Mafia Toy

One million dollars per year.

That’s how much the mafia boss and his wife offered me to be their toy. They wanted me to live in their home, sleep in their bed, and submit to them on my hands and knees at a moment’s notice. The deal was to do whatever they wanted sexually and nothing more.

I nervously walked into the Buratti Family club, or more infamously known as The Syndicate, and to the back where the towering security guard in a black suit and black sunglasses stood with his fingers intertwined in front of his body. With their contract in my hand and my heart racing a million miles a second, I stared up at him.

“I’d like to see Constantino, please,” I whispered.

After looking me up and down, he nodded and guided me to Constantino’s office.

Of course, the money wasn’t legal, and the job came with countless cons. If anyone found out about me, I’d be harassed by the cops, targeted by rival families, and seen as nothing more than a filthy, easy slut by the Buratti relatives.

But I’d b