Chapter 8: The Reward System
The geometry held, a tense new symmetry. Gia existed in the periphery of Jamie’s days, a shadow in a silk robe. She did not eat with them. She was given a small room in the staff wing, and Marco spent hours there, “assessing her capacities.” Jamie tried not to imagine what that sounded like through the walls.
Her own training intensified, but the focus shifted subtly. It was less about her limits now, and more about her control—over others.
“She’s not a toy,” Enzo said one evening in the Red Room. He stood behind Jamie, his hands on her shoulders, both of them looking at Gia, who knelt naked on the crimson rug, head bowed. “She’s a tool. And you need to learn how to use your tools.”
Jamie wore only a black lace teddy. It felt like a costume. “I don’t know how.”
“You will.” Enzo’s voice was a low murmur in her ear. “Watch her. What do you see?”
Jamie looked. Gia’s body was a map of old pleasures and punishments: faint silvery scars alongside delicate rose tattoos, the swell of her hips, the dark neat patch of hair between her legs. Her breasts rose and fell with steady breath. “I see a woman,” Jamie said, the answer feeling foolish.
“Look deeper. You see a set of reactions. A collection of known quantities. Sal liked to slap, so she flinches from sudden movements near her face. But she comes hardest from pain on her inner thighs. She can deep-throat a man to the base without gagging, but being kissed on the mouth makes her nervous. She’s a puzzle. Your job is to learn the pieces.” He gave her a slight push forward. “Start with what you know. Make her come.With your mouth. But don’t touch her with your hands. Don’t use your body to pin her.Just your tongue. See if she can hold position.”
The command was a cold knot in Jamie’s stomach. She approached Gia. The older woman didn’t look up, but Jamie saw the fine tremble in her thighs. This was a test for both of them.
Jamie lowered herself to her knees. The scent of Gia’s arousal was already present, a faint, musky perfume. It was surreal, to be this close, to be expected to perform. She remembered the clinical efficiency of Gia’s tongue on her, the devastating result. A spark of something—not anger, but competition—flickered in her chest.
She leaned in and pressed her mouth to Gia’s cunt.
Gia’s breath hitched. Jamie began tentatively, licking broad, slow strokes, trying to find a rhythm. It was so different from being on the receiving end. The textures, the heat, the taste—it was intensely intimate and strangely disconnected. She focused on the clit, circling it as Gia had done to her.
A low moan escaped Gia. Her hips twitched, a slight, involuntary push forward.
“Hands stay on the floor, Gia,” Enzo’s voice cut through the haze. “You move, you fail.”
Gia’s knuckles, where her hands were flat on the rug, turned white. Jamie kept going, her tongue finding a faster, more insistent pressure. Gia’s thighs began to shake. Her moans became sharper, punched-out gasps. Jamie felt a peculiar power unspool within her. She was doing this. She was reducing this poised, desperate woman to a trembling heap with just her mouth.
Gia’s climax approached, a tangible tightening in the air. Her whole body was a bowstring, thrumming. Just as she seemed to crest, Jamie pulled her mouth away.
Gia let out a choked, frustrated sob, her body slumping forward for a second before she caught herself.
“Why did you stop?” Enzo asked Jamie.
Jamie looked up, her chin wet. “You said make her come. You didn’t say when.”
A slow, approving smile touched Enzo’s lips. He glanced at Marco, who leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Marco gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
“Good,” Enzo said. “Now, again. Bring her to the edge. Hold her there. Let her feel the denial she’s so good at administering.”
Jamie returned to her work. This time, she was ruthless. She used every trick she’d learned from Marco’s mouth, every sensitive spot Enzo had discovered on her. She’d tease Gia to the trembling peak, then back off, switching to soft, maddening licks on her inner thighs. She’d bury her face deep, fucking Gia with her tongue until the woman whimpered, then retreat to light, fluttering circles.
Gia was a mess. Sweat slicked her skin. Tears of frustration tracked down her temples. “Please,” she whispered, once, the word cracking.Jamie ignored it. The power was intoxicating, a dark, syrupy warmth in her veins. This was a different kind of surrender, one where she held the whip. She worked Gia over until the woman was incoherent, babbling, her body rigid with unmet need.
“Now,” Enzo finally said, his own voice thick.
Jamie sealed her mouth over Gia’s clit and sucked, hard.
The orgasm ripped through Gia like a seismic event. She screamed, a raw, ragged sound that echoed off the velvet walls. Her body bowed off the floor, muscles locked, before collapsing into boneless heaves. Jamie kept licking, gentler now, through the aftershocks, until Gia pushed her head away with a weak, shuddering hand.
Jamie sat back on her heels, breathing hard. She tasted salt and sweat and triumph.
Enzo stepped forward. He was fully erect, his cock jutting out from his open pants. “Your reward,” he said to Gia, his voice a command.
Gia, still dazed, struggled to her knees. She took him in her mouth, sucking with a fatigued devotion. Enzo watched Jamie over Gia’s bobbing head, his dark eyes holding hers. “You see?” he said, his breath coming quicker. “It’s not about cruelty. It’s about economy. A tool performs better with proper motivation.”
He came in Gia’s mouth with a low grunt, his hand fisted in her hair. She swallowed dutifully, her eyes closed.
Later, showered and back in the main bedroom, Jamie lay between Enzo and Marco, but her mind was elsewhere. The taste of Gia’s climax was still on her tongue, metallic and sweet.
“You were impressive tonight,” Marco said into the darkness, his hand stroking her arm.
“It felt strange,” Jamie whispered. “Good, but… strange. Like I was playing a part.”
“It is a part,” Enzo stated, his arm heavy across her waist. “The part where you stop being just the student. Where you learn to command.” He shifted, turning her face towards him. “But understand this. Gia is loyal to survival. Not to you. She would slit your throat if she thought it would secure her place beside me. Remember that feeling you had, when she watched you? That chill?”
Jamie nodded.
“That is your instinct.Trust it. Use her. Enjoy her. But never, for one second, believe she is your friend.”
The next night, the lesson was different. The Red Room was prepped. The bondage bench was central, but beside it stood a strange, padded contraption—a sawhorse with leather cuffs at each corner and a hole in the middle. Gia was already there, kneeling, wearing nothing but a collar.
“Tonight,” Enzo said, guiding Jamie to the bench. “Is about simultaneous instruction.” He had her lie on her back, cuffing her wrists and ankles to the frame, splayed open. Marco produced the “Bishop,” that massive black dildo, and a bottle of thick lubricant.
As Marco greased the toy, Enzo addressed Gia. “Position.”
Gia moved to the sawhorse. She bent over it, her torso lying along its length, her ass presented through the hole. Marco secured her wrists and ankles to the legs. She was locked in place, vulnerable.
Enzo stood between them, a conductor before his orchestra. “Jamie, you will receive. Gia, you will watch, and you will learn what true endurance looks like. And you,” he said, his gaze landing on Marco, “will stretch my queen until she screams for God.”
Marco positioned himself between Jamie’s spread legs. He coated the Bishop with lube, the glossy sheen catching the chandelier light. The broad, veined head pressed against her asshole. Jamie sucked in a breath, the familiar fear and anticipation coiling tight. She turned her head, her cheek against the cool leather, and saw Gia watching her, eyes wide, from across the room.
“Now,” Enzo commanded.
Marco pushed. The initial stretch was a breathtaking burn, a slow, inexorable invasion that forced a choked gasp from Jamie’s throat. He worked it in with torturous patience, stretching her ring to a searing ache before granting a fraction more. Jamie panted, her fingers scrabbling at the cuffs. Her gaze remained locked with Gia’s. There was a fascination there, a horrified awe.
“Look at her,” Enzo growled, pacing between them. He stopped by Gia, running a hand over her ass. “See how she takes it? See how her body fights, then accepts? That is grace under pressure.” He slapped Gia’s ass, hard. The crack made Jamie jump. Gia jerked in her bonds, a whimper escaping her. “You will learn that grace. But first, you watch.”
Marco seated the Bishop fully, the base resting against Jamie’s skin. The fullness was profound, a deep, radiating pressure that touched everything inside her. He began to move it, slow, grinding thrusts that made Jamie see stars.
“Now, the other,” Enzo said. He unbuckled his belt. He wasn’t gentle. He positioned himself at Jamie’s soaked entrance and drove into her cunt in one smooth, brutal stroke. Jamie cried out, the dual penetration overwhelming, a sense of being utterly, completely filled.
Enzo fucked her with a relentless, pounding rhythm, perfectly timed with Marco’s deep, grinding thrusts with the dildo in her ass. The sensations crashed together, a feedback loop of intense pleasure-pain. Jamie was sobbing within minutes, her body a battlefield of conflicting extremes.
“Watch her face, Gia!” Enzo barked between thrusts, his own composure fraying. “See how she breaks? See how she comes apart? This is what it is to be mastered!”
Jamie’s orgasm built like a pressure wave, not from one point but from the impossible fullness itself. It tore through her, a silent, convulsing explosion that left her blind and deaf. But they didn’t stop. They kept fucking her, Enzo in her cunt, Marco with the toy in her ass, through the shocking sensitivity, forcing a second, sharper peak from her raw nerves.
Gia watched, mesmerized, her own body straining against the sawhorse, slick with sweat. She was moaning softly, rubbing herself against the leather in a futile search for friction.
“She comes first,” Enzo grunted, his pace becoming erratic, “then you get your reward.”
He focused on Jamie, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing rough, rapid circles. “Come for us again, reginella. Show her what we can make you do.”
It was too much.