Brando

by Marita A. Hansen

  Brando refrained from grimacing, the priest creeping him out. “I should leave.”

  “No, you have a job to do.”

  Brando’s eyes moved to the cabinet. A gold and silver chalice sat on top of a silver tray, along with an opened wine decanter. “Then I’ll take the chalice to the altar,” he said, moving towards it. He just wanted to get the hell out of the room, the Padre obviously drunk.

  The Padre grabbed Brando’s arm and yanked him closer. “That can wait for now, angel.” Placing a hand behind Brando’s head, he kissed him on the lips.

  Horrified, Brando pushed out at him, hitting the priest in the chest. The Padre took a step back, then lunged at Brando. Panicked, Brando ducked and went for the door. The Padre grabbed him from behind, clamping a hand over his mouth. He lifted Brando off the floor as though he weighed nothing. Keeping a hand over Brando’s mouth, the priest carried him to the single bed on the far side of the room and pushed him face first into the mattress. Brando continued to struggle, screaming into the bedcovers.

  The Padre placed his lips next to Brando’s ear. “Be still or I’ll order my twin to kill your mother.”

  Brando froze at the mention of the priest’s brother. Christo Donatelli was a hitman with a vicious reputation, the man nicknamed the Grim Reaper.

  “Good boy.” The Padre kissed the top of Brando’s head. “I don’t want you to fight me, angel. So, when I remove my hand from your head, don’t yell out or your mother will be the one who’ll suffer the consequences.” He let go and turned Brando over.

  Brando stared up at the priest, terror silencing him.

  The priest frowned. “You are truly a gift from God, bello. But sometimes a gift can be both wanted and unwanted.” He pushed off Brando and headed for the cabinet. He picked up the decanter and poured some wine into the chalice, mumbling to himself. All of a sudden he barked out, “Go away!”

  Brando jumped off the bed, eager to comply.

  The Padre spun around, sloshing some wine onto the beige carpet. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

  Brando went still. “But, you told me to go away.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, so get back on the bed.”

  Brando looked at the door.

  “Now!”

  Brando jolted. “Please, just let me leave. I don’t want to be here.”

  “And I don’t want to order a hit on your mother, so last warning: get back on the bed or suffer my wrath.”

  Keeping his eyes on the Padre, Brando backed up and sat down on the mattress.

  Muttering, “Good boy,” the Padre turned back to what he’d been doing before. He put the chalice on the silver tray and placed his hands on the cabinet, staring up at the wooden cross on the wall. He dropped his gaze a few seconds later and started talking, sounding like he was having a conversation—just not with Brando.

  “He’s pure,” the Padre said. “I can’t defile him, it’ll be a sin.” He nodded. “Sì, that’s true, his famiglia is mafia.” The Padre turned to look at Brando. “Do you work for your father?”

  “After school,” Brando croaked out.

  “Are you scared, child?”

  Brando nodded.

  “There’s no need to be, I won’t hurt you.”

  “Then let me leave.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  Brando screwed up his face. “You’re drunk, Padre. Please ... just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I know you won’t or your mother will die.” The Padre walked over to the door and leaned on it, crossing his muscular arms over his powerful chest. “I didn’t plan on this happening.” He grimaced. “I told Satan that I shouldn’t touch you, but he keeps whispering into my ear, telling me that you’re a gift from God, and that it would be a sin to turn you away. I prayed to God to confirm it, but he didn’t answer me. It’s because I’m cursed.” He punched himself in the crotch, making Brando wince. “Cursed with desires for beautiful boys and men. I don’t want to be like this.” He touched his stomach. “It’s why I work on my body, making it holy. I also exercise to distract myself from devilish thoughts. Then you walked into my church, looking like that.” He waved his hand at Brando. “All week I prayed for the strength to fight my urges, but no matter how strong I make my body, I’m weak. I’m unable to resist the temptation you have placed before me.”

  Brando jumped off the bed. “I’m not a temptation! And my father will kill you if you touch me again.”

  The Padre’s face turned vicious. “I don’t take threats well.”

  “You threatened me first, and you’re a priest. You can’t do this to me, it’s wrong, it’s sick.”

  “You just sealed your fate with your wicked tongue, boy.” The Padre reached behind and locked the door.

  Brando started shaking his head. “You can’t touch me, you can’t! You’re a man, it’s disgusting. I like women.”

  “No, women are disgusting. They’re vile temptresses who dirty men’s minds. You should spurn them, they will do you nothing but harm.”

  “Women aren’t vile, they’re beautiful, and you’re the only one who’s hurt me.”

  “I’ll hurt you more if you don’t stop talking back to me!”

  Brando jolted. Wondering how he was going to get out of this, he glanced at the clock on the wall. There was just over forty minutes before people started arriving for mass. He refocused on the priest, needing to stall the man long enough for someone to show.

  “I beg your forgiveness,” he finally said, using words he hoped would placate the priest. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. You just scared me.”

  The Padre frowned, looking uncertain with his response.

  “Let me make it up to you.” Brando glanced at the chalice. “Would you like me to get you some more wine?”

  “No, wine won’t satisfy my palate, but you will.” The Padre pushed away from the door and headed for Brando.

  Knowing he had to get out now, Brando shot around the priest and went for the door. He reached for the lock, yelling out as the Padre grabbed him from behind. The Padre placed a hand over his mouth and picked him up off the floor. Beyond terrified, Brando screamed into the Padre’s palm, once again struggling against the big man. He kicked out, hitting the Padre in the shins. The Padre grunted, but didn’t let go.

  “Stop fighting me,” the Padre snapped. “Or my brother will skin your mother alive and fuck her afterwards.”

  Brando continued to fight him, the Padre’s threats no longer working, pure terror now fueling his actions. The Padre pushed him onto the bed, shoving Brando’s face into the pillow. Unable to breathe, Brando struggled furiously against him, but couldn’t get free, the man too strong. Haziness started pushing at the corners of his mind, weakening him further. He stopped struggling, his body beginning to shut down. The pressure on his head lifted, but it was too late, unconsciousness sweeping away all thought.

  ***

  Brando got out of the shower, feeling clean, but dirty at the same time, Ivy once again making him feel like shit. He opened the bathroom door and entered his bedroom, relieved that she was gone, even though his cock still wished she was here. But his balls knew he wouldn’t get any release. The woman was far too proud to admit she wanted him, plus he was sure she was sexually repressed.

  He pulled on some pants and a shirt, then grabbed his jacket, slipping it over top. He removed his cell phone and called his favorite dominatrix, needing a different kind of release so he could sleep easier. It would also help him to back off from Ivy, because he was pushing her too hard, turning her away rather than towards him.

  The call went through to Terra’s voicemail. He hung up and headed out the door, keying in another dominatrix’s number. The phone started ringing, then clicked over to voicemail also, annoying him no end.

  He stopped in the passageway as Cyn stepped out of Silvio’s room. The Viper turned to look at him, guilt coloring her features, suggesting she’d been doing something she shouldn’t have. S
he was a unique-looking female, different from the other Vipers. She had a blue mohawk, although some of it had grown out, leaving her hair different lengths. It was pulled back, while her bangs were curled in a fifties-style. She also had pencil thin eyebrows. He normally didn’t like it when females did that, but nothing could take away from Cyn’s sex appeal, the woman practically oozing it. She also had a lip ring and was covered in tattoos, her scantily clad body not hiding a thing.

  He clicked off his phone and walked towards her. “Why were you in my brother’s room?” he asked, wondering whether Silvio was ignoring his vows. It wouldn’t surprise him, because Cyn was exactly Silvio’s taste in women. Before the loser had gone into the priesthood, he’d been a party boy, who liked to bed the wildest and weirdest females. Or maybe it was because he’d been drunk most of the time, and didn’t know who—or what he fucked.

  A grin wiped the guilty expression off Cyn’s face. “I need to confess to Padre Silvio,” she said, her accent British.

  “About what?”

  “Wanting to fuck him.” She removed a condom from her spray-on blue shorts and waved it in front of Brando’s face, her grin so wide he could fuck it sideways. “But, unfortunately he wasn’t there.”

  Brando shook his head. “He’s not worth wasting your time on.”

  “I disagree. So, do you know where he is? I still want to tell him my confession.”

  “No idea and I really don’t give a fuck.” His eyes lowered down her, then back up again, thinking she looked powerful enough to wield a whip well. She had defined arms, which spoke of long hours in the gym, and a wicked tint to her blue eyes, suggesting she’d enjoy whipping him. “Have you ever worked as a dominatrix?”

  Her grin widened further, if that was even possible. “You bet I have.” Her eyes roamed over his body, giving him a slow perusal. “Pity I’ve been ordered not to touch you, because, baby, I’d love to tie you up and hurt you.”

  “Who ordered you not to touch me?”

  “Ivy. She said if any of us Vipers touched you, she’d kill us.”

  He smiled. “She did, did she?”

  Cyn nodded. “You have her knickers in a twist. So, why are you asking me? Because she’d come in a second to make your perverted wishes come true.”

  “We had a fight earlier, so I don’t think she’ll be open to helping me. Not to mention I pushed her into the pool fully clothed.”

  Cyn started laughing. “Oh, that’s classic. I would’ve paid anything to see that bitch take a dunk.” She stopped laughing. “So, why do you want a dominatrix?”

  “I need to be whipped.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Kinky, but sorry, no can do. Ivy’s a jealous wench, not to mention a better fighter than me. I wouldn’t stand a chance against her if she found out I touched you.”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  She straightened, now looking interested. “How much?”

  “Five hundred, which includes aftercare.”

  “Aftercare?”

  “You will need to clean me as well as bandage my wounds.”

  “Up it to a grand and you have a deal.”

  “My dominatrices don’t charge that much.”

  “You Santini are mega rich, so a grand is no skin off your nose, only your back.” She grinned, looking pleased with her comment.

  “Fine, a grand it is.”

  “Also, you have to keep it a secret, because if Ivy finds out, you’ll be paying for my aftercare.”

  “Deal, now follow me.” He descended the staircase, the woman two steps behind him. They veered down the west wing, heading for the gym. As they neared Salvatore’s new bedroom, the door opened. Silvio stepped out, dressed in his black priest clothes. Brando’s twenty-eight-year-old brother had brown hair and a beard, the latter hiding a scar that ran along his left jaw-line. Silvio jolted as his eyes landed on Cyn.

  “Hello, Silvio,” Cyn purred, her eyes eating him up.

  Silvio opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

  Cyn stepped in close to him. “I want to make a confession.”

  Silvio took a step back, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”

  “I’m not; I just want to kneel in front of you and...” She opened her mouth wide, alluding to what she wanted to do to him, her pierced tongue flicking out.

  Silvio’s eyes widened. “Please stop talking to me like that, I’m a priest.”

  “Don’t priests have cocks?” She reached for his crotch.

  He sidestepped her and rushed past, quickly disappearing down the passage as though Cyn had lit a firecracker up his ass.

  Cyn turned to watch him leave, muttering, “What a waste. He’s too fuckable to be a priest.”

  Brando grimaced. “You’re an evil puttana.”

  She looked back at him. “Well, that’s obvious.” Her eyes lowered down his body again. “And if Ivy wasn’t standing in my way, I’d pay to fuck you and the priest at the same time.” She moistened her lips. “One cock in each hole, and maybe I’ll add Alessandro into the mix, that is, if I can get him away from his Viper fan club. He’s extremely talented.”

  Brando raised his eyebrows. “You’ve had him?”

  “Everyone but Menna, Ivy, Kennedy, and D has.”

  “Why haven’t they?”

  “Menna’s pregnant, Kennedy would rather fuck your sisters, D wants Vinnie, and Ivy only has eyes for you, gorgeous.”

  He grimaced. “Then, she shouldn’t turn me down.”

  “She only does it because she’s an uptight bitch with the emotional capacity of a turd.”

  He laughed.

  “You have a wicked laugh,” she said. “You should do it more often. I like the sound, it makes me wet.”

  “Maybe I will with you in the house.”

  Her eyes lit up. “You do like me! Okay, here’s a proposal. As long as you don’t tell Ivy, talk Silvio and Alessandro into a gangbang, and I’ll make it worth all of your time.”

  He shook his head. “Only the twins would do something like that.”

  She grimaced. “Damn it! I can’t touch Vinnie because of D, and I made Dominic mad. I accidentally pulled his Prince Albert a bit too hard with my teeth.” She sniggered. “I lie, I did it on purpose. He told me I was a bitch and tossed me out of his room. I like to cause pain, and since Alessandro liked what I did to his Prince Albert, I thought Dominic was good to go too. Shame he didn’t like it, ’cause he’s real good in bed—very handsy.” She flexed her hands. “I would’ve definitely gone back for more with that honey.”

  “I really don’t want to know what my brothers are like in bed, and, woman, how many have you done?”

  “Just Alessandro and Dominic. They’re the only ones who’ve asked. Though, in all truth, all I want is Silvio, and I swear to his God, I will get him or make his life miserable.”

  “His life’s already miserable.”

  Her smile dropped. “Why?”

  “Not something I can talk about,” he replied, feeling a sudden sadness for Silvio. His brother had caused the accident that had killed Luciano’s wife and crippled their youngest sister, something that would forever torment him.

  “Maybe you should tell me what happened to him,” Cyn said. “I don’t want to do anything inappropriate.”

  “You already are by hitting on him. Christ, woman, he’s a priest.”

  She shrugged. “He’s too good-looking to be celibate. But if he’s been traumatized—”

  “He has, so shut up and follow me.” He kicked into gear, heading down the passage once more. He ignored Cyn’s grumbles that he was rude and entered the gym. Veering left, he stopped in front of his whipping room, which he’d had installed for his sessions. He keyed in the code to unlock the door, allowing Cyn to enter first. He closed the door behind her and locked it.

  Cyn spun around. “Why are you locking the door?” she asked, looking concerned.

  “So no one walks in on you whipping me.” He removed his shirt and threw i
t at her face. “Get naked.”

  She whipped his shirt off her face. “That’s not part of the deal, and since I’m the dom, I tell you what to do.”

  “No one tells me what to do, so strip,” he said, unzipping his pants.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

  He stopped. “Why do you Vipers have to be so difficult?”

  “Look, I’ll take my top off so you can get your jollies, but I’m keeping my pants on so I don’t get tempted to jump you, because, scrumptious, I would fuck you in a second, but I’d rather not die gruesomely at Ivy’s hands. Is that okay, Lord and Master?”

  “Sì.” He pushed his pants down. “Are you scared of Ivy?”

  “Hell, yeah,” she said, staring at his cock. “That bitch broke my pelvis after I fucked her previous lover, so I’m not risking it. This will just be a transaction between us, nothing more.”

  “You change your mind fast. Before you said you wanted to fuck me.”

  “I said I wanted, I didn’t say I would.”

  “Not how I heard it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, I don’t want to fuck you; I just want a whipping.” He walked over to the leather restraints on the wall and raised his arms to them. “Strap me in, then gag me.”

  “What the fuck!” she gasped. “Your back is shredded.”

  “Stop gawking and get to work.”

  “Whatever you want, freak.”

  He snorted out a laugh, the woman amusing him. Usually people showed concern, not called him names.

  After securing his wrists and ankles to the wall, she ran a hand over his scars. “Why do you do this to yourself?” she asked, tracing them with her fingers.

  “I like pain.”

  “You can achieve that without permanent scarring. Shocks do the job, also nipple clamps and pegs. None of those leave behind nasty scars.”

  “I like my scars.”

  “Why?” she said, running a hand over his ass.

  “Don’t touch me there.”

  “Why?”

  “I asked you to whip me, not to touch me.”

  She ran her hand over his ass again, an amused lilt affecting her voice. “You can’t do anything now you’re all tied up, so answer my question if you want me to stop: why do you like your scars?”