Tortured

by N. M. Catalano

  “Wait.” Dominic’s one-word command stops James in his tracks. “Bring her here. This is actually perfect.”

  James looks from him to me, then back. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his face. “I think you might be right.” He leads me into the office and closes the door behind us.

  Why is he closing the door now? My fear has now hit emergency levels.

  “Sasha, tell me what has made you nervous?” Dominic’s full attention is on me as he takes a drink from the crystal glass held in his hand.

  I slice my eyes to James looking for some kind of direction. There’s nothing there but contempt and satisfaction.

  “There was someone outside my home in the middle of the night when James wasn’t here.” I answer this man I know nothing about honestly and with more assertiveness than I ever thought I was capable of. Almost challenging him.

  “Is that so?” he replies as his eyes move to James. “Did you not tell her it was probably one of your men making sure she was safe and secure?”

  My eyes shoot to James. I’m shocked. “One of your men? What kind of men would be snooping around here at three o’clock in the morning with flashlights while you’re somewhere doing whatever it was you were doing?” My words are filled with conviction and more strength than I thought I had.

  It’s because I’m mad as hell.

  “Sasha,” Dominic sets his drink down on the table and comes to stand next to me. “James is in the middle of a very important, but tricky venture. He’s implemented precautionary measures to ensure your safety.” He’s behind me now. He rests his large hand on my shoulder and brings his face close to my ear, any closer would be intimately close. “I explained to you early how valuable you are.”

  Nothing about what he’s saying makes me feel any better. On the contrary, it only makes me more apprehensive.

  James comes to stand in front of me. I’m caught between the devil (I think) I know, and the devil I don’t.

  “I didn’t want to worry you, Sasha. I thought it best you didn’t know there’s extra security.” James’ gaze falls to my nipple peeking through the flimsy fabric. “I’ve told Dominic how perfect you are, Sasha. He agreed that nothing should happen to you.” He raises his hand and pinches the point. My shoulders roll forward. I’m repulsed by his touch. Unfortunately, my traitorous body reacts to the stimulation. “You have no idea what your true worth is.”

  Why is he doing this?!

  There was a time I would have welcomed any physical attention from James. Now it just makes me sick. But he’s my husband. He owns me.

  By the looks of things, it appears Dominic owns James.

  My breaths are coming short and fast. I’m scared, shocked, and getting angry.

  Dominic drops his hand from my body, and the sudden coolness on my back tells me he’s moved. I don’t look, I can’t, my eyes stay fixed on a spot to the side of James’ head on the wall behind him. I don’t want to see him either. I get a glimpse of Dominic settling back in his chair and picking up his glass, but his eyes never leave me.

  “I was telling Dominic what a perfect wife you are, Sasha,” James drops his hand, then moves to the chair facing Dominic. “I don’t think he believes me.” He settles himself back and gets comfortable. I glance at Dominic. His expression is unreadable, completely void of any emotion, any intention, anything that would tell me what he’s thinking. James’ voice pulls my attention back to him. “You are mine, aren’t you Sasha?” he asks.

  I want to scream at him. Throw something at him.

  But he’s right.

  I nod.

  He grins. It’s evil and vile. He raises a hand and motions me to him with a crook of his finger. I go because I have no choice. He reaches a hand out and wraps it around my wrist, pulls me closer to stand between his spread legs, then yanks me down to my knees. The impact shoots a jolt of pain through my body, but I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Leaning forward, James pulls my shorts down to the floor in one quick move.

  Terror seizes me.

  The welts on my ass!!

  I know they’re there, I saw them earlier after I showered. I’m absolutely certain Dominic can see them from where he’s seated. He’s going to say something.

  James will kill me!

  “She is perfect,” Dominic states quietly behind me.

  I wait for more, for him to say something about my bruised skin, about how I must love to be spanked, or hit, or punished. Something to give away my secret.

  To tell James about the man I let do anything with my body. About Gringo.

  But nothing else comes, no words or questions about the marks.

  Then a nagging suspicion whispers to me: He knows. He knows James didn’t do that.

  I let the breath I’d been holding out. Resolutely, I know I can do anything now.

  I’ll put on a show for him. Not for James. But for Dominic. To thank him.

  “Sasha, I want to show our guest how perfect you are.” My eyes meet his, and still I don’t say anything. He gives me that sick grin again. “You have such beautiful tits,” he says as he reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and pulls it from my body.

  My heart is jack hammering in my chest, but I let him. I’ll let him do anything, as long as he doesn’t see my ass.

  He takes each nipple between his fingers. The touch is impersonal and robotic. Yet my body responds. I can feel the slickness coating me sex. It’s not because of James. It’s because of the show.

  I must be one fucked up woman.

  James falls back in his seat. “Suck me, Sasha.” His command is hard and emotionless. He could be asking me to get him a newspaper, that’s how much he wants me.

  Fine.

  I don’t hesitate opening his slacks. When he lifts his hips and I take out his cock, it’s soft. James glares at me, challenging me to get him hard and make him come.

  Piece of cake, little boy.

  I start by working him with my hands, playing with his balls and stroking his shaft before tracing the rim of the head with my tongue. I close my eyes and its Gringo I’m taking in my mouth. It’s Gringo I’m touching. It’s Gringo’s cum I want to shoot down my throat. It’s Gringo I see watching me as Bull fucked me. I can feel Dominic’s eyes on me, burning a hole in my back. Bent over James’ lap, I arch my back knowing full well I’m giving him a perfect view of me. I know I’m wet.

  James gets harder and harder in my mouth as his hips begin to pump and he starts to moan. He doesn’t touch me; he lets me do all the work. For that I’m grateful. I don’t want his hands on me.

  I suck him harder, squeeze his balls tighter, and when I take him deep, he thrusts up and slams himself to the back of my throat. When he cums, I have to swallow the vomit that comes up to meet it.

  At least it kills his taste in my mouth.

  “Jesus Christ Sasha, I forgot how good you are at that,” James pants.

  I lift my head from his lap and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, then pull up my shorts. I want to be covered when I walk out of the room.

  “I’m going to bed,” I say quietly as I pick up my shirt and pull it back over my head.

  “Goodnight,” James finds the decency to acknowledge I’ve spoken to him.

  When I stand, I look over at Dominic. And for a fraction of a second, I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. He hasn’t said a word since the marks on me were revealed to him. A silent understanding passes between us when he nods his head, his gaze leveled on me.

  I turn and leave them.

  With my head held high, I walk up the stairs to my room. I fight the natural instinct to feel used and humiliated. I did what I did because I wanted to. Because I had to. I performed because it was my choice. I didn’t allow James to make me feel cheap and dirty. I showed him that I am stronger than he thinks I am. I proved he couldn’t perform if it wasn’t for me. For that, I walked away with two very important pieces of information.

  Ones I’m sure I’ll be able to use agains
t him.

  Something just began. Although I’m not sure what.

  CHAPTER 12

  Gringo

  That cocksucker is here again. Why? And why is he here at this time of night?

  Through my rage, I got his picture when he stepped out of the vehicle. The bastard knew I was here. When he stood at the side of the car and closed the door, he looked right at me. I’m parked down the block, but his eyes zeroed in on me. He stared for a moment with a cocky expression on his face before he turned and walked into the house with James. Where Sasha is. Alone.

  Funny how things happen.

  Immediately I sent the photos to Rock and Bull so they could put a name to the face. Then I forwarded the make of the car, the rental agency, and the plate number to see if they could obtain the information on who’s name is on the rental agreement.

  That all took ten minutes. Now I wait.

  As I stare at the house, all is not as it appears.

  They thought they could take us from the shadows. They didn’t expect us to infiltrate them from another angle. They thought they could distract us. They didn’t anticipate we’d already have every possibility locked tight.

  Dominic Fellini. A man in a suit. No one knows him.

  James Williams, a local government official to the public.

  Sasha Williams, housewife.

  Three pieces to a very large puzzle. All of them have their part. There are so many more pieces to the puzzle. What we need to do is figure out where they fit.

  The thing is, we don’t play fair. We like to change the rules. Then change them again.

  But they already knew that.

  We all hide, some like to hide in plain sight. Like Dominic. Like James.

  Like me.

  Others aren’t aware that they’re hiding. Like Sasha.

  Things are racing towards a culmination, the secret is knowing you’re going along for the ride.

  I’m not absolutely certain what direction we’re going to get hit from, but one of the first tactical maneuvers we learn is to expect them to come from everywhere. That’ll prevent being focused on the obvious target in order to see what’s sneaking up on you from the shadows.

  We’d been worried about someone coming for Summer, but was that a smoke screen for something bigger? Was that only a piece of the puzzle, not the entire picture?

  The thing I’ve always hated about war is there are always innocent casualties.

  As I sit outside the house and watch the shadows move behind the curtains, this is the only thing I’m thinking about.

  Sasha, I’m sorry…

  CHAPTER 13

  Sasha

  That was a statement.

  James made me suck his cock in front of Dominic to prove something.

  Shame consumes me when I remember how I reacted. When I realized that Dominic wasn’t going to reveal my secret. When I knew he wasn’t going to ask James how he’d whipped me. I performed. I stuck out my ass and gave him a good look at me and sucked James off like a high class whore. I put on a show.

  Just like I’d done for Gringo when Bull fucked me.

  What is wrong with me? I have sex with two men together regularly, and I love it. I love it when Gringo calls me his dirty slut, when he makes me crawl and makes me beg for him. Am I so deprived of affection that I’ll take anything that I can get? That I’ll appreciate any man who doesn’t humiliate me and make me feel worthless that I’ll do anything? Am I so damaged that I’ll let a man I don’t even like use me, and perform for another that scares the hell out of me?

  Am I that pathetic?

  Lying in bed feeling ashamed, humiliated, and completely alone, I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t care. If I could have it my way, I’d never leave my room.

  No, I’d leave and NEVER come back.

  I think about Gringo. Even now, just the memory of being with him makes me feel good, it comforts me in a way nothing else can. What we have is good, it’s kinky and fucked up in so many ways, but it’s so much better than good. It’s raw, it’s pure, it’s honest, and no matter what anyone else would say about it, it’s perfect. He gives me what I need, and I give him everything. I give him all that I am with no pretenses, no expectations, nothing but truth, the good, the bad, and the ugly. He takes it all from me, and gives me back only what’s beautiful.

  Yes, I let another man use me with him. Not only do I enjoy it, I want it. Gringo knew I would, not in a ‘she’s a dirty slut’ way, but in a ‘give her more than she ever thought she deserved’ kind of way. In a ‘make her body come alive and her soul soar’ kind of way. In a ‘she’s the most incredible woman, her body deserves to be worshipped in every single way’ kind of way. Just like I like it. Exactly how I need it. He gives it to me sometimes hard and filthy, but then he holds me tenderly and takes care of me. He appreciates me, respects me, and adores me.

  I’m not ashamed of that. How can you be ashamed of something that’s beautiful, pure, and honest?

  That’s why I did what I did last night. Dominic didn’t steal what I had with Gringo, he could have, but he didn’t and he kept it secret. He allowed me to keep that cherished piece of happiness, the only happiness I have in my life. Whether he knew it or not.

  I was grateful for that, so I thanked him the only way I could.

  I’d do it again.

  What I can’t understand is how did Dominic know that it wasn’t James who’d put the marks on my body? He must have or he would have commented about it. Wouldn’t he? James is a man; he wouldn’t have told Dominic we’re not intimate. He’s too proud.

  Who am I trying to fool? James and I have never been intimate, we’ve performed sexual acts, I’ve serviced him sexually, but there has never been any intimacy. No affection. Not even kindness. Gringo said he wanted to find out why I was scared, he wants to know what’s making me frightened. He cares. James couldn’t give a shit about me.

  James only cares about the image I portray as his wife. He’s groomed me to be the perfect doll standing next to him, the perfect accessory to his own image. I’m nothing but a thing to him, an object to be used for his own gain and advancement.

  How incredibly sad.

  Last night had been a perfect example.

  Isn’t it ironic how I used him? Without me he couldn’t have appeared to be the powerful man he wanted Dominic to think he is. His dick wasn’t even hard. He wanted to show Dominic that I fall to my knees any time he asks. I showed Dominic the truth. It was obvious by the lines on my ass that James is an imposter, a liar. A weak man who would be nothing if I didn’t give it to him.

  It’s seems that everything in James’ world is not as he would like people to believe.

  Looking up at the ceiling above my bed, I think about everything that happened yesterday, from the lunch, to being with Gringo, to what last night culminated in.

  Dominic spoke about me as if I were a thing, a possession. The way he did seemed as if he knew every intimate detail about me and our sorry excuse of a marriage. Could he tell all of that by just looking at me, or had James told him? Immediately, I dismiss that idea. Despite the obvious position Dominic has over James, if I know James at all, he’d never tell him exactly what happens, or doesn’t in this case, behind closed doors. The marks on my skin proved that.

  But he knew. The details he ticked off were too precise, too exact.

  I suck in a breath as a thought materializes in my mind.

  Could Dominic have been a part of my marriage arrangement from the beginning?

  Remembering Dominic’s comment that James was aware of the business transaction right from the planning stages, it was obvious Dominic and James have been affiliated for a very long time. But how? Could it be Dominic did have a part in arranging our marriage? Was he also responsible for my father’s business deal?

  The negotiation before I was married.

  My father’s business was guaranteed a lifetime of very large shipping contracts, and I was part of the agreement. They got a
wife for a son, a wife, me, who would be awarded an estate worth over two million dollars once all parties were paid out when the founder passed away. When my father died. To ensure the continued success I was to be married to the son, or nephew. Now it doesn’t matter which. My dad got rich, and I was set-up for life.

  A supposed win/win.

  That’s what they made me believe.

  The icing on the cake they told me was that he was very handsome. I’d gotten a bonus.

  Hoo-fucking-ray for me.

  Thinking about it now, it’s so obvious that I was the only one who lost.

  I will never see the estate money after a lifetime of misery. That money is already marked to go to James. The investors will get a hefty return. It might take maybe thirty years or so, however long my father lives after my wedding. And I won’t be surprised if they have their hands in the pot that is my father’s business, making a killing on their money the whole time.

  “Fuck this,” I growl as I sit up.

  Now it seems things are getting interesting. James is involved in some massive business deal that involves Saudi Arabians. A deal that’s not going according to plan.

  A deal where he’s going to be giving them a gift.

  I don’t know what’s going on, but it scares the life out of me.

  Somehow I know I’m a part of this. Is it the money? Is James planning to use the fund that’s supposed to be released upon my father’s death? There’s no way he can touch it now, not unless…

  I jump out of bed.

  I have to find out what’s going on. But how?

  Rushing to the bathroom, I turn on the shower, then grab my phone.

  “Millicent,” I call James’ secretary. “Could you tell me if James has Dominic on his schedule today?” I’m virtually breathless, my adrenaline is exploding.

  “Good morning Mrs. Williams. As a matter of fact, Mr. Williams is out with Mr. Fellini now,” comes her cheerful reply.

  She’s probably relieved to be rid of James, if even for a short while.

  I know how she feels.