A/N: thanks to my beloved Stephenie Meyer who lets everyone use the characters from her Twilight saga, I can write this period/quirky/smutty fiction. Thanks to my beta Just4ALE, it's good enough to be published. Enjoy.

Chapter 10

The training room

EPOV

My apartment was located only one level below the harem. Eventually I reached the stairs that went deep underground, holding the marquise's arm tighter to prevent her from descending too fast. The place was humid and it made the floor slippery; I didn't want to see this gorgeous creature fall badly and break a limb while stepping down. I was already annoyed by the fact that somebody had been brutal to her very recently, making her unpresentable to her masters.

It was a good thing that the Volturi waited a few days before using their new slaves, because it afforded Emmett and me the opportunity to check their condition and start their training. However, given the beauty of the marquise de Courville, I was concerned that they might make an exception once they saw her.

"I thought you were taking me back to the seraglio, Mister de Morvalle," the young noble girl commented when she realized we were going down the stairs instead of continuing straight ahead.

"Didn't I just tell you that you need to be broken, you little arrogant aristocrat?" I spat. "I'd rather you shut up, but if you want to talk, you can start by explaining how you got that horrendous mark on your face."

"A tall blond guy named Jasper Whitlock punched me," the young captive replied tersely.

I frowned upon hearing her answer. I had never seen Jasper using violence without good reason, let alone toward a woman.

"Is that so? Jasper doesn't usually damage the merchandise, though," I said with discontent.

"I don't know about your friend Jasper's habits, except for the fact that he's a bastard who doesn't respect women. But then again, maybe he'd rather see me disfigured as opposed to dead after my umpteenth attempt to break my neck by jumping from the cart. And believe me, I would have made it happen in the end," the marquise replied aggressively.

It was clear that she harbored a great deal of bitterness and anger. I noticed that her bare arms were also covered with bruises. So she'd tried to kill herself by jumping from the moving convoy, and all she had succeeded in doing – aside from testing Jasper's patience – was bruising herself all over. It showed she wasn't the passive type; she wouldn't accept anything without reacting. That kind of unruly nature was like a sore for the Volturi. I would probably have much more work to do on this girl than on any other one.

It was both thrilling and baffling. The marquise would have preferred to end her life than to find herself here in Volterra. Unfortunately, my upcoming actions weren't going to cheer her up and give her back a reason to stay alive. The rules were clear: if a sex slave was caught out of the women's quarters, she was to receive ten strokes with a whip. And since Isabella Swan had tried to rebel, she would have to receive another punishment in addition to the strokes. Of course no one had told her those rules yet, but a demonstration would be the best way for her to learn them, wouldn't it?

We made it down stairs and we stood in front of the taming/training room door.

"You just arrived in Volterra a couple of hours ago, and you already broke the rules twice, marquise," I explained coldly. "And if you keep on talking to me with that impudent tone of yours, I might decide that you deserve to be punished more severely."

The young woman stared at me for a long moment, and then she burst into a sarcastic laugh before she spoke, "Is that so? You don't think your friend did a good enough job with the damages he inflicted on my face? I'm going to be punished for having failed to obey rules I didn't even know existed before you mentioned them?"

Even if the young aristocrat was absolutely in her right to respond that way, I couldn't let her continue to speak her mind like that. She would think she was allowed to address her masters in the same fashion, and they would use her rebellious character as an excuse to abuse her even more brutally than the others.

I opened the door and pushed her inside the room. I was irritated at her comment and I used more force than necessary. She was propelled toward the middle of the room causing her to lose her balance and fall down on the hard and cold floor. I hurried to help her stand up, but she ignored the hand I offered her.

"I'm already down, comte de Morvalle. Why not take this opportunity to finish what Jasper started earlier? I think there are still some spots of my body that have been left intact after his savage assault," she boldly dared me.

She had no idea how I wanted to take her up on her challenge at that moment, and I also better understood how Jasper had lost his patience with such an impertinent girl.

"Believe me, pretty face, part of me so wants to finish what Jasper started so you won't dare defy anyone anymore. But the Volturi would be very unhappy if I left permanent marks on their property."

I bent down and snatched Isabella like she was a sack of flour to put her across my back. Gosh, she was lighter than a feather. I would have to ask Jane to watch over her when she ate, to make sure she was not trying to starve herself as a mean of protest. She struggled vainly while hitting my shoulder blades.

"I don't know what you intend to do with me, Mr. Cullen, but be aware that it will serve no purpose, except maybe preventing me from sleeping tonight."

Poor marquise de Courville! As if she was going to sleep much when her masters saw her…

"You'd better get used to sleepless nights, because that's what's coming around for you with the Volturi," I replied as I made my way to the whipping bench.

I didn't give her the time to complain or object and placed her on the bench. It didn't look much like an actual bench; it consisted of a stand with a large edge at knees height, on which one slave had to kneel, and of a narrow angled and cushioned surface she had to lean against. The whole apparatus was adapted so as to have the slave's ass prominent and perfectly leveled to be whipped, spanked, flogged or even fucked if I felt I needed a release right after the punishment.

There were many ways for a spanking session to go: it could serve as a discipline reminder, a penalty for disobedience, or as a preliminary to more enjoyable sexual activities.

In Isabella's case, unfortunately, this whipping session would be far from enjoyable. I was not in the mood for anything but strict discipline action. She had incensed me too much and I wasn't feeling particularly lenient. But I was curious nevertheless. Felix had reported she was very sensual. I would have to check for myself sometimes when I calmed down. If the girl wasn't so damn sexy and attractive, I wouldn't be conflicted. However, she was so tempting that I was torn between the need to satisfy my curiosity and just accomplishing what I was paid to do.

I forced the marquise to kneel on the large border and lean her torso on the cushioned surface. Then I secured her wrists over her head to a pair of fetters fixed to a metallic support. She wouldn't be able to move her upper body in this position. I pulled her skirt down to uncover her ass. Fucking hell, it was even shapelier than what I had evaluated earlier in the hallway.

"Spread your knees, and don't you dare move afterward or else your punishment will last longer," I ordered.

God, I could spend hours spanking and teasing her ass! She did as she was told before asking, "Are you at least going to tell me about those two rules I didn't abide by? Or do you prefer to keep me in the dark so you can continue to abuse me with impunity?"

"The strokes you're going to receive are the standard punishment any slave who is caught outside of the harem must expect. And since you played with Jasper's nerves, I have something else for you. To my knowledge, you're the only woman he ever raised a hand to. Usually he keeps his punishment for the workforce he's in charge of," I replied hoarsely.

The sight of her perfect little buns a mere arm's length away was breaking down my composure. I moved away from Isabella to get what I needed for the punishment. I decided I would use a riding crop instead of a whip. The prisoner wasn't familiar with any of my accessories anyway. I chose one of the most rigid crops I had in my possession. It was meant to inflict pain, as opposed to some of the other accessories I used to sexually stimulate the women.

I had shown the Volturi brothers how to use these objects properly, but now they were taking more liberties with their slaves. This was also one of the reasons why I had to show the captives how these accessories were supposed to feel, so they would know when Aro, Caius and Marcus were going too far.

I returned my attention to the marquise de Courville. "So, Miss Swan, do you still feel proud and defiant while I have you in this posture, totally at my disposal, able to do whatever I want with your tantalizing rump?"

"Go to hell!" she spat, her tone full of wrath and resentment.

But as infuriated as she was, her voice sounded like music to my ears.

It would be best if I didn't hear her screaming when I started her punishment. I went to the other side of the bench to gag her with my handkerchief. I hoped it would be enough to muffle the sounds she would probably make.

"I'm going to administer ten strokes to your bottom, Isabella. It's not much, you know, compared to the thirty blows the male slaves receive on their backs when they try to escape. In fact, you're very lucky that your masters fixed the number so low. If it was my decision, I'd give you at least twenty-five strokes with this riding crop."

At the moment, Isabella Marie Swan probably didn't give a damn about the fate of the male slaves in the Volturi's service. Surely she wanted me to be done with her. So I smacked the crop a first time across her buttocks, diagonally. It made her wince a little but she kept silent. A long red mark appeared on the area where the crop had hit. I aimed my next stroke at her right buttock, and the third at her left. Then I paused to check for any sign of distress on Isabella's face. Moving to the front of the bench, I saw that the young noble had closed her eyes and she was biting down on the cloth to keep quiet. She didn't seem to be in too much pain, so I resumed another set of strokes which continued to leave streaks everywhere on her tender rump.

When only two strokes remained, I took another break and brushed her reddened behind softly with my hand. It made Isabella squirm in the most seductive fashion. Of course she wasn't aware of that fact, but all the same, I felt my cock harden and I had to concentrate more as to not lose my focus. Shit, what this new slave was doing to me!

"Stay still if you want to be able to sit on your ravishing posterior any time soon, Isabella," I commanded.

But I was relieved it was almost over, because I was far from enjoying myself like I used to. Maybe it was because I knew I couldn't screw this girl afterwards like I would have done with any other slave. I put less strength in the two last strokes and finally dropped the riding crop. I unshackled the marquise and removed her gag. She had reopened her eyes and I noticed that tears had run down her cheeks. She was glaring at me and if her look could kill I'd be dead right then and there.

"Come with me," I said with the softest tone I could muster.

She refused to move and lowered her head to avoid my gaze. I realized she might be suffering a great deal and that maybe she wasn't able to stand.

"I'm going to take you in my arms and to the bed over there so I can treat your wounds, okay?"

Still no answer. Isabella had decided to give me the silent treatment. I couldn't blame her, obviously, but I had to give her some aftercare because her ass was starting to develop a few small welts in some spots. I lowered her arms, stood her upright and pulled her skirt up again. Then I lifted her to bring her to the bed. She remained passive as I lay her down on it. I started to think that she might never want to speak or move again. Maybe she would only use her stunning eyes to communicate… they were eloquent enough.

I got the arnica cream my father had given me earlier today and I sat by the strange girl I had thought I was going to have some fun with. In the end, she was playing with my nerves like she had played with Jasper's. If she continued to stay motionless like a statue, she was going to stress me even more. I knew she was seeking revenge and that she thought she had found an efficient way to obtain it. But I wasn't the lord here and antagonizing me was the least of her worries. The Volturi wouldn't be gentle with this stubborn newcomer. I had to explain the situation to her. If she thought she had had it rough with me, she hadn't seen anything yet.

She was staring straight ahead but her look seemed dead now, empty of any expression. Giving her orders would be useless: I was sure she wouldn't respond. Instead of asking her to lie on her side, I positioned her myself and it felt like I was manipulating a puppet. I didn't pull her skirt down this time; I lifted the fabric up to her waist to apply the ointment as I reflected on a way to get her out of her numb state and react in any way.

I began to spread the cream on the reddened and sore skin of her ass and massaged delicately so it would be absorbed. Just as I started to massage the aching area, the marquise moved her hips involuntarily, or at least it didn't seem like it was on purpose. Felix's words came back to my mind, "She isn't talkative, but she is quite a beauty, really. And she is also very sensual…" I couldn't help but smile. I had wanted to verify if the eunuch was right and I had been conflicted about it earlier. But if that's what it took to have Isabella looking at me again, even if just to slap me in the face, I was willing to pleasure her. So I resumed what I was doing with more attentiveness, intending to turn the iceberg into a volcano. Isabella Swan would realize very soon that she wasn't the one in control of this situation…