©February 2021 by T.O. Smith. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Canva
Editing: T.O. Smith
This was endless torture.
Three years ago, I had been kidnapped, though it kind of had been a blessing. At the time, I was homeless, sleeping wherever I could find some kind of shelter for a few hours.
Without any kind of warning, one night I had been snatched off the bench I was sleeping on, a rag soaked in chloroform had been shoved over my nose and mouth.
When I woke up, I was in a basement. I sat there for a while – had to have been hours – before a woman dressed in all leather came downstairs and untied me. She’d shoved a gun to my cheek, warning me what would happen if I dared to defy her orders.
So, I complied.
I silently followed her up some stairs where numerous women then bathed me, exfoliated me, cut and styled my hair – dying it an almost white color with blue tips – and then stuck me in a tiny black dress, my hands cuffed behind my back and extremely high black heels on my feet.
I was then marched out to a black SUV where I was then driven to a club. But when I had been marched in, I’d quickly come to the realization that it wasn’t just any kind of club. There were men and women everywhere, but there were women in similar clothing to mine, some with collar-like necklaces and others not, either getting fucked on random surfaces or pleasing whatever person was in front of them.
But, it was a home. As long as I complied and did what I was told – whatever that might be – I got food, a warm, soft bed, and something to drink.
For three years now, this had been my routine. I slept, ate, someone dressed me, and then I was brought here. I ate if the man or woman I was with for the day deemed it was okay for me to eat. But when I got back home in the evening, I was given dinner and three bottles of water with a strict instruction to eat everything and to drink all of the water.
Hydration was important.
“Emmaline, you’re in a back room today.” Gemma told me as she strode towards me clad in her normal attire of complete leather, her make-up done dark, her nails so pointy they could probably slice my throat.
Knowing to stay silent, I followed her, ignoring the everyone’s eyes following me as she led me to the back hallway where all of the private rooms were. She knocked lightly on the one at the very end, and a gruff, rough voice instructed for her to come in.
I was not prepared for the sight in front of me.
The man was tall and well-built. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and expensive leather shoes. His blazer and tie were tossed over the arm of the couch, and his white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, revealing his muscular, tattooed chest. His eyes were an icy blue – almost like a mixture between blue and gray – and his hair was a dirty blonde color, curling over his forehead.
“This is the Emmaline I’ve heard so much about?” He asked, his deep voice booming around the red room, though he hadn’t actually raised his voice. I trembled under his power as he rose from the couch he’d been sitting on.
“This is Emmaline, sir.” Gemma said, her voice for once timid and not at all strong like it normally was.
He didn’t even look at her as he strode towards me. “Leave us.” He ordered her.
She quickly stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her. I turned my gaze to the floor in a submissive gesture, keeping my body straight despite how much I wanted to cower in his presence.
“Raise your fucking eyes and look at me.” He ordered.
I snapped my eyes up to look him, my brown eyes clashing with his. He reached up and wrapped his hand around my throat, but unlike everyone else that normally handled me, his touch was gentle despite the strength I knew he had. “My second in command got a taste of you yesterday when I gave him a day off, and he couldn’t shut the fuck up about you. So, I had to come see what the big hype was about.”
He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat. “How long have you been a submissive here?” He asked me.
“Three years, sir.” I told him quietly.
He dropped his hand and put his hands in his pockets. “There’s something about you, little one . . . I just can’t put my fucking finger on it.” My hands trembled behind my back. “The moment I laid my fucking eyes on you, I wanted to claim you as mine – collar you – so no one else can touch you but me.” My breath left me on a whoosh of air at his words – stunning me. “But I’m not going to do that unless you can promise me it’ll be worth my time. Can you do that?”
I trembled. Collaring meant that I would no longer be used my multiple people. I would only be used by one man – this man.
“Yes, sir.” I told him, knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.
“On your knees.” He ordered. “Keep your eyes on me.”
I instantly dropped to my knees in front of him. He moved behind me and uncuffed me, something that hadn’t happened in the three years that I’d been here. I didn’t come out of them until I got home.
His hand gripped my hair, and he pulled my head back to look up at him. Suddenly, he snapped his head towards the door, and right after, a loud thud sounded outside of it, followed by a gunshot. I jumped, clamping my lips shut so I wouldn’t scream. “Get behind the fucking couch and do not move.” He growled down at me. “I will come get you when I’ve got this shit taken care of. If someone comes that is not me, there’s a panic button back there. Hit it. One of my men will come.”
With that, he began striding towards the door. I scrambled behind the couch as instructed, my heart pounding hard in my chest with fear. Soon, rapid fire gunshots sounded out from the main room. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep myself steadied and collected. Panicking right now wouldn’t do me any damn good. The only panicking would do was get me killed.
Suddenly, he was standing in front of me again, grabbing me under my arms and pulling me out from behind the couch. His clothes and hands were splattered with blood, but he appeared completely unharmed.
“Sorry, little one. But I fucking need this.” He growled.
He spun me around and bent me over the couch, and using his foot, he pushed my legs apart. He shoved my dress up to right under my breasts and ripped my panties off of me. “I don’t how the fuck shit works with other men, but I like to hear my women.” He told me.
Then, he shoved inside of me. His hand wrapped around my hair as he fucked me hard from behind, his fingers digging so hard into my hip that I knew I would have bruises.
Normally, I felt absolute disgusting when I was used like this, but fuck, this man felt good, and he knew what he was doing. He was rough, and it hurt, but it didn’t feel like he was intentionally trying to harm me, not like it was with most of the other people here.
I cried out, my orgasm washing over me, unable to help myself. I panicked for a moment, thinking he was going to punish me, but he growled, his hot breath washing over my ear. “Again.” He whispered. “I want you to come so many fucking times that I have to physically carry you out of this building, little one.”
I moaned at his words and gave him what he wanted, for once actually letting myself go, not having to worry about holding in my orgasms and pleasing the man behind me because judging by the sounds coming from his chest and throat, he was enjoying this.
Holding true to his word, by the time he finally allowed himself to come, I was collapsing completely onto the couch, almost unable to breathe, my eyes fluttering open and closed. He came on my back, his other hand gripping my ass cheek, squeezing hard as he finished himself off.
“Stay there.” He said softly as he got dressed again.
“Yes, sir.” I said quietly, my voice heavy with sleep.
A few moments later, I felt a warm cloth moving over my back. I jerked in surprise, snapping my eyes open to look at him. He was cleaning my back.
He was fucking cleaning my back.
“It’s called after care.” He told me as he studied my surprised expression. He frowned. “No one takes care of you?” He asked me.
“Um, no, sir.” I told him, knowing what could happen if I lied. “But it’s okay.” I said hurriedly. “I’m used to having to do things like this myself.”
He clenched his jaw, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. I swallowed thickly. “You’re coming home with me.” He said once I was completely cleaned up, even between my legs where he had very gently cleaned me.
I slowly sat up once he made a motion for me to do so, and I adjusted my dress, wishing I could rub my aching feet. “Sir, I have a question, if it’s okay to ask.” I said, looking up at him.
He inclined his head to me in a silent way of telling me to speak. “May I know your name, sir?”
“James.” He told me. “My name is James, and I’m the America Mafia Don.” He introduced.
I stammered, staring at him, suddenly realizing why he had come back in here covered in blood, which I knew was now on my dress, though I was sure he had cleaned it off my skin, but I knew it was also in my hair.
He gripped my chin, tilting my head up to look up at him. “I’m the one person in this entire fucking world that you do not have to be afraid of, little one. I’m collaring you. That means I take care of you,” he smirked, “and you get rewarded if you’re a good girl.” He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip before he dropped his hand and grabbed his blazer. “Stand.” He ordered. I obediently stood to my feet. He put his blazer around my shoulders, and I slid my arms through the sleeves, his blazer swallowing me. He tightened it around me and used his tie to close his blazer around my small body.
Without any warning, he lifted me up into his arms, making me squeak in shock. “Close your eyes, little one. I promise you don’t want to see what my men are cleaning up.”
I obediently closed my eyes, linking my arms around his neck, burying my face against his neck. His arms flexed around me. “Gemma!” He called after a moment of him walking. I kept my eyes shut. “She’s no longer yours.” He told her. “She’ll be with me.”
“Y-yes, sir.” She stuttered out.
“Sir, your car is waiting our front.” A man spoke. “Two guards are waiting to drive behind your car.”
I felt James nod once as he continued moving. “Keep your eyes closed, little one.” He ordered as he began ascending the stairs to the upper level. “We’re almost outside.”
I shivered when the cool night air blew over my skin, and moment later, a car door was opened, and I was settled into the passenger seat. James rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, little one.” He told me.
I slowly slid them open, locking them on his. He smiled at me, stealing the breath right from my lungs. “You’re such a good girl.” He praised.
He shut the car door and spoke to the man standing behind him for a moment before he strode around to the driver’s side and slid in. His hand gripped my thigh as he smoothly pulled onto the road. “Have you eaten?” He asked.
“Breakfast early this morning, sir.” I told him.
He glanced over at me. “Unless we’re in the bedroom or in my playroom, don’t call me sir. My name is James, and you’re the only person allowed to call me that, clear?”
“Yes.” I answered.
He looked back at the road. “As for food, sorry, little one, but it has to be fast food. I have a meeting to get to that I’m already late for. Is a burger and fries okay?”
I nodded my head. “Yes.” I told him.
He smirked at me. “When’s the last time you had an unhealthy meal, little one?”
I blushed. “It’s been a while.” I admitted.
He shook his head. “That’s going to change.” He squeezed my thigh before focusing his attention fully back onto the road as we merged into the midday traffic.