Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad

Chapter 0070

Kent moves around the table, and to my surprise, he takes a key out of his pocket and slides it under

the metal table. A mechanism snaps, and I feel a sudden give to my handcuffs as they are released

from the table.

Before I can pull away, Kent grabs the chain between the cuffs, taking control of my actions. He says

nothing as he starts moving towards the center of the room, pulling me roughly along with him. When

we reach a spot where a short chain is bolted to the floor, with an open padlock at the end, Kent stops.

He slowly brings my manacled hands close to his face, my body pulled close to his. "On your knees,

Fay," he says, firm..

My mouth hangs open in disbelief. Why? I try to speak, to question his demand.

"I said," he says, his brows knitting cruelly together. "On your knees."

Slowly, my earlier courage abandons me, and I begin to sink to my knees as Kent lowers his hand to

allow me to do so. I find myself resting there, my knees on the cold cement floor, my arms stretched

above my head, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Kent lowers one knee to the ground, maintaining eye contact with me. Then, slowly, he raises the chain

from the ground, wrapping it around the links of my handcuffs and sliding the padlock closed, creating a

perfect circle. I look down, realizing that I am once again contained, trapped, and at his mercy.

I gaze up at him as he stands tall. NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

"In this world, Fay," Kent says, his voice even and low, "you don't survive if you let people walk all over

you. My father tried that - tried to maintain this family's power by being kind, and fair, and logical."

Kent slides his hands into his pockets, his most controlled position, and bends at the waist, bringing his

face close to mine. "He was dead by the time I was eight."

My mouth falls open slightly, and I watch as his hands clench into fists in his pockets. "So when you tell

me," he continues, slowly circling me, "to trust you, to treat you as someone I trust, without having

earned it..."

I turn my head to watch him, but my movement is limited, my neck reaching its breaking point.

"You're asking me, then, Fay," he says, taking another step, "to act like a fool."

I try to turn further, but the handcuffs won't let me. I stare forward, my heartbeat and breath quickening.

I can't see him, don't know where he is. I listen intently, needing to know. Startled, I jump when I hear

his voice very close to my ear.

"Do you think I'm a fool, Fay?" his voice is a whisper, sending a shiver down my spine as his breath

brushes against my earlobe.

"No," I whisper, closing my eyes. In this moment, I feel completely different than I did just minutes ago

at the table. Then, I had the power, the information he wanted, the ability to provoke him with my

words, actions, and body. But now, everything has changed.

Kent is back in control, and he's going to make me pay for every bit of power I took from him at the

table. Pay it back tenfold.

"Good girl," he murmurs. Then, he starts walking again, continuing his circle. My eyes fly open, waiting

for him to come into my line of sight once more.

"Do you want me to trust you, Fay?" he asks, now at my right shoulder. I turn my head towards him.

"Y-yes," I say, unsure if that's truly what I want, but knowing it's the answer he expects.

"Well," he says, leaning down and towering over me, "you were wrong to doubt my vengeance, to think

that I wouldn't uncover your secrets."

My chest rises quickly now, and I sink closer to the ground, my knees splayed apart, forming a W-

shape, my rump resting on the floor. "I'm sorry," I breathe. "I won't do it again."

"Too late for that," he says, a small smile forming on his lips. "It's time for you to take your punishment.

And if you want me to trust you, then you'll have to take it without complaint and show me just how

obedient you can be."

Slowly, I nod. Internally, the surprise of being dragged to the center of the room wears off. The anger

and defiance I felt earlier at the table start to resurface, waiting on the tip of my tongue to be thrown in

his face.

Go ahead, Kent, I want to say. Hurt me. Let's see what it does.

But for some reason, I don't. Instead, I gaze up at him, my eyes wide, my mouth slightly open.

Slowly, I nod. "I'll be good for you, Kent," I hear myself whisper.

And suddenly, I realize it. I realize that I want this. That, goddamn it, some part of me likes this, likes

being chained to Kent's fucking basement floor and telling him I'll be obedient for him.

My breath quickens, my brows knit together as I think, what the fuck?

But Kent laughs lightly and my attention shifts back to him. "Good girl," he murmurs, looking down at

me. "I like it when you do as I say."

He reaches out a hand, curling his index finger under my chin, slowly dragging his thumb across my

lower lip. "Get back on your knees, Fay," Kent whispers to me.

I blink at him and, for some reason, I don't comply. It's not that I don't understand him; I just... don't.

Kent laughs lightly, and I remain perfectly still as he returns his thumb to the dimple at the center of my

full bottom lip. Then, leisurely, he slides his thumb into my mouth.

I feel it slip down the soft wetness of my tongue, caressing it. I close my mouth slightly, just enough for

my teeth to press lightly against his flesh.

"I said," Kent’s voice is rough as he suddenly tightening his grip on my chin, causing me to gasp, "to

get on your knees, Fay."

Quickly, I obey, pulling myself back up to my knees with difficulty.

"Good girl," he murmurs, loosening his grip on me and taking his thumb out of my mouth.

I leave my mouth hanging open as Kent stands up, walking slowly around me until he again disappears

from my sight. For a few moments, I keep my eyes closed, straining my ears to hear beyond the sound

of my own panting breath, trying to decipher what he's doing.

He's at the back of the room now, opening something on a hinge, moving things around. Damn it, I

want to see. I have to know. Shivers run all over my skin in anticipation and fear.

I hear his steps approaching me again, and I press my eyes closed.

"Lean forward, Fay," he commands. Without protest, I do as he says, moving my shoulders forward so

that my chest is angled towards the ground. "Further, Fay," he says impatiently. "Put your arms on the

ground."

I whimper lightly, but the sound fails to express the complexity of my emotions as I press my forearms

to the ground in front of me, lifting my hips and ass into the air.