Ensnared: The Mafia's Prisoner (Book One) (A Dark Mafia Romance)

by Raven Dark

  The slaps halt and he lets out a hungry growl. “You might hate me for this, but apparently your body doesn’t agree.” He bends down to my ear. “You wanna come? Hmm?”

  God, the son of a bitch is right. My hips are wriggling, trying to press my pussy against his leg. Shame washes over me, and the smugness in his tone only makes it worse. Considering how much I loathe pain, I don’t understand how the hell I can be getting off on this, but I am. And he’s fully aware of it.

  Michael shifts his thigh so that there’s nothing to rub myself against. His cock jabs into my stomach, hard and thick.

  A few more slaps, and I’m sobbing and grinding my hips, the stimulation of my own thighs squeezing together enough to nearly take me over the edge.

  “Don’t you dare come, kravitsa. You come, and I’ll add five more slaps.”

  That stops me cold. I freeze, sniffling and heaving huge sobbing breaths, desperation clawing at me. Desperation to be a world away from him. Desperation for release so intense that I’ve never felt anything like it.

  He rubs my ass once more and then gives two more fiery slaps, each enough to bring another broken sob from me.

  Barely has his palm left my ass the last time when he pulls me off his lap and to my feet. He stands.

  Unable to face him, I look away. “Haven’t you done enough, Michael?”

  “Not a chance. Get on your knees.”

  I snap my eyes to his. He’s just spanked me like a misbehaving child, and now he wants me to kneel on his feet? My gut clenches as I imagine what other ways he might dream up to humiliate me.

  I kneel on the carpet.

  Michael touches me on the nose. “Stay right there.”

  He crosses the room to the bathroom.

  My thoughts spin wildly.

  What the hell is he up to now?

  Chapter 12

  The Last Straw

  With Michael no longer standing in front of me, what he’s just done to me sinks in—really sinks in—for the first time.

  As strict as Vincent was, I’ve never, ever been spanked. No man has ever laid a hand on me. Until now, the idea would have been too shocking to even think about. Before today, if any man had even suggested it, I’d have gone nuclear on him. So, now that I’m sitting here on my knees with my ass burning as if it’s on fire, why am I not flying across the room at him, ready to take out his eyes?

  It isn’t just because he’d only find ways to make me pay for it. I can feel a bizarre kind of acceptance trying to wrap itself around me like a shroud.

  God, how the hell can I be so damned weak? I’m a strong, independent woman of the modern fucking age. This is so wrong. What the hell is Michael turning me into?

  The water runs in the bathroom sink. There’s a scrubbing sound. He’s washing his hands.

  I stare at my knees, willing down the shame and anger that rips at my soul.

  My gaze catches the tag sticking up between the folds of the scarf still binding my wrists. There’s an “A” written on it in black marker. As I lift my wrists up and stare at the tag, that strange sense of acceptance flees as if it’s grown legs and run off. “Holy shit.”

  Isabella and I often buy the same clothes and dress identically. We’d done it since we were kids. We used to write our initials on the tags, to keep from ending up with the wrong clothes. After we’d bought these scarves, the same one for each of us, I’d put my initial in mine, more as a joke than anything else. Michael must have stolen the scarf as a trophy when he was inside my apartment.

  “Son of a bitch.” Meaning to tell him off, I start to get up, but he returns. I glare at him.

  “What?” He cocks his head.

  I hold up my wrists. “This is my scarf.”

  His smirk makes my jaw clench.

  “You’re demented, Michael,” I grit out. I don’t want to know what he does with that scarf when he’s alone.

  He ambles around the side of the bed, his eyes burning with hunger as his gaze roams over my nakedness. He hauls me to my feet and grabs me around the waist, pulling me to him.

  “You look hot like that, you know.” His mouth ravages mine. I try to turn my head away, but his fingers trap my jaw. He lifts his head. ‘Fucking sweet little mouth.” His tongue sweeps over my lips before his mouth bruises mine, hot and hard.

  When he lifts his head again, he swipes his finger over my lips.

  I meet his gaze with a steady one of my own. “You disgust me.”

  His eyes gleam. He takes something out of his pocket and holds it up. “Do you know what this is, kravitsa?”

  I stare. “Michael, tell me you’re joking. Is that what I think it is?”

  But I know it is.

  On the end of a string that hangs from his fingers, a silvery bullet-shaped object dangles. One end has a flared base, and a diamond glitters on the end. The steely bulb gleams in the sunlight from the window like some twisted Christmas ornament.

  I might be a late bloomer in terms of my sexual experiences, but even I’ve been curious enough to watch a porno or two on my computer. I’ve seen those things before.

  He’s holding a fucking butt plug.

  The idea of him putting something like that…where he wants to put it… scares the hell out of me. Especially when, at the size of a small plum, it looks alarmingly large. I step away from him, my mouth opening, ready to unleash a fresh volley of stinging names for him.

  “I’m fully aware that a long string of insults is about to come out of your gorgeous mouth, Aurora. Just because I already spanked you doesn’t mean I won’t do it again.”

  I freeze and snap my mouth shut.

  “Come here,” he orders.

  “Michael, why are you doing this to me? Do you even know?”

  In an instant, he grabs my still bound wrists and yanks me across the bed. Real fear shoots through me and I try to roll over, but he presses me into the mattress with his palm in the middle of my back.

  “If you stay still and relax, it won’t hurt as much.”

  Tears burn my eyes. I bury my face in the quilt, but it doesn’t change the humiliation scalding my cheeks. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

  He says nothing at first, only lifting my hips and slipping a pillow under them. A drawer in the nightstand beside the bed opens. I whip my head around just as it closes and catch sight of a small white tube in his hand.

  I know what that is, too. It’s lube. I swallow.

  “Michael—”

  “Be quiet.”

  He knee-walks onto the bed between my legs and spreads them wider. “I want you to spend the rest of the day thinking about what you’ve done, long after the sting on your ass cheeks is gone.”

  He dangles the anal plug in front of my face. I make a grab for it, awkward with my hands bound, and he jerks it away, out of sight.

  “This will teach you respect and serve as a reminder of who owns you, Aurora.” There’s a click as the cap on the lube comes off, and then a sloshing sound before he shows me the plug again, this time slicked with jell. “Just be thankful it’s not a remote controlled, vibrating one. I have those. They’re fun.”

  I shake my head and sigh, then lay my cheek on the pillow, helplessness burrowing itself into me. The fun just never ends with him, does it?

  “It won’t be all bad.” He pats my thigh. “It’ll feel good after a while.”

  Then he runs two of his fingers through my folds. They’re still soaked, slick with arousal. Christ.

  He growls in his throat. “You really were close, weren’t you?” He strokes my core, using the juices to slick up his fingers. Then he slips one of them into my puckered hole up to the knuckle.

  The burning sting is like nothing else. It’s like fire, and the pressure his finger causes is almost unbearable. Licks of pleasure shoot through the pain. I wince, clenching my muscles. I try to push his finger out, but he pins my hips in place with one hand and slips his finger further inside.

  I kick, and he smacks my thigh hard.


  “Relax the muscles, or it’ll hurt even more. Breathe.”

  I deflate and try to breathe, try to shut out the pain and relax my ass muscles. It hurts less. His finger slides in and out and I groan at the little volts of pleasure that follow his touch.

  “See? Better?”

  “No.” I hate how sulky I sound.

  He chuckles. Then he withdraws his finger. I tense all over again, knowing what’s next.

  “Relax, kravitsa. Breathe.”

  I give a little mewling noise, but lie still, trying to will myself to remain as relaxed as possible.

  “Good girl.”

  The smooth, slivery plug’s slender top end toys with my back entrance, sending tiny flickers of pleasure through me. I wriggle. He waits, and when I stop, he slips the metallic bulb slowly inside.

  I open my mouth on a silent groan, my eyes huge. A mix of burning pain, pleasure, and a strange feeling of pressure create a riot of sensation that are almost too intense to handle. I might have cursed a few times, but it seems as if my body has disconnected from my brain, so it’s hard to tell. I’m on sensation overload.

  “You still alive?” Michael purrs in my ear.

  “I really hate you right now.”

  He licks my ear. “You look so good like this. I could fuck you into the middle of next week.”

  Oh, God. If he does that, I’ll come so hard they’ll hear me in New York.

  He kisses my shoulder and pats my thigh again. “Stay there.”

  He disappears to the bathroom again, leaving me lying there. Leaving me trying desperately to come to grips with this new level of fuckery he’s dreamed up for me.

  The sensations recede, dulling to a low, bearable ache while the water runs, and Michael scrubs the lube from his hands. I can’t imagine how I’ll be able to move around much with this thing in my ass without stroking myself to release right in front of him.

  When he returns, standing at the foot of the bed, I’m still lying on my stomach, naked and waiting for him. He looks me over, drinking in the sight of me with a hum of appreciation in his throat.

  “Good?” Michael’s eyes turn mocking when he sees me wriggling.

  “You’re an ass, Sir.”

  He prowls to the edge of the bed, his mouth turning down on a scowl. “Is that so?” His fingers caress one stinging ass cheek as if letting the pain remind me of what he could do to me if he chose. I jolt. My ass muscles clench around the plug, sending a wave of pleasure through me that nearly makes me groan.

  “Perhaps, since you insist on shooting your mouth off like that, I should find another use for it, hmm?”

  Before I can fully register his words, he spins me onto my back and seizes the back of my hair. Ignoring my outcry at the sting, he yanks me to the floor, forcing me to my knees. The brutality rattles me, obliterating any ability to keep silent, no matter how much safer for me it would be.

  “Ah, Michael, fuck off!”

  His eyes dance at my anger.

  “And your mouth keeps on running.” He shakes his head as he undoes my wrists and tosses the scarf aside. “Let’s do something about that, shall we? Take out my cock, Aurora.”

  Oh, fuck, he’s got to be kidding me.

  It would have been one thing if he’d just whipped it out and shoved it into my mouth, but to expect me to do it for him? Somehow, that seems a whole lot more humiliating.

  I clench my jaw, mutinous, and drop my hands on my knees.

  “If I have to do it, you won’t like what happens.”

  Tears of shame burn my eyes, anger rolling over me in waves. My hands tremble as I reach up and undo his belt, and then his pants. His eyes watch my every move as if hypnotized. Fuck, why does he have to be so beautiful? The man is like a demonic god.

  When I stop, unsure what to do, he helps me slip his pants and briefs down to his hips. His cock immediately springs free, huge and hard and ready. My pussy tightens in response. The nerve-endings in my ass send volts of pleasure all the way to my toes. It takes all of my willpower not to stroke myself to release right there.

  “See what you do to me?” He takes my hand and encircles it around his monstrosity.

  I’ve never touched a man’s cock before, and it shocks me how warm and solid his dick feels against my palm. It’s almost hot to the touch, and astoundingly hard, the skin smooth, giving the impression of steel sheathed in silk. It’s a strange feeling, as intriguing as it is sexy. He’s wide and veiny and beautiful. My mouth waters. I have to force myself not to respond and stroke his length.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” Michael orders.

  Shame makes quick work of my insides. God, I hate him.

  I comply, clasping my hands behind my back.

  “Good girl. Now let me see you use that mouth the way it’s meant to be used.”

  I stare up at him. What he’s demanding is so intimate, making me feel so vulnerable that it terrifies me.

  “Get used to this, kravitsa. This is why you’re here.”

  While the insinuation in his words—that I exist for no other reason for his pleasure—ticks me off, arousal licks between my legs. The pressure of the plug in my ass makes everything so much more intense. Anger at myself, anger for wanting this man who’s taken so much from me, burns in my blood. He’s turning my first time sucking a man’s cock into something twisted and cruel, just as he has with every other first. My first kiss, my first time having sex. Moments like this are supposed to be sacred, shared with a man I love, and he’s making them into something I will never be able to think about without feeling broken. Without feeling used.

  With nothing to do but kneel at his feet and let him take out his frustration out of my mouth, I grind my teeth, and glare.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Aurora. You weren’t brought here for a winter vacation. Put that pretty mouth to work.”

  Plotting how to kill both him and that lying bitch later, I lean forward, open my mouth and let him slip between my lips.

  The rich, musky scent of him is everywhere, making my senses go haywire. It’s intoxicating. My tongue flicks around his smooth crown, and the musky, masculine taste of him drives me wild.

  The moment my tongue brushes his tip Michael sucks in a breath. His fist tightens on my hair, and the primitive sound that escapes him is so animalistic it barely sounds human. He lets out a curse in Russian, and that only makes me hotter.

  I freeze, unable to bring myself to unleash the beast that seems to be clawing at him, as if I’m afraid it will rip me apart. Maybe it will.

  “Don’t stop.” His eyes are on me, fierce and demanding. “Show me how you take my dick, Aurora.”

  Completely out of my element, I slide my mouth up and down his length. He groans in pleasure, pushing my head toward him, without words commanding me to take him deeper. The approval there reaches down inside me to a part of me I barely understand, a part of me that somehow needs to please him. An inexplicable rightness settles in me, sinking its roots deep.

  When I try to turn my head away, he cups the back of my head, making escape impossible.

  “Don’t you stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

  There’s nothing I can do except do what he wants. I bob my head, every stroke making him even harder, making him needier. He’s so huge it stretches my jaw to the point of aching. Michael’s grip on my head tightens and he groans and thrusts slowly in and out.

  Oh, my God, this is hot. The stinging grip on my hair that keeps me there for his use only makes me wetter. I want to claw his eyes out, but my pussy also throbs until I’m sure I’d come from the slightest touch. I squirm, making the sensations the plug in my ass is creating so intense I almost careen over the edge right then.

  “Don’t you come,” he growls. “From now on, you come only when I say so.” His voice is rough, letting me know his control is on a knife’s edge.

  Only when he says? He has to be joking. The level of control he’s demanding of me threatens to rip away yet
another layer of my slowly dwindling freedom. Despair sinks in. I know him well enough to know that if I allow him to have that kind of power over me, he’ll milk it for all it’s worth. I mewl helplessly around him.

  As if the sound wrings out the last of his composure, he curses and thrusts roughly in and out of my mouth. I jerk violently. With one of his hands still gripping the back of my head, he seizes my jaw with his other hand, trapping it in place. Suddenly, he’s fucking my mouth savagely the way he did with my pussy the other night.

  I whimper and try to jerk my head away. His grip tightens on my jaw until it almost hurts. “Open. Let me fuck your mouth.”

  Anger and humiliation war for headspace, but they mix with arousal, creating a toxic poison in my veins. I groan helplessly.

  Michael speeds up his pace. He hits the back of my throat. I gag, trying to push down the reflex while tears burn my cheeks. His grip is relentless as he uses my mouth viciously, grunting his pleasure.

  My thighs clench together as my pussy throbs, the stimulation on my clit threatening to take me over the edge with him.

  His hips jerk, delivering three sharp thrusts. Then he pulls out of my mouth, grips his cock, points it right at my chest, and strokes it fast and hard. A roar escapes him in release. His hot come spills all over my throat and chest.

  Under normal circumstances, I’d probably think having him mark me in such an animalistic way is incredibly hot, but somehow he makes the act feel dark and cruel, like yet another insult. I try to twist away, but he grips my nape, trapping me there, on the floor at his feet.

  “Get away from me!” I snarl.

  “Not yet.” He releases me, but remains before me, as if waiting.

  With dignity torn to shreds and any hope at a return to the woman I once was in tatters, I drop back on my knees, looking at the floor, wishing I could pretend he wasn’t there. Wishing I could get a hold of that stupid gun of his.

  Michael does up his pants and his belt with a few flicks of his wrists. He makes the sight of it feel vile and dirty and cheap. The wet heat of his come on my skin makes me feel whorish and used.