From her humble beginnings, Lana Driscoll was now exactly who she wanted to be. Life didn’t get any better.
EPISODE 3
Nella
CATHLEEN ROSS
For those of us who wish to explore what it is to be wealthy.
Acknowledgements
To Robert.
Nella
Nella Pouache, wealthy Mosman socialite, committed Catholic and control freak, strode up and down with Monty, her Moodle, on her heels. When she looked at her Cartier watch, she saw it was one minute past seven. Dinner would be spoiled. Nothing annoyed her more than lateness, even from Michael; especially from Michael. After twenty-seven years of marriage to her billionaire husband, she was used to a certain routine. She pivoted on her black stilettos and adjusted her leather eyelet corset, which she’d had made especially to her dimensions.
Monty whined and tried to leap up, but Nella stepped aside so her sheer stockings wouldn’t be ruined. She had a date with her husband and she was keen to get going. After all, she’d spent a fortune on her tailored outfit. She bent and patted Monty. “Sorry, darling. I know you’re hungry.” She paused as she heard the sound of the garage door open and the throaty hum of Michael’s BMW. “About time.”
Michael Pouache slid off his jacket then undid his tie, flinging them on a chair as he strode through the door that connected the garage to the television room of his mansion on prestigious Bradley’s Head Road, Mosman. “I’m home, my love.”
It didn’t matter that they’d been married for years, just the sight of her handsome, commanding husband made her heart patter when he came into the lounge room. Nella raised her eyebrows, well, she would have except the Botox she’d had injected into her forehead four days ago had started to work. “You’re late. It’s time you were taught a lesson.”
Michael’s eyes lit up and he fell to his knees at their code word, “lesson”. “How may I serve you, Mistress?”
Nella’s heart swelled at the sight of her immaculately groomed husband in his Zegna suit. Not one lush brown hair on his head was out of place and, although there was a hint of weariness in his dark eyes, he still wore the commanding exterior of a captain of industry. She’d beat that out of him fast. Nella clicked her fingers and Monty jumped up onto the lounge. “Chef has left a tray in the kitchen with two plates and the dog bowl. Bring it in and hurry up about it, because Monty has had a long day and is hungry.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Oh, and Michael, come back naked. I have plans for you.”
When he smiled it was with gratitude mixed with relief, telling her his week had been challenging. It was the slight nuances that alerted her. The lines at the side of his mouth that needed softening with her kisses, the rigid way he held his body that she’d relax this evening, in her own special way that bonded them close. She really didn’t think she could love him more than she did now, even after so many years of marriage.
While Michael was in the kitchen, she placed a blanket on the lounge, shifting Monty so the dog would have something comfortable to sit on. After all, she didn’t want to leave marks on the soft fabric, given she’d had the material shipped in from a lovely atelier in New York, and she wasn’t wearing underpants.
Michael walked in carrying a large flat tray with two über designer dinner plates, the porcelain dog bowl and two wine glasses. He glanced at her as if checking he’d arranged the tray to her liking.
“Mistress? Where would you like the tray?” At 6’3”, he towered over men and she’d seen him use it to his advantage when determined to intimidate an opponent in business; at home she preferred him on his knees. Warmth spread through her pussy at the size of his erection.
She pointed her beautifully manicured nail to the side table. “You may begin serving.”
“Yes Mistress.” He placed the tray on the side table next to her, took a white linen napkin and fluttered it over her lap. Next, he filled both wine glasses from a bottle, its label decorated with awards. He lifted the dinner plates and dog bowl, placing them on the table, and left the tray balanced on the lounge.
“Get down on all fours in front of me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” When he was in position, she took the tray, placed it on his back and set her dinner plate and glass of wine on it. Then she picked up the other plate and placed it in front of Monty. Finally, she put the dog bowl in front of Michael. “If one drop of this wonderful wine is spilt, I will punish you.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
After years of training, he was able to keep his back straight and not move while she and Monty ate with gusto. In profile, he had a straight patrician nose, full lips and a strong chin, which all added to his ruthless commanding look. Michael made an excellent table. He suited the tasteful furnishings of the house and it was always a pleasure to eat off him. She was always hungry, given she lived on one thousand calories a day. Determined not to be larger in dress size than any of the Double D dinner girl pals who were coming to her house the next night, she tucked in to the lean chicken and steamed vegetables while Monty did the same.
Meanwhile, Michael stared at his dinner plate, unable to take a bite, as any movement would unsettle the tray. Her husband, if not controlled, could be a glutton. Tonight his dog bowl was full of chicken and broccoli, a diet she insisted he stick to even though he had hated it from the time his nanny had ordered him to eat it. But it was her job to take care of him, even if he didn’t like her methods. It would do him good to wait, Nella decided, given he hadn’t attended enough Pilates classes due to his overseas commitments.
When she finished, she picked up her wine glass and kicked back by removing the tray from Michael’s back and putting her legs on him instead. Sloth was such an enjoyable sin. She noticed him swallow hungrily as he eyed his dog bowl. “Eat.” She motioned with one pointed finger. Nella picked up the remote and switched on the television. There was a wonderful show she wanted to see. Absentmindedly, she fondled Monty’s head as she sipped her wine.
Michael bent and wolfed his chicken down.
Nella turned to watch, irritated that his movement was distracting her from her program. “Eat the broccoli first. All of it.” She turned back to her program, increasing the volume.
A hunk of chicken fell onto the carpet and he froze, his guilt written across his face.
“The way you eat disgusts me. Get that carpet clean immediately. You know how important order is to me.” Removing her feet from his back, she raised her hand and slapped his bottom, leaving a red handprint.
A soft moan of pleasure reached her ears and it made her smile. Friday night play was the highlight of her week. Out of the corner of her eyes she watched with approval as he used his teeth to pick up the morsel and place it back in the bowl, then licked the stain off the weave, making a fluffing noise as he tried to get the fuzz off his tongue. She popped her feet back up on him.
By the time Nella switched off the television, Monty had gone to sleep on the lounge and Michael was licking his dog bowl clean. She turned to him as he shifted on his hands and knees. His face was grim from the discomfort. His body was firm despite his age, from his broad shoulders down to his trim waist and long, strong legs. It had taken her hours working with her chef to plan the perfect diet for her husband so that he stayed fit and healthy. A thrill ran up her spine and her nipples tightened. She really couldn’t wait to get started on the next part of their game. They’d been playing for years and never once had he said his safe word “Kerri”, something she was proud of. Judging how far to take his submissiveness was a skill and she excelled at it. His house, his very own palace, was the one place he could relax and not have to make a decision and she planned to keep it that way.
When he was done, she took her legs off his back and stood. “Clean up, put Monty to bed in his room and come upstairs and shower. I have something I want to show you.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He stood awkwardly, his limbs clearly stiff from assuming the same position for over
an hour, picked up Monty and Nella’s plates, placing them on the tray along with the glasses and the dog bowl.
It was not without some satisfaction that Nella noticed Michael still had an erection.
In their bedroom on the second floor, Nella stood in front of the mirror, rose-coloured lipstick in hand. Her diamond rings and matching earrings glittered in the light as she applied her make-up. At forty-eight, her hair was still thick and glossy due to the treatments she had every week. The last lot of laser treatments had left her skin flawless. Tonight she’d left her hair long and flowing around her shoulders. It was important to get the whole effect right. She dabbed on her lipstick with a steady hand. Not over the line, nor under. She stepped back to observe the effect of her highlighted nipples, which peaked over the corset. “Perfect.” Behind her, she heard the soft snick of the bathroom door open.
“Drop,” she ordered.
Michael knelt on command, eyes cast down.
Nella swept up the leash, the one with little metal studs at the end, and strode toward him, making sure she stopped right in front of her husband, her hairless pussy near his face. If he risked an unauthorised lick, she’d punish him. Already his substantial cock was thickening into the long, hard toy she adored.
He took in a deep breath, longing written across his handsome face as she clipped the lead to his collar. Experience had taught her that starving Michael of sex made him desperate for her. It gave her great pleasure thinking of ways to add something new to their game, and tonight was going to be special. She tapped the new lead on her hand, testing its snap. Perfect. It never gave her satisfaction to mark this muscular, pedigreed man unless the lines were positioned just where she wanted them. She pointed her manicured finger. “Down.”
Michael’s deep-set brown eyes flashed fire but he dropped onto all fours just the same. Clearly, the sight of her pussy so near his face made him hunger for her. Impatience ruled his life and in that way they were different, because Nella always planned and waited to get what she wanted.
The constant balance of pushing hard enough, but not too far, sent pulses of pleasure between her legs. His dynamic, volatile nature entranced her—had done so from the moment she’d met him—but it made him a challenge to control at times. Freshly showered, he smelled divine. She looked at him as lust coiled inside her. The fierce tiger stripes she’d laid across his ribs from their last session with her crop suited this titan of a man. It had taken a lot of practice to place them in well-spaced, vertical lines. She pressed her palms on his broad shoulders, on which so much daily pressure rested, then ran her fingers along his rib cage, tracing the welts just to remind him who was in charge.
He winced.
“It’s worth waiting for pleasure, my pet.” Though edginess oozed from his every pore, she continued examining him, lightly touching his well-toned buttocks until she reached between and cupped his weighty balls. Rubbing the pad of her thumb over his ball sack she was delighted to savour how tight they were. Michael was forbidden to touch himself or seek pleasure elsewhere.
Stepping back, she observed his sleek lines as he knelt on all fours, chin tilted at just the right angle. Good bloodlines always showed through and Michael was descended from the general who had accompanied William the Conqueror. His forebears had raped and pillaged England for centuries and now Australia was experiencing the power of the Pouache plunder. Of course, there’d be a huge price to pay for Michael’s pillaging, and she’d enjoy extracting it.
Nella moved up his body and rested her hand momentarily on his head, interweaving her fingers in his thick, cropped hair. She jerked his head up. Even at forty-nine he was still magnificent, his silver-streaked hair reminding her of his drive and ruthlessness, gained from years acquiring companies and properties in Sydney and overseas. It was the same drive and ruthlessness he’d used to pursue her and then keep her happy throughout their marriage. Michael had a gift for making companies profitable, though no matter how much money he made, he could never quench the greed that lived in his very cells.
Personally, avarice disgusted her because she believed wealth should be shared and the vulnerable protected. Forcing Michael to adhere to her code was an essential element that added to the success of their marriage. “I have a special treat for you, my love. We’re going to admire your latest acquisition.”
He stared up at her, wariness flickering across his face. A rush of love filled her chest. Michael, uncertain and guilty, was an exotic delight like a lush fruit made for biting. The outside world only saw the commanding modern-day rapacious warrior, not the proud submissive pet she owned.
“Come.” She gave his collar a slight tug as she strode out the door of her bedroom on the second floor of their mansion. The views of the harbour were excellent at this level; from the cupola, they were stupendous.
Michael stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned toward the elevator.
“Don’t even think about it. We’re taking the stairs.” She gave his buttock a sharp smack.
He didn’t flinch.
It took a lot to bring a Pouache down, but she excelled at it after all these years. The anticipation of what she was about to do to him sent ripples of pleasure throughout her. She shook her hand to work off the sting from her palm as she mounted the steep stairs, Michael struggling at her heels to meet her pace. Years of personal training, pounding the pavement with Monty and extended barre classes kept her in peak condition, though she had noticed some lines under her eyes that the Botox hadn’t contained. Hopefully Christa’s plastic surgeon husband would help her with that. Fillers could only do so much.
Michael was panting by the time they reached the cupola, a small enclosed glass rectangle, three storeys above street level. She keyed in the code and the door clicked open. Only Nella and Michael had access to this level, and the hidden cupboards that lined the room contained specials toys for their mutual enjoyment. Nella yanked on the lead. Riding his Cervélo bicycle kept her husband fit, but the stairs were difficult for such a tall, strong man to negotiate on his hands and knees. He didn’t complain, which was a shame because her fingers itched to grab his hair, viciously twist it and pull his head to the ground. There was nothing she enjoyed more than him licking her. After years of training, Michael excelled with his tongue and he could go for hours, but then Pouaches were bred for endurance.
She’d installed the upholstered bench in the cupola especially for her comfort and there was just enough room for Michael to kneel between her legs. “Stand. I have a surprise for you.”
Michael rose and looked out the window at the newest building on Circular Quay, which she’d arranged to have lit up so he could observe it. At the top of the building the huge P, the Pouache power symbol, blinked on and off, for the city to see.
Nella stood behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Another testament to your wealth.”
“Indeed, Mistress. A work of art.”
From the firm set of his jaw, Nella knew he was proud. His short statement in his patrician, private school voice confirmed it. Her fingernails dug into his skin, leaving half-moon imprints. Love for him swelled in her chest. From the moment she’d found him walking his motherless baby Sienna, twenty-seven years ago, Nella had known he was perfect for her. Michael, in hell because his wife had died and his nanny had walked out, had complained to her about his lot and Nella had slapped the rich-boy persona out of him. She’d found her submissive, her pet. Once he’d suffered nightmares over Sienna’s mother’s hideous car crash. She’d punished him then and it had relieved his nightmares, now punishment relieved his work stress. “Pride is a sin. On your knees.”
“But Mistress, I’ve replaced an ugly seventies building with this masterpiece.” His mouth turned down and his handsome face contained a sulky look. Already his light-olive skin had taken on a darker hue as his temper built.
“Your building displaced numerous families who lived in the old building. You think you have a right to be proud?” Nella raised
the end of the lead, swinging it backward and forward, sensing his longing. She knew he wanted to argue his point but if she let him get away with it, that would mean another sleepless night of tossing and turning for her overworked, overstressed husband. To gain council permission to start again and build a modern steel and glass monument to the Pouache wealth had nearly been the death of him. The whole project had taken four years out of his life.
“Of great work? Yes I do.” His breath quickened as his gaze followed the lead like a dog eyeing a bone, but he didn’t drop to his knees.
She adored it when he answered back. Her eyes moved down from his taut abdomen to the thick cock that jutted out. She walked around him, enjoying the feel of her Christian Louboutin stilettos under her feet, occasionally yanking the leash so that he was forced to turn. “You rich pig. You behave like this building is all your own work. You don’t even acknowledge the thousands of men and women who slaved to build it.”
His deep, brown eyes flashed with anger. “The concept was mine. I pushed it. I funded it. I have made my mark on Sydney.”
“Your avarice disgusts me. That glass and steel monstrosity is an eyesore.” With a quick flick of her wrist, she lashed out with the end of the lead, the leather and metal catching him on his right thigh.
His body quivered and he clenched his fists. He’d closed his eyes as he absorbed the shock, his broad shoulders tensing so that the well-honed muscles on his arms bulged. His whole torso clenched and his ridged muscles rippled as he sucked in a deep breath. Even his flat man nipples peaked.
“Get down on your knees.”
He sank onto the hard floor as his body shuddered with pain.
She could see him panting as he fought to breathe. He was exquisite. So well-bred that not even an expletive left his lips. Her chest filled with love for him. No one would ever tick all the boxes for her like he did. Climbing onto the padded bench of the cupola, she knelt so that her sex was directly in front of him. She took a handful of his lush, brown hair and wrenched his head up so that he was forced to look into her eyes.
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 9
