Irena's Shadow

It was about midnight on a Saturday a week into the summer. Irena was lounging on her bed in a nightgown and re-reading Anne Rice'sInterview with the Vampire for the third time. Her long blue-black hair fell over her face, obscuring vibrant blue eyes, and she had to keep tossing her head to clear her vision. She had the pale, bookish look of a girl who tends to spend most of her time indoors, curled up on the sofa with a favorite novel in her hands. She turned a page and cast an annoyed glance over at the slatted metal opening of the air duct in the corner.

Her father's voice had been filtering up through the vent for the past half-hour, but Irena was doing her best to ignore it. She didn't have any desire to eavesdrop on his conversations. He had been acting rather strange recently, ever since her step-mother had left him for the mail man, and Irena had no doubt that he was up to something seedy. She had noticed an inordinately large amount of liquor bottles in the recycling bin lately, and he had been avoiding her more than usual. He had also taken to disappearing for days at a time, only to come home in the middle of the night, drunk and quarrelsome.

She didn't want to know what he was doing during his absences. Irena hadn't gotten along with her father since her mother's death five years ago, and she tried to have as little to do with him as possible. The only reason she was still living at home was that her father was the one paying her college tuition. The money was in a non-transferable fund set up by her parents, and she knew that if she wanted to go to school, she had to deal with her father.

Suddenly, the voice coming up through the vent escalated to a shout, and Irena could hear exactly what her father was saying, despite her efforts to shut him out.

"I told you that I'd pay goddamnit! Why won't you people leave me alone? I just need a little bit more time for chrissakes! A month is all I'm asking! I can get you the money then!"

His voice was somehow shrill, even as he slurred most of his consonants and it felt as if an ice cube slipped down to Irena's stomach. He owed someone money, a whole lot of money by the sound of it. Had he done something stupid and had to sell the house? What if he...what if he had taken money out of her college fund? She needed that money to get through school. A tingle of panic went through her and Irena put down her book. She padded to the vent and knelt, pressing her ear against the metal. Her father's voice had been replaced by another's, a man's by the sound, but all she could make out was a low, indistinct murmur.

The murmur was suddenly cut off by another bout of her father's shouting, and he was slurring so badly now that Irena couldn't understand a word he said. She supposed that she should just stuff a pillow in the vent and go back to her book, but the shrillness that she had heard in her father's voice worried her. She had never heard him sound like that before, and knew that it meant he was in deep trouble. She had to find out more.

Irena jumped up from the floor, threw a robe over her thin nightgown, then went to the door and eased it open, willing the hinges not to squeak. She began to creep down the stairs, deciding that she would listen to the rest of the conversation at the door to her father's study and see if she could figure out what he had done.

She made it down the stairs without making a sound and tiptoed through the hallway, making sure to keep to the sides because some of the middle boards creaked. When she reached her father's study door, she saw that it was open the barest crack. Irena pressed herself against the wall, and inclined her head towards the crack in the door, now able to understand every word that was being said inside the room.

"I've given you everything I have! There is nothing else left for me to sell! I've sold both of my cars, my house, my dead wife's jewelry!"

Irena felt suddenly sick. He had sold her mother's jewelry. Everything that Irena had asked him to keep for her until she was old enough to wear it. She wanted very badly to stomp into that room and shout at her father, but she forced herself to remain still and silent. He was still ranting on, enumerating all that he had sold to pay off his debt, and Irena forced her attention back to him.

"Every piece of electronic equipment in this house has been sold, every piece of art, every piece of china, and every scrap of silver! I've damn near emptied my bank account! I've emptied my daughter's college fund! You've ruined me! I have nothing left!"

Irena's breath left her and she had to slump against the wall for support. He had drained her college fund. He had stolen her ticket out of this godforsaken house to pay back a debt. Irena's throat worked and her eyes grew hot, but she forced the tears back. Now was not the time to indulge in self pity. Now was not the time to cry over the destruction of all of her hopes for the future.

"Please spare me the theatrics, Mr. Marshal," said the second voice. It was one Irena had never heard before, deep and melodious, with a trace of an accent that might have been either Spanish or Italian. "I am sure you have a something tucked away for an occasion such as this. If I had delayed a few days in collecting my debt, I am sure that I would have found you long gone. It's lucky that I caught up with you before you acted in such an unwise manner, because I don't think you would have liked the consequences had I been forced to send someone out to find you."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Irena winced at how ridiculous her father sounded as he tried in his drunkenness to sound indignant.

"Yes, I am," came the second voice's cool reply.

"Well I'm not a liar! I've given you everything I have!" her father spluttered.

"I sincerely doubt that," replied the other man. "Mr. Marshal, let me make this as plain to you as I can. If you do not pay me the remainder of your debt, then I will be forced to come forward with information which I am sure you would rather leave hidden. All of those bribes...and that prostitute in Nassau..."

"How did you--?" Irena, who by this time was feeling as if she was going to be sick right there in the hallway, heard that her father sounded terrified.

"I make it my business to know all the dirty little secrets of the people I gamble with." Irena decided that it was time for her to leave. She'd heard enough, more than she had ever wanted to know, in fact. If she didn't go soon she would break down right outside the door and alert both men to her presence. She had turned to leave when the sound of breaking glass came from the study, immediately followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the floor. A loud, involuntary gasp escaped her, and then Irena clamped her mouth shut, fighting the urge to run back to the safety of her bedroom. She turned her back to the study once more and began to tip-toe back down the hall. She had gotten about halfway to the staircase when she heard a voice behind her.

"It's rude to listen at doorways, Miss Marshal."

Irena whirled around and saw that a man was regarding her from the entrance of her father's study. He was tall and slim, with olive skin, amber eyes, and long black hair which he had tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. She stumbled back a few steps, fear almost crippling her, and suddenly became aware that her robe was gaping open, giving the stranger a clear view of her thinly clad body. Cheeks stinging red, she snatched the terrycloth robe to her chest, pulling the thick folds closed and shielding herself from the stranger's gaze. This seemed to amuse him, and his lips quirked into a smile. Irena wanted nothing more than to flee back to her room, but she couldn't. This man had invaded her home, had taken away her future. She knew that it was her father's fault, but right now she didn't care. Irena drew herself up and forced her eyes to meet the stranger's.

"I don't know who you are, but you need to leave right now." She hoped that she sounded calm and collected, hoped that she didn't sound like a little girl playing at maturity.

"Your father invited me into your home, Miss Marshal. If anyone is going to throw me out, it should be him."

"What was that crash I heard just now?"

"That was your father, dropping his glass on the floor and then slipping in his own spilled whiskey." A grimace flickered over his face.

"Oh."

The man took a few steps towards her and Irena had to resist the compulsion to back away from him. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Irena," she said instantly, and then cursed herself for answering his question.

"A lovely name. It suits you." His eyes swept her body, lingering over every detail, as if he were observing a painting. Irena's blush returned, creeping up her throat and into her cheeks. Her hand clenched on the folds of her robe. "Strange how such a pathetic man could sire a creature as magnificent as yourself. Your mother must have been quite a beauty."

Irena couldn't help backing up a few steps from the intensity of the stranger's stare. She stumbled on her robe, and it fell off of her shoulders, exposing her once more. The stranger's gaze roved over her, taking in every curve of her body, and everywhere his eyes lingered, Irena felt a tingling heat dance over her skin. Flushing with humiliation, and shaking with repressed grief, she pulled her robe around her once more and turned away from the man in the hallway. She ran the length of the corridor, bounded up the stairs and into her room, locking the door behind her. Stumbling over to the bed, she collapsed on top of it and began taking long, trembling breaths to keep herself from dissolving into a fit of sobbing.

When she had gotten herself under control, she raised her head from the bed to look at the clock on the nightstand, convinced that several hours had passed since she had wandered downstairs to eavesdrop on her father. According to the clock's display, however, she had been gone for only half an hour. She sat up, her body still shaking slightly. She could once more hear voices drifting up from the vent in the floor, but this time, she had no desire to listen in. Irena took a pillow from her bed, lifted the cover to the vent and then shoved the pillow inside the duct, muting the voices completely. Then she fell back into bed, laid her face in the remaining pillows and slept.

********** Irena awoke the next morning to a soft knocking at her bedroom door. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and for a moment, couldn't remember why she felt so miserable. Then it all crashed down on her again, and the breath left her lungs. With an effort, she managed to shove her despair and rage away. She would think about that later; right now, there was someone knocking on her door. She glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it read 2:00 pm. Irena had never slept this late in her entire life. Her father had probably come to check on her.

"I'm coming Dad, I'm coming," she muttered, peeling herself out of bed and heading for her bedroom door. Irena turned the lock and then opened the door a few inches to see her father's hung-over face. "Yes?"

"Irena, I need to talk to you about something."

"If you're going to tell me about how you 'accidentally' drained my college fund, then you can save it. I already know."

His face reddened and then paled, but he swallowed and continued. "It's about that yes, but I'm not going to bother explaining myself to you. You wouldn't understand."

"Of course not, Dad. How could I ever understand what it feels like to be a thieving bastard?"

He acted as if he hadn't heard her, his eyes focused on a point somewhere over Irena's head. She was tempted just to slam the door in his face, but she was morbidly curious to hear what he had to say. "I'm afraid, Irena, that my circumstances have changed. I can no longer provide for you. It's been arranged for you to have a new guardian, someone who's better suited to take care of you."

"You're forgetting, father, that I'm eighteen. I don't need a guardian. I would move out today, and get my own place if I had any money, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me until I can find a job and somewhere else to stay."

"That's already been taken care of, Irena. You'll stay with your new guardian. You'll be leaving today, in fact."

She stared at him with growing incredulity. "I don't need a guardian," she said slowly, enunciating each word to be sure that he understood her. "I'm a legal adult."

"Well, Irena, your mental health being what it is, I thought the only course of action was to have an adult personal guardian assigned to you."

Irena was becoming more and more frightened, but she made sure to keep her face blank. "My mental health?"

"Yes. Your mental health has become questionable over the past few months, and I've been having doubts that you can take care of yourself. It would be best if you had someone to look out for you."

"What the hell are you talking about? Did you bribe someone to have me committed so that you won't have to deal with me anymore?"

Again, he acted as if she hadn't spoken. "Your new guardian is Mr. Antonio Soto, and he's asked that you come with him immediately to your new home."

"Why are you doing this to me? I can get a job, stay with a friend, I just need five minutes to pack a bag. I'm a sane adult for Christ's sake, not a fucking mental case! Forget the bag, I'm out of here." Irena shoved the door open and made to brush past her father but he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around to face him.

"You listen to me, Irena." He gave her a shake. "You might be eighteen, but I'm still your father. If I tell you to do something you'll do it. I've spent the past eighteen years spending money on you and I think I at least deserve obedience!"

"Fuck you!" She tried to struggle out of his grip, but he held on, showing more strength than she had thought possible.

"Goddamn it, Irena, hold still! You're going with Mr. Soto, and there's nothing you can do about it. He could quite legally call in the police, and have them drop you off on his doorstep. Is that what you want? To be taken down like a goddamn criminal?"

"Why are you doing this?" Irena was staring at her father as if she had never seen him before.

"Pack your things. You're leaving in an hour. Mr. Soto is waiting downstairs. Don't even think about trying to run away. He happened to bring a few members of his security team with him, and I'm sure they would be happy to chase you down if you decided to make a break for it." Her father turned and walked back down the stairs, leaving Irena standing in the doorway, trying not to scream out loud.

She had never been more angry and frightened in her life. Hatred for her father boiled in her veins, and terror of what was to come made her feel faint, but Irena did as she was told; for now, there didn't seem to be much of an alternative. She packed a single large suitcase full of clothes, books, and a few things which had belonged to her mother. She tried not to think about where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. Instead, she concentrated on folding her shirts into perfect creases, and arranging her books by genre and size. She spent a quarter of an hour picking out an outfit to wear, and through it all, oscillated between bouts of nausea and fits of shaking. When an hour had passed, there was a knock on the door, and Irena told whoever it was to come in. Her voice was empty, dried up.

A giant in a black suit walked in and asked if she was ready to go; judging by his ear piece, he was one of Mr. Soto's security team. Irena nodded, and the man took her suitcase and ushered her out the door ahead of him. She walked down the stairs like a prisoner descending to her cell, head bowed, face hidden by her hair. She wished that she could have met her future guardian in a more defiant stance, but she just didn't think that she could bring herself to look at her father.

She took a quick peek through her hair and saw that two men waited for her in the downstairs hallway. One was her father, and the other...Irena's head jerked up and she took a few involuntary steps backwards, knocking into the security man behind her. The other was the man from last night. He smiled at Irena, his amber eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun. She stared at him for a second and then turned slowly to her father, her voice shaking with rage and shock.

"You...you sold me. You sold me to him to pay off the rest of your debt." She wished she could shout this at him, but her vocal cords didn't seem to be working properly.

Her father wouldn't meet her eyes. He only shuffled his feet and looked at the floor. Irena turned her attention to the stranger who was now her new guardian. He was still smiling, but when he caught the look of utter loathing Irena directed at him, the smile dimmed and then flickered out.

"We must be leaving." He said, and held out his arm to her, but she brushed past it and walked out the front door. She didn't glance back at her father.

A gleaming black limousine was parked in the driveway, and Irena stood next to it, waiting to be let in. Soto joined her a moment later and unlocked the limo door, ushering her inside while the security man stowed her suitcase in the trunk.

Her new guardian slid into the limo after her, but to Irena's dismay, no one else followed. The security team must have their own vehicle. For a moment, she was afraid that Soto was going to sit next to her, but he settled himself several feet away. The door closed, and then she was alone with the stranger with whom she would now be living. Neither of them said anything as the limo backed out of the driveway and Irena left everything familiar behind.

"Would you care for a drink?" asked Soto, rising from his seat and stepping over to the bar on the opposite side of the limo.

"No."

"That's probably for the best. I had forgotten for a moment that the drinking age in this country is not eighteen."

Irena said nothing. She focused her attention on the scenery flicking past the window. Glass clinked as Soto poured himself a drink. He returned to his seat, sitting just a bit closer to her than he had before. Irena tried to ignore him, but being in an enclosed space with this man was like being in the same car as a wild animal. She didn't know why he had taken her in exchange for her father's debt, but she doubted that it was because he had been concerned for her welfare.

Almost twenty minutes passed with Irena staring determinedly out the window before Soto spoke. "You know, Miss Marshal," he said, running one long finger over the rim of his glass, "I can't help but thinking that you are trying to avoid discussing your situation."

Irena didn't look away from the window. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

"No matter what your feelings may be about the matter, Miss Marshal, they do not change the fact that you are now under my care. You should make the best of the situation. I think you'll find that I can be a very generous guardian."

Irena's false indifference snapped at the smug undertones in Soto's voice. "Oh, stop acting like you're sympathizing with me! You're the one who put me in this situation in the first place. What the hell do you think you're doing, buying me like a piece of livestock? You've ruined my life! I was supposed to go to college! I was supposed to get a degree in English and then go live in Bohemian poverty! How could you do this to me?" Irena's breathing had accelerated and color had risen to her cheeks, she couldn't glare at Soto, so she glared at the wall a few inches from his left ear.

"I consider you to be far more valuable than a piece of livestock."

"I don't even know you!"

"I am sure that will soon be remedied."

Throughout this conversation, Irena had been getting more and more worked up. She felt like crying and screaming at the same time. She hated being so goddamn helpless! It was like being a little kid again, with no control over any of her destiny, no decisions that couldn't be overruled by a guardian. She turned her head to the window again, trying to keep herself in check, trying to stop from breaking down completely. She felt Soto slide closer to her, but she didn't look at him.

"Miss Marshal?"

"What?" she snapped. He put a hand on her shoulder, and Irena jerked away just as the limo went over a bump in the road. Her head smashed against the window, and her teeth clicked together on her lower lip. She cried out in pain and shoved herself backwards, her lip stinging and welling blood.

Soto pulled a long scarlet handkerchief from his breast pocket and tried to hand it to her. When she refused take it, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. "Let go of me!" she shouted, trying to wriggle away.

"Hold still," said Soto calmly, tightening his hold. He raised the handkerchief to her lips and dabbed away the blood, continuing to hold her in place with his other hand. "Really, Miss Marshal," he said as he released her. "You're acting like a child." Irena shrank back against the window, focusing on the scenery once more as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.

After a few minutes Soto spoke again. "Perhaps we should talk business, or rather I'll talk business and you will listen as you do not seem to be in a very talkative mood this afternoon." He straightened his tie, and looked at her, but Irena kept her attention focused on the window

"The paperwork declaring you my ward states that your mental faculties are impaired to an extent which renders you incapable of looking after your own wellbeing. By law, I am now Guardian of the Person to Miss Irena Louisa Marshal and am to serve the functions of a parent by providing you with shelter, food, clothing, and discipline. Essentially, I am allowed to make most of your decisions for you."

Irena didn't want to hear any of this. She wanted to curl up into a ball and be swallowed by the earth. Her head ached where she'd crashed into the glass, her lip stung where she had bitten it, and she was sick with fear about the fate that awaited her as Soto's ward. Why didn't he just leave her alone? But Soto continued, either oblivious of, or simply ignoring her discomfort.

"My home is entirely at your disposal. You will have a set of rooms to yourself, and if there is anything that you desire, you have only to ask for it. You are free to do what you wish during the days, but I expect you to dine with me in the evenings and to spend an hour with me after the meal. Is that clear, Miss Marshal?"

Irena stared at Soto, trying not to tremble as he focused his full attention on her. She felt as if all of her mental resources had been drained. There was nothing she could do but nod. Soto looked satisfied and without saying another word, he reached beneath his seat and produced that day's copy of The New York Times. The rest of the ride passed in silence except for the occasional crackle of paper as Soto turned a page. Irena simply stared out the window for the remainder of the two hour drive, watching her old life being left further and further behind.

The next time Soto spoke was when the limousine stopped in front of a towering set of wrought iron gates guarding a narrow road which led into the forest.

"These gates mark the beginning of my property. My land is entirely encircled by a security fence, and this gate is the only way in or out."

As Irena watched, the driver hopped out of the limo and pressed in a code on the keypad. The gates swung slowly open, and the driver got back into the car and drove them through onto the strange narrow track that Irena guessed must be Soto's driveway. The gates shut behind them with a deep, ominous clang.

"Welcome to my estate, Miss Marshal," Soto said, before returning once more to his newspaper.

Irena had begun to calm down during the long silence of the drive, but now her anxiety returned. She sat tense in her seat, waiting for her first glimpse of the place where she would now be living. It took them a lot longer to get to the end of the drive than she expected. For twenty minutes the limo drove through old, dark forest, the trees making a kind tunnel over the tiny road. When she finally saw a clearing up ahead, Irena was half-convinced that she had fallen into some kind of twisted fairy tale, and that the house which awaited her would be an enchanted castle, home to perhaps an evil sorcerer or an ogre. This turned out to be rather closer to the truth than Irena was comfortable with.

The dwelling before her was no castle, but it wasn't something you could call a 'house.' It was a mansion, or maybe a better word was 'estate,' as Soto had called it. The building reared up from a clearing in the trees, and her mind flashed on a picture she had seen in Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles. Gargoyles perched on the roof, elaborate arches soared over the entranceway, and an enormous stained glass window depicting a single red rose towered over the estate's double front doors.

The building actually seemed to loom over them, making Irena's flesh break out into goose bumps, and her pulse quicken with a mixture of awe and apprehension. She would be living here? Her emotions must have showed on her face, because she heard Soto laugh and turned to find that he had put down his newspaper and was observing her.

"Impressive, isn't it? The estate was built by a rather eccentric millionaire in the early nineteenth century. He had rather too much of a fondness for the gothic, but then again so do I, so I hold no grudge against him." The limo cruised to a halt in front of the mansion's entranceway, and the driver came around to open the car door for Irena and Soto before going to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk. She slid out of the car, and Soto followed her, climbing out with almost surreal grace.

"Come with me, Miss Marshal, I have had rooms prepared for you." Soto took Irena's suitcase from the driver, and then walked up the steps that led to the doors, beckoning for her to follow. She did, wishing now that the limo ride had taken longer. The massive doors swung back easily enough when Soto pushed them open, and Irena had to stop and gape as they entered the massive foyer. The glistening parquet floor, the elaborate wainscoting and the half-dozen statues and paintings decorating the walls made this room look as if it had cost more than Irena's entire house.

"You have no idea how becoming you look when you are over-awed, Miss Marshal," said Soto, looking back over his shoulder at her. Irena tore her gaze from a painting and felt herself beginning to blush as Soto resumed walking.

He led her up richly upholstered staircases, through decadent corridors, and finally stopped outside of a door set into a niche in a hallway on the third floor. Irena was panting slightly from the trip, and she knew that she would never be able to find this place again on her own. "Here are your rooms, Miss Marshal," Soto said, opening the door and ushering her inside.

She walked slowly into a large room with dark wooden flooring and walls done in an elegant green paper. It was furnished as a sitting room, with two sofas, a coffee table, an armchair, bookshelves, a desk, and a television.

"There is also a bedroom and full bath," said Soto from behind her. Irena jumped, and then nodded.

"I'll put your suitcase on the bed."

Nod. Soto disappeared through a door, and returned a moment later, no longer holding her suitcase. "You seem to have lost your ability to speak, Miss Marshal," he said after a moment.

"I haven't lost the ability, I'm just deigning not to."

"Ah, well, as you are deigning not to make conversation, I have business to attend to. Dinner is at seven thirty. Someone will be sent up to collect you." Then he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him. Irena simply stood in the middle of her opulent new sitting room, staring at the closed door. It occurred to her briefly that she could try to run; he hadn't locked the door, but she discarded the idea. She would probably just get lost trying to find her way out of the house, and even if she did manage to get out, she doubted that she would be able to scale the fence that Soto had said surrounded the grounds. Instead, she went into the bedroom to unpack.

The room she entered was about half the size of the sitting room. It contained an enormous four-poster bed complete with a canopy, a large carved armoire, a vanity, a full length mirror, and a nightstand. Irena went to the bed and began unpacking, wincing at how tawdry her jeans and t-shirts looked inside the extravagant confines of the armoire. She realized that she was carefully avoiding thinking about her situation, but that was just fine for now. After she had finished unpacking, Irena lay down on the bed thinking that she would rest for a few minutes and then try reading a bit more of Interview with the Vampire. Five minutes later, however, she had fallen asleep on top of the bed's green silk coverlet.

She awoke at a knocking on the outer door, and it took her a few moments to remember where she was. When she did, all of the fear and rage which she had been suppressing for the better part of the day bubbled to the surface, and she groaned. She rubbed her eyes, and stretched, then went to go answer the door. It opened on a woman dressed in a black uniform with a white apron over top of it, a maid judging by the odor of pine-sol that hung about her.

"Mr. Soto sent me up to bring you down to the dining room, Miss," said the maid.

"Oh, ok." Irena stepped out of the door and closed it behind her. The maid eyed her rumpled clothing, and her lips tightened, but she said nothing. Irena was led down corridors, through doors, and down staircases, and although she tried to memorize the route they were taking, she was sure that she'd never be able to remember it all. Five minutes or so later, the maid led her through a towering, curved archway and into an enormous dining room. A table big enough to seat at least fifty had been pushed up against the wall to make room for a smaller one, just big enough to support two places. Soto stood at one end of the table, smiling at Irena as she walked towards him. The maid disappeared back through the archway, leaving the two of them alone

"Please sit down," Soto said, walking around and pulling out a chair for her. She made herself walk towards him, standing up straight and doing her best to act haughty. This was made difficult by the fact that she was wearing torn jeans and Soto was wearing a suit which looked as if it had cost more than most people made in a month. She sat, automatically reaching for her napkin and depositing it in her lap.

"I see that your father did manage to teach you some table manners," commented Soto, as he took his own seat. "Although, it seems as if he neglected to go over the fact that it is impolite to show up for dinner dressed in rags."

"Excuse me?"

"Your father may have let you get away with such behavior, but I do not find it to be the least bit endearing."

"These are the only kind of clothes I have, and they're not rags, thank you very much. Pardon me if I didn't bring along my evening wear."

"I will overlook it this time, but in the future, you will dress more appropriately."

Irena flushed, and she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Soto spoke again.

"You are living in my home now, and you will abide by the rules which I set down for you. I think I will make rule number one, 'Dress appropriately when in the presence of your host.'" He poured himself a glass of red wine and raised it to his lips. "Your figure is far too charming to be hidden behind ill-fitting clothes. I will look into getting you a new wardrobe"

Irena gaped at him. "You—you--" she didn't know what she had been planning to say next, but just then a uniformed man came through a door at the other end of the room carrying their dinner on a silver tray.

"Thank you Patrick," Soto said, and then dismissed the servant after he had put their plates on the table. Irena decided to keep quiet for the rest of the meal, and began eating without bothering to see if Soto was doing the same.

"Do you find your rooms adequate?" he asked after a moment.

Irena didn't respond, only stared at her plate and concentrated on eating. Soto allowed the silence to draw on, and Irena's stomach began knotting before he spoke again. "I will have to make rule number two, 'speak when you are spoken to.' Really, Miss Marshal, I didn't think you were so childish."

Irena chewed her food, trying to ignore the silence spinning on and to look as at ease as Soto did. Eventually, though, the tension was too much for her. "You don't know anything about me," she blurted

"Ah, she speaks!" Soto said in mock jubilation, toasting her with his glass. "And yes, you're right; I know almost nothing about you. This is something I was hoping to remedy with conversation."

"I don't see why you should care."

"And why shouldn't I care? You are my ward, after all."

"You traded my father for me. You think I'm an object."

"That's a rather unfair accusation."

"Well its true isn't it?"

"No it isn't. I fully acknowledge your humanity, Miss Marshal." He raised his glass again in another mock toast. "Some might even say that I rescued you from a despotic, drunken oaf who would sell his child to save his own worthless skin."

"And some might say that you're a hypocrite trying to justify his actions."

"Some might say that, yes, but only if they were not privy to the information that it was your father's idea to exchange you in the first place, not mine."

Irena had thought herself beyond further surprise, but now she felt as if someone had snuck up and punched her in the stomach. "My father was the one who suggested it?" Her voice had suddenly gone hoarse.

"Of course he was the one, Miss Marshal. I would have thought that you'd know what kind of man your father is by now. He witnessed our little meeting in the hallway, and with amazingly little segue told me that he would be willing to give you to me in exchange for the dissolution of the rest of his debt. Now, I'm not saying that my motives were entirely pure, but in part, I agreed to his offer in order to take you out of your father's reach. As for my other motives...well, I promise you that I won't lay a finger on you unless you ask me to. I have no plans to rape you, despite your father's assumption that I would do so." Soto had stopped eating and his entire attention was focused on her.

Irena was shocked. She had known her father was a bastard, but she'd also thought that he'd loved her at least a little. Now she found out that he had suggested that his own daughter be sold to a stranger. He had meant for Soto to take Irena as a lover, whether she wanted to be or not. How could her own father have done such a thing? Did Soto think that Irena would let him fuck her? She remembered the way he had looked at her the night before...but he had said that he wouldn't touch her.

"How do I know that you're telling the truth?" Irena asked Soto in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper.

"You don't. The only thing that you can do is trust me. Compare what you know of me, as little as that is, to what you know of your father. Who seems to be the liar?" Soto's voice held no trace of lightness anymore; now he was grave, and he studied her face intently.

Irena thought about it, and she realized that to the best of her knowledge, Soto had not yet lied to her. Her father, on the other hand, had lied to her more times than she could count. About his drinking and his gambling. About all those little things over the years of her childhood. Irena realized with a confused mixture of amazement and disgust that she thought this stranger more trustworthy than her own father. She might not like Soto, but she didn't think he was a liar.

"I believe you," she whispered, grabbing her water glass and draining it in a single nervous gulp.

"Good. Perhaps now we can talk of other things." Soto looked at Irena, waiting to see if she had anything else to say about the matter. She knew that she should let it go. Her father had sold her to a stranger, but Irena was beginning to think that maybe she was better off. Soto was arrogant and frightening, but she doubted that he was at all like her father. Maybe she would get a fresh start here, if she ignored the fact that her father had intended her to become Soto's mistress, and that her plans for the future had all been ripped away.

"I think that might be a good idea," Irena said. "I need to think of something else."

"Of course." Soto seemed to be waiting for her to bring up a topic of conversation.

Irena cast around frantically for a topic. "So, um...Have you ever read Interview with the Vampire?"

They talked about books for the rest of the meal. Soto had indeed read Interview with the Vampire, and they discussed it for several minutes, moving from Anne Rice to Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, and then Robert Louis Stevenson. To Irena's surprise, Soto knew a great deal about literature, and by the time dinner was over she found that she was actually enjoying talking with him. No one had ever liked to talk about books with her, and it was wonderful to have someone, anyone, with whom to discuss favorite characters and random bits of trivia. Finally, after lingering over dessert for over half an hour, Soto rose from his seat and Irena followed suit.

"If you are not too, tired, Miss Marshal, I could give you a short tour of the house," he said.

Irena hesitated a moment before replying. It would probably be a good idea to get to know where she was going to be living, but a tour would mean more of being alone with Soto, and now that they weren't talking about books anymore, she was starting to feel nervous again. Finally, she said, "Ok...and you can call me Irena if you want. The "Miss Marshal" thing makes me feel old."

"Very well, Irena." Hearing him say her name gave Irena a small shiver. It sent her back to the previous night when he had inspected the curves of her body through her nightgown. She glanced at Soto and saw a smile flicker over his lips as if he'd read her thoughts.

"Can we go?" she asked nervously. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, Irena."

Soto led her through the door opposite the archway through which she had come and they began the tour. He walked her through the conservatory, the library, various sitting rooms, and the recreation room. He showed her the entrance to the gardens, and walked her past the kitchens. On the second floor, they came to a corridor which dead ended in a locked door. "What's behind there?" Irena asked.

"My private rooms," Soto replied. "I could show you those as well, if you'd like." He smiled at her, a slow, deliberate up-turning of the lips, and placed a hand on the small of her back as if to guide her forward. Irena stiffened, color rushing to her face.

"No, that's ok," she said, the words tumbling from her mouth in one quick burst. Soto sighed and removed his hand. "Well, then, I suppose that concludes the tour." He turned back the way they had come, but then he paused. "Unless you would like to see the basement?"

"What's in the basement?"

"Just another lounge. I designed and decorated the room myself. It's where I entertain guests who visit for pleasure rather than business." He actually sounded somewhat enthusiastic. "If you are too tired, I can show you some other time."

"No, I'm not too tired."

"Well come along, then." Soto led her back down the way they had come until they came to a staircase. When they reached the bottom, Soto flipped a switch on the wall and the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling flared into life.

The basement was large and open, and was done all in shades of black and silver. The walls were paneled in the darkest wood Irena had ever seen, and the carpet was an ethereal shade of grey. A well-stocked bar stretched along the far wall, and three elegant black leather sofas surrounded a large, glass topped coffee table in the middle of the room. The chandelier was made of unadorned black iron and reminded her of something that could have been found in a medieval castle. The most striking features of the room, however, were the works of art lining the walls. Irena walked over to the nearest piece. It was an oil painting of a fair young woman, naked save for a white cloth draped around her thighs. A shadow, shaped vaguely like a man loomed behind her, seeming to reach out for her. The woman's face held a mixture of terror and anticipation, and her arms were raised almost as if she was about to embrace the shadow behind her.

"Do you like it?" asked Soto. Irena jumped. He was very close to her, so close that she could smell the musty scent of his cologne.

"Not really."

"Why is that?"

"I don't really understand it. The girl looks terrified, but she reaches out anyway. The image is...frightening."

"True, but in my opinion, the beauty of the painting is that the girl reaches out despite her fear." Irena didn't really know what to say, so she shrugged and walked over to stand in front of the next painting. It featured the same woman as before, but this time she was actually clinging to the shadow. Irena was about to ask Soto who the painter was when his cell phone began to ring. He sighed and took the phone from his breast pocket.

"You will have to excuse me for a moment. Business." He turned and walked back up the stairs, flipping the phone open as he went. Irena stood alone in the basement, wondering how long he would be gone. She decided to go inspect the rest of the paintings until he returned.

Every painting in the room featured the same fair woman and the man-shaped shadow. They seemed to progress chronologically along the wall, and many of the later ones seemed to feature the woman copulating with the shadow, her face torn between ecstasy and terror. They were making Irena nervous.

When she finally reached the last painting on the opposite side of the room, the girl was sleeping peacefully in the arms of the shadow which looked as if it was stroking her hair. Next to this last painting was a large door, slightly ajar. Unlike the other doors in the house, this one was rounded at the top and studded with wrought iron nails. It looked like something that belonged in a medieval fortress. Curious, Irena pushed the door open and peered into the room. It was very large and there seemed to be chains hanging from the ceiling beams. She stepped forward a bit, so that she stood just beyond the threshold. In the light that spilled through the door she could just make out the silhouette of a large St. Andrew's cross on the wall.

"I'm back, Irena," said Soto from behind her.

Irena jumped back into the lounge as if the floor had burned her and a scarlet blush roared into her face. What had she just seen? Did Soto have some kind of torture chamber down here? Was it some sort of museum, or did he actually use it? She began to splutter an explanation of why she had been in the room, but Soto only smiled at her discomfiture, and she trailed off into silence.

"I think it's time that we go back upstairs," he said. He led her back up to the main floor and then through the mansion's many twisting corridors until they stood in front of the door to Irena's rooms. They stood in silence, Irena staring at the floor.

"Goodnight Irena," said Soto after what for Irena were several awkward moments. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, lingering for just a moment longer than was necessary. Then he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering heat of his kiss.

Irena slept badly that night. She couldn't make herself comfortable in the enormous canopied bed, and every time she began to drift off, images of the torture chamber would flash across her eyes. Then all of her fears would begin ganging up on her again until she felt like screaming. It was close to four o'clock in the morning before her mind finally exhausted itself and allowed her to rest.

After that first day in Soto's house, Irena's life fell into a predictable pattern. She spent her days wandering the house, lounging in the gardens in fine weather, or exploring the library. It was still hard for her to believe, however, that she was never going to see her old home again or that she would never be attending a university as she had been planning to do for half of her life. At times, Irena almost hated Soto for taking her away from everything familiar, but then she would think of her father and rage would bubble to the surface. She was better off never having to see that bastard again.

Sometimes, she would worry about Soto's intentions towards her. He didn't grope or threaten her in any way, but she couldn't forget the way he had kissed her hand, or the way he had looked at her in her father's house. And for some reason, she couldn't get that basement torture chamber out of her mind. Something about that dark room had struck her, and after awhile, Irena found herself dreaming not of home or of her father, but of that St. Andrew's cross. She would awaken from these dreams sweating and hot, but unable to say what exactly it was about them that so affected her.

Her dinners with Soto became far less awkward, and she began to piece together Soto's history from bits of information gleaned from their mealtime conversations. Her guardian's full name Antonio Eduardo Soto and he was a self-made man, raised in a Spanish orphanage until the age of sixteen, when struck out on his own to build a fortune. He succeeded after only a decade, and had gone on to become one of the most powerful men in the world. Irena was puzzled that she had never heard of him before. He was some kind of businessman, although she was not able to find out precisely what he did.

And although he was always courteous, Irena couldn't ignore the way that Soto looked at her. Sometimes when she looked up from her plate at dinner, she would find that he was staring at her almost hungrily, his eyes narrowed and smoldering. The intensity of his gaze at those times always made her very nervous. He reminded her at times of a great cat, one that wondered what she tasted like.

**********

Several months after she had come to live with Soto, Irena fell asleep in the library and woke up to find that she was twenty minutes late for dinner. She jumped up and raced towards the dining room, now able to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the estate with ease. When she got to the dining room, however, Soto was not there. She went over to the empty table and took a seat at her usual side, wondering if he had gotten fed up waiting for her. Strangely, the thought upset her.

A waiter entered from the kitchen. "Is Mr. Soto not coming?" Irena asked, hoping that she didn't sound too disappointed.

"I'm afraid not, miss," said the waiter, unloading his tray. "He told me to convey his apologies, but he has been detained this evening and would like you to dine without him."

"Oh."

"If you have need of anything, please don't hesitate to call. I will be in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Irena said, and the waiter inclined his head to her before disappearing into the kitchen. It was strange for her to eat alone. The enormous dining room seemed very empty, and she kept darting glances at the corners, as if she expected to find someone watching her from the shadows. She ate as quickly as she could and left the dining room as soon as she finished, feeling oddly depressed at missing out on Soto's company. On the long trek back up to her rooms, Irena wondered what it was that had kept him.

She spent the hour after dinner in her sitting room reading a book she had borrowed from the library and trying to ignore how upset she had been by Soto's absence. About halfway though the fourth chapter, her eyelids began to feel heavy and she put the book down on the table. I'll just shut my eyes for a moment, she thought. Then I'll get up and go to bed...

She was in a huge stone dungeon. Everything was lit by flickering torches, and the unsteady light cast strange shadows on the walls. A large, gleaming St. Andrews cross stood against one wall and Irena walked towards it, realizing as she did that it was the same cross that she had glimpsed in Soto's basement. Up close, she could make out the grain of the wood and see the black iron shackles adorning each point of the cross. On impulse, she reached up and slid one of her hands into a top shackle, which clicked shut all by itself. The dry click of the lock excited her, and she placed her other arm in the remaining shackle, which promptly locked itself on her wrist.

Irena flexed her arms against the shackles and was pleased when they didn't even budge. A small sound drew her attention to the other side of the dungeon, and she saw that some of the dancing shadows cast by the torches had come together to form the silhouette of a man. The first prickles of fear began when the shadow began moving towards her. She pulled against the shackles but they were ratcheted tightly shut. When the shadow reached her, Irena was on the verge of tears. She wanted to get away, but she couldn't, and now this thing was going to hurt her.

The shadow reached out its dark hand and she braced herself for a blow, but it didn't come. Instead, fingers like clouds made solid brushed her cheek. Then they ran down her throat and chest, over her breasts and belly and finally to her sex, which Irena suddenly realized had become inexplicably wet. For a moment the shadow only cupped her, but then it slipped one of its fingers inside of her... followed by a second...and a third...and then suddenly the shadow's human form dissolved. It became a great cone of swirling black mist, and slowly, slowly it began to push its way inside of Irena's sex. She screamed over and over again, as the blackness invaded her, panic ravaging her, but at the same time a feeling of enormous heat descended over her.

As the shadow fed slowly inside of her, became a part of her, she began to feel as if she was being stroked all over by a thousand invisible hands and kissed by a thousand invisible mouths. Her head lolled back against the wall, but just as her limbs began to go weak, a new sensation joined the pleasure. Irena looked down to see a whip made of the same material as the shadow figure floating in mid-air before her. As she watched, it brought itself down on her flesh with a dull crack and she whimpered at the delicious heat of that followed the sting. The heat rolled through her, and Irena began to whimper in helpless pleasure as the darkness invaded her mind and body, and the whip bit into her skin. It was all too much. One person couldn't feel so many things at once. She would die...

Irena awoke to a hoarse screaming which she realized was coming from her own throat. She also realized that she was coming, and that it was the orgasm which had awakened her. She gripped the cushions of the couch and squeezed her legs together, willing the spasms to stop, but her body wasn't having any of it. Irena had to wait almost a full minute for the last shudder to dissipate. When it was over, she collapsed against the cushions and closed her eyes, concentrating on returning her breathing to a normal rate. Then she rose from the couch, every limb trembling, and stumbled to the bathroom.

That had been the most vivid dream she'd ever experienced. The terror and the ecstasy, the pain, the pleasure, all of it had been real. She'd never had an orgasm in a dream before that she could remember, and the sensation was disturbing. It was as if she'd had no control over her own body. Irena looked at her pale face in the bathroom mirror and rubbed at her temples, trying to clear her head. She could still recall every detail of the dream, from the sound the shackle had made when it clicked shut, to the feeling of the shadow's fingers against her flesh. It had been inside of her. In the dream she had been terrified, but she had also been aroused, and then she had come, come so hard that the convulsions had awoken her. What the hell was wrong with her? No one should have dreams like that. Freud would have had a field day with this one.

Irena gave her face a splash of icy water from the sink and then went into her bedroom. The clock on the nightstand said 12:05 am, and she knew that she should try to go back to sleep, but what if the dream came back? She'd been having dreams about the St. Andrew's cross for awhile, but none of them had ever done this to her. What if she had to face that shadow thing again? A shudder tore through her, and Irena ran a hand distractedly through her hair. The problem was, she thought, that she half-wished the dream would come back. The experience had been frightening, but at the same time it had been...well, exhilarating.

A small voice in the back of her head spoke up. Why don't you go to the basement and look at that cross you saw in Soto's basement? Maybe if you touch it, you'll be able to prove to yourself that it was just a dream.

Yes, that's what she'd do. She would have a quick peek into the dungeon, inspect the cross, and then come back to bed. Irena padded to the hall door, giving a sigh of relief when it opened soundlessly, and she slipped through it, careful not to make any noise. She crept through the moonlit corridors, being especially cautious when she passed the locked door to Soto's private rooms. A board might have squeaked when she passed them, but maybe it had just been her imagination. Shaking off a momentary desire to flee back to her rooms, Irena continued on, finally reaching the basement door and easing it open. She made her way carefully down the dark staircase, and then felt for a light switch. She flicked the first one her hand encountered and was relieved when a floor lamp burst into life rather than the enormous chandelier hanging overhead.

The basement lounge looked strange in the dim light cast by the lamp. The furniture made looming shadows on the walls and ceiling, and Irena had to repress a shudder as she remembered her dream. She felt like a child again, where ever shadow on the wall might be a ghost. Forcing her gaze from the lounge, Irena turned her attention towards the large medieval door set into the far wall.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door and pulled the latch. The oiled iron slid back easily, and a part of her was surprised that Soto had left the door unlocked. She opened the door wide enough that the light from the lounge cast some illumination over the dark interior of the dungeon, and then stepped inside. The dungeon was larger than Irena had thought it to be, and the air in the room was thick with the smells of oil, leather, and wood. There was a small door on the far side, and a large assortment of very strange furniture filled the interior. On one side, stood a huge wooden wheel bedecked with leather cuffs. A few feet away was a rough wooden bench, and in the middle of the room stood a high, padded table like one might see in a doctor's office. This one, however, was made of carved wood and padded with red leather, with leather cuffs attached to the corners. Irena looked around for the object of her dreams and was surprised to see that not one, but two St. Andrew's crosses stood against the west wall.

The ceiling was criss-crossed by thick wooden beams, and from them hung a variety of chains, shackles, hooks, ropes, and pulleys. The north wall was taken up with a row of wooden cabinets and several long shelves whose contents Irena couldn't make out in the diluted light from the lamp. The remaining wall space was almost completely covered by small hooks, from which hung whips, canes, paddles, floggers, straps, and crops of every description. Irena wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming. Never had she thought that Soto's dungeon would contain such a variety of instruments. They seemed to wink at her in the dimness, to whisper to her of the ecstasy they could provide. Irena shook her head to clear it. What was she thinking? She took a few tentative steps forward and reached to touch a long bullwhip, which looked uncomfortably like the one in her dream.

The leather was cool and smooth beneath her fingers, and Irena lifted the whip from its hook to weigh it in her hands. What would it feel like to have this whip crack across her back? In her minds eye, she saw herself kneeling on the ground in supplication, naked and pleading as a remorseless hand brought the whip down on her over and over again. She shivered and hastily replaced the whip on its hook. She shouldn't be thinking like this.

Irena stood there for a moment, debating whether or not she should just go back to bed, when her attention was caught once more by the two crosses standing side by side against the wall. She walked over to them, stopping a few feet away from the nearest one as if it would burn her if she got too close. She took a few halting steps forward and cautiously laid both of her hands against the varnished wood of the cross. She traced the grain with her palms, moving from one arm of the cross to the other, and little tingles radiated throughout her body. She remembered how she had been shackled to one of these crosses in her dream, and for a moment she was tempted to slip a hand into one of the leather cuffs adorning cross's points.

Irena shook herself. She shouldn't be down here. This had been a bad idea. Far from lessening the power of the dream, seeing this room again had made it seem even more real. If she didn't get out of here soon, she might do something she would regret. Irena realized then that her hands were still stroking the cross, and she jerked away, stumbling backwards a few steps before regaining her balance. She took a deep breath and then turned towards the door, catching a flicker of movement from the basement out of the corner of her eye. She froze, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and then forced herself to walk forward. She scanned the darkened basement for any sign of life, but saw nothing. She had been mistaken; it had just been the lingering influence of the dream causing her to see movement in the shadows. Forcing herself to calm down, Irena carefully closed the dungeon door and began a silent trek back to her rooms, more troubled now than she had been before.

**********

More weeks passed, gradually spinning away into months, but for Irena, something had changed. The dream had altered her somehow. She had begun dreaming of the shadow and the dungeon several times a week, and she would almost always be awakened by a shuddering climax that shook her to the very core. Sometimes, she would sneak down to the basement torture chamber in the middle of the night just to look at the crosses and the instruments of pain on the walls. She would wonder what they might feel like on her skin and a part of her would wish that there was a way to find out. Irena was deeply ashamed of herself for entertaining such dark fantasies, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

The restless nights began to tell upon her. Her skin grew paler, and dark circles ringed her blue eyes. She laughed less often and her appetite began to diminish. Soto had begun to look at her with concern over their evening meals, and although he restrained himself from mentioning her exhausted appearance for several weeks, he finally brought it up during dinner one night.

"Irena, I can't help but noticing that you've been looking rather tired lately. Is there something the matter?" He regarded her over the top of his wine glass as she picked at her food.

"Nothing's the matter," she mumbled down at her plate.

"Please don't lie to me Irena; you're not very good at it. Tell me what's wrong. Perhaps there is something I can do to help."

A vision of Soto wielding a flogger over her naked back seized her, and a flush crept into Irena's cheeks. "I told you, it's nothing," she said, carefully not looking at him.

"And I told you to stop lying. I know there's something the matter. Are you homesick?"

"God no!"

"Then what is it?"

"It's nothing, alright! I've just been having trouble sleeping lately! Why don't you just leave me alone?" Horrified to find that she was on the verge of tears, Irena threw down her fork and fled the dining room, not daring to look back at Soto. She ran all the way back to her rooms and tried to distract herself by taking out a new nightgown which Soto had given her. It was made out of pearl colored satin and seemed almost too beautiful to wear to bed. She slipped it on, forgoing any underwear, and crawled beneath the sheets, praying that tonight her sleep would be uninterrupted.

She woke only a few hours later in the usual manner of the dream, legs clamped together against a powerful orgasm. Tonight's dream had been more vivid than most, almost as bad as the first one. She lay there, body tense as the climax slowly began to dissipate, and then pulled herself shakily out of bed. This was getting ridiculous. There had to be something she could do. Maybe she could try to talk to Soto about it. She hadn't liked lying to him about the reason behind her constant tiredness. Maybe if he asked her again, she would tell him.

He'll just think you're a freak, a part of her whispered. No one has dreams like that.

Irena rubbed her eyes roughly, trying to bring the world back into focus. She was so tired, but she feared to go back to sleep, because the dream might be waiting for her. Maybe she would go visit the basement again. She knew that it would probably just make things worse, but maybe one little peek wouldn't hurt. She rose from the bed and pulled her robe out of the armoire, slipped it on and then left her room and made her way down to the basement. She knew that she was making more noise than was wise, but in her hurry to get to the dungeon once more, she didn't care.

The door to Soto's dungeon was unlocked as always, and with a sigh of pleasure, Irena rushed forward to the run her hands over one of the St. Andrew's crosses. Coming down her had begun to feel like what she imagined junkies experienced when they scored a fix: both guilty and exultant at the same time. She moved away from the cross to stand in front of the rows of floggers, her hands going out to run over the polished wooden handles.

Just as her fingers brushed the shining ebony of the nearest flogger, Irena heard a small, distinct sound from behind her. It was the clearing of a throat. She spun around; fear pounding into her stomach like an iron weight, and saw Soto leaning against the doorframe. She dropped her hand and opened her mouth to start making excuses, but no sound came out.

"Good evening Irena," said Soto, not moving from his spot in the doorway.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be down here. I'll just—I'll just go back to bed." Irena forced her feet into motion, and started for the door, her heart pounding.

"Why did you come here?" asked Soto softly.

"I—I couldn't sleep. I was walking around the house, just trying to tire myself out, and I decided to come down to the basement so that I could look at those paintings again. The door—the door was open and I just walked in. I'm sorry. I'll just go back to bed now."

She made to edge past Soto, but he shifted so that his body blocked the door, and she was forced to stop a few feet away from him.

"Liar, liar," he murmured, leaving the doorway and walking into the room. "Why not try the truth."

"You wouldn't understand," said Irena as Soto walked past her to lean against one of the crosses on the wall.

"Try me."

For a moment, Irena considered lying to him, of concocting some story about how she'd had a nightmare about the boogeyman or some other inane monster, but instead, she decided on the truth. Maybe he would understand the dreams. Maybe he could help her make sense of it all. Maybe if she finally got the dream into words, its power would dissipate.

"I've been having these dreams," she began, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. "I've never had anything like them--" She halted, unsure of how to continue.

"Well," said Soto, "What are they about?"

Again, Irena thought of lying to him, but a moment later, she found herself describing the dreams to Soto, glossing over the more graphic details and how she was always awakened, but otherwise sticking to the facts. When she finished, Soto's face hadn't changed, but for a moment, she thought she saw that hungry look flit over his features.

"What do you think?" she asked him tentatively. What if he told her that she needed to go see a shrink? What if he laughed at her?

"I think you have a problem," said Soto, carefully not looking at her.

Irena felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. She had thought Soto would understand. He thought she was a freak. He thought she was perverted. She had thought he would be able to tell her the meaning of the dreams, to be able tell her their significance, and now she found that they meant nothing to him but that she had a problem. The dream had shaken her and she had only wanted reassurance...

"You think I have a problem?" Irena tried to yell, but to her horror, her voice trembled with repressed tears. She had come to depend on Soto's company, and now he would never want to talk to her again. He wouldn't want to have anything to do with someone like her. "Well, I don't need your opinion! I didn't want to tell you in the first place, and now you--" she broke off when she saw move rapidly towards her.

For a second, Irena thought that he was going to hit her, and she flinched, but then he seized both of her shoulders in his hands, and brought his mouth down on hers. Irena's eyes widened in shock and she tried to push away, beating ineffectually against Soto's back, but he only tightened his hold and took the opportunity to slip his tongue between her parted lips. His mouth it devoured hers with a fervor that frightened her, but for some reason, she could no longer struggle. His tongue stroked and teased, demanding that she respond, and to her amazement, Irena found that she was. She began cautiously to move her tongue against Soto's, tasting him, exploring his mouth as he ravaged hers. He let her, dropping his hands from her shoulders to her back and pressing he even closer.

Now that it was actually happening, Irena became slowly aware that she had wanted Soto to kiss her for a long, long time.

He began to maneuver her backwards without disengaging their kiss, and only stopped when he had Irena pressed against one of the St. Andrew's crosses on the wall. Then he withdrew his mouth from hers in order to cover her face and neck with scalding kisses. He brought his mouth close to her ear, and whispered, "Your problem, my dear, is that you've been repressing yourself." He took her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled it gently, making Irena gasp. "How long have you craved to feel the kiss of the lash on your skin? How long have you wondered what it would be like to surrender yourself to another's mercy?" he asked in that same husky whisper. His hands went to her shoulders and slipped the robe off of them.

"I—I don't know what you mean," she gasped, struggling to take in what was happening.

"Yes you do. Maybe not on the surface, but you do know. I can show you. I can give you what you want. Just say yes, Irena." He was kissing her neck now, and Irena was having difficulty thinking clearly. "Say yes, and I'll make those dreams of yours come true." He took one of her hands and raised it above her head, slipping it into one of the leather cuffs on the cross. Through the fog of heat that had obscured her thoughts, Irena felt a sliver of panic and she stiffened. Soto noticed, and loosened his grip on her hand.

"I've wanted you for a long time, Irena. And now that I know what you're like...I can help you understand yourself. Just say yes."

She thought of her dreams, the divine release, and the almost unbearable pleasure. She thought about all the times in her life when she had denied herself, all those times when she had forced herself to stand on her own. She thought about what it would be like to surrender control to another. And mostly, she thought about Soto. About the way he sometimes looked at her, about how they had laughed together, about how it had felt when he kissed her...

She took a deep breath and said, "Yes."

Soto gave a soft moan and brought his lips to hers once more. He raised her hand to the cuff once more and buckled it in, doing the same to the other so that both of her arms were pinned over her head in the shape of a 'v.' Then Soto knelt, pushed Irena's legs wide apart, and buckled each ankle into the cuffs at the bottom of the cross. When he had finished, her limbs were stretched into a taut 'X,' and although she tried to move, it impossible; the cuffs held her securely in place. She felt incredibly vulnerable in this position, and felt herself beginning to tremble.

Soto rose and then leaned against the wall to speak into her ear. "I want you to address me as 'Sir' for the remainder of the night, Irena. As long as you are in this dungeon, your body belongs to me." She nodded, even as fear gripped her insides. Oh gods, what was she doing?

Soto took a gold lighter from his pocket, and began lighting the candelabra on the walls. When he finished, he closed the dungeon door, leaving the room bathed in a mellow golden glow which set the shadows dancing over the walls. He went to the row of cabinets, removed several objects wrapped in black cloth, and then brought them over to a small table set up near the cross. He began to unwrap the first bundle, and the black cloth fell away to reveal an enormous silver knife.

Irena went rigid; her breath leaving her in a broken gasp. She stared at the knife with wide, frightened eyes, but Soto only smiled, stroking the blade with his fingers before inserting it into the low neckline of her nightgown. Her breath caught at the feeling of cold metal against her skin, and she trembled as Soto drew the blade slowly down the center of the thin satin garment. The fabric tore easily, and when he had finished slicing through the middle Soto grasped the twin flaps of satin and pulled them gently apart, exposing Irena's body.

His eyes devoured her, taking in the high, petite breasts with their rose colored nipples, the creamy plane of her stomach and the dark thatch of hair between her thighs. Her entire body trembled as Soto reached out a hand and began to caress her skin. He cupped each of her breasts and ran his fingers over the taut nipples, forcing a gasp from between her clenched teeth. He drew patterns over her stomach, and reached down to stroke the silky hair of her sex. Then, very slowly, he slipped an index finger inside of her. Irena gasped and unthinkingly tried to close her legs against the intrusion, but the leather cuffs held them wide apart.

Soto's finger probed and circled, pushing deep inside of her and then sliding out to rotate her clitoris in slow, tight loops. Irena tossed her head back and forth, trying to keep her thoughts in place. Her face contorted into a frown as she concentrated on not losing control of herself completely. She had never felt anything like this before. It was better than she had ever imagined. Being touched by someone else, being invaded and tormented and knowing that there was nothing she could do about it.

Suddenly, Soto's finger was gone and Irena had to bite back a moan of protest. Her hips gave a convulsive jerk, as if struggling to pull him back inside of her. He stood and pressed himself against her, his erection obvious through the fabric of his pants. The hard bulge ground into the soft flesh of her belly and Irena tried to shift away, mortified, but the shackles held her securely in place.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a virgin?" he whispered into her ear, his cock digging even deeper into her belly. "You still have your hymen, Irena, I could feel it."

She moaned and shook her head, unable to speak.

"You're an innocent little slut, aren't you?" he said. "You like this. It makes you all wet, doesn't it?" He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced Irena to look at him.

"Answer me."

Irena shook her head violently, shame stabbing through her, even as his crudeness made her knees weak with desire.

"No?" He gave her head a shake, and then gave her breasts a slap with his other hand, making Irena cry out in surprise. "I think you're a liar." He reached between her legs and his fingers found her clitoris. He began working it back and forth, making the fleshy bud stiffen and swell. Her hips jerked and a moan escaped through her clenched teeth as the throbbing between her legs rose to an almost unbearable pitch. "You're a proud one aren't you, Irena? But before this night is over, you're going to abandon that foolish pride of yours and beg me to fuck you." He gave her clit a final hard pinch, and then released her.

She slumped in her bonds, panting, only now aware that she had been holding her breath. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, tried to put her thoughts back in order as Soto began unwrapping the items he had taken from the cabinet. Irena knew that she could never beg Soto to fuck her; just the thought of it sent a hot wave of humiliation running through her. She wanted to please him, but how could he possibly expect her to debase herself like that?

The sting of another sharp slap to her breast made Irena jerk her head up to look at Soto, who was now holding a thick leather collar. "Stand up as straight as you can, and raise your chin," he said

Irena obeyed and Soto leaned forward to fasten the collar about her neck. It was so large that it covered the entire expanse of her throat, making it impossible for her to look either up or down.

"Now you can't hide those pretty eyes of yours, my dear." He leaned in to kiss her, a hard, brief mingling of lips and tongue, and then strode off towards the collection of floggers on the opposite the wall. She couldn't see what he was doing because his back was to her, but when he turned around, the sight of the instrument in his hands made her stomach clench with fear. Its handle was of elaborately carved mahogany and the falls were thin and cruel, made out of tough, dark leather.

He sauntered back over to her, his hand caressing the leather tendrils of the flogger with an idle sensuousness that made Irena shiver with longing. He stopped a few inches away from her and ran the stiff falls over her breasts, and she shuddered at the coarse feel of the knots at the ends of the falls scraping over her erect nipples. A mixture of dread and anticipation rushed into her and she began to breathe in quick little pants. Soto raised the flogger, and for a moment, Irena thought that he would strike her with it, but he slowed his arm's descent so that the leather just lightly smacked against her skin. He leaned close to her and his hand crept down to her sex, idly stroking the soft hair as if he were petting a kitten.

"What do you think of my new toy?" Soto murmured in her ear, his hand still caressing her. "You'll be the first I've used it on. Custom made for me in Spain. The falls are made of bull hide. Very tough. Ordinarily, I wouldn't use something like this on a virgin, but I think you'll like pain, don't you agree?"

"Yes," Irena whispered, unable to take her eyes from the whip.

"Yes what?"

For a moment, Irena's foggy brain couldn't think of what he meant, but then she remembered herself. "Yes Sir."

"Much better. Now, I think a change of position is in order." He reached up and undid the cuffs holding her arms and did the same for the ones on her ankles. Irena hadn't realized how stiff her muscles were getting, but now as she lowered her arms to her sides and brought her legs together, she winced at the pins and needles tingling through them. She didn't have long to relax, however, because a moment later, Soto spun her around so that she was facing the wall, and buckled her onto the cross once more with her arms wide and legs spread.

"You have quite an enchanting backside, Irena," he said, running a hand over her ass. "Perfect for whipping." He brought the flogger down with a piercing crack.

Irena shrieked. Pain rocketed through her, flowing from her ass in molten waves. She hadn't thought that it would hurt this much. It was like someone had struck her with a dozen blunt knives. But even as she thought this, she felt Soto's hand caressing her stinging flesh, and the agony began to subside into a hot, pleasurable ache.

"Amazing," said Soto, his hand still stroking her. "I should have bought one of these a long time ago."

Irena felt strengthened by the delight in his voice, and braced herself determinedly for the next blow. Soto raised the flogger again, and brought it down a second time, then a third, and then a fourth. With every stroke, Irena released a piercing wail. She couldn't help herself; it was as if she no longer had any control over her vocal cords. The pain was so intense that stars danced before her eyes with each stroke of the flogger. Soto paused once more and ran his hands over her, making the stinging pain dissolve into pleasure at his touch.

"You're far too vocal, to suit me, my dear," he whispered into her ear, before turning away. Irena sensed him walk away from her and after a moment, he returned and pressed a small rubber ball against her lips. "Open," he commanded, and Irena did. He pressed the ball into her mouth and then buckled the attached straps around her head so that the gag stayed in place. "That's better. And, I have something else for you, my dear. Something special." Irena's heart rate sped up, and she tensed in anticipation as Soto's hands crept to her sex. A moment later, a small, slim hook slid inside of her, and a firm, rubbery something cupped her vulva and pressed against her clit. Straps were tightened around her thighs and waist, and when Soto took his hands away, the device clung to her as if it were a part of her body. Irena wished she could see it, but the collar around her neck kept her face pointing rigidly to the wall.

"Now," Soto said, "I want you to let me know if this device of mine is doing its job. A moan will do." Irena heard a click, and suddenly the thing on her sex began to vibrate. Her gasp was hampered by the gag in her mouth, but as the intensity of the vibration rose, even the rubber ball couldn't stifle her moan. She had never used a vibrator before, and the sensation was so...intense that the pleasure bordered on pain. The apex of the vibration seemed to be focused directly on her clit, and she tried to shift the device so that it didn't press so directly against her, but she was bound too tightly to do anything about it.

"Well, it looks as if my toy is in fine working order," Soto said. "Give me just one more moan so that I can be sure." Irena had thought it impossible, but somehow, the vibrations of the toy grew stronger, and a moan tore out of her throat before she could even think about trying to stifle it. "Ah, lovely," sighed Soto. Then the lash descended on her ass once more. Irena shrieked into the gag. Her hips jerked forward, and the vibrator sent a searing wave of pleasure through her even as the pain burned her backside.

The flogger came down again, and again, falling into a steady rhythm that provided her tortured flesh no opportunity for respite. Every time the falls came down, Irena would jerk convulsively, pressing her clit against the vibrator, tipping the constant pleasure of the vibrations into something that could be either ecstasy or agony. Pain and pleasure had melded together to form a single all-consuming sensation. She could no longer think clearly, no longer reason or dissemble. The only thing that remained clear to her was that she must please Soto.

Irena didn't know where this idea had come from, didn't care where it had come from, but all of this was for Soto. He was the one who was whipping her, he was the one who was pleasuring her, and it mattered only that she respond in a way which would make him happy. If he took pleasure from her pain, then she would suffer for him. Irena let go, abandoning her last vestiges of restraint. She would be his now, utterly and completely his. She welcomed each stroke of the flogger as it came, reveled in each pulse of the vibrator against her throbbing clit, because she knew it was all for him.

Then suddenly, as if a switch had been turned, Irena started to come. A slow explosion began, starting in her clit, and spreading to the rest of her body. Her limbs quaked, her hips thrust helplessly against the wall, and wails of utter ecstasy tore from her mouth, muffled by the rubber ball. Every nerve of her body seemed to be on fire. She couldn't see, couldn't think of anything but the divine intensity of the orgasm roiling through her. Dimly, as if in another universe, she heard Soto's voice murmuring words of encouragement, and the sound of him stoked her to even greater heights.

The spasms went on and on, but just as they were beginning to abate, Irena heard Soto's voice say, "Once more for me, my darling," and felt the crack of the flogger against her trembling backside. She was helpless to disobey him, and another explosion of utter ecstasy deafened her every sense. The room went momentarily dark, and Irena thought for a moment that she would pass out, but reality reasserted itself when she heard Soto's voice urging her onward, and she forced herself to ride this second convulsion to its finish.

It seemed to take an age for the last spasms to dissipate, and when it was over, Irena slumped in her bonds, all strength deserting her. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep, steady breaths, but now that it was over, something inside of her seemed to break. A moment later, Irena was sobbing, crying harder than she had since she was a little girl. Soto's warm bulk pressed against her back, his hands reached around to remove the gag from her mouth, and the vibrator from her sex. Then he set to work undoing the cuffs holding her arms and legs apart. When she was free of them, Irena fell against Soto, no longer able to support her own weight. He put an arm around her and stroked her hair, murmuring into her ear until her sobs dissipated into hiccups.

When Irena had gained a measure of control over herself, Soto said, "That took quite a bit longer than I had anticipated. To be honest, my dear, I thought that I would have you in tears by the tenth lash." He looked down at her intently, his hand still toying with her hair. "I should have guessed that you would prove more resilient. How delightful." His hand left her hair and moved to her breast, squeezing it rhythmically and stroking the tender nipple. Irena barely noticed. She was still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Soto's hand and crept downward, gliding over her belly and thighs, then cupping itself over her sex. He inserted a single finger inside of her and began to rotate it in slow circles, simultaneously using his thumb to massage her clit. Irena stiffened. "You have exceeded my expectations thus far. I hope that you will continue to impress me with your stamina."

She tried to wiggle away, but Soto clamped his other arm around her and continued to toy with her sex. Despite herself, Irena was once more beginning to feel desire pulse up from between her legs at Soto's insistent stroking. "Don't you dare try to get away from me, Irena. If I want to touch you, I will touch you, and you'll thank me for it." He gave her clit a hard pinch to prove his point, and Irena moaned softly in her throat. "I think you need to learn some manners, my dear. I want to hear you say thank you for all that I've given you tonight."

His fingers increased their pace, and Irena shuddered at the waves of pleasure pulsing through her. It was getting hard to think. "Say it now," Soto hissed, giving her clit another tweak for emphasis.

"Thank you, Sir." The words burst from Irena's mouth before she could stop them.

"Thank you for what? Be specific."

"Thank you for touching me, Sir."

"Good. And what else are you thankful for?"

"Thank you for making me come, Sir."

"That's much better, pet." Soto's fingers increased their pace, and her hips began to pump helplessly against his hand. If she didn't come soon, she would explode. She was almost there, just a few more strokes of his thumb...Then Soto's hand was gone. Irena moaned desperately, but the fingers did not return. Instead, Soto grabbed her hand and led her to the small door she had noticed in the far wall. He removed a key from his pocket and unlocked it, and then led her into a large room with a very high ceiling. A dim light filtered in from a window high up on the wall, and Irena glanced up to see the full moon staring down at her.

The room was large, but sparsely furnished. In the dim light Irena could make out only a massive four-poster bed topped with a canopy, an armoire, and a long couch standing against one of the walls. Soto didn't bother to turn on a light, only pulled her to the bed and pushed her down upon it.

"Lie back and spread your arms and legs," he said, and Irena glanced up at him, startled at the change that had come into his voice. All throughout the time she had been tied to the cross that voice had been calm and smooth, but now, as his dark shape loomed over her it was hoarse and wild. It was as if something in Soto had cracked, and a new man had emerged from the rift. This man sounded as if he would not take no for an answer, as if he would be quite capable of ravishing her into oblivion.

Irena's heart began thudding in her chest, and her breathing became rapid and erratic as fear once more rushed into her, but she did as she was told, lying back against the pillows and spreading her arms and legs wide over the mattress. Soto went to the head of the bed and uncoiled two lengths of rope from the top of the headboard.

He leaned down and spoke into her ear. "Hold onto these ropes. You are not to let go unless I tell you to, is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Irena whispered, reaching up and taking a rope in each hand

"Very good." He stroked her cheek, and then went off to open the armoire on the other side of the room. When he returned, he held a black silk scarf in one hand. "I'm going to put this over you eyes. Don't let go of the ropes." A moment later, the world fell into darkness as the blindfold covered her. Soto didn't tie it however, only left it lying loose over her face. "This will stay over your eyes until I remove it. Do not let it fall." He moved away from her, and Irena heard the distinctive rustle of clothing and knew that he was undressing. A crinkling of paper let her know that he was putting on a condom. The idea sent a thrill radiating through her. There was a sound of bare feet on the floor, and then there was hand on her breast, its fingers rolling the nipple back and forth. Irena gasped, and excitement and fear warred within her. Soto could be getting ready to do anything to her, and with the blindfold on she would never know.

He began to trail kisses down her chest, and she began to whimper. He kissed her breasts, belly, and her outer and inner thighs, but every time he drew close to throbbing ache between her legs, his mouth would veer off in another direction. Irena moaned, and thrust her hips desperately, but it did nothing to sway Soto.

She willed herself to calm down, to be patient. She had no control over her release. Her pleasure was up to Soto. Irena told herself this over and over, and she began trying to relax. As if sensing this, Soto's mouth, which had been lingering on her left thigh, suddenly glided to her sex and all thoughts of calming down abruptly vanished from Irena's mind.

His tongue explored her opening, running up and down the slit with long practiced strokes. Then it dipped inside of her and Irena gasped, her hips giving a violent, involuntary jerk. He stroked and probed at her, making her feel more exposed than anything else had tonight. He explored her every crevice before licking his way very slowly up to her engorged clit, and when the roughness of his tongue gave a preliminary flick over the turgid bud, Irena thought that she would faint. A cry escaped through her clenched lips, and she lifted her hips, all shame leaving her as she silently begged Soto to continue.

His tongue began to flick her clit back and forth, and every so often, he would suck it into his mouth and draw upon it, worrying it gently with his teeth until Irena tossed her head back and wailed.

But he would not allow her come.

Every time she got close to the brink, Soto's mouth would leave her. He would wait until her body and slumped back against the bed and then begin all over again, licking and teasing, and nipping and tasting until Irena thought she would die if he did not let her come.

After what seemed to be the thousandth repetition of this cruel game, Irena could simply not take it anymore. If he did not let her gain release, then she would go insane. She had never needed anything badly in her life.

"Sir!" she gasped.

The tongue which had been lazily stroking her clit was removed, and Irena felt the bed shift as Soto sat up.

"Yes, Irena?" he said, seemingly unruffled. Only a trace of roughness in his voice let her know his state of mind.

"Please sir, please let me come!" she whispered, a part of her unable to believe what she was saying.

"I will let you come, my dear, but I still have a promise to keep. I said that I won't stop until you beg me to fuck you. If you really want release, let go of that last little bit of silly pride and beg."

A few moments passed, and Irena's throat worked, but she couldn't say anything, could only flush in humiliation.

"Very well," he said, the roughness in his voice more pronounced. "I will continue." The bed shifted again, and Irena felt his tongue beginning to stroke her once more. She released a despairing moan, and clung to the ropes. It was getting very hard for her to hold on now. She wanted so badly to clutch at Soto, to entreat him to give her release. A finger slipped inside of her and she gasped, but still she couldn't beg him. Then he gave her clit a hard, almost painful nip, and the surge of pleasure that it provoked finally unhinged her.

Suddenly, Irena was crying out in a broken desperate voice that she was sure must carry even to the high ceiling:

"Sir! Please Sir! Please, please fuck me! Oh please, please, please fuck me!" It became a kind of chant, even after Soto had removed his mouth from her sex.

The bed shifted again and she felt his hands lifting the blindfold from her face. A moment later, Irena was blinking up into Soto's face. He was propped up on an elbow, staring down at her and she saw that he had released his hair from its usual ponytail, so that it fell over his shoulders in long black waves. His golden eyes almost glowed in the darkness.

"Are you sure, Irena?" he murmured into her ear. "I want to hear you say it just once more."

"Please fuck me, Sir," Irena whispered.

"Use my name."

"Please fuck me, Antonio." A shiver of delight rippled through Irena as she said his name for the first time.

A soft groan escaped Soto, and without another word, he positioned himself over top of her, bracing himself by placing an arm on either side of her head. He looked down into her face, his eyes burning, and Irena looked back at him, fascinated by the glittering amber of his irises. She felt his cock brushing against her thigh and for a moment she was afraid. Soto must have felt her stiffen, because without another moment's delay he reached down to position himself at her opening and gave a single hard thrust of his hips.

He slid inside easily, but Irena could not help giving a yelp of pain as he penetrated her innocence. Her hands clenched on the ropes until the fibers cut into her palms. Soto held himself still for a few moments, allowing her body to adjust to his presence, and then he began to work his hips in smooth, rhythmic thrusts. Irena groaned and fell back against the pillows, her grip on the ropes relaxing slightly. She had never felt anything like this. Soto filled her completely, almost to the point of pain, but she felt as if she could keep him inside of her forever. The delicious friction that each stroke created sent heat tingling all over her body and the fevered craving for release that had made her beg for this rushed back, stronger than ever.

Irena began bringing her hips up in the wake of Soto's thrusts, trying to make him to go faster. He ignored her at first, but her desperation seemed to awaken an answering need within him, for only a few minutes later, the pace of his thrusts began to quicken. Irena cried out in delight, thrashing her head against the pillows and clutching desperately at the ropes. She lifted her hips from the bed and ground herself against Soto, struggling to take every inch of him inside of her. He released a choked moan and went suddenly still, his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. He took a single steadying breath, and then withdrew from Irena, who mewled in protest.

He sat up on his haunches and grasped one of Irena's ankles in each hand, dragging her body towards him. Then he reached down briefly to position himself, and thrust inside her once more. Irena gave a wail of ecstasy and promptly began working her body against him, moving her hips in frenzied circles over his rigid cock.

This seemed to rob him of his last shred of control. He took a firm hold on both her ankles, raised her legs high over her head and then began to thrust so rapidly that Irena was afraid he would rip her in two. The pressure inside of her built to an almost unbearable pitch, and she writhed against him, all thought deserting her. The only thing which remained inside her head was the conviction that she must please Soto, must hold out for his sake, must hold back from coming until she had satisfied him. She bit her lip and forced herself back from the edge. What could she do to please him? How could she bring him the most pleasure?

Tentatively, Irena began flexing and releasing her inner muscles, timing it so that she clenched him as he withdrew and released him when he plunged into her. Soto's head fell back and he groaned at the ceiling. At first, Irena was afraid that she had hurt him somehow, but then she saw the deep flush that had crept into his cheeks and felt the pace and ferocity of his thrusts increase to an even greater pace. She began to clench and release as hard as she could, and was rewarded by more delighted moans from the man above her.

Soto released her ankles, and without withdrawing from her, he braced himself on his arms and laid his body over top of hers once more. He put his mouth against her ear, and without ever missing a stroke, said hoarsely, "Let go of the ropes." Irena did so, only now realizing that she had been holding onto them so tightly that her hands had cramped. "Hold onto me," he gasped. "I want to feel every inch of you wrapped around me when I come." She obeyed once more, wrapping her arms around his back, and locking her legs over his hips.

Soto gave a hard, deep thrust and then went completely rigid. His breath left him in ragged half-moan, and Irena felt his cock begin to spasm and jerk inside of her. His entire body began to shudder and his breath came in irregular spurts as he emptied himself inside of her. She pressed herself against him, reveling in his body and in the privilege of being the one to receive him. All thoughts of her own pleasure had vanished; his pleasure had become her pleasure. A moment later, though, Soto had reached a hand between them and given her clit a couple rough strokes with his finger and Irena was suddenly seized by the biggest climax she had ever experienced.

It seemed to start in her toes, but it worked its way rapidly throughout her entire being. She began to thrash uncontrollably, and her whole body began to shiver; if Soto hadn't been on top of her, Irena was sure that she would have shattered into a million pieces. Cry after cry was wrenched from her throat as the world dissolved in a rush of color and sound, leaving only the waves of divine ecstasy rolling through her. It seemed to go on for hours, but when she finally went limp, Soto was still on top of her, still inside of her. He was looking down at her and there was a small smile on his face. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her softly, and then he rolled off of her. She felt a stab of loss, but a second later he had lain down beside her and draped his arms over her chest.

The world was slowly coming back, and with it, Irena herself. What had just happened? She had just been fucked by Antonio Soto, the man who she had been sold to as if she were a piece of livestock. Not only had she been fucked by him, she had begged him to do it. Shame began to descend upon her, but Irena stamped on it before it could gain any ground. It didn't matter what that prideful moralistic side of her mind thought about what she had done; she was through with living as that part of her mind commanded her to. She had felt more alive tonight than she had ever been in her life. Soto had shown her how to let go, and she was not going to go back to the way she had been before. Irena snuggled deeper into the shelter of her lover's arms and began to drift off towards sleep.

"What, no tears?" asked Soto from beside her.

"What?" Irena looked over at him, startled back from sleep.

"I was expecting you to start sobbing as soon as we finished. I've seen it happen before after a first time."

"I thought about it," Irena admitted. "But then I thought about it some more and I've decided that there's nothing for me to cry about."

Soto was silent for a moment, and then he said, "You really are extraordinary Irena. I'm almost regretting having made arrangements for you to attend college in the fall. It would be so much more fun if I could keep you here with me."

His tone was casual, but Irena's heart skipped a beat. "You—you're sending me to college?"

"Of course. Did you really think I would allow someone of your intelligence remain uneducated?"

"I thought--"

"You thought that I would just keep you here as my own little toy, never to see the outside world again. Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind," he said ruefully. "Especially after tonight. But no, that has never really been my intention." He shifted and held her closer to him. "I thought when you first came here that I would keep you for a little while and then dissolve my guardianship and send you to college. However," Soto continued, "Tonight has made things a little bit more complicated. I want you to go to school, Irena, but I also want you to stay here with me. Now, I won't force you, but if you decide to come back during your school breaks, it would please me to no end. If you would rather not see me again, however, I'll be sorry, but I will let you go."

Irena answered almost before Soto had finished speaking. "I'll come back."

A smile broke over Soto's face, and he held her closer. "Good." He bent his head down and kissed Irena's upturned mouth. "Term starts in two weeks."

"I suppose we'll have to find a way to keep ourselves occupied in the meantime?" murmured Irena, a smile quirking her lips.

Soto's amber eyes glinted. "Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something."

The End