We had not long left the palazzo, Maria and I, walking through the dark alleyways. Venice at night is always disorienting; there is no horizon, and there are no landmarks to be seen in the half-light. At Carnival, no one took a second look at the hooded figure following close behind me. She seemed to have realised that heeling me closely, the chain leash was almost hidden in the folds of her cloak. Her mask was hidden behind the hood. A couple of the local young men had called out 'Ciao, Bella' as we passed, whether for me or her I do not know. We had continued briskly on, turning into a particularly small alleyway.
This group were different. It was a group of four or five men, approaching us and blocking the way ahead. The slight tension on the chain told me that Maria was hesitant. The first man approached closely enough for me to see he was dressed as Il Dottore, the plague doctor. His mask had a long nose, like a crow's beak, giving him a sinister aspect.
'Give me the leash.'
I knew better than to argue, and obeyed.
'Kneel before me, head to the floor.' He was talking to me. I spread my skirt and knelt, the chill of the stone pavement reminding me of what Maria's bare feet were feeling. I put my head to the floor, hands before me, wrists crossed at my waist. He walked past me, tightening his grip on Maria's leash as he took in the slack.
The others walked past me. I heard the metal gate at the entrance of the alley swing shut. I knew it was barred, but passers by would be able to see, even if they could not enter the alley. I felt the hoop on my skirt lifted, exposing my nakedness from behind to the cold air. I have some privileges, but am no less a slave than the bound sluts that the masters deliver.
I then heard them taking her. In turn, one at a time. I remembered my first time on the Passagiata. I was used by three men, once in each hole while they had discussed my finer points, my responses, my failings. Cruelly, they had not allowed me to climax. I had been chained, hands behind my back and wrists fastened to a waist chain. Taken back to the palazzo and freed to wash, my chains had been replaced and I had been kennelled for the night, I had to enter the small chamber on my knees, as I had left it in the morning. I had discovered in the darkness of the night not only the purpose of the chains, but my craving for the discipline to which I submitted. I knew what Maria was feeling, the pain, the humiliation, the exquisite pleasure and release of submission. Since then, I had often taken a new slut on the Passagiata, and knelt in abject submission at the order of Il Dottore, my arousal burning deep in my belly, feeling the denial of years before. My release would come tonight. Maria's last submission would be to me. Her beautiful mouth would bring me the climax that I needed.
Unusually, I felt hands at my hips, and a leather-gloved hand between my legs.
