[Warning: This chapter is unfiltered, I repeat: UNFILTERED.]
Victor sat on the black leather sofa like he owned the entire city already. One of his arm spread lazily across the backrest, while the other held an expensive glass of whiskey. The dim blue light painted his sharp jaw like it was gold, which made him look less of a man and more like a damn warning sign.
Then, the double doors swung open, and four ladies walked in. Each had their own flavor of sin. He didn't recognize any of them, he didn't need to, but they recognized him. They were afraid though but painted it with a charming façade.
Chloe walked in first: she was tall, and had an attitude that was sharp enough to cut glass. And then she smirked like she was already sick, bored and tired of everyone. Everyone but him.
Lisa followed; She had a sweet face and doe eyes but her body language screamed like she knew how to utilize innocence.
Mina slid in next: she dressed darker, and she was quieter but her gaze promised trouble if you dared to look down on her.
And the last was Jami. She was the wild card, she laughed loudly, and her hips swung without shame. She was the kind of girl who didn't care if she broke the rules.
This made Victor's smirk to deepen as he let his eyes drag over each one of their bodies slowly and deliberately, like he was picking what prey to kill first and what weapon would suit every one of them.
"So... these are the best Rocco picked out for me tonight, eh?" He smirked then continued. "Let's see if you're really worth my trouble."
The air got thick with eagerness. The girls exchanged nervous glances, and their smiles faltered a little. They knew the whispers; they heard testimonies of the 'chilling' legend of Victor Santoro. A monster in bed, they heard, witnessed, and could attest to.
He was a man who wouldn't stop until you were unconscious, he left your body aching, bruised, and spent, yet you still felt utterly, utterly satisfied.
The kind of man who broke you, only to put you back together stronger, harder, wetter. The thought sent a thrill mixed with pure terror through them.
"Strip," Victor commanded. His voice was flat and lacking emotion. Yet it carried the weight of a law they couldn't break. "All of you, now."
Chloe's hands were surprisingly steady as she went to the clasp of her silk slip. Lisa's sharp eyes met Victor's eyes for a fraction of a second before she dropped to the button of her blouse.
Mina's fingers went to the delicate strap of her dress, while Jami picked at the hem of her skirt. Each of their movement was deliberate, a slow, sensory opening under the demanding study of his gaze. Fabric thought to the floor, revealing smooth skin, firm breasts, the tempting curve of hips.
Chloe, the ever-show woman, slowly unhooked her bra, letting her generous boobs spring free; her nipples were already hardening under the cool air.
She gave him a bold stare while her tongue traced her lips. "Like what you see, Silas?"
Victor didn't reply immediately, he simply let his eyes scan and assess the figures before him. "Dance," he ordered, the cigarette smoke curling around his words. "For me."
They moved, a practiced, graceful dance that extended under his steadfast gaze as their bodies swayed, their hips grinded, their tits bounced with a pulsing grace. Their movements were designed to entice, provoke, to promise.
Chloe was a swift of blonde hair and flashing skin. Lisa moved with a compelling slowness, her eyes never leaving his, a silent challenge in every wave.
Mina was a problem, her movements fluid and mysterious, while Jami, with youthful energy, put her whole body into it, her excitement genuine despite her fear.
Chloe was the first, as always, to approach him. Her body pressed against his armchair, her soft boobs inches from his face. Then she leaned in, her voice was a rough whisper. "Do you want to feel how soft I am for you, Silas?"
Victor reached out his strong and rough fingers cupping one of her full tits. Then he gave us a slow, deliberate squeeze. Her nipple hardened further between his thumb and forefinger. "Maybe," he growled because his eyes were elsewhere. He was watching Jami who straddled his legs, as her bare mound pressed against his thigh, then a soft moan escaped her lips as she rocked.
Jami, now breathless, looked up at him; her eyes were a mixture of fear and desire. "Please, Silas," she whispered, "Let me make you feel good. Let me feel your dick."
He ran a hand over her smooth back, as his touch sent shivers down her spine, but his mind was elsewhere. A faint, innocent face, framed by dark hair, flashed behind his eyes. Natalie. The fresh, pure look of her, so out of place in the filth of the bar below.
The thought was a shaking invasion, a conflicting note in the masterpiece of lust unfolding around him. He found himself unable to fully dunk. The raw, animalistic craving that usually consumed him, that turned him into the monster his girls whispered about, was now…dulled.
Lisa was the first to notice it. So she slid unto his other leg, as her sharp nails slightly raked his thigh. "What's wrong, Silas? she rumbled; her voice was like a soft temptress. "Am I not enough? Don't you want to feel my cunt tight around you?" She shifted, grinding against him, her readiness an intense thing.
Victor's hand was still on Chloe's breast, as it tightened almost subtly. He leaned back, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "You're all beautiful," he said, his voice flat, "but you're not it."
Hours passed like it was nothing, yet Victor (or Silas as the girls in the club nicknamed him) was not satisfied for the first time.
Chloe straddled him fully now, her boobs brushed against his chest as she leaned in close. "I want to feel your hard cock inside me, Silas. I want to ride you until you cum so hard, you forget your own name." She started to grind, her hips rotating, her cunt slick and ready. "Let me drain every drop from you. I'll make you scream."
Lisa was now on her knees before him, as she took his unresponsive hand and guided it to her wetness. "Feel how wet I am for you, Silas. This cunt is aching for you. Give me your load, I promise I'll take it all, every fucking drop."
Mina was quieter and more intense as she whispered: "I'll tie you up, Boss. Take you apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but pleasure. I'll make you my damn slave, just for tonight."
Jami, watery-eyed from the unreturned desire, just kept repeating, "Please, Boss. Just one fuck. Just one."
Victor listened, he watched, he touched. His hands roamed, his fingers brushed, his gaze fascinated by their desperate beauty. He heard their dirty talk, their pleas, their fervent promises of unthinkable immorality.
He felt the heat of their bodies, the wetness of their eagerness, the desperate desire to appease the monster. And yet, the image of Natalie, small and innocent, remained. It wasn't pity, not exactly. It was… a curiosity, a raw, almost unrefined fascination with something untouched by the filth he inhabited.
Chloe squeezed his unresponsive shaft through his trousers. He felt it, but it was like a spirit limb. The raw, animalistic spark that usually consumed him was absent.
After a few more agonizing, lust-filled hours, where their efforts, however skilled and sincere, felt increasingly futile against his silent wall, Victor stubbed out his cigarette with a decisive twist.
"Enough," he stated, his voice clipping the air. "Get dressed. All of you. Now."
The command was rapid, final.
Their shoulders fell. The air left their lungs in a conquered rush. Chloe bit her lip, Mina's eyes pointed, Lisa's jaw tightened, and Jami started to openly weep. They moved to gather their discarded clothes, the earlier seductive movements replaced by a slow, sad scramble.
They dressed in silence, avoiding his gaze, the heavy scent of unfulfilled desire hanging like a shroud. Once clothed, they filed out, their shoulders floppy, their hopes dashed.
Adam, who was discreetly waiting in the corridor, stepped into the lounge just as the last lady exited. Their faces were marked with tears. He glanced at Victor, a slight concern in his usually unemotional eyes.
"What's wrong, Boss?" Adam asked, his voice low, respectful. "They not up to your usual standards?"
Victor, however, didn't respond immediately as he took a slow, deliberate breath of the scent of expensive perfume and disappointed lust still clinging to the air. His eyes were cold, distant, already looking beyond the velvet and the luxury.
"Get me the manager," Victor said, his voice low but laced with an undeniable edge. "Rocco."