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“Valentina, you are exquisite, and I have wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
She looked in his eyes for a hint of deception. All she saw was sincerity.
“I remember what you were wearing the first day of your internship,” he went on. “How your hat matched your bag, which matched your shoes. Even your leather portfolio was matching. And you had at least a dozen colored pens and highlighters.”
Valentina reeled from the unexpected compliments and the brief hint of tenderness and affection in his voice.
“Bastian has flown here just to meet you, and he’ll be spending a lot more time here because of you. I knew you’d be perfect for us.”.”
“Thank you,” she mouthed soundlessly.
“Now, move it! Everything off,” he said, his demanding tone returning. “You won’t even think of disobeying me.”
Valentina hesitated before removing her skirt. Was she really about to strip naked in front of men she barely knew in an eccentric rooftop club with nothing between her and the other patrons but a flimsy cloth? The tent wasn’t even canvas; it was pure silk.
“Do it. Now.” He never raised his voice, but his dominant character overpowered her completely. “Otherwise, I will rip that dress right off of you...”
Valentina had read enough bodice-ripper novels that the idea was exceedingly appealing.
“...And you will have to crawl out of here naked when we’re done with you.”
Valentina shuddered with fear and helplessness. But they were mixed with something else, too. A force stronger than her will was drawing her to this man, pulling her with a strength far beyond her means to measure or comprehend. Something animal and primitive she was powerless to resist.
“Yes,” she went along.
“Yes, who?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good girl, Valentina.”
Bastian stood and opened a secret drawer on the side of the table and withdrew an array of wooden spoons and powder puff brushes. He selected a short, sanguine, silk scarf from the wall.
Ethan’s commands continued. “Now take off your skirt. Hurry up.”
Her skirt slid slowly down her hips, as if it, too, were unsure. Valentina’s hands shook and her knees quivered. She was not a virgin or a prude, but she had never in a million years imagined herself standing stark naked in front of a man, let alone two men. Especially not with the whole room blazing with light from two dozen candles.
Now she was a slave, bound to succumb to these men as often as they required, even if it involved lights, degradation and pain.
The idea was scintillating.
“Your body is beautiful,” Bastian flattered her, as the dress fluttered down around her trim ankles. She stood before him in nothing but her plain white cotton underwear. At least they weren’t granny-panties, she thought, but they were almost just as bad.
Valentina saw a massive bulge grow in Bastian’s pants as he stood before her.
“You will always wear plain white panties and a plain white bra, from now on,” Ethan ordered.
Apparently, her schoolgirl panties were a turn-on.
“The only exception is if I instruct you to wear mine.”
The thought of wearing Ethan’s underwear was bizarre, but just thinking about it turned her on more than she thought possible. A distinct wet spot appeared on the front of her panties.
Ethan did not move closer to her but remained where he was, lounging against the table, his eyes taking in every inch of her. The wet spot grew bigger.
“Take off your panties.”
She hesitated.
