by Eden Myles
“Would you like another child?” he asked very seriously, his eyes rolling up to find me. “Evelyn?”
I thought about that. “Yes. Maybe later tonight we can…”
“Not tonight, Evelyn. Now.”
My heart started banging against my ribs when he moved his face down so he could kiss the softness of the fur at my groin. He gripped me hard at the hips and breathed me in, then darted his tongue out fast and hard. His tongue scraped across my clit and the wet, teasing little touch made me tremble in his grip. It sent little spikes of frightening pleasure racing up my body, along my spine, and right into my brain. I threw my head back and nearly cried out at the feel of him there, licking me, tasting me, driving his tongue like a little flame deep inside me. I didn’t want this right now. The timing was all wrong...our guests were scheduled to be here any minute…yet I was helpless…
“Open your legs, Evelyn.”
“No,” I told him. I pressed my knees together defiantly.
He stood up and looked at me with displeasure. He grabbed a hank of my hair and pulled my head back. He used his other hand to pry my legs apart. I resisted the pressure. I would not give in so easily. He was being a tyrant.
“It’s like I taught you nothing, Evelyn,” he growled, sliding his knee between my legs to keep me from completely closing myself to him. “I am still your gentleman. You are still my courtesan. You’ll open your legs to me now.” He forced my legs apart and his hand found me, three of his fingers teasing my wetness before penetrating me hard and fast. His fingers moved deep into the heat of my cunt so I nearly convulsed around them. I thrust against his invasion, whimpering and begging shamelessly as he pressed inward, widening me and preparing me for what was to come.
He waited to see if I would use our safe word, if I would end our play. I didn’t.
“Who are you, Evelyn?” he demanded.
“Your…your courtesan…” I managed to mumble around the pearls in my teeth.
“Evelyn…”
“Your courtesan…sir.”
“Tell me your desires, my courtesan. Tell me what you want more than anything in this world.”
I tried to think. It was nearly impossible with the way he was fucking me, making me thrash and dance to his rhythm. “I want…I want to serve my gentleman’s needs.”
“When do you want to serve your gentleman’s needs?”
His touch was driving me mad. “Anytime he calls on me, sir.”
“Have you ever come for anyone like you’ve come for me?”
“Never,” I said, and then added, “sir.”
“Do you want me to fuck you, little cat in heat?”
“Very much, sir.”
He dropped to his knees, bent one of my legs at the knee, and rested the heel of my shoe against his shoulder. He kissed and licked at my cunny. He wet my outer labia and then blew them dry. He sucked at my clit, his teeth grazing me, bringing my pleasure to the knife-edge of pain until I bucked and nearly screamed for release. He finally let me come, and I shuddered and jerked spastically in my bonds like some puppet on a string. He let me go and watched me sag, falling as far as I was able to while still hanging suspended from a hook in the ceiling. My heart was ticking along like a clock in my chest and the wetness of my release trickled down my legs. I watched him bring his fingers to his lips and taste my cream. Then he removed the pearls from my mouth, grabbed me by the hair, and forced me to suck off his fingers, shoving them deep into my mouth.
The fierceness of his ice blue eyes pinned me. “If you weren’t tied up, I’d make you suck my cock, Evelyn. I’d fuck that beautiful mouth of yours until you understood your place better. Then I’d fuck that pretty cunny of yours and make you lick me clean.” His gripped my hair, jerking my head back until I groaned with the sensation. “Would you like that, Evelyn? Would you like to suck my cock like the good little courtesan you are?”
I hadn’t seen him like this in years, and my breath caught in my throat even as my cunt dampened further at his words. It occurred to me that everyone I knew outside of the Dollhouse had been married and divorced several times over. Clarissa was onto her third husband now. She wondered what made our relationship tick, what made us so unbreakable, why it seemed we could never get enough of each other, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. I would never tell her about Ian and the Dollhouse and my job as his courtesan. “I would be happy to suck your cock, sir,” I said.
“Would you?”
“Very much, sir.” I even licked my lips for him.
“Who are you, Evelyn? What is your name, your title?”
I didn’t say lover, confident, mother, wife—though I knew all those things to be true. I wasn’t that right now. I said, instead, “My name is Evelyn Sterling. I am the professional courtesan to Mr. Ian Sterling.”
He smiled, then. It was a very predatory smile. “Quite right.”
He undid his trousers so his cock lay fat and huge against his belly. He let me see him. He let me tremble with fear and anticipation. Then he held me against the wall so I could feel his heat and trembling power pressing into me, subduing me. “I want you, Evelyn. Now,” he said.
I knew we had scant minutes before we were discovered. I knew it was almost too late. Yet I didn’t care. I knew that servicing my gentleman’s needs was my most important function right now.
He rubbed himself against my seeping opening, then slammed himself inside of me. I struggled to try and adjust to the enormous fullness of him, but he didn’t give me time. He immediately started fucking me hard against the brick wall, each well-timed thrust lifting me up off my feet briefly before pushing my back up the roughness of the bricks and making me cry out. He held my gaze. He fucked me like the courtesan I was so I thought I should cry out at the pain and suddenness of it all, but he knew my body. He knew how to go right to the end of me and pull back before he really hurt me. He thrust, then withdrew, then thrust again, sharper, faster than before, each shuddering impact making me grunt and clutch compulsively at my binds and cry out for him. I fought and thrashed, but in my present situation, all I could do was endure the enormous power of his cock slamming into my cunt over and over.
Finally, he thrust one last time, inclined his head, and bit my shoulder. I immediately stiffened at the fierceness of the bite. All the fight went out of my body. He groaned with satisfaction. He knew the moment his teeth went into me I would stop fighting. All I could do was make helpless mewling noise and wrap my legs around his waist as he held me against the wall and shuddered and came deep inside me, jerking and twitching. My cunt immediately responded by tightening down around him, milking him of every last drop. He put his hands up on the wall to both sides of me and adjusted his weight so he was holding me against the wall with just the front of his body. He didn’t immediately pull out. He loved filling me and then forcing me to hold him deep inside my body for as long as possible.
He kissed me, sucking my tongue deep into his mouth. He licked my lipstick off my lips, the deep red Cherry Jubilee I had applied, a color he had created just for me.
“Please, sir,” I said in between kisses. The scarf was starting to cut into my wrists. “We can’t stay like this.”
“I love the feel of you, Evelyn,” he told me, his voice soft and hoarse and hot against my lips. He was in that reverie again, where nothing in the world existed except for his love and lust for me. “I love mating with you, knowing I’ve filled you. That you’re mine. That we will always be together. I love imagining we’ve begun a new life between us.”
The ushers threw the doors open in the gallery and our guest began filing in. I deliberately looked away from them. I looked only at him, at Mr. Sterling. I wondered what we must look like to everyone—Ian Sterling sexing his bound wife against a brick wall while our collective wetness slowly trickled down my legs.
“Ian…” I began softly.
“Hush, my dove,” he said. It took me a moment to realize I could feel the terrible fullness of him growing inside me once more. It was beginning all over again…
“Ian, no…” I began, but he’d already anchored himself against the wall with me impaled upon his greatly engorged cock, and there was nowhere for me to go. There was no way for me to fight him. He began moving again, slowly at first, little thrusts inside me that gradually built and built toward those immensely powerful impacts I knew him for. In no time at all he was fucking me shamelessly against the bricks again, in plain sight of everyone in the gallery, making me grunt and scream and clutch madly at my binds. He groaned against my throat as he rutted with me, burying himself deep inside all my soreness and wet heat. And then, finally, he came inside me a second time. Finally, he was done.
He pulled out of me and kissed me, touching my face with his fingertips, murmuring his sweetly perverse promises to me even as his seed spilled down the legs. I tried to avoid looking at the terrible scene of all those society people gathered around us, watching us. These were people I could never look in the eye again.
But Ian took my chin and brought my face around so I was looking at him and only him. “Only we matter, my dove,” he said. “You and me and our children.” He stepped back, leaving me bound and thoroughly ravished, and hanging in clear sight of everyone in the room.
I recognized Devon immediately, and Malcolm beside him, holding hands, their wedding rings touching. I recognized the other gentleman and their courtesans from the Dollhouse. They watched me with great, nodding approval. They were huge fans of Ian Sterling’s creative endeavors. “I don’t understand,” I said, sounding hoarse even to myself. “Where are the others?”
Ian smiled as he fixed my hair and dress so I was more openly on display to everyone. “Ah, well, that showing is an hour, my dove. This showing is for Dollhouse members only. And you are my great art.” He grinned at me wolfishly.
And left me hanging there for the next hour.
About the Author
Eden Myles lives in the rural northeast with her family and two demanding cats. She is a former temp just like Evie Christopoulos, but never had the adventures Evie had with Mr. Sterling, much to her chagrin. To see all of her titles, visit http://courtesanpress.wordpress.com.
