Chapter 17 Camilla
I finally have him exactly where I want him.
The realization hits like a pulse of heat under my skin as I watch Renato struggle to regain his composure. His breathing ragged, his eyes unfocused.
And I did that to him.
With only my hands and my mouth.
For the first time since he took me, the fear that has lived as a constant in my bones flickers and shifts, replaced by something new — a tremor of power that’s almost dizzying. He’s the one off-balance now. He’s the one swallowing hard, trying not to look at me.
“Well?” I ask, settling back on my heels and slowly wiping the pre-cum from my mouth with the back of my hand, letting the gesture drag out so he can’t miss it. “How was that for a first time?”
He stares at me like I’ve just spoken a foreign language. “What?”
“My technique.” My voice is calm, curious, like we’re discussing a lesson instead of the wreckage I’ve made of his control.
“You said I needed to learn how to do this properly.” I study his flushed face, the vein pulsing in his throat.
“Tell me, was that good enough for Kozlov? Would Al-Rashid be satisfied with that level of enthusiasm?”
“Christ, Camilla.”
“That’s not very helpful feedback.” I lean closer, resting my palms lightly on his thighs, feeling the muscles jump under my touch.
“I’m only a student trying to perfect her skills.
What did I do right? What needs improvement?
Come on, Renato. Help me out here. Should I spit on your cock next time?
Would you like that? Make it wetter and sloppier?
What about the sounds? Do I sound like I’m enjoying it or should I put a little more moaning into it? ”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“No,” I say softly, tracing lazy circles on his legs through the fabric, feeling the tremor in him.
“I’m desperate because I’m running out of time.
For instance, should I have used more tongue?
Less? Should I have taken you deeper, or was the pace adequate?
” I tilt my head, studying the way his eyes darken, the way his jaw clenches.
“To be honest, it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.
I’m sure I can pull this off with the other men. In fact, I’m absolutely sure of it.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what? Asking for your professional guidance?” I smile up at him, letting him see exactly how much I’m enjoying his discomfort, how steady my hands are compared to his. “You’re my instructor, Renato. Instruct me.”
He runs both hands through his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, looking like a man on the edge of complete breakdown. His chest rises and falls too fast. His pupils are blown. He looks… vulnerable.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m learning skills. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“That’s not what this was.”
“No?” I let my smile sharpen, leaning in just enough so he feels my breath on his skin again. “Then what was it?”
He stares down at me for a long moment, some internal war flickering behind his dark eyes, and the sight makes something hot and reckless unfurl in my chest.
“That,” he says finally, voice low and hoarse, “was you turning the tables on me.”
His eyes are dark, not angry but unsettled, as though he’s glimpsed a version of himself he didn’t know existed, and I’m the one who put it there.
"Was it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looked like a very effective training session.
" I lean back slightly, giving him space to breathe.
"Though I have to admit, your reactions were.
.. interesting. But enough of the blowjob talk.
" I stand gracefully, smoothing down my robe.
"I've been thinking about the buyer profiles you showed me.
" I move to the window, letting morning light play across the silk of my robe.
"One of the files mentioned some interesting preferences. "
"Such as?"
"Bondage. Restraints. Complete physical control during intimate moments." I turn back to face him. "That's something else I'll need to learn, isn't it? How to be tied up without panicking? Is that a common thing?"
I watch the muscle in his jaw tick, a tiny betrayal that tells me he’s imagining it too — not the buyers, but me, restrained.
"Possibly,” he says.
"Definitely, I'd say. A man who wants complete lifestyle submission isn't going to be satisfied with vanilla encounters." I move closer to the bed. "When do we cover that particular skill set?"
"When it becomes necessary."
"It's necessary now. The viewing is next week, remember? These men will want to see evidence of my training." I sit on the edge of the bed beside him. "What if they ask for a demonstration?"
He looks at me like a man staring at an open flame — part of him wants to get closer, part of him knows he’ll be burned.
"They won't,” he says.
"How can you be sure? Men spending fifteen million euros on merchandise might have a lot of questions and demands."
The word 'merchandise' makes something flicker in his expression—pain, maybe, or anger. I want him to hate that word as much as I do.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Or we could prepare for it now. Show me what they might expect. How they would restrain me, how I should respond." I gesture toward the bed. "You could use silk scarves, tie me to the bedposts. Teach me how to make it look like I enjoy being helpless."
"You want me to tie you up?"
"I want you to train me properly. Isn't that what this is about?
" I meet his eyes directly. "Unless you're not comfortable with that level of instruction.
You seem pretty shaken up by today's lesson. Am I getting to you, Renato? Tonight, when you’re tossing and turning, trying to sleep, will you be imagining your hard cock in my mouth.
Or will you be jacking off in a cold shower wishing it were my hands stroking your cock? "
He stands abruptly, moving toward the door. "You use strong language for a high society virgin. We'll continue tomorrow."
"Running away so soon, Renato?"
"Taking a break before this gets out of hand."
I actually smile. "Oh, I think that happened a long time ago. We're just teacher and student, right?"
He stops with his hand on the door handle. "That's right."
"Then there's no reason you can't teach me everything I need to know. Including how to submit to bondage." I lie back against the pillows, letting my robe fall open slightly. "In fact, I insist on it. My survival depends on being thoroughly prepared."
"Right now, your survival depends on you not pushing me too far."
"Or what? You'll stop training me? Sell me to them unprepared?" I sit up, letting challenge color my voice. "We both know you won't do that."
"Don't test me, Camilla. I’m warning you."
"I'm not testing you,” I say. “Besides, what happened to all that talk about protecting your assets? Making sure your merchandise is properly conditioned?"
"Stop calling yourself that."
"What? Merchandise? Asset? Property? But that's what I am, isn't it? That's how you see me."
"That's how I have to see you."
"Have to? Or choose to?"
"There's no difference."
"Isn't there? Because the man who just lost complete control while I sucked his cock didn't seem to be thinking about business assets."
"That was—"
"That was you wanting me. You want me. Personally. Not professionally. That was you forgetting, for just a moment, that you're supposed to sell me to other men."
"There’s not a moment, I forget that."
"Don't you? Because right now, looking at me, are you thinking about the auction? Or are you thinking about how it felt when I had my mouth on you? And you want it to happen again, don’t you? You already thinking about how you can work that into our study sessions."
He doesn't answer, but the muscle in his jaw twitches.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." I walk over to him, reach up and smooth down his hair. "So tomorrow, when you come back for my next lesson, remember something."
"What?"
"Every skill you teach me, every technique you show me, every moment of intimacy we share—I'll remember all of it when I'm with them.
Every time Al-Mansouri ties me up, I'll think about you showing me how to endure it.
Every time Kozlov demands submission, I'll remember you teaching me how to fake it. "
His hands clamp down on my arms, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me he’s still stronger. Yet I can feel the tremor in his fingers, the hesitation. That’s new.
“Camilla, stop."
"Why? Because the idea of me using your lessons to please other men makes you sick?"
"Because you're trying to manipulate me."
"Am I? Come back tomorrow and teach me about bondage. Show me how to be tied up and helpless. Demonstrate exactly what might be expected from me."
"Fine."
"And Renato?" I let my fingers trace along his jaw. "Try not to let it affect you too much when I’m going down on another man. Just like I did with you. After all, it's just business."
I see something dangerous flash in his eyes, but he doesn't respond. Just releases my wrists and heads for the door.
"Same time tomorrow," he says without looking back.
"I'll be ready to learn whatever you think I need to know."
The lock clicks shut behind him, and I sink onto the bed with something that feels remarkably like victory.
Because I was right about one thing—he is losing control.
The careful, professional facade is cracking more with each lesson, and today I found the sledgehammer to finish the job.
Sex.
The undeniable chemistry that sparks between us every time he touches me.
He thinks he's training me for other men, but what he's really doing is binding himself to me more tightly with every intimate moment we share. Every lesson makes it harder for him to imagine letting me go.
And tomorrow, when he has to tie me up and teach me submission techniques, he's going to realize exactly what he's preparing me for. He's going to have to face the reality of other men having that kind of control over me.
It's going to destroy him.
And his destruction might be my salvation.