Proserpina Delano turned to look at her husband, the Mafia Don, as their cavalcade drew away from the imposing Shangri-La. She had a deep loathing of the place, the spot where she had been drugged, nearly raped and beaten up by her husband, too.

Lucien Delano, who knew her revulsion, squeezed her small hand as he pulled her closer in the back seat of the limo, as it drove smoothly, cutting through the night soundlessly.

“What is it, c*nt?” he growled hoarsely, for his c*ck was already erect, his eyes fastened on her mouth, that plump mouth which made him want to devour her. As she shifted, his eyes travelled...