by Jesse Jordan
“I'll think about it,” Larissa says with a pleased smirk. “But unfortunately, I have some business that will keep me out of town for the next week or two. You mind if I pay you a visit when I return?”
“Why Larissa, what's with the newfound respect for the boundaries of my villa?” I ask teasingly, and she laughs. “You've never had them before.”
“Maybe I'm just giving you space to train your new pet the way she's supposed to be. Especially in the ways you want her to specifically serve you. I might not have the... imagination you do?” Larissa teases, and I laugh.
“Larissa, there is nothing that I could do to that girl that you haven't done at least a dozen times,” I joke, and Larissa nods wisely. “You're an encyclopedia of seduction.”
“I like that. A lot better than being called The Dryad,” she says with a smirk. “Well, in any case, I'll come by when I get back.”
We walk silently for a while, up and out of the historical area of Caccamo and along one of the minor roads that radiate out from the area towards the various villas. When we get to the top of a small hillock, I look back and see the castle, which is still lit despite the late hour. “I guess the town wants still more tourists.”
“They've got to spend the money from the national government somehow,” Larissa says with a chuckle. “It's a good town though. Not quite as good as my hometown, but still a good town.”
“You ever imagine retiring to a place like this?” I ask, squatting down and picking up a pebble that I toss into the night. “I mean, really retiring, like getting out of the business?”
Larissa shrugs, her voice slightly sad. “People like you and I Rodrigo, we never fully retire. It's in our blood. Oh, we might semi-retire, there's a man from the town next to my home in Greece that was once one of the most powerful men in the Greek underworld back in the nineties. Nice man, coaches basketball at his grandson's elementary school last I heard. But I could see it in his eyes the last time I talked to him. No amount of basketball is going to replace what this life gives to us. Why, do you think you're going to just make your fortune and then lead the quiet life? According to what I hear, your life might become more hectic than ever soon.”
“Just a rumor still,” I reply, watching the moon. “Just a rumor, Larissa. If the opportunity does arise... would I have your support?”
“Of course, Rodrigo. If anything, it'd give me more excuses to visit America. I could use the practice getting past American security systems.”
Of course she could.
Jessica
My stomach grumbles when the lock on the other side of the door opens and Rodrigo opens the door, a large laundry bag in his hands. He's dressed more formally than I've seen him before, in dark gray slacks, a form fitting pinstriped dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the throat, and black leather shoes that are shined to a nearly mirrored finish. He looks handsome, and almost exactly like I dreamed about him last night. I feel guilty about that, but I can't deny that his tanned skin and lean face were in some good dreams last night. He comes in, squatting down at the foot of my mattress and looks at me levelly. “Good morning, Jessica. Did you sleep well?”
“I tried, sir,” I say, the honorific coming off my tongue a little bit easier than it did yesterday. “But it did get cold in here, I started shivering and it woke me up. I don't know when.”
Rodrigo nods, and opens up the laundry bag, taking out my sweatpants, a pair of white athletic socks, and a pair of simple sandals. “I didn't want to guess your shoe size, your feet are a little bit bigger than normal, so I went with a sandal instead. Later perhaps, we can get you some real shoes. Now, are you listening to me?”
“Yes sir,” I reply. Rodrigo shakes his head, and I feel bad for a moment, then realize what I need to do. If you don't know, ask. “What should I do, sir?”
“When I speak to you like this and you are on the floor, you are to sit on your knees, thighs pressed together, butt on your heels. Your hands should normally be on your thighs, but I'll let you hold your blanket closed for now,” Rodrigo says. “Adjust yourself now, and I'll continue.”
I assume the position Rodrigo wants, and he nods in appreciation. “Much better. Okay, here's my offer. If you can promise to behave, then I'll give you your pants back, along with the socks and the sandals. Also, I made a nice brunch for us. So, your choice Jessica. You can behave and try to act like a lady, and we can eat in the dining room of my villa like civilized people. Or... you can continue to act like a bitch, and be treated like a dog, eating in here. Your choice.”
I swallow and lower my eyes, ashamed at Rodrigo's words. He doesn't say them angrily, he doesn't raise his voice at all, but still they somehow pierce me to my very heart. “I'll behave, sir.”
“Excellent. Then get dressed, and join me for brunch. I'll admit, I slept in a little this morning, I was up late, so it's already nearly eleven. I'm sure you're hungry.”
Rodrigo leads me upstairs, where in the dining room I find a spread that makes my mouth water. Giant fluffy piles of scrambled eggs, slices of ham, fresh fruits, tomatoes, salad... but best of all is the intoxicating smell of freshly baked bread and olive oil, rich and fruity. My stomach rumbles, and I take half a step before I remember what Rodrigo told me. Act like a lady, and I get this. Act like a dog... and I don't want to know what I'll be eating.
“Come, have a seat,” Rodrigo says, holding a chair for me. I feel strange, sitting down in a relatively small but luxurious dining room in sweatclothes and sandals while the most handsome, powerful man I've ever met sits next to me at the head of the table looking like he's ready to walk the runway in Milan. Still, Rodrigo acts as if there's nothing out of the ordinary as he takes the fine bone china plate from in front of me and scoops eggs onto it, along with a slice of ham, some tomatoes, and a piece of bread. He sets it down, the uncorks an earthenware bottle, pouring some olive oil into a shallow bowl before setting it in front of me.
“In the future, I will teach you how to do all of this the way I like it,” Rodrigo says as he repeats it all for himself. “Go light with the olive oil at first. You maybe had some in your previous life, but most people find real Italian oil intense at first. That supposedly extra virgin trash that you can buy at Trader Joe's is utter crap compared to this.”
My hands tremble in my lap as I wait for Rodrigo, who pours me a large glass of juice and a mug of coffee. “While most Italians like the super strong espresso, I think plain Americano is better with brunch. Espresso is reserved for after lunch, and I rarely drink cappuccino. Do you say grace before you eat?”
“No sir.... I don't go to church that often,” I reply nervously, but Rodrigo smiles, relieving my fears. “You don't mind?”
“I go to church religiously, pardon the pun, but I won't force you into any belief that you don't already have. Dig in.”
Each bite is delicious, and I want to dive in, shoveling it into my mouth with both hands, but something inside me makes me stop. Rodrigo said that he wants me to behave like a lady, and a lady doesn't shovel her food in. Instead, I take my cues from him, cutting my ham into bite sized pieces before eating it with my eggs together. Rodrigo nods in approval at my restraint while he does the same.
“So, I'm sure you have a lot of questions,” he says, setting his fork down. “I won't give you all the answers, there are things you will not be allowed to know about me, but today's goal is all about getting to know each other.”
“Really?” I ask, forgetting the sir, but Rodrigo doesn't seem to mind. “Well... okay, you know I'm from New Jersey, but what about you? You sound American, honestly.”
Rodrigo starts to laugh, and I wonder what I said wrong, but his dark eyes are twinkling merrily. “I'm from Camden.”
I blink, shocked. “Camden... New Jersey?”
Rodrigo nods, taking a sip of his juice. “I was actually born in the City of Brotherly Love itself, but I grew up across the river in Camden. So in that regard, I'm nearly as American as you.”
“Nea
rly?” I ask, and Rodrigo nods. “What do you mean?”
“I have American citizenship, but my mother is Spanish, my father's Italian. He was actually getting his citizenship when I was born. I went to basketball games to watch the Sixers, toured the battleship New Jersey, all of that when I was a kid. I moved to Sicily just about three years ago,” Rodrigo says, his voice pitching lower. “In fact, while I enjoy authentic Italian food a lot, I'm still an American man at heart, at least in terms of what I want to eat.”
I understand what he's trying to say, and I swallow. “What are your favorite foods?”
“Nothing too extreme,” Rodrigo says with a rewarding smile. I'm learning, I guess. “I like to eat healthy, so there's nothing totally out there most of the time. I do have a sweet tooth, but I settle that with going to cafes, sometimes a trattoria. If I indulge here at home, I love getting the makings of a good burger or cheesesteak, which is damn near impossible considering that I've eaten at the real Geno's. But I do my best. What about you, what do you like to eat?”
I'm a little surprised, I thought that the point of this meal was to let me know about Rodrigo, and I can't help it, I smile a little. “If I say I'm used to filet mignon and the finest caviar, would that change what I get?”
Rodrigo chuckles, shaking his head. “No, but the more you behave, the more likely it is that I'm going to treat you to things you like from time to time. Perhaps even filet mignon on your birthday.”
“But you don't know my birthday,” I say, and Rodrigo shakes his head. “What?”
“You have a new life, and so you have a new birthday,” Rodrigo says, some of the merriment dropping from his voice and instead he sounds chilling again. “The day I brought you home, that's your new birthday. The old birthday doesn't matter any more.”
“But... my passport, my identity...,” I start before stopping. “That quarter million was for more than just me, wasn't it?”
Rodrigo nods, his voice still deadly frightening. “The night you were taken, the BnB person probably went through your stuff and took any cash you left behind before turning the rest of it over to The Network. Network men then booked you a flight out of Sicily to somewhere else in Europe or Africa using any credit cards you had with you. Then your passport was put in a bag along with your other documents and a Network operative, most likely a woman in a blonde wig to fool any of the crappy security cameras in the destination, where she'll drop your ID documents in a trash can, take off the wig, and go enjoy a few days in wherever while you go missing.”
“My fingerprints?” I ask, and Rodrigo shrugs.
“Hackers are cheap, and the government doesn't have as secure a handle on their records as they think. We can't get hard copies, but if you landed in an American airport right now, you wouldn't show up on a fingerprint database,” he says.
It's disheartening, but something in the way he talks gives me another question. “So how'd you get into this? I don't mean offense sir, but you don't sound like a dumb street hood. And I've met my fair share in northern Jersey.”
Rodrigo laughs, the ice melting and his warm tones coming back in an instant. His voice twists and picks up the juicy, slurry accent that I've always associated with Philly and Jersey. “Dis betta for yas? I'm headin' down for a night at da bah, youse comin'?”
I can't help it, I laugh, and Rodrigo smiles before switching back to his normal powerful voice, warm and magnetic. “My father thought that education was important, so even though I followed him into the... well, I guess you could say the family business, he insisted that I get a real education. While I stopped at high school, I've done plenty of self study after that. What was it they said in Good Will Hunting? Dropping a hundred grand on a education you could have gotten for a few bucks in library late fees? I took the second path. So while you've got a degree from Rutgers and I've got a degree from the streets, you're right, I'm no dumb goomba.”
“Then why'd you go into the life you did?” I ask. “You're smart, you're charismatic... and why'd you buy me anyway?”
Rodrigo smirks, his eyes glowing with desire that warms me more than the coffee and juice. “I went into this life because it's the life I know. My father was in this life, my mother as well. And before you get into thinking that I'm somehow more corrupt than the people you consider leaders of the world, the world I come from is more deeply entwined in your old life than you ever suspected.
“As for you Jessica, what you really want to know is why I spent a quarter million euros on you and not on any of the other girls that were in that room. You've run the numbers, you've got the brain power that you can do it in your head, and you figure that at an average price of two hundred grand per girl, an overestimate but that's okay, nice round number, that I could have bought each and every girl there, including you, for four point eight million euro. If I paid the same amount as I paid for you, a quarter million, it'd be six million euro total. But I didn't. I chose to spend a quarter million on you. And you want to know why.”
I gulp, nodding. Maybe he's run the numbers before in his head, but it took me a few minutes in the quiet of my room to do the same math in my head. “Yes sir. So why?”
“Instead of telling you... let me show you. Finish your brunch, we have a full day of training in front of us.”
I haven't been outside in days, and the midwinter afternoon sun feels good even though the air is a little cool. I look around the walled area, I guess you could call it a courtyard but it just seems too big for that word. Fifteen feet tall walls ring the whole area, and the land looks like at some point it could be a garden or even a fruit grove of some type. Rodrigo lets me look around, breathing in deeply before he nudges my elbow, leading me to what looks like a large garage or maybe a small warehouse. “What's this?”
“This used to be the oil press house,” Rodrigo says. “Since buying this villa, I've converted into my own personal uses.”
Rodrigo leads me past the big double doors to a side door, taking a key out of his pocket and unlocking the door. “This door does not connect to the rest of the warehouse, which I've turned into a workout room. I let other members of The Network in there. This room though, only I have the key, and I've only let one other member of The Network in here.”
He unlocks the heavy door and opens it. I pause, frightened. “If I say I don't want to go in there, sir?”
“You don't have a choice, you will at least look in here. Then I take you back to your room until it is time for dinner. But you wanted to know why I purchased you, Jessica. The answer lies inside,” Rodrigo says, his voice pulling me forward. I nod, and step forward to the door, Rodrigo humming in pleasure. “That's a good girl.”
There's no lights on in the room, just the dim afternoon light that doesn't reveal much, and after I'm inside, Rodrigo closes the door, throwing us into total darkness before he turns on a switch, and recessed lights illuminate the room, my breath taken away.
The first thing I see is the padded shackles hanging from the ceiling, almost a mirror of what was in the slave pen, but these look... comfortable? I force myself to breathe and look around, seeing the implements nearly covering one wall. There's no heavy whip, this room isn't for that sort of punishment, but for a more sensual kind. But there's other things that I've seen online, the things that, even hanging innocently on the walls or arranged on shelves, send warm tingles though my body. Blindfolds, silk scarves, vibrators and dildos.... oh my God, are those nipple clamps on a chain? With a cat o' nine tails? My breasts tingle at the thought, and I turn to look at Rodrigo, who's taking in my reaction with his dark eyes, his face a mix of desire, approval, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of vulnerability. I don't think he brings many people here.
“You're into bondage,” I comment, and Rodrigo shakes his head. “No?”
“No,” Rodrigo says, going over to what I thought was a cabinet on the single wall and tugging, pulling down a hideaway king sized bed. “I am dominant, I will be your Master Jessica, but I'm an explorer in sensua
lity, in the zone where pain, pleasure, sensation and emotion can mix into a release much stronger than anything that normal people can handle because they're afraid. I purchased you Jessica because I am going to push you further than any woman I've brought into this room before. And yes, I'm an expert in each and every item in here. In here, you will experience mind numbing pain, but also soul shattering pleasure. No other woman has been able to take it. But you Jessica... you have the potential to be more than all of those other women put together. I can see it in your eyes, you know that you're a real woman, not some little girl who plays at being a woman but cries like a spoiled brat when she doesn't get her way. You have a world of potential. But you lack something.”
“What's that?” I ask, my breath coming faster and my heart speeding up as I hear Rodrigo describe me. He's not kissing my ass, he's just giving me what he sees as the unvarnished truth, and it's massively arousing, especially with the way he looks at me. Rodrigo steps closer, his body radiating sexual energy, and my pussy starts to grow wet. If he asks right now.....
“You need training and discipline,” Rodrigo murmurs in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You know it, too, don't you?”
“Yes....” I half moan, caught in his sensual energy like a fly on a web. “Yes sir.”
“But you're afraid too. I can see that in the way you're biting your lip even as your nipples poke against your shirt. You want it, but you're afraid of it, aren't you?” he asks, walking around my body. His fingers brush through my hair and I feel it all the way through my body to my pussy, which is starting to throb lightly with my heartbeat. “Don't move, just answer me.”
I stand stock still, but I don't know if it's because of desire or fear of punishment from Rodrigo if I don't. “Yes sir. I'm afraid.”
Rodrigo leans in and whispers in my other ear, making me gasp. “What are you afraid of, my pet?”
“Being weak,” I whisper, trembling as Rodrigo comes around and looks me in the eyes. “Not being good enough.”