Under the Control of the Mafia King

Prologue

"she were in pieces, but each fragment of her would be loved and cared for."

POV Emma Torricelli

I quickened my steps through the silent corridors, aware of the danger of being discovered by the security guards. Upon reaching Riccardo's door, I felt relief that it lacked any form of surveillance, such as a peephole. I knocked lightly, and Riccardo's voice echoed, harsh and impatient, from the other side. "I told you, I don't want to be disturbed, damn it!" With heavy footsteps, he swung open the door, his appearance disheveled and visibly altered, shirtless with his hair in disarray, evidence of a night of drinking.

My initial surprise quickly turned to irritation. "Emma, you shouldn't be here. Leave me alone," he said, with a coldness that pierced me to the core. But I had to confront him. "I can't leave, Riccardo. Not until we sort this out. You swore your love to me, you promised you'd always be there for me..."

He let out a bitter, contemptuous laugh. "Poor you, believing the words of a man whose only interest was in having fun. We had our moments, but that's over. I'm securing your future and my protection. Many would settle for far less."

His words, dripping with contempt, struck me like a blow, leaving me dizzy, fragile, ensnared in an endless nightmare. With a tremor in my voice, I revealed, "I'm pregnant." I searched his eyes for any trace of the man I had fallen in love with, but found only an icy void.

"That's irrelevant. Go away and forget about me!" His voice, now louder, resounded with an authority that brooked no argument. Standing in the doorway, his body blocked the passage, but my gaze briefly caught sight of the lingerie scattered on the floor. I turned my attention back to him, noticing faint scratches on his skin.

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. There were no more words, no more actions possible. He knew of his son's existence, yet he chose to cast me out of his life. With the weight of the world on my shoulders, I walked away, letting the tears flow freely. Without looking back, I ran until I was lost in the vastness of the parking lot, swallowed by desolation.

I tenderly caressed the gentle curve of my womb, still not showing any visible signs of the new life that was growing there. Lowering my voice to a whisper filled with tenderness and promise, I said, "I love you, my baby, and I'm going to take care of you with all the love and protection I have."

Chapter 1

Emma Torricelli

The lingerie was so revealing that I could hardly believe I was wearing it. But given my desperate situation, the choice of clothes was the least of my problems. The menacing voice of my tormentor echoed through the room, making me shiver in front of the mirror.

"Showtime!" he said, his tone full of venom. "Remember to do everything right, satisfy the customers or your life will come to an end when the night is over."

I didn't mind the threats, but my little sister depended on me and had to be saved. I looked at the disgusting man who was holding my arm tightly and simply nodded. We walked down a gloomy corridor until we reached the main hall.

He pointed to the stage with a cruel look and I hesitantly climbed the steps, joining the naked and half-naked women who were dancing to the loud music and showing off their bodies in a sensual way. The lights were focused only on the stage, while the rest of the room was plunged into darkness.

I closed my eyes and started dancing, trying to be as seductive as the women around me. The few times I opened my eyes, I couldn't clearly see the faces of the people watching me. I ran my hands over my body, rehearsing the movement of taking off my lingerie, but I never actually did it. I needed time, even though I knew I would have to do it at some point. I had no choice.

I squeezed the fabric between my fingers as I rolled onto my side, balancing on my dizzying heels. The pain from the punch still throbbed in my face, a constant reminder that the consequences would be even worse if I didn't obey. The make-up hid the physical marks, but the pain wouldn't let me forget the real reason I was there.

When I finished my dance, sliding down the icy iron in the middle of the stage, the barman waved to me.

"Hey, girl. Get down from the stage, you've got a customer," he said, pointing at me.

Trying to keep control, I got down from the stage and headed for the bar, fighting the desperate thoughts that were taking over my mind. The loud music was no longer beating faster than my heart. There was a man waiting for me, ready to satisfy his dark desires.

"I don't know where I'm supposed to go..." I whispered to the barman, who looked at me indifferently and pointed down the corridor.

"Go up the stairs and enter the first door on the right. You were lucky your first time. Do what he wants and you'll be rewarded," he winked and left.

I walked towards my destination, dragging my feet, praying that some miracle would happen, that I would find salvation. How could I satisfy that man? My life and the life of my sister, Ivy, depended on it. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The deep voice on the other side ordered: "Come in!"

My hand trembled on the doorknob, reluctant to keep him waiting. But I had no choice. I turned the handle and entered the room. The music in the room changed, becoming equally sensual, as did the whole scene around me.

The man was sitting in an armchair, bare-chested, muscular and tattooed, only his face was in the dim light as he smoked a cigarette.

"Dance for me," he ordered, pointing to the small stage in the corner of the room. I began my movements, intrigued by the mysterious man watching me from a short distance away. I realized that he was moving his hand around, masturbating while I danced and undressed, leaving me in just a pair of tiny panties.

"Come over here," he ordered, his voice perfectly matching his confidence. I walked towards him, trying not to trip over those high heels. When I got within a few steps of him, he signaled for me to stop. I obeyed, watching his tall figure stand up and walk around me. I tried not to look at his face, but quickly managed to observe him: he appeared to be just over thirty, and his beauty was indescribable. I felt his hand run slowly down my back, causing an involuntary shiver to run through my whole body.

"Close your eyes," he ordered. Eager for what he would do next, I obeyed another of his commands. I felt his mouth on my breast and one of his hands went down to my legs, while his tongue flicked across my nipples and his fingers pushed my panties aside to caress my clitoris. Until then, only I had touched this sensual part of my body. He seemed hungry to devour me, and this sensation left me hot and on shaky legs. I moaned loudly as I felt the excitement seep between my thighs.

Suddenly, he pulled away and I didn't know if that was good or bad. Was it over? Had he given up on seeing this through? The silence persisted until I heard the sound of something tearing, followed by the clink of ice cubes in a glass, drawing my attention. I opened my eyes and there he was, watching me as he masturbated.

A mischievous smile appeared on his face and he leaned back in the armchair. I saw that his penis was thick and fully erect. Even with the condom on, I could see the veins protruding. At that moment, desperation overtook me. As much as there had been a desire until then, the fear of being hurt was greater. I was paralyzed for a second when he called me over to his lap.

His eyes narrowed and, remembering the Greek's previous threats, I went towards him without knowing what to do. I hadn't planned for things to turn out this way, but it would be better to have sex with a man like him, who was somehow turning me on, than with one who could abuse and hurt me. Trembling, I approached him under his lustful gaze; he smelled of whisky and an intoxicating perfume. His touch was gentle, trailing down my waist and keeping his gaze on me. He pulled my hips, making my legs go over his shoulder. My hands sought support on the wall as his mouth moved towards my pussy, his tongue sliding along it and concentrating on my clitoris.

For a few minutes, I completely forgot why I was there. I forgot that he was a stranger, that he was paying me for what we were doing. I didn't feel disgusted or dirty; I was just feeling intense pleasure. When the orgasm came once more, I moaned and, before I could think, he pulled me onto his lap, but I wasn't penetrated. His mouth found mine, and his kiss was no less powerful. I was aroused, even though I shouldn't have been. He was a stranger, a promiscuous man, and I was just being a whore in his life. But once again, I gave in to desire and responded to the same level of desire he was showing.

His big hands pushed my hips down and I felt the pressure of the swollen head of his penis against my clitoris. My body tensed and, when I tried to pull away, he pressed hard, causing a slight sting that made me dig my nails into his shoulders. At that moment, his clear eyes met mine and he cursed, trying to get me off his lap, but I couldn't allow him not to.

I went down on his thick cock at once, feeling torn, filled, and it was a strange sensation. At the same time as feeling strong pain, I felt pleasure inside me. I knew he wasn't completely inside me, but the skin that was intact had been broken and there was no going back.

"Fuck! You shouldn't..."

"Please fuck me. I'm here to pleasure you," I said.

Confused, he still kept his hands firmly on my hips, with an angry look on his face. But when he heard my words, I felt his member throbbing inside me, seeming even bigger and stiffer.

"Fuck, I'm not going to be gentle..." - he said, as he began to lift my hips and pull me towards him. It was strange, as the pain was slowly replaced by intense pleasure, and I lost count of the times I came while he possessed me the way he wanted.

Insatiable, he threw me onto the bed, putting me on all fours. His hands went to my hair as he penetrated me again. The perfect angle meant that he hit a sensitive spot inside me, driving me over the edge. My body felt like it wanted to explode with desire, and I dissolved into him. He squeezed my ass as I felt his liquid flow over my asshole, as virgin as my pussy had been moments before. His finger explored me as he thrust his hips against mine in intense thrusts.

This time, a mixture of pain and pleasure ran through my entire body. I was being invaded and consumed by him everywhere. I could only moan desperately, begging him not to stop, to keep screaming for more.

"Damn, you're hot, girl!" he said as he left me for a second. When he came back inside me with a deep thrust, his finger entered again and I felt another orgasm that made me press my body against the mattress, feeling sweat drip down my back and hair.

I felt him quickly pull out of me, remove the condom and, as expected, his sperm spilled over me. I shouldn't have climaxed; I shouldn't have felt the pleasure of becoming a prostitute. At that moment, I belonged to a wild man, but one who gave me pleasure. The next client could be old enough to be my grandfather.

I could feel the nausea coming on as he still looked at me, panting, around the bed. I sat up, unable to face him. Immediately, guilt hit me. I felt like a real bitch, and the crying became uncontrollable. I waited for insults, for him to say he didn't care about my tears. I waited to be beaten up or for him to throw money at me.

But what he did scared me much more. He sat on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. His hand went to my chin, lifting it so that I was facing him. At that point in the room, I could see his face clearly: clear eyes, unshaven black hair and a face as beautiful as his body.

"Hey, did I hurt you? You were a virgin, damn it. How could you want to lose your virginity in a brothel?"

I controlled my crying, pondering whether to tell the truth or not. "I wanted to," I lied. The tightness in my jaw increased, and again I lost myself in his questioning gaze.

"Tell the truth, damn it. I'm drunk, but I'm not stupid. Tell the truth or..."

"Don't hit me, please. I'll do whatever you want," I replied, frightened as the man stared at me, confused and horrified.

POV Emma Torricelli

"I've never hit women. Are you here of your own free will?" His voice changed. I remained silent, unable to tell him the truth. However, he didn't seem willing to let me off his lap when I tried to get up.

"Answer me, damn it! Who brought you here?" he asked once again.

"My father brought me here as payment for a gambling debt. He owed Mr. Mario Cappone..." When I stood up, he began to dress quickly.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Emma," I replied, not knowing if it was right to give him so much information.

"How old are you?" he asked as he watched my expression.

"I'm 19," I replied simply.

I saw him pick up a gun from beside the armchair. Desperate, I realized that he was also part of the mafia, and this could be the end of me. Without thinking too much, I knelt down in front of him, holding onto his legs.

"Don't kill me, please. I need to stay alive, please..."

He grabbed my arm, forcing me to stand.