I’d much rather beat the spoiled princess-attitude out of her, but that would have broken her too fast. She was the daughter of some Albanian mafia boss, who had fucked Gabor over. Gabor didn’t even care that much for her, but he insisted on breaking her slowly to draw out the revenge. When he sent her back to her father six months later, she could barely speak. She just stared into thin air, like she’d had a lobotomy. No one has fucked with Gabor since.

“I don’t think this one will act as crazy as that brat.”And I don’t think I’d mind going easy on her.The idea of locking this girl up—maybe even keeping her in a cage—has my cock stirring against her back. I imagine her big, green eyes staring helplessly up at me from behind the bars. She would bark a bit when I came to feed her from my hand through the bars, but a few strokes on her cheek and she would go all pliant, like putty in my hands.

Gabor studies her for a while. “Nah, I like having her roam free. It fucks with her head more. Makes it more fun breaking her. Draws it out more.”

“New place, then?”

“Yes. Get her something nice and clean. Closer to the parliament, so I have easy access. Soundproof, of course. And maybe something pretty and pink to match her innocence.”

“You’re a sick fucker, you know that?”

“Well, thank you,” he says as he tightens his tie and smooths the silky fabric over his chest. He glances back down at Rebecca, who is stirring a bit like she’s waking up. “But don’t let her get too comfortable. Maybe start training her ass or something to remind her of who she belongs to.”

We both watch her as she makes a soft moan and her eyes flutter open.

“There we go,” Gabor drawls, shifting to English. “Back to the world of the living.”

She stiffens against me, and I instinctively stroke my hand against her stomach. I don’t know what it is about this girl. She makes me want to comfort her for more than just the sake of practicality.

Gabor slips his suit jacket on and closes the buttons while watching Rebecca. “Unfortunately, it will be a while before I can see you again, but Janos here will takegoodcare of you in the meantime. Make sure to thank him when he starts training you. You’ll be grateful for it in the end.”

With that, he leaves, snarling to Kadri on his way out. “Clean this mess. I don’t want to fuck in a pigsty.” He halts and turns in the door to the hall. “Oh, and Janos, make sure to get her eating.” He turns his attention to Rebecca as he keeps speaking to me. “I don’t want to break my new toy this soon.”

“Sure thing.” I lift Rebecca into my arms as the door slams and carry her through the room and the small hallway. She doesn’t protest, just hangs in my arms as I take her to the bathroom and set her on the open toilet.

“You have one minute,” I say, leaving the room to allow her a modicum of privacy. I’m tempted to stay and watch the humiliation taint her cheeks a lovely pink as she pees in front of me, but right now, my job is to mend her as much as possible, not break her further.

Once I hear her flush, I go back in and start stripping out of my clothes. I need a shower too, and I enjoy the idea of getting inside that small stall with her more than I probably should.

I can almost see her pulse beating in her neck as she watches me. She tries not to, but her eyes keep coming back, taking in the wide size of my arms and my well-defined abs. Her throat bobs as she lingers on the long scar across my chest, and her brows furrow with something like concern as she takes in the smaller ones. I’m sure she would get even more horrified if I told her I got all those when I was just a kid.

But what has her eyes going round like saucers is when I shove my pants and boxers down in one go. My cock springs free, rock hard, long, and thick. She immediately averts her gaze, then looks back and away again.

“Like what you see?” I say with a chuckle, smiling at the rosy hue spreading over her face. Her eyes remain downcast as I offer her my hand, but she gingerly takes it, nonetheless, letting me guide her into the shower stall.

I take my time, soaping up Rebecca, relishing the feeling of her soft skin and gentle curves as I roam my hands over her body. It will feel even better once I get her eating again and she regains the weight she’s lost.

She seems to enjoy it almost as much as I do, her eyes falling shut and tiny hums forming in her throat as I go. I don’t think she even realizes how she’s reacting. She would struggle more if she did. Like when I sat behind her as we waited for Gabor and she kept leaning forward, avoiding too much physical contact. I wanted to pull her back and force her into me, but what I wantedeven more was to feel her give in on her own. Eventually, she did. I just had to wait for the powerlessness to sink deep enough, and then all it took was a few soothing motions.

I wanted to fuck her myself at that moment, but holding her while she wept was almost as good. That sweet combination of seeing her suffer at the hands of Gabor and getting to comfort her is like a drug I’m already becoming addicted to.

I turn her around and go to work on her hair, massaging her rose-scented shampoo into her dark brown tresses and rubbing her scalp as I go. She’s like putty in my hands, and when I turn her back around, her eyes are glazed as if she’s deep in subspace.

I haven’t played too much with BDSM, preferring the rougher type of sex that this line of work offers. But I have been to a few clubs and had a few women submit to me of their own free will. Gabor has always encouraged me to find knowledge in different places, and the clubs offered a new perspective on how to manipulate people and bend Gabor’s toys to my will. But none of it has ever been as satisfying as seeing this girl submit to me—this girl who is by no means here of her own free will and should hate me, yet gives in as if she wants to.

I’m baffled every time it happens, and she keeps surprising me. When her eyes fall to the bite mark on my arm—the one she made—her eyes go round and regretful.

“I’m sor—” she says, catching herself as if remembering she shouldn’t apologize to me. She bites her bottom lip as she keeps watching, and her fingers twitch as if she wants to reach up and trace the bluish bruise and the imprint of her teeth.

“You may touch it,” I say.

She hesitates for a moment before slowly lifting her fingers to trail them over the bruise with a featherlight touch, as if afraid to hurt me. The feeling of her slender hand running across my skin goes straight to my dick. They look so breakable close to my big arms. So innocent against my tattoos.

Before I get too caught up in the sensation, I push the glass door open and usher her out. But my dick remains semi-hard as I pad her dry and bring her back to bed, where I tuck her in.

She rubs her hands over the sheets and makes this half-disgusted expression. “Why?” she asks.

“Why what?”