Breaking Donatella (Leave Me Breathless) Read online

“Wait! You’re going the wrong way! Moretti, stop!”

  “Very well.” I set her down, then tore away the blanket and pushed her shoulders until she fell forward over the tree. Repositioning her, I made sure her feet didn’t touch the ground.

  “Please! I’m too close to the fence!”

  “You should have thought of that before you tried to escape,” I replied, putting a hand on her back to stop her wiggling. “Oh, I almost forgot the best part.”

  Reaching into my bag, I pulled out her treat and removed it from the plastic. Already carved into the proper shape with deep grooves to increase its surface area, the pungent ginger perfumed the air. Without giving her time to protest, I spread her cheeks apart as best I could with one hand and pushed it into her asshole, ignoring her desperate pleas.

  “The next time I do this, you’ll spread yourself for me,” I murmured. It would take several minutes for her to start feeling the effects, but there was no time like the present to get started.

  “Fuck you. I will never—” She gasped and twitched, the current from the fence working its magic. Touching her gave me only the faintest buzz, though it might have been painful had we been closer.

  “Never is a very long time.” I crouched to meet her furious blue eyes. “You will eventually bow to me. You will kneel, and you will obey.”

  She screamed again, her head shaking a desperate no. Grabbing the little bit of hair she had, I held her still. “I would have made it very pleasurable for you. You would have had everything you asked for, even freedom after you settled into your role as my wife.”

  “You’re delusional,” she retorted, glaring up at me.

  “But now… Well, until you call me what I want to hear, I’m afraid you’re going to suffer for it. For every bit of pleasure I give you, every bite of food, every sip of water from a dog’s bowl, you will beg, and you will hurt. And you should know I always keep my word.”

  Ella

  My ill-planned escape gained me fuck-all. I was even further from freedom than before.

  I was freezing, and the constant low-level shock from the invisible fence tightened my muscles into agonizing stiffness. I already hurt so much, and it was going to get worse. Even the small object he pushed inside me was starting to make my butt ache.

  Without giving me a chance to catch my breath, he pushed his thick cock into my mouth, using my hair to hold me still. I choked around him, trying desperately to keep him from going further into my throat. His musky male scent filled my nose until even the few short breaths he allowed me were only of him.

  “Relax your throat and swallow,” he said softly, tugging my head up. “You will take all of me or I’ll fuck your face until you pass out.”

  Strangely, the change in position made it easier to obey, but my throat burned from his steady intrusion. Breathing through my nose, I tried to control my gag reflex. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I puked on him. I swallowed ineffectively, praying his advice would work.

  Groaning, he slid the last few inches down my throat, cutting off my air. Too weak to struggle, I let my tears fall and wondered if this was how he planned to kill me.

  Here lies Ella Rose, suffocated to death by a Moretti dick.

  He held himself still for too long, his furious stare meeting mine until black spots swirled in my vision.

  “Oh, no, Donatella. Open those pretty eyes and watch me fuck your mouth. You’re not going to check out on me so easily.”

  Finally, he eased himself out just long enough for me to inhale a greedy gulp of air, then thrust back in, fucking me almost methodically. The thick sweetness of precum trickled down my throat, making my belly clench in denial as the tree bark abraded my torso and hips. It was still gentler than his brutal claiming of my throat.

  “So good,” he husked, laying both palms on my cheeks as his movements became jerkier and uncontrolled. “I might have to take you out here every morning just to fuck that sweet mouth of yours. The fence might be causing you agony, but it feels…so…good.”

  Tightening his hands, he lodged his cock as deep as it would go. His wiry hair nearly smothering me, he held himself still as he hardened and swelled. Hissing out a curse, his hips bucked once before viscous cum spilled down my throat.

  God, I wanted to throw it up. Instead, I swallowed hard and tried to breathe through the pain from the electric charge.

  “Well done, Donatella,” he said, easing his softening shaft from my mouth. “That was my reward for catching you, but I’m going to allow you to choose your own reward for trying to escape.”

  I coughed, trying to clear my sore throat. “What are you talking about?”

  He zipped his pants and crouched. “You can address me as I wish, and I will carry you home, then care for the cuts on your feet. You will be cherished and spoiled to the best of my ability.”

  “Or?”

  His sudden grin made me shudder. “Or you’ll be punished. I don’t wish to chase you all over Elba anymore.”

  “I don’t know what you want to hear,” I lied. “You won’t tell me.”

  “Well, then perhaps a punishment might jog your memory.”

  I let my head fall in defeat. He was going to do whatever he wanted, and I couldn’t stop him. Everything I tried made things worse. Tears filled my eyes and I didn’t care if he saw.

  “Don’t cry yet. I’ve barely gotten started.” He walked away and rummaged in his bag for some other means to torture me.

  I heard a faint whistle, then a second and third. Trying to focus on my breathing, and force my body to relax around the growing itchy burn in my butt, I ignored the noise.

  Without warning, a sharp snap echoed behind me a split second before my ass erupted in pain. My muscles seized, turning the vague discomfort in my ass into an inferno.

  He laughed at my breathless scream and struck me again, the snap heralding another torturous line across my backside. Over and over. Snap. Scream. Snap. He left me no time to steel myself for the blows or catch a breath. Every time I clenched down to protect myself, the fire in my ass flared.

  “Have you ever heard of bastinado?” he asked, snapping the implement across my upper thighs. “It’s where the bottoms of one’s feet are whipped. I considered it, but your feet are already bloody. Seems a waste of a good punishment, yes?”

  “Stop, please,” I whined. Tears and snot ran down my face. At least the fire in my asshole was abating somewhat. Maybe I was just getting used to it.

  “Poor little girl,” he murmured, touching my chin with the tip of a heavy cane to make me lift my head. “Will you tell me what I want to hear?”

  I blinked up at him, trying to figure out what he wanted. My slow brain eventually remembered how I ended up getting the hide whipped off my backside. He asked me to call him Master.

  I nodded. There wasn’t anything else left for me to do. I hated myself for being so weak, for being stupid enough to let him catch me, and for forgetting all the lessons my mother had taught me.

  Crouching, he cupped my face. “Say it, Donatella. Tell me what I want to hear.”

  Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes.

  “No. Look at me when you say it.”

  Tears burned a path down my cheeks. Being forced to look at him while I said that awful word made it gut-wrenchingly permanent. It would be branded on my soul forever.

  “Master.”

  “Well done.” He gave me a pleased smile, then moved behind me. After removing the thing from my ass, he unclipped whatever he’d used to keep my legs together, then pulled me to my feet, smirking at my grimace of pain. “I bet that hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, Master.” My voice was dull and listless, hoarse from my screams, yet he didn’t seem to care.

  He grabbed his things and led me away from the fence. “Good. Now, what will you give me if I let you have this blanket back? You must be freezing.”

  Peeking up into his expectant face, any resistance I might have had left withered and died. “W
hatever you ask, Master.”

  “That pleases me very much.” He cupped the back of my head, then kissed me. It was so sweet and soft, almost like he cared. “I don’t want to hurt you, darling, but you must learn to behave and obey me. Otherwise, your life will be very unpleasant.”

  Said every abuser ever.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good girl.” He laid the blanket around my shoulders, tying it carefully so it stayed put. “Shall we go home?”

  Nodding dully, I limped at his side, letting him wrap an arm around my waist. I had no fight left in me, and he knew it.

  6

  Cristian

  The house was quiet as I led her through the back door and straight downstairs into the cellar. No one saw us, save Tomas, who nodded at me from his chair on the lower deck overlooking the sea.

  Although rewarding, breaking Donatella didn’t give me as much pleasure as I thought it would. It had been almost too easy. Frowning, I helped her down the stairs, scowling at her bloody footprints. It occurred to me to carry her, but she had to learn her lesson.

  Was she plotting another escape attempt? If so, she’d find it much more difficult.

  “Cicci, how did you escape?”

  Without looking at me, she simply pointed at the ceiling. I looked up and barked out a wry laugh. Along with a brand-new wireless camera Tomas must have installed while I was busy, I saw exactly how she’d managed it.

  “I should have known. You’re thin enough to squeeze through the rafters into the wine cellar and out through the ground level door. You won’t be able to fit when I put a baby in you. Of course, I hope to trust you enough by then to move you into my bedroom upstairs.”

  Her lack of hair was a bonus I was sure she hadn’t intended. She was unable to hide her expression. The look of horror on her face was insulting, albeit unsurprising.

  Still, she said nothing as I led her into the bathroom and removed the filthy blanket, dropping it to the floor. After turning on the taps, I tested the temperature, then eased her under the spray before stripping my clothes off to join her. I had no intention of releasing her cuffs for the foreseeable future.

  The blood on her feet turned the water pink, reminding me I’d have to bandage her wounds. As gently as I could, I bathed her. Although it wasn’t my usual way, it seemed to soothe her. As long as she behaved, she’d be treated well.

  Wet, her hair was much longer than I’d expected, and parted in the center, was surprisingly attractive. Well, it would be once the odd color was gone. Once she was rinsed and I’d given myself a quick wash, I grabbed a towel and dried her. She hissed softly when I patted the bruising stripes on her ass and thighs.

  “I like seeing my marks on you,” I murmured, tracing a thick line just below the crease of her buttocks. “Lucky for you, only naughty girls get the cane.”

  To my disappointment, Donatella didn’t react. We were both tired, so I was willing to let it pass for the moment. Tomorrow would be soon enough to teach her proper behavior. Urging her to sit on the toilet, I put a towel under her feet and got a first aid kit from the cabinet above the sink, then disinfected and bandaged her wounds. I’d have Tomas look at them in a day or two. Aside from a few small flinches when I dabbed them with antiseptic, I’d have thought she was already asleep.

  Leaving her to sit, I got another blanket from the cupboard, then returned for her and let her brush her teeth. After helping her into bed, I unfastened the quick link and secured her hands in front of her. She’d be more comfortable, but I wondered if I was taking a risk.

  I turned down the lamp and crawled in after her, pulling her against my chest to spoon her. Properly cleaned, she smelled like fresh jasmine and warm woman, a heady perfume that made my cock throb against her backside. Stroking her hair away from her nape, I kissed her silky skin to the sweet spot behind her ear, then palmed her flat stomach and moved my hands up to her generous breasts. Her pert nipples hardening under my fingers, she whimpered softly.

  Her consent wasn’t required. It might be for a marriage between a normal couple, but she would be a Moretti soon. We lived by different rules, yet I wanted it. I wanted her wet, needy, and desperate for my touch.

  “Good girl,” I whispered. “Let me make you feel good. All you have to do is say yes.” Teaching her to beg would come later.

  She let out a soft sigh, then rolled to her back and spread her legs. I supposed that was invitation enough, but I wanted the words from her.

  “Say it out loud, Donatella. Tell me you want me.”

  “Yes, Master. I want you.”

  The words were a mechanical whisper, spoken only in response to my demand, but it was what I’d asked for. She’d be rewarded for it most generously.

  Moving down the bed, I crawled between her legs and inhaled the sweetness of her pussy. Bending one of her knees, I settled in to feast. I’d wanted to taste her the moment I laid eyes on her in that skating rink. Spreading her folds, I traced my tongue around her opening, then moved to suck her clit. The bundle of nerves swelled in my mouth and she jerked her hips into my face.

  “Yes,” I whispered, blowing air across her wet pussy. She shivered and lifted her pelvis again, then her hands fell to my head.

  Normally, I wouldn’t allow her to touch me without permission, but this was a special occasion. Besides, I liked the idea of her losing control enough to forget her inhibitions. Easing a finger into her heated wetness, I kept my lips locked around her clit as I fucked her.

  Honey, drugging and sweet, spilled from her and I captured every drop with my tongue. She tasted like decadent heaven. Carefully, I turned my hand and pushed a second finger into her, curling them upward to tease the sensitive area at the top of her channel.

  Quivering under me, she clenched around my fingers and dug her short nails into my scalp, crying out her pleasure.

  The slight sting sent a surge of need down my spine, but it was too soon. I wanted her to beg before I fucked her.

  After gentling her into an uneasy doze, I attached a chain to the shackle around her ankle and fastened it to an eyebolt set in the wall.

  I laid awake for a long time, unwilling to give her another chance at escape. She’d proven herself to be clever, vicious, and had a well of inner strength I’d have admired if it hadn’t been directed at me. Our children would be magnificent.

  In my anger, I’d told her an untruth. I couldn’t take a son from her unwilling body. No bastard could inherit. In fact, to my knowledge, no Moretti had ever fathered a child out of wedlock, and I’d never taken a woman without a condom. We were more civilized about it now, but past members of the larger families had often arranged quiet accidents for pregnant mistresses.

  Combined, the Rossi and Moretti fortunes would make us the richest couple in the world by a factor of ten. Donatella probably wouldn’t care, but I wasn’t willing to let two hundred years of tradition and bloodline fade because of the whims of one willfully stubborn woman. It wasn’t even about the money anymore, although losing it wouldn’t make me happy.

  Somehow, I had to make her understand.

  Ella

  “It’s time to wake, cicci. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Go away. You’re a nightmare.”

  My thighs sticky from Moretti’s attentions, I turned over. I ached everywhere. Even my hair hurt. Head to toe, I was a mass of bruises, pulled muscles, and strained ligaments. I’d be lucky if I could walk to the toilet by myself.

  “Hardly a nightmare. Would a nightmare bring you poached eggs, fresh strawberries with cream, and perfect espresso?”

  “If your name is Moretti, then you’re a nightmare. Go away.”

  Gah. What happened to that shit about flies and honey? I was utterly incapable of keeping my stupid mouth shut. I waited for the zap of electricity, my hand flying to my neck.

  The collar was gone, as were the shackles around my wrists and ankles. Holy shit. I was both glad and terrified he had something worse up his sleeve.

&nbs
p; “Come, sit up, darling. We’ll eat and have a civil conversation.”

  “If you don’t have ibuprofen, you’re a nightmare.”

  “Will aspirin suffice?”

  Deciding to face whatever horrors Moretti had swirling in his pointy little head, I sat up and held out my hand. “Please,” I said as politely as I could manage. To my surprise, there actually was a breakfast tray with food on it.

  He dropped two pills into my hand, then gave me a stemmed goblet full of orange juice. Praying they were truly aspirin, I put them in my mouth and washed them down with a sip of juice.

  “I’m surprised you took them,” he murmured, gazing at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

  My flesh crawled and I tried to hide a shiver before pulling the blanket over my shoulders. The room was warm enough and smelled clean, but I didn’t mistake it for anything but a prison cell where I’d already been tortured.

  “Considering you’re demanding I marry you, I was fairly confident they weren’t cyanide. You’ll wait for that until I pop out a few Moretti brats.”

  “What would it take to convince you to marry me of your own free will?” he asked, plating a few poached eggs, and a piece of toasted country bread layered with cheese and Parma ham.

  “A different groom.”

  Shit. I was supposed to be polite and not antagonistic. Trying again, I said, “I honestly have no idea why you’d want to marry any Rossi, much less me. What’s in this for you?”

  Instead of punishing me, he gave me a faint smile and took a sip of coffee.

  “Almost a trillion euros in assets, and enough power to have the entire world dancing to our tune.” He leaned forward and handed me the plate. “You’d share it with me, of course. It’s the combined net worth of both our families.”

  “Share it until you have your heir and a spare, you mean.”

  “No. As my Signora, you’d be protected and cared for lavishly for the rest of your days. I promise no one will dare touch you.”