“I don’t want a woman to abuse, I can assure you of that. I just want a woman who can give me sex without all the extra baggage. I don’t have time to deal with the baggage.”
Bastien smiled, then gestured to the servant at the door to bring the final course. His gaze returned to Kai. “You have no idea how common that is among those of your set. Some rich, powerful men enjoy lives of leisure, but most work remarkably long and grueling hours, hours that preclude deep interpersonal relationships. At the same time, they do not wish to forego the pleasures of the flesh. If anyone is deserving of endless pleasure, it is a man who works as hard as you.”
“Ah, endless pleasure.” Kai accepted a sinful-looking torte from the servant’s tray and grinned at his host. “You know all the right words to say.”
“Let’s be honest. The modern woman is expected to be strong and fiercely independent. The modern male, by contrast, is expected to be much more submissive than men in eras past. Dominant male sexuality is criticized as inappropriate and exploitative. Code d’Odalisque rejects these modern values and celebrates, rather than despises, the intensity of male sexuality. The code invites a woman--without shame or coercion--to live as a submissive servant to a man’s voracious sexual desire. Of course, the man she serves must be deemed worthy of this submission.”
Bastien paused for a sip of his after-dinner coffee, then continued in a franker tone. “The odalisques understand their fortune in fulfilling that need for gentlemen such as you. Most of these women could not afford the luxuries their owners provide them. It is pleasure given for pleasure. In fact, many develop almost worshipful feelings for their Master.”
Kai frowned. “But then...what happens when the year is up?”
“Odalisques can be in service to the same man for up to six years, if both parties wish it.”
“No, what I mean is, what happens at the end of the term, if the odalisque has become emotionally attached?”
“I never said anything about emotion,” Bastien corrected him. “I meant worshipful in a sense of sexual worship. Craving, desire. We have a word for it, a coarse word perhaps: cockslavery. It is a state to which all odalisques aspire. But for an odalisque to make emotional demands on her Master--this would be an utter desecration of the code. They are trained to sublimate such feelings, funnel them into a more heightened sexuality, for the fulfillment of Master, of course. But I go on and on. Perhaps it would be best if we paid a visit to the odalisques’ quarters. I’m sure you will find that much more illuminating than my words.”
Kai pushed his plate away. “I would very much love to visit the odalisques’ quarters.” God, he hoped he hadn’t sounded as horny and eager as he felt.
Chapter Three: The Tour
Bastien led Kai down a long, silent corridor. On either side, erotic sculptures graced Italianate grottos. Kai looked down at the black and gold diamond-patterned tile beneath his feet and imagined a girl writhing beneath him as he took her there on the spotless floor. He was feeling ridiculously worked up. Perhaps that was Bastien’s aim--to have him whipping out the checkbook before he even retired for the night.
His own home was nearly as large as the Maison, but decorated in a modern style. If he acquired an odalisque--which seemed more and more likely by the moment--he would be expected to provide her with “quarters.” He’d read that online, in the code, and had immediately started imagining the love nest he would create. He would buy all the velvet pillows in L.A., all the filmy curtains and overstuffed sofas that could be had. Endless pleasure. Cockslavery. He barely suppressed the groan that rose in his throat. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a woman without anxiety? Without guilt? Just sunk between a woman’s legs and lost himself? He couldn’t remember.
“This way.” Bastien’s hushed voice drew him back from his thoughts.
They turned left at the end of the corridor to find a winding set of carpeted backstairs. As they passed to the second floor, the comfortable warmth of the house became even cozier. Bastien took off his dinner jacket and invited Kai to do the same, leaving them with an attendant stationed at the top of the stairs.
“Serge will return it to your room. We keep the upper floors warmer year round,” Bastien explained. “The odalisques are kept naked. A great part of their training is teaching them to feel natural without clothes. You’ll find they are charmingly uncomfortable when they’re dressed and taken out amongst humanity. And charmingly eager to shed their clothes when you bring them home again.”
Bastien stopped in front of the first room on the right. “None of the doors are locked. Ever. It will be the same in your house. An odalisque has no need for privacy.” He pushed open the door, revealing a mid-sized, neat, uncluttered room. In the center of the room, a girl with short chestnut hair was reading on her bed. She was, as Bastien had led him to expect, quite naked. Still, it was a shock. She made no movement to cover herself, nor did she look the least bit embarrassed. She simply regarded both men through assessing, trusting eyes over the top of her book.
“Good evening, Fiona,” Bastien said, nodding to her. “I am showing Monsieur Chandler around.”
“Hello, Monsieur Chandler,” Fiona replied with a flirtatious smile. Her twanging Southern accent sounded strangely out of place in the posh surroundings.
“Fiona came to us from Georgia,” Bastien explained. “A peach in every sense of the word. We presently have girls from eleven different countries here at the Maison. Sometimes more, sometimes less. The desire to serve has no nationality. The visas and paperwork keep our lawyer busy, but it all works out.”
He shut the door on Fiona and took Kai to the next room, this one on the left. Again, the lovely occupant was sprawled on the bed naked; however, she was not reading. Her legs were splayed open and she was masturbating with one hand and squeezing her breasts with the other. Again, not the slightest hint of embarrassment. Kai, however, was glad his skin tone hid the flush in his cheeks.
“Good girl, Cecile,” murmured Bastien, before backing out and closing the door. He turned to Kai. “We teach them nothing sexual is shameful. It requires deprogramming in some cases, where women have been taught from a young age that sexuality is sinful or shameful. We use every method at our disposal to reverse that belief.” Bastien smiled. “As you can see, girls like Cecile have learned to embrace their sexual urges without any modicum of reserve.”
Kai could see all right. He’d wanted to fall on Cecile, with her bountiful breasts and her glistening pussy. Bastien, however, continued down the hall. “Something you may want to consider, Kai, is what type of woman would best be a match for you. Here at Maison Odalisque, we have all body types, all hair and eye colors, and a great many ethnicities. And while language is not a necessity between Master and odalisque, you may prefer one with a good command of English. Or--pardon me--Hindi?”
Kai shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m totally Americanized. My mother tried to teach me, but...” But I was a bad son. I had no time for her wants, her needs. He could have conquered the Bollywood digital film industry if he’d made half an effort to pick up the language and culture. His father hadn’t been any help, encouraging him to embrace everything American while belittling his mother’s Indian habits and customs. Only once had they flown to India to meet his mother’s family. It was a short, overwhelming experience in culture shock. When Kai lost his mother, he realized too late that he’d lost all chance of knowing that side of himself. “It would probably be better to choose an American girl,” Kai said. “I’ll be keeping her in Malibu.”
Bastien took him to three or four more rooms. All the girls were friendly and as openly assessing of Kai as he was of them. “Do they have a choice?” Kai asked. “I mean, in who acquires them? Veto power?”
“Of course. Everything here is one hundred percent consensual. If a woman has misgivings about a man who wants to take her, we work with both parties to find consensus. If, after a period of consideration, it’s still a no--for whatever reason--we respect that. I
t would be a disaster to send a woman off to sexually serve a man she feels antipathy for.”
“But what if she gets where she’s going and realizes afterward they’re not compatible? Or what if the man decides he doesn’t want her after all?”
“Good questions. I suppose I must start by explaining that the odalisque is protected by someone called an overmistress. We don’t send them off to the far corners of the world without a safety net. For the first month, the overmistress meets with the odalisque weekly. After that, she meets with her once a month, or sooner if an issue presents itself. The overmistress is empowered to remove any odalisque who is in emotional distress over her situation. In that case, the owner is reimbursed for the cost of the odalisque and, if the issue was not caused by his mistreatment, permitted to choose a replacement at the Maison.”
“That sounds smart. And fair.”
“In the second case--if the man changes his mind--he is permitted to return the odalisque to the Maison and choose a new one. However, only one exchange per year is permitted. We are not a short term rental service, if you catch my meaning.”
“I catch it completely.”
“The best outcome is for the odalisque and Master to bond into a cohesive, satisfying sexual unit. This can only be done with interaction and use. A Master who neglects or ignores his odalisque is likely to find himself alone. Or, to put it more directly, a cockslave must have cock.” Bastien paused. “In some cases, a secondary relationship develops with a favored friend of the Master, one with whom he frequently shares. This is permissible, particularly if the Master is traveling or busy at certain times of the year. I have even known Masters to hire ‘toys’ for their odalisques to play with in their absence.” He smiled. “I suppose it all depends on how possessive or magnanimous you are.”
Kai fiddled with one of his shirt cuffs, remembering Mason holding out an ivory card. “I can think of a few friends who wouldn’t be averse to helping me out. One of whom is a woman.”
Bastien shrugged. “A woman now and again can be a welcome adventure for an odalisque. But they are only trained for the pleasuring of males.”
Only trained for cock. So refined, and yet so nasty. Kai’s cock throbbed, bursting for release. It was actually getting kind of hard to walk. They looked in on another girl with gorgeous auburn curls, lazily primping in front of a mirror.
“Some of them are very intellectual,” Bastien said with a grin as he closed the door. “Some of them are rather more...shallow. Airheads, even. Is that not what you Americans say? Again, this is a personal preference. Some gentlemen prefer an empty head.”
Kai grimaced. “I’m not one of them.”
“What type of woman do you like?”
Kai felt put on the spot, so he just came out with the basics. “I like longish hair. I like creative women. I like nice tits but nothing fake. I like large features--big mouths, big noses. Expressive eyes. I like normal bodies, not too thin, not too fat. Maybe a little fat. I like curves. I love curves,” he amended a moment later. “I love curves a lot.”
“Come then.” Bastien led him up another stairwell to the top floor, to the last door on the left. The room was slightly smaller, but no less comfortable. The ceiling slanted down, with a window seat set back in the wall. A woman was curled up there on tufted cushions. She was in her early to mid-20s, if Kai had to guess, and she scribbled in a notebook with great concentration. As Bastien approached, she abruptly left off. “Good evening, Constance. This is Mr. Chandler.”
Constance was a fair approximation of everything Kai had just spouted off. She had long curly hair--tons of hair. Magnificent. It was hard to tell the color of her eyes in the soft light, but she had the same openness and relaxation in her face and mouth that he recognized in the other girls. But this one was too exotic looking to be pretty. She did have a big nose, and gorgeous big lips. She exuded as much sweetness as sex. She put her notebook and pen to the side, still gazing at him.
She didn’t speak. She seemed shy. She was so beautiful, so mysteriously beautiful. Why? Because of the way she looked at him in that shy, curious way? Kai forgot Bastien was even standing there until the man shifted and gestured toward her.
“If you wish it, Constance will be happy to grant you relief.”
Kai turned the words over in his head a few times before he caught the meaning. Relief. Of course, his raging hard-on wouldn’t go unnoticed in a house like this, especially as it now strained toward the top of his waistband. Dress pants hid some things, but not a cock like his. Constance crossed the room and knelt before him expectantly, her hands in her lap. Cockslavery. Without another thought Kai’s hands were at his pants, working at button and zipper, releasing himself.
Bastien handed him a condom, as if the scene taking place was expected and normal, and Kai rolled on the condom as if it was. It didn’t bother him that Bastien obviously had no intention of leaving. With all the security around, it stood to reason that an odalisque would never be surrendered to a stranger. And Kai was a stranger to this world, this amazing world where beautiful, shy women came to kneel before him and suck him off on a word. But Bastien’s silent presence communicated that she was only being lent, under her protector’s careful supervision.
Constance reached for his cock, cupping its length and weight, kissing the tip through flavored latex. Her lips were red, not garish, but lovely soft red contrasted with her pale complexion. He imagined her clasped against his darker skin, a silhouette of womanly desire. He twisted a hand in her curls, marveling at their softness, just as she opened her mouth wide.
It was torture to let her guide him. He wanted to take over, thrust into her throat so the lust and excitement that had been building over the entire evening could finally explode. But he regained his control. Her skill was such that he had to pause and appreciate it. She wasn’t sloppy, but focused and mindful of his reactions.
He guided her with the pressure of his fingers against her scalp, and shudders and moans when he was most pleased with her. She licked up the front of his glans, flicking, teasing, and then around the crown, then she took him so deep he almost lost it again. She hummed softly as she sucked him, so the sensation of it resonated down his cock to his balls. His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, not wanting to be too rough, but needing her closer, closer...
She took him deep until her lovely nose was pressed against the wiry kinks of his thatch. “Oh, God--” he gasped. It was as much hysteria as it was prayer. He tried to hold off, tried to make the blowjob last, but her avid skill, her focus on pleasing him--it was a completely new experience. This was no grudging, lackluster blowjob. This was cock worship. He finally understood that term.
She was taking him deep now, over and over, adding pressure and teasing with her tongue, sending tremors down the backs of his thighs. The orgasm, when it came, nearly brought him to his knees. He still held her hair, grasped and fisted it, trying not to pull. Only that concentration, that warning bell that he might hurt her, kept him from collapsing where he stood. He hunched over her as his balls contracted and waves of release swept his entire core.
She gripped him with her lips as he rode out the climax, then went still when he untensed, and waited. He didn’t want to leave her mouth--ever--but after a moment or two he eased back, caressing her face as she slid her tongue across the barrier between them.
He’d learned one thing for sure. This was for real. These women really did have a hunger to please sexually. Constance smiled up at him from her knees. It wasn’t a brassy smile, or a vixenish one. Just a pleased, content smile that touched some primal part of him, the part that wanted to be wanted. To be desired. Unconditionally and totally.
“Thank you,” he said. It sounded silly, to thank her so formally, but he would have been embarrassed to yell out what he really wanted to say: That was the best fucking blowjob of my life!
“There’s a bathroom over there,” Sebastien said. Kai took the hint to go dispose of the condom and put him
self to rights. He looked in the mirror, wondering if Constance had truly enjoyed sucking his cock as much as she’d seemed to. He felt himself changed in some way. He felt more masculine, having availed himself of the erotic majesty of an odalisque.
And yet, her little bathroom was reassuringly normal. An old fashioned wooden hairbrush lay beside neatly arranged baskets of cosmetics. He could imagine her pulling the brush through her long hair as she stood naked and damp from the shower. He could also imagine bending her over the counter and spanking her with it on her heart-shaped ass just before he eased forward and positioned himself at her hot, wet entrance-- Down, boy. Reel it in.
When he returned to the room, Bastien and Constance were sitting on the edge of her bed, deep in conversation. At Kai’s reappearance, Bastien patted Constance’s knee and stood. “I’m afraid it’s getting late, even for an odalisque. They tend to stay up late, and lay in bed long past dawn. The privilege of the kept,” he said, winking at Constance. Again, she smiled that guileless, contented smile. At the door, Kai turned to say goodbye, feeling foolish. What was the protocol for taking your leave of a woman you didn’t know who’d just sucked you off? Bastien also bid Constance good night and shut the door behind them.
Kai walked a moment in silence, at a loss for words, and Bastien seemed content to let him think. Finally Kai said, “Thank you. That was a nice surprise.”
“I gathered you needed it. It’s no fun to be in a house of sex slaves and not have a means of release. Tomorrow, I’ll show you around the training facilities and you can take a good look at all the women. Constance is lovely, and doubtless a very good match for you, but there are others who are similar to her in temperament and appearance. Often, in these circumstances, it’s best to rely on a combination of reason and impulse in making your choice. When you find the one, you’ll know, but it’s best to look at all of them before you make a final decision. In your room, you’ll notice a binder with profiles and photos of all the currently available odalisques.”
Odalisque Page 3
