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?

like Noah and the flood! I was at work. I was called to speak with the bosses after I made them hamburgers. Those men… No, not just men; Greek Gods sculpted from the finest marble. They

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

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

If circumstances were different, I definitely would ask

move my head slightly and can brush my 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

is a soft amber glow illuminating the room. I take in my surroundings. I am definitely in a

space around it. A large glass and mahogany table in the middle. A vase of 6 dozen or so red roses is placed in

to my far right some dark closed curtains,

so I am facing front. I see a closed red door along the wall in front of the bed, a very long mahogany dresser, also with an intricate pattern on the edges and a very large flat screen television flush against the wall. Two more closed doors painted the same dark red on the

close my eyes briefly for a breath as I lean against the silk pillow. When I open my eyes, are you kidding me?

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

lace bra and matching thin panties on as my bare legs and torso rub on the silk sheets. I try to once again to move my lower appendages, but