You were on holiday in Italy, you were having a good time until you were left by your friends to go to the bathroom. That’s when you were grabbed from behind, something sharp going into your neck that felt like a syringe and someone’s gloved hand going over to your mouth and someone speaking in an Italian accent, they sounded male, “Hush Angioletto, take a nap, we’re just going to a little someplace where we can have a little fun of our own.”

A few hours later you found yourself bound to a chair in a dark room unaware of where you were until you saw a young man stood in the corner of the room in his late 20s/early 30s and was 28 years old. He had black hair that hung over his face slightly, he was also tall, he had hazel eyes, he wore black framed glasses. He always wore a white button up shirt, a black waistcoat and a black tie, “Ah, look who seems to have finally woken up, how did you sleep, Bella?”

Giovanni stepped forward, almost intimidating as his gloved hand went under your chin, “Bellissima….” He whispered to himself as he tightens the ropes that were holding your wrists and ankles down, “Oh where are my manners, I’m Giovanni, Giovanni Moretti.” He stroked your cheek intimately, “and you’re my little captive.”