by Haley Pearce
He looked at me for a long, suspended moment. His deep, dark eyes bore through me, as though he were probing for my very soul. I drew myself up before him, daring him to counter my claim. I’d spoken the truth, after all. There wasn’t a man alive who could really hurt me for good. At least, there hadn’t been yet.
“Have you thought what it would look like?” Girard whispered.
“What?” I asked.
“You and me, together,” he said. “You, on the arm of a French millionaire. You, ten years younger than I, living in my home. You know what people will say about you, don’t you?”
“They can say whatever they want,” I said, “Girard, please, just tell me what you want. Tell me what’s going on between us. You’re saying that us being together is impossible, but I know you don’t want that to be true. I know that you want me as much as I want you.”
“How much do you want me, Madison?” he asked. “Enough to give up your life as you know it?”
“Enough to share my life with you,” I said. “Enough to include you in my life.”
“You’re not afraid that I’ll subsume you?” he asked.
“What?” I said, “No. Of course not.”
“No?” he asked.
“No!” I said, “Is that what you were afraid I was thinking? That you were trying to control my entire life?”
“That has been the...common complaint,” he said. I was amazed to see him blush. “Every woman I’ve ever been with has grown convinced, very quickly, that I attempt to conquer them. Make them mine, or even more accurately, make them some part of me, exclusively.”
“And is that actually what you want?” I challenged him, taking a step closer to him. “Do you want a woman who will erase her identity to rewrite herself as your own?”
“Of course not!” he said harshly, “I want a woman who will remain her own person, who is strong enough to hold her ground in a relationship with me. I don’t want a trophy wife. I want someone who can place herself entirely in my hands, it’s true. But I don’t want someone to submit and, in doing so, become nothing. I want to dominate so that I can worship. I want to know the person I love and admire completely, I want to have that control. But there aren’t many women in the world who can submit entirely and still be true to themselves.”
“And tell me, Girard,” I said, “Do you think that I’m one of those women?”
“I...” he started.
“Tell me the truth. Last night...Didn’t I show you that I could be entirely in your control and yet entirely myself?” I demanded. “I know that I did. And you know it too.”
“Yes,” he breathed. “I won’t deny it.”
“It scares you,” I said, suddenly realizing. “You’ve never been with a woman who could give you what you truly wanted.”
His silence was confirmation enough. I stared at him, astonished. Girard had probably had lovers by the score, but in this sense he was as inexperienced as I was. I felt tears spring to my eyes as a look of understanding washed into Girard’s eyes.
“Dear god...” he said, “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
“I know,” I said, “I know.”
He reached for my hands and pulled me to him, enveloping me in an embrace. The tears poured down my cheeks as I collapsed into him, staining his shirtfront. I couldn’t believe that this man, the most gorgeous and powerful person I’d ever met, had shared my overwhelming fear of embracing a connection as great as ours. He’d been as baffled as I was. We were on the same page, after all. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was so, so happy.
“Madison,” he said, kissing my hair, “This could be the ruin of us both, if it goes wrong.”
“I know,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “I don’t care.”
“This is new to me,” he said, tilting my face up to his. “I don’t know how to believe it, if I’m speaking honestly. How can I know, definitively, that you are all that you say? That we’re as perfect for each other as we both want to be?”
“Girard,” I said, “I’ll do anything. Anything in the world to show you how serious I am. I want to make this work with you. I have to. Whatever will make you trust me the way that I trust you, I am willing to do. Name it.”
“I would rather...show you,” he said softly.
The breath caught in my throat as I began to understand his meaning. I took a deep breath and said, “Show me, then. Show me what you want.”
“Be careful,” he said, his eyes shining with blooming desire, “What I want is not something that everyone can stand.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, feeling my body begin to cry out for his.
“I want total submission,” he said. “And I don’t mean in life. That’s the mistake that people always make. They assume that submission means surrender. But surrender is passive. It’s resigned. I don’t want that. I want someone who can open themselves to me fully. Wholly. Is that what you want?”
“Girard,” I said, “Nothing would make me happier.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Even though I’m just some old fool in love with a girl who is far too good for me?”
I smiled back at him, laying my hands on his shoulders. “Even though,” I said.
“You need to promise that you’ll tell me to stop, if you feel uncomfortable,” he said.
“I will,” I promised. “I’ll say ‘stop’.”
“No...No, we need a clearer signal than that,” he insisted. “You’ll be surprised, Madison, how the word ‘stop’ will take on a whole new meaning when you’re with me.”
My stomach turned over at his words. For a moment, a cold stab of apprehension tore through my body. My rational mind caught up with my heart as we stood there, pressed against each other in the kitchen. Was I actually ready to give myself over to Girard completely? I wanted him, to be sure, but I was inexperienced in the bedroom, and I still lacked confidence. What if I wasn’t...capable? What if I wasn’t good enough?
But as I looked into Girard’s eyes, I knew that I couldn’t let any insecurities come between us. I was good enough. I deserved to be cared for in exactly the way that I wanted. And my body was telling me all the truths I needed to know. I ached to submit to him. I remembered those moments of pain the night before, the way they’d mixed so enticingly with pleasure. I couldn’t imagine what else Girard might have in store for me, but I was more than eager to figure it out.
“Tolstoy,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Girard said.
“That will be the word we use,” I said, grinning.
Girard let out a bark of laughter. “That might be the least sexy safe word I’ve ever heard,” he said. It was so wonderful to see him smiling again.
“That’s the point,” I said, “If I say ‘Tolstoy’ in the middle of...you know...you’ll have no choice but to stop, right?”
“That’s right,” he said, placing his strong hands on the small of my back and pulling me tightly against him. I could feel his need pressing against my thigh, and a wave of desire crashed over me. I’d been keeping my lust at bay since we parted, knowing that it would take me over should I even peek at it. But here he was...ready and wanting me. All of me.
“Let me show you, Girard,” I whispered, taking his beautiful face in my hands, “Let me show you just how good I can be.”
His jaw tightened, and that swell against my leg grew even harder. “Will you obey me?” he asked, in a sinfully sexy growl.
“Every word,” I promised. “I’m yours to command.”
I’d never spoken to anyone like this before. I could never have imagined wanting somebody so much. But my desire for Girard outweighed all rational thought. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to prove how much I cared about him. And more than that, I wanted him to take control of me. I wanted to be caught up in him and only him. I wanted him to dominate me, completely.
As my thoughts spun in a dizzying array, I leaned in to kiss Girard. But a strong hand sh
ot up and wrapped around my throat before I could. I looked at him, amazed and unaccountably excited. He tightened his grip just a hair, just tight enough to make a point.
“No,” he said, “You’re mine tonight, Madison. You follow my lead. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I said softly, “Understood.”
“Good,” he said, releasing my throat, “That’s what I hoped you would say.”
Suddenly, I felt my body spinning around in this hands. My back slammed hard against the wall, and Girard pinned me there, holding my hands over my head. I gasped as his mouth came down on the skin of my throat. He kissed me wildly, and the sharp sting of his teeth as he bit into me set my every nerve on fire. I arched my back, leaning into his advances. But no sooner had I shifted than he pushed me roughly back against the wall again, penning me in with his knee.
“Don’t move,” he growled, “This is how I want you.”
I bit my tongue and looked into his smoldering eyes. Keeping my hands up with one strong hand, Girard brought the other to the front of my dress. He bunched up the thin cotton in his fist and gave a powerful tug. The front of my dress ripped at his forceful touch, and my jaw fell open as the garment came away. My heaving chest was exposed to him, my lacy bra on full display. Holding me in place with his hips, he ripped my dress clean down the middle.
The garment hung sadly off my shoulders as Girard lowered his mouth to my breasts. He kissed the tops of them, his tongue dancing against my skin. He let my hands go, and I knew well enough to brace myself. As I supported myself by grabbing onto the doorframe, Girard reached around my body and unhooked my bra. I could feel his erection pressing against my groin as he tossed the bra far across the room. He took my breasts in his eager hands, kneading them firmly. His fingers tightened around my hard nipples and I bit my lip as he pinched them. It was a sharp pain that coursed through me like an electric shock, but I loved it. I bit down harder, adding a jolt of my own pain to the mix. Girard grinned at me and knocked my hands from their perch.
I leaned back against the doorframe, and shrugged off the ruined dress. I was almost naked before him, save my skimpy panties. And even those were practically useless, soaked-through as they were. The spot between my legs was slick with wanting him, with wanting his touch, whether it was rough or not.
“What would you like me to do?” I asked.
“Stand up straight, for one,” he grinned.
I did so, straightening my spine at his command. It was so hard not to leap at him, to throw myself into his arms. Girard’s eyes raked across my body, drinking in the sight of me naked in his kitchen of all places. The strangeness of this encounter was only making me hotter for him. I’d come to his house expecting a fight or a farewell. But this was definitely more to my liking by a long shot.
“Turn around,” he said. I did, and found myself facing a darkened hallway. “Walk,” he commanded. I put one foot in front of the other and began to walk away from him, into the darkness. I could feel him close behind me, but not touching. I could tell that he was withholding his hands from me, making me absolutely wild for him by doing so. I could hardly control my staggered breaths as we waded further into the darkness. Where on earth could we be going? The bedroom was upstairs.
I held my hands out in front of me, to make sure that I would hit anything in the dark. I could feel Girard’s hot breath on the back of my neck, and the closeness of him had me practically dripping with desire. My palms flattened against a wooden surface—a door.
“May I go inside?” I asked. I was getting a hang of this.
“You may,” he said.
I fumbled for the door knob and twisted. The door swung open, and I stepped across the threshold. For a moment, there was only more darkness. But then Girard flipped a switch on the wall and sent a fireplace—like the one in his bedroom—crackling to life. The orange glow of the fire spread across the space, and my eyes must have grown as wide as saucers.
The room was smaller than his bedroom had been, and more intimate by far. The walls were a dark mahogany, and the floor was covered in a plush carpet of crimson. At the center of the room stood a low, circular bed—no pillows to be found here, as I gathered this wasn’t a place for sleeping. The fire crackled on the far side of the room, casting shadows on the high walls. And what hung on those walls is what made the room particularly exciting.
All around the room, the walls were covered with devices I’d never seen, at least not in person. A long row of whips hung like pool cues to my right, and handcuffs in all different shapes and sizes to my left. There were blindfolds, too, and restraints. I couldn’t believe my eyes—
A brief moment of panic hit me as I took in those racks of tools and toys. Was I really about to submit to all this? I stole a glance at Girard, and he seemed to note my concern.
“You know how to stop this,” he said. I could hear the worry at the edges of his voice. I drew myself up and met his gaze, determined.
“I said that I wanted this,” I told him, “And I do. I want to show you—”
“Good,” he grinned, closing the door behind him. “Go stand by the bed.”
I did so, taking my time crossing the room. I turned back to him, awaiting my next command. The pounding of my heart drowned out any objections that my mind might have to my situation. Girard walked slowly toward me, letting his eyes travel up and down the length of me. When he stood in front of me, he paused for just a moment. Then I felt myself falling backwards as he pushed me onto the bed. The surface was not incredibly soft, but it was firm and forgiving. I lay back on the warm surface, and Girard sank to his knees in front of me.
I held my breath as he brought his mouth toward my belly. He leaned over me, letting his lips brush against my skin. Goose bumps spread across my arms at his light touch, and he moved his mouth down and down. I couldn’t help but spread my legs for him, inviting him to do whatever he wanted. I felt his teeth close down on the elastic of my panties, and moaned as he began to tug them down my legs. They fell away from my body as Girard eased them off, and I lay exposed before him, ready for anything.
He tossed my panties across the room and smiled down at me. He was still fully clothed, and it was thrilling to be spread out before him like I was. He walked away from me toward an assortment of restraints and carefully perused his collection, making me wait for his touch. Finally, he pulled down a leather strap and snapped it twice, testing its strength. I lay perfectly still as he approached, and as he came toward me, he tossed the strap on the bed. I raised my eyes to his, waiting to see what would happen next. ‘“Pleasure yourself,” he said, catching me off guard.
“What?” I asked.
“I can see how much you want me to bind you. First, I want to watch you pleasure yourself,” he clarified.
“Right now?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said. “And look into my eyes as you do.”
I didn’t want to disappoint him now, and to be honest my body was crying out for a certain place to be stroked. Holding his gaze, I dropped my hands to my groin and, with a deep breath, lay two fingers against that hard, throbbing little nub there. I rolled the eager flesh under my fingers, sensation spreading out through my body in all directions. It had been so long since I’d gotten myself off without some battery-operated assistance. As I kneaded that tender spot, Girard began to unbutton his expensive shirt. As the firm panes of his chest were exposed, I could feel the heat beginning to build in the core of me. He undressed as I continued to look him in the eye, struggling to focus as the waves of pleasure threatened to sweep me away. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his trousers to the floor, revealing that gorgeous, massive manhood I was so craving.
The sight of Girard, standing ready and hard before me, sent me straight over the edge. With a final, forceful flick, I came right in front of him, writhing with abandon. As my every cell was jolted with the intensity of my orgasm, I felt Girard fall to his knees beside me. He grabbed my wrists and yanked me up to sitting befor
e him. I could hardly keep my eyes from his hard, throbbing member. Though I’d just had a wonderful release, I knew that it wouldn’t be enough. I needed Girard, and only Girard. He wrapped the leather restraint around my wrists and tightened it, making sure that I was securely bound. I winced at the tightness of the strap, but didn’t say a peep. I looked up at him, waiting for my next instruction.
“Lay down,” he said. I made to lean back against the bed, but he shook his head. “No,” he said, “On your stomach.”
I obediently flipped over and rested my cheek against the mattress. Girard grabbed my hip and swung my body around. He was kneeling over me, no longer in my field of vision. I could feel him on my ass, and I knew that his member was just inches away from being inside of me. I fought to urge to lean back into him, to impale myself on his manhood. And I was rewarded for my composure as he rested two thick fingers against my wet slit. He ran his fingertips along the length of me, and I moaned in delight and anticipation. He lifted my ass, prompting me to my knees before him. I gasped as he slid his fingers deep into me, probing and stroking my silky flesh. It was a completely different sensation, feeling him behind me. I closed my eyes tight, and suddenly the world shrunk down to our two bodies.
“Do you like it from behind?” he asked, plunging his fingers deeper.
“Yes,” I breathed, “Yes, yes...”
“Do you want me to fuck you from behind?”
“Yes!” I cried. I had never made love this way, didn’t know what it might feel like. But I was about to find out. As the leather bit painfully into my wrists, Girard withdrew his masterful fingers, I felt the tip of his cock against my wetness. He held me steady, with his hands planted firmly on my hips, and I braced knees against the mattress.
Girard plunged into me from behind, and I couldn’t stop the deep groan that escape my throat. He went so much deeper than he had only the night before. From behind, he was practically splitting me in two. And I got the feeling that he was just getting started with me. He thrust into me again, pulling my hips back toward him as he did. I screamed again, unable to keep quiet when met with such deep stimulation. I didn’t know it was possible to feel him so far in, so deep down in my body. Girard bucked against me, driving further and further. I bounced on his hard member, my mouth hanging open in ecstasy. My cheek was pressed firmly against the mattress, my hands clasped in front of me as if in prayer.
