The Italian Dom by N.J. Adel

CHAPTER 28

Nicky

 

One more thing to add to the list of things this asshole had ruined for me. My life, my favorite movie, my favorite color and now Italy. The first time I travel to Europe—anywhere—I spent the day, locked in a room, bound, naked, cold, hungry and humiliated.

People went to Italy to eat and fuck. I didn’t get to do either. Instead, I was used to satisfy the sick fantasies of my husband-captor son of a bitch where he got to have his release and I didn’t. Then I was covered in his cum that wasn’t only disgusting but also the smell, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it or remind myself how much I hated him, kept me horny all the time—along with the sight of him sprawled naked on the bed a few inches away from me—with no chance to give myself an orgasm.

God, why did the people we hated the most always look like that? Fucking gorgeous and hot…and really well hung. I missed my vibrator.

I missed a lot of things. My sister, Nick, my apartment and my sane self that didn’t need to focus on her libido to avoid acknowledging the fact that she was a captive to a monster who tortured and killed people for a living. That he was going to torture her, too, to use her body every day for his sick pleasure, to break and ruin her beyond repair. Just like the monster before him.

Denial. My superpower.

You and I have serious issues, Nicky. Living in denial for years, pretending to be normal would never make them go away. A woman like me needs a man like Tino, one who isn’t afraid of the darkness, one who would do whatever it takes to protect me, one who knows when to take the lead, to push me to my limits and show me my truth with no judgment, one who understands and embraces every single urge and desire I have, one who is so fucking powerful he can replace the marks the monster left on my soul.

Lina’s words echoed in my ears all of a sudden. She was trying to convince me Domenico was right for me like Tino was for her. That I should give him a chance. That someone like me would only feel good with a man like him. And now, betraying me just like my body, my mind was doing the same. Great timing. Another trick my mind loved to play. Another way to cope with the atrocious things about to happen to me. To survive.

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes closed, refusing to listen. Not because Lina chose the dark path I should follow, too.

But she’s happy.

True. But only because she didn’t know any better. Because her mind had been playing games on her, just like mine was doing now. Because it was the only way to survive because I failed to protect her.

But no. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

All my silly thoughts had gone. No more believing my baby sister didn’t need my protection anymore. No more having to give a shit about Tino because Lina and Nick were Bellomos. No more room for this weak shit in this world my sister and I were forced to live in.

I still had one last chance to protect my sister and myself. To take down the real enemy and snap Lina out of her delusions. To save her and my nephew once and for all.

That chance was the gorgeous monster that held me captive, cuffed naked to his bed, that hated me as much as I hated him, that wanted nothing but to humiliate and break me so he could make me his own to use and abuse for the rest of my life.

If I gave him what he wanted, he’d give me what I wanted. If I told him what he wanted to hear, if I convinced him I’d be his, if I made the right moves, my captor would be my freedom.

But how could I win this game when I knew nothing about my opponent?

Well, I knew a few things. He was dangerous, and not just because he was a vicious torturer and a killer. Domenico Lanza could be gentle and caring when he wanted to, and that was more dangerous than his cruelty. As much as I was afraid of his monstrosity and roughness, it was his other side, his gentle and I dared say vulnerable side, that terrified me the most. Mindfucks were way worse than rape.

Another thing I knew was that, like me, he was stubborn as fuck and hated to lose. The longer I fought the longer he tortured me. He didn’t care how long it took because he enjoyed that shit. Slow burn torment to the body and soul.

Direct confrontation and head to head challenges were never going to make me win. I needed another weapon to stand a chance against the coyote. He wasn’t an actual coyote I could haze by standing tall and waving him off, yelling, “Go away, fucking ugly coyote.” He wasn’t ugly either. God, I wished he’d been. But he was stunning. Ripped with muscles everywhere, he didn’t have six packs. He had packs over packs and between packs. He had fucking sinews in his Adonis belt, and his ass… Fuck me.

No. Nope. I didn’t want him to fuck me. I hated him. He was the enemy. The one I’d use to get to the bigger enemy. I could never forget that. No matter how many times his body put my sanity to a halt.

I racked my brain to find a way, a weakness I could use to get the Coyote on my side rather than antagonize him. Before this dreadful marriage, his weakness was me. He wanted me, and I thought I could use it but failed. Now, he had me, and I had no leverage. He could do anything to me, to my body. My consent meant nothing to him because I fucking said, “I do.” I signed the papers and let Tino walk me down the aisle and give me to him.

What else could be Dom’s weakness? What else did I know about him?

Nothing. Not even the simple things like his favorite color or food. What music or movies he liked, if any. I didn’t even know if his parents were still alive or if he had any family other than his cousins and their parents.

I did know one thing, though. A secret. That weird name he used to have. Berry.

How did you get that name, Coyote? Who gave it to you and why? Why was it a secret?

And more importantly, when and how could I use such secret to my benefit?

I shifted up a little, my arms, back and ass so sore. I was going to get a rug rash, and those stupid cuffs would definitely leave marks on my wrists. I must have bent my knees up to my chest and stretched them back a hundred times, trying to give my circulation a nudge. I didn’t want my legs to go as numb as my arms. At the same time, I hoped to find a position that would allow me some sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, the pain or the cold or the hunger or the fear yanked me awake.

This time, it was my bladder. I glanced at the windows. The sun cast an orange hue all over the sky. It was almost sunset, and my captor wasn’t awake yet. Maybe, I should rattle my chains so he could fucking wake up and let me go to the bathroom. Or I could just pee on his precious carpet—that thing looked expensive—piss him off and repel him at the same time. He’d have to uncuff me and let me shower.

Or he’d just let you sit in your own piss and come all over you again because he’s a sick sadist pig who must have seen more disgusting things and isn’t deterred by something as trivial as piss.

“No…per favore…zio…no…” Domenico mumbled in his sleep.

I glanced at him as he stirred, a deep, sweaty frown on his forehead. He uttered a few other words through groans. Was he having a nightmare?

“Dom.” My throat felt like sandpaper, and my rasp was so quiet I didn’t think he heard me. “Domenico,” I managed a little louder.

He shivered, his breath catching. His groans were hard as if he was choking. I couldn’t reach him so I shook the cuffs. Maybe that would wake him. “Dom, wake up!”

He bolted upright, grinding a swear, and his hand was abruptly on my neck, squeezing tight.

“Fuck, Dom. No. It’s me. Don’t…” I gasped for air. He was really choking me, not just intimidating me like always. “I just… I can’t…breathe.”

My hands and legs jerked in a feeble attempt to hit or kick him, anything to make him snap out of it. “Dom…please. Wake…up.”

The primal yellow glow of his eyes softened, but then darkened with something I couldn’t read. His hand stopped squeezing, and he ran his fingers along my throat instead. “Mi disp… Are you okay?”

Coughing and tearing up, I looked at him. “I’m out of breath, about to have a heart attack and almost pissed myself. Other than that, I’m dandy, just like you left me.”

He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You were having a nightmare.”

His head lashed toward me, his stare a warning, as if I hadn’t been supposed to witness that or say anything about it, as if he was supposed to be immune, even to nightmares. But then he sighed again and nodded.

I appreciated the honesty. It was a good thing he didn’t feel he had to hide this from me. It might be something I could build on and use to gain his trust. Later, though. He might have been an asshole, but I wasn’t one to use people’s pain against them, and I knew a thing or two about nightmares. Like they didn’t come from nothing. Something obviously fucked him up to make him beg in his sleep and wake up choking whoever was in the room. Something dark and personal.

“Do you have many of those?” I asked warily.

His jaw twisted, and then he just got out of the bed and walked away from me.

Shit. I lost him already. “Hey, can I go to the bathroom? I really need to pee.”

He wheeled back and uncuffed me without a word. Then he carried me, cradling me in his arms like a baby and headed for the bathroom. I shivered against him. I’d never been so close to him while we were both naked. My cold skin against his felt like melting ice. My body begged for the warmth. His warmth. The heat that would devour me whole and scorch me alive.

He turned on the bathroom lights and sat me on the toilet. Then he just stood there.

“What? You’re gonna watch?” I scoffed.

“Yes,” he said as if it was a given, his voice gruff with sleep, standing with bedroom hair, naked, so very naked with very big morning wood.

“I can’t go like this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Va bene. I’ll just put you back—”

Tinkle. Tinkle!

He smirked. “Brava.”

My cheeks burned. I’d never been more embarrassed in my whole life.

He waited until I finished then he turned on the water in the shower. Of course. Why would such an asshole spare me the embarrassment and turn on the water while I peed?

To distract myself, I explored the bathroom that was the size of my bedroom. It had a free standing tub by the window that boasted the same stunning view of the beach. A huge shower enclosure with his and hers showerheads and a Jacuzzi. A big mirror above the slab marble vanity top. The golden sink faucets shone as if made of real gold. With how filthy rich he was, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“You done or going for number two?”

Eeeeew. I looked for toilet paper and found a bidet shower on my left. Fancy. I’d never used one of those but heard wonders about them. I stretched my arm to get hold of it, but he grabbed it first. Then he squatted in front of me. “Open wide.”

“No! Give me that.”

He rolled his eyes and parted my legs himself. Then, holding my stare, challenging, he pushed the handle and sprayed my pussy with water.

I hissed at the cold yet erotic feeling. Of the massaging water, of his lustful gaze, of this way too embarrassing yet intimate situation. My captor was cleaning my pussy for me.

A hard clench invaded me, so I cleared my throat. “Can I shower, too?”

His gaze burned with arousal as it swept over me. “No. I love seeing my marks on you.”

“Please. I’m cold, thirsty, hungry and so dirty. I’m a human being, not an animal. If I was your fucking pet, you’d treat me better than that.”

“Pet? I like the sound of that, little kitten.”

Fuck this jerk. “Please, Dom,” I softened my voice, hoping he’d buy my lie, “I’m…begging you.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, scrutinizing me. Then he put the bidet shower away and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. I gave him a small smile. Was he buying the bait?

“Little kitten…I’m not falling for this shit again.”

Dammit. I blinked innocently. “What shit?”

“You being nice and humble, you lying to me, fooling me to get what you want.” He tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled. “You gotta do a lot better than that.”

I winced at the pain. “What do you want me to do?”

“Captives don’t get to make demands. Simple things like food, clothes, showers, even breath are earned privileges.” His eyes lusted over me one more time. “So earn it.”

A loud gulp stuck in my dry throat. I knew what he wanted from me, how I was supposed to earn it, but I wouldn’t give it, not willingly, even if I was chained to a bed forever and starved to death.

But…I could compromise a little. I hoped. It wasn’t going to be as hard and shattering as before, right? I’d be forced to do it, I’d feel used and humiliated doing it, but, at least, it wasn’t my own father’s cock I’d be sucking.

“Okay. I’ll earn it,” I whispered.

He let go of my hair and stood erect. His hardness was right at the level of my mouth. A shiver of apprehension ran through my body, while my eyes widened with shock and fear. His erection was long and thick with engorged veins running the length. If I got past the emotional pain, what about the physical part? There was no way all of…that…could fit inside my mouth. I’d gag instantly. I’d suck at it, no pun intended, and ruin it. I’d embarrass myself for nothing.

I stared at the head, a bead of moisture shining on the tip. The sight of him so terrifying and threatening yet...sinewy and beautiful. Butterflies in my stomach, I glanced up. “Can I have some water first?”

He filled a glass with water from the sink and gave it to me. I gulped it at once and let out a sigh of relief that didn’t last long. My thirst was quenched, but my trepidation was nowhere near ending. I should have dawdled with the water to bide my time. “Thank you.” I gave him the glass, my hand shaking almost dropping it.

As he saved it from me, I licked my immediately drying lips. His gaze zeroed in on my mouth. I noticed he did that a lot. He seemed to be turned on by it because a low, throaty sound erupted from his lips as he watched, and his cock just pulsed.

His fist glided up and down his shaft while he stared down at me, daring me with his eyes. My heart banged my chest. I took a deep breath to calm down in vain.

I can do this. It’s nothing new, and it’s for the same reason. Win him over so I can save my sister. I can fucking do this.

I couldn’t fucking do this. Not willingly. My lips parted, but that was all I could do. I needed him to force me. It was the only way I could get it done.

As if he sensed my hesitation, he pulled me by the back of my neck and brought me closer. The tip of his cock touched my lips, and I gasped at the velvety friction. He rubbed himself across my lips slowly, teasingly, and I moaned. In shame. Shame that instead of fighting I was allowing him to use me. Shame that part of me wanted him to. Shame that his taste was throbbing in my pussy even though his only intention was to break and degrade me.

Pride, fear and desire battled inside me, and suddenly everything was too much. Memories and emotions attacked me, and I had an overwhelming urge to cry.

No. Anything but that. Anything but showing him of all people how weak I was.

“I…I can…” I squeezed my eyes shut and just pulled away. Another word, another anything and I’d burst into tears.

“You can what, Nicky? Suck my cock for a shower?”

“Isn’t that how you want me to earn it?”

“Is that all you have to offer?”

“Apparently, not even that.” I thought I could, but my pride and fear won. I could no longer go down that route even if it was to save myself and the people I loved.

“That’s what I thought.” He let go of me and stepped toward the shower.

I wiped my face with my palms and got off the toilet. “There must be something else I could do to earn my essential rights. I can’t stand myself like this.”

“There is.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Maria and Paulina could use a day off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Chores, Nicky. I’m sure you’ve heard of them. You clean up, make us some decent meals, do some gardening, too and put your studies into a good use.”

“I’m an architect, not a housekeeper.”

“Not in this household.”

“Is that how you treat your wife, like a servant, a fucking slave? What’s next? You’re gonna make me call you sir, Dom?”

“I think you prefer Daddy.”

My hands clenched into fists. “Fuck you.”

He chuckled. “By the way, my wife will be treated like a queen, but—”

“I’m not your fucking wife. Yeah, yeah. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. And unlike what you assumed, I don’t mind doing chores. I’ve been doing them my whole life. But what I don’t get is how any of that is gonna make me change my mind and love you, Domenico.”

“Love? Who said anything about love?”

I blinked, confused. “Isn’t that the point of all this? Break me until I come willingly to you, be your wife for real and finally be yours?”

He laughed. But it was full of anger and derision as he spun and glared down at me, nostrils flaring. “You are already mine, and in no time, you’ll be a needy little slut begging for my cock. You got it all wrong, little kitten. I don’t want your fucking love.” His gaze and his expression darkened. The darkest I’d seen from him ever. And his voice dropped an octave. “I want your pain. Your fear. I want every ounce of your hate.”

My heart shrank at the sick revelation. “You already have it.”

“No, not all of it. Even that you wouldn’t give all to me yet.” The predatory gleam in his eyes held me in place. “So, by day, you’ll mop my floors, cook my food, plunge knee deep in my mud and hate me some more.”

“Why?”

“Because, my little kitten, my pet, my captive, by night, you’ll warm my bed even better when I fuck your brains out with the best hate sex of your life. And I can’t fucking wait.”