Twisted Deal

Chapter 10

§

Matteo

Two weeks have passed since that day, and in that time, I've come to discover a different side of Lisa. Her talent for cooking has become apparent, and while it's not something I would have thought to explore in a toy before, I've allowed Myranda to supervise her in the kitchen. Lisa's dishes have a certain finesse, a delicacy that mirrors her outward demeanor—obedient, quiet, and seemingly pliable. Yet, there's something beneath the surface, a fire that refuses to be extinguished no matter how hard I push her.

She follows every command without hesitation, her actions precise and careful, almost as if she's found some twisted comfort in her submission. When I take her to bed, she surrenders fully, her body responding to my every touch. She doesn't resist; she knows better than to fight. But even as she yields, there's a defiant spark in her eyes, a challenge that silently declares that I haven't broken her—at least, not yet. It's a fine line she walks, balancing between submission and rebellion, and it intrigues me more than I'd like to admit.

The nights are intense, our encounters a brutal mix of pleasure and pain. She doesn't cry out as much anymore; perhaps she's learned to endure the way I take her. I've pushed her to her limits, her body bearing the marks of our nights together—bruises, bite marks, reminders of her place. But through it all, she never loses that glimmer of fire, that inner strength that refuses to be snuffed out.

Now, I'm back at Lexi, in the basement, where the air is thick with the scent of sweat and blood. The dim lighting casts shadows across the cold concrete floor, and in the center of the room lies a man—a wretched, broken creature who dared to cross me. His body is battered, his breaths shallow and ragged. I look down at him, my mind momentarily distracted by thoughts of Lisa.

Her image flashes in my mind—her small, bruised body, her emerald eyes still burning with that stubborn fire. I know she's been good, obedient to a fault, and yet she remains unbroken. A part of me enjoys the challenge she presents, the game of pushing her boundaries, testing just how far she can be stretched before she finally snaps.

But another part of me—one I'm not entirely comfortable acknowledging—wonders why I care. Why her defiance, her quiet strength, intrigues me so much. Perhaps it's because she's different from the others, or perhaps it's because she's not yet given me what I truly crave: total, unquestioning submission. Whatever it is, it's an itch I can't seem to scratch.

I turn my attention back to the man on the floor, my eyes cold and calculating. There's work to be done, business to handle. I can't afford distractions, not with everything at stake. But even as I prepare to deal with this latest problem, a part of me remains fixated on Lisa, wondering what I'll do with her when I return to the mansion, and how far I can push her before that fire finally dies out—or if it ever will.

As I stand over the man, blood dripping from his nose, the room is thick with the scent of sweat and fear. He spits at my feet, defiant despite the pain I've already inflicted. I lean down, my voice a low growl. "You can save yourself a lot of suffering if you just tell me what I need to know."

He glares up at me, blood staining his teeth as he smirks. "I don't know anything, you bastard."

I tighten my grip on the pliers, the metal cold in my hand as I grab his fingers. "I think you do. And I'm going to make sure you remember."

Before I can proceed, the door creaks open, and James Vilita steps into the basement, his presence a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. He takes in the scene with a detached calmness, his eyes landing on me.