Valentino
Although I made sure the marks were hidden beneath her clothes, Alessia will feel the bruises from her punishment for days. One way or another, she’ll fall in line—become the well-behaved arm candy she was bred to be. It’s only a matter of time before she stops resisting. And once she does, I’ll get her pregnant with my heir, securing the Comiso legacy for another generation.
But tonight, I need someone who shares my desires and won’t fight me at every turn.
Alessia may be mine, but she’s not ready to accept the darker side of what I need. And right now, I’m craving someone who appreciates the pain I inflict. Someone who knows what I like and won’t put up a fight.
I grab my phone.
: Are you working tonight?
Lena: I am.
: What time do you get off?
Lena: I’m working until close.
: Not anymore. I’m on my way.
Lena: We’re packed tonight. Marco isn’t going to let me leave early.
I don’t give a shit what my Uncle Marco thinks. Lena’s off the clock as soon as I get there. She’s more valuable to me with her legs spread and my cock shoved in her cunt than she is waiting on tables.
: I’ll deal with him when I get there.
Pocketing my phone, I bound down the steps to find Guido, one of our newer men. “I’m going out,” I announce.
“Where do you need to go?” he asks, trailing behind.
“Doesn’t matter,” I order. “Where are the keys?”
His eyes dart around nervously. “Sir, you’re not supposed to go out without a guard.”
I step closer, my voice low and threatening. “I’m the one who makes the rules around here. Don’t make me ask again.”
He reaches into his pocket and passes me the keychain.
“Alessia’s not to leave this house. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze low.
I turn on my heel and head for the door to the garage.
“What time should I expect you back?” he calls after me, hesitant.
I stop, hand on the doorknob and glaring over my shoulder. “Do I have a curfew?”
“N-no, sir. It’s just,” he stammers but quickly corrects himself. “I made a mistake.”
“That’s what I thought.”
* * *
It’s a busy Friday night in Philadelphia, so the streets are crawling with cars. By the time I pull up to the valet outside the restaurant, I’m already in a foul mood.
“Good evening, Mr. Comiso,” the valet greets, but I brush past him.
“Yeah, I’ll be here for a while,” I say curtly, not bothering with formalities.
Inside, the restaurant is packed. I spot Lena taking orders at a nearby table and make my way toward her, placing a firm hand on her lower back.
“Excuse me,” I say to the diners, flashing a tight smile. “There’s an emergency Lena needs to attend to. Your meal is on the house tonight.”
One of the women at the table smiles back. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I murmur, steering Lena away.
“What the hell, Val?” she whispers as soon as we’re out of earshot. “I’m in the middle of my shift.”
“I told you I was coming.” I tighten my grip on her waist.
“An emergency?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, a very big one,” I smirk, leading her to the back hallway.
Just then, Uncle Marco steps in front of us, blocking our path. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he looks between Lena and me.
“Change of plans,” I reply smoothly. “If you’ll excuse us. Lena and I have some business to discuss.”
“May I speak to you? Alone?” Marco’s voice is tight.
I glance at Lena. “Wait for me downstairs.”
She steps aside, and I approach my uncle, lowering my voice. “What do you want?”
“You can’t just pull my waitress off the floor mid-shift. We’re swamped tonight,” he says, his tone measured but firm.
“I suggest you have someone take her tables,” I reply, my impatience rising.
“We’re short-staffed as it is. If you want to wait at the bar until her shift is over, that's fine. But she’s not leaving now.”
I step closer, only inches from his face. “I didn’t come here for your permission, Marco. I’m in charge now. If I say Lena’s done, she’s done.”
“Might I remind you that this is my restaurant,” he says, holding his ground. “And Lena is my employee.”
“That can change,” I reply cooly.
“Is that a threat?”
“Take it however you want,” I say, brushing past him. “Now, make sure I’m not disturbed.”
If I had any doubt about Marco’s loyalties before, they’re gone now. He still thinks he should be in charge—a mistake that’ll cost him. Anyone who isn’t with me is against me and will be dealt with accordingly.
But I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I have other things in mind. Downstairs, Lena’s already naked and kneeling as she waits for me like she knows what’s expected. Tonight, my thoughts are more twisted and darker than usual, and I intend to explore every one of my desires.
“On your feet,” I command. Before she’s found her footing, I push her into the room we use for torture. Then, I pull out my knife, the handle familiar and cold in my grip. The blade glints under the fluorescent light.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” I ask as I trace the flat side of the blade against her cheek.
She shakes her head slowly.
Moving behind her, I slide the blade down her spine, eliciting a soft gasp. The knife’s edge barely kisses her skin.
“Get on the table,” I command, and she scrambles to obey.
I make quick work of restraining her arms and legs to the cuffs that are already attached to the table. Pressing the blade against her inner thigh, I apply just enough pressure to pierce her skin. Her legs quake, but she doesn’t make a sound.
“Do you feel that?” I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear. “It’s the power I have over you?”
“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper.
“Good,” I growl, dragging the knife down her other leg. Blood wells up immediately, a dark contrast against her pale skin. “After tonight, anyone who looks at you will know you’re mine.”
Her eyes widen as the blade travels upwards, tracing the curve of her hip. I see the struggle in her eyes. The battle between submission and primal fear. It's intoxicating.
I press the blade deeper this time, carving a line across her ribcage. Lena’s cries echo in the small space. Her tears. Her pain—I covet them. I don’t stop cutting deeper into her skin, marking her with each stroke.
“Val,” she whispers. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Did I ask what you want?”
She squirms against the restraints. “You’re scaring me,”
I slam my hand on her waist, steadying her with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarl, the venom in my voice silencing her.
I stand over her as I continue to trace patterns along her ribcage. Each cut is deliberate—calculated. The blade sinks deeper into her flesh with every stroke. Lena’s whimpers turn into frantic gasps, her body jerking against the restraints in a desperate attempt to escape the pain.
The sight of her blood only intensifies the twisted satisfaction pooling inside me. I soak in her sobs, savoring the music of her agony. Every shudder, every broken cry fuels me as I continue my work, cutting deep, jagged lines between her breasts.
When I’ve finished, I step back for a moment and admire my work. Blood pools on her skin, each line a reminder of the control I hold. A twisted smile tugs at my lips as I lean down, dragging a finger through the blood between her breasts. I hold her gaze as I bring it to my mouth, sucking the crimson stain off my finger and savoring the metallic taste.
Lena’s breathing grows erratic. Her face blanches, and her chest heaves as though she’s on the verge of losing control. A dry sob escapes her lips as she swallows back bile. She squeezes her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to distance herself from what’s happening.
I bask in her fragile composure, the way she clings to the last remnants of her dignity while fear claws at her insides. The sight of her barely holding herself together only intensifies the rush coursing through me.
Satisfied with my work, I place the knife on the table and yank her to the edge, her arms straining against the restraints as her body tenses. Undoing my pants, I take my hard cock in my hand and line it up with her entrance. I thrust inside her without warning, forcing a sharp cry from her lips. I grip her hips tightly, keeping her pinned in place as I drive into her with ruthless force. Tears spill down her cheeks, each one stoking the fire of my arousal. Her sobs fuel my hunger, pushing me to take her harder.
Keeping myself buried deep inside her, I grab the knife and press its cold edge against her throat, just enough to break the skin. Lena tries to pull away. “Move again, and it’ll go deeper,” I growl.
Her eyes snap open wide with panic as I drag my finger through the fresh blood trickling from the wound. Leaning in, I trace my tongue along the cut. The surge of power, the feeling of complete control over her, floods through me—intoxicating and addictive.
With the knife still in one hand, I start thrusting again, hard and unrelenting, her gasps growing frantic beneath me. The sharp bite of the blade and the slick heat of her body push me closer to the edge. It only takes a few more punishing thrusts before I pull out, grabbing my cock and stroking myself until thick streams of cum splatter across her chest, mingling with the blood still dripping from her fresh wounds.
The sight is raw and brutal—erotic.
“I can’t believe you did this to me,” she sobs.
“Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it,” I sneer, tucking myself back into my pants and zipping them up. I unfasten the restraints, releasing her without a second glance.
Lena sits up and looks down at the marks I carved into her. “You had no right to do this to me.”
“You wanted this as much as I did,” I scoff. “Your cunt was dripping when I shoved my cock inside it.”
“You’re insane,” she says as she gets off the table and starts grabbing her clothes. “This is the last time you’ll ever touch me. I’m going to Marco.”
Before she can take another step, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her against me. “I’ll fuck you whenever and however I want,” I growl, my voice low and menacing. “And you won’t say a word to Marco or anyone else if you want to keep breathing. Got it?”
She hesitates, her lips trembling, then finally mutters, “Yes.”
Good,” I say, releasing her. “Now get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
“I don’t want a ride,” she says, her voice shaking.
“That wasn’t a request,” I snap, texting the valet to bring my car around. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t make sure my whore got home safely?”
Lena opens her mouth as if to argue but quickly shuts it, recognizing that it’s pointless. Luckily for her, her shirt is black, hiding the bloodstains. I’m not in the mood for any questions about what I do behind closed doors.
As we emerge upstairs, I keep her close to me. The restaurant closed an hour ago and is empty, save for a few employees cleaning up for the night. They glance at Lena, taking in her tear-streaked face, but quickly avert their eyes, knowing better than to get involved.
When we step outside, I nearly collide with Marco. His eyes flick to Lena, then back to me, his face tightening. “What the hell did you do to her?”
I roll my eyes, tired of this. “What are you talking about?”
Marco motions toward Lena. “She’s crying.”
“He didn’t do anything, Mr. L.,” Lena says softly. “I’m just having a hard time because…” She pauses, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. “Because I’ve been in love with him for years, and even though I knew he’d never marry me, I still hoped. It’s hard to accept.”
“If my nephew had any decency,” Marco says, pinning me with his stare. “He’d let you go find someone who can love you the way you deserve. And he’d go home to his wife, where he belongs.”
“Get in the car, Lena,” I order.
With her arms crossed over her midsection, Lena heads to the car and gingerly slides into the passenger seat. The valet closes the door behind her.
Marco turns to me, his eyes cold. “Go home to your wife, .”
I step closer to him, pointing a finger in his face. “That’s the last fucking time you undermine me in front of anyone. Do you understand?”
Marco says nothing, but I can see it in his eyes—he thinks he’s better than me. Thinks I’m not fit for this role. I need to come up with a plan to shut him down before he becomes a problem for me.