Shameful Reckonings (3 page)

“Home, Boris,” Giancarla ordered. She slumped down in the back seat and sighed wearily. It was a relief to be rid of that dreary woman at last, but the experience had left her feeling emotionally drained. When she got home, she’d do some laps in the pool. Swimming was good exercise, and maybe pushing herself at it as she usually did would help her forget all about this afternoon. It was worth a shot.

Once at home, she donned a favorite bikini. It barely covered what it was supposed to cover, but it left enough to the imagination to start most men salivating. Giancarla knew that she looked very, very good in it, but even so she spent a little time admiring herself in the mirror while looking for any signs of trouble. A careful appraisal only served to convince her that there were no such signs. Her flesh was firm and flawless everywhere. That made her feel better about the day, and she went to the pool with a little smile on her face. She left her clothes scattered on her bedroom floor for Olivia to attend to.

Nicholas had admonished her about strolling through the mansion wearing only that bikini, but he was not here today, and she could always say that she had simply forgotten. The fact was she enjoyed the sidelong looks she got from the male staff as she strolled past them. None of them would openly stare at her, but every one of them had a look, even the head of the staff, ancient and wrinkled Alois. She went barefooted. When she needed a towel or anything else, one of the staff would bring it to her.

The water was warmer than she expected, but it still felt good. She swam several laps slowly until she felt suitably warmed up, and then did three racing laps, pushing herself as hard as she could. She finished the last lap and clung to the side of the pool, puffing and gasping. She felt pleasantly tired now. Someone had told her once that vigorous exercise released endorphins and it was those that brought about her feeling of well-being. Maybe it was true, but she always felt good after she’d pushed herself. She climbed out of the pool and wrung out her hair. She struck a pose as she always did, standing spread-legged, her back arched and her head tilted far, far back. The late afternoon sun was glinting off of the huge glass sliding doors that led to the mansion, so she couldn’t tell if anyone was watching her little display, but she thought that somebody probably was. She shook her head vigorously, making her breasts wobble in their frail Lycra cradle, and sat down on one of the reclining beach chairs that ringed the pool. It was in the full light of the sun, but only for a little while longer. If she fell asleep in it there was no danger of incurring a painful burn. Giancarla settled herself in comfortably and closed her eyes. She smiled as she thought of something she’d like to try with Lars at their next little tryst.

***

Someone was trying to wake her. At first, Giancarla felt only annoyance, and she slapped at the hand gently shaking her shoulder. As wakefulness slowly returned, though, she realized that she was not indoors in her comfortable bed, but still outside on the beach chair. She opened her eyes to see Boris standing over her, still wearing his dark suit and sunglasses. Startled, she sat up, fighting a sudden instinctive urge to cover herself with her hands. Boris stood much closer to her than he usually did, and he rarely touched her.

“What?” she looked up at him angrily. Her bikini felt dry. So did her hair. How long had she been sleeping? The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but the sky overhead was already darkening. She could see a half-moon in the sky, as insubstantial as a cloud.

“The master has returned home,” Boris said in his thickly-accented voice. “He wants to see you. Now.”

“Nicholas is home? Wonderful! Let me get dressed and I’ll come to him!” Giancarla switched from pout to smile in an instant.””

“No,” Boris shook his bald head. “He said
now
.”

Okay, that sounded ominous. Maybe it was just because of Boris’ delivery, but Giancarla tried to imagine what would have prompted Nicholas to say that. Maybe one of the female staff had tattled to him about her parading around in the bikini. If that was the case, she would be properly contrite and then seduce Nicholas into taking her to bed. The way she was dressed it shouldn’t be hard. He was always a bit rough and demanding during their make-up sex, and she liked that, although she’d never told him so.

Boris escorted her to where Nicholas was waiting. Giancarla had expected him to be in the cavernous living room, but instead he was in his study, a smaller room of dark wood paneling and packed bookshelves. Giancarla saw him sitting in his Italian leather swivel chair. She heard the door to the study close. Nicholas always reprimanded her in private.

“Darling!” she smiled and went towards him with her arms extended. “What a wonderful surprise! Why didn’t you call and tell me you’d be home early? I could have…”

“Stop.” Nicholas held up his hand, halting Giancarla’s words and her forward motion simultaneously. He looked up at her, and his eyes seemed cold… even contemptuous.

“Darling?” Giancarla said nervously. “What is it?” He must be really upset about the bikini this time. She might even have to give him some oral sex, which she didn’t much care for.

“It is many things, Giancarla, starting with that bikini you are wearing,” Nicholas replied.

Giancarla started to speak, but then Boris came into view. She felt a sudden chill, and it wasn’t just from the skimpiness of her bikini. She had been about to smile sweetly and offer to take it off for him. Now… this was different.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said hastily. “I just forgot.”

“No, you did not,” her husband shook his head. “But that is the least of my complaints. Whenever I am away, it seems that you treat the staff here like zeks.”

Nicholas often used foreign words or phrases in his conversation. ‘Zek’ was one that Giancarla recognized. It was a Russian word that meant ‘slave laborer’. If Boris hadn’t been there, she might have playfully suggested that she needed a good spanking. Nicholas could never resist her when she got all sexy on him. As it was, she couldn’t think of anything to say or do except stand where she was and look properly chastened and repentant. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, hanging her head.

“Again, you are not,” Nicholas said sharply. “And even
that
is nothing in comparison to what else you have been doing. How long have you been having an affair with that great Swedish lout at the club?”

Sudden desperation struck her. “You mean you’ve been
spying
on me?!” she yelled. “How long has
that
been going on?”

Nicholas swiftly rose from his seat. Giancarla never saw the slap coming. He struck her hard enough to snap her head around and make her stagger. She put a hand to her cheek. She was so stunned that all she could do was gape at Nicholas. His eyes were full of a smoldering anger.

“
You
,” he snarled, shaking a finger at her, “
You
are an arrogant, spendthrift, faithless little bitch! I rue the day that I married you!”

“Nicholas,” Giancarla sobbed. Tears started from her eyes. “Darling…”

“No,” Nicholas shook his head. “Do not speak another lying word!” He didn’t yell at her, which was more unnerving than if he had. His voice was low, and harsh, and angry. Giancarla suddenly realized that she was shivering from fear. She said nothing, only waited, trembling, while Nicholas sat down again.

“Now,” he said, in a more normal voice. “Take off that indecent bikini.”

“What?” Giancarla gulped. She looked quickly at Boris, and then back at her husband. “But…”

“You like to show off your body,” Nicholas smiled nastily. “And it is a superb body. Let Boris see it as well as I.”

Okay, he meant to humiliate her as part of her punishment. She could survive this, but she would have to be much more careful in the future. Giancarla conjured up more sobs and tears as she untied the strings that kept her bikini on. The top slid away first, then the bottom. They made a terribly small pile on the floor at her feet. She stood with her head down so that her hair hid most of her face and kept halfheartedly trying to cover herself with her hands and arms without actually ever doing so.

“I’m sorry…” she sobbed pitifully. “I’m so sorry…”

“Spare me your lies,” Nicholas snapped. “I am tired of them. Always you are sorry, and yet you never change your ways. Boris, is she not beautiful naked?”

“Yes, sir,” Boris nodded. His face was as expressionless as ever, his eyes invisible behind the dark sunglasses. Giancarla worked up a louder sob.

“Take her downstairs,” Nicholas ordered. “Do as I instructed you.”

“Yes, sir,” Boris nodded again. He started towards Giancarla. Now real panic struck her. She tried to jump away from the bodyguard, but he moved with horrifying speed. She felt his hands go around her neck, stifling the scream she had been about to make. She felt pressure on her throat, and then all the lights went out for her. Boris caught her before she could fall to the floor, lifted her up, and slung her limp body over his shoulder.

Chapter Three

Giancarla was huddled into a little naked ball of utter misery on the old mattress somewhere down in the cellar of the mansion. The light was off, and there were no windows to the outside, so it was pitch dark as well. She didn’t know where in the cellar she was. She had woken up here after Boris had rendered her unconscious. It wasn’t a large room, but it was crammed with old furniture, unlabeled boxes and the dusty old mattress she was lying on. It was also very, very quiet in here. Try as she might, Giancarla could hear no sounds except for her own whimpering and sobbing. She had already discovered that no matter how loudly she screamed, no help would come to her. She had no strength left to scream anyway.

She heard the door open. The overhead light came on. The bare bulb dangling from the rafters overhead cast a harsh glare. Blinking and sobbing, Giancarla turned her head to see who had opened the door. She saw Boris, and her heart sank.

“Please,” she begged. “Please, no more. No more.”

All Boris did was smile and shut the door behind him. She had never seen him smile before tonight, and she didn’t want to ever see him smiling again. It was a chilling smile, the smile of a prowling wolf spotting a crippled sheep. He came over to her, sat down on the mattress, and laid a big, hard hand on her hip. His touch was gentle, but Giancarla flinched from it. She had learned just how much pain and discomfort his hands could inflict. He had not struck her. He had not had to. He seemed to know just where to find the pressure points on her body and just how much pressure to apply to each one to induce anything from shudders to full-throated screams from her, and so far nothing he had done had left a mark.

She didn’t know how long she had been down here. It seemed like days, but it could have been only a few hours. Worse, she had no idea Nicholas intended keeping her down here. So she had strayed a little. So far as she knew,
all
of the trophy wives strayed at one time or another, but as long as any affairs could be kept quiet their husbands didn’t seem to mind all that much.

“Time for lesson,” Boris’ smile grew wider and scarier. His hand slid down her leg and grasped her foot before she could pull it away. Then he did something to the sole of her foot that made her groan.

It went on, and on. Boris gripped and probed and fondled and pressed and Giancarla whimpered and moaned and winced and cried out. He hadn’t touched her breasts so far, except to fondle them clumsily when all this began, and whenever she thought of what he might do to her nipples it made her physically ill. She had already vomited once, when she had awakened to feel Boris’ hands on her naked body and the first thing she had thought was that he was going to rape her. Boris had cleaned it up before he left. Now she prayed that he would just fuck her instead of continuing this terrible slow torture. She had nothing left in her stomach to throw up, and the dry heaves made her ribs and belly ache. Surely this terrible punishment had to end
sometime
. Giancarla clung to that one frail hope. Sooner or later Nicholas would consider that she had been punished enough, and she would seal whatever pledges he wanted her to make to him with sex... whatever kind of sex he wanted.

Boris did something to her ribs and she moaned in pain. She had never felt so helpless or so frightened before. She had thought that the worst that Nicholas could do was threaten to divorce her. That would be bad, but she had had the sense to hold out for a pre-nuptial agreement. She would walk away from any divorce with a very healthy pile of cash. Right now, she’d be willing to tear up the agreement if only Boris would stop torturing her. He was too big and too strong for her to fight him. Before, she had thought it kind of silly that Nicholas had hired him as a bodyguard. Now that she knew what Boris was capable of, he terrified her. When this was finally over, she would be careful never,
ever
to tease him again.

What really scared her the most was how much Boris seemed to enjoy his work. He kept humming to himself or chuckling softly as he did terrible, painful things to her. All she could do was lie as still as she could and whimper whenever she wasn’t screaming.

After an interminable time, he finally got up and left, turning off the light before shutting the door. Once more, Giancarla was left naked and shuddering in the dark, with only her pain for company. This time, her legs felt numb. She could move them, but only clumsily. She worried that Boris had inflicted some permanent damage, but gradually feeling and control returned. It was a pitifully small comfort. The old mattress was dusty, and a lot of that dust had gotten into her nose and throat. She felt terribly thirsty, but there was nothing she could do about that either.

The light came on again. Giancarla stirred and covered her eyes with her hand. She must have fallen asleep. Weary and worn out, she didn’t even try to look at Boris. He would have his hands on her soon enough.

“You look quite chastened, my dear.” Giancarla’s head came up as she heard Nicholas’ voice. Did this mean that her ordeal was over? Her heart pounded as she desperately hoped so.