should have.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asks with a heated stare.
I’m fucking exhausted because a psycho took me from my home and said psycho happens to get up earlier than I do. Add that to the list of things that make you a prick.
I clear my throat as softly as possible and decide to apologize. I can't risk getting in even more trouble right now. I can’t go back to the cell. I remember how nice he was last night, I just need to appeal to that side of him. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn’t realize.”
“You’re supposed to be presentable for me.” His voice is stern.
I keep my eyes on his as my breathing picks up. He's right, I should've known that. It’s not like I thought I could sleep in and lounge around all day.
“I wasn’t sure when you’d be here,” I say as softly as my voice allows.
“You should always be ready.” He walks to the nightstand and picks up the clock, holding it out for me to see. “But this should give you a pretty good fucking clue as to when I’ll be here.”
A yawn creeps up on me and I really do try to hold it in. But I can't stop myself, and I literally let out a huge yawn as he's reprimanding me. I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”
“You didn’t what?” he asks with a hard edge. His eyes narrow as he sets the clock down with more grace and care than is needed. I can tell he’s trying to hold in his anger. A darkness I haven’t seen yet gathers around him. Fuck, this isn’t good.
“I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Fear heats my blood as I scoot backward on the bed. “I didn’t mean to yawn. It just slipped out, and I didn’t know about the time.”
“You seem to have relaxed a little too much, kitten. Did you forget who you are?” he asks. His words send chills down my spine and strike fear into my heart.
I don’t know how to respond; my mouth opens, but words don’t come out. I don’t know what he wants me to say. He puts his knee on the bed and reaches out, grabbing my ankle and dragging me across the bed. The nightgown travels up my body and I desperately try to keep it down. But I don’t struggle against his hold, and I don’t fight him. I let him drag me over to him.
“Mine. That’s who you are. You. Are. Mine.” His anger wanes as I look back at him. He commands me in a calmer tone. “Say it.”
I hold his gaze and answer quickly. “Yours. I’m yours.” His chest rises and falls with his steadying breath. My pussy clenches as I see how my words have tamed him somewhat. I love the power I have over him, but I’m not a fool, and this isn’t right. It’s wrong. What I feel for him, this entire situation--it’s all wrong.
He’s still trying to calm himself down and I know I need to say something to make him less angry with me. “I will be pres--present--” I try to tell him I’ll be ready for him at all times. But I stumble over the words. Although he hasn't hit me, I’m scared to death he will. Or worse, that he’ll throw me back into the cell and leave me there.
“Shh.” His hand cups my chin and he looks me in the eyes. “You will be presentable for me by 8 a.m. every morning. Unless that’s too early for you?” He cocks his head at me, daring me to disagree.
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod my head. “Yes, Anthony.” He looks back at me like he’s waiting for more. But I don't know what he wants me to say.
After a moment he asks, “Have you disobeyed me?”
I shake my head no. My breathing becomes erratic as I wonder if I've defied him unintentionally. “I didn’t mean to. Not on purpose.”
“I know you haven’t. But you also haven’t been a very good pet, have you?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be better.” I don’t want to go back to the cell. I can’t go back there. My heart begins to thump painfully in my chest as I imagine being imprisoned there again. I’ll be better for him. I know I can be better.
“You need to try harder, or this will never work.” I search his eyes for sympathy or understanding, but I see nothing. He doesn't wait for me to speak as he continues.
“Right now, for instance. You’re hesitating to answer me. You aren’t speaking to me. You aren’t ready.” I draw in a short breath at the no-nonsense list of shit I’ve done to displease him already. The worst part is that I really should know better. I’ve read dozens or more books about submissives and dominants. I know all about power exchanges--fuck, I’ve fantasized about it. And yet here I am. Failing at it. Failing at being a submissive pet like I’ve dreamt about.
“I don’t like that,” he says quietly. Fear grips my heart as I register his words. I can do this. I can be better. I need to be better so he keeps me. At least until I can get the fuck out of here. “I’m going to punish you for it.”
I start to shake my head; my body feels paralyzed. It was just one mistake. I can fix it. “Please don’t send me back--”
“No, kitten,” he says as he strokes my cheek and looks me square in the eyes. I instantly close my eyes and hold my breath. “Not a punishment for disobeying me.” He gently pulls me by the hands into a seated position and pets my hair. “The kind of punishment that will push your limits and end with both of us being satisfied.” His anger completely vanishes as he gives me a small smirk and says, “You know the type of punishment I’m talking about.”
Everything in my body relaxes as I nod back and reply, “Yes.” I know what he means, and the thought makes my blood race. I have to break his gaze as a blush comes over me and my core heats. What the fuck is wrong with me?
A low chuckle rises in his chest.
“Now that you’re here, kitten, it’s time to really start playing.” I look anywhere but his eyes and end up staring right at the erection in his pants. Oh, fuck, another wave of arousal hits me. I close my eyes and try to ignore it. This is just pretend. This is something I need to get through until I can escape.
I feel the bed dip, and I know he’s sitting next to me. I slowly open my eyes as he speaks. “Time to be a good pet and take your punishment, kitten.” I want to ask him why he’s doing this. I want to ask him to just let me go. But a darker side of me wants to be punished. I want to feel the pain turn to pleasure, just like I’ve read about before. I want those scenes to come to life. I crawl on my knees and move to drape my body over his lap with my hips atop his thighs. I know that I have this coming. I have to be better next time. It’ll be easy. I’ve read so many god damned books so I should fucking ace this.
I think about them as he slips my gown up to my waist. I’m not wearing any underwear because he simply didn’t provide me with any. My heart sputters in my chest as his hand caresses one of my ass cheeks and then the other. My body is stiff and I keep waiting for the smack every time I feel his hand lift up, but he just continues to massage my ass, drawing out my punishment. I turn my head to the side and just breathe. My shoulders ease lower and I close my eyes, enjoying his touch.
He positions me across his lap and places one of his legs over mine. My eyes open,
and I know it’s coming. A hand gentles on my ass and then lifts before landing hard with a loud smack!
“Fuck!” I yell out, and resist trying to move away. My eyes scrunch as another hard, stinging smack lands on my right cheek and then again on my left. I ball my hands into fists and close my eyes tightly as the stinging makes my eyes water. My throat closes, and I can’t help that I flinch at the next smack. Tears leak from my eyes. Fuck, it hurts. Fucking hell. I cover my face with my hands as another hard smack lands on my ass and forces a scream from me.
I prepare for another blow, but it doesn’t come. He rubs my tender ass and whispers, “You’re close, kitten. So close.” My ass feels so fucking hot and so damn sore that even the faintest soothing touch stings. He lifts his hand and brings it down over the crack of my ass. His fingertips barely touch my pussy. I try to arch my back as a warmth stirs in my belly. I shake my head as he continues my spanking. Soon the stinging pain turns into a numbing sensation, and the numbness is replaced by something else. Something hot and delightful that makes my core clench.
I groan into the sheets as his hand slaps my tender skin repeatedly. He pauses to rub my ass, and I find myself moving against him.
“Stay still, kitten,” he says as a warning. His fingers dip between the folds of my pussy.
“Yes, Anthony.” The words fall from my lips with lust. He raises his hand, and another hard spank greets my ass. “Uhh!” I scream out as my body bows. I’ve never felt this before, this heated need for more. I writhe under him, but then remember his command.
Still.
I force myself to remain motionless as more blows rain down on my ass. Right, left, center. Over and over again. Each time he hits the center, his fingers sink lower.
The pain morphs into something entirely different and I feel myself rise higher and higher. My head thrashes as I try to resist, but my body betrays me. I’m fucking soaking wet for him. After a few more hard swats, he stops and leans down, planting a kiss on my left ass cheek.
Those Boys Are Trouble: Valetti Crime Family Box Set Page 70