Chapter 1: Cafe Rouge
Lola knows something is wrong as soon as the men step into her little street café. Their dark, brooding presence make her uneasy; the large frames, expressionless faces and uniform suits; all causing an unsettling feeling to take root Lola’s stomach.
She wipes down the table she’s at but keeps an eye on them as one of them turns to the nearest employee. To Martha he exchanges some words and whether it’s the words themselves or the presence of him and his colleagues, the poor girl pales.
With panic alarms ringing loud and clear, Lola puts on a façade of calm as she approaches the men.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asks, giving a tight smile at the stone set man.
“We need to have a talk with the owner,” he responds in a tone matching his hard-set features.
“I’m afraid my father is not well at the moment. But whatever it is I’m sure I can help you out on his behalf,” Lola replies with the same detached professional tone. The man narrows his eyes momentarily before flicking them at his ‘friends’.
“No, we must speak with him, only," insists the man.
“Well, that’s not possible at the moment,” Lola retorts back. The man leans down to her height, his voice going even lower.
“Listen, little girl. We want to talk to your father. So either you fúcking call him, or we will shoot this whole fúcking place down and go on up there,” he hisses, parting his jacket slightly to show his gun.
Despite the outright threat in the broad daylight in a public place, it ranks on Lola’s nerves that this oaf would dare come in with his thug buddies and be rude to her in her café.
“Listen here, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but don’t you dare think for a moment you can just come into my cafe and start threatening me!” she snarls back in the same whispered tone so as to not attract anymore unwanted attention.
It is admittedly a little late for that seeing as many of the regulars and vistors are giving curious glances their way. Well, some are just outright staring.
The man gives her a malicious scowl as he reaches down into his jacket to bring out the promised weapon.
Lola gulps slightly, and presses her hands together to stop them shaking. The crazy fool wouldn’t really start shooting would he?...Would he?! Goddamit, her and her stupid mouth! Then again, who would she be without her principles?
Thankfully, just as he’s about to draw the weapon out, a hand rests on his shoulder, seizing his movements.
“Now, now, Frankie. I don’t think the little girl knows what she’s saying,” sings a low voice. Lola glares up at the owner.
How dare he call her a little girl! At 22, she’s no little girl! As she glares into the glittering silver, grey eyes, framed by thick black lashes, her own eyes widen a little in shock. He’s absolutely gorgeous. In a dangerous, deadly way. Unlike his goons, his own suit is navy blue and fitted perfectly to emphasis a tall, lean muscular frame. His skin a light bronze, a little darker than caramel but just as tempting. Then there’s his face. His face...Oh God. Lola nears groans at such a jagged yet hauntingly beautiful face. Thick black busy eyebrows and slanted cheekbones, with a few strands of his dark black hair flickering at his forehead, his nose is crooked and lips are a dusty pink, and lusciously full. A lighter line of skin cuts across his left eyebrow up, and Lola can’t help but find that little scar even more so appealing. From his appearance, one thing is clear. He is certainly not someone you mess with.
However that initial physical attraction is one that can be tramped down for the glaringly obvious reason that he’s clearly in charge of these goons.
“Boss,” grunts the oaf who had threatened Lola.
“I apologize for my employees, Miss Beaumont. Do you have an office or somewhere private where we may discuss matters?” he asks politely.
Lola’s gaze falters not expecting the politeness, especially after hearing his employees.
“Um...yeah, this way,” she murmurs leading them through the cafe, through the hallway, past the stock room, freezer and into the tiny office. She clears some of the papers and offers a seat to the stranger opposite the desk.
The man sits down and relaxes into the chair, as his four employees, stand around him all stood stiff and suspicious. Lola darts her eyes around them before residing her gaze on their employer.
“You are?” she prompts.
“My name is Carlos Castellano. My father is Al Castellano,” the man says slowly.
Lola’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. She doesn’t understand who the man is or what he’s doing in the family cafe. She’s never seen him in her life and she sure as hell wouldn’t ever get involved with someone like him.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” she questions.
“Look bambina. This is a matter for men. Call your father-”
“I am not doing that! My father is unwell and as his daughter, whatever you need to tell him, you can tell me,” defiantly states Lola causing Carlos to narrow his eyes and curl his lips in a small scowl.
The man stares at her for a second before repeating his demand to speak to her father.
Lola just rolls her eyes. What an áss.
“I don’t like brutish Neanderthals wasting my time. So either tell me what it is you need to talk to my father about or kindly leave," spits out Lola, feeling her own patience being used up.
The man glances to his goons and nods his head. Lola watches as they exit out and close the door behind them. The soft click seems to be amplified as the tension in the cramped office sizzles.
Carlos lifts his heavy frame from the chair and stalks to the other side of the desk. Lola darts up as the man nears her, her heart thumping louder seeing his expressionless face, and predatory stance coming near her.
And to think she actually felt better with his goon squad around.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she stutters out, pacing backwards until the cool wall hits her back. The man comes to stand mere centimetres from her, towering over her as his cold eyes seem to blaze into her own terrified ones.
“You want to know of such matters, piccola, however it is far beyond you,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down Lola’s spine.
“I-I don’t know what you mean. I’m 22. I run this place with my father. I have just as much right to know about whatever business he has with you,” she breathes back, her pride not wanting to submit to him.
The man gives a short chuckle, “22. Too young. Too...innocent”
“My age doesn’t matter. Just tell me why you’re here or go before I call the police,” retorts Lola defiantly.
If she could reach a phone and if her hands would stop shaking, then sure she’d call the police. That is of course, if she survives the anxiety attack she can feel about to erupt or if he doesn’t kill her before then.
At the threat of the police, Carlos smiles an indulgent smile at her that sends another tendril of fear through her. Then, suddenly, his arms shoot out to the wall, just above her right shoulder, trapping her.
He leans forward and whispers in her ear, “you think you want to know why I am here, piccola?"
“Yes,” exhales back Lola, finding herself breathing in his heavy, musky scent. The smell paired with his low voice and brooding figure makes her insides fizzle and tingle.
“I’m here to kill your father.”
That one sentence has Lola gasping in shock, forgetting the tingles and fizzles of her body and instead having anger shoot through her.
“What?!” she cries, palms rising to his jacket and pushing back. Yet the man doesn’t move an inch.
“He borrowed money from us 15 years ago and is still to repay it. We have been lenient and given him a year, but still he continues to mock us. We have long extended our generosity now. He will pay with his life. The mob does not give second warnings,” growls Carlos, watching the fear, rage and hurt run through the young woman’s, warm brown, eyes. He cannot help but feel the need to be just that little bit malicious with her. Perhaps, he’s a sádist. But seeing her innocent features and her lithe curvy body has him wanting to cruelly slam her against the desk and pound into her until she is nothing but a screaming mess. Oh how he’d like to see tears of his savage taking leak from her doe like brown eyes; her soft brown curls wild and knotted from his fingers curling through them, gripping them as he’d ride her for all he’s worth; her creamy skin would be planted with red marks curtsey of his mouth; and her full red lips, they would be puffy and cracked from the things he’d do to them.
“The mob?” gasps Lola unaware of the mobster’s son’s thoughts. Carlos gives a dark smirk, and has the hand that had been resting at the way, cup her cheeks and trace her lips with his thumb.
“Now call your father, and we won’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
Lola’s eyes snap into his, trying to search for some kind of compassion in their cold depths.
“No. Please, please don’t hurt him. Please. We’ll pay you back, double, I promise. Please, anything,” begs Lola a single tear slips down her eyes at the futile situation.
She finds herself scared. Deathly scared. All the men have to do is go up the rickety stairs to their apartment and there they’d find her ill father in bed. She has no doubt Carlos’s goons would shoot him, even in his fragile state, just as she has no doubt that Carlos himself would it. But having lost her mother at child birth, her father’s the only family she has. The rest had long ago cast her mother and father away and remained in France, while her mother and father moved to America. Lola doesn’t even know her grandparents or even if she has any aunts and cousins and. The only person she has is her father; the man who single-handily raised her since birth.
“Careful of what you say, piccola," breathes Carlos, his hand sliding across her cheek and tracing small circles just below her ear, “promising ‘anything’ to the mob boss’s son, is not a good idea.”
Lola’s eyes flash up to his. So there is something he wants.
“What is it? What do you want in exchange for my father’s life?” she gulps, her heart pounding harder seeing his grey eyes light up and a smirk grace his lips.
“What are you willing to do for it, piccola? Are you really willing to do anything?” He murmurs, brushing back a stray strand of silky hair from her face.
“Y-yes. Yes, spare his life and...and take me instead,” she stutters out.
“Then we have a deal, Miss Beaumont. You, in exchange for your father’s life,” grins the man.
“Okay. Do you have a contract?”
“I don’t need a contract, Miss Beaumont. My word is enough. I do not go back on it...ever. And I will hold you to yours."
"But..how do I know that? How do I know that you won’t just kill me and then go kill my father?” argues Lola.
“Well, Miss Beaumont, your options are pretty limited at the moment, wouldn’t you say? You can both agree to the deal and trust my word, or I can send Frankie or one of the others up to murder your father,” shrugs Carlos turning away from her a fraction to make it seem like he couldn’t care less which option she picks.
Lola darts her tongue out to moisten her lips as she heavily considers each of the two options. Her or her father? She can’t be selfish, she just can’t. It has to be her.
“Will you...will you keep me alive?” she asks hesitantly.
“You will be kept alive Miss Beaumont. You will be...useful to me. So have you made your decision?” wonders Carlos spinning back around.
“Yes. Yes, take me instead of my father. Spare him, promise you will spare him.”
“You have my word your father will not be harmed, in exchange for your utter and complete surrender to me. Are we in agreement?”
“Yes,” exhales Lola, knowing as soon that her life will be hell as soon as that one word left her lips.
Carlos feels himself grinning in joy. What a wonderful pet, he has acquired. Scared, compliant and beautiful.
“Good girl,” he mutters. He grabs the office chair and spins it around, seating himself upon it as he scrutinises his prize.
“Come here, piccola," he orders.
Jaw clamped and fists clenched at her sides, Lola takes a few steps forwards towards the man.
“Strip,” he snaps with a snap of his fingers.
Lola’s eyes go wide.
“Wait, what?!” she cries, her arms crossing over her midsection and across her breasts. Like hell she’ll strip for the bastard.
“This isn’t a good start, piccola. I told you to strip your clothes, and you will do it. Have you forgotten the agreement we made a mere minute ago?”
“But...but I thought you were...”
“I was what, cara? That I would just forget about you? That I will not enjoy what is mine? You are mine now, piccola. Don’t ever forget that,” he tells her, “now, strip.”
“Lola, you have until the count of 5 to remove all those clothes before I rip those clothes off you myself and spánk you red for your defiance. Do not make me do that, so soon into our deal.”
Lola can see the absolute promise in his eyes of his words, and in fear of that, she quickly pulls off her apron as he starts to count. Whatever, fine. It’s just a body. She can do this.
His eyes watch her hands as they fumble with the white uniform shirt and her red standard uniform skirt. Dropping both to the floor she slips off her shoes, well aware that he’s already at 4. Just as her socks come off, she realises he’s already at 5.
“No!” screams of protest escape her as the man bolts out of the chair and grabs her wrist, pulling her towards him.
“Please don’t hit me, please,” she asks of him.
He says nothing as he unclips the plain white bra with one hand, the other holding the fighting vixen. Carlos drags her body over to the wooden desk with much of her protest and flips her back onto it. He pins her hands above her head and stares into her brown eyes, full of fight and hints of fear.
There holding her down, his conscience speaks up. The blasted beast a mouse compared to what it could have been had he grown up normal. And Christ, even that rodent was something he thought he’d lost years ago. A weakness. His tries shoving the animal into a cage, locking it up far away in the dark recess of his mind.
Her chest rises and falls against the loose cups of the bra.
“I will not spánk you if..." he bargains.
“If?” prompts Lola.
“If you will accept this. You have no choice, you have already sworn yourself to me, but, I do not wish to fight you on his. I would prefer, if possible to make this enjoyable for you too. Agreed?”
Lola just nods. Perhaps it won’t be too bad, she tries to tell herself. Hopefully, he’ll just have a small dick and be done in seconds. Yeah, right, have you seen him! Snorts back her mind. There is no way a man as built as him, with hands and feet as large as his has an even remotely small díck. Still he can’t be worse than her last boyfriend. Lola mentally shudders at remembering Tommy. The man had been terrible in bed, and it’s a wonder they dated for a whole month. That was until Lola decided she couldn’t handle feeling like a goddamn séx doll anymore.
“Good. Now take off the rest of your clothes, but look at me,” he instructs her, allowing her hands free, but not allowing her off the table. With her torso on the table and legs hanging off, she feels awkward but decides it’s better to just do it, spánking and force free.
Lola slips the straps of her bra through her hands and then pulls it completely off. Still looking into stormy grey depths and she lets the material drop to the floor, beside her feet. She wiggles her áss up onto the table, into a more comfortable position and trails her fingers down to the edges of her cotton panties. Hesitant with courage spiking her blood, she clamps her jaw tight and does nothing.
“Take it off, Lola,” orders Carlos, palms flattening against the wood surface and leaning down.
Lola just shakes her head-no.
“Do not test me any further, piccola. My thread of patience is-”
“You do it,” interrupts Lola answering him back.
Carlos pauses, forgetting she’d even interrupted him at her shocking request. He says nothing as he parts her legs and pushes himself between them. His large, rough hands stroke up her creamy thick thighs and to the edges of her pánties. His fingers toy with the material there, before he grips the two sides in his fists and pulls them forcefully apart. Lola gasps in pain as the panties dig into her inner thighs as they are stretched before giving way. With the sides torn, Carlos pushes his hands under her plump ass, fisting the material in his hand before sliding it off those rounded cheeks. He grabs the shredded material from the front and tosses it aside.
That took far too long, he finds himself thinking.
However, as his eyes take in the luscious body served before him, he soon forgets that. Her body is small but what she lacks for in height, she more than makes up for in curves. Her hips are wide, but perfectly balancing with her shoulders. Her waist curves in sharply before curving out and although her stomach is not toned, it is not flabby either. From feeling her áss, he knows it is well plumped and able to take any spanks he may have had to enforce. Her bréasts seem to balance out that perfect áss as they’re full and large. In the centre of those two creamy globes are the frailest pink áreóles and nípples. Her neck is lean and her face is lifted off to watch him with a certain smugness he doesn’t like.
His hand grasps her wrists and force them back up over her head, his other hand lightly pinning her neck to the wooden desk. Bending down he comes a few centimetres from her passive brown eyes.
“You are beautiful, piccolo, it would be a lie to say otherwise. But do not, for one moment think that using your body will have me wrapped around your little finger. Frankly, I have seen far better and even those couldn’t tame me,” hisses Carlos.
“I wasn’t-I wasn’t trying to do anything,” retorts back Lola in confusion.
“Good. Just remember I own you now,” he replies crashing his lips onto her in a fierce kiss to prove his point.
Lola knows he means for it to be rough and perhaps painful, but she can’t help her body’s reaction to it. It has her insides boiling, her toes curling and her vocal chords vibrating. She doesn’t even clamp her teeth on his tongue when it forces its way into her mouth and tangles with hers. She should have, she knows she should have, but it moves so expertly that she can’t bring herself to. As she’s feels herself needing to breath, her fingers thrash at his wrists and she moans in urgency but he keeps their lips locked in punishment. As he pulls back, she gasps for air.
Carlos’s lips flitters around her neck, before he latches on.
As Lola feels him sucking at her soft skin, she can’t help groan. Yeah, she may be alive now, but more of this and she won’t be.
Carlos, mouth trails burning kisses down her neck towards her left breast. His hand detaches itself off her neck as he brings his lips away from her skin only to growl, “keep your head flat on the table.”
Lola complies but not happily. She doesn’t like not knowing what he’s doing to her body, even if she can feel it. It gives her too much excitement; excitement she doesn’t want to feel with the brute she’s unfortunately attached to.
Unable to resist Carlos suctions in as much of her soft, ample breast he can into his mouth before letting go. He just about manages to catch the low groan from his prey, as he uses his hand to work the other breast. His hand palms squeeze and tug on them, relishing the natural softness to them. His rough fingers then flick over her tiny rose pink nípples. Pinching and pulling them until they go hard. His tongue on the other hand, swirls around her right nípple, causing it too to go as hard as pebbles. Then mouth clamps over them. He takes the tiny bud between his teeth and lightly tugs.
Lola gives a small scream of delight at the nip. She’s surprised that he’s not vicious about it. She’d expected him to be rough, but she didn’t expect that roughness to elicit a dark pleasure within her. She can feel her inner thighs wetting as the juices from her pússy dribble onto them. As he moves breasts, Lola struggles further against his hold, desperately wanting to run her fingers through his hair or tear his clothes off and find her own release from his body. But Carlos tightens his grip and tames her struggles as he carries on lavishing her bréasts.
Proud of their erect state and the deepened breathing of his prey he pushes himself up slightly.
“I’m going to let go off your hands now, piccola, however they will stay at your sides, am I clear?” he demands.
Lola nods in agreement, moving her hands to her sides and gripping the edge of the desk after he lets go. Carlos gives a small smile in praise and runs the pads of his thumbs over her reddening cheeks. He had lied when he’d said he’s seen better girl than her. The slim, supermodels with their smirks have nothing on the wide eyed, curvy brunette; not that he’d tell her, of course.
He traces her figure with his palms; his hand dipping in at her waist and curving back out to her hips. He lets them rest there as he suddenly hitches the woman a little higher up the table.
Lola gives a short squeak in surprise, her fingers letting go of the edge and instead sitting flat against the cool wood.
Carlos kisses his way down the valley of her breasts, down her abdominals and to the tops of her hips. He traces his hands down her thighs and grips at her knee joint. He pushes her knees open wider, and he also causes her to bend her legs and rest her feet on the table, opening up her bare, dripping, pink pússy. He licks the wetness that had dribbled to her inner thighs and just keeps his mouth there, teasing her.
Lola holds her breath in anticipation, her arousal only shooting higher as she can feel his warm breath against her hot, erect clít.
His tongue flickers at the skin just about the throbbing nub, causing Lola to groan.
“Please,” she begs, the word slipping past her lips before she can stop it.
Carlos grins hearing that and decides to put her out of her misery as he encases his mouth around the tiny mound.
Lola lets out a loud groan of satisfaction feeling his mouth enclose over her clít.
Why is it that the only time she can get a man to go down on her is if she becomes his prisoner?!
But all her thoughts banish as she feels Carlos’s teeth graze ever so lightly over her throbbing clít. Shots of arousal course through her, building on the ball inside her waiting to burst.
He plays with the bud a while longer, sucking and tongue swirling, until he can wait no longer to drink more of her saccharine juices.
His tongue runs along her smooth pússy lips, liking the soft slick texture of them. Then using his fingers, he pries the petals apart and delves into the source of the juices.
Lola pants and moans as she feels him play havoc at her pússy with his tongue. The talented snake, bringing her to orgasm and she knows it. Her fingers scratch along the desk, uncaring of the pain, Lola can only focus on getting her release. The release she hasn’t had in a damn long time.
As Carlos parts from her sweet pússy, he replaces his tongue with a thick, long finger. Allowing it to curl and stroke at her delicate walls, causing the woman to part longer moans and pant harder. He lightly pumps his finger, only to feel her walls tightening on him.
As she nears on orgásm Lola feels Carlos cease. She whimpers at the denial and wishes to raise her head to gaze at what the matter is, but at his previous threat of spánkings she does not. Instead she hears the sound of clothes fluttering to the ground and the sound of something unzipping. Her mind simpers down, knowing what’s about to come and the promise of release.
Carlos, pumps the pre-come juices over his erect díck, knowing that with her wetness it’s not necessary. He slides on the condom, before pulling her down and lining himself up. His eyes bore into her lust filled ones, as he gazes upon her rosy cheeks and silky curls splayed under her.
He can’t help think how gorgeous she looks, as he engages her in another dominating kiss.
“Scream for me, piccola," he mutters to her, before thrusting his hips forwards deep into her pússy.
On cue, Lola shrieks at the pleasurable intrusion. She’d been right, when assuming him to be large. Not only long, but also thick, Lola can feel herself being stretched apart as her body tries to accommodate him.
Carlos gives a low groan and curses softly at the pure tightness of the woman. Had it not been for the he’d not been for the tell-tale tightness despite the arousal, he would surely have guessed her to be a vírgin. Her soft ample breasts squash down on his own torso, her hard nípples pressing into his bronze skin. He grasps her thighs and circles her legs around his torso as he pulls back lightly only to crave her warmth and thrust back in.
Lola gasps as she feels her walls tightening around the man and an orgasm rip through her body. Her toes curl and her whole body tingles from it as unimaginable pleasure sparks through her.
Carlos grits his teeth feeling her orgasm onto him. Dear God, at this rate, he won’t even last a minute. And that hasn’t happened since he was a teenager.
Still he continues thrusting slowly through her orgasm, drawing it out and starting another one. A few slow, short thrusts later, he switches it up to deeper ones. Ploughing out and then straight into her.
“Faster. Please,” asks Lola tightening her legs around his hips.
Carlos gives her a throaty growl as he gives her exactly what she asked for-an almost punishingly fast pace.
Lola gasps and pants, feeling her heart thump against her ribcage as Carlos hammers in and out of her. Her nípples rub against his chest, the friction keeping them tingling and tender, he extracts the start of another orgasm from her.
This time, she can feel his díck pulsing in her, and she knows he’s about to come.
Minutes later and Carlos cannot hold it any longer. He thumps into her and jets of hot white come get trapped in the cóndom. Lola orgasms once more as well, her eyes rolling shut and her body shaking in exhaustion as well as satisfaction. She lies there as she feels Carlos squelch out of her. The weight at her bréasts are removed but she just remains sprawled there on the desk trying to gain back some of the lost energy.
Carlos drops the used cóndom into the trash basket and picks up the ripped cotton panties. He wipes his díck clean with it and drops that too into the trash. Then he automatically dresses himself again, straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair before addressing the situation.
Lola slides off the desk as she sees the man she’d just had intercourse with dressing with no expression on his face. She can’t help the stab of hurt she feels but shakes it off.
He’s not her boyfriend. Did she really think he was...what? Going to cuddle with her? Yeah right!
She picks up her red skirt and starts to get dressed when the material is snatched from her hands.
“Wait,” he tells her as he gazes her up and down, committing her delicious body to memory, before assisting her into her clothes.
“So...what now?” whispers Lola softly. Normally she would fight against him, but after that, she feels too tender to do anything but give in.
Carlos tilts her head up and looks into the pretty brown eyes, their owner, being the woman he owns now. There are hints of sadness in there but he can’t help that. He refuses to let that weight sit. Then again, what is another layer of filth on his skin now anyway? It’s also charcoal with layers of sin at this point.
“Now, you will dress and go back to work. I will come in 2 days. Make sure you have whatever belongs you need packed and ready. You stay with me now.”
“As what? As a slave, a mistress, your bítch?” asks Lola with fire in her words.
Carlos’s lips snarl as he scowls at her. He grasps her upper arm and brings her flush against him.
“You will be what I want you to be. This is your own doing, piccola, so now you must live with it. I will come for you in 2 days and you will be ready. You will have said your good-bye’s to your father and this place.”
“What am I meant to say to my father? You can’t just take me away! This is my home!” protests Lola.
Carlos takes her cheeks between his hand as he presses his fingers in and puffs out her lips.
“I can do what I want with you as long as you are kept alive, remember piccola? My possessions stay with me-you will stay with me. Now do as I say and there won’t be trouble. If anything, and I mean anything happens to you in the 2 days I am giving you, I shall find some other way for my revenge,” growls Carlos in her ear. Nipping it in warning before he lets her go.
Striding his way to the door, he goes to open it before remembering one thing.
“One more thing. Don’t bother with the panties. You will not enjoy the consequence if I find you with them on when I come for you in 2 days, piccola."