The Boss_(1)

I awoke to a throbbing headache. Every heartbeat was an explosion of pain. It took all the strength I had just to sit up. My head spun for a second before I allowed my eyes to flutter open. Tears blurred my vision, making the world appear as a distorted mess. All I could see were colors and shapes.

I tried to speak, but only a faint squeal escaped. My throat was dry, keeping the words that difficultly formed within my brain from reaching the outside world. I tried a few more times before finally giving up.

I began to panic. Where was I? How had I gotten here? And why was my head throbbing?

It took a while for the confusion caused by my brutal return to reality to fade. By then, my vision had returned and I was finally able to study my surroundings.

I sat on the floor of a high-end office. A few pieces of furniture were present, but the room was for the most part empty. Whoever owned it had clearly just moved in. My gaze instinctively travelled to the black, hardwood desk, but the leather chair that stood behind it faced away from me. I couldn’t tell if it was occupied or not.

I continued my inspection. I noticed a lamp standing in one of the corners. Its light only partly illuminated the room, keeping the rest of it bathed in darkness. A few file cabinets stood in another corner. The final two shapes stood on either side of the boor.

They looked human, but seemed frozen in place. They just stood there, motionless. Their bodies were bathed in darkness and all I could see were blurry shapes. I stared at them for a while before finally noticing their shoulders shifting ever so slightly as they inhaled and exhaled. They were alive.

I opened my mouth to beg for their help, but the words died in my throat when I realized they were probably responsible for my current confusion. The size of their frames told me any hope of escape was foolish. If they were indeed keeping me captive, freedom would remain but a hopeful dream.

I sensed their stares on me and felt a shiver run across my skin. This brought to light a fact I had up until now failed to notice.

I was naked.

Every inch of my young body was uncovered, making me feel even more vulnerable than I already did. I pulled my knees to my chin and hugged my legs. It helped warm me, but shivers still tickled my spine. I suspect they had something to do with the intense fear that filled me.

It took a moment before my dread faded enough for my brain to start functioning again. I took a second to revise my current situation. I had awoken to naked captivity in a dark and mysterious office. But how had I gotten here? And why?

“Don’t be afraid.” The voice emerged from the darkness, making me jump. My gaze instinctively travelled to the two human statues, but neither of them had moved. They seemed more like guards than conversationalists. Whoever had just spoken was somewhere else in the room.

I glanced around for a moment before a movement caught my eye. The desk chair was slowly spinning, gradually revealing the man sitting on it. He was old—probably in his mid to late forties. The coldness of his gaze sent another shiver dancing across my skin. There was something familiar about the man, but I was too terrified to piece the puzzle together.

“Here,” said the man as he leaned forward and outstretched one of his arm. His hand clutched a glass of water. I stared at it, then at him. I could tell he was not the type of man to accept defiance, but the anger that had up until now been suppressed by my fear finally bubbled to the surface.

Forgetting about my lack of clothes, I leapt up and yelled something that was meant as an insult. But my throat was still dry and only a pathetic wheezing was heard.

I expected the man to smile, but he remained impassive.

“Take it,” he insisted, nodding to the glass.

I eyed it suspiciously, but my thirst eventually won out. Rushing over to the desk, I snatched the glass from the man’s hand and downed it in only a few gulps. A relieved sigh escaped me as I regained the ability to speak. The water had also helped diminish the intensity of my headache. Only two problems now remained: My lack of clothes and my mysterious captivity.

I focused on the man behind the desk. The sensation of déjà vu yet again gained me. I knew this man, yet my scattered brain refused to reveal his identity. I once more took in my surroundings, but that did little to help elucidate the mystery. Perhaps the answer lay somewhere in the past.

Ignoring the three men that stared at my naked body, I closed my eyes and focused on remembering every detail leading to my current situation.

I started with the basics. My name was Candice Swan. I was eighteen and still a virgin. And I had just been accepted into the college of my dreams. Aside from that, everything was a blur.

My eyes fluttered open and my gaze landed on the man behind the desk. The sight of his grim expression acted like an electroshock, igniting a flurry of memories that made my heart race with fear.

I knew who this man was. I had never met him, but I knew exactly who he was. His name was Frank Mazolla and he was the biggest crime boss this city had ever known. People spoke of him in hushed tones and fear gripped the citizens each time a particularly heinous crime was committed. The man had been arrested hundreds of times, yet not once had he set foot in a prison cell. He had connections, the type of connections that made him the most powerful and feared man in the city.

As terrifying as the man’s reputation was, it was the memory of a particular newspaper article that made my heart skip a beat. According to law enforcement, dozens of young women—all of them eighteen years of age—had mysteriously gone missing around him. No one knew what happened to them, but they were never seen again.

The shock of my discovery made my fingers lose their stiffness. The glass slipped from my hand and crashed to the ground. I expected it to shatter, but it simply clattered to the floor and rolled under the desk.

The crime boss stared at me. I stared back. Silence filled the room. My hands started to tremble. Beads of sweat appeared on my forehead. Tears filled my eyes.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What will you do to me?” I asked. I was surprised by the forcefulness of my voice.

The mobster didn’t react. He just sat there, staring at me.

I didn’t know what to do, so I simply stood there and waited. I wanted to cover myself up, but I knew it would be interpreted as a sign of weakness. I couldn’t afford to look weak.

“I won’t hurt you,” finally said the man. Relief washed through me. “Unless you’re a bad girl. Bad girls get punished.”

The sigh of relief forming within me died in my throat. Fear shot through me again, now more intense than ever. I was so terrified I barely even noticed the man open one of the desk drawers. It wasn’t until he handed me the item he retrieved from it that I realized what was about to happen.

“Put it on.” His voice was firm, but polite. My eyes landed on the item he kept balanced on his open palm. It was a black leather collar. Attached to it was a long leash. Its purpose was obvious.

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. I just stood there, staring in the collar in disbelief. Its presence, combined with my lack of clothes and my virginity left no doubt in my mind as to the nature of the events about to unfold. I was the latest in a long line of beautiful young women to vanish under mysteriously circumstances. No one knew what had happened to my predecessors, but I feared it involved a lot of pain. All I could do was play along. Either I would satisfy the boss so thoroughly he chose to let me go or I would die in the most pain-free manner possible. It was a grim through, but it was the only one that filled me with a meager sense of hope.

My hand trembled as I reached for the collar. The boss’s gaze remained fixed on me. His face was impassive and his hand remained perfectly still. He had done this countless times before and, unlike me, he knew exactly what was coming. All I could do was play along and hope for the best.

I took the collar and brought it up to my neck. The leash unrolled. One end was attached to the collar, the other remained in possession of my captor. He watched with a complete lack of emotion as I slipped the collar around my neck and slipped the prong into the middle hole.

“Tighter,” said the boss. His voice was void of emotion.

I pulled the collar tighter and once again slipped the prong into a hole.

“Tighter.”

I gave the man a pleading glance, but he ignored it. I slipped the prong into the only remaining hole. It was now so tight I felt a constant strain against my neck. I could still breathe freely, but the leather against my skin was a constant reminder of my total and utter lack of power. My captor had complete control over me and he wanted me to know it.

He tugged on the leash. I followed, almost stumbling forward in the process. I quickly regained my balance and let the boss reel me in. He kept pulling until only a foot of leash remained.

“Get on all fours.” He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The thought of debasing myself to such an extent repulsed me, but my dignity had already been shattered when I had agreed to wear the collar. I grit my teeth and did as told.

My captor said nothing for the longest time. He just held the leash tight and stared straight ahead like we was observing something of indescribable beauty. Only there was nothing there.

I stood there, wondering how long I would be asked to remain on all fours. Within minutes, my knees had begun to throb. The floor was made of hardwood and the blood was pooling in my legs, making them go numb. My elbows soon began to shake, though I could not tell if it was from exhaustion or fear. All I knew for sure was that I could not hold this position for much longer. Just when I was about to crumble to the floor, the boss finally gave me permission to stand.

“Sit,” was all he said. His chair swiveled toward me and he gently patted his lap. My heart began to race at the thought of sitting in the lap of the most feared man in the city, but I knew refusing to do so would be far more dangerous.

As soon as I was seated on the man’s thighs, he began petting me.