Chapter 10

The next day, the new phone buzzed with a message. A straightforward question: if I was okay, if I’d liked the gift. And at the end, a clear summons: he wanted to see me at eight that night, at his place. I replied yes.

Happy? Maybe. In the end, it was more money coming in, and nothing could be worse than what I’d already been through. What could he do? Fuck me? I was already braced for that. If he wanted it, I’d give it for free. My dignity already had a price tag, and I’d put it up for sale myself.

I got ready and waited. Mr. Roberto wasn’t a minute late, waiting for me at the front desk with that paternal smile that, in another life, might’ve given me some kind of comfort.

“My dear lady!” he greeted, opening his arms in an exaggerated gesture.

I rolled my eyes.

“Roberto, don’t call me lady.”

He tilted his head to the side, amused.

“And what kind of bold guy would I be if I didn’t?”

“The kind who’d call me by my name.”

“Well, I refuse, lady.”

He laughed. I did too, but only on the inside.

This time, the house was all lit up, different from the last visit. But the car didn’t pull up in front like before — it went straight to a courtyard in the back. I thought it was odd, but I kept quiet. The driver got out first, opened the door for me with that automatic formality.

“Lady, we’ll be entering from the side today. I’ll guide you. The boss has guests and asks that you wait for him.”

The house had multiple entrances, and this was just one more. We crossed a wide space — a kitchen connected to a rec area with a grill, leading to the main hall. From there, I could see him.

He was sitting, talking with two men. They looked like executives, ties loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, whiskey glasses in hand. I couldn’t make out what they were discussing, but the tone was relaxed, almost casual. Maybe just an after-work happy hour. Nothing that had anything to do with me.

“Here we are,” the driver announced, stopping in front of the door.

My feet froze to the floor. A flashback from the last night there hit me like a punch. My legs wobbled. My breathing got heavy.

The modern lock blinked a small red LED. Locked.

“The boss asked that you use the phone app to unlock the door,” the driver said, impassive.

I blinked, confused. I pulled out the phone. A new icon glowed on the screen. I pressed a button and held the device near the handle, which let out a soft click.

The door opened.

I stepped in slowly, the driver behind me, turning things around. I flipped on the light and faced the alcove again. This time, without the awe. This time, taking it all in with more calm, more awareness.

The first thing I did after turning on the lights was look at the paintings more closely. I grabbed the phone and snapped photos of each one. They were oil paintings, impeccably detailed, done by skilled hands. They must’ve cost a fortune, not to mention the frames — heavy wood, gilded like they were dipped in gold.

I looked up at the ceiling, right above the little stage. Just as I’d imagined… something up there was ready to hold me, keep me suspended. A shiver ran up my spine, but I swallowed it down. Nothing about it was really new. The rest of the room stayed the same. An arsenal of toys scattered across the furniture — vibrators of all sizes, whips, thick ropes, masks, eccentric outfits.

Not sure exactly what I was supposed to do, I flopped into his armchair, right in front of the stage. I picked up the phone and started fiddling with it, waiting for him to show. Meanwhile, my mind was working. I looked back at the images on the walls and tried to match them with familiar faces on social media. But it was a hopeless search — most people cut ties with ex-girlfriends, ex-lovers, ex-whatever. To find one of them, I’d need luck. And luck was never something I had in spades.

The door opened. It was him.

When my eyes landed on him, I felt off. He stood there in the doorway while he closed it slowly, never taking his eyes off me. His gaze was piercing and scared me, a look of reproach, but without moving a muscle. He walked toward me calmly, saying nothing. I stood up like a kid who’d been caught doing something wrong. He sat where I’d been and looked at the stage, then made a hand gesture.

“Luana, do I need to repeat your orders?”

He said it calmly, without raising his voice.

I knew what the orders were, knew what he expected from me, but a doubt hung in the air. Was I supposed to stay like this the whole time? My body hadn’t fully absorbed what it meant to obey without hesitation.

Without saying a word, I walked to the cabinet and slid my fingers along the strap of the dress, pulling it down slowly. The fabric slid over my skin, a shiver running through me as the cool air of the room brushed the most sensitive spots on my body. My breath hitched for a moment, but I kept going. I let the dress fall to the floor with a soft whisper. My body was completely bare now, and even though it wasn’t the first time, the vulnerability still hit hard.

My feet touched the cold floor as I moved to the stage. Each step echoed through the space, filling the crushing silence. When I reached the center of the raised platform, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, gathering strength to accept what was coming next.

With a precise movement, I laced my fingers behind my head, feeling my hair strands spread across my neck. My chest rose involuntarily, making my breathing even more visible under the light. I spread my legs as he’d ordered, the chill climbing up my bare skin, the heat of his gaze burning every exposed inch.

I was ready. Or at least, I was pretending to be.

“Luana, do you want to be punished?”

The question came without hurry, without emotion, but it pierced me with a suffocating weight. My chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, my mouth opened and closed before my voice finally came out:

“Only if you desire it, sir.”

That was what I had to settle.

The silence that followed was even worse than the question. My stomach twisted when he looked away to the glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid like nothing there was worth his time.

“I confess that today I lost the desire to have you here. I think you’re not cut out for this.”

The words came low, without bitterness, without anger, without anything. Just a dry, objective, final statement. My body didn’t react, but something inside me broke in a way I didn’t expect. Without saying another word, he stood and walked out the door, leaving me lost. Part of me thanked God. He’d given up. I wasn’t good enough for whatever he wanted. I was free. All I had to do was grab my clothes, get out of there, and never look back.

So why, if I was so relieved, wouldn’t my hands move? Why were my legs still rooted to the floor? I stayed there, anchored to I don’t know what kept me in place. Naked. In a submissive pose.

Time passed, but I couldn’t gauge it. My hands were numb, fingers tingling from the prolonged position. The cold was starting to become unbearable, seeping into my skin, raising goosebumps on every exposed part of my body. Anxiety gnawed at my stomach, a tight knot that didn’t loosen even when I tried to take a deep breath.

And then, the door opened.

My muscles tensed up instantly, a jolt of shock ripping through my chest like an involuntary spasm. But what really made me hold my breath wasn’t that he’d come back.

It was that he wasn’t alone. Two women entered with him.

My back prickled even more. The shock hit me so hard that I instinctively tried to cover my body, but my arms were too rigid, locked in the position he’d demanded. The intense tingling made any movement impossible.

“So, madame, there she is.”

His voice filled the room with absolute calm, as if I were just an object waiting for inspection. The sound of approaching footsteps made my breathing stutter. My body wanted to curl up, but I stayed still, my bare skin exposed to their judgment. Panic was there, clinging to me, rising in the small tremors running through my muscles. The older woman stepped forward first. She didn’t need extravagance to exude authority. She was around fifty, with a solid presence, the kind born into money and good manners. Her cold eyes scanned me without any rush.

The girl beside her stood out. Too young. Maybe not even twenty. Her face still had traces of innocence, but her body carried soft curves, well-shaped under the tight jeans and button-up shirt tied at the waist. The sneakers on her feet made her look out of place in that setting.

“Ah, darling…” the woman said, her tone loaded with approval. “She’s pretty. Good investment.”

The word hit me like a branding iron. “Investment.”

Her heel clicked as she closed the distance between us. Her elegant perfume invaded my senses before her cold fingers reached my chin. The touch was firm, forcing me to lift my face. Her gaze roamed my features like every detail needed to be appraised, weighed, categorized.

My skin prickled. My mind screamed, waiting for the inevitable.

“She’s gonna touch me. She’s gonna run her hands over my body.”

Revulsion crawled through my stomach, but I didn’t have time to let it build. She released me with the same indifference she’d used to hold me, like I wasn’t interesting enough to deserve more contact.

“Just too skittish.” Her voice carried a hint of amusement. “But I can fix that.”

He stayed quiet for a moment. When he spoke, the decision was already made.

“Luana, this is Madame Lulu. She’ll be your tutor from today on.”

My lungs felt heavy, like each of his words had sucked the air out of the room around me.

“Tutor? What did that mean? What exactly would she do to me?”

My mouth went dry, but the response came on autopilot.

“Yes, my sir.”

Madame Lulu smiled, satisfied.

“Darling, lower your arms. You don’t know how to do this right. I’ll excuse you from the position.”

My shoulders finally relaxed. My hands fell to my sides, tingling, stiff from the long hold. The relief of being able to move didn’t erase the humiliation.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

The cold hit my stomach like an unexpected punch. My mind pulled me back to the last time. The cold floor. The humiliation washing over me. The smell clinging to my skin. The urge vanished right then. But my voice couldn’t deny it.

“Yes…”

His eyes narrowed.

“Yes, Madame Lulu. Be polite. And don’t look me in the eyes.”

My throat tightened.

“Yes, Madame Lulu.”

“Now go.”