Sold to Moretti Mafia

Elena

Julian has left me tied to this bed for two days now. My wrists are sore, and my arms ache from being in the same position all the time. I thought after the nightmare, and the way he held me, he would release me, but he didn’t.

What’s even worse than being uncomfortable is the loneliness. The only person I’ve seen or spoken to is Julian, and he doesn’t stay long when he is here. That probably has something to do with me constantly yelling at him and pushing him away. I hate and yearn for him all at once. Hate what he is doing to me, but also yearn for him, desperate for his touch. The way he held and comforted me has my body confused.

I know that part of it is only because he is the only human contact I have. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s more than that. The way he touched me, punished me… how he used me. It was… unexpected. Not the part of him acting that way, the part of me liking it.

There must be something fundamentally wrong with me. How can I possibly enjoy what he did to me? How can my body want more of it?

With nothing to do besides think about Julian and what we did, I’m in a constant state of need. My body feels hot, and every time he lets me go to the bathroom, I find my panties soaked.

I turn my head to check the time. He should be back with my dinner soon. Right on cue, my stomach growls.

Watching the minutes tick by, I wait for him to open the door.

When I finally hear him approaching, I curse myself for feeling the excitement bubble up inside of me. Yes, there is definitely something wrong with me.

The lock disengages, and the door opens, revealing Julian in all his glory. Like expected, he is holding a tray of food. What I don’t see coming is him being in workout clothes.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

His usual suit and tie are gone, and he is wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt. Both are covered in sweat and clinging to his muscles like a second skin. I can see every one of his muscles flex as he walks toward me. My mouth goes dry, and my thighs rub together, desperate for any kind of friction. I want him so badly, and I hate that I want him.

“I lost track of time at the gym.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare at his chest, wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers over it.

“You’re doing it again.” He chuckles, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“W-what?”

“Looking at me like you want me to fuck you.”

“Maybe I do…”

“Don’t be a tease, Elena.” Julian shakes his head, looking baffled. “Now, be a good girl and let me feed you.” Taking the fork, he loads it up with a small piece of chicken and tops it with a heap of mash potato.

I part my lips just wide enough for him to slip the food between them. Then, I close my lips and let him slide the fork back out, leaving me with a savory mouth full of food. I watch him watching me eat. His gaze never leaving my lips.

We repeat the process a few more times, each time feeling more erotic than the next. Who knew feeding could feel so… sensual? Him taking care of me like this, of my basic needs, there is something nurturing about it.

This feeling of him caring for me, and the memory of how he used my body, is a dangerous combination. I have to stop reliving the memory. It was a punishment, after all.

After the fourth bite, I shake my head. Indicating that I’m done.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he says, looking down at the plate.

“I know, I just…” I know this change in conversation is going to surprise him, but I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I can’t keep the thoughts to myself any longer. “Why do you want to wait until after the wedding to have sex?” It’s a question I have wondered about for a while. Julian doesn’t strike me as a religious man, so he must have some other reason.

“Tradition mostly. That’s the short answer anyway.”

“I don’t want to wait,” I blurt out. “I want to do it now. Today.”

Julian’s eyebrows pull together as he gives me a puzzled look. “Why? The wedding is in a few days. Why now of all the times?”

Lifting my chin, I look him in the eyes. “Because I want it to be my choice.” I didn’t even realize how true that was until the words left my mouth. Yes, I’m freaking horny, like a cat in heat, but I also want this to be on my terms. “My whole life, every choice has been taken away from me. This time, I want a choice. I want to decide when I’m giving my virginity away.”

Tilting his head, he stares at me like I’m a math equation he’s trying to solve. “Are you sure about this? I won’t untie you for it.”

“I don’t care. I want this to be my choice.”

“Fine, but under one condition.” His lips tip up in their signature smirk. “Admit that you liked what I did to you the other day.”

Suppressing a gasp, I ask, “What part?”

“Whatever part you liked.”

All of it.

Too embarrassed to say it, I opt to say my favorite part. “When you… you know… licked me… there.”

“You mean when I had my tongue on your tight little asshole?”

I’m pretty sure my cheeks are bright red, at least, it feels like they’re on fire. Looking down at the blanket draped over my lap, I manage to whisper, “Oddly, that too.”

I’m ashamed to admit how much I liked everything that we did.

“I think I might need to take back what I said about you before. I thought you couldn’t handle my dark and sinister needs. I think you’ll be able to handle them just fine. More so, you’ll enjoy them.”

He gets up and sets the tray on top of the dresser. I’m about to ask him what he is doing. He better not be leaving again. My question gets stuck in my throat when he starts to undress, pulling his shirt over his head, he throws it carelessly onto the ground. Then pulls his short down and steps out of those as well.

He’s not wearing any underwear, and my eyes are glued on his already hard penis, swinging from side to side as he walks back over to me. He pulls the blanket off my legs and dips his fingers into my leggings, pulling them down, along with my panties.

“Are you sure about this? Last chance to back out,” he warns as he climbs onto the bed, spreading my legs and moving into the space between them.

“Are you really not going to untie me?”

Grinning, he shakes his head, no. “I like you tied up and helpless.”

“Like I would be any less helpless if I wasn’t tied up?”

Julian points to his neck. “May I remind you of some deep scratches across my neck? Scratches that your sharp nails put there.”

“I was just scared and angry.”

“And you’re not scared now?” He bends my knees and spreads me even wider, exposing my center to him as much as he can.

I gulp. “Not like I was before.” The truth is, I’m still scared, but it’s a different kind of fear now. I was scared of being hurt physically before. I was scared of being raped, beaten, and shared between men.

Now, I’m scared of being alone, being cheated on, lied to, and discarded like I don’t matter. I’m scared of not being enough, not measuring up to what he thinks I am or who he needs me to be.