My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered (4 page)

The woman moved fast, her slap
stinging my cheek
, but instead of yelling at her or slapping her back, I
laughed, wanting to anger her even more. Another slap followed,
Bianca yelling at me: “Stop laughing!”

I stopped, although I kept the
smile on my face, not because I was happy, but because I wanted her
to leave. I needed her out of my room
and
out of my life, because if truth be told,
although she was a beautiful woman, I was bored with her, the
fucking not even that
grande
. I smiled wider, saying just that in Italian. Her
face dropped, the look in her eyes shattered. I knew I was being
unnecessarily cruel, but it would end things quicker.

She wiped her
cheek
s, her
eyes now overflowing with tears. “You are a soulless man,
Jagger.”

“
No, I’m a breaker of souls,
someone you should run from.”

“
I can’t. I need you.
I need the love you
gave me.”

“
Fucking is not love, and
it wasn’t even worth my time.”

My head whipped around as another slap
struck me. “I hate you!” she yelled.

I placed a hand to my cheek,
now knowing a little of what Rita
had felt. And it felt good. “Leave,
Bianca,” I said.

She shook her
head
. “But I
want you.”

“
I don’t want you.”

“
You don’
t know what you have done!” she
yelled. “You have no idea what I am capable of!”

“
All you are capable of is
opening your legs.”

She slapped me again.

“
Even your slaps don’t get me
excited.” I pushed down my pants and took a hold of my cock. “You
make me soft, Bianca.”

A fist barreled into my face,
although her punch was weak, barely hurting me. She swore at me in
Italian,
cursing me with colorful words, threats that she would get
back at me, that she would ruin me.

I pulled my pants up. “I’m already ruined,
now leave.”

“
This isn’t
over!”

“
It is for me.”

She
swore at me again, then ran out of
the room.

I followed
, my eyes going to Federico as
Bianca shot into the passage. “She was not welcome in my room, so
no one is to learn of this.
Capito
?” I said to him.

“
No one will hear it from
me.”

I nodded at the man, then closed my door,
locking it, which I was going to do from now on so I didn’t get any
nasty surprises or whores begging for my cock. I headed for my bed
and lay down, just wanting to forget about the day, and anything to
do with Alberto and his lot.

I closed my eyes, my mind going
to the new slave and how she’d tried to comfort me.
I frowned, not
understanding why she was affecting me so much. I reopened my eyes
and stared up at the white ceiling, finding her comfort unsettling.
I’d only just met her, yet she knew about my abuse, while my family
thought it was all lies.
S
ì
, I
had lied about it for so long, but only because Father Michael had
told me that no one would believe me, and he’d been right up until
now. I’d lived through almost five years of abuse until that night
I’d snapped. The drunken
padre
had fallen asleep in my bed after he’d brutally
raped me. Though, he’d woken instantly when I’d cut off his cock.
He’d screamed in agony, which had given me a place to put the
disgusting piece of flesh, which had been in my own mouth only
minutes before.

I closed my eyes,
forcing my mind
away from that black night and back to the new slave. Her sympathy
perplexed me, and because of it I had become sloppy, the need to
get her on my side creating new problems, which I didn’t know how
to fix. Still, I would have done it again just to see that clarity
on her face, and to know that someone finally believed me. Even
Sophia, my first lover hadn’t, the girl instead turning away from
me, giving me the impression that my words disgusted her. Maybe
that was why she’d given up on our love for one night in Frano’s
bed. I frowned, knowing that I wouldn’t allow that to happen with
Rita, because, even though I wasn’t in love with her, Frano was not
taking anyone away from me again.

Ever.

3

Rita

Frano
finally emerged from the bathroom. He
was now cleanly shaven, while his dark hair was slicked back, but
it was his smell that caught my attention, his cologne filling my
nostrils. It was the same one my husband used to wear. I loved that
smell, had always associated it with Matt, but to have the man I
hated the most in the world wear it, made me want to
retch.

Frano
pulled open the large stand-alone
wardrobe, and removed a shirt. He slipped it on and did up the
buttons, leaving the top few undone. He then pulled on black pants
and a matching jacket, the lines fitting his body perfectly. He
looked impressive, someone that could command attention, but he
also looked like a criminal, the man’s expression colder than the
cells downstairs.

He pulled out a box, removing cufflinks
from it. He pushed them through the sleeve’s button holes, watching
me as he did it. Once he was finished he headed for the bed, the
look on his face impassive.

“
Do you like the smell of my
cologne?” he asked, looking down at me.

I remained silent, knowing whatever I said
it would be the wrong answer.

“
One of my trainers used
to wear it.”

I already knew that, no doubt my husband
the one he was talking about. I wondered how Matt had been
discovered, whether it was from his own error or someone had sold
him out.

“
He was a very good trainer,”
Frano said, sitting down next to me. “He used to torture
th
e slaves,
making them scream in agony, then he would fuck them until they
screamed in pleasure.”

My jaw clenched, everything in my body
yelling that he was wrong, that Matt wouldn’t have done those
things, although I knew I would be deluding myself if I truly
believed that, because that was what my husband had been sent in
for, the slave trainer role his only means to spy on the D’Angelo
family.

Frano leaned over me, placing his neck
above my face. “You must like the smell, after all your husband
told me you picked it out for him on your first
anniversary.”

My eyes widened before I could
stop myself, my reaction no doubt giving me away
, but what he’d said speared
me, because he was right.

Frano pulled back, his eyes now firmly
fixed on my face. “Do you think I am so stupid as to not know who
you are, Rita Kovak?”

I stared up at him, unable to blink or to
even think, or to even wonder how he knew.

Frano smiled. “But if the FBI wishes to
send me a beautiful woman, then I would be stupid not to accept
such a lovely offering, plus ... if I break you down until you’re
nothing more than a sexual object, isn’t that the greatest
vengeance I can have against them?” His smile dropped. “But I must
say one thing: I’m surprised at Jagger’s sloppiness. For him not to
have realized he’d brought FBI into my home... Very careless. But I
suppose all he saw was someone who looked like an old lover, but
me, I recognized you from your husband’s description.” He touched
my hair. “This is the only thing different. Matteo had said your
hair was auburn.” He looked down at my pussy. “But I can clearly
see you’re a dyed brunette.” He touched my pubic hair, making me go
rigid. He toyed with it as he spoke. “I liked your husband, it’s a
shame he was a spy. But with you it doesn’t matter, because I can
restrain a slave. Though, both of you will still have the same
fate, just his slavery is not controlled by me.”

My mouth went dry, his words
stunning me.
Matt was alive?

Frano kissed my head, then
pulled back. “I must go now, but
I will be back in a few hours to prepare
you for tonight. I would normally get someone else to do it, but I
think I will enjoy bathing you again.” He pushed to his feet, his
words now making me speak out.

“
I was told you killed my
husband.”

“
I don’t kill attractive people,
I sell them.” He headed for the door.

I screamed at him:
“Who did you sell
him to?!”

He stopped, and rested his hand on the
door handle. “Someone who loves to use and abuse attractive males.”
He pushed through the door, closing it behind him.

I
mages of Matt being used and abused
flooded my mind, torturing me. But regardless, the possibility that
he was still alive gave me hope. I closed my eyes, picturing his
beautiful smile, one that I found endearing, so sweet and full of
boyish charm, unlike Frano’s.

***

A door banged, jolting me.
Drool ran down the s
ide of my face, making me realize I’d fallen asleep. I
wiped my face on my shoulder and looked up at the man now hovering
over me. Frano’s expression was hard, almost angry, which sent fear
through me, the thought that he would take his mood out on me a
distinct possibility. He removed his cufflinks, then yanked his
shirt open, the buttons popping and falling to the floor. He
dropped his shirt and kicked off his shoes, swearing and muttering
about the Donatelli, the words all flowing into one long sentence.
He undid his belt then shunted down his pants, along with his
underwear, kicking them off as well.

A
sound came from outside of the room.
He spun around, but the sound disappeared, someone probably walking
down the passage. His gaze moved back to me, his eyes narrowing as
though I was the cause of all his problems. He moved to the end of
the bed and undid the ties around my ankles, then went to free my
wrists, but stopped, his chest hovering over me.

“
If you attack me be
aware
the
consequences will be harsh,” he said.

“
If I attack you and win,
then the consequences for you will be harsher.”

He sneered at me, then
opened the drawer
next to my head and pulled out a knife. I flinched, wondering
whether I’d pushed him too far, but instead he cut the tie holding
my left arm, then placed the knife to my neck. “Undo the last one
yourself.”

I reached up, fiddling with it, the tie
too tight to undo. “I can’t,” I said.

“
Turn onto your stomach
then.”

I remained still.

“
Unless you want me to rest the
knife in your throat while I untie you, I’d suggest you do as
you’re told.”

I turned over, the tie hurting my wrist.
He cut it, then grabbed my hair and yanked at it, causing me to cry
out.

“
Get up,” he said, “And don’t do
anything stupid. I know what you’re capable of, but you are not
aware of what I’m capable of, so don’t risk it.”

I pushed off the bed, wincing as he tugged
my hair again. Once I was sure-footed, he let go of my hair and
shoved me towards the bathroom.

“
Turn on the taps,” he said, his
voice commanding.

I
put the plug in, then turned on the
taps.

“
Put some bath salts
in.”

Like a good little slave, I did
as I was
commanded. After the tub was full, I turned off the
taps.

“
Get in,” he
said.

I got in, hoping he wasn’t going to wash
me again.

“
Move forward.”

I remained still, staring up at
him.

“
Move
forward!
” he
barked.

I did, but stiffened as he climbed in
behind me, his hard cock sliding down my back as he got into
position, framing me with his body and legs.

He placed the knife to my throat. “Lather
yourself up with the cream-colored soap. I like my women smelling
of vanilla.”

I picked it up, self-conscious as he
rubbed his cock against my back. I started running the soap over my
breasts as his hand snaked around, lathering them up
more.

“
Rest your head against my
shoulder,” he said, now breathing heavily.

I did as I was told, looking up at his
face, the man’s pupils big, the black almost swallowing his hazel
irises. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him—or to feel him,
but he continued to rub against me while his hand kneaded my
breasts. He took the soap off me and ran it down my stomach and
over my pussy, then dropped it as his fingers began to work me. My
eyes flashed open. I didn’t want him doing that again, and I most
certainly didn’t want him bringing me to orgasm. I went to move,
but hissed as his knife cut into the flesh of my neck.

“
Careless,” he said, yanking my
head around. He wiped a hand over where the knife had cut, then ran
his tongue up the side of my neck, making me wonder whether he was
licking the blood. It made me grimace, my mind revolted, although
below my pussy tightened, my body giving me mixed
signals.