Chapter 7

After that night with the houseboy, days at the villa KaRoche began to take on a regular pattern for Alex. Each morning Mario would unchain her and lead her out from her cell to the long gallery beside the pool, where she would work on the mural. At first Alex thought it would be impossible to paint under such circumstances, but soon discovered creating the mural was the only vestige of normality that remained, like a touchstone, in her new and strange life.

The way she was dressed was dependent upon Mario’s lecherous whims. Sometimes he left her naked, other times he dressed her as a peasant in cotton blouse and skirt, or sometimes he strapped her into a tight leather concoction.

In the heat of the afternoons she was allowed to rest, chained back in her cell. The hours of siesta were always fitful and uneasy; if Mario was not required to drive his boss anywhere or had no other work in the villa he would visit her. Sometimes his visits were purely for sexual relief, on others, if the day had gone badly, he came to take his frustration out on her body with a whip or a leather belt. She dreaded the sound of his footsteps outside the cell door.

In the evening Mario and the housekeeper would appear to dress her for Peter Tourne’s pleasure. She would be perfumed and painted, and then dressed according to his instructions; sometimes in exotic ball gowns, sometimes in an elegant evening dress - most often though it seemed he preferred her in a boned leather basque or corsets, her features obscured by a masquerade mask.

Upstairs in the dining room Tourne would feed her by hand as she knelt at his feet. On some nights he required nothing more than her silent companionship. On others she was expected to exchange social niceties or embark on long conversations about art or literature. Part of the game he played with her was that she was supposed to guess which it was he required. If she made a mistake and was unable to guess, her punishment was to be handed over to the houseboy, whose taste for oral sex and ejaculating on her exposed flesh seemed endless. As Tourne ate his dinner she was always aware of the boy waiting eagerly in the shadows - waiting for his turn to make use of her body. Whenever Tourne beckoned the boy over his youthful eyes would sparkle intensely. Alex had felt totally humiliated when she’d learned the truth about that first night on the table, and the humiliation lessened little with each subsequent occasion she was given to the boy. Peter Tourne always preferred his servant to make love to her - if that was indeed what it was - on the table, so that he could enjoy their exhibition. Sometimes he would offer words of encouragement to the youth, guiding him and educating him in the ways of taking her. When the youth had had his fill Tourne would wave them both away and Mario would take her back to the cell to begin the ordeal afresh.

Though it seemed impossible, Alex began to settle down to the peculiar rhythm of life at the villa KaRoche. Within a fortnight her life in London was but a distant memory, and all the while the mural, the finest thing she had ever painted, took shape along the gallery walls, recording forever a coded warning of the events that had overtaken her at the villa.

Her plan for escape rapidly became a dream to sustain her in the long dark nights, chained to the bed, waiting for a footfall in the corridor that would announce one of Mario’s late night visits.

Starn didn’t reappear at the villa for some time. At first she thought it was Tourne’s way of punishing him for trying to take advantage of her while she’d been painting in the gallery, but overhearing a telephone conversation while she was at dinner with her host, she realised that it was because Starn and Gena were away on a business trip in London. Knowing that Starn was staying in the city in which she lived made her wistful. Would she ever be allowed to go back to the life she had known?

As the days passed, it was obvious to Alex that the elderly housekeeper couldn’t have rung her agent, Laurence. If the old woman had done as she’d asked, Laurence would surely have come to rescue her by now.

Sitting at Peter Tourne’s feet in the dining room one night she wondered fleetingly if Laurence had contacted him since that first phone call. Normally she would have expected her agent to have rung her at least once or twice a week while she was working on a commission, to see how the work was progressing. It seemed that nothing at KaRoche was as normal. She wondered what excuse Tourne had cooked up to explain why she never came to the phone.

‘You seem distracted this evening, my dear,’ he said, running his hand down over the curve of her shoulder.

Alex blushed and looked up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Tonight she was dressed in an elegant white shift dress and high gold sandals. Under different circumstances she might easily have passed for a society beauty dining with her lover.

Tourne smiled indulgently. ‘I went to see how the mural was progressing this afternoon. It’s very good. I am extremely pleased with what you’ve created for me.’

Alex nodded; she’d learnt it wasn’t wise to be too forthcoming. He got to his feet and poured them both a glass of wine.

‘How much longer do you think it will be before it’s finished?’

Alex stiffened; finishing the mural was something she hadn’t given too much thought. When the mural was complete would he let her go home, or would he sell her on as Starn Fettico had predicted? She glanced up at him, trying to suppress the strange mix of hope and fear that formed in her belly. His expression revealed nothing.

‘A few more days,’ she said carefully. ‘Perhaps a week, at the most.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Starn and Gena are due back from England tomorrow. I intend giving a dinner party to welcome them.’

Alex wondered whether he meant to include her too, but decided to say nothing.

He turned his glass thoughtfully in his fingers. Alex couldn’t help but notice the houseboy hovering hopefully in the shadows. He was watching her with interest, his stare burning with intensity. As their eyes met he licked his lips and lewdly rubbed the already considerable swelling in his trousers. Alex shivered. She knew he was hoping she would make some small mistake that would fire his employer’s displeasure.

As she turned away she realised to her horror that Peter Tourne had been speaking ‘...We’ve been friends for years. Like you he is English. I’ll be interested to see what he makes of your progress.’

Alex struggled desperately to reconstruct the words she hadn’t paid any attention to, but fortunately her host didn’t seem to have noticed her rude lapse of concentration. He beckoned to her.

‘Now, stand up, my dear. I’d just like to assess your progress.’

She did as he asked without thinking.

‘Good. Take off your dress.’

Alex reached round to find the zip. He shook his head in exasperation and clicked his fingers toward the houseboy. ‘Help her with the dress.’

Alex felt the youth’s hands on her back his breath was warm and moist on her skin. Was Peter Tourne giving her to this enthusiastic but clumsy boy yet again? What had she done wrong? The boy struggled to unfasten the zip and then pulled the thin fabric down off her shoulders. The delicate dress slithered to the floor like liquid. Beneath it Alex was naked. The boy didn’t move away - Alex could almost feel his excitement scorching her bare flesh.

Peter Tourne studied her beauty thoughtfully. ‘Turn around,’ he instructed her with quiet confidence.

As Alex obeyed she lowered her gaze to the floor; she couldn’t bear to witness her own humiliation in the victorious expression of the young lad. She knew he was taking advantage of her closeness to drink in every inch of her nakedness.

Tourne murmured his approval. ‘The bruises have gone,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘And there are no weal marks. Good. I’m sure you’ll meet with Simon’s approval.’

Alex completed her slow turn. As her compliance had grown Mario had been less vehement in his beatings. She’d quickly learnt, however repellent his desires, it was far better to do as she was told than risk his fury. As a result, he’d been less quick to use the whip or belt on her.

Tourne leaned forward in his chair, and then began a more thorough examination of her. It seemed he was particularly interested in the rings that pierced her nipples and the studs that pierced her labia. Though far from healed, they were no longer sore or inflamed.

‘They’ve taken very well,’ he murmured as he ran a finger over them. Alex shivered - the nipple rings in particular made her feel totally vulnerable. ‘You are very nearly ready, my dear.’

Alex’s mind raced. Ready? Ready for what?

‘My dear friend Simon has expressed an interest in you. He will be here tomorrow night, and then, when the mural is complete, and if he thinks you are suitable, you will join his stable for auction.’

Alex’s stomach churned sharply while her urbane host turned her to the left and to the right, holding her at arms length, making a cold appraisal of what he saw as though he were an antiques dealer assessing a fine piece of porcelain.

He continued: ‘I’ll make certain Mario doesn’t mark you before tomorrow tonight. Simon isn’t very keen on bruised fruit. You’re a little small for his tastes - but beautifully proportioned, and so, so succulent.’ He cupped and squeezed her breasts as if he were weighing apples. She blushed. He stroked her belly with a flat palm, and then slid a hand down between her thighs. A single finger probed and then opened her sex. ‘And still nice and tight here,’ he continued his commentary, ‘that’s good.’ He moved his attention to the studs that nestle in the plump outer lips of her quim. There was no emotion in his touch; it was simply a cold assessment of her flesh. ‘I’ll change these for my family mark once Simon has given his approval. Turn around again, and bend over.’

Alex flushed crimson. The houseboy, as if anticipating his master’s requirements, gripped her shoulders to support and ease her forward until her face was almost level with his groin. She could make out the clear swelling before her eyes, and despite herself she was gripped by an almost overwhelming desire to open his trousers and swallow the young cock deep into her throat. Her mouth was parched. It wasn’t the houseboy that interested her - it was the near virginal erection hidden within that stretched material.

Suddenly she gasped, and her attention was drawn to Peter Tourne’s exploratory fingers. He spread the cheeks of her bottom and ran an inquisitive finger over her anus. Alex shivered; it was the focus Mario’s particular pleasure, and the memories of the driver plunging into those most secret places of her body made her stomach churn anew.

She felt something cold and oily trickle down the crease of her backside, and then felt a rush of humiliation as he worked a finger into the tight and dark closure. Her whole body tensed. Tourne grunted as he tried to breach the tight band of muscle.

‘Still very tight here too. Relax and pant, my dear, I need to get inside you.’

Alex felt the houseboy’s hands tighten on her shoulders. Her shame excited him even more. She gasped as the finger pressed insistently at her entrance. She struggled to control her breathing, so that the tense band of muscle would relax and allow him entry without causing her unnecessary discomfort. Suddenly she emitted a long low groan as she opened and the digit slid home.

Without warning the finger left her as quickly as it had violated her, and the satisfied Peter Tourne moved away, leaving Alex feeling embarrassed and exposed. She was about to straighten up when his voice stopped her.

‘Don’t move. Stay as you are.’

Alex took a deep breath, wondering what would follow. It didn’t take long for the answer to arrive. From the corner of her eye she watched Peter Tourne cross the room and open the door. Mario was already waiting outside. He grinned salaciously when he saw Alex bent over, supported by the houseboy.

Peter Tourne told his driver to enter, and then settled himself in a comfortable armchair. Alex couldn’t understand what was said between the two men, but she guessed that her host intended to observe and enjoy whatever was to follow. She watched him top up his brandy balloon from the drinks trolley by his side, and then wait for the show to begin.

Between them, Mario and the houseboy manhandled Alex over to a stool and lay her across it. The corpulent driver knelt behind her, and the houseboy unleashed his raging virility.

A charming little ménage à trois, thought Peter Tourne with pleasure. He knew that if he indulged Mario’s lusts now it would help ensure Alex arrived at tomorrow night’s dinner party unmarked.

Mario grinned lustily down at the houseboy’s youthful cock, closed his fingers around it with surprising tenderness for such a big man, cupped and raised Alex’s chin with his free hand, and fed the straining erection into her mouth. The boy gasped with delight and threw back his head. Mario undid his young accomplice’s shirt. His thick fingers worked at his plump purple nipples. He leant forward and planted a delicate kiss on each, his tongue working around the buds.

Peter Tourne wasn’t repulsed by the display of affection between the two males; he was enchanted; he had never observed this side of his driver’s nature before. If indeed Mario did prefer the muscular charms of the peasant boy it would explain his preference for buggery.

Alex’s delicate English rosebud mouth closed around the houseboy’s shaft. Her red lips were stretched, and her eyes were shut tight. Mario shuffled behind her, struggled to free his own bursting cock, and then buried himself to the hilt in her unprotected quim. Crouched between them she was rapidly becoming just a vessel for their mutual desire.

Peter Tourne suppressed a smile as Mario began to plunge in and out of her; it seemed that in front of his master, Mario was conforming to a more usual course of pleasure. Perhaps he was afraid he would incur disapproval if he drove home into his preferred orifice.

Alex let out a thick guttural grunt as Mario began to move in earnest. He slid his rough hands up under her ribcage, turning his attentions to her nipples. His fingers twisted and teased at the engorged peaks, making Alex want to cry out - although the houseboys’ cock muffled her cries.

Mario’s attentions returned to his accomplice, whose expression was one of absolute ecstasy. Seemingly oblivious to the girl squashed and huddled between them, Mario pulled him closer and planted a long kiss on his gasping mouth. The houseboy groaned and held Mario to him. Alex, humbled and reduced to a mere vehicle for the two males’ pleasure, was completely forgotten as they grunted and rutted enthusiastically towards release.

As Mario’s lips worked against his, the houseboy groaned again and flexed his hips, driving his cock deeper into Alex’s waiting mouth. Mario snorted, almost as if he could feel the boy’s excitement directly, and renewing his rhythmic thrusts in and out of Alex, began to gasp and moan as orgasm overtook them both. The houseboy’s eyes opened to reveal a strange mixture of pleasure and fear, and then he convulsed. His seed exploded into Alex’s mouth and seeped from the corners of her lips. Mario shrieked in delight, clawing the boy closer, sweat pouring down his face as the convulsions and contractions of his own climax closed over him.

When their passion was spent, Peter Tourne got to his feet and waved his driver and houseboy aside. Alex, still crouched over the stool, was wet with their perspiration. He helped her to her feet. Mario’s seed trickled from her sex, and a smear of the houseboy’s semen clung to her chin.

Peter Tourne smiled warmly. ‘You are ready,’ he said softly, and handed her back to Mario.

Returned to the darkness of her cell and chained for the night, Alex lay staring up into the blackness. She could still taste the houseboy’s excitement in her mouth. Her body’s raw desire for satisfaction dispelled even her dreams of escape.

The two servants had been oblivious to her own needs; they had used her, and wanted nothing but her body. That knowledge - dark and compelling - made her ache with a strange sense of pleasure. Peter Tourne was right; she was ready. There was no possibility of going back or unlearning the lessons he had taught her.

She slid a finger between the lips of her quim. Mario’s seed coated her fingers, lubricating her caresses as she stroked the soft folds of her sex. Need rose up through her belly like an angry roar. She instantly found the tiny bead that was the seat of all pleasure. Circling the hood with a deft knowing finger she drove another deep inside her quim. The need for release was so close to the surface that the first brush was enough to light fantastic fires in her mind.

As the pleasure began to build Alex imagined Peter Tourne’s face; imagined him watching as the two servants had taken her; imagined their bodies penetrating her depths - and instantly she was lost. Deep inside her sex began to contract, sucking her fingers down as orgasm drove away everything but the intense image of Peter Tourne’s dark flashing eyes.

When Alex rose and showered the next day the villa KaRoche was already humming with activity. Mario brought her breakfast early, but was so preoccupied that he barely looked at her. Later, while Alex worked in the gallery, the sound of voices from the main villa filtered down to her. She could hear vehicles arriving, the sounds of male voices, and muffled banging and thumping.

Mario had barely seemed interested in the ritual of deciding what she was to wear for the day; she had ended up dressed quite comfortably in a thin summer dress and sandals. Had it not been for the collar and chain she could easily have passed for a houseguest. Alex guessed that this was Mario’s intention; should a deliveryman inadvertently find his way into the gallery it wouldn’t do to find a woman, naked except for a leather basque, chained to the wall.

She worked without interruption all morning, and instead of Mario arriving at lunchtime to take her back to the cell, the housekeeper arrived with a tray. The old lady’s expression was tight and preoccupied. She avoided Alex’s eye as she slid her lunch onto the table alongside her paints. It seemed that the dinner party had taken precedence over everything else. Alex really didn’t mind. It made a pleasant change to sit in the shade by the pool and eat her food.

After she’d eaten Mario arrived, dressed in a clean and tailored uniform, and without comment he took her back to the silence of the cells. His face contorted into a grimace as he chained her.

‘He say not to touch you,’ he said with obvious frustration. His expression hardened. ‘Not to touch, pah!’

Alex felt a sense of triumph; it appeared that Peter Tourne’s will did extend to events in the cells after all. Her delight was short lived as Mario unbuckled the belt that held up his tailored trousers. ‘He means I should not mark you.’

Alex stiffened. ‘I’ll tell Mr Tourne - ’ she began, but instantly regretted it. Mario’s eyes flashed with fury. Drawing back his hand he slapped her face with the open palm.

‘You tell him nothing!’ he snapped, and slapped her again. As she stumbled he stooped and grabbed her calves with surprising agility, and flipped her onto her back on the platform that served as a bed. She shrieked in surprise at his swift assault. Mario jerked her legs apart and moved forward sharply so that her feet rested on his shoulders. ‘You make big mistake. Mario can do things to you that leave no marks.’

Alex flinched as his fingers tore at her dress - but as he pulled it aside she knew it wasn’t her sex that drew him, but the dark closure behind. He spat into his hand and stabbed a finger roughly inside her anus; with hardly any lubrication her body screamed out in protest.

‘Tonight,’ he hissed between gritted teeth as his fat finger plunged in and out, ‘when Peter Tourne and guests have finish with you, I and the boy will be down to give what you deserve! No one will hear you cry - all people be too drunk to care!’

Alex shivered. ‘N-no, Mario, p-please,’ she stammered. ‘There’s no need to be rough with me. I’ll be nice to you, and your boy!’

Mario snorted and spat into his hand again. Dragging his finger out of her he unceremoniously flipped her onto her belly and spread his saliva over the tender puckering. With her face forced down into the thin blankets she tensed as she felt his cock brush her thighs.

An instant later he breached the tender skin. She held her breath - she wasn’t ready. Terrified that he might tear her she willed her body to relax. Mario was oblivious to her concerns. Alex screamed as he forced himself deeper. A hand clawed round and over her face, covering her mouth.

‘Quiet, bitch!’ Mario snorted. Alex clenched her fists and bit down on his hand, trying to find a way to combat the pain. Behind her she heard Mario laugh. ‘You not hurt me,’ he sneered, ‘and if you do, you pay later!’

Upstairs in the villa preparations for the evening’s dinner party were well underway. Peter Tourne kept only a handful of staff at the villa: Mario, his housekeeper, and a procession of local boys to wait on table and tidy the garden. For any formal or important occasion he would hire in the staff he needed and arrange for the meal to be catered by an exclusive catering company - his housekeeper’s cooking, though adequate for his own private tastes, was more often than not little more than simple peasant fayre.

For Starn and Gena’s reappearance and the visit of Simon Bay, he wanted something more spectacular. Flowers had already arrived from the mainland, a chef and his retinue were busy working in his kitchen, and various lackeys were preparing the dining room.

Tourne glanced at his watch. He had no particular need or desire to impress Starn - but Simon Bay was a different matter. In his office he had a gown that had arrived on the ferry, delivered by courier that morning, for Alex. He wanted Simon to be impressed by his latest pupil. It would be extremely convenient if Simon could be persuaded to allow Alex to join his stable for his annual slave auction.

Tonight he would oversee Alex’s preparation’s himself. He sighed - in a way he would be sad to see her go, but for him it was the challenge of the initiation that gave him the greatest delight. Once a girl was broken he would rapidly tire of her company. He much preferred it if they left KaRoche before they lost their appeal. It would be sad if that happened with Alex. A month at his villa should be enough - after that he would let Simon Bay do what he could with her.

As the florist carried a huge display of lilies into the hall, Peter Tourne’s mobile phone rang.

‘Tourne.’

‘Hello, Peter,’ a familiar voice at the other end of the line laughed. ‘It’s Laurence here. I’ve just rung to see how Alex is getting on.’

Tourne glanced over his shoulder at the milling servants. ‘One second,’ he said in an undertone. ‘I’ll just take your call upstairs to my office.’

Laurence laughed again. ‘No chance I could have a word with her?’

Tourne sighed. ‘My dear friend, it’s siesta time here.’

‘Ah yes, how foolish of me to forget.’

Peter Tourne, cradling the mobile phone, climbed the stairs to his office and closed the door.