The Pledge: Mafia Vows

by SR Jones

“And now that revenue stream will be closed to him. We’ll have to see what he does next, but so long as he doesn’t come for you or us, we’ll leave him alone.” Damen’s eyes darken. “Unless, you want me to do something about him?”

  “No, darling, thank you.” Maya stands and walks to Damen, putting her hand on his arm. “He’s a bastard, but he did bring me up, for better or for worse, and I don’t want him harmed. If he’s of no danger to us right now, I’d rather he be left alone.”

  “Whatever you wish, gorgeous.” He kisses her on the mouth, one brief touch of lips.

  As we file out of the room, and head to our respective bedrooms, I realize something truly incredible. I feel at ease in my skin. Here with these people, this mismatched group, I feel totally at home and accepted.

  I’m content. For the first time ever, I’m content.

  I can’t wait to show the man who made me this way how grateful I am when we get to our room.

  I watch Star as she strolls through the grounds. She will do what she always does, find a spot, and then kneel and pray. She prays for a long time. To what God, or gods, I don’t know.

  Maybe I should ask her, but I’ve mostly been avoiding her. It’s cowardly, but that’s me. A coward when it comes right down to it.

  She wants me to take her. She tells me, when she gets the chance to speak to me, that it’s what she’s been raised for. She’s mine, and the longer I leave things like this between us, the more of a sinner it makes her. I tried to tell her at first that she was wrong, and the sin would be in me taking her, but I couldn’t get through.

  So, I ordered her, as her master, to shut the hell up about it. I told her I would take her in my own damn time, when I pleased, and I told her I didn’t like eager girls, and I enjoyed making her wait.

  Lies. All lies, but what the hell do I do?

  I want her gone. She’s freaking me out with the way she trails around after me whenever she gets the chance. Her big, beautiful eyes watching me, waiting for God knows what.

  My view is we’ve played our part, so we hand her over to the authorities, but Justina says they’ll abuse her all over again.

  This can’t go on though. I won’t do what she wants. It’s not as if she’s unattractive, quite the opposite. And when I let my mind go there, into its darkest recesses, I know I could fuck her and enjoy it.

  Because I have a secret. I don’t like to be touched.

  With Star, I could tie her up, fuck her, and never have to have her hands on me. I could make her suck me without any other part of her on me. I could fuck her pussy, fuck her ass, and forbid her from using her hands or even looking at me.

  It would be perfect.

  It would be wrong.

  It would destroy her, and taint me.

  It won’t happen.

  My dick is hard, and I sigh as I watch her kneel.

  Fuck, I need this girl gone.

  After she’s prayed, she wanders deeper into the garden, away from the house totally, beyond the trees and shrubs and turns right. Curious, I follow her. She enters a small glade, and lies down in the sun. She’s wearing a long dress, to her ankles, and I watch her roll up the sleeves, and then lift the dress until it is mid-thigh, letting the sun on her skin.

  “Just a moment,” she says to the sky.

  A moment for what? The sun on her? Freedom? Christ, my heart stutters at those soft words, at what they could mean.

  I’m about to go, but she looks up at the sky again, squinting against the sun she murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for what? I linger, and moments later, I wish I hadn’t.

  Star, beautiful, broken, fucked up Star, lifts her dress further and slips her hand inside the sheer panties she’s wearing. She strokes herself, and it’s not soft or experimental, and she’s definitely done this before and knows what she likes. She pushes her panties down farther, and I see her still bare pussy as her fingers slip between her folds.

  She rubs faster now, and I’m transfixed. Then she comes with a small cry. She wipes her fingers on the grass, pulls her panties back into place, and pushes her dress down. Then she turns on her side and cries.

  Lying under the hot sun, the broken girl cries, and I watch her in shock before I tiptoe away.

  I head to my room, and straight to the shower. I turn it onto colder than cold and step in.

  I scrub my skin until the desire goes, until all that’s left is painful, stinging tingles. I press down hard on the scar where my father burned me with a hot iron. I press and press into my skin until only pain and hatred remain and no more longing for a girl I cannot touch. Will not touch.

  She’s so beautiful.

  She’s so broken.

  I want to touch her, but it’s wrong.

  On every level.

  I need her gone.

  She’s got to go.

  There’s no other option.

  I’ll miss her though because she’s the only other person in this house as fucked up as me.

  I head into the bedroom, and take out my beads. Kneeling on the floor I pray.

  Thank you for reading! To read Markos and Star’s story, due in December, you can go here for the pre-order: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Z2SSVHX