Sold to the mafia

Isaac

I sigh heavily, hearing the words of my mother and that abusive prick. Worthless.

That’s the word she loved to use.

“Why are you up?” she asks, and my mother’s voice is flat and hoarse. She’s at the small kitchen table wearing nothing but a ripped nightshirt and a hot pink bra underneath.

Memories of what life used to be like flash before my eyes. The laughter and pancakes. Mom used to cook. Back before everything changed.

Now the fridge is always empty and the linoleum floor is always dirty from whatever she did last night with him. I’ll clean it all up after school. It’ll be okay. I can fix this.

Her eyes are so red as she rocks at the table. I know she’s high. I’m old enough to know. I think my teacher knows. Mrs. Klintsova keeps asking me questions. But I don’t tell them anything. I don’t want her to get in trouble. She just needs help. I can help my mom. I love her.

She must know that.

“I never should’ve kept you. I knew your father was going to leave me.”

I stare at my mother, not understanding. Dad died overseas. “He died at war.” The words come out before I can stop myself, and I wish they hadn’t. Mom lunges from the table, her ripped night shirt exposing the bright bra underneath. She smacks me hard across the face, gripping my shoulders and yelling into my ear.

“You’re just like him!” She keeps shaking me, and I let her. She just needs to get it out of her system. I know she’s hurting. I wish someone would help her. Tears roll down my cheeks and that only makes my mom angrier, but I can’t help it.

It all hurts. I just want my mom back.

I stare at the ceiling, not moving. These memories come to me often, and they only remind me of the fucked up past that made me who I am. But I’m fine with that. I’ve grown to realize I can live with knowing who I really am.

I’m not worthless to Katia. I can do so much for her. She’ll put her faith in me, she’ll give me control, and I’ll give her everything she needs.

It’s important that she has privacy, a place that she feels at home. I know this, but I hate it. I want her tied to my bed so I can take her easily in the morning.

I roll onto my back, the sheets and thick comforter pulling with me. The dim light of the moon spilling through the slit in the curtains and casting shadows across my bedroom floor.

She’s doing so well. She’ll adjust soon. She’s going to realize this isn’t what she anticipated.

She thinks she knows what a Master is, what’s required of a Slave… she has no fucking idea.

I can faintly hear the crickets from outside as a smile creeps up to my lips.

Just as quickly as it comes, it vanishes. A shrill cry from her room makes me leap from the bed.

My heart races as my feet slam against the hardwood floors on my way to her.

Her small frame is twisting under the sheets, fighting them as a strangled scream is torn from her throat.

“Katia!” I yell, grabbing her hip to pin her in place and her wrists with my other hand. I still both of her wrists above her head, holding her down with a good bit more strength than I thought I’d need.

“Katia, wake up!” I scream at her, so loud that I feel the wretched soreness in my throat. I imagine hers is worse. The screams haven’t stopped, and she’s only fighting harder.

Tears are leaking down her face, although her eyes are closed tightly.

She may think this is play, or a fantasy come to life. But for me this is real. I know she needs someone to heal her, and I so badly want to be her Master. I want to take those terrors away from her, to replace them with the pain and pleasure she needs.

My Katia. My kitten.

“Kitten,” I lower my head to the crook of her neck, bringing my body closer to hers and forcing her head to stop thrashing. I keep my voice low and soothing as her screams turn to sobs. “I’m here, kitten, you’re safe.”

I press my body against hers, my hip on her hip and gently stroke her side.Owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here,” I gently murmur into her ear.

I can’t describe the rush of relief, pride, and satisfaction that washes through me as she settles her body and her breathing calms. Her struggle dies, and her fear vanishes.

A sense of ownership, and worthiness. I kiss her neck, my lips leaving open-mouth kisses along her skin, prickled with goosebumps.

“You’re alright. You’re safe. You’re with me,” I almost say, your Master. I almost speak words that I know are true. But she doesn’t. Not yet.

My resolve strengthens as I pull away from her and gently run my thumb along her jaw, wiping away the residual tears.

My poor kitten.

Her eyes slowly open and sorrow and disappointment shine clearly in them, even with the dim light in the room.

“I-” she starts to speak, but I press my finger to her lips.

“Come, kitten. I want you in my room with me,” I say easily, scooping her small body up in my arms and carefully balancing her as I climb off the bed and walk swiftly to my room.

Katia nestles her head under my chin, her arms wrapped around my neck. She buries her face in my chest, and I know she’s ashamed more than anything.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she whispers as I lower her into the bed.

“Why are you sorry?”

“It’s my fault.”

“Why’s that?” I ask her, hating that she would think having a night terror is something she needs to apologize for.

“I use a blanket. I brought it with me, but I was tired. It was my laziness, Master. I’m sorry.” Her voice is choked. “I won’t do it again.

“A blanket?” I ask her. This sparks an interest. She’s never mentioned a blanket before.

“I like the weight on my ankle when I sleep.”

It takes me a moment to register what she means. “Like the shackle.” My blood goes cold, and I pull her closer to me. My poor kitten.

“Yes, I’m sorry-” I cut her off before she can once again apologize when she shouldn’t be.

“You’re my responsibility, so it’s my fault. Not yours. ”

Her breath hitches and her body tenses.

“You’ll sleep here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll fix this.” I kiss her hair gently, at odds with the strength in my voice. It’s an effort to soften my tone as I say, “Sleep, kitten.”

Her wide eyes look up at me with slight wonder and disbelief. So pale, so clear it once again feels like she can see through me. She licks her lower lip and lays her head down on my forearm, but she doesn’t close her eyes.

After a moment she tilts her body some to look at my face.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks me softly. “Master?” she tacks on my title at the end, and we both know she shouldn’t have. She should have started with it. She looks frightened for a moment, that she let the question slip without respectfully addressing me, but I haven’t the energy to care.

My mind is reeling with the revelation of what she’s just told me. And how I need to find a solution to this problem.

“Why do I want to be a Master?” I ask her.

“Why are you trying to help me?”

She still doesn’t realize that being her Master dictates that I have to help her. Her welfare in every way is my responsibility. The room fills with the soft sounds of our breathing and the chirps of the crickets and other soft sounds of the night.

Why do I want to be a Master?

I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. Especially when the nights are cold and lonely and a simple, quick fuck holds no interest. I don’t have an answer, but I want to give her one.

“When I was younger, I tried very hard to help someone.” My heart hurts as I think back to when I was younger. When I first felt needed, and failed so miserably. “It only hurt me when I tried to help her. She hurt me. I gave up. I stopped trying, but I still wanted to love her.” I think I did love her. I don’t think I ever stopped. How can you stop loving your mother? I was only a child. I think it’s ingrained in our DNA to forgive and continue to love them.

Katia moves her small hand from my chest, cupping it and putting it under her head. I trail my finger down her cheek as I continue my story.

“One day she needed me badly,” I take in a deep breath, the vision of that night flashing before my eyes. “But I didn’t.”

“So now you try to help others?”

“No,” I respond quickly. I don’t, not really. I’m not interested in many people. But something about Katia called to me. It’s still forcing me close to her. Wanting to give her more and more.

“Oh, I don’t understand.”

I grunt a response. I don’t understand either. I was just thinking out loud. I don’t even know why I said anything.

“Who was she?”

“My mother,” I answer simply.

“What happened?” she asks, and I run a hand down my face. The vision of her lying cold and lifeless on the ground haunts me in that moment.

“Go to sleep, kitten.” I shouldn’t have said anything. I shake my head slightly; none of my past means anything. It has no relevance to Katia and her night terrors. The exhaustion from the day is clouding my judgment.

“I just…” Katia starts to say something, but her voice trails off. The worry is evident in her voice. It shouldn’t be there at all.

I shouldn’t have opened my fucking mouth. I regret saying anything.

“This conversation is over. I’m a Master because I take pleasure in it.” My voice is strong and she should more than understand that I mean what I say. “That’s the end of this conversation.”

“But-” Katia starts to question me, eagerness to learn more in her voice. She doesn’t use my title, and I’ve had it. My kitten is a playful one, curious and wanting to please me and learn more about me. But she should know better.

I grip her hip in one hand and flip her forcefully onto her back, pressing my body against hers and pinning her wrist above her head.

She gasps from the force and my rough hold on her.

“Did you question me?” I ask, my eyes narrows, my voice low and full of a threat.

“I’m sorry, Master.” Her words come out quickly, full of fear. Her body is tense and still.

“Did. You. Question me?” I repeat louder, my dick hardening simply from the feel of her soft body beneath mine.

“I did and I’m so sorry, Master.” Her pale blue eyes tell me everything. She’s truly repentant. But she needs to be punished.

“On your knees,” I hiss in the crook of her neck, my hot breath sending a chill down her body. I release her and sit on the balls of my feet, waiting for her to get into position.

She does so quickly and obediently.

I have to lean over to the nightstand and turn on the light. Her pussy and ass are sore, I’m sure of that. As I click it on and move back behind her, I gentle a hand on her ass. It’s still bright red. Her upper thighs are virtually untouched, which leaves possibilities. I don’t have the cream in this room for aftercare though.

Fuck. I clench my jaw. I hate being so limited. I spread her pussy lips to see how swollen and red she is.

Denial it is.

“You will not cum, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Master,” she says, her voice clear, yet low and full of agony.

“This is a gentle punishment. Do not push me again.”

“I won’t Master.”

I shove my fingers into her tight cunt, stroking along her G-spot before she’s even able to finish. I’m quick and rough, watching how her body moves roughly with the force from me finger fucking her.

Her soft moans and her thighs trembling only make me want to fuck her more. But this is a punishment. Not a reward.

As soon as her pussy tightens and her upper body shifts and twists, trying to avoid the inevitable, I know she’s close. Katia pleads in a whisper, “Master,” as I pull away from her. I watch as she stays on all fours, letting the intensity of her impending orgasm fade. Her eyes are closed tightly, and her breathing is coming in pants.

I could do this for hours, but I don’t fucking want to.

I’m hard as fuck, but I’m irritated. I ignore my own needs. We’ll both suffer tonight.

“Go to sleep, kitten,” I say flatly, lying on my back, but holding my arm out for her.

She cuddles beside me and I kiss her hair. Hating that I’m leaving her in need, but she needs to be punished.

Even after she’s fast asleep and safe in my arms, I’m wide awake, wondering if I’m a capable enough Master for her.