Scarred Queen

by Nikita Slater

  “Fuck you, culero! This is going to hurt a motherfucking lot no matter what you do,” she screeched at him, tears gathering in her eyes. “First time anal sucks!”

  He froze and then she felt vibrations against her back as he started to chuckle. “How would you know it, ah, sucks if it’s your first time, eh, nena?” he asked in a perfectly reasonable voice that made her want to stab his eyes out. How dare he laugh at her while she was terrified he was going to tear her ass wide open with his monster dick. Tears began trickling from her eyes across her nose and down her cheek to pool on the metal beneath her face.

  “Culero,” she muttered.

  He stopped chuckling. He shoved a second finger into her ass drawing a scream of pain from her and reached to grip her face with his free hand, gripping her cheeks hard. “You call me an asshole again, Casey, and I will make sure it hurts as much as you expect it to, understand? Swallow the disrespect.”

  She nodded as much as she could. He released her face and she put her head down, face down on the bench, pressing her forehead against the metal. She was done trying to see him, trying to see what he was doing to her. He got what he wanted. He got her to respond to a monster, the Bolivian mafia boss. Now the boss was going to show her exactly who owned her, every inch of her. And she would never cross him again.

  She tensed as he stood behind her. Was he going to fuck her standing up? She frowned when she heard him walk away from her, then shuffling as though a drawer was being opened and closed. Strange, she hadn’t seen any shelves or anything. Not that she’d looked at the room very closely.

  She lay chained down, waiting with tense expectation as he approached her again. Something small and plastic hit the floor and bounced next to her causing her to jump. She frowned and whimpered. What the fuck was he doing? Then she gasped and jumped again, straining against the chains, rattling them against the wall when she felt something cool and gel-like hit her ass crack and slide into her heated anus.

  “Motherfucker!” she yelled.

  He slapped her ass again, much harder than he had hit her yet. “Silencio!” he snarled. “You are lucky I am in the mood to make this easier for you, woman. One more word and I will beat you into submission before fucking this ass with the brutality it deserves. Remember who I am.” The last sentence was gritted with such intensity that she slammed her lips shut on a whimper and tilted her forehead, pressing it hard into the cold metal.

  He slapped her ass again then slapped her pussy before moving his fingers to her ass and sliding them deep into the forbidden hole. Her moan turned into a scream as the pressure increased. She continued to squirm, moan and cry out hoarsely, her voice cracking as her raw throat gave out while he pumped his fingers in and out of her, preparing her ass to take his cock. He massaged and stretched her, forcing her body to take the width of first two fingers and then three until the painful burn of invasion began to give way to a gradual tingle of pleasure. Unwillingly she started to move her hips in a way that increased that pleasure until she was asking for more.

  Finally, after several minutes of preparation and more lubrication he removed his fingers. Casey cried out hoarsely in disappointment and tried seeking his leg out with hers. Then she heard the jingle of his belt and the tell-tale thunk of his pants hitting the floor. She froze, knowing what was coming and huddled her hips as much as she could against the bench. Her breathing grew ragged as he gripped her hips and dragged them back toward him stretching her arms until they wouldn’t go back anymore. The chains rattled.

  “I fucking love that sound, nena. Especially when it’s you under my hands, in my dungeon,” he growled from behind her.

  His fingers dug into her hips, flexing them deep into the flesh of her hips for a moment before he moved one of them over to the small over back and then across her ass and into the dip. She whimpered as he ran the velvety tip of his penis through the lubrication and up the crack of her ass. It felt so good she couldn’t help but twitch her hips back into him and moan her pleasure, even knowing the pain that was about to come. Then she felt him place the tip against her anus and start pushing.

  She breathed hard and arched her back trying to push back against the overwhelming fullness. Reyes pressed his hand into the middle of her back and pushed her down, pinning her ruthlessly to the bench until she had no room to move at all, then began sliding his thick cock into her anal passage. She tried to push back against his ruthless entry but, if anything, she made it easier for him to slide further in. She screamed and thrashed, throwing her head back until he finally stopped, having thrust his entire length into the depths of her heated passage.

  “Fuck, mia nena,” he gritted savagely from behind her. “So fucking tight, so good.”

  She gritted her own teeth against the pain, glad that he wasn’t moving, positive he would tear her apart if he so much as twitched inside her. She flinched when he shifted slightly to reach underneath her, but he only reached for her clit, running his fingers over the slippery nub, drawing sparks of pleasure to override the pain. She cried out and rocked into it, sliding herself up and down his cock a tiny bit and sending new sensations throughout the tiny nerve endings in her ass. She gasped and began rocking harder, seeking more of the pleasure that was suddenly building.

  “Si Casey, si nena, just like that!” he snarled from behind her, gripped her hip hard and pushed further into her, easing his length in and out of her in gentle strokes while massaging her clit with his other hand until she was writhing under him, begging for release.

  Casey spared a few precious seconds to realize the care he was taking to make sure her first-time anal didn’t suck. That she was indeed building toward release and not being torn in two from a cock that could do real damage to her pussy let alone her virgin ass. She could tell from the tension in his body that he was having trouble holding himself back from just slamming into her; gripping her hips in both hands and pounding her hard.

  “Come for me, cariña,” he growled. “You need to come for me now.”

  She could feel the flaring of his dick as it grew impossibly harder and longer, his strokes growing rougher. She cried out as he slammed himself into her tender ass, pain and pleasure flaring and radiating throughout her body. He pinched and flicked her clit until she was lost in a messy world of swirling spinning dizziness.

  “Come!” he shouted.

  His thrusts grew progressively rougher and more painful. Tears gathered in her eyes. He rubbed her clit harder, forcing her higher and higher. She threw her head back with a savage scream of her own. She’d intended to scream at him to stop. Stop the torture, stop forcing her to feel these vastly different things. But it hurt so fucking good that she never wanted it to stop. Instead she did as he demanded and came for him in an explosion of white sparks that dimmed her vision for a few seconds.

  She slammed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t pass out, wrapped her fingers around the chains as best she could and held on for dear life as he continued fucking her ass for several more strokes before finishing. She felt the hot rush of semen as he filled her anal passage. It felt different than when he filled her pussy. He pulled out and finished across her ass cheek and thigh, marking her.

  The possessive culero, she thought weakly, slumping against the chains and resting her cheek against the cold metal of the bench.

  Reyes reached over her head, a bead of sweat dripping from his wide chest and landing on her shoulder blade, and uncuffed first one wrist and then the other. Casey moaned at the painful rush of blood through her veins and the pull of tender flesh. She curled her wrists underneath her torso against her breasts and huddled against the bench hoping like hell he was done with the torture. She ached everywhere.

  He sat her on his lap and curled her up, tucking her head beneath his chin, then settled with his back against the bench. Neither of them were comfortable. Reyes was sitting with a metal bench digging into his back, though Casey was having trouble truly caring about his comfort given what he’d just done to her. And
she was leaning against his sticky, sweaty bare chest and sitting on his still semi-hard dick with the zip of his pants digging into her tender ass. She glanced down at her bare thigh where her leg was curled up. There was a streak of something sticky. She realized it must be semen mixed with blood. If she didn’t badly need the comfort of his arms at the moment she would probably haul off and punch him.

  After sitting in silence for several moments while their racing hearts calmed and she wondered if she would ever sit again, he finally spoke.

  “Come back to me, nena,” he whispered against the top of her head, kissing her hair.

  Tears filled her eyes and she took several shuddering breaths before answering. “It hurts too much, Reyes. The numbness feels so much better. I can cope with that. When there aren’t any feelings. I… I just don’t think I can survive the memories when they keep rushing at me every time I close my eyes. And your love… it makes me feel too much, hurts too damn much. I should’ve died with them.” Her voice broke on the last word and she ended on a sob.

  His arms tightened around her and squeezed until she almost couldn’t breathe, but it was a good kind of hurt. It reminded her that she was still alive and that he wasn’t going to let her slip away to die in a pool of her own blood with a bullet in her brain. The tears came faster and harder. He let her cry until there were no more tears.

  He took a fistful of her hair and forced her head back until it rested on his bicep. He looked into her swollen, tear-stained eyes and said, “You are alive, mi amor, mi reina, don’t waste this gift. Time to wake up, understand?”

  She took a deep breath in and then let it shudder out from her. “Okay, Reyes,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side and pressing a kiss against his stubbled jaw. “Time to wake up.”

  The edge of his lips curved a little, softening his profile a little. Then he said, “Good, nena, because I have some information on the motherfuckers that took your family. We fly to Venezuela tomorrow.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The man looked as though he’d seen a ghost, yet Casey was positive she’d never seen him before. He stared and stared at her as though unable to drag his eyes away from her. She knew she was a good-looking woman. She knew her beauty lured men to her, powerful men like Ignacio and Reyes. But, somehow, she didn’t think it was her uncanny resemblance to Marilyn Monroe that was making Sotza, the Venezuelan boss, look at her like she had two heads.

  She was about to ask if they had met before when he abruptly turned to Reyes and snapped in a clipped British accent, “Who is this? I refuse to negotiate business in front of a newcomer. Send your little girlfriend away if you expect to talk.”

  Casey felt the thick, palpable tension in the air, winding like a serpent, getting ready to strike for daring to insult the Bolivian’s woman. Casey side-eyed Reyes. Yup. Though he looked at ease, standing in his superbly cut dark suit, his arms crossed over his broad chest, waves of fury were rolling off of him. Alejandro and the rest of their men were looking just as menacing.

  Casey glanced back at Sotza with a raised eyebrow. From the look on his face, she could tell he was regretting his words. The imp in her really wanted him to eat them, but she knew she needed to play nice to get to the goods. She smiled pleasantly and was about to speak when Reyes interrupted with a growl, “She is my wife, not my little girlfriend. You will be respectful and civil when speaking to her.” Apparently, despite his assurances that this meeting was in her hands, he couldn’t help but defend her honour. Sweet.

  She didn’t bother correcting Reyes’ continued insistence on calling her his wife when she was not. Instead she looked intently at Sotza and then nodded toward a beautifully tiled walkway. “Walk with me, señor,” she said pleasantly. “Tell me why you looked at me the way you did.”

  Sotza appeared somewhat relieved that she was calling her guard dog to heel and taking the reins. Clearly, he didn’t want a bloodbath on his home front. Casey indicated that they should walk together side by side, turning their backs on the veritable army and moving with the Venezuelan arms dealer toward the path. He hesitated only a moment and then allowed her to lead him, perhaps a mixture of curiosity and fear of retaliation from Reyes guiding his decision.

  “Was it because I look so very much like my mother?” she murmured when they were out of ear shot of anyone else.

  Tensions visibly vibrated through him for a moment and then he relaxed. They strolled leisurely down the path. Reyes remained close by, monitoring Casey’s body language, but ultimately trusting her with this exchange. They’d talked in depth about what to expect and how the interaction should go down. He had convinced her that since it was her family and her ultimate happiness at stake that she should be the one to direct the discussion with Sotza while her king protected her back. She could tell though that Reyes was nervous on her behalf. He didn’t know what to expect. She was always his wild card.

  Finally, after they’d walked the path for several minutes, leaving armed bodyguards behind and entering into a peaceful garden along the Eastern wall of Sotza’s property, he began to speak, gifting her with the truth. “Your mother was a stunningly beautiful woman, with white gold hair and bright green eyes. She could bring a man to his knees with a single look. Her grace and beauty were renowned in our circles. Your father was the envy of many… myself included.”

  Casey felt a rush of gratitude. These were the first kind words she’d heard about her parents in a decade and they felt oddly comforting. They wrapped themselves around her heart and helped to replace the awful images of execution that had been playing like a clip show on repeat through her brain since her memory had returned.

  “Thank you,” she said huskily.

  Sotza nodded and waved her toward a stone bench, urging her to sit next to him. She glanced toward Reyes, whose expression was unreadable behind dark sunglasses. He stood to the side, arms crossed in front of him, not even bothering to pretend that he wasn’t staring intently her way. Casey gave him a half smile and sat with Sotza, turning to give her attention to the half Venezuelan, half British man. He was really very handsome in a Brioni suit, tailored to perfection along his sculpted frame. Tall and slender, regal almost, he was probably about twenty years older than her.

  His skin was perfectly tanned, his dark hair, grey at the temples, was brushed back and at the sides. He was the picture of cool, sophistication with an exotic twist. He was a difficult man to get any kind of read on, except when he gazed at Casey for too long, then she saw small sparks of emotion. As though he were struggling with his own long-buried memories. So, she looked at him, really looked at him and tried to see the truth.

  She tilted her head to the side, her white blond hair sliding over her shoulder and swinging toward him. She saw his gaze shift along her body, saw the flash of intense longing before he shut it down.

  “You knew my mother better than you’re saying,” she said bluntly. He turned his head toward her, the look in his eyes at first cool and chastising. “Please tell me,” she urged him. “Everyone I used to love has fallen. Murdered in our home by execution, one at a time. I watched as my mother was forced to her knees. Watched as she begged for the lives of her children, right before they put a bullet in her head.”

  He flinched, a ripple running through his frame. Terrible fury, similar to what she’d seen in Reyes eyes flashed through Sotza before he blanked his expression once more. The dead eyes. Yes, this she knew well and could deal with. It was that momentary flash though, that she intended to take advantage of. She knew she had him. She reached out and placed her hand over his. He allowed the familiarity.

  “Please help me Señor Sotza,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “My blood was stolen from me, I was harmed beyond repair and then I was taken as some kind of prize by the man that shot me in the head. Their deaths rocked our world, yet no one lifted a finger for me.”

  His hand jerked underneath hers, but she refused to let him go. She studied him as he processed her words and, for a split
second, seemed to crumple. As if in slow motion, his other hand moved over to cover hers. She saw Reyes jerk out of the corner of her eye, his arms loosening to fist at his sides. He did not enjoy the hold Sotza had on her; that the Venezuelan could possibly hurt her before Reyes could physically get to her. Though she didn’t look toward her protective lover, she shook her head slightly to keep him at bay.

  Sotza looked at her then, allowing her to see the pain and fury in his dark eyes, though his face was carefully blank. He spoke in low, measured tones, “Yes, I knew her well. She was supposed to have been mine. I saw her and loved her first. I courted her slowly, gently… we were both young. Our fathers worked together. But then she met your father, a young capo in the familia organization.”

  “My family?” she asked softly.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Your father… he was exciting for her, fun and he made her laugh. He took her dancing and swimming. Things I couldn’t do for her while I was here, helping my family run our own organization. And my own humour is… sadly lacking.”

  She smiled at him sympathetically. “I understand, this business is murder on a sense of humour, señor.”

  He laughed sharply. “I see you are also like your father. I didn’t stand a chance against a man like that. I must admit, I had thought about taking out the competition.” He glanced toward Reyes. “But then I met him and saw why she loved him. He complemented her in every way that I couldn’t. While I was darkness to her light, he was light to her light. They were an extraordinary couple, full of energy and bold joie de vivre, if you will pardon the expression. I couldn’t bring myself to take away something that she loved with such passion… and then she fell pregnant with you and I was forced to let her go.”

  Her throat felt suddenly dry and painful with the need to cry. She pressed the heel of her free hand against her eye for a moment. Then she blinked back the tears and swallowed past the lump. “M-my memories of them are fuzzy. It’s like when I was shot in the head and then went into a coma after, my childhood memories were scooped out. But they are slowly returning. It… helps to hear you speak of them fondly. Or almost fondly in my dad’s case.”