Brutally Broken: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Loki Renard

  I felt a brief flash of triumph when I hit him with the Taser, but it was quickly overwhelmed with pure guilt when I saw him convulsing on the floor, completely out of it. Tasers don’t usually render people unconscious. I must have set the voltage too high. I could have killed him.

  Is that why I’m letting him finger my ass? Why I’m putting up no resistance as he takes the last secret, sacred part of my body and perverts it to his purpose, bends it to his will? Maybe. Or maybe it’s not about guilt, or even lust. Maybe it’s just a simple animal thing where I submit because he is a massive dominant male with a score to settle, and I know that my fragile female flesh can only survive at his mercy.

  My mind is spinning with a thousand thoughts and rationalizations, but none of them change the essential facts of what is happening to me. My ass is being spread open as Vadim goes two fingers deep inside me, plunging his thick digits in and out of my hole, ignoring my pussy, which is paying perfect attention to him, clenching with desire, leaking with juices.

  I want him to fuck me.

  Just wanting that makes me think I might be broken. How can I want this? I don’t even care that he’s going to take my ass. His big, thick cock is going to take me the one place I’ve never allowed any man to go.

  I am clenching at the covers of my bed. This used to be the last bastion of my innocence, the one place where I could still remember a more simple life. But he has desecrated this room, just like he’s desecrating my ass. Every bit of innocence has been stripped away now, and I am nothing more than a lust-driven, depraved little fuck toy, waiting to be taken apart one more time.

  “Bad, bad girl,” he growls down at me, moving one hand to the back of my head, taking my hair in his fist, pulling my head back as he pushes his fingers deeper, urging my body into a dirty arch, spread-legged and all too desperate. “You want this, don’t you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” I hiss back.

  “That’s right,” he agrees. “It doesn’t.”

  With that he pushes his fingers all the way inside me, coated with a film of lube that lets them rotate back and forth inside my sex. He is making an example of me, but not to his men, to me. He is showing me just what he can do. We’ve fucked, but this isn’t about sex. This is about power. He has all of it. I have none of it. Tasers and millions of dollars, they mean nothing really. At the end of the day, I am always going to succumb to him, because that is what our natures dictate. I can fight him, but I will not win.

  And then he pulls his fingers free and it is his cock that slides inside me, one hot, thick, hard inch at a time.

  * * *

  Vadim

  Her anus is wrapped around my cock, gripping it desperately like a hot fist. This is what I want. Not that pussy she’s trying to distract me with, hoping that I’ll take her the easiest way. I’m not going to fuck her cunt until she’s truly broken, mine from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

  I pull free, see the thick head of my cock coated in lubricant, gleaming and sleek. I push back inside that dirty little hole, making her take me even deeper. She is making animal sounds, grunting, groaning, filthy sounds that she would never have dared make before she became mine. I am changing the very core of her, making her the woman she should have been. I can keep her safe, and that means I can make her free, even with my hand on the back of her neck, pressing the side of her face against the bed, my cock pistoning in and out of her. This is a mechanical corruption, a complete claiming.

  She was my mistress, for all of a minute. Now I am master, and I know how to rule. I fist her hair, the golden sheaf spilling from my fingers as I tug her head back, make her arch so prettily.

  I fuck her bottom long and hard. I make her scream and hump her hips. She surrenders to me perfectly, her hot little hole begging for my cum with a rhythmic clenching that quickly threatens to drive me over the edge.

  It’s all I can do to hold back for a few more minutes, slowing myself just enough to avoid this being over too quickly. This is about more than mere sex. This is about showing control, over myself, as well as her.

  Then she does something with her ass, a grinding, dancing, pumping motion of her hips, and I am undone. I shout my orgasm, filling her final hole with my seed, claiming her once and for all, completely and utterly, making her mine beyond any question as she writhes beneath me, her orgasm following mine, commanded by my body, surrendering the last of her resistance to me.

  Chapter Six

  Vadim

  “Got tied up?”

  I cuff the boy across the side of the head and send him flying. He pops up from the ground with a rueful smirk on his face, clearly not regretting a single one of his impertinent words.

  “Shut the hell up, mouth,” one of the others says. “He dealt with her.”

  “Hell, yeah, he did. Long. And. Hard.”

  There’s a series of laughing snorts, and that’s when I realize that the intercom was open the entire time. They heard me whip her. Then they heard me fuck her ass. That means they also heard her begging for it, coming so hard she practically passed out with her ass wrapped around my dick.

  Good.

  “I’m taking the recon team out,” I say. “We’re going to do surveillance. The rest of you make sure that girl doesn’t leave her room. I’m sure she has her ways out. You keep eyes on her at all times. I mean it. I don’t want her out of sight for a single second.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  I don’t trust it, but it is going to have to be enough. I can’t stay here and babysit Sophie all day. That’s what she wants. She’s trying to stop me from going. I’d like to stay, but when a man’s work in the bedroom is done, it is time for him to take it to the battlefield.

  I head out with my handpicked team. I have some intelligence on the Vristok, but it is shaky and I need to verify it in person. I need to put my eyes on these mongrels who have declared war on a girl.

  The alleged Vristok stronghold is only three hours away by plane. That’s further than I want to be away from Sophie, but it’s a necessary trip, and I will be back in a matter of hours. The men I have left behind have strict instructions to keep eyes on her at all times, and to notify me immediately if there are any problems.

  I have a feeling that she will give them trouble, but I need to get out and give the Vristok some trouble of my own.

  On the way there, I review the intel over and over. My intelligence comes from a variety of sources, but mostly Sophie’s files. She has not paid any attention to most of the house in a long time, but I discovered what must have been her father’s office, and went through the documents I found there. Her fortune is vast and truly spans the globe. Her family name does not appear on any rich lists, and she is not famous in the least, but I have no doubt that the woman I just anally ravaged could change the course of millions of people’s lives with a single investment decision. She is powerful, but she hides away like a weak little girl, and I do not understand that at all.

  I chartered a plane with the money she has allowed me access to. In spite of her misgivings and tantrums, she has funded this operation generously, and in the end, not against her will. It is almost as though there are two Sophies. One is the frightened baby who hides, and the other is a strong, powerful woman who goes out into the world in defiance of all those she claims want to kill her. I want to protect one of those Sophies and tame the other.

  * * *

  We land at a small private airfield thirty minutes away from what I’ve been led to believe is Vristok HQ. I have my doubts about that. In my experience, such things are much harder to find, though perhaps Sophie’s sources are more accurate than Bratva intel used to be. I have spent months, or even years in my old life tracking enemies down. I’ve been looking for the Vristok for a matter of days and I seem to have already found them. Unlikely, but possible. I can’t let them sit under my nose just because I think finding them was too easy. If they are as arrogant as they appear to be, and as unused to being moved aga
inst, perhaps it really will be this easy.

  There’s a van waiting for us when the plane touches down. We pile into it, one of my new men driving, others preparing their weapons. It’s odd. I’ve never dealt with new people before. The Bratva is a brotherhood. You are blooded into it. You can’t pay for our services; you are either part of the family or not. But now I am not, and that loss still gnaws away at me every moment of every day. I forget about it sometimes when I am with Sophie, but right now it is hitting me hard.

  These men are mercenaries. I have ensured as best I can that they can be trusted, but betrayal is always a possibility. Before my exile, I would have insisted that nobody but Bratva could be trusted, but now I know that family is sometimes the most brutal lie of all. I was betrayed. There is no doubt in my mind. I was accused of being a traitor myself, and those bonds that were decades in the making were shorn without notice or care.

  I grip my weapon tighter and avert my thoughts from the past. The present needs my attention.

  The men are quiet. They don’t know one another well either. That is a good thing. The worst possible dynamic is a bonded group of men with someone new trying to lead them. Or at least, I imagine it would be. I am questioning everything I ever thought I knew about brotherhood and war.

  “We will stop one mile out,” I say. “From there, three of us will move in on foot, spread out to avoid detection, and observe as much as possible. If anyone is spotted or captured, activate your beacon. Two will stay back as reserves. If you encounter resistance or aggression, fall back to a defensible position. I’m not losing men today.”

  “Not today?” A man with a shaved head and a nasty scar running from one ear to the corner of his mouth says. Half a Glasgow smile. One of these days I’ll ask him what happened. Right now, story time can wait.

  “Not today, Blood,” I confirm.

  His name, as far as it matters to me, is Blood. It’s the name he’s known by in the underground, the name that his victims go out gurgling. He is one of the men I intend to keep close to me, because I’m not entirely certain he can help himself when it comes to violence. A dishonorable discharge from the US military and a reputation for vicious killing mean that he is not one of the men allowed into Sophie’s compound. Today, he will be one of the reserves, because I am certain that if he makes contact he will take life. That trait will have its uses later, but not today.

  “You never know, boss,” he says. “Nobody gets to choose the day they die.”

  It’s true, but I give him a stony look instead of agreeing. I have decided the kind of leader I am going to be. One who does not engage in idle conversation. I will not make these men my friends. I already know that there is no such thing as real friendship, or real camaraderie. There is only useless talk and meaningless fraternization. I will try to ensure that these men survive. I will make sure they get paid. But that is all.

  “Pull over here,” I instruct the driver. “We’re getting out. Blood, McMillan, you two stay here. You back us up.”

  The compound is a small country mansion. It has a golf course, a place to make horses jump over obstacles, and other various flippant decadent pursuits. Everything is kept to perfection, but there is a stillness I do not like. There are no vehicles visible in the driveways, though they could be inside the garage complex.

  The two men I’ve taken move off with perfect precision. They’ve done this before. I’ve never worked with American ex-military personnel before, but I like their efficiency and their training is obvious.

  “Hold position,” I murmur into my communications device. “Surveillance, put the drone up, but stay back. I want to see if there’s any movement.”

  “Roger,” McMillan says from inside the van. “Sending the bird up now.”

  “See anything?”

  “Nothing,” he says.

  “Hold position. I want to see some activity.”

  * * *

  What I want isn’t what I get. After an hour, there is no sign of any activity inside the house or out. That doesn’t mean it isn’t occupied. We move up slowly, approaching with great caution. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, and I have to admit, feeling that slow drip of adrenaline is good. It’s what I need.

  The closer we get, the more my nerves spike. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. There’s something wrong about this place, though I can’t see anything obvious. It’s a gross testament to excess wealth, precisely the sort of thing Americans are known for. But something about it just feels wrong.

  With silent gestures, I organize my men. I take the front of the house. The other two take the sides. The rear is left open, but the backup team can take anyone who goes out that way.

  At this stage, I’m not looking to kill anyone outright. If possible I’d like to make civil contact with the Vristok. A discussion needs to be had. I put out a request on the underground, but nobody took me up on my invitation; most claimed to have never heard of the Vristok at all, which is a concern. Are we here chasing a frightened girl’s imagination?

  I knock on the front door. There is no answer.

  I try the handle. It turns. I freeze. There is no way a door like this should be open for anyone to simply walk through. Not if this house is occupied by a dangerous international cartel of endlessly violent people. But I am already thinking this lead was bad. There is no security here. There should be patrols. I have yet to see anyone. But we have to check inside, in case this is a site they used and then abandoned.

  “Hello?” I call out as I open the door, trying to sound friendly and American. Nothing.

  I look inside, and what I see makes my senses go into overdrive. The house is empty. So empty it looks more like a set in a movie than a home. Many of the walls are unfinished, the staircase is undone. The home is perfect from the exterior, but on the inside there is nothing to indicate that this was ever intended to be lived in.

  “Come in,” I murmur into the coms unit. “This place is empty. Be careful. It could be a trap.”

  It takes the others a minute or so to get around to the front door and come in. I don’t like this, but I don’t want to leave in case there is some kind of evidence or clue here. This house has been stripped to the bare bones. The floor has been taken back to the boards. The walls are plain drywall with openings here and there.

  “Maybe it is being renovated?” one of my men suggests.

  “Maybe, but where are the contractors?”

  “When the fuck has a contractor ever come on time?” the other says. One of them is Brown, and the other is Martingale. I can’t remember which is which. I’ve had to learn a lot of names lately. One is tall, and the other is short. In my head I call them Big and Small.

  “True,” Big laughs. “I guess we missed them.” He turns to me. “Sorry, boss.”

  “Is okay,” I say. “Keep looking. Be careful.”

  “Hey, there’s a wire here,” Small says suddenly. He bends down, and...

  “Don’t touch that!”

  Click.

  My words come too late. He looks at me with horror in his eyes, but there is nothing I can do to change what is going to happen now. His careless action has just cost us all our lives.

  “Get out!”

  I shout the order, heading for the front door as fast as my legs can take me. If that is what I think it is, we have a matter of seconds to get free of the house. Three. Maybe five.

  It is incredible how seconds become eternity in a moment like this, how my body becomes completely numb. I know this is likely the end of us all. This place is going to blow and I will cease to exist. My thoughts are of Sophie, how traumatized she will be, how she will cry in the night with nobody to hold her. She will go out, find another man, perhaps a brute who will do the Vristok’s job for them. I cannot die today. I promised I wouldn’t die today.

  Boom!

  I knew that sound was coming. This close, it’s not actually a sound. It’s a force displacing every bit of matter it encounters as the entire sham
structure of what was pretending to be a house detonates, wood splintering and metal twisting, shrapnel flying. I feel the force of the blast pick me up and throw me into the air and for a moment I am free, flying like a bird. But the ground soon finds me with a heavy blow and all the air I just flew through is knocked out of me, along with my consciousness.

  * * *

  “He’s in one piece. Got all his limbs. Might be dead.”

  I open my eyes to that grim assessment. Light hits my retinas and burns them instantly. I can feel the effects of the concussion I know I’ve sustained. It’s in the light sensitivity and the way I feel intensely nauseous. It takes several seconds to focus on Blood’s face. His eyes are lit with glee and the kind of war lust I recognize in our most dangerous men back home.

  “You’re alive,” he says, sounding a little disappointed.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “The others aren’t. You were wrong. Today was a day to die.”

  I struggle to sit up, but when I do, I wish I hadn’t. The other two men were further into the house than I was. One of them must have been standing nearly over the charge. He’s not a man anymore. He’s a fine spray coating a quarter acre of the property. The other is more recognizable, but not any more intact.

  “Fuck!”

  “Why do Russians swear in English?” Blood asks the question, unaffected by the sight that makes my stomach churn. Behind us, McMillan is beating a very quick retreat back to the van. Two men are gone, and I have absolutely nothing to show for it.

  Chapter Seven

  Vadim

  I am going back to Sophie in disgrace. I have failed her. I have failed myself. I walked into a trap I fucking knew was a trap, and I did it because I am so desperate for information. The whole way back, I am silent. Blood is in a good mood, but the other man is quiet too. We lost good people today, two men who did not deserve to be taken apart the way they were.