Chapter Three

FREYA

The trip wasn’t a long one, but we didn’t go home to his place.

The driver had stopped at the hotel down the road, and we alighted.

We had come with a three-car convoy. I didn’t know that until we stepped out of the car, because I was pushed into one of the cars earlier, and I didn’t have time to look through the window and see the cars running after us.

From the three-car convoy, emerged some men in black suit, all armed with big riffles.

I had been sold to a rich and powerful mafia, but he was surprisingly younger than the big mafias I read on in books and watch in movies.

The only thing he had in common with the mafias I knew was his choice for few words.

He wasn’t a good talker, and he was as mean as a tiger would be when it hunts its meal. Here, I was his meal, and he was the tiger, and as the deer that had been hunted and was to be fed on by the tiger, I ought not to see the tiger smile.

I followed them into the hotel without protesting, because I knew that asking questions wouldn’t help my situation her. I had been sold, and being sold mean I no longer owned myself in any way.

Well, I never owned myself at the first place, talk less now. 

The hotel seemed to be his, because the staffs who seemed to have been alerted of his presence were all doing the good job of making obeisance to him while we marched into the hotel with the armed men in suit.

The armed men dropped in number as soon as we got to the elevator; only two of them who were not wielding heavy fire arms joined me and the rich mafia who bought me.

We were lifted to the hundredth floor of the hotel. That was the climax, the peak of the massive hotel. 

I had once heard of the biggest hotels in our city, and I had been to so many of them, but I guess the one he brought me to was the biggest among the hotels in our city.

The two men followed us into the big room of the hundredth floor, and stood by his sides of the sofa, while he sat down, and left me standing before him.

He crossed his legs like British nobles would do in British movies, and one of the men in suit offered him a big brown cigar that had been lit.

Most big mafias I know smoke pipes, but this one smoke big brown cigar I could bet he would never finish even within the space of a week, unless he leaves it to burn. 

He slipped the cigar in-between his lips, and dragged at the tale, so hard that the lit tip turned red as the tobacco go more oxygen, then he pulled out the cigar and released the smoke.

White and strong in the air, that was the smoke, messing up my breath as they came really close to me.

“Sit.” He said, and signaled his men to leave us.

The men bowed their heads and made scuttled out of the big room. The room was big with a set of couches, and other furniture and gadgets, but the only thing I loved about it was that it had massive air conditioners that dealt with the smoke of his cigar as they came more and more from his lips and nostrils.

“Would you stand there and watch me?” he raised his eyebrows, as though he had earlier informed me of what to do.

I was confused. What exactly does he mean here?

“Come.” 

I came closer to him, and stood before him, not sure of what to make of him, because though he was young and handsome, I still found him too rude to associate with me.

“Take off your clothes.” He said as though he was talking to a common prostitute. Come on, I wasn’t raised that way. 

Dad was a gambler though, but he still did the good job of seeing to it that I was raised properly, like the daughter of a noble man should be raised, not like a harlot who would easily take off her clothes before a man.

I didn’t move an inch.

I didn’t want to do what he said, because it was such a difficult thing for me here, but his only way of making me conform was a straight punch on my belly.

“Get those clothes off you wench!” he thundered and stood up, watching me drop to the floor at the heavy, painful impact of his punch.

What a monster he was. Doesn’t he know his punch had nearly sent me to hell?

I gnashed my teeth in pain and wished I was strong enough to contend with him, but I just felt the little strength I had so far melt out of me as the pain of his punch made me pant and groan as though I was dying.

The heartless mafia took off his suit and held my legs, then like the devil would do to him when he finally loses his breath on earth, he held me by my left leg, and dragged me into the room next to the big room.

The room he dragged me into was dark, so, I couldn’t see what was in it as I wriggled and cried to free myself from his wicked grip, until he shut the door and turned on the light.

It was a red light. I had been dragged into his red room, and I know what comes with every red room, rough sex, torture!

My eyes went wide and my lips furrowed out of shock.

The walls spoke testimony of what was about to happen to me, and the light gave a picture of torture.

The mafia does well with torture, and tonight, I had become a fresh victim to the devil who had got me trapped in his nest, and held in his crisp.

I wanted to scream for help, but who am I to scream for what would never be.

He turned to me, bent towards me, grabbed my hands and jerked me up to my knees, then he held my beautiful cloth and yanked it off with just a pull, revealing my nude at a go.

I was nothing in his hand, if not a mere slave who had been sold out for games like this which I never play really well.

He carried me on his shoulder and dropped me on the bed.

The bed had four poles, each with a long chord that could be used in tying my hands and legs. I had only seen such a torture bed in movies alone, and I have read of them in books, but I never knew I had been reading and watching what would be my fate someday.

He held my right hand and tied it to the first pole with the chord, did the same to my left hand, and to my legs, leaving me defenseless.

I watched him strut to the wall, on which were all kinds of whips, dangling on the hooks on the wall. 

I swallowed and winced as he chose one of them, and walked back to me. He was going to have me whipped for doing nothing, and I wouldn’t even see the chance to lay a hand on the areas of my body that would get the whip.

“Tell me how much you love me, bitch.” He said, nibbling with the whip.

For heaven’s sake, I don’t love him, and I would never love a monster in his form, but that wasn’t what he cared for.

“Tell me, you pale thing, how much you love me!”

I said nothing, and thus came the first lash.

Twak on my lap.

I gnashed my teeth to hold the pain, but the second lash came, and I screamed.

“Tell me how much you love being treated like a slave ferried across the Mediterranean Sea.”

He whipped again and again.

I felt my skin tear up, but that wasn’t the greatest madness he had in stock.

He dropped the whip and lowered himself before my thigh, then, with his palm, he wiped the blood on my injured lap and smeared it on my pussy.

I saw the stretch on his face, but I couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a frown.

I mean, such thing as he was doing right here with me shouldn’t give him joy for heaven’s sake. 

He stuck out his tongue and ran it around my clit, on which I could guess the blood was smeared at. 

Is he a cannibal?

Why would he rub my pussy with a palm he used in wiping my blood and come down sucking the same pussy with blood.

His tongue was slow in going round my vulva, but its presence on my clit gave me sensations that made me moan and wriggle over his dominion.

His fingers joined the game, and I felt my name evaporating from my brain, as though I was about losing my name, but then came one more lash.

Twak!

Maybe he doesn’t know how painful that was, but the pain mixed with the sensation and gave me so much pleasure, that I sought within my mind for more of his whip.

I had never been this crazy, craving for pain had never been my thing, but I guess the pain of his whip was a pain that could make me wet his face with my squirt.

I bit my lips in pain and pleasure, and craving for more.

He put his entire mouth on my pussy, and then came the real sucking, as though he wanted to feed on it like a tiger would feed on his prey.

My eyeballs went up into my brains, and my nipples hardened in utter pleasure. He was a devil here, but his hell was full of pleasure. The pleasure that would keep any soul glued to his torture till it becomes addiction.

He paused and stuck his tongue into my pussy. Maybe he was bored washing the vulva clean with his tongue.

The presence of his tongue in me made me go wild. I couldn’t hold the feeling of it wandering in my pussy like a lost boy in the Peter Pain classical series.

Gosh.

I felt it coming, but he stopped and spanked my pussy.

“You dare not cum till I ask you to.” 

I didn’t see his face because I had been blinded by pleasure, but I heard him clearly, not just because he spoke loudly, but because even his voice added to the sensation, the rhythm of my pussy clenching and juices dripping. 

He put his mouth back, and the juices left, he washed them clean, and made me wet the second time. 

Never in my life had I seen a man as good as he was. His tongue seemed to have studied my pussy and knew where exactly to visit, but it stopped, and something larger and longer went into me.

With just a thrust, I felt the wave of pleasure move from my thigh to my head,

“Call me Jaxon, whore.” He slapped the sides of my lap with his palms.

“Ja…xon.”

“Again!”

His commands came amidst his thrusts, making me choke on words.

“Ja…xon.”

He doubled his speed and his lengthy dick went deeper than anyone had ever done before.

“Again!”

“Ja…x.”

I felt a rush in my body, which came as though everything in my body had suddenly gone south, and within thirty seconds, my body vibrated so hard I forgot my name.

And before my body could settle, I was already fast asleep.