Pakhan's Rose

By: V.F. Mason


The blood dripped from my nose as pain rushed through me from the blow of the man’s fist, and I had to bite my lip hard so no sound would escape.

He would get no satisfaction from his actions.

“A Cosa Nostra’s princess and the pakhan’s woman,” the man proclaimed greedily. “Never thought I’d fuck one of those.” He licked his knuckles while groaning in pleasure, tasting my blood. I barely contained my gag reflex, my stomach flipping inside me. His constantly shifting eyes scanned my body and clothes, or rather, what was left of them. The glint in them at my nakedness couldn't be ignored. “I’ll enjoy tasting their little Rose.” Slowly, he started to take his clothes off, piece by piece, and his disgusting, toned skin covered in various scars, which looked like nail scratches, came to light. He had a huge dragon tattoo, located right in the middle of his chest. It was almost a crime putting such a magnificent animal on this fucker’s skin.

His two bodyguards chuckled, their guns pointed at me, but I could see the hint of lust in their gazes. They were aroused by everything the man did—fuckers. Normal people wouldn't have worked for this sick man.

“You will regret touching me,” I warned with a shaky voice, trying one more time to jerk the chains off my hands, but they wouldn't budge. The granite wall behind me scratched my back to the point of bleeding, and I couldn't remember the last time I had food or clean water in my mouth. My eyelids felt heavy, and for some reason, all I wanted was to sleep and forget ever being here, even though I knew I had to be 100 percent focused on the danger in front of me. My legs were numb from the guards kicking them a few hours ago. Fear rushed through me at the idea of never walking again. “Dominic will kill you for laying a hand on me.”

The man smirked, inhaled his cigarette one more time, and threw it on the floor. “Doubtful, but by the time the precious daddy and boyfriend come, you’ll already be acquainted with my dick a few times.” He palmed his appendage and moaned in pleasure. “Yes, it will be exquisite torture for both of them. Serves them right. I became collateral damage in their war for you. Now, I’ll get the spoils.” With those words, he darted after me, and my scream of terror echoed through the basement.

For the second time in my life, I was a victim of a man’s desire to inflict vengeance for something I had nothing to do with.

Unfortunately for me, this time I had no hope of surviving.

Sixteen years ago


Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

The sound of water slowly dripping, drop by drop, from the nearby sink drove me crazy, and I barely restrained myself from pulling my hair and screaming in frustration, even knowing it was pointless.

My body trembled as the wind slowly touched my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping to hold some heat inside. The blanket draped over my shoulders was worn out and provided more of a sense of comfort than it gave actual warmth against the cold. My lucid mind still thought Damian’s scent was on it after all this time. I scratched my arm, wincing in pain as I touched the sensitive spot where Richard used his chains frequently.

I still smelled like that awful man, because John didn't allow me to shower anymore unless I was meeting a client. After Damian and the twins escaped, they wouldn’t let me do anything that might help me break out of my ‘prison.’ I suspected they did it out of spite too, to punish me for the sins my brother had committed.

Well, fuck you, assholes.

It had been almost a year since they escaped, and never once did I regret helping them. The knowledge that Damian was out there living a better life than I was, well… it brought me happiness and gave me a sense of peace. And I was so fucking glad he thought I died, because otherwise, his mind would never rest and he would’ve tried to save me.

I knew full well my days could be counted on fingers here, and soon they’d get rid of me. Richard liked chaining and fucking me once a week, but even his eyes didn’t light up with lust as they used to. After all, fifteen-year-old boys didn't resemble the small child of six who he used to love.

I closed my eyes and rested against the wall, ignoring the pain it provided. My imagination, the one I used rarely, took me to another place where it was hot and the sounds of waves crashing calmed my nerves.

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