3. signs of humiliation

Chapter 3:

Alessa Skill

I can't believe I signed; he wasn't as happy about this as I am. If I hadn't signed and went back home, I'd be massacred since they want the benefits the Marone family has to offer.

"Miss Alessa," called the pensive butler, eyeing me up and down. He isn't very old but carries an elegant air, around fifty years old, slicked-back hair, a focused gaze, devoid of any kindness. "It seems we don't have clothes in your size, except for some nightdresses. However, we've already arranged for footwear and all the clothes you'll need," he informed me robotically.

"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling awkward.

"For now, stay in your room; surely, Marco might want to visit his wife. Besides..." He pursed his lips, assessing me. "Yolanda, help her at least look presentable; these clothes are a crime against your body, designed to suffocate you."

"Yes, I'll help her take care and prepare as a suitable wife for our master Marc," Yolanda said with a hint of irony, perhaps because I'm the joke, otherwise, it would be Marco who's the joke.

"Do your best; I have to go now," he concluded, leaving the room.

"Let's begin. As you've heard, my name is Yolanda; I'm like the president in this house. There aren't many servants here, so I have to do almost everything, so I believe you'll have to work too," she began, a bit grumpy.

"I don't have a problem with doing simple tasks," I agreed without delay.

"Okay, that's a good start," she commented kindly, helping me to open the dress. "I feel we can be good friends. There are rules in this house, and over the days, I'll inform and update you so you won't be in any danger," she said as if it were something common to say.

"What do you mean by danger?"

"It's nothing serious; it's a large house, and you need to take certain precautions not to get lost or hurt yourself, as it would be difficult to find you."

"I understand."

The room is beautiful and elegant, in delicate pink and white tones. The window curtains seemed like silk, allowing a pleasant view through them, and the fabric moved gently in the slightest breeze.

My bed, oh… I've never slept in such a bed. I could die there, and my body would relax forever—soft sheets with rose designs, fit for a princess. A large white wardrobe, a large round rug with various circles drawn in pink and white in the center—everything there brought comfort and peace.

Dona Yolanda began to assist me after instructing me to undress; even with her there, I only wore undergarments.

"Take everything off; none of this fits. This bra, these panties, none of it. New things have arrived."

"I'm not used to being naked in front of other people," I explained shyly.

"Don't feel embarrassed; I'm a woman like you," she explained tenderly, handing me a towel. Then I removed my undergarments and threw them in the bin. "It didn't hurt, did it? See? Let's go to the bathroom."

"Yolanda!" called a voice I knew too well, making me shudder as I jerked the door open, turning my face towards the window, dying of shame. I just held the towel against my nudity, covering my breasts and private parts. I know he's my husband, but it's not customary to let any man see me naked, especially in this situation.

"Mr. Marco," murmured Yolanda, embarrassed, stepping back as if he were a monster.

"What are you doing?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"I'm preparing the lady for the wedding night."

"I'm not lying down with this woman; there's no need for so much ceremony. Just help her settle in; she doesn't enter my room," he vociferated coldly, staring at me as if analyzing, and to my surprise, he pulled my towel, revealing my entire body. "Are you ashamed of me? Didn't you say you're a gold-digging wife?" he asked as Yolanda ran out of the room, I didn't even know a lady could run that fast. "I believe gold-digging wives know how to serve a man to get what they want," he commented as I blushed, trying to cover myself with my hands.

"Give me the towel back, please…"

I pleaded, huddled.

"I can look at whatever I want; you are my property. Even though I don't want to lay with you or feel any attraction, tell me, how many men have you had in your life?" he asked, fixedly staring at me, scratching his chin. This doesn't look like a lack of interest but a shameless man; I don't like his analytical gaze.

"A few," I lied. This might further fuel his disinterest, and I can remain a virgin. "Actually, I went out with many men."

"Filthy old man, sent me a fat whore, wanting my money," he bellowed offensively, but I'm not that fat, maybe a bit chubby. Thinking about it, the standards here where I live are demanding; every day at college is an unhappy joke. At least I have a friend I can count on; that makes me forget the rest. I just don't know how much I can endure the humiliations in this mansion.

Despite his deplorable state, this didn't change his bad personality. Gazing at him now with that mask that hides his scars, I can't feel much remorse but rather indifference. This treatment isn't new to me; I don't care about what others say.

"Yes, we only want your money; if you don't like the idea, you can throw me out and cancel the contract," I requested indifferently, keeping my body hidden.

"Better, could I use you as a sexual object and punish you in the worst ways, what do you think?" he asked, his voice cold, making me fear, staring at him with eyes wide.

"I'm fine as I am, besides, I'm too fat to serve as an object, and you don't even know if I have good health."

"Whatever. You don't interest me as a woman. I'll send money to your father, but you'll live on the basics here, you'll have clothes, food, and shoes in the right size, that's it. You're my ticket to freedom, to live freely again," he said as if it were really just basic, but in my old home, I didn't even have that, only my old clothes from the time when I was with my mother.

In other words, a rich man can give good things, thinking they are bad, to a girl who didn't even have a decent pair of underwear.

"That's fine, sir."

"Furthermore, you must work. You must fulfill your obligations as a wife, and I hope you always follow the rules."

What rules are those?

He tosses the towel back to me, and I can cover myself again.