Kissed
1541 Words
The next week or so, I felt freer than I had in a while.
But my life is house of cards. It must come down. After a day with Deena, I came back to my room, tired but content.
That is, until I noticed the note on the bed.
Eight.
It said. That's all it said.
With a sigh, I undressed, put on my robe, some makeup.
My body has been craving his touch.
I hate it.
7:57pm rolls around, and I pad out to the hallway, entering his room quietly.
Like last time, I disrobe, let myself haphazardly fall on the large bed and wait.
I hear him before I see him.
"How have you been, gattina?" His smooth voice rolls over me.
"Did you come here to f**k me or talk?" I ask blankly.
Whiskey eyes sadden then flame, menacingly approaching me.
His hand wraps around my throat, forcing my eye to his with gentle pressure.
Whiskey drowns grey.
"You do as I say," he hissed acidly. "I asked you a question, and you will answer it."
"How. Have. You. Been?"
"Fine."
His body screams satisfaction as he backs away with a smirk.
"Good puttana," he pats my head condescendingly. "Very good."
Deena taught me a few Italian words. That was one of them.
Whore.
That's what it meant.
He scans my body, sitting in his chair, drink in his hand.
He just looks at me, occasionally drinking, never talking.
"You owe me quite a bit of money, Gattina."
I say nothing. Watch. Listen. Wait.
"I have to admit, you are a good f**k, but that doesn't really do much."
Don't w***e me out please, I plead in my mind.
"I would w***e you out, but that's not really a good option. So I thought to myself, Luciano, what do you do with a young girl with no skills and a good body?"
Silently he takes a sip from his cup.
"You, are going to spy for me. I will send you to my clubs, I will give you targets. You seduce them, get information, whatever I tell you."
"You are still my w***e," he adds as an afterthought, "but this can make more money than anything."
"How long?"
"Five years."
Five years of my life, five years as his w***e? No!
A fire spreads inside me, a fight burns.
"No. I will not. Let me go, or kill me!" I demand.
Slamming his glass down with a menacing chuckle, he stands to his imposing full height.
A few steps and he's in front of me, towering, intimidating.
In a flash, his hand is wrapped around my leg, pulling me to the edge of the bed, his movements harsh and curt.
He flips me over, yanking me to the edge of the bed, pressing his front to my back as he bends me over.
"You will do what I tell you, gattina. I own you. You are my toy. I do what I want with you," Abruptly, I'm very aware of my nakedness.
"You f**k when I tell you. You eat when I tell you. You die when I tell you. You are mine. My w***e," his finger skims down to my leaking core.
"Look, see? Always ready for me," his finger plunges inside me, making me clamp around it.
It feels good, I hate myself for feeling this way.
For enjoying being used by him this way.
"Your body knows who you belong to, gattina. Why don't you?"
"You're sick," is my weak reply.
"I am. And you are creaming all over my finger, so what does that make you, hm?" He thrusts another finger into me harder than before.
"You scream my name when I f**k you. Your little p***y clamps down around me every time I enter you," I hear him unzip his pants.
I feel his tip at my entrance, his hand gripping my hair tightly.
"Whose w***e are you?"
He fills me roughly, pain fading into pleasure.
"Yours," I hear myself sigh.
"Say it louder, Savannah. I want the next floor to hear you," withdrawing, he thrusts into me again, deliberate and hard.
I whimper.
"Whose w***e are you, Savannah?"
He pulls back, thrusting into me hard, blurring my vision in pain.
"Yours!"
His length pounds into me, each time deliberate, painfully hard, slamming into me mercilessly.
Each time he makes sure he holds himself inside me, intensifying the pain.
"Who? Say my name!"
"Luciano! I belong to Luciano!" My voice is raw, so is my p***y, I can't think.
Never once does stop slamming into me, his hand now wrapped around my throat arching my back.
"Good girl. Mine. All mine."
"Yes," I sob in submission, wanting more and him to stop at the same time.
Slamming into me once more, I coil around him, feeling him stiffen and bite my shoulder as he spills himself inside me.
He stays like that, panting against me, buried in me, for a while.
When he pulls out, he is cold and detached.
I bite my lip, trying not to cry as I feel his c*m leak out of me onto the bed, like a w***e.
"Be gone when I come back," he demands coldly, walking out.
Shaking with shame, I pull my robe on, and slink back to my room, his c*m dripping down my thighs.
That morning, he demanded I have breakfast with him at the Big Table.
In front of everyone.
"No," I bit out.
"You don't have a choice. Get dressed. I expect you there at 9:00 am."
Then he brushed past me, slamming my door.
Reluctantly, I took a shower, got dressed. I forgot to put makeup on, I was so tired.
I could hardly walk, my core aching with every step.
But I could make it.
I always have.
The Big Table seated 100 people, and 50 people were seated.
There was a calm air, everyone chatting amongst themselves.
At the head of the table was of course, Luciano.
His eyes trailed my every movement, wordlessly.
My eyes find an open seat next to a friendly looking guy with dirty blond hair.
"Savannah," Luciano called, "Come here."
The warning in his eyes directed my feet in his direction until I was in front of him.
"Where do I sit?" I asked, noticing there were no chairs beside him.
He laughed boisterously, yanking me down into his lap.
I struggled, trying to get up, but Luciano put his arm around my waist, a steel bar keeping me against him.
Every eye was on us, some curious, some amused, others nonplussed.
"Now that we have that settled, let's eat!"
Needing no further instruction, everyone dug in.
Seeing only one plate, I frowned.
Luciano chuckled behind me, adjusting me on his lap so that I was sideways.
He gave me a smile, which made me frown.
Since when did Luciano smile at me?
Forking some eggs, he brought it to my lips with a tender grin.
"Eat," he said softly,
Isn't this the same man who called me w***e; told me I'm his toy? Just last night?
The same one who uses me whenever he feels like it?
"I'm not hungry. But thank you."
Whiskey eyes saddened before clearing.
"Eat," the soft threat understood, I ate.
He fed me, his arms around me, smiling.
When I told him I was full, he rubbed my tummy with his thumb and whispered:
"Good."
Then he finished the plate.
Meanwhile inside, a herd of butterflies trying to take over my belly. I fought them hard.
I was defeated when he turned me around so I was straddling him, tucking my head into his neck.
Butterflies invaded then.
All the while, Luciano was perfectly calm, as if nothing was happening out of the norm.
When breakfast was over, I hopped up, scrambling to get away from him.
Anytime a man does something nice, they do something worse. They take something from you.
Luciano caught my wrist, ordering everyone to leave in Italian.
They immediately scattered.
Once the room was empty, he pressed my back against the wall, caging me in with his body.
"Where're you going?" He asked playfully.
"To my room," I said carefully.
"Stay," he grinned childishly, dropping his head to my neck.
Not wanting to set him off, I agreed.
"What do you want to do today, gattina mia?"
"I wanted to read?"
"You are no fun," he pouted, lifting his head to look at me.
His eyes flickered to my lips, a frown taking over his face.
"I love your lips," he murmured, leaning forward. "They're so soft."
"So soft,"
His lips melted passionately against mine, selfishly taking my sanity.
It was a languid kiss, soft, slow, with a desperate undertone.
His palm touched my cheek, caressing it as he let go of my lips.
"Bellissima. Così bellissima."
Sense flooded my body, making me push myself against the wall as much as I could.
"What is wrong?" He frowned.
"Can I go now?" I whispered.
His frowned deepened, his mouth opened to say something.
Shaking his head, he edged away from me, giving me space to run.
"Yes. You may go now."
I felt his eyes burn into me as I scurried away.
- Writer
