Mafia Daddies Between My Thighs

Chapter 51: Chapter FIFTY ONE

ANGEL

Damien finally let me out of the red room.

All I could say was that I couldn’t stand the others. Kayla and Lona were less hateable, tolerable because they’d been nice to me, but I still couldn’t bear the idea that all the girls here belonged to Damien.

They touched what was mine. They kissed lips that should only kiss me, felt hands that should only hold me.

I hated it so much that when I looked at them, I could only imagine my hands around their throats.

Squeezing.

Watching their eyes bulge and let them realize that Damien was mine and mine alone.

The thought of them getting the same chance to fuck the dick I fucked, to taste the cock I sucked, made something hot and violent bloom in my chest.

Maria’s laugh at dinner last night had made me fantasize about smashing her face into the table until she stopped making sounds. Camilla’s smug smile whenever Damien walked by made me want to carve it off her face with a knife.

From what I’d learned from Kayla, Maria and Camilla were Damien’s oldest slaves, so they mostly claimed ownership of him. The audacity of it made my blood boil.

The other girl, Sophie, was always quiet. According to Kayla, she’d had a very tough time with her old master before Damien took her. She acted insane most of the time and was always burying herself in books, like she was trying to disappear into other worlds because this one had broken her too badly. At least she didn’t compete for Damien’s attention.

As for Kayla and Lona, they were lovers. They had each other, so why did they need Damien too? Why couldn’t they just leave him to me?

From everything I gathered, they were all willing slaves.

They could leave whenever they wanted to. Damien wasn’t keeping them prisoner.

They wanted Damien as their master by choice, he spoiled them and they were happy to live in luxury which their old life hadn’t provided.

I wanted them gone. All of them. Every single one.

I wanted Damien to be my Daddy alone. To be his only little girl. I wanted to be the only one he punished and the only one he rewarded.

I wanted to sit on his lap while he worked and have him stroke my hair. To crawl into his bed every night and feel safe in his arms.

I wanted to be the only one who tasted his cum, the only one who felt his cock inside her. It should be just me who earned his pride.

Only me.

I wanted him to look at me the way fathers looked at their daughters in movies—with unconditional love and protection. Except with the added layer of ownership and desire that made my stomach flutter and made my pussy wet with need.

The others had collars. Beautiful leather collars that marked them as his property.

I didn’t have one yet. And it ate at me like acid, dissolving me from the inside out.

I heard voices coming from Damien’s study. He was back. He’d left a few hours ago offshore for some task.

While he was gone, he probably didn’t know that I hadn’t been able to breathe properly.

The fearful thought kept circulating in my mind, what if he never came back? What would I do if he forgot about me completely? Or abandon me here.

I would have no one who cared about me. I would have nothing.

But now he was back, and so did my heart start beating normally again.

I walked toward his study, my bare feet silent on the marble floors.

The door was slightly ajar and I could see inside through the gap, a wave of warmth spread through me, and a small smile made its way to my lips. It vanished instantly.

He wasn’t alone in his study.

I saw her first.

Camilla.

She was on her knees between Damien’s spread legs as he sat in his leather chair. His hand was buried in her strawberry blonde hair, his fingers tangled in her strands, and he was looking down at her with an expression that made my chest scorch like a burning wood.

Pride. Satisfaction. Approval.

The same look he’d given me in the red room when I’d finally called him Daddy.

It wasn’t just Camilla in the room. Maria was there too, standing beside Damien’s chair with her hand resting on his shoulder like she had the right to touch him so casually.

Jealousy ripped through me so violently I had to grip the doorframe to stay standing. My hands trembled and I had to dig my nails into the wood to keep from screaming.

”Master, you’ve been staying around these days,” Camilla purred, looking up at him through her dark lashes, her posture dripping with painted submission. ”You have no idea how pleased we are.”

”Are you?” Damien’s voice was amused, deep, and horribly indulgent. ”Show me how much.”

Camilla giggled—a high, tinkling sound that made me want to shatter glass and force her to swallow the shards—and her hands moved to his belt. ”With pleasure, Master.”

She unzipped his trousers with ease, like she’d done this a thousand times before. Like this was just another day for her.

She had more claim to his body than I did.

She pulled out his cock, and I felt my vision blur red with pure, unadulterated madness.

My cock.

The one that had been inside me. The one that had made me squirt and scream and beg for mercy. It belonged to me. Every inch of it was marked by my tears and my sweat. They were desecrating what was mine.

Camilla wrapped her hand around the base, stroking slowly while maintaining eye contact with Damien. ”Mmm, always so big for us, Master.”

”For you,” Maria corrected, moving to kneel beside Camilla like a beggar queuing for scraps. ”Because I always take it like a good girl.”