Cut-Throat

Goddam Bella fucking Rossi.

Of all the people who could have taken over the family business when the old man kicked the bucket, it had to be her. The troublemaking, money-grubbing, self-serving bitch. Everyone knew she was only screwing him to get her feet under the table. We all knew she was just using him. Everyone but the old man, that is. And now, thanks to that old fart thinking with his dick, she’s out from under the fucking table and lording it above us all.

Any other day, the whirring of this ceiling fan above me would be soothing. I’m a fan of those things. I lounge beneath the one in my room at home, dosing off, lulled into a false sense of serenity by the humming and the gentle breeze. But not this day. No, today the breeze is too gentle to cut through the blanket of heat this hellish summer has thrown at me, and the humming is more of an irritant than anything else.

Why don’t I get up and leave? Put myself somewhere cooler and more comfortable? Because Bella won’t let me, that’s why. Lady Boss made it very clear that if my ass wasn’t in this chair when she got here I’d be a sorry man. The thing is, she didn’t give me an ETA. Bitch could be minutes away or hours and all I can do is sit here and wither while I wait for her.

I crack open another bottle of water, sucking the cold liquid down my throat. I’m so hot I feel it hit my gut like a lead weight. Two hours I’ve been sat here. Two. Fucking. Hours. In this ridiculous little oven of a shop.

The water bottle joins the pile of nine on the floor beside the recycling bin. I could hit the hole if I wanted to, but I’m pissed off, so fuck it. Let the workshy fucker behind me put down his useless comb and scissors and pick them up. Apparently, Bella told him to flip the closed sign as soon as I turned up, so he’s got shit all else to do.

Man, I need a piss. Desperately. I don’t know how, though. I’m so thoroughly soaked with sweat it amazes me to think that even a drop of the wet stuff got anywhere near my bladder.

I’m going, I have to. Fuck Bella, if she arrives when I’m taking a leak that’s her problem, not mine. As soon as my feet hit the floor the little bell above the door tinkles. I hover just above my seat, filling my lungs with searing air, slowly shifting my gaze to the mirror in front of me so I can see who’s coming up behind me.

It’s Bella.

Of course it is. She must have waited until she sensed my cheeks peeling off the leather before making her grand entrance. I keep my eyes on her as I lower myself back down. Old Piero scrambles to retrieve the scissors he dropped, then busies himself with a trolley, keeping his head down in deference – or fear – as Lady Boss sways past him.

Bella comes to a stop a few feet in front of me, resting her hip against the countertop. Could I make my expression any drier? No, I don’t think I could. She knows I don’t like her so there’s no point in pretending. I can’t prevent my raised eyebrow, though. Despite the apocalyptic heat, the crazy bitch is still wearing her ugly fur coat. Just looking at the horrible thing has made me twice as sweaty, and I’m itchy now, too. Ugh, fuck her.

She hasn’t looked at me yet. Her eyes are on Piero as he beavers away behind me. The squeak of the trolley’s wonky wheels sets my teeth on edge. My fingers wrap around the arms of the chair and I fight the urge to see what the rickety old timer just put within reach of Bella’s hands. She wants me to look. Wants me to show fear. I won’t show her shit.

With a curt nod of her head, Bella dismisses Piero. A door somewhere at the back of the room clicks shut and then it’s just me and her. When she finally turns her attention to me I nearly choke on anger. She looks bored. Like a queen having to listen to the grievances of yet another peasant.

God, I fucking hate her. I hated her before she offered her cunt to the old man, then I hated her even more because of it. And now? My hate is reaching new heights with every silent second that passes.

I realise that the squeaking sound I can hear is coming from my chair. My knee is jiggling. It takes so much effort to still it, but I do it. I won’t let her see how wired I am. But damn, I wish she’d stop fucking stalling! If she’s going to do it, she should just do it. I’ll always undermine her authority, I’ll always make her doubt her power, so if she really wants to be head of the family she needs to get rid of me. She should just call in her henchmen and get it done. It’s what the old man would have done. It’s what I would do.

Oh, look, she’s moving. It would seem that the bear she’s wrapped herself in has become too much for her. No doubt she’ll be wearing one of the black widow dresses that did for the old man underneath it. She’ll try to get to me using…her…body.

Jesus Christ. I was right, she is going to try to pussy whip me. Not with a dress, though. No, no dress. Other than a string of pearls and the stilettoes on her feet, she’s naked.

Piero’s face is a picture when he walks in and sees her standing in all of her plastic titted glory. She just stares blankly as he scurries across the floor, dumps something steaming on the trolley, then fucks off again.

Next thing I know Bella is standing right beside me, dipping my chair back until I’m looking at the ceiling. Then I’m looking at the undersides of her tits, trying to force my cock to stay soft when I see her nipples bobbing a few inches from my nose.

What the hell is she doing? I hear a splattering noise that makes the childish side of me want to laugh. But do I dare? Nope. I just wait, trying to slow my pulse, trying to stop myself from salivating every time I imagine flicking the tip of my tongue over those pointy nipples.

Shit, her tits are pressed into the top of my head. They’re softer than I expected. Softer than any silicone tits I’ve ever felt. Her hands come into view, reaching for my face. Fuck…no! Dammit, that sigh got out before I could stop it. The lotion she’s rubbing into my chin, cheeks, and neck is so cool it’s the most heavenly thing I’ve felt today.

God, I want to suck her tits. If I reach back I could grab them, push them together, bring them to my mouth. They’d taste of expensive perfume and sweat salt…and fucking treachery. If I know her – and I do, all too well – she’d smother me with them if I dared touch her.

The hot towel slapping over the lower half of my face feels awful. She moulds it to my jaw, her pats a bit too hard to be considered friendly. I breathe in and catch a whiff of something I shouldn’t be smelling. Tangy. Musky. Sweet. A smell that has my tongue drowning in saliva, my cock raging in my pants. My eyes water, desperate to blink, but I don’t dare because I know that if I lower my lids I won’t be able to lift them again.

Sitting in this chair with tits in my hair, hands on my shoulders, the hot towel steaming the smell of cunt straight up my nose… I’m on my feet, forcing Bella to her knees, yanking her head forward by her ombre extensions and jamming my cock between her artificially plumped lips. Mascara tears fuck up her contouring, strings of spit run between her tits, my balls slap off her face and she looks up at me with pleading eyes. They’re not saying stop, they’re begging me to fuck her face harder.

The towel is whipped from my chin, and I look up at Bella. She’s smirking down at me as if she knows I’d checked out for a moment. As if she knows exactly where my mind had gone. I’m almost about to smirk back, but then I see the small brush in her hand. My balls shrink closer to my body and my asshole tightens when I see the foam-covered bristles move closer to my skin. Bella starts to dab and grind the brush into my whiskers, and I now know. Holy fuck, I know what’s coming.

No. A blade glints in her hand. No. I feel sick. Her tits are rubbing against my forehead, but I don’t give a fuck. God, Bella, please no.

When the edge of the razor touches my cheekbone, I become still. Stiller than I’ve ever been before. I’m not blinking or breathing. If I could stop my heart from beating, from sending blood pumping so close to that fucking blade, I would. My grip on the armrests intensifies, I tense my legs, trying to stop my cock from throbbing. She’s not even watching what she’s doing, she’s too busy staring at the twitching bulge at the top of my thighs.

Every rasping scrape gives me spasms in my gut. I feel like spiders are crawling all over my skin. A chill races down my spine, so cold you’d think someone had tumbled ice cubes down my back.

Scrape…scrape…scrape.

She’s moving over my stubbled jaw, getting closer to my throat. Under my chin…down the edge of my neck. Can she see my heartbeat shaking my shirt? When she reaches the base of my Adam’s apple she pulls the blade slowly up, holding it still just above it. She presses a little harder, and I look up at her. Terror. That’s what I’m feeling now. I don’t feel jealous or superior anymore. I can see now that she did more than fuck her way into the job that should have been mine when the old man died.

Bella meets my gaze with a steel filled one of her own. “Do we understand each other?” she asks quietly.

I’m so afraid to speak in case she cuts me, but I’m more afraid of what might happen if I don’t answer her. I barely move my lips when I mutter, “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

She uses the now warm towel to wipe the lingering foam from my face. I feel dizzy when she walks around the chair, I start shaking when releases my cock. A few lazy strokes make me shudder. A finger rubbing at a bead of precum makes me whimper. I feel like I could cry when she climbs on top of me and holds the blade against my throat, rocking her hips to make the lips of her cunt stroke my dick.

“When your father died, and I took over the business, one very important position was left unfilled. It’s yours if you want it. All you have to do is behave. Can you do that?”

I nod, knowing that I’m probably lying. Anyone would tell her whatever she wanted to hear in the same circumstances. No-one in their right minds would throw away a fuck like this for the sake of honesty. I never thought I’d be filling my father’s shoes in this way, but for now, I’ll take it.

Uh, what…where the hell is she going?!

Bella is on her feet, slipping the fur coat over her nakedness and the razor into her handbag. “Excellent. I’ll tell Piero that you’ll start on Monday. It’s been ages since this place had an apprentice, so you’d better do a good job, or I’ll be back to see you really soon.”

I watch her saunter across the room, rip open the door and spin the barber pole as she leaves. Goddam Bella fucking Rossi. Cut-throat bitch.


Prompt: Shaving

16 thoughts on “Cut-Throat

  1. I don’t know how I feel about her. Probably the same way he does. I wonder what that says about me that I can’t say that I like her even though I get her to a degree. Or I think I do at least.

    1. I don’t like either of them, I think they’re both a bag of dicks 😂 With the crime family setting they were never gonna be good people, though.x

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