Sold to the mafia

Catherine

I’m still sore from yesterday and last night. Plus this morning. Ever since he had me in the hall, he fucks me nonstop. That’s the only difference now. Every morning’s still the same otherwise. I get ready and wait for him. I greet him on my knees. And I still stay in my room.

“Your pussy’s open for business now.” His dirty words echo in my head.

Maybe it’s wrong to be so turned on by him, but I don’t care. I am. Just thinking about him has my nipples hardening and my back arching off the chair. I clench my sore pussy and instantly hate that he’s not here to sate me. I need him.

My computer pings and it’s only then that I realize my hand has slipped into my blouse and I’m pinching my nipple between my fingers.

I’m ready for him.

I look down at the message and smile.

My kitten is needy today.

I don’t know which camera he’s watching so I wave to the screen and nod my head. A blush travels up my chest and into my cheeks.

Get back to work, kitten. I’ll take care of you tonight.

I no longer feel trapped. It’s like he’s given me my life, but filled a hole I was only vaguely aware was empty. All my needs are met. He’s seen to that. I have my work, my friends, and a sex life that somehow manages to be hotter than anything I’ve ever read about. And it’s all thanks to him. It hurts to think I may have lived my life without this. Without him.

* * *

I’m busy editing this piece for my column, and so immersed in getting this paragraph flowing better that I don’t hear the lock or the doorknob turn. I don’t even hear the door open.

The only thing I can hear is the language of the text over and over that I keep reading in my head. The wording is just clunky and passive, but I don’t know how to reorder them. I bite down on my lip and copy and paste a few times, reordering the sentences. My fingers click against the keys.

“Kitten.” His voice holds a threat and my body stills. My heart slows but even with the fear of displeasing him clouding my emotions, my pussy aches with need.

I push the chair away and fall onto my knees. I crawl around, keeping my body lowered. Once I see his shoes I stop and sit back on my heels with my hands where they should be. I don’t look up though. My heart beats chaotically. I’ve never not been ready for him. Not since that first day. Every time I hear the click of the lock, I immediately kneel and wait for him. It’s been what, maybe weeks at this point? I’ve been his good kitten and he’s kept his word. But this time, I failed.

“I didn’t hear you enter.” My neck strains as I resist the urge to look at the clock. He usually comes to me around the same time every day. But I got lost in work today.

His hand comes down and rests in my hair. I close my eyes and wait for his response. “Please forgive me, Anthony.” The words slip out and I don’t try to catch them. My heart swells with agony in my chest. I don’t want him upset with me.

“What were you doing, kitten?” he asks as he pets my hair. I open my eyes and finally look up at him. His stubble is a little longer than usual and his hair is as well. It has a tousled look that’s fucking sexy.

“Work,” I reply easily, and then realize he may want more. “My column is due tonight, but the editor is overbooked. So I’m trying to get it done myself.”

He hums, “I see.” He looks past me and to the laptop sitting on the desk. I love this little office he made for me. It’s so cute with all the book nerd touches, and the large window gives me more sunlight than I’d ever get in the bedroom.

“I think maybe a short break would be nice. We could go get you more flowers.” I look up at him with surprise.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Would you like that, kitten?” he asks.

“Yes, Anthony.” I nearly crawl up his body with the need to press my lips to his. But I’m an obedient pet. I keep my hands planted firmly on my thighs and wait for his direction.

“Do you think you’re ready to go out?” he asks.

I nod my head. I’m never been outside of these locked rooms. The only exception was that one night. The night I gave myself to him completely. I crave a different environment. A voice deep inside me tells me I can run; I just need one chance. But it’s such a small voice, I barely hear it.

“Come, kitten. I think you need a break.” My brow furrows with confusion at first and then I realize he meant I need a break from work. He holds his hand out for me and I take it instantly.

He chuckles as he reads the writing on my tank top. It’s a racerback that hangs just past my ass and is almost as long as my yellow shorts. The top reads, Book lovers never go to bed alone.

I give him a small smile and walk with him as he presses the keys to unlock the door. I know not to look even though he doesn’t try to hide the code from me.

It’s cold and dark and empty down here. Only a florescent light is above us. It looks so dungeonlike compared to my room. I stay behind him as we walk up the stairs and he presses in keys to another lock. He doesn’t give me the chance to look, but I don’t mind. I just make a note of it. I’m not sure why though.

My eyes wince as he opens the door and leads me into an open-concept first floor. I take a look around in wonder as if seeing Anthony for the first time in a new light. I don’t remember this room when I was out before.

There’s a large slate fireplace with a flat-screen television above it. Everything is modern with dark accents and clean lines. It’s orderly and nearly barren of any character at all. For some reason it makes me sad. His bedroom was like this, too.

“There’s a farm stand down the street,” he says as he leads me through the hall without giving me a moment to look around. There are stairs to the right, next to the front door and a hallway that looks like a dead end. That’s where he took me. A smile spreads on my face as I remember.

He opens the door and keeps my hand in his. I’m surprised to see that his home isn’t in the middle of nowhere. It’s just a normal house, in a homey cul-de-sac. There are two kids riding bikes to our right, and a third playing with chalk on the sidewalk. Anthony walks to the left and leads me past the houses to a busier street. The sounds of kids playing and a car passing me by seem odd, but comforting. Out in the cabin, I never had this. I like it. It’s different.

It doesn’t fit with how I pictured Anthony would live though.

“You look surprised, kitten,” he says without looking at me. He knew I’d be surprised. He does this often. He says things or asks questions when he already knows what my response will be. He thinks I haven’t caught on, but I have. He needs it though. And I’m happy to give it to him.

“I am,” I answer honestly.

“Monsters don’t live in the dark; they hide in plain sight.” His response makes my heart twist in my hollow chest.

“You’re not a monster.” I spit out the words and look away. I can feel his eyes on me as we stand at the stop sign and a car drives through the intersection. He tugs my hand and we walk to the front of the development and to the right. I can see the stand ahead. It’s a shabby-looking shack that’s probably been there before the development was built.

“I don’t understand.” I can’t help that the words fly out of my mouth.

“What’s that?” Cars fly by us but the breeze still feels fresh against my skin.

“Why do you think you’re a monster?” I ask him. Ever since he told me about his mother, I’ve thought he was broken, but never a monster. He’s just missing a piece of his heart. I ache to fill that hole for him.

“Many people have died because of me, kitten. That makes me a monster in a normal person’s eyes.” I know he’s including his mother in that statement. And I hate that.

I stay quiet as we walk closer to the empty stand. There’s an old man sitting behind a wooden counter in the shack. Baskets of produce are on the ground, but the flowers are on the counter.

“What are you thinking?” he asks as he lifts a bouquet of purple and pink flowers to my nose. I inhale deeply and close my eyes.

I shake my head at his question and take the flowers from him with a smile. I whisper close to him so the old man doesn’t hear, “I don’t think you’re a monster.” My fingers play with the tiny soft petals, but I’m careful not to break them.

He looks down at me while he digs in his pocket for his wallet. “You did at one point, kitten; you were right about me then.”