>>43014818various drabbles, archive anon.
>>43019159You can hear him before you see him. The sound of his footsteps on the cold tile floor is enough all on its own to send goosebumps racing across your bruised, naked flesh as you kneel, blindfolded and prone, in the floor where he left you this morning. The quick, staccato rhythm is a portend to his mood today- short, angry movements, pacing back and forth as he does something unknown to you in the background. Eventually, the smell of food reaches your dulled senses- pasta, perhaps? Your stomach rumbles hungrily, but before you can even hope to consider if you'll be permitted to have a bite of food, Luca storms into the room and sits heavily down on his bed. The silence is thick with tension, and as you shift uncertainly, the chain-links of your collar clink softly together.
This, it seems, is enough to set him off.
"Here," he says, snapping his fingers for emphasis. You jolt at the sudden sound and nearly fall over yourself to comply, crawling towards him and hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, he'll be in an agreeable mood despite all the signs to the contrary.
The feeling of leather gloves against your skin is tantalizing; the soft catch of his ring along your skin makes you shiver. With your eyes covered, every sensation and sound is heightened to a needle's fine point, and as he turns your head this way and that (ostensibly to check how your bruises are healing,) for a moment, you can pretend he gives a shit beyond simply maintaining the integrity of his newest toy.
There's a rustling of fabric, then; the sound of a zipper coming apart. When Luca roughly shoves your face against the warming flesh of his half-hard cock, you don't need to ask to figure out what he wants. Your mouth falls open automatically, taking in the length and letting it plump up in the pliant warmth of your mouth. Luca lets out a shaky sigh like a man finally getting off of his feet after a long day on the job and holds himself in your throat for a long moment, basking in the sensation, before abruptly he grabs the back of your head and starts thrusting. It's rough, uncaring, and his size is enough that your jaw aches within seconds- but at this point, you've become accustomed to the burn of oxygen deprivation and the simple friction of his cock down your throat. Every time you gag, he yanks you down harder like he wants to punish you for reminding him that you're a living, breathing person and not just a sentient hole he can rut himself into.
"Fuck... are you even trying? Just why, the hell, should I have to do all the work? Huh?" He complains, grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you off of his cock with enough force to add to the numerous bruises colouring your cheeks. "You're not- you're not even good at being fucked! I know we took you in to settle a debt, but between you and me, I think your father managed to pull one over on us." Even if you can't see him, you can feel Luca's disapproving gaze as he looks down at you. As you feel the blunt head of his cock press against your lips again, you kiss it as though in reverence- and at this, if nothing else, Luca exhales a short bark of laughter.
"That's more like it." He says, and it's almost praise- almost appreciation- before he grabs a snarl of your unkempt hair and shoves himself back in. On some level, you wish he would touch you. Perhaps, if you're good, he'll use your other end later. Luca's nails dig into your scalp as he shoves himself deeper, forces your face into his unwashed pubes and makes you take what he has to give.
As Luca finishes down your throat and pulls back to wipe the sticky dribbles at the end across your tear-streaked face, you try to remember what life was like before- before you were sold to cover a debt and wound up here, the penthouse pet of the head of the Kaneshiro mafia family. But as Luca tucks himself away and gets to his feet, takes a moment to catch his breath and make himself presentable again, you push those thoughts aside.
Whoever you were before isn't important. All that matters now is keeping the Boss happy. As long as he's happy, you can continue to survive. And any life, even one like this, is better than none at all... right?
"Right. I have things to do, so..."
He leaves you there, cum-stained and discarded, just another tool in a long line of options at his disposal. Distantly, you hear his boisterous laugh and the clinking of silverware as he wines and dines the people who actually matter in his life.
You wonder what it could've been like, if only you could be one of them.
