Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “Beautiful, young Carmen.”

  I still have the ugly horizontal bruises on my butt from when he used his belt on me. “We have different opinions on beauty.”

  He laughs. “You’re a mouthy little whore, aren’t you?”

  I don’t answer.

  “You don’t like that I call you whore?”

  I shrug. “I’ve been called worse. It’s what I am, sir.”

  His hand between my legs, pushing up against my pussy, makes me jump. “Damn right, you are. Make yourself wet.”

  I spit in my hand and spread it along my folds, sliding back and forth, trying to prepare myself, praying it’ll hurt less.

  “Bend over.”

  I put my hands on the edge of the desk and bend forward, praying he won’t go in my ass, because I don’t think I’ll stay conscious if he does. His belt rattles, he unzips, then he pushes his cock against my opening, thrusting back and forth a little. I swallow hard. It’s not awful if he just fucks me.

  “You’re so tight,” he groans.

  “Do you like it, sir?” I put some honey into my voice, making it a little seductive.

  He scoffs, grabs my hair in a vice grip and pushes all the way in with one brutal thrust. I try to make my whimper sound sexy instead of shocked but fail miserably. I fight to relax, but he’s so devastatingly brutal and everything inside me fights to keep him out. I squeal when he slaps my ass, renewing the fire, renewing the horrifying memory of his beating. But I don’t beg him. I grit my teeth and fight the tears, fight to keep breathing. His thrusting gets furious, vengeful, and he keeps hitting me until I scream.

  “Please!”

  He grabs my hips and buries his cock to the hilt, twitching, jerking, gasping, his moans erratic and sounding like he’s lost all control.

  “Fuck!”

  Pulling out, he shoves me to the side. Cum leaks from my pussy, dribbling along the insides of my thighs.

  I turn for the first time since he asked me to take off the dress, taking in his flushed face, the impeccable three-piece suit, his still semi-hard cock hanging out. When our eyes meet, there’s a flash of something vulnerable in his before they turn into cold opals.

  “Go get a towel.”

  I scurry to the restroom and fetch the two there are, handing him one as I get back. He wipes off his cock and throws it on the floor, then he nods toward the couch by the windows.

  “Sit.”

  I make a move to get my dress, but he shakes his head and I resign myself. Naked. Okay. I grit my teeth as I sit down on the towel, cum still leaking out of me, my ass stinging after the slapping. He’s such a fucking dick. Pulling my legs up under me, folding them to the side, I wait.

  Salvatore pushes a button on his desk. “Ivan. You can bring in the first.”

  First? First what? My heart rate spikes. What’s he planning?

  What follows is an hour and a half of him in business meetings. One man after the other, some agitated, some pleading and whimpering, some terrified. Some I recognize from when they buried their cocks in my throat, last time I was here.

  I’m cold and a little sore. I endure leering gazes, roaming my body. Ignoring them all, I focus on the interaction between them and the mob boss. After a while I see what he’s doing. They’re all distracted by me, giving him the upper hand. He’s got another man by his side. A man I haven’t seen before. Tall, blond, lanky. He hasn’t acknowledged me with even a glance.

  When the last man has left, just the two of them sit bent over his laptop, then Salvatore snaps it shut with a little bang that makes me jump. I fear it’s my turn soon.

  “Eric! Have you met Carmen?”

  Salvatore spins around in his chair, giving me a challenging stare. I raise my chin and hold his gaze.

  Eric regards me and then grabs a pile of papers off the desk.

  “Why don’t you sample her? She’s a tight little bitch. Gets off on spanking and her ass is so fucking tight you wouldn’t believe it. She’s trying to be so brave. Breaking her is the sweetest thing.” He’s still holding my gaze, his eyes a dark void, emotionless, hard.

  My stomach clenches. Not my ass. Not tonight. Please.

  “I’m not interested in your whores, Luci. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He rounds the desk and moves toward the door.

  Salvatore spins his chair, turning his back on me. “You’re missing out, Reed.”

  Eric flips him off without looking at him and disappears. I have to hide the smile. Cool guy. Wish I could flip this fucker off too.

  When he turns to me again, my stomach churns. He stands and walks over to the couch where I sit, slow measured strides, then he sits next to me.

  “Suck my cock. Listening to these whimpering cunts gives me tension.”

  I unbuckle his belt, pull down the zipper and lower the waistband of his briefs, pulling out his soft cock, which starts to swell as I take it in my hand.

  “Show me what you’re made of, whore.”

  I give him a glare and take him in my mouth, showing him exactly what I can do. With my hand around his base, stroking him, I give him a stellar blowjob, hoping I can exhaust his appetite for me early and maybe get away easier this time.

  Salvatore grabs a large chunk of hair at my nape and begins to thrust in my throat. His other hand finds my breasts and squeezes them so hard I buck to instinctively try to get away. His hand continues along my stomach and slides in between my legs, shoving several fingers inside me, thrusting as he buries his cock in my throat, staying there longer each time. He finds my clit and begins stroking it, circling it, dipping inside me and then my clit again. It’s brutal and at the same time he knows exactly what he’s doing because my body starts responding, an ache building along the insides of my thighs, in my pussy, in my lower stomach. Fuck him! I do not want to come with a customer, and especially not this monster.

  My throat is raw, and I wince every time he pushes his length to the hilt, praying to God he’ll come soon. When he suddenly doesn’t let go, holding me down with his hand in my hair in a vice grip, I panic. I can’t get any air and as he keeps holding me, my whole body begins to tingle and buzz from the increasing lack of oxygen. My chest heaves with my desperate, pointless attempts to breathe. He keeps massaging my clit and my body suddenly can’t tell the difference between pleasure and the raw panic that keeps increasing. Everything cramps up in me, I beat at him with no result, he doesn’t let go, and then I explode in a pulsing, aching catharsis. As my pussy clenches in an orgasm that ravages my insides, black dots begin to appear before my eyes and my head is spinning.

  I’m a rag when he lets me go, lifting my head off his cock by my hair. I pull in a long, life-giving breath and then I cough violently.

  My pussy tingles, still spasming, his fingers still pushing in and out.

  Saliva dribbles on my cheek, but no cum. I look at his rock-hard cock and realize he didn’t come.

  “You’re a fucking dick,” I rasp and try to push up.

  He rips me up by my hair so I’m facing him. I scream from the pain and grab his hands, trying to relieve the pressure on my scalp.

  “I know.” He smirks and pulls his fingers out of my pussy, pushing them between my lips. “Clean me. Make it look hot.”

  Hot is not an option. Tears and snot dribble over my cheeks and lips as I lick and suck his fingers until he’s satisfied. He pats me on the cheek, little smacks, not very lovingly, then releases me. I dart up and run to the bathroom, emptying my stomach in the toilet. I thought I was going to die. For real. I felt darkness closing in before he finally let me breathe, and I know he would do it if he wanted. I look at the window, wondering if I can open it, climb out, and just run. Then I remember his guards, the wall, the gates and slump on the floor, new tears falling.

  I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry from fear, but Salvatore takes fear to heights I haven’t experienced before.

  Chapter 14

  Carmen

  On trembling legs, I make my way back out, stopp
ing at the edge of the carpet. Salvatore sits on the couch still, properly zipped up, looking impeccable, typing something on his phone.

  “Get over here,” he says without looking up.

  I force my legs to move, feeling as if they’re filled with lead.

  “On your hands and knees.”

  I fall down, like a dog, submissive to her master, or just plain scared of the abuse that will follow if she doesn’t obey. I wait. He keeps typing without acknowledging me. Finally, he stands and pats the outside of his thigh.

  “Come.”

  I begin to rise, and he grips my neck, hard, and pushes me down.

  “Did I tell you to stand?”

  “No, sir,” I say and look at my hands, wincing from the pain in my nape.

  “Good girl. Now come. For the rest of the night I don’t want to hear one single word from you. You may scream. That’s all right. Now, let’s go join the party.”

  My mouth turns dry as I start following him on all fours, stark naked. Party. Again. I clench my teeth and try to get my heartbeat back under control. What can I do anyway? Gape and swallow. That’s all I’m good for.

  My knees soon get sore on the hard floors. I glance up at Ivan as we pass the hallway. This time his gaze does travel along my body. I just want to cry. I wish there was one single person in this house who was even remotely human.

  We move through one lavish room after the other, until we end up in what looks like a pub, dark wood paneling, a long bar, a pool table, brown leather couches.

  The room is filled with men. I recognize several of them from earlier, when they sat in meetings with the monster next to me.

  “Welcome, everybody. I’m thrilled to have you in my house. Some of us have done some great deals tonight—” Salvatore glances at a group to the far right, standing with beer bottles in their hands, saluting him, “and some not so much.” He stares at a man sitting nearby. The man pales under the hard gaze. I remember him whimpering and pleading. I don’t remember what it was about.

  “Enjoy my hospitality, my beer, the games. And my pet!” He grips my nape and pulls me up by my hair so I stand on my knees, turning me from side to side for everybody to see. I grab his hands to try to relieve the pain in my scalp, but he shoves me back to the floor. “You may touch her wherever, come all over her if that pleases you, but I’ll cut off your dicks or hands if you try to shove any of them in her. Tonight, all her holes are mine.”

  I don’t know if I should be relieved or horrified. Relieved in the moment, I guess. Horrified for later. ‘All her holes’. I’m not ready. My ass is not ready!

  Ten minutes later finds me on my back, surrounded by hooting men, spread eagle on the bar. I flinch when the first string of cum hits my chest, some drops ending up on my cheek. It won’t be the last.

  I seek the monster’s gaze. He sits with a tumbler of whisky in his hand, talking to a balding, heavy-set man. It’s as if he feels me looking, because he turns his cold black eyes on me, and there’s nothing in them, no lust, no loathing, no wickedness. Just nothing. I wonder what makes a person so emotionless, so uncaring for others’ needs and hurt.

  I don’t know how much time has passed, two hours, four hours, could be anything, when Salvatore stands. I sit like a ragdoll next to an empty armchair, hugging my chest. The men have lost their interest in me. Most of the cum has dried. It makes my skin feel tight. I’m cold and empty, bruised from where they’ve pinched and grabbed.

  “The night continues for anyone so inclined. Enjoy my hospitality for as long as you like. I’m in a good mood tonight. Great deals were made.” Salvatore’s voice booms through the room, making everyone go quiet. Several of the remaining guests raise their glasses and hoot their approval.

  “Pet! Come.”

  I flinch, my heart sinking. I don’t want to be alone with him. At least these men haven’t made me feel like my life was on the line, only degraded me until I’ve felt as if I have no human worth left. I get on hands and knees and crawl through the whole room until I’m next to him, staring at his shiny black shoes. Leering comments hail over me, but I don’t care. They aren’t my focus.

  “My turn, Miss Moreno,” he says in a voice so low only I hear it. I want to die. I want to get on my feet and run as far as I can get. I shake as I crawl next to him through room after room, naked, covered in other men’s filth. How does he get off on this? He’s so sick that I lack words to describe it. Suddenly he pushes open a door, revealing the same bathroom I took a shower in last time.

  “Clean up. You got five.”

  Salvatore stands in the door opening with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s observing me the whole time as I do quick work with the shower. I’m dabbing my soaked hair, now back to a curly mess, when he rips the towel out of my hands.

  “You’re dry enough.” He pats his thigh and I fall on hands and knees again.

  His bedroom is the next door down the corridor. I fight the panic as he closes the door behind us. I want to plead with him to not hurt me, but I have a feeling he’d enjoy that even more, that the hurt would be even worse.

  “Up on the bed! Lie on your belly, arms and legs spread out for me.”

  My chin trembles as I climb up and follow his instructions. Lucas’ face appears before me and I try to seek comfort in it, in the memory of our days together, but then I remember my last words, and his hurt. I force him out of my mind. I’d only keep hurting him if he’d have to pick up the remains of me every time something like this happens.

  Salvatore walks up to a curtain and pulls it to the side, revealing a set of canes. At first my mind thinks pool sticks, and then I realize these are nothing like that. There are short ones, long ones, thicker, thinner. My stomach churns. I’ve never been beaten by one, but I’ve heard enough to know that a belt has nothing on these.

  I wasn’t supposed to talk, I know pleading will only fuel him, but my brain isn’t connected to my every instinct screaming at me.

  I scramble off the bed on the other side. “No, please. Don’t do this! What have I ever done to you?”

  He grabs a cane, medium length, not very thick. “Get back on the bed.” His voice is low, measured, lethal.

  His calm tone frightens me more than if he would have been agitated. When I don’t move, he reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out a gun. My knees fold in shock, and it feels as if my insides liquefy.

  “On the bed, Carmen.”

  Filled with dread, I climb back up and lie down per his instructions. He pulls out leather straps from a drawer and starts tying my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. My heart is pounding so hard I bet he hears it when he settles on the bed, between my legs, still fully dressed. His hand is soft as he touches my ass cheek, stroking up along my back. He leans in close and smells my neck before he kisses it. All I feel is thick, syrupy dread. These caresses are nice, but I know it won’t last. He’s only toying with me.

  “You smell so good, pretty Carmen. I’m happy you came.”

  “You’re sick,” I grit out.

  I squeal as he grabs my hair.

  “Did I tell you to speak?”

  I moan and shake my head.

  “Then shut the fuck up.”

  He drops my head. It bounces once as it hits the mattress. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the worst I can imagine.

  His hand travels down along my back, still just a soft caress, then it dips in between my legs, his fingers thrusting into my unprepared pussy. He laughs as I flinch, adding more fingers, thrusting hard, in and out.

  Salvatore gets off the bed. I can’t decide if I want to look or not, but then the decision is made for me as an unimaginable streak of pain hits my butt. My eyes fly open and I wail. I don’t even recognize my voice. He’ll tear my body to pieces! The cane bears down again, a little lower this time, setting my skin on fire. The next stroke feels as if I’m being flayed. I can’t hold it together. I scream and plead, tears streaming down my face.

  When the beating
stops and nothing is heard, I open my eyes a sliver. Crouching next to the bed, his head level with mine, sits my tormentor.

  “There you are,” he whispers as he catches a tear and touches the wetness between his thumb and index finger. My backside burns infernally. He stands and removes his suit jacket, vest, opens the top buttons on his shirt and pulls it over his head. His eyes never let go of mine as he pulls down his pants and briefs and then stands naked before me. Strong, rock hard all over, dangerous. He can kill me. He might kill me. After him choking me earlier, and the gun a while ago, I’m not so sure he won’t.

  He climbs between my spread legs and grabs my hips, yanking my butt up. His fingers push into my ass and I arch from the pain. My stomach clenches. I knew it. I just hoped he’d show mercy. He pushes his thick cock against the tight, sore opening and I scream into the pillow as Luciano Salvatore violates my body yet again.

  The door opens and a thin sliver of light from the hallway falls on the floor. A shadow I recognize as Ivan looms in the doorway.

  I can’t see his eyes, his face is shaded, but I know he can see mine. Fresh tears are still falling. Every little move I make stings.

  He walks up to me and crouches next to the bed, looking me over. Tilting his head, he pushes the mess of hair off my face and tucks the strands behind my ear. He frowns and then begins to free my wrists and ankles from the straps. I glance over my shoulder at the sleeping Salvatore, then back at Ivan. He gives me his hand and pulls me up.

  I wince and bury my teeth in my lip to stay quiet.

  Ivan looks me over, his eyes as unreadable as ever, but a muscle in his jaw keeps clenching. In one move he pulls off his T-shirt and hands it to me. I stand like an idiot, holding the fabric, looking between the shirt and Ivan. He motions for me to put it on, so I make quick work with pulling it over my head. It falls to mid-thigh. It’s gigantic. I look up at Ivan, and I don’t know why I ever thought anything else, but he is a very well-built man. Broad around the waist, pure muscle, like a boxer. I always thought he was bulky, maybe a bit heavy, but there’s not an ounce of extra fat on his body. In his own brutish way, flat and broken nose and all, he’s really handsome.