BOUND TO MY MAFIA KING

The wooden stage beneath me creaked under my weight. My body moved of its own accord, repeating the same dance I performed every night until the Madam sent me into a room with whichever sadistic bastard paid the highest price. The bruises from the men who had their way with me these past few days still decorated my skin. The finger shaped marks on my waist and hips itched beneath the shimmering gold glitter that hid them.

You'd have thought it'd be illegal, but sin isn't a thing in Vegas. And sex trade was almost as normal as having breakfast on a sunday.

The cheers filled my ears, nearly deafening as my fingers seductively roamed my nearly naked body, the flimsy bra and panties barely covering me. Every attempt to block out the screams proved futile.

My eyes roamed the crowd, spotting different kinds of men until they landed on the Madam, the owner of this brothel and my current monster. A man stood next to her, frowning slightly. Already his gaze was on me. Those eyes seemed to make the bronze walls close in, almost suffocating even.

No part of me dared to stop dancing as they approached me, but my knees nearly buckled from anticipation. Madam's corset dress shimmered as she walked, her lips moving as she kept staring.

"Come here girl." The Madam ordered. Ignoring the groaning men begging me not to stop, I climbed down from the wooden platform.

Standing infront of him now, the intimidating presence seemed to grow tenfold. His crisp black suit looked like it cost more than every dime this brothel made in a decade and his large frame towered over me.

Her arm extended, gripping my chin harshly and forcing me to meet his gaze. "This is Mr Morozcov. He paid a hefty sum to have you, so you're going to be good for him. Won't you girl?"

Nodding shakily my eyes bored into his cold grey ones. He still hadn't said a word, and that dug a pit deep in my gut. Men who didn't tell you what they wanted were dangerous, especially for people like me.

He was handsome, not that it mattered. I've been forced to be with ugly men, average men and unfairly attractive men. Looks don't matter in my world, but the thought still echoed in my mind, sticking to me. This man, Mr Morozcov, was very handsome.

Her fingernails dug into my skin, snapping me back to reality. "I'll be good." The words came out soft, barely audible but she accepted it regardless.

"Be respectful girl. Say hello to your new owner." Her words were like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. New owner?

My mind raced, still struggling to comprehend what she just said. Trading isn't unusual in this business, and it's happened to me a few times already, but the shock was still there, just like it had been all those years ago when I was a child and sold for the first time.