La Bonne

by Michèle de Lully

  “Yes, mistress, you may have your way with me now,” I said.

  And she did.

  The entry was a shock, as always, but once inside it felt natural and complete. She moved the dildo in and out, and now I floated on the waves of my private ocean. Not the drowning fire of her earlier kisses, but the comfort of the familiar and fulfilling.

  “Kneel,” I suggested. “Hold it between your thighs, like it was attached.”

  “You want me to pretend to be a man?” she asked in mock surprise. She crawled up on her knees until she was so close that her hand bumped back into her on each thrust.

  The fire returned. This was not familiar. Lying there, being fucked by a staggeringly beautiful woman, her perfect breasts hanging over me, her erect nipples begging my hands to rise up and cup them, was not familiar and comfortable. It was exciting, terrifying, exhilarating. It was erotic.

  “Is this what it would be like with Petros?” she whispered, her voice hard with desire. “Is this what he would do?” She thrust into me forcefully, her groin pressed up against the hilt of the dildo, her thighs pressing up against mine and the shaft of the dildo fully inside me.

  “Petros,” I gasped, repeating the name, and the imagery was too much. I exploded in orgasm.

  She fell on top of me, showering me with kisses while I spasmed and quivered. I did not trust myself to speak, for fear I would call out Petros’s name in open desire. How could she have done that to me? How could she have brought up his name here and now?

  “I wish it could be me,” she sighed. “I want to be there, underneath him. I want to know what it is like to have a man on top of me.”

  “You will, my dear. Soon enough.”

  “Always there, there, soon enough! I am sick of waiting. I have waited my whole life, I cannot bear to wait anymore.” Her pretty face twisted up with tears of frustration.

  “Let me help,” I said, and reached for her thighs. I was still awash in the pleasure she had given me and I wanted to respond.

  “Do it to me,” she asked. “Like that.”

  “I can’t, Amanda! You know that.”

  “Do it as close as you can, then.”

  She lay on her back and lifted her legs to her chest, exposing herself completely. I knelt over her and gently let the dildo rest on her little tuft of fur.

  “Hold it between your legs,” she asked. “Like I did you.”

  I obeyed. Looming above her, I teased her with my fake cock, watching her face burn in the agony of desire.

  “Make it wet,” I ordered her, and spread her enough to oil the instrument well.

  “Penetrate me,” she begged, and I did, the only way I was allowed. Gently I slid the dildo up her backside, an inch at a time. I put my free hand over her groin and stroked her clitoris with my thumb.

  She clutched her legs to her chest, and turned to bite the pillow. Watching her aroused me again, and I began to ride her like she had ridden me, pumping in and out.

  “I’m going to come,” she whispered.

  “Not yet,” I commanded.

  A few more thrusts and she whimpered, “I’m going to come!”

  “Not yet.” I was enjoying this too much. The feel of her underneath me, in my power, was exciting as it had ever been having a man under my power. I rode her for as long as I could.

  “I’m coming,” she finally grunted, and this time I could not stop her. Gasping and moaning she bit into the pillows, stifling her screams of release.

  Afterwards we snuggled together, our souls exposed to each other now that our bodies had been made free with. She fell asleep easily, and so did I. Not that I didn’t try to make myself sick with worry over what I was doing, and how my heart would be broken when Amanda had a real man and didn’t need her play-toy. I tried to worry. I just couldn’t, not right then.

  —

  Petros was teaching Amanda how to sail. Not how to turn the wheel and make the boat turn, but how to sail—how to feel the wind, set the sails, and command the crew. This was beyond my station, and to be honest, beyond my abilities, so I sat on the foredeck and sulked.

  It wasn’t normal sulking. I had a plate of caviar, a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and fresh croissants that tasted like they came from the bakery at home. Given all that, it was a pretty subdued and pleasant form of sulking.

  I wasn’t the only sulker. My would-be companion, the stalwart sailor who always seemed to be waiting on me, had his own supercilious air. It was subtle, of course, but he was obviously miffed at having been turned down. For some reason, it seemed to make men feel better if they knew you were turning them down for someone else, but I could hardly explain I was getting adequately serviced by my girlfriend. Waiter-boy would just have to deal.

  Although, it would simplify my life if I just gave in to him. Then I wouldn’t have to hide from Petros, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what I would do once Amanda grew out of her experimental stage. That’s how I was explaining it to myself these days. Amanda, being young and naïve, was just testing the waters. Most of us have a few erotic experiences with the same sex while we’re figuring out how it all works. True, it was usually little more than a few kisses and some tentative groping, not nightly violations with a dildo in various orifices, but everything in Amanda’s life was larger than normal.

  How this explained what I was doing was a topic I carefully avoided thinking about. That’s where the champagne came in handy. And the sunshine, the salt spray, and the comfortable deck chair. The day was sterling, like fine blue china, something to put in the cabinet and look back on with fond memories for the rest of your life. And every day in Amanda’s life was like this.

  Later, dressing for dinner in our cabin, I had a moment of worry. The sheets had been changed. Not that that was a bad thing, but I couldn’t remember putting away our toys.

  “I did it,” Amanda grinned at me as I checked our lingerie drawer nervously. “I’m used to cleaning up before the servants come in.”

  “I’m not very discreet,” I apologized. I’d never had to live with people always around me, watching me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to either. Being Amanda’s servant got me the nice things I wanted, without the spotlight that paid for them. All in all, I had it pretty good. If I could just stop wanting to have sex with her future husband.

  Except it wasn’t just sex I wanted from him. That was made clear to me over dinner, where I simpered over his every word like any ingénue. I wanted his approval, his respect, his attention, his concern. I wanted to make him smile.

  Every woman he met did too, so my performance went unnoticed, or at least unremarked upon. Amanda already had all those things, so she didn’t notice my competition for them. What she wanted was his hunger, his need, his lust. But he was too much of a gentleman to display that.

  On the other hand, my lessons had solved her problem. There was now no question of what she wanted from him. He could not be thinking of her as a little sister anymore.

  “Would you like to try a night course?” he asked Amanda after coffee was served. I almost choked on mine, especially when Amanda enthusiastically agreed.

  “You are a quick study, my dear,” he said approvingly.

  “She is,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. It was too good of a punch line to pass up.

  “I try,” she said demurely.

  This looked like it could get out of hand, until I realized they were just talking about sailing. Together they went off to stand at the wheel and pretend to do something important. I went to the prow of the boat to enjoy the moonlight.

  After only a little while, Petros joined me. Despite all my best efforts, here we were, alone together again in the moonlight, on the deck of his ship, with the wind ruffling his silk shirt around his taught lean body, his dark eyes reflecting glimmers of starlight.

  Stop it, I told myself. Pay attention to something else. But I failed.

  “How are you enjoying the trip so far?” he asked me.

  “How are you?” I countered.<
br />
  “No sailor complains while the weather is good. And the company is flawless. It is not often I have two beautiful women on my ship.”

  “That’s not what the tabloids say.” Instantly I regretted my pettiness. But it was the only way I could keep my distance from him.

  “You can’t believe everything you read,” he said lightly.

  “It’s not often you have your fiancée on board,” I said to change the subject.

  “It is not often that I have been in her company, true. But I must admit I find her so changed now to be almost a different person.”

  Success. I had won. But I didn’t feel like celebrating.

  “Are you responsible for that?” he asked.

  Again I reacted to his perceptiveness with hostility. “It’s what I was hired to do.”

  “Why would I settle for the student when I could have the teacher?” he murmured soft and sweet and much too close to me.

  “Because you can’t have the teacher.” I stepped further away. “And it’s not true, anyway. Amanda would have grown up on her own. She was always the one you deserved.”

  “What about what I want?”

  “She’s the one you want, too. Are you going to stand there and tell me you don’t want her?”

  He sighed, and his gaze turned to the open sea that lay dark and obscure before us.

  “She is someone I have been fond of for many years. And now she has become a woman, beautiful and sensual. Of course I want her. I think I even love her.”

  The man of my dreams was telling me he loved another, but the words did not hurt like they had all the times before. Because I loved her, too.

  “She’s crazy about you. The two of you will be very happy together.” I gave up my fantasies, throwing them overboard into the dark water, watching them fall behind and disappear in the night.

  “And what of you? Will you be her maid, her friend? Will you torture me with your presence every day, knowing that I can never make you fulfilled like I do her?”

  Those fantasies crawled back on deck and shook off the water without looking any the worse for wear. How I wanted him to fill me!

  “I told you, I’ll leave after the wedding,” I said, trying not to let the tears out.

  “And that will be better for me how? Knowing that you are out there alone, knowing that I cost Amanda the first true friend she has ever had?”

  “What do you want me to do?” I demanded in frustration.

  “I don’t know.” His voice was as miserable as I had ever heard. “I have spent my life in the company of beautiful women, polished and practiced, adept at pleasing others and utterly focused on making me happy. It used to be enough. Until you. Now I can barely breathe waiting for the next time I can see you.”

  “Stop it,” I said, and I was crying now.

  “I love Amanda. I could never consider breaking her heart, breaking my promise, shattering her dreams and future. The financial concerns my family has in this union, the affairs of state, the meddling of archaic customs and the people who serve them, mean less to me than seagull droppings. I would work in a diner, washing dishes, to come home to you every night.”

  For a moment that beautiful future beckoned us from the horizon of possibility, shrouded in twilight. Until the hard sunrise of reality.

  “But how can I break Amanda?”

  How could I ask him to? Of all the people I have ever known, she accepted and loved me just for me. Not for what I could do, but just because I was there.

  “You can’t, and you won’t,” I said fiercely.

  “I see that you love her, too. Out of love for her, you push me away. I cannot ask otherwise, since your love for her is part of the beauty I see in you. How can we share this love without breaking both of us? How can we share Amanda?”

  Very specific positions of how the two of us could share that lovely creature raced through my head, making me dizzy. Petros stepped forward and caught me in his arms, trying to steady me, but his touch just made my head whirl faster.

  “Are you all right?”

  I answered by kissing him, melting into his grasp like butter. He could throw me to the deck and take me without a word, and I let him know it with my entire body.

  Sterling knight that he was, he did not. How I hated his strength and honor then! How it made me burn for him even more.

  “I am no captain,” he said miserably when he broke my kiss and cradled my head against his chest. “I cannot find a safe course to sail among these rocks.”

  I am no true friend, I thought, standing there in the grasp of my lover’s fiancé and unable to let go.

  “Once I am gone, it will be okay. Amanda will be too happy with you to notice, and in time you will forget me.”

  “We Greeks have long memories.”

  The wind cut across my back, blowing sharp and cold. I snuggled further into his warmth, living for the moment. The future would come soon enough.

  “Am I never to know more of your body than kisses?” he whispered to me.

  “Never. Your body belongs to Amanda.”

  “But my heart belongs to you.” Then he kissed me, and for that little while I was truly happy.

  Raindrops spattered against my back.

  “Where is Amanda, anyway?” I asked, even though it was rather late to start worrying about being caught.

  “I left her at the wheel, alone. It is a test of confidence, to sail in the dark with only yourself to trust.”

  The wind was harder now, and the rain drizzled in earnest.

  “You should go inside,” he said. “And I should return to the wheel, in case this rain becomes a storm.”

  Silently I cursed this cruel sea. A moment ago it had been romantic moonlight, and I had been happy. Now it snatched away my time with Petros, leaving only his taste in my mouth and a gaping hunger for more.

  The sea responded with its own curse. Water fell from the sky like a wave. The rain became a deluge, instantly, and I was soaked to the skin in a heartbeat.

  “Go to your cabin!” he ordered me and started to run. Terrified, I clutched for him as the wind knocked me around like a scrap of paper. He had forgotten I was not an experienced sailor. He had forgotten I was not competent at everything without trying, like Amanda was.

  He came back for me. He came back and held me while I struggled against the elements, half-carrying me to the cabin door. He ignored the needs of his ship while he saw to mine. Inside, after he had disappeared back into the maelstrom, and with the door closed against the wind, I broke down and cried.

  Then I dried off, changed into my pajamas, and got into bed where it was warm.

  After a while, Amanda staggered in, looking like she had just emerged from underwater, shivering and blue with cold. Her golden crown was plastered to her skin like spaghetti.

  “Come to me, mon enfant,” I said, and helped her strip out of the chilled, wet clothes. She wrapped herself in a towel while I dried her hair.

  “It is a bad storm,” she said, subdued. “And it could get worse.”

  I had just been through a terrible storm in my heart. “It’ll be okay,” I promised her and hugged her tightly, sharing my warmth.

  “I should go out there and help,” she said, still uncertain.

  “What could you do but get in the way? Petros is at the wheel, and the rest of the crew know their jobs.”

  “It was my watch.” I thought she was about to cry. “It should be my job.”

  “You’re still learning, little one. You can pilot through the next storm.” I tried to distract her with kisses.

  “I learn fast,” she murmured into my hair. “Don’t I?”

  “You do, my sweet.” I was still on fire from holding Petros, and now I was holding her. The ship rocked and heaved, and we fell over in the bed, all tangled up in limbs, sheets, and towels.

  “I’m scared,” I told her, and I really was, though not of the storm. “Make me forget my troubles.”

  “You want to make love
in the middle of a storm?” She licked my throat with the tip of her tongue and took my breasts into her hands.

  “What else should we do?” I spread my legs so that she could lie between them, her body up against mine.

  We kissed and touched, but I wanted more. I broke away from her to open the dresser drawer and get our toy. The pitching of the ship made this a little difficult, but I was determined.

  “I need this,” I told her. When she started to move her head down, I stopped her. “I’m already ready.”

  “Storms have an interesting effect on you,” she laughed. I could hardly tell her it was Petros who had that effect on me.

  I lay on my back while she climbed on top of me. I held on to her like a lifeboat, with all my limbs, while she supported herself with one arm and held the dildo with the other. I wanted to turn out the lamp so I could pretend she was Petros, but I didn’t want to interrupt her. So I let her fuck me. I just accepted that it was her, my glorious golden angel, and that she was on top of me and fucking me and that was what I wanted.

  The boat pitched and the lights flickered. I was thrown up into her, while she lost her balance and fell down onto me. But she didn’t stop thrusting into me, even while we readjusted, and finally the waves inside me carried me away.

  “My turn,” she said greedily. “I’m scared too.” She squirmed off me, winding up face-down on the bed.

  “Stay there,” I told her, when she tried to roll over. I climbed up on top of her, straddling her backside, pinning her to the bed.

  “Make yourself wet for me,” I ordered. I was too busy trying to keep my position to spare a hand.

  She complied and slipped her right hand between her thighs.

  “Are you ready?” I asked, sliding the dildo between her cheeks. Her response was to push up with her hips.

  I let the toy, still well-lubricated from me, push against her tight hole. With a moan she relaxed herself and it sank in. She was a quick learner, indeed. A few short strokes and then it went in without resistance.

  “Yes,” she said. “Harder.”

  With my right hand between my legs holding onto the back end of the dildo, I began to fuck her. She moaned my name, and it sent shivers down my spine.