Page 36 of Shame
He laughs. “You’re a mouthy little whore, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer.
“You don’t like that I call you whore?”
I shrug. “I’ve been called worse. It’s what I am, sir.”
His hand between my legs, pushing up against my pussy, makes me jump. “Damn right, you are. Make yourself wet.”
I spit in my hand and spread it along my folds, sliding back and forth, trying to prepare myself, praying it’ll hurt less.
“Bend over.”
I put my hands on the edge of the desk and bend forward, praying he won’t go in my ass, because I don’t think I’ll stay conscious if he does. His belt rattles, he unzips, then he pushes his cock against my opening, thrusting back and forth a little. I swallow hard. It’s not awful if he just fucks me.
“You’re so tight,” he groans.
“Do you like it, sir?” I put some honey into my voice, making it a little seductive.
He scoffs, grabs my hair in a vice grip and pushes all the way in with one brutal thrust. I try to make my whimper sound sexy instead of shocked but fail miserably. I fight to relax, but he’s so devastatingly brutal and everything inside me fights to keep him out. I squeal when he slaps my ass, renewing the fire, renewing the horrifying memory of his beating. But I don’t beg him. I grit my teeth and fight the tears, fight to keep breathing. His thrusting gets furious, vengeful, and he keeps hitting me until I scream.
“Please!”
He grabs my hips and buries his cock to the hilt, twitching, jerking, gasping, his moans erratic and sounding like he’s lost all control.
“Fuck!”
Pulling out, he shoves me to the side. Cum leaks from my pussy, dribbling along the insides of my thighs.
I turn for the first time since he asked me to take off the dress, taking in his flushed face, the impeccable three-piece suit, his still semi-hard cock hanging out. When our eyes meet, there’s a flash of something vulnerable in his before they turn into cold opals.
“Go get a towel.”
I scurry to the restroom and fetch the two there are, handing him one as I get back. He wipes off his cock and throws it on the floor, then he nods toward the couch by the windows.
“Sit.”
I make a move to get my dress, but he shakes his head and I resign myself. Naked. Okay. I grit my teeth as I sit down on the towel, cum still leaking out of me, my ass stinging after the slapping. He’s such a fucking dick. Pulling my legs up under me, folding them to the side, I wait.
Salvatore pushes a button on his desk. “Ivan. You can bring in the first.”
First? First what? My heart rate spikes. What’s he planning?
What follows is an hour and a half of him in business meetings. One man after the other, some agitated, some pleading and whimpering, some terrified. Some I recognize from when they buried their cocks in my throat, last time I was here.
I’m cold and a little sore. I endure leering gazes, roaming my body. Ignoring them all, I focus on the interaction between them and the mob boss. After a while I see what he’s doing. They’re all distracted by me, giving him the upper hand. He’s got another man by his side. A man I haven’t seen before. Tall, blond, lanky. He hasn’t acknowledged me with even a glance.
When the last man has left, just the two of them sit bent over his laptop, then Salvatore snaps it shut with a little bang that makes me jump. I fear it’s my turn soon.
“Eric! Have you met Carmen?”
Salvatore spins around in his chair, giving me a challenging stare. I raise my chin and hold his gaze.
Eric regards me and then grabs a pile of papers off the desk.
“Why don’t you sample her? She’s a pretty little bitch. Gets off on spanking, and her ass is so fucking tight you wouldn’t believe it. She’s trying to be so brave. Breaking her is the sweetest thing.” He’s still holding my gaze, his eyes a dark void, emotionless, hard.
My stomach clenches. Not my ass. Not tonight. Please.
