5. Mafia Kingpin's Son

[Warning: R18+]

Every instinct of self-preservation surged within me. I lunged at him, scratching his face and delivering several punches to his kidneys. He was a strong and formidable figure, far from the attractive person I had initially thought he was. He belonged to a secretive organization and had a captivating presence that demanded respect.

With a threatening growl, he forcefully pushed me onto the bed, using his weight to pin me down. He effortlessly grabbed both my wrists and held them above my head. I couldn't escape his overpowering strength; I was completely at his mercy.

"That was not kind, Madeline, and you will face severe consequences for it. I will give you a taste of what awaits you," he stated firmly.

He shifted, flipping me over and pulling at my shorts. "What do you think you're doing?" I struggled, trying to free myself from his grip.

"I'm giving you what you deserve, princess. A firm spanking."

"Are you insane? I have never been disciplined before. How dare you think you have the right to do such a thing?" I protested, my breathing becoming shallow. I was someone important. I had privileges. I was special. I was...

In the clutches of a monster.

At that moment, I realized that my upbringing as a member of a mafia family had shielded me from the crude actions of someone like him. Despite rejecting certain aspects of my heritage when I came to America, I found this situation utterly intolerable.

A wave of shame washed over me as he growled, his warm breath brushing against my skin. I had never felt such humiliation before, and contradictory feelings of anger and fleeting sympathy surged through me, compelling me to resist my captor with all the strength I could muster.

But he was too powerful, too overwhelming.

I felt the cool air on my exposed buttocks. I moaned, writhing as he pulled down my shorts to my knees. "Stop! How dare you."

"I will do as I please with you when the time comes," he declared, delivering sharp spanks to each cheek, moving from one to the other.

"Curse you! Damn you!" The sound of his hand making contact with my bare skin echoed in my ears. The initial shock was soon replaced by a growing pain that spread through my skin and muscles. He was a man on a mission, delivering increasingly forceful and rapid spanks with precision.

The pain turned into anguish, and I kicked out in an attempt to break free from his grasp.

"I despise you!" I exclaimed.

"Feel free to hate me, but you will still follow my rules," he retorted, exasperated, shifting to a seated position and pulling me onto his lap.

I felt a deep sense of embarrassment mixed with intense anger, while simultaneously devising ways to take revenge on him. He wouldn't escape the consequences of his actions.

He resumed the spanking with renewed determination, his large hand covering my entire buttocks. Strangely, I began to count amidst my ongoing struggle.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

As he continued to deliver hard, even strokes, a strange sensation washed over me. Heat spread from my thighs, and, to my dismay, between my legs. Unintentionally, with each movement of my hips, I glided back and forth across his lap, feeling his pulsating and generously endowed erection. The friction was undeniably arousing.

I couldn't believe it. I was becoming aroused and flushed, my muscles pulsating with desire. Overwhelmed by shame, I fought even harder against my own reactions. But my body repeatedly betrayed me, defying my intentions. I even felt a hint of my own arousal. In my absurd and inappropriate excitement, I dreaded that my wetness might stain his expensive jeans irreparably.

Oh, God. I felt like a wretched, depraved, and terrible person. Overwhelmed with shame.

Two more punishing blows left me gasping for breath, intensifying the pain.

"Stop!" There was no way he could break me. To hell with him. To hell with this place.

"Now, I strongly advise you to reconsider your disrespectful and unpleasant attitude before we continue our discussions. I will not tolerate insolence in any form. And remember, I am the one in control. Now. And. Forever. I will finish your punishment session later." He tossed me back onto the bed, his gaze fixed on my intimate area. I could have sworn he licked his lips.

I hurriedly pulled up my shorts, feeling the heat of embarrassment burning my neck and cheeks.

"Forever." The word echoed in my mind.

As he walked toward the door, straightening his shirt, he muttered softly to himself. "There's a bathroom to your left, and I've provided your initial clothing. The rest will have to be earned. When you're ready, come downstairs for a nice dinner."

I wished I had a knife with me.

He walked toward the exit, running his fingers through his impressive hair. Unbothered by his warning, I swiftly jumped off the bed, seized the bucket, and flung it in his direction. He reacted swiftly, deflecting the attack and preventing its contents from hitting him, although it splattered across the wall. He stiffened, shooting me another stern glare.

"Clean that up, Madeline. Your demerits are piling up, and I will have to address them. Dinner is in one hour. Don't be late," he commanded, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"I'll trust you not to lock the door, but if you're entertaining thoughts of escape, think again. There will be two guards stationed outside your room at all times, and they have the authority to take necessary measures to ensure your compliance."

I crossed my arms, frustrated with my impulsive actions. "Just answer one thing."

"You haven't earned that privilege."

"Firstly, you kidnapped me against my will. I believe I deserve to know your name."

He appeared to contemplate my request, turning slightly to assess me from head to toe. "Fair enough. My name is Victor Racini."

Stunned, I stumbled backward, colliding with the dresser, and winced as he closed the door.

Victor Racini, the son of notorious mafia kingpin Ricardo Racini, renowned as the most infamous and dangerous man in all of California. And that man had just subjected me to a spanking.