Chapter 30 (Aura)

"Aura, this is my wife Leanne," Giacomo says, gesturing to the woman. "She'll take good care of you."

Leanne turns, smiling at me with too much teeth. "Hi there, sweetie," she coos. "Let's get you all dolled up, shall we?"

I nod meekly, playing my role.

"What kind of pictures are we talking about here?" Enzo asks, his voice carefully neutral.

Giacomo waves a hand dismissively. "Nothing too explicit. Just some hot dresses, maybe a little lingerie. Gotta keep it classy, you know?"

Enzo's face is grim, but he nods. "Right. Classy."

"She's a real beauty," Giacomo says, looking me up and down. "You must be thankful every time you fuck her, eh Enzo?"

I see Enzo's fists clench at his sides, but he just grunts noncommittally.

"Go on and get dressed," Giacomo tells me. "Leanne will help you."

I follow Leanne behind a screen, taking in her appearance. Her makeup is caked on thick, and her clothes leave little to the imagination. She reeks of cigarette smoke. The dichotomy between her appearance and my situation is almost comical. Almost.

The dress Leanne hands me is tight and revealing. I slip it on, feeling more exposed and degraded with each passing second. When I step out from behind the screen, I look exactly like the commodity they're treating me as.

Leanne sits me down and starts applying makeup. It's heavy and garish, nothing like what I'd normally wear. When she's finished, I barely recognize myself in the mirror. I look every inch the sex slave they want me to be. The thought makes me want to vomit.

"Don't be nervous, honey," Leanne says, patting my shoulder. "The men are gonna love you."

I nod, swallowing back bile. How can this woman be okay with what's happening here? How can she participate in the exploitation of other women?

Leanne leads me over to the photo area. Enzo and Giacomo stand off to the side, along with Ettore and a few other men I don't recognize. They all look at me with hungry eyes. All except Enzo, whose expression is a mixture of disgust and barely-contained rage.

What follows is possibly the most humiliating two hours of my life. I pose as the photographer directs, each position more provocative than the last. I'm not made to strip completely, but the outfits leave so little to the imagination that I might as well be naked.

I endure multiple outfit changes, each as degrading as the last. We finish with me in a scanty bra and panty set that covers next to nothing. The men's eyes bore into me, making lewd comments that they probably think I can't hear. It's only Giacomo's presence that keeps things from getting too out of hand.

Enzo remains in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. I can practically feel the anger radiating off him in waves, but he keeps his mouth shut. Smart man.

The photographer snaps picture after picture. Mouth open, mouth closed. Push your breasts together. Arch your back, ass out. I feel like a piece of meat on display. Is this what my life would become if I were truly forced into sexual slavery? The thought makes me ill.

I wish I could crawl into Enzo's bed and hide. To feel safe and protected, even if it's just an illusion. But I can't break down. Not here, not now. I have to be strong. I have to let these men stare and command me around. Their words and pictures can't destroy me. If I fall apart, we lose everything we've been working towards.

"That's a wrap," the photographer finally says. "I think we've got everything we need."

Giacomo nods, satisfied. "Alright boys, show's over. Get out of here, you perverts." The men laugh as they file out of the basement.

Leanne takes me back behind the screen to change. She hands me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. "Here you go, hon. Those other clothes were filthy anyway."

"Thanks," I mutter. Her small act of kindness doesn't absolve her of her role in this, but I'm too exhausted to be openly hostile.

Once I'm dressed, Giacomo comes over and takes me by the arm again. "You did good, sweetheart," he says, grinning. "Sexy as hell. The guys are gonna love that cute little 'good girl' look you've got going on."

I don't respond, keeping my eyes fixed on Enzo. His jaw is clenched so tight I'm worried he might crack a tooth.

We head back up the stairs and through the store to the back room. Giacomo finally releases my arm and turns to Enzo. "You've done a good job with her," he says. "She's a real beauty. And so obedient."

Enzo grunts. "She's smart. Knows how to listen."

Giacomo nods. "Make sure she keeps listening. Now, get her tied up and out of here. I've got business to attend to." He tosses a rope to Enzo and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Enzo moves behind me, gently taking my wrists. "We're almost done," he whispers as he ties the rope. "Just hang in there a little longer." He places the pillowcase back over my head.

I feel grimy and disgusting, inside and out. But we made it through. We survived.

Enzo calls for Ettore, and we head back out to the car. As we drive back towards Enzo's place, I try to process everything that's happened. The memory of that degrading photo shoot will haunt me for a long time, I'm sure. But I also feel stronger somehow. I endured something terrible and came out the other side.

Ettore spends the entire ride talking about the shoot, particularly how great my tits looked in one of the outfits. I want to vomit. I can only imagine the look of disgust and fury on Enzo's face, hidden beneath my blindfold.

When we finally arrive back at Enzo's building, he refuses to let Ettore come up with us. Small mercies. He leads me inside and to the elevator. As soon as the doors close, he yanks the hood off my head.

"I need to change," I say immediately. "I feel disgusting."

Enzo unties my hands and pulls me into a tight hug. I know I probably smell awful, but he doesn't seem to care.

"That was fucking horrible," I mumble into his chest. "I hate them all so much."

"I should have killed them," Enzo growls. "I swear to God, I'll never let that happen again. Never."

I pull back to look at him. "It wasn't your fault. I told you not to do anything, remember?"

He nods, his eyes dark with anger and guilt. "I'd rather die than let them touch you like that again."

"I know," I say quietly.

We reach Enzo's floor, and he leads me to his apartment. As soon as we're inside, I bolt for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I turn on the shower, strip off my clothes, and step under the warm spray.

Then I collapse onto the shower floor and start to sob.

All the anger and disgust I've been holding back comes pouring out of me. I feel violated in a way I can't even begin to articulate. The thought of strange men wanting to use my body against my will... it's too much to bear.

I know Enzo is probably worried sick on the other side of the door, but I can't face him right now. I can't explain to him how I'm feeling. It's not his fault - I was the one who told him to do nothing, after all. But that doesn't change how dirty and degraded I feel.

So I let myself cry. Hard, wracking sobs that shake my whole body as the water washes over me. I cry until I have nothing left, until I'm empty and numb.

Only then do I stand up on shaky legs and start to scrub myself clean.