4
TATUM
The second I heard him lock the bedroom door, I knew I had acted foolishly. I pushed him. I provoked him by asking the question I knew he wasn’t ready to answer. But I was getting restless, confusion taking its toll on my mind, my sanity.
Ever since we got here I had no desire to leave the room. I had no desire to face reality, but rather to stay here between these four walls and live inside the world Castello and I had created for ourselves. Our world felt safer. I felt stronger. And I liked it.
On the inside of our world nothing else mattered. Death, money, lies, deceit, sadness…nothing mattered but us and this weirdly twisted bond we seemed to share. I didn’t want to step out of this bubble we were in only to face a reality I wasn’t sure I would be strong enough to survive.
I had convinced myself I was still his prisoner, and I preferred it that way. I preferred to live in our world, rather than live in mine…or his.
In the world the Fattores lived in they did not care for any rules but their own. Loyalty was everything, yet a life held no value. I realized that the day I watched my father die…the day I saw Castello hold the gun that killed his mother.
All the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded me while living in the midst of a world I knew nothing about, I felt safer right here in this room, protected against the unknown.
But it seemed different now, after the game we played.
The second Castello told me to run earlier, I experienced a tiny fragment of freedom I had been denied for weeks, and it made me realize I could no longer live like a prisoner. I needed space. I needed air. I needed to feel alive outside the bedroom Castello and I shared. I wanted to be more than just the person he fucked in order to give his demons what they craved. And during those brief moments of freedom, I hoped Castello felt the same. That he, too, wanted and needed us to be more than just players in the dark. More than just two people who depended on each other to satiate and tame the warped desires that stemmed from the darkest parts of our souls.
But I was wrong, so very wrong. To him I was nothing more than a possession, something he owned. I was a pet, a slave. I was whatever the fuck he wanted me to be, nothing more. The sound of the door locking was proof of that.
I flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. At least this prison room was prettier, and much bigger than the first one I had. And there was a bathroom. And a great view. And Castello shared it with me.
Goddammit!
Why did it feel like everything changed…yet it hadn’t? Castello killed his own cousin to keep me from being raped. He killed his own mother, betrayed his family, to save me. This was just another example of how impossible it was to know what he was thinking, to know what he was feeling. Castello was an enigma, a puzzle from which the pieces only created more questions. A mystery unsolvable among a thousand riddles. Whenever I was alone, I didn’t feel strong enough for him. Yet when we were together like we were earlier, I felt like we were two pieces of a force so powerful it could destroy us both.
I gently touched the skin around my neck, feeling the burn Castello’s belt had left behind. My body ached, and my mind was a minefield of questions and confusion. Yet I had never felt more satisfied. As little as I could see inside Castello’s mind, he somehow managed to see everything in mine. He knew what I wanted, what I needed. He knew my body like it was a sculpture he had shaped and formed…as if he were god over my soul. He became the dictator, and I was merely the slave who obeyed his every command.
But the ultimate question that confused me more than any other—why, after his family killed my father, after everything he had put me through, did I not hate him? How could I look at him, the man that starved me, had me beaten and humiliated, and still desire him more than anything else?
I closed my eyes and tried my best to focus on the pain that lingered throughout my body. It was the only way to stop the memories from storming back into my mind.
Vico’s belt.
Nicollo’s vile breath while he spewed threatening promises of how he would violate my body.
Castello’s mother’s eyes as she stared at me with so much hate I could feel it inside my bones.
And then seeing my dad bleed, witnessing the last breath escaping his body. It was tiny pieces of hell I relived over and over inside my mind. I tried my best not to think of it. But then again, thinking of Castello wasn’t helping either. All it did was confuse me more, making my mind spin out of control.
He locked the fucking door, and no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that it didn’t bother me…it did. This all started with me as his prisoner. Would it ultimately end with me at his feet as his slave?
Along with the satiated ache between my legs and the burn on my skin, I could feel the darkness trying to claw me in. Confusion, grief, heartache, angst—it all churned deep inside me, simmering, boiling, threatening to erupt. Unless…unless I found a way to let it all out.
Pain.
Pain had always been my cure. It purged me from things I wasn’t strong enough to deal with. It had been a part of me for so long. It calmed me, soothed me, and kept me in control.
I got up from the bed and glanced at the door, thinking of the lock, and the key Castello walked around with, probably in his jacket pocket. The more I thought about it, the more memories started to flood through my mind.
The sound of gunshots.
The screams.
The blood.
Death.
Pain.
I shook my head, biting back tears. I knew I needed to mourn the loss of my father. I knew I needed to work through what had happened to me during the last few weeks. I knew that no woman who had been through what I have would still be sane. I needed to give myself time to heal. I’ve been to enough psychologists to have known all these things.
But unfortunately, I didn’t have that time. I didn’t have the luxury of mourning, or dealing with the pile of shit I had been through. No. Not in this world. Not in his world. And that was where I was. His world. My world no longer existed, and by the sound of the door locking, no longer did ours.
I looked down and stared at the scars that formed white lines across my thighs. Two of those scars were still red. It was fresher than the rest, the two marks Castello made when I was held captive at the Fattore mansion. I remember the ecstasy I felt when he sliced the blade across my skin, pushing me over the edge. To finally embrace the dark desires that lurked inside me for so long by letting him have all control over me was liberating, and the pleasure was indescribable.
Now, as I stood alone in a locked room with memories I wish I could forget, I knew I needed to experience that again. The relief of letting go. But it had been too long since I’ve bled by Castello’s hand, which was why I needed to do it myself.
With one final glance at the door I started to search the room. I went through every cupboard and every drawer, but found nothing sharp enough to help me get rid of the whirlpool of emotions that was wreaking havoc inside my mind.
When I searched through the bathroom cabinet I finally found what I was looking for—my cure.
I took the small white-framed hand mirror and stared at my reflection for a few moments. My eyes were teary, blue circles framing them from lack of sleep. How could I sleep when demons of the past surrounded me the second I closed my eyes?
Just by the shape of my cheeks I could see I had lost weight. You were starved for fuck knows how long.
Unable to stare at myself for one second longer, I dropped the mirror to the ground and watched as it shattered in to pieces. I could already feel the blackness of anticipation as it moved up my body, coating me, slowly squeezing the unwanted emotions out of me.
I bent down on my knees, picked up the sharpest piece, and stared at a part of my thigh that was unblemished, unscarred—the perfect canvas.
While I kept the broken piece of glass in my hand something inside tried to pull me away from the temptation, willing me to fight the urge slowly creeping up my spine. It had been years since I last marred my own body. Years since I allowed myself to give in, to let my corrupt soul take control of my actions. But today, right now, I had a choice—my only choice. Either give in and allow myself this one escape that would give me the strength to get through whatever my future held in store, or let my emotions weaken my chances at survival. And God knew, I needed every ounce of strength if I wanted to survive Castello Fattore.
I placed the sharp edge of the broken piece against my thigh, closed my eyes, and allowed the one memory I hated the most to enter my mind. All I saw were pools of crimson, blood and life draining out of my father’s body while Vico smiled like the devil.
The pain that shocked through me like a thousand volts right at that moment, just like it did on that fateful day, caused me to flick my wrist and slice through my skin. The burning relief instantly consumed me, and I felt my soul relax. I’ve never used drugs before, but I was pretty sure this was how it felt. All the heaviness of the cruelty I carried lifted off my shoulders, and my mind was nothing but holes of emptiness. For a few brief seconds my soul was light, unscarred, and all the bad had escaped through the cut, softly tricking down my thigh. It was only when I heard Castello’s voice roar through the room that everything came back like a giant boulder of chaos.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Castello grabbed my arm, pulled me up, and dragged me out of the bathroom. He shoved me onto the bed like I was nothing more than a pathetic ragdoll. “What in the name of ever loving fuck were you thinking?”
When my eyes met his, I knew I had never seen him angry before. But this, the way he stared at me, irises swirling with rage, this was Castello Fattore angry.
I tried to right myself on the bed. “Cas—”
“Why?”
I looked up at him, and I knew there was no way I would be able to bullshit my way out of the truth. Not with him.
I glanced down at the fresh wound. “I needed it.”
“Why?”
I snorted. “Are you serious? Do you really not know why I needed to do this? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been through hell and back the last few weeks, so I think I’m entitled to act a little crazy.”
He stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. “So you did this, for what?”
I sat up straight and looked him square in the eye. “Release.”
The malevolent smile I’ve come to know so well spread along his face. “Release?”
“Yes. Do you not think I deserve some form of release after what I’ve been through—what I’m still going through?”
Abruptly he grabbed my thigh, his thumb pressing right over the wound, making me flinch. “I give you release. My hands, my mouth, my cock…my blade gives you release. So next time you feel like acting a little crazy, you come to me.”
“You locked me in. You weren’t here when I fucking needed you. You’re the one who woke all this shit up inside me, Castello. You’re the one who made me feel okay about the fucked up mess inside my head. And what do you do? You lock the fucking door as if I’m an animal you need to keep caged. You. Weren’t. Here.”
He leaned down closer, dark irises wild and burning with fury, lips pulled in a straight line. “Then you go on your fucking knees and wait for me like the good little pet we both know you are.” He gripped my thigh harder, smearing the blood over my skin. “But this will never happen by your hand again. You will never dishonor me in this manner again.”
I balked. “Dishonor you? How is cutting myself dishonoring you?”
He let go of my thigh and grabbed my face, his fingers gripping my chin painfully. “You are mine. You belong to me. And by cutting yourself you are waving one giant ‘fuck you’ in my face.” He let go of my face with a jerk.
“What’s the difference between whether you do it, or I do it?”
“What’s the difference? Are you serious? The difference is, when I do it, you bleed for me, not for yourself. Me.”
He grabbed me by my hair, pulling me up and dragging me across the room.
“Castello, stop. You’re hurting me.”
He turned me around, grabbed my waist and pulled me back against him. “Look!”
I tried to grab his hand still fisted in my hair. “You’re hurting me!”
“I said, fucking look!”
My scalp felt like it was on fire, my heart beating a thousand beats a second.
“Look!”
I opened my eyes and stared in front of me at both our reflections in the mirror.
“That woman you see, she’s mine. That body, it’s mine. Everything is fucking mine, and when you go do shit like that”—he glanced down at my thigh—“you’re fucking with what’s mine.” He tightened his grip in my hair, and I flinched and gasped. “Do not fuck with what’s mine, Tatum. You think you’ve seen the worst of me, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”
He let go of my hair, and with a jerk he tore the nightgown I was wearing straight down the back before yanking it off me completely.
“Castello, what are you doing?”
“I’m teaching you a fucking lesson.”
From behind he grabbed both my breasts and squeezed. “These are mine.”
His one hand dipped down my body and palmed me between my legs, causing me to gasp. “This is mine.”
Through the fear and confusion I moaned when he forced a finger inside me. My legs numbed, and every muscle inside my stomach clenched as desire exploded through my core.
He pushed a second finger inside me. “Everything you are, everything you have belongs to me. The only person that desecrates your body is me. Not even you have that fucking right. Just me.”
I heard the zipper of his pants, and like a goddamn switch my entire body started to anticipate the sexual gratification I knew I was about to get. The panic and alarm that prickled along the back of my skull was no match against the lust that crashed with full force between my legs.
He pulled his fingers out, grabbed me behind my neck, and forced me to bend over.
“It seems you’re struggling to accept the fact that your life now only consists of one thing. Me. So let’s see if I can fuck that concept into you.”
Without warning he plunged inside me. I rocked forward, but he grabbed my waist and pulled me back before pushing his cock hard and deep inside me again.
“This time I won’t let you come.”
“What?”
He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. “Keep your fucking mouth shut. I said you are not allowed to come. If you do, I will bind you to that motherfucking bed and punish you with something worse than pain.”
Faster and faster he started to move in and out of me. His grip tightened as he fisted my hair, his fingers pushing painfully into my waist.
I bit down on my lip trying my best not to concentrate on the pleasure he was thrusting inside me. My legs grew weaker by the second, my core tightening as he kept on flexing behind me. The more he moved, the closer he pushed me toward the edge. I could feel the pressure build inside me, how my core tightened as I came nearer to the pleasure I so desperately sought.
“I can feel you, little mouse. I can feel you gripping me tight. I swear to fucking God, if you come I will work your pussy ‘til fucking dusk without allowing you one single goddamn orgasm.”
“Castello, please,” I begged with rapid breaths, my body trembling as I fought against the pleasure. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear. Just please…please let me come.”
“No.”
He let go of my hair, grabbed my waist with both hands, and jerked me to the side toward the bed.
“Keep your legs straight. Put your face flat against the bed.”
I obeyed, praying and hoping like hell he would give me permission to come before my body betrayed me.
With his foot he shoved my legs apart before pushing both my feet against the base of the bed. My muscles in the back of my legs pulled and stretched while he pushed my upper body flat against the mattress.
“Do not think you can fool me, little mouse. You know your body can’t lie to me. I will know the second you come.”
“Castello, I beg you…please.”
“No!”
All it took was a few deep, hard, relentless thrusts until I finally felt him release his pleasure inside me. The blood from biting into my bottom lip coated my tongue with its metallic taste. It was all I could do to stop my body from tipping over the edge I had been forbidden from.
Tears started to fill my eyes, my body aching and screaming, begging for a release from the tension that now tortured every inch of me. No blade, no knife, and no belt had ever caused me this much pain. For the first time I experienced pain that not only possessed my body, but also my mind.
I flinched when he pulled out, and the loss of feeling him inside me caused the tears to escape and fall on the gray sheets.
I didn’t get up. He hadn’t given me permission to yet.
Other than the sound of his zipper sounding through the room, we were surrounded by the most deafening silence.
I sucked in a breath as more tears slipped down my face.
“Get up.”
I wiped away my tears and slowly stood up straight.
“Turn around.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to face him. But I knew I had no choice. Like he had told me a thousand times, he owned me. I had to obey.
As I turned, I kept my gaze down to the floor.
“Look at me.”
More silent tears fell as I gathered the courage to look at him.
His face no longer showed any trace of anger. In fact, his eyes were soft, compassionate, as if staring at an innocent little lamb that only deserved kindness.
His palm came up to my cheek, and I couldn’t stop myself from nestling deeper into his touch.
“I will not tolerate such actions. I will not allow you to mar your own body. As I said before, that is my right alone.”
With his thumb he wiped away a lingering tear. “Now dry your tears, square your shoulders, and honor me in everything that you do. Understood?”
I nodded, and he pulled his hand away from my face before turning around and walking toward the door. “And, Tatum,” he said over his shoulder, “you will not touch yourself. You will not pleasure yourself. The next time you come will be with my permission.”
I watched as he took the bedroom key out of his pocket, slipped it into the keyhole…and locked the door.
He turned around. “And I’ll be here watching you, making sure I am not disobeyed.”