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“Exactly.”His voice is seductive.“That makes you my schiava, Ava, my slave girl.Now come.”
He leads me over to the bed and I follow, feeling suddenly disoriented, like I’ve been hurled down some erotic rabbit hole.
“Lie down on your back.”
I do as he says, following his instructions as he arranges me so that my head is hanging slightly over the side of the bed and one knee is bent, the position causing my breasts to swell up out of the bra.
“Perfetto,” the photographer murmurs, moving behind me to take several shots.After they both look at the photos on the camera’s screen, Roman instructs me to roll onto my stomach, draping me in pearls as the photographer focuses his lens on the curve of my bottom and the dip of my spine just above it, taking half a dozen more photos.Then Roman blindfolds me, and all I can hear is the click of the camera and the softly spoken commands of the men as I’m arranged for their pleasure—lying on my back, kneeling on the bed with my hands resting palm up on my slightly parted thighs, standing with my legs spread and my arms over my head pressed against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.It’s surprisingly sensual and I find myself softening, becoming someone sexual and beautiful, the submissive Roman wants to make me into.
Eventually Roman takes the blindfold off and nudges me into the bathroom with the next outfit: a black corset paired with a garter belt, stockings, and a pair of fuck-me stilettos.I pose myself with my head and shoulders on the bed and my feet on the ground as if I’ve just half slid off of it, looking directly at Roman, and I feel a ripple of feminine power as his eyes flare with desire.
“In the chair now,” he rasps, and I straddle a chair as the photographer clicks away behind me.The outfits and the poses continue, wrapped in a seductive cloak of murmured compliments and approval.
“Beautiful schiava.”“So exquisite.”“Such flawless skin.”
Both Roman and the photographer fuss over me, stroking my skin as they bend me over, position me on the bed with my legs parted as I hold up my hair, on my back with my legs straight up, standing with my back arched against the wall and my arms extended over my head.Roman removes my bra with authoritative fingers and I languidly cover my breasts with one arm as I lay on my back with my knees bent and my back arched, feeling beautiful ...powerful.
“Eccellente,” the photographer says finally, turning to put his camera away.“Finito!”
“I want to take some in Club Helix,” Roman says abruptly.He turns to me.“Are you up for more?”
* * *
I nod.Quite honestly, I could do this all day.I’ve never felt so beautiful or so utterly feminine in my life.I move toward the bathroom to change since I’m wearing nothing but a black lace thong, but he stops me, grabbing a short silk robe off a hanging rack and handing it to me.“Don’t change,” he says.“I don’t want to break the mood.I like you like this, all soft and pliable.Submissive,” he adds, his voice dropping lower.
The photographer gathers his equipment and together we walk through the hotel to Club Helix.Roman turns the lights on as we enter, dimming them as he removes my robe and takes my hand, leading me straight to one of the enormous wooden crosses.
“Stand against it,” he murmurs.
I do as he says, my breath catching at the feel of the cool, smooth wood against my bare skin.He grabs one of my arms and buckles it to the top of the X with the attached restraint, then does the same with my other arm.He bends to move my feet until they are flush with the bottom points of the X and attaches the cuffs so that I’m completely immobile, my limbs spread obscenely and secured to the four points of the cross.Oh God.I have never felt so vulnerable or exposed.
Roman looks at me with approval as his hand lightly grips my throat.
“How does it feel, schiava, to be totally at my mercy?”He slowly trails his finger from my wildly beating pulse down the valley of my breasts, stopping just above my pelvic bone.I can’t help myself from trying to tip my hips toward his hand, but he removes it, laughing softly.
“Take the picture now, Eduardo,” he says.
I’m suddenly conscious of the way I must look trussed up on the cross, splayed and open.My lips part slightly as I try to suck breath into my lungs.This is an entirely different kind of photo shoot.
After the photographer snaps a few shots, Roman steps back toward me with something that looks like a black rubber ball dangling from his fingertip, but with straps attached.Before I can ask what it is, he’s placing it between my lips, fastening the straps behind my head so that the damned thing is firmly wedged in my mouth.It’s a gag like the one on the girl at my apartment.
“Mmmmfff!”I writhe against the restraints, suddenly panicked by my inability to either move or speak.
Roman’s hands are on me instantly, both calming and arousing me as they traverse my hyper-sensitive skin.
“Shhhh.Relax.It’s just for a few photos.”Roman’s touch, coupled with the soothing deep baritone of his voice, quiets me as the photographer steps forward and Roman steps back.I know I look wide-eyed and helpless as the shutter clicks away, and I’m relieved when Roman steps forward again, unbuckling the straps and removing the gag.I take deep gulping breaths, quivering with both anxiety and arousal.
“We’ll have to work on the gag,” Roman says with a small smile.“Or maybe you’ll just have to behave so I don’t need to use it.”
He uncuffs me from the cross and leads me to one of the low pedestals that’s surrounded by a circular burgundy leather banquet seat, lifting me easily until I’m sitting perched on the edge.He vaults up onto the pedestal next to me with practiced grace and pulls me to my feet as his strong arms go around me.Feeling totally out of my comfort zone, I lean into his hard chest, grateful for the security of his arm around me, even if it’s just an illusion, as his hands stroke my back soothingly.
After a moment, he reaches above us and catches a pair of leather cuffs that are dangling from a chain attached to the ceiling and wraps them around my wrists, shackling me with my arms over my head.I struggle slightly, my breath panicked again, and Roman chuckles.He tugs another chain suspended next to the one with the cuffs and I’m pulled up onto my tiptoes.He hops off the pedestal, nods to the camera man, and then walks away.I stare at his retreating back as tendrils of fear creep up my spine.
I stand there dangling, objectified and mortified, my panties inexplicably growing wet, as the photographer moves around me, snapping picture after picture.What the hell is wrong with me that panic and desire can swirl together so seamlessly, making me needy in a way I never imagined?
The photographer finally moves away and then Roman is there again, and I can’t help the swell of relief I feel when he joins me on the pedestal again.
“You are lovely when you’re vulnerable.”His voice is soft, and as he palms my breasts, I moan at the feel of his hands on my body, singeing my skin with his touch.My nipples feel like hard diamonds beneath his hands, and he takes one between each thumb and forefinger, rolling them until I moan softly.
