Breaking Lucia by Raissa Donovan
Lucia
They’re such arrogant bastards.
When I go to check the door that evening, it opens. I blink at it for a moment, stunned that it isn’t actually locked, but I know they have security and cameras everywhere. I can try to dodge them, but it’s going to be hard since I don’t even know where they are. Though I know at least one guard who would help me get out of here out of spite alone, especially if I could promise to pay him well if he does.
Either Freddie will be hyper-loyal after the scare Angelo gave him, or he’ll be bitter and want some sort of revenge. I have to hope it’s the latter, and I have to hope he’s the one I run into first.
Any guard will do, really. Unless, heaven forbid, they’re gay… in which case, I am totally fucked. But Freddie’s the one I’m targeting.
I don’t have many clothes to wear, and I’m still in the oversized t-shirt they’d given me along with my jeans. No bra, since the assholes had ruined it, but I’d washed my panties in the sink and am wearing those, at least. I find the sweatshirt I’d been wearing but decide against it. I need as much sex appeal as possible.
I carefully open the door, and it glides silently open. I look in both directions down the hall, trying to see if one of the assholes who’d taken me is nearby. I don’t see anyone. I make my way down the hall in the direction I remembered leading to the stairs, ready to make a break for it as soon as I can. It’s dim, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light before I can make too much progress.
When I finally get down into the living room, it’s empty. There were guards everywhere earlier, but I guess they’re relying on their security system inside the house. Complacency and all. They obviously didn’t expect me to try anything, which is fucking stupid, because I’m not just going to stay here and let myself be sold back to my father.
He and Pavone can just kiss my ass.
It’s quiet but for the sound of my heart beating in my ears, and I strain to listen. I can hear soft conversation coming from near the front door, but that’s no surprise. I head for the kitchen instead, sure I’ll find someone guarding that door. It’s a small side door, though, so I don’t expect them to be the best or the brightest.
For once, luck is on my side, because when I open the door, Freddie is the only one I see.
“What are you doing here?” he asks as soon as I step into the well-lit room, his eyes narrowing at me. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs fucking one of them?”
I want to glare at him, but I know this is the worst time to antagonize someone. I smile instead. “They’re sleeping. I thought I’d visit you instead. You know, apologize for what happened earlier. You understand why I had to protect myself, right?”
His expression wavers.
God, he looks so young even though he has to be my age. Do I look that young?
“He was going to cut my throat open,” Freddie hisses, but he takes the cue from me and keeps his voice quiet. “Because you ratted on me.”
“Do you know what he would’ve done to me if I hadn’t?” I ask, crossing the room and stepping directly in front of him. “They’re holding me captive. I can’t risk pissing them off. You have to understand,” I say, my voice full of pleading like I’m nothing but a damsel in distress. “Please let me make it up to you.”
He eyes me. “And how are you going to do that?” he asks. There’s suspicion in his eyes, but I’ve gotten his interest, too. His gaze has traveled to my bare shoulder, from where I’ve let the shirt slip off to the side and show pale, perfect skin.
“I want to give you what you want,” I say.
Freddie laughs quietly, an edge of disbelief in his expression. “Yeah? And why would you want to do that?”
“Because then you’ll help me get out of this place,” I purr, pressing my body in close to his. “And you and I will get as far as we can. I have money.” He doesn’t need to know that my cash is gone, stolen by the men who stole me, or that I have nothing to ID myself to get more of it. I’ll figure something out. I always do.
“Oh, fuck no,” he says vehemently, shaking his head, but he doesn’t pull away from me. “I’m not helping you. If they catch me—”
I kiss him, interrupting his words. I feel like I’m reenacting every bad female-driven action movie there is, but I’m desperate, and the only currency I have right now is my body. Victor made it off limits for now, and Angelo had made it perfectly obvious that Victor’s order is all that stands between me and getting fucked by them. If the man in charge gives the order, I’m fucked for real, and I have no say in what happens to me.
At least this way, it happens under my terms.
After a startled moment, he kisses me back, melding his body against mine.
So. He feels safe enough in here to let go, or he’s horny enough not to care if he gets caught. I don’t claim to be beautiful enough for a man to throw away his life for, so he has to be pretty damn sure we won’t be interrupted. Perfect. We should have plenty of time for a quick fuck for leverage, then he can figure out how the hell to get us out of this place without sounding the alarms.
Maybe I’m giving him too much credit, but my options are limited—and I have a feeling that if I get caught, I won’t have a chance to try again. No, things will be hell for me if they figure out what I’m doing, and I have to get through this as fast as possible.
I slide my hand down Freddie’s front, immediately going to the buttons of his pants like I just can’t wait to get inside. He’s not bad looking, all things considered, and I’ve definitely fucked worse.
His breath catches, and I kiss him again, more insistently. His hand goes to my bare shoulder, then he seems to think better of it and slides his hand under my shirt. A wave of nausea runs through me as he starts to caress my breast, but I’m not going to lose my nerve now.
This is my way out, the only way out I know of that doesn’t involve being delivered back to my father. I can do this. It’s not like I’m some simpering virgin idiot who’s too concerned about her innocence to do what needs to be done, although I’m pretty sure that all three men who took me think I’m an untouched virgin. I hadn’t lied outright, but I’d hinted at it, and it made Angelo want me even more. Hypocritical, lecherous creep that he was.
Freddie’s kisses become more frantic, sloppy, as I unfasten his jeans and unzip them, like I’m just so eager to have them. Whatever I’d said to him before seems long lost in his memory, and I’m glad for it. I’d been prepared to do more than this to get out.
Or so I keep telling myself.
He’s a terrible kisser, but it’s not like I’m in this for love or pleasure.
If I had a choice between who I kissed, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be Freddie. Maybe Angelo, or the other one with all the piercings.
The thought startles me, and I bite Freddie’s bottom lip as I think about what it might be like to actually take Angelo, to ride him, to see his eyes go dark with lust as I fuck him senseless. Even Victor is sexier than this, with his neat clothes and assessing eyes. And the other, whose name I still don’t know? I’d take him before Freddie if I’d thought any of them would be susceptible to letting me go.
But I’ve seen it before. Bros before hos, and they’re not going to let me get between them. So this is my only real option.
He’s taken my lead, and the hand that was on my breast has snaked down to unfasten my jeans. He pushes them down, his hand sliding over the black panties, and I arch like I just can’t wait to have him take them away too. Like I’d wish them away if I could, all so his pathetic little cock could slide into me and make me scream in bliss.
I highly doubt he’s ever made a woman scream in pleasure in his life. His touches are too awkward, too sporadic, but I’m hardly going to point that out.
I yank his jeans down, and his boxers follow, his already hard cock slapping his thigh as it’s released from the confines of the cloth. Average, which is good, because the only reason I’m even slightly wet is because I’m imagining he’s someone else despite myself.
He lifts me onto the counter, and I spread my legs wide. I lean down to bite his shoulder through his t-shirt, only to freeze when I see Angelo standing in the kitchen door.
Him, and the two others.
Oh, fuck.
The nasty grin on Angelo’s face doesn’t bode well. It’s the same one he wore the last time I saw him, when he was slicing open Freddie’s skin.
Freddie notices that I’m not moving anymore, and he pinches my thigh. “Hey, do you want this or not?”
“Yeah, do you want it or not, Princess?” Angelo asks mockingly.
“Fuck!” Freddie cries out and scrambles away from me, leaving me exposed with my jeans undone in front of these three. “She came on to me, I swear! The little slut wanted it!”
Victor holds up his hand, and Freddie shuts up instantly. “Even if she wanted it, do you really lack the self-control to refuse such an obvious honey trap?” The judgment is practically dripping from his voice. “I don’t need weaklings like you in the organization.”
Freddie’s entire face blanches.
“I guess you’re just like Angelo. A fucking hypocrite.” I stand taller, glaring at Victor, never mind that my pants are still undone and halfway down my hips.
The pierced one glowers at me like I personally did something to offend him. “Don’t bitch at him. We were being nice to you by not touching you, and this is how you repay us? What, were you just that horny?” He grabs his crotch. “Could’ve come to any of us to show your gratitude instead of trying to fuck the help.”
“Horny?” I ask, letting out a little, disbelieving laugh.
It earns me a glance from Freddie, who looks like he can’t believe he’s gotten caught up in all of this.
“You think I did this because I was horny? I’d rather be celibate than fuck any of you fucking perverts.” Running my mouth like this is dangerous, but what do I have to lose anymore? Might as well vent. “You’re all the same, always thinking with your dicks, thinking you’re hot stuff. Every woman swoons for your micro dicks and shitty personalities, am I right? And it has nothing to do with them being terrified of you.”
“Jesus, you got a death wish? Shut up!” Freddie hisses at me. How nice of him to care about my well-being now.
Victor looks briefly at both of his underlings. Without a single change to his expression, he says, “I assume it’s because of my wealth, too.”
Shit, that was almost funny. I’m too angry to laugh, though. The sheer entitlement of these assholes!
“Deal with him,” Victor tells Angelo, though he doesn’t even bother to glance in Freddie’s direction.
Angelo’s expression becomes giddy, savage, and he grabs for the man even as Freddie tries to backtrack. But he fumbles over his pants around his knees. Angelo grabs him right by the cock, and I stare at the display.
I’ve seen a lot, but never something like this.
“Give me the knife out of the sink, Saint,” Angelo says, smirking.
Freddie pales, trying to squirm back, only to shriek when Angelo’s fingers tighten around his softening dick.
Angelo gives it a few strokes. “Come on, don’t be shy,” he leers. “Or do you just get it up for sluts like her?”
Freddie stammers, unable to get out any coherent words even as he shakes his head and stays still. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Boss,” he says to Victor. “I won’t do it again. It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Victor doesn’t even look remotely interested as Saint hands the serrated blade to Angelo, who takes it with his free hand. He holds the knife’s sharp, jagged edge against Freddie’s cock, and Freddie screams out more unintelligible shrieks.
I almost feel guilty at the sight, and I interject, “Jesus, he didn’t fuck me. You don’t have to cut his dick off.”
“You’re already in enough trouble,” the man Angelo called Saint tells me, jabbing a finger at my chest. “Shut the fuck up before we see what else Angelo can shove up your cunt. Since you’re so needy and all.”
I shut up.
Angelo holds the knife at the base of Freddie’s cock for another long moment then laughs. He swats at the dick like it’s a playtoy. “Aww, I’m just messing with you, man. I wouldn’t cut off your cock. Go ahead, zip up.”
Freddie gives him a wary look, obviously not trusting the jovial tone.
I don’t either.
But Freddie scrambles to tuck his dick away and pull up his pants, heaving a sigh of relief.
“Now give me your hand,” Angelo says, almost conversationally.
“What?” Freddie glances at Victor. “Boss?”
“I believe he asked you to give him your hand,” Victor says. “I suggest you don’t make him say it twice.”
Freddie swallows hard and looks at me, like he thinks I can get him out of this. I’m already in enough trouble without opening my mouth again. His lips set into a thin, hard line, and he offers his left hand to Angelo.
“There you go. Good boy,” Angelo mocks him. “Hand on the counter.” He pushes Freddie’s hand down onto the counter, and this time, the knife is poised at one of Freddie’s knuckles. He doesn’t hesitate. He drives the knife down, sawing viciously into his skin as the man starts screaming.
I’m no stranger to torture, but the sight of that serrated blade—a fucking bread knife—sawing at his skin is nauseating.
Only when the white of bone is showing, after long, agonizing minutes, does Angelo smile again at Freddie. “Now turn your hand over.”
“What?” he asks through his sobs.
“Turn your hand over. Palm up,” Angelo orders.
Freddie obeys, his expression full of despair, and just as we both likely suspected, Angelo goes to work on the other side of his finger. He works diligently, using that jagged edge to separate the skin around the bone.
“Gimme that boning knife over there,” Angelo tells Saint with a filthy smirk.
Saint laughs, grabbing another knife from a drawer. “Cold, dude. You could’ve just cut it off with this to begin with.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Angelo cuts his eyes to me. “I’m only starting to enjoy myself.”
I stare back at him, holding his gaze even though I’m trembling. It’s one thing to act calm and unbothered, but it’s another entirely to tell my body to get the memo. I’m too afraid of what’s coming next for me.
“Please don’t,” Freddie begs. “Please don’t cut it off. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
“I told you she was a special guest,” Angelo says, almost gently, as he rubs the blade through the hole he’d cut moments before. “And you thought it was a good idea to put your hands on her?”
“I’m sorry!” Freddie repeats like a broken record. “I won’t do it again.”
“Damn right you won’t.” Angelo slams the knife down hard, severing the finger at the first knuckle, right where he’d been toying with it.
I stare. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a finger chopped off—hell, it’s practically par for the course. But it’s the first time I’ve seen it in such detail.
Freddie’s anguished cries fill the kitchen, and it makes me shrink back like I think I can make myself vanish from the room. I know I can’t; I know it’s stupid to think they’ll forget about me. No, those hungry eyes from Saint make it really fucking clear they haven’t forgotten about me at all.
“Get the kitchen cleaned up,” Angelo tells Freddie, flicking the piece of finger across the countertop. “I don’t want to see one drop of blood in the kitchen, or I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue.”
Sobbing, Freddie grabs a hand towel and presses it to the finger. It’s gushing blood, but none of the other men in the kitchen seem to give a damn.
“Santino, grab the cameras and meet us in the basement. Angelo...” Victor motions at me.
Angelo nods and stalks in my direction. I try to dart away, but his stride is so much longer than mine. He’s got me slung over his shoulder in five seconds flat, exactly like that first day.
Unlike the first day, my arms aren’t bound this time. I slam my fists against his back over and over. “Let go of me, you fucking bastard!”
It’s like I’m pounding against stone, and it hurts my hands more than I know it’s hurting him. I don’t stop, though. I lean down, trying to bite whatever parts of him I can reach. But I can’t get my teeth around his muscled back, and Angelo only laughs.
I’m in a panic about the fact that they’re taking me back to the basement—with cameras. The last time I was in there, I’d woken up with my clothes ripped and left open. What will they do with me now that they’re actively pissed at me?
I’m not dumb enough to think I can fight off three grown men, especially when just one of them can toss me around like a ragdoll. “Let me go!” I demand, but even I can hear that I sound just like Freddie: my voice trembles, slightly ragged, out of fear.
“Oh, no, Princess. I’m not letting you go just yet. We have plans for you.”
With those ominous words, he heads back down into the basement with me unable to do anything but pound uselessly at his back.