THE MAFIA'S STRIPPER

CHAPTER 1

NDABEZITHA

|STOCKHOLM'S SYNDROME|

"Lea, VIP in room 3," Zethu said. "Okay," I replied and she left. I reapplied my lip gloss and fluffed my hair. There were 2 buff men standing outside the room and they blocked me from entering it. "We have to search you first, sisi," one of them said gruffly. I looked pointedly at my ensemble before looking back at them. "Do you see anywhere where I can hide something in this thing?" I asked. The 2 piece made of thin fabric was nothing more than something to make sure I wasn't entirely nude. The barely there bikini's only provision of privacy were the sparkling diamonds that hung from it. "It's just protocol," the guard said and I sighed as I spread my arms and legs out as they did in the movies. He eagerly patted me down and squeezed my ass, making me 'accidentally' step on his foot with my sharp stilettos. "Ngena," he said irritably and stepped aside. The room was dimly lit with the client sitting on the 2 seater. "Take another step towards me and I'll shoot your brains out," he said gruffly and I stopped. The fuck? My eyes adjusted to the dark and I could make out the silhouette of a gun laying on his lap and a whiskey glass in his hand. "I was told you wanted a lap dance," I said. "I don't, my brother thought I would need one," he said. I turned away to leave when he stopped me. "Uyaphi?" he asked. "You said you didn't want a dance," I said. "But I didn't dismiss you. I already paid for the dance so just sit down for the hour and have a drink, you look like you could use it," he said. What the actual hell? "Look-" I started. "Usamile? I said sit," he said gesturing to the wooden chair across him. I sighed as I sat down. He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes. "Are you sleeping?" I asked after a few minutes. "No," he replied and his eyes opened. From what I could see through the dim lighting, he wasn't too bad looking with a set jaw, gleaming honey brown eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. "Hey do you have some weed? I'm having a really piss day and I could use some," I said. "Do I look like I have weed?" he asked. Tough crowd. "So why do you need a dance?" I asked after another couple of minutes of silence. "Shut up or I'll shove my dick so far down your throat -" he started. "You sure it will reach that far?" I asked and he laughed. "You know what? I think I want that dance now," he said and I got up from the chair with a sigh. I stalked over to him until I was standing above him. He took a sip of his whiskey before putting it on the couch armrest. He leaned further into the couch and smirked. I ran my hands down his chest and kneeled before him. My hands continued down his body, onto his belt buckle. I barely sweeped my hands past his dick and onto his thighs and he grunted. I ran my hands down his thighs, digging my nails into them slightly. I got up and straddled sighing as my pussy was directly on his dick. I started moving my hips, putting direct pressure on my pussy. I sighed again, shit. I've never gotten so hot and bothered during a dance, these men usually repulse me but something about him and I can already tell that I'm screwed. I grinded my hips further into him and he groaned. He grabbed my hips and started pushing them up and down his dick. I felt his hands grab my ass, bouncing it up and down. My arms went around his neck for balance as I rode him to oblivion. He steadied my hips, making me grind against him again and I threw my head back. I moaned as he inhaled my neck and gently bit it. Shit. I bucked against him as I felt an orgasm fast approaching, what are you doing Zitha? There was a loud bang followed by screaming and we stopped. The door banged open and the room was filled with screams. "Sir, we need to get you out of here," the perverted guard said. "Kwenzakalani?" the guy whose dick I was riding a couple of minutes ago asked. I just almost came on his lap without even knowing his name. How slutty of you, Zitha, your dad would be so proud. I clambered off the stranger's lap and we were pushed towards the exit. There chaos everywhere as people screamed and ran towards the exits. Another gun went off and the screams increased. I was pushed forward by the stampeding crowd towards the back of the club. When we reached the parking lot I stopped, unsure of what to do, all my shit was inside. "Are you crazy? Asambe," the stranger said pulling me towards him. I tried to resist but his grip tightened as I was pulled towards a black Chevrolet. I was pushed into the car and he got in next to me. Did I just get kidnapped. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod," I said hyperventilating. "What's wrong with you?" the stranger asked as the car started. "You- you're kidnapping me!" I stuttered.
"What?"
"My dad warned me about Joburg. And now I've been kidnapped, I should stayed home."
"Would you please shut up?"
"You try being kidnapped and see if you would shut up," I snapped. I heard what was unmistakably the sound of a gun cocking. The cold metal pressed against my mouth and I felt his hand wrap around my neck. I gasped and the gun was shoved into my mouth. "I said shut the fuck up," he said and I stared up at him. I loosened my jaw and sucked the gun further into my mouth, clenching my teeth around it. His eyes widened and his hand loosened around my neck. "You like this, don't you?" he asked and I responded by taking the gun further into my mouth. He smirked as he pulled the gun out of my mouth, and my teeth grazed against it. He chuckled as I batted my eyes at him innocently. "You're crazy," he said and I agreed. What am I doing giving my kidnapper's gun a blowjob. I'd read about Stockholm's Syndrome but this - was insane.