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No. We were not the same. How could I even think about that? She was a weakling, a toy that could be tossed by anyone like a ball in a basketball court. I had a voice. I had power. People feared and hate me. Other members of the mafia respected me and if they cared to admit, they were terrified of my potential. In fact, there were rumors floating around that I would one day control the drug business in the whole of North America.
Fact was, her parents had caused my precious Russina’s death and that made her an enemy. She deserved worse.
“Fuck,” I hissed, and glanced down at my waist. My dick was tenting my boxers and the tip was moist. With a soft sigh, I dipped my hand inside. Circling the head, I rubbed and squeezed, then slid lower, using the precum coating my fingers as a lubricant to catch a good rhythm.
My head fell back and my eyes fluttered close. I perused my memories, hoping to find one to use to work myself to come. I thought of the women I dated, one-night stands, the escorts. But neither was powerful or detailed enough to transport me to where I wanted. My hand moved faster on my bruised head as I flicked through my sexual fantasies.
At last, I concentrated on just thrusting and that seemed to do it. My balls were heavy with need and my shaft swelled in my hand. More cum trickled to my hand and I kept kneading. An image had formed in my head and I was getting closer to the edge. My cock was slamming in and out of a woman’s sweet pussy. We were both soaking in her wetness and she was moaning my name over and over while I carried her to an intense climax. Her body bucked violently was as I my head buried in her neck, grazing against the skin there, marking her.
The pressure in my balls came to a rocketing peak, tipping me off the edge, and I came with her. Loads of warm cum jetted into my hand and I groaned.Marinka. It took everything in me not to shout her name. The tingling in my thighs went on for a time and I gasped for breath.
“Fuck, yeah,” I grunted as the quivering came to a stop. I came fucking hard and yet, I wasn’t even inside a woman. Nothing made sense anymore, but I knew then that the stupid girl had got into my head. She was always there, listening and watching.
Existing.
I opened my eyes and saw my hand still wrapped around my now sensitive dick. Cum was trickling down my arm, so I rose from bed and went to clean myself.
Marinka. She was the woman who rummaged through my mind, poking all these sensitive spots and reminding me that this was just the beginning.
Clenching my fist, I hit the bathroom wall, bruising my tender knuckles. The bitch wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Pull yourself together, Sebastian!” I shouted.
Raw anger flooded my veins. Stepping back into the bedroom, I changed into my gym clothes and called Marco.
13
Marinka
My ass recovered at last.It had been a week since Sebastian spanked me in that club and then made me come, seeing stars. Over that whole time, I kept dismissing the fact I’d enjoyed that punishment. Well, it hurt like a motherfucker, but at the same time, no one had ever made me so wet before. Not that I had much to compare this to. But that ache between my legs was still agonizingly exhilarating. This feeling couldn’t be normal, or run-of-the-mill, right? How many women were abducted by a mafia boss and used and abused like this? Sex, for most people, was something empowering. Positive.
This? I had no idea what this was.
He was difficult and our relationship, if I could call it that, didn’t change. He was rude and abrupt, answering any of my questions with either a yes or a no. I wanted to ask for a laptop or a phone, but I was too afraid. Besides, I knew he would refuse because I hadn’t earned it in his eyes.
The day after the spanking, a woman showed up at the penthouse claiming to be his maid. She looked Mexican, but I found out later on she was Puerto Rican and her name was Penelope.
She was stunning and I instantly wondered if there was anything going on between her and Sebastian. I bet he must have at some point. I didn’t ask though, firstly because I didn’t really know her and second, she was very nice to me.
She gave me more painkillers and some cream to soothe my skin. I had no idea if she knew what that bastard had done to me, but she must have seen me struggling to sit down and walk. Either way, this was embarrassing enough.
Sebastian hadn’t touched me since then and luckily, I didn’t have to play the role of his dead wife again.
I’d actually barely seen him. He went away a lot and I got bored out of my mind.
I missed my school and my parents, even if my mother was a complete bitch—that in itself showed the extent of my helplessness. I wasn’t sure how long he was planning to keep me here and I kept hoping against hope that at some point, he would get bored of me. Freedom was something I’d always taken for granted before and after being stuck in this stunning penthouse, I truly wanted to get back to my old life.
I tried to establish some sort of routine. In the morning, I dressed and normally had breakfast alone. Sebastian was like a ghost. He appeared only at certain times and I had no idea if he even slept in the penthouse. I was somehow sensing that he was avoiding me.
So, I watched TV. Luckily for me, I also discovered the small library, and the books there were a lifesaver. I liked reading. Any decent stories became my escape as I didn’t have access to the internet and I needed to stay busy.
The lack of communication with the outside world was becoming a huge deal for me. Sebastian kept me isolated because was probably afraid I might try to escape as I had so many friends—not. Not even my parents wanted anything to do with me.
I picked up a thriller and lay on the bed, hoping to immerse myself in the story. Several moments later, a knock sounded on my door. I quickly shouted for whoever it was to come in, not really knowing who to expect. The muscle in my jaw ticked when I didn’t see Sebastian, but the smiling face of Penelope. I sort of felt disappointed he hadn’t even come in to see me, to check if I was still living and breathing. But I’d never admit that under the pain of torture because it only made me feel stupid.
Penelope usually came over three times a week, so I was surprised to see her still here this evening. She must have stayed longer to clean.
“Mr. Dimitrei wants to see you in the dining room,” she stated, her voice smooth.
