#mob robert pronge

Another step.

“Do you know who I am, sweets?”

You responded with a stiff shake of your head. You didn’t want to let your captor know that his face was, indeed, familiar though you couldn’t quite place it – in fear that he’d take it as if he were just a forgettable face to you.

If he knew you were lying, he didn’t let on.

The man just nodded in contemplation as he stared at you through his spectacles. He took another step, invading your personal space. “So pretty,” he reached out and his ice-cold hand came up to your face. A freezing finger stroking your cheek softly as if he were afraid to damage you – the priceless work of art he just stole.

Unsure of why he repeated it, you let out a shaky breath, “th-thank you.”

“I can see why Drysdale keeps you locked up.”

Upon mention of Ransom, your brows furrowed, and you leaned away from the man. “Ran-Ransom?” You said aloud, your voice and your body trembling still. “Do-do you know him?”

The man nodded and grinned. His teeth baring at you like a predator does its prey. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I know him.”

His tone alone told you that this man, who has now crowded you into the wall with little chance of escape, did not think of Ransom as fondly as you did. Had Ransom wronged him? How much danger were you really in?

“Sour little priss that boy of yours is,” the man continued. “Killed one of my men, saying I crossed his territory, can you believe that, sweets?” His hand slammed against the wall – mere inches away from your face. You flinched away, but he didn’t mind. “Told him Rogers was a good guy, even worked for his grandfather decades ago. Now, poof, he’s ashes and I gotta tell his wife, Sharon, that Ransom fucking Drysdale killed her husband.”

You were too afraid to interject. He had to have the wrong Ransom – Hugh, your Hugh – worked for Harlan’s publishing company. He wasn’t entangled with the mob – let alone a murderer.

“He took one of my good guys. And mob tradition is,” he grinned, “eye for an eye.”

“P-please d-don’t hurt me,” you cried, tears rolling down your cheeks, which sent blood flowing through his cock. “R-Ran wouldn’t have – “

“You ain’t know about all this, sweets?”

You shook your head. His tongue ran across the bottoms of his front teeth as he took you in – a beauty trembling against his body, pressed up against the wall.

Initially, yes, Robert Pronge did have the intention of killing you – sending you back in a body bag to Hugh Drysdale. But when he first saw you in the photos Jensen had taken from the Thrombey’s charity gala, he knew that killing such a pretty face would be a crime.

“How innocent,” he chuckled.

A strike against another mob family was not to be taken lightly – taking a mafioso’s best girl was grounds for a crime war. But Robert couldn’t help himself. You were just so damn gorgeous – he had to have you for himself.

“P-please don’t hurt me,” you repeated. Your knees buckled and Robert let you fall to the ground. He watched with fascination as your face planted into his slacks, tears staining the fabric. He couldn’t help his hand pressing you into his leg, sliding you over to his aching dick.

You wept as you tried to push yourself off the man, but his sheer strength kept your face pressed against his hardened cock. “An eye for an eye, gorgeous.”

You shrieked as his hand fisted your hair and pulled you to your feet. He shoved you forward onto the mattress on the floor you’ve inhabited for the past day and a half. You tried to crawl away with your head pounding from both your hair being pulled so hard and your incessant crying.

Robert grabbed your two ankles, forcing your body to lay flat against the mattress as he pinned you down with all his weight. You flailed your limbs in attempt to thwart him but to no avail.

Fabric was ripping all around you, but you didn’t know what it was until you felt his could hands against your bare hips. You cried out as he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you like the monster he truly was.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweets.” He said as his hands flew to the neckline of your blouse and ripped it down along with the front of your bra.

You were bared to him like a new toy on Christmas morning and he smirked down at you, eager to play.

In a last effort to fight back, your hands flew to his face, scratching like a wild animal. It lasted only a few moments until he grabbed both your wrists and pinned you down. His glasses had flown away, cracked against the concrete floor somewhere. His brow displayed a cut, a thin trickle of blood weeping from the broken skin.

His brows furrowed at you and he tsked. “Dumb bitch.”

You begged, “please, please don’t.”

Robert didn’t heed to your cries and pleas as he cuffed both your wrists into one large hand and undid his pants. He pushed them down along with his underwear to reveal his enormous, throbbing cock, the tip angry and glistening with pre-cum. Your hips began to shift, trying to buck him off, but his free hand pressed against your stomach, hard to keep you in place before he pumped his cock a few times and thrust it into your unprepared cunt.

You screamed, body convulsing in pain as he fed your poor pussy his cock. “Take it,” he spat, “take it you stupid bitch.” He bottomed out with one single, slow, and agonizing thrust, swaying his hips as if to taunt you. He released your wrists as he pumped into you slowly before digging through his pants to retrieve his phone.

“N-no,” you murmured as you heard the shutter of the camera. “S-sto-stop.”

He continued to take photos of your cunt filled with his cock. Unbeknownst to you, blood had begun to trickle from your hole, your body unprepared for such an intrusion. The photos highlighted the crimson ring gathered around his cock.

Robert chased his release, despite your cries. To add reprieve from the onslaught of torture, his fingers found its way onto your clit, drawing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and to your dismay, it sparked pleasure.

Intense pleasure. One that had you arching your back into this monster’s chest and moaning with guilt. He watched as you shivered beneath him, biting your lip as you tried to stifle the cries of pleasure, only to fail when he pressed against your stomach again and the tip of his cock grazed your G-spot. You were no longer fighting him, your body giving into the confusing pleasure and the pain – even your hips began to thrust back.

Your body arched again as his cock tapped against your G-spot a few times and a pleasured scream escaped your lips. Your walls clenched tightly around his cock, fluttering as you came. He groaned, watching you, as he found his release. The cum spraying against your aching walls a strange comfort. He continued to thrust into you just to watch your body convulse with the aftershocks of your orgasm.