by Loki Renard
Angelo had part of his attention anyway. The part that wasn’t entirely focused on the screaming pain in his ass. The welts of the cane were stinging and his muscles were aching and it was damn hard to pay attention to anything other than the painful humiliation of it all.
“There’s two ways this can go, Bobby. One, you don’t learn anything here, you keep doing what you’re doing and you end up dead.”
“What is this? Some kind of intervention?” Bobby laughed. "Are you trying to save me Angelo?”
“You could say that,” Angelo said. He ran his hand over Bobby's ass, his long fingers stroking the sore flesh. “I see potential in you, Bobby.” He was speaking softly, almost affectionately.
Bobby didn't believe it for a second.
“Yeah. You see potential for taking my business. You see potential for making me your bitch. It's not going to happen Angelo.”
Angelo gave a deep chuckle. “You’re smarter than you look,” he said, tapping Bobby's ass. Even the light touch hurt. Bobby had to clench his teeth together to stop from hissing in pain. It was worse when Angelo touched him with his hand. More intimate, but there was no real intimacy here. This was all manipulation. Bobby would not give into it.
“I could look after you, Bobby,” Angelo said. “I could teach you what you don't know. Because there's a lot you don't know, Bobby boy. You’re lucky I found you first. Sooner or later, you’re gonna run into someone who isn't as patient as I am. Sooner or later, your luck is going to run out.”
“I make my own luck,” Bobby growled against the workbench. Fuck this guy. He wasn’t buying these intimidation tactics for a single second. And he didn’t need saving. Angelo had gotten the drop on him because he hadn’t seen him coming, hadn’t factored him into the plan. Now he knew, things would be different.
5
ANGELO
This wasn’t working as well as Angelo had hoped it would. Bobby was a tough little nut to crack. It would be easy to hurt him, but Angelo wasn’t interested in just hurting him. He was interested in breaking him. He hadn’t been lying when he said he had a use for him, either. Bobby could be very useful. He had potential. And he’d have a longer lifespan under Angelo than he would as an independent.
“Don’t you ever get scared, little boy? There are so many gangs out there, ruthless, unhinged men. Men who would torture and kill you without a second thought.”
“Like you?”
Angelo couldn’t resist the dark laugh that escaped him.
“Don’t pretend you’re my friend,” Bobby said, squirming against the desk. “I know you’re not.”
“You’re right,” Angelo said, letting his voice go cold. “I’m not your friend. I’m nothing but a business man with an arrangement to uphold. I’m going to get you out of the way, little Bobby. And seeing as how you can’t seem to see sense, it’s going to have to be the hard way.”
He felt Bobby go tense beneath him, expecting pain again. Not right now. Bobby would learn to anticipate pain, to revel in it when it was allowed to him. The spoiled boy didn’t know it yet, but this caning had been a gift.
6
BOBBY
Angelo’s hand fisted in Bobby’s hair, dragging him up from the bench.
“This could have been easy,” Angelo said, his dark eyes lit with malevolent glee. “You could have agreed to shut up shop, leave the Taylor-Chapman kids alone, and that would have been the end of it. But now, Bobby, now you’ve pissed me off.”
Bobby didn’t believe that. Angelo didn’t look pissed. The big man looked like he was enjoying himself.
“I was going to let you go, you know that? Not anymore.” Angelo shook his head. “I’m going to have to keep you.”
“Oh yeah. I can see you really regret this.” In spite of the threat of more pain, Bobby rolled his eyes, giving Angelo every bit of attitude he had.
“That smart mouth is going to need a real working over,” Angelo said, his eyes running over Bobby’s face with dark lustful intent.
Most rivals would never do anything like this. They might kick the shit out of him. They might hang him by his feet and run him through a meat works, but they wouldn’t cut his pants off, cane him, and then make a not so veiled threat to have oral sex with him.
Angelo Vitali was a very rare creature, and Bobby didn’t know what the fuck to do. The pain in his ass was making his mind muddier than it usually would have been too. Thank fuck Angelo had just cut the ass out of his pants. If he’d taken them off there would be more to answer for. Bobby was hard as rock, his dick straining. Not because he was consciously turned on, but because this was how he reacted to pain. A not so small part of him fucking loved it.
“What do you think about that, boy?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really,” Angelo smiled. He relaxed his grip enough to allow Bobby to stand normally. “You’re a lot more fun than I thought you’d be. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere I’m going to be more comfortable using you.” Angelo said. He picked up the hood and put it back over Bobby’s face. As darkness ensconced him again, Bobby started to panic. This wasn’t good. His people could probably track him to one location, but expecting them to be able to follow him through more stops was harder. Every time Angelo moved him, the chance of him being found diminished. That was one of the reasons Aiden Taylor-Chapman had been so damn hard to find.
“Let me go, Angelo.” Bobby spoke to the darkness.
A large hand cupped his bare caned ass.
“Not on your life.”
7
BOBBY
“Word has it you gave Aiden Taylor-Chapman enough heroin to kill an elephant.”
Bobby had been picked up over Angelo’s shoulder, put into the back of a car and driven a long way. Hard to tell how far exactly, but by his reckoning he wasn’t in the city anymore. The road had gone smooth, like they were on the freeway, and then it had become rougher, not off road, but less well sealed road. The sort of road that led to things like forests. Places to dispose a body.
Bobby had prepared himself to look into a shallow pine-needle infested hole in the dirt, but Angelo had been true to his word. He didn’t have death in mind. Not yet, anyway.
When the hood came off again, Bobby found himself in a very well decorated room without a single window. A large bed dominated the space, an old colonial four poster.
After pulling the hood off Bobby’s head, Angelo went and reclined on the bed, his shirt partially open revealing a hard muscled chest. He’d discarded his shoes and he had a tumbler of Scotch or something in his hand. Bobby was left on the floor a few feet away, his hands shackled to an iron ring in the floor. There were more of those rings around the room, and on the bed. This was a room belonging to a well organized sicko.
The restraints left him sitting in a weird position, his bared caned ass pressed against a mercifully soft carpet pile. How many of Vitali’s men had seen him with his ass hanging out? Enough, Bobby guessed. Fuck. The stories were going to circulate now.
“Bobby?” Those full lips quirked and a dark brow rose in his direction.
“Hm?” Bobby looked at Angelo, almost having forgotten what they were talking about. Oh right. The question about Aiden. “Yeah? He’s a junkie.”
Angelo smirked to himself and took a sip of his drink before replying.
“Another rule of business, kid. Don’t kill off known heirs to massive fortunes. The old man won’t be around forever. When he passes, Aiden will be worth billions. And then you have a billionaire in your pocket.”
“He wasn’t worth it.”
“No?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Angelo tapped his finger thoughtfully against the glass.
“You know, there’s been talk of you looking for the rich boy for a while. Nobody seems to know why.”
“That’s between me and him.”
Angelo cocked his head and spoke in those frustratingly paternal tones. “Y
ou don’t get to have secrets from me, Bobby.”
Bobby took a deep breath and stood, or rather, sat, his ground. “You’re going to have to drag that one out of me, Angelo.”
Angelo’s lips spread in a shark like smile. “You know I will.”
Bobby pressed his lips closed. Yeah, Angelo could draw it out of him, but he was going to hold on to that secret for as long as he could. What had happened between him and little rich boy Aiden Taylor-Chapman would go with him to the grave if he had anything to do with it.
“I’ll let you keep your little secret for now,” Angelo said. “When I next ask for it, you’ll give it.”
He spoke with total certainty. Bobby felt a little chill, believing him.
“What am I going to have to do to get out of here?”
Angelo sat up, his shirt falling open a little more to reveal a well-defined six pack. “You’re going to have to convince me that you’re not going to be a problem.”
Bobby bit his lower lip.
“You could have avoided this,” Angelo said, running a hand through his silver touched hair. “But you wanted it hard, didn’t you.”
“I wasn’t going to be bullied out of my business.”
“No,” Angelo said with one of those dark brooding smiles. “You weren’t, were you. You’re going to live to regret that, Bobby.”
He stood up and walked around behind Bobby. Bobby felt the shackles which had been used to clip his wrists to the ring loosen and then open. He still had his wrists tied behind him, and he still had his ankles tied together too.
“Get up.”
Bobby stood slowly and with difficulty, his legs and arms cramped. He almost lost his balance, but Angelo prodded him up back upright before he could take a tumble.
Angelo was very tall. Well over six foot. Bobby wasn’t short, but Angelo dwarfed him.
The man pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket and flipped it open, the beautiful blade catching the light as it spun in his fingers.
“You want to be free, Bobby?”
Bobby cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
“You’re going to have to submit.”
Submit? Fuck that. Bobby hadn’t gotten anywhere by submitting to anyone or anything. His life had been marked by struggling against every force trying to keep him down. Being born poor had taught him that submission was the absolute most dangerous thing anyone could do. He had zero intention of submitting to Angelo. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend short term. Whatever it took to get out of this man’s clutches.
Angelo lifted the blade up so it was between their faces, the sharp double edge reflecting a malicious gleam. Bobby felt his pulse quicken. Was this a threat? Fuck. He couldn’t do anything with his feet and hands tied. Angelo could slit his throat and that would be the end of it. He had to remind himself that Angelo didn’t want to kill him. He did want to mindfuck him though.
“Can you submit, Bobby?”
“Yes,” Bobby lied through his teeth.
Angelo let out a soft laugh and reached out, running the tips of his fingers over Bobby’s scalp. The brief touch felt nice until those strong fingers clenched into a fist and then the knife was at his throat, the point of it just below his chin.
“Don’t ever lie to me, boy.”
Bobby stayed still as he could as cold steel pressed against his skin.
“Can you submit, Bobby?”
“No.”
“A truthful answer, even though it’s wrong,” Angelo purred. “That’s all I’m asking for. Honesty. You’ll be wrong about so many things, but I don’t ever want you to tell me what you think I want to hear, understand?”
“Yes.” Bobby gritted the words out. He was being held like a chicken about to be slaughtered. What choice was there?
“Good.” Angelo lowered the blade slowly away from Bobby’s neck. Instead of cutting his throat, it sliced through the ropes at Bobby’s hands. In an instant, they were free. Now. Now was his chance.
Bobby clenched his fist and swung.
Angelo laughed, the blade spinning as he closed it and put it away in his pocket with one hand, catching Bobby’s fist with the other. It was as if Bobby was moving in slow motion compared to him, almost as if he was punching in a dream.
“Silly little boy,” he said, dragging Bobby over to the bed. “Should have waited until your feet were free. Then you would have been able to muster some kind of power.”
Bobby took a face full of duvet as Angelo critiqued his escape attempt.
“Timing, Bobby. It’s everything,” be said, his hand sweeping through the air to find Bobby’s cane welted ass. The pain of a palm slapping the marks was not to be underestimated. Bobby couldn’t help but scream out as that earlier hell fire was reignited in the most painful of ways.
“You’re going to hate me,” Angelo said evenly, as if the idea didn’t bother him at all. “I don’t care about that. I’m not going to ask for your affection, or for your loyalty. I’m not going to ask for anything but your submission. And Bobby, punching me is not submissive, is it?”
“No!” Bobby yelled the word.
Angelo worked his ass over, laying hard slap after hard slap over his caned ass until Bobby was on the brink of tears. It wasn’t that he couldn’t take the pain. It was that he couldn’t stand the sheer frustration. He should be able to take Angelo on. The man was twice his age! He should be faster, and far more dangerous. But he wasn’t.
8
ANGELO
That punch had been utterly adorable. A real haymaker. Angelo was pretty sure Bobby had to know how to hit better than that, and faster too. Bobby was a scrapper by all accounts, and scrappers knew how to throw a straight punch.
So why hadn’t he?
There was the possibility he’d wanted to be caught before he did any real damage. Not that he’d be able to admit that if that was the case, not even to himself. Maybe especially not to himself.
Men had strange motivations sometimes. Angelo prided himself on working out what they were. Some men genuinely wanted to die even though they’d beg for their lives at the end. Bobby didn’t want to die. This boy was a survivor through and through. But maybe he did want to hurt.
Angelo put as much power into the swats as possible, blasting his hand across Bobby’s cute ass. It looked good red on red, lines traveling the blushing flesh. The grunts and gasps were starting to sound like he might be about to cry.
He needed to cry. He needed to break.
Angelo grabbed the back of Bobby’s neck, pinning him down hard against the bed, making him even more powerless as he spanked on, his hand catching the exposed flesh and that which was still hidden beneath the ragged legs of the pants. Losing patience with the clothing, he grabbed the cut back of each leg and yanked them hard, tearing fabric to reveal flesh. Now Bobby’s thighs were a target. Angelo belabored them with as much enthusiasm as he could gather, turning everything from Bobby’s waist down a bright blushing pink.
Still he wouldn’t cry. Angelo turned Bobby’s head and saw his eyes clenched closed, his teeth gritted. His face was just as red as his ass, but he wasn’t breaking.
Time to back off.
“You look good beaten, boy,” he said, running his stinging palm over Bobby’s ass and thighs.
Bobby emitted a little growl. Adorable.
Bobby was a bad boy. Angelo knew that, but Bobby had not crossed him personally and in the short hours he’d spent with him, he was beginning to like him. He was strong, even when he was weak - and that was hard to pull off.
Angelo made a note to thank Mason Malone for the tip about this boy. It had been a long time since any man had been able to hold his interest for long, but Bobby was perfect, from his pale Polish complexion - far too ivory to be Italian, to the form of his beautiful body, muscular without being stocky or too pronounced. Angelo couldn’t wait to get him completely naked. He couldn’t wait to use his mouth. Hell, he couldn’t wait to use every part of this boy.
For the moment,
holding Bobby down, caned and spanked was making his cock throb like crazy. He had to find relief.
“Suck me,” he growled. He pulled Bobby's head up, toward his crotch. With his other hand he undid his fly, loosing his cock. He was harder than he’d been in a long time. Everything about Bobby was eminently fuckable.
Bobby opened his mouth. Maybe it was to retort, maybe it was to obey. Angelo didn’t care. He pushed his cock between Bobby’s hot lips and sank into the velvet depths of his mouth.
“Fuck. Yes.” He crooned the words, keeping Bobby’s head under control as he pushed his cock in and out slowly, enjoying the feeling of Bobby’s wicked tongue under his shaft.
Bobby took him with some inexpert spluttering, an adorable gasping and squirming. Angelo’s cock was just in his mouth, but Bobby’s whole body was soon responding. His hips were moving a lot, rising and falling, that cute red ass rolling.
Angelo was taking the measure of Bobby with every motion. This was not a boy who didn’t like men. Angelo could feel Bobby’s tongue wrapping around his dick, and he could feel Bobby’s lips tightening as well, sucking him deeper.
“Hungry boy,” he said, thrusting deeper. “Starving little cock sucker.”
9
BOBBY
Fuck. Angelo was calling him the most humiliating things, but they weren’t lies. Bobby was hungry, his appetite for male flesh a hidden facet of his personality. You didn’t make a name for yourself on the street by taking it in the ass. He’d kept his predilections to himself for the most part. It was safer that way.
With Angelo, he didn’t have a choice. There was no resisting, so he didn’t. He sucked Angelo’s dick as eagerly, as if he had been sucking dick his whole life. The hard throbbing flesh left a salty taste in his mouth, the traces of Angelo’s arousal coating his tongue with every thrust.
