Chapter 8
EIGHT
Eliza
When we get back to the house, Adriano doesn't take me back upstairs. Instead, he has me follow him along another stark white corridor whose walls are filled with monochrome art, to his office.
Like the rest of his house the room is decorated in a clean, simple style, with sleek modern furnishings.
The walls are a light beige which would be nice if there was some other hint of personality in the room.
The desk looks as if it was built for display in a gallery rather than to perform a function. A laptop sits on it, the only sign that this is in fact the place where Adriano works.
There is one small detail in the room that surprises me. A photo hangs on the wall. There are three women and five small boys in it, a family snapshot. It was taken at a beach.
The hills in the background and the white painted villas that cling to them make me think of the Amalfi Coast, a place where I spent many summers as a child.
I wonder which of the children is Adriano. I’m betting it’s the one who’s throwing his arms in the air in a ‘look at me’ pose.
For a man like him to have the picture on display, it must carry significant meaning. I’d love to ask him about it but, as he takes his seat behind the desk it's abundantly clear he's not in the mood for chitchat.
"Is something the matter?" I ask as he stares at me, that unreadable expression on his face. It makes me feel like I've been called into the boss's office to answer for some terrible mistake.
"You questioned me in front of Clara," he says.
I predicted at the time that would land me in trouble but I thought I was being overly sensitive to the tension in him.
"Am I not allowed to ask questions?"
"Not in that tone." He leans back in his chair. "And not in front of others."
"But it was only a question about the dresses."
He shakes his head. "It wasn't only a question about dresses. It was insubordination."
"How was I supposed to know that? You never laid out any rules."
"You were with Gabriele for long enough." Something passes across his face that might be jealousy. He quickly tamps it down. "Didn't he explain how our world works?"
"Did he explain that women are to be seen and not heard?" I ball up my fists and place them on my hips. "No, he never mentioned that little gem."
"But you knew not to challenge him publicly, yes?"
I nod because I suppose I did know that. Gabriele never laid it out for me but I saw how deferential the men around him were and I took my cues from that.
"Okay, I get that," I admit. "But it was a harmless question and if you'd answered I wouldn't have had to push."
Adriano scoffs at that. "When I didn't answer you should have known not to push. You won't make that mistake again."
Knowing how my mouth can run away from me that's not a promise I'll make. "So I'm never allowed to ask questions?"
"You are, but not like that, not in front of others." He gets up and rounds the desk, coming to stand so close I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. "It undermines my authority."
The demand to know what authority he believes he has over me lies on the tip of my tongue but for once commonsense holds them back.
"Okay, I'm sorry." It's the least sincere apology I've ever uttered.
"No you're not, but you will be."
"What do you mean by that?"
He answers, but not with words. Before I register what's happening, he spins me around and pushes on my shoulders until I'm bent over, my upper body resting on his desk.
"What are you doing?" I demand though I understand quite well what he's about to do.
He reaches beneath me to pop the button on my jeans and lower the zipper. I try to push myself up as he drags my jeans and panties down my legs. I know what's about to happen. A part of me is curious to see how it will feel. But it's not something I can allow him to do without making some protest.
Adriano puts a hand at the small of my back to hold me in place. He keeps it there just long enough for me to get the message that I'm not to move, then continues to bare my bottom.
"Spread your legs wider," he commands.
I do it because there's no disobeying that tone. There's not an ounce of hesitation in it. He intends to spank me one way or the other so I'd be better off complying.
When he's satisfied with my stance, he draws his hand back and brings it down hard on my left butt cheek. Fuck! That stings.
"Ow!" I grumble. "That hurt."
"I'll bet and so will the nine others I'm about to give you."
He doesn't waste time warming me up and he doesn't murmur words of encouragement as he peppers my ass with harsh spanks. It hurts, the ache growing each time his steely palm lands on my tender flesh.
This is nothing like the romance novels would have me believe. It's painful and humiliating. Yet I have to admit that the warmth spreading out across my skin is traveling deeper than I imagined, lighting a fire at my core.
It’s inconvenient that my body is opening up to him while my mind is still working through my resentment at his heavy-handedness.
Just as I'm getting into the rhythm of the punishment, trying to nurture seeds of pleasure rather than focusing on the pain, it's all over. Adriano steps back, leaving me strangely bereft. I wiggle my hips and tell myself it's to alleviate the ache in my butt.
"You enjoyed that," Adriano says.
I straighten up and turn to him, my face no doubt as red as my ass.
"No I didn't."
He allows me the half-truth and walks back around the desk to retake his seat. I pull my panties back up and then my jeans. As I fasten them, I hiss as the fabric rubs my butt the wrong way.
"You were curious about the dresses," he says.
Oh, now he wants to talk about this. "You mentioned events or something." Did he say I'd be by his side, on his arm? I can't remember now.
"Yes. There's a gala this weekend. You'll come with me."
First a shopping trip and now he's taking me to a gala. I'm beginning to feel less like a captive with every minute that passes. I decide to try to get a feel for whether my status has changed.
"Do you take all of your prisoners to galas?" I ask.
The corner of his mouth lifts. "Only the beautiful ones."
Now he's sparked an insecurity I didn't realize I was harboring. "Have you had many beautiful prisoners?"
He takes a moment to answer and my irrational jealousy grows. Then he shakes his head and relief floods my veins.
"Only you, cara."
That does things to me I don't want to admit. I clear my throat for fear of my words getting stuck. "So which dress should I wear? The green silk?"
"The blue one. It's a classy event. The green silk is for me to tear off you."
The image that creates is so hot I almost fan myself with my hand. It takes a moment for me to compose myself. I narrow my eyes at Adriano as I catch the glimmer of a smirk on his lips. He enjoys having me flustered.
"But that dress cost a lot of money."
I didn't see the price tags on anything and Clara never told Adriano the total his bill had come to but I've had expensive dresses before.
Gabriele bought me a couple so I could go out to charity galas with him.
They were from a store on the Via Condotti and they cost a fortune.
The place Adriano took me to felt even more exclusive than that.
"Yes, so you should probably thank me."
"Thank you?" I raise an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you to buy me dresses."
"No, but in my generosity I did."
"I see." I purse my lips. "And how exactly do you propose I thank you?"
He swivels his chair slightly and stares at me until I have to look away.
"You want me to…" I wave a hand in the general direction of the erection that's tenting his pants.
"Well, spanking you did get me all hot and bothered. You really should take care of me."
I'd laugh at his insolence but it's clear he's deadly serious. When I don't move, his eyes darken.
"Eliza," he cautions.
My eyes dart to the door as I contemplate running.
He'd come after me, of course and would probably catch me before I even made it to the stairs. I hate to think what a man like him would do if his blood was pumping from the thrill of the chase. The thought should put me off the idea of running. It doesn’t. Not entirely.
I decide if I'm going to do this to at least try to set some of the terms. Summoning what I hope is a seductive grin, I walk around to the other side of the desk. I get to my knees between Adriano's spread legs and unbuckle his belt.
There's something sexy about a man who wears a belt. He also has a watch on. I like a man who knows how to accessorize without overdoing it.
He lifts his hips helpfully as I tug at his pants and boxer briefs. We fucked several times last night but seeing his cock in the daylight, I'm amazed it fit inside me.
I take a moment to study it. Long and thick, it has a blue vein running along the underside. The tender flesh at its head is a deep red color.
I wrap my hand around his shaft, getting a sense of its girth. This is going to be a challenge.
"Don't just fondle it," Adriano says. "Put it in your mouth."
Placing my hands on his hips to anchor myself, I raise myself up on my knees and lower my head to capture his cock between my lips. I suck lightly and swirl my tongue around the velvety skin.
He smells of citrus scented soap. That doesn't seem possible since it's at least eight hours since he showered. But I definitely catch a hint of lemon. Or is it lime?
"Get on with it." Any hint of playful indulgence is gone from Adriano's tone now.
Unable to stall any longer, I take several inches of him into my mouth. As predicted, it's a struggle. He fills my mouth completely. I hollow my cheeks as I suck him. I bob my head up and down, establishing a rhythm. It's tentative but he groans and I think he likes it.
Apparently I was wrong. Adriano pushes me off him and gets to his feet. I look up at him, tears threatening to fall.
"Open your mouth," he commands. "Let me show you what I like."
That sounds ominous but I part my lips anyway. Tangling his fist in my hair, he drags me closer. He slides his erection into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat. My eyes water as I gag.
"Get a grip of yourself." His tone is firm but not unkind. "Relax your jaw and focus on breathing."
Allowing the tension to drain from my jaw, I pay close attention to my breathing. A few seconds pass before I have it under control.
"Good girl," Adriano says, awakening a praise kink I didn't know I had.
He grips my hair tightly, painfully so, as he pulls his hips back and then drives forward. My eyes water and I clench my fists as he sets a relentless pace.
He uses my mouth ruthlessly but murmurs words of encouragement that are enough to convince me he remembers there's a person on the receiving end of these brutal thrusts.
"That's it, cara, take my cock in that hot little mouth." He tilts his head back and moans. "Fuck. You were made for this."
As he slides his cock back, dragging it over my tongue and lips until he's almost the whole way out, I draw in a breath. I do what I can to help him reach his climax, applying suction as he pulls back. It takes several minutes before his cock finally twitches.
"You'll swallow every drop."
He isn't looking for my assent and with my mouth stuffed full of him I couldn't answer anyway but when he comes, I swallow everything he gives me.
As he pulls his softening cock from my mouth, I sit back on my heels. I look up at him for some affirmation. He doesn't give me any.
Instead, he tucks himself back into his clothes and glances at his cellphone.
"Go to your room, Eliza."
He doesn't even glance at me. Getting to my feet, I storm from the room. I didn't expect a gold star from him but a word of appreciation wouldn't have gone amiss.
He had his fist in my hair thirty seconds ago, telling me how I was made for this. He talked to me as if I was a slut and now he’s dismissing me like one. It’s both humiliating and infuriating.
As I head along the corridor a man walks toward me, coming from the front door. Tall, well dressed and with an alertness I've come to recognize in men who inhabit the underworld, he's vaguely familiar.
Before we pass one another, his eyes drop to my mouth, before coming back up.
"Good afternoon, Signorina Moretti." His voice is smooth, seductive. I'll bet he knows how to compliment a woman whose mouth he's just ravaged, unlike that prick Adriano.
"Afternoon," I mumble in return before hurrying off upstairs.
When I get to my room there's a woman in the closet. Short, plump and about sixty years old, I'm guessing she's a housekeeper and not another concubine Adriano has stashed away in here.
"Ah, you must be Eliza," she says when she spots me. "I'm Rosa."
"Nice to meet you." I watch as she takes a dress out of its garment bag and hangs it on the rail. "Those got here quickly."
She nods. "People move heaven and earth to keep Signore Adriano happy."
Her eyes actually sparkle when she says his name. I guess if I wanted to find an ally it wouldn't be in this woman.
"Let me help you," I say, unzipping another garment bag.
"No, no, it's my job." She shoos me away and I let her.
As I go to sit on the bed it suddenly occurs to me the man downstairs knew my name. I must have met him at some point but I don't know where. The obvious answer is when I was with Gabriele. I wonder what he's here for. Are they downstairs deciding my fate?
I try not to worry about it because I'm learning that gets you nowhere. Instead, I watch as Rosa bustles around, organizing my closet like a pro. When she's done, she gathers up the bags and heads for the door.
"Can I fetch you anything?" she asks.
"No, thank you."
She smiles. "You'll be dining at seven thirty. Signore Adriano requests that you wear one of your new dresses."
I suspect request is her polite way of telling me he commands it.
"Thanks Rosa."
Irritated as I am I won't take my anger out on Rosa. She only works for the asshole who just used me and tossed me aside without a word of thanks. She closes the door behind her and I hear the lock engage. Nice, so the staff are my jailers too.
I get up and go to the closet. My eye immediately snags on the green silk dress, the one Adriano seems so fond of. Some devil takes hold of me.
Before I can stop myself I take it off the hanger and grab the edges of the neckline. It turns out that ruining a dress is harder than it seems and it takes several attempts before it tears. Eventually through sheer force of will I manage to shred the thing.
"Rip that off me now, asshole," I mutter.
The dress thoroughly destroyed, I flop onto the ottoman in the center of the closet and stare down at the ruined gown. Fuck. I'm going to pay for that later. But it was worth it to make my point. Wasn't it?