The Harlot

The terror was in my eyes as I had that wretch on top of me. He looked like he was really going to devour me with his clan of killers.

I was crying, but not out of fear—I already suspected something like this could happen, surrounded by assassins.

— But that's Lavínia. _One of the men realized as he turned on the bedside lamp and saw me beneath the head psychopath.

Ângelo smirked wickedly, choking my neck and leaving me breathless.

— She came in here; I assume she wants to join our little party. _He said, releasing my neck. What party?

I sit up on the bed, touching my aching neck from his lack of gentleness. I glared at him with tears in my eyes. One moment he saves me, the next he wants to kill me. He can't make up his mind.

The most perverse of them all, Ângelo Fontana, the owner of my first dark night, sat back on his heels, still on the bed, and made a point of sticking out his tongue and running his large, unbandaged hand over it, wetting his palm with saliva. Like a devil descended from hell and settled on earth, he used that spit-covered hand to reach for his terrifying cock and jerked it, staring into my eyes right in front of me.

My traitorous eyes couldn't hide as they darted downward to the massive tower between his legs, and I watched that wretched man ravage his own cock, showing me the head like a beautiful mushroom. Mushroom, no… a gorgeous strawberry with a long, thick neck.

To say his cock wasn't a delight to look at… that's a terrible lie.

It's *the* cock.

Big, robust, thick-headed, and perfectly straight, no curve at all. A hell of a cock.

My lips went dry, and despite the room being full of naked men, silence reigned. My body heated up, and I licked my lips, watching him guide the strokes along his cock as he pleased, picking up the pace of the handjob he gifted himself in front of everyone, without shame or restraint. He was a force of nature with no scruples.

I felt myself dripping between my legs and cursed myself for being affected by it.

Quickly, I crawled off the bed and walked, only to freeze with my heart pounding in my chest. He roared, and I knew he was cumming for me to hear. My pussy burned and literally pulsed with that hoarse sound. It felt like an electric shock to my clit.

Shaking and breathless, with my pussy sticking with fluids, I gathered my courage and ran to the door. I opened it, grimacing as I came face-to-face with Aurora.

— You? _I ask, confused.

— They called me here for a group fuck. _She revealed, and I blinked, bewildered.

So they requested a whore today of all days?

Aurora brushed past me and entered the room. Looking back, I was outraged as she kicked off her heels, pulled her dress over her head, tossed it to the floor, and tousled her hair.

I knew she did house calls, but this is too much… four men. I couldn't even handle two…

My eyes widened in shock as two of the clan's hitmen approached her and started touching her lewdly, tearing her panties at the straps. One came up behind her, ran a hand over her stomach, lifted her off the ground, grabbed one of her legs, and spread it. I saw with my own eyes as he spit on her intimacy, grabbed his cock, and thrust into her anus, drawing a loud moan from her, while the other rolled a condom onto his cock, causing a snap, and buried himself in her pussy too. Both were sucking and kissing her neck. The moans of the three drove me wild, and I had to press my legs together to keep my lubrication from running down them.

Would I be condemned for saying it looked like some kind of irresistible utopia?

Everything seemed too incredible—if I hadn't seen the third hitman walk toward the trio, pull out his cock, and shove it into the ass of the man fucking Aurora's pussy, grabbing his hair and biting his neck.

Dear Lord…

Affected, aroused, and full of lust, I swallowed hard, feeling that the debauchery wasn't just heard, seen, or touched—it was tasted without me even being in the middle of it.

Suddenly, I heard a masculine, deep, and utterly destructive sound. I slowly raised my eyes to its owner, and Ângelo was lying on the massive bed, propped against the headboard, staring at me, raising his nose in a grand, fabulous, and imposing way, waiting for some reaction from me amidst all that sin.

I took a step toward him, and seeing the corner of his lips claim victory over me, I stopped, took a deep breath, turned, and ran to the room I'd stay in for the night.

Distressed, feeling like a sea between my legs, I locked the door and pressed my back against it, hearing Aurora's loud moans and covering my ears tightly with my hands, trying not to hear it as I slid to the floor and cried.

Crying because I wanted him but hated him too much for it.

---

The next day, Aurora and I were in the back seat of the car as two of the men drove us to the brothel. Ângelo wasn't at the mansion when I woke up, and that's none of my business—I just wanted to get to the brothel, lock myself in my room, and sleep. I didn't sleep at all last night. It was pure hell hearing Aurora's screams as she was undoubtedly fucked by the four assassins.

— Aurora? _One of them called her.

— Yes?

— You okay? _Number 1, the blond with the handsome face, looked at her through the mirror.

— Yes. Everything's perfect. I feel light as a feather. _She laughed and sighed.

— Sorry if we went beyond your limits. _Hitman 2, with black hair and seeming the youngest of the two, apologized to Aurora.

I looked at her and turned my face to watch the road.

— The thing is, I don't have any limits. _She revealed.

— We noticed and loved it.

— You seem lost in thought, Lavínia? _The one in the passenger seat looked back and touched my knee.

I look at him and give a half-hearted smile.

— I just want to sleep. _I say, barely closing my eyes.

— You should've joined us, friend. _Aurora touched my shoulder, and I looked at her sharply.

— I wasn't working. You were. _I'm harsh, and she pulls her hand off my shoulder.

— Sorry for the commotion we caused. _The driver looked at me through the mirror. I nod and turn back to the road.

---

Arriving at the brothel, I was hurrying to my room when Aurora grabbed my wrist.

— Are you mad at me? _She asked sadly.

I shake my head.

— Why would I be mad at you? You were paid and doing your job. _I'm honest.

— You're acting weird, like you're upset.

I pull away from her touch.

— I'm not like this because of you. I'm like this because of that wretch. He did it on purpose to mess with me. _My voice cracks. I'm so pissed at that disgusting bastard.

I turn my back, wandering down the hallway.

— He didn't even participate. _She confessed loudly, and I stopped my heels from clicking but didn't look back. — He wanted you. Without you in the bed, he just watched, smoked, and used cocaine.

I turn around.

— I don't give a damn about that fucker. He can go to hell.

— Why didn't you really join?

— Because I hate that man. Because he's mysterious, wrong, and all broken. I hate him because he's a damn unpredictable bastard. I hate Ângelo because I've learned not to fear anyone, but I'm terrified of him. I hate him because I never know if what he says or does is real. He confuses me. _I despair.

— Maybe the mistake is yours for trying to find goodness in someone who clearly doesn't care to have any. You'd stop feeling afraid if you accepted he is what he is, period. _She said, coming closer. — Fear isn't for people like us, Lavínia. We have to be ready for anything.

— Why is he so bad? _I whisper, holding back tears.

The truth is, I didn't want someone like him around.

I'm going to get out of this place, and I don't want any baggage.

Why won't he leave my life?