I wake up. My room is darker than I’ve ever seen it, pitch black with no moonlight slipping in through the drapes. I start to move my hand to search for the candle on the bedside table and find that I can’t – my arm doesn’t respond. The sensation brings me wide awake and I try moving my legs, panic setting in when I can’t shift them and realize I have lost the power of movement. I want to open my mouth to cry out for help but a tightly stretched fabric muffles my lips.
Just as the awareness comes that I am not paralyzed but impossibly bound to the bed a velvety, arrogant voice murmurs in my ear, “Don’t fight it, cariño, you are trapped without hope.” For one second the lights blaze high and through the haze of my lost sleep I glimpse an unknown, baroque room and the coldly intense gaze of the man standing over me. Then the world goes dark as I succumb to a dizzying shock.
I come to, shuddering, but now cannot open my eyes. I feel the velvet texture of a mask across my lids and a whimper escapes through my gag. My mind races with questions – Oh God, where am I? Who was that man? What does he want with me? Before I can imagine the possibilities I feel the stir of a breath at the side of my neck and know I am not alone. Then comes a cultured, evenly paced voice. “Señorita Mendoza, you smell of lavender soap. I can imagine the luxury of your last bath – the deep, copper tub, the hot water sluicing across that honey-colored skin, the fragrance of French soap mingling with the steam… you must have felt very relaxed, never imagining that someone could steal you so easily from that privileged world your parents created for you. But soon you shall understand that you were blind. This world, paloma, holds much more than you could have guessed from inside that sheltered existence. You are here because I have decided to show you what it is to feel alive.”
“Graciela, you must understand that you are mine now. That carries with it some restrictions and some privileges. The restrictions: you shall do everything I say or be punished, you shall not leave this place until I am through with you, and, above all, you shall never speak with anyone but me. Now, the privileges: You shall never be permanently harmed. You will surely suffer some extreme sensations in the days to come but under my protection you will never be physically damaged in the course of what we do. Your beauty is much too rare for that. And, above all, you shall enjoy pleasures that few humans ever come to know. Now, I am not accustomed to giving explanations but I am going to remove your gag to allow you one question that you may wish to ask. And please do not beg for mercy or tell me your family can offer a large ransom. My dear, I am not interested.”
I am jolted from the near-trance his musical voice had inspired as I feel cool hands brush my skin, slowly undoing the knot at the side of my gag. But what to say? I want to scream for help, rail against his appalling, threatening speech, cry helplessly. Instead I summon my courage and manage to ask, “How long will you keep me prisoner?” My captor makes an amused sound and answers, “If all goes well, for life.”
I begin to speak, horrified, but he lays a finger across my lips. “I said only one question, Graciela, and I have warned you that you will be punished if you disobey.” I resist the urge to savagely bite his hand and try to still my racing thoughts. My somewhat liberal parents insisted I be well educated, albeit at home, and I have learned that nothing can be accomplished without a rational plan. My terror protests: But the situation in which I find myself is anything but rational! Breathing steadily to calm myself, I force the fear back and concentrate. I am innocent of the world, as he says. I do not understand what he plans to do or why. But if I play along and wait for the right chance perhaps in some moment I can escape.
I am pulled from my desperately hopeful thoughts by the touch of his finger grazing my collarbone. It slides steadily downward to the lacy neck of my nightgown and descends just a bit lower, resting in the valley between my small breasts. I freeze inside, doubtful of his intentions but remembering a whispered story passed among the aristocracy of a young serving girl violated at a party by a foreign ambassador. Is this what they meant by violated?
His voice breaks in, almost casually. “I can read your fear in every line of your body, you know. It tells me that you are completely lost in this situation. Am I right in assuming that you know nothing of what transpires between men and women in the bedroom? Nod yes or no.” Foolishly ashamed at my ignorance, terrified of the insinuations of the question, I move my head slightly up and down. “As I suspected. But your innocence is why I want you. I can instruct you in everything from the beginning, mold you to be all that I desire, show you the path to your truest, most passionate self. I am glad that your stifled, unimaginative society taught you nothing at all. They would have gotten it wrong. For instance, can you imagine a young man of your class making you feel this?” He moves the finger in my gown over to my nipple, brushing it lightly as he bends and runs his tongue across my lower lip. I gasp in shock, trying to pull away, and he desists. But worst of all, I feel a rush of sensation deep between my legs although he did not touch me there. What is he doing to me? He laughs briefly, almost tenderly. “I know what you are feeling, Graciela. For now I will not even touch you there to feel your wetness – but I know it has arrived. For the moment you must eat and drink to have strength for the coming day. I am going to unbind your arms and help you sit.”
I have no desire of his help but I wish to move my limbs so I will myself to wait quietly as I hear the click of a folding knife blade locked into place and feel the cold steel glide unnervingly over my skin. I note that he takes special care near the bend of my elbows, slowly and deliberately freeing me from the restricting bands of cloth without nicking me once. When he has finished I feel the silky fabric fall away as he slides his hands under my back and raises me to a sitting position. “I have already eaten so I shall feed you now.” I feel a cold wetness against my lips and smell ripe melon but I refuse to lower myself to eat his food. I turn my head to one side.
Rapid as lightening his hand has my chin in a vice-like grip. He slowly but steadily forces my face back towards him, saying, “This can be easy or hard, but you will eat. I have no use for a girl too weak to give me pleasure. And don’t lie and say you aren’t hungry – two days have gone by since I took you from your home.” Startled, I begin to speak, “But I don’t – ”
“Silence!” He presses the melon to my lips again. “I said no questions. You are not a stupid young woman so don’t act like one. If you eat I will do you the favor of explaining a little about your new life here. If you do not you will learn how serious I am about having my way.”
I decide it is not worth it to anger him this early and, now that he mentions it, I am starving. I can feel a weakness in my body due not only to my fear but lack of sustenance as well so I part my lips and accept the slice of fruit. When I bite into it the juices burst over my tongue and begin to quench my thirst. I realize I am ravenous for more but after I swallow nothing else is placed to my lips. I sense that he is waiting to see what I will do.
“May I have some more?” I ask. He says nothing. “May I have more, please?” His hand arrives promptly to my mouth with another piece of melon. “There’s the lady of breeding I invited to dine,” he says mockingly. “Now we can begin the meal.” He feeds me more of the fruit, to my relief never touching my lips with his fingertips, and then begins to spoon-feed me a rich, creamy soup. The flavor is delicious and its warmth gives me strength. Without realizing it I begin to run my tongue over the spoon every time he withdraws it, savoring the sensation in my mouth. Soon he is giving me bits of cold salmon but these I must lift from his palm with my teeth. I hate every instant my lips spend brushing his skin but I know I must take care of my body to be always ready for escape. And it is quite amazing how heightened my senses are – as I am unable to see or freely move, in the silence of the room the tastes and smells of the food come alive for me. And so, when I sense a soft sweetness against my lips, I open my mouth to accept what I imagine is dessert. He slides something inside and as my tongue plays over an exquisite chocolate sauce I realize I am sucking on his finger.
I pull my head back but he is ready and catches me with one hand on my curls. Locking me into place with his other hand on my face he inserts his finger again and runs it over my tongue. I feel invaded and try to escape but he whispers softly in my ear, his voice like a satin-covered steel vice, “Querida, I can use you as I please. Be glad I am going slowly. Now, you will draw my finger in and out of your mouth as I speak to you, and you shall not stop until I give you the word.”
Ashamed, but wanting information, I begin to suckle his finger softly, making a circle of my lips and moving up and down its length. He, in a removed voice, tells me how he drugged me in my sleep, stole me from my home, and brought me to this place which, he claims, is somewhere no one will come searching for a lost duke’s daughter. “It was not easy, I assure you. You have been my greatest challenge. But now I have you and I am already enjoying you even more than I thought I might. Your hair glows more brightly in this light, Graciela, and your young breasts are absolutely luscious under that pure white shift. I think even your mouth was made for pleasing a man. Señorita Mendoza, if you could see the way I am looking at you now you would blush profoundly. What you will learn is that you should relish being viewed as a sensual, fiery creature.” With that he draws his finger languidly from my mouth, tracing the shape of my lips with the wet tip.
I hear him stand and pace about the room. I follow the sounds closely, trying to track his movement. I can sense I am in the middle of an open space and he circles me. But it is again a surprise when I suddenly feel his hands lifting my hair and his lips running across the back of my neck. Again I suffer a warm tingling in my loins but this time I do not pull away – I know he will only force me to his will if I resist.
“Ah, you begin to understand the game. I am your master now, and you live to please me. Although I admit I will profoundly enjoy punishing you when you do resist, or whenever I feel the simple urge to see you utterly subject to my will. There will come a point, Graciela, when you will crave my punishments as another way to feel alive. Now, we must prepare you for company.”
With those words he shoves me down on the table, holding one wrist above my head while he ties the other to a corner of the bed. Alarmed, I cry out, “What do you mean? What will they do to me?” His response is a stinging slap to the face followed by the placement of my other wrist. Beginning to panic I implore him, “Please, señor, I am not ready. What will happen to me?” Working to replace the bonds that cover my entire leg with a restraint just at the ankle he pauses to move to the head of the bed. He strokes my hair tenderly as I writhe in a futile attempt to free myself and says, “Be easy, mi amor, I never break beautiful women completely until they are ready. This is just an introduction to some of my friends. You must let yourself be carried by the current, it is entirely out of your hands.” Returning to his work he frees me from the old silk pressure bonds and leaves me with my limbs spread to the four corners of the bed. It is still impossible to move my body except for a little motion in my hips and while I am experimenting with this slight new liberty I feel his hands again at the neckline of my nightgown. “It is time to reveal you completely, Graciela. I want to see what a glorious woman I have acquired.” He begins to unbutton the pearl clasps that run from my chest down to my ankles and, as he undoes each one, he kisses the skin directly underneath. I start to cry. Ignoring my tears, he moves leisurely between my breasts, across my abdomen, and down, down, to my pubis. When he kisses me there he lingers and murmurs against my flesh, “You are perfect, hermosa, you fascinate me. You tremble with fear and cry with shame yet your body betrays you with this sweet moisture. I cannot wait to begin your lessons.”
He moves on, down my legs until the gown is completely parted and he pulls it away, focusing new attention on kissing and licking each of my toes. I continue crying, horrified that he is touching me so intimately, terrified of how my body responds, and wanting more than anything to be back in my room, safe and pure again. Am I a whore now? A door opens and I start against my bonds, hearing the laughter and heavy footsteps of many men.
My captor leaves me, walking to the door and welcoming the newcomers. No one mentions me at first, as if I were not naked and chained in the middle of the room. But soon I feel a strong hand massaging my breast, another sneaking between my legs to stroke the hair there. I breathe shallowly and swiftly, beyond crying now, and willing them all dead and gone. They comment in different accents about my hair, my face, my tiny waist, calling me an angel and a temptress and a hundred things I never want to be for them. And then, all at once, they leave me and that velvety voice is speaking.
“Gentlemen, as you know, I called you here today because I wish to offer my latest prize for your inspection. She has already convinced me that she is a unique jewel and I shall take the time necessary to make her shine brilliantly. But although I am not ready to share her completely, I invite you to aid me in this early lesson of her instruction – her first orgasm.”
I twist and turn fretfully on the bed as I hear him walk closer. I do not know what an orgasm is but when I feel his hands upon my thighs and his breath near my loins I know I will learn soon. Suddenly he is kissing me again, kissing the place between my legs and I am overwhelmed and lost. He flicks his tongue over a little bud I had not known I possessed, a place from which sensations explode and travel through my entire body. He suckles me there and I flood with a hot wetness that he begins to search out, dipping his tongue inside me over and over until I feel faint. I begin to desire, completely against my will, something large inside me. I feel empty and want to be filled. I forget about anything beyond that intense probing in my woman’s center. I am going insane, his tongue sweeps over that impossible bud again and I need more, I lift my pelvis closer to his face, silently, helplessly begging for more. At this the audience cheers but I am almost beyond hearing. Footsteps approach and I only know that I moan for the first time as fingers begin to play roughly with my nipples, pulling and twisting them in time with the strokes of my captor’s tongue. Then someone else is sucking my toes, another my fingers… someone is nibbling my earlobe and another kisses my neck. Then I feel a finger insistently pushing into me and I tense, terrified, but suddenly it is past, inside, and I am floating and falling and rising and that finger circles within me. It leads me high to a mountaintop from which I fling myself and as all the mouths and hands stimulate and guide me I shudder and cry out with release and pleasure and as they withdraw I sink into the blessed peace of oblivion.
I gaze down at my protégée and note that, even after this ordeal, in sleep her face is tranquil and at peace. So much about her is still childish, but she verges on the edge of a womanhood I will share completely with her. And what a magnificent woman she will make…
I bring myself back from the idle reverie to move among my guests, thanking them and exchanging promises of future exhibitions. My acquaintances all move within the same circle – all keep women for pleasure, hidden from every world but this one, in which sensuality reigns as king. These men are all powerful, all rich, but range from extreme to extreme in age and taste and motivation. I know that some have no patience for seduction, preferring to use their captives as unwilling sex slaves. Some excite themselves coupling with stolen maidservants and dancing girls to whom formal public life restricts their access. Almost all take women for short periods of time, never revealing their identities so they can later return their captives to the outside world and search out fresh conquests.
For all these reasons and more, I will never leave my Graciela in their hands. Many of them exchange women from time to time, relishing the novelty of new flesh moving beneath their bodies. But I crave something more passionate, more sublime. After years of searching I believe I have at last found a woman who can enchant me for life, who with time will come to adore the secret life of pleasure I embrace as much as I but who can also be my intellectual match, a partner for my soul. This certainty began when I saw her dance.
Señorita Mendoza and I move in the same social circle, although she will never guess it unless I tell her the truth. She has only seen me twice, once when she was a mere child and again at a recital for young ladies of society. Surely she does not remember me, but I have learned her by heart. When she was a girl of eight I found her charming and quite quick, inventing games of chance and skill for her little playmates. Her full, red lips and mahogany curls gave the promise of a ravishing natural beauty still to blossom. But I was entirely unprepared to find her again at sixteen, posed on the stage in a flood of red and amber lights. She held the opening position of the flamenco to perfection, a glorious tension trembling in her long, graceful neck and the artful attitude of her long-fingered hands. I devoured her with my eyes. She wore a traditional costume, crimson fabric clinging to her supple young frame and accents of flashing gold highlighting the rich coloring of her skin and hair. The lights focused and gleamed, the music leaped into motion, and Graciela began to dance.
The other debutantes of the evening had selected serene, composed numbers such as a subtle ballet or a local harvest folkdance, but not my darling. Blessed with forward-thinking parents she, although quite innocent of the sexual overtones, grasped something of the power and fervor of livelier dance and had been permitted to showcase her knowledge. She was ravishing. She bent and swirled, leapt and rose high, clapped her hands to the music and caught all of her audience up with a captivating, ardent sweep of her eyes. She allowed no room for escape, she demanded the respect and awe the ancient dance deserved, and, when she finished in a blaze of whirling skirts and caught breath, I was entirely convinced that she could come to understand and adopt a life of overwhelming passion as could no other woman on earth.
But, back to the present… now I have her here, and as my guests file out, whispering amongst themselves of her grace and beauty, I move to stand by her bed and let my vision play over her body. She is divine. Her small, high-arched feet and strong, rounded calves lead up to long thighs and a patch of soft, cinnamon-colored curls. From feet away I can smell the natural scent of roses, vanilla, and musk that curls up from her unblemished skin. Her waist is petite but curves down across the flat plain of her stomach into well-molded, sensuous hips and, moving upward, yields to the small mounds of her adolescent breasts and the slightly muscled curve of her arms. Her face makes me catch my breath, her striking features exotically marked by the mixed Spanish-Turkish heritage to which her father does not admit. Her curls fall back in unruly profusion from her high brow and, though they are closed now, I know her eyes to be of a startling aquamarine. I have seen her smile many times now, though never for me, and I know that when she does her face transforms into something ethereal, her love for the world beaming out.
But I must think of my responsibilities. I have in my hands a most precious young woman, completely pure as no other I have encountered. She may dance with the skill of a worldlier woman but the truth is she casts her spell with no arts, only her natural inner glow. She knows not of physical love, of seduction, of lust… and I have the honor and the immense weight upon me to show her my entire private world without tarnishing the poise and spontaneity she had in the one she used to know. I will be hard with her – it is how I enjoy women – but I must also show her that I do it for her own growth and bliss as well. Let the next lesson begin!
I wake slowly, as if emerging from a spell. Where am I? And then my whole body focuses on an insistent pulsing in my breasts, caused by the powerful fingers kneading my flesh and rolling my nipples between their tips. I inhale sharply in distress, the whole scene playing back before my eyes… they used me, all of them, and I did not resist! And now my captor tortures me still, speaking in a soothing voice as if to calm me, “Cariño, we are alone now. Try to relax, I shall massage your entire body so no stress remains. I want you tender and renewed for our next lesson. ”
Our next lesson! It is too much. He may punish me, but I cannot respect myself if I continue to let him abuse me without even a word against him. As I ponder what to say, how to best revolt, I realize that he has untied my ankles to better massage my calves and thighs. Instantly I lift my legs high and begin to kick. Blows land on his torso and head before he grabs my ankles and slams my feet firmly against the bed. “Mistake, Graciela,” is all he says before I hear the slash of a knife through cloth and my wrists are free but I am not as he turns me over and presses me forcefully to the bed. I feel the weight of his body as he climbs over me, straddling my legs with his thighs and holding both my wrists prisoner with one large hand. I hate having him this close to me but as my pulse races in fear I feel again the rush of moisture between my legs… damn my treacherous body! I do not know what this sensation means but it makes it harder to resist him. And resist I must for now he begins to strike my buttocks, hammering blows on both sides that cause me to cry out in real pain. I try to struggle but his weight holds me captive as he continues castigating me and then I go stiff, horrified as the blows cease and I feel one finger press down upon my anus. What will he do to me? I have no idea what he wants, but he insistently strokes and rubs me there until, suddenly, his fingertip is inside and he is pushing further in. I begin to sob in confusion and humiliation. I don’t understand but this must be wrong, he cannot do this to me!
But he does. He moves his finger inside me to the hilt, my nerves protesting the unwelcome, strange intensity of its presence. He begins to move his finger in and out, slowly and rhythmically, as I squirm under him and whimper in shame. Soon he adds another finger, and a third, and with each my agony increases because I grow wetter and wetter in my private place. Soon, without wanting to, I am pushing back against his hand not in defiance but with desire. He is stroking parts of me I had not felt before, causing me to see white lights behind my closed lids and crave more and more… I hate him, I hate myself… I am a whore and I am enjoying it.
Soon he has four fingers inside my rear, stretching me to a limit that is almost painful and yet forces small moans of pleasure from my mouth. Without removing his hand he leans over me to whisper in my ear, “Don’t fight what you are becoming, my dear. Accept that you are mine, that there is no secret part of you I will not claim. The more you resist the more forcefully I will bend you to my will. Now tell me, do you like what I am doing to you?”
Disgusted at his arrogance and by the betrayal of my body I force a lie through my lips. “No. I hate every second.” He laughs and twists his fingers rapidly inside me, causing me to cry out with the sensation. The pleasure comes through clearly in my voice. “Tell me the truth, Graciela. Do you enjoy it?”
Again I spit out an honorable lie, “No, you brute. You disgust me.” He only tisks-tisks with his tongue against his teeth. “Such language from a lady of breeding, my pet. We will have to remedy that.” Quick as lightening his fingers are pulled from my gaping opening and I hear his steps cross the room. I hear water running, fabric shuffling, and then he returns. He slathers a cold, wet gel across my bottom and before I can ready myself I feel something large and warm pressed against my entrance. “You will give yourself to me, and you will tell me the truth!” In one smooth stroke I feel a large presence fill me from behind, causing my body to jerk with desperate protest. I scream and he grabs my hair in both hands, pulling my head back until my throat constricts and I go silent. And in this way he rides me harshly, forcing what I know to be his member in and out of my tender hole, driving me cruelly towards another release I do not want, try to avoid…
But I am climbing again, arriving to that desperate place of no return and as he jerks my head about and pounds into me, claiming me, he demands again. “Say it, Graciela, tell me how it makes you feel.” The tears pour down my stricken face as I gasp, finally, the truth: “I hate you but I love it, I don’t want you to stop!” At my words he moves his hands from my hair to my breasts, pulling me back against his naked chest. As he mounts me faster and deeper I go limp in his arms, abandoning myself to my fate. His skin is hot, his muscles press hard against me, and I am lost in the masculine smell of his sweat and musk and desire. I am no longer myself, I think; now I exist only for him. I feel him begin to jerk against me uncontrollably and a fiery fluid pours into my body. With this added heat I reach my peak and, without thinking, hurl myself into the abyss beyond.
When I come to, I find myself curled in his arms. I am still blindfolded but my limbs are free and from his breathing I can tell he is asleep. Should I run? Instead I find myself impelled by a curious desire to see his face, to know who it is that has me so utterly bent to his will. Who it is that makes me feel I am breaking apart at the same instant that I feel more deeply complete than ever before…
I slowly, haltingly, free one arm from his embrace. Tugging silently on my mask I remove it and blink against the low light of the many candles placed about this crimson-draped room. I see a wooden door in the far wall but I find myself turning away from it, drawn inexplicably to view the visage of my captor. When I finally face him, I stifle a gasp of surprise. He is savagely beautiful, and in sleep his face holds a deep tenderness I never would have imagined from the pitiless tone of his voice. I want badly to caress his face, even as I rebel inside against the desire – why should I want to be gentle with my torturer? I should find his knife and kill him! But, against all reason, I cannot break away from the rich sheen of his dark skin, the devastating swoop of his thick, black brows above a strong nose and full, sweet lips set in an angular jaw. His cheekbones make me want to kiss them, and I long to see the shade of his eyes… His raven hair holds a slight wave and is gathered into a club at the base of his neck. I look lower. His body, the first of a man that I have seen, is more than I imagined. The muscles are pronounced in his long, lean frame and his hands are broad and well formed. And his… member… is large and framed by a nest of black curls, seeming to lay in wait. Seeing it, I remind myself forcefully that I must try to escape, that I may never have another opportunity like this. But as I begin to shift my weight he murmurs, “Graciela,” in his sleep and I pause. Does he, somehow, care for me? He could not say my name so sweetly if he did not… and is it not true that the past hours have been, though terrifying, more real than anything I have before experienced? I am thoroughly amazed at my own stupidity as I turn back towards the wall, staring at the door I will not pass through as I, instead, snuggle back against his broad chest and slip once more into sleep.
She did not attempt to leave. I am amazed. I had locked all the doors before my experiment, of course, but she did not even try… she did not attempt to fight or bind me, she just looked at me and then moved closer and went to sleep. Can I call this trust? Is she in shock from my treatment of her? She continues to surprise me. Over the last months I have grown deeply enamored of her but she has no reason to feel anything for me. Ah, the last few months…
After I saw her recital I knew I had to find a way to make her mine. I did not want to win her as a suitor; conventional formalities and restrictions would never have allowed me to create a relationship, which, from the beginning, would be as intimate as the one I desired. No, I had to have her on my own terms.
I began to make inquiries, to learn her schedule, to arrange to see her pass by on her way to music lessons, social engagements, and other events. Every time I saw her a flame ignited within me, not only due to her incredible beauty but also because of the lilt of her voice, her natural grace, the lively and insightful things she said, how she delighted in laughter. And there was more – under everything I sensed a deep current of sensuality and longing for something more, but it was clear she did not know what these cravings meant or how they could be fulfilled. No one had spoken to her of sex, and although eroticism flowed from her like perfume it was obvious to me that it was simply innate to her being. With every day I grew more resolved to have her and more sure that I could understand her as no one else would. I planned to steal her for myself, but I swore that she would thrill in the experience too, with time. I hoped that she would come to see me as the center of her world, the only one able to satisfy her… and I still hope it, and her actions tonight tell me the dream may be a distinct possibility. I will win her heart, mind, and soul along with her flesh.
“You must wake up now.” I speak with a severe tone in my voice. I shall not reveal to her my knowledge of her decision – not yet. I pull her naked body to an upright position and begin to tie her wrists together in front of her taut stomach. She looks around, sleepily, then fully wakes from the false security of her slumber and stiffens her body. I speak again. “It is time for something different, and there are new rules. I will be asking more of you now, and you may have more questions. If, and only if, your question relates to how to better serve me, you may ask permission to speak. If I grant it, you may state your question and if I find it pertinent I will answer. Do you have anything to say?”
“Yes, señor,” she replies. “I do not understand what you want from me. Can you tell me why you have brought me here?” I laugh low in my throat. “Graciela, you are an intelligent woman. Have you not yet guessed?”
She blushes deeply behind the blindfold I replaced while she slept. “I… I know you wish to violate my body. I know that you can take whatever you want from me, it is clear now. But why? Why have you chosen me? And why in this way?”
I take her chin in my hand and raise her face to my gaze. As I respond, I slip the mask from her eyes. “You are here, mi amor, because I think you are the most splendid woman ever created. It must be in this way because this is who I am and how I live and I must show you every part so that you understand. And I do want to violate you, yes. But I also want to share my passion with you. Do not doubt that I will, in return for your sacrifices, give you everything that I possess.”
As I speak, she looks into my eyes for the first time. She cannot completely hide her confused reaction as she sees me fully, speaking with her so honestly and yet doing nothing to lessen her trepidation of the process of which I speak. After some seconds she pulls her gaze away and swallows deeply. I take my chance. “Do you trust me, Graciela?” An impossible question. But she bravely squares her shoulders and looks to my eyes again. “I trust your word not to harm me, but I believe we define harm in different ways, Señor. Physically I am uninjured. Inside, I feel I am losing myself. Why do you do this to me?”
I realize I am on the verge on gathering her in my arms to soothe her, an action that would destroy my carefully planned chain of events. I force steel into my gaze and speak abruptly. “I have told you I do not often explain myself, Señorita, and you are testing my limits. The conditions I have offered will have to suffice because they are your only option. Now come with me and do not think of struggling.”
I jerk her to her feet with a tug on her bound hands and force her to walk at my side. Unbalanced after so much time without standing, she often stumbles against me and, though I show no outer sign of it, my body rejoices at her vulnerable touch. Stern-faced, I lead her to a hidden door behind a curtain and, unlocking it, draw her inside.
My captor, refusing to answer my questions, has brought me to a small, stone room with no windows and only one item inside: a large metal hook hanging from the center of the low ceiling. He shuts the door behind us and turns the key.
“You know what I want, Graciela. Do it.” Trembling in the chill air, I face the hook. It seems to hang at the perfect height for me to loop the ropes that bind my wrists overtop. I glance at the mysterious man next to me, whose eyes blaze with the message that he will accept no pleas for mercy. I walk to the center of the room, turn, and raise my arms in the air.
He nods once. “Well done, my pet.” He watches coolly as I go on tiptoe to slide the ropes onto the hook and then settle my weight down on my heels. I am completely stretched, with no room to move side to side or bend my limbs. He comes and ties another knot in my bindings and, looking up, I realize that now I cannot slip my ropes off the hook as before. I am trapped, and he is raking his eyes over my body. He pulls several scarves from his jacket pocket and tightly binds my eyes and mouth.
“Now, this is an experiment I haven’t tried before. I am quite curious to know what your response will be to staying in this place for many hours, unable to move, see, hear, or speak. All your senses will be muffled except for one…” He breaks off suddenly and I feel one finger trail tantalizingly down my spine, curve around my buttocks, and travel up to my face where it tenderly follows the line of my cheek. Then he puts cotton in my ears and, silently, is gone.
Time passes. I do not know how much. My buttocks and anus ache from their earlier punishment and my shoulders grow sore with lack of motion. Then I tighten my thighs together in response to a brief contact… something touched my arm! But it does not return.
More hours pass. It seems an infinity. And suddenly I feel a feather-light touch tickling the inside of my thigh. This time the touch continues, maddeningly close to my secret place but not arriving there. Then I am grabbed harshly by the shoulders and a mouth begins to feed on my neck, tracing the curve to my earlobe and biting me savagely there. A hand is probing between my thighs; a finger enters me and begins to plunge in and out at lightening speed. I feel faint but can make no sound of protest. A mouth locks on my right nipple, suckling furiously and another finger enters me from behind, in the same sore spot as before. A tongue plays with my pleasure bud, making my legs weak and as they go out from under me I am lifted up off the hook and placed on the cold floor on my knees. Someone loosens the rope around my wrists and I am shoved to the flagstones on all fours. I can see nothing, hear nothing, but hands and mouths continue to search out every crevice of my body and claim me. I feel a hot firmness poke against my gag and it is removed but before I can speak a large male member is shoved between my lips. I choke in shock. Hands from behind begin to push against my buttocks, forcing me to accept more of the man into my mouth. But then he shoves me back, where I rock onto another finger deep inside my vagina. Someone is beneath me, teasing me between my legs and playing with my nipples and I am forced to rock back and forth, skewered at both ends by men. As the rhythm builds I, again, am led to the edge of orgasm. I begin to make my own pace and, instead of only accepting the phallus in my mouth, I begin to suck it. I run my tongue up and down its length, tasting the salty flavor of it and noting its velvety skin and smooth texture. Amazed at my own actions, I take it as deep into my throat as I can and as I do the man standing above me cries out just a little, huskily, and I feel a hot spurt of liquid in my mouth. It tastes of the sea and is thick and creamy. I swallow, and as if on command many hands lift me again and place me on the hook, abandoning me to the desire racking my own body with no hope of reaching release. Another gag is placed about my mouth and I hang my head and cry silently.
More time passes. Someone enters and I tense my muscles but I am not attacked. Two hands only release me from the hook and I am carried in mysterious arms to a corner of the room. My visitor sits on the stone floor and places me in his lap where he begins to soothe and coddle me, caressing my face and hair and placing small, gentle kisses over all my body. He tastes my tears with his tongue and gently kisses my forehead as if to reassure me. Then he carries me back to the hook and I am left alone, more vulnerable than before for the tenderness.
More visitors. I am going mad without the power to at least anticipate their arrival. Again I am surprised by a touch, again lowered from the hook, and this time carried by at least two men. Still held between them, I am given cool water to drink and the freshness in my throat revives me. But directly after I drink I am placed in a straight-backed chair and tied firmly to it. Someone removes the cotton from my ears. Another stranger places a very thin, rounded cylinder into my hand. I am made to curl my fingers around it and then it is pulled away and I feel it entering my vagina. It goes deeper than the men’s fingers and I try to pull away. I cannot and the rod is fastened in place with silk ties around my legs.
Next someone puts a thicker rod into my hand. It too is smooth and seems made of wood, and it too is taken away. A man lifts my buttocks and inserts the dowel deep in my anus before lowering me back onto the seat, my own weight pushing the instrument further inside and holding it there.
I feel hands on my breasts followed by a sharp pinch. Small metal teeth dig into my nipple and I know that I now wear a clamp. Another is added to my other nipple and the sensation is maddening, bearably painful but horribly humiliating. More clamps are placed on my nether lips and sting. Finally someone removes my gag. I begin to scream with frustration but quickly the thickest rod of all is forced into my mouth and tied in place. My tongue pinned down, I suffer complete shame. Every orifice I have is filled and claimed. And then comes the worst – a fingertip quickly runs over the bud between my legs and is gone. No one torments me now but I immediately feel a tingling there and realize that with the last touch a peppery fluid was smeared over me. It now starts to itch and madden me, making me desperate with inability to relieve myself. I am highly aroused, more each second, but no one comes to carry me over the edge. I twist in my restraints, trying to no avail to quench the longing I feel below. Then I realize I may be able to help myself – I blush deeply at my own idea, but the liquid has me insane and I give in.
Slowly at first, then more recklessly, I begin to grind my bottom against the seat. By moving in circles I cause the dowels inside me to turn and shift within my body and I feel an irresistible pleasure driving me on. Abandoning myself to the sweet distraction from the tingling I press my body harder against the chair and writhe with no inhibition until I find myself reaching my limit of resistance. But I cannot pass it. I am hot with the sound of my own moans but the restraints do not allow me the freedom of motion to arrive to the orgasm I crave and I think frantically. Suddenly the image of a face shines out among my jumbled thoughts and I focus on it. A renewed wetness rushes down my thighs. Alone and wretched, maddened by lust, I hold my captor’s cruel face in my mind. Imagining his hands claiming my body intensifies every physical sensation and soon, spurred on by his dark eyes, I am shuddering, flying, lost in my intense release.
If she only knew that seven men were standing feet from her, aching with unreleased lust at the sight of her yearning, I think my little dove would die of shame. But her reaction is perfect – we are one pivotal step closer to liberating her full sexuality. Before she can be all that I need she must learn not to feel shame when she enjoys her body, under whatever circumstances. And to achieve that end my means are to torment her until she rages with desire, demands pleasure, and knows that nothing has more value or beauty than this complete devotion of body and spirit.
As Graciela eases, spent, against her bonds, I send my attendants silently from the room.
They serve me well – when I have not the time or humor to involve other men of class I rely upon them to aid me in my games. They are paid well, with a handsome room and board included, and I trust them completely. I trust them not only because they adore the side benefits of their jobs as menservants and chefs in this all-male household but also because not one of them has any idea where he is or how to decipher the locked labyrinth around my central compound. If any one wishes to leave he is allowed to do so but may never return, and he is deprived of his senses until he has been left alone in some faraway site. I stop at no effort to ensure the privacy and sanctity of my home.
Graciela stirs again and I am shaken from my thoughts as she arches her back like a cat, stretching against the smooth wood of the chair. The sight of her tender nipples restrained within the cruel silver clamps allures and amuses me – I long to release her rosy-brown areolas from their restraints and suckle there until she cries out in ecstasy… but first, I will make her beg for me to do so.
“Mi amor… I am here,” I murmur softly as I stalk silently towards her. A weak gasp escapes her imprisoned mouth as she, startled, whips her head in the direction of my voice. I laugh softly.
“What, you thought that you were quite alone when you took your pleasure? You should know by now that anything you do is, in the end, for my satisfaction.”
I sweep towards her, gathering her curls in my fist and tugging her head backwards towards the floor. With my other hand I undo the ties holding the phallus in her mouth and toss it aside. Bending over her, I lavish her with a deep, warm kiss. I instantly feel her mixed reaction – her body squirms in revolt but her lips yield to mine and, when my tongue flicks between her teeth, hers responds.
Surprised, I probe her mouth more deeply. Her tongue continues to caress mine, sliding between my wet lips with unmistakable desire. This has come to pass much more swiftly than I expected… With my free hand I reach for a small knife strapped to my boot and slice through the bonds that hold her hands. The dagger clatters to the stone floor as I feel her small fingers glide freely over the fabric of my breeches, molding them to the muscles of my thighs. I go on my knees before her. Her soft, little hands continue to explore my body, climbing slowly, tantalizingly, over my abdomen and up to my chest. When she reaches the open neck of my linen shirt she murmurs in pleasure and reaches inside to tug at my chest hairs. Her skin burns against mine and I lose a bit of my well-practiced control.
“Graciela…” My voice comes out husky with longing. “What are you doing?”
Slowly but firmly she responds. “Master, if a man may desire a woman may not a woman desire a man?”
My mind races joyfully at her response but I force myself to reign in the thoughts. She may be close to her moment of sexual discovery but I have to ensure that it is complete. She must know that I alone command, she must be brought to a point from which there is no turning back. I cannot surrender now, no matter the temptation.
I move my warm mouth close to her ear. “My dear… men are born to desire women and most females simply fulfill that need. But once in a rare while comes a daring woman, a true woman, who wants more. You must know I chose you because everything in you betrays your unique passion… a passion that I felt a short while ago when you took me deep into your mouth by your own choice.”
“Sir… do you mean the kiss?” In response I take her hand in mine and firmly run it down my torso until she can feel the hot bulge between my legs that even her earlier ministrations could not sate. I expect her to recoil but instead she bites her lip and wrinkles her brow in an expression of curiosity and runs her fingers, beneath mine, across the thick length of me.
“So it was you… I thought I knew your voice when you cried out. But Master, what did I do to you?”
Her innocence brings a chuckle to my lips. “My child, when you began to suckle me and draw your tongue over my skin it certainly seemed that you knew what you were doing.”
Her cheeks flush red with humiliation and she bows her head. “Please forgive me, Master, I only did what felt natural. I am so confused. I do not know what you want of me, I do not know what I want anymore!”
My opportunity has come. I grasp her breasts in my hands, quickly flicking off the clamps with my thumbs and hearing her unbidden moan of relief. As I massage my thumbs in circles over her aching nipples I speak low in my throat, “Graciela, listen to me. You must always strive to give me what I want. You do it much better than you know. But you can never be complete until you admit to what you long for as well. There is no shame in desiring me.”
Stopping now, I stay on my knees between her parted legs as I reach back and tenderly remove her satin mask. She has her eyes tightly closed, afraid to see me.
She whispers in a broken voice, “You… you make me feel things I should not. You promise me everything but it is too much, it is overwhelming. How can you say there is no shame when I dread you and long for you all at once? If it were right my heart would not conflict itself so! And, worst of all…” Her torrent of words ceases suddenly and she slowly opens her eyes, starry with tears.
“Worst of all…” she says, as she stares into my face like one drowning, “Worst of all, I want to give you pleasure as much as I want to take my own.”
I am mortally terrified. I know that in telling him this I seal my doom, but I cannot stop myself. Though I sell my soul this man has bewitched me and I would do anything to please him, to show him my true desires and hide no more. He will care for me, I know. And I feel in my heart there can be no more pretending. I want to devote every inch of myself to him and, God forgive me, I want to discover every secret he holds. His body, his eyes, his very essence have me enthralled and my actions are no longer my own choice but a part of something greater. Somehow he reads my thoughts and takes up his knife to cut through my remaining bonds. Free and decided, with blind faith and complete devotion, I throw myself to my knees and into his arms.
As Graciela embraces me I feel her heart fluttering wildly against my chest and a sweetness I have never known seeps through my veins. She will love me. The knowledge is a promise that rings true. She will be my queen and she will give herself to love me.
Like a man dreaming I wrap my arms around her and draw her down on top of me to the floor. Her slender thighs can barely straddle my wide hips but she is focused in other areas, kissing and biting my neck as I reach down and swiftly release her from the clamps and rods that tormented her. She hardly notices, burying her face in my hair and inhaling, trailing kisses across my cheeks and running her cool, frenzied hands over my shoulders and arms. Finally, emerging from the stupor of my shock and delight, I take control.
I roll her underneath me in one swift motion. She moans as she feels my weight move onto her and she arches up against me. I nuzzle her neck, trap her wrists high above her head with one hand, and, supporting myself on my elbow, begin to tease and suck her nipples. Whimpers escape her swollen lips and, as I look on her face, it is transformed by hunger and by a fierce joy. She opens her eyes and stares directly into mine. “I need you now, I want all of you!”
With her cry I can restrain myself no longer and I begin to undo the sash of my pants. She herself lifts the shirt over my head, throwing it aside in reckless abandon and stroking and nipping at my nipples until I am wild. Freed of my clothing at last I slide a hand to her hidden place, feeling for wetness there. She is scorching and slick and writhes against the pressure of my touch. I have never known a woman this hot and my body responds, lengthening my erection to its extreme. I kiss her hard, then pull away and force her still with my weight.
“I must warn you that this may hurt. I do not wish it, but it is your first time and it is…” In the midst of my speech she struggles free and throws her arms about my neck to pull me down into another fiery kiss. Then, whispering into my ear, she pleads, “Master, I trust you completely. Please help me give us what we need!”
Fascinated, I put my faith in her conviction and take my throbbing member in my hand. Poised at her entrance I rub myself against her flesh and curls, coating myself in her moisture and causing her to cry out in abject pleasure. As I pause to stroke into her for the first time she, again surprising me, thrusts upward sharply and envelops me in one swift movement. Her body stiffens and as she screams from deep within I curse the pain I know she feels… until I realize she is twisting in pleasure and her center is pulsing and tightening around me. She came the moment I entered her!
Exhilarated, I begin to slide my length in and out of her tight opening, pulling her arching body to mine with one arm. She is lost, gasping and moaning but with her eyes fixed on my face as if I were her salvation. As she grinds her hips against me I move faster, thrusting now, now pounding into her as I feel her channel open for me and hear her cries of ecstasy. We move as one and I lower her to the floor, shifting my hand to her tiny, exposed bud and rolling it under my thumb. At the same instant I lower my mouth to her breast and claim it savagely and she rakes her nails down my back in an agony of lust.
We fight the tide for many moments, surging and rising together as I have never experienced before, our needs and wishes tied together and drawing us on. Soon I am on the brink, gazing into her gorgeous face as she weeps and smiles and swears that she is mine. I want to hear her say my name and I whisper it to her.
As she shines up at me, her face glowing with simultaneous longing and fulfillment, I begin to shoot my seed into her. She murmurs, then moans, then screams my name. She says it like a blessing and as I come, burying myself deeper inside her, she shudders violently and I in turn murmur, “Graciela,” in her ear time and time again. As she tightens around me I gather her in my arms and rise, still hilt deep between her legs, and carry her out of the stone room to a deep velvet bed where we collapse, completely spent.
Later, as we lie replete in each other’s arms, I glance at her face. My sleeping angel radiates contentment and I know it is all for me. I am overjoyed – there is still a long, winding road ahead for Graciela is inexperienced and I shall never tire of exploring new limits with her. But now, when I pleasure and punish her, praise and scold – even when I share her with others – I will know that she has given every part of her being to me. I will know as never before the power and thrill of being Master because I have found a woman who is not only my slave but also my true love.