Chapter 4 The Commanded Touch

It was a little past 9 PM when the mansion's heavy silence began to thicken with tension. Vincenzo De Luca, ruthless Mafia boss, lay shirtless on a dark leather bench, his chiseled frame illuminated by the soft amber glow from the chandelier above. His eyes were half-closed, body relaxed, as the subtle scent of cedarwood cologne filled the air.

Emma stood beside him, the massage oil ready in her hands, her fingers poised to touch him. But just as she was about to apply it to his back, he lifted a finger in the air .... A silent command. "Emma, go get Seraphina here" he said, his voice low but commanding.

Emma froze, blinking. "Now?"

"Did I sound unsure?" His sharp tone sliced through the air.

Grumbling quietly, Emma set the bottle down and stepped away. Seraphina was in the hallway when Emma grabbed her arm with a smug smile.

"He's calling you," she said with an edge of satisfaction.

Confused, Seraphina entered the room and came to a halt.

There he was, Vincenzo. Lying on the bench, wearing only shorts, shirtless and oiled, his muscular back rippling slightly with each breath. The sight shocked her. She wasn't prepared to see him like that. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I called you for work," he said with a light chuckle, noticing her stunned expression.

"What kind of work?" she asked cautiously.

"My body's aching," he replied with a mocking pout. "Give me a massage."

"What?" Her brows drew together. "That's not in my job description."

He raised himself slightly, turning just enough to catch her gaze. His voice shifted, becoming colder, more dangerous. "In the contract you signed, clause six ....it says you'll do all my work. As my personal Assistant, that includes handling all my personal needs. Whether you like it or not."

Her eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am." His eyes gleamed with threat. "And if you don't, I'll invoke the punishment clause. You'll spend three days in the basement, tied up. No food. No water."

Seraphina's lips parted in disbelief. She clenched her fists, her voice tight with irritation. "Fine, I'll do it."

He smirked. "That's a good girl, come here."

She stepped forward hesitantly.

"Remove your jacket," he ordered.

"What?" she snapped.

"Take it off," he said louder, the sharpness of his voice slicing through her hesitation.

Angry and helpless, she removed her jacket and folded it over the table. Emma, standing off to the side, watched with a triumphant smile. She was relishing Seraphina's humiliation.

Vincenzo lay back on his stomach, his arms folded under his head, his voice muffled but deliberate. "Start."

Seraphina's heart was hammering inside her chest. Her palms felt clammy. This was the first time she'd ever touched a man like this. Not even her boyfriend had experienced her touch in such a private way. This was all new, raw, embarrassing and terrifying.

"Sir... can I do this alone?" she asked, voice low, pleading.

"Everyone out," Vincenzo barked.

The guards left the room immediately.

Emma stayed, but only for a moment.

"Emma," he growled, lifting his head, eyes burning with impatience. "I said out."

Startled by the fire in his voice, Emma backed away and left quickly. Though a part of her felt a cruel satisfaction that Seraphina had to endure this... whatever it was.

Now it was just the two of them.

"Start now," he said again. "Or I will."

She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean you will start?"

He sat up suddenly, grabbed a knife off the side table, and with one swift motion, sliced the hem of her jeans, tearing them just above the knees. In a blink, her full-length jeans were cut into rough shorts.

"If you question me one more time, I'll tear everything off you," he warned, his tone laced with threat.

Seraphina nodded, swallowing hard. She was trembling; from fear, from confusion, from the weight of what was happening.

Vincenzo lay back down on his stomach. She picked up the massage oil, her hands still shaky, and poured some into her palms. She hesitated, but then gently placed them on his warm, hard back.

The sensation shocked her. His skin was hot, his muscles coiled under her fingers like tightly wound steel. She began rubbing slowly, trying to mimic what she'd seen others do.

He exhaled deeply. Her touch was soft, innocent, unsure....but to Vincenzo, it was intoxicating. He'd had dozens of women touch him before, but none like this. None had hands like hers, small, hesitant, yet deeply affecting.

"Your hands..." he murmured, "so soft... like silk petals. I could get addicted."

She didn't respond, just continued rubbing oil across his shoulders, applying slight pressure, hoping to get through the task quickly.

He shifted slightly. "More pressure."

"I told you, I've never done this before!" she snapped. "I'm not a professional!"

He rolled over slowly, his eyes pinning her down. She thought he was about to yell again.

But instead, he sat up and gently pulled her by the waist, lifting her onto the bench beside him.

"I'll show you," he whispered. "You'll experience it, then you'll understand."

"No, please," she whispered, fear blooming in her chest.

He cupped her cheek, his touch surprisingly soft. "If you cooperate, I won't push. But if you resist... I will tie you up, Seraphina. And I'll still do what I want."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Please... don't touch me like that. I'll learn. I swear. Just don't....."

"You have one minute," he interrupted. "Decide."

She nodded quietly.

"Good girl," he murmured.

He took her right foot into his hands and began massaging it, gently working his fingers along her arch, then up her ankle.

She gasped at the sensation; not from pain, but the overwhelming sensitivity. It was... intimate. Too intimate.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, glancing up. "Loosen up."

"I don't want to enjoy this," she said sharply.

He chuckled darkly. "Then don't. But I will."

He moved to her left leg, brushing his fingers upward, slipping along her smooth skin with oil-slicked hands.

"Vincenzo, what are you doing?" she yelled, pulling her leg back slightly.

"Warming up," he smirked. "You forgot to address me as 'sir.'"

She bit her lip, furious. "I'm sorry... sir," she spat.

He didn't seem offended; if anything, he was enjoying it.

"Has your boyfriend ever touched you like this?" he asked, rubbing slow circles into her thigh.

"Never made me feel this uncomfortable," she replied bitterly.

"Hmm. Then it's my pleasure," he whispered.

"You're the most shameless man I've ever met."

He laughed, a low amused sound. "I've had massages from many women. But this... this is the first time I'm doing it for someone. You should be honored."

"Boss, my foot," she muttered under her breath.

Ignoring her, he poured more oil, this time letting it slide down her thighs and the edge of her shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shrieked, sitting up.

But he shoved her gently back down with a firm hand. "Shut up," he growled. "Don't get up until I say so, or the consequences will be harsher."

She froze, lying back.

He started rubbing oil again, slower this time, letting it trickle along the sides of her legs, massaging deeper into her calves, thighs, and the edges of her hips. "You're so soft," he murmured. "I like it."

She didn't respond.

He applied firmer pressure, and despite her resistance, a small sound escaped her lips ... a mixture of tension and something else.

"I think you like it," he whispered against her skin.

"I... I don't," she admitted, her voice trembling.

He grinned. "Good, I love it" he chuckled while his hand began to trail higher, approaching the sensitive area of her inner thigh.

"No....stop," she cried, suddenly pulling her legs together.

"Why should I stop?" he asked, darkly amused, trailing his fingers up the side of her waist. He moved her shirt up.

"Please... I'll do anything else you want. Just don't... touch me there," she whispered.

He paused. "Anything?" he asked with an evil grin.

Her body was trembling again, this time not from fear....but uncertainty, confusion, and something she didn't want to name.

"I'll do what you ask," she said again, "just... don't force me, please" she pleaded.