Brutally Broken: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Loki Renard

  He is right though. I am wet. I have been since I squirmed off his hard thighs. I was aware of it in the store, just barely, a peripheral arousal that took a very distant back seat to my shame.

  “Take your hand away,” I order.

  He leaves it there. “You paid for me, girl. I think you need someone. I might protect you. But you will never give me orders, and you will speak with respect when you talk to me. I did not come all this way to take direction from a scared, spoiled little girl.”

  “I am not scared!”

  “You’re terrified,” he says, his voice intense. “You are the most frightened little thing I have ever met. And you will tell me why.”

  “You can’t make me tell you.”

  He flexes his fingers and I feel his strength so close to my pussy it almost kills me. I am aroused. I don’t want to be. This is one of those dark, terrible responses that nobody should give into, a primal call to a vicious maleness that is dangerous and destructive and could tear me apart.

  “I think I can make you do whatever I want, little girl.”

  I hate the familiarity. I hate the arrogance and the dominance. I am in control. I have to be in control, but he is stripping it away from me with every breath. Again, I consider returning him to the sellers, but then he shifts his fingers and the tip of his middle finger brushes very lightly over the seam of my pussy and I feel a crackle of erotic energy race through me.

  I’ve had sex before, of course. I’ve devoured cocks. I’ve made them service me and sent them away before they could get any closer. Once or twice, I’ve paid for men to come and give me their dicks. I have no expectation of living a long life, or of ever having a family, so I feel no guilt about my sexual exploits. I take pleasure where I can find it. I planned to fuck Vadim the moment I saw him, but when I pictured us together, it was me on top. It was not me in my car, my legs spread, my ass aching, my pussy being tickled by his finger, my entire body thrilling to him though he’s barely touching me. The anticipation of what is to come, what he will do to me, what I won’t be able to stop him doing, puts me on a heightened edge where I feel everything a thousand times more keenly than I ordinarily would.

  “Vadim...” I breathe his name.

  “Quiet,” he growls back. Every word that comes from his lips rumbles up through his massive chest. He is like an animal, a muscular beast of a man who cannot be trusted to behave in a civilized way.

  “You can’t do this...”

  “I can do what I want,” he says. “You need me to protect you, don’t you, little thing?”

  I think he means little one, but maybe not. Maybe I am nothing more than an object to him. Can I complain? I paid for him with the intention of using him to save my life. He’s not a boyfriend who I can shame for treating me badly. Neither one of us has any reason to treat the other well, and I know I cannot expect any kind of mercy from him, especially now that he is pushing his finger forward, finding the entrance of my body, and sinking into me in an almost casual intrusion.

  I feel my pussy wrapping around him, gripping his thick finger. I bite my lower lip to stifle the natural moan that wants to emerge, especially when his thumb slides forward and finds my clit, pressing the little button.

  I could stop him, but I’m not going to. I want him. I need to release all the tension built up inside me, and in my experience, nothing brings a man to heel like my pussy. He might think he is taking me, but I am going to take him. I am going to engulf him. The harder he tries to conquer me, the faster I will win.

  “Tell me,” he insists, his teeth raking over my neck and then down to my nipple, taking the bud in his powerful jaws.

  “No!” I moan even as his fingers push inside me, my walls spreading for him. I cannot withstand this man physically. He is a force of pure untamed nature with a past just as dark as my own. I can sense it in him. Our rages call to one another, and when they clash, there is an infernal heat that might consume us both.

  In the confined space of the moving car, his body moves over mine. He shifts me around into position, gripping and moving me like I am nothing more than a doll for him to use.

  I know what’s coming. I can see it in his eyes. I can smell it on him. There is a scent rising between us, coming from the slick wet slit between my legs, coating his hand with lewd gleaming liquid.

  When it happens there’s no ceremony, no moment of hesitation, no loving kiss or tender embrace. His fingers sweep away and are replaced with the vicious thick length of his cock, which pushes inside me in one rough thrust, claiming me there in the back seat of my own vehicle, obliterating the memory of any man who might have come before him with incredible heat and girth, stretching me, conquering me, his tattooed arms holding me where he wants me.

  I am contorted against the padded seats, aching ass pressed down against the leather, the back of my head against the window as he pounds inside me, his hips thrusting with power and fury, sinking his cock inside the most sensitive parts of me until I scream with something that isn’t orgasm yet, but the sheer intensity of being fucked. My hands are splayed as I brace myself against the interior, my legs spreading and tucking up near my chin in the most lewd position yet, one of his big hands pushing my left leg further up so he can have even deeper access to my poor pussy. When I look down, I see my lips wrapped around his cock, gripping him tightly, being pulled out every time he strokes away from me, and then giving way when he thrusts forward.

  “Tell me,” he snarls, licking his fingers.

  I had forgotten about the interrogation that sparked this sexual conquest. But I still have no intention of giving in, no matter how long or how hard he fucks me. He pulls his cock free as he asks the question, holding our orgasms hostage.

  “No!”

  I shriek a moment later when his hand sweeps down and those spit-wet fingers slap my exposed clit, sending a jolt of pleasure pain through my body that almost sends me into immediate orgasm.

  “Tell me!” he demands.

  “No! Go fuck yourself!”

  He shoves his cock back inside me, his thrusts rough and deep and utterly commanding. I can feel his hard flesh throbbing inside me, and I know he is about to come. I know it as surely as I know my own name, feminine instinct telling me that my pussy is about to be filled to the brim with the seed of a strange man I barely know.

  Vadim slams into me, holds himself as deep as he can and he comes with a vicious roar that echoes through every part of my body, calling my own orgasmic response forth as his cum pumps inside me, the pulsing of his cock telling me that his bare cock has unleashed itself and I am now utterly awash in the most virile seed.

  * * *

  Vadim

  I slump back against the car seat, leaving her open-legged next to me. Her cunt is covered in my cum, completely smeared in my seed, but she hasn’t said a word. When she tries to move, I put one hand on her thigh, holding her in place, and shake my head. No. I want her to stay there. I want my cum to sink inside her pussy. I want her to feel me dripping from her. I want her to know that she might have money, but I am the one who has conquered her.

  She stays still, but she still hasn’t answered my question. I find a reluctant admiration rising in me. I want to know what her secret is, and I know very few people who are able to withstand interrogation. I did not hurt her. I fucked her. But most people can be broken in intimacy far more easily than any other way. In my old life I used to break people all the time. I used to crack them open, extract their secrets, and discard them or dispose of them.

  I do not see myself discarding or disposing of Sophie. I have fucked a lot of women in my time. Not one of them has ever felt remotely close to my equal. But this one might be.

  It’s more than self-preservation that makes me curious as to the nature of the Vristok, the people she says are coming for her. I want to know who is on the other side of her nightmares. I want to know what men have made her wall herself off from the world. I want to know what happened to her family, why she is
all alone. I want to know everything about her. I have a craving to understand her, and that too, is new.

  But she is not talking, and the journey home has passed swiftly in rampant sex. As we come to a halt, Sophie pushes the car door open and steps out into her underground lair. When we left, she was properly put together and I was a mess. Now the roles are reversed. I am the one in new designer clothing. She is the one in a torn blouse, rumpled skirt, and no panties at all.

  I get out of the car and follow her back inside to what is supposed to be a home, but there is only one room that feels remotely like a home. Her bedroom. She flees there as fast as she can without actually running. I don’t know if she wants me to follow her or not. I don’t care. I have no intention of leaving her alone for even a second until I uncover this mystery.

  She is in the shower when I get into the room. I hear the water running and hear the soft thuds of shampoo bottles and soap being moved around. I could go in and watch, but I decide to give her a moment to herself. I need to think. The events of the past twenty-four hours have been strange and hectic. I need to regroup and decide what I am doing.

  From the moment my palm met Sophie’s ass, I have been trying to ignore the fact that today was my opportunity to ‘escape.’ I didn’t have to spank her in that store. I didn’t have to fuck her in the car. I could have, and probably should have just gotten up and left her. What is one little girl going to do to stop me?

  I didn’t leave her when I had the chance. I stayed. I’m telling myself it’s the mystery that is keeping me. But I know it is more than that. I thought I wanted to go back to Russia, clear my name, but I am bitter at the men who allowed me to be so humiliated and degraded as to be sold like some cheap meat. My brothers turned their backs on me, and the only thing that gave me strength all those dark nights held in slavery was the idea that one day I would return and I would kill every man who failed me.

  I have been with this woman for one day, and already my taste for revenge is dulled. I cannot explain that. Maybe there is not enough room in my heart for hatred and intrigue at the same time. Or maybe I am going soft. Maybe the fact that she needs me is enough to keep me.

  I let out a laugh to myself at the thought. I’ve never cared if a woman needed me. I’ve never been the sort of man people relied on. My brothers could count on having my gun when they needed it, but in the end, that was not enough. A snake infiltrated our number and I took the fall.

  Sooner or later, they will realize their mistake. But it will be too late. The snake will be at their throats and the venom will be in their veins. There is no saving men who allow themselves to be corrupted by a liar.

  “You’re angry.”

  I hear a soft voice in front of me. She managed to sneak up on me. I didn’t hear the shower go off. I didn’t notice her as she padded softly into her bedroom wearing nothing but a towel. Her hair is wet, and her makeup has been washed away. She looks nothing like a hell-bitch now. In the afterglow of the shower, she is pink and sweet and so young.

  “Angry?” The word is a question.

  She takes a step away from me.

  “What did I do?”

  She’s afraid of me, and she is showing it. Sex has changed things instantly and irrevocably. I’ve been inside her. Spilled my seed into her. And now she doesn’t look at me with that cold glazed gaze that reflects the brutality of the world she has been raised in. Now she is vulnerable, and I am frightening her, though I don’t know how. One clue is following the line of her gaze. She’s staring at my lap. I look down and see my hands clenched there. It takes effort to unclench them.

  “I am not angry at you,” I tell her. I don’t know why I am reassuring her. I should be angry at her. It has not been a full day since she purchased me. She has talked to me like an animal. She has dragged me into something dangerous. Risked my life against my will. I should be furious with her.

  But I’m not.

  Because today, I felt her cunt quiver around my cock. We have come to an animal understanding, even if it is one she would deny.

  * * *

  Sophie

  Sex is power. I thought I understood that, but I always thought it referred to the way men will follow pussy like crack. I thought that it meant I would always be in control. I had no idea that it would mean that a man could come along and rewire me with his dick, turn me into a panting, submissive, whimpering little animal.

  When I walked into the bedroom, Vadim was sitting on the bed, staring into nothingness with an expression of such pure malevolent anger on his face I almost hit the alarm button. But then he looked at me and he softened right away as if he cared that he’d frightened me.

  We are still complete strangers, and I know that we are lying to one another. We can’t help it. I can’t tell him why I live in a fortress, and he won’t tell me how he ended up on an auctioneer’s block. Maybe we’re both ashamed of the real reasons for our predicaments.

  “Did you have a nice shower?”

  The question is so pedestrian it surprises me coming from him. I’ve not been asked that question before, so it momentarily stumps me.

  “Uhm... yes. It was quite nice. There was, er, water.”

  There was more than water. There was sting and ache in my ass and there was a tenderness between my thighs, a constant reminder of all he did to me in a matter of hours. I will be feeling the effects of this morning for days to come.

  I stare at him, almost forgetting what I came to do. Get dressed. That’s right.

  His eyes are on me, still hungry. I wonder if that desire will ever be satisfied. The way he felt inside me, I don’t think so. He is the kind of man who could fuck forever and never have had enough.

  I don’t know what to do with him, or with myself. But I do know that being clothed should help. I pick a skirt that sits loosely around my hips and thighs, no underwear.

  “How long have you been hiding here?” His question sounds like a jibe.

  “I was born in this house. It wasn’t as secure then, but I’ve added some upgrades over the years. More since my father died.”

  He nods. “But you go out into the world. Anyone could take you on the road, or in the city.”

  “But not here,” I say. “There’s one place where I’m safe, and that’s all anyone really needs.”

  He looks at me and I see his expression change. I don’t know quite what it changes from or to, but I can see I’ve made an impression of some kind on him. He probably thinks I’m crazy. Most people do.

  “You’re wise,” he says. “For a woman.”

  “You’re sexist,” I reply. “For a man.”

  His cheek dimples, and I feel a small smile rising too. Vadim is not a good guy, or a nice one. He’s so criminal even his fellow criminals must have turned on him at some point to let him end up in the basement of a restaurant being sold like steak. I can’t be angry at him for saying shitty things. Or I can, but judging him by my standards is just going to mean I end up hating him. And I don’t want to hate him. I think... I think I want to like him.

  “Now you have me dressed, what next?”

  He asks a question I wish he wouldn’t, because I have no answer for it. Now I wait and I watch. I am sure our trip today will have been noted. I can expect to hear helicopters overhead in the next twenty-four hours or so, followed by an increase in traffic on the nearby roads, and more likely than not, a few unexpected visitors. They’re going to want to know who he is, and what our relationship involves. They never leave me alone for more than a few days.

  “Now we wait.”

  “For what?”

  For them to take the bait, I think internally. “We just wait,” I say.

  He raises a brow. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “I thought we’d established that there’s a lot I’m not telling you,” I smirk at him.

  He shakes his head. He doesn’t like this. He’s fucked me. Thrashed me. And he’s still powerless. I’m sure he’ll try something else s
oon. Perhaps he’ll be rough with me again. Try to hurt me. Maybe he’ll use an implement next time. That belt he has around his waist will leave welts, I’m sure. I’m ready for pain. Much more pain than he’s ever going to inflict no matter what he does.

  “At least feed me, woman.”

  “What, do you want me to make you a sandwich?”

  “I’d like borscht, but a decadent American sandwich would do.”

  “Decadent American sandwich?” I laugh. I sense that’s a joke, and it is. He smiles, and with that smile he is so fucking attractive. I feel my heart skip a beat, my stomach flutter. How can he give me these schoolgirl feelings in the middle of all this misery?

  “Come, I’ll see what decadence we have in the kitchen,” I say.

  I do have a staff. Most of them are from my father’s time. These are people I trust absolutely. I also have them under surveillance, so if they are approached by outside actors, I will know about it. My enemies are devious. One time, they deployed an agent in the guise of a primary school teacher who taught the son of one of my guards. I was forced to terminate his employment before he was turned against me.

  The chef is a man who has been cooking for my family for the past twenty years. He is above suspicion, because he sleeps on the premises and never leaves the grounds. He was a monk once, now disavowed, but he knows how to make the most exquisite rice dishes, and he’s not bad with snake, either. Unfortunately for any exotic tastes, he’s not in the kitchen when we arrive. I did tell him I’d be out for lunch today. I guess he’ll be back to prepare dinner later.

  “I guess we’ll have to fend for ourselves,” I say. “Take a seat. I’ll see what I can find.”

  Vadim sits down on a stool at the kitchen counter, giving me a wry look. I don’t think he expected me to feed him after everything that happened this morning, and maybe I shouldn’t be getting food for the man who publicly whipped my ass, but I need him fed, I guess.

  Truth is, I don’t quite know how to handle myself around him. I never tried this particular tactic before. Not this way, anyway. Maybe he should be in a cage in the basement. But it’s hard to convince your enemies that you’re in love with a man who is never allowed to touch you, and I want there to be some naturalness between us. That’s the tactical part of me thinking. There’s another part too, a softer, simpler, probably stupid part that just wants to have lunch with him.