My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 12 "Confrontation" (4 page)

He didn’t answer, the man obviously
still asleep. I stared at his beautiful face, his features almost regal. I
smiled, thinking he was my prince in shining armor, the man always saving me. I
just wished I could return the favor. I looked down at the knife on my lap,
knowing I would kill my nephew and uncle if they touched Alessandro sexually. I
didn’t care for those two perverts. Despite what I’d said to Alessandro, I
hardly knew Matteo, while I’d always found my uncle Michael revolting. Plus, no
one was going to hurt Alessandro like I had been, the attack still leaving me
waking up in a panic, those men’s hands forever imprinted upon my body.

Alessandro shifted once more. I
covered his cock yet again, the ring taunting me. Needing a distraction, I
pushed out of my chair and walked to the door. I stuck a different chair under
the door handle, needing something to warn me if anyone entered, especially
after I’d fallen asleep earlier.

I rounded the bed and resumed my
position by his side. Like a magnet, my eyes were drawn back to his body, his
nipple rings shining under the light. I didn’t want to turn off the light,
since it would be harder to stay awake, but looking at his body like this
without being able to touch it was pure torture.

I averted my gaze, wishing I had a
book, or anything to distract me from him. He breathed out, making the most
adorable sleeping noises. It drew my eyes back, making me think of his porn
videos. He’d been magnificent. I knew the women in them were actresses being
paid to do a job, but they looked like they would’ve paid Alessandro for the
privilege of having sex with him. He’d made them moan so loud, and shout his
name as well as God’s. They’d withered and keened under his touch, looking like
they were in ecstasy. And the way he’d kissed and touched them ... no man had
ever done anything like that for me.

And again, that body of his.

Unlike my uncle Michael, who was
too bulky, Alessandro was perfect.
Dio!
All I could think about was his
body. It was becoming repetitive. But every time I looked at him, I noticed
something new, like how wide his shoulders were or how he had a V-shaped torso,
which tapered down to a delicious waist. Then there was his powerful chest and
those big biceps covered in colorful tattoos, depicting terrifying images of
Hell, all beautifully rendered.

He turned his head my way, causing
me to close my eyes. Even though he was fast asleep, I still felt guilty for
staring at him, and anyway, I needed some sleep too. Maybe I could catch a wink
or two. The chair jamming the door would warn me if anyone tried to enter, plus
I had my knife—ready to protect Alessandro if my horrible relatives went near
him.

I leaned back in the chair, falling
asleep within minutes, Alessandro soon filling my dreams.

3

THE PADRE

I
brushed the sleeping boy’s
hair back, wondering whether Thierry was pretending to like me or was being genuine.
He willingly had sex with me, and never complained, even when I thrust myself
upon him. He even appeared to enjoy it, my sweet Thierry always coming. I
frowned, wondering whether I should just keep Thierry and forget about Gabriel.

Gabriel’s beautiful face came to
mind, one so similar to Brando Santini’s. My frown deepened, the thought of the
Santini man filling me with a mixture of anger and remorse. It still pained me
over what Alessandro’s brother had done to himself. Brando had scarred his back
with a whip at the age of seventeen so I wouldn’t touch him. I wished I could
forget the first time I saw those scars. Brando had walked into my church with
a pained expression. He didn’t say a word, just removed his shirt and turned to
show me what he’d done. I breathed out, wishing I could purge the memory from
my mind. Blood had still colored the boy’s back, the whip marks fresh and
uncovered, a true horror to behold. Then he’d spoken, telling me he would
continue to whip himself, so that every time I raped him I would see nothing
but ugliness. I’d gone wild, beating him to within an inch of his life, wanting
to destroy the devil for tainting his beauty. But, by the grace of God, the
church bells had rung, pulling me out of my enraged actions. And what I saw had
horrified me even more. Brando had been lying still at my feet, looking dead,
his blood staining the aisle’s floor. Luckily, no one had seen what I’d done,
so I picked him up and took him to the hospital, lying about finding him in his
beaten state. I left the hospital fully expecting to be found out, but to my
surprise Brando kept it a secret. A few days later he phoned, telling me he
would continue to keep it a secret as long as I left the church his
famiglia
went to. I could’ve threatened him back, using his
famiglia
against him,
but instead I decided to respect his wishes.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing
the Devil hadn’t put this sickness inside of me. Brando had been so beautiful,
yet due to my actions his back was forever scared, while his soul was filled
with nothing but anger and hatred. He’d grown into a hitman, someone who cared
nothing for the sanctity of life, other than to destroy it. And Gabriel—I’d
broken him completely, the man no longer sane, his mind lost forever in a sea
of madness.

I opened my eyes and looked down at
my disfigured curse. My cock was vulgar to look at, a thick mess of scars. That
was one thing that Thierry had lied about. The boy had said it wasn’t ugly. But
it was, and not only in appearance. The monstrosity had destroyed lives—mine
included, making me wish the surgeon hadn’t sewn it back on. I should never
have punished Gabriel for cutting it off, because it had been a fit punishment
for everything I’d done to him. I was the guilty one, not him, so maybe I
should let him live the rest of his life in peace, instead of stalking him like
a nightmare.

I refocused on Thierry. He was
still fast asleep, his slim body lying naked on my bed. I ran a hand down his
face, again wondering whether I could be satisfied with just him. The boy was
talented in bed, and always made me feel desired, his hard cock proof. Brando
and Gabriel had never gotten hard for me, and they definitely hadn’t come like Thierry
did. Instead, they had flinched away from my touch, looking at me as though I
was a repulsive monster.

I brushed my lips over Thierry’s
forehead. He remained asleep, his youthful face so perfect. Although he was
eighteen, he looked younger, the boy’s innocence and placid nature adding to
it.

“Do you love me?” I asked.

Thierry didn’t say a word, only his
gentle breathing reaching my ears.

I shook him. “Do you love me?”

Thierry moaned, but still didn’t
wake, what we’d done prior to Alessandro’s arrival probably having worn him
out.

I started stroking his brown hair, the
waves so soft. “You respond to me how I wished Brando and Gabriel had. I wanted
their compliance, but they never gave it to me. But you ... you give me
everything.”

“He’s pretending.”

My back straightened at Satan’s
voice. “No, his body doesn’t lie. He comes.”

“That’s a bodily function, you
fool.”

“I’m not a fool! He shows me affection,
and says kind words to me.”

“Only to survive. He’s an
intelligent boy. He knows what to do and say to get by.”

“You’re just saying that to upset
me!”

Thierry’s eyelids fluttered open, my
shouting having disturbed him. A smile followed a second later, my angel happy
to see me.

I smiled back. “You do love me.”

He blinked at me, looking as though
he wasn’t sure what I’d said.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” he replied softly.

“He’s lying,” Satan hissed.

I ignored Satan, knowing
he
was the one lying. Thierry didn’t have sex with me; he made love to me, my
beautiful angel always complying. I bent down and kissed his lips. He returned
the kiss, making me even happier.
S
ì
,
Satan
was the liar. He was always enticing me to do the wrong thing, playing me like
a harp, the evil vermin knowing which strings to pull. He’d encouraged me to pursue
Brando and Gabriel, even Matteo, and all those boys hated me. Yet, he warned me
against Thierry, someone who spoke words of love to me.

Thierry moaned as I ran my hand up
his slender, perfectly formed cock, which responded so well to my touch. I
pushed my tongue inside of his mouth, taking what I wanted. My nose bumped
against his, causing me to yelp, that Devil’s spawn in the next room having
broken it.

Thierry sat up, looking concerned.
“Are you all right, Master?”

I gingerly ran my fingers over my
bandaged nose, furious with Alessandro for attacking me. My flesh was bruised, while
my body ached from his vicious kicks, the man an
animale.

“Not really,” I said. “The pain
relief didn’t work very well.”

“Would you like me to apply
ointment to your wounds?”

I pushed to my feet. “No. I’d rather
make Alessandro pay for what he did to me.”

Thierry’s eyes widened. “You can’t
do that.”

“Why not?! Is it because you lust
after him like Matteo?”

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head
vigorously. “I only want you.”

“Liar! I’ve seen the way you act
around Matteo.” I sat back down and grabbed his face, making him cry out. “Your
eyes follow him every time he passes by.”

“I haven’t touched him, because I
love you.”

“He’s lying,” Satan whispered. “He’s
saying what you want to hear.”

“Tell me the truth!” I yelled at
Thierry, because right now I was starting to believe Satan.

“I-I am,” Thierry said, his voice
trembling. “I-I love you.”

Satan’s breath brushed my neck. “You
know it’s not true.”

I squeezed Thierry’s cheeks harder,
making him cry out again. I wanted to believe him, but couldn’t ignore Satan, especially
since nothing but fear filled Thierry’s eyes right now.

“That’s because you’re hurting him.”

I went still at the sound of Saint
Michael’s voice, my namesake rarely talking to me. He’d shunned me for
listening to Satan, the evil he’d cut down with his holy sword.

“Unhand the poor child,” Saint Michael
growled. “You do not want to damage him like you did to Brando and Jagger.”

“It’s Gabriel.”

“No, his name’s Jagger now. You made
certain of that when you ruined him. He’s no longer an angel; he’s a devil in
disguise. He hurts people because you hurt him. Abuse reaps abuse, so don’t start
the circle again with Thierry.”

I let go of Thierry’s face. “Please
forgive me,” I said, kissing his reddened cheeks.

“Fool, don’t listen to him,” Satan
hissed. “He’s filling you with guilt so you don’t punish the lustful boy.”

I ignored Satan, preferring Saint
Michael’s advice, because I didn’t want to ruin Thierry. The boy was still
pure, no insanity or evil tainting him.

I pulled back. “Do you forgive me?”

He nodded, his eyes shiny with
unshed tears.

“Say it.”

“I forgive you, Master.”

Smiling, I kissed his forehead.
“You’re such a good boy, and I should never have blamed you. It’s Matteo’s
fault for tempting you. Has he touched you since that day on the hill?”

Thierry bit his lip.

“Tell me, Thierry, so I can learn
to trust you more.”

He nodded. “Whenever he walks past
he runs his hand over my...” He blushed, not needing to say the word. “That’s
the reason why you find me looking at him when he passes by. I’m terrified I’ll
get punished for what he does to me.”

I brushed his hair back again, his
French accent always giving me chills. I loved it, like I loved the boy. “I will
never punish you for his actions, and I will make sure he stops.”

“
Merci
,” he responded
softly.

I smiled again, the boy’s
politeness and compliance making me happy. I kissed his forehead, then pushed
off the bed. “I’ll go tell him now.” I walked over to my robe and pulled it on
over my bandaged ribs, then headed out of the bedroom, closing the door behind
me. My eyes went to the couch. Matteo was sitting next to the FBI agent’s
handicapped brother. Lucan had similar features to his sister, his eyes the
same maple color. Though, his hair was a lighter color, the long auburn waves
making him resemble a hippy.

Matteo looked over his shoulder, his
blue eyes going to me. A sneer formed across his handsome face. “Guess what I
found out, Fucktard?”

“Don’t speak to me like that!”

Lucan jolted. He grabbed for
Matteo, pushing his face into my nephew’s shoulder, acting like a child. To my
surprise, Matteo put an arm around him, pulling Lucan closer, looking like he
was protecting him. It was a softness I’d never seen in my nephew before, the
man usually too self-serving.

“Keep your voice down around Lucan,”
Matteo said. “You know raised voices scare him, not to mention he’s terrified
of you.”