Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

She gagged but didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. This was the closest she’d gotten to what she needed and she wasn’t going to waste it.

Tears streamed down her face from the effort, from the stretch, from the overwhelming need to please him.

When he finally pulled out, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock, she whimpered at the loss.

”Bedroom. Now.” She scrambled to her feet and ran, her legs unsteady, her body trembling with anticipation.

He followed slowly, predatory, taking his time because he knew she was already his. There was nowhere for her to run. Nowhere she wanted to run. When he entered the bedroom, she was already on the bed, legs spread, waiting. Offering herself completely.

”So eager,” he murmured, stalking toward her like a wolf approaching a lamb.

”So desperate. Tell me, piccola. What do you want?”

”You. Inside me. Please.”

”Not good enough. Be specific.”

”I want your cock inside my pussy,” she said, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. ”I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk. Until I can’t think. Until I forget my own name. Until I’m nothing but yours. Please, Dimitri. Please.”

His smile was wicked. Triumphant. ”Almost.” He climbed onto the bed, his movements deliberate and controlled, and positioned himself between her spread legs.

His cock pressed against her entrance, hot and hard and so close to what she needed.

She held her breath, her entire body tensed with anticipation.

This was it. Finally. After three weeks of torture, after countless orgasms that left her empty, after begging and crying and breaking....he was finally going to give her what she needed.

He pushed forward, just the head breaching her entrance, stretching her, and she gasped at the sensation.

Then he stopped. ”Not yet,” he said, watching her face crumble with devastating satisfaction. ”But soon. Very soon. I promise.”

”You always say that!” The words came out as a sob.

”Because it’s true. Your body is almost ready. Just a little more.”

He pulled out completely, and she actually cried. Real tears. Heartbroken, desperate tears.

”But tonight, I’m going to give you something else.”

He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a vibrator she’d never seen before. Not the regular ones he’d used on her. This one was different. Longer.

Thicker. More intimidating.

”This,” he said, holding it up so she could see it clearly, ”is the exact size and shape of my cock. Custom made. And you’re going to take all of it while I watch.”

”Dimitri.....”

”And when you do,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, ”when you prove you can handle it without breaking, then I’ll give you the real thing. But not before.”

He pressed the toy against her entrance, and she gasped at the size of it. It looked impossibly large. Felt impossibly large.

”It’s too big, i don’t think i can take it” she whispered.

”No, it’s not. And you’re going to take it. All of it. And you’re going to come while I watch. Do you understand?” She nodded, too desperate to argue, too desperate to do anything but obey.

He pushed it in slowly, inch by torturous inch, stretching her wider than she’d ever been stretched. Wider than the eleven-inch dildo from before. Wider than anything.

She screamed.

The burn was intense. The fullness overwhelming. It felt like being split in half, like her body couldn’t possibly accommodate something so large. But he didn’t stop. Just kept pushing, kept filling her, kept stretching her until she thought she might break.

”That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice almost gentle despite the brutality of what he was doing.

”Take it. All of it. Show me you can handle my cock.”

When it was finally, finally fully inside, buried to the base, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel the impossible fullness, the stretch, the burn that was starting to blur into pleasure.

”Look at you,” he murmured, and there was genuine awe in his voice.

”So full. So perfect. This is what it’s going to feel like when I fuck you. When I claim you completely. Can you handle it, cara mia?”

”Yes,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. ”Yes, I can handle it. Please, please just fuck me....” ”Soon.”

He turned on the vibration, and she nearly came off the bed. The sensation was overwhelming, intense, perfect and too much all at once. ”But first, you’re going to come like this. Show me you can take it. Show me you’re ready for me.”

He worked the toy in and out, deep and brutal, his rhythm relentless.

His other hand found her clit, and the dual stimulation was almost too much to bear. Within minutes she was screaming, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around the toy so hard it almost hurt.

”Good girl,” he praised, not stopping, not slowing.

”Again. Give me another one.” He made her come three more times, each one more intense than the last, until she was sobbing and shaking and begging him to stop.

”Please,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

”Please, no more. I need you. The real you. Not this. Please.”

He pulled the toy out slowly, and she felt empty in a way that was almost painful.

He tossed it aside and looked at her with dark, hungry eyes that promised everything she wanted and nothing at the same time.

”Soon, cara mia,” he promised, pulling her into his arms, cradling her against his chest like something precious.

”Very soon. You’ve almost earned it.”

She cried against his chest while he held her, his hand stroking her hair with surprising tenderness. He whispered promises in Italian that she didn’t understand but that sounded like forever.

And as she drifted toward sleep, exhausted and frustrated and still aching despite the four orgasms, one thought echoed through her mind: How much more could she take before she broke completely?

And more terrifying: What would be left of her when she did?