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I remove my hand from her breast, and a sound of protest escapes her lips. When I slide my fingers to her pussy and find her drenched, I’m not surprised. In fact, I’m angry. I'm angry because her desire elates me, and that... that is by far the worst thing that has happened to me today.
I pull my fingers away from her wetness and remove my hand from her mouth, forcing the fingers that were playing at her pussy into it.
“Suck,” I demand. “Taste yourself,” I say harshly, her hot little tongue swirling my fingers on command, my cock screaming with need.
“How does it feel, princess? To taste what your body made for me? For the monster,” I growl, shoving my fingers deeper until they touch her throat.
She gags instantly, eyes tearing up again—only this time… not out of fear.
I yank my fingers from her mouth, placing my palm back over it so that she doesn’t have the chance to speak. I’m so over listening to what bullshit people have to say to me today. I just want to be mindless, to lose myself and forget everything.
With my free hand, I unzip my pants, and free my cockbefore pulling her shirt up to reveal her stunning tits. They're more than a palmful, possibly the largest part of her small body other than her fucking mouth, which had me coming down her throat earlier this morning. For an inexperienced woman, she is incredibly responsive and receptive.
I bend over her, avoiding eye contact as I descend on her breasts, sucking and biting at her nipples while I jerk my cock furiously, her soft moans tickling the palm of my hand. They piss me off—her moans. Because I don't’ want this to be for her, I don’t want this rough, selfish pleasure to be for anyone but myself. Once again, a Saracino is taking what’s fuckingmine.
I bite down hard on her nipple, enough to draw a bit of blood as she screams against my hand, the sound causing my balls to draw up, ready for release. I jerk my cock a few more times before I aim it at her exposed chest, coming on her shaking tits as she looks up at me with confused, hazy eyes. My cum decorates her ivory chest, reddened from the roughness of my teeth and fingers. It glazes her strawberry nipples and paints her skin as I grunt and growl above her like an animal.
When I’m done, I pull her shirt down, not even bothering to clean my seed from her as I tuck my cock into my pants and zip them up. I get off the bed without looking at her and fix my hair before strolling to the door. Of course, I should’ve known she wouldn’t keep quiet because her small voice calls after me, but I don’t answer. I don’t turn or look in her direction or give her any time to say anything further.
Instead, I yank the door open and slam it shut behind me. Silencing her before she has another chance to slither inside of my head like the snake that she is.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Lori
When the sun comes up, I'm awake in bed. Marco hasn't been in my room in three days, since wreaking havoc on my body. Havoc that for some sick and bizarre reason, my body enjoyed.
Since he hasn’t come, Mariella has been the one to bring me food and let me shower. On the second day that she came to see me, she brought me a change of clothes. A tank top that is two sizes too large and a pair of sleep shorts that I had to tie incredibly tight around my waist, but you won’t find me complaining. I was sitting in those soiled clothes for nearly a week and not to mention, Marco’s cum for nearly an entire day. I’ve felt defiled, disgusting and most importantly, fucking confused.
Today, when his mother comes to visit, she is more quiet than usual. She won’t look at my eyes and while the last two days she’s untied me and let me feed myself, today she keeps me bound and feeds me with a spoon. When I refuse to eat more of the bland soup, she gets up and prepares to leave.
“Mariella? What is wrong? Has something happened?” I ask, eyeing her as she sighs and turns to finally look at me, the air filled with tense sadness.
“Marco found out that I gave you new clothes and let you shower. He’s pretty angry with me right now, won’t even look at me,” she says sadly, my heart sinking into my stomach for her as my blood boils for him.
“What, he just expected me to stay in soiled clothes for a week and rot in my own filth?” I hiss, knowing full well that he’s not pissed because she gave me a shower, he’s pissed that she did it before he could. Before he could take my body once more and do whatever the fuck he wants with it.
You’re my toy now, Lori. My little toy that I get to play with whenever I’m bored.
His words echo in my head, my anger for him spiking as high as a fever at this point. I want to scream and shout, mostly because he makes me feel this way, but also because I let my body respond to him. I let my body feel desire for him—pleasure when he finally touches it or looks at it. I think that’s what makes me the angriest, the want that I have for this monster that obviously doesn’t contain a single ounce of humanity like I was beginning to think.
But this is not Mariella’s problem. Even though her son is a ruthless bastard, this is not her fault. All she has been trying to do is help me—make me feel comfortable in this fucked up situation, and now he’s punishing her for it. The anger I feel in result of that does not need to be aimed at her, it needs to be thrown at him.
“I’m sorry, Mariella,” I whisper, turning my head away as I stare out of the window that isn’t nearly as bright today due to the rainstorm outside.
“I didn’t mean to cause anything between you and your son. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me. I hope you know that,” I say, her hand going to my calf as I speak.
“I’m sorry that this is happening to you, Lori. You are undeserving of it and I wish I could make Marco see that. I really do,” she says sadly before her hand leaves my skin and her footsteps echo across the large room, the door shutting softly behind her as she leaves me alone, only the sounds of rain now filling the room.
I lay like this for hours, listening to the rain and breathing softly as my mind races. I can’t really feel my arms at this point, my fingers now beginning to lose sensation in them as well since I have been bound for seven days. Bound to a bed and stuck with only silence and thoughts that turn inside of my brain like a rusty wheel, each day I think of the same things. I think of my family, of my life before this—think about how worried they must be right now. I also think about my friends and my job, wondering if there will ever be a day that I'll hold the camera again. When I'm not thinking of my family or my former life—I’m thinking of him; the monster.
I think of the pain that he's inflicted on me; the torture he's forced me to endure. I also think of the pleasure that I feel whenever he is near, the want that fills me whenever he's not. It's the most frustrating and mind-numbing thing, constantly pining for a monster, for a man that wants absolutely nothing more than just see me dead. For a man that sees me as a toy he can play with until he’s ready to kill it and find a new one.
When I think about that, I wonder if he’s done this to other women. Mariella said that I was the first woman to be brought to the mansion, but that’s because he’s allowed her to see me. God only knows what he’s done without her knowledge. And when thoughts of him with another woman fills my head, my whole body erupts with a jealously the likes of which I’ve never known before. A jealously that slowly morphs into self-loathing because what kind of sick woman am I? Getting jealous over her captor's sex life?
I’m already a mile deep into my insane thoughts when the door opens again, my stomach dropping instantly because I smellhim. I smell him before I see him and it has my whole body going ramrod straight as he approaches the bed.
I feel his gaze track up and down my body, my skin burning in response as I remain mute. He doesn’t touch me, doesn't speak or issue any commands. He just stands there and stares at me, raining his silent fury down onto my skin. I can feel it, but I refuse to look at him. I refuse to give him anymore of my submission or my acknowledgement.
