My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered

by Marita A. Hansen

  The priest frowned. “I don’t wish to whip him, I have already told my brother this wasn’t going to happen.”

  Frano spoke. “He brutalized you, now it’s your turn to brutalize him. You are permitted to take ten strikes across his back however hard you wish.”

  The priest took the whip off the guard and threw it across the table at Frano, who stepped aside. “I am not whipping him; I am a man of God, not a torturer!”

  “An arrangement was made,” Frano said loudly.

  The priest’s upper lip twitched. “You are a fool to believe a whipping is what we came here for.”

  The Donatelli family rose to their feet. Frano’s head shot to his guards, who stepped forward, their hands going to their guns.

  The priest smiled. “It seems we have a standoff. Now, Frano, if you order the first shot, you will die, not at first, but after you watch all your men get cut down. Then, we will make an example of you, so that the other families can see that it’s not in their best interests to cross the Donatelli.”

  “Then, what do you propose for us to do instead? And don’t say to hand Jagger over.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Frano, we are not giving you a choice. Gabriel will be coming with us, and this is the last time I will hear you call him by that evil name. He was born an angel and he will stay one until I deem it is time to send him back to God.”

  “No, you do not understand. I am the don of this household and will not be dictated to in my own home!”

  The priest laughed. “Maybe you do have a little of your father in you after all, but still, my men outnumber yours.”

  “Sasha! In here. Now!”

  A man rounded the corner, five other men following after him.

  The priest turned to look at them. “Why do you have Russians here?”

  “Jagger is wanted by the Black Russian, and because I will not hand him over to him, he will not allow anyone else to take him. So, if you attack me and my own, you will be attacking the Russians as well.”

  The priest’s jaw clenched. “I have underestimated you, godson, but I hope you understand that my famiglia will continue to interfere with your business until you right the wrong that was done unto me. Or are you going to cut us down in cold blood?” He gestured to the Russians, who were pointing their guns at the Donatelli. “Because if you are, you will start a war that you cannot win. My family’s allies will come after you twice as strong, which will end in your death. So, will you give up your pawn to save your king?”

  “Jagger is not a pawn, he is my cousin.”

  “As I am your godfather.”

  “Give him the whipping, then leave, I don’t wish for you to be in my household any longer, since you can’t abide by my rules.”

  “Only God makes the rules, but regardless, I have another solution that might appease your stubbornness.” The priest walked over to Jagger and placed a hand on the back of his head, making Jagger jolt and yell curses. “Contrary to what you believe, Gabriel,” the priest said, “I have always loved you as one of my flock, but I see you are unwilling to let go of the Devil’s tail.” He removed his hand and looked back at Frano. “Every Sunday I will come to your house to teach Gabriel the errors of his ways, but for my own safety, he must be restrained down in your cells.”

  “Teach him how?” Frano asked.

  “I will read him the scriptures and so forth.”

  “As long as there’s a guard in presence, I can agree to that.”

  “A guard is not necessary. If Gabriel’s restrained he won’t be able to harm me.”

  “It’s you harming him that I’m concerned about.”

  “If I wished to do that, I would have accepted the whip.”

  “A guard being present is a condition, not an option.”

  The priest looked back at Jagger. “Okay, I agree.”

  Frano smiled, looking greatly relieved. “Buono, now let’s enjoy our meal.”

  The priest shook his head. “I wish to start teaching him now.”

  “But we have a feast prepared for you and your famiglia.”

  “The only thing I’m hungry for is to teach Gabriel the word of the Lord.”

  “That can wait until after we eat.”

  “No. I have waited for almost seven years, so I will not be made to wait a minute longer. And since it is Sunday, I wish to proceed now.”

  Frano nodded. “Okay.” He indicated for Federico to come over. “Take Jagger and Father Michael down to one of the cells. Stay with them.”

  “No!” Jagger yelled, straining against his bonds.

  “You are getting off easy, Jagger,” Frano said.

  “He raped me!”

  “Stop persisting with your lies, Gabriel,” the priest said.

  “I’m not lying. Please, Frano, please!”

  Frano waved an arm at Federico. “Hurry up!”

  Federico undid Jagger’s bonds then, with the help of the other guard, he lifted him off the ground. Jagger started screaming for help as he was carried away, the priest following close behind.

  Once they had left, Frano smiled wide, although it appeared fake, the expression not reaching his eyes. I could tell he was upset, but putting on a brave face for the Donatelli. “Let’s enjoy our meal,” he said.

  I watched as the meal went ahead with people tucking into their food, only Frano appearing to eat very little. Once they were done, the servants descended upon the table, clearing away the dishes. As people talked, the servants returned a few minutes later with desserts, placing them in front of each of the guests. After the desserts were finished, Frano rose to his feet.

  “Don Donatelli, I understand that you do not want the slaves, but your men are most welcome to take them up to the rooms for some entertainment.”

  “Anyone?” the elderly don asked.

  A rough-looking man got to his feet as well as a short man with a pot belly and a young man with fine features. Two more men followed suit.

  “Five men and only four slaves, and one of them unavailable,” Frano said. “Looks like you will have to share.” His gaze moved to the rough-looking man two seats down from him. “Of course, Nino, you should have first pick.”

  Nino, who had similar features to the Donatelli don, headed for the redhead, indicating that he wanted her. Once her chains were removed, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, the men at the table cheering at him as he walked out of the room with her.

  The potbellied man moved to the black woman, indicating for her to be released, then left with her and the fine-featured man, my heart sinking for the woman. One of the other men sat back down, gesturing for his friend to take the last girl, muttering in Italian that if he liked skinny women he wouldn’t have married the world’s fattest woman. The men at the table burst out laughing, crude jokes following.

  Don Donatelli pushed to his feet. His men instantly went quiet, everyone’s attention turning to him. “May I toast to our families’ reunion,” he said, lifting up a glass of red wine.

  “Sì!” Frano stood, gesturing for everyone else to do the same.

  They raised their glasses, letting out a shout of “Salute!”

  The elderly don stepped away from his chair. “I would like to retire now, but please do not let an old man spoil your fun. Allow my son to step into my shoes and converse on my behalf tonight.”

  “Of course.” Frano moved around the table and kissed the man on both cheeks, then ushered him out, along with one of the Donatelli men.

  A bloodcurdling male scream made everyone jolt, the men all turning to each other, their faces alarmed. Another scream resounded, snapping them out of their shock. The Russians took off out of the room, along with the other guards. Shouting ensued, then the firing of guns followed. The remaining Donatelli men jumped up and exited the room, leaving behind the don’s son.

  He turned to me and the other slave. “This household now belongs to the Donatelli, and everything in it.” He touched my face and smiled. “Including you
.”

  Alberto’s voice captured my attention. The big man headed around the table, his demeanor totally unconcerned, as though the gunshots and screams hadn’t—or weren’t still happening. “No, my dear, Marco, this house is still D’Angelo, just with the Donatelli as silent partners. I am not my brother, I will do as you ask.”

  “Just as long as my uncle is given residence here.”

  “Sì, the Padre may have Jagger’s room as my cousin won’t be needing it now.” His eyes moved to mine. “Slaves don’t get rooms, they get cells.”

  “You must truly hate your cousin enough to betray your brother,” Marco said.

  “No, Frano is too soft; he is running the business into the ground with his stubbornness and loyalty to people who don’t deserve it. Once I prove myself as don, Frano will understand that I did it for our family’s best interests. Though, make sure that he is unharmed or this deal is off.”

  “He will need to be imprisoned until he complies.”

  “We do not have enough cells.”

  “Then the slaves will have to share.”

  Alberto’s gaze moved to me. “Or maybe it’ll appease him to share with this slave. He does seem to like her, and it’ll occupy his time. Moreover, he can train her, since Jagger will be indisposed.”

  Marco laughed. “Sì, Gabriel won’t be up to much.”

  Alberto frowned. “I hope that’s not a joke about his cock, because if it is—”

  “Don’t worry; his cock will stay attached, because my young uncle likes men not eunuchs.” Marco’s eyes sparkled. “You do know that Gabriel wasn’t lying about what my uncle did to him.”

  “I know, but the Padre was just using Jagger for what he was born for: a whore made for men,” he looked at me, “not women.” He unlocked my chain and grabbed my arm, tugging me forward. “Now, let’s go see why Jagger is screaming.”

  Alberto dragged me out of the lounge, almost making me trip a few times, then yanked me down the staircase, not caring as my head connected with one of the walls. I yelled out in pain, getting a harder yank in response, along with a growl to be quiet. As we cleared the steps, my eyes went to Federico and three other men, who were facing the wall with their hands placed against it. Two Donatelli were pointing their guns at them while two others looked on. My heart jolted as a shot rang out, one of the men falling, blood going everywhere. Federico flinched, looking like he thought he was next. Three other men were slumped on the floor, all Russians, each of them shot in the back of the head.

  “Not that one!” Alberto hollered as a gun was raised to Federico’s head. “Take him to where Frano is being held. Also spare the blond one called Sasha, he might be useful.”

  Federico and an uncooperative Sasha, who was trying to get back to the other Russian, were pushed towards the cell I had been staying in. Frano’s voice came from it, the man yelling out to be set free, his tone beyond angry.

  One of the Donatelli goons raised his gun, and shot the remaining Russian in the back of the head, the man dying within inches of me. Sasha screamed and lunged for the fallen man, but Federico grabbed him, shielding him from the Donatelli as well as holding him back. Sasha started wailing in Russian, crying for his dead brother, my heart breaking for him, my tears mirroring his.

  A scream snapped my attention to Honey’s old cell. Alberto dragged me inside, my eyes widening at the sight before me. Jagger was stripped naked and tied to the bed. But it was what was hanging off his nether regions that had my eyes popping. His cock and balls were tied up, the rope wrapped around the abused genitalia being held by the priest.

  “Pietà di—” Jagger’s words were cut off as the priest tugged on the rope, an agonized scream replacing them.

  “You didn’t give me mercy,” the priest said, “so you shall receive none in return.”

  “You hurt me, you hurt me...” Jagger babbled, his words changing into Italian, pain speaking for him.

  “Obviously not enough, and I’m more than happy to right that wrong.”

  The priest pulled on the rope, ripping out another scream from Jagger’s lungs. He loosened his grip, then gave it another tug. Looking frantic, Jagger stretched his body and yanked on the ties holding his wrists, but they held strong, tethering him to pain. His body started shaking as his hips rose off the mattress, every one of his muscles straining to break free. The priest let the rope slide through his hand a little, giving Jagger a moment’s rest. Lowering his ass to the mattress, Jagger screwed up his eyes and panted out the pain, which was carved deep into his features.

  “Padre,” Alberto said. “I don’t want you damaging him.”

  The priest turned to Alberto. “He’ll keep his parts; he just needs to atone for his sins.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather teach him in a more enjoyable manner?”

  The priest smiled. “You speak the Devil’s words, godson. You were always the wicked one, and I would teach you the errors of your ways if you were prettier.” He let go of the rope and went to the head of the bed, his gaze fixed on Jagger’s face. “You have the face of an angel, Gabriel, but the temper of a demon, which I will exorcize from you. I will cleanse your body and make it holy once more, make you beautiful both inside and out.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Jagger’s forehead. “Unfortunately, it will take time my beautiful angel, because Eve’s children have warped you.” He glanced over his shoulder, his cold stare focused on me. “Wicked, vile creatures sent by the Devil to dirty my innocent angel.” Moving to one side, he placed a hand behind Jagger’s head and lifted it up. “Look at her, see the evil between her legs, tempting you, telling you that I’m not your master. It was Eve’s daughter who turned you against me, and I sent her to Hell for it, but she has been resurrected to test you once more.”

  “This isn’t Jagger’s teenage lover,” Alberto spoke up. “She just looks like her.”

  The priest lay Jagger’s head down then walked over to me. His face was attractive, with only a few wrinkles lining his olive complexion, but his glare was chilling, his pale blue eyes and the dark rings under them making him look like an escaped lunatic ready to unleash hell. His eyes moved down my body, slowly raking it, clawing at it, giving me the impression that he would flay me alive. Although there was no lust on his face, not even a drop, only disgust measuring me for a coffin, I covered my breasts and pussy, wishing I could do more.

  “But she looks the same,” the priest finally said, his gaze moving back to my face, “just older.”

  “A coincidence.”

  The priest grabbed my chin and yanked my head around. He brushed my hair aside and ran his fingers over my neck, his touch making me shiver. “True, the Devil’s mark is absent, but regardless, she was spawned from the same rotten fruit.”

  “Jagger’s lover was an only child.”

  “My eyes don’t deceive me.”

  “Again, just a coincidence.”

  “You’re wrong; she’s a doppelganger, a harbinger of bad luck.”

  “She’s just a slave.”

  “Whether she is a slave or a master, she is still an omen of death.” The priest let go of my face and grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand away from my pussy. “Why is her evil uncovered?”

  “All the slaves go naked.”

  “You misunderstand me.” The priest ran his fingers over my newly shaven pussy, making me back up into Alberto. “Her skin is smooth like a young girl’s, not a hair on it, whereas the other demons’ slits were covered.”

  “Frano must’ve shaved it. She was in his room earlier.”

  “Your brother is like my fallen angel, easily tempted. I would also like to cleanse him, and to fill his precious chalice with God’s love until it is overflowing.” The priest smiled wide, his eyes telling me it wouldn’t be God’s love going into Frano’s body.

  Alberto reared up. “You are not to touch Frano, otherwise this deal is off.”

  “There is no deal, ragazzo, there is only what I say.”

  “You still can’t
touch my brother!”

  “Lower your voice before you disturb God’s slumber.”

  Alberto leaned his head forward, his voice dangerously low. “If you lay a finger on my brother, I will slaughter your famiglia, every last one—including you.”

  “Such loyalty to the one you betrayed. How touching.”

  “Just give me your word you won’t touch Frano.”

  “You need not worry about your brother; my Gabriel is all I desire.” The priest turned and headed back to Jagger. “Beautiful angel, what shall I do with your lover’s doppelganger?” He cocked his head to the side as though Jagger was saying something, but only silence filled the room. “True, she isn’t a real doppelganger, since her gemella no longer walks God’s green earth.”

  “The slave is not Sophia’s twin, Padre,” Alberto said, looking frustrated, “she’s an American meant for the Black Russian.”

  “No, she’s meant for the Devil. I have prepared a baptismal bath for Gabriel, but we will use it for the demon instead. Take her in there now.” He pulled out a knife from his gown and cut the ties attached to Jagger’s arms and legs, then moved the knife to his nether regions.

  “Padre!” Alberto yelled out.

  The priest threw Alberto an indignant glare. “I’m just untying him.”

  “You speak in riddles. For all I know, ‘untying him’ could mean freeing him from his manhood.”

  The priest shook his head, a small laugh escaping. “I meant it literally. I’ve already told you I wouldn’t cut him.” He turned back to Jagger, who appeared to have lost consciousness. He started cutting the rope from Jagger’s genitalia, then pocketed the knife and scooped Jagger up into his arms.

  I stared at them, the scene surreal, making me think of the Renaissance paintings of martyred saints: A beautiful naked man in the arms of a black-cloaked priest—a sacrifice, given up for the sake of a religion. But I knew there was nothing holy here, only insanity claiming Jagger’s body.