by Amy Isan
His eyes move from mine and focus on the camera.
"Sir, I,..." but before I can finish he rips the camera from my hands. He kneels down and picks up the photograph I dropped. It's fully developed now, and he's staring at the picture of me like I look like a monster. He shakes his head.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing with this?" he asks as he grips my arm again. I wince from his fingers digging between my muscles. Fuck, is he trying to break my skin?
"Fucking let go of me!" I yell, surprising him. His grip loosens enough for me to push him over. He stumbles to his ass as I stand up and start running down this unfamiliar wing of the house. The hallway ends and I spill out into a grand entryway, with a stairway hugging the wall up and around the front door. Marble covers everything in this front room, and my feet alternate from padded rug to hard marble floor as I just keep running.
I dash past several servants who are carrying plates and dishes. I'm sure they're staring at me now. I can hear Giovanni yelling to them, his shoes hard on the exposed marble as he sprints to catch up to me. I refuse to look back. I can't.
The french-style double doors are a dead giveaway for the entrance. I race up to them and crash against the hard wood and glass, before managing to push one of the doors open. I stumble out and down the steps of the mansion.
I'm waiting for the reassuring sound of the door slamming shut, but Giovanni catches it and sprints down the steps. He calls after me with each step and the knot in my chest tightens at the thought of what he'll do to me if he catches me.
Fields of grass and flowers surround me and block my vision of the house. I don't even know where I am anymore in relation to it, my exhaustion and hunger finally taking their toll on me.
The slice of horizon that I can see is flat and useless, with a tinge of blue at the very edge. I can't be on a fucking island, can I?
I look over my shoulder and Giovanni's powerful body is closing the gap, his arms and legs pumping like he's a lion about to tear down a confused antelope. He's still wearing his suit jacket and tie. I can't let him catch me, not now, not after what I did in the studio, what I stole, and how I pushed him down.
I look away from the endless dirt road and dive into one of the gardens full of flowers. Thorns prick me and cut into my shoulders, but I ignore them, pushing forward into the dense brush. I just have to stay hidden, just stay hidden.
I have no plan and I really need one. I don't want to find out what he'll do if he catches me. Kill me? Maybe he is a killer, how could I really know?
He yells from behind me, I hope from the dirt road. "Lily! I don't know where you think you're going!" He pauses, for breath I assume, and I keep pushing deeper. The next time he yells, his voice is more distant. "You don't know this," he yells. "But you're on an island. There's no where to go."
I stop dead in my tracks. Leaves brush against my shoulders and cheeks. I'm so tightly wedged in the dense garden that the plants tower over me and I can only see the sky if I look straight up. The blue glimmer peeks through the gnarled and long vines of flowers. The sweet scent of rose and petunia and other flowers catches me now that I've stopped running.
What's the use? I collapse to the ground, the soil caking my legs and knees. I grasp my knees and dig my chin against them. What the fuck was I thinking? My body catches up with my mind and I start to shake. Fear and horror overwhelm me. He isn't lying. Even if he was, who's to say I'd even escape him? I'm sure he has a car or something. What the fuck am I going to do? What the fuck is he going to do to me?
After a few minutes, rustling comes from my left and I stare into the dense shrubbery. The sound grows louder and louder, until Giovanni emerges in the tiny space I've made for myself.
It's cramped with him here. His shiny italian shoes are scuffed up, not looking nearly as delicate as they did in the bathroom. I trace his legs up and see that his jacket is torn at the shoulders and his tie is loosened. His hair is disheveled. Most importantly though, he doesn't have that fury in his eyes that I expected to see. They're the same sea green they always have been, just as guarded, just as distant. He isn't mad?
He leans down and grabs my arm and hoists me up. Then, without any effort, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I don't resist, I can't bring myself to. He navigates through the thick garden of flowers until we're back in the open air again. There's a small patch of lilies sprouting on the perimeter, their buds just starting to peel open.
I start to cry as he ascends the steps to the front door of the house. He takes me down the halls to my room, to my prison, to my hell. He throws me through the doorway, and I crumple like paper on the floor, before curling into a ball. Is he going to kick me? I can't even imagine anymore. My cheeks are damp and my mouth and chin hurt from sobbing.
Giovanni stares down at me.
I open my mouth to say something, but he doesn't give me a chance. He passes into my room and picks me up by my hand and takes me to the bed. The cuffs. Not again. I try and fight him, but my energy, and most of all, my hope is completely drained.
"No! Not the cuffs again, please, master, sir! Don't!"
"This is what happens when you disobey," he explains. He pulls my wrists toward the head of the bed and locks both of my hands into their cuffs. I'm facing the front of the bed. At least when he restrained me before I was on my back and could sleep. What can I do like this, with my elbows almost balancing me on the headboard?
My knees sink into the mattress, and I suddenly feel his hand graze my arm and my back. He lifts my dress up and lets it fall like unwanted tissue paper against my lower back. My panties are exposed to him, the air tickling the underside of my thighs and lower back.
"This is what happens when you fight me," he says. He spanks me, pushing me forward in my restraints and making the metal dig into my forearms. My tears dry on my face, and he spanks me again. I'm growing flustered and red faced, but I don't want him to know. I can't let him know. This has to be a punishment.
He spanks me again and I bite my lips and lower my head to hide myself from him. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. He spanks me again and then grabs my chin and lifts my head to look at me. He turns my face back and forth, as if he's studying it. "Just as I thought... you are a little slut."
"I am..." He spanks me. "...not," I argue. Giovanni's firm hand swats my ass and rocks my knees forward on the sheets, forcing the fitted sheet out from under the mattress. My face burns like hot coals and my chest feels like I'm breathing smoke. "I am not... sir," I say.
He spanks me and lets out a groan as he does. I close my eyes and he takes his hand off my face. I'm just waiting for it, but another spank doesn't come. The bed shifts as he climbs on top of it and I feel his slacks brush my exposed calves and ankles. What's he doing? I hear the characteristic sound of a zipper coming undone. The stretch of elastic. The light from the window is hitting the side of my face, and the door is wide open.
"Master..." I beg, "Don't," I say. The words sound fake, even to me, and I want to believe them. Am I just pretending to put up a fight? I stare at my bound hands and squint against the sunlight. My wrists ache and I can still feel the dried tears on my face. I feel a warmth graze my panties from below, and I dip my head and see his exposed cock rubbing against me. I shift and try and push him away, but he catches his balance and grabs my hips to steady himself. It's the first time I've seen his cock outside his pants, and I'm conflicted.
"I told you that you'd be punished, Lily."
"Sir... ah..." I let a moan slip through. I can't... be enjoying this, can I? I'm fucking mixed up. I'm not like this... I've never been into this...
He grinds against me and I let out more strained moans. He grunts in pleasure and grips my hips, pulling my ass to meet his waist. I throw my head up to get my hair out of my face. He leans forward and gathers my hair up in his hand and yanks my head back. A shudder crawls up my back, which is growing sticky with sweat from the heat pouring in through the window. He thrusts his cock be
tween my thighs and makes me swoon. His head grazing my clit and making my breath catch in my throat.
Then, as quickly as it all started, it stops. Giovanni lets go of my hair and I stare at him. He lets out a low chuckle as our eyes meet. He pushes his cock into his pants and zips back up. He climbs off the bed and stares at my body that's still exposed; my dress pushed up above my ass. My panties are soaked and uncomfortable.
"You're special, Lily, I'll give you that. But you'll break just like the rest of them. Just like they all have. I'm afraid."
I spit as I scream back at him, frustrated that he keeps doing this to me. "Who, who has? What do you even want with me! What's with all these games? The shit in the bathroom, then the studio!" I'm in no position to argue, but what else can he do at this point that would be any worse? I'm already restrained and aroused, confused and pissed off all at once.
"There's no reason to spoil the surprise," he says. He laughs a little, it's low and like velvet. I glare at him, desperately wishing that he's joking. That he isn't going to actually leave me like this.
He backs out of the door. With his eyes still on me, he grabs the handle and closes the door. The lock slides shut, and I'm left restrained on my knees and half naked. At least I have sunlight this time...
And my mind is refreshed. I have to figure out what he wants with me. Something about when he fucked with me last time in the bathroom. He mentioned a flame or spark in my eye, just before he stopped fingering me.
Is it a sex thing? Or is it something else?
My elbows hurt from my weight against the headboard, and I slide backwards on the bed. The fitted sheet tangles around my feet and annoys me. If I keep my elbows slightly bent, I can just barely touch the bed with my forehead. That's better than nothing, at least.
He might have even more punishments in store, like an actual torture dungeon. I should be grateful he left me only restrained.
I should be.
CHAPTER 6
I sleep like shit, but what else can I expect? My arms ache and elbows feel dead. My neck aches beyond reason and feels like my head is gonna snap off my body. Fuck, that'd be almost a relief with this kind of agony. How I managed to sleep at all is a mystery to me. Drool is splattered on my face, and I wipe it off with my inner elbow.
I blink and try to remember why I woke up in the first place. The door unlocked, that's what it was. I turn to look just as the door is cracked and a servant slips inside. It's the same one who scolded me the day I woke up here. She must be the one he called Monica.
"Hello, Monica," I say, gritting my teeth. She recoils a little at the mention of her name, and I can't help but smile a little. I wish she'd come a little closer so I could bite her god damn face off. That'd wipe the smug smile right from her face, I bet. "I'm not really in the mood to get fucking bitched at, so please, hurry up with it."
She frowns. Monica crosses the room and comes close to me. My heart pounds and my skin bristles with energy. I'm ready to snap at her if I have to. She produces a key from her pocket and unlocks my cuffs, letting my wrists get some rest. I ache all over. It's like someone filled my veins with concrete. I collapse to my stomach and rest my neck entirely on the bed, before glancing up at her.
"Giovanni sent me to unlock you. He doesn't want to see you today." She sound displeased, as if she argued for the opposite. She doesn't meet my eyes.
"He hasn't found me 'unacceptable' yet," I say, goading her. I want her to show me that anger she had for me the first time she came in. That contempt and loathing that came off her in waves. Right now it just feels like she couldn't care, which is almost worse.
She ignores me and goes back to the door. She grabs the door and stops just as she has one foot out of the room.
"He will, there's still time. He always does. I bet you think he's going to kill you, don't you?" she says.
I don't sit up or answer. She chuckles under her breath, a little life coming into her eyes. "Giovanni is someone very special, I hate to see him waste his time on someone who clearly isn't." Then she leaves and shuts the door. I wait for the sound of the lock, but it doesn't come. Her feet echo through the courtyard as she walks away from my room.
I guess they don't expect me to make a run for it again, and that's a pretty good bet. I'm too curious now what's going on to even bother. I saw what was out there. Nothing but gardens and dirt roads. If we're really on an island, I'd have no fucking way of getting out of here without Giovanni's special permission. The sooner I find out what he wants from me, the better.
It isn't sex, because there have been plenty of opportunities for that. I just can't even imagine. He said he'd make me a model, and the one photo shoot we did ended with him storming out after I teased him.
If he doesn't kill them, what does he do to the unacceptable ones? What happened to them? He's brutal, aggressive and vicious. I need to do everything I can to turn the tables on him. Like I managed in the studio. Like I dared to be in the hotel. Those were my chances to bring down that wall in his eyes that keeps the tide locked in. I hope it won't drown me.
— — —
I climb out of bed and pick out an outfit that I'm sure will please Giovanni if he does decide to see me today. I'm sick of lying around and not doing anything, so maybe it's time to try and get my hands dirty. If I can't run away, I can do other things.
I open my underwear drawer and dig out a fresh pair. I reach back further to grab the tie that I took from him, but instead my hand hits a hard piece of plastic. Puzzled, I grasp it and pull it out, its weight is strange. I withdraw my hand and discover the Polaroid camera in place of the tie.
What the fuck? When did he trade the tie for the camera? I reach back into the depths of the drawer and feel two photos. I take them out. One is of the storage room and the other is my goofy face. Why give these to me?
Nothing makes any sense in this place, and it feels like it's only getting worse every day. If he's trying to make me go insane, he might be succeeding after all.
I tuck the camera back into the drawer and finish getting dressed, putting on a red dress that is the same fit as the blue one that Giovanni picked out for me the first time we ate together. I grip my wrist where he restrained me as we ate, and recall him climbing over the table in rage when I disobeyed him. His face was swollen and red-veined, but I only feel raw from the memory. Is something wrong with me?
The room swirls around me and I grab the armoire to keep my balance. After the dizzy-spell passes, I go to the door to leave.
As I grab the handle, I hold my breath, bracing myself for the lock to be latched again. The curved handle rotates downward and the door pops open. I exhale deeply.
Outside in the courtyard and stone-tiled halls, it smells like fresh rain. The plants and grass in the center of the room are dewy with water, and grey clouds make the light seem even more eerie. The only source of light in the courtyard and halls here is the open roof, so with it being overcast, it's extra dim. I make my way back to the dining hall where Giovanni first took me, but find the door locked.
What am I going to do about food? I hate feeling like this, like I'm some kind of caged pet that gets fed on the owner's schedule. At least give me an automatic dispenser.
Worse yet, I'm not even caged anymore. If I was caged, I wouldn't have hope of finding food, I'd just suffer.
This is much worse. At least I knew I was a prisoner before. Now I just feel... homeless. I look around the courtyard and frown. Monica said Giovanni didn't want to see me, but who says he gets to decide?
Probably all his servants, and the locks on every door in the house. I mutter to myself and wander back toward the entrance of the house. I stare out the bay windows next to the front door and replay my stupid escape attempt. Where I dropped down from the stoop and dove into the wildflowers. The thought of running again occurs to me, but the thrashing sea on the horizon is a cruel reminder of how useless it is.
Now that I'm not running for my life, I can actually look around the
entrance. It is as overly decorated as the hallways we passed through to reach the photography studio. Thick carpets line the floors where stone would usually be, and the arched ceilings have huge wooden beams criss-crossing each other. Paintings that look familiar, but only because I must have seen copies of them my whole life, line the walls. I'm sure these aren't copies, just like the others I saw.
It all reeks of... showmanship. Like, what's the point? Does he even notice the filigree in the carved wood beams on the ceiling? There's a large staircase that winds up to the second floor, which acts as a loft for this front room.
I grab the polished banister and ascend the steps slowly. I feel buzzed, like I'm breaking some law or rule and someone is going to catch me. What else can they do at this point that they haven't already done? What can Giovanni really do to me if he doesn't want to see me? The stairs are silent, not a single one creaks as I make it up the flight.
The second floor matches the layout of the first floor. In the courtyard, it's easy enough to lean over the wrought-iron railings and peer into the sky or down into the shrubs. The doors are all in the same places, and it's almost enough to make me think I'm in a dream. A convoluted nightmare where every turn I take is the same and no one is here to help me. No one is on my side at all.
I find the room directly above mine and pull on the handle. It opens with little effort, and inside, I find a sparsely decorated and unused room. Its floors are wood and covered in a thin layer of dust, save for the center. A sleeping bag is in the center, half unzipped and curled up like it's a discarded skin belonging to whatever animal used to live in it.
Ugh, where's my mind going anymore? A nightmare is right. The room feels eerie and... hollow.
The window's shutters are open and bars are covering it, just like my room.