21. Chapter 21 Natalie

Chapter 21 Natalie

T he world spins in dizzying arcs as I dangle from Dante's elaborate rigging. My muscles scream, joints stretched to their limits. The golden ball gag muffles my whimpers, saliva dribbling down my chin a constant reminder of my helplessness.

How long has it been? Hours blur into an eternity of aching limbs and racing thoughts.

I can't escape the memory of Dante's fingers trailing fire across my skin, his voice a dark honey in my ear. "You're exquisite like this, moy voron. A masterpiece of submission."

My body betrays me, core clenching at the recollection. I'm a mess of contradictions – disgust warring with a hunger that terrifies me.

What kind of monster am I becoming? What kind of monster am I craving?

Flashes of my old life taunt me. Sun-drenched canvases, the heady scent of oils, laughter echoing through my crumbling studio. That Natalie feels like a stranger now, an echo from another lifetime.

Focus. I have to focus.

I strain against the ropes, seeking any hint of slack. It's futile. Dante's knots are as unbreakable as his will. Still, I struggle. It's all I have left.

The whisper of the door opening freezes me mid-twist. Footsteps approach, measured and deliberate. My pulse skyrockets, a butterfly trapped in the cage of my ribs.

"Still fighting, solnyshko?" Dante's voice cuts through the silence. "Good. I do so love to watch you struggle."

I try to snarl, but the gag reduces it to a pathetic mewl. Dante chuckles, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"Oh, the sounds you make," he purrs. "Music to my ears."

His hand ghosts along my flank, and I jerk away – or try to. The ropes hold me fast, leaving me nowhere to hide from his touch.

"Shh," he soothes, fingers skating dangerously close to where I ache most. "Let go, Natalie. Surrender to me. To us."

I shake my head frantically, tears of frustration and confused arousal leaking from beneath my blindfold.

Dante tsks. "Such stubbornness. But your body knows the truth, doesn't it? Look how wet you are for me, moy voron. Dripping, begging for my cock even as you pretend to resist."

His fingers dip between my thighs, and I can't stifle my moan. He works me with expert precision, building a inferno in my core. I'm so close, teetering on the edge of an oblivion I both crave and fear.

Then... nothing.

He pulls away, leaving me trembling and desperate. I whine, hating myself for it.

"Not yet," Dante growls. "You haven't earned your pleasure. First, you need to learn. To understand the consequences of defiance."

The blindfold falls away. I blink, adjusting to the dim light. Dante stands before me, gloriously naked, all coiled power and lethal grace. His eyes bore into mine, obsidian pools of hunger and possession.

"Look at me," he commands. "See the man who owns you. Body, mind, and soul."

I want to look away. I can't.

"Please," I whimper around the gag, not even sure what I'm begging for anymore.

Dante's smile is knife-sharp. "Oh, solnyshko. We're just getting started."

What follows is an onslaught of sensation. Dante wields pleasure like a weapon, pushing me to limits I didn't know existed. He denies me release again and again, until I'm a quivering, incoherent mess.

"That's it," he growls, fingers pumping relentlessly. "Fall apart for me. Show me how badly you need this."

I sob, far beyond shame now. I arch into his touch, silently pleading for more.

"Good girl," Dante praises.

I try to glare at him, to convey all my hatred and defiance through my gaze alone. But even I can feel how it falters, how it wavers under the heat of his stare.

He reaches out, trailing a finger down my cheek. I flinch, but there's nowhere to go, no escape from his touch.

"Shh," he soothes, his voice a velvet purr that sends shivers down my spine. "Don't fight it, Natalie. You're only prolonging the inevitable."

His hand moves lower, skimming over the curve of my breast, down my ribs, across the flat plane of my stomach. My breath hitches, body arching into his touch even as my mind screams in protest.

"See?" Dante's smile is triumphant, cruel. "You were made for this. Made for me."

I shake my head frantically, trying to deny his words, to deny the effect he has on me. But it's useless. He sees right through me, past all my carefully constructed walls.

"Still so defiant," he chuckles, moving behind me. I strain to keep him in sight, hating how vulnerable I feel. "It's adorable, really. But we both know how this ends, don't we?"

His hands settle on my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. I can feel the heat of him, the solid wall of his chest pressed against my back.

"You're going to break for me, Natalie," he breathes, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Shatter into a thousand exquisite pieces. And when I put you back together?" His teeth graze my neck, drawing a muffled whimper from me. "You'll be perfect. My masterpiece. My queen."

The conviction in his voice terrifies me. Because deep down, in a place I don't want to examine too closely, I know he's right. I can feel myself slipping, falling deeper into the abyss of his obsession.

Dante's hand slides lower, dipping between my thighs. I jerk in my bonds, a choked sound escaping around the gag as his fingers find me wet, aching.

"There it is," he purrs, circling my clit with maddening precision. "The truth your pretty mouth tries so hard to deny. Your cunt doesn't lie, solnyshko. It knows who it belongs to."

I shake my head again, tears spilling over. But I can't stop the way my hips rock against his hand, chasing the sensation.

"That's it," he encourages, increasing the pressure. "Give in to it. Let me hear those beautiful sounds."

His other hand comes up to remove the gag, letting it fall away. I gasp for air, a broken moan tearing from my throat as he slips two fingers inside me.

"Dante," I choke out, hating how needy I sound. "Please..."

"Please what?" He nips at my earlobe, crooking his fingers in a way that makes me see stars. "Tell me what you want, Natalie. Beg for it."

I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back the words threatening to spill out. But it's no use. He winds me higher and higher, each stroke of his talented fingers pushing me closer to the edge.

"I... I need..." I pant, trembling on the precipice.

"Say it," Dante demands, his voice hard as steel. "Say you're mine."

A sob catches in my throat, the last shreds of my resistance crumbling. "Yours," I whisper, the admission burning like acid. "I'm yours, Dante. Please, I need to come. Please let me come."

His laugh is dark, triumphant. "Good girl," he praises, and the surge of pride I feel at his words sickens me. "You've earned your reward."

He redoubles his efforts, fingers pumping faster, thumb circling my clit with devastating accuracy. I come apart with a keening cry, my release crashing over me in waves of blistering pleasure.

Dante works me through it, drawing out every last aftershock until I'm a quivering, oversensitive mess. Only then does he withdraw his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to my lips.

"Clean them," he orders, eyes burning with dark hunger.

I hesitate for a moment, but the steel in his gaze brooks no argument. Slowly, I part my lips, letting him slide his fingers into my mouth. The taste of my own arousal mingles with the salt of his skin, and I can't quite stifle the moan that escapes me.

"Beautiful," Dante murmurs, watching intently as I lave his fingers with my tongue. "You're a natural at this, solnyshko. Born to serve, to please."

Shame burns through me, hot and caustic. But I can't deny the thrill his words send through me, the way my body responds to his praise.

He withdraws his hand, trailing it down my throat to rest over my thundering heart. "Do you feel that?" he asks softly. "The way your pulse races for me? The way your body sings under my touch? This is where you belong, Natalie. This is your purpose."

The ropes are the only thing holding me up now, my body sagging in their embrace. Dante's words echo in my mind, a poisonous mantra I can't seem to shake.

"You've done well," he murmurs, his hand moving to cup my face. I flinch, but he holds me steady, forcing me to meet his gaze. "But we're far from finished, my love. This is just the beginning."

A chill runs down my spine at his words. What more could he possibly have planned?

He reaches for something out of my view, and a new kind of fear spikes through me. What fresh torment has he devised?

But before I can spiral further, a distant boom shatters the tension. Dante freezes, head snapping towards the sound.

Another explosion, closer this time. The walls seem to tremble.

"Fuck," Dante snarls. He's in motion instantly, fingers flying over my bonds.

I collapse into his arms as the ropes fall away, muscles screaming in protest.

"Wha-what's happening?" I croak.

"We're under attack," Dante growls, already moving towards a hidden panel in the wall. It slides open, revealing an arsenal that makes my blood run cold. "Seems the Corsini family decided to make their move."

He turns to me, eyes blazing with a fury that makes me shrink back. "Get dressed. Now. We're leaving."

"Leaving? But-"

"Now, Natalie!" he roars. "Unless you'd prefer to face a bunch of Sicilian thugs in your current state?"

That gets me moving. I scramble for clothes, wincing as my abused body protests. Gunfire erupts somewhere in the mansion, and I stifle a scream.

Dante is a whirlwind of lethal efficiency, arming himself with an ease that speaks of long practice. He tosses me a small pistol, and I nearly drop it in shock.

"Last resort," he says grimly. "Stay behind me, do exactly as I say, and we might make it out of this alive."

I nod, terror closing my throat.

We slip into the hallway, and chaos engulfs us. The air is thick with gunsmoke and the metallic tang of blood. Dante moves like a predator, each step purposeful. I struggle to keep up, my legs still wobbly from hours of suspension.

A figure lunges from a doorway. Dante's gun barks twice, and the man crumples. I bite back a scream.

"Keep moving," Dante orders, his voice cold as ice. This isn't my captor, my tormenter. This is Dante Corleone, the ruthless don who rules the underworld with an iron fist.

We wind through Shadowcrest's labyrinthine corridors. Twice more, Dante dispatches attackers with terrifying ease. I'm torn between relief at his skill and horror at the brutality.

Finally, we reach a hidden garage. Dante shoves me into a nondescript sedan, peeling out before I can even fasten my seatbelt.

"Where are we going?" I ask, voice trembling.

"Somewhere safe," he replies tersely. "A place not even my closest associates know about."

I glance back at the shrinking silhouette of Shadowcrest. Flames lick at the windows of the upper floors, and my stomach churns.

"Eyes front," Dante snaps. "Don't look back."

I obey, sinking into the seat. My mind reels, trying to process the whiplash of the past hour. From captive to... what? Accomplice? Refugee?

One thing's certain – nothing will ever be the same after tonight.

As the city blurs past, I steal a glance at Dante. His jaw is clenched, knuckles white on the steering wheel. For the first time, I see a crack in his impenetrable armor.

Is it wrong that part of me thrills at his vulnerability? At the knowledge that he needs me, if only as a pawn in whatever game he's playing?

I close my eyes, exhaustion finally catching up. Whatever comes next, I know one thing for certain:

The Natalie who entered Shadowcrest is gone. Who I'll be when I wake up... that remains to be seen.