Bittersweet

Fetish puttana ( Fiesty b***h )

Cordelia Romona’s POV

I was thrown into a dark room with no exit except the way I came in, there was an old, flimsy mattress on the ground in the corner and a toilet and sink on the other side of the room. It was cold and weary, I looked down at the attire they had made me dress in, I looked like a stripper ready to give a lap dance, my stomach churned, I needed a weapon...No, they will kill me...I needed to think of a logical plan, if I run, they could shoot me, if I’m disobedient, a beat down...There really was no way out of this. 

The door handle jiggled causing me to jump, I hid behind the door when the man, that bought me walked in.  Now or never. Running out from behind the door, I jumped onto his back, throwing my body with all my weight, he grunted in surprise and flipped me over his shoulder and onto the mattress. I huffed in shock at his abnormal strength. “ That wasn’t very nice, la puttana. “ ( b***h )

I straightened my spine tall, my fear pushed to the soles of my feet, leaving me frozen in place. “ Stammi lontano!” ( Stay away from me!) I hissed fearlessly. He stepped back in surprise that I could speak Italian, however, the expression faded into emotionless within seconds, he stepped towards me and grabbed my chin forcefully and pushed me against the wall, I gulped but kept my eyes steadied on him, I would not show fear, I would not give him that satisfaction.

A smirk played at his lips, his luscious, plush lips...What the hell, no! He seemed to got the reaction he wanted because his lips moved to mine and he placed his over my lips, I deepened it before slamming my teeth down onto his bottom lip, he yelped in pain and jerked back, his lip was stained with a red tint that dripped onto his chin, he pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed it on his lip, clearing the blood. “ Fetish puttana... mi piace.”  ( Fiesty bitch... l like it )

“ Vaffanculo, feccia italiana.” ( f**k you, Italian scum. ) I spat angrily, his smirk only grew when two men walked into the room and threw a silk robe at me, “ Put it on.” He ordered back in English, I pulled the silky fabric around my body quickly, not because he told me to but because if I didn’t I’d be seen as a prostitute or a stripper. He motioned to the men in the room and walked out of the room, before long one of the men grabbed me and tossed me over his shoulder, “ Put me down, Shrek!” She yelled as she kicked her legs, trying to free herself. Eventually, we exited the building that looked to be in the back of the hotel, a dark  alleyway and I was thrown into the back seat which appeared to be an SUV.