Read My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Ep. 6 Consequences for Free Online Page A
Authors: Marita A. Hansen
Tags: thriller, Erótica, Mafia, sex slaves, bondage, fbi, italian mafia, kidnapped, captives, non consent, bondage domination
shifted to the next stall, keeping my
back to them, pretending to look at the cold cuts of meat. I nodded
at the vendor, shrugging every so often so he thought I was
listening.
One , two, three, four, five... I counted in my
head before flicking my gaze back to the group. The other bodyguard
looked my way, causing me to move onto the next store, his gaze a
little too inquisitive. With my back to him, I rubbed the
watermelon on my shirt, then threw it into a bin. I headed into a
woman’s clothing store, not a shop I would have chosen, but one
that Thierry frequented, the little wannabe drag queen having a
penchant for sequins. Though, with his fan-girls in tow, I wasn’t
sure he would risk coming in here, because in the past he always
looked at the dresses alone. I grimaced at the memory of three men
calling him a fenucca as he came out of the store, the word meaning fag. I
loathed homophobes, fucking hated their guts. I didn’t understand
what made the shits so uptight about men who liked men. Actually,
the arrogant pricks probably thought we all wanted to fuck their
asses. Me, I just wanted to kick them—which I had. I’d followed the
three men until I had seen an opportunity to give them a little
lesson in manners, the memory making me smile.
I stopped in front of the shop
assistant. She was young, probably just out of her teens, and very
pretty, her long brown hair curly and her heart-shaped face picture
perfect.
I wrinkled my nose and pointed to my
shirt. “I had an accident; can I please use your restroom?” I
asked, hoping she spoke English.
She smiled at me. “Certainly. It’s over
there.” She pointed to the back of the stall. I headed through the
racks of women’s clothing, slipping into the tight restroom. I
pulled off my shirt, hoping that Thierry’s group came into the
shop, although it wasn’t a major problem if they didn’t, since I
could just seek out the Landi sisters at the night spots, getting
to Thierry through them.
Noise came from out front, the
sound of girls talking all at once, then the voice I wanted to hear: a
French accent—Jagger’s half-brother. I opened the bathroom door a
crack and peered out, spotting the girls looking through a rack of
dresses. Thierry pulled a bright red dress out and placed it up
against one of the girls, probably imagining wearing it himself. If
anything, it would look better on him, because he was considerably
prettier than the Landi sisters. All but the oldest one was chubby,
with thick black hair and even thicker eyebrows.
My gaze flicked between the bodyguards.
One was standing behind Thierry, while the other was out front of
the stall. Both of them were around six-foot-three, which was a
couple of inches taller than me. They were battle-scarred,
tough-looking men, the older of the two fucking hot, totally my
type: brutish and heavyset. I grimaced, the man reminding me of
Alberto, not someone I wanted to think about, especially since it
hurt like fuck.
I waited until the group had left the store
before coming out of the bathroom. I held my soiled shirt up,
showing the shop assistant. “My shirt is ruined,” I said. “Pity you
only sell female clothes, but thank you for allowing me to clean
myself up.”
“ You’re welcome,” she said, looking at my
abs, which I couldn’t blame her for, considering I had a
six-pack.
“ Well, it was very kind of
you.” I took
a hold of her hand and gave it a kiss, the girl giggling in
response. I let go of her hand and headed out of the shop, the
girl’s appreciation perking me up. Other people looked my way, the
older ones shooting daggers at me. Fuck, they were prudes, I was
only shirtless.
I glanced at Thierry’s group, who were
several stalls away, ordering ice creams. Now looking forward to
tonight, I headed in the opposite direction. I would seek the
sisters out at the nightclubs and hook up with one of them, or even
better, if Thierry was with them I could cut out the middle bitches
and go
back to them, pretending to look at the cold cuts of meat. I nodded
at the vendor, shrugging every so often so he thought I was
listening.
One , two, three, four, five... I counted in my
head before flicking my gaze back to the group. The other bodyguard
looked my way, causing me to move onto the next store, his gaze a
little too inquisitive. With my back to him, I rubbed the
watermelon on my shirt, then threw it into a bin. I headed into a
woman’s clothing store, not a shop I would have chosen, but one
that Thierry frequented, the little wannabe drag queen having a
penchant for sequins. Though, with his fan-girls in tow, I wasn’t
sure he would risk coming in here, because in the past he always
looked at the dresses alone. I grimaced at the memory of three men
calling him a fenucca as he came out of the store, the word meaning fag. I
loathed homophobes, fucking hated their guts. I didn’t understand
what made the shits so uptight about men who liked men. Actually,
the arrogant pricks probably thought we all wanted to fuck their
asses. Me, I just wanted to kick them—which I had. I’d followed the
three men until I had seen an opportunity to give them a little
lesson in manners, the memory making me smile.
I stopped in front of the shop
assistant. She was young, probably just out of her teens, and very
pretty, her long brown hair curly and her heart-shaped face picture
perfect.
I wrinkled my nose and pointed to my
shirt. “I had an accident; can I please use your restroom?” I
asked, hoping she spoke English.
She smiled at me. “Certainly. It’s over
there.” She pointed to the back of the stall. I headed through the
racks of women’s clothing, slipping into the tight restroom. I
pulled off my shirt, hoping that Thierry’s group came into the
shop, although it wasn’t a major problem if they didn’t, since I
could just seek out the Landi sisters at the night spots, getting
to Thierry through them.
Noise came from out front, the
sound of girls talking all at once, then the voice I wanted to hear: a
French accent—Jagger’s half-brother. I opened the bathroom door a
crack and peered out, spotting the girls looking through a rack of
dresses. Thierry pulled a bright red dress out and placed it up
against one of the girls, probably imagining wearing it himself. If
anything, it would look better on him, because he was considerably
prettier than the Landi sisters. All but the oldest one was chubby,
with thick black hair and even thicker eyebrows.
My gaze flicked between the bodyguards.
One was standing behind Thierry, while the other was out front of
the stall. Both of them were around six-foot-three, which was a
couple of inches taller than me. They were battle-scarred,
tough-looking men, the older of the two fucking hot, totally my
type: brutish and heavyset. I grimaced, the man reminding me of
Alberto, not someone I wanted to think about, especially since it
hurt like fuck.
I waited until the group had left the store
before coming out of the bathroom. I held my soiled shirt up,
showing the shop assistant. “My shirt is ruined,” I said. “Pity you
only sell female clothes, but thank you for allowing me to clean
myself up.”
“ You’re welcome,” she said, looking at my
abs, which I couldn’t blame her for, considering I had a
six-pack.
“ Well, it was very kind of
you.” I took
a hold of her hand and gave it a kiss, the girl giggling in
response. I let go of her hand and headed out of the shop, the
girl’s appreciation perking me up. Other people looked my way, the
older ones shooting daggers at me. Fuck, they were prudes, I was
only shirtless.
I glanced at Thierry’s group, who were
several stalls away, ordering ice creams. Now looking forward to
tonight, I headed in the opposite direction. I would seek the
sisters out at the nightclubs and hook up with one of them, or even
better, if Thierry was with them I could cut out the middle bitches
and go