Chapter 21 Charlie #2
He grabs a fistful of my dress and lifts it slightly along my thigh. His fingers graze my skin, sending shivers up my spine. “I’d love nothing more than to see you covered head to toe in someone’s blood in those shoes. That would be a fucking amazing sight to see.”
“Carlo!” he yells out. Carlo opens the door and walks Gio in. He’s been stripped down to just his underwear, fresh bruises marking his body.
Carlo chains his hands and feet to the wall so he’s unable to move. “I’ll be outside the door,” Carlo says to me, but Luciano waves him off as if to say I’ll be fine.
I watch as Luciano takes off his suit jacket and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door.
Instead of rolling up his sleeves like I thought he would, he takes off his shirt.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over this sight of seeing his muscular tattooed chest. He winks.
Shit, I’ve just been caught red-handed checking him out.
I stand still as I watch him casually stroll over to Gio. “Serious question, Gio,” he says, staring at him straight on with his arms crossed in front of him. “If a man and a woman who are fucking go out together somewhere, would you call that a date?”
Gio’s lips twitch slightly. Is this a trick question? What’s he doing? Luciano starts pacing in front of him.
“I haven’t been on many dates before, so I looked it up.
Google said dates should be fun.” He stops and punches Gio in the stomach.
“Torture is fun, right?” Gio hunches over and lets out a wheezing breath.
“It also said dates normally involve activities or games, and I have a whole table full of them.” He points to the table behind me.
“It said you should bring flowers, which I have.” He points to the vase at the back of the table.
I didn’t notice them before. Roses are my favorite!
“And that you should have some drinks.” He walks to the other end of the table and pulls out a bucket from underneath, full of ice with a couple bottles of wine.
He grabs two glasses and fills them before handing one to me. We clink them together.
He takes a drink from his glass and continues.
“The date is supposed to be a fun experience that allows for conversation and a deeper connection, and what better way to form a deeper connection than torturing someone together?” I watch as his whole demeanor changes in front of me.
His body now has a dangerous aura hanging around him, his eyes are practically black, he stands taller with his shoulders more squared; this side of him looks fucking hot.
I take another sip of wine and wait to see what he does next.
Gio doesn’t speak and doesn’t move—not that he could even if he tried.
Luciano looks over to me. “Come here,” he demands. I slowly walk over to him, and he pulls me in front of him, wrapping his hands around my waist. “So Principessa, have I convinced you that this is a date?”
“I don’t know, Luci… we haven’t played any games yet,” I say. “What do you have in mind?” I egg him on, partly because I’m turned on by this side of him and now interested to see where this will lead.
“How about twenty-one questions? If we guess correctly, there will be a reward. If we guess incorrect, there will be a punishment.”
I look back at him with a quirked brow, wondering how he’ll involve torturing Gio into this game.
“Okay, you ask me first.” I skull the remainder of my drink and go to pour another, needing a bit more liquid courage to help me through this fucked-up date.
I can’t imagine what my dad would say to me if he saw how I was living now.
“How old was I when I moved into the mansion?” he asks me, walking over to the table.
“Oh, that’s easy.” I perk up. “You were thirteen.”
“Correct.” He walks back over to me with some ice cubes.
He starts to trace one of the cubes down my skin, starting at my neck, then slowly moving down to my chest, circling the top of my tits.
He lifts the hem of my dress, tracing the ice up my thigh until it’s millimeters from my pussy, before slipping it inside.
The coldness sends a chill up my spine with an overwhelming sensation.
I grab the edge of the table, waiting for my heat to melt the ice cubes.
He grabs another handful of ice cubes and walks over to Gio.
He pulls the front of his boxers open and drops the cubes in his boxers. Gio wriggles against the coldness.
“Your turn,” Luciano says to me.
“What’s my favorite color?” I ask him.
“Purple,” he says confidently.
“Wrong. It’s actually red,” I say, tugging at my red dress.
He looks at me with disbelief, like he can’t believe he got the first question wrong.
Punishment. I walk over to the table and pick up the whip.
“Against the wall,” I tell him. He does as I command and walks to the wall, his back facing me.
I pull back the whip and fling it across his back five times.
He lets out a small groan on the fourth one. He loves this.
He turns back around when I’m done. “Since it’s your turn, you have to dish out the punishment. Ten whips,” he says, looking over at Gio. It’s one thing to whip someone for pleasure, but for torture hits different.
I skull the rest of my glass and walk around behind Gio.
I pull the whip back in my hand and fling it forward, striking Gio’s back.
One. I strike him again. Two. And again.
Gio stays silent, his eyes locked straight ahead.
Three. Over and over until I reach ten and his back is red raw, some nearly deep enough that it’s ripped his skin.
“What brand is my favorite whiskey?” he says to me. Shit. It’s always in a fancy crystal bottle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a label.
“Umm, Chivas Regal…” I wince, waiting for the outcome.
“Wrong.” He picks up the clamps from the table.
He walks over to me and turns us so he’s standing in front of me, shielding me from Gio—not that he’s going to get out of the bunker alive.
He pulls down my dress so my tits are hanging out and attaches the small clamps to my nipples, squeezing them tight.
He pulls my dress back up to hide them before walking back over to the table where he grabs a knife.
“Sorry, Gio. We only had one set so we’ll have to amend slightly.
” Luciano pulls out Gio’s nipple with one hand, and in one swift movement slices down with the other.
Gio doesn’t make a sound. He just bites down on his lip and accepts the torture as his blood oozes from where his nipple was.
Luciano chucks it on the floor and grabs the other one, slicing it off as well.
He wipes the blood from the knife onto his pants, and the look he gives me makes my knees weak.
“What was the name of the diner I worked at?” I ask.
“Doug’s Diner.” He smirks because he knows I purposely gave him an easy one.
I walk over and jump onto him, wrapping my legs around his waist. I lean in and kiss him, my hands twining through his hair before I pull him closer to me and grind on him.
His dick grows harder against me. I bite his lip and jump down, waiting to see what punishment he’ll give Gio.
He walks over to the table and grabs the cattle prod and gives it to me. “Your kiss was electric, so you can shock him,” he tells me.
I walk over in front of Gio and press the cattle prod. It hits him in the stomach, and he wiggles underneath the shock.
“What’s my last name?” he asks me.
My face drops. I don’t think I know any of the brothers’ last names. “Marino?” I randomly guess.
“Wrong. Moretti.” Shit, another punishment. He walks over to the table and takes his time to decide. He picks up the knife and walks back to me. My eyes widen. What’s he going to do with that?
“Hand or leg?” he asks me.
“Ahh. Leg?”
He bends in front of me, running the blade up my leg.
He lifts my dress higher and gently presses the knife against my inner thigh, hard enough to pierce the skin but not hard enough that the cut will need stitches.
The sting lasts a couple seconds until it’s covered by warmth.
I look down and see he’s licking the cut, lapping away my blood. Oh, my God.
He walks over to Gio and swipes the blade across his legs, cutting him deep in multiple spots. He reaches up and does the same to his chest. It looks like Gio got into a fight with cat.
“Ready to give the name up yet?” Luciano growls at Gio.
Gio spits at Luciano, his gaze now fixated on me. “She will get what she deserves. She is no Carlisi, filthy half-blood whore.”
Luciano punches him repeatedly in the head, knocking him out. “Get me the bucket of water,” Luciano yells towards me.
I quickly rush to the table and grab the bucket of water, throwing it at Gio’s face. He startles awake, grunting out his disapproval.
I try to distract Luciano. If he had it his way, Gio would be dead, but we haven’t got the name out of him yet. “What was my pet dog’s name?”
The look Luciano gives me sends shivers throughout my body. “You didn’t have a dog, you didn’t have any pets,” he says to me.
My face drops. How did he know that? Now I have to think of a reward…
I grab the chair in the corner and place it in the middle of the room, facing Gio.
I grab Luciano and make him sit on it, then pull out my phone and open Spotify to play a random song.
And then I start dancing in front of him.
He looks at me like he did the first time I saw him in the club; his eyes hungry, wanting more.
I close the distance and straddle his lap, dancing and grinding on him.
I can hear Gio muttering behind us, “Whore,” and, “This isn’t how a Don acts.” But I continue dancing on Luciano until the song ends, his eyes never leaving mine.
He leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the lips.
He signals to hop off so he can walk over to the table where he picks up the fishing line and needle.
“Gio should not have watched what’s mine.
” He walks over to Gio. “Hold his head still,” he tells me.
I walk behind Gio and grab hold of his head to keep him in place.
Luciano digs his fingers into Gio’s eye sockets and gouges out his eyeballs.
Gio tries to pull his head out of our grip as he lets out a scream, but between the two of us, it’s hopeless. Pop, they go out the socket.
Luciano hands me the needle. “Sew his eyelids shut.”
I hesitate, slowly making my way in front of Gio.
Luciano shoves the needle into my hand and pushes me closer to Gio.
I look back at Luciano and take a deep breath.
I hold his eyelid shut and pierce the needle through his skin.
I don’t think about what I’m doing, I just do it.
Gio’s body trembles underneath my grip—I think he’s going into shock.
We continue going back and forth for a while, asking each other questions, dishing out punishments and rewards.
The whole time, Gio receives a slightly different version of ours, and the whole time he never gives up a name.
But what shocks me the most is the more we torture him, the more turned on I’m getting—the sexual tension between Luciano and I is off the charts.
I decide to up the reward. “What’s my father’s name?” I ask Luciano.
He replies instantly. “James.”
I walk over to him and trace my hands down his blood-splatted bare chest until it lands on his pants.
I undo the button and let his hard cock spring free.
I drop to my knees and suck on it, thrusting him further down my throat.
I move quickly as his hand grabs my hair, pulling me closer to him. He comes down my throat in no time.
Once he recovers, he walks over to the table, grabs the machete and hands it to me. “Cut his dick off.”
I reach out and pull down Gio’s pants so his semi hard dick flops out.
I grab it in my hand, slightly disgusted by it, and look back at Luciano.
“Straight down. One swipe,” he tells me, and I do as he says without hesitation, eager to please him.
The blood pours out from where Gio’s dick was, and he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.
“You have one minute to tell us the family you ratted to before you bleed out,” Luciano warns him.
Gio shouts, “No!” So Luciano grabs the machete out of my hand and hacks at his neck. Blood sprays out everywhere, all over the both of us, killing him instantly.
“We didn’t get the name out of him,” I say to Luciano, wiping Gio’s blood off my face.
He smirks devilishly at me. “I already have it.”
My head snaps back to him. “Since when?”
“Since before our date. Gabriele hacked his phone and traced where the calls were coming from."
I frown. “So what now?” My breathing quickens in anticipation as he stalks over to me, backing me up until my ass hits the edge of the table. He pulls down the front of my dress and unclips the clamps, throwing them on the table behind me. He pulls my dress back up and plants a kiss on my lips.
“Time for me to take you home. Don’t you know about the three-date rule?” He winks, backing away from me.
“Luciano, we’ve already had sex,” I remind him as he picks up his jacket and shirt off the back of the chair.
“Yeah, but that was before I decided I wanted to date you,” he says casually. “So it doesn’t count.” He opens the door and starts to walk out, leaving me horny.
“I just had your dick in my mouth,” I say back to him.
When I step into the hall, I holt in my spot.
We’re far from being alone. Not only is Carlo standing on guard at the door—which I totally forgot about—there’s also a handful of soldiers, some dragging in new hostages to their cells.
They all stop in their tracks and look at us.
Carlo smirks at me. “I take it you enjoyed your date,” he says, puffing on his cigarette.
Luciano glares at the soldiers, and they quickly hurry back to what they were doing, trying to ignore my presence.
“A lady never kisses and tells,” I say, wiping the front of my ruined dress smooth. “But I understand why you have a bald head now. I just washed my hair this morning.” Carlo lets out a chuckle as I start marching back out towards the door, with Luciano hot on my heels.