“Jesus Eleanor, what the fuck are you doing!”
Eleanor let out a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes at Emily van Woven. “What the fuck do you think you are doing, sneaking up on me?” She raised an eye-brow at the chef and plummeted back on the sofa. From all the movements, the blanket was now on the floor and Eleanor’s body was on display.
Emily couldn’t help herself from staring at this beautiful woman, eyeing her olive complexion, from the tones legs that represented hours in a day at the gym to the size of her tits. Even her nipples, which were erected, were erotic and had something sensual about them that perfected her body- like the cherry on top of the cake or the icing.
“I was just going to check up on you.” Emily offered, taking a seat next to Tony’s mother.
Eleanor looked at Emily from the corner of her eyes, analysing the chef – she didn’t know it yet but she was subjected to the viciousness of Eleanor from the moment she stepped out from the darkness.
Eleanor Vicenti leaned to the corner of the sofa, resting her elbow on the arm and crossed her legs slowly, inviting Emily to stare at them. “You know Emily, I was wondering why a beautiful woman like you gave her life away to become the chef of Tony – I mean, surely you were really renowned and considering your age, you still have a few more years in running one of the best restaurants in Paris, Dubai or even here in London.”
Emily, whose hair was a mess and tussled across her face, sat with her legs bent and knees touching, hands in between, and was staring at the floor while listening to Eleanor.
“What I think happened,” Eleanor continued without waiting for a response. “Was that you were in a predicament, not a normal one like an alcohol addiction. No.” The Ice Queen shuffled closer to the chef. “I think it was scandalous.” She reached for Emily’s chin and saw the tears streaming forming already.
Tucking her away from her beautiful face, Eleanor smiled at the poor woman and stroked both her cheeks gently.
Emily welcomed the touch and leaned into it. It was comforting. It had been a very long time since the last time that someone offered such a gentle touch, seductively even, and did not want it to end. She thought about Eleanor’s gentle touch, needing for her to drop her hands slightly and firmly cup her tits – to squeeze them tightly – and bring them further down past her stomach and pelvic mound. The voice interjected her imagination and she was forced to look at the demanding emerald eyes she was subdued to from the second she entered the living room, and could not escape from.
“What was it that you needed Tony’s help with?” Eleanor continued her torture calmly, enjoying the fact that Emily’s nipples were now hardened, clearly aroused. “Was it the fact that you messed with the wrong people and owed some money to them?”
Emily didn’t give a hint away, sitting rigidly through the torture of this memory lane.
“Or was it the fact that you liked sex too much?”
Emily’s eyes rolled away from her and the Ice Queen decided to probe this more. “You were a sex freak, an exhibitionist perhaps?”
Before the sentence was completed, Eleanor grabbed the hem of the cook’s lengthy night shirt and pulled it over her shoulder, exposing a good cleavage and Emily’s collar bone. Emily kissed the newly exposed skin and heard a gasp.
“You were a submissive – wanting to be dominated. You enjoyed being used, being fucked graciously and viciously, without any care for you.” Eleanor ripped the shirt, causing a big tear right down the middle of the shirt and let Emily’s tits bounce in the open.
She grabbed a nipple and pulled Emily closer to her, their faces inches away and she enjoyed the face Emily was putting on; closed eyes, mouth slightly open and her mind focusing on the pain. “You loved being the vessel people could use for their own pleasure, and then be tossed.”
Eleanor pushed Emily down on her back and got inbetween her legs and kissed her. The kiss was passionate and fierce. Their tongues touched instantly and both felt the electricity run through them, past their nipples and straight to the centre of their pussies. Eleanor cupped a tit and kissed Emily’s neck, her other hand fondling with the panties.
Pulling away briefly, Eleanor removed Emily’s panties, then placed herself between her prey and let her fingers explore a clearly wet slit. Emily moaned at the new touch and couldn’t help herself from biting down on her lips.
“More.” She begged.
Eleanor smiled devilish. She lowered herself until her tongue began licking Emily’s sensitive pussy, playing with the puffy lips and entering it and tasting her. Putting two fingers into the depth, she licked Emily’ clit, fingering her perfectly and aggressively, feeling Emily squirm under her fingers.
“How much do you want it?” Eleanor asked.
The question registered with Emily, but she had no authority or power to form a coherent answer. Her lips were shaking from the incredible sensations her pussy was subjected to. Every lick was calculated, like Eleanor knew where her weak points were precisely and abusing them. Her legs began to shiver from pleasure and she squeezed them snake-like around Eleanor, moaning louder and louder from the incredible feelings.
“I asked -” Eleanor’s tone was impatient. “how much do you want it?”
“A lot.”
“What would you do for it?” Eleanor asked teasingly.
Emily gasped from the pleasure. “Anything you want me to.”
“You are mine.” Eleanor Vicenti said simply.
She smiled brightly and slapped Emily’s pussy brutally. Emily shrieked from the unexpected action and instantly an orgasm flooded her body. What Eleanor did not expect were the actual floods spraying into her face. She was a squirter, and a powerful one too.
Calmly wiping her face with the ripped night shirt, the ice queen narrowed her eyes at Emily, who was trying to catch her breath, eyes closed and an absolute mess. “You’re in for a night of trouble, Ms Van der Woven.
**
The room was private access and intended for purposes such as this meeting. It was darkly lit and not very decorative. Walls were naked and painted in a boring beige, a few deep cracks giving the otherwise bald walls an artistic depth. A nasty smell lingered, a mixture of urine and bleach.
Tony, when first stepping foot into the place, did not flinch. It was disrespectful towards him to arrange a meeting in such a disgusting place. But he wasn’t bothered. He calmly pulled one of four old wooden chairs out, balanced improperly and scratches against its woodowork, and made himself at home by lighting a cigarette and smoking casually.
Precisely 40 minutes and three cigarettes later, and Tony had kept an eye on his watch, the door was opened and the same man who had shown the room to Tony, bulky and dressed in black, was holding the door out to the two people joining the room.
He assumed they were patted down as much as he was. Not bothering to stand up and shake either man’s hand, he remained seated and his eyes wide while studying every detail of the two gentlemen. The older of the two, was a perfect representative of the body and an antique in the business. He was one of the last of the old generation remaining in power and the way they handled business was undisputed and fearsome. Dressed in an expensive suit and polished leather shoes, everything about the man was clean.
The other chap was a brat. Dressed in jeans, a hoodie and sneakers, he was slightly overweight but nevertheless emitted a powerful presence. He was like a fat heavyweight boxer, and one thing tony always remembered like an old bible saying, was that looks can be deceiving – even his own.
“Vincent and Don Georgi.” Tony spoke between breaths of smoke. “What a pleasure to finally meet in person.
“I wish I could say the same.”
Vincent was speaking and Tony noticed the disapproving glance his father directed at him. A battle within the house, he thought. That ought to be interesting, and perhaps a crucial fact that could lay the groundwork for the future.
The trio were now sat and silence encompassed the round table, their eyes flicker between each other. Tony stubbed the cigarette out and turned to business. “Look, we’re far off better as allies than we are as enemies-”
“Get the fuck outta here. You fucked with wrong people – I will turn you into fucking shit until nobody can recognise you anymore. You don’t get to treat my sister like a prostitute, threaten to release the footage of her and come here offering peace you cocksucker.”
Tony looked at Vincent and then at Don Georgi, the question in his eyes and the Don shrugging apologetically. Vincent Amani was known for his short temper and violent outbursts. “If it is okay with you, Don Georgi, I would like to speak with you with the absence of your son over here.”
Vincent abruptly stood up, the chair dropping, and slammed his fists on the table. “You motherfucker, I ain’t going no where, and you better come to fucking terms wi-”
“VINCENT.” The Don shouted.
Silence overwhelmed once again. Vincent looked at his father, cheeks red and fists clenched. He shook his head and followed his father’s unspoken instruction, muttering.
Tony pitied him. Emotions were suicide.
“You’ve got what you wanted,” The Don began. He spoke softly, choosing every word carefully. “You made your point.” He cut a cigar and waved it beneath his nose, taking in the harsh smell and appreciating it. He bit down on one end and held the fire emitting from the chrome zippo. A few seconds and several puffs later the cigar was ready and its thick smoke circulated the stiff air of the room.
Tony smiled. “You made a wrong move Georgi.”
“I did not approve such stupidity, but unfortunately for all of us, my son seems to think it is acceptable to do whatever he likes without knowing consequences that can comeback and bite him in his arrogant ass.”
“I concur,” Tony’s index reached his temple and stroked it staring at his opponent. “But you should have handled it better. You are still the Don as far as I’ve heard.”
“And I will continue to be for the long future.” Don Vicenti let a cloud of smoke fly into the centre of the table rubbed the thick cigar between his fingers. “We will release Vanessa.”
Unexpectedly for the Don, Tony roared from laughter. “You think you need to give me Vanessa back?” He abruptly stood up and glared down at the Don. “You are underestimating who the fuck I am. She already is in safe hands, and I promise you, no one will make that mistake again.” Gripping the Berretta and exposing its slick black metal, Tony aimed at the powerful man in front of him and smiled. “One has to pay for their sins.” He laughed hysterically and fired shot after shot at the legend.