SOLD TO THE MAFIA QUEEN

Xander’s POVContent bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

After all the drama that led to the death of Kendrick’s son, I managed to take some photos of his dead body before Jake left with his corpse. I was planning to steal the gun too, so I would have strong evidence against her. I was just waiting for her to make a mistake, I didn’t know she would make a mistake so soon, and I have barely spent a day here. I was lying on the bed in the room she gave me. she hadn’t left her room since the incident. I didn’t know if she was crying or if she was still grieving for her father. I pinched my pillow to make it perfect and rested my head on it before going to sleep.

By the time I woke up, it was already dusk. I strolled out of my room and stopped to stare at the door of her room before descending the stairs. The house was sparkling clean, the maids had finished doing their jobs. When I heard footsteps, I turned around to see Ashley walking down the stairs in a killer outfit-a short leather gown that stopped at her thigh-and it was showing off a large portion of her boobs.

My cock twitched at the sight of her, she was as sexy as hell. I watched her walk down the stairs and realized there were two gunmen behind her, not Chris or Jake. She caught up to me, her eyes darkening as she grabbed my collar, catching me by surprise, and dragged me to a dark room in her mansion, while the gunmen were still following us. The room was extremely dark, even the nightlight couldn’t enter the room.

She let go of my collar, leaving me where I was and went away. I saw a flame of fire on a matchstick, and the next thing I knew, she had set a fire in the hearth that brightened the room. There was a black couch that took up almost all the space in the room, and just beside the couch was a wall filled with guns-different types of guns. My heart started thumping strongly in my ears, and even as a police officer, I hadn’t seen so many guns in one place.

“Sit.” That was all she said. I stepped back and was violently pushed to the couch by one of the gunmen. I sat on the couch staring at her and noticed she was shoving an

Iron with the shape of her name on the edge of the fireplace.

“What are you doing?” I found my voice; she didn’t reply, she just let go of the iron and walked past me. She opened a drawer that was in front of the wall filled with guns and took out shisha, placing it at the top of the drawer. I swallowed hard as she held the edge and sucked, letting out smoke that reeked of weed and alcohol. I didn’t know she was this bad.

I stayed there, watching as she continued sucking the shisha, her eyes becoming redder the more she sucked it and let out smoke.

“Why did you bring me here? If all you want to do is smoke?” I asked her, but the stupid bitch didn’t acknowledge my presence, she was still lost in her weed world, smoking shisha like her life depended on it. I waited a few moments before I heard the snap of her finger. Her men stepped forward and seized my hands, pinning me to the couch. My heart started beating rapidly as she went back to the fireplace and took out the iron, flashing me her black panties. She turned to me, and an evil smirk curled on her lips. I glanced at the iron, it was smoking hot and red, and she was using a kitchen glove to hold it. She moved closer to me on the couch, pressing her hand against the edge of the couch, and held the iron close to my face. I could feel the heat of the iron; it was already an inch away from my skin, and she blew smoke on my face I started coughing because of the intensity of the smoke, which was messing with my brain.

“I-I thought you said you wanted to give me a tattoo,” I murmured.

“Yes, I wanted to give you a tattoo, so where do you want it?” She inquired, her brow furrowed. I swallowed hard, picturing the severe injury the iron would cause if it came into contact with my skin. I never knew she was a bloody psycho.

“I don’t want to get a tattoo this way, can you just draw one for me the normal way?” I asked her in a nervous tone while the strong men were still clutching my hand tightly against the couch.

“There is no normal way of getting a tattoo, but I assure you that this is the less painful way,” she replied.

“I agreed to be your slave, not to get a fucking tattoo!” I roared, moving my hand in the grips of the men.

“Mind your language, pretty boy, I am the only one allowed to use curse words.” She said bluntly, huffed, and started bringing the iron close to the skin of my neck.

“No! Stop! You can’t give me a tattoo without my consent!” I screamed. Shit! Shit! Shit! She couldn’t fucking put that on my flawless skin.

“Stay still, slave, or this will destroy your beautiful face.” She threatened me with a grin.

I started trying to fight the men that were holding me, but they held me in place, and this time I couldn’t move my hands anymore. I lifted my face so the iron couldn’t touch my face, she set my face the way she wanted it, and she stroked my neck before moving the iron closer to my face. My pores rose the closer she brought the iron to my neck. I heard the sound of the door being opened, and just then I felt the hot iron on my skin.

“Argh!” I screamed out in horror, the pain was so concentrated that it made my whole body go numb like I had been struck by lightning. She pressed it hard against my neck and pulled it away. I could see the flesh of my skin burning on the edge of the iron. She stroked my hair away from my face and looked at the mark she had given me.

“So beautiful, it looks good on you, slave.” Those words escaped her wicked lips as the men released my body.