If You Love Me Page 12
“You are frightened,” observed the Italian. “No need.”
“It’s...been a while...since I was outside.”
He walked with her slowly along the sidewalk. “How are you doing?” he asked after a block or so.
“Don’t let go of me,” she said, the lights bouncing off her eyes, the colors, and the roar of traffic.
Was it her imagination or were things busier now, more like a Western city?
“In here,” he directed her to a café. “We’ll stop for a little something.”
He held the chair out for her at a small corner table.
“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.
“Cigarette?” he offered.
“May I?” The gesture overwhelmed her.
“Certainly,” he laughed. “Why not?”
He pulled one from a silver case, lit it and put it in her mouth. She took a deep drag. “Oh, Sir,” she sighed. “You are kind. I promise, I’ll be pleasing. Whatever you like.”
“Your body isn’t for me,” he told her, lighting his own cigarette.
“It isn’t?”
“I represent a third party.”
Catia squeezed her thighs. She felt vulnerable again, naked. “I had thought...”
“I suppose your owner assumed the same thing. But I am nothing but a well paid courier, a delivery service.”
Catia inhaled more of the nicotine, feeling alive, her mind racing. “So you don’t ever...”
“Sample the merchandise, you mean?” he smiled slantedly.
She nodded, licking her lips.
“I am afraid that is not in the cards.”
“That’s too bad.”
“The loss is all mine,” he said throatily.
Her pulse was racing. “When you think of it, Sir, who would know?”
“You would and I would.”
Catia’s nipples rubbed against her dress.
“You are uncomfortable?”
“I’m not wearing underwear.”
“Ah...”
“I’m a slave, Sir. A sex slave.”
“That was my assumption when I paid for you, yes.”
“I’m used to being fucked twenty times a day...”
“I’m sure you are.”
Catia could not sit still. “Did you enjoy my dancing?”
“I must have, I picked you out for my employer, didn’t I?”
Catia opened her legs. “What is he like?”
The waiter came to take their order. He looked at Catia with contempt. She winked.
“Coffee, black, for me. A latte for the girl.”
“Very good, Sir.” The man bowed, taking another chance to eye Catia like the slut she was.
“My employer is rich,” he said. “Rich enough to buy yachts, houses, pretty girls. That’s all you need to know.”
“So you do think I’m pretty?”
“You’re a vain little thing,” he laughed. “So young. You’ve not been a prostitute long?”
“Long enough, Sir.”
He pursed his lips. “I am Giovanni,” he introduced himself.
“I am Catia.”
“Sergei says you are Catyisha.”
“That is the name he chose.”
“He is your Master.”
“Yes.” She lowered her eyes.
“It is of no importance now. To my employer, you will be Mia. Like all the others.”
“He has had many girls?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Yes.”
“You’d like to be special.” He studied her. “You want to stand out.”
“It’s my hope.” The air was on her exposed pussy. She wanted to be forced to play with herself. To humiliate herself in public.
“You’re lovely, but not exceptional. Body, good, not perfect.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You are quite horny, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I can smell you.”
The coffees arrived. The waiter practically slammed hers down.
“That was rude,” said Giovanni.
“Excuse me, Sir?”
“You were rude to the young lady. Apologize.”
“But...Sir...”
“Apologize.”
The waiter mumbled the words.
“You can do better. Make eye contact. Take her hand. Kiss it.”
The waiter did as he was told. Catia swooned. Giovanni was a powerful, manipulative man. “I accept your apology.”
The waiter took back his hand and skulked off.
“How did that make you feel?” Giovanni asked.
“Hornier than ever. You sure you won’t reconsider? I’m in your power, I must do anything. Here if you want. Snap your fingers and I will be on my knees, under the table.”
“Doing what, I wonder,” he said coyly.
“Worshipping your cock. I suck deep, Sir, I don’t gag, I swallow every drop. I’m a very good girl. I take my beatings well, too. Whip me with your belt, Sir, I will come for you.”
“Save it,” he said curtly. “For Signor Mastroantonio.”
A chill went up her spine. “He is your employer? The man you bought me for? He is the one waiting in the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“He will use me tonight?”
“After his own fashion.”
Catia wondered what that fashion was. “I hope he is rough with me,” she said bluntly.
“You like pain?”
“I’m a pain slut, Sir.”
“You weren’t always, though. You were once very different. In fact, in your heart, there is another Catia all together.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Your eyes say otherwise. You think it is your surrendered body that makes you a slave? No, it is your soul.”
She swallowed.
“Sit up straight,” he ordered. “Legs together, conduct yourself like a lady.”
Catia flushed red. To be expected not to be a slut now...this was true humiliation. “I...I’m sorry.”
“I want obedience, not apologies. Drink your latte.”
It tasted so good. She hadn’t had a treat like this in ages.
“Don’t slurp, you sound like a dog.”
She caught herself, about to apologize a second time.
“Now you’re slouching again.”
Catia was on the verge of tears. “I want to please you.”
She ground her thighs together. She had a cunt, why didn’t he use it? She had a mouth, too, born to take dick, hard and deep.
“I have told you what to do.”
“I’ve let you down.” Her bottom burned in anticipation, naked under the dress. “Please, Sir, take me to the men’s room, punish me.”
Giovanni frowned. “Do you think Signor Mastroantonio wants low brow women who offer such things?”
“Sir, I don’t know what he wants.”
“You’ll be told. Precisely. Take one more sip now, put the cup down. Take the napkin from your lap, dab both sides of your lips. A lady never finishes her food or drink.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You may thank me.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You may excuse yourself to the ladies room. Freshen up.”
“Y—yes, Sir.” She rose from her seat, unsteady.
“Mia.” He had her turn back around.
“Sir?”
“You will not put your hands on yourself. You will be a lady.”
Catia burned. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
How ashamed she felt, and excited, too. How had he known she intended to masturbate?
She entered the bathroom in terror, knowing at this point it was going to be impossible to stop herself. She felt too dirty. She was too hot, and maybe, too, she was secretly trying to goad him into punishing her. Reddening her back side. And using it for his enjoyment.
What did he expect from her? She was a sex toy? A trained pleasure girl?
Ulexi
’s sacrifice, given over to the flesh trade.
How wonderful to degrade herself for Ulexi. He went free, his life and status bought at the price of her freedom, her honor. She was an animal...chained and held in deposit for him, just as Giovanni had left money for her with Sergei.
Catia went into a stall. She lifted her dress and sat on the seat. She could not hold back. She started touching herself while she was peeing. A warm golden flow over her fingers, urine mixed with come.
Two women came in, sophisticated women discussing sex with their boyfriends and how they made them wait in order to keep control.
One giggled about how little her man’s cock was. She knew he was insecure and she used that against him.
Catia suppressed a moan, sliding her feet across the floor.
“Are you okay in there?” one of the women called to her.
“Y—yes...”
Catia exploded - a multiple orgasm. She bit on her hand until it hurt.
The two women talked in hushed terms. “You’re sure you’re all right?” One of them was rapping on the door.
“Come out if you can, or let us in, called out the other.”
“Puh—please...”
“We should get the management,” one of them said.
“No, no!”
“Then open the door, immediately.”
Catia slid the latch. No time to disguise what she was doing.
They pulled open the door.
Catia sat there, inspected.
“She’s diddling,” said the one, a tall blonde. “Can you believe it?”
“Pissing and coming. Well that’s nice,” the other clucked her teeth. She was shorter, brunette.
“What are you?” demanded the blonde. “Some kind of sex pervert?”
“She’s no pervert,” said the brunette. “Look at the clothes, no panties. She’s a whore.”
“What are you doing here, whore?” the blonde asked. “You won’t make money this way.”
Catia went to wipe her hand.
“Not so fast. We want to see.”
“I have to go,” Catia told the blonde.
The brunette blocked the bathroom door. “You won’t leave here until we say so, or else we’ll tell the management. Then you can do your little show for the police.”
“A man is waiting for me...” Catia protested.
“I’ll bet he is. Get up,” ordered the blonde. “Get out here, take off that dress.”
Catia stood naked before them.
They inspected the scars on her ass and breasts. “You’ve been whipped,” said the blonde.
“Yes...”
“You aren’t just a whore, are you?” the brunette inquired in her rich skirt suit and matching brown heels.
“No.”
“No, ma’am,” corrected the brunette.
“No, ma’am.”
“You’re a slave, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where’s your collar, slave?” asked the blonde.
“I don’t have one, ma’am.”
“You like being a slave?” the brunette wanted to know.
“It’s...what I know, ma’am.”
“Touch your nipples,” said the blonde. “Touch your dirty pussy. Make yourself come.”
“On your knees,” the brunette said. “Do it on your knees.”
Catia, wearing only her shoes, lowered herself onto the tile floor.
“That’s a girl,” said the blonde.
“I have to call my boyfriend,” said the brunette. “In New York.”
“At this time of night? Oh, yes, the time difference,” the blonde said, as if Catia weren’t even there. “Well, we better go, then.”
“We’ll be right outside, warned the brunette. You better not come out of here until you’ve climaxed. And don’t fake it. We’ll know the difference.”
Catia whimpered; her hand between her legs. She had disobeyed Giovanni. She had been in here too long. How would she explain herself?
“Should we leave the little dear her dress?” the blonde grinned. “Or not?”
“Please, I can’t leave here naked.”
“She’s right,” said the brunette. She picked up Catia’s dress off the floor. “We must leave it for her. Somewhere safe.”
The brunette took it to the stall where Catia was.
“No!” cried Catia.
She tried to grab the brunette before she could put the dress in the toilet. The blonde tripped her, she went sprawling.
The two women left her, laughing cruelly.
Catia rescued the dress. Sopping wet, covered in the water she had pissed in. She wept uncontrollably. Running to the sink she started rinsing it. She put one hand between her legs. She couldn’t stop masturbating. She had to get off before she could leave.
She took the dress from the sink to the hand drier on the wall.
She moaned, as she orgasmed, one hand pressing the dress to the hot opening, the other on her clitoris.
The dress was still completely wet. Miserable, she pulled it over her head.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Giovanni would punish her now for sure. In ways that would not feel particularly sexy.
“Mia? Are you in there?” Giovanni was knocking on the door.
“I’m here,” she croaked.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
He opened the door. He did not react as he looked her over. “Who did this?” he inquired.
“It...it was no one,” she lowered her eyes.
“Mia, do not lie to me.”
She did not have it in her to defy him. “Two women. A blonde and a brunette.”
“The brunette is in a brown skirt, the blonde in a blue dress?”
“Yes.”
“Come with me.” He led her out, right up to the table where the two women were sitting.
Their jaws dropped.
“Are these the ones?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Giovanni signaled for the manager.
“What seems to be the problem, Sir?”
“You will kindly summon the police. These two women are guilty of assault.”
The women gasped and began to protest.
“But, Sir,” said the manager. “They are among my best customers.”
Giovanni pulled a small plastic case from his coat pocket, showing the man his identification. “It is not them you should worry about offending.”
The manager’s lips tightened. “I shall tend to it at once.”
The two women were on their feet.
“Sit down,” said Giovanni.
“Do not speak to us that way,” said the blonde.
“Sit down,” he repeated. “Or I will strip off your dress and put you over my knee.”
The blonde sat back down. The brunette followed suit.
Within a minute the police arrived, several uniformed officers. “Colonel Antonelli,” Giovanni identified himself to the one in charge. “International Intelligence Agency.”
The officer nodded gravely. “Yes, Colonel. How may we be of service?”
“These two,” he pointed out the seated women. “Assaulted this woman.”
“Is that true?” he asked Catia.
Catia looked to Giovanni.
“Explain what happened. In detail.”
Catia did so, leaving out nothing. Her face burned as she spoke of how she was caught masturbating.
“You see,” said the brunette. “She’s a slut.”
“Sergeant,” Giovanni observed. “These two women appear to be the same size. I suggest they exchange outfits.”
“Good idea.”
The brunette protested. One of the officers grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the bathroom.
“Go with them, Mia,” said Giovanni.
Several minutes later she emerged, in clean expensive new clothes. The brunette did not come out.
“Take her statement,” the Sergeant
ordered the man to go in after her. “What about you,” he said to the blonde. “Do you confess?”
“I never touched that woman,” she pointed to Catia. “And that is the truth.”
“Take her outside,” said the Sergeant to the other man. “Take a statement from her.”
The man smiled smugly.
“I demand my rights,” said the blonde, even as her hands were cuffed behind her back.
“Sergeant,” said the officer with the brunette. “This woman has something to say.”
She did not make eye contact. “I am guilty,” she said.
Catia saw the officer had his baton out; he was tapping it at his side. He had used it to threaten the brunette, but how? Had he put it between her luscious lips, or between her thighs?
“Take her away.”
She shuddered as the officer grabbed her arm. “You’re mine now,” he hissed in her ear.
The brunette crossed paths with her blonde friend, who was coming back in.
“I am guilty,” she said woodenly.
Catia saw her lipstick smeared. Was it a rough kiss or something shoved in her mouth?
“The case appears to be closed,” said the Sergeant.
“My thanks,” said Giovanni. “What will happen to these two now?”
“They will appear before the magistrate. For a first offense, I should think six months penal servitude.”
“In a labor camp?”
“Heavens, no, we are not as brutal as the communists. These two little bon bons will be taken to a government brothel.”
“No,” cried the blonde. “You can’t...”
The Sergeant issued an order. The blonde whimpered but offered no resistance as the officer lifted her dress and ripped off her sheer panties.
“Open wide,” he commanded.
The blonde gaped her jaws immediately, allowing the panties to be thrust inside her mouth. He pushed her jaw closed, gagging her.
“She’s very compliant, officer,” noted Giovanni.
The man caressed her naked ass. She shivered, handcuffed, helpless. “We reached an understanding in the car.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Giovanni lifted her chin. “This is a lesson, girl. Do not mess with other people’s property.”
“Is there anything further, Colonel?”
“Thank you, Sergeant. I am well satisfied. If you will tell me your name so that I might make mention to your commander of your excellent service.”
“Sergeant Ladislav Wodanya,” he beamed. “Thank you very much, Sir.”
“Not at all.”
Catia watched the policeman leave, stunned. Just like that, Giovanni had demolished her enemies. They had gone from arrogant professional women to brothel slaves.