My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 3 (9 page)

She placed a hand on my arm.
“You really should go back to bed. I’ll call the
dottore.
”

“
No.
” Shrugging her hand off, I headed
for the staircase, getting annoyed when she followed. I took a step
down the staircase, then reached for the railing, almost losing my
footing.

Bianca grabbed my arm, steadying me. Not
wanting help, I pulled free and continued, concentrating on not
falling down the stairs. Once I’d reached the bottom, I scanned the
dining-room and main lounge. They were empty, just my antique
furniture and tapestries filling them, no servants laying the
table, the place spookily quiet, like the calm after a
storm.

I headed for the cells, wanting
to see the new slave, my mind unable to bring up her name,
just
the
memory of her tight body on top of me, riding my cock, making me
groan... I stopped and leaned against the wall, rubbing my head
again, frustrated that my memories were all a jumbled blur with
giant chunks missing.

Bianca touched my arm
again.

I spun around on her. “Stop following
me!”

She took a step back, looking shocked, but
I didn’t care, other than seeing the new slave, the one that Jagger
had ... was meant to bring back.

I stumbled down the
basement staircase,
my footing still clumsy. I wondered whether I’d been drugged,
because my mind felt weighed down, making it hard to remember
anything let alone putting one foot in front of the
other.

Outside the
cells stood a guard I didn’t
know, his bright blue eyes reminding me of the Donatelli. “Who are
you?” I asked.

The guard straightened.
“Carlo.”

“
You’re not the guard for
here, Federico is.”

“
He’
s dead.”

Bianca’s words
came back to me. I
knew Federico was dead, the feeling way too strong, but for some
goddamned reason my heart hurt. I didn’t understand why, because he
was a FBI agent, but sorrow still filled me, telling me I’d lost
more than a guard.

I pushed the unease to the back
of my mind, deciding to deal with it later, because I wanted
to ... NO ...
I
needed
to see the brunette slave first. “Open the door,” I said to
the guard.

The guard unlocked the door, and pulled it
open for me. I stepped into the room, then stopped in my tracks,
the naked woman on the bed taking me by surprise. Jagger’s Honey
sat up, the blonde slave tensing, her fear almost
tangible.

“
You...” I
said. “You’re supposed to be in
Spain.”

She opened her mouth, but didn’t utter a
word, fear probably silencing her.

The guard placed a hand on my
shoulder. “
Don.”

I spun around. “Don’t touch me! Why is
everyone touching me?!”

The guard stepped back, his
expression worried. “Do you need a
dottore
?”

“
No, I need my head to work!” I
placed my hands on my head, just wanting everything to make
sense.

Heavy f
ootsteps sounded, then Alberto
appeared in the doorway, my brother’s bulky form heading straight
for me.

I took a step back, not
understanding
why I was weary of him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“
You shouldn’t be out of bed,”
he said, reaching for me.

I stepped to the
side
,
avoiding his hands. “Tell me why Federico was killed?” I said,
needing to hear it from my brother’s mouth, the only person I
trusted.

“
He found out we knew he
was an informant. He panicked and ran. We had to shoot
him.”

“
But, why don’t I remember
giving the order?”

“
You took a heavy knock to your
head when you fell off your horse. The
dottore
said you might suffer some memory
loss.”

“
Some?
I can’t remember
anything!”

“
Calm down, it’ll come back.
Just go back to bed; maybe things’ll be clearer
tomorrow.”

“
No, the Donatelli are coming,
and they’re expecting Jagger to be here.”

“
I will sort things out, you
just rest.” He placed a hand on my back, moving me toward the
door.

I
pulled away and looked back at Honey,
who was staring at us. She dropped her gaze when she noticed me
looking. “Why isn’t that slave in Spain?” I said.

“
H
er sale fell through. I’m arranging for
her to be sent to the Black Russian, but she needs to be retrained
for his tastes, and since Jagger and Mario are away, you said you
would do it.”

“
Where’s Mario?”

“
In Japan acquiring new
slaves.”

“
Then get Jagger
back.”

“
I can’t, he’s tied up with the
American orders. They’re coming in too fast, which is why he’s
staying in the New York compound for a while.”

My gaze moved back to the
blonde slave, wishing she was... “
Where is Rita?” I said, the name suddenly
coming back to me.

“
Who’s Rita?”

“
The new slave: the fake
brunette.”

“
We don’t have any
brunettes, only blondes at the moment.”

The memory of
Rita
’s long
brown hair returned, and the way it blanketed her back as she
bounced on my cock. “She rode me in my bathtub and gave me a
blowjob right there,” I said, pointing to the floor a few feet
away.

Alberto laughed. “I think you were
having a wet dream, brother.”

“
No, it was
real.”

Alberto placed a hand on my back again.
“No, it isn’t, so go back to bed, and when you feel better you can
start retraining Honey.”

“
But...”

“
No buts, I’m your
brother;
I’m
here to look out for you.” When I didn’t reply, he took a hold of
my face and looked into my eyes. “Frano, you must let me take care
of you, it’s what you would do for me. So, please, go back to bed
and leave things to me.”

I nodded, knowing I could trust him with
my life.

4

Rita

I woke up
groaning, my aching head making
me want to cradle it. But I couldn’t, the rope around my wrists
keeping my hands behind my back. I opened my eyes, a rank smell of
piss making my stomach turn. I shifted away from my spot on the
cold damp floor, and scanned the dark room apprehensively. Shadows
in the shape of people spotted the floor. Some were curled up while
others lay huddled together, probably to combat the
cold.

“
Where
am I?” I said.

“
Hell,” a female voice
answered.

I squinted through
the dark, searching
for its source. “Where are you?”

“
By the door.”

Across the room, I spotted the darkened
form of a person leaning next to a door, light leaking underneath
it.

“
Who are you?” I
asked.

“
Red. I’m Mario’s
slave.”

“
I know you.”

“
Yes, unfortunately,” she
said, her German accent strong.

“
What
happened?”

“
The Donatelli took us. They
took our Masters too. I hear Mario yelling from the next cell,
Jagger too.” She let out a sob. “They hurt him the
most.”

“
What about
Frano?”

“
I haven’t heard
him.”

My stomach
dropped at the thought that he
could be dead. “Why are we here, what do the Donatelli want from
us?”

“
To use
as prostitutes.” She let out another
sob. “Mario may have been cruel at times, but I love him, and he
showed me he loved me back, but these people.... They aren’t even
people, they too evil to be. When they come for you don’t complain,
don’t make a sound, even when it hurts, or they will make it hurt
more or worse, they will render you voiceless.”

“
Voiceless?
”

“
One of Mario’s other slaves,
the skinny one, complained because too many men were inside of her.
They cut her throat as an example for the rest of us to be
quiet.”

My heart
sank
,
remembering the woman the Donatelli man had turned down because she
was too skinny. My mind went to Mario’s other slave. “And the black
girl? Is she alive?”

“
Yes. S
he’s kept elsewhere. I saw her once
when a man wanted more than one woman. Her eyes are dead, and we
have only been here three days.”

“
I’ve been unconscious for
t
hree
days?”

“
Yes. I thought you were dead.
It would’ve been better for you if you were.”

I ignored her comment.
“Who are these
women?” I asked, indicating to the huddled forms.

“
P
rostitutes. The Donatelli call them
fori
, which means holes. They are rented out to common men.”
She exhaled loudly. “Thankfully, I have not been used in that
manner—yet.”

A
scream went up, making me stiffen. It
was masculine.

“
That’s Jagger,” Red said. “I
wish they would kill him, it would be a mercy for that poor
man.”

“
Wish for better things, like
the priest’s death.” I pushed up and walked over to her. “Move away
from the door.”

“
Why?”

“
Because when the guard opens it
I’m going to take him out.”

“
Your hands are tied and he’s
armed.”

“
I’ve untied myself with very
little before, I’ll do it again.”

“
No, you’ll just waste their
bullets and lose your life, and possibly mine. Just sit down and
wait for them, see what they are like before you act.”

Knowing she was right,
I slid down the
wall to sit next to her. My thoughts shifted to Frano, and how he’d
tried to protect me from my traitorous husband. “My husband
betrayed me,” I said, feeling like crying. “I thought he was sent
to the Donatelli as a slave, but he wasn’t—he
is
a Donatelli.”

“
What’s his
name
?”

“
Matt.”

“
Matteo?”

“
Yes, they call
him
that.”

“
The girls said he trains
the male slaves.”

A
nother scream went up, Jagger pleading for
mercy.

“
I wish they would kill him,”
Red repeated. “It would be kinder.”

“
You want everyone
dead.”

“
No,
only the ones in agony, and at least
I don’t hear Mario scream, I couldn’t handle that. I only hear him
shouting, not screaming like Jagger or that Russian
man.”

I clenched my fists, wishing I
had
stomped
on the priest’s neck when I had the opportunity—regardless of the
consequences.

The door next to us
opened
, the
light from the hallway breaking through the darkness. As though it
would burn them, the women scurried to the opposite side of the
room, only Red remaining by my side. She looked up at the guard in
expectation, making me wonder whether she was sitting by the door
to get noticed. I wanted to ask why she wasn’t like the rest, but
remained silent.

A heavy-set man with a potbelly looked
down at me and Red. “You two. Up.”

Red helped me
to my feet, her
hands not tied. We followed the guard out of the cell, which
appeared to be one of many, eight at a quick glance.

“
Forward,” the guard said,
indicating with his gun.

We headed up the staircase, both of us
naked. Turning the corner, we came upon a large room filled with
beds, a number of them occupied. A few feet away from me, a fat man
grunted on top of a woman, the woman remaining still, her eyes
dead. Another man headed down an aisle, stopping by a black
woman—not Mario’s slave. The man took his clothes off then climbed
on top her, the woman not moving.

I looked at the guard, knowing I would
fight to the death to stop that from happening to me, but instead
of pushing me towards a bed he shoved me up another staircase. Red
walked ahead of us as though she knew where to go, the guard
ordering her to slow down.

I
stopped at the top, the opulence
stunning me. It looked like the decorator had thrown up the worst
of the Baroque period, everything over the top, the large room
nothing but an eyesore. Golds and reds filled the space, while
floral curves abounded. Large white sculptures with expressions
belonging to people in ecstasy were positioned between
uncomfortable-looking furniture, the settees not giving the
appearance they were made to be sat on.