DAMIAN

The walk to my bedroom takes longer than usual and the rising need to get away from that she-devil comes faster than my erections at the sight of a willing woman chained to my bed. This one threatens to consume me.

How can such a small woman make me lose my cool, twice in barely twenty-four hours? I muse to myself while the image of her face pops up.

If I don't hear from her husband, I'd have to order her death. No one is to be spared if I don't catch the real culprits. Stellëza would be looking down at me with an upturned nose and her pouty lips curled downward in disapproval but what do I care?

They touched what was mine first.

I produce my phone to bark orders at my men who are still on the lookout for the rest of those killers. Their response is in the negative and it only manages to make me see more red than I have ever seen.

I nearly punch a hole into my bedroom door as soon as I approach but the urge simmers down when a familiar sultry voice calls my name. Walking behind her is a very red-faced older woman, Alice.

“There you are!” Melanie calls out with her skimpy dress riding up her thighs as she raises her hands towards me.

My face shows no expression as I let her arms wrap around my middle and let her pepper kisses on my collarbone down to the front of my chest.

She looks up at me with her lashes fluttering in a childlike manner. “Little Miss Grumpy here told me you weren't home. I insisted on seeing you, so here I am. Today's Thursday, and I know you don't go out except it is really important.”

“Damian, you know how you like your privacies on Thursdays?” Alice begins cautiously with her eyebrows raised. I nod for her to continue. “I tried to stop her but she was too thickheaded to listen to my words.”

She is right. On Wednesday nights, I find myself dreading waking up to see a Thursday morning. When it does happen, all I do is shut everyone up and out of my life.

Where in the world should I be on the very day that my girlfriend was murdered in cold blood?

I see Alice's chest rising and falling in quick succession. She is in her late fifties and Melanie couldn't care less for her age. It's a good thing she has a humiliation kink and a weakness for being tied up in bed.

Otherwise, I'd have asked that she get punished and banned from ever stepping foot on these grounds.

I catch the scowl on Melanie's face directed at Alice, right before she turns to me with her face schooled to cuteness. “It's been weeks, baby. I've waited endlessly for your calls and didn't hear from you. You're only treating me unfairly because you know how crazed I am over you, how deeply crave your touch, how badly I… adore you.”

There's a scoff. I raise my eyes to meet Alice's departing figure as she walks down the hallway. Hiding my smile, my gaze rivets back to a pouting Melanie.

I disentangle her arms around me with one hand as I lean closer to her. “I've told you before Mel, and I'll say it again. Don't come here if I didn't invite you.”

She rolls her eyes as she resigns to my words. “You don't play fair. You call me every time you need me, I can't do the same. How’s that logic working for me? I'll tell you, it's not doing jack to ache this burning I feel for you.” She presses her body flush against mine.

A corner of my mouth tugs upwards. I'm familiar with her mind games. “This isn't anything like a relationship, Melanie. This is merely an arrangement but in this case, I'm the one who's calling the shots, not you. I'm the one who reaches out when I need to be satisfied, not you. Your body is mine to use as I choose. So if you can't abide by my terms, you can leave.”

“Fine!” She stomps her foot in childish anger. “I'm going back home.”

Not on my watch.

She barely moves an inch when I pull her back against me roughly. Her blue eyes spark with lust and out of her lips is the gasp of a silent ‘o’.

“You're going nowhere,” I growl against the shell of her ears. “Yet.”

She smells of citrus and even though I hate how it tickles my nose when she's in such proximity, it is the least of my worries.

Not when I need a vessel to empty all of my frustrations. She knows what she's here for.

The hand around her arm squeezes tighter and I lean a little towards her. “Did you say something?”

“I'm sorry…” she purses her lips before blowing an exhale, “Daddy.”

Those words ignite a fresh surge of lust pumping into my veins. Instead of heading to my room, I trap her body with mine against the wall opposite us, quickly nudging her thighs apart with my feet. Her back to my front.

No words are exchanged between us except for harsh breaths that indicate the lust carrying in our veins.

I yank her little dress up to her waist, reaching for the flimsy piece she always wears as an excuse for underwear only to find it bare and dripping with her essence. I rub two fingers against her slit to her engorged nub which I give a tap.

She exhales sharply and lolls her head back. “Yes, Daddy!” Her moans ring out loud and clear across the hallway.

“Someone's a little hungry.” I croon into her hair as I thrust three of my fingers suddenly into her.

Her body trembles and her pussy welcomes the intrusion of my hands like a starving kid presented with freshly baked buns. I raise my fingers to her face and she grabs them to slurp up her juices coating them, with low moans ringing from within her chest.

“Love how you taste?”

She pushes back against me, impatient. To that, I send another sharp slap to her pussy, so hard that her body bows and she gasps. “Yes!”

It's louder than the first.

I smirk. In seconds, my slacks are hanging low as I line my dick up to her entrance. “Say, Mel, to whom do you owe your life?”

She shudders at my question and without hesitation says, “You. Fuck, it's you!”

“Names, Mel.” I run my dick along her clit down to her pussy in slow strokes. “Names.”

I stop at her entrance, poised and ready to strike.

Her torso is bent halfway on the wall with her hips shooting out towards me. Her manicured fingers dig into the wall as she braces herself for the impact.

“Damian Kastorov!”

I lose common reasoning as I take her right there in the hallway. I plow into her rough and hard like an overcharged bull.

My movements are choppy and fast. I throw my head back in ecstasy as her pussy wraps around me like a fitted glove.

“You. Are. Mine. To. Fuck.” I grind out between clenched teeth. My fingers reach for her blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

I wrap it around my hand and pull it so that her neck is bared to me. I lean down and bite down on that spot. Alternating between sucking, licking, and biting down on that spot, I drive faster into her as I feel the impending storm of my climax in the telltale tightening of my balls.

“Yes, oh yes! Fuck!” Her voice is hoarse from her screams.

Two hands encircle her waist as I lift her, thrusting savagely from below. Every grunt I make punctuates the thrust of my hips digging into her wet snatch.

“Eta pizda moya,” I call out harshly, jaw locking when the tingle spreads to my head. “Touch yourself,” I order.

“This cunt will forever…” She says but the rest of her words are drowned out by the climax that sends blood rushing to my ears.

My strokes become long and hard, riding through my orgasm and calling out hers.

Every muscle in her body tenses for a millisecond before her hips buck wildly and she spasms against me. A slew of curses and pledges of her life to me leaves her lips.

“This pussy is yours, daddy! Brand me with your cum.” She moans loudly while her fingers are feverishly working to end her orgasm.

I pump into her roughly for a few minutes before I feel myself bottom out into her spasming pussy. Afterward, I pull out and lower her to her feet.

Her feet wobble and she slides to the ground with a shit-eating grin on her face from being fucked that way. Fast and hard.

After putting her dress in order, she presses against me once more. “That was aggressive. I like it.” She tries to catch me unguarded with a kiss but I move my face so fast that it lands on my jaw.

“Sleek little bitch.” I tell her with an amused expression.

She sucks hard on it. Letting the skin go with a pop, she eyes her hard work like a masterpiece sitting in a museum. Her blue eyes are cloudy as she gazes back at me.

“You fucked me sore, daddy. That's why no one is more fitting for you than I.” She purrs. Her lashes sweep open lazily. “I think we should do this sometime soon.”

She grabs her purse off the carpeted floor and wobbles her way out of my sight. Evident is the puddle of our pleasure on the carpet and I make a mental note to have it discarded later.

I move to my bedroom door once again but stop midway when Melanie's words come back to mind. My fingers hover over the doorknob with one question hanging over my head.

How do I explain that the wench's defiance was my fuel?

LILIANA

As I sit bound to this chair, the last person I expect to see walks in - a petite girl with a ragged doll clutched in her fingers.

On her frail form is a flower-patterned dress made out of cotton which almost succeed in making her look harmless.

She has a head filled with dreadlocks which blend with her caramel skin. Yet, she looks… deranged?

No, unstable is the word.

One of the men quickly bring a chair which they place in front of me. She mutters something to their hearing and they nod.

Lowering herself to the seat, she says, “I need to go back to bed.” Her voice is barely audible. Her head, bowed. “You only have a few minutes to answer my question.”

Laughter bubbles out of my throat before I think twice about it. I toss an incredulous look at the burly men situated in the corners of the room.

“You all are so pathetic for dragging a little girl into your sick mess. Your boss ran away with his tail for a dick between his legs and presented me with this?” I scoff.

“What next? Annabelle?” My tone is dripping with derision. The man is twisted beyond redemption.

Her head snaps up, and I feel a shiver travel down my spine.

“Liljana Hoxha.” She calls ever so softly, her Albanian accent sending a chill through me. “My apologies, the man is too crude in his ways.”

When she raises her eyes to meet mine, they're like void; bottomless and dark. I straighten in my seat, watching her with curiosity and dread. My insides are knotted tight but with what?

I can't place my fingers on it.

However, judging from the energy shift in the atmosphere, this little girl hasn't the innocence that embodies one.

“You know Nicolo, don't you?” She asks, paying her doll special attention like it is alive. “If you deny knowing him, then you're tagged an accomplice to his child trafficking.”

My eyebrow raise in amusement. “Child trafficking? That's a stupid accusation, little girl. Try something else if you need to get me to squeak.”

She giggles. I feel terror climb up my spine at the sound. “Should I show it to her?” She says to her dumb doll like they're in a bubble of their own.

She lowers the doll and turns her palm open towards me. There's a small picture of the man, Nicolo, he is butt naked with his smiling face turned towards the camera.

What I see next has my blood filling with ice. Underneath him is a little girl whose face is shaped in what might be a look of pain and fear combined.

The fact that he is filmed during this act and finds it humorous is what sickens me.

I'd always known there was something off about him. I just didn't think it was down to this level of depravity.

I manage to school my expression, then answer, “The only things we have ever exchanged are pleasantries. I don't know what business he's involved in. The last I saw him was at my wedding.”

She giggles again and I have to look at the men with furrowed eyebrows to question her sanity.

“He’s dead.” She announces with a creepy smile that sends another sliver of dread into me.

The sudden news startle me. If anything, she seems happier at her own revelation. “Where's your husband?”

“Get her out!” I spit instead of the words that come to mind at that moment. I'm unsure whether telling a child to fuck off is appropriate.

“You're so innocent.” She comments after she rakes her eyes throughout my body in scrutiny. “You seem innocent. And hurt too.” After a while adds, “Did those men get to you too?”

I suddenly lose my cool when I feel her probing somewhere in my mind. “I need her out of here right this instant!” I yell to the men who choose to play dumb.

Someone bellows. “Hey! We decide who leaves and who stays. So shut your running mouth and answer the giddamn question.”

I scowl at him, my anger rising at not being able to flip him the bird. “You're an asshole.”

“That's a compliment used by so many. I need new one. Maybe you'll give me when I get you moaning under me.” He retorts with a sick smile.

I lean forward and retch so hard that my body heaves despite the binds. My throat feels sore by the time I'm done and my mouth is bitter from bile as well.

“Burn in hell.” I spit with venom, eyeing him with rage coursing through me.

“Ladies first.” He winks.

I struggle against my bonds all to no avail. My breath comes out in short rasps after my futile attempts. Then I resort to the best I can in the condition I'm in; I glare hard.

The little girl squats in front of me. She smells of wild roses and dried urine. “We need to know your husband's whereabout. That way we can do justice for whatever wrong he has done to you.”

I keep mute at her assumptions. As long as I'm held hostage without my permission, they would not get me to speak against Kyle.

If they had the guts, why not when he was still alive? Bloody cowards all of them. Just like their boss.

She reaches out to tuck my hair between my ears and glides her fingers down my face, stopping at my chin. She is being provocative on purpose.

I wince when she presses into the bruise on the side of my face. When I yank my head out of her grip, she startles me by tightening her fingers on my chin in a vice grip.

She hisses, “You will reply as long as I ask a question. The knowledge of the whereabouts of your husband is in your head and I need it so I can go back to sleep.” Her voice hardens, rising to a crescendo as she speaks.

I feel a small crack in the spot where she holds. Any second now and my jaws could go slack. “Yes.” I wince as I ground out.

The moment she lets go, shame fills me at my easy submission.

“Good.”

Gone is the adult and back in it's place is the harmless little girl. She peers into my eyes with deep sated sorrow that pulls her features down.

“He hurt you and will continue to. You don't realize it yet. I can help you.” Her voice is a small whisper as she rambles on.

I have lost track of her jargons, trapped in the maze of her words.

“Why is he holding me hostage?” I speak in a hushed whisper matching hers.

She smiles genuinely this time. “He'll save you. He's coming to save you.”

I want to hit my head against a surface so I can wake up from this this nightmare.

How badly I want to kick her too. Then again, she's just a child who's fucked up in the head.

She straightens.

I scrunch my nose at the pungent stench of urine. “I don't need anyone's saving. I need to go home, take a proper shower and freshen up. I suggest you take one too.”

Her features brightens suddenly and it suggests to me that her next words would spell a disaster.

“Why go all the way home when you can have a shower in one of the many bathrooms in this house?”

I knew it. The little fucker.

Before I utter a word of protest, she turns to the men with a bounce. “Take her to Alice with instructions to have her thoroughly washed. Oh, her breath stinks too.”

I've never felt more insulted by anyone. Let alone such a small kid.

Heaven help me!

LILIANA

The men go to work untying my hands and feet while shoving me this way and that without regard for the condition of my battered body. 

As for my face, I am certain that if I accidentally stepped into the set for “The Nun”, I would get the lead role without even trying. A soothsayer didn't need to tell me how sunken my eyeballs had become and how disgusting I looked. 

From pauper to palace and now to prison. A sudden fall from a place of position.

“Move!” 

I'm shoved from behind and that is when I notice my hand and feet have been released. The door opens. 

When I rise to my feet I nearly teeter and fall back, save for the hand that gives me a gentle nudge forward. 

I grit my teeth but bite back my disgust. 

In silence, I'm guided out of the dingy cell into a dark and grim corridor. I keep my gaze fixed on the dirty floor. 

The tranquility is broken all of a sudden as labored grunts pierce the air. I look up to see a huge man, twice the size of his handlers, being forcefully dragged across the rough terrain. 

The sound of wood smashing into something – someone – is like a punch to my gut, and the sudden silence thereafter is even more unsettling.

A man to my left chuckles without remorse, “Negodyai.”

Another snorts in response. After that, the rest of our walk resumes with a numbing quiet which I'm thankful for. At least it allows me a few seconds to organize my thoughts.

My eyes land on the man walking in front of me. In his fingers is a gun hanging loosely. If I move fast enough, I can take a few of them down and before they recover from their shock, I'd have found my way out.

The impulsive part of my brain yells orders for my feet to move but rationality keeps me unwilling. Come to think of it; plans are better said than done. 

I could lose my life before I even take a single step in the wrong direction. Not that I am anything of worth to them.

Soon, we're emerging from the endless corridor and climbing stone steps that lead to the top floor. 

When we get to the top landing, I inhale the crisp air greedily, grateful for the scent of unpolluted oxygen. 

My eyes dart left and right as I try to figure out which door leads outside. Hopefully, I'd run into someone who would call the cops and I'd be safe once more. 

Cautiously, I eye the men by my side. They're focused on the way ahead. 

“Let's strike a deal,” I mutter in a silent plea to the Old man upstairs. “From this moment onward, I'll have Eric tied to me before I leave my house. Just get me out of here.” 

Cold metal presses into my lower back as a threat rings out behind me. “Don't try to act smart or you'll have yourself to blame.” 

True. And these men wouldn't hesitate.

Swallowing thickly from the rise of fear, I discard my plans for later. One risky move could get my brain matter splattering against these tiles. 

As we cross through the foyer, the little girl passes by us without pausing for a beat. She opens one of the grand doors and my heart leaps regretfully when I see that it's the main door.

“Eyes forward!” The man from behind me orders, shoving me with too much aggression. 

I do as ordered and clamp my mouth shut once more, choosing to be wise rather than to prove vicious. 

‘These men wouldn't hesitate, Lily’, it's a subtle reminder to myself. 

We head towards another set of stairs with black wooden railings, sculptured to perfection and all I can think of is how symbolic they are to the fine-tuned torture that awaits me somewhere above. 

An older woman is standing at the top of the stairs with an upturned nose as she glares down at me. 

A battle to smoothen the scowl from my face ensues but I know it's a lost battle when my eyebrows tug downwards, refusing to budge. 

Her dress is simple. Elegant for her age even though the neatly pressed navy blue gown with a million pleats from the waist downward manages to spike my fear.

I decide right there that I hate her already.

Her demeanor reminds me of a strict boarding house mistress poised to reprimand tardy diners for flouting regulations.

And judging by the way her nostrils keep flaring – now for the fifth time since we locked eyes – I know I'm in for a world of trouble.

As I trudge up the stairs wearily, my knees give out and I stumble, whacking them against the step’s edge. It sends a stab of pain through me.

“Ow!” I groan through clenched teeth.

The men seize me by the arm and shove me towards the remaining steps. I collapse roughly in a heap in front of the woman, my face almost planting itself onto her polished shoes.

I try to rise to my feet but they seem to have given up on me. All attempts to stand leave me making an embarrassing show of myself. 

“Get up!” One of the men bellows at me. 

“If your eyes weren't shoved so far up your ass, you'd see I'm trying to,” I tell him, unable to bite back my words.

“Try harder.” 

We glare at each other but his weighs with more intensity while I'm tottering on the edge of another collapse. 

“That's enough!” The woman booms loudly in a stern voice. 

I don't miss the look of fear slashing across his features as his eyes fall from my face to the ground. He mutters an apology to her. 

Now I'm amused at the sight before me. 

For some reason, she unnerves me. But I don't let that show. The only one who managed a crack through my composure was the little girl. 

I never want to meet her again. Something about her didn't feel right. Again, I don't think I should be surprised since I'm bound in a house full of lunatics. 

Her features are lined with anger when she rakes her gaze over the four men hovering around me. She fires something rapidly in what I think is Russian. 

The men look…embarrassed. I can't tell for sure.

“Come with me.” She orders in a less authoritative tone. Her words are thick with an accent similar to that bastard. “These men have given you too much trouble, no?”

I nod. Then shake my head, at a loss for what to say. 

“Here, let me help you up, duska.” She gives me her hand and indeed helps me up to her feet. Her grasp is firm and warm to the touch. “Now let's go fix you up quickly. Ty vyglyadish neakkuratno.” 

Her nose scrunches up as she takes in my general appearance. She clicks her tongue to show her disapproval, once more shooting glares at the men. 

Together we both climb up the remaining stairs until we come to a hallway with doors flanking both sides. 

I'm led to a room with minimal pieces of furniture and decorations. The walls are white and bare, save for a picture frame of a stormy night. There's only a giant bed with white linens and a window that I can fit into if I try to run. 

A plan begins to formulate in my head. These people have no idea what's coming for them. 

“Take the dirty clothes off, duska. I'll get you fresh ones.” After this, she remains put. 

My fingers pause in the waist of my trousers, waiting for her to leave. “I need some privacy at least.”

“No, no, no.” She clicks her tongue again. “No privacy. You don't have so much time.”

With great reluctance, I undress taking great care to hide the tattoo on the lower part of my back. It was done in memory of my sister and is my prized possession. 

I enter into the elaborate bathroom and slowly lower myself into the massive tub, bubbling with scented lather. 

The water bites into my skin but I soon become accustomed to the sting. I sigh deeply in relief and when I open my eyes, the woman is smiling at me. 

The first ever friendly face at least. Perhaps she'd understand if I told her I needed to leave and my family needed me. She would.

“I'll wash your hair.” She gets behind me to begin. Her fingers on my scalp feel so therapeutic that for a while, I forget my worries and fears. 

Just like that, time ticks by and the bath is over. I secure the rope of the bathrobe she handed to me around my waist, tying it twice for good measure. 

Unaware, the woman doesn't notice my hand filling with soapy water until it's thrown in her face. She cries out, stumbling backward and onto the floor.

Seizing the distraction, I sprint to the window, swiftly opening it and hoisting myself up. Just as freedom looms closer, a firm grip encircles my waist.

I buck against their grip, enraged and with intent to shake them off. 

“Let me fucking go!” I yell in anger.

Adrenaline takes over and I thrash about fiercely, clinging to the window with all my might. I kick downwards on the person's foot but they maintain a vice-like grip. 

My body grows hot from overexerting myself.

The unyielding grip tightens around me rendering my efforts to become as ineffective as pouring water into a bottomless container.

“You're going nowhere if it's not hell.” A deep voice belts out behind me.

My eyes widen and my body automatically goes limp in shock. I'm tossed to the bed so violently that I almost bash my head against the headboards. 

My vision clears to reveal a searing gaze from a pair of mismatched blue-brown eyes blazing with fury. My heart skips a beat as I stare up at the enraged face above me.

Oh God, I'm fucked.