by Chloe Cox
Lucrezia watched a large man approach a group of women all dressed in identical white robes, and seated in demure positions on a row of benches along one side of the courtyard. He seemed to survey them for a moment, then settled his eyes on a petite brunette. He snapped his fingers, and the brunette shot up from the bench, shed her robe, and dropped to her hands and knees, arching her back and presenting her pussy for him. Lucrezia watched with wide eyes as the man leisurely unsheathed his generous cock and mounted her.
She found she couldn’t look away.
“Ah. Master Philippe and his harem,” Master Mallisine said. He had stayed at her side, but the sudden intrusion still startled her. “The philosophy of the Severille is about transcending boundaries to find a higher plane,” Master Mallisine continued in that voice that seemed to know everything. “Or a better fuck.”
Lucrezia could feel Mallisine’s eyes on her, but for the life of her she could not look away from Master Philippe and his total control of the woman beneath him. The woman’s breasts jolted forward with every powerful thrust, and her arms had begun to shake. Lucrezia’s mind was invaded by the sudden thought of Carlo Castellan in Philippe’s place – how would he ride? She huffed at the intrusion, and turned away. Master Mallisine seemed to take note.
“It is our usual practice to ask a client which role they wish to play on any given night: master, or slave. Do they wish to dominate, or submit? But you, Lady Lucrezia,” Mallisine said, studying her carefully, “I think that tonight, you cannot bring yourself to say what it is that you need. I think you need to be told. You wish to submit.”
For the second time in a night, Lucrezia was once again speechless. She rubbed her wrist where Carlo had grabbed her, and thought of the sheet being torn away, of her breast exposed, and she looked again at Master Philippe, riding his slave mercilessly. Her skin burned, and her own breasts ached, and she felt the absence of cock inside her as a gaping void. When she finally spoke, she found herself short of breath.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Of course what happens here does not leave these walls, unless you wish it to. I have taken the liberty of selecting a mask for you.”
“Of course.” Lucrezia’s voice sounded very small. It almost felt as though someone else were speaking.
“You may not end the evening wearing it, but do not let that trouble you,” he said with a reassuring smile, and offered her a delicate mask. It was a beautiful, bright red, hardly a mask at all, only enough to cover her eyes. She reached out and took it as though in a trance.
“And what will be your safeword, Lady Lucrezia?”
“Ivy,” she said, and had no idea why.
“The Masters of the house will be made aware, my lady. Your Master will find you. You will no longer be the Lady Lucrezia,” Mallisine reminded her, taking her burgundy cloak, “unless, of course, your Master wishes it.”
And with a knowing smile, he pushed scantily clad Lucrezia Grimaldi out into the courtyard full of Severille Masters.
~ ~ ~
Lucrezia had never been one to hide. She’d never felt the need. Hiding was what one did when one wasn’t sure of one’s place in the world, and she had always been quite sure of her place at the top.
Suddenly she wasn’t sure of anything.
After a moment of stunned hesitation, Lucrezia had immediately fled to an unoccupied bench in a relatively secluded corner of the courtyard, partially obscured by the greenery of several tall, foreign looking plants. She had thought to collect herself, and find a way to explain her mistake — she was not a slave, and didn’t know the first thing about submission to anything — but there was no escape from the sights and sounds of the Severille: on the other side of the mottled green curtain was a woman having sex with two men at once on a bench much like the one Lucrezia occupied. One of the men kept slapping the woman’s reddened buttocks as he drove into her asshole from behind, while the other took her pussy from below. She was crying unintelligibly with near constant pleasure.
Once more, Lucrezia could not look away. She turned her back on the rest of the courtyard and peered through the thick of foliage at the unsuspecting trio. Her nipples rubbed at the band of leather covering her breasts as her breathing deepened, intensifying the warm ache that was, again, building between her legs. She looked down and thought, rather bizarrely, that her harsh, aggressive ensemble was now wildly inappropriate for her role.
She shook her head, as if to clear the unwelcome truth from her mind. No, she thought, that is not what I am. I do not submit. I do not serve.
“How amusing,” a deep voice rumbled behind her. She tried to turn to face the intruder, but a heavy hand clasped her shoulder and kept her still while a rougher hand reached between her legs from behind and grabbed her there. She gasped in shock, but did not move. She did not even speak. The sudden, bright fire from the hand between her legs seemed to blot out all words.
“Don’t you know that those who hide in plain sight only wish to be found?” the voice continued, and she realized it was muffled by a mask. Still, it was resonant and rich, and with the calm authority of someone who is rarely disobeyed. She opened her mouth to speak, but whoever had trapped her began to rub his fingers along the length of her slit through the thin fabric of her undergarment, and Lucrezia lost her words once more. She felt herself begin to melt into him, and heard him chuckle softly.
“Do not move. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she heard herself say, and nearly choked on it. But the growing fire in her core wouldn’t let her say anything else.
The man moved his hand from her shoulder to her breast, first over the soft, expensive leather, then with impatience reaching under the tops piece to seize her naked flesh. He kneaded her breast until she leaned into him, rolling her nipple between his fingers, massaging her pussy with his other hand. He pinched her nipple, hard, and laughed as she squealed.
“Yes,” the voice said, “you will do.”
He spun her around to face him. He was wearing a full black mask of smooth lacquer, his full mouth and stubbled chin all that was visible, and he was smiling. His dark eyes shown through the holes in his mask with a kind of amused certainty, as Lucrezia imagined a cat might look at a struggling mouse. What’s more, he was powerfully built, with a broad frame wrapped in thick muscle, and shirtless to the waist. His chest was dusted with fine dark hair, trailing all the way down to his belt. Just the sight of him was arousing. He reached out and tipped her chin up to him, taking a look at her blushing cheeks and wet lips. Then he grabbed her between the legs again, and drew her close. “This is now mine,” he said.
Lucrezia could have uttered her safeword. One word. Only her lips refused to say it. Instead she found herself panting.
“Yours?” she said.
“Mine,” he rumbled. “If you want satisfaction, you will obey my every command.”
Satisfaction, Lucrezia thought. It had begun to seem impossible, and yet every inch of her screamed that this man could give it to her.
“You will not come until I permit it,” he said, his free hand roving over her body, “and you will come exactly when I order it. Do you understand?”
Lucrezia groaned. She would have to wait? She already felt at wits’ end, on the verge of madness, even, unable to do or think anything that did not revolve around her eventual release. And just as she’d begun to despair, this man, this large, strong man, whose tan skin smelled of woodsmoke and sweat, who’d already made her moan, arrived to take command.
“Yes,” she said recklessly, hardly believing that she did so, “yes.”
Oh, Gods, Lucrezia thought, what have I done?
The man smiled again, those full lips twisting in an arrogant grin, and let her go. Then he produced something made of leather that he’d had hanging from his belt. “Pull up your hair,” he ordered.
Lucrezia did so automatically, and wondered at how easily she took to obedience. He took a moment to let a few long, golden ribbons fall through hi
s fingers. There was a rumble in his chest that she felt reverberate throughout her body.
“So lovely,” he said, and he sounded almost gentle. Then he swiftly placed a leather cord around her neck, and secured a clasp in the back.
It was a collar.
“What is this?” Lucrezia blinked, and drew her hands up to her throat, not quite believing her common sense. He caught her hands in his, and and pointedly tilted his head.
“This tells everyone here that you are mine,” he said, and then more sternly, “and reminds you of your place, if you were to forget it.”
He gathered both her wrists in one large hand, and with the other attached a long leather lead to the front of her collar. Lucrezia blinked again. Her mind reeled, and the thought of being led around like a prize animal left her…
She knew how she should react. She should be furious. Instead moisture seeped between her legs, and her belly tightened.
“Very good,” he murmured softly, and stroked her hot cheek. “Very good. There is only one last thing. Do not move, my love.”
She started at the affectionate term, but remembered his order, and found that, incredibly, she did not want to move. She wanted to see what he would do next.
He moved behind her, dropping some slack from the lead, and her two-piece ensemble suddenly pressed tight against her flesh as the straps in back were pulled taut. There were a series of quick snips, and her clothing fell in a ruined piled at her feet.
She was completely naked, except for the collar.
“No —” the word came out half-finished, strangled, as she instinctively moved to cover herself, looking wildly towards the nearby plants for potential shelter. This was too much. But the man — she had not even learned his name — seized her by the arms and held her in place.
“Do not make me use the leash,” he said, his voice very quiet, very still. “You will not cover yourself in my presence unless I require it.”
Lucrezia tensed in his arms, and there was a long, still moment, where they both knew she was thinking about using her safeword. She could. She knew she could, at any moment. Why she did not, why she still did not, utterly baffled her rational mind. Lucrezia knew she was afraid of what might come next, but she also felt that deep hunger, that infernal vibration, that threatened to consume her entirely, and she had never been more drawn to a man in her entire life. A man who could be anyone behind his black mask.
But Grimaldis did not run from fear.
Slowly, she willed herself to relax, and leaned back into the hard length of his muscled body. He was hot to the touch on her bare skin. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, acclimating herself to the reality that she would play this man’s game, as alien as it seemed. Her body demanded it. He had promised her satisfaction if she did.
“What do I call you?” she finally asked.
He reached up and began to gently pet her head, her neck, her hair, down her arms, and around to her belly, which convulsed in spasms of sensation at his touch. She heard his low chuckle once again.
“You may call me ‘Master Fortrezza’ if you find yourself in need of assistance and I am not by your side, though I think that unlikely to happen. Otherwise you will call me ‘sir.’”
His hands continued to roam over her naked flesh, sending waves of shivering sensation through her body that crossed and built upon each other, amplifying the intensity of each, and threatening to bring her to her knees. She leaned her head back into his chest, and sighed.
His hand came between her legs again, and this time it quickly dipped a finger between her folds. She let out a small moan, and was sure that it came away wet. He laughed.
“Not quite yet,” he said. “You are not ready yet. First we will see how you do in public.”
She stiffened. Once again he turned her around to face him, and this time he smiled wickedly at her obviously horrified expression. “I think you will come to enjoy it,” he said, and tugged playfully on her leash.
He was clearly enjoying himself. It seemed each moment brought some new outrage that both revolted and aroused Lucrezia, and this man — sir, she thought to herself, marveling at it, Master Fortrezza — this sir delighted in her confusion.
He winked at her, through his mask, and then tweaked both her nipples. He looked down to see them hardening into tight, pointed buds.
“Now you’re presentable,” he said, and turned towards the raised platform in the very center of the courtyard.
Lucrezia was about to object when she felt the leash tug on her collar. She didn’t quite believe he would keep walking when he felt the line go taut, but he did. He truly did. She was jerked forward, stumbling on her delicate shoes, the only clothing she was still permitted to wear. He pulled her into the light of the courtyard, where she suddenly knew herself to be completely visible to all, and kept going. The shame was immediate, and seemed to rise from some deep, hidden well inside her. Like all members of her family, Lucrezia Grimaldi had thought herself beyond something so pathetic, so common, as shame. Shame was for those who could not afford pride, and who were subject to the laws of common men.
And yet it was shame that burned within her, spreading from the inside out to her skin in a red flush, as she felt the eyes of all the gathered Severille on her naked body, led on the end of a leash like a piece of property.
And that shame made her wet.
More than wet. Lucrezia was certain her juices had overflowed, that they glistened on her inner thighs, that her desire for this man who led her about on a leash was so great that it was obvious to all. And this only increased the shame. The thought of all those eyes on her, the thought of all those witnesses to her subjugation… .
By the time Master Fortrezza sprawled comfortably on one of the divans on the center platform, Lucrezia was nearly dizzy with desire. She craved him. She stared hungrily at his groin, where the bulge of him was clearly visible, and stood unsure of her place, naked, before him and his gathered friends.
He followed her gaze, and laughed.
“Oh, you are a natural harlot,” he said, and tugged on the leash, bringing her to his feet. The sudden movement bounced her breasts, and reminded her that she was so exposed. The feeling of horror returned, and she looked around to find a group of Severille Masters and their slaves, all clad in various combinations of black leather, studying her with interest. Master Fortrezza noticed their interest, too. “Stay,” he said to her. It was unmistakably an order.
“New, Fortrezza?” said a barrel-chested man in a green mask. He sat to her left with a woman at his feet.
“This is her first night here.”
Who is this man? Lucrezia thought. Who is he that he knows —
Her thoughts were interrupted by hot breath on her shoulder. Startled, she turned to see an unmasked man with heavy, rough features, as though hewn out of living rock, staring down at her. With creeping dread, Lucrezia realized that she recognized him. He was the stable master at the Duke’s castle. The stable master.
“May I?” the stable master asked. His question was not addressed to Lucrezia.
“Of course,” she heard Master Fortrezza say amiably. The man next to her reached up and hefted her breasts, first one, then the other. He ran his fingers in circles around her nipples, and squeezed her buttock, hard, before giving it a good slap.
“Very nice,” he said with approval, and returned to his seat, where a docile woman waited for him, perched on the armrest of his chair.
Lucrezia’s mind could not quite accommodate the idea of a world where a stable master might intimately inspect her body and pass judgment on its attractions. And yet, it had happened. She looked directly at her Master — have I already come to think of him as my Master? she wondered — and found that he was grinning again. He had the air of a man who knew something that she did not.
“Come sit on my lap,” he said, and tugged once more on her leash.
Lucrezia was perversely glad for the reprieve, as she had begun to feel as thou
gh she were losing her mind, and the feel of Master Fortrezza’s body cradling hers seemed to somehow dull the strangeness of the experience. She felt more…capable. More sure, less battered by doubt borne of novelty. It perhaps helped that he casually fondled her breasts as he chatted with the other Masters, that he ran his hand up and down her aching thigh, and that she could feel the hard length of his erection against her bare bottom.
Still, Lucrezia now had a moment to take in her surroundings. There were three other Masters gathered around, the two she’d already taken note of, and a woman. They each had attendant slaves, but none were nude, nor were they leashed. It seemed her Master had stricter standards, or simply wished to humiliate her. She felt a slight flutter in her stomach, and turned her attention outward.
The outer rings of the courtyard still bustled with activity, and Lucrezia now saw several uniformed servants darting about with trays of food and drink. Of course there were servants. She had been to other Severille events, although admittedly they were tame in comparison to this night, and those events had always provided the kind of service that someone of Lucrezia’s rank would expect. She had never had cause to notice until now, when she reached a new level of mortification at the thought of domestic servants bearing witness to her sexual subjugation.
Lucrezia had never felt like this. She thought she would go mad.
She ground her ass into Master Fortrezza’s lap, seeking out his erection. All she could think about was taking his cock inside her.
“Behave,” he said, and lightly swatted her breast. One of the other Masters laughed; it seemed her desperation was apparent to all.
Master Fortrezza raised his arm and beckoned to a passing servant. “Bring us a tray and a bottle of amberwine,” he said, and, slipping his hand between Lucrezia’s thighs, he whispered, “we’ll find you something to occupy yourself, pet.”