Arranged Mafia Marriage

Elsa

“Are you sure?”

Why is he asking me that? Why is he giving me a way out? Why can’t he simply take what I’m offering? Why can’t he just dominate me, overpower me, ride over my wishes, and give me what I need? Why can’t he satisfy the ache that crawls in my belly? This emptiness that has been inside me for so long, that has grown over the months and the years, until I can barely feel myself anymore.

“Princess?” He notches his knuckles under my chin and lifts up my head. “What do you say?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and draw in a breath. Then, “Yes,” I nod, “yes.”

The breath rushes out of him. His muscles seem to relax. Eh? Had he actually thought I would decline his offer? How could I? How could I walk away from him? The fact he gave me a way out only confirms to me I’ve made the right choice… Did he do it knowing he had a better chance of getting me to agree if he put the power back in my hands? Had he told me I could leave, knowing I wouldn’t? Had he left the decision to me, knowing I would stay, and this time, it would be of my own volition, thus effectively, handing the power back to him, and putting myself at his disposal completely? My head spins. Damn it, I am tying myself in knots.

“You made the right decision, Princess.” He reaches for a bottle of grappa and pours a thimble-sized portion into a glass. He places it on the counter. I reach for it and he clicks his tongue. “Did I give you permission to touch it yet.”

I shake my head.

“Say it.”

“You didn’t give me permission to touch it yet.”

He glares at me, and my breathing grows ragged. The pulse at the base of my throat flutters.

“No.” I swallow. “No, Master.”

“Good girl.”

I flush, and his gaze intensifies. His nostrils flare, and something like satisfaction settles over his features. He seems so confident, so pleased with himself. Damnit, did I make the right choice? Should I have left when he gave me the chance? I glance from my drink to his empty glass. “Where’s yours?”

His lips curl.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ll find out,” he murmurs. “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“Open. Your. Mouth. I won’t repeat myself again.”

I part my lips.

He clamps his fingers around the nape of my neck, then he reaches for the glass of grappa, takes a sip, then leans in, and puts his lips to mine. He dribbles the grappa into my mouth. Heat flushes my skin and my belly flip-flops. My thighs clench and I swallow, so aware I am drinking from him. Oh, my god, this is so filthy. And so hot. So very hot. Why do I find it hot? Why do I not find it more disgusting? That familiar guilt creeps into the back of my mind. I shouldn’t find this so sensual, shouldn’t need this degradation so much. What’s wrong with me that I can’t enjoy vanilla sex like most of the population of this planet?

“Don’t.” He peers into my face. “Don’t do it.”

“What?”

“Don’t berate yourself.”

“How do you know-”

“You’re so damn transparent, woman.” He reaches over and scoops up a drop from the corner of my mouth, then he brings it to his lips and sucks on his finger.

My toes curl and heat sluices through my veins. How can such a simple gesture turn out to be so… so much more?

“Open your mouth, baby.”

I oblige.

He takes another sip of the grappa then spits it at my mouth. Some of it hits my tongue and some of it slips down my chin; he follows the trail and licks it up.

He takes a third sip, and this time, he closes the distance between us and fits his mouth to mine. The warm liquid slips across my tongue and he chases it with his own. The alcohol drips into my veins, the scent of him envelops me, the taste of him fills my palate. He tilts his head, deepens the kiss, and a moan bubbles up my throat. My skin feels too tight for my body. My scalp tingles. My entire body seems to be on fire. Too much, too soon. He’s not just dominating me; he’s consuming me. He’s going to chew me up and spit me out, and I’ll never be able to deny him anything. My heart begins to race and my pulse pounds at my temples. I try to pull away, but he tightens his fingers around the nape of my neck and holds me in place. “Breathe,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’ve got you; I promise.”

Does he, though?

What if he decides I’m the cause of Nonna’s death? What if he finds out how I am going to betray him? Will he still treat me with such consideration then? My pulse rate speeds up, and my knees tremble. I grip his upper arm and dig my fingernails into his biceps. His muscles are so solid, it’s like trying to hold onto a brick wall.

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” I whisper. “I want you to treat me like I’m your slave. Someone you’ll use for your needs and discard after. Someone you don’t care about, except to make sure your desires are being taken care of. Can you do that for me?”

A crease wrinkles the space between his eyebrows.

“Please.” I lean in, close enough for my breasts to push into the unforgiving expanse of his chest. “Please, Master, use me. Abuse me. Treat me roughly. Tear into my pussy, maul my skin, take my ass, use all my holes for your pleasure, Master.”

Color smears his cheeks. His nostrils flare, even as his gaze sharpens on me. His grasp on my neck tightens to the point of pain. Goosebumps pop on my skin.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.”

“You have no idea what would happen if I take you at your word.”

“I want you to.”

“Once I start, there’s no backing down. Once you’re mine, I’ll never release you.”

“Are you only going to keep saying that, or will you do something about it, too?”

“Choose a safe word,” he growls.

“Eh?” I blink rapidly.

“A safe word,” he repeats, “choose a safe word. One you will use when you want me to stop what I’m doing to you. But remember, once you do, it’s because you definitely don’t want me to continue what I am doing.”

“I don’t need a safe word,” I scoff, “I can take everything you do to me.”

“I am not like any of the Doms you may have seen perform at your nightclubs. What I ask of you will not be easy. What I demand you to do for me will be beyond your comfort level. So, I’m telling you again, choose a safe word, Princess.”

I hold his gaze, and the intent in his is so potent. So real. The lines radiating out from his eyes seem to have deepened in the last few minutes. The expression on his face is so serious, he seems to be in pain.

“Elsa?” He growls, “Choose. The. Fucking. Safe word.”

“Oracle,” I burst out.

“Oracle?”

“Oracle,” I repeat. “It’s oracle.”

“Good.” He looks me up and down. “Now let’s discuss boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” I blink.

“Apparently, you haven’t been observing carefully on your forays to the BDSM clubs, or you wouldn’t be asking me that.” He widens his stance. “Boundaries, Princess. Is anything a hard ‘no’ for you? Anything off-limits for you?”

“Off-limits?” I know I’m repeating his words, but somehow, I seem to have lost the ability to think.

“Not that I encourage it, but I wouldn’t be a good Dom if I didn’t ask you. Is there anything you don’t want me to do to you?” He leans in closer, so the heat from his body seems to increase in intensity, so I can see the fine lines around his eyes, so that masculine scent of his seeps into my skin, and it all goes straight to my head.

“You mean like-”

“Like, can I take your ass, your pussy, your mouth… all at the same time, after having tied you up and flogged you and aroused you until you are so slippery, I can use your cum to ease my way inside your backchannel?”

I swallow. All the moisture seems to have dried from my mouth. The space between my legs, on the other hand, is another matter altogether. Why do I find what he’s saying so hot? Why do I want him to do exactly that to me?

“Princess?” he growls. “Still waiting for your answer.”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Yes,” I whisper, breathless.

His gaze widens. “Are you sure?”

Jesus, can’t he just accept what I am saying and let it be? Does he have to ask me to think through all of my answers?

“Well?” He tilts his head. “You sure about this?”

“Yes,” I burst out. “Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.”

I can’t stop the flush that sears my cheeks. All he has to do is praise me, and I’m ready to do anything for him.

“There’s one more thing…” He narrows his gaze on me. “What I ask of you won’t be limited to the physical.”

I frown. “You mean-”

“Your emotions, your feelings. I’ll ask you to share your thoughts, your desires, your past.” He surveys my features. “Does that scare you?”

My heart stutters and my stomach knots. What does he mean by that? Does he suspect there’s something in my past he needs to know about? Does he think I’m hiding something from him? Surely not. I haven’t given him any reason to think so, have I? No, this is him taking his duties as a Dom seriously, that’s all. Can he see how much I’m shaking?

I tip up my chin, meet his gaze. “No, it doesn’t scare me, Master.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps.

I flinch.

“I… I’m not.”

“You realize what I am asking, don’t you? When I break you down, it will be not just your physical surrender I desire, but your emotional transparency, as well. I’ll expect you to share every part of yourself with me. There will be nowhere and nothing you can hide from me. Do you understand?”

A ripple of apprehension squeezes my ribcage. My stomach churns. Now is the time to back away, to say this entire arrangement is a mistake. Now is the time to leave.

“It’s not too late to leave if you’re scared.” It’s as if he’s read my mind. “If you want to walk away from this agreement, now is your chance.” His lips curl.

Goddamn him, he’s testing me. He’s so sure I won’t be able to hold up to whatever he has in store for me. He’s trying to scare me off. Or maybe, he knows me too well. Perhaps he suspects if he taunts me, I’ll rise to the challenge. Either way, I have come too far. I need to see this through. I need to show him I can go toe-to-toe with him.

“Princess?” His voice softens, “Do you understand?”

I nod.

“I need to hear you say it,” he prompts.

“Yes, Master,” I breathe, “yes, I understand. You can do as you please with me. You want me to give myself to you physically, emotionally, and mentally. You want me to belong to you completely.”

“And you agree?”

“I do.”

A flush steals over his features. A nerve throbs at his temple. “And you have your safe word which is…”

“Oracle,” I murmur.

“And you’ll use it when you want me to stop. And only when you definitely want me to stop. When I have pushed you so far beyond your boundaries you know you can’t bend anymore.”

I nod.

He draws in a sharp breath. His shoulders seem to expand. Then, without taking his gaze off of me, he reaches down, grips the lapels of my blouse, and yanks them apart.