He had told her about all this. No one wore clothes in Le Maître’s room, except for Le Maître, if he wished it. Kelsey knew she had nothing to be ashamed of in her body. She was used to using it, showing it off. But somehow, standing there naked with Theo beside her, she felt like covering up. Theo shook his head and pushed her hands down to her sides.
“Be open to him,” he said. “Obey him. Please him. Think about nothing else.”
With those blunt and cryptic words, he pushed the door open and they entered a concrete dungeon. There were blue and white lights casting an eerie day/night pall in the room. There were naked bodies everywhere. Naked servers bringing drinks, naked spectators sitting at tables, and the main attraction--Le Maître sitting on a massive chair that looked suspiciously like a throne, with his two nude pets crouched at either knee.
It was a lot of flesh to take in at once. Le Maître himself--Michel Lemaitre in the outside world--was remarkably fit for a middle-aged man. His broad shoulders tapered down to a sculpted chest with a smattering of hair. His cock rested on a thatch of dark fur, formidable even though it was currently flaccid. Kelsey felt a powerful wave of arousal just from the careless way he sat and flaunted his cock. Or maybe it was the servile posture of his pets that had her pussy dampening.
One of them furtively scowled at her. He must have been the one whose ears she’d scratched that night she was drunk. She shot him an apologetic glance as Theo urged her forward. God, so many people staring at her. They were Cirque people, all of them. Some of the faces she recognized. At some unseen signal, three quarters of them got up and left, so it was just her, Theo, Le Maître, a couple servers and a couple other spectators. One of them was Guy Benoit. The other was--
Oh, Jesus. Jason Beck. Kelsey faltered. She could tell from the look on his face that her former coach hadn’t expected to see her here any more than she’d expected to see him. For a moment, one tense, drawn out moment, she almost bolted. Then Theo’s hand pressed on her back, propelling her forward. “It’s okay,” he said so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him. It’s okay. It’s okay.
Jason was the one who’d told her about the Citadel. He’d pretty much admitted he played here, and for which team. Why should she be embarrassed? He was here, like her, to exchange power, and to curry favor with Le Maître.
“Is he going to play with me?” Kelsey asked Theo behind her hand. She couldn’t even look at him. Jason, her coach, who’d only ever stretched her joints and lectured her about candy…
“Only one person plays in the Back Room, ma chère,” answered Theo.
And that person was now giving her his full attention. “Miss Martin. Kelsey. Come here to me. I have so looked forward to this.”
With one last glance at Theo, Kelsey walked forward, watching for a sign from Le Maître to kneel, or prostrate herself. God, if he asked her to suck his cock--
But he only pulled her close, between his legs. He searched her eyes as she looked back in horny fascination. His hands were so warm on her, so strong. They ran over her, measuring her, squeezing her ass cheeks and pinching her nipples. She didn’t dare look away first and he didn’t break eye contact.
Then he put a hand on her lower back and without preliminaries, drove two fingers through the slickness of her pussy right up inside her. She rose on her toes. It wasn’t unlike being at the gynecologist, except there she was allowed to lie down in comfort and put her feet up in stirrups. Holy hell.
Just as quickly he released her and reached beside him to produce an oval device. He turned it on and slipped it into a condom, then summarily parted her and thrust the buzzing egg into her pussy. There was an immediate sensation of fullness and arousal, and she barely restrained herself from arching her hips and climbing into his lap. Le Maître watched a moment, then cupped her pussy and pushed the egg even deeper with a rough press of a finger.
“Oh,” she said.
“Oh.” He laughed, mimicking her. “Oh, what? Oh oui? Oh non?” He traced a finger over her wet, swollen clit, and then she did arch into his hands.
“Oh, please,” she breathed.
“Ah. Oh, please. Well, the answer to that is no. This is the extent of the sensation you’ll be permitted for the moment, although you are welcome to amuse us by begging for more.”
He found all of this entertaining, that was clear. Her anxiety, her impossible horniness. She looked at Theo and then at the handsome pets lounging on either side of Le Maître’s chair. How un-self-conscious they were, how relaxed. They were sensuality personified while she felt like a clumsy, horny mess.
Le Maître stood to guide her past Guy and Jason to a chain hanging down from a pulley system a few yards from his chair. She was quickly buckled into soft leather cuffs, which were then pulled up and hooked above so she had to stand up very straight, her hands gripping the chain for balance over her head.
She had a sudden perverse desire to swing from the chain, grasp it in her hands and go for an aerial-silk-type soar around Le Maître’s dungeon. She’d try to kick both his male slaves in the process, with their perfect golden bodies and their unfriendly gazes. She barely stifled a giggle at the thought, burying her face for a moment in the crook of her elbow until she composed herself. Le Maître had already turned away from her and left her hanging there, fidgeting from foot to foot.
“Be still,” Theo said. “Put your legs together and stand still.”
Kelsey obeyed. It was easier to balance with her legs together, but standing in that position also increased the dull buzzing intensity in her pussy. She took in her situation with a kind of wonder. When she’d arrived at the Cirque, she was practically a virgin. Jason was her coach, and Theo was an idol she worshipped from afar. Michel Lemaitre was the faceless, all-powerful boss and owner of the huge contemporary circus she worked for. Yesterday it had left her breathless just to be noticed by him. Now she was chained in his dungeon by leather cuffs, with a vibrator in her pussy, a vibrator he’d placed there himself after groping and finger fucking her.
Across the way, Jason nursed a drink, watching her in a cool, assessing way. Not her eyes. He stared at her body. She knew he wasn’t drunk. Theo told her people weren’t allowed to play under the influence at the club, so there was no chance he’d be too wasted to remember this in the morning. Well, if he could stare at her, she’d stare at him too. Her eyes moved over his naked, golden body, a body every bit as striking as Theo’s and Le Maître’s in its sinewy strength. Oh, nice cock, coach. Very impressive. Theo left her to hang there under Jason’s regard while he went to confer with Le Maître.
Kelsey should probably have felt something like humiliation, or shame. But no. She was hot as hell and ratcheting up. Her whole pelvis buzzed, her clit swollen and vibrating in a sensual pulse that matched the distant beat of the music.
Le Maître offered Theo a cigarette. With a short glance in her direction, Theo refused. They spoke in rapid-fire French as Le Maître allowed one of his pets to light a slim cigarette for him. Then Le Maître and Theo joined Guy and Jason, and they talked in muted voices for nearly fifteen minutes. Kelsey was still as she could be, only shifting from time to time when her muscles began to ache. Finally, Le Maître parted from the other men, but it wasn’t to play with her. She watched, fascinated, as he began to play with his slaves.
The slaves were not effete, nor overly deferential. They were big, virile men of perhaps twenty or twenty-five years, and similar in appearance, down to skin tone, blond tousled hair, piercings in nipples, and identical diamond studs in their aquiline noses. Kelsey silently nicknamed them “the twins” and wondered if Le Maître even bothered to tell them apart.
The men were as graceful as they were muscular, bowing to their Master in what appeared to be a practiced ritual. When one of them knelt at Le Maître’s gesture and began to fellate him, Kelsey drew in a long, silent breath. She had never seen anything so overtly, gorgeously sexual. The slave was intently focused, attending to his Master’s cock with skilled enthusiasm.
After a few moments the other slave took over, cupping his Master’s balls and deep throating his substantial length and width. Another word and subtle gesture, and the unoccupied one crawled around to his Master’s back, delicately parting Le Maître’s well-defined ass cheeks and using his tongue to tease his hole. The old Kelsey would have been repelled. The new Kelsey squeezed even harder on the egg in her cunt.
Her Master, Theo, watched all this dispassionately, stroking his cock and taking an occasional drink. She couldn’t understand how he could be so unaffected. Kelsey was spellbound by the raw sensuality of the scene before her. She’d never seen sex like this before, between men.
In profile, she could see Le Maître thrusting his cock forward into his slave’s eager mouth, his abs clenching and twisting as the other slave serviced him from behind. He seemed like a god, all powerful and demanding. She wanted him because of that, wanted his attention, his power. She hated hanging on the side, being made to watch. She hated the weak teasing of her pussy walls, riling her up just enough to make her need more. Theo smiled over at her as she clenched her legs even tighter. Maybe...maybe if I just squeeze hard enough... But no. Orgasm was intentionally placed just beyond her reach. She didn’t smile back.
Soon after, Le Maître climaxed with a theatrical roar and forceful thrust. Only then did he look over at Kelsey, and he chuckled as he blew out his breath. He returned to the men’s table, muttering something to Theo. They all chatted in French some more, too quietly for Kelsey to eavesdrop.
God, I’m so horny. Please fuck me. If she could have, she would have jumped on her tall, strong Master and had her way with him. From the gestures and the French she caught, Kelsey thought Le Maître might have offered the use of his slaves to Theo, but he declined. If Le Maître took offense, he didn’t show it. Kelsey wondered if Theo did sometimes make use of those two blond men, and felt a pang of jealousy. She could never live up to their level of uninhibited skill. Even though she knew Theo to be straight, on this debauched night, nothing seemed sure.
Instead of Theo then, the slaves were instructed to satisfy one another. They did--wrestling, fondling, biting, caressing one another. Kelsey had never seen men have intercourse before, not in person, and certainly not such male specimens as these. She couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop drinking in the unleashed carnality.
Their muscular bodies moved together in a sensuous, undulating dance, while Le Maître barked commands for them in Russian, further eroticizing the tableau. The slaves were always quick to comply, changing positions at their Master’s whim. When one of the slaves started drilling the other from behind, hard and rough, Kelsey moaned out loud. She was so hungry for cock--any cock, anywhere--to replace the devilish device inside her.
Her moan must have been louder than she intended. Theo and Le Maître both turned to regard her. Le Maître flicked some ashes from his cigarette in her direction and said something to Theo. Her Master came over and unhooked her from the chain, guiding her down to sit on her heels.
“Go on,” he said. “Touch yourself if you like. Just don’t come.”
All the men burst into laughter, ostensibly at the peeved expression on her face. She fisted her hands in her lap, determined not to be turned on at all. She wasn’t finding this amusing, not any of it. Theo left her again, with some quiet words to Le Maître. The slave men fell away from one another, spent. Satisfied. Unlike her.
Le Maître turned and waved his hand at her. “Go on. Masturbate, horny little girl. Just because you cannot come does not mean you cannot amuse us in your frustration.”
Kelsey stared at her lap, biting back words that would certainly, definitely get her in trouble.
“Ha, look at her, Theo,” Le Maître said. “So stubborn. Perhaps she tries to teach us a lesson.”
Kelsey shook her head. “I just don’t want to make it worse. If I can’t come, there’s no use getting myself even hotter.”
Le Maître’s face grew hard and angry. “Come. Now. Crawl right here.” He pointed to a spot on the floor before him. Oh shit, she was in trouble now. She crossed, feeling awkward on her hands and knees, lacking the grace of his golden slave boys. When she got close enough, Le Maître grabbed her arm and pulled her sideways.
“Kneel up. Spread your knees apart. Now look at me.” She did, feeling heat flare and suffuse her cheeks. One of the slaves smirked at her for just a split second before his gaze returned to the floor. Theo watched her with a steady, appraising look, apparently having ceded possession of her to Le Maître for the moment. Or perhaps forever. All she knew was that he wasn’t going to interfere with his boss and come to her defense. Le Maître frowned at her, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“I have seen your type before. You are beautiful, but your submission is selfish. You submit because it feels good to you. I am sorry to tell you, this is not submission. This is taking only what you want. If you submit, your concern must be what I want. Not what you want.”
His eyes bored into hers, hard and intent. Her skin felt cold and yet she burned beneath his unwavering focus. She knew his words were true. Theo had taught her the same thing, and she tried...she tried. She intended submission, but when her body took over...
Within her, the vibrator hummed along, stimulating her--but not enough. Her pelvis tingled and the urge to touch herself, to masturbate to oblivion, was nearly overpowering. She was trapped between need and satisfaction. She longed for peace, and yes, free will. Free will to satisfy herself. Free will to take what she wanted. No. Submit. Submit. “Wh--what is it you want?” she asked with a feeling of dread.
“Your submission,” Le Maître snapped. “This is not a difficult concept.” He looked at Theo and again the men began to speak French with great intensity. Jason and Guy joined in too. They spoke so quickly she couldn’t pick out any of their words, except for Theo’s thoughtful oui, oui, oui at the end. She hung her head, her stomach in knots. Obviously Theo agreed with whatever nasty things Le Maître was saying about her. Le Maître returned his attention to her. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle.
“You are new to this, yes? Submission must be learned. Like acrobatics, like theater. Like aerial silks, you must practice and train. So we will train, you and I. Every night, after rehearsal, you come to my office and I will bend you over my desk and fuck your asshole. You will gain no pleasure from this except the pleasure of submitting to my will. You will be returned to your Master to service him orally, and put to bed without the opportunity to satisfy yourself. Yes?”
He looked to Theo for agreement, not her, and Theo agreed without even looking at her for a reaction. The idea of it made her spitting mad. Being consulted over, and singled out for this punishing treatment. How completely depraved. How fucking hot. If she’d wanted to masturbate to orgasm a few minutes earlier, now she was absolutely rabid to come. She fisted her hands for fear she would not be able to stop herself. Le Maître watched knowingly, and she was certain he knew every nuance of her thoughts.
“A week of this, of denying your own pleasure for mine, and you will have a new outlook on submission. This will be difficult, and yet you will be happy. You understand, girl?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now, thank me for taking time out of my busy schedule for this training.” He scowled at her and reached to stroke the hair of one of the perfectly sculpted men at his knee.
“Thank you, Master. Thank you for offering to train me--”
“It is not an offer,” he interrupted sharply. “You have no say in it.”
Kelsey floundered, anxious to say the words that would satisfy the man before her. It was impossible to concentrate with the egg inside her vibrating her to distraction. She still clenched at the device for fear it would slip out of her dripping walls and fall with a buzzing thump onto the floor. She could already imagine the twins laughing at such a lapse. More likely they would glare at her, disgusted at her inept servitude.
The one who’d scowled at her earl
ier was caressing Le Maître’s cock with a look of pure adoration on his face. That look did more to illuminate the concept of submission than an entire year of being assfucked by Le Maître. She drew a deep breath and tried again.
“Thank you for training me in true submission, Master. I need it.”
“You need it?” he asked with a dangerously arched eyebrow.
“No...” Damn! “I--I wish to be more pleasing--more submissive for you, and for my Master. I want to understand deep submission. Thank you for helping me find this...understanding.”
“Better.” He sniffed and looked at Theo.
Her Master shrugged. “She will learn.”
Le Maître sniggered and the men conferred again in rapid French, punctuated by suggestive laughter. Theo pulled her up by one arm and reached to grope between her thighs. Finally, the pestering vibrator was gone, but rather than relief, she felt anxiety. Theo nudged her toward Le Maître and she nearly stumbled. The fluffing slave moved to the side, so Kelsey got a clear view of Le Maître’s cock standing up straight and thick between his parted legs. The other pet assisted him with a rubber, and she realized she was soon to be impaled on that staff. Like, within moments.
Le Maître reached for her, and even his grasp seemed to possess a kind of electric force that took her breath away. He turned her and settled her on his lap facing outward, pulling her close against him. One arm snaked around her front. The other fisted his cock and drove it up against her pussy. She moaned as he pressed in, his thick member a shocking ache as he stretched her.
She’d wanted this, wanted it since she saw his cock on display when they entered. As he took her, she was acutely aware that everyone watching could see her breasts and tight nipples, and the horny expression on her face. He grasped her hips and forced her down on him, making her wetter still. Her clit ached, her whole body ached for satisfaction. She reached to touch herself only to have her hand slapped away.
Cirque Du Minuit Page 16
