The Mafia Killer’s Wife by Rosa Milano

Twelve

Ethan

She doesn't answer. I kick the door in. It only takes a single blow from my boot and then it's off the hinges. I'm lucky she picked the bathroom. All the other doors in here are reinforced. She could lock herself away in them until she starved and I wouldn't be able to get in unless I broke through the walls.

She shrieks as the door crashes inwards. She's backing toward the sink, clutching the phone like a totem, as if it can protect her from me. It can't. Nothing can.

It's a simple choice but she can't see it. I have the measure of her already. Overbearing, controlling parents. Not allowed to make decisions of her own. Crippled by that. So innocent that she can't see the danger of letting groups of men buy her drinks without seeing them poured.

Even when the choice is blindingly obvious, she still prevaricates. I will teach her how to grow up, how to make decisions. She will become independent. That way she will submit willingly to me.

I decided in the car on the way over here. I'm not one to doubt my decisions when they're made. She will submit to me. She will become my wife. For as long as it takes for me to deal with Primo and Benito. After that? I'll tell her she's free to leave or stay with me for good.

Either way, I'm going to fuck her before this ends. I've decided that too. It's going to happen but not yet. Not until she understands the situation she's found herself in. She will soon. I'm about to show her the reality of it.

"Come here," I tell her.

She shakes her head, refusing to move.

I walk over to her, taking the cellphone out of her hand and placing it in my pocket. "You were trying to decide who to call, weren't you? The police won't help you. The dispatchers all know who I am. There isn't a single car that would attend a call to this address. Your parents? They want you hitched to Benito. Your friend at the cafe? What was she going to do, come and shoot me?"

"I don't know!" She's yelling at the top of her voice. "I don't know who I was going to call, all right?"

I want to be kind to her seeing as this is all new but I have to lay down the law. "You refused to obey me. You get punished." I grab hold of her, spinning her around and shoving her down so she's leaning over the sink.

Her ass is pointing at me, and I slap my hand down onto it an instant later. "Don't move," I tell her, "Or it'll be with the paddle." I spank her again. "Get this into your head, Amanda. You're going to have to get used to living with me. I'm not putting up with you whining about how bad you've got it, how you want to go home. Locking yourself away to hide from me, stealing my things. It will get tiresome, fast. I will help you if you will work with me."

"I want my mom," she cries out.

"Your mom doesn't give a shit about you." I spank her again. "I already did my checks. She's happy for you to marry a man who'll beat the shit out of you."

"Stop it, let me go!"

I spank her again. "This is what you get when you misbehave. But if you're good, things will be very different."

I slide her sweatpants down to her thighs. "I can make life comfortable for you if you behave." I run a line along the waistband of her panties, hooking a finger into them and lowering them slowly. I take a good look at her reddened ass. "Stay there," I tell her, crossing to the cabinet by the window.

I collect the jar of after-spank cream and apply a portion to my fingertips. When I look back at her, she hasn't moved. She's shifting her legs slightly and I get a glimpse of her pussy. I smile to myself. She's getting wet down there. She liked the spanking.

I knew it. I'm never wrong about people. It's getting her to let go of the fake her, embrace the real her. The submissive she wants to be but she can't admit to that desire. Not yet.

I rub the cream into the reddest spots of her ass, working gradually lower, toward the top of her thighs. When I run a finger down the valley of her buttocks, she breathes in more sharply than she did during the spanking.

I linger by the little hole that's hidden there, stroking it gently, watching her hips shift in place. "Why does your father want you to marry Benito?" I ask her, moving my finger lower, feeling the heat coming from her pussy. "Tell me the truth."

"I don't know," she replies.

"Yes, you do. Benito will make him a wiseguy in return for your hand in marriage," I tell her. "All you are to your father is an asset to be utilized in the most profitable manner. You are more than that, Amanda. You are a person who deserves better than to become your father's entry point to the Mancini famiglia."

"You're lying."

"You know I'm not." I'm an inch from her pussy and I want to plunge my tongue into that sweet nectar coming out of her but I resist. It's not the right time. "You've been naughty," I tell her. "But you are learning."

I move my hand, pushing her sweatpants and panties down to her ankles, lifting her right foot, then her left, leaving her bottom half naked.

My cock throbs at the sight of her bent over like that. It's been a while since I've fucked anyone and the sight of her is doing things to me that I haven't felt for a long time. A part of me is coming to life that I forgot existed.

"Will you behave?" I ask her, still tracing a line around her thighs, moving her knees apart with my leg, leaning over her back to whisper in her ear. "Can you do that for me?"

"I can behave," she says in a faint voice.

"Good," I say, letting go of her at once. "You can get dressed now."

I walk out of the bathroom and start making some lunch. I know she'll emerge in a couple of minutes and when she does, she'll be hungry.

I can guess what's she doing in there, trying to work out why she's reacting to me in that way. I could tell her but it's better she works it out for herself.

She's a submissive. That is who she is and what she is. That's why those guys took advantage of her in the club. That's why I can help her. She just needs to accept it. Let me dominate her. It'll make everything so much simpler for both of us if she will give herself and me permission for me to make decisions for her. She has no idea but right now all the power lies with her. If she would only grasp it.

I make her a salad. I doubt she can handle anything heavier. Her stomach's probably churning in there.

At least she's not trying to misbehave anymore. I'm hoping I've shown her what happens when she does. I doubt she'll need another lesson today.

When she does come out, she looks lost and scared. It's my job to guide her out of the forest in her mind, bring her back onto the path she needs to follow.

"Food's ready," I tell her, placing it on the kitchen counter.