The Four Mafia Men and Their Prize by M C

6 – Oh My Sweet Potatoes
Aurora POV

Blackness. That is the first thing I recognized.

My eyes felt like pounds of bricks on my face. My head felt like I was hungover. My b o d y feels so sore, like I haven’t moved in days. A constant thumping pressure from my temples. I try to move my hands to my face only to be stopped by a clinking sound and pressure on my wrists above my head. Cuffs? I pull my hands a few more times but there is no release.

I take a breath and try to open my eyes to see where I am. My eyes still feel too heavy like the darkness wants to consume me once again. I focus on my other senses. I don’t want to fall back into darkness.

I am lying down. Maybe I am in bed? I wiggle my b o d y slowly, feeling my joints strain and my muscles ache. “Ugh” I moan out. I try to move my ankles only to feel the same restrictive pressure on my ankles stopping my movements. I huff out an angry breath. This is just great, sarcastically of course.

My head still feels like a balloon filled with ice. The sharp burn behind my eyes doesn’t help the now burning sensation on my wrists as I continue to pull at the restraints. I shake my head from side to side trying to relieve the pressure.

Ugh! This is so frustrating; I think to myself. Where the h e l l am I? What the f u c k happened? My mind is still a bit foggy, so I allow myself a few moments to let my b o d y readjust. I notice first my throat feels dry like sandpaper, almost as if I walked a marathon in the desert.

I try to swallow some spittle, although it does absolutely nothing to quench my thirst. What the h e l l happened?

speak with the bosses after I made them hamburgers. Those men… No, not just men; Greek Gods sculpted

on the restraints again, like a madwoman. They do not budge and now I just

look around my surroundings. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be at the

on is soft. Like a cloud. I feel something on top of most of my b o d y, keeping in the warmth like a hug. If circumstances were different, I definitely would ask where I could get such a glorious mattress. Netflix and I would

cheek against my arm. I smell vanilla on me. It’s a warm and calming scent like freshly baked cupcakes on a Sunday afternoon. I have always loved this scent. My nose is consumed by this endearing fragrance, lifting some of the fog from my brain and taking away some of the piercing

to clear the blurry haze of such a deep sleep. There is a soft amber glow illuminating the room. I take in

carvings and burgundy red accent pillows and luscious matching red carpet frame the space around it. A large glass and mahogany table in the middle. A vase of 6 dozen or so red roses is placed in the center of the

my far

wall in front of the bed, a very long mahogany dresser, also with an intricate pattern on the edges

pillow. When I open my eyes, are you kidding me? Straight above me is a full size mirror the entire length of the

and see I am covered by a burgundy red silk sheet and matching duvet from the chest down. My face looks soft, and my hair is braided. I never braid my hair. The restraints on my arms are brown and thick and connected to a post in the headboard. While my wrists are close together above my head, the thick bands make it almost impossible for me to move my wrists. There is no way I can reach my

a k e d. I can feel under the sheets that I only have on my black lace bra and matching thin panties on as my bare legs and torso rub on the silk