Milked by Royalty: The Full Collection (A Human Cow Erotic Romance) Read online

  This necklace didn’t belong to me. It could never belong to me. And now the only right thing to do was give it back.

  The thought alone nearly made me cry.

  “I guess I’ll just go back in the morning and return it.”

  “Return it?” Erica said. “You already said that guy just gave it to you. Why do you want to return it?”

  “Because it’s not mine,” I said. “There had to be some misunderstanding. No one would give away something like this. No one sane, anyway.”

  “If it was me, I’d keep it.”

  “Erica…”

  “What?” she said. “He gave it to you fair and square. If anyone says anything—which they won’t—all you have to say is you thought it was a gift. You speak English. He speaks Italian. How were you to know this was some priceless family heirloom he just let you try on?”

  My stomach churned.

  All night long Erica tried to convince me to keep the necklace, but I wouldn’t budge. I knew what I had to do, and no amount of temptation was going to sway me from taking the right course.

  I just wished the damned thing didn’t have to be so beautiful.

  “Well, if you really are going to take it back,” Erica finally said, “can’t you at least wait a few days? You know I’ve got my Sorrento tour tomorrow, and I really, really want to be here when you go back to that shop. Please?”

  Half of me wanted to cave in, but I couldn’t. Erica was set to leave on a three-day tour of Southern Italy early the next morning, and I couldn’t wait until she got back. I probably should have listened to her advice. After all, it was bad enough we were splitting up for half a week—a fact neither of us told our parents—but to go to an otherwise empty shop with only an old man I hardly even knew for company, well, that was just asking for trouble.

  Still, if I didn’t return this necklace soon, I knew I never would.

  I didn’t remove my choker when I went to bed that night. Wrapped tightly in the sheets, I cupped my pearl in both hands and prayed that God would give me the strength to give this little beauty back in the morning.

  In a fit of selfishness, I also prayed that I wouldn’t have to.

  But whatever the outcome, I knew I’d do the right thing. If the shopkeeper wanted it back, then it was his. If not…

  Well, it couldn’t hurt to dream. Could it?

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Erica was gone before I awoke.

  I’d heard her fumbling around to get dressed, but with a 6 am departure, she’d been up way too early for me to give her a proper send-off. After I opened my luggage though, I cursed myself for not telling her goodbye.

  Inside was a jumble of tank tops, shorts, and mini skirts. Several necklaces and a pair of tweezers littered the bottom.

  God, Erica, couldn’t you have at least checked the bags before taking my only suitcase with you?

  I tried to tell myself it wasn’t her fault—she was in a hurry—but still, that didn’t help me now. Erica always liked to show a lot of skin, and while many might consider these clothes questionable on my 5’2” cousin, they’d be down-right indecent on me. I was at least five inches taller than Erica, and though my waist could easily fit in her size 5 mini-skirt, the hemline fell only a few inches below my ass. One miss-step and my panties were there for the world to see.

  Of course, I guess a flash of underwear was better than the show up top. I ripped two of Erica’s tanks before I finally found a lace camisole that could hold me, and even then I had to take shallow breaths just to keep the stitches from popping. Usually I tried to cover up my chest, but when every shirt at my disposal was tailored for a B-cup, I had no choice but to settle on squeezing my double D’s inside whatever top could accommodate them.

  Oh, Lord, Erica’s tight-fitting clothes might as well have been little black bars for all they covered.

  I couldn’t do anything about my bare midriff, but at least Erica had left behind the dark red pashmina scarf she’d bought two days ago. I draped it across my exposed cleavage and prayed no one could tell I wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Like it or not, I was definitely going clothes shopping later today.

  With a deep breath and the sole consolation that at least no one here knew me, I left my room, dropped the key off at the front desk, and jogged down the early morning streets of Florence. The town was eerily quiet, but I still kept my fingers tightly latched around the pearl at my throat.

  What if I really had misunderstood that shopkeeper? What if he thought I was a thief? What if he’d given my description to the cops, and now every officer in Italy was on the lookout for me?

  Doubtful, but not completely impossible.

  By the time I found the leather shop again, the long run and the constant worrying had worn me out. I panted on the front step for several minutes before I even tried to open the door.

  When I turned the handle, it was locked.

  Oh, no.

  The shop couldn’t be closed. Not today. I knew it was early, but still, I needed to do this now. I couldn’t just leave. I might never build up the nerve to come back, and then…

  The door opened.

  He must have heard me jiggling the knob, but when the old shopkeeper opened the door, I almost felt like he’d been expecting me. His hands reached out for mine, and he hugged me close before pulling me inside and closing the door behind me. His Italian was so fast I couldn’t catch a word of it.

  “I’m so sorry.” I gestured to the heavy pearl still hanging from my throat. “I thought it was a gift. If I’d have known it was so valuable—”

  “Shh, bella. No worry. You back now, and old Pietro take good care of you.”

  His words faded into a heavy mixture of Italian after that, and I just smiled along as he led me to a room in the back of his shop. I didn’t really know what to say or do. I’d caused him so much trouble already. I didn’t dare deny any of his requests. I knew I probably shouldn’t be alone with him—he was a stranger after all—but he was just so nice. When he pulled out the old leather chair in front of his work bench, I sat down without question.

  Oh, God, if only I would have questioned.

  “I just want you to know that I’m not a thief. I just didn’t understand what was going on. So if you want to take back the necklace…”

  I pulled back my hair and waited for the shopkeeper to unfasten the band, but he didn’t move. He just stared at me with his head cocked to the side and his lips pressed into a thin white line.

  “Bella no like?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “I love it. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. It’s just too much, that’s all. I could never afford something this…amazing.”

  I must have said the right thing, because his features softened and he leaned forward to stroke my cheek.

  “Old Pietro already say no price, bella. This yours. It meant for you. Wishing stone know what make you happy, and this—” He fingered my pearl. “She make you happy, si?”

  “Oh, si. Molto happy, but—”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “No more but and no more sad. Is present. Now just sit here and let old Pietro finish his magic. When I done you be happiest girl who ever live. You see.”

  He was so excited I didn’t even think about disappointing him. Already the mortar and pestle were out again. He slid on a pair of thin leather gloves before adding his ingredients. A dash of golden spice here. A bit of red wine there. He ground his concoction into a thick cream, and when he was done, he held it up for me to smell.

  “Bella like?”

  I inhaled, and tears filled my eyes. Oh, God, it was the most beautiful aroma I’d ever encountered. Waves of lilac and honeysuckle rolled over me. I felt like I was lost somewhere between heaven and home, and I didn’t want to leave.

  Oh, Lord, I never wanted to leave at all.

  He took my wrist in his hand, and when he rubbed the fragrant cream across my bare inner arm I didn’t say a word. I didn’t even move when his
fingers traced perfumed patterns into the hollow of my throat. My skin tingled. His every touch was like a lover’s soft kiss, and I sighed when he finally stepped back.

  I was a fool not to run away right then.

  Surrounded by that heavenly scent, I felt more relaxed than I had in years. My parents’ expectations, my friends’ opinions, my own misgivings, they all just ceased to be. I was myself. I was Adair Bartlett. I was purified. I was new. And I was alive.

  I was so very alive.

  Through half-hooded lids, I watched the old shopkeeper rummage through his cabinets. Words still trickled past his lips, but I was beyond caring what they meant. Every now and then he tossed an item onto the table in front of me. A pair of long, leather shin-guards slapped against the wood followed by stubby-fingered gloves and then a pile of different length leather belts. I wondered how many more oddities he intended to shower before me and just what role they had in the magic to come, but my brain was too foggy to think.

  A final item slid across the table, and I blinked twice before I realized what it was.

  A blindfold.

  A padded leather blindfold.

  My heart raced.

  Adrenaline pulled me out of my daze, and when I looked back at the other items they finally all made sense.

  Those weren’t tiny leather belts. They were restraints. Thick leather cuffs hung from the top of each glove, and those greaves…

  I sucked in a sharp breath. I had to get out of there. I had to run while I still could.

  I leapt to my feet. Behind me, the chair toppled backwards, but I couldn’t worry about that. No, I couldn’t worry about anything but my shaking knees. Why were they shaking? Why did every step seem so very, very hard?

  I hadn’t even made it three feet before my legs crumpled beneath me. For a second, the world darkened. I expected to find myself sprawled across the floor, but strong arms grasped me from behind. I heard the cluck of a tongue. The old shopkeeper held me in one arm while he reached down for the toppled chair with the other.

  I had to get away.

  Why couldn’t I get away?

  My head lolled to the side, and I could barely lift my arms as the shopkeeper placed me back in the chair. I might as well have been a rag doll for all the fight I gave him. I tried to speak, to scream, but for some reason I couldn’t even as much as whisper when he pulled my arms behind the chair and tied my wrists together with a long, leather band.

  God, what had he done to me?

  As soon as I was safely secured, he stepped back in front or me and stroked my cheek with a leather-clad finger.

  Leather…

  The gloves. Oh, God, he was wearing gloves when he put that lotion on me! That’s when it started. The tingling. The euphoria. Lord only knows what he mixed into that concoction, and I’d fallen for it. Idiot that I was, I fell for it all.

  My chin slumped onto my chest and I sobbed. This couldn’t be happening. Dear God, this couldn’t be happening.

  Iron-like hands bound my ankles to the chair legs, and when the old man pulled a pair of steel cutting sheers out of the drawer behind him, I nearly wet myself.

  I must have been a state to see just then. Hyperventilated sobs wracked my chest. My whole body shook. Even my abductor felt sorry for me. He stroked my hair gently for several minutes and whispered small shushing sounds until my tremors no longer threatened to over-topple the chair.

  Then he pulled away my scarf.

  I felt the soft fabric slide across my skin. I was being unwound, stripped. From the corner of my eye, I watched the long shawl pool across the floor, and then there were my breasts. They heaved against the tiny lace camisole, and I whimpered when the shopkeeper reached up to cup one in his left hand.

  “Oh, bella…”

  Two more snips. The straps fell away from my shoulders. Cold steel touched my skin, and then the scissors sliced straight through the center of my shirt.

  My bare breasts spilled out from my chest, and I sobbed even harder.

  Oh, God, please don’t let this be happening. Please.

  The shopkeeper didn’t move for several seconds. A softly whispered “bellissimo” left his lips, and then he dropped his shears onto the table behind him.

  “Please,” I managed to whisper, but he just pressed a finger to my lips before kneeling before me.

  “So perfect, my bella.” He cupped my breasts in each of his hands. His fingers kneaded my flesh. “So bellisimo.”

  Soft, warm lips kissed my skin. His mouth fell upon my nipple, and he sucked it gently at first, then harder.

  Oh, God…

  My sobs turned into halting gasps and then moans. I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the drugs or maybe…maybe it was just me, but Lord help me, I was arching into his touch as he…as he suckled me.

  His teeth nibbled until the tip was sore and firm, and when he was done, he did the same to the other. Only after a lifetime of fondling did he sit back to admire his work. He pinched my hardened nipples, and when he raised an eyebrow in my direction, I squeezed my eyes shut against the shame.

  Oh, Lord, save me. Please, please, save me.

  His hand slid up my skirt, and I sucked in a quick breath. I tried to pull my legs together, but I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there as his fingers slid beneath my panties and found the wetness I was so ashamed of.

  He chuckled, and I cried harder.

  What was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be aroused, not by—.

  Soft leather stroked my pussy, and I gasped again. One finger. Two. Three. More went inside me until nearly all were lost within my dripping cunt.

  He stroked deeper, and my hips pumped weakly against his fingers.

  “That right, bella. Bene. Just let old Pietro take care of you. He know what you need.”

  I tried to argue, but my breaths were coming out in quick pants. Something dark and tempting was brewing inside me, and I ached to give in to it, but I couldn’t. I was the good girl. The virgin. I’d only had two boyfriends in my whole life, and neither of them had ever…

  His fingers danced across a part of me I’d never felt before, and I was so close to…to…what? I had no idea. I’d never felt anything like the heat boiling between my hips, but I knew I wanted it—I needed it—and when he withdrew his hand from cunt I sighed with more sadness than I’d ever felt before.

  Sweet Lord, what in the hell was wrong with me?

  “Oh, no sad, bella.” The shopkeeper cupped my chin in his soiled hand. “Old Pietro going to find you good master. He get one to make you happy for all time.”

  His sheers moved across my skin once more, but I was too shocked to notice. Master? What did he mean by master?

  When he finally stripped away the last of my clothing, I was shaking even harder than before. This couldn’t be happening. I was supposed to be a doctor, not some mindless sex slave. I couldn’t let this psycho destroy my parents’ greatest dream. I’d worked too hard to make it come true.

  I fought against my restraints, but I was just too weak. I could barely even hold my head up by the time the shopkeeper slipped those leather greaves around my shins. I still couldn’t even understand what they were for? Each one stretched from toe to knee and they were so thick I couldn’t even bend my ankles. How would I ever be able to walk?

  My breath caught when I realized that might be the whole point.

  “Just little more, bella.” The shopkeeper stuffed my fingers inside those stubby leather gloves. “Then Pietro bring out you carriage.”

  He picked up his mortar again, and he rubbed more of that sweet-smelling poison all across my body. His fingers went everywhere. My throat. My breasts. My legs. When he finally rubbed the last of that warm lotion across my pussy’s inner lips, darkness danced at the edge of my vision.

  But I had to stay awake.

  As long as I was conscious, I still had a chance at freedom. I just had to be smart. I had to find the right opportunity and—

  The sharp, rusty squeal of old metal
broke through my thoughts, and when the shopkeeper knelt in front of me again, his smile was even wider than before.

  “See, I told you no take long. Now look, bella. Pietro bring beautiful chariot for beautiful lady.”

  He tilted my chin to the left, and when I looked down, a giant, empty crate laid waiting for me. My heart raced. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

  “Is okay.” He wiped away my tears with those soft leather gloves. “No cry now. Is happiness I’m giving. No place for tears in happiness.”

  His hands moved to my waist, and he hoisted me up without ever unbinding my wrists. My body slumped across his shoulder. I cried harder when I felt my feet touch the soft padding inside the bottom of the box, but I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He folded my legs beneath my chest and pressed my head upon the pillows. He chained my still-bound wrists to my ankles. He tethered me to the floor of that crate in the perverted pose of a kneeling supplicant, and when he was done, he clapped his hands.

  “Bene, bella. Molto bene.”

  I shivered uncontrollably, but the leather bands holding me down hardly let me move at all.

  “Please.” I finally managed to whisper, but he just shushed me.

  “No more words, bella.”

  His gloved hands swept aside my hair, and when I opened my mouth to speak again, he slid a heavy rubber ball between my lips.

  I gagged.

  “Breathe, bella. Just breathe for old Pietro.”

  He stroked my hair gently, and slowly I calmed down. When I finally stopped choking, he strapped the gag in place and then held up the blindfold.

  I cried even harder.

  “It break heart to see you like this, mia bella… my pearl.” He traced his finger across the band of my choker before sliding the blindfold over my eyes. “But old Pietro no break promise. He know what you need, and he make sure you get it.”

  He stroked my ass. His fingers teased my cunt. Once more he reached inside me, and just like before the stirring was back. I knew I should fight, but I didn’t want to. The darkness was just too tempting. My thoughts slid away as the drugs finally overtook me, and all I could feel was the pulsing heat between my legs and the overwhelming hunger for more.