25. Ana
25
ANA
Tonight, I’d earn myself a book. Or a deck of cards. Or anything to pass the time waiting alone and locked in my room all day, only for Valentin to beat me until I came when he got home.
I hated it.
I hated them .
I hated how they cared for me when they were done playing, as if once I’d let them abuse me, I became a precious toy, worthy of their time and attention.
But most of all, I hated myself. Hated how much I craved the short hours of their company in the evening. Hated the temptation to piss off Valentin so he would hit me harder, and I’d come harder. Hated how much it’d warmed my fucking heart when Angelo came home that night, Tchérnov’s blood still on his shirt cuffs. Hated how much it made me want to trust these men who kept me captive.
He’d killed for me. He’d hunted down the man who’d raped me, humiliated him, cut off his dick, then come home to me and held me sweetly while I cried my gratitude that one less monster would haunt my nightmares.
I couldn’t take another day pacing my room, bored out of my mind. When the sun started to set, I waited on the bed, naked, no longer ashamed of my nudity, and when I heard Valentin and Angelo enter the apartment, I dropped to my knees and linked my fingers together behind my back, praying to a god I didn’t believe in that it was good enough, that they’d give me permission to ask for a book.
A few moments later, the bedroom door opened, and to my surprise, Angelo looked down at me, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead and obscuring his warm brown eyes.
He cocked his head, his gaze raking over my body, before he stepped forward and pressed my face to his thigh. “Look at you,” he breathed. “Waiting and ready for me like a goddamned birthday present. Will you be my good girl tonight?”
No. Yes. Fuck! I couldn’t untangle wanting to be good because I was desperate and bored from wanting more sweet praise to fall from his lips.
“Follow me, angel,” he said. When I began to stand, he raised an eyebrow, freezing me in my tracks. “Crawl,” he commanded, and my entire body flushed with humiliation. It wasn’t enough for me to wait for him, naked and kneeling, like I wanted nothing more than to please him. He wanted me to prove it?
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Shaking with rage, I lowered to my hands and knees, then put one hand in front of the other.
“Fucking perfect,” Angelo said, bending to stroke a finger along my jawline, before striding out of the room, not bothering to check if I followed.
Slowly, much more slowly, my muscles aching from disuse and the abuse from the casino, I made my way to the living room, where Angelo sprawled on the couch.
Valentin looked over from the bar where he poured amber liquid into glasses, a black eyebrow arched with surprise. The slow smile that spread over his face took my breath away. Valentin was gorgeous—high cheekbones, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and the warm affection in his gaze transformed his face into otherworldly beauty.
One slow, painful movement at a time, I moved toward Angelo. He set a pillow between his splayed legs and indicated for me to kneel there. As if in a trance, I obeyed, and he pressed my face against his thigh. The warmth he radiated through his pants comforted me, and I closed my eyes against the pain of giving up the fight in exchange for such a simple touch.
“Take my cock out,” he murmured. I don’t know why I’d hoped that simple obedience would be enough. Angelo wanted my submission, my very fucking soul.
My hands trembling, I lifted them to his thighs, tracing my fingers over the expensive fabric until I reached his belt. I paused, considering whether I was ready to take this step, to take him into my mouth. He said I’d have to earn his cock. Was that what he meant?
When he noticed my hesitation, his lips curled into an indulgent smile. “Yes, angel, you’ve earned my cock tonight.”
Warmth curled in my chest, a bizarre pride, before turning to nausea. A tear slid down my cheek as I realized how far I’d fallen.
Angelo cupped my face with his right hand, stroking this thumb over my cheekbone. “You can do this,” he encouraged me gently. When I tried to look over my shoulder at Valentin, his grip tightened, holding my gaze to his. “Get out my cock, angel.”
I slid my hands to his belt and unbuckled it, fumbling with the button and zipper, then the layer of fabric between my hands and him. When I freed it, Angelo ran his thumb over my lip, the soft touch burning into me like he’d branded me.
“That’s my good girl,” he said. “Now come closer and take me into your mouth.”
He was semi-hard. I slipped his length between my lips, my tongue stroking his velvet skin and the not unpleasant salty taste of him, sliding against the metal of his piercing.
“Relax” he instructed. When I moved my hand to fist him, he gently entwined our fingers together and moved my hand to his thigh. “Sit there, sweet girl, with my cock in your mouth and breathe through your nose.”
My mind reeled as I shuffled, trying to find a comfortable position to suck on him like a pacifier. Eventually, I settled on leaning on his calve, my cheek pressed against his thigh, lolling to the side.
Angelo gently stroked my hair, his long fingers scratching my scalp, lulling me into complacency as he worked on his phone, and Valentin cooked dinner.
“ ?a y est ,” Valentin called from the dining area, and I shook myself awake. Dinner was ready. I’d dozed off, kneeling between his legs, with his hand on my head and his cock in my mouth. To my shock, I felt more at peace than I had since?—
Grief lurched through me. I felt more at peace than I had since before I finished graduate school, before Nico Lombardi shot my father, before Angelo sent me off to Europe and kicked this whole disaster off. I missed Luca and the easy comfort I found in his arms, but I’d never felt safer than on my knees before Angelo.
“Angel?” Angelo asked. He tangled his fingers in my hair and tilted my head upward. “You okay?”
I didn’t know what to do with a man like Angelo, a terrifying, violent man, who shed the blood of his enemies with pride, so in tune with my moods after only a few days together. He might hurt me, but I couldn’t shake my confidence that he would never do me harm .
I pulled my head back and let his cock fall from my mouth. “I’m fine.” Shit. “I’m fine, sir ,” I corrected myself.
“I’m so proud of you, angel, you’re doing so well tonight,” he crooned, as if I had any choice in this. “Crawl to me at the table.”
Moments later, I knelt between the two men, trying to find my equanimity again. They fed me delicious wine-soaked meat that exploded on my tongue, buttery vegetables, and bread that filled my belly, talking of nothing of consequence.
Finally, the meal ended, and Valentin shoved back from the table. He pinched my chin and lifted until I stood beside him, looking down at his handsome face.
“Princess, why are you behaving so well?”
Words escaped me. How had he known? Had I given myself away? Did he know I thought all of this was bullshit and was still contemplating escape?
He smiled, and for once, his expression wasn’t laced with cruelty. “You have my permission to ask for whatever it is that’s so important to you that you submitted to Angelo, willingly, tonight.”
Angelo reached around me and settled an arm around my waist, his fingers tracing soft circles on my bare hip. “What do you need, angel?”
“Can I please—May I please—” I stopped, terrified to express myself, worried they’d punish me.
“Ask,” Valentin snapped, his amusement vanishing. “And stop wasting our time.”
“May I please have a stack of books to read while I’m locked up during the day?” The words spilled from me in a rush. “Sir! Ma?tre! ” I gasped when I realized I’d forgotten their titles.
Valentin’s sharp laugh startled me out of my fear. “Books? You’re asking for books? Yes, princess. We’ll get you a stack of books.” He stood, inching me backward so he could maneuver around me, then returned a few minutes later with a few well-worn novels in French.
I clutched them to my chest. Books . The idea of spending the following day locked in my room, alone, with only the sandwiches they left me for company, still made me sick to my stomach. But at least I wouldn’t be climbing the walls with boredom.
“Thank you, ma?tre ,” I whispered, furious that hot tears of gratitude pressed behind my eyes. My captors, who refused to clothe me, who locked me in a fucking room all day long, who indulged their kinks with me whether I liked it or not, didn’t deserve gratitude for the bare minimum of decency.
Valentin tugged at my wrist, pulling me away from the table. “Leave the books there,” he commanded. I set them down and followed him over to the couch. Was that all it took? Submission, and they’d give me what I asked for?
“Kneel,” he commanded, and I immediately dropped to my knees, lowering my eyes and placing my hands behind my back, careful not to let them see the thoughts turning in my head.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he said. “And all it took was a few days of boredom.”
My eyes snapped to his, furious, only to catch amusement in his gaze. He wanted me to act out so he could punish me, so he could hurt me. He’d hurt me anyway. And I’d love it, a quiet voice whispered in the back of my mind, before I shushed it.
Angelo wanted my submission, and I would give it to him, right up to the moment I escaped from this trap.
I lowered my gaze, saying nothing.
“Angelo,” Valentin purred, the sound hot and low. “Do you think our toy deserves a reward for being so sweet tonight?”
Angelo’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, where he washed the dishes from our meal. “Is she truly submitting, or is she pretending so that we’ll be lulled into complacency?”
“The latter,” Valentin answered, seeing right through my submissive facade. I focused on his shoes, keeping my eyes down, wishing I could see his face, if he were amused or angry. “But we’ll treat it like it’s the former.”
The tightness in my chest eased.
He left me sitting there for long moments, and I attenuated to the sounds and sensations around me—Angelo putting away the dishes, the cool breeze from the air conditioning, the rustle of paper as Valentin read a book, the soft carpet beneath my knees, the ache in my ribs from the beating I’d received, and the bruises on my ass from Valentin’s punishments.
Angelo joined us, sitting beside Valentin, their thighs pressing together with the comfort of an old married couple. My heart cracked—I wanted that for myself, and now? I’d amuse Angelo and Valentin for a time, and then they’d sell me off, as my father had intended to do.
“Angel?” Angelo asked, once again sensing the change in my mood. “What’s bothering you?”
When I didn’t answer, Valentin dug into his pocket for the small whip he kept there. Pain sliced across the top of my right breast.
“What’s the first rule, slut?”
“Perfect obedience, ma?tre ” I whispered.
“That includes answering questions.”
Answering honestly wouldn’t help me get out of here. And they sure as fuck weren’t going to be honest with me. I gave them a half truth. “I’m bored, and I’m lonely, ma?tre , but I’m doing my best.”
Angelo nodded, then scooted over on the couch, leaving a narrow space between himself and Valentin.
“Up,” Valentin said, snapping his fingers. I flushed, embarrassed that I didn’t understand what he wanted, then angry at myself for caring.
“Bend over my lap, princess,” Valentin clarified.
“A spanking is my reward?” I grumbled. If I draped myself over Valentin’s thighs, Angelo would be able to see everything. Not that anything had been hidden from either man when Valentin had painstakingly punished me for every infraction over the last few days. I draped myself over his thighs, my knees on the couch between them, my ass in the air, and my breasts smooshed into the arm of the couch with my hands clenched into the fabric. Valentin had trained me in only a few days to expect pleasure with my pain, and pain with my pleasure. I hated how quickly my body responded to his touch, warming in anticipation of the punishment I knew my snark would bring.
Valentin slapped me on the ass. “Angelo is your reward.”
Gentle fingers caressed my curves, then nudged my knees apart.
“You’re dripping for me already,” Angelo murmured as he slid his fingers up and down the sensitive insides of my thighs. My muscles tensed as I waited for the inevitable pain that would follow. Instead, whisper light touches brushed over my skin, soft and sweet as they stoked the fire between my thighs.
Hands caressed the backs of my thighs, then over the globes of my ass and up my back, warm and comforting, sliding over the bruises from my punishments, digging in enough to make me gasp, to make me crave more.
I sighed, sinking further into Valentin’s lap, relaxing my abdomen against his thighs and melting against the arm of the sofa.
Angelo’s fingers traced swirls over my skin, ever-changing patterns that circled closer and closer to where I wanted him, to where I wanted pressure. I canted my hips upward, only for a sharp slap to cut the movement short.
“Stay still, princess, and take the pleasure we give you.”
My look of betrayal over my shoulder amused Valentin. I wasn’t deceived into thinking that I had a choice in the matter. He wouldn’t let me up, wouldn’t let me escape. It wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good to resist.
“Such a perfect slut,” Angelo murmured as he traced his fingers along my folds, not sliding in, teasing me, brushing his fingers through the curls that were beginning to grow back—it’d been weeks since I’d properly waxed. My unkempt state embarrassed me. I wanted to preen for these two men who tortured and teased me, and I hated that too.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured as he dipped a finger into my folds. I whined, clenching my fingers into the arm of the couch to keep my hips from twitching, from seeking out more contact with his hand.
When he slid a finger against my clit, I moaned.
“Soaking wet for me,” he continued. “A wanton slut, aching for a fat cock between her thighs.”
I closed my eyes, hiding my shame as he worked me over, his fingers sliding through my folds, leisurely exploring them. My nipples were hard against the arm of the couch, each movement scraping them against the rough fabric.
When Valentin’s shifted, fear shot through me, accompanied by desperate need. I wanted his attention too. I wanted him to want me as clearly and obviously as Angelo did.
And I hated that about myself.
Stupid slut.
Stupid needy slut.
Stupid needy slut desperate for the attention of two men who’ve done nothing but abuse you, locking you in a room, spanking you, switching you.
And yet I wanted them to want me all the same.
“Turn her over,” Angelo murmured. “Something’s wrong.”
No, nothing was wrong. I didn’t want them to see the tears streaking down my face.
But Valentin’s strong arms manipulated me until I sat on his lap, my side pressed into his chest.
Angelo’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on in that head of yours, angel?”
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. They didn’t need to know. They didn’t need another weapon to hold over my head. “Nothing, sir ,” I corrected myself.
Valentin hummed and adjusted me in his lap until my back pressed against his torso and my legs were draped over his, spreading me open when he pushed his knees apart. The position left me humiliatingly bare, even more so than when he’d draped me over his lap.
“Good girls deserve their reward,” he murmured in my ear, his lips sending shivers down my spine when he sucked on my earlobe. “And, Ana, you have been a very good girl tonight.”
I hated myself.
Hated that I’d complied so easily.
Hated that I’d asked for books instead of screaming at them and fighting for my freedom.
Hated that watching Angelo move from beside Valentin to his knees before us was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Hated that I spread my legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders.
Hated myself.
Hated them.
But when Angelo licked a stripe up my core, I whined with pleasure. He explored my folds with his tongue, licking, tasting, driving me higher and higher while I squirmed in Valentin’s lap.
“You can’t keep still, can you?” Valentin grabbed my hands and placed them behind his neck, arching my back obscenely. “Gorgeous girl.”
“I can’t,” I whined and tightened my fingers against the skin of his upper back, the sensations of Angelo between my thighs overwhelming.
“That’s all right, angel,” Angelo said against my clit, the movement of his lips driving me wild. “Move all you want. Make all the noise you want. Show us what a delightful slut you are for us, whining and begging for more.”
I snapped my mouth shut, pressing my lips together, fighting another moan as Angelo slipped a finger inside of me.
Valentin dragged his hands up my sides then cupped my breasts, holding them as if he were weighing them, teasing me by stroking his thumbs over my skin, never quite where I needed them.
I squeezed my eyes tight, tensing my muscles so I would hold still, resist the desire that careened through my veins and made me want to beg them for more—more friction, more movement, their fucking cocks pounding into me.
“No, princess, that’s not what Angelo asked for. He wants to hear you make noise.” Valentin pinched my nipples viciously and I cried out, jerking as if there were anywhere I could move to escape the pain, then moaning when he soothed the ache by kneading my breasts with callused fingers, the agony transforming into bliss.
Angelo slid a second finger inside me, and I couldn’t hold in the primal sound that escaped. He licked at my clit with soft, rhythmic strokes that drove my need higher and higher, pumping his fingers slow and steady.
Valentin twisted and pulled at my nipples, alternating harsh pinches with soothing strokes, kneading me roughly and gently, making it impossible to think, to focus, to do anything but feel, each jolt of agony shooting straight to my clit and transforming into desperation.
When he nipped the sensitive spot where my neck joined my shoulder, I gave up, relaxing against him as the two men toyed with my body, teasing me, hurting me, pleasuring me.
“Such a pretty little slut,” Angelo breathed against my thighs. “So wet and open, your cunt dripping all over my face.”
“You’re so responsive when I play with your nipples,” Valentin continued as he pulled them away from my chest then flattened them between his thumbs and forefingers, drawing a sharp whine out of me.
My fingers clenched against Valentin’s scalp. I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare drag Angelo closer by his hair or hold Valentin’s hand in place on my breasts, equally afraid of punishment and admitting how much I liked what they did to me. Instead, I dug my nails into his nape, and finally, begged.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please, sir, please, ma?tre .”
“She’s begging,” Valentin breathed. “Incredible.”
I’d lost track of how many fingers Angelo had inside me, but he slid another in, stretching me so much it hurt. “It’s too much,” I complained. He ignored me, turning and twisting his fingers inside me until he brushed up against that magical spot that sent me soaring.
He fucked me roughly while Valentin kissed my shoulders, my neck, my collarbone, and abused my aching nipples. Angelo took his other hand and pressed against my abdomen as he curled his fingers inside of me.
“No, stop, please,” I gasped, the pressure building in my center until I was certain I was about to piss all over him. I squirmed, trying to escape, only for the men to double their efforts.
“Angelo, no!” I shouted as I came, bliss volleying outward from my center, my body seizing and arching, every muscle tense for a single, shaking moment as liquid gushed out of me, before I collapsed backward, boneless, replete, and utterly humiliated at Angelo’s soaked face.
He continued to fuck me with his fingers as aftershocks of my climax shuddered through me, lapping up every drop as euphoria competed with my misery.
When Angelo surged to capture my lips in his, he stopped at the tears on my face. “Angel?”
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, embarrassed. I lifted a hand and traced it over his cheek, shiny with the evidence that I’d lost control.
“Because you squirted?”
Squirted? That’s what?—
“Angel,” he said firmly, taking my hands in his and holding them to his cheeks, “you didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”
“And now that he knows that it humiliates you, he’s going to do it over and over again,” Valentin said with a dark laugh.