Claimed by the ruthless Mafia king

Ruthless Zack

[Zack]

The fragile little thing pinned beneath me whimpered almost pitifully. Almost. The sound was thin and wet against the leather sofa in my office. I had her exactly where and how I wanted.

Her wrists were crushed in one of my hands above her head, her red skirt shoved up around her waist like a cheap flag of surrender. Her blouse was already in tatters, buttons scattered across the floor, pale breasts heaving with every terrified breath. Smooth skin, probably untouched skin…until now.

I hooked two fingers into the waistband of her white panties and ripped them away in one quick motion. The fabric tore with a sharp, satisfying sound that echoed in the quiet room.

She started crying immediately. Soft, choking sobs that she tried to swallow down. Smart. She knew begging would only make me hurt her worse. But the tears kept coming anyway, loud enough to feed the part of me that needed to hear them, but quiet enough not to piss me off.

I forced her legs wider with my knees, the sofa creaking under us. One thick finger pushed between her folds without warning, then stopped at once when it met it blocked. Virgin.

A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. “Well, well. A f*****g virgin.”

She nodded frantically, eyes wide and glistening, pleading without daring to speak. The fear in them was pure, unfiltered. It made my c**k twitch against my zipper.

“You’re in luck today,” I murmured, voice low and mocking. My gaze slid to the glass table beside us. The whiskey bottle waited like an old friend, half-full, amber liquid catching the dim light. The ice had long since melted. Good. I liked it warm and burning.

I shoved off her for a moment, ignoring the way her body instinctively curled in on itself, without hiding her relief.

I poured a generous measure into the glass, tipped it back in one swallow. The heat exploded down my throat, spreading fire into my chest, and loosening the constant knot of rage that lived there.

Another pour. Another gulp. The burn was familiar, comforting. Today was supposed to be light. Only seven empty bottles scattered on the floor from earlier, but the craving never cared about schedules. Fridays always ended like this. But why wouldn't it?

I glanced back at her. She’d pressed her thighs together tight, chest rising slower now, relief flooding her face ike the rush of wind. Legs clamped. Arms hugging her ruined blouse.

I drained the rest of the bottle straight from the neck, the last drops sliding down my chin. The empty clattered to the floor, joining its brothers. Seven, no, eight now. My head swam just enough to dull the edges, but not enough to kill the hunger. Never enough for that.

Satisfied but only for the moment, I strolled back to the sofa. “Where were we?”

Her eyes flew open, shock ripping across her features. I had to bite back a laugh. What the f**k had she been thinking? That I’d suddenly grown a conscience? That the big bad Zack would walk away from fresh meat?

“Where were we?” I repeated, softer this time, letting the menace bleed through.

Then I remembered.

“We were just finding out how tightly sealed you are down here.” I stared straight into her eyes while I said it, watching the flush of shame crawl up her neck. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t be after today.”

I slapped her thigh hard once, and her legs snapped apart instantly. Obedient already. Good. Her face twisted in pain even though I hadn’t really started yet. Eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling.

“Don’t look away from me,” I commanded, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. I rubbed the thick outline of my c**k through my trousers, feeling it throb and swell under my palm.

“Eyes on me the whole time. Or I’ll make this last twice as long.”

I held her teary gaze while I unbuckled slowly, deliberately, drawing out every second. Belt clinked. Zipper rasped. I freed myself. Thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip.

She gasped, a raw, broken sound. Whether it was the size or the knowledge of what was coming, I didn’t care. The reaction was the same every time, and I smiled, just like always.

“I might be careful,” I lied, voice almost sweet. She saw the lie immediately and started sobbing harder, chest hitching.

I spat into my palm, coated my length, then rubbed the head against her entrance, teasing the virgin barrier, feeling it resist. Her discomfort was the fuel I needed.

Then I pushed.

One brutal thrust and I tore through her, burying the first few inches in tight, resisting heat. Her scream exploded. Sharp, and loud. But she soon choked off as her body locked around me.

Her mouth flung open in silent agony. Her eyes shot wide with the sudden, horrifying realization that I was inside her while blood already slicked the way.

“Good girl,” I growled, low and pleased, staring from her wrecked expression down to where we were joined. Only halfway in. “Now take the rest.”

No answer. Just tears streaming.

I slapped her hard across the face once, sharp enough to snap her head sideways. I said slowly. “Answer me.”

She nodded frantically, throat working around a sob. “Y-yes…”

She shifted under my weight, trying to breathe. My c**k slipped out an inch. Her hand darted down instinctively to guide me back. Fingers brushing the blood-smeared tip before she jerked away like she’d been burned.

A cold, electric rush flooded me. Hunger sharpened.

“Take it,” I ordered, voice thick with need. “Put it back in. Now.”

Her fingers hovered, trembling violently. She reached again, timid, shaking, and positioned me. I waited just long enough for her to feel the power, then I slammed home. Every last inch. Deep. Brutal.

The scream that ripped from her this time was raw, guttural. It cut off instantly when my eyes locked on hers, but the tears poured nonstop, silent and endless. Blood welled out around my c**k, smearing her thighs, her ruined skirt, the leather beneath her. The wet heat of it only made me harder.

I pulled back slowly, savoring the drag, then drove in again with the same savage force. Again. And again. Grinding deep, hips rolling to stretch her wider than she’d ever been.

“Guess who isn’t a virgin anymore,” I mocked, voice husky against her ear.

She swallowed a sob and looked away.

I slapped her again, still buried to the hilt. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Me,” she whispered, voice shattered, barely audible.

“Louder.”

“Me.”

I stayed inside her, thick and unmoving, forcing her to feel every pulse of me. “On your knees. Now.”

I didn’t pull out. I waited, buried deep, watching her dilemma play across her face. Move and cause more pain? Stay and disobey? Her eyes flicked from mine to my hips in silent, desperate plea.

Finally I withdrew, slow, deliberate, and watched her scramble onto her knees on the floor, skirt tangled, blood streaking her legs. She knelt there shaking, waiting for the next command.

I stepped close, fisted her hair, and rubbed my blood-coated c**k across her cheek, her lips, her nose, marking her. “Ever tasted a lollipop, little virgin?”

She shook her head once, then nodded frantically, anything to please.

I tilted her head back, pressed the swollen head against her lips. “Open.”

She did. I pushed in, deep, relentless until her throat bulged and she gagged violently around me. Tears streamed. She struggled, hands fluttering uselessly at my thighs. I pulled out just enough for her to cough and gasp.

“Breathe. Swallow. Open again.”

We did it over and over deeper each time, slower, until her throat stopped fighting me so hard. Until she learned. Fast learner. They always did when the alternative was worse.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Polite. Hesitant.

I ignored it. The knocking came again, louder this time.

“Keep knocking,” I called out, voice raised just enough to carry menace, “and I’ll put a bullet through the f*****g wood and your skull right after.”

I guided her trembling hand to my balls, squeezing her fingers around them while I drove into her mouth faster now. f*****g her throat in steady, punishing strokes.

Another knock sounded just then, gentle, pleadingly. But I ignored it. I pulled out with a wet pop instead, with strings of saliva and blood connecting her lips to me.

I Crossed to the drawer. Came back holding my favorite toy. Same length as my c**k, but twice as thick, ridged, merciless.

Her eyes widened in fresh horror once she caught the toy in my hand. I smiled down at her, slow and dark.

“Time for the next level, sweetheart. Let’s see how much more you can take before you break completely.”

The darkness in the room felt heavier now. The whiskey hummed in my veins. And I still had hours before anyone would dare interrupt again.