Lillian could not believe what Willingham was saying. Here was a policeman who had presumably come to rescue her, but if he had why was he permitting her to remain chained up like this? Something was totally wrong. He couldn't be a real policeman; a real policeman would not behave in such a manner.
'Perhaps if you could show her your identification? It's conventional, is it not, in such circumstances.'
'Of course,' Grimaldi replied, pulling out his identification card from an inside pocket.
So, he really was a policeman. Lillian had seen a card very similar to this before, the last time a traffic policeman had stopped her. It did seem to be authentic and there was something police-like about the man too. So he really was a policeman and if he was and he wasn't going to help her then she really was lost.
'Maybe, Inspector Grimaldi, you would like to carry out your inspection in detail now. There are some implements over there that might be of assistance, should you need them.' Willingham's eyes focused on the selection of canes mounted on the wall like snooker cues.
'Yes, I think that would be in order.' Grimaldi's eyes burned lustily in Lillian's direction.
Lillian realised that not only was this man not going to save her, but he was going to abuse her in some horrible way.
'You will find that Lillian requires a daily beating or she just doesn't function properly. She is also rather fond of sex, all types of sex, so please feel free. There really is just nothing that this girl cannot or will not do.'
'Fine.'
'And let me know, Inspector, when you wish to leave. I also have a maid you might want to take a look at later. And of course any time that you wish to return just to make sure that nothing improper is going on then please just call.'
'Of course.'
'I'll leave you to it then, shall I?'
'Thank you very much, Lord Willingham. You have been most cooperative.'
Lillian had understood enough of the Italian spoken to know that Willingham was offering her as a sweetener to keep this pig of a man from rescuing her. She also knew from experience that Willingham would be watching her on his security cameras should she try anything, difficult as it was anyway, as she was still chained at the wrists and ankles, and of course, gagged.
Grimaldi didn't do anything for a while, just continued looking at her voluptuous body. After a while he started stroking her hair, running his hand down her wavy raven locks. His hand spread further down, past her shoulder-blades, reaching down to the small of her back.
'Stand up, girlie,' he commanded in English.
Lillian got up and stood before him, her chains jangling as she did so.
He was sitting at the same level as her stomach. He gazed at her midriff intensely, but her eyes rested not on him, but off into the distance, the garden outside and behind the snow-capped mountains which somehow seemed emblematic of the freedom she now feared she would never taste again.
'Spread your legs.'
Lillian spread her legs a little. Grimaldi's bear-like hands rested lightly on her hips. First he reached his fingers up to her breasts, touching them lightly, running the tips lightly over her nipples.
This Grimaldi was such a repulsive man, fat and hairy and quite disgusting. He was sweating profusely too in his excitement. He ran his hands over her breasts again, this time plucking at her nipples, then tugging them hard, looking up to her face to see it twist in pain. He was surprised, as he was tugging quite hard on them, why no noise at all came from behind her gag. He did not know that Willingham and Everton had trained her so expertly not to make any noise.
Grimaldi played with her body as if it was some kind of toy. He tweaked her nipples and then laughed as her body jerked in reaction to the pressure. And then did it again to make sure he received exactly the same response from her.
He ran the palm of his hand over the flat of her stomach and then her newly-shaved mound pinching her lightly over her pubic bone, before splaying his fingers along her labial lips.
Grimaldi had obviously done this before. Lillian sensed his touch was light and delicate and it had the desired effect of making her wet against her will. He sniggered at her in a most disgusting way. Whoever Grimaldi had done this to before they could not have done it willingly. She could not imagine any woman voluntarily permitting this ugly man to touch them in this obscene way.
He slipped his finger inside her and then another and began frigging her roughly.
'You like that, girlie?'
Lillian made no response.
'Do you like that, girlie?' he barked.
Lillian knew she had to nod her head. If she didn't there would be more trouble for her.
He smiled and then withdrew his fingers from her. 'Turn round.'
Lillian shuffled around in her ankle chains. It was terrible. Her bottom was totally exposed before his lewd gaze. He spread her cheeks wide, pulling at the surrounding skin of her anus until it hurt her. Suddenly he stood up and pushed her down onto the desk so that her breasts and front were uncomfortably forced onto the metal of her wrist chains. Her rear cheeks were pulled apart and then some kind of liquid was squeezed onto her bumhole.
Lillian wondered what on earth he was going to do. She felt his index finger sliding up her, squirming around inside, pushing against the fleshy walls of her rectum.
'You like that too, girlie?'
Lillian was in no position to agree or disagree. She merely scrunched her eyes up, waiting for the whole experience to be over.
She suddenly felt another finger sliding inside her. Two of Grimaldi's fingers were now inserted deep inside her. It felt so painful. They flicked out and then began to frig her. He bent over. 'Yes girlie, it's nice isn't it to have my fingers up your ass like that?'
She could smell the stench of his tobacco breath, and his fingers seemed to be sliding deeper and deeper into her. Oh no, my god, Lillian recoiled, as his third and then his fourth finger entered the same place, stretching her more painfully than she had ever been stretched before. His fingers were now sliding up her as far as Grimaldi's fat peasant knuckles. He was frigging her hard, jolting her body against the wood of the desk.
Twisting and weaving his knuckle around her anus, he had managed to slide the whole of his hand inside her. It was so painful that she could not but help scream out behind the gag.
For a couple of minutes, although it seemed much longer, Grimaldi fist-fucked the poor English girl, causing her to squeal behind her gag. It was almost a relief when he pulled his hand out of her, pulled down his trousers and sat back down on the chair and lifting down the gag pulled Lillian's mouth onto his thick squat shaft. His bulky thighs pressed against her face, his overhanging belly flopped on her head, as he ruthlessly pulled her further onto him.
Her bottom ached and her mouth was filled by his horrible thick penis! And he was pulling her much harder than even Everton did. She knew as always that she would have to swallow every last drop of his seed.
Willingham watched the spectacle, overjoyed with the progress of the morning. As an extra precaution he had videoed Grimaldi in action, making it easy for him later, should Grimaldi get up to anything like blackmail. He had enough evidence to sink him as well. But Grimaldi seemed content. The only problem that Willingham foresaw was keeping him away from the house.
There was also Lillian, of course. He had seen how she had uncontrollably wailed when she'd been fist-fucked in her bottom. It was a form of punishment that he hadn't used for some time and it seemed very effective. If she were to step out of line, he would have no hesitation to use it again. Another couple of days in the dark and then he was sure she would be ready.
The next few days were probably the worst that Lillian had spent in Forte Dei Marmi. Her bottom ached after what Grimaldi had done to her, and she was forced back into her chains and her darkness. But the worst thing of all was that now she felt there was no escape from the evil clutches of Willingham. Nobody was going to help her inside the house and nobody was going to help her outside. Grimaldi had proved that to her. Her situation was entirely hopeless.
The same dreadful routine continued. Willingham would thrash her, Everton would abuse her in the bathroom. There were the tasteless routine meals, the regular shave, and then the return to darkness.
One day Everton came in, took the hood from her, and completely unchained her for the first time since her capture.
She looked at him dumbfounded, unable to speak, knowing instinctively that she was not permitted to do so.
'You may use the bathroom.'
What was happening? They were going to let her use the bathroom in the normal way! She wanted to ask Everton why. This was obviously some trick like that time long ago, a dim recollection of her past, when they had given her clothes and she tried to escape, and of course she couldn't. They were obviously trying to test her in some way. But this time she wouldn't fail, she knew that. She certainly wouldn't do anything as stupid as try to escape. She knew they were far too clever for that.
She entered the bathroom. It was so pleasant to sit there and be able to urinate when she wanted to instead of when she was told to. The colours in the bathroom seemed so bright. She could see how the sunshine poured through the dimpled glass of the bathroom window, brilliantly illuminating the white walls. The effect on her was almost hallucinatory.
The bathroom was well stocked too. There was an array of shampoos and soaps and creams for her body, and best of all she was alone. There was no Everton with his fingers stuck inside her or forcing her to suck his fat penis. She could stand up in the shower too, instead of having to kneel on all fours as Everton made her do.
She turned the water on. It gushed out, cleansing her. She felt the balm of its warmth, and then the refreshing cold water waking her as if from a nightmare. She seemed to wash every strand of her hair and every pore of her body. And then the joy of being able to brush her own teeth without Everton there forcing the brush into her mouth or sticking his fingers up her bottom.
After she returned, her nudity protected by a thick bathroom towel, Everton flung some of her clothes onto the bed. Her clothes, her actually clothes! She could not believe it!
'Put these on, miss.'
'Are you letting me go?' Her newly found freedom had made her speak when she knew she shouldn't.
Everton stood looking at her, amazed. 'You will be punished for that. You know you are not permitted to speak unless told to do so.'
'Sorry, sir.'
'Put them on and then go to Lord Willingham's study.'
The last time she had been in this position she had thought about escaping, but no such thoughts came to her this time. She would do exactly what she was told.
Everton even left the room, so she could dress alone. She knew though from experience that somebody would be watching her. The room was full of cameras, the whole house was, but it didn't matter.
She was enjoying her freedom so much. It was wonderful not to have those horrible chains on her and to be able to look around the room, and even outside to the mountains and above at the azure sky. Her heart seemed to beat with happiness. To be upright and not kneeling like a dog, and to be able to breathe normally sent a shudder of joy through her. She pulled on her cream-coloured panties, the short pleated navy-blue skirt and the white blouse. What a joy it was to feel clothes against her skin, protecting her modesty. If being chained for so long had taught her anything, it was the pure pleasure of normal things.
Five minutes later Everton brought her in a plate of fruit with delicious bread and a selection of Italian cheeses. She munched happily away. It tasted so much better than the usual baby type food they had made her eat. And the colour of the fruit amazed her, was so wondrous that it almost seemed a shame to eat it, ripe juicy peaches, bananas, the lustrous sheen of the green grapes.
She looked at Everton almost gratefully as he came to clear away the tray. Suddenly she felt a strange urge to say thank you to him, even though she knew that if she spoke he would punish her for it.
Willingham was sitting behind his desk reading a journal of some sort when she entered.
'Sit down, Lillian,' he said, his eyes cold, disinterested.
Lillian went and sat on a chair. She could barely believe it. The same chair where Grimaldi had disgracefully made her kneel between his legs and suck on his fat penis.
'Aren't you forgetting something?'
Lillian looked at him, bemused.
'Manners!'
'Oh, yes...'
'Yes what?'
'Yes, master.'
'That's better. Now Lillian you may have noticed one or two changes this morning. You are, are you not, wearing your own clothes?'
'Yes, master.'
'You were allowed to feed and clean yourself?'
'Yes, master,' Lillian said enthusiastically.
'And you have been completely unchained and ungagged?'
'Yes, master.'
'Why do you think we have done this?'
'I don't know, master.'
'It's because, Lillian, we feel you are ready.'
The word 'ready' struck joy in her heart. She thought at last that they might be going to allow her to go free, even though she could not understand why they would do that.
'You are ready for the next stage of your training, but I want you to know, and I cannot stress this enough, that if you should fail me or Mr Everton or Mr Hyde-Lee then you know what will happen to you.'
'Yes, master.'
'We will chain you up and put the hood on and it might be a long time before you ever get out. In fact, we might decide never to let you out again. Do you understand?'
'Yes, master.' She would do anything to never go back inside that hood again.
'And there is something that you must realise. You do know that I am your master and will be your master until for whatever reason I decide not to be your master. There is, Lillian, no escape. Do you know what will happen if you escape?'