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I hadn’t bothered with underwear, since I had expected Pavone to finger me, and I’m glad none of my nice bras and panties have been ruined, but I’m extremely conscious of the men watching me in my full nudity now. The longer I dither about the dress, the longer they can enjoy the view.
Finally, I reach for the high-necked one. Maybe he’ll get bored. Maybe he’ll have a meeting. Maybe—
Maybe he’ll do this until he thinks I’m completely broken.
Before I can pull the dress on, Pavone holds up a hand. “Wait. I forgot something. Bend over first.”
“What?” I ask, but I already suspect what he wants to do.
“You were gone an awfully long time today. Just to buy a few dresses? I have to make sure you weren’t spending your time having fun with other men.” Pavone snaps his fingers. “Bend over, babe.”
“But Angelo was with me,” I protest. “No one comes near me when he’s there.”
“Maybe Angelo was too busy ogling the pretty boys to pay attention to what you were doing when he had his back turned,” Pavone says.
None of us believe that, and I can see Angelo bristle. The idea that he doesn’t know how to do his job properly probably rankles, but then, I did get fucked by another man while he was right outside the dressing room.
“Last time I’m going to tell you, Lucia,” he says, and the fact that he uses my name is terrifying. “Bend. Over.”
I bend over.
Pavone takes one step closer to me, then starts laughing. “Fuck, you’re disgusting, babe. I can’t touch that.” He chuckles a bit and motions toward somebody. “Angelo. You do it. Since you were the one keeping track of her, I think you should be the one to check her out. You may not know what a cunt feels like when it’s been fucked, but you know what cum feels like. Get your fingers in there deep. Make sure she’s not hiding anything in there.”
Humiliation burns through me as the rest of the men start laughing. I hear somebody say, “Why does the fag get to do it?”
Pavone immediately turns to the speaker. “Becausehe’s a fag, you fuckwit. I can’t trust you horny bastards with my future wife.”
I swallow a nervous laugh. The irony of making Angelo do this is giving this whole awful situation a dark sort of humor. I can see Angelo from between my legs, but he hasn’t moved from the trellis.
“I’ll pass,” Angelo says. “I’ve got no interest in putting my fingers in there. It’s disgusting.”
He didn’t think so earlier today when he’d been busy licking away evidence of Victor. But I’m still hurt by his clear rejection, even though I know he’s doing it for Pavone’s sake.
“Did I give you a fucking choice, Angelo? Get your faggy fingers in her cunt,” Pavone snaps.
The two glare at each other, before Angelo pushes away from the trellis and saunters over to me. “Fine. But I have no fucking clue what you’re looking for.”
The only thing Pavone is looking for is my humiliation. I brace myself as Angelo approaches, grateful that it’s Angelo, hating that this is happening at all.
“You know what semen feels like,” Pavone says derisively. “Just feel around for something slick.”
“What if she’s just wet because she thinks this is hot?” one of the men asks, snickering.
Pavone makes a face. “This is my wife-to-be you’re talking about. Keep your disrespectful trap shut.”
Angelo stops just behind me, and he makes a show of fumbling clumsily for my cunt, like he’s really having trouble finding the right hole. I mentally roll my eyes, focusing on that part of the situation instead of how the men are watching me, instead of the stink of Pavone’s piss soaking into my skin.
I yelp when he shoves a thick finger inside of my—dry—cunt, trying to jerk away. He catches my waist with his hand, though, forcing me to stay still.
“I don’t know. It just feels like…” Angelo says. “There’s nothing wet in here. I was watching her, Boss. She didn’t get up to anything with anyone.”
I fight back the hysterical laughter that threatens to bubble up within me.
Pavone grunts. “Maybe you really aren’t the best for this. Damien—”
To my surprise, Rossi immediately says, “No.”
“Excuse me?” Pavone steps around me toward Rossi. “Did you just refuse me?”
