Sold To The Mafia King

Chapter 4

Eve's POV

He picked up the pace then, his hips snapping forward with more force.

My head hit the brick wall behind me with each thrust, a steady rhythm of pain mixing with the ache in my jaw.

I could feel my lipstick smearing, probably all over my face.

The thought was absurdly embarrassing-here I was being forced to suck this man's c**k and I was worried about looking messy.

"Touch yourself."

I froze. He couldn't mean

"Do it. Put your hand down those little shorts and touch yourself."

I shook my head as much as I could with him in my mouth.

No way. Not that.

The blowjob was bad enough but at least it was just him using me.

Making me participate in my own was something else entirely.

The gun clicked.

The sound of the hammer being pulled back echoed in the alley like a gunshot.

"Now."

My hand moved to the waistband of my shorts.

My fingers felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else.

I slid them underneath, past the lace of my underwear, until I felt my own wetness.

I was wet.

The realization hit me like a slap.

Despite everything - the fear, the disgust, the absolute wrongness of it all - my body was responding.

Not because I wanted this.

Not because I was enjoying it.

But because that's what bodies do when they're overwhelmed, when they're pushed past their limits.

It didn't mean anything.

It couldn't.

"Good girl. Now move your fingers. Show me how you like it."

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I started moving my fingers in small circles, the way I did when I was alone, when it was my choice.

The contrast was so sharp it hurt - the familiar motion in such an unfamiliar context.

My body didn't know the difference. It just knew touch, friction, sensation.

"Faster."

I obeyed, my fingers moving quicker.

The dual sensations were confusing - the invasion in my mouth, the building pressure between my legs.

My body was starting to respond in earnest now, climbing toward something I didn't want to reach.

It felt like betrayal, like my own flesh was turning against me.

He could tell.

His rhythm faltered for just a moment, and when he spoke his voice was rougher.

"That's it. Let go. Come for me."

I shook my head frantically, but my body wasn't listening to me anymore.

It was listening to him, to the command in his voice, to the relentless pace he'd set.

My fingers moved faster, harder, chasing something I desperately didn't want to catch.

"Come on, Eve. Give it to me. I want to feel you fall apart around me."

The use of my name did something to me.

It made this personal in a way it hadn't been before.

He wasn't just using a random girl in an alley - he was using me. Eve.

My orgasm hit like a crash, sudden and unwanted.

My body convulsed, my mouth tightening around him as I cried out - a muffled sound of pure despair.

It was the worst thing that had happened so far, worse than the gun or the fear or the humiliation.

Because in that moment, he'd won completely.

"Perfect," he breathed, he was coming too, I felt his d**k get bigger and bigger until hot and salty liquid dripped down my throat.

I swallowed automatically, gagging on the taste, on the reality of what had just happened.

What I have I just done.

What had he made me do.

He pulled out slowly, almost gently, tucking himself back into his pants.

The gun finally moved away from my head, but I still didn't feel relief.

I couldn't feel anything.

"Stand up." There was still that command in the way he spoke to me but my legs didn't want to work.

I had to use the wall to push myself up, my knees screaming in protest.

My hand was still down my shorts and I pulled it out like it was contaminated, wiping my fingers on my shirt.

He reached into his pocket and I flinched, but he just pulled out a cigarette.

Lit it with hands that were perfectly steady, like he hadn't just destroyed someone's life.

"Same time tomorrow," he said, exhaling smoke toward my face. "And Eve? Next time, don't keep me waiting."

He walked away without looking back, leaving me standing in the alley with the taste of him in my mouth and the weight of what had just happened crushing down on my shoulders.

My reflection in a broken window across the alley showed me what I'd become - lipstick smeared, eyes vacant, clothes disheveled.

A stranger wearing my face.

I don't know how long I stood there.

But I guess it was long enough for the sky to start lightening.

Long enough for my legs to stop shaking.

Long enough to understand that this wasn't over.

That tomorrow would come, and he'd be waiting, and I'd have to make a choice all over again.

Live or die. Submit or resist. Become his toy or become a memory.

I started walking home, each step feeling like I was moving through quicksand.

The city was waking up around me - delivery trucks, early joggers, people starting their normal days with normal problems.

None of them knew what had just happened in that alley.

None of them knew that somewhere in this city, a man with winter-cold eyes had claimed a piece of my soul.

Tomorrow.

The word echoed in my head like a death knell.

Tomorrow I'd have to decide if I could survive becoming someone else's property.

I'd have to figure out if there was any part of me left that was still mine.

The sun came up as I turned onto my street, painting the sky the same color as the blood I'd probably taste in my mouth forever.

I let myself into my apartment, stripped off my clothes, and stood in the shower until the water ran cold.

But no amount of soap could wash away what had happened.

No amount of scrubbing could make me clean again.

I wrapped myself in a towel and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror across the room.

The woman looking back at me wasn't the same one who'd gotten dressed for work last night.

That woman had never knelt in an alley and learned what it meant to have her choices taken away from her just like that.

As I sat staring, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from an unknown number: "Sweet dreams, Eve. See you soon."

I threw the phone across the room and watched it shatter against the wall.

But even as the pieces scattered, I knew it didn't matter.

He'd find me.

He always would.

I'd said yes in that alley, and now I belonged to him in a way that had nothing to do with love or desire or even basic humanity.