The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)

I don't know what's come over me. Maybe it's the revelation that I'm in some gender-reversed world, maybe it's the pent-up frustration from being sold like property, or maybe it's just that Caterina's body is a fucking masterpiece that I can't resist anymore. Whatever the reason, I've snapped.

Our clothes lie scattered across the floor like casualties of war. The breakfast spread has been pushed aside, plates and silverware hastily shoved to one end of the polished mahogany table. A pitcher of orange juice teeters dangerously close to the edge, wobbling with each powerful thrust of my hips.

Caterina is bent over the table, her perfect ass raised high, her magnificent breasts pressed against the cool wood. Her golden hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of sunlight, swaying with each impact of my body against hers. Her hands grip the edges of the table so tightly her knuckles have turned white as if she's afraid she might float away if she lets go.

I'm behind her, my hands gripping her hips for dear life as I slam into her again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by our mingled moans and gasps. The table creaks ominously beneath us, fine china rattling like we're experiencing an earthquake centered precisely where our bodies join.

"Fuck," I grunt. "You feel so fucking good."

Caterina whimpers beneath me, a sound so unexpected from the powerful woman who purchased me that it sends a fresh surge of arousal through my veins. Her inner walls clench around me, hot and tight.

"I'm only—ah!—letting you take charge this once," she manages between moans, her words coming out staccato as my thrusts interrupt her speech. "Because I hurt you. But this is fucking embarrassing."

I lean forward, my chest pressing against her back, my mouth close to her ear. My injured eye throbs with the exertion, but the pain only seems to sharpen the pleasure, creating a heady cocktail of sensations that has me teetering on the edge of sanity.

"Shhhhhhh," I whisper, my breath hot against her ear. "Dirty talk or don't talk at all."

She doesn't seem to like the challenge at all. Her body goes rigid beneath me, and I can feel the shift in her energy immediately, like a storm front moving in.

"Excuse me?" she hisses, her voice dropping to a dangerous register that makes my heart skip a beat. "Did you just try to command me?"

Before I can respond, Caterina reaches back with lightning speed, her hand finding my hip with unerring precision. Her fingers dig into my flesh with bruising force, stopping my momentum mid-thrust.

"Just fucking stay still and let your mistress show you how it's done," she growls, the words rumbling from deep in her chest.

I freeze, my cock still buried to the hilt inside her. The sudden shift in power is disorienting, leaving me lightheaded as blood rushes from my brain straight to my groin.

Caterina doesn't wait for my agreement. With a nimbleness that seems impossible for someone bent over a dining table, she begins to move. Her supple ass pushes back against me, taking control of our rhythm with devastating precision. Each backward thrust is calculated for maximum impact, her body swallowing mine with an expertise that leaves me gasping.

The tempo increases gradually, building like a symphony reaching its crescendo. Sweat beads on my forehead, trickling down into my good eye as I struggle to remain upright. My legs tremble with the effort of keeping still while Caterina works her body against mine with furious determination.

"Oh god, Cat," I moan helplessly as the pressure builds inside me, coiling tighter with each skillful movement of her hips. "I'm going to fucking cum."

Her internal muscles clench around me in response, squeezing my cock with deliberate pressure that sends stars exploding behind my eyelids. The sensation is so intense it borders on painful, pleasure stretched to its breaking point.

"That's right, baby," she purrs, her voice honeyed despite the ferocity of her movements. "Cum in me. Cum deep inside your lover."

She arches her back impossibly further, changing the angle so that I hit a spot deep within her that makes her gasp.

"Show me how much you need me, baby," she commands me.

Her words push me over the edge. I lurch forward, wrapping my arms around her waist and hugging her tightly as my entire body convulses with pleasure. My face presses against her back, my lips brushing against her sweat-slicked skin as I begin moaning wildly, the sounds escaping me primal and unrestrained.

"Cat... oh god, Cat," I whimper, my voice breaking as the orgasm tears through me like a tornado. My hips stutter against her perfect ass, all rhythm lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation.

The world narrows to just this moment, just our bodies joined together as I empty myself inside her. Each pulse of my cock sends another wave of ecstasy crashing through me, my nerves singing with a pleasure so intense it borders on agony. I squeeze her body tighter, my fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her stomach as if I'm afraid she might disappear if I let go.

'Fuck, I'm the type of guy to fall in love with a girl that lets me cum in her,' I think hazily as my seed pumps deeper and deeper inside her. The thought floats through my mind like a neon sign, embarrassing but undeniable in this moment of complete vulnerability.

I continue to moan and groan, unintelligible sounds escaping my lips as I blast my hot load deeper and deeper into her waiting body. Her pussy milks me expertly, squeezing around my length with perfect pressure, coaxing out every last drop until I'm completely spent.

"That's it, baby," Caterina purrs, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels me throbbing inside her. "Give it all to me."

As the final waves of orgasm wash through me, my legs begin to tremble violently, muscles quivering from exertion and pleasure. My knees buckle without warning, sending me staggering backward, my softening cock slipping free from Caterina's body with an obscene wet sound.

I collapse onto the plush carpet, landing hard on my ass with a muffled thud. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath, sweat cooling rapidly on my flushed skin. I watch as a thick rivulet of my cum trickles down the inside of Caterina's thigh, marking her perfect skin with evidence of our coupling.

"Adam!" Caterina gasps, spinning around with surprising agility. Her crimson eyes widen with alarm as she takes in my crumpled form on the floor. "Are you okay?"

She drops to her knees beside me. Concern etches itself across her perfect features.

I stare up at her, taking in her flushed cheeks.

"Your pussy is unreal," I finally manage to wheeze out, the words tumbling from my lips before my brain can filter them.

Caterina's expression transforms instantly, concern melting into delight. A smile spreads across her face, radiant as sunrise, her crimson eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and amusement. She glows visibly prideful at the compliment, shoulders straightening, chin tilting upward in a gesture of unmistakable satisfaction.

"So you'll give me a chance?" she asks, her voice soft yet eager, like a child asking for a promised treat.

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications. A horrifying thought suddenly crystallizes in my mind, cutting through the post-orgasmic haze like a knife.

'Being with her is like being with a richer female Tony Soprano. Unpredictable. Violent. Possessive. Powerful beyond measure.'

'Is my life over? Is this just a prison?' The thought sends a chill down my spine despite the lingering warmth of our passionate encounter.

As I ponder her question, I can't help but wonder, What choice do I even have?

I say nothing. Instead, I hold out my arms, a wordless invitation for her to come closer. It's easier than answering, easier than confronting the reality of my situation. Besides, despite everything, the violence, the manipulation, the fact that I've essentially been purchased like cattle, my body craves her warmth. The postcoital dysphoria demands it. 

Caterina's face softens immediately. Without hesitation, she crawls into my outstretched arms, her magnificent body pressing against mine as we lay tangled together on the dining room floor.

She nestles her head against my chest, her golden hair spreading across my skin like spilled sunlight. Her weight feels surprisingly right against me, her curves fitting perfectly against the planes of my body as if we were made for each other.

"I promise you won't regret it, Adam," she whispers, her breath warm against my skin. Her voice carries a reverence that catches me off guard as if she's making a sacred vow rather than speaking to a man she's essentially kidnapped. "I love you."

'Fuck. This woman is going to kill me someday, isn't she?'

*****

[Claire's POV]

The slots make that irritating electronic melody as I feed another twenty into the hungry machine. The casino floor pulses with noise and flashing lights, a sensory overload designed to make you forget about time, money, and all your terrible life choices, like selling your husband to your psychotic boss.

I pull the lever with more force than necessary, watching the digital wheels spin in a blur of colors. It's almost hypnotic, this moment of suspended possibility before the inevitable disappointment, just like my life.

"Come on, come on, come on," I mutter, tapping my foot anxiously against the base of the machine. The wheels stop one by one. Cherry, cherry, lemon. Nothing.

"Fuck!" I slam my palm against the machine, earning disapproving glances from the elderly woman at the neighboring slot. I don't care. I've got bigger problems than being judged by some grandmother with an oxygen tank.

I shouldn't be here. I promised Adam I'd get help, "whatever it takes," I'd said through pathetic, hiccupping sobs while kneeling on our living room floor. That was yesterday. And yet here I am, back at the casino, the very place where I work, shoving money into the same machines that helped kickstart this whole nightmare.

The irony isn't lost on me. I'm using the cash I found stashed in that ridiculous Birkin bag Caterina gave Adam, my husband, my Adam, to dig myself deeper into the hole that made me sell him in the first place. But I can't stop.

When I found the cash this morning, stuffed carelessly in the closet inside that stupidly expensive bag, something in me just snapped. Five thousand dollars, just sitting there. Caterina's pocket change, probably, but to me it was a lifeline, a chance, five thousand little reasons to believe I could win it all back.

Win what back? Adam? My dignity? My life before gambling consumed everything?

I know it's insane. But then, what part of my life isn't insane right now?

Caterina gave me the week off to "get my head on straight." I should be at a Gamblers Anonymous meeting. I should be researching therapists. I should be doing literally anything except what I'm doing right now.

But the pull was too strong. The what-ifs are too tempting. What if this is the day my luck changes? What if I win enough to buy Adam back? What if, what if, what if...

"Claire at the slot machines again. Are you fucking serious? With all you lost?"

The voice cuts through the electronic cacophony of the casino like a blade. I freeze, my finger hovering over the spin button as if caught in the act of something far more shameful than gambling.

I know that voice. That slightly unhinged, musical lilt that always sounds like its owner is perpetually on the edge of violence.

Slowly, I turn around.

Lara Rosso, one of Caterina's top girls, stands behind me, her tall, lean frame practically vibrating with manic energy. Her long red hair cascades down her back like bloody water. Those intense blue eyes of hers are wide with genuine amusement, dancing with barely contained mania as she takes in the sight of me hunched over the slot machine like a junkie getting a fix.

"I…" I begin, but she cuts me off with a burst of laughter so loud that several nearby gamblers turn to stare.

"Oh my GOD!" Lara howls, actually doubling over, her perfectly tailored suit jacket stretching across her shoulders as her body shakes with uncontrolled mirth. "This is too fucking perfect!"

She straightens up, wiping an actual tear from the corner of her eye, her angular features contorted in a grin that's too wide, too delighted, like a shark that's just spotted a bleeding swimmer.

"I'm just…" I try and fail again.

"You're just what?" Lara interrupts, taking a step closer. "Throwing away more money? Digging yourself an even deeper hole? After you literally sold your husband to pay your debts?"

Each question lands like a slap. I flinch, my eyes darting around to see if anyone's listening. But, of course, no one cares. This is a casino. People have their own problems to worry about.

"It's none of your business," I mutter, knowing how pathetic I sound even as the words leave my mouth.

Lara throws her head back and laughs again, the sound so genuinely amused it's almost contagious. Almost.

"Look," she says, wiping another tear from her eye, "I get I'm not exactly a good person…" she breaks off, overcome by another fit of laughter, her blue eyes sparkling with genuine delight at my misery, "but what you're doing..."

She can't even finish the sentence. Her laughter echoes through the casino floor, drawing more stares our way. I feel my face heating up, shame burning through me like acid.

"What you're doing is just evil," she finally manages, her voice choked with hilarity. "I mean, game recognize game, Claire. I'm honestly impressed."