Season of Sin #2
His game lasts for what feels like hours and I do notice him occasionally checking his phone and sending some text messages, but I don’t pay too much attention to it until it’s too late.
The elevator to his penthouse dings and I hear the door open. Cesare smirks at me, leans down and covers my eyes with his palm before he presses his lips to mine again. This time, he doesn’t bite and suck, he’s just kissing me slowly, almost lovingly, taking his sweet time.
A heavy thud of something metal being dropped startles me enough to gasp and Cesare uses the chance to thrust his tongue into my mouth, tasting every corner he can reach.
When he finally pulls back, I’m lightheaded, panting for breath. The asshole sits back on his heels and looks down at me with a self-satisfied expression as he reaches out his hand and suddenly, a massive, scary man appears next to him to place something in Cesare’s hand.
I watch the exchange carefully, but the newcomer doesn’t bother to acknowledge my state, and he speaks to Cesare, “That's all, boss? Need us to stay around?”
Cesare shakes his head, “That’ll be all, no need to stay around. Merry Christmas, Vinny.”
“Merry Christmas, boss,” the man gruffs and walks away, followed by a few more men behind him.
Once the elevator closes behind them, an unexplainable sense of dread washes over me. Whatever is about to happen can’t be good and the look on Cesare’s face only proves my assumption to be correct.
He doesn’t bother explaining anything as he reaches down and wraps something around my neck, even pushes his finger under whatever it is to check if it’s not too tight, then stands up and looks me over with a wide grin, “You look fucking perfect like this.”
I’m still too confused to react, even more so when Cesare “unwraps” me and frees me from the damn ribbon for good. I almost melt against the floor as the relief floods through my muscles.
But of course, it’s short-lived since men like Cesare Benavri don’t know when enough is enough. Only when he grips a leash and tugs on it do I realize the mad bastard put a collar on me.
“Come along, my little prince, be a good boy for me now,” he muses and tugs on the leash again, making me hiss.
Cesare laughs and crouches down, leaning so close our faces are on one level. “Open,” he growls, and I don’t know why, but I listen again and open my mouth. As soon as I do, he spits in my mouth, grins widely and slaps my cheek. “Swallow your reward, my little prince.”
The temptation to spit it back in his face is awfully irresistible, but for once, I don’t act on it.
My cheeks burn with the humiliation and tears prick at my eyes, but I force myself to swallow against instinct.
If this is reward, I truly don’t want to know what a real punishment from this madman looks and feels like.
Cesare tugs on the leash and stands up. “Good boy. On your knees. Now.”
My whole body goes rigid and I’m left forcing my own muscles to move as I slowly roll over and get on my knees in front of him. I try to hide the disgusted expression, but judging from the look in Cesare’s eyes, I’m not that good of an actor.
Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it, only tugs on the leash and mutters, “come, boy, follow me.”
I get on all fours and crawl next to him like a pet. Cesare watches me with amusement, clearly enjoying the way my cheeks burn with humiliation and tears escape my eyes. He doesn’t say a word as he leads me to a heavy metal cage placed in the corner of the room and opens the door for me.
My eyes dart between the cage that looks awfully uncomfortable, even though there’s a blanket laid inside it, and Cesare. As if he can read my silent question, he nods and lifts his foot to gently kick my ass, so I grit my teeth and crawl into the bloody cage.
If I must choose between being locked in the cage with a collar around my neck and spending every waking minute of the day next to Cesare, I choose the goddamn cage.
He closes the door behind me and locks it, then crouches down to look at me through the bars.
“Look at you,” he chuckles and ties the leash to one of the bars.
“Such a good little prince, crawling into his cage like a good boy,” he taunts me and reaches through the bars to pet my hair, acting like I’m his dog.
“Such an obedient and good boy, yes you are, yes you are. And look at that pretty collar around your neck, it really makes your beautiful grey eyes stand out.”
I really hate his backhanded compliment. It’s sick, really, how he finds this humiliation entertaining.
And just because he clearly has no chill, Cesare grabs my throat and squeezes it. “Maybe I’ll get you a little bell for that collar, so I know where you are at all times.” he says and lets go of me, shoving me back roughly.
I glare at him, since that’s all I seem to be able to do, but Cesare only stands up, dusts nonexistent dirt off his pants and winks at me.
“You know, I think I’ll keep you in this cage for a while, my little prince.
And maybe, I’ll even get pretty little pet bowls fit for a prince like you, to feed you out of them. ”
With those words as his parting gift, Cesare walks off laughing, the sound of it still echoing against the walls minutes later.
I try to get comfortable inside the cage and silently beg my family to do something, beg God to deliver my pleas to my father and the rest of the family. I want out—the sooner the better.
Hours later, I almost manage to drift off inside the cage, but even that bit of relief is ruined by that bastard Cesare.
He returns to the room carrying a bowl filled with stinky cheese and caviar.
With that nasty smirk on his lips, Cesare opens the cage door and sets the bowl inside the cage.
“Here’s your dinner, Your Highness. Eat up like a good boy. ”
Yeah, now he’s going too far. Consequences be damned. “Eat a dick,” I growl at him.
Cesare throws his head back and laughs at me. “Feisty until the end, aren’t we?” he says when he finally calms down and crouches down to reach between the bars and grab my face. “Open your mouth.”
Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck everything.
I don’t listen, I pull away from his touch and press my lips together, refusing to follow more of his ridiculous commands.
Cesare doesn’t take my defiance lightly—he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls on it painfully, pulling my head against the bars.
“Open your fucking mouth or I’ll force-feed you.
” He snarls in my ear and uses his free hand to scoop up a large spoonful of caviar and cheese. “Last chance to listen, Your Highness.”
He doesn’t even give me time to make a decision on my own as he forces the spoon into my mouth.
I gag at the taste, cheese and caviar really don’t go along in my opinion, but Cesare doesn’t care.
He slaps his hand against my mouth and growls.
“Swallow, or else I’ll shove that spoon so deep down your throat, the taste will be the least of your worries. ”
Reluctantly, I swallow the food and ignore the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes from the humiliation.
Once Cesare notices my reaction, he smiles, clearly pleased with the turn of events.
“Good boy,” he mutters and pets my hair roughly, then stands up and kicks the bowl deeper into the cage before he locks the door and walks off.
Since he doesn’t bother to keep even the Christmas tree lights on, the room is swallowed by darkness. Just to put it out there—I really don’t like darkness at all, so I try to sleep off the uneasy feeling.
But of course, sleep is no escape for me as long as Cesare Benavri is anywhere near.
Throughout the night, he returns to the room, bringing yet another dog bowl full of food. Every time I refuse to eat, he force-feeds me with increasingly more outrageous and expensive foods - lobster, truffles, some weird cheeses I have never heard of.
And yes, call me spoiled for complaining about being fed like some long-lost king, but the food isn’t the actual issue, it’s his attitude, behavior and the way Cesare forces things on me.
He’s literally acting like I’m a pampered but captive animal.
The next morning, I wake up inside the cage sore and in pain. My muscles burn but so does something on my neck. As I touch it, I instantly hiss and pull my hand away from the area, which is very sensitive and swollen.
As if summoned by ancient rituals, the demon himself enters the room, looking every color of smug you can imagine. He looks more casual today—a form-fitting V-neck, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, wearing slippers that make little to no sound on the floors.
A self-satisfied smirk spreads across his lips as he watches me touch the sensitive area on my neck. “Good morning, Your Highness,” he says and chuckles.
“What did you do?” I demand instantly, glaring at him.
Cesare walks over to the cage, crouching down to look at me with an awfully smug and amused expression. “I had a little something done while you were... asleep,” he explains and reaches through the bars to gently touch the sensitive area on my neck. “My mark.”
My eyes widen in horror and my jaw drops as I barely stammer, “Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean, your mark?”
Cesare chuckles at my reaction, visibly enjoying my shock and anger.
“Exactly what it sounds like. I had my tattoo artist come over last night and put my mark on you while you were sleeping like a baby. It’s surprising how many things I can feed you as long as the taste of food overpowers the substances. ”
It all makes sense now. Holly hell, it really does.
No wonder he kept coming back and forcing food down my throat—this was his plan all along.
Cold dread instantly washes over me. Cesare wasn’t just planning to play with my family by refusing to return me in exchange for ransom—he never planned to let me leave.