Chapter 7

Birds flew west across the sky chirping, the sun rose above the horizon with its vibrant orange-yellow shades blessing everything in its wake. The beautiful warm rays illuminated the balcony of a penthouse in the heart of a less populated part of Sin City. On the balcony of the tall structure, a man sat on a grey couch smoking, the Cuban links hanging low from his neck danced in the welcoming sunlight, and the rings on his fingers joined the party too.

That man was Godfather Bloody. Or, king of Sin City as some call him. Ruthless. Fearless. Feared.

Yet there he was watching crochet tutorials on his smartphone. Ironic, isn't it?

Avalyn woke up to a hand sweeping hair from her cheek behind her ear, her eyes opened and darted in every direction. Her first instinct was to get up and yell at whoever was touching her face but the memories of the previous day and night had her pursing her lips, she was relieved that the gag and cuffs had also been removed.

Ava just prayed she didn't know she was awake.

“I know you are awake, Avalyn,” unlucky isn't a good word to call her case at this point. “You can get up now.”

The woman whose skin appeared to be glowing in the sun sat up, her head turned to face the man she wished wasn't born. She huffed, there he was calmly scrolling through his phone before meeting her unreadable gaze. She had to admit, he had eyes that would blend perfectly with Ocean water due to how vividly blue it was. This time, he had a different hairstyle, a taper cut with bouncy curls–she noted that he had black roots and rich hazelnut ends, and the fluffiness was impressive.

Her fingers itched to play with his hair but she kept reminding herself that this was the same man who said he'd feed her to dogs yesterday.

“You look beautiful in the morning sun, Avalyn,” he complimented, sporting a side smile.

As a person who doesn't know how to respond to praises of her looks, she awkwardly said, “Thanks, uh, y-you too.”

“I see someone is being a good girl, learned your lesson, huh?” Bloody joked.

𝑮𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅. “Yes, yes I have.”

“Interesting,” he put the phone away and snapped. “You can come out ladies, Bunny here is ready to sign the contract.”

“Excuse me–” she stopped herself before the words could escape, fearing what else he might do. “Of-of course. Anything. For you.”

The window walls were slid open, and out came three women in French maid uniforms. Their stockings stopped mid-thigh and skirt an inch above them, their aprons were as white as clouds and their outfits overall neatly put together. Two of the ladies held trays whilst the other bowed her head.

“Vera, you may give her the document and a pen to sign it. Nalani, you put the collar on once she finished signing. Oaklynn, round up other maids. I'll need you to doll her up for me and get her fed, I want my girl to look like a Queen as much as I look like a King,” he ordered the young women. They nodded and got to work instantly.

Avalyn watched all this, her mouth shut and cheeks bitten to stop herself from saying something stupid. Vera walked over and knelt before her, she opened the gold tray to reveal a paper with 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 written in bold at the top, there was a pen right next to it. Ava looked at Bloody, unsurprisingly he was already staring at her.

And his gaze wasn't a pleasant one. He was saying ‘If you don't sign that contract and seal it with your blood I'll tie you naked to a light post then soak you in gasoline and light you on fire.’ but with his eyes. Avalyn had already realized arguing was pointless so she read through it and signed, poked her finger with the pen's nib, stamped it and bit her bottom lip.

Her soul burned with fury. Bloody made her sign a contract which is technically just her agreeing to let him own her. The rest was just insignificant information and few mentions of a Master/Slave relationship.

Whatever the fuck that is.

“Wonderful,” Bloody checked the paper then sent that maid off. “You are doing good. Now, time for the collar.”

The second maid removed the cover, and on the silver tray was a collar that looked different from the one last night. It was leopard print, the collar itself an eye-catching shade of purple but the spots were red with black linings. She knew it was the same collar because of the diamond studs going around the thing, it was only remodelled, and attached to it was a golden chain that was also detachable.

𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒑 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒅.

She coldly looked out into the distance as the maid put it around her neck. Now it was official.

Avalyn Monroe belongs to Godfather Bloody.

It wasn't tight, but it did hug her neck. It was soft and quite comfortable, the inside was lined with black fur. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bloody take the end of the chain and pull hard on it, the force made her head turn to him in an instant. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒖𝒚?

“Do you like it?” inquired the man.

𝑰 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑰𝑻 𝑶𝑭𝑭 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑬–“I love it, sir.”

“Master. From now on, you will address me as Master. I want to hear you say it.”

“...say what?” this man was out of his mind.

He tugged on the collar harder, now their faces were an inch away from each other. “I said, call me...𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓,” the clear blue turned murky right before her eyes, his jaws clenched and a vein at the side throbbed. “Is there a problem?”

“No… Master.”

His throat vibrated with the humming sound he made. “I love the way the word rolls off your tongue, it makes me wonder how good you'd sound screaming it,” he turned to the side to harass her ear, his tongue ran over the lobe, making her go red and her ears become hot–and red too.

She inwardly sighed when Bloody kissed her cheekbone and released her, he took the chain off the collar and kept it in his trench coat pocket.

“Now, be a good girl and follow Nala. She will take you to Oaklynn, you'll be fed, bathed and dressed. Afterwards, you will meet me in the lounge, understand?”

“Yes sir–I meant Master.”

“Excellent. Now go.”

···

Hours went by at the pace of a snail. The spacious and fully furnished lounge of the penthouse was crawling with inner-city gangsters. Everyone present was preoccupied with either cleaning guns, watching the news, chatting, or on their way to carry out duties assigned to them by the higher-ranking godfellas. Meanwhile, this happened, five people sat on armchairs that circled a coffee table playing poker.

“Why do you guys think Don brought the redhead home?” Cheeto sucked on a cigarette, placing down a card.

“Hey, I win!” Slick slammed his cards down and danced jubilantly. “I fucking won! Pay up motherfuckers.”

“Man fuck you! You cheated!” Frost threw his cards in the man's face. “There is no way you could've won!”

A few minutes later they were arguing.

“Are you kidding me? You guys are arguing over a stupid card game and a few bucks? Don't we rob banks and make thousands of dollars?” Trévon shook his head. “Life is too short to be arguing over stupid things.”

“Oh yeah? You wanna know what else is short? Your fucking dick,” Frost flipped him off.

“Violation,” Keagan downed the rest of the beer in his bottle. “Wait, how did you know he has a short dick? Have you seen it before?”

“Cause he sucked it obviously,” Trévon flipped Frost off.

“Will you guys stop talking about each other's cock and answer the question!” Cheeto snapped. “Why do you guys think the boss brought the stripper here? He hasn't claimed a girl in years!”

“Well that's a rather stupid question but considering it came from you I can't say I'm surprised,” Keagan winked at the glaring Cheeto. “The answer is obvious. It's because she looks like 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎.”

The moment the last word left his lips the Don exited a hall landing in the lounge, all living beings there stood, crossed their right hands over their hearts and bowed before their Godfather. Boredly, the man signalled with his fingers for them to cut it out and proceeded to sit on a sofa next to the fireplace, across from him was an identical one and in between is a glass table. He kicked his feet up and stared at the ceiling, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the seat.

There wasn't a sound detected as he sat there, for his soldiers knew why he was acting this way.

On the other side of the room, the door between two statues opened. Renzo, leader of the Torture Division, walked in with other men. The moment he spotted Bloody looking at the ceiling he went over to sit with him.

“Hey, you okay boss?”

“Where have you been?” he countered with a question about his recent whereabouts. Bloody cast his eyes to Renzo, “You weren't present at last night's meeting. That's unacceptable.”

“I was taking care of something.”

“Of what?”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“My mental health is frankly none of your business or anybody else's,” the Godfather stood up and walked to the fireplace. “And when I ask a question, do not answer with another. You answer me.”

Renzo sighed. “It's personal, boss. Marital issues.”

He icily glowered at his underboss. “I see.”

“Father Bloody,” a maid who stood at the end of a flight leading to the second floor called. “I apologize for interrupting, but... Miss Ava is ready.”

Descending the stairs with maids by her sides was Avalyn Monroe, her makeover had all the men drooling. She wore a black high-slit silk off-shoulder gown, black velvet evening gloves and white open-toe heels to accentuate her swaying pearl earrings. Her hair had been curled, it was now up in a ponytail with the other half of her hair flowing down her back. Ava's perky breasts bounced like water balloons as she stepped towards her owner, that cleavage had even Renzo unsettled—but in a good way. Or maybe bad.

Perhaps both.

While Bloody was smiling, Ava frowned. Just as she was about to reach him his phone rang, he was irritated, but it was a call he had to take. He left shortly after, leaving Ava to stand amongst a group of men who stripped her with their eyes.

As Ava stood by the glass table looking around, the group of five in the corner shook their heads in pity.

“I think it's obvious why he chose her,” Keagan began, “it's because she reminds him of them. The women that were taken from him by force. He misses them...he sees 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 in 𝒉𝒆𝒓.”