I woke up to the feeling of a warm, wet mouth engulfing my cock. I smirked and relaxed again, letting it bob up and down on my generous length. Just what I needed after the shit day I had the day before, talking in circles with obtuse Russians.

I remembered going to bed alone, but even so, I had an inkling about who might have the courage to take such liberties with my person. The list of possible names wasn’t long. In fact, there was only one woman in this godforsaken place with whom I had once been so close that she would think she could get away with it. Rose, my wife’s younger sister.

But the keyword here being once, I knew I would have to put her in her place. She stood no chance of becoming the second Mrs.Changretta.

After she finished what she started first, of course.

“I missed starting my days like this,” I sighed and stared at a ceiling I hadn’t seen in seven years. It was bringing back memories. That long tongue was bringing back memories too. “There’s no way a day that starts this good can end badly.”

The warm mouth was replaced by a firm hand and I grit my teeth. The sensation was hardly the same.

“Train one of your many adoring women fans to give head, problem solved. Or use those sex slaves I hear you’ve been training to sell. You have so many of them, one has to be suitable to your tastes.”

I reached out a hand to lower her head back down on my cock. Her mouth had better uses than speaking nonsense. “My slaves are just that. Sex slaves for sale. They exist to contribute to my bank account, I don’t stick my cock in just anyone’s mouth, you know?”

“Mmmph!”

She was trying her best, I could tell, but she was incredibly out of practice. It was taking her too long to finish me off and I was growing annoyed. I pushed her head down hard and held her there. She gagged around my cock and what her muscles were doing to me was finally a step in the right direction. I pumped myself in and out of her throat while she slapped and clawed at my thighs, her face beet red, her lungs desperate for air. I tried to focus on the sensations, but I eventually released her. I wasn’t in a sadistic mood and I wasn’t going to cum with her struggling like that. I loved roughing things up, but this felt like rape and that… I did not do.

What a disappointment.

I yanked her up by her lush hair and shoved her to the side of the bed in anger and I glared. “Why start something you know you can’t finish?”

She stared right back at me, equally angry, wiping saliva and precum off her chin and panting hard, as if she had forgotten how I was like. This is why I never considered her for a wife, she was a lousy fuck.

“You haven’t changed at all. Still a fucking asshole.”

“That stings,” I mocked. “What am I going to do with this now?” I looked at my erection.

“Fuck you, jerk off for all I care!”

As defiant as she had just been with me, Rose jumped off the bed when she saw I was getting off it myself. Good, she was still afraid of me.

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to bend over for me now, are you? Ass or cunt, whichever is fine with me.”

“Charming. A hard-on won’t kill you.”

“They’re going easy on you here. Unmarried and unwilling to get fucked. You grew claws. I’ll remember this,” I warned.

I was going to marry her off to a pervert for this, someone who’d make her scream my name for me, if she didn’t do something to appease me and soon.

“You were choking me, what did you want me to do?”

“To take it like your sister would have,” I said and it was as if I had slapped her.

Rose had always been jealous of Delilah, her sister and my wife. While Rose had boundaries and ethics, Delilah was like my missing half. She’d eagerly join me in any and all depravities.

Realizing her mistake in making me angry, she climbed on the bed again and spread her legs. In nature, animals showed their submission by revealing their soft spots: neck, bellies. I could read it on her face, she knew she had been careless with her true self. She owed me so much. Even if I wasn’t physically there, my preference for her cunt afforded her a measure of safety few other things could. She did not want to lose me.

“I’ll try harder next time, Master,” she begged.

I would grant her mercy. One last time.

I nodded and moved between her thighs and entered her with a hard thrust. She yelped, but didn’t complain about my savage pace. She was taking it like the good girl she was supposed to be. She had craved that praise from me once and I supposed she still did, even now. She was no one’s whore, used but not kept and I could tell she saw me as her depraved salvation. Alas… she was not the one for me. She would suffice for a fuck or two, but I craved something better, purer… something closer to home.

I closed my eyes against my own thoughts. I couldn’t let myself think of her. Not now. Not ever. She was fucking pure and innocent. She was forbidden, Carlotta. She was my own fucking daughter.

Whereas this one, the one I could take over and over again? Shit. Rose clearly wasn’t doing it for me anymore. I grunted in frustration and flipped her onto her stomach. I thrust into her ass and held her still. Something had to make me cum, I was too tightly wound, like a coil, and I needed release. Luckily for her, this tighter hole was where I finally spilled myself. I pressed Rose against the mattress, mirroring the need to suppress the images floating in my mind. Inside my head, I had cummed in Carlotta’s hole and it made me feel ashamed.

“Good girl,” I said and smacked her ass to signal her she could get lost now.

Rose climbed off my bed and I watched her put on a yellow dress that really didn’t suit her. All my advice, always wasted on this one, from sex to fashion.

I sighed. “If you want this to end, say it.” She looked at me like she didn’t understand what I meant. “I’ll still protect you, but you don’t have to suck my cock from now on. Or do anything.”

“I came to look for you. I wanted to do it. I missed the taste of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I had my faults and I was a true sadist, but I didn’t like raping women. I had, on occasion, when the position demanded me to prove my lack of emotional thinking, but I always felt sick to my stomach afterwards.

It is what brought me and Rose together some years ago. She was a tiny little thing back then, not yet a grown woman who had proven herself to the Mafia, and Master Lucchese had taken a liking to her. She was, after all, just his type: thick black hair, luminous green eyes, wide hips and an ass that barely fit in anything they had for new women to wear.

Refusing a Master could mean torture, if the Master were so inclined. They offered protection in return for favors, usually sexual ones, for them or their friends. Lucchese liked to send girls to enforcers, to be tortured into submission, simply for denying him. Rose valued her life too much not to bend over.

I had heard her one night, crying in one of the second floor closets, as far from his bedroom as she could be at that hour without being punished for it.

I remembered opening the door and looking at her bloodied clothes and disheveled hair. I had coaxed the necessary information out of the frightened girl and promised her my help. The next night, I had sent Lucchese half a dozen already trained women from one of my trading endeavours and made sure everybody knew Rose was to share my bed and my bed only from thereon.

It was a decision born out of pity. Had she been more like her sister, Rose wouldn’t have suffered the abuse and indignation of climbing the Mafia ranks by using her body and letting men do all sorts of things to her.

But things were what they were and that had been all I could do for her. There was no love, no attachment between us, that could prompt more.

I headed to my bathroom, the need to wash her off my skin dictating my actions. Today would have to be the last I ever fucked her.

I felt a little strange realizing that. She had been my steadiest fuck. I had never loved this woman, but a small part of me had come to care for her in a way. I had meant it when I said I would still protect her. But fucking her no longer pleased me, and worse, it made me think of my dead wife and after that lovely face faded, an alive one, warm and pleasant, rose through my mind’s mists and took central place. My daughter’s.

It was hard enough to keep my dirty thoughts away from Carlotta, I did not need more reminders of her untouched beauty around myself. By God, I would never fuck my own girl, no matter how much my blood was boiling in my veins. I was a monster, but I was going to spare her from my beast.

Freshly showered and properly wanked off – if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, I headed back into the main spaces of the building to finish what I had failed to the night before.

I was confident in the abilities and training my new batch of sex slaves had received and that after a night of testing the merchandise, those fucking Russians were going to fold like their cheap, made in China, suits.

I was the first one to arrive in the lounge and I took a seat closest to the windows overlooking the gardens. Carlotta would’ve loved it here. She liked flowers, nature, openness. And yet I had confined her in rooms and castle towers, like a fragile princess, for most of her life. I hated doing that to her, but she was the one good thing in my life. Not the money, not the power, not the slaves. Those came with strings attached, with more corruption and desolation. Carlotta came into my life with a cry, but spent the rest of it smiling at me. Sometimes I can find some measure of peace in her blue eyes. Other times, I notice the swell of her breasts and peace escapes me for the rest of the month. How could my joy be my terror?

A sort of rumble spread through the room as the men, in various states of undress, made their way to the lounge.

“I have to admit,” Igor, their leader, said, “they are worth a pretty penny. But not the price you’re asking for them.”

“Did either disobey? Fail to do her job?”

Igor shook his grey mane of hair. “I want a live demo of this training. You want to take over half the world with your new whores. I want to know exactly what I am getting into. Changretta, I will be sending some of my most trusted men back with you. Let them see it all.”

“I can accommodate that.”

“Accommodate your daughter too.”

I wasn’t often reduced to silence by my business partners. In fact, I could count on the fingers of one hand the times that had happened. They wanted… They wanted me to turn my sweet girl into a slave?

“Why the silence, Changretta? You are either all in, or all out.”

I was less than a Don, less than a man, less than a human, during my flight back to Carlotta. I couldn’t get the Russian’s words out of my mind and my traitorous imagination kept swaying from my sweet daughter’s shocked, disgusted face, to her rosy lips swallowing my cock for breakfast every morning from now on.

This demand of theirs was both a curse and a blessing in disguise. I could have my way with my girl and blame it on the sacrifices a Don was bound to make in the name of the Mafia. She would understand.

Perhaps she would not even hate me, or resent me. But I knew it for the lie it was. I desired her and I was too much of a coward to act upon it out of my own free will because how would I be able to live with myself if the one person I loved in this whole world broke because of my perversions? I could and would die for Carlotta, but would I steal her virginity? I guessed I was going to find out in a couple of hours.

Thanks for reading and if you enjoyed it, please check out the rest of this series on Smashwords! Stasia Grey xoxo