The Four Mafia Men and Their Prize by M C

The Four Vitale Wet and The Prize
78–Three Weeks
Event des vents fucking being ass ds. Or at least I think it’s been 20 days. I have been stuck in this room, by Events mself with
the TV thank God for Netflix and Disney books and my inermings for what I believe is now
be
zvenou fucking LES
The on humans | Interact
rek are two massive gart be
lock like a bad version of those
comina borches Dom Dangled who come into my TOOK
2d radice a day when she brings me food and
Chates ms liners and rescind
snack box by the TC,
I guess I also get daily visits from “the bastard” as 11e to call him because saying his name recognizes his existence and I would
love to not have anything to do with him. He gets off on pain and suffering literally.
Just like all the other days, my morning inner tantrum monologue is interrupted by Groucho and Grumpy entering the
mbestowed these nicknames on my bodyguards when they refused to engage in friendly conversation. Plus, the James it their
daring personalities
The booming veces startled me and made me shoot out of bed. I would have been no doubt tangled in my sheets if they
hatefully removed them from my body
Time to wake up!” Groucho said in his very thick Slavik accent. Maybe Russian? Not sure though. Some sort of Easter Sarigen
would be my best guess. I can’t keep calling them Guard One or Two. I guess I could, but Groucho and Grungs are more
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entertaining and it suits their bland personality to boot!
Ugh. I hate it when they do this. Just let me stay cocooned in my bed even though it gives me nightmares, it’s better than living in
the reality of my cage.
Up Now. To the wall! Grumpy scowls and looks at me expectedly. I trudge to the far wall near the window. I’ll just go back to bed
after this and mess up everything like I have done every day. I guess I should be grateful that I get clean sheets: at least they
won’t smell like him.
“Hands” I hear one of them order. They sound so similar, and they are just too massive to fight. Like walking boulders with bad
crew top haircuts. I swear these are not men but walking steroids out of the 80’s. I place my hands with open pulms above my
head on the wall as I have done since they started this. It is sadly the new routine.
It was almost three weeks ago that I tried to escape and learned of Brianna’s resurrection and lifetime betrayal. He electrocuted
me twenty–six times before I passed out that day. Twenty–six times my body convulsed and every cell in my body felt like it was
being shocked by lightning. And the asshole jerked off watching me. He just dropped his pants after the fourth round and
pumped until he came all over my body. Four times he emptied his balls over my skin and then rubbed it into me like lotion,
including my face.
I was still tied the next morning when I finally woke up and remained that way, without food, water, or a shower until that evening
when he came in and released my bondage. He didn’t stay, thankfully and when I returned to the room after a scalding hot forty–
five–minute shower where I rubbed my skin raw, there was some chicken noodle soup on a tray but I refused to eat it. I know I
should have, I did need my strength, but I was afraid it was going to be poisoned.
The day after that, day three since my escape attempt, I had been awake for several hours before I heard the clicks of

1/3
11:42 Tue, 20 Feb 1
78–Three Weeks
the locks. I thought it was that asshole again, but instead, it was the two mountain steroid entered the room swiftly, the guards
both guards placing a hand on their guns and staying
4731
the maid hurriedly put down a Itay of food, the steam from the edible creation still sing is the open door, and
departed as quickly :
she entered and the two guards followed her, slamming the door and I heard the clicks of the locks. I released a breath I didn’t
realize I was holding.
The meal was precut roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, steamed veggie mix of broccoli, green beans, baby carbs.. yellow
squash. A bowl of applesauce and even two dinner rolls were placed on the silver tray: An apple juice box like I was a kid. No
knife though.
I remember how my tummy growled ferociously just as I started thinking I was not get to touch it. But apist t better judgment, I let
my salivary glands water and proceeded to inhale the food. The favors were decent, the potatoes a little chunky but it was
certainly more than edible and that was good enough for me. My tummy was sansted and the headache I had because of the
crying dwindled to more of an annoyance.
Thanks to what I presume would be that little camera in the ceiling, as soon as I was done and put

the TV, and settled myself on the edge of the bed, the same guards came in with the maid and she removed No words were
said, and I was too tired to say anything
But then things changed starting on day four. That next morning I was woken up but these two bury men who to me to go to the
wall instructed me to put my hands palms flat on the wall and to face it. One of them came behind me and, while he did not touch
me. he was so close that I could feel his body beat caging me
Out of curiosity, I would gently move my head so I could see maids running about and I could hear lots of focus around my room.
The guards were barking orders in a different language, and I could faintly hear small feminine Voices replying to them. Maybe
15 minutes passed before I felt their presence shit away thom me and soon I heard retreating steps and then the familiar clicks
of the locked door.
When I spun around. The bed was made, the sheets clean and fresh, the surfaces of all the furniture and even the wooden floor
still had a shine on them like they were wiped down. A fresh breeze scent lingered in the air. Sitting on the table by the TV was a
tray with Pancakes, crispy bacon, fruit, and apple juice. I guess it was boukist time
After I was done with the meal, a maid would return to pick it up and the guards stood at the door hands on their guns. What I
presume was dinner followed later where the maid would bring the tray and then pick it up later because they would not return
until the next morning. I only had to go to the wall in the mornings, which I deduced quickly was so that the maid or maids could
clean the room without me in the way.
If I tried to ask a question, I was rudely told to shut up. One time I tried to keep a fork for a weapon, it was the only time the
guards laid a hand on me. They barged in without any warning, one picked me up and took me to the wall. pinning me roughly
with his whole body while the other searched for the room. When they showed me the fork. I tried to act innocent and made a
sarcastic comment to which they did not even bat an eyelash. How rade! See, the nicknames for my guards were fitting! Plus,
they had this intense resting bitch face, and it just made me a little han inside to name them. That night, the bastard electrocuted
me again until my wrists bled with the friction
Speaking of the bastard, almost every night I was visited by him. He came in and slept in my bed forced himself against my
body. The first time he did that, I naturally protested. My disubedience got my arms cuffed tightly behind my back and a dildo gag
in my mouth. Now, every night that he visits, he just cuffs and gags me, saving I have team freedom, Because of our height
difference, my hands were always very close to his manhood and often ended un touching it. Even woke up a fey times with him
jerking off in my hands with his morning wood. He tracture my meht pinky finger when I tried to grab his dick and injure him. He
made it clear I would lose a finger the next time if I tret

-11:42 Tue, 20 Feb 0
Three Weeks
anything hostile so I always kept still trom that point ce
This hands to tonile even inch of me that
he wanted
About beless after this new routine started the bastard came in and he reesel of alcohol and I could smell tank Soval me and
defined roove hand stomach an
That the orde
afe and te
hing melon into line and froced
a glumce for punishment
Indudghodise
He has done anything else since then except grind an
ellane
ane. If the bastar.
hemumme i
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