La Bonne

by Michèle de Lully

  “Just a piece of paper,” Petros said, “but one you are entitled to, nonetheless.”

  Petros turned to Amanda, and repeated the first phrase. He added a word, which I knew had to be “again”, because Amanda laughed at him and said something teasing in Greek. I was not jealous of their shared tongue. Rather, I was amazed that I could understand it so well. I did not know the language, but I knew them.

  He slipped a plain gold band on Amanda’s ring finger. How could I have missed its absence in the cabin? All that time she was combing and cosseting my hair and I had not noticed that she did not wear the ring she should have been wearing since their official ceremony. I had taken her marriage as given fact, and never thought to hope for anything else.

  She slid the other half of his ring onto his hand, and the two halves mated as one, clinging together like magnets, the hairline that separated them rendered invisible.

  She signed the paper next to my signature, and Petros and the witnesses signed it again.

  When I pulled her veil back so that he could kiss her, tears were pouring down her face.

  “Why are you crying?” I asked her.

  “Because this is my true wedding,” she answered. “And besides, you are crying too.”

  I had not realized.

  “One more,” Petros said with a huge grin. “Even if it is slightly irregular.” Again he spoke the marriage ritual in Greek, but this time with my name and Amanda’s. “You may kiss the bride,” he told us both, laughing with his eyes.

  So we did. There, in front of God and everyone, we kissed as lovers.

  “What I and the sea have joined together, let no one man or woman put asunder,” he announced, a challenge to a world we all knew would never understand and never accept us. But at least here, in the wide ocean, we would not have to hide. He took each of us on an arm and escorted us back to our marriage bed under the approving protection of his loyal crew.

  —

  In our cabin, Petros poured three glasses of champagne.

  “A toast,” he said. “To love.” He linked his arm around ours, and we drank, messily, giddily, gloriously.

  “Ladies,” he whispered. “Your clothes.”

  We set aside each other’s veils. I unclasped Amanda’s dress, and she undid mine, together we let them fall to the floor, and stood utterly naked before him, wearing only the jewelry he had given us.

  “And mine,” he said.

  Our fingers fumbled at the buttons on his blouse, tugged at his cummerbund, pulled at his trousers. Soon he stood naked before us, wearing only our united bands of gold on his finger.

  And a stiff erection.

  “Amanda first,” I said. “She’s waited longest for this.” I dropped to my knees and teased her golden triangle with my tongue. Normally this would have made her sigh and moan, but her eyes were locked on Petros. He moaned instead, watching me. Then he joined me.

  She reclined regally on the bed, one foot on the floor, the other leg spread wide, and watched us. Petros and I shared her and kisses with each other, our tongues meeting in each other’s mouths, meeting inside her, a cocktail of delicious flavors. My left hand snuck down to stroke his hard manhood, my right clasped in her delicate feminine hand.

  “I want it now,” commanded our impatient princess. Her face was flushed and radiant.

  Petros rose up between her legs like Poseidon from the waves, his lips wet and his eyes on fire. I could not resist, and turned naturally from her to him, swallowing as much of his cock as I could. Then I guided him with my hand, and gently rubbed her clitoris with the head of his cock. Amanda whimpered in pleasure and anticipation.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to taste it first?” I teased her, and took him in my mouth again.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “No. Just do it. I want it now.”

  I took him in hand again and pushed gently at her. I could feel him shudder as the tip sank into her warm wetness. She cried out loud.

  “All that noise over an inch? Are you sure you are ready?”

  Her verbal response was incoherent, but her eyes begged for more.

  I let Petros slide through my grip another inch. He put his hand on my head, for support, and I felt his fingers wrap in my hair. He pulled back and thrust forward again, fucking her with the first inch and my hand with the rest of his shaft.

  “All the way,” Amanda begged. “I can’t wait anymore.”

  So I took my hand away, and watched as Petros gently penetrated her in one slow, long thrust. Amanda quivered and groaned, and when he was all the way in, pressed tightly up against her, she looked at him and said, “Do it like you did before.”

  So he did.

  As he pounded her, I put one hand on her belly, where my thumb could rub against her clitoris, and the other hand on his solid buttock, following him in and out.

  She gave herself over to pleasure, moaning in climax. But Petros had waited a long time for this too and he was not done. He kept going and I watched her slowly climbing up to a second peak.

  I stopped fondling Petros and started fondling myself instead. He had pushed her back enough that I couldn’t really fit a hand in between them anymore. I stretched out on the bed so I could grasp her breast with my free hand, and luxuriated in the vision of my golden angel being speared again and again. He drove her up the bed until I reached down and pulled her leg up high so that he could sink in deeper.

  From that angle it was natural. My left hand was already wet from masturbating, and she was exposed. I slipped one finger into her backside and was rewarded with a squeal. On Petros’s next thrust, I made it two fingers, earning a groan. Three fingers and she began to climax. Petros and I thrust into her in rhythm while she wriggled between us, a beautiful mermaid caught on twin hooks of ecstasy.

  He locked up suddenly, buried deep, his hips grinding against her as he emptied his soul inside her. After a moment he sank down next to her, breathing heavily.

  I gently pulled out of her as she lay between us. Her hand clutched at me, but I extricated myself and went to wash my fingers in the stateroom’s little ensuite.

  While I was up, I fetched the dildo from its drawer. The two of them might be satiated into exhaustion, but I was on fire with unfulfilled need. Returning to bed next them, I cuddled into her embrace, kissed her, and began to service myself.

  “Poor darling,” she whispered. “Petros, my love, we cannot forget her.”

  “My lady,” he groaned in exhaustion. “I am only a mortal man.” But his eyes watched me hungrily.

  “She’s not too tired,” I teased him. Slowly I extracted the dildo, giving him plenty of time to see it, and brought it wet and shining to Amanda’s lips. She licked it clean, accepted into her mouth, and sucked it in deep until I pulled it out to kiss her deeply. I fancied I could still taste myself in her mouth.

  Petros’s breath changed rhythm and his face leaned in close to us. We shared our kiss with him, three sets of lips and tongues intermingling. The sensation was strange and familiar at the same time, awkward and yet perfectly natural.

  And terribly exciting. Desperately, I returned the dildo to its place between my empty thighs.

  “Let me,” Amanda whispered, and rolled over on top of me. Taking the dildo with her right hand, she supported herself above me with her left and gently fucked me. Like she had so many nights before. But this time Petros was beside us, his hand running up and down my belly, fondling my breasts, stroking my clitoris, his breath hot in my ear, his eyes burning tracks across my naked body.

  I felt my climax slowly building, but Amanda, whose leg was between us, apparently felt something else rising.

  “Petros, my love,” she said, “You seem a new man again.”

  “Who could remain unmoved by such beauty?” He grinned at us, and his fingers danced like butterflies on my clitoris.

  “Then there is something else I have been waiting for,” she said. Lying down next to me, she rolled us over, so that I was on top of her. From this an
gle she could not really thrust into me, so I began to ride the dildo she held between us. Her other hand, now free, slipped between our bellies to penetrate herself.

  Watching her eyes close in pleasure, I ground a little harder. I thought we might go on this way until we both climaxed, but she surprised me. Her hand came out and found a new home on my buttocks.

  Then one wet finger slid in me from behind, and I gasped in shock and pleasure.

  “Sauce for the gander.” Petros chuckled.

  Now I was impaled between the dildo and Amanda’s finger. The vision of her being pounded by Petros just moments before came back to haunt me, the vision of Petros pounding her from behind during our cruise came back to inflame me.

  I accepted Amanda’s second finger inside my tight, clenched bottom.

  “Relax,” she whispered to me, like I had done to her so many times before, and I did.

  Gently she fucked me from both sides, my face buried in her hair spread out across the bed, until I was a wet, limp noodle spread across her.

  “I think she is ready, my love,” Amanda said to Petros.

  I felt him move beside me, rising up hover above us. I could feel his strong legs intertwined with ours, and Amanda’s moan when he penetrated her again, seeking lubrication. Then the sensation of the head of his cock on my backside, soft as velvet and yet stiff as iron.

  Her fingers left me and I felt him probe gently. Like I had shown him with Amanda, he penetrated me one inch at a time. His weight pressed down on me, sandwiching me between his lean muscles and Amanda’s soft breasts and belly.

  “Do her like you did me,” Amanda told him, and I whimpered. He laughed and increased his tempo, but he did not pound me fiercely. Instead, he took his time, enjoying himself inside of me. The dildo filled me from in front, and the sensation of being stuffed beyond my limits left me limp and pliant. Amanda wiggled and squirmed under me, rubbing the back of the dildo against herself, taking her own pleasure.

  I lay between them like a blanket, waiting helplessly for their climaxes to release my own. Their heat reflected from the surface of my burning skin and I melted like jelly between silk and leather.

  When Amanda quivered suddenly, her orgasm blossoming like an unexpected late-summer rosebud come to life, I clutched at her and shared in it. Petros, triggered by the tightening of my body, emptied himself and fell groaning across my back, his hands reaching under her to hug us both.

  Afterwards we snuggled, legs and arms intertwined and Amanda’s hair strewn across all of us.

  “I like being in the middle,” I said, meaning the snuggling.

  “I want to be in the middle next time,” Amanda said, meaning the fucking.

  “Mmmph,” Petros said, exhausted beyond reason. In moments, his breathing told us he was unconscious.

  “Maybe we should put him in the middle,” I whispered, and together we giggled ourselves to sleep.

  About the Author

  Michèle de Lully lives in the desert, where erotic mirages of other times and places shimmer out of the hot summer nights. She commits as many of them as she can to paper, when not distracted by glorious sunsets, cool margaritas, and long nights of salsa dancing.

  Please visit her at www.michèledelully.com.

  Look for these titles by Michèle de Lully

  Coming Soon:

  La Ceinture (The Belt)

  Sex can be the most devastating weapon

  Scorch

  © 2007 Nage Archer

  Frank Aston has what most men would consider a dream job. As bodyguard to Lady Jacqueline, the heir to Baron Ceston’s throne and fortune, he gets to watch her every moment of every day. He knows each inch of her cruel, tantalizing body from her almost black eyes to her long, sensuous legs. But he can never lay a hand on her, not even to save his own life. He can’t even reveal a conspiracy against his own liege, the baron, for fear some harm will come to her. On the other hand, Lady Jacqueline has absolutely no regard for his safety or sanity at all.

  Lady Jacqueline’s dangerous string of seductions leads Frank deeper and deeper into a conspiracy he’s unable to reveal. Worse still, the heiress is hell bent on dominating him, breaking his will until he becomes just another man willing to do anything to please his Mistress.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Scorch:

  And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone with Dr. Naran.

  “Come.”

  She turned and entered the inner office. I had never been here before and I didn’t like the look of the place at all. The room wasn’t very large. Off to the side was something that looked like a cross between a bed of nails and a clam. There were obvious protrusions on both the top and the bottom, suspended in some sort of gray cushion. The other side of the room consisted of a large panel, hosting a number of buttons, levers and dials, which obviously controlled the table.

  “Get undressed.”

  I began to unbutton my shirt. She watched, focusing on me in a way that made me most uncomfortable. I shrugged the shirt from my shoulders and pulled it off. Her eyes never wavered. I wondered if this is what women felt like when they stripped for me.

  Of course, this woman was a complete stranger. I didn’t know her at all, had never seen her before our recent introduction. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been embarrassed undressing in front of a woman. I had thought those days were behind me, but I was wrong.

  She must have sensed my mood, for she spoke. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Frank. During the next couple of weeks, I’m going to be working with your body and your mind, inside and out. You will have no secrets from me. I will share your darkest nightmares and your most intimate experiences. I will know you better than you even know yourself. I will surf your most secret thoughts and mold them to my will. When I am done with you, you will be what I want you to be, no more, no less.”

  I didn’t say anything, but noticed my hand shaking as I placed it on the strips that held up my pants. It amazed me that after all these years, men’s trousers were still fastened in this manner. I jerked and the sound of my fly coming undone tore through the room. It was the only act of defiance I would be allowed. I let my pants drop to the floor and stepped from them.

  “All of it.”

  I shrugged, bent over and slid off my briefs. Then I rose and stood before her, the very act almost a defiance in and of itself. I would not cower or act embarrassed. Nor would I allow her to make me her toy. I had a will and would use it.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  She gestured to the machine. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I turned to regard it. I had a feeling this would be horribly unpleasant, but then, disobeying a direct order would be worse. I approached it and reached out a hand. The foam was comfortable and even the protrusions were softer than I’d thought they would be. Without wasting any more time, I sat on the edge of the table, then lay down. I felt my naked body sink into the foam.

  Dr. Naran walked to her control panel and pressed a button. The top half of the machine closed over me until my body was engulfed. I wondered how I’d breathe. I couldn’t speak. I felt a moment of profound claustrophobia and fought it down. I soon realized I could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. I had once been in a sensory deprivation chamber and it was much like this.

  I seemed to have no trouble breathing, which was something of a relief. Still, I felt anything but relaxed. Then Dr. Naran’s voice entered my mind.

  “Hello, Frank. Ah, good, I see you can hear me. I’m going to run a few tests on you. Primarily responses to different stimuli. I need to know what makes you react and how. Some of this will, no doubt, be painful. At other times you may feel pleasure. Just relax and let yourself go. The more you fight, the longer this session will last.”

  I found myself holding my breath and released it. What seemed like a long time later, I felt the temperature drop. An icy wind passed through my entire body, starting with my toes and working its way up. It was as if someone ha
d decided to pull a sheet of frost over me. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

  It grew hot. Perspiration coated my body. I wanted nothing more than to withdraw from the sensation, but that wasn’t allowed and in fact, after a short while, the heat increased in intensity until I could no longer stand it. My muffled screams didn’t alter the level of pain, but I was powerless to struggle. Even if the machine didn’t hold me in place, it seemed I had no control over my muscles. I mentally writhed in agony, until, many minutes later, the heat faded, leaving me gasping and sobbing.

  For a long time, nothing happened. Then I felt tiny electric shocks touch various portions of my anatomy. My fingers, toes, nipples. Here and there, as if some tiny flying insect were circling my body, irritating me each time it landed. The charges increased in both frequency and power and it was more than just irritation. The back of my neck, behind my left eye, my right knee, my left testicle. The sensation grew more unpleasant, bordering on painful and the intensity continued to increase. Each new shock took me to a higher level of pain, until I thought I would die from it. This time, however, I found I could not scream. I had to lie motionless and endure it. I had no way to measure the passage of time, but I was sure it went on for hours. When it stopped, I was no longer certain I was within the boundaries of sanity.

  I felt my body shudder and felt my cock begin to harden. I didn’t want it to and fought the sensation. It was uncomfortable, considering it was pointing in the wrong direction. I could feel it pushing up into the foam. But as it grew harder, I felt my desire grow as well, until I couldn’t think of anything but release. I found myself gasping for air and uselessly tried to grab my cock. I had never known such desire and when it ended, I wept as I’d never wept before. But this was only the beginning of the torment.

  “I can see your thoughts, Frank. You’re angry with me. You want to hurt me, but you can’t. You’re powerless to do anything against me.”