My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered

My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered Read Free Page B

Book: My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered Read Free
Author: Marita A. Hansen
Tags: Erótica, sex slaves, capture, bondage, fbi, italian mafia, kidnapped, agents, non consent
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it was the mental pain that had come
after: the taunts and actions that spoke of me being puttano. But, I wasn’t a
whore. My sleeping with the slaves was not a choice; it was a part
of my job as their trainer. Still, what Alberto had done to me was
damning, the way he’d pushed me onto the bed, tore down my pants,
and mocked me as though I wanted his filthy cazzo was beyond belief. I wanted to make
him suffer for humiliating me. And if it wasn’t for Frano,
the animale would be dead by the end of the night, with his cock cut
off and stuffed in his mouth , as well as a dagger resting in his heart, which I should’ve
done to his godfather.
    “ What Alberto did was
unthinkable...” Federico said, reverting back to
English.
    That was putting it
mildly. I
shuddered at the thought. The disgusting brute had been hard, his
lust for power no doubt behind it, because I knew he wasn’t gay,
the bastardo using my slaves as if they were part of his personal harem.
But rapists were all alike, sexual preference not always a factor,
something I wish I didn’t know about—a downside of my sick job and
life.
    I wiped my face. It
wasn’t because I was crying, no, my tears had dried up many years
ago, it was because I was exhausted from traveling and training
more slaves than usual, the orders coming in faster than I could
handle. This week I had five slaves leave the cells, Honey amongst
them, which meant I had to kidnap more women. I wished that
American slaves weren’t so popular, so I didn’t have to fly back
there, the flights something I detested. I’d rather snatch my prey
from the continent, preferably Scandinavia, where the blondes were
real. I also wished that the women didn’t require training, that we
could just ship them off like the Slavs did, but our market was
specific, our clients requiring certain types of slaves, subs that
were trained for their explicit tastes, often perverted as they
were, or masochists who cried to be whipped and begged to be
hurt.
    “ Stai bene? ” Federico said, asking if I
was okay.
    “ I’m fine, I’m just tired,” I
mumbled, pushing up from the bed.
    F ederico stood with me, looking as if he
thought I’d collapse or curl up on the floor, which was ridiculous,
because I wasn’t some weak slave, just aching from the beating
Alberto had given me, the bruising along my ribs from his kicks
probably already beginning to color my skin.
    I headed for the door, humiliation a hard
cocktail to swallow. As I went to go upstairs a wave of dizziness
overtook me, probably from the knock to my head, which I had
sustained from Alberto throwing me down the staircase. Or maybe it
was from the acid I’d taken earlier. But regardless, I needed
support before I dropped. I leaned against the wall, the cold of
the stone seeping through to my bones.
    Federico placed a hand on my shoulder,
tentatively at first, then more assured when I didn’t shake it off.
“Do you require a doctor?” he asked.
    “ No.” I turned and walked up the
staircase, needing to get to my room. I didn’t want the man’s pity,
nor could I handle it. I headed across the lounge and ascended the
main staircase, stopping at the top. I turned to Federico,
wondering why he was still following me. “You can take leave now,”
I said.
    “ The don wants me to guard
your room.”
    “ Why?”
    “ To protect you from
Alberto.”
    I clenched my jaw, the mention
of my cousin angering me. “I have a lock, I don’t need a guard,” I said,
knowing it was very possible that Alberto could attack me again. I
should never have provoked him, the man a raging bull.
    “ Regardless, the don has
commanded it ,” Federico said, looking like he wasn’t going to back
down.
    “ Okay,” I snapped. “Do as you
please.” I headed down the left wing and pushed open my door, the
surprise awaiting me in my room freezing me. Alberto’s wife was
standing by my bed, looking battered, her face painted like my
ribs. I didn’t need to ask who had hit

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