COIN

1. s&m 🌹

S&M
~cause i might be bad but i'm perfectly good at it~

Momma always told me to never show weakness, especially to a man with power. She said they thrive on it, they like being the hunter, they like the fear and the struggle of a female submitting mentally, and probably physically, to them.

I know the guy standing opposite me is one of the men she is referring to. He's an underboss, but i'm assuming he's only watching over me until his boss gets here.

I pull the shackles again, i don't know how or when or why i ended up here, but once my mother finds out someone kidnapped me. Hell is going to break loose.

"Stop fucking moving." The underboss tuts, tucking his gun in his belt.

"Hi, hello, mind telling me why i'm here?" I pull harder, useless attempt.

"No." He leans back in his seat, "How old are you?"

"No." I lean back against the cold concrete wall.

"You look sixteen." His voice rings, almost like a purr. As if he was attracted to a sixteen year old, gross.

My face scrunches out of habit, i am able to control my mouth sometimes but controlling my facial expressions is almost impossible.

I look around the small room, i opened my eyes about two minutes ago and already i can tell a few things.

Definitely a mafia's work.

The underboss carries a tattoo on his forearm in a specific design, which i'm not familiar with it, but it's the initiation. I'm assuming either Russian, Italian or Japanese.

And well, the guys white and dirty blonde so that crosses Japanese off my list. I'm leaning more towards Russian but there's something bout those awful Italians that make it seem like he's an Italian.

The room was quite small, a box room, i'm thinking a basement. There's not a window, but there's a bucket. The door is closed and it's a normal wood door, the shackles are old and rusted but work just fine, the four concrete walls look like they were once a cell. There's dents of tally charts placed over some of them.

"Stop looking for an escape, you won't find one." He growls again, kicking his ankle up to rest on his knee.

"Hm?" I look at him, "You say something?"

"Stop looking for an escape." He says the words slower, his teeth gritting as if he's already tired of me. But the Italian accent does slip out.

Now how the fuck did i manage to get myself into business with the fucking Italians?

"There's an escape? Where?"

"Shut up." His eyes roll.

I smile a little, Momma never raised me to be scared of men with power.

She told me things, one of them being something that i live by.

If someone wants you dead, they will kill you. If they don't, they won't.

I'm alive. I just need to find a way out of here.

The door knob creaks and turns a little, Underboss blondie stands up tall. I watch closely as the door opens and the room suddenly becomes an awful lot smaller.