Graciela

I wake up. My room is darker than I've ever seen it, pitch black with no moonlight slipping in through the drapes. I start to move my hand to search for the candle on the bedside table and find that I can't – my arm doesn't respond. The sensation brings me wide awake and I try moving my legs, panic setting in when I can't shift them and realize I have lost the power of movement. I want to open my mouth to cry out for help but a tightly stretched fabric muffles my lips. Just as the awareness comes that I am not paralyzed but impossibly bound to the bed a velvety, arrogant voice murmurs in my ear, "Don't fight it,

cariño

, you are trapped without hope." For one second the lights blaze high and through the haze of my lost sleep I glimpse an unknown, baroque room and the coldly intense gaze of the man standing over me. Then the world goes dark as I succumb to a dizzying shock.

I come to, shuddering, but now cannot open my eyes. I feel the velvet texture of a mask across my lids and a whimper escapes through my gag. My mind races with questions –

Oh God, where am I? Who was that man? What does he want with me?

Before I can imagine the possibilities I feel the stir of a breath at the side of my neck and know I am not alone. Then comes a cultured, evenly paced voice. "Señorita Mendoza, you smell of lavender soap. I can imagine the luxury of your last bath - the deep, copper tub, the hot water sluicing across that honey-colored skin, the fragrance of French soap mingling with the steam... you must have felt very relaxed, never imagining that someone could steal you so easily from that privileged world your parents created for you. But soon you shall understand that you were blind. This world,

paloma

, holds much more than you could have guessed from inside that sheltered existence. You are here because I have decided to show you what it is to feel alive."

"Graciela, you must understand that you are mine now. That carries with it some restrictions and some privileges. The restrictions: you shall do everything I say or be punished, you shall not leave this place until I am through with you, and, above all, you shall never speak with anyone but me. Now, the privileges: You shall never be permanently harmed. You will surely suffer some extreme sensations in the days to come but under my protection you will never be physically damaged in the course of what we do. Your beauty is much too rare for that. And, above all, you shall enjoy pleasures that few humans ever come to know. Now, I am not accustomed to giving explanations but I am going to remove your gag to allow you one question that you may wish to ask. And please do not beg for mercy or tell me your family can offer a large ransom. My dear, I am not interested."

I am jolted from the near-trance his musical voice had inspired as I feel cool hands brush my skin, slowly undoing the knot at the side of my gag.

But what to say?

I want to scream for help, rail against his appalling, threatening speech, cry helplessly. Instead I summon my courage and manage to ask, "How long will you keep me prisoner?" My captor makes an amused sound and answers, "If all goes well, for life."

I begin to speak, horrified, but he lays a finger across my lips. "I said only one question, Graciela, and I have warned you that you will be punished if you disobey." I resist the urge to savagely bite his hand and try to still my racing thoughts. My somewhat liberal parents insisted I be well educated, albeit at home, and I have learned that nothing can be accomplished without a rational plan. My terror protests:

But the situation in which I find myself is anything but rational!

Breathing steadily to calm myself, I force the fear back and concentrate.

I am innocent of the world, as he says. I do not understand what he plans to do or why. But if I play along and wait for the right chance perhaps in some moment I can escape.

I am pulled from my desperately hopeful thoughts by the touch of his finger grazing my collarbone. It slides steadily downward to the lacy neck of my nightgown and descends just a bit lower, resting in the valley between my small breasts. I freeze inside, doubtful of his intentions but remembering a whispered story passed among the aristocracy of a young serving girl violated at a party by a foreign ambassador.

Is this what they meant by violated?

His voice breaks in, almost casually. "I can read your fear in every line of your body, you know. It tells me that you are completely lost in this situation. Am I right in assuming that you know nothing of what transpires between men and women in the bedroom? Nod yes or no." Foolishly ashamed at my ignorance, terrified of the insinuations of the question, I move my head slightly up and down. "As I suspected. But your innocence is why I want you. I can instruct you in everything from the beginning, mold you to be all that I desire, show you the path to your truest, most passionate self. I am glad that your stifled, unimaginative society taught you nothing at all. They would have gotten it wrong. For instance, can you imagine a young man of your class making you feel

this

?" He moves the finger in my gown over to my nipple, brushing it lightly as he bends and runs his tongue across my lower lip. I gasp in shock, trying to pull away, and he desists. But worst of all, I feel a rush of sensation deep between my legs although he did not touch me there.

What is he doing to me?

He laughs briefly, almost tenderly. "I know what you are feeling, Graciela. For now I will not even touch you there to feel your wetness – but I know it has arrived. For the moment you must eat and drink to have strength for the coming day. I am going to unbind your arms and help you sit."

I have no desire of his help but I wish to move my limbs so I will myself to wait quietly as I hear the click of a folding knife blade locked into place and feel the cold steel glide unnervingly over my skin. I note that he takes special care near the bend of my elbows, slowly and deliberately freeing me from the restricting bands of cloth without nicking me once. When he has finished I feel the silky fabric fall away as he slides his hands under my back and raises me to a sitting position. "I have already eaten so I shall feed you now." I feel a cold wetness against my lips and smell ripe melon but I refuse to lower myself to eat his food. I turn my head to one side.

Rapid as lightening his hand has my chin in a vice-like grip. He slowly but steadily forces my face back towards him, saying, "This can be easy or hard, but you will eat. I have no use for a girl too weak to give me pleasure. And don't lie and say you aren't hungry – two days have gone by since I took you from your home." Startled, I begin to speak, "But I don't - "

"Silence!" He presses the melon to my lips again. "I said no questions. You are not a stupid young woman so don't act like one. If you eat I will do you the favor of explaining a little about your new life here. If you do not you will learn how serious I am about having my way."

I decide it is not worth it to anger him this early and, now that he mentions it, I am starving. I can feel a weakness in my body due not only to my fear but lack of sustenance as well so I part my lips and accept the slice of fruit. When I bite into it the juices burst over my tongue and begin to quench my thirst. I realize I am ravenous for more but after I swallow nothing else is placed to my lips. I sense that he is waiting to see what I will do.

"May I have some more?" I ask. He says nothing. "May I have more, please?" His hand arrives promptly to my mouth with another piece of melon. "There's the lady of breeding I invited to dine," he says mockingly. "Now we can begin the meal." He feeds me more of the fruit, to my relief never touching my lips with his fingertips, and then begins to spoon-feed me a rich, creamy soup. The flavor is delicious and its warmth gives me strength. Without realizing it I begin to run my tongue over the spoon every time he withdraws it, savoring the sensation in my mouth. Soon he is giving me bits of cold salmon but these I must lift from his palm with my teeth. I hate every instant my lips spend brushing his skin but I know I must take care of my body to be always ready for escape. And it is quite amazing how heightened my senses are – as I am unable to see or freely move, in the silence of the room the tastes and smells of the food come alive for me. And so, when I sense a soft sweetness against my lips, I open my mouth to accept what I imagine is dessert. He slides something inside and as my tongue plays over an exquisite chocolate sauce I realize I am sucking on his finger.

I pull my head back but he is ready and catches me with one hand on my curls. Locking me into place with his other hand on my face he inserts his finger again and runs it over my tongue. I feel invaded and try to escape but he whispers softly in my ear, his voice like a satin-covered steel vice, "

Querida

, I can use you as I please. Be glad I am going slowly. Now, you will draw my finger in and out of your mouth as I speak to you, and you shall not stop until I give you the word."

Ashamed, but wanting information, I begin to suckle his finger softly, making a circle of my lips and moving up and down its length. He, in a removed voice, tells me how he drugged me in my sleep, stole me from my home, and brought me to this place which, he claims, is somewhere no one will come searching for a lost duke's daughter. "It was not easy, I assure you. You have been my greatest challenge. But now I have you and I am already enjoying you even more than I thought I might. Your hair glows more brightly in this light, Graciela, and your young breasts are absolutely luscious under that pure white shift. I think even your mouth was made for pleasing a man. Señorita Mendoza, if you could see the way I am looking at you now you would blush profoundly. What you will learn is that you should relish being viewed as a sensual, fiery creature." With that he draws his finger languidly from my mouth, tracing the shape of my lips with the wet tip.

I hear him stand and pace about the room. I follow the sounds closely, trying to track his movement. I can sense I am in the middle of an open space and he circles me. But it is again a surprise when I suddenly feel his hands lifting my hair and his lips running across the back of my neck. Again I suffer a warm tingling in my loins but this time I do not pull away – I know he will only force me to his will if I resist.

"Ah, you begin to understand the game. I am your master now, and you live to please me. Although I admit I will profoundly enjoy punishing you when you do resist, or whenever I feel the simple urge to see you utterly subject to my will. There will come a point, Graciela, when you will crave my punishments as another way to feel alive. Now, we must prepare you for company."

With those words he shoves me down on the table, holding one wrist above my head while he ties the other to a corner of the bed. Alarmed, I cry out, "What do you mean? What will they do to me?" His response is a stinging slap to the face followed by the placement of my other wrist. Beginning to panic I implore him, "Please, señor, I am not ready. What will happen to me?" Working to replace the bonds that cover my entire leg with a restraint just at the ankle he pauses to move to the head of the bed. He strokes my hair tenderly as I writhe in a futile attempt to free myself and says, "Be easy,

mi amor

, I never break beautiful women completely until they are ready. This is just an introduction to some of my friends. You must let yourself be carried by the current, it is entirely out of your hands." Returning to his work he frees me from the old silk pressure bonds and leaves me with my limbs spread to the four corners of the bed. It is still impossible to move my body except for a little motion in my hips and while I am experimenting with this slight new liberty I feel his hands again at the neckline of my nightgown. "It is time to reveal you completely, Graciela. I want to see what a glorious woman I have acquired." He begins to unbutton the pearl clasps that run from my chest down to my ankles and, as he undoes each one, he kisses the skin directly underneath. I start to cry. Ignoring my tears, he moves leisurely between my breasts, across my abdomen, and down, down, to my pubis. When he kisses me there he lingers and murmurs against my flesh, "You are perfect,

hermosa

, you fascinate me. You tremble with fear and cry with shame yet your body betrays you with this sweet moisture. I cannot wait to begin your lessons."

He moves on, down my legs until the gown is completely parted and he pulls it away, focusing new attention on kissing and licking each of my toes. I continue crying, horrified that he is touching me so intimately, terrified of how my body responds, and wanting more than anything to be back in my room, safe and pure again.

Am I a whore now?

A door opens and I start against my bonds, hearing the laughter and heavy footsteps of many men.

My captor leaves me, walking to the door and welcoming the newcomers. No one mentions me at first, as if I were not naked and chained in the middle of the room. But soon I feel a strong hand massaging my breast, another sneaking between my legs to stroke the hair there. I breathe shallowly and swiftly, beyond crying now, and willing them all dead and gone. They comment in different accents about my hair, my face, my tiny waist, calling me an angel and a temptress and a hundred things I never want to be for them. And then, all at once, they leave me and that velvety voice is speaking.

"Gentlemen, as you know, I called you here today because I wish to offer my latest prize for your inspection. She has already convinced me that she is a unique jewel and I shall take the time necessary to make her shine brilliantly. But although I am not ready to share her completely, I invite you to aid me in this early lesson of her instruction – her first orgasm."

I twist and turn fretfully on the bed as I hear him walk closer. I do not know what an orgasm is but when I feel his hands upon my thighs and his breath near my loins I know I will learn soon. Suddenly he is kissing me again, kissing the place between my legs and I am overwhelmed and lost. He flicks his tongue over a little bud I had not known I possessed, a place from which sensations explode and travel through my entire body. He suckles me there and I flood with a hot wetness that he begins to search out, dipping his tongue inside me over and over until I feel faint. I begin to desire, completely against my will, something large inside me. I feel empty and want to be filled. I forget about anything beyond that intense probing in my woman's center. I am going insane, his tongue sweeps over that impossible bud again and I need more, I lift my pelvis closer to his face, silently, helplessly begging for more. At this the audience cheers but I am almost beyond hearing. Footsteps approach and I only know that I moan for the first time as fingers begin to play roughly with my nipples, pulling and twisting them in time with the strokes of my captor's tongue. Then someone else is sucking my toes, another my fingers... someone is nibbling my earlobe and another kisses my neck. Then I feel a finger insistently pushing into me and I tense, terrified, but suddenly it is past, inside, and I am floating and falling and rising and that finger circles within me. It leads me high to a mountaintop from which I fling myself and as all the mouths and hands stimulate and guide me I shudder and cry out with release and pleasure and as they withdraw I sink into the blessed peace of oblivion.

********************

I gaze down at my protégée and note that, even after this ordeal, in sleep her face is tranquil and at peace. So much about her is still childish, but she verges on the edge of a womanhood I will share completely with her.

And what a magnificent woman she will make...

I bring myself back from the idle reverie to move among my guests, thanking them and exchanging promises of future exhibitions. My acquaintances all move within the same circle – all keep women for pleasure, hidden from every world but this one, in which sensuality reigns as king. These men are all powerful, all rich, but range from extreme to extreme in age and taste and motivation. I know that some have no patience for seduction, preferring to use their captives as unwilling sex slaves. Some excite themselves coupling with stolen maidservants and dancing girls to whom formal public life restricts their access. Almost all take women for short periods of time, never revealing their identities so they can later return their captives to the outside world and search out fresh conquests.

For all these reasons and more, I will never leave my Graciela in their hands. Many of them exchange women from time to time, relishing the novelty of new flesh moving beneath their bodies. But I crave something more passionate, more sublime. After years of searching I believe I have at last found a woman who can enchant me for life, who with time will come to adore the secret life of pleasure I embrace as much as I but who can also be my intellectual match, a partner for my soul. This certainty began when I saw her dance.

Señorita Mendoza and I move in the same social circle, although she will never guess it unless I tell her the truth. She has only seen me twice, once when she was a mere child and again at a recital for young ladies of society. Surely she does not remember me, but I have learned her by heart. When she was a girl of eight I found her charming and quite quick, inventing games of chance and skill for her little playmates. Her full, red lips and mahogany curls gave the promise of a ravishing natural beauty still to blossom. But I was entirely unprepared to find her again at sixteen, posed on the stage in a flood of red and amber lights. She held the opening position of the flamenco to perfection, a glorious tension trembling in her long, graceful neck and the artful attitude of her long-fingered hands. I devoured her with my eyes. She wore a traditional costume, crimson fabric clinging to her supple young frame and accents of flashing gold highlighting the rich coloring of her skin and hair. The lights focused and gleamed, the music leaped into motion, and Graciela began to dance.

The other debutantes of the evening had selected serene, composed numbers such as a subtle ballet or a local harvest folkdance, but not my darling. Blessed with forward-thinking parents she, although quite innocent of the sexual overtones, grasped something of the power and fervor of livelier dance and had been permitted to showcase her knowledge. She was ravishing. She bent and swirled, leapt and rose high, clapped her hands to the music and caught all of her audience up with a captivating, ardent sweep of her eyes. She allowed no room for escape, she demanded the respect and awe the ancient dance deserved, and, when she finished in a blaze of whirling skirts and caught breath, I was entirely convinced that she could come to understand and adopt a life of overwhelming passion as could no other woman on earth.

But, back to the present... now I have her here, and as my guests file out, whispering amongst themselves of her grace and beauty, I move to stand by her bed and let my vision play over her body. She is divine. Her small, high-arched feet and strong, rounded calves lead up to long thighs and a patch of soft, cinnamon-colored curls. From feet away I can smell the natural scent of roses, vanilla, and musk that curls up from her unblemished skin. Her waist is petite but curves down across the flat plain of her stomach into well-molded, sensuous hips and, moving upward, yields to the small mounds of her adolescent breasts and the slightly muscled curve of her arms. Her face makes me catch my breath, her striking features exotically marked by the mixed Spanish-Turkish heritage to which her father does not admit. Her curls fall back in unruly profusion from her high brow and, though they are closed now, I know her eyes to be of a startling aquamarine. I have seen her smile many times now, though never for me, and I know that when she does her face transforms into something ethereal, her love for the world beaming out.