Charming Savage (Cinder Crew: Mafia Fairytale Retellings)

10. Ten Ella

Ten: Ella

My limbs felt heavy as I awoke, my mind foggy with remnants of nightmares I couldn't quite escape. The door creaked open and Chris stood there, a silhouette against the muted glow of the corridor.

"Morning, sunshine," he grunted, pushing a plastic cup into my hands. I peered inside—green sludge. My stomach churned at the thought of food, but I sipped at it anyway, grimacing at the bitter kale assaulting my taste buds.

"Let's go," he ordered. No 'please', no warmth, just the hard edge of command. I followed him down a maze of hallways, each step echoing, until we reached the heavy metal door.

My breath hitched as it swung open, revealing the sex dungeon. My eyes darted around, taking in the assortment he had picked out for today.

"Fuck," I whispered under my breath, my heart pounding. An anal hook gleamed ominously on a tray alongside nipple clamps, electroshock needles, and a candle, its wax pooled and solidified at the base.

"Scared?" Chris's lips twitched in a semblance of a smile.

"Terrified," I admitted, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

"Good." He prowled closer, circling me slowly. "Fear keeps you sharp."

"I won't do it," I declared, trying to sound braver than I felt. My hands balled into fists at my sides, defying him, defying this whole twisted situation. Yet, even through my fear, something more potent surfaced. Desire.

"Thought you might say that." His laugh was dark, devoid of humor. "But here's the thing—you don't have a choice."

"Like hell I don't," I spat back, meeting those eyes so blue they stole my breath. "I'm not some doll for you to play with, Charming."

"Name's fitting, don't you think?" Chris circled me, tracing a finger down my arm. Goosebumps rose despite the humidity clinging to the room. "I charm, I conquer. That's how this game works."

"Fuck your game," I shot back, jerking away from his touch. My skin flushed where he'd made contact. God, this cat and mouse was becoming our sick foreplay. My panties were soaked.

"Feisty," he murmured, leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my neck. "Makes it all the more fun breaking you in."

"Go to hell," I hissed, even as my body betrayed me, leaning ever so slightly into his space.

"Already there, sweetheart." His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and for a moment, I glimpsed the devil behind his hard stare. "And so are you."

"Never." I dug deep, summoning every ounce of defiance I had left. "You can't make me submit."

"We'll see about that."

"Bring it on," I challenged, though my insides twisted and churned.

His gaze held mine, hardly blinking, and it threatened to drown my defiance. I stood there, my posture rigid, unwilling to let my guard down, even as the room suddenly felt claustrophobic.

"Listen, Ella," his voice broke through the tension, "I'm not doing this for shits and giggles. Gustov? That fucker won't show you an ounce of mercy."

I flinched. My buyer. His name's Gustov. THE Gustov. The Butcher, as he's called in hushed whispers. My eyes stung, betraying the bravado I'd mustered. The walls I'd built crumbled under the weight of reality. Now I understand why the last princess didn't make it out alive. And why I had to be trained for him. Jesus, fuck. I wasn't going to make it out of here alive.

"Damn it." A tear escaped, carving a hot path down my cheek. "I hate this. I hate you."

"You should. Let that hate burn until it's all you feel. Right now, I'm your best bet at survival. And I need you to survive." He moved closer, his fingers brushing against mine, sending a jolt through my system. "Tell me what you want to try first."

One look at the instruments of torment, and I felt bile rise in my throat. But something about the anal hook called out to me—a perverse curiosity in the midst of fear. My lips parted, the words choking me. "The hook."

"Good girl." His approval, though both wanted and unwanted, sparked a strange warmth deep inside me. "Undress."

This place stitched an invisible thread between us. I caught glimpses of it behind his dominance—the way his own chains rattled each time he moved to enforce Priscilla's will. It was fucked up, finding solace in the person breaking you, but there it was, undeniable and twisted.

"Turn around, face the wall," he commanded. The time for wordplay was over.

My hands found the cold stone, searching for stability as I presented myself to him. Vulnerable, exposed, and yet... underneath the terror, something else flickered to life—curiosity, maybe even anticipation.

"Relax, little ember. I’ve got you." His words somehow eased the tension coiling in my muscles.

I felt him close, his breath ghosting over my skin, his touch surprisingly gentle as he prepped me. Each stroke sent shivers up my spine, stirring a heat that had no right to kindle.

"Fuck, Chris..." I cursed under my breath, hating how my body responded, how it arched into his caress as though seeking more.

"Let go, Ella. Let me in." His finger slid deeper, coaxing a gasp from my lips, my mind spiraling as he danced across my nerves.

"God," I breathed, my voice a mix of desperation and surrender. The sensations he stirred were foreign, intense, and terrifyingly addictive.

"See? Not so bad when you trust me," he murmured, his fingers working their magic, drawing moans from my throat I couldn't contain.

"Trust?" The word was a bitter laugh, but even as I said it, I felt the barriers between us shifting, reshaping into something dangerous.

"More than you think." His lips trailed fire down my neck, marking me in ways that transcended flesh.

"God help me, I—" The rest of my thoughts shattered as he pushed me over the edge, my body singing with a release that left me trembling, clinging to the wall for dear life.

"Good girl," he praised again, and this time, I didn't have the strength to fight the sliver of pride that cut through the shame.

The cold steel glinted in the dim light, a curve designed for control, and my heart hammered against my ribcage as Chris laid the anal hook before me. "This," he rasped, "is about dominance, Ella. About taking you to places you've never been, making you feel things you can't even imagine."

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat pulsing with fear and something darker, something that shouldn't be there, but was. The room felt charged, etched with the promise of pain and pleasure so intertwined I couldn't separate them.

"Ready?" His fingers brushed mine as he handed me the hook, the metal cool and unforgiving.

"I guess," my breath hitched. "I’m... curious." The last word came out a whisper.

"Good." His lips curved into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. They were serious, intent. "Fear's part of the ride. Makes the high that much fucking sweeter." He stepped closer, maneuvering me to the bed. "Ready to fly, little ember?"

My nod was hesitant. I handed him back the hook, the weight of my decision settling heavy in my stomach. It wasn't really my decision. In the end, I would have to do this. Better be him...

"Brave girl." He took it, fingers grazing my palm in a way that sent a jolt straight to my core.

His touch shifted then, from soft brushes to insistent pressure, as his hand found the warmth between my thighs. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, each stroke lighting up my nerves like a goddamn Christmas tree. A moan spilled from my lips, raw and needy.

"Fuck, you're tight," he growled, his fingers plunging deeper, setting a rhythm that had my hips bucking into his hand. "Gonna make you come so hard; your head will spin."

"Oh..." I gasped, clutching at his forearms, all tatted muscle. His fingers, relentless and knowing, played me like an instrument—each push and curl drawing out notes of ecstasy I'd never known.

"Let it out, Ella. Fucking scream for me."

And I did. The world narrowed down to the push and pull of his fingers, the mounting pressure, the sheer intensity of sensation that spiraled tighter, coiling like a spring. When the release hit, it shattered me, pleasure so acute I thought I'd died.

"Christ," I panted, boneless and spent. Sweat slicked my skin, and my pulse thundered in my ears. He'd broken me apart, and in that moment, I wasn't sure if I could ever piece myself back together again.

"Name's Chris, but Christ will do," Chris murmured, and though I wanted to rail against him, fight the hold he had on me, all I could do was collapse into him, my sunshine bleeding into his darkness.

"We're not done yet, Ella."

I blinked up at Chris, my chest heaving, the remnants of my shattered climax still echoing through my veins. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. His blue eyes were unwavering, a storm I’d willingly drown in. "Ready for the next step?" His voice was deep and husky.

"Y-yes," I stammered, my throat dry. The hook lay on the table beside us.

"Spread 'em wider, Ella." He nudged my knees apart with his own. "Gonna make it good for you."

His hands were steady as he picked up the hook, fingers brushing against the small of my back in a silent promise. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat screaming a mix of dread and anticipation.

"Fuck, you’re brave," he muttered, almost to himself. There was respect there, and something akin to awe. "You trust me?"

"Oddly... yes," I admitted. My body was still humming from his touch, craving more despite the fear.

"Good." He exhaled, and the warmth of his breath fanned over my skin as he leaned closer. Cool lubricant coated the tip of the hook, and I tensed, waiting.

"Relax, sunshine. I’ll take care of you." His voice was a dark caress, and I melted under its weight, allowing myself to become pliant clay in his hands.

The pressure at my entrance was gentle, a slow intrusion that had my breath hitching. "Deep breaths, Ella. You got this."

I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, on the feel of his free hand stroking my spine, grounding me. He eased the hook in incrementally, watching my face for any sign of discomfort.

"Christ, you're doing so well," he praised, and I felt a swell of pride amidst the strangeness of the sensation.

"Feels... weird," I confessed, my voice tight.

"Give it a minute. It’s gonna feel fucking amazing." There was certainty there, a confidence I clung to.

Once in place, the weight of the hook was an anchor, a reminder of my submission and his control. I tried to shift, to test the limits of this new feeling, and a jolt of unexpected pleasure shot through me.

"Ah!" It was a startled cry, one that had Chris grinning, all devilish charm and satisfaction.

"Like that, huh?" His chuckle was low and dirty. He slid his fingers between my legs, finding the slick evidence of my arousal. "So wet. Fucking hell."

"Can't help it," I gasped as his fingers resumed their dance, circling and teasing my swollen clit. "You do things to me..."

"Only just begun, little ember, only just begun." He moved behind me, his tongue joining the play, hot and insistent as it lapped at my flesh.

"Fuck, oh my God..." My words dissolved into moans, each lap and flick of his tongue pushing me higher, the hook created a counterpoint that bordered on overwhelming.

"Cum for me, Ella. Wanna hear you scream again." His fingers surged inside me, matching the rhythm of his tongue, relentless in their pursuit of my unraveling.

"Chris!" I cried out, my body bowing under the onslaught, the pleasure sharp and bright, blinding me to anything but him, his touch, his command over me.

"Mine," he growled against my skin, the word vibrating through me, sealing my fate as surely as the hook that bound me to his will. Before I came undone, he stood, moving towards my face.

"I want you to taste me," he unzipped his jeans and let them fall to the floor. Of course, he was bare underneath. And huge. I guess I didn't have much in the way of experience. I'd certainly fucked a few guys, but this one seemed bigger than those. Were they small? And he was average? Goddamn, I have to get out of my head.

"Fuck..." I cursed under my breath as I watched him stroke himself as he grew bigger. He guided himself to my lips and instinctively, I opened for him. With his hand at the back of my head, he pushed forward, filling my mouth with his length. The taste of him overriding my intrusive thoughts.

"Christ," I whispered against his flesh, the word muffled, my mind foggy with lust.

"Take it all," he ordered, setting a pace that was both punishing and exhilarating. I tried, I really did, to take him all. But every time he hit the back of my throat, I gagged and pulled back.

I choked as he pushed and held my head flush against him, droplets of saliva escaping the corner of my mouth. He pulled me back, allowing me to breathe before starting again. Every thrust nudged the hook deeper, marrying pain with a perverse pleasure that had me almost ready to cum again.

"Chris... too much," I managed, my voice raw.

"Shh, baby, you can take it," he murmured, his tone a mix of coaxing and command.

"Feels... so good," I admitted, my resistance shattering like glass under a boot heel. My hands grasped at his thighs, seeking something solid in the whirlwind he'd stirred inside me.

"Good girl," he praised with a grunt, his grip on my hair tightening. "Fucking love your mouth."

His hips snapped forward, each movement a brand upon my flesh, claiming me. I surrendered to the rhythm, the ache, the dominance. Heat swirled low in my core, an ember stoked by every motion of the hook, by every inch of him that plundered my mouth.

"God, yes," I moaned around him, the vibrations of my garbled words against his cock eliciting a growl from his throat.

"Close, Ella. I’m so fucking close," he rasped, his pace frantic.

And then he was there, spilling into me with a shudder that rocked us both. I swallowed around him, clinging to the last of my defiance even as I relished the power I wielded in this moment of his release.

"Mine," he panted, his voice hoarse, as he slowly withdrew from my mouth. There was a tenderness in his touch as he caressed my cheek.

The aftermath was a silent storm, raging in the space between ragged breaths. Chris loomed over me, his presence an eclipse that cast everything else into shadow. Sweat glistened on his tattooed arms, the ink telling tales of violence and power.

"Fuck," he breathed out, the word rough-edged, raw – a confession without a sin. He pulled back, removing the hook with a care that belied the brutality of moments before. The absence left me hollow, craving.

"Look at you," he said, voice stripped to a whisper, his fingers tracing the red marks that bloomed across my flesh, branding me as much as any of his tattoos branded him. "So fucking beautiful like this."

Heat flushed across my chest, not from shame but something fiercer, wilder. I reached for him, my touch hesitant but determined, mapping the cut of his jaw, the swell of his bicep. "Chris, can you..."

His lips quirked, a ghost of a smile that spoke volumes more than words could. "Yeah, Ella?"

"Give me... give me all of you." My voice faltered, daring to peel back the layers of the man who had both captured and captivated me.

"Shit." He exhaled. "You don't know what you're asking for."

“Yes, I do.”

He growled and lowered his head. His mouth found mine, a kiss that seared and soothed in equal measure. A sharp sting at my entrance as his cock slid inside me. I relished in the stretch and burn as he moved. His body pressed mine into the mattress, the give and take of flesh a language we were only beginning to master. Moving faster and harder, I gasped. The burn would soon become addicting, I could tell.

He let out a line of expletives, his teeth grazing my skin. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

"Same thing you're doing to me," I gasped, nails digging into his back, urging him closer, deeper.

"Fuck yeah," he hissed, rhythm unrelenting, each thrust a promise, a claim.

"Chris," I moaned, the world dissolving into sensation, into him.

"Say it again," he demanded, voice guttural.

"Chris!"

And then we were falling. Falling so fast, my head spun as my pussy clenched, drawing his cum into me.

In the silence that followed, we lay entangled, the rise and fall of his chest against my back a new kind of heartbeat. His hand splayed possessively over my stomach.

I allowed myself to drift in the tide of emotions that threatened to consume me. I allowed myself to pretend that we were a normal couple, just experimenting with new toys.

It was a dangerous current, this bond between us. Filled with the violence of his world and the shadows of our pasts. Yet, here in the after, with his arms holding me, I couldn't deny the rise of something like hope flickering its wake.