by Primula Bond
My legs are pushed further apart as the big hands stroke my thighs, moving higher.
‘Tell us how you want us to say sorry, Serena?’
I don’t want to talk. Mrs Weinmeyer is kneeling next to me and when I turn my head my eyes are on a level with her crotch.
‘Empty my mind. Whip me. Hurt me.’
Fingers knead my butt cheeks, fingers spread wide as if to measure me, pinching and squeezing the plump white flesh. I squirm slightly, but that just raises my bottom higher in the air.
Mrs Weinmeyer laughs and bends down, still holding my wrists. She pushes her face close to mine.
‘When can I start? She’s so cute. And so tasty. God, we’ve waited nearly six months for this!’
‘Any time you like.’
A hard slap smacks down on me.
I wriggle and twist but I’m pushed down again, my face buried in the pillows. Soon my head will be empty. The more transgressive they want to be the better. We’ve done this before. Gustav has seen me naked and manhandled by other people. We had a deal not long after we arrived in New York, triggered by these very Weinmeyers in fact. When I showed him the footage I’d taken of them in their bed, and admitted that they’d asked me to join them in a threesome, he was both appalled and aroused.
And so was I. That’s when we agreed that I could explore certain scenarios, with particular emphasis on girlie encounters, so long as Gustav was there to keep an eye and enjoy proceedings himself from the sidelines.
But this is different. I’m not the naïve flower I was then. I’ve proved myself as a photographer, as a voyeur, as a lover. I’m Gustav Levi’s fiancée. But in getting to this point I’ve been tripped up, trapped and tricked. In the last six months, faces from his past have scattered obstacles in our path and threatened us both. We’ve been tested to the max. And tonight I’m very angry.
Margot Levi is far too close for comfort now. Christ, she was visually plastered over this very house an hour ago. We can’t get rid of her. Now, as she would put it, she’s in our heads.
Mrs Weinmeyer kisses my mouth.
‘Keep still. I’ll be your mistress, if that’s what you want.’
There’s a sharp kick between my knees and my legs collapse apart. The hands go on smoothing the tender skin on my butt as if flattening a bed sheet. I can feel goosebumps coming up on my skin as he strokes, and shivers twitching deep inside. I want tonight to be beaten out of me.
‘You feel so good, Serena. Positively addictive. I wonder if that man of yours will let us do this again before he walks you up the aisle?’
There’s no response from anyone else in the room. My silence is taken as consent and the person behind me slaps my butt. I’m silent. It doesn’t hurt enough, yet.
As I shake from the hard slaps, Mrs Weinmeyer starts kissing me, taking my hot face in her hands and pushing her tongue into my mouth. I resist at first, or at least I don’t respond, but when her tongue tickles the tender lining of my lips, I shiver and suck tentatively, making her kiss me all the harder.
‘I need to be thrashed,’ I mumble through her kisses. ‘But I want this to be the last time. When we’re married I don’t want to punish or be punished. I want to be normal. I just want to love.’
‘Beautifully put, cara. And I doubt I will ever have cause to punish you.’ Gustav chuckles from close behind me. ‘So we’d better make this a session to remember, especially as our friends have waited so patiently!’
My eyelids flutter as I gasp for air. When I open them again, Mrs Weinmeyer has pulled her mouth away. She has positioned herself a few inches from my face. She is pale and hairless, waxed so completely that her parts are blue-white, almost see-through. I’ve been touched, and I’ve touched, but I’ve never looked so intimately at another woman before. I jerk against the handcuffs and they bite into my wrist. The sharp pain flashes more intensely through me.
‘I bet your Gustav doesn’t normally waste time spanking you, eh? I bet he normally just gets on and fucks you!’
‘I told him to hurt me!’ I manage to growl. ‘He should be doing what he’s told!’
Out of the corner of my eye I see Gustav’s arm, the shirt sleeve rolled up, lift in the air, palm flat. I open my mouth to scream, but my voice is just a puff of hot breath. His hand comes down really hard this time, the sting instant and sharp. I judder and squeal as it burns.
‘Poor Ernst is going to be livid he missed this!’ Mrs Weinmeyer’s voice has descended into quite a heavy Austrian accent. Attractive, but moody. ‘He wanted to be in control tonight, and it’s all gone wrong. Not just because of that contamination of our Venetian series, but entre nous he feels just a little humiliated by those last private pictures in the exhibition. They’re stunning, and classy, but what do they show? Me, tying him up, blindfolding him. All our associates have seen that. He wanted to be the master tonight. He wanted to take command.’
The vision that sails before me just then, of Mr Weinmeyer standing on the prow of a ship wearing a tropical naval uniform that’s a tad too tight, momentarily erases the other pictures in my head. I snuffle into the pillow and earn myself another smack.
‘But poor Ernst has had to summon everyone into his office upstairs and castigate whoever allowed Margot to get at our precious film. Maybe we should bring them all down here for a good whipping, eh, Serena? You should be the one slapping everyone, not lying there like a little virgin victim. On the other hand, you’re all mine tonight. I like you like this!’ Mrs Weinmeyer adopts the persona required of her and pushes herself into my face. I breathe in her aroma of sex and some kind of rose-petal wash. ‘So now, sugar pie, you’re going to lick me. Can she lick me, Gustav?’
There’s a pause. Gustav’s hands spread over my bottom and squeeze it.
‘She’ll do whatever you ask her to do tonight, Ingrid. That’s what releases her, and gives me my girl back. Just wait until I’ve punished her some more. I’ve got my own pleasure to come, don’t forget.’
I tug against the handcuffs. I need to see Gustav’s face. And I need to breathe.
There’s another harsh slap on my butt. ‘We’re waiting!’
Gustav’s voice is gruff. More like the voice he uses when he’s conducting business. We are performing together. We’re in public. Not surprising he sounds different. Slightly forced. Slightly formal. But sexy.
I force myself to breathe more deeply. Focus on what is happening. Use it to obliterate Margot’s spooky appearance earlier this evening. That nasty word she used to describe me. Cheap.
‘Spank me again!’ I yell, tipping my ass in the air. And it comes, stinging then spreading into a warm glow.
Mrs Weinmeyer spreads her legs.
‘Smack the little bitch, Levi!’
This time the slap is much harder. The sting spreads over the already tender spot and radiates deeper, and though I try to ignore the pain, the very act of struggling against it is kicking me into another zone at last, away from everything real.
Gustav grunts with satisfaction. He’s the commander tonight. I wriggle harder as he does it again, harder. My body rubs against the bed. A vicious flare of excitement sears through me.
‘I hope you feel good about yourself, sugar, because you’re behaving like a little whore in front of your boyfriend.’
Gustav starts smacking the other butt cheek. The hot, vicious slap, then the angry heat spreading through me, feels fantastic. He’s only using his hand. I know they don’t do whips down here in the Weinmeyer bordello.
‘Smack me again!’ I yelp, rubbing myself harder against the bed. ‘I’m so dirty, and naughty! Slap me again!’
‘This will teach you.’ Ingrid is beneath me now and she takes me by the hair and pushes my face into her body. She is very wet. ‘Lick me, sugar!’
‘Such a lovely white butt, all sore from my hand.’ Gustav mutters. Their voices are like soft chants weaving around me. ‘I’m going to fuck it.’
He runs his finger up my butt crack and pokes at the neat,
tight hole. I tense instinctively, but Mrs Weinmeyer takes that as her cue to push my mouth into her so that I’m smothered in soft petals of female flesh.
Each time Gustav slaps me, Mrs Weinmeyer thrusts herself into my face. Weakly, and to get some breath, I stick my tongue out and take a tentative lick. The taste is foreign, yet familiar. Sweet, yet salty. Inviting, yet so, so dirty. I savour it for a moment and smile to myself. Something else added to my list of never-befores.
Now Gustav’s fingers are opening me up. I hear his zipper go.
‘Oh, my God. Am I finally going to see the great Levi schlong?’ Mrs Weinmeyer is very quiet in the muffled velvet room, half-moaning. ‘Oh, my God! Look at it! It really is as stupendous as me and my girlfriends have all fervently imagined!’
‘We’re lucky girls tonight then, Mrs Weinmeyer,’ I murmur as I dreamily start to lap at her. ‘Normally my fiancé watches, but now we get the best of both worlds because he’s here, and he’s taking part!’
Gustav chuckles again and mutters something obscene to her in German, presumably concerning the size of his bratwurst, and the bed dips as he lowers his trousers. Then he’s pushing hard where his fingers have opened me up.
Mrs Weinmeyer stops rocking my head for a moment but tightens her grip on my hair. ‘Just before you do her, Gustav honey! You did set up the camera to film?’
There’s a kind of flurry of activity around me. I can hear Gustav unclipping the small camera case I carry everywhere with me. I’m still muffled by Mrs Weinmeyer’s crotch and everything sounds as if we are under water. She and I go into a kind of trance, rocking together as Gustav goes to set up the camera to film this latest entry in my diary of debauchery.
‘Now we can both taste her together. Christmas and the Tooth Fairy have come all at once, darling. Make it up the ass, Gustav,’ purrs Mrs Weinmeyer as she settles my head between her legs again. ‘Go where it’s really tight. That way she’ll be all the more forceful with me.’
And here he is. My man. His hands take my hips and boy, he’s hard, so hard. What’s going on in his head? Is Margot there all the time, like she said? Is that why he’s been even more masterful with me?
Or is he hard from watching me, his girl, fulfilling a promise she made to these kind, impatient people, and seeing her bare butt, her lips and tongue working on another woman?
Please God, let it be thoughts of me, not her, that are turning him on tonight.
Gustav is stiff as a rod. I tip my ass towards him. My human dildo. We did this once in the lift at the gallery in London. That was another first. Up the ass. And in a lift.
As I push towards him, Mrs Weinmeyer pulls me towards her. I like feeling used like this. There are no thoughts jostling in my head any more. I’m just a piece of meat, built for pleasure.
Gustav pushes harder and I close instinctively against him, but he eases me open and pushes me again, up the bed and into Mrs Weinmeyer. He thrusts harder at the tight ring and I’m opening, and he is in. My body is packed tight, burning and full, utterly helpless. I’m pinned like a butterfly.
He starts to rock, his balls knocking against me. Mrs Weinmeyer, who I guess has been staring awestruck at the great Gustav Levi kneeling on her bed, naked from the waist down as he takes his fiancée, lets out a moan as if I’ve done something unexpected.
‘You are in so much trouble making me do this!’ he growls in my ear.
The burning up my backside makes me light-headed with euphoria. I lick my mistress harder, savouring the taste of her, savouring how this must look. Savouring another new lesson. As I lap faster and she starts to lose control, I locate the nub of her clit with my tongue and try nibbling and sucking at it, and that hits the spot because she yelps and squeals and then she starts to groan and swear. The harder I lick and bite, and the hotter and wetter she is, the hotter and wetter I am. The pleasure pulsates somewhere inside, I can’t tell which part of me, and it’s growing, and coming closer.
Mrs Weinmeyer pulls at my hair. The pain sends sick desire shooting through me. I suck at her, and from the spasms I know I’m doing it right. She rubs herself faster over my nose and mouth, tilting her hips wildly to get my tongue deep inside her, and as soon as I push it up her she comes, groaning and writhing against my face
Gustav isn’t ready. He wants to go on and on, his fingers deep inside the other part of me to keep me impaled, and as soon as Mrs Weinmeyer comes and falls away from me, whimpering and shaking with dying pleasure, Gustav claims me properly, pushing my face back into the pillows so that my bottom is offered higher for him to swell inside, to pump harder and deeper.
I gasp for air as he shudders inside me at last and I come, waves of sensation breaking over me, holding him tight inside as I collapse beneath his weight, my breath creaking in my chest.
My arse sore and battered.
My head empty of everything except my debt paid to the Weinmeyers, performed to perfection with my future husband.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses.’ The sexy French voice caresses my ear. ‘What an incredible theme for your next commission, Serena. A contemporary take on that classic tale of sexual shenanigans, all being filmed in a glorious château.’
‘Don’t stop with the gorgeous accent. I love it when you go all continental!’
He laughs softly and licks and nibbles the back of my neck, making me shiver even though we’ve just shared a very hot shower.
‘Zeez are my roots. I don’t know why I haven’t brought you here before.’
‘To the penthouse at the Georges V, do you mean?’ I press my forehead against the cool glass and stare across at the Eiffel Tower shrouded in early-morning May mist. ‘If we had your telescope I might just be able to spot the pension I stayed in last time I was here.’
‘You’re the budding star who scored an all-expenses-paid trip. What I meant was, I should have brought you to Paris sooner. It’s where I grew up, after all.’ Gustav combs his fingers through my hair and lets it drop, tickling my spine. ‘And this commission will be a piece of cake. After all, you’ve done a similar day-in-the-life before, for Pierre.’
I open the door to our balcony. There’s a faint chill as the spring rain paints the slate rooftops and wide streets a silky grey.
‘Do we have to talk about your brother?’
Gustav lifts my wet hair off my damp skin and twists it into a plait.
‘Yes, we do. You’re going to be related to him just as soon as I can get a gold ring on your finger. Also, this gig is down to the enthusiastic response of his Hollywood bosses when they were shown your pictorial record of his burlesque show.’
I put my hand outside. The rain is so gentle I can barely feel it. ‘I can’t shake off the suspicion that he’s been pulling strings. To make up for all the trouble he’s caused.’
Gustav steps on to the balcony, out into the rain, so that he can face me. His hair is slicked back from the shower and he’s naked but for a huge white towel draped dangerously loosely around his hips. He hasn’t shaved yet and the morning’s shadow sculpts his gorgeous features. He’s shivering, but he takes my shoulders and shakes me.
‘If he could twist people’s arms on your behalf, he would. He won’t rest until you are a hundred per cent convinced he’s not a two-faced schemer. But it doesn’t work like that in the tough world of film. So knock this chip off your shoulder, Serena. When are you going to realise your own worth? It’s your professional talent that has brought us over here. Not Pierre. Not me. This French film company booked you after they saw the pilot of Pierre’s show. It gave them the idea to run a similar storyboard for their own production. The Theatre B was a stepping stone, yes. But so is every job, surely? One body of work leads to the next.’
I open my mouth to respond, but Gustav puts his hand over my mouth to silence me and pushes me back into the room.
The breakfast tray is resting on our vast bed and I start picking apart a croissant. ‘Well, if that’s true, I’ll thank him when I next see
him. If I’m honest, these nerves are about Margot. She’s like a bad smell, G.’
Gustav picks up another towel and starts rubbing his hair with it.
‘Why are we even talking about her? You’re her nemesis, Serena. Snow White to her Wicked Queen. The more beautiful you grow, the more her mirror has to give her the cold hard truth. That she was never the fairest.’
I shake my head, smearing butter on to my pastry. ‘Honey, this is real life. Not a fairy tale.’
‘Come on, cynic. Every day with you is magic,’ Gustav says with a twinkle in his eye as he throws the towel into a damp heap on the floor. ‘We’ve shown her we’re unbreakable. No one in New York will give her the time of day. With any luck she’ll have flapped away on her broomstick by now to pick on someone her own size.’
He drains his coffee cup then carries the tray over to place it outside the door.
‘Look. Pierre may have been the catalyst for this job, but, as he said in his emails before we flew out here, your work sells itself. It’s visual; a portrait, an impression, a story. So when it’s on display, in a gallery, or in a boardroom, whether it’s personal or public, by its nature it has an audience. The audience sees it, and likes it, and wants a piece of it. Just as I saw you, and liked you.’ He wanders back to where I’m sitting, folds me into a tight bear hug and nips my neck. ‘And wanted you.’
I pull my shoulders up and giggle as the sharp pain rouses me.
‘Where would I be without you?’
‘Not in Paris, that’s for sure!’
I tip my head sideways to expose my neck a little more. ‘I meant, without you putting things into perspective for me, G.’
‘Did you know you’re using that nickname more and more? I love it.’
I lean against him, watching a finger of sun running down the side of the Eiffel Tower before being snatched back into the clouds. If I continue looking straight ahead I can pretend we’re on holiday. But in an hour, the film company’s car will arrive and whisk me away from this dreamy room.
