My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered

by Marita A. Hansen

  MY MASTERS’ NIGHTMARE

  SEASON 1

  EPISODE 2

  “DISCOVERED”

  Marita A. Hansen

  Like a television series, My Masters’ Nightmare is broken up into seasons and episodes. A new episode will be published approximately every 3 weeks until a season has ended. There will be fifteen episodes per season.

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  1 Rita

  2 Jagger

  3 Rita

  4 Jagger

  5 Rita

  About the Author and Links

  Other Books By Marita A. Hansen

  Copyright

  My Masters’ Nightmare

  Season 1, Episode 2

  “Discovered”

  Copyright 2013 © Marita A. Hansen

  Edited by John Hudspith

  Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Cover Photography by Konrad Bąk

  and sourced from http://depositphotos.com/

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever without the written permission of the author, nor circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. For subsidiary rights inquiries email: marita.a.hansen@hotmail.com

  All characters, names, places, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  1

  Rita

  “Do you know what the mafia do to FBI agents?”

  Naked and scared, I stared up at the guard from my knees, Federico’s words silencing me along with the gun he was pointing at my head. I didn’t know how the man had found out I was FBI, and right now it didn’t matter—because I was dead. I wondered whether he was going to shoot me here in the bathroom... No, he would take me to the don, where I would get shot like my husband had been, but first Federico would try to make me suck his cock. The bastard of a thing was hanging in front of my face, growing harder as Federico ran a hand up and down it, readying it for my mouth.

  I continued to stare at his face, not wanting to see what was in front of me. Federico was harsh-looking, his features grizzled, the dark rings under his eyes and his frown lines making him appear in his forties, although his muscular body looked like it belonged to a thirty-year-old.

  He pushed the gun firmly into my temple, indenting my flesh. “Answer me!”

  I moved my head away from the gun. “I-I d-d-don’t know what you’re tal-talking about,” I purposely stuttered, although my fear was real.

  Federico’s thick eyebrows knotted. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m j-just a teacher,” I said, wondering how I could take him down before he got a shot off. Maybe I could punch him in his balls.

  He hit the side of my head with the gun, making me yelp. My hands shot to my head, all thought of punching him gone.

  “I know what you were thinking,” he said, “your thoughts are written all over your face.”

  I rubbed where he’d hit me. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

  He sniffed. “Liar. And by the way, you’re not stuttering any more. Don’t pretend if you can’t carry through, it’s a dead giveaway.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Save your breath, rookie,” he said, his voice low as though he didn’t want anyone to hear. “I had suspicions when you first arrived, but today clinched it, and it’s only a matter of time before the others find out if you continue to be careless.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Federico rolled his eyes. “You might as well drop the act, because I’m never wrong. You were an idiot for attacking Alberto in that manner, only tattooing ‘FBI bitch’ on your forehead would have been more obvious. Your boss said he was sending someone new, but...” he tapped my head with his gun, “You? Pathetic. I’m surprised Frano didn’t pick up on it, but then again, you are beautiful. Guess Dan figured your beauty would distract the D’Angelos from what you really are.”

  My face went slack, the mention of Dan, my boss, the man who I looked up to like a father hitting me square in the chest. I wanted to yell at Federico that he was a liar, because Dan wouldn’t have sold me out, he wouldn’t!

  Federico shook his head. “Your expression tells me you can’t believe Dan would sell you out. Again, I don’t know how you got the job.”

  I stared at him, taken aback that he could read me so easily. I forced out a, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” again, too stunned to say anything else. There had been suspicions that there was a D’Angelo spy in the bureau, but not someone as high as my boss. Plus, Dan had been there for me after Matt’s death. He’d helped me grieve, hell, he’d grieved. He’d cried at Matt’s funeral, which was the only time I’d seen him lose his composure. That couldn’t be an act, it couldn’t be.

  “Of course you wouldn’t know anything,” Federico said, “because no one was told, otherwise I would’ve been found out like Matt.”

  My husband’s name sent pain through my chest, then the full meaning of Federico’s words filtered through. “What do you mean you would’ve be found out like Matt?”

  He lowered his head, whispering, “P.S. I’m your informant.”

  My eyes widened.

  He smiled. “How the hell did you become a FBI agent?”

  I continued to stare at him, totally blindsided.

  “Not going to answer me?” he said, still running a hand over his cock.

  My eyes went to it, the moment bizarre, his words not matching his actions. “I-I’m goo-good at languages and fighting,” I stuttered out, this time for real. I continued to stare as he masturbated in front of me. I’d never seen or heard of this man, but that meant nothing, since he could be from a different bureau. I wondered how long he’d been placed with the D’Angelos. I went to ask, but stopped, his next words silencing me.

  “You just confirmed you’re FBI and you don’t even know if I was lying.” He sneered at me, looking like he was disgusted.

  I swore, not believing I’d done that.

  He shook his head. “I’m not lying, but you’re still a stupid bitch for blowing your cover.”

  I exhaled loudly, relief flooding every inch of my body. “You took me by surprise.”

  “Regardless, you still should’ve faked it. You really are a rookie.”

  I went to rise, knowing I deserved the distain in his voice.

  He tapped my head with the gun again, making me wince. “Stay down.”

  “Stop hitting me,” I said, rubbing the spot.

  “Not until I hit some sense into you.”

  “Then how about you put your cock away and let me up.”

  “No. If someone walks in on us talking, I’ll get a bullet in the back of my head, but with you on your knees and my dick hanging out, all I’ll get is a smack on the wrist for doing what all the guards do. So, shut up and listen. I need info and fast. I haven’t been able to make contact with Dan for over a week now, because there’s been a lockdown. Frano has been getting threats, so he’s ordered that no one but family communicates with anyone on the outside. He’s been monitoring everything, making it too risky for me to do shit. Have you heard of the Donatelli family?”

  “Yes, they used to be allies with the D’Angelos, but split from them about six or seven years ago. I don’t know what over though.”

  “Jagger. He mutilated the Donatelli don
’s half-brother. And now with Frano becoming the head of the D’Angelo family, the Donatelli are demanding for Jagger to be sent to them. They were scared of Frano’s father, but Frano doesn’t command the same respect or fear, which means they think they can strong-arm him into handing over Jagger. Frano is resisting, but it’s resulting in the Donatelli interfering with business. The other day they intercepted a shipment of women that was meant to be sent here. They are refusing to return them until Frano hands Jagger over, and say it will keep on happening if he doesn’t. The problem is Frano needs Jagger, because Jagger knows how to manipulate the women to the standards that the clients desire. Whatever the purchaser’s taste is, he works on them in a manner to achieve their ultimate slave. I’ve seen him be gentle with some women, yet brutalize others—all done to order. The other trainer is good, but he can’t get Jagger’s results, and if he goes, Frano will be in financial trouble. At the beginning of the year we had four trainers, but Matt was discovered as FBI while Raphael was enticed over to the Black Russian’s household, and with Jagger being hunted by the Donatelli, Frano is in deep shit.”

  “But, this is a good thing; we want him to be brought down?”

  “Yes, which means we need Jagger gone, whether it’s to the Donatelli or the Black Russian, who also wants him, though for pleasure, not a vendetta. And if Jagger goes, then you’ll be put under Mario. Mario isn’t as cold, he’s young and inexperienced, and more susceptible to attractive women. He’s already been reprimanded by Frano for getting too attached to a slave. I need you with Mario, so you can work on him, turn him against Frano. Once you’ve turned him, leave the rest to me, because you still need to be shipped out to the Black Russian.”

  “Why can’t I try to turn Jagger?”

  “Jagger is blood, Mario is not, plus Jagger is unpredictable.”

  “I still think I can work on Jagger. After what Alberto did, I think I have a chance of turning him.”

  “It won’t happen, because he’ll have two families gunning for him instead of one, and there are moles everywhere. He won’t live if he turns on Frano, regardless of whether he’s blood or not. If he testifies he will be cut from the family, then Frano will allow the Donatelli to finish him off. And Jagger knows he won’t get a quick death. Those sick bastards will torture him.”

  I frowned. “I still think he’s my best option, plus if he’s a victim, he should be taken out of here, not sent to someone who will harm him more.”

  “Jagger’s not a victim, he’s a monster; he deserves everything he gets.”

  “He’s been abused.”

  “That’s what he claims, but no one can believe a word that comes out of his mouth. Lies are second nature to him; it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t with him. Frano’s given up on trying.”

  “But Jagger was terrified with Honey, he totally lost it, thought a padre was attacking him.”

  “I’d say it was a ploy to soften you. He’s done similar things to other women. He’s an expert manipulator.”

  “It looked real to me; you can’t act the terror I saw on his face.”

  “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. Jagger can’t be trusted.”

  A creaking noise made Federico jolt, the sound of a door opening. Knowing someone was coming, I took a hold of Federico’s cock, making him jump. Cringing inside, I worked his semi-hard shaft, needing it to grow fast so our pretense looked real.

  “Suck me,” Federico said loudly.

  “No!” I shouted, letting go of his cock.

  “Do it now,” he growled.

  “What’s happening here?!” a loud voice came from behind Federico.

  Federico jolted, although I knew it was fake. He turned around to see... Frano was glaring at him, the man’s eyes burning holes through Federico’s head like he wanted to shoot him. He was dressed in the same clothes as before: black trousers and a white button-down shirt, the first few buttons at the top left open, revealing a muscular tanned chest.

  Federico stuffed his cock back into his pants. “Alberto said I could get a blowjob from the slaves whenever I want.”

  Frano pointed at Federico’s face. “Not with this one!”

  “I...ah...mi dispiaci, don,” Federico apologized. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Unless you want a Jagger special.”

  “No, no, don, I can assure you I won’t touch her again.”

  “Did she suck you?”

  “No, she refused, even with the gun to her head.”

  Frano looked down at me and smiled. “Good girl.” His gaze moved back to Federico, his disdain returning. “Take her to my room.”

  Federico nodded. “Up!” he said, turning to me.

  I rose, my fear amplifying at the thought of going to Frano’s bedroom. Even though I found Federico unattractive, I’d rather suck his cock than allow Frano to touch me again.

  Federico pushed me out of the cold cell. We followed Frano up the staircase and through the lounge area. My eyes went everywhere, cataloging the room. It was decorated in an old style: the richly colored tapestries with their religious images making me feel as though I was in God’s house, not the Devil’s. My gaze took in items of which I could use as weapons: an ornate vase with rosettes that I could throw, a number of other expensive-looking pieces of pottery, some with sharp edges, and the fireplace stoker, which I imagined jamming up Frano’s ass.

  We ascended a sweeping staircase, the rich red carpet plush and soft beneath my bare feet. At the top, we turned right and headed down a long passageway. Portraits lined the walls, their frames covered in gold leaf. The images within held variations of a harsh-looking man, his features so similar to Alberto’s, and a beautiful woman who resembled Frano. Two children in their early teens sat next to them in a family portrait: Frano cut a handsome figure, while his younger brother looked like a stereotypical school bully with his shorn hair and nasty glare.

  At the end of the passage, Frano opened a door. Federico prodded me inside the breathtaking room. It was filled with rich reds and ochres, the only exception being the fresco on the ceiling. Angels flew over blue-colored plaster, which again made me think of Italy. I hadn’t thought to ask Federico where we were, my mind more concerned with not being killed.

  “Tie her to the bed,” Frano said. “The ties are in the drawers.”

  Federico pushed me towards the four-poster bed. The canopy above it was covered in a light-blue material that matched the ceiling’s painted skies, while the posts were made from mahogany, thick and strong, not something I wanted to be tied to.

  Federico pushed me again. “On the bed!”

  I turned to him, “Don’t do this,” I pleaded, although I knew it was pointless, but the thought of Frano touching me again made me desperate.

  Federico raised his gun to my forehead. “Get on the bed!”

  “Please, no.”

  “NOW!”

  I turned to it, knowing if I fought him I could risk giving both of us away to Frano, because I knew Federico wouldn’t shoot me. I lay down on the bed, swallowing as Federico started tying my wrists to the posts. Once they were secured, he tied my ankles, then turned to Frano. “There’s no one to guard now, what do you wish me to do?”

  “There is someone to guard. Jagger. He refuses to move from the cell. I need you to get him to his room. I want you to guard his door, because I don’t trust him nor Alberto. I want them both to have enough time to calm down, before I decide what action to take over their conduct today.”

  Federico nodded, then left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone and naked with Frano, my husband’s murderer and my tormentor.

  Frano walked up to the bed, his eyes running over my body, the appreciation on his face making me strain against the ties.

  His eyes sparkled, as if my actions amused him. “You’re quite the fighter. Not many people can pull Alberto off anything, let alone a woman half his size.” He reached out, making me flinch as his hand ran up my leg. “I bet these pow
erful thighs could snap me in two.” He grinned. “They remind me of Xenia Onatopp from the Bond movie GoldenEye. She killed her enemies by crushing them between her thighs. I’d love you to crush me between yours, but only for my pleasure, my femme fatale.”

  My eyes widened as his hands went to his shirt, popping open the buttons. He slipped the shirt off, allowing it to fall to the floor slowly, as though he was performing for me, a slow but terrifying striptease. His skin was the same tone as Jagger’s—a dark olive, although he was more muscled, his shoulders wider and his waist more solid in comparison to Jagger’s lithe physique. They were both stunning to look at, but Jagger didn’t make me want to break his neck—unlike Frano.

  Frano’s hands went to his belt, flicking it open, his expression turning sultry, the look telling me he was going to fuck me this time.

  I shook my head as he pulled his zipper down. “No, you can’t.”

  “I can’t, what?” he said, shunting down his pants and underwear, his hard cock springing free.

  “You can’t touch me! I don’t want it!” I shouted, now struggling against the ties frantically, my mind no longer logical, just pure terror racing through me, making me go crazy.

  “Isn’t my body to your liking?” he said, glancing down at it, the man’s smile arrogant. He knew he had a great body but...

  “I’d rather a fuck a spike than you!!” I yelled.

  He laughed. “That I can make happen, or maybe a red hot,” he ran a hand up his cock, “poke her.”

  My gaze moved to his hard shaft, the prick already leaking pre-cum.

  “My face is up here,” he sniggered.

  I looked up. He was grinning wide, as though he thought I was in awe of his manhood.

  “Keep your small dick away from me!” I yelled, wanting to deflate his rampant ego.

  “You know it’s not small,” he said, his grin not looking like it was going away any time soon. “Maybe you need a closer look for proof.” He moved up to the head of the bed and leaned over me, placing his hands on the headboard, his cock within inches of my face.