MY MASTERS’ NIGHTMARE
SEASON 1
EPISODE 8
“Questions”
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 2-3 weeks until a season has ended. There will be fifteen episodes per season.
CONTENTS
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Recap of Episode 8
1 Jagger
2 Rita
3 Sophia
4 The Padre
About the Author
Other Books by Marita A. Hansen
Copyright
My Masters’ Nightmare
Season 1, Episode 8
“Questions”
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 © Marita A. Hansen
Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
Cover Photography by Nick Freund
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: [email protected]
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.
I would like to say a big thank you to my beta reading team for this episode:
Jahayra Lopes
Carol Allen
Carla Givens
Andrea Braccio
Elaine Makri
Your help is greatly appreciated.
In Episode 7 “Connections”
After Jagger flees the house, Honey is left behind with the new trainer, Alessandro Santini, a man who is set on making her his slave. She resists him, but ends up negotiating the release of Camila’s sisters, which sees her agreeing to share a bed with him for one night.
Matteo continues to argue with the Padre, but is excited when the Padre’s twin returns. With Christo’s approval, Matteo goes to a popular nightclub to snare one of the Landi sisters. After having sex with the oldest one, he unexpectedly witnesses Jagger buying drugs. When Jagger passes out, Matteo hands him over to his sister to look after while he plans a party to die for.
Seven years ago Frano met Sophia. The attraction between them sets off a series of events.
Episode 8 “Questions” begins...
1
JAGGER
Someone shook me. I tried to open my eyes, but like my body they felt heavy: weighed down, lethargic, and sluggish.
“Wake up, Jagger,” a female voice said.
She sounded young, possibly a teenager.
“Please wake up; I can’t carry you inside.”
I tried to open my eyes again, but they remained sealed shut. The female swore. Hands grabbed my ankles and tugged on me. My body slid across something leathery, then over an edge. My ass hit the ground, which strangely didn’t hurt. It was almost as though I was rolled in bubble wrap, something that made absolutely no sense considering I could still feel her touching me. Maybe I just couldn’t feel physical pain, the drugs I’d taken dulling it into nothingness.
“Merda!” the female swore. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
No matter how much I wanted to reply, I couldn’t.
She exhaled loudly. “Man, you can sleep through anything.”
My wrists were grabbed by small hands. I was swung around, the female grunting as she dragged me across a gravelly surface. She stopped for a moment, no doubt taking a rest, because she was breathing heavily.
“My friends wouldn’t believe me if they knew I had you,” she said.
Had me? Apprehension settled in. Again, I willed myself to open my eyelids, but I felt nothing, not even a flutter.
“You don’t look heavy, but, God, you’re killing my arms, Jagger.” Heaving at me, she dragged me another few feet and then leaned me up against a rough surface. Keys jingled. A moment later, she was pulling me over what felt like a doorstep and onto carpet, my legs hitting something as I rounded a corner.
After several seconds, she came to a halt, placing me up against a much softer surface. She wrapped her arms around my torso, her breasts pushing into my chest. “Up,” she said, lifting me a fraction. I fell back down. She tightened her grip and yelled, “Up!” as though I would miraculously move. Again, I fell back down. “You will sleep on the damned floor if you don’t get up on the bed, Jagger,” she growled as if I was purposely defying her.
Wrapping her arms around me again, she yelled out like a weightlifter and heaved my upper body onto the mattress. Footsteps rounded the bed, then my hands were tugged on, sliding me across the spongy surface. She let go and grabbed my ankles, straightening me.
“I can’t believe I got you inside all by myself,” she exhaled loudly, “but your clothes are totally ruined.” She removed my shirt, then rolled me onto my side. “Merda,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jagger, I didn’t mean to scrape your back.”
Footsteps ran off, then returned a few moments later. She rolled me onto my front and removed my pants, apologizing repeatedly for scratching me, although her words were mumbled, the woman no doubt thinking I couldn’t hear her.
She started cleaning my back with what felt like a wet sponge. Once done, she moved down to my legs, stopping for a few seconds, her breathing heavy, the woman sounding like she was running a marathon. She resumed what she was doing, muttering that I had a gorgeous body. Eventually, the sponge disappeared and a towel replaced it. She carefully dried me, then stuck what I assumed were bandages all over my back and legs.
“Lucky you’re unconscious or that would’ve stung like crazy,” she said. “Though, don’t worry, it won’t scar, they’re only superficial cuts.” She exhaled. “Why am I explaining this to you? It’s not like you can hear me. I don’t even know why I’m helping you, since you were a complete stronzo in high school. I had the biggest crush on you, yet you didn’t even know I was alive.” She ran a fingertip up my back. “Okay, I can’t say I blame you, I was rather chubby back then and had braces. I was also two grades younger than you. Still, you could’ve acknowledged my existence.” She poked me in the back. “And now I’m helping you, you owe me.” She rolled me onto my back. “Now, that’s what I call payment. That’s one pretty impressive bulge you got there. I love cock. I totally want to see yours, but I won’t.” She exhaled. “I’m not like that. Still, you are totally my type. Okay, all guys are my type, the hot ones anyway, but you … you’re every woman’s wet dream.”
She brushed my hair back, jabbering on about my looks. I wanted to tell her to stop touching me. No, I didn’t just want to tell her, I wanted to yell at her to get her grimy, stalker hands off me. I didn’t know why everyone had the fucking need to touch me as though they had a God given right. First that freak priest, followed by all those needy fucking women, then that repulsive bastard Alberto, and now this female, whoever the hell she was. I just wanted to tell them to all fuck off, that it was my body, not theirs.
“Well, sleep tight, handsome,” she said, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning when you’re awake.”
A blanket was pulled over me, followed by her footsteps receding. I lay there, my mind fuming, no, fucking seething. All the things I cou
ld do to her ran through my mind, because I wasn’t going to let her get away with touching me. No one was ever going to use me again. And anyone who had hurt me—was going to fucking pay.
***
The weight of a body pushed down on me, the feel of breasts against my chest making me open my eyes. I blinked, not sure if I was hallucinating, because a seventeen-year-old Sophia was lying on top of me. I had wanted her so much in my youth, but now, as she writhed against my body, I felt nothing for her. She was naked, yet my cock was completely soft, not even a twitch for the first and only girl I had fallen in love with. I didn’t understand it, because I still loved her, and wanted to get her back from the Black Russian.
She continued rubbing on me, using me for her own pleasure, which she wouldn’t have done, especially since she’d turned my sexual advances down. My gaze moved to my body. It was skinny, like I had been at sixteen. Now even more confused, I looked back up at Sophia, but instead saw Rita. Her long dyed-brown hair was hanging over me like a curtain, the softness brushing my cheeks. As with Sophia, I didn’t feel a thing, no attraction, just a sense of nostalgia, which was strange considering I had only recently met her.
She lowered her mouth to my neck, mumbling, “I love your cock.” The words didn’t belong to her, the voice sounding unfamiliar. No, I did recognize it. It belonged to the woman who’d cleaned my back. She kissed me, then moved down my body. I couldn’t see her face, everything becoming a blur. She removed my briefs and put my cock inside her mouth, making me yell out for her to stop.
She pulled back, the face now staring back at me belonging to Honey. Her blonde hair was messy and her curvaceous body was naked. She took a hold of my cock and penetrated her pussy with it, making me want to push her away, but instead I cupped her breasts. My mind screamed at me to stop, but my hands refused to obey. She bent down to kiss me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see her face, nor be inside of her. It felt wrong, like with every woman I’d ever slept with. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t attracted to them or didn’t feel pleasure: I did. Instead, it was the guilt that followed which ruined everything. It made me feel dirty as though I was using them the same way the Padre and Alberto had used me.
Honey’s kisses grew rougher, devouring my mouth. I opened my eyes, jerking back in shock at the sight of Alberto on top of me. I no longer had my cock inside of Honey, but the brute was inside of me. He muttered words of love against my lips. Horrified, I hit out at him, desperate to get him off me.
He grabbed my throat. “Stop fighting me!” he barked.
Unable to breathe, I clawed at his powerful arms, feeling worthless and weak against him. He loosened his grip a little, then pulled his cock partly out of me, slamming back inside, burying himself balls deep into my unwilling body. I cried out, the pain causing horrible shivers to run up through my stomach. Desperate to get free, I started struggling harder, slashing out at him with my hands. His grip tightened around my throat, cutting off my air supply. I tried to fight back, but I felt dizzy, unable to breathe. My eyelids drifted down, my body and mind giving up. I just wanted it all to end, even if it meant I would die.
A female voice shouted at me and grabbed my arms, trying to jerk them away. My eyes shot open. I was gripping onto my throat, trying to strangle myself. I let go and sucked in air, greedily breathing in as much as I could.
“Are you alright, Jagger?” the female asked, letting go of my arms. One side of her dark hair was short with patterns decorating it, while the other side was long. I didn’t know who she was, nor did I want to, because all I cared about was finding where Alberto was. I looked around the room, searching for him. Some abstract paintings lined the walls while a desk sat under the window. I turned back to the girl—or woman, I couldn’t tell, because she was so small, although her breasts were large, the rip down the front of her tight black T-shirt accentuating them.
“Where’s Alberto?” I asked.
“Who?”
“My cousin. Where is he?!”
“No one’s here but you and me,” she said, looking concerned. “You were having a nightmare.”
Feeling groggy, I pushed up, then scrunched up my nose as a strong musky smell hit me.
“Yeah, you do smell,” she said, making me realize it was me who stunk.
My eyes went to my body. I was naked, apart from the sheen of sweat covering me.
“Do you need help?” the woman asked.
Anger bubbled up, what she’d done to me last night resurfacing. But I pushed it down, because I needed to know who the hell she was before I made her pay. I refocused on her face, trying to remember if I’d ever seen her before, even for a moment in time, but nothing came. Though, her blue eyes made me think of the Donatelli. Apprehension crawled across my skin, making goose-bumps rise.
“Who are you?” I said.
“Teodora Spinelli.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to assess whether she was lying. She dropped her gaze, looking embarrassed.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“My home.”
“Why am I here?”
She looked back up. “You passed out in town so I brought you home.”
“You have a habit of bringing strangers home?”
Her pretty face flushed red. “It wasn’t like that. I know you. We went to the same school.”
“Well, I don’t know you.”
She breathed out, looking nervous. “I was two grades under you, and I looked different back then.”
“I don’t know a Spinelli famiglia,” I said, wondering whether she was lying. Though, she appeared to be telling the truth.
“We’re not famous like your famiglia.”
“My famiglia isn’t famous.”
“They are, especially you. You’re like a celebrity around here.” She pulled a face, looking as though she’d said something she hadn’t meant to.
I frowned, not appreciating her words. I’d had a number of stalkers, more than I could count on both hands. They were annoying as hell, constantly pestering me as though I was a fucking rock star. But I wasn’t, and I most definitely wasn’t famous—nor did I want to be. I’d had enough stalkers and creepers to last me a lifetime; I didn’t want to encourage even more.
Her blush deepened. “Do you need help to get up,” she said, taking a hold of my arm.
I wrenched it free. “You are not to touch me again.”
She jumped back, looking shocked. “No need to overreact, I just wanted to help you.”
“Like you helped yourself to me last night? I heard everything you said and did to me.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes horrified. “I thought you were unconscious,” she said, her voice muffled by her palm.
“So, you think it’s alright to kiss me without my permission since I was unable to stop you?” I snapped, my anger rising.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t think you would know.”
Sneering at her, I pushed to my feet. “Well, I do and you will be punished for it.”
She took a step back, her expression now scared. “You can’t punish me; it was only a peck on the forehead and I helped you.”
“You kissed my neck and my cock didn’t need your help. Did you like sucking it?” I cupped my crotch. “I bet you did.”
Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t blow you!”
“I just told you I felt everything you did.” I let go of my cock and balls. “What right do you have to do that God damned shit to me?!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jagger, because I assure you I didn’t blow you. Maybe you dreamed it.”
“I didn’t fucking dream it, I felt it.”
“It still wasn’t me, so stop looking at me like that, and if I didn’t help you last night, you could’ve ended up in a pervert’s bed.” She lifted her chin up, defiance breaking through her fear. “Which means you should be grateful to me.”
“Grateful?” I sneered at her. “For what? I still ended up in a pervert
’s bed.”
She looked at me blankly, the female not clicking onto what I had said. A few seconds later, realization crossed her face. “I’m not a pervert!”
“Says the person who sucked my cock while I was drugged to the eyeballs.”
“Stop saying that! You’re being a complete and utter stronzo.”
“So, I’m the asshole for pulling you up on molesting me?”
“I didn’t molest you!”
“Then lie down on the bed so I can strip you naked.”
“What?”
I stepped towards her, making her back up into the wall. “I didn’t want you to strip me either, but you still did it.”
“I was cleaning your wounds.”
“Which you caused.”
“I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t carry you.”
I placed my hands on either side of her head. “You still need to be punished. What should I do to you?”
“Nothing!” She pushed at my chest. “So, move!”
I grabbed her arms, locking them against the wall. “You’re too small to make me. Actually, you’re so small I could put you over my knee and spank you.” I placed my lips next to her ear. “Would you like that?”
“No!” she screamed, thrashing about, trying to get away.
I yanked her around and pushed her onto the bed, twisting her arms behind her back so she couldn’t get free. “Since you stripped me, it’s only fair I get to strip you.” I grabbed the top of her shorts and yanked them down, displaying a nice pert ass. My cock grew. I ignored it, because there was going to be no pleasure here, only pain.
“Stop!” she yelled.
“I wanted you to stop last night, but like me, you don’t get a fucking choice.” My hand came down on her ass, leaving a red mark. She screamed out, thrashing about under me. I tightened my grip and smacked her again, then again and again, alternating between her cheeks, my cock responding even more.
She started sobbing, “Please stop.”
“I’ve only just gotten started.”
My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 8 Questions Page 1
