365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

  “I’d like to be inside you,” he whispered, and his hot breath paradoxically chilled me to the bone. “Deep and brutal. I’d like to feel your wet snatch close around my cock.”

  The words I heard woke each and every ounce of my rich imagination. I could feel what he was saying almost physically. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down the frantic beat of my heart. It grew a bit steadier. Suddenly, Massimo’s warm breath vanished, and I heard him saying something to the driver. The words were unintelligible, but after a few seconds, the car veered off the road and stopped. The man stepped out, leaving us completely alone.

  “Sit in the passenger seat in the front,” Massimo said, pinning me with his cold, black stare. He didn’t look like he was about to move himself, which seemed a bit strange.

  “Why?” I asked, disoriented.

  Massimo’s face took on an expression of annoyance, and his jaw clenched.

  “I’ll repeat it one last time: move or I’ll move you myself.”

  Again, I couldn’t help it—his tone made my hackles rise. I wanted to resist, if only to see where it took us. I also knew he was pretty good at punishing me and making me do things, but was that something I was entirely against?

  “You order me around like a dog. I am no dog.”

  I inhaled, intending to berate him for treating me like that, but I didn’t manage to say another word. Massimo pulled me out of the car by force and then threw me into the front seat. He pulled my hands back, behind the backrest.

  “Not a dog. A bitch,” he hissed, tying my hands with some kind of strap.

  Before I realized what was happening, I was sitting tied to the passenger seat, and the Man in Black sat behind the steering wheel. I started to wriggle my fingers, trying to feel my way around, and discovered that I was tied with the same bathrobe belt as back in the plane.

  “You like to tie women up?” I asked as he was fiddling with some settings on the dashboard.

  “It’s not a question of preference in your case.”

  He pressed the ignition button and a woman’s voice from the GPS directed him as he started to drive.

  “My back hurts. And my arms,” I said after a couple of minutes.

  “Well, I’m hurt, too, but for an entirely different reason. Want to compare?”

  I knew he was angry or frustrated. I couldn’t differentiate between those two feelings in him, but I had no idea what I had done to cause this. And even if it wasn’t my fault, he was taking it all out on me.

  “Ty cholerny, uparty egoisto,” I whispered in Polish. You damned, stubborn egomaniac. “As soon as you untie me, I’ll smack you so hard you’ll have to look for your teeth on the ground,” I ranted, still in Polish.

  Massimo slowed down and stopped at a traffic light, turning to me and fixing me with a furious glare. “Now repeat that in English,” he growled.

  I smiled disdainfully and spewed a whole litany of profanities in Polish—all directed at him. He didn’t move, but his glare was growing more furious by the second. As soon as the light turned green, he stepped on the accelerator.

  “I’ll get rid of your pain. Or at least take your mind off it,” he said, and started unbuttoning my pants with his right hand. His left hand was still on the steering wheel, but the right one slipped under my panties. I squirmed and jerked in my seat, cursing him and begging him not to do it, but it was too late.

  “Massimo, I’m sorry!” I cried, trying to get out of his reach. “I’m not in pain anymore! And what I said in Polish—”

  “Not interested in that anymore,” he said. “But if you don’t pipe down, I’ll have to gag you. I’d like to hear the GPS if you don’t mind, so shut up.”

  His hand slid deeper into my underwear, and I felt a wave of panic flooding me. At the same time, I grew completely docile and stopped resisting.

  “You promised you wouldn’t do anything against my wishes,” I whispered, leaning back.

  Massimo’s fingers irritated my clitoris, smearing it with wetness that appeared as soon as he touched me.

  “I’m not doing anything against your wishes. I’m just making sure your hands aren’t in pain anymore.”

  His touch was growing harder, and the circular motions were sending me down the abyss of his absolute power over me. I squeezed my eyes shut and reveled in the feeling he was giving me. I knew he was acting on instinct—he had to divide his attention between two things: driving and punishing me.

  I squirmed in my seat, rhythmically rubbing my hips against the leather, when the car suddenly stopped. I felt his hand leaving, though he really should have kept working on it for a couple of minutes more. Then my ties loosened.

  “We’re here,” Massimo announced, killing the engine.

  I stared at him from half-closed eyelids. A voice in my head was screaming, raging and cursing him. How could he leave a woman on the cusp of ecstasy and despair like that? I didn’t have to say it aloud. I knew well enough what his motivation had been. He wanted me to beg him. He wanted to show me how much I desired him, despite rebelling against anything and everything he said and did.

  “That’s great,” I replied, rubbing at my wrists. They hurt so much I nearly went mad. “I hope whatever was hurting you has stopped,” I called provocatively, shrugging at the same time.

  Here it was—that big red button in his head again. The Man in Black shot out with an arm, pulling me over himself, so I sat astride him with my back to the steering wheel. He grabbed me by the back of my neck and pressed my snatch against his hard cock. I moaned, feeling him rubbing against my sensitive clit.

  “What hurts me,” he hissed, his fury threatening to boil over, “is that I haven’t come in your mouth yet.”

  His hips were undulating lazily. That movement and the pressure of his penis made me breathless.

  “And you won’t for a long, long time yet,” I whispered, my mouth close to his. I licked his lower lip then. “I’m beginning to enjoy the game you make me play,” I added cheerfully.

  He froze, watching me closely, looking for answers to questions yet unasked. I don’t know how long we spent there, looking at each other, but our silent battle was interrupted by knocking on the window. Massimo lowered the glass, revealing the not-too-surprised face of Domenico. That guy certainly looks like he’s seen everything, I thought.

  He said a couple of sentences in Italian, ignoring our position, and Massimo shook his head quickly. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it was clear the Man in Black wanted to have nothing to do with what Domenico was suggesting. When they were finished, Massimo opened the door and stepped out, keeping his hold on me. We headed toward the hotel he had parked the car next to. I was still clutching him, my legs around his hips. I could feel the surprised stares of the other guests as we passed them without a word, Massimo keeping a poker face.

  “I’m not paralyzed or anything,” I said, raising my eyebrows and shaking my head slightly.

  “I hope not, but there are a few reasons why I won’t let you go. At least two I can think of off the bat.”

  We passed the reception desk and entered the elevator, where Massimo propped me against the wall. Our lips touched.

  “The first one is that my erect cock is about to rip through my pants, and the second that yours have a wet stain on them and the only things that could cover it were my hands and your hips.”

  I bit my lip, hearing this. He was making sense.

  The bell in the elevator signaled that we reached our floor. Having taken a few steps outside, Massimo used the card he had gotten from Domenico to open the door to our monumental apartment. He put me down.

  “I’d like to take a shower now,” I said, looking around for my bags.

  “Everything you need is in the bathroom. I need to go out and deal with a few things,” he said, putting his cell phone to his ear and vanishing into the cavernous living room.

  I took a shower and applied a hefty dose of vanilla lotion, which I found in the bathroom cabinet. I left
the bathroom and walked through the apartment, finally finding what I was looking for—a bottle of my favorite bubbly beverage. I helped myself to a glass, then another, and another. I watched TV, drank champagne, and wondered where my oppressor had gone. Sometime later, out of boredom, I started to explore the apartment. It took up most of the hotel floor. When I reached the last door, I opened it and went in. Suddenly I found myself in pitch darkness. My eyes had to adjust for a while.

  “Sit,” I heard the voice I had grown to recognize by now.

  I did as I was told. Resistance would be pointless. A while later, I saw Massimo in the gloom. He was drying his hair with a towel. I swallowed loudly, amazed by the view and animated with the alcohol I had had. Massimo was standing by a giant bed supported by four monolithic beams. The mattress was strewn with dozens of purple, gold, and black pillows. The room was dark, classily furnished, and very luxurious. I grabbed the armrests of the armchair I was sitting in as he started to walk my way. I could not take my eyes off the penis now dangling in front of my face. I was staring, my mouth agape. He only stopped when his legs touched my knees. Massimo threw the white towel over his shoulders, grabbing its ends. When his predatory stare met my eyes, I began to pray silently. I was begging God for the strength to resist what I was seeing. What I was feeling.

  Massimo was perfectly aware of his effect on me. I wasn’t too hard to read then, not to mention that I was sucking on my lower lip without realizing it. It wasn’t exactly helping to mask my feelings.

  Slowly he reached for his prick with his right hand and started stroking it, from the base to the very tip. I prayed harder. His body was flexing. The steely hard muscles of his stomach grew taut, and the penis I was doing everything in my power not to look at was growing, swelling.

  “Will you help me?” Massimo asked without taking his eyes off me. Without stopping to play with himself. “I won’t do anything without your consent. Remember that.”

  Oh, God, he didn’t even have to do anything. He didn’t have to physically touch me to ignite my passion and focus my entire being on him, that magnificent cock, and the thought of sucking it. The last clear-thinking vestiges of my psyche were screaming at me now—if he got what he wanted, the game would stop holding his interest. And I wouldn’t feel pleased with myself for succumbing to him this fast. At this point I was sure he would have me, sooner or later. The only question was when. My reptilian brain reminded me that the man masturbating before me was the same man who wanted to kill my family. In an instant, my arousal evaporated, replaced with anger and hate.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I scoffed. “I’m not going to help you with anything. Besides, you’ve got people for everything. Why don’t you ask them?” I raised my eyes. “Can I go now?”

  I tried getting up from the armchair, but Massimo grabbed me by the neck and pinned me to the backrest. He leaned over and smirked.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want, Laura?”

  “Let me go, for fuck’s sake,” I hissed.

  He did just that and walked away toward the bed. I got up and grabbed the door handle, wanting to leave this room right then before my thoughts started to focus on things I didn’t want to think about. The door was closed. The Man in Black picked up his phone from the nightstand, dialed a number, and said something before hanging up.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  “Let me out! I want to leave!” I was pulling at the handle, screaming.

  Massimo swung the towel to the bed and was standing with his arms hanging loose now, fixing me with his icy gaze.

  “Come over here, Laura. I won’t repeat myself.”

  I leaned against the door, intending to follow none of his orders. Massimo let out a deep roar and charged at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, fearing what was going to happen. Then I felt my body being lifted and hitting the bed an instant later. The Man in Black muttered something in Italian under his breath. When I felt myself sink between the pillows, I opened my eyes only to see Massimo looming over me again. He grabbed my right hand and handcuffed it to one of the four pillars of the bed. Then he went for the left one, but I managed to squirm free and hit him first. He clenched his teeth before letting out a furious bellow. I knew I crossed a line there. He clutched my wrist again, painfully hard, and pulled my arm toward the handcuff affixed to the other pillar, all the while pinning my body to the mattress.

  “I’ll do what I want with you,” he growled, sneering.

  I kicked out, thrashing on the bed, until he sat astride my legs, his back turned to me, and drew out a short tube. I had no idea what that was. I only wanted him to finally get off me. But then he fastened two soft collars sticking from both ends of the tube around my ankles, reaching to the third pillar. From behind it, he pulled out a chain, fixing it to the collar wrapped around my right ankle. He repeated the operation with my left ankle. Finally, Massimo stood up, admiring his work. He had a satisfied smirk on his face and was clearly aroused by the whole situation. I, on the other hand, was disoriented and dazed. I jerked with my legs, but the tube to which they were cuffed only elongated in response, locking them stiffly in place. Massimo bit his lower lip.

  “I was hoping you would do that. This is a telescopic bar. It can elongate but will not shorten unless you know where to push.”

  I started panicking. I was immobilized with my legs spread wide—an invitation for my tormentor. Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. I stiffened.

  The Man in Black moved closer, pulled the sheets from under me, and covered me with them.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said with that same smirk on his face as he walked to the door.

  He opened it and led a young woman inside. I couldn’t see her clearly, but she had long, dark hair and wore impossibly high-heeled stilettos accentuating the shape of her toned legs. Massimo told her something and the girl froze. That’s when I realized he was still naked. The woman didn’t seem to care.

  Then he covered the distance between us and leaned over me, lifting my head and putting a pillow beneath it so I could see the whole room without having to exert any muscles.

  “I’d like to show you something. Something that you’re going to miss out on,” he whispered, biting my earlobe gently.

  He returned to the other side of the room and sat back in the sofa chair opposite the bed I was strapped to. Keeping his eyes on me, he called out to the woman in Italian. Hearing it, she burst into motion, stepping out of her dress and standing before Massimo in her underwear. My heart started pounding as she dropped to her knees and promptly started to suck my oppressor’s cock. His hands landed on her head, his fingers entwining her hair. I couldn’t believe it. His black eyes were fixing me with a steady gaze. He was breathing heavily, greedily gulping air. The girl knew what she was doing. She was a pro. Once in a while Massimo would say something in Italian, as if instructing her. In response, she moaned lusciously. I watched them, trying to come to grips with what I was feeling. His piercing gaze made my body burn with desire. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him—his ecstasy.

  The fact that it wasn’t me between his legs chafed at me. Was I jealous? Did I envy this woman? Over that bossy prick? I pushed that thought away. I wouldn’t want what she was having. But I couldn’t stop staring all the same. At one moment, Massimo tightened his grip on the girl’s head and brutally pushed his cock into her throat, making her choke. She wasn’t sucking him off anymore—he was fucking her mouth. He went in deep and fast. I squirmed on the bed, making the chains holding me in place rattle against the wooden posts. I was breathing heavily now, my chest heaving too fast for my liking. The show Massimo was starring in was exciting me, stoking the flames of my passion, but at the same making me angry. I understood the words he had said to me before the girl approached him. Yeah, I was jealous. It required a conscious effort, but I managed to close my eyes and turn my head to the side.

  “Open your eyes and look at me right now,” Massimo hissed.

  “I will not. You can�
�t make me,” I replied with a croaky voice, barely audible.

  “If you won’t look at me right now, I’ll lie next to you and she’ll finish the job rubbing against you. Your choice, Laura.”

  The threat was enough to make me open my eyes again.

  When my stare met his, I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. His parted lips spread into a faint smile. The Man in Black rose from his seat and moved closer to me so the girl kneeling before him was now sitting with her back to the bed, some five feet from me. My hips were moving of their own accord, brushing against the satin sheets. My tongue trailed along my parched lips. I wanted him. If not for the fact that I was tied down, I would probably have thrown that woman out and finished what she had started. And Massimo knew that. After a while, his eyes grew darker and emptier, and beads of sweat formed on his chest. I knew he was going to come. The movements of the girl kneeling in front of him grew faster.

  “Yes, Laura, yes!” Massimo moaned, as all the muscles in his body tensed. He came, flooding the girl’s throat with sperm.

  I was ecstatic, burning up with desire. I felt like I was orgasming with him. A wave of heat crossed my body. Massimo’s eyes didn’t waver even for a second—he was looking straight at me.

  I breathed out slowly, relieved that the show had come to an end. The Man in Black barked something in Italian and the woman pulled away, got up, picked up her dress, and quickly left the room. Massimo left, too, disappearing into the bathroom. I heard the sound of the shower. A few minutes later, he emerged and walked over to me again, rubbing his head with a towel.

  “I can put you at ease, baby girl. I’ll lick you slow, make you come. I’ll make it last. Unless you prefer to feel me inside you.”

  I opened my eyes wide. My heart was thundering fast and hard, like applause after a Beyoncé concert. I wanted to defy him, but I couldn’t speak. Not even a word came out of my mouth.

  With a quick snap, Massimo tore the sheets from over me and untied the bathrobe I was wrapped in.