Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Catherine

I’m fucking rocking like a crazy person. I could sit in the chair, but it’s tainted now. So instead I’m huddled in the corner rocking. It’s not because I’m crazy though. It’s because there isn’t a fucking thing to do, not a damn thing to do in this empty cell.

I’ve walked around every inch of this room. Even though it’s dark, the cell’s not too dirty. I should know, since I’ve searched everywhere for a second door, or crack, or opening. Anything. I bet he watched me; in the books, they always watch. I even expect some kind of punishment for it, but I had to do it. I had to try.

All the flashbacks keep coming forward, and I keep pushing them down. They make me weak. I can’t go back to that. He’s not one of them.

“Come on, little mouse,” Lorenzo says as he parks his car in front of the restaurant.

“I don’t want to.” I already told him I don’t want to, but he’s not listening.

He has his dick out and he’s pushing me to go down on him here, but there are people everywhere. At first when we met, I was looking for that thrill. But we kept getting caught by his friends, and now they give me weird looks and make jokes that I don’t like.

He moves faster than me, and it takes me by surprise. He fists my hair and yanks my head back. I scream out in pain and try to pry his hand off of me. “Stop, it hurts.” Tears prick my eyes. “It hurts!” I scream out.

“Dumb bitch,” he says under his breath. “You know what you got yourself into. You fucking want it this way.” My heart sinks in my chest. I don’t want it, and especially not like this.

“Suck it,” he says, releasing me while pushing my head forward. I look back at him with daggers in my eyes.

“Fuck you,” I sneer at him, and wipe my eyes. He barks out a laugh.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Aw, little mouse. You don’t want to play?” I feel sick to my stomach. Things never used to be like this. When he’s rough with me in bed now, it’s different, too.

“I said no.” I hate that I have to tell him twice.

“Fine,” he says as he tucks himself back into his pants and I feel a small sense of relief.

“Come here, you know I didn’t mean it.” He leans across the console to give me a kiss and I hesitate, but I lean in anyway. Because I’m a fucking idiot. Because I thought I just needed to make the lines clearer. Like it was my fault.

That was right before I tried to leave him. I had no one else, and I was afraid to be alone. I was so desperate for his “love” that I stayed with that fucking creep far too long. Things only got worse after that. I remember the night I tried to sneak out and run away. Before I left, I looked down on his sleeping body and thought about slitting his throat. How awful of a person had I become where I thought I should kill him? Not fucking awful at all. That bastard deserved to die. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lower myself to becoming a murderer, so instead I sneaked out through a window and hoped I could start over. Instead I fell right into a new world of hell.

I hear them laugh as Lorenzo backhands me again. This time I fall. I learned to make it look real.

When he was drunk that’s the game he played. How many hits until the mouse would fall? He liked his nickname for me even more after I saw what happened. He was daring me, taunting me to be a rat. If I stayed on the ground, he’d only kick me a few times. I learned to just stay curled on my side and wait for the beatings to be over, no matter how much he urged me to stand. He only made it worse if I obeyed him. Bruises gave way to broken bones, but by then, I had no way to leave. I was trapped and beaten regularly for his enjoyment. I barely escaped them. And I only managed because they were reckless. Their desires to cause me even more pain is what eventually gave me my out.

They came into the room they kept me in. It’d only been a few days of being trapped there, feeling helpless and weak, trying to recover from the beating he gave me. The three of them came into the room and left the door wide open as they stalked to my bed. I knew what they were going to do. I rock harder, remembering the fear. I fucking bolted. I just kept thinking, Please don’t let them catch me.

They can never catch me. Never. I had to do everything I could to escape that hell. But I had no one. Not a single soul to run to. My mother was everyone and everything to me. But she’d been dead for nearly a year. I ran to her grave and prayed for a sign. That’s when the cops showed up, sirens blaring. I thanked my mom every day.

I thought she’d saved me like she always did.

But they did catch me.

Only they didn’t come after me directly like I thought they would. They sent someone else.

I have no clue how long it’s been. I don’t know what he’s doing. Or what this training is going to be like when he gets back. I have absolutely no control in any of it either, and I don’t like it. I tug at the hem of my nightgown, wishing it were longer so I could cover myself up more. My knees are drawn up to my chest, and I rest my head on them as I consider my next step.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what my options are. He said he’d give me my life and everything I needed. I want to believe that’s true, but what’s the catch? I know his intentions aren’t pure. And I’m certain his terms aren’t negotiable.

I’m eager to hear what he has to say though. I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into. That way I can figure out how to get the fuck out of here.

My back is killing me, so I keep up my rocking. It feels better than just sitting still for however fucking long it’s been. I’d get up and stretch or do yoga, but I don’t want to be standing when he walks in. I want to be ready.

Well, as ready as I can be.

I close my eyes and remember his words. An office, my books. How much does he know about me? He’s been watching me, obviously. I wonder if there were signs I missed. Red flags I should have seen, but didn’t.

The only time I ever felt that things were off was last night. That was the only chance I had. I should have gotten into my car and driven away. I should have listened to my gut.

But I didn’t.

I’ve never felt so fucking helpless. Not when I was with Lorenzo. Not when I was taken by those fucking Cassanos. Not even when I went to the police and they told me I’d have to leave my old life behind forever. Never. Because there was always hope. But now, I only have his word. And I don’t trust him.

For all I know, he has a bet going with someone. How long would it take him to get into my pants willingly? And then boom. He’ll kill me. Or he’ll let someone else in here to have a go at me. How the fuck would I know? I don’t know shit. And it’s not like he’s offering up any information. He’s just playing this game with me.

In all the books I’ve read, there’s been some sort of contract, or list. Terms. Like he said before.

That always happens first.

But he’s playing with me. Testing me. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s winning.

My body betrayed me, and I gave into the weakness. I was practically ready to cum on his lap. If he’d flipped me over and put his mouth on my clit rather than whispering in my ear, shit. I don’t know what I would have done. I was so weak. So desperate.

It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.

But what real choice do I have? I can fight his game, or I can play along. I can stay here and let him toy with me, or I can use him to get out of here.

Use him.

I like that idea. It almost makes the desire for him to touch me feel justified. That giving in and caving to his touch is alright. I’m merely playing into his hand because it’s what I have to do.

As if hearing my thoughts, Anthony opens the door.

My breath stills in my lungs as the loud click echoes off the walls.

I make a promise to myself. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get the fuck out of this room. I need to see if I can trust his word at least.

Just as I make that promise to myself, I see what he’s pulling behind him. It’s a large bench with leather shackles. Fuck! Tears prick my eyes.

I bury my head in my knees and just fucking cry. He’s going to chain me to the bench. He’s going to fuck me.

A wretched sob heaves through my chest.

I shake my head, and that’s when I hear his footsteps. But I don’t back away. I have no options. What choice do I have?