My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 12 "Confrontation" (2 page)

I looked down at it. The top few
buttons of my long-sleeved shirt were left open, revealing a glimpse of my
hellish tattoos.

The
Padre
continued, “You’re
an extremely handsome man, with a body people would kill to touch, yet you’ve
covered it with images of demons and hellfire. The one on your back is truly horrifying.
Why would you desecrate such perfection?”

I gritted my teeth, realizing he
must’ve seen my videos too. “You’re a priest; you shouldn’t be watching porn.”

“Satan whispered the temptation
into my ear and unfortunately I fell for it. What you did to those harlots,” he
grimaced, “it was truly repulsive. You’re an evil boy.”

“I’m not evil, you are.”

“I wasn’t the one doing vile things
to the Daughters of Satan.” His eyes wandered back to my chest. “Or desecrating
my body with hellish tattoos. But at least you didn’t whip yourself like your
spiteful brother did. I couldn’t look upon his body after that. It was too
upsetting.”

I inhaled sharply, instantly know
who he was talking about. My brother Brando had a penchant for being whipped by
women. But I’d thought it was a sexual need, not the result of abuse.

“What did you do to him?” I asked,
hoping I was wrong.

The
Padre
frowned. “Things
you cannot understand. Brando was the first angel I saw, then Satan yanked out
his wings, damning him for eternity.”

“Stop speaking in riddles and tell
me what you did to him.”

“If Brando hasn’t told you, I’m not
about to, boy.”

“I’m not a boy, so tell me! What
did you do to my brother?”

“I filled him with love, yet all he
gave me was hate. He’s a devil dressed in angel’s clothing, a truly evil boy.
Only his cold eyes and whip marks betray his true nature. If I could, I would
punish him further, but as I said, I can no longer look at him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He fucked him,” Matteo cut in.
“When he says he fills someone with love, it means he’s raped them.”

The
Padre
spun around. “It
does not.”

“Liar,” Matteo spat. “You fucked
his brother like Jagger and Thierry, didn’t you?”

The
Padre
went quiet; his lack
of words confirming what he’d done to Brando. Unadulterated rage shot through
me. Before I knew what I was doing, I lunged forward, ramming my forehead into
the priest’s nose. He hollered in pain and fell backwards, his big body crashing
to the ground. Leo and a soldier shouted at me to stop, but I went for the
Padre
again, kicking the
merda
out of him. A blow struck me from behind,
but it did nothing; my rage too strong.

Someone rammed into me from the
side, knocking me away from the priest. I fell to the ground, yelling out as my
attacker landed on top of me. I thrashed about, wanting to get back to the
priest, so I could make him pay for violating my brother. I wasn’t usually
violent, but what he’d done ... even my hatred of death wouldn’t have stopped
me from killing him. There was always an exception to a rule—and that sick fuck
deserved to go to Hell. My brother’s whip marks were severe, a crisscross of
agony carved into his back. I had to detach him from a wall once, the
dominatrix having whipped him so badly that he’d passed out. I had yelled at
the woman, but she’d retorted that Brando had paid her to render him
unconscious, giving her a grand for the job.

More men rushed to restrain me. I continued to
thrash about, trying to get back to the priest. A fist struck my face, then
another one hit me in the stomach, followed by more to my face. Matteo started
yelling at them to stop, but they continued, the last punch turning my world
black.

***

I felt the pain before I opened my
eyes. My head was pounding like a freight train had hit it with a cargo full of
explosives, while my arms were stretched tight above my head, the mattress at
my back telling me I was tied to a bed. I yanked at the rope around my wrists,
trying to pull free, but the knots were tied too firmly. Movement caught my attention,
making me stop, though my heart still raced. I had a fear of being restrained,
which had stemmed from my first kidnapping.

Someone sat up next to me. Although
it was dark, I could tell it was a woman, their long hair and the curve of
their breasts visible.

“Andriena?”

She turned to me. “
S
ì
, Alessandro.” She placed a
gentle hand on my forehead. “How do you feel?”

“My head and arms are hurting.
Please untie me.”

Her hand moved to my right arm,
gently massaging the muscles. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My uncles will get angry.”

“I don’t care,” I growled. “Untie
me.
Now
.”

“You won’t be able to get away, and
you’ll only hurt yourself if you try.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” I yelled,
now angry with her.

She placed a hand over my mouth. “Sssh,
they’ll come in if they hear you.”

I jerked my head to the side,
dislodging her hand. “Then let me free. They’re going to kill me.”

“No, they’re not, they’re ransoming
you. You’ll be given back to your
famiglia
soon.”

“In what condition? That fucking
priest raped my brother. He’ll do the same to me if you don’t untie me.”

“He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“You’re naive if you believe that.”
I yanked at the ropes again, panic starting to rise. “Please untie me, I hate
being tied up, I can’t take it, please, Andriena, please, I’m begging you,
untie me.” When she didn’t move, I pulled with all my strength, trying to break
the headboard I was tied to. It creaked loudly. I did it again, yelling out in
fury when it didn’t break. “Untie me!” I shouted, knowing I was fucked if I
didn’t get free. I’d become big so no one could hurt me again, yet here I was
thirteen years later, tied to a different bed and at someone else’s mercy.

She grabbed my wrists. “Stop doing
that, Alessandro, you’re hurting yourself.”

Not caring, I continued to yank at
the rope, my mind now locked in the past. My kidnappers had stripped me naked
and tied me up, carving hateful messages into my back while they laughed and
joked over my screams. They had spat on my naked body, saying I was worthless,
and that my father didn’t care enough to pay a cent for me, then had proceeded
to beat me until I lost consciousness.

Now desperate, I wrenched at the
ropes with all my might, the creak and groan of the bed suggesting I was damaging
it. It spurred me on, giving me hope that I could break free.

The light turned on, blinding me
for a moment, then cold water was dumped over me. I yelled out, my body jerking
in response to the shock to my system. I blinked rapidly to get the water out
of my eyes. A man came into vision—Christo Donatelli. He was standing next to
the bed holding a bucket, his pale blue eyes colder than the water he’d tipped
on me. He was bald and slim, but looked even more dangerous than his twin, his
stare twice as fierce.

“Alessandro,” Christo finally spoke.
His voice was raspy, suggesting he was a heavy smoker. “That was quite a show.”
His eyes moved to the top of the bed. “You even cracked the headboard. That’s
impressive strength, considering how thick that oak is.” His gaze moved back to
my face. “But your outburst is unnecessary, because, as long as your brother
pays the ransom, you’ll go free.”

I took deep breaths, willing
himself to stay calm, but the restraints were making it hard—and Christo’s
words even harder. “I’ve been kidnapped before,” I breathed out. “You won’t get
a cent out of my father.”

“I heard about that, which is why I’m
only communicating with your brother Ricardo.”

“Ricardo can’t pay you, he doesn’t
have the power.”

“Considering he’s your new Don, I think
he does.”

Fear shot through me. “My father’s
dead?”

“Not that I know of.”

“But, if Ricardo’s the Don, my
father must be dead.”

“No, he’s just ill. Your brother usurped
his power, which means you’ll be released after he pays the ransom. So stop
going crazy, you’ll soon be back with your
famiglia.
”

“You’re not going to kill me?” I
said, still in disbelief.

“That would defeat the purpose of
kidnapping you for a ransom. If you’re dead, we wouldn’t get paid.”

“Why would you need money? You’re
wealthy.”

His face darkened. “I’m unable to
access my
famiglia
’s accounts, because Andriena’s
troia
of a
sister gave Frano authority to them. So, shut your mouth and go back to sleep
or I’ll add another million to your ransom.” He spun around and walked out of
the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I turned my head to Andriena, who
was standing by the wall, her expression worried. Her eyes moved to me, guilt
coloring her beautiful face. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know they were
going to do this to you.”

“You’re obviously not sorry enough
to free me.”

“Because I can’t.”

“Or won’t.” I shifted my ass, the water
making me shiver.

“No,
can’t
.” She walked up
to the bed. “If I free you, they’ll hurt you again. It’s better this way.
You’ll be safer. And I’ll protect you.”

“Matteo already said he wanted to
suck my cock. How can you protect me from him? Or what about the priest? What
if
he
comes in here and wants a piece of me?”

“I’ll tell him to go away. Matteo,
too.”

“Do you seriously think they’ll
listen to you? I have no idea what Matteo’s capable of, but I know the priest
is a rapist.”

She remained silent, her blue eyes
glossing over with tears.

“Stop crying and help me. I helped
you.”

She wiped her eyes. “I
am
helping
you, and I won’t stop crying until you stop snapping at me. So, please just
work with me on this; I’m trying my best here.”

I yanked at the restraints. “You’re
best isn’t good enough.”

“It’s all I can give you.”

“Then at least dry me. I’m fucking
freezing.”

She nodded, looking relieved. “I
can do that. I’ll go grab some towels.” She disappeared through the doorway. I
kept my eyes on it, unable to stop shivering from the cold water. A few minutes
later, Andriena reappeared with towels and sheets. She placed them down on the
floor. Picking up the top towel, she dried my face and hair, looking
uncomfortable while doing it.

Her eyes lowered to my shirt. “I
have to undress you.” Her gaze flicked back up to my face. “To dry you, of
course. I won’t touch you inappropriately.”

“Fine,” I said, not caring how she
touched me.

She put the towel down and started
unbuttoning my shirt, her hands shaking. Once finished, she pulled out a pocket
knife from her jacket, making me jolt.

“I won’t hurt you,” she said.

“I didn’t think you would, you just
surprised me. Cut the rope.”

“Alessandro,” she breathed out,
sounding frustrated. “Stop asking.”

“Then, what’s the knife for?”

“To get your shirt off without
untying your wrists.” She placed the blade to one of my sleeves and ripped the
material, then did the same to the other side, removing my ruined shirt a few
seconds later. As she pocketed the knife, her gaze drifted to my chest, my nipple
rings probably capturing her attention. She looked up at me, a blush coloring
her cheeks. She went to say something, but stopped, quickly ducking down to grab
a towel. She started wiping my chest and stomach, hesitating as she drew closer
to my pants. Clearing her throat, she raised her gaze, the woman’s cheeks now
beet red.

“Do you give me permission to take
your pants off?” she asked, avoiding eye contact.

“I already have.”

“Then you have two options: I can either
shred them or untie your feet to get them off. But if I do the latter, you have
to promise not to kick me.”

“I wouldn’t kick you, I would never
hurt you.”

She gave me a smile, not getting
one in return, my anger still bubbling under the surface, ready to explode at
any given moment. Her smile dropped, the woman appearing self-conscious again.
“I’ll remove your restraints then,” she mumbled, shifting down the bed. After
she’d cut away the rope, she reached for my fly. With a shaky hand, she
unzipped my pants and removed them, leaving only my underwear on.

“My briefs, too,” I said, the water
having seeped through.

Her eyes went to them, her
expression scared, as if my cock would jump out and spurt venom at her.

“Hurry up,” I said, “before my
balls freeze off.”

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Then untie my hands and I’ll remove
them.”

“No.”

“You have to do something.”

She placed the towel over my crotch.