Page 39 of Capo

Thirteen

Chloe

I jolt awake from someone moving in the dark room. In the first confused moments I have no idea where I am. I’m lying on something soft. The constant gnawing feeling in my stomach has abated and everything smells nice. My hair, the sheets. Then the last hours come rushing back and I freeze up. I’m in the monster’s bedroom. The images of the canes, the whips and the various restraints hidden behind that curtain shoot through my poor, battered mind. I know who’s moving in the room and my heart speeds up. He’s not going to settle for a blowjob. He’ll fuck me, and probably worse.

The door to the bathroom opens and closes. For what feels like an eternity, I listen to the clattering of the shower, then to silence, every fiber in me so tense it feels as if I’ll burst.

I can’t hide my hitched breaths when he finally emerges through a musky smelling warm mist, and when I hear the rattle of chains, a whimper escapes me. He told me not to beg, or my brothers will get hurt. Shit! He told me to be naked as soon as he was in the room! I sit up and pull off the shirt in one move, dropping it next to me on the bed.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice deep, sensual, so tainted with obvious arousal that it shoots spikes of distress throughout my body. “Stay.” The soft rustle of his steps on the soft carpet comes closer. “Pull up your hair.”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s a finger going.”

I gasp and tears well up in my eyes. “No! Pl—” I snap my lips closed as he chuckles. No begging. My heart speeds up as I collect my hair in my hands and pull it up on my head. Something soft, and yet unyielding closes around my neck. He’s not rough, nothing hurts, not physically, but my soul shrinks yet another little bit.

“Lie back down.”

He moves and then wraps something equally soft around my wrists and then my ankles. Pulling my arms up over my head, he then fastens them before he repeats the procedure with my legs. I try the restraints and find that I can move around quite a bit.

“Are you done?” he asks, his voice colder and with more of an edge to it.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper.

I don’t have to see him to know he’s smiling that fucking beautiful smile of his.

The bed sinks down on his side as he lies down. I fight not to fall over toward him. I want to beg, plead, cry, but I do nothing. All I see before me are my baby brothers. I don’t see the hardened men they turned into, but the vulnerable boys they once were.

So I clench my lips tightly closed and don’t move.

He moves. Then moves again. I lie frozen. After a while his breathing changes and I realize he’s fallen asleep. I don’t know how long I lie awake, but I must have slept eventually, because I wake to a hand tracing the curve of my hip. A ray of sunshine hits the carpet through a sliver between the closed curtains. My heart nearly pounds its way out of my chest and I hold my breath. I’m lying with my back to him, and I remain in the same position, hoping he won’t know I’m awake. His hand moves down along the outside of my thigh, then dips in between them and follows the inside up to my naked pussy, my hairless, exposed pussy. His fingers brush my nether lips and I still can’t draw a breath. I’m getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

Salvatore leans in, his breath hot on my ear. “One day I’m going here, and you’re going to beg me to. You’ll have dropped every last remnant of the defiance you still nurture. You will be nothing but my pet, my slave. I will even be able to drop you outside on the street and you’ll hammer your fists on the gates, begging to come back to me.”

“No,” I whisper. “Never.”

He chuckles and fiddles with one of my wrists, making it come loose, wrapping his fist around it, pulling it toward him.

“Turn around. Look at me.”

I shuffle until I’m turned toward him instead. He’s naked. And he’s hard. Hard and large. Really, really fucking large. He puts my hand on his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. “Never?” His other hand slides in between my thighs again, lightly touching my closed pussy, teasing back and forth but never pushing inside. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s terrible. It’s terrible because despite all the things he’s done to me, my body reacts. I’m repulsed, and I want to stay repulsed, still a tingling builds between my legs. I bite down on my lip and try hard to stay neutral, as if nothing is going on.

Salvatore doesn’t miss a thing. He holds me pinned with his gaze and something flashes in his dark eyes. He knows, and as his fingers slide along slick wetness, my pussy opening to him, I look away, mortified. He definitely knows.

Suddenly his hand is gone from between my legs and comes up before my face. “Look at me,” he growls. “Open your mouth.”

We’ve done this so many times. I’ve let him pound that thick cock into my constantly sore throat over and over, every day for weeks, for scraps of a meal. There’s no resistance left in me as I part my lips. He pushes his fingers inside my mouth, four of them, thrusting slowly. They taste of me, and it’s infuriatingly sensual.

In the blink of an eye, he pulls out his hand and stands. “You will bow.”

I turn my face away from him, cursing the ties that limit my movements. Then it gets weird. Without another glance at me, he disappears into the bathroom. I follow him with my gaze. He’s got a huge dragon tattoo covering his upper back, the wings spread up onto his shoulders. It’s magnificent, and somehow the ink manages to look wickedly malevolent as his bulging muscles move beneath it. The shower clatters for a long time before he comes back out, still naked, still not acknowledging me. My eyes keep darting compulsively to his powerful body. He’s beautiful, and he knows it. He’s in incredible shape. There’s rich dark hair on his chest, arms and thighs. I used to be so enticed by this man, a long time ago. Now I shrink back in fear whenever he comes close. Fear, and still not disgust, not the level of disgust I expected to feel after how he’s treated me. How he treats me. I squeeze my thighs together. My pussy still tingles and I hate it.

Salvatore gets dressed, his shirt impeccable, white and without a wrinkle in sight. The dark gray suit is a perfect fit over his bulging muscles. With a last jerk on the cuffs of the shirt sleeves, he grabs his watch and his phone and leaves, the door falling closed behind him.

He doesn’t lock it. I’m chained to the bed.

“Hey!” I scream. I don’t know if the basement was really worse than this. At least there I wasn’t chained. “Fuck you,” I mutter to no one.