Page 20 of Capo

“Can I please have clothes?”

I scramble back with a whimper, throwing my arm over my head, as he suddenly stands and raises his hand as if to hit me. When nothing happens, I peek up at him. He’s a terrifying vision, his nostrils flaring, his lips thinned in fury, his hands balled into fists.

“Go. Sit. On the fucking couch.”

I don’t have to be told again.

Cradling my aching arm, I cover my breasts. Taking shallow breaths to not worsen the sharp pain in my chest, I pull up my knees and fold them to the side, giving myself a sliver of decency as I manage to hide most of my nakedness.

Salvatore turns his back to me, typing away at his laptop, giving me a chance to study the monster. His black hair is on the longer side of short and curls at his nape, just touching the collar of his impeccable white shirt. There are barely-there strands of silver at his temples, and in his stubble that is cut in a sharp line below his jaw. The muscles in his arms strain the sleeves of the shirt as he moves, and I fight down the renewed surge of panic as I think about what he can do with all that strength. He doesn’t even need his gun. He’s like a machine built to hurt, to kill.

Tell on the mob and die.

I glance between him and the door. Can I make it? Then I remember the hallway, the guard, the long driveway and even more guards. Even with clothes on and my ribs not broken I wouldn’t make it three feet. Maybe I should just make a run for it anyway? They’ll kill me and I’ll be free. From the sound of it, that’s my only shot at getting away from this nightmare.

The room is warm, but not warm enough and I’m covered in goosebumps, fighting to keep the shuddering under control. Glancing over my shoulder, somehow managing to keep an eye on Salvatore at the same time as I look out the window, I consider opening it, jump and just take it from there.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growls.

I jerk hard, my heart stopping for a second, and stare at his back. He hasn’t moved. “I… I wasn’t—”

He spins his chair a quarter of a circle, looking me over, his gaze hard. “Did I tell you to speak?”

I flinch. “No, sir.”

Sir? Why sir? I don’t want to call him anything even remotely respectful, but in my mind-numbing terror it just slipped out of my mouth. The flash of hunger in his eyes makes me shrink back.

“Did I tell you to move?”

“No,” I whimper.

“No what?”

I swallow hard. “No…” I lick my lips and plead with him silently not to do this to me. It’s not fair. I haven’t done anything to deserve this. His gaze hardens, making my chest tighten. “Sir,” I choke out.

He smirks, then he turns again and continues typing on his laptop. My soul shrinks. What am I doing? I shouldn’t cower. I should fight! Fuck.

My head darts up as there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” barks Salvatore.

Ivan enters with a tall, blonde girl in tow. She’s got a short, sleeveless red dress with a neckline so low it just about hides her nipples. Despite her stiletto sandals, she strides confidently half-way into the room. I’m no stranger to high heels, but even I would wobble on those. Her gaze falls on me, taking me in, her eyes widening, darting between me and Salvatore. Then she takes a deep breath and looks straight forward, seemingly into the distance.

“Rose,” mutters Ivan, before he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Come here, Rose,” purrs Salvatore in a voice I haven’t heard before, low, sensual, almost like a lover’s. My insides grow cold. I don’t know what game he’s playing. What is he going to do with this girl? Hurt her too? In front of me? Is this my punishment? My mind spins as the scenarios run faster and faster through my brain. The girl moves closer, unable to not glance my way several times. I want to scream at her to run, but I’m too afraid of what will happen if I do. Instead I sit passively, feeling as if I’ll be an accomplice to what he’ll put this girl through.

Rose sways her hips seductively as she moves to stand right in front of the still sitting Salvatore, who has again swung his chair to the side.

“Aren’t you a pretty little whore. Get on your knees. Put your lips around my cock.” He shoots me a leery glance, and then looks at the girl who has obediently sunken down between his legs and begun to pull open his belt. Salvatore leans back in his chair, stretches out his legs and puts his hands behind his head.

I stare, transfixed, as she pulls out his semi-rigid cock, already huge, and takes him in her mouth. Something stirs between my legs. I squirm and desperately want to look away. Having a front seat to someone else’s sex show is disturbing and still uncomfortably erotic. For a while all that is heard is the noise of her sucking and the occasional low moan from the monster. At least he isn’t hurting her. I clench my thighs together. My pussy tingles. My body is a fucking traitor. I sure as fuck don’t want to get turned on by this.

Suddenly he grabs her hair and stands. I tense. Here it goes. But all he does is push deeper, burying his cock to the hilt with each forceful thrust. Finally he holds still, her face pressed against his groin, as his features contort. Her chest hitches as her face turns red, and it becomes increasingly obvious she can’t breathe. I feel like I’m choking too. Is he going to kill her? Right before my eyes. The girl pushes at his thighs, panic in her gaze. I’m just about to beg him to stop when he pulls back. She inhales a deep breath, her eyes wide and frightened before she quickly puts on her professional facade again.

“Stand up,” he says as he puts his cock back in his pants. “Bend over the chair.”

Her legs wobble this time, not so self-confident anymore. She bends over, gripping the edge of the seat, presenting her ass to him. Salvatore pulls up her little dress past her hips and turns her slightly, so that I can see her pink, hairless pussy.

---