My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Ep. 6 Consequences

by Marita A. Hansen

  MY MASTERS’ NIGHTMARE

  SEASON 1

  EPISODE 6

  “CONSEQUENCES”

  Marita A. Hansen

  Like a television series, My Masters’ Nightmare is broken up into seasons and episodes. A new episode will be published approximately every 3 weeks until a season has ended. There will be fifteen episodes per season.

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Recap of Episodes 1-5

  1 Frano

  2 Matteo

  3 Frano

  About the Author

  Other Books by Marita A. Hansen

  Copyright

  My Masters’ Nightmare

  Season 1, Episode 6

  “Consequences”

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2013 © Marita A. Hansen

  Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Cover Photography by Nick Freund

  and sourced from http://depositphotos.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever without the written permission of the author, nor circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. For subsidiary rights inquiries email: marita.a.hansen@hotmail.com

  All characters, names, places, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  I would like to say a big thank you to my beta reading team:

  Jahayra Lopes

  Carol Allen

  Rosanna Albani

  Heather Stigge

  Andrea Braccio

  Elaine Makri

  Angelica Johnson

  Your help is greatly appreciated.

  In Episodes 1-5

  Rita Kovak, an FBI agent, allows herself to be taken as a sex slave by Jagger D’Angelo in an attempt to get to Frano D’Angelo, the mafia Don who murdered her husband. But while in captivity she discovers she has been lied to, finding out that her husband is still very much alive and is in fact a spy.

  Jagger D’Angelo is fascinated with Rita, the woman reminding him of his first love, someone who was murdered by his abuser: Father Michael Donatelli, also known as the Padre. He sets out to master Rita, to make her fall in love with him, but after his cousin betrays him, he becomes a slave himself, Alberto having secretly lusted after Jagger for years.

  Frano D’Angelo is devastated to find out that his brother, Alberto, has betrayed him in an attempt to get Jagger. But he faces even more trouble, when the Donatelli brothers force Rita to perform a humiliating sexual act upon him. In anger, he attacks her, his actions leading to Rita taking out her own revenge on him, leaving him vulnerable to the Padre’s desires. But at the last second, Rita comes to his aid. Regardless, Frano is knocked unconscious, losing his memory, while Rita is sent to the House of Whores, where Jagger is now being held captive.

  Bianca D’Angelo had been in love with Jagger ever since she met him, but is married to his cousin, a cruel man who only married her to keep his sexuality a secret. After she discovers that Alberto has raped Jagger, she sets out to poison him, but instead accidentally kills one of the Donatelli brothers, which leads to Alberto brutally beating her.

  After Frano is told about what has happened. He confronts his brother, threatening to kill him if he touches Jagger again, telling Alberto to pack and leave the house immediately. Frano then gathers a contingent of men to bring down the Donatelli, first going to the House of Whores to get back his cousin and Rita. But while there, he discovers they have escaped. When he returns home, he finds Rita imprisoned in a slave cell and Jagger brutalized and raped by Alberto. Grief stricken, he seeks out Alberto and stabs him, killing both his brother and his own soul.

  Episode 6 “Consequences” begins...

  I’m your lover

  Your captor

  I am Frano D’Angelo

  Your worst nightmare

  1

  FRANO

  I tapped away at my computer, emailing the Arab that he would have his shipment of slaves by Monday. He had paid ten million for ten women and one eunuch. It was a cheaper rate than usual, but one I was satisfied with, considering my famiglia didn’t have to train these slaves. All of the human cargo had come from the House of Whores, a place I now owned, and I would dare the Donatelli to say otherwise.

  I pressed send, then pushed up from my desk and headed out of my office, nodding at the burly guard standing by my door. He was one of the many soldiers protecting my house, a personal bodyguard given to me by my good friend Pedro Landi. Ever since I had destroyed the Donatelli household four days ago, I had stepped up security, making my home into a fortress, one that was impenetrable. Four of the top men from the Dontatelli famiglia were still roaming free, and no doubt waiting for the perfect opportunity to take revenge on me for what I had done. But unlike the last time they had attacked me, I was ready, those bastards now dead men walking.

  I quickly crossed the dining-room floor, not wanting to look at the spot where I had lost my soul. The bloodstained rug by the main staircase was now gone, only the painful memory remaining. My chest tightened at the thought of my brother, of what his actions had forced me to do. I could still see Alberto’s eyes staring at me in shock after I’d pulled my knife from his stomach. Although killing him had been justified, it still hurt beyond description. I may not have had a choice—no, I did. I had killed him for what he’d done to our cousin. He’d raped and brutalized Jagger, leaving him a ghost of his former self.

  I kept on walking, clenching and unclenching my hands to stop from lashing out at the first person I saw. The guard by the front door straightened, no doubt sensing my agitation. He was another Landi soldier, a big battle-scarred man who would probably let me strike him, but I wasn’t about to lose control in front of anyone, let alone a man who was sent to protect me.

  The soldier gave me a curt bow, a sign of respect for my new position as the head Don. The other families on the island had pledged their support and loyalty to me, giving me the role that Don Donatelli had once held.

  I descended the west wing’s basement staircase, indicating to the guard standing in front of the cells to open one of the doors. He unlocked and pulled it open, closing it abruptly upon my entry. Unlike the other slave cells, this one only housed two women—my own personal slaves: one I wanted to hurt, the other I wanted to love.

  The two naked women were sitting on the coverless bed, looking like they had been talking. They were probably working out how they could escape me. Both of them were tough, not easy bitches to break, but I would do it, because I was their master.

  I smiled at them, not because I was happy, no, I would never be happy again. Instead, I did it to make them uneasy, the anticipation of what I could do to them high. My eyes fell over their breasts, my favorite part of a female’s body. Both of them had exquisite tits, although Camila’s were more voluptuous. My ex’s breasts were massive monsters, which I used to enjoy smothering my cock with. Still, I preferred the FBI agent’s succulent breasts, but it wasn’t just her body that I wanted. I wanted her heart and soul, the woman bewitching me. I hadn’t wanted someone this much since Sophia Salvi. And like Sophia, Rita lusted after me, although begrudgingly. The stubborn puttana refused to admit it, even though her actions spoke louder than all her words of denial.

  Camila yelled at me, pulling my attention away from Rita. The
wildcat sprang off the bed and charged, extending her claws to get a good swipe at me. The ravened-haired puttana was vicious, a testament to the Donatelli famiglia, but where she was strong in mind, she was weak in body. Her hourglass figure was made to be fucked, not to fight, and that backside of hers had far too much junk in the trunk to kick anyone’s ass, let alone mine.

  I pushed her aside, getting my neck scratched in the process. She lost her footing, falling backwards onto her large ass.

  I pointed at her. “Stay down.”

  She went to get up.

  “I said, stay down!” I yelled, glaring at her threateningly.

  She scrambled backwards, now looking scared. Rita shouted at me, the FBI agent capturing my attention. Unlike Camila, she was in chains, her fighting skills deadly. She was all tight muscle, a beautiful specimen of womanhood. I could even see a faint outline of a six-pack while her legs were so fucking hard. I wanted them wrapped around my waist, squeezing me until I almost snapped in two.

  “You didn’t have to hurt her!” Rita shouted, looking like she wanted to rip the chains out of the wall and wrap them around my neck.

  “Only her ego is hurt.” I headed for Rita, stopping just outside of her reach. The woman’s chains snapped as she tried to hit me. I cocked my head to the side, my gaze again running over her body. “Though, she will be punished for attacking me, as you will be too.”

  Rita glared back, those maple-colored eyes furious. “I didn’t attack you.”

  “You tried to, and you’re also speaking without my consent. You’re not allowed to do anything without it.”

  She stared at me as though she couldn’t believe what I had said. It was probably because I had allowed her to talk without constraint before, but everything was different now. I was different.

  She continued to remain silent, just her angry breathing filling the room, making it feel smaller.

  “Buono,” I said, pleased with this one small step. “You’re a quick learner.”

  “I’m not being quiet because of what you said,” she spat.

  “Pity. It would be nice to have one smart troya in this place,” I said, calling her a bitch. “And by the way, those are the last words you are to utter to me, unless of course, I tell you to speak. And if you speak out of turn, I will punish you.”

  “Like hell!” she shouted, yanking on the chains around her wrists and ankles.

  I stepped forward and slapped her across the face, making her holler. She lashed out again, missing as I stepped back, once again just outside of her reach. I smiled to annoy her, which seemed to be working, the woman now enraged.

  Camila made a noise, suggesting she was getting up. I turned and went to her as she pushed to her feet. Her cheeks were red, her blue eyes just as angry as Rita’s, but it didn’t have the same affect on me, because I had long ago bored of the woman.

  “I will kill you, Frano D’Angelo,” Camila spat. “I promise you that.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t fulfill.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my knife. I flicked it open, taking pleasure in seeing her flinch, the troya not as impenetrable as she made out. I almost laughed at my thoughts, because I was definitely going to penetrate her.

  I circled Camila, purposely unsettling her. She followed my gaze, making sure she faced me. She looked like a trapped animal right before being taken down.

  “Move over there,” I said, pointing to the wall next to the door.

  Her gaze flicked to the chain attached to the wall, her expression horrified. She shook her head, her eyes showing a flicker of fear.

  “You either do as you’re told or I’ll slice you open to see whether you truly have a heart.”

  She backed away from me, heading for the chair next to the chain, her expression telling me she knew I meant what I said.

  “Attach it to your waist,” I said, indicating to the chain.

  She picked it up, doing what I had ordered. As soon as she’d clicked the links together, locking herself in place, I turned back to the woman who interested me the most. Rita was watching me closely, probably trying to calculate what I would do next. I moved to the center of the room and placed the knife on the floor, then straightened to my full height, all six-foot-one. I started loosening my tie, the material fluttering to the floor as I slipped it off. Rita’s gaze followed it for a second, before moving to my hands as I flicked open the top button on my crisp white shirt. I opened another and another, slowly revealing my chest and stomach, a strip tease to arouse her. Rita exhaled a shaky breath. I knew what she was thinking, that I was going to rape her, but she couldn’t be further from the truth. Instead, I was going to taunt her, to make her want me so fucking bad it eventually broke down her barrier of denial. She would still want to attack me, but for other reasons, carnal ones. I imagined her ripping my clothes off, clawing at my body as she climbed onto it—using me for her own pleasure. The memory of her riding me in my bathtub returned, making my cazzo strain against my pants.

  I shrugged off my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Rita watched silently. Even Camila was quiet behind me, no curse words thrown my way. I was the center of their attention, a slave to their desires. I wondered whether they thought of me when they touched themselves, wishing it was me bringing them to completion.

  I toed off my shoes and socks, unbuttoned my pants, then pulled down the zipper.

  “What are you doing?” Rita croaked out.

  I hooked my thumbs into the waistband. “Giving you what you desire.”

  “I don’t desire you, so put your clothes back on.”

  “You don’t truly mean that, because I know you want to fuck me. It’s written all over your face, and those nipples of yours don’t lie. I know what arousal looks like, and I would bet my household your pussy is wet for me, aching for my cock to fill it.” I walked towards her. Rita got to her feet, looking ready to attack again. I stopped outside of her reach, taunting her with a smile, then before she could react, I stepped forward and quickly ran my finger through her folds. She froze in place, her face shocked. I took a step back, once again outside of her striking zone. “Definitely wet,” I said, grinning wide.

  She snapped out of her shock. “I am not!”

  “Such a liar,” I said, licking my finger.

  Her jaw flexed, but she remained silent, because she knew I was right.

  My gaze moved down her body, stopping on her pussy. “You have such a sweet taste; I’d love to lick you out.” I took a hold of my waistband, and pushed my pants down along with my briefs. I stepped out of them, now baring my body to her.

  Her face went slack, the woman looking stunned.

  I smiled. “I do tend to render women speechless.”

  She blinked, then as though a light had switched on, her face turned angry again. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” she snapped. “I don’t want you, so get that into your thick head, and if you want proof, unchain me so I can kick your slimy Italian ass. I’ll teach you a lesson on how to treat a woman.”

  “You’re not a woman, you’re a slave, and the only thing touching my ass in the future will be your lips.” I turned and ran my hand over it. “I know you love my culo. Are you dying to fuck it again?”

  “I. Don’t. Want. You. You fucking asshole!”

  “You really are obsessed with fucking assholes.”

  “It’s an expression, you idiot!”

  “Not with you, and how about you stop pretending that you don’t want me and lie back on the bed so I can pleasure your pussy.”

  “Fuck off!”

  “Drop the defiant act, it’s getting tiresome.”

  Her upper lip twitched. “I’m not acting.”

  “Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes tell me another, because, bella, I can see fire burning behind them.” I ran my hand over my cock, which was rapidly hardening, the blood rushing to it, filling for her. “By the way, you spoke without permission, which means I need to punish you, and since slapping doesn’t work I wil
l have to be more inventive.” I glanced over my shoulder at Camila, who was glaring at me. I refocused on Rita, my smile widening. “Do you like her?”

  Rita’s gaze moved to Camila. “I don’t know her.”

  “So, in the four days you’ve been in here together you haven’t asked her a single question?”

  She remained silent.

  “I thought so. You like asking questions. I think it’s the FBI in you. You probably think you can save her, but she’s not worth saving; she’s even more evil than me.”

  “No one’s more evil than you—except for the Padre and your brother.”

  I flinched, her mention of Alberto cutting me. She didn’t know that I had killed him, knew nothing of the pain I was going through. She frowned at me, probably wondering why her words had made me react. I closed my eyes, needing to rein in my emotions, to stop the pain from bubbling over, affecting what I was meant to do. I didn’t come in here to think of Alberto; I came here so I could forget—if only for a few seconds.

  Once I was under control, I opened my eyes. Rita was staring at me, her expression worried, undoubtedly over Jagger, who Alberto had taken from the cells, my brother’s lust for our cousin unholy. I could see that Rita wanted to ask me if Jagger was alright, but she held her tongue, maybe because she knew something bad had happened. Did she think Jagger was dead? Would she mourn him? She had been locked up with him in the House of Whores. I wondered whether they had drawn closer in that time, because she seemed to have a soft spot for him. Was I jealous? Fuck no, because Jagger wouldn’t want her now. If anything, I doubted he even wanted to live after what my brother had done to him.

  “You have no right to speak of my brother.” I took a calming breath, then continued: “You will not utter a word about him again or I will fuck you like a hole—no pleasure, only pain involved.”

  She remained silent. I sneered at her, aching to hurt her as much as I was hurting, to cause her emotional rather than physical pain. I glanced back at Camila, who was looking at me with curiosity. I threw her a glare, then refocused my attention on Rita. I would use Rita’s own “good guy” morals against her, punishing her through Camila.