With her short, dark hair, delicate good looks, and elfin frame, Isabel Matthews had often been compared to Audrey Hepburn. When she first met Francesco, she was a young intern at Morris, Shepherd & Turner, and he was being courted by the firm of accountants as an important new client.
His Italian heritage gave him his suave good looks and easy smile, while probably contributing to his relaxed, almost arrogant, nature. He was rich and very used to being the focus of attention, with people falling over each other to satisfy his every need. When he saw what he wanted, he was used to getting it.
Isabel had been flattered when, on his very first visit to the firm’s office, he had delayed the start of his meeting with the partners to chat to her. This had rather annoyed Eric Morris but, seeing his prospective client’s obvious interest in her, realised it might be exploited as an opportunity. When Francesco had left, Mr Morris called Isabel into his office.
“Mr Moltiverdi seemed to take quite a shine to you today, Isabel,” he began. The young girl blushed and muttered something unintelligible, feeling totally intimidated to be talking to ‘the big boss’. She suspected that she was in trouble for distracting such an important visitor.
“It’s alright, Isabel, this isn’t a telling off,” he reassured her, “in fact, it could work very much in our favour. He could be a very valuable client to us, with his financial and industrial investments here in the UK. The other partners and I would encourage you to… cultivate his interest. Consider it as an assignment in client liaison. We will give you an expense account to cover any outlay you may incur, for clothes or whatever, so that you represent the firm appropriately. Remember, Francesco Moltiverdi gets whatever he wants. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the junior staffer muttered, feeling the weight of expectation on her.
From there, things moved very quickly. She received a phone call that afternoon from Francesco’s secretary inviting her to a party that weekend. After establishing that it was a cocktail party, she went shopping with her new credit card for a suitable dress and, despite feeling a little guilty at the extra expense, a pair of high heels.
Isabel was surprised, and a little more than flustered, when she turned up on Saturday night to find that the ‘party’ was actually an official reception at the Italian embassy, and she spent the entire evening talking to ambassadors and diplomatic officials, their wives and girlfriends. Francesco was very attentive and supportive, but the young woman, barely out of her teens, found it very stressful.
She wasn’t sure whether it was the clear instructions from her employers, the persuasiveness of her escort, or the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed to help her cope with the reception, but at the end of the evening, she found herself in his hotel room and, shortly after that, in his bed.
Isabel had very little experience in the bedroom, and it seemed natural that the obviously more worldly-wise Italian should take the lead. Over the next few hours, their lovemaking was not restricted to the bed, but took in many locations around the room - on the table, on the carpet, against the wall, bent over the back of the chair - as well as the ensuite bathroom. Isabel was overwhelmed by his energy and inventiveness in introducing her to new techniques of pleasuring her and new positions in which to bring her to orgasm after earth-shattering orgasm. When he eventually relented, she fell into bed and slept late into the morning.
That first encounter seemed to set a precedent for all subsequent dates. There were meals, clubs, parties, cinema outings, sightseeing visits, trips to the country, but each ended with them in a hotel room making passionate love for hours on end. Not that Isabel was complaining. She had never experienced so much sex, and she discovered that she liked it. Indeed, she loved it, any and every way he gave it to her. She was head over heels in… She hesitated to use the L word, but she knew that it was a serious infatuation at the very least. She was having so much fun and she was sure it was the same for him.
It wasn’t long before Francesco introduced the idea of role-play. It started with just a bare scenario and a few words leading up to sex, but pretty quickly it evolved to include costumes and accessories. An early favourite was ‘Master of the house and maid’, with Isabel dressed in a very sexy French maid outfit, although the outfit didn’t stay on her for long.
It was during a session of ‘Cop and shoplifter’ that he first introduced her to bondage, using the realistic handcuffs he carried to restrain her. After an Intimate strip-search, he used his nightstick to bring her to her first orgasm of the evening. It wasn’t the last, as he kept her cuffed during a night of rough and energetic sex.
A game of ‘Burglar and housewife’ saw the first use of rope and gag in their games. Isabel didn’t object to these rapid escalations in the kink factor, finding the corresponding increase in intensity of her lover’s attentions quite breathtaking. She found herself enjoying the dressing up, and the subsequent undressing, as well as the Dominant-submissive nature of the games. She loved the way he always took control, it made her feel like the most delectable object of desire.
‘Headmaster and pupil’ allowed him to bring discipline into the relationship. It started with a spanking for the ‘naughty schoolgirl’, whose uniform was determined to be too sexy for the school. She was bent over the desk and, with her knickers at her knees, struck firmly by the head’s bare hand until her buttocks were glowing red. Despite the discomfort, Isabel found the experience incredibly erotic and, as with the other games, the sexual experience afterwards was hugely intensified.
Soon the ‘Headmaster’ was using his cane to stripe her backside with increasing force. Even when she was reduced to tears by a beating, the young woman kept her focus on what was to follow, as well as occasionally justifying her submissiveness by telling herself that she was ‘taking one for the team‘. The physical abuse became even more extreme with games such as ‘Huntsman and the stablegirl’, which involved liberal use of the riding crop, and ‘Commandant and the spy’, when various torture techniques were employed to break Isabel’s captured secret agent.
“We will play a game called ‘Dominus et servus’ tonight,” Francesco announced one evening, “which is Latin for Master and slave. Take off your clothes, slave.” Isabel knew from the thin smile on his face that this would be another escalation in their play and felt a familiar mixture of dread and excited anticipation. Slowly, she stripped out of her clothes and stood naked before him, while he remained fully dressed.
He appraised her naked body as if for the first time, reaching out to squeeze and weigh her breasts, then grabbing her pubic hair and tugging it sharply. She felt completely objectified, as was his intention and, to her own surprise, was turned on by the feeling.
“This has to go,” he said coldly, “slave girls must be bare. Go and shave it off now.” Isabel bowed a little, getting into her role, before trotting into the bathroom. She had never shaved herself before, only ever trimmed her bikini line, and she was very nervous about cutting herself. Several minutes later, she returned, her plump venus mound smooth and hairless.
She saw shiny steel laid out on the bed and, as she stood meekly before him, Francesco put the collar around her neck and the manacles joined by chain around her wrists, and then her ankles.
“On your knees before your Dominus, slave,” he commanded, and watched with satisfaction as she obeyed. At that moment, there was a knock on the door and a voice from outside called out ‘Room service!’ The naked and chained intern looked up at her master in alarm, wondering what was going on.
“Stay exactly where you are, slave,” Francesco barked, before turning and opening the door. Isabel blushed furiously and fixed her eyes on the carpet in front of her as the waiter pushed his trolley into the room.
The man immediately saw the naked girl before him but, showing great restraint and consummate professionalism, proceeded with his job with barely a break in his stride. He put the food on the table and accepted his tip without taking his eyes off the expanse of flesh close by, before slowly and reluctantly leaving the room. Isabel breathed for the first time in what felt like several minutes, and felt her heart pounding in her chest.
“How does that make you feel, my slave?” Francesco sneered. “Are you turned on by being ogled by some random stranger?”
“Yes, Master,” Isabel breathed, “I am so fucking hot for you right now!”
“Good,” the Italian replied with a smile, “come here and you can slake your appetite.” He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his burgeoning erection, before sitting down at the table. Isabel eagerly shuffled over and positioned herself between his knees, before lowering her head and taking him deep into her mouth.
She had not been skilled in the arts of fellatio, but he had taught her all the tricks, emphasising exactly how he liked to be blown. So now, she delivered the best possible blow job whilst he ate his steak and drank his beer. She sucked down his ejaculate when it arrived like it was the finest champagne. Rather than showing his gratitude, Francesco pushed her away dismissively whilst he fastened his trousers and finished his meal. Isabel felt rather hurt, until she realised it was all part of the role-play. The master never showed the slave any consideration, let alone gratitude.
The rest of the night was spent with her naked and in chains, as he repeatedly took her in various places although, she noted, only ever from behind. He took her in the shower, across the table, and holding on to the rail on the balcony, overlooking the deserted streets below. He switched between penetrating her vaginally and anally, but it became clear that the Master was not going to look at the face of his slave as he fucked her.
When he had finally had enough, he picked up a pillow and sheet from the bed and tossed them out of the French windows onto the balcony.
“Sleep well, slave,” he said, holding the door and prompting Isabel to go outside. Not quite believing what was happening, the girl walked out onto the balcony and, turning back, saw the door close and heard the key turning in the lock. The curtains were drawn in front of the door and, several minutes later, during which time Isabel stood waiting to be let back in, the lights inside went out. She had no alternative but to acknowledge that she was there for the night, and she hugged herself to shut out the cool breeze blowing around her. Wrapping herself in the thin sheet, she lay down on the hard base of the balcony and put her head on the pillow, still trying to come to terms with what had happened over the last few hours.
She slept badly and only intermittently, waking fully as the sky lightened before dawn, hoping that she would hear the door opening at any moment. It was several hours later when she was roused from a fitful doze by the longed-for sound. She scurried inside at the first opportunity and found Francesco already showered and dressed.
“Kneel,” he ordered, clicking his fingers and pointing to the corner of the room. Rather dismayed that the role-play was continuing, Isabel did as she was told. While she knelt silently on the carpet, Francesco read the paper, completely ignoring her.
They had been like this for nearly an hour when there was a knock at the door and the word “housekeeping!” Francesco looked around, but the door opened as the maid used her pass key to enter with her cleaning equipment. She looked over and registered the man sitting at the table and the girl kneeling on the floor.
“Oh! Sorry, I’ll come back-“ she began, but was interrupted by Francesco.
“No, do it now please,” he said, jumping up, “I’m just going down to breakfast anyway.” The cleaner stared at him open-mouthed as he walked past her and out of the room. She looked around at the naked young woman in chains in astonishment, but she really had no choice but to do her job. This would at least be an interesting story to tell the other cleaners!
Isabel felt like she was going to die of embarrassment as the woman cleaned around her. All she could do was keep her head down and try to ignore the other’s presence. Suddenly, spending the night on the balcony didn’t seem so bad.
Eventually, the ordeal was over and Francesco returned.
“Breakfast,” he barked, presenting his stiff member to her once again for oral relief. Once again, she went to work and, when he came this time, drank down his cum hungrily, not having eaten properly since lunchtime on the day before.
Francesco had her stand up and, to her immense relief, released her from the slave chains.
“You were a magnificent slave, Izzie,” he said with a broad smile, “I hope you enjoyed that game as much as I did.”
“Wow, it was so intense!” Isabel responded, before putting her arms around him and stretching up to kiss him on the lips.
“You can be my master any time,” she said coquettishly, putting her head on one side.
“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer,” he said, slapping her behind, “but for now, let’s get you in the shower!”
It was the next day that Mr Morris called her into his office again.
“How are you getting on with our favourite client, Isabel?” he asked earnestly. “You’re keeping him satisfied, I hope?”
“I think I can safely say that he is satisfied with my performance, sir,” she replied, trying to keep the grin off her face.
“These high-powered individuals can be very demanding. It’s not too much for you, is it?”
“He certainly is very demanding, sir, but I’m prepared to go that extra mile for the good of the company!”
“Excellent news, Isabel,” he enthused, “keep up the good work!”
It was a month or so later that Francesco dropped his bombshell.
“I always spend the summer at my property in Sicily,” he explained.
“Oh God,” Isabel wailed in dismay, “what will I do without you?”
“You don’t have to be without me,” he replied, “I want you to come with me.”
“Really? But I can’t,” she said with furrowed brow,” what about my job? My flat?”
“Why don’t you take a sabbatical?” the Italian suggested. “I’m sure they wouldn’t refuse you, knowing that you’ll be keeping their number one client happy. As for your flat, I’ll pay your rent over the summer.”
“I couldn’t let you do that,” she protested.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be earning every penny,” he smiled, taking her in his arms and kissing her.
“Well, they did say I should do whatever it takes to keep you satisfied,” she responded, smiling broadly. “When do we leave?”
A week later, Isabel was standing in the dining room of Francesco’s luxurious Sicilian villa, being introduced to the staff, which was quite a surprise as she had no idea beforehand that her lover employed people to manage his country property.
“Isabel, let me introduce Maria,” he said as a middle-aged woman smiled at her and reached out to shake hands. “She been with the house longer than I’ve owned it, so she runs everything, whether I’m here or not. Maria also does the cooking which is magnificent.
“Roberto here looks after the gardens and land, plus doing any odd jobs around the house Maria wants,” Francesco added as he introduced a strapping young man, muscles rippling under a Juventus sleeveless vest top. Isabel found her eyes drawn to the obvious bulge in his cut-off denim shorts. She noticed how he blushed when they shook hands, illustrating the nervousness of youth.
“And this is Olivia,” he said as they moved down the line to talk to a young girl, probably about eighteen, a pretty blonde. “Olivia is going to university in September, but has agreed to help out over the summer. And finally, this is Natalia.”
At the end of the little reception line stood quite a tall woman, about thirty Isabel thought, dressed in a smart business suit and high heels, which seemed out of place in the rural setting. Her jet black hair was severely scraped back into a tightly plaited ponytail, and she wore immaculate make-up, with her fingernails painted a glossy red.
“Natalia is my personal assistant,” Francesco continued, “I couldn’t run my businesses without her. I invited her here for a few weeks holiday, as well as to meet you. Why don’t we all get to know each other over dinner. I’m starving, and Maria makes the most wonderful Caponata.”
Isabel was proud that her A-level Italian allowed her to follow the conversation and contribute when appropriate, as they all sat down to enjoy the delicious food. They were all very welcoming and seemed keen to show her around the following day.
“Speaking of which,” Francesco chimed in, “it’s been a long day travelling, quite tiring, and I know Isabel will want to be fresh and raring to go tomorrow. You’ll all get plenty of opportunity to get to know her, but for now I think we will retire.” They said their good nights and made their way through the labyrinth of the impressive villa to the master bedroom.
“I’m not tired, darling,” Isabel smiled, “I’m sure we can find something better to do than sleeping.”
“You read my thoughts,” he replied, returning her smile. “I thought that, as we are now in the land of the Romans, we should play another game of ‘Dominus et servus’.” Isabel’s level of nervous excitement and anticipation shot up as she remembered how extreme this game had been the first time, and she wondered what new experiences she would enjoy in this new game.
“I won’t be needing this, then,” she murmured sexily as she pulled the summer dress she was wearing over her head and tossed it aside. She had, rather daringly, travelled without underwear so that, when she kicked off her flat shoes, she stood naked before him. She was glad that she had continued to shave away any returning pubic hair, so that she was already bare in the way that she knew he liked.
Francesco turned away and opened a drawer of the chest behind him, taking something from it before facing his naked lover again. Isabel could see that he was holding a slave collar, as she had worn before, but this one was brown with rust and looked to be much thicker metal than the shiny steel one she had been fitted with on that occasion. It had a length of rusty chain about a metre long attached to it.
“This is a genuine slave collar I bought in an antique shop,” he explained as he closed the band around her neck, “I thought it would add to the realism of our game.” Whereas the other collar had merely clicked shut, he secured this one with a large padlock. When he stepped back, merely holding the final link of the chain in his hand, Isabel felt the full weight of the iron resting on her collarbones, and thought about how hard it must have been for a real slave to wear this for any length of time.
He brought out equally weighty manacles connected by chains for her wrists and ankles so that, when she was in the full set of restraints, holding her arms up for any length of time was difficult, and any movement made the iron chain clink and scrape across the tiled floor. She had to make a physical effort to stop herself bowing under the weight.
“Turn round and bend over, slave,” he commanded and, when she obeyed, he took her roughly from behind. It was the start of a long, long night of hard sex and, before its end, Isabel realised that she actually was pretty tired. She had tried to tell Francesco that she had had enough at one point, but he had merely slapped her hard across the cheek, growled ‘shut up, slave’, turned her over and forced himself into her anus without bothering with lubricant. When he literally couldn’t get it up any more, they both fell into the bed and almost instantly asleep.
Isabel awoke gradually the next morning, coming to slowly and assessing the situation. She could feel the hard iron still around her neck, wrists and ankles, confirming that she was still in her slave role and, remembering the humiliations she had endured the last time, making her nervous about what was still to come.
She felt around the bed, but her lover/master wasn’t there. The sound of running water indicated that he was in the shower next door, so she settled down for a little more sleep. Just then a noise from the direction of the bedroom door made her sit up and look over. To her surprise, she saw Natalia striding towards the bed. The Italian woman was wearing a loose-fitting white blouse, tight leggings and riding boots, while in her hand she carried what looked worryingly like a short whip. Her face looked like thunder.
“What do you think you’re doing, slave?” she shouted. Surprised by the sudden appearance of the angry woman, Isabel clutched the sheet to her throat, covering the embarrassing presence of the collar and chains, as well as her nakedness.
“What’s going on, Natalia?” she asked in confusion, “what do you want?” Becoming even more angry at these words, Natalia yanked the covers from the frightened girl’s grip and tossed them aside, exposing her nudity and her bondage.
“Get out of that bed, you lazy slut!” she ordered and, when there was a moment’s hesitation from the other, raised the whip and repeatedly cracked it down across Isabel’s back, buttocks and thighs until she scrambled off the mattress and onto the floor.
“Please stop hurting me!” Isabel whimpered as she cowered away from the vicious assault, taking the subsequent blows on her arms, raised in defence.
“Don’t talk back to me, slave!” Natalia barked, continuing to lash out with the whip, “you clearly need to be taught your place!” At that point, Francesco entered the room, drying his hair.
“What’s going on?” he asked, observing the scene before him.
“Sorry to burst in on you, sir,” Natalia replied, “I was looking for this slave so I could put her to work, and I found her lazing in your bed.”
“Yes, that was my fault,” Francesco responded, “I should have tipped her out last night, but I was too tired. Take her now.”
“Yes, sir,” Natalia said, taking hold of the chain from Isabel’s collar and pulling her off the floor and out of the room. As she was led through the villa, Isabel felt shame and humiliation that what she had thought of as a private, secret sex game between her and Francesco now clearly also included the tall Italian woman. Yes, she acknowledged to herself, when they had played this game before, there had been the staff in the hotel, but they had just been passive observers, brought in to heighten her excitement and embarrassment. This was something else, something which gave her a sense of unease.
Her alarm grew when they entered one of the bathrooms, to find the young girl, Olivia, waiting for them. She was dressed casually but, as if to unnerve Isabel further, she was holding a whip identical to that carried by Natalia, the blows from which had subdued the naked woman earlier.
“I’ve got to go out,” Natalia said, directing her comments to Olivia, “put this slave to work, will you?”
“My pleasure,” the girl replied with an evil grin, taking the end of the chain from the other woman, “come here, cunt, I’ve got the perfect job for you.” She held out two toothbrushes, which Isabel took with some confusion.
“The red one is to clean around the toilet,” Olivia explained, relishing the other’s look of distaste, “the green one is for the bath, sink and shower tray. Make sure you do a good job, slave, I’m just itching to use this.” She waved the whip threateningly and Isabel, fearing the consequences if she didn’t obey, got down on her knees and began scrubbing around the toilet bowl with the small brush.
Not that this saved her from punishment. Olivia kept an eagle eye on her and, each time she slowed her workrate, even if just to draw breath, the girl lashed the whip down across her back, enjoying the scream of agony this elicited, laughing at the other’s discomfort. Having seemed so sweet and innocent the previous evening, Isabel couldn’t believe how cruel and heartless this girl was now proving to be.
It took well over an hour to clean the entire bathroom with the almost useless brushes and, by the end, Isabel was exhausted, her fingers, back and legs aching from the work, and her buttocks sore from the whipping. She looked around, hoping that Francesco would appear and announce that this little game was over. As far as she was concerned, it had gone way beyond a bit of sexy fun.
“You’d better speed up, slut,” Olivia snapped as she dragged Isabel to her feet and into the hall, “you’ve got another four bathrooms to do.” Isabel let out a groan.
“Oh, this is too much!” she complained, standing her ground. “I don’t want to play anymore, Olivia. Get Francesco and ask him to take this collar and cuffs off, please.” Olivia turned on Isabel, a strange mixture of surprise, anger and delight on her face.
“You think this is a game?” she asked in an incredulous tone. “Let me set you straight!” She cracked the whip around Isabel’s thighs, just above the backs of her knees and, when her hands went down to protect herself, lashed it viciously across her breasts. Isabel screamed and fell to her knees, then sprawled on the floor, arms around her head, as Olivia continued to beat her.
“You are our slave, you stupid fucking bitch!” she shouted down at her. “You will do as you’re told and work damn hard, or suffer the consequences! Do you understand, cunt?! Answer me!”
“Yes!” Isabel wailed, trying to avoid the continued whipping.
“Yes what?! Show some respect! Call me Domina!”
“Yes, Domina!” Isabel responded desperately.
“That better!” Olivia said with a satisfied smile. “Now let’s get you back to work!” Isabel scrambled back to her feet as the angry girl dragged her through the villa to her next destination.
She spent the rest of the day working her fingers to the bone under the baleful gaze of her young tormentor, frightened that, at any moment, the evil whip would crack down once again, sending further agonising jolts of pain through her abused body.
She did not get a break at lunchtime, as Natalia took over so that Olivia could enjoy her meal and a post-prandial siesta. She considered appealing to the older woman in the hope that she could get through to her and persuade her that, whatever Francesco had told them, she was no longer a willing participant in this ‘game’. But the combination of memories of her thrashing when being forced out of bed that morning and the sight of the whip now dangling casually from the PA’s belt made her think better of the idea. Forlornly, she continued the backbreaking, menial work.
A couple of hours later, she was back under the control of Olivia, which Isabel was already beginning to dread. Natalia seemed to be more sparing in her abuse of the slave, but the younger woman clearly took great delight in her position of power over the Englishwoman, punishing her severely for any perceived slackening of workrate. The naked woman, constantly subjected to vicious beatings, began to suspect that the girl took an unnatural pleasure from the abuse she handed out. It made for a miserable, and painful, afternoon.
“I suppose that will have to do,” Olivia said grudgingly when the last toilet bowl had been scrubbed until it was shining clean, “come, slave, Maria needs you in the kitchen.”
Isabel was dismayed that even the middle-aged Maria was in on this strange conspiracy to abuse and humiliate her. But when they entered the kitchen, it was clear that there was to be no relief from her servitude.
“Here, Maria,” Olivia said as she presented the chained beauty, “the slave, ready for work.” Isabel was surprised, and briefly hopeful, to see that the cook did not carry a whip, as the other women did.
“Thank you, dear,” Maria replied, turning to look at the naked woman for the first time, “if she gives me any trouble, I’ll call you to deal with it.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” the girl responded, giving Isabel a wicked look and a smack from her whip before sauntering out of the room.
The next couple of hours were relatively pleasant for Isabel. She was only required to peel vegetables, wash up pots and pans, and clean down the work tops after they were used. She jumped to obey every command Maria issued, desperately eager to please so that there would be no need to recall the sadistic Olivia to deliver punishment.
She also set the dining room table, noticing that there were only five place settings. It didn’t take a genius to work out who of the six people in the villa would not be sitting up. As she brought wine, water and bread to the table, the others had taken their seats and Isabel’s embarrassment became even more acute.
She had not seen Roberto previously that day and, more significantly, he had not seen her naked, wearing her slave chains. She could feel his eyes following her as she filled glasses, and being ogled by the rustic youth made her feel even more humiliated and vulnerable.
It was also the first time since early morning that she had seen Francesco, but any thought she had that he might relent and release her was quickly dashed.
“I see from the marks on her behind that the slave has performed poorly today,” he remarked to Olivia, sitting beside him, “that is disappointing. She had better improve quickly, otherwise she is going to have a very hard time of it.”
“I find her to be lazy and sly,” Olivia opined, “unless she is constantly supervised, she would do absolutely nothing! As you and Natalia are so busy, perhaps you would like me to keep her in line?” Isabel looked up in alarm at these words, silently beseeching Francesco to put a stop to this attempt to take control of her.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Francesco replied, not even glancing at the slave, “you can be in charge of slave training and discipline, as well as work assignment. Are you sure you don’t mind? It will be quite time-consuming.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” the girl said with an evil grin, “I’m sure I can make her into the perfect slave for you!”
“Please, Dominus!” Isabel cried out in horror. “I know I went along with this before, but this is too much, it’s not a game, Olivia is-“ Before she could go any further, the furious would-be slave mistress jumped up from the table and slapped her hard across the cheek.
“Be quiet, slave!” Olivia shouted, taking her whip from her belt and raising it threateningly. Isabel cowered away, looking desperately to Francesco for rescue.
“It is clear she needs discipline,” Francesco said coldly, “you have my permission to take whatever action you feel necessary to deal with such unacceptable behaviour in future. For now, let’s have dinner. You can deal with this later.”
Isabel was in a daze as she served them all, including Maria, through the meal. Being so close to the food, smelling its wonderful aromas, watching them eat it with obvious pleasure, only reminded her how hungry she was, having not eaten all day. As they ate, drank and chatted merrily, she knelt on the floor, ignored.
She couldn’t believe that she had agreed to spend her summer in this beautiful but very isolated location, only for her boyfriend to be so cruel and heartless. She clung to the hope that this was, against all evidence, still an extended and extreme sex game, one which these people were playing very convincingly.
“Slave,” Francesco commanded at the end of the meal, “stand at the end of the table, facing us.” Isabel got to her feet and did as she was told, moving forward until the edge of the wood pressed against the tops of her thighs. They were all looking at her naked body now, Natalia with her glass of wine in her hand, Roberto barely able to keep the lustful grin from his face. She blushed under their stares and cast her eyes down, feeling humiliated to be so exposed.
Francesco got up and went behind her. She felt his hand in the small of her back and was roughly pushed down, until she was lying across the table. He kicked her feet apart, until the chain between her ankles was taut and, without any preparation or foreplay, thrust into her, driving her thighs against the edge of the table. She cried out in pain and surprise, staring into the faces on the other side of the table which were, in turn, looking back at her with a mixture of amusement, disgust and, in Roberto’s case, pure lust.
Francesco did not share her embarrassment at fucking in front of everyone. In fact it seemed to excite him even more, and he showed no mercy as he banged away, rocking the table across which Isabel was sprawled. He finally reached a noisy and explosive climax, filling her with his seed until it was dribbling down the inside of her thigh.
“I’m done,” he said as he stepped back and straightened his clothes, “put her down for the night.” And with that, he walked out of the room without looking at his erstwhile girlfriend. Olivia got up from the table and took hold of the chain hanging from Isabel’s collar, dragging her away.
Olivia took the shaken girl out into the garden, leading her to a tree a short distance from the back door of the villa. She unceremoniously pushed Isabel down onto the ground and wrapped the chain around the trunk of the tree. Isabel watched in disbelief as the girl closed a padlock on the chain, realising that this meant she would have to spend the night outside, under the starry sky.
As she tried to come to terms with this new humiliation, Maria came out of the villa carrying two metal bowls, which she put down on the ground next to the slave. One contained water, the other the remains of the meal which they had just enjoyed.
“Eat, slave,” the older woman said coldly, “there’s nothing else until tomorrow night.” She and Olivia looked at her with that same mix of amusement and contempt she had seen earlier, then went back inside, closing the door and switching off the porch light.
Despite the fact that it was cold, congealed and all mashed together, Isabel ate the slops hungrily, having been given nothing all day. She finished it all too quickly, and licked her fingers for the last nutritious morsel, then picked up the water bowl and slurped at it noisily, slaking her desperate thirst.
Having pulled frantically at the chain for a while in a frustrated attempt to get free, she settled down forlornly on the hard ground, trying to ignore the chill of the night air on her naked body. With nothing else to do, she watched the bats flitting about in the darkness above her, and thought about her situation.
Her treatment was, in essence, not that different to what she had allowed and, indeed, enjoyed throughout her relationship with Francesco, back in England. She liked his dominant personality, and enjoyed submitting to him. She also enjoyed the sheer theatre of the role-play, the dressing up, the bondage, and even the occasional corporal punishment. It spiced up their sex lives immeasurably, ensuring that time spent with Francesco was always the most exciting experience.
But this was taking those fun adventures to a whole new extreme level which was way beyond what she would have considered her limits. The active involvement of others in what she had seen as an intimate game just between two lovers, the repeated, painful use of the whips, and the sudden coldness and indifference of her boyfriend, all contributed to Isabel’s feelings of alarm at the direction her summer sojourn had taken.
As she settled down to sleep as best she could, she wondered how long her ordeal would last.