“How do you feel?” she asks as she fluffs my hair so that it falls over my shoulders. It has gotten back its golden blonde hues that I used to love so much. Now, I don’t want to be pretty anymore. I wish I could just chop it off.
I’m surrounded by a musky, spicy scent from the lotion that was rubbed on my hands and feet and the fruity scent from the soap. I’m clean and my teeth don’t feel like a rug. My body feels great, but my mind is a mess. “I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do anything about that.” She pulls up a phone from the bag and taps on the screen.
“It’s Vanessa. We’re done.”
I freeze up. Whatever comes next, it happens now. She disconnects and looks me over as she stands, glancing between the door and me. When the door opens and the large blond guard, Ivan, appears, she snatches up the bag and hurries toward the opening. Throwing one last gaze at me, she says, “We all are.” Then she’s gone.
I meet Ivan’s eyes, light gray, almost friendly. “You look better,” he mutters.
I glance down at my skinny knees that stick out beneath the shirt.
It’s as if he reads my mind. “Food has been arranged.”
“What game is he playing, Ivan? Please, give me something. Please!” My voice is hoarse and barely obeys me, breaking on the last word.
He hesitates, then he grabs my elbow, surprisingly gentle. “There are always games, Miss Becker. He is not a nice man. I’m sorry.”
I blink from the unexpected words. He’s sorry? I thought he was the same as his boss. As he leads me through the hallway, I stare at the stairwell that leads to my prison, my insides shrinking, but we pass it and walk toward a heavy oak door at the end of the hallway. Ivan opens it and leads me inside a large, luxurious room, also with the same masculine feel as the bathroom. I flinch when the door closes with a heavy thud.
“I will leave you alone,” he says in his grave voice. “Go sit on the bed. Don’t try anything.” He leans closer and puts his mouth to my ear. “Or you will be punished.”
I recoil and stumble back, staring at him in horror. “I won’t. Please—” A knock on the door interrupts me. Ivan strides over, interacts with someone and then returns with a tray holding a small meal of deliciously smelling food that he puts on the floor in front of my feet.
“Eat,” he grumbles. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I stare at him one moment longer, then I sink down onto the floor, crossing my legs and throw myself over the plate. I shove in cod seasoned with a pinch of black pepper and bathing in melted butter, mashed potatoes, and a little pile of green beans. When I look back up, Ivan has disappeared without a sound. The food settles in my stomach like a slab of concrete, and still I’m far from satisfied. I lick off the plate, not caring if anyone watches. I need every last bit of energy I can get my hands on.
When I’m done, I stand and turn to take in the room. Is this the master bedroom? I stare at the bed and a shudder runs through me. I try the door. I must. It’s locked. Of course it is. I cross the room in a few strides and try the other door. It leads to a bathroom. No escape. A curtain catches my interest. Maybe a window? Pulling it to the side, I stare in horror at my finding. Canes of different sizes, leather cuffs, whips, and chains. My insides clench up as I see myself in them. I have no doubt he’ll use them on me. I grab one of the canes on pure instinct, thinking I can use it on him, but it’s locked in place.
“Fuck!”
Snapping the curtain closed again, I aim for a cupboard at the other side of the room. All the drawers are locked. The rest of the room only contains a set of armchairs, and a little table. I dart back into the bathroom, my heart pounding. I’m partly excited at the thought of maybe finding something I can defend myself with, and partly terrified that I will find something and that it won’t go down well. I rummage through every cupboard and drawer, but there is nothing heavy, and nothing sharp.
Finally, I give up and sink down on the edge of the bed. No one comes. Nothing happens. If this is my new prison, at least it’s a million times more liveable than the old one. Weeks of too little sleep eventually get the better of me. I shuffle higher up on the bed and lie down, my eyes getting heavier.
Something jolts me awake. It’s as if the atmosphere in the room has changed, become darker, more sinister. I open my eyes and widen them, shrinking back. Salvatore sits on the edge of the bed. His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.
“Don’t move.”
With his skin on mine, I can’t, no matter how much I want to. His voice leaves no room for pleading. There’s no mercy to be found.
“I have your brothers.”
“What?”
“They are out of prison. I have them.”
“Please! Don’t hurt them!”
His thumb strokes the soft skin on the inside of my wrist. “That is entirely up to you, Chloe.”
I can barely breathe, terror lodging itself in my chest.
“You are to obey me at all times. No fuss. No resistance, no fucking glares when you think I’m not watching.”
“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?”
“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.
Russo Saga Collection Page 121