Kidnapped and Sold by the Mafia

[rapazsolitario]

Author's Note: This is a chapter-based novella that follows a variety of characters. Each chapter will have a disclaimer about who is narrating it. I will post the chapters as I write them, so please comment to encourage me to continue. It is a work of dark fiction. Fetishes include intentional HIV infection, kidnapping, rape, and torture.

 

 

01

TONY

 

“You have HIV”, the doctor said.

My name is Antonio Mancini, I live in Sicily, Italy. I am the heir to the Cosa Nostra Cartel, a mafia group from my region. My father is the leader of this group and since I was little I learned to have discipline. But I have always been addicted to sex. And I have never worried much about protection.

A few months ago, I met two girls at a club, we danced and we had a good time. They really liked the drugs I had with me. I was sure I was going to have sex with them. But when we were walking to the car, about to leave, they said they couldn't leave their friend who was with them to the club.

I said I could give the guy a ride, but they said they would only have sex with me if he was included. I had never had sex with a guy before, but I was curious. Within minutes of us getting to my house, I was balls deep in him, hard as a rock. I completely forgot about the girls and I enjoyed the night like never before with that man. They left and he stayed to sleep with me. He also fucked me hard and came about three times inside my ass.

That was the best night of my life. After having sex with a man for the first time, I was hooked. Sex with another male was so much better than sex with a woman. Over the next few weeks, I went to every gay club in town and had sex with every type of man I could find. White, brown, blond, black, Asian, Latino. I didn't care, I just wanted the thrill of another guy cumming in my guts. Whether they used a condom or not was always their choice, I never cared about that. And I really liked to get bred.

Meanwhile, the mafia's work continued. I always carried a gun, participated in transactions and followed my father everywhere. I had to learn to be a leader like him, after all, I would inherit all of that. What my father didn't know was that I had always been a bit more sadistic than he was. I had always enjoyed torturing and killing other people. When he sent one of his henchmen to do the dirty work, I would volunteer to do it in their place. For this reason, no one ever suspected that I enjoyed having sex with men.

The problem was that a few months after I started having sex with other guys, I felt very sick. It felt like the flu, I had a fever, I was shaking and I had chills. I even became delirious at times, it felt like my body was going to give out. A family doctor said it was just a cold and gave me some medicine, but he told me to go to a hospital and do some tests. When I was feeling better, I went to a private clinic that didn't keep patient records. The doctor ordered some blood tests and now I was getting the results.

When I heard I had HIV, I was in shock for about three seconds, but then I realized it made sense. I had been letting strangers cum inside my ass for months, it was bound to happen at some point or another. I was never afraid of dying, I learned to be brave since I was a child, because of my line of work. Knowing that I had a deadly virus inside me was nothing compared to my father's threats.

"You can start treatment immediately," the doctor said.

"What do I have to do?" I asked.

"I'm going to order some more tests to check your viral load and find out what type of virus you have, but you can start taking the medications that make the viral load decrease. In the first few weeks, you'll feel some side effects, but they'll soon go away."

"No," I replied.

"I don't understand," the doctor said.

"I don't want to take anything for now, I'll think about what I'm going to do," I explained. "I don't want any strong medicine destroying my body."

"It's the virus that's destroying your immune system, not the medicine," he tried to insist. "But if you don't want to get treatment, I can't force you, it's your choice. I just have to remind you that you shouldn't have sex with anyone without a condom, even oral sex. Because infecting another person on purpose is a crime. You don't want to go to jail for having sex with someone. Are your sexual partners men or women?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

I left his office without saying anything else. I committed crimes as often as I changed clothes, so I wasn't worried about one more crime.

By the time I arrived at the Cosa Nostra headquarters, the doctor’s appointment was already far from my mind. His words, the ones that tried to convince me that something was wrong with me, seemed insignificant compared to what awaited me. My father was sitting in his chair, as always, with a cigar between his fingers and a gaze that seemed to pierce anyone who dared to lie to him. He looked up when I entered, and I felt the weight of his question before he even asked it.

“Where have you been?” His voice was calm, but I knew his tone well. It was a trap, a way to test my loyalty.

“I made some rounds in the city,” I replied, keeping my gaze fixed on his. I thought about saying that I went to visit my mother, but that would have been pointless. I hadn’t seen her in months, and he knew that she meant nothing to either of us. She had simply been the one chosen to bear the heir, and nothing more. He didn’t ask any more questions, and I felt a fleeting relief.

“I have a mission for you,” he said, taking the cigar out of his mouth and pointing it at me. “There’s a journalist, fresh out of college, causing chaos in the city. He sticks his nose in where he doesn’t belong and talks too much. His name is Carlo Barbieri. He thinks he can solve every crime in Sicily by himself. We need to find a way to silence the boy.”

I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. I could not rush Aurelio Mancini. My father didn’t like to be pressured, and I knew he would say what needed to be said in his own time.

“He’s covering a restaurant awards ceremony. Then he’ll go home alone. Take two of your men and kidnap the boy.”

“When will this happen?” I asked.

“Tonight,” he replied, as if I had asked an obvious question.

“It will be done,” I said without hesitation. “Where should I take the journalist?”

“Keep him hidden in your place for a few days. I will soon give you instructions to take him to the docks.”

“What are you going to do with him?” I asked.

My father smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “There is a faction leader in Nigeria who is interested in a new sex toy, because his huge dick broke the last one. He will pay well.”

That was nothing new. We had done similar business before, but never with a journalist. Carlo Barbieri was a well-known name, and his disappearance would cause a stir. But my father didn’t seem worried about that. He had everything planned, as always.

“Understood,” I said, nodding. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t want him to get hurt, that would decrease his value,” my father said and just turned his attention back to his cigar, as if the matter were already over.

I left the room, feeling the weight of this mission on my shoulders. Two of my men were already waiting outside, and I waved them over.

“We have work to do tonight,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Get ready.”

They didn’t ask any questions. They knew that when I spoke like that, it was best to just obey. I walked back to my car, thinking about what was to come. Carlo Barbieri was just a young man, someone who believed he could change the world with words. He didn’t know that in Sicily, words had a price, and I was about to exact his.

The night fell quickly, and we positioned ourselves near the restaurant where the awards ceremony would take place. The journalist left around midnight, alone, as my father had said. He walked distractedly, unaware that he was being followed. When he turned into a dark street, I gave the signal. My men acted quickly, covering his mouth with a cloth soaked in chloroform and dragging him into the car. He didn't have a chance to fight.

[PozTalkAuthor]

What a surprise! Not only my step-son re-appearing, but also writing a story!

Keep going, my sweet boy!

Your step-gifter is waiting for more! I love you.

[rapazsolitario]

41 minutes ago, PozTalkAuthor said:

What a surprise! Not only my step-son re-appearing, but also writing a story!

Keep going, my sweet boy!

Your step-gifter is waiting for more! I love you.

I'm glad to see you here, dad. I love you.

[PozTalkAuthor]

You know I'm here to stay, honey!

I'm just recovering from a bad, scary accident

[jagmanaz]

This is going to be hot for sure

[rapazsolitario]

02

CARLO

 

The awards ceremony at that restaurant was a complete bore. I sat at the table, listening to endless speeches about cuisine and gastronomic excellence, when what I really wanted was to be home, away from that artificial atmosphere. I wasn’t a restaurant critic, nor a social event reporter. What I really wanted to do was cover serious news, investigate the criminal gangs that infested Sicily like a plague. But apparently someone inside the newspaper was trying to boycott my work. I knew I was bothering the criminals, so I had to keep investigating. But not everyone was happy about it.

When I finally managed to leave the restaurant, the night was already dark and the streets were almost deserted. I walked quickly, with my hands stuffed in my coat pockets, trying to ignore the cold that was biting my skin. My mind was still busy with the stories I wanted to write, the denunciations that needed to be made. Sicily was not only a place of beauty and tradition; It was also a place of shadows, where crime hid behind respectable facades. And I was determined to expose it, no matter the cost.

It was then that I felt that strong hand pressing a piece of cloth against my nose. The smell of the liquid was strong, almost suffocating, and I immediately realized what was happening. I tried to struggle, but the man was too strong. He held my body as if I were a rag doll, with no chance of escape. My arms and legs felt like they weighed tons, and each movement was more difficult than the last.

“There’s no point in fighting,” I heard a low voice say, but I couldn’t see the speaker’s face. The darkness of the street seemed to swallow everything around me.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The liquid in the cloth began to take effect, and soon my consciousness began to wander. My thoughts became confused, as if they were floating in a sea of fog. The last thing I thought before I passed out was that my fiancée would be worried when I didn’t come home. She always waited for me, even when I arrived late. She said she couldn’t sleep until she was sure I was safe. Now, I had no way to warn her, no way to explain what had happened.

When I woke up, I was in a dark, cold place. My head ached, and the taste of the liquid was still in my mouth, bitter and sickening. I tried to move, but realized that I was tied to a chair, my hands and feet bound by thick ropes. The light was dim, coming from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the air was filled with a musty, damp smell.

“Is anyone there?” I shouted, but my voice echoed in the void, unanswered.

I stood there, trying to make sense of what had happened. I knew my work had upset powerful people, but I never imagined it would go this far. Sicily was a dangerous place, but I had always believed that words had power, that the truth could prevail. Now, it seemed I had underestimated the lengths they were willing to go to in order to silence someone like me.

Time passed slowly, and I had no way of knowing if it was hours or minutes. Every sound made me shiver, every shadow seemed to move. I knew I was not alone, that someone was watching, waiting for the right moment to act. But who? And what did they want from me?

When I finally heard footsteps approaching, my heart raced. The door opened, and a man walked in. He was tall, with an impassive face and eyes that seemed to see nothing but an object, not a person.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” he said, his voice calm and terrifying. “Now you’re going to pay for it.”

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. He stepped closer, and I felt fear creep up my spine. I knew what was coming wouldn’t be good, but I also knew I couldn’t give up. There were still stories to tell, truths to expose. And as long as I was alive, I would keep fighting for them.

But at that moment, all I could do was wait. Wait and try to hold on to the hope that somehow I would find a way out of there. Because deep down, I knew my fiancée wouldn’t give up looking for me. And as long as she was out there, I still had a chance. Those criminals would pay for what they were doing.

The man came closer and held my chin firmly, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His grip was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fear that surged through my veins. The room was cold, the only light coming from a single bulb dangling from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across the cinder block walls. The smell of stale cigarettes and fear hung heavy in the air, a potent mix that made it hard to breathe. My heart thundered in my chest, and the ropes bit into my wrists, a painful reminder of my predicament.

"You're Carlo, right?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to betray my fear.

"Good, good," he said, his eyes studying me intently. "You've been causing quite a stir with the Cosa Nostra."

My heart sank. I had hoped it was just a random mugging, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But now, the reality of my situation was sinking in. The group Cosa Nostra didn't play games. They had a reason for taking me, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

The man's grip on my chin tightened for a moment before he let go. I felt a brief sense of relief, but it was quickly replaced by a new form of terror as he began to untie the ropes that bound me to the chair. My arms and legs remained bound, but suddenly, the chair was no longer part of my prison. He pulled me to my feet, and I stumbled, my legs wobbly from the sudden rush of blood.

"I’m Tony Mancini," he said, holding out a hand as if we were at a cocktail party. "And you, my friend, are in a world of trouble."

The fear grew colder, wrapping itself around my spine like a serpent. If Tony Mancini was here, it meant the situation was dire. He was notorious for his brutality, a man who didn't just take things; he liked to break them first.

He stepped back, allowing me to see him fully. He was tall, with dark hair slicked back from a sharp widow's peak. His eyes were cold, like chips of ice in a winter's grip. I knew that look. It was the look of a man who had seen too much, a man who enjoyed the power he held over others.

I tried to speak, to spit out defiance, but all that came out was a muffled sound.

"Now, let's talk," he said, his smile never wavering.

I took a deep breath and spat at him. "You're all going down," I said, my voice hoarse but steady. "You, your dad, the whole rotten lot of you."

Tony's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting in the harsh light. "Is that so?" He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You know, you're quite handsome when you're angry."

My stomach churned. What kind of sick game was he playing?

"I'll tell you what," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "We'll make a deal."

I waited, my heart racing.

"You're going to make me very happy," Tony purred, his hand trailing down to my neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse hammering in my throat. "And in return, I might decide to keep you around a little longer."

The implication was clear. I felt the bile rise in my throat, but I forced myself to remain calm. I had to think, to find a way out of this. I couldn't let fear control me.

"You see, Carlo," Tony continued, "you have something I like. And I have something you need. A way to live."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "But first," he whispered, "you're going to show me how much you want to live."

Before I could react, he grabbed my face with both hands and turned it to the side. His gaze was intense, hungry. "You have such a pretty mouth," he said, licking his lips. "It's a shame to waste it on talking."

My body went rigid with disgust and fear as Tony's other hand reached down and unzipped his pants. That man was going to rape me.

[pozpopperpig]

Looks like this could be very good!

[hikerbiker26]

Well written and a good story!