by Savannah May
“Very good, that's what I wanted to hear.”
Finally satisfied, he lifted me up in one easy move in his powerful arms. For a moment I though he was going to wrap his hand around my head and pull my mouth down on his. But he lowered me back to my knees on the floor beside him. I kept my eyes down, knowing better than to rebel again right now. I heard the desk drawer open and close again. My hands were at my sides, keeping some balance for my wavering body. He clasped one hand and roughly shackled the wrist into a cuff, then the other so my arms were bound tightly behind my back.
“You will keep the clamp on that wet pussy but you may take me in your mouth.”
Tantalizingly, he pushed the other lacy cup of my bra down with his fingers, my skin prickled under his touch as he exposed the other full tit. His eyes roamed across my peaks and when I caught the admiration and hunger in those dark pools, my pussy flooded and gripped deeper, knowing I was sexy for him and he wanted me.
I was eager to see his cock and tease my tongue along its length but oh boy, I wasn't at all prepared when he pulled the zipper of his black jeans down and released a stunningly proportioned pole of iron flesh.
It waved in front of my face with a masculine aroma of musky wood and I reached out my tongue to lap the glistening morsel on its tip.
Hmmm. He tasted salty sweet and I was ready to take his cock all the way up to the hilt. I was proud that I didn't gag, not noticeably anyway as I closed my deep throat and swirled my palette across the underside of the gorgeous shaft. Valentine daggered his fingers sensuously through my thick hair, fisting it at the back of my scalp, partly keeping me upright on my knees, partly to grind my throat down onto his resilient head.
With every thrust I rotated my jaw slightly to give a circular friction on the crown. I was deeply gratified when he clenched and unloaded a stream down the back of my throat. I downed every drop then laid my head in his thigh nest, keeping his softening cock in my firm but gentle oral hold until it slipped away.
Even flaccid, Valentine's dick was stunning and I leaned forward again to run my tongue along the length of the underside adoringly but he yanked my head back and shoved himself into the confines of his pants as though scorched by my affection.
“You did a very good job, Ms Cannon,” he barked. “They don't call you A/C for nothing. Now let's get to work.”
My mind exploded into questions and confusion. Josh had started calling me A/C- my initials- but using the nickname in reference to the heat he said needed cooling when he was with me. Others in the office or our friends had used the moniker too, but no one else. Where had Valentine picked up my nickname?
I sat through our design meeting after I'd awkwardly crawled to my chair on my knees. The handcuffs remained in place so my arms were pinned behind my back, thrusting my exposed breasts straight out to Valentine who seemed to relish looking up from his desk and seeing me naked.
The clamp remained on my clit, my drenched underwear pushed to the side of it. It was an exceptionally uncomfortable discussion, mostly because I endured it in a state of thirsty pining coupled with the doubts rushing through my mind.
I was almost bereft to discover that I wasn't required for dinner that night. To be begging for more after being so irate about the treatment Valentine had inflicted. I realized I longed just to be near him, where there was always the possibility that he would turn his incandescent attention to me.
I ate mostly in my room and imagined him at the dining table with Delilah, enjoying her more voluptuous rack for dessert. Three days and three dinners passed without the smallest glimpse of Valentine nor any word from Josh. What the goddamn fuck? And still so many unanswered questions racketed around my befuddled brain.
After a lonely walk around the grounds, I came back to my room and discovered a black package on my pillow, tied with a large black silk bow. I pulled off the paper and opened the box to discover a Rotonde de Cartier- a watch worth more than a hundred thousand dollars. Was he insane? I couldn’t be bought with over-priced trinkets like this.
The card inside the box read:
So you won't be late for any more meetings. Best. Valentine.
I couldn’t work the guy out at all. Even for a billionaire, wasn’t this a gift you only gave to a beloved girlfriend? Still I saw nothing of my enigmatic boss until at lunch in crew quarters, we all watched the helicopter take off with Valentine and his personal assistant. Again my insides recoiled with the thought that he took the ice dominatrix with him everywhere.
The guys from bottling and labeling always joked about malolactic fermentation, with raunchy reference to Delilah's incredible mounds. So needing companions at the end of the day, I went down to the cave to join some convivial company.
Following the same route through the barrel rooms, I ran smack into the wine-maker, Marc Chapelle, and my face colored lurid burgundy red. I could never lose the memory of him plundering my pussy at thirty thousand feet. The flare between my legs when the older good-looking Frenchie greeted me and offered me a sample of the latest bottling, informed me that I was horny as hell and still attracted to Marc. If Valentine was done with me, there was no reason I had to become a nun.
“So we meet again at last, Andie,” he said in a delectable voice of Sahara sand, pronouncing my name Un-deee.
“I 'ave missed you.” The word came out as 'meeeced'.
“Really?” I said with a pout. “Only last time we were together it seemed like you barely noticed me.”
“Ah. Yes. We 'ave an employer who does not like the things upset from his way.”
“But we don't have to live under his control,” I said.
I moved to a barrel and poured another measure from the tap. “Or do we?” Seeing a flicker of interest cross Marc's handsome visage.
“It's not about control,” he replied, taking the cup from me and sharing the tasting while ravaging me with molten eyes. “Each of us has our own power to explore within the relationship.”
We stood gazing at each other while I considered his statement. I'd made the error of assuming I was just a submissive pleasure slave to a master, but Marc was right. There was a balance of authoritative dominion between master and slave. Everything he inflicted was what I craved and he needed to be the one serving that up for me. I was so absorbed with working out the complicated relationship I had fallen into that I didn't hear the master come through the door to the cellar.
“Marc, Ms Cannon, here I find you both, no doubt discussing malolactic fermentation,” Valentine said, dangerously low. “I wanted to tell you we will have dinner together at eight.”
Before either of us could reply, Delilah strode into the cave.
“I have your call to Rome now if you'll follow me,” she announced.
I noticed she never called him sir, although she did fall back for once and allow him to proceed from the room before her.
I looked at Marc who seemed devastated at their disappearance together. When he saw me gazing at him he forced a grin, with a very Mediterranean shrug. I moved slowly toward the older man, wrapping my fingers around the back of his neck so my full breasts were beguiling against his firm chest. My body craved a man's touch and I looked at Marc with a gaze that pleaded to be filled again.
With a tiny tug I brought his mouth down over mine and he grasped my hips, hauling my pelvis into his stirring cock. Moaning under the strength of his tongue swirling around mine, raking and enticing, I pressed my lower half into him, trying to urge his fingers under my skirt to pry a thundering release from my lips at last.
The relief of my withheld orgasm would also discharge the sense I held that Valentine thought he owned me. I was nobody's property. His powerful fingers lifted me inches from the ground to ride my mound the length of his now iron rod dick and I moaned again with a plea to have it naked inside me.
For a moment I was sure Marc was about to comply. Then his hands released me, trailed up my torso, over my engorged tits to enfold around the sides of my face.
&nb
sp; “Power,” he said, pronouncing the word as 'Pow-ah'. With a last sweet kiss of his full malleable lips over mine, he disentangled and went back to his barrels.
13
I wasn't sure what to wear to dinner that night so decided on power-dressing, in classic black pants with a black satin halter, plunging to the waistband and towering Louboutin heels. I pulled my hair up in a chignon, tight as Delilah's. Valentine eyed me with interest when I entered the Red Room.
“Good evening, Ms Cannon. You look quite stunning.”
“Thank you,” I almost stuttered at the shock of the compliment. I barely managed to hold back the retort that he looked damn fine himself, in a dark gray polo neck that accentuated that burly chest.
“Marc is unable to join us after all, so the evening will belong to just us two.”
Valentine pushed in my chair, his musky hot breath on the back of my neck. All very professional and chivalrous – back to business then? He poured a Zinfandel into the oversize Riedel glasses, sublime full juice to my maturing palette. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”
“Will you ever allow me to touch you?” I blurted out immediately the one question that was a constant irritant.
He'd meant regarding the wine but showed no surprise other than a small smile at my abrupt challenge.
“What sort of touch do you want?” he asked.
“Misdirection, your honor. You should have been a lawyer.”
“Oh no, I involve myself as little as possible with those criminals. I only mean there are so many types of touch.”
“And you don't allow any, not from me at least.”
With Valentine I didn’t pout and mewl like I did with Marc. With him I was an equal sparring partner even if he was the boss. Valentine reached a hand to cup the back of my head and pull me gently onto his mouth. My own was already open in shock as his tongue crashed into mine, swirling and gathering in the most intense connection I'd ever known.
He pulled the pins from my updo so my long dark hair came tumbling down. The other hand cupped my cheek so both palms clasped my head to him in an intimate hold.
I would gladly have buried myself in his delicious strong grasp for always, as we held our mouths in an intimate embrace and his tongue plunged into me, expertly grinding like a cock in my pussy. Eventually he released me, withdrew his tongue and pressed his lips back into order. I was still floating back down from the heavens when he returned to business.
“I have to ask one question before we go any further,” he said.
“Fire away.”
I accepted a refill glass from Manuel who had appeared with the appetizers of duck rilettes.
“Did you fuck Josh Perrine and if so how frequently?”
“Fuck you,” I said before I thought to repress my mouth. “You don't get to ask about my past personal life.”
I bucked against being owned by any man despite my desire to be dominated. “Tell me- do you or have you ever fucked your secretary?” I demanded.
Valentine grinned widely and his eyes sparkled.
“Misdirection, Ms Cannon?”
I stared him down.
“Not in that way,” he surrendered to giving me a response.
“Really? Because she seems to have a very proprietary hold over you.”
“As is her dominant nature. So it's true to say you've formed an attachment to Josh Perrine?” His smile said he was enjoying my pushback to his challenge.
“We were dating, are- dating. Of course we have an attachment.”
Or did we? After the most recent Facetime, I had serious doubts.
“I see. Because when I told him to hire you, I did not expect him to make you fall in love with him. That was out of bounds.”
“You – told him – to-”
“Yes. You know already that I had you tested. When I selected you for this assignment, I had to make sure you were who I thought I saw.”
“You knew me- before?”
“Andie, I saw you at the Pritzkers – the architectural awards gala – right before the competition to design the winery was announced.”
It was the first time he'd ever said my name.
“Just watching you that night talking and laughing, stirred a feeling in me that I have been searching for a very long time- perhaps my whole life. For you, I created this project. I saw you and knew we were meant to play out our, oh, destiny is such a cliched word.”
Valentine took my hand and sandwiched it between his two powerful palms, while the nonchalant waiter removed the plates. He added; “I much prefer feeling to speaking.”
“You reeled me in and used Josh to train me?”
My impulse to pull my hand out of his was thwarted by numbing shock.
“Test you. You would have been gravely insulted in the unlikely event I had been incorrect in my assessment.”
“And you think I'm not gravely insulted now? I cannot. Fucking. Believe this.”
Outrage didn't even graze the edge of describing it. Valentine was right, words were not equal to the task of expressing a feeling.
“And was Marc Chapelle a test also?” I asked, watching as Valentine's eyes hardened to black steel.
“What did Marc do that would have tested you?” he murmured dangerously.
“The plane, um, I mean dungeon.”
Too late, I realized that Valentine knew nothing about Marc's animalistic invasion of my pussy, in full public view as we flew across the States. Ha- that let him know he wasn't in charge of all the pawns in his castle.
“I think now is the time for us to descend to the underworld,” he whispered darkly. “Manuel, tell Monsieur Chapelle his presence is required in the cave. Immediately.”
“You're shaking quite visibly, Ms Cannon,” Valentine said as he moved behind my chair, slinky as a jewel thief, while I sat motionless at the dining table.
I noted that after using my first name during our intimate dinner, he'd now returned to full-on formality. I guess he was actually pissed. Which would mean punishment.
“I'm sorry, sir. I can't make it stop,” I whispered, hoping he wouldn't think I was a little pussy.
Although maybe he liked to see me tremble before his power and that would raise his affection level a notch. No, he'd surely punish me harder for being a wimp-erer. Valentine remained eerily silent, standing close to the back of my chair. I didn't dare glance behind and hairs stood up on the back of my neck exposed neck. I was required to wait patiently for whatever he decided to do with me, surrendering my need for self-determination completely to him.
But just one cotton-frickin' minute- I'd completely forgotten that I was freaking furious with Valentine, with Josh, Marc, with all three of the men who were using me as a toy. Two minutes ago I was ripping him apart for having my boyfriend test me as a sub and already I was back under his spell. Because magical sleight of hand it was and there was nothing I could do to release myself from my employer's enigmatic control.
I didn't have to wait long before hearing the soft click of the spring lock jump back and feel Valentine's fingers graze my tingling neck as he placed the gold choke collar and engaged the restraint.
Holyfreakingfuck, was he going to make me crawl on my knees all the way to the dungeon? If so, I'd be ripped to shreds by the time we got there- emotionally as well as physically. Valentine trailed his firm fingers down the side of my neck, until my pores quivered from his touch. He moved across the front of my shoulders and over the tops of my soft mounds, to cup them in his hands and squeeze in the most sensual kneading I've ever received.
I shut my eyes and let the pleasure flow through every cell of my being, fully aware of the intense confidence behind his firm grip. He stretched forward a little further until I felt his hot breath on my neck around the edges of the metal collar. When he crossed his hands one over other and inserted his fingers into the edge of the fabric of my plunge neck halter, pressing a trail across my erect breasts and finally pulling the nipples into his grip, my shivers intensified.
The twist of each peak between his thumb and forefingers made me gasp out loud and he rested his cheek, if only for a moment, against the sensitive side of my neck and the metal. I was still reeling, made super sensitive from the deeply intimate kiss he'd given me before I made the stupid mistake of telling him about Marc and I.
At last, in response to me asking whether he'd ever touch me, there had been that tantalizing connection to his mouth. Now his caressing firm grasp of my breasts was completely arousing. My mind whirled like a fairground ride as I tried to picture what type of special and unusual punishment he had in mind for me this evening.
“It should be Marc you punish, not me.” I'd almost blurted out when Valentine first discovered our transgression on the plane.
After all, the Frenchman had led my seduction into the Mile High Club without me having a clue I was going to have to work with him every day. Up until that moment, I'd assumed our encounter was a genuine coincidence. That he'd been beset with lewd desire, observing me fingering my agonized pussy for relief after Josh's spanking and clamping.
But it occurred to me now, that maybe Marc had somehow been aware of my identity all along and had taken me in order to maintain some hold over me during our time at the Chateau Valentine winery. There was a lot more to Monsieur Chapelle than was apparent on his charming surface.
Of course, I said nothing. I'd already dropped Marc and I into a boiling vat of punishment by letting Valentine know that he'd 'tested' me. But from the quivering deep inside my pussy and the tugs on my clit, I knew I wanted the punishment to be all mine. And then I made another stupid mistake. Overtaken by emotion, I reached one hand up to wrap around Jay Valentine's thick forearm. He jolted as though my breasts were on fire- which in a way they were- and had singed his fingertips.
The moment shattered and he violently dragged his hands out of the fabric and attached the chain to the collar. I now saw that it too was solid gold, as he tossed it casually over his shoulder and sauntered to the door. He opened it and went out into the passage, forcing me to leap up and follow behind before the slack came up and pulled me to the ground.
