by SE Chardou
Rory became serious again and his blue-green eyes turned cold, icy. “A relationship that makes you so incredibly unhappy and yet you stay. Is it the money?”
It was my turn to grow distant because I wasn’t angry, not really. “Yes and no. My family is comfortable and I knew all the right people when we were growing up but we weren’t wealthy or even rich. Merely middle-class. My father certainly couldn’t afford the platinum Oyster Rolex you’re wearing on your wrist or a fifty thousand dollar cell phone.”
“My model was slightly more since there were some adjustments made to it but yes, I can see your point. Is money your sole purpose for finding a mate in life? Is that what will make you happy?”
I shook my head reluctantly. “No. I’m not sure I deserve to be happy. I was in love with a man and he wasn’t rich, merely middle-class, just like me. His name was—well, is, because he isn’t dead; rather he’s located in France—Renaud and he’s a brilliant human being, extremely intelligent and we got along and understood one another, you know? Unfortunately, he did need money to make him happy. He left me for an heiress whose family has nothing but class and wealth. I couldn’t stay there, not after they married one another. I guess you can say I was forced to flee here back to my mother’s home country. I could have moved to a different region I suppose but I liked Paris and Versailles. I really couldn’t imagine living anywhere else there so I just left and came to New York.”
“Why don’t you have an accent?”
“I was reared bilingual. I spoke as much French as I did English. My sister and I would often speak in Franglais to annoy people or so people wouldn’t know what we were talking about. It didn’t take much to get a job a CNW and I worked my way from the bottom up by working smarter than any of my colleagues around me. I may be one of the youngest investigative reporters on television at the age of thirty-two but believe me when I say it is well-deserved.”
Rory was silent for a long time before he grabbed the bottle of Cristal and began to leave the kitchen. “Come along. I want to show you something.”
Our friendly banter had ended just like that and all the sudden, the same old fear returned to my frightened body. I knew he wasn’t capable of hurting me like his brother who would have rather enjoyed it so why was I still so nervous around him?
I grabbed my empty champagne flute and followed him albeit reluctantly. We walked together down a long hallway and he turned on a light before he opened a doorway. It led down and I realized with dread it was another basement. It must have been some kind of requirement when he was shopping for various residences around the world.
“What the hell? Does every one of the residences you own have a bondage basement?” I inquired off-handedly.
“Most do but not all. My Lake Las Vegas home has a room similar to this but it is on the third floor where I can assure what ever guest I have and myself privacy. Basements are extremely rare in Southern Nevada for instance—”
“I think that has something to do with all the nuclear testing they did just fifty miles north of the city. They probably aren’t sure how far into the ground it affected so it isn’t something you see out there,” I explained as I looked around in a curious state of anxiety.
“How do you know so much about Nevada?”
I turned suddenly and realized he was standing right behind me. “I lived there for a while in Las Vegas when I first moved back here to the States.”
Rory held up my hand with the champagne flute and refilled it for me. I smiled in reply and took a slight step back.
“That isn’t what you said upstairs.”
I sipped from my Cristal champagne. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to tell you everywhere I have lived here in the States.”
“What did you do in Las Vegas?”
“I worked in the Public Relations Department at Vogue Casino, Hotel and Spa.”
“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you? I find it hard to believe you actually lived and worked in Las Vegas.”
I glared at him. “No, I’m not. I was in the PR Department. Then the recession hit and I was laid off. It was an unneeded position at the time or at least that is what I was told by the manager in Human Resources. I had made good money and I didn’t have any ties because I only rented. I hadn’t bought any property yet so I purchased a one-way ticket to New York.”
“The person in HR, do you remember her name?”
“Yeah, her name was Astrid Schmidt.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd? She laid you off all those years ago and now she’s buying my apartment in New York. Yet…you acted as if you had never heard of her before when she was mentioned last night. Why?”
I laughed out loud. “You should have been a cop if you weren’t so filthy rich. I honestly didn’t put two and two together at the time. I’d just found out my sister was dead. Remember? I wasn’t exactly thinking like a reporter last night and if truth were to be told, I’m not thinking much like one now either. It is considered extremely bad taste to go home with someone you are potentially investigating. You lose credibility big time especially if and when it comes out. It colors the investigation and makes it seem like your story is more a witch hunt than a search for the truth.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
I swallowed the rest of my champagne for liquid courage. “To be honest, I don’t know.”
Chapter Five
RORY STRODE OVER AND TOOK the champagne flute from my hand before he set it on the floor and stood in front of me. I had to look up to him to meet his eyes but I only met them for a short time before he led me to an ottoman and sat me down.
I don’t know if it was the effect from the champagne or if the basement was heated but it felt overly warm and soothing. I was in over my head and we both knew it but I couldn’t begin to fathom what I could possibly do to escape. I was a bit disconcerted Grayson hadn’t bothered to call yet. Wasn’t he worried about me? I was overly vague with my message and I thought he might get the hint something was wrong but I wasn’t saved by the bell or a cell phone call.
He knelt down in front of me and only then did I notice the black cuffs in his hand. They weren’t like the law enforcement issued ones that had been placed on my wrists earlier that night but they were just as foreboding. I didn’t want to be involved in any of this but how far was I willing to go to find out what happened to my sister? How deeply into this depraved world was I willing to enter before I’d had enough and decided it wasn’t worth it? Trésor was dead and no amount of investigation would bring her back but if someone had killed her, I would make him or her pay.
I didn’t say anything as he cuffed my wrists. My hands were placed in my lap but I was more or less helpless at this point. They clicked into place and as if sensing my unanswered question, Rory showed me a formidable looking key. They weren’t play cuffs after all but the real deal and I couldn’t just shrug out of them.
“You can get up now,” he commanded.
“What do you think you are doing? I’m not my sister, you know. Like you told your brother, I’m not some fucking novice and vanilla sex is fine for me. I don’t need extra kinks thrown in to orgasm, you know.”
“Unfortunately, I think you do. However, you are free to go back and tattletale to your fiancé if you like. I’ll send him the video of you getting off at my club. Do you think he would like that as a pleasant email in-box surprise on Monday morning?”
I glared into Rory’s blue-green eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would. Did it ever occur to you my brother was thinking of stealing you for himself? He always wanted Trésor but I was adamant she was mine. Now, here you come along, fresh meat and you’ve never been in the life. Your eyes, they’re so bright and innocent yet you’re also curious and I would like to ease this curiosity for you but you must allow me to do so.”
The tears fell from my eyes before I could stop them. “Please, let me go. I won’t tell and I won’t investigate my sister’s death any further
. I don’t want this and I cannot do this. It would be wrong for this to happen between you and me—we both know I am to marry another man. I don’t want to deal with the deception and I can’t fuck you . . . I just met you.”
Rory wiped my tears with his thumbs before he placed his hands dangerously close to my neck. “You can do anything you set your mind to . . . humans are capable and fascinating creatures. Do you know Claudette?”
I sniffled. “Who?”
“Claudette? The French blonde who ate your pussy tonight at the club . . . no one calls her Claudette anymore as she is only known as ‘slave’ or ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ to Severin. She started off as a bartender in Club X-Tasy and became a little too curious for her own good. I tried to warn her but Seven got to her first and well, you have observed what she is like now.”
“Is she . . . his toilet slave Grayson told me about?”
“No. Alas Severin got rid of her or…rather she killed herself but he doesn’t keep one anymore. He prefers to use the regular kind of lavatory you and I use. He said it was fun for a while but just got too fucking tedious and disgusting. Plus he couldn’t deal with her touching him sexually after he turned her into . . . that . . . so what’s her use if she can’t please him for what he really needs her there for? My brother doesn’t need a toilet slave, he needs a healthy human mind he can fracture and shatter into a million pieces before he puts it back together again in some kind of weird Frankenstein-like way. Right now, he only has Claudette and Hans. You met Hans tonight as well as he serviced you too orally if I remember correctly.”
“You were there the whole time?”
Rory smiled. “Of course. Severin has all kinds of uses but he is better at this than I am. I can admit it because it’s true. He is the one who turned me on to the lifestyle but I am not hardcore like him. I have no use for a dedicated twenty-four hour slave. I like to play games because they’re fun but at the same time, I also like to be . . . normal.”
“Is this what you call normal? Abducting me? Driving me out here to your extravagant Southampton estate against my will? Has any of tonight been normal for you?” I shouted.
He shook his head. “No, this won’t do. You’re going to be a tough one to crack because you aren’t really submissive at all—you just like to act the part.” He leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear, “Sie sind nicht das was Sie zu sein scheinen.”
My breath came harder as he grabbed me by my cuffed hands and stood me to my feet. I watched as he led me to a strange looking piece of leather furniture. It was designed like a plush triangle except he lowered me down in front of the highest part of the triangle and my upper body was forced down at an angle with my cuffed hands laid out straight in front of me.
“What did you say to me?”
He placed a leather blindfold over my eyes and secured it into place. It was the real deal because my world went completely dark and I couldn’t see anything.
“I said you are not what you seem, auf Deutsch of course. Are you uncomfortable yet or just horny?”
“Neither. I am frightened and I want to go home.”
Rory laughed again. I was tired of being the butt of his amusement. “You’re a grown woman. Stop acting like a child or I will have to spank you. I wasn’t planning on indulging in any of those kind of games tonight as it really isn’t my thing.”
“What is your ‘thing’—I mean, what . . . turns you on?”
I felt his hands along the edges of my dress and he pulled it up ever so slowly until it was around my waist.
I tried to think and concentrate on anything other than the sheer humiliation I felt with my backside open and exposed in front of a man who was not Grayson. I was far from prudish but I hadn’t had a one-night stand since my early twenties. I barely knew this man and yet, he touched my body as if we’d known each other forever.
There was a reason why I was considered the classic, serial monogamist. I preferred stable relationships with one partner and the familiarity as long as familiar didn’t turn into stale and stable didn’t turn into predictable. I could stand to be on my own but I preferred being part of couple.
This just seemed perverse. My fiancé at home while another man had his hands on my ass. He pulled my cheeks apart so he could study every inch of the intimate areas between my legs like I was some kind of science project . . . or sex object.
To be honest, I felt like such a tough shit feminist right now, I would rather be thought of as a science project than a sex object. Perhaps this was the reason why I hated to find out Trésor had been involved in this life. She had a brain and she was smart, beautiful, witty, and could have been anything she wanted.
She didn’t have to settle for being some empty-brained catalogue model and some Dom’s submissive just because he looked like a fucking rock star and had enough money to rival Mark Zuckerberg.
She didn’t have to degrade herself like this and succumb to a man for a place to sleep and a casual fuck thrown her way when he felt like it.
My anger surged through my body and made me try to get up but he forced me back down. “So strong and tough but alas, I am stronger than you. Be still or I will hurt you even though I don’t want to.”
The tears tumbled down my eyes but they gathered in the leather blindfold and did not slide down my cheeks. I sniffled and felt my whole body wrack with sobs full of uncontrollable rage and anger now directed at myself because I was too curious to see where this would lead. I wanted him to do what ever he wanted to me although it went against every grain in my body to be dominated or controlled. How dare he think he could do what no other man had done, not even Renaud.
“Shh.” His breath was warm against my cheek and smelled faintly like peppermints and Cristal champagne. “Why do you deny yourself of something we both want to happen? Do you think I chose you at random? I am grieving . . . don’t get me wrong. I am not looking for a mere replacement for your sister and I don’t want one either. But I do want to do this with you because something inside me compels me to understand and know about the very essence of your being.”
“If we . . . do what you want us to do then will you let me go?”
“Of course. I won’t ever contact you again and you probably won’t ever see me again except at Trésor’s funeral and perhaps the odd social function or two. It will be like it never happened but we will both know it did. This will be our little secret.
“We’re just killing time. No safe words because they aren’t needed . . . and no boundaries because you wouldn’t have a clue where yours begin and end. Just boundless pleasure . . . and exquisite pain. I won’t inflict any on you because we both have enough psychological pain between us to keep us sated for the time being, you understand.”
I nodded my head.
“I don’t rape or take advantage of women so now, I must have your permission. You have to agree to allow me to do what ever I want to do to you tonight. Just know I won’t hurt you or leave any bruises on your body what so ever. Grayson will never know another man’s cock or tongue has been anywhere near your body, is that understood. Nod if you understand.”
I reluctantly nodded my head again.
“I don’t want you to speak, do you understand me? You are not to say a word but you are free to grunt and moan and make any kind of noise you like. The basement walls are padded and no one would hear you anyway. The only time you are allowed to open your mouth is to say yes or no to me using your body tonight.”
I nodded again.
“Good. Now that we have that out of the way and before you are not allowed to speak for the duration of the night, do I have your permission? Will you let me truly open your eyes to what you are missing in your tiny world where pleasure is often denied and you feel no relief except what you give yourself? Don’t you want a man to make love and satisfy you in every sense of the word? Don’t you want to be dominated and felt like you are not good enough, not worthy enough but I will allow you to come again and again anyway? By the end of
the night, your pretty eyes will be begging me to make you come another few times before I drive you back to New York and I may or may not take you up on your offer. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ shall suffice.”
My breath came in ragged gasps. I wanted to say no but my lips betrayed me and softly, I whispered, “Yes.”
Chapter Six
Rory
RORY COULDN’T BELIEVE HIS LUCK when she’d said “Yes” to his request.
He knew everything about her because like Aurélie, he liked to be prepared and he insisted on knowing people he slept with because to fuck a casual stranger had lost its appeal ages ago.
She would probably be surprised to find out they were the same age yet his life had been so very different from hers. Not just because of the money but because of his sexual predilections and the people who were part of his world tended to be just as wealthy and depraved as he.
Rory took pride in believing he was better than Severin because he didn’t keep slaves and there were months where the lifestyle merely didn’t suit him at all. He stayed away from the clubs yet at the same time, he’d continue his Dom/sub relationship with Trésor. They got lost in their own world and from the outside, they looked like the perfect vanilla couple but at home, he would dominate her. She trusted his decisions on what she should wear, eat, how they had sex and how many times a night they had sex.
It was all so very ordinary except instead of the clubs, they attended the opera or a Broadway show or the ballet. She loved ballet and wanted to be one because of their mother but alas, her feet were too flat and she would have made an awful ballerina. She loved modern dance too with acts of gymnastics and ballet involved. She was a huge fan of Cirque du Soleil and they never missed a show when he took her on trips to Vegas.
He owned Vogue Hotel, Spa and Casino, therefore it was quite a mind fuck to find out Aurélie had worked for him and he had no idea what so ever. The Casino had been built when he was only twenty-two years old with money his parents’ had given Severin and him just to get them out of the country. They were tired of their two wayward sons who caused them nothing but trouble and payouts due to their wild lifestyles. They thought the twins would be happier in America where they could blend in and find people who were like them. Wealthy men and women who shared their predilections but happened not to move in their parents’ tight-knit circle of friends in the Munich area.
