by Amy Isan
"You're twisted, master," I say, my voice rising and frightening me. "Twisted and wrong. All these women... all these servants... I'm sure you told them all the same thing. That they were the one. The one that would change everything for you, that would reinvigorate you." He's glaring at me with a cold look that makes my chest knot, but I push forward anyway. "Haven't you ever thought the problem was you?"
He doesn't blink. His hand resting between his legs keeps clenching and unclenching. His jaws tightens. I'm ready to take another beating if it means giving him a piece of my mind, to savor that look he'll get when he breaks loose and those walls come down.
I'm ready to endure the kitchens, the hell, the work, if it means he'll have to worry about finding another woman. If he'll have to worry about his fucking career. If anything like that happens at all, then I'll be vindicated. That'll be my freedom, for now.
He bursts into laughter and hunches over his knees, each laugh pouring over the last. He squeezes his sides and tries to stop, but it only makes him laugh harder. He rolls back onto the bed and keeps laughing, his body thrashing with each seizure. I realize at that moment I'm unchained. He's caught off guard. I can do anything.
I stare at the cuff that's still attached to the bed post, and I yank it off. The metal scrapes the ringlet as I pull them down, and I twist in my seat to grab his arm. He's already caught me though, and he's sitting up with his eyes boring into me like a drill chewing through wood. Our faces are inches apart, and his breathing is hard and fast through his nose. I'm frozen solid, my hand still tight on the cuffs, and the other bracing the bed as I turned to face him. He slowly rises up off the bed and moves past me. I can't follow him. I can't move, I'm still frozen in fear. That look in his eyes. My heart is stuck in my throat and my stomach is churning like a pot of boiling water.
From behind, he pushes me down against the bed and I slam into the mattress. I bounce a little, but not before he catches my waist and drags me closer to the edge. "Sir —!"
He spanks my ass, hard. I yelp out in confusion, and he spanks me again. "Master!" I'm enflamed, my body warm and ready since he let me taste his cock earlier. He spanks me again, his broad hand striking my ass with a force that rattles my teeth. "Ah...!"
"You like this, don't you?" he says. "Do you know why I'm punishing you, Lily?"
He spanks me again. "Ah... Master... I... I'm sorry."
"Because you're disobedient. You're a liar and a coward," he insults me. I glance over my shoulder to meet his eyes, but he reaches forward and pushes my face back. "Don't look at me," he demands. He spanks me again and another jolt of electricity shakes my body. His other hand squeezes my thigh and then rises up my leg between my lips. I gasp as he rubs his hand against me, grinding my pussy through my panties. He spanks me again and I lose focus of everything. "Master!"
"Call me Master again, sweet Lily," he says. I hear him yank on some fabric, maybe loosening his tie, but I don't dare look back at him. He spanks me once more.
"Master!... Ah..." I let out a sigh. I'm still stunned from his gaze.
"They all crumble when they're really challenged," he says. "All women just want a strong man to take care of them, to control them, to dominate them. You're no different."
"Sir... I..." He spanks me again, silencing me mid-protest.
"You love this. You get off to it, thinking about it. Those eyes you gave me in the bathtub. That was true vulnerability. You keep fighting it though, and I don't know why." He stops spanking me for a second, just to hike my dress up and grab the edges of my underwear. A thrill rises up my spine as he yanks my underwear to my knees. My ass is exposed to the air, and now his hands will be touching my skin with each spank. He spanks me again and makes me moan. "You see? You love being controlled. You've been missing it your whole life. Being told what to do is what you crave. Haven't you ever wanted to just let someone else decide? To release you from any responsibilities?"
He runs his finger up my labia and makes me raise my hips in anticipation. He hasn't touched me quite like this before. My body begs for him to brush my clit, but he pulls away just as he's about to reach it. I groan in frustration and confusion. He spanks me again as I try to grab his hand and make him finger me properly.
"Stop trying to control everything, Lily," he says. "Give me the reins and I can show you how life should be lived. Worry free, carefree, and most of all, full of pleasure. But only if you listen to me. Only if you yield to me." He runs his fingers up and down my pussy, but doesn't touch my clit again. I'm burning for him, that deep chasm inside me begging to be filled with him. No other thoughts can penetrate my mind, not even ones that confuse. I just want his bare cock inside me, pumping and filling me to the brim.
"Master..." I begin. He spanks me, as I thought he would. "Ah... fuck me."
"You want me to fuck you? Is that an order?"
"No... Sir... a prayer." I mean every word, and it feels like I'm not even saying them. Why would I pray for that?
"A prayer," he repeats. "I think I can satisfy one prayer today." He grips my hips and pulls me closer to the edge of the bed, until my legs hang off of it. I can feel a rush of air on my ass as he unbuckles his belt and slides it off, then his pants come undone. It's really going to happen, isn't it?
"Master..."
I can feel his cock gliding against my lips, the head just barely creeping near my clit. I still can't look at him.
"Yes?"
"Don't go easy on me."
"I never planned on it." He grips my hips. My hands grip the sheets. He pushes my dress higher up my back and slides his cock against my pussy, making me gasp with short bursts of moans. I want it so bad it's making me crazy.
The head of his cock enters me, his smooth skin inching into me and making me see stars. I shut my eyes and pull the fitted sheet from the corners of the bed, just as his root hits my ass. I hold my breath without realizing it, until he slides out, slowly, then rams back into me with a powerful stroke. I scream aloud, my face red and my body thrashing. "Giovanni!"
"I told you this is what you needed," he says. He pounds me again and pushes me forward against the sheets, his strokes so fast and quick that the bottom half of the fitted sheet comes loose. The bed is quickly becoming a mess, the sheets tangling around my arms and legs as he fucks me from behind. His hands move to hold my ass in place, which only lets him go faster and harder on me. Last time he just teased me, but this time, I can feel his girth and hardness inside me. His cock twitches hard each time he pounds me, and I just want to push against him.
I try to grab the bed and push my hips back into his root, but he forces me down to my stomach, making my weakened elbows collapse. With the side of my face pressed against the sheets, he grabs my thighs and separates my legs a bit, before somehow reaching even deeper into me. I can't... I can't believe it.
"Master... keep going... I want you to..."
"Yes?" he says. His breath is growing ragged and shallow, like when I was sucking him off. I lick my lips thinking of that task: how smooth he was, how he tasted. How his seed felt on my tongue. I clench my thighs tight together and hold him inside me, making him fight harder to penetrate me.
"I want to feel you finish in me, sir... ah..." I let out a moan. He spanks me and I yelp, and he grinds his cock against me even harder. With my body pushed forward and collapsed against the bed, every stroke slaps his balls against my pussy, and the bed grinds against my clit. The moans are pouring out of me like tears. I let out strangled cries as climaxes shake me, one after the other. I lost count after the first thrust of his manhood into my body. That deep desire I've been begging for since the hotel. Since he forced me to finger myself in front of him and his camera. He grunts and holds tight, and I dig my ass into him, pushing him deeper and deeper as he groans and climaxes.
His cock twitches and I feel the heat inside me with each pulse of my heart. He just came inside me, didn't he? A chill runs up my body as his sweaty hands stroke my back. I wanted it that badly, an
d I don't regret it, but Jesus Christ. I'm accusing him of being twisted and fucked up? I let out a sigh and he slides out, his dick still hard as polished stone. He spanks my ass with his cock, almost a little aftershock from the spankings he gave me earlier. My ass is sore. I exhale deeply and feel the exhaustion overwhelm me. The excitement of it all still driving my heart up into my throat. I feel better, but... it isn't enough.
I consider the other women in the building, especially Monica. When was the last time they were fucked? If he cast them aside, when did he? Was it right after he'd used them all up?
I feel his lips on my ass as he kisses me, before he rises to his feet and walks into the bathroom. His button down shirt and tie are still on, but his pants and socks are off. His ass is chiseled like marble, and I can't help but stare as he disappears into the brightly lit room to clean himself up.
Speaking of cleaning up... I could use some of that. Sticky with sweat, filled with cum, I don't want to move. I turn my head toward the bathroom and wait for him. Maybe he's right. I should just give in, let him take the reins, let him assume control. I haven't been doing a very good job of it myself, have I?
He returns from the bathroom and tosses a towel my way. I grab it and wrap myself in it, rolling in the bed. I stand up and our eyes meet, even though I only come up to his shoulder. He grips my arms and gives me a peck on the cheek, and then brushes past me. Giovanni grabs his clothes off the floor and goes into the closet.
"You may use my shower, Lily, this one time."
"Thank you, Master."
"But leave the door open," he calls back to me. I release my grip from the door to hang the towel and turn the shower on. Steam pours from the stall and touches the ceiling, before disappearing into the vent above.
A shower will hopefully clear my head of all these fucked up thoughts I keep having. If it doesn't put me to sleep first. I'm so god damn tired...
CHAPTER 9
I don't remember finishing my shower. I don't remember getting hauled back to my room, but that's where I am when I wake up. Light pours through the open window and I stretch out to get a huge breath of fresh air. I'm feeling... a lot less pissed off. Maybe Giovanni is right... The one thing I've always lacked in my life is control. Someone to give my problems to, to let them handle everything. I was never religious growing up, so I've never had that reassurance. Maybe I need that kind of power. The power to let things go.
My wrists are bound to the bed frame again, but I don't even care. Soon, I'm sure, someone will be in to tend to me. Maybe Giovanni himself will take me to eat, like he did one of the first days we were here. I rest my arms and close my eyes, simply admiring the fragrance from the garden coming in through the window. The sun is shining onto my bed, the heat warming my skin through the sheets. I actually smile, and it feels almost funny to do so.
A knock on the door turns my head. Metal slides into metal, the lock clicks open, and Giovanni is standing in my doorway. He doesn't look any different than yesterday, almost like our little tryst in his room never happened. I flash him a look of gratitude as he unlocks my wrists and lets me stand up.
"Thank you, sir," I say. He nods to me and I dutifully go to the armoire to pick out an outfit. Before I finally decide, I look at him. "Shouldn't you pick it out?"
"You're right. I should." He brushes past me and I inhale a deep whiff of his intoxicating, liberating scent. He pulls out a flowery dress, similar cut as the others, and hands it to me. "We're going to the studio this morning. We're going to take some more pictures."
"Yes, sir." I dress as he waits for me at the doorway. If I had any thoughts of escaping, they'd be impossible with him standing there like a brick wall. I don't though, which feels nice. Constantly looking for a way out... exhausted me more than I thought it would.
We go down the halls to the photography studio again, and Stephan does my make-up once more. I sit, not fighting a single moment of him running make-up over my face. When he's finished, Giovanni orders me to move in front of the camera.
This time a couch is present, with a lamp and end table. The lighting is set to a dim yellow, and it evokes a comforting, home-like feeling. The white sheet that was behind me has been replaced with props of a set. Strange. Why not just take pictures in Giovanni's actual house? Only then do I realize there are more people in the room than last time.
Several men dressed in suits and ties, some holding briefcases, are standing stoically behind the camera. They're closer to the door than the stage. I can't get a good look or feel on them, because Giovanni snaps his fingers to get my attention.
"Okay, Lily, I need you to pick up that book on the table and open it. You can read it if you'd like, but it doesn't really matter."
"Yes, sir." I don't even feel any humility calling him sir in front of the other people anymore. It's invigorating. He flashes a smile at me and I pick up the book and open it. It's a photography book, a kind of coffee table book if I ever saw one. It's filled with models, nude and dressed, all posed in strange positions. Not macabre or gross, but bizarre. Everyone is frozen like they were captured seconds before they were told a picture would be taken of them.
The lights all flash as the shutter goes off. I flip the page, and the lights go off again.
"Okay, pull down the top of your dress, show me your breasts," Giovanni commands. His voice is firm and not joking at all. I stare through the lens at him and knit my brow. I don't know about getting nude around these people. "Go on, Lily, These men are professionals."
"Yes, master," I say. I feel a thrill as I unhitch the straps on the dress and drop the top down, exposing my bra. My bra comes undone just as easily, and I pick up the book again. Giovanni waves the book away.
"Put that down and look at the camera."
"What... sir... is this for?"
"Just some test shots. Stop asking questions," he says. Is that what the coffee book contains, test shots? Almost every page has women on it, only a few men are scattered through the couple of pages I flipped through. And the men weren't nude.
I stare into the lens and the lights all flash again. The shutter clicks.
"Perfect," Giovanni says. He pulls up from the camera's viewfinder and his eyes pierce me. He's reading me. I look at the book and see his name plastered on the front of it. There's no title on the front. Maybe the missing dust-cover would have a title? Either way... none of the pictures were for any advertisements, that's for sure.
"Sir...?"
He grows a bit cross. "Lily. What did I say?"
"Sorry, sir." I hang my head down, and he comes past the cameras to reach me. His finger goes under my chin and he tilts my face up to meet his. I stare into his fierce eyes and feel a storm raging inside them. Some conflict he can't solve, he can't justify. After a microsecond, the storm disappears behind a wall of stone and I can't see it anymore.
"You'll be fed soon enough, don't worry," he says. For once, he's misread my mind. I keep my mouth shut and let him believe he caught me again. He moves behind the camera and asks me to look at the camera. "Look... like you did last night."
I blush quickly and stare into the lens. I give the camera, and its handsome operator a look I wish I could have given the night before. When he was taking me from behind and I tried to look at him. He pushed my face away. I wanted to stare at him, to make him feel what I felt. We did share it. I know it.
"Ah. Smoldering. Perfect," he says. He clicks the shutter a few more times, and the lights flash in sync. I realize that it isn't just the one camera he's controlling, but the three positioned at different angles around the room. "Now... take off your dress."
My face burns again as I look from Giovanni to the other men in the room. What if I refuse? Will I get spanked again? It almost feels like Giovanni made a mistake with how he punished me. He must've have meant to make them arousing and painful at the same time. I obey him anyway, crumpling the top against my waist then pulling it down off my legs. "Your panties, too, Lily."
"Yes, Maste
r." I slip them off and drop them to the floor. He gives me a grin only demons should and snaps a few more photos. After he's finished, he wipes his forehead.
"Alright, gentlemen, you may leave now. I hope you're satisfied."
The men in suits nod and Giovanni shakes each of their hands in turn. "I'm sure we'll be in touch soon." They all file out of the room. Stephan and the last remaining man also get the boot. Giovanni and I are alone again, and he walks up past the row of cameras and steps onto the small platform I'm on. The stage, he'd call it, I'm sure.
He leans down and reaches under the couch, and pulls out the Polaroid camera he had taken from me yesterday. I'm still flushed from undressing in front of all the men, and seeing him produce the Polaroid is surprising. My jaw drops and eyes widen, just as he lifts it and takes a photo. The film peels out from the bottom with a whirring noise, and he plucks it free from the camera. He blows on it and shakes it gently, his arm resting on his knee from his squatting position. "I think that one... is going to be perfect."
"I thought the others were perfect, master?"
"They were, but they were business related. This one... this one is just for me."
"Why?" I want to probe further and ask who those men were, but I don't push my luck. I don't want to go another whole day without food because I managed to get on Giovanni's nerves. The anxiety I thought I was free from earlier returns with a fury.
He shakes the Polaroid a bit more as the image darkens on the white sheet. He looks at me, his expression serious and his tone grave. "A photographer tries to capture the essence of his subject, when they're at their most vulnerable, their most defeated, their most candid. Some will do anything to accomplish this, even if it involves kidnapping a beautiful woman from everything she knows and loves. I believe..." he looks at the Polaroid, "I've finally done it with you."
My heart seizes. Is this what Monica was talking about? Is my time over with him? The men with the briefcases, what were they doing here? The only time I've seen a briefcase in my life, it had random forms and a Garfield plush in it. I doubt those cases have anything but money in them...