Chapter 15 Camilla
He doesn't come back for two days.
Two long days of being left alone with nothing but my thoughts and the memory of his hands on my skin. Two days of pacing this beautiful cage, replaying every moment of our training session, analyzing every crack I managed to put in his professional facade.
By the third morning, I'm ready to climb the walls.
When the lock finally clicks, I'm standing by the window in the cream silk robe from the armoire, having chosen my outfit—or lack thereof—very deliberately.
"Where have you been?" I ask without turning around. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”
"I had business to attend to. Important arrangements that couldn't wait."
"Arrangements for my sale?"
"Among other things."
I turn to face him, and the sight that greets me is almost worth the two-day wait. He looks like hell with circles under his eyes, tension in every line of his body, the kind of bone-tired exhaustion that comes from not sleeping.
I hope thinking about our last session kept him awake.
"You look tired, Renato. Trouble sleeping?"
"I sleep fine."
"Do you? Because you look like a man who's been fighting demons." I move away from the window, letting the silk robe shift and flow around my body. "What kind of demons keep a man like you awake at night?"
"We're not here to discuss my sleep patterns."
"No? Then what are we here to discuss?" I stop directly in front of him. "More training? Or are you finally going to admit that the last session affected you more than you let on?"
He reaches for a leather portfolio I hadn't noticed him carrying. "Today we discuss expectations. Specific requirements from potential buyers."
"How thrilling. Which buyer are we preparing for today?"
"All of them." He opens the portfolio and spreads several photographs on the writing desk. "Each man has different preferences. You need to understand what you're walking into."
I move to examine the photos, recognizing the faces from our previous conversations. Kozlov, Al-Rashid, Al-Mansouri. My potential futures laid out like a menu of horrors.
"And you've researched their preferences?"
"Extensively." His voice takes on that clinical tone, but I can hear the tension underneath. "Kozlov prefers psychological dominance. He enjoys the process of breaking resistance."
"Breaking how?"
"Systematically. He'll test your limits repeatedly until he finds the breaking point." Renato moves to stand beside me, his proximity making my skin warm. "You'll need to learn how to submit without actually breaking."
"And how does one do that?"
"By understanding that submission can be a choice rather than surrender. By learning to give him what he wants while maintaining your sense of self." His finger traces along Kozlov's photograph. "But to do that convincingly, you'll need to practice actual submission techniques."
"Such as?"
"Physical positioning, verbal responses, how to endure discomfort without losing composure." He looks at me directly. "Some of these lessons will be... uncomfortable."
"How?"
Instead of answering, he moves to Al-Rashid's photograph. "Different challenge. He values intelligence but expects complete obedience in intimate matters. You'll need to learn how to be fascinating during dinner conversation and completely pliant in the bedroom."
"Meaning?"
"You anticipate his needs without being asked. You respond enthusiastically to his touch regardless of your personal feelings. You make him believe that pleasing him is your greatest joy."
"And you're going to teach me how to fake that level of devotion?"
I pick up Al-Mansouri's photograph, studying the calculating eyes. "And this one?
“He’s a new one. Complete lifestyle submission.
Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
He doesn't just want a woman who submits in bed.
He wants one who exists solely for his pleasure.
" Renato's voice is carefully controlled, but I see his hands clench slightly.
"Your wants, your needs, your thoughts. They all become secondary to his desires. "
I set down the photograph and turn to face him fully. "And which buyer are you hoping will bid highest?"
The question surprises him. "That's not my concern."
"Isn't it? Do you have a preference, Renato? Which man would you rather sell me to?"
He stares at me for a long moment, some internal war playing out behind his eyes. "None of them."
The admission slips out before he can stop it, and I see him immediately try to take it back.
"But since that's not an option—"
"Why isn't it an option?" I interrupt. "You're the terrifying Renato Vitiello. You've built an empire on taking what you want. Why can't you just... keep me yourself?"
"Because keeping you would cost me everything I've built."
"And selling me won't?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're not as unaffected by this situation as you pretend to be. It means these training sessions are torture for you too." I reach up and cup his face, feeling the muscle jump in his jaw. "I think you want to be the one who teaches me everything."
"You're wrong."
"Am I? Then start today's lesson. Show me what Kozlov will expect. Demonstrate the submission techniques I need to learn. What should I call him?"
"Sir. Master. Whatever title he prefers."
"And you? What should I call you during these lessons?"
"Call me whatever helps you learn," he says roughly.
"Sir? Show me how to kneel properly, how to lower my eyes, how to make a man feel powerful." I move to the center of the room. "Show me what submission looks like."
For a moment, he doesn't move. Then he points to the floor in front of him.
"Here. On your knees."
I sink down gracefully, keeping my back straight and my eyes lowered as I settle onto the carpet.
"Spread your knees wider. Submission requires vulnerability." His voice takes on that commanding tone. "Hands behind your back."
I adjust my position, feeling the silk robe shift around my body to give him a good view.
"Better. This is how you present yourself for inspection. Open, available, ready to receive whatever your owner chooses to give you."
"And if I don't want what he's giving?"
"You learn to want it. Or at least to convince him that you do." He moves closer, circling around me. "Your survival depends on your ability to make him believe that serving him is your greatest pleasure." He stops in front of me. "Look at me."
I raise my eyes to meet his, and the hunger I see there makes my breath catch.
“Maintain eye contact unless instructed otherwise. Men like Kozlov want to see your responses, want to watch you break."
"And if I don't break?"
"Then you fake it convincingly." His hand reaches out to trace along my cheek. "Can you do that? Can you pretend to surrender while keeping your strength intact?"
"Maybe with the right teacher."
"And what kind of teacher do you need?"
"One who understands both sides. Dominance and submission.
Control and surrender." I lean slightly into his touch.
"One who knows what it feels like to want something he can't have.
" His hand stills against my skin. "These lessons are your excuse to touch me, to have me kneel for you, to imagine what it would be like if I belonged to you instead of them. "
His hand slides from my cheek to my throat, fingers wrapping around the delicate column with just enough pressure to make my pulse race.
"Fine." His grip tightens slightly. "Breath control. It’s in the files. Some buyers enjoy restricting oxygen during intimate moments. You need to learn not to panic when breathing becomes difficult. Accidents do happen."
He moves to the bed and sits on the edge, then looks at me expectantly. "Come here."
I approach slowly, and he guides me to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs. The position is intimate, unavoidable, and I can feel the heat of his body through his clothes.
"This position gives optimal control while allowing you to feel secure," he explains. "Place your hands on my shoulders."
I comply, and his hands settle at my throat, warm palms resting against the sides of my neck.
"The key is staying calm. If you fight or struggle, it becomes dangerous. If you relax and focus on the sensation, it can be... pleasurable at the right moments." His thumbs find my pulse points. "Can you stay calm for me?"
"Yes, sir."
I see something flicker in his expression at the formal address, but he doesn't break character.
"Now breathe slowly while I gradually increase pressure. Tell me if it becomes too much."
His hands tighten incrementally, and I feel my heartbeat accelerate even as I work to keep my breathing controlled. The restriction is just enough to be noticeable without being dangerous, but the intimacy of the position sends heat racing through my veins.
"How does that feel?"
"Intense," I whisper, and it's the truth.
"This is nothing compared to what Kozlov might do. He enjoys pushing limits, testing how much his acquisitions can endure." His grip loosens slightly. "The important thing is not to show fear, even when you're afraid."
"And if I am afraid?"
"Then you hide it. Fear makes men like him excited, makes them push harder. They might lose control and become dangerous or even deadly." His hands slide from my throat to rest on my waist. "You have to appear eager, no matter what they're doing to you."
I nod, processing the information while trying to ignore how his touch affects me.
"Do you understand what you're preparing for?" he asks quietly.
"I understand that my life depends on being a convincing actress."
"Convincing these men could be the difference between survival and becoming another casualty of their appetites. Now get up.”
I slide off his lap and stand, smoothing down my robe. The sudden loss of contact leaves me feeling strangely cold.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"You did well. The lesson is complete for today."
"And tomorrow's lesson?"
"More advanced techniques. These men will expect you to know how to please a man properly. With your hands and mouth. Even if you are a virgin." His blunt words make my pulse quicken, but I keep my expression neutral.
"I suppose these instructions will be hands-on training?"
"Whatever it takes."
"Of course." I move toward the window, needing distance to think clearly. "These lessons are getting more intimate."
"They have to be. You think Kozlov gives a shit if you're embarrassed?” His voice is rougher now, the careful control slipping.
I turn back to face him, studying his tense expression. "And you? How are you handling being my instructor for all of this?"
"It's a necessary part of the job.”
"Is it? Because you seem pretty wound up during these sessions."
“You’re imagining things.”
"Tomorrow then. Same time?"
"Nine AM. And Camilla?" He pauses at the door. "Be prepared to learn. Because I won't go easy on you just because the subject matter makes you uncomfortable."
"I wouldn’t dream of it, Renato. But you will be, won’t you?"