by Taylor Lee
Bai’s eyes twinkled when he saw she realized where the rings were intended to go.
“These are for my… my breasts? For my nipples?” she asked with a slight stutter.
“Yes, cherie, they are anneux de sein, bosom rings we will put on your beautiful pierced nipples. I want you to be as fashionable as the ladies in France and the rest of Europe.”
He smiled at her perplexed look as she fingered the beautiful rings and he added with a teasing smile, “It is only fair to tell you these anneux de sein are treacherous. I am told that the use of these rings makes one’s breasts even fuller, the nipples more prominent and more sensitive. Indeed you will always be in a state of readiness, constant excitation for my pleasure and, of course, for yours.”
“Hmm, I see. What…what is the chain for?”
He grinned a salacious grin.
“For me to tug on.”
Elena swallowed hard, but her eyes were sparking as she fingered the heavy gold rings with their prominent precious stones, her interest clearly growing.
“What is this one for?” she asked, pointing to the third ring, the eyes glittering with diamonds.
His voice was husky, seductive.
“Spread your legs, cherie, and I will show you.”
“Oh my God, Bai. I…you…you can’t mean it.”
He laid her against the floor and gently separated her swollen folds. He slipped his finger up against the sensitive ridge of skin covering her clitoris and rolled it between his fingers and thumb her soft moans responding to his expert touch.
“See this hood, this cover here? It is the perfect place for a stimulating decoration, oui, cherie?”
Elena’s face was bright red as she looked at the extravagant jewelry, then buried her head in Bai’s shoulder.
“Are you sure…sure it is okay to wear these beautiful rings in those places, especially this one?” she asked tentatively peeking out and pointing to the ring with the diamond eyes.
“Ah, cherie, I promise you, we will both delight in these rings. I will play with them constantly, titillate you and bring you to even more profound orgasms, yes?”
She trembled and buried her face again then surprising him, she giggled.
“What is amusing, cherie?”
She looked up at him, her face flushed with embarrassment, but her eyes were dancing.
“You are right about one thing, Bai. My grandfather and father will not be duplicating this gift!”
He threw back his head and roared.
“You are goddamn right about that, cherie. I am the only one who will decorate your nipples and your luscious pussy with jewels, oui, mon amour?”
He waited for several moments while she considered the rings. Smiling, he held first one then the other against her nipples.
“Look petite, how fancy you will be. Precious stones on even more precious flesh. Mm hmm.”
Putting the clitoral ring up next to her engorged flesh, he added, “And look at this? Think of the hours I will play with these diamonds. This beautiful little nub will no longer be able to hide, cherie. Mais, oui.”
Elena twisted away from his probing, teasing touch, but it was obvious from her sparkling eyes that not only was she intrigued, she was titillated and excited by his scandalous gifts.
“By the way, Elena, Manu said a fierce looking fellow dropped off this box with the other gifts left at the door.”
Elena looked up in surprise when he handed her an elaborate red lacquered box. Painted on the top and sides of the box were elegant scenes of men and women in extraordinary sexual positions that she recognized from her secretive, cursory study of the Kama Sutra. She tried to hide her interest, but the knowing look in Bai’s eyes indicated he likely saw the manual tucked away in her bureau drawer.
Ignoring his grin, she tested the gold keyhole on the side of the box, but it was securely locked. Bai smiled at her and handed her a tiny gold key. It was then that she saw the red garter wrapped around the box.
She felt the heat light her face and she was embarrassed that her hands were shaking. She tried to act calm, nonchalant.
“Ahh, this is from the warlord? The one with the wicked proclivities?”
“Hmm. Yes, I believe so. It seems you did catch his eye. Perhaps it was the red shoes, oui, cherie?”
She grinned and slipped off the garter and held it to her nose.
“It smells like…like me and like you.”
Bai took it from her and sniffed it.
“Ah, so it does. A most erotic smell. Wicked.”
Elena took the tiny key and opened the box. Bai saw her eyes widen with surprise, then a little frown crossed her face, quickly followed by a flush of red flooding her face and neck. She gasped and stuttered; her voice shook.
“Oh, you were right, Bai. The warlord is a…very wicked man…dangerous.”
Inside the box she saw a set of red and black velvet wrist and ankle cuffs with long black silk ties and a matching silk blindfold. Nestled beside the restraints was what at first looked to be a riding crop. A second look confirmed it had a more specific, less innocent purpose. She reached inside the box and took out the fancy crop. It had an intricately carved leather handle and an unusual design. The flogging end of the shaft had thin leather tails but underneath the striking strips were feathers. She stared at the crop for a long moment anxiously biting her lower lip. When she looked up at Bai, she saw the soft smile on his face and wicked twinkle in his eyes.
“Ah, cherie. Don’t be afraid. Feel how soft these feathers are? They whisper sweet words of love to your tender skin.”
He pulled the leather tails back to reveal the nest of feathers and dusted them across the inside of her knee and along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. She trembled and gasped at the erotic touch. Then with an audible snap, he flicked the leather tails sharply across her thighs. She jumped and cried out more in surprise than pain.
Rubbing the pink mark to take away the sting, he ran his fingers over the leather tails and didn’t hide the gleam in his eyes.
“You see, cherie, what a remarkable device this is? The loving touch of the downy feathers or, in contrast, the sting of the leather. Sharp, yes, but still soft, not hurtful in the hands of an expert, oui, mon petite putain?”
Elena tried to cover her nervousness but couldn’t. Neither could she hide the excitement quivering in her groin or the telltale flood of moisture between her legs. Seeing the look in his eyes and his knowing grin at the dampness on her thighs, she knew that Bai understood all too well her conflicting emotions.
Doing her best to take charge of the situation, Elena held up the velvet wrist and ankle cuffs with the long silk ties and asked with a dismissive snort, “And these? These are necessary for the big strong warlord to control his prisoner?”
Bai chuckled, a low rumbling sound.
“Ah, only when necessary, mon amour. As long as his putain behaves, is not naughty or wicked, he won’t need to restrain her. But you of all people know how naughty my petite putain is. So, yes, on occasion these will be necessary. Not to capture or hurt, but to hold her still while I show her what happens to naughty, wicked little girls when they don’t behave.”
Bai put the whip and restraints back in the lacquer box, locked it, and pushed it to the side. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
“We will put this away for tonight, ma petite. You have been a surprisingly good girl today and the warlord’s devices won’t be necessary.”
He walked over to the bed and tossed several large pillows on the floor in front of the fire, then reached for a bottle of champagne.
He lay down beside her and propped himself up on one elbow. Seeing the uncertain look on her face, he ran his fingers teasingly over her chin, then pinched the corner of her lip and smiled at her soft groan.
“Non, non, Elena. No whips tonight. Instead I am going to bathe you in champagne and lick every drop of it off you – beginning with your lovely feet.”
He poured a
glass of champagne, then dipped her toes in the glass. Smiling at her ticklish protests, he sucked off each of her toes and then trickled the bubbly liquid over her feet and legs and began to lick it off in noisy, greedy gulps ignoring her heated reaction. Working his way up her long slender legs he bent her knees and whispered, “Spread your legs, cherie — open wide, for me.”
She moaned and did as he said only to have him separate her puffy lips and pour a cloud of bubbly liquid in her slit.
She shrieked pulling back against the scorching chill of the sparkling liquid assaulting her tender flesh. Laughing with delight at her tortured reaction, Bai held her hips steady between his hands and took long succulent licks up the sides of her slit, then with a passionate groan buried his tongue deep inside, hungrily sipping the alcoholic nectar mixed with her exotic juices.
He ignored her protests and stopped to rest only after he had tasted her breasts, her nipples, the sensitive divot of her navel. Then he flipped her over to pour the bubbly liquid between the cheeks of her ass and languidly licked her dry.
He laid back against the pillows his eyes dark with momentarily sated lust, a mix of pungent liquids on his lips and tongue. She pulled herself up against him and struggled to quiet the shivering heat of her desire. Riveted by his long muscular torso, expert hands and mouth and stunning erection, she snatched the bottle of champagne he was holding loosely in one hand.
“What about you, Bai? I think you need to be bathed, as well. May I pour champagne over your chest; lick it off your nipples? Pour this between your toes? In this place where your thighs meet your butt? May I dip your cock in champagne and suck it off? Drizzle icy bubbles over your balls and taste the sparkling sweetness?”
Bai rolled over and pulled her on top of him, as his cock reared to attention.
“I have never been one to refuse sensory experiences of any kind, cherie. Perhaps that is just what my throbbing cock needs to cool it down--champagne and your luscious mouth.”
For over an hour they drizzled, licked and sipped a mix of stimulating flavors off each others bodies. Shrieking with laughter and shouts of passion, they assaulted one outrageous place after another passionately, tenderly, fiercely, until they lay exhausted with spent fervor.
Bai rose up his muscular body streaked with the residue of drying alcohol, trickles of semen and her erotic juices. He went to the bathroom and filled their bathtub with decadent oils and soapy bubbles. He walked back to the bedroom and smiled down at Elena lying in front of the hearth, the warmth of the fire casting a rosy glow on her satiated body.
“Come, mon amour. As much as I enjoyed your talented tongue and would never challenge your efficiency in licking me off, I think we both need a bath.”
She lay between his thighs and rested her head back against his shoulder. Sinking beneath the warm fragrant bubbles, she sighed a long languorous sigh.
“Mmm, oh my God, this feels so good. You feel so good. I love you Bai. More than anything in the world, more than I dreamed it was possible to love someone. And now, now you are my husband.”
She nestled against him her fingers, tangled in the short hairs on his chest. She began to doze, drift off to sleep when she felt his arousal against her hip.
She raised a lazy eyelid to see him holding his engorged cock in his hand. She smiled watching with interest as he tugged on the burgeoning shaft, making it even harder, stretching the foreskin up and down with practiced strokes.
Elena giggled, her eyes twinkling.
“Hmm, I think you like him a lot.”
“Ah, I do. Because of the pleasure he gives you. And, not incidentally, the pleasure he gives me.
“I’ve been thinking, cherie, you are going to be very fancy. Perhaps you need one more gift.”
He handed her a small velvet pouch he had placed on the edge of the tub.
Elena loosened the drawstring tie and removed a large gold ring with a wolf’s head and glittering topaz eyes.
“Oh, how gorgeous! What beautiful stones. But, good God, Bai, where does this one go? In my nose?”
He roared.
“Even I would not be titillated tugging on the end of your nose, amie. Non, cherie. This is a ring for a much more erotic place than your beautiful nostrils.”
“But it is big; too big for me. Where does it go, Bai?”
He grinned and pulled his cock out of the water and eased back the foreskin revealing the sensitive glans. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“If a Prince of England can pierce his cock and, from all reports, Albert kept Queen Victoria in a state of constant bliss, it is the least I can do for you, ma petite.”
Elena sat up in the tub shaking off her languor. She pushed his hands away and took his hard, engorged staff between both of her hands. She ignored his aroused hiss, his quivering thighs and raspy breaths. She examined his cock with a connoisseur’s undisguised interest. Bai thought with a delicious shudder that all she needed was a jeweler’s loupe to better assess the caret weight of the precious stones as she measured the ring against the engorged end of his weeping prick.
With a saucy grin and toss of her head, she gave a satisfied nod.
“When will these piercings take place?”
He groaned and then growled a low animal sound.
“Soon, cherie, very soon.”
~~
Chapter 22
“You need to understand. This isn’t only about killing Aldo Marcello. I want him crucified. Shamed. I want him to die reviled by the Costa Nostra. And I want him to go to his grave knowing the world sees him as the cowardly bastard he is.”
Wyatt and Nianzu nodded. Both understood and agreed with Bai’s intense command. They spent the morning analyzing Tom’s report. Tom Caldwell had been Wyatt’s impresario on the East Coast for twenty years and in the last three years earned Bai’s trust, as well. No one knew the political and financial kingpins like Tom did. He was one of them. Over the past twenty years, he had charmed his way into the backrooms of every political discussion and there wasn’t a soul more in the know when it came to political and financial chicaneries than Tom Caldwell. And no one outside of a very select circle knew his employers were the Wyoming governor and moneyman and now, the Frenchman.
Bai ordered Tom to give them everything he could find on Marcello’s operation. Bai wanted to take him down in a spectacular way – a way that would most dishonor Aldo. To his delight, Tom seemed to have found the perfect opportunity. According to Tom’s informants, Aldo had created a lucrative side business. Through sheer force of will and a healthy dose of terror, Marcello had set himself up as the prime money launderer for the smaller gangs on the East Coast. Once a month, like naive cattle entering the killing chutes at a rendering plant, the gang leaders lined up to give Marcello’s men their monthly earnings. For a cut, Aldo ran their killings through his banking cronies and turned dirty money to sweet smelling enterprises. The operation became so successful that it earned Aldo three times what his gang made on their every day vices. It also made Aldo the richest and most feared leader among the East Coast gangs.
“According to Tom,” Nianzu said with amazement, “every fourth Friday, Marcello rakes in over half a million dollars in earnings from more than fifty East Coast gangs. Christ, his cut alone is a couple hundred thousand. That is just one month’s take. The rest of the suckers get about a third of their earnings back in laundered money.”
Wyatt gave an appreciative grunt.
“Goddamn, you have to acknowledge the gall and the brilliance, even if that son of a bitch conceived of it. Of course, it helps that more than half the cops in New York are dirty and turn a blind eye to what they know is happening.”
Bai’s eyes narrowed. He leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag off his Turkish cigarette.
“Indeed, which will make it all the sweeter when we take it down. According to Tom, this month’s booty will include the jewels that were stolen from the Boston Museum three months ago. Apparently, money isn’t the only thing Ald
o launders.”
For the next several hours, the three men created an audacious plan to cripple the money laundering enterprise, knowing that the loss of one month’s take would bring the wrath of fifty gangs down on Marcello, stripping away his mask of invincibility.
As they were about to wind up their discussion, Bai referred to the second element of Tom’s report.
“Tom is convinced that the political mastermind for Marcello’s operation is here in California. As surprising as that seems, he may be right. Someone is spearheading the political enterprise. The smart, unexpected move would be to have that person on the West Coast--away from the incestuous cesspool of Washington and New York. I just have a hard time believing that Governor Sampson is the lynchpin and we sure as hell know Martin Quince is barely smart enough to wipe his own ass.”
Wyatt puffed on his cigar and added with a frown.
“I agree, Bai. I’ve known Brad Sampson for fifteen years, even before I was governor of Wyoming. Brad is as political as they come. He cuts a lot of corners and no one is better than he is at raking in the political dough, but this kind of crap? I just don’t know if Brad’s up to it. I’d be more inclined to think of one of the other possible lynchpins that Tom mentioned, Louie Sinclair, our esteemed United States senator, for one.”
“Well, he certainly fits the profile better,” Bai agreed with a thoughtful nod. “If ever there was a dishonorable son of a bitch, it’s Louie. He’s bought every position he’s had so, yes, he is a real possibility. Again, it strikes me that someone has to be fucking smart to pull this off and, although Louie is as corrupt as they come, I don’t know if he is smart enough, subtle enough. At heart he is a showman, always looking for the public accolades, not the behind the scenes operator this requires. We sure as hell know it can’t be Martin. So yes, if it isn’t the governor, it could be Louie Sinclair. Let’s put some eyes on him. I know Tom is watching him in Washington. Let’s see what we can find out here in California.
