I noticed a picture on the nightstand of him and his father set in a tarnished silver frame. His father appeared as a man not much older than Mr. Delacroix was now, wavy dark hair and proud blue eyes. I noticed his hands wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, broad, soft boxer’s hands. His smile was gleaming and so was his son’s; freckles dotted the young boy’s cheeks and his hair was a curly mess of sun-lightened auburn brown. He held a kite in his hand and looked up to his father’s eyes in love and admiration.
“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” was all I could say. “You look just like him.”
“That’s what Jackson says all the time. Sometimes I think Jackson wanted me to be my dad, that maybe I could fill his empty shoes. And ya know, Nez, I would have. I’d have stepped up and taken Dad’s place with Jackson. I thought that was what we were doing, that that was what would happen when I came back from school. He and I would be together forever like he and my dad should have been.” He trailed off and looked out toward the late afternoon sun.
He began to sway back and forth and held me so that I moved with him. “Of course,” he said, “having children changes everything.”
“I should think so, my lord. I mean, for good parents it does. This is something my mother never understood. If I were to ever become a mother, I’d love and cherish my children. They’d be the center of my being. Monique taught me that her devotion to her children is why this place, why you, exist. Look what she and Jean-Pierre built together. Is it not your duty and mine that we carry it forward? My love, my lord, we are nothing without family.”
“So you’d sacrifice the way we live for the sake of the children? I mean, the lifestyle we have? How, Nez? How would we do it?” In earnest ignorance he admitted, “I’ve never known anything else.”
“It would be very manageable, my lord, as we already have ground rules, such as being honest and straightforward. It’s just a matter of revising the agreement,” I pointed out.
“Nezzie, baby, for once I’m pleased you use your head. You have just unraveled my most pressing puzzle. See why you’re such a complement to me, why we work so well together?”
“Yes, my lord, I think I’m finally getting it,” I said as he took my arm in his and escorted me out to the covered terrace.
“Good. That settles it. Since you get it, I’m gonna give it to you in every way possible—your mouth, your pussy, and your enchanting little ass,” he said, pulling his arm from mine and spanking me playfully.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
His hand went up my skirt from behind and my legs opened for him.
“A couple playmates are waiting for us upstairs.”
26.
Mr. Delacroix carefully secured the doors but left the shutters to the children’s wing open. We made our way back through the library and up the stairs. Jean-Pierre’s eyes looked down upon us as we approached the mammoth portrait.
“Mr. Delacroix, where was he when that portrait was painted?” I asked as I stopped to admire it once again.
“I think he was out back past the chapel. There’s another little hill over there. I think that’s where he was. Of course, the cypress trees in that portrait are gone now; they were probably used to finish the house at some point.”
He took my hand and tugged me toward the stairs. I was so nervous, I feared I might faint.
“Nezzie, I got you. Don’t worry. This is no different from hanging out with Sunny and Ty. Don’t overthink this.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll try.”
“You trust me, right?” he said as he walked next to me up the stairs.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then you have nothing to fear. We’ll go to our room first to get out of these clothes and freshen up. And don’t worry. You won’t be the only one who’ll be naked, my love.” He giggled, which put me at ease. “Come on, love, the best way to get rid of those nerves is to just go for it. I got you, Nezzie. All you have to do is listen to me and you’ll be fine.”
“Okay, my lord.”
Our rooms were a welcome sight. I immediately disrobed upon entry. A vast floral arrangement made up of about two dozen white roses with pink trim was on the coffee table. The essence of rose petals scented the air.
“You like the roses I chose for you?” he asked.
“They’re perfect, my lord.”
“Good, because they remind me of you, all white and pure with only a little color to show how much you’ve learned,” he said with a smile. “Come, Nez, let’s shower and go see how the Scotts are doing.”
We quickly soaped up with rose-scented suds, shaved where need be, and rubbed lotion on one another’s skin. My training had rendered my body into a desirable sculpture of sensuality that I never knew I possessed, one of the many ways in which Mr. Delacroix helped me obtain my highest promise, that undeniable pinnacle of physical virtuosity.
“You look marvelous,” Mr. Delacroix said as I stood naked in front of the mirror. “You’re wearing my favorite outfit.”
“My lord, you look great too.”
“So, you finally agree with me. You finally see it.”
“Sir?”
“It’s about time you see how beautiful you are. I’ve known it all along.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“You’re welcome, my sweet thing,” he said as he put black silk pants on. “Now let’s go take the tour of the master suite. I can’t wait for you to see the playroom. There’s room up there for about a dozen couples, and I gotta say, we’ve had some crazy parties up there.”
We went through the black room where the empty hooks from earlier were threaded through with ropes and pulleys. The dresser top was no longer empty, but artfully arranged with leather riding crops, cuffs, collars, and something that Mr. Delacroix called a cat o’ nine tails. Various plastic and rubber sex toys were also laid out, some very large. A Crock-Pot sat on the corner of the dresser set on high.
We knocked on the door to the master suite and Jackson’s smooth, baritone voice admitted us. The sitting room was similar to our own but larger; on their coffee table sat a bouquet of crimson roses as sweet smelling as the white ones in our room. The walls were painted a dark green and the dark wood trim set the mood with furnishings in a palette of deep reds and gold. The tantalizing ambiance was earthy, worldly, erotic. My eyes traveled the room from corner to corner. Jackson was fully in the nude, sitting on the crimson brocade chair with his right ankle resting atop his left knee, sipping a glass of water.
“On your knees, Jackson,” Mr. Delacroix said in his flat tone, and I knew his eyes shown that gunmetal pallor. I did not look at him, but watched in amazement as Jackson set his water down and kneeled on the floor in front of his chair, never lifting his eyes from the floor. Mr. Delacroix was correct when he said Jackson was a natural submissive. He was more becoming in this role than that of master to Marie-Louise. His aquiline features softened, creating a more natural balance to his unusually handsome face.
“There’s a good man, Jackson. You’re finally back where you want to be. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.” Jackson’s voice softened and I could see his shoulders moving with each breath.
“Where’s Marie-Louise?” Mr. Delacroix asked him.
“In the bedroom, sir,” Jackson replied. “She’s waiting for your commands.”
“Thank you, Jackson, stay put.”
Jackson did not move a muscle. Mr. Delacroix walked through the sitting room and into the bedroom. I stayed put too, not knowing what to do other than to listen to Mr. Delacroix. I panicked; I did not want to be alone with Jackson.
“Nezzie, come.”
I followed his voice into the bedroom, which was decorated in much the same way as the living room, except the walls were deep maroon in color and the wall of French doors opened onto an extensive veranda from which you could see for miles. Birdsong ent
ered the chamber on a light, cool breeze that caressed my bare skin, giving me goose bumps as I watched Mr. Delacroix and Marie-Louise.
Mr. Delacroix was standing over the bed where Marie-Louise was bound, spread eagle, on her back. The small chains I saw at lunch that attached to her collar ran to hoops that pierced each of her nipples. From there, identical chains fell from each nipple to another hoop that pierced her clit. In the center of this erotic triangle, another small chain attached to a larger chain that attached to the canopy pulled her nipples and her clit just enough to cause her an extraordinary amount of pain if she relaxed too much into the bed. Thin hairline scars ran across her body, above her breasts and over one shoulder. The chain’s slack tightened for a moment and I feared her tissue would tear.
Mr. Delacroix did not move to relieve her. He admired her small corrective movements. “Marie-Louise, you like this, don’t you?”
“Very much, sir,” she smiled. “This is my favorite time of day. It’s like meditating.”
“You do this every day?” he asked.
“Usually in the morning before breakfast, but only when Master is here with me. We didn’t do it this morning because we were getting things ready for you.”
Mr. Delacroix leaned over her and imperceptibly tugged the main chain. “Marie-Louise, address me properly.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“How long have you been chained?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, sir. After lunch, I helped Master make the bed in the black room and set the toys out and then he let me have some water. After that he fucked me and then we took a shower and then he chained me.”
“Do you think you’ve been there long enough?” He walked around to the other side of the bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out a large rubber dildo.
“I don’t know, sir,” she said as he leaned over the bed.
“Will this help you decide?” He held the enormous dildo in his hand.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
He slowly walked to the foot of the bed, and as methodically and slowly as he could, he inserted the dildo into her vagina with a twisting motion. Her attempts to move in response tightened the slack on the chain. She whimpered. Her breathing became irregular. When it was all the way in, he turned on the vibration full blast, making her start. She was silent. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she worked to regain her equilibrium. I was perplexed by her desire for pain and distressed that Mr. Delacroix was making it worse.
“Nezzie, don’t fret. Marie-Louise knows exactly what she’s doing. She can get out of it anytime she wants to. She has safe words, don’t you, Marie?” he asked. I noticed the bulge in his pants.
“Yes, sir,” Marie answered.
“Does it feel good?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she said as she closed her eyes with even, level breaths.
“Darling love,” he said to me, “as scintillating as this is, I don’t ever want to see a tattoo or a piercing on your body. There is absolutely no reason for permanent scars for the sake of finding pleasure. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I was relieved, and wondered about Marie-Louise’s scars.
To my horror, we left Marie-Louise to revel in her recreation and made our way back into the sitting room. Mr. Delacroix commented on the décor as we left. “Don’t you think a lighter tone would be better since the room faces north?”
“Yes, sir,” I stammered.
“I do too. The room reminds me of a dungeon, especially with her in there like that. I’d like to change the whole atmosphere in here, wouldn’t you?”
I was still processing what I had just seen. I heard his question, but it did not register.
“Of course, if you’d rather leave it this way, I can live with it. You’ll be spending more time in these rooms than I will, so it is completely up to you, my love.”
“Yes, my lord. I’d like to redecorate,” I said, not wanting to spend my time in these rooms in Marie’s condition.
“Marie-Louise likes things dark. She always has. I think she has a predisposition for the macabre, but all that’s gonna change around here. No more death, Jackson,” he said as we sat on the sofa. Jackson had not moved.
“Yes, sir,” Jackson agreed.
“So how long has Marie-Louise been hanging like that?” Mr. Delacroix asked.
“Not an hour yet, sir.”
“Well, for fuck’s sake, Jackson, how long do you usually leave her like that?”
“She generally peaks out at about fifty minutes, but I leave her there until I hear the safe word.”
Mr. Delacroix’s eyes had not softened since coming to the sitting room and he got up from the chair and stood across the coffee table from Jackson. “Crawl to me, boy. Come here now and show me your ass.”
Jackson dutifully crawled around the table and turned his backside toward us, lifting it as he placed his forehead on the floor. Mr. Delacroix hit it hard and I noticed Jackson’s penis grow as it swayed with the impact.
“Jackson, you will address me properly, do you understand?” He hit Jackson hard again, almost tumbling him over. Jackson’s manhood was now at full attention.
“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.
“You know the rules, boy,” Mr. Delacroix said as he hit him again, making Jackson’s backside glow red.
“Yes, sir, I do. I know the rules.” Jackson was breathing hard.
“Good man.” Mr. Delacroix sat down. “Now come here and suck me off, you prick.”
Jackson turned and crawled toward Mr. Delacroix. I was intrigued to see Jackson give Mr. Delacroix a blow job, especially from my vantage point sitting next to Mr. Delacroix. Jackson was surprisingly gentle and feminine, nothing like Sunny. Jackson’s jawline, naturally pronounced, became even more rugged and angular when he enveloped Mr. Delacroix’s cock in his mouth and throat. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he sucked and his lips caressed the head. He eased the erection all the way into his throat and his eyes rolled in delight. Mr. Delacroix grabbed Jackson’s hair as he did so often my own and began to guide him faster and faster over his penis. Jackson’s hands remained calm on Mr. Delacroix’s hips. He became supple and yielding. I felt my groin roil and knew I would orgasm alongside Mr. Delacroix when the time came; I could feel his tension rising. Jackson was moaning and I wanted to touch his throat, to feel what he felt, to know what he knew at that moment.
Mr. Delacroix looked at me and smiled. “Kiss me, Nez, kiss me while I come in Jackson’s throat.”
I got on my knees next to him on the sofa and kissed him with fiery passion. He groaned as his hungry tongue jammed into my mouth. He pulled it out and firmly sucked on mine. This hungry kissing went on until he reached the summit. He let out a loud moan, released Jackson’s head, and reached for me. My insides cascaded in euphoric waves and his hand reached under me to touch my dripping sex while Jackson looked on, catching his breath without touching either of us.
From the other room Marie-Louise’s meek voice cried out, “Red, Master, red.”
“Oh god,” Jackson said and made a beeline for the bedroom. I was terrified that Marie was injured, but in a few minutes, she followed Jackson out of the living room, the small chains still attached to her collar and sexual points. She sat next to him at our feet as if nothing had happened. It felt strange to sit on the furniture while someone else sat at my feet.
“Do you feel better now, Marie-Louise?” Mr. Delacroix asked.
“Oh yes, sir. I always feel good after that. I guess I stayed on longer than usual because you shoved that dildo in me. I really liked that, sir. Thank you.” She smiled radiantly.
“Good, Marie, I’m glad you’ve gotten yourself aroused because Jackson and I worked hard to get Nezzie ready too. Come on. Maybe it’s best we go to the black room because Jackson and I will have a good seat while you pleasure Nezzie.”
“Very good, sir,” Jackson said.
“Nezzie, come,” Mr. Delacroix said, but I hesitated.
“Don’t worry, Nezzie. I’ll get things started and once you get going, you’ll know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.” I followed him to the black room with Jackson and Marie-Louise at my heels.
Marie dutifully sat on the edge of the bed and Jackson made himself as comfortable as possible, considering his very thick penis was throbbing.
“There’ll be no hitting, slapping, or rough play now between the two of you. You may pull hair on my command. I will hand whomever I wish the toy I want them to use. Is that clear, ladies?” Mr. Delacroix adjusted the light to a brighter setting and pulled it closer to the bed.
“Yes, sir,” we said in unison.
“You will both follow my commands, is that understood?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” we said.
“You’re both very good, don’t you agree, Jackson?”
Jackson nodded in agreement.
“Thank you, my lord,” I said.
“Okay, I want Nezzie all the way back, and spread your legs, my love. Show us your pussy. Jackson and Marie haven’t seen it yet.”
I lay back on the bed with my nether regions facing the chaise where Jackson and Mr. Delacroix sat. The light was out of my eyes in this position, but it shone brightly on my crotch.
There was silence in the room, but the sexual tension was palpable. Mr. Delacroix handed something to Marie-Louise and she slid to her knees on the floor. I heard the hum of a vibrator.
“Marie, she’s very sensitive, so less is more for her, but I want you to give her the best clit orgasm she’s ever had. Drive her wild for me. I want to show you and Jackson how fine her pussy is when she comes. Nezzie, don’t move a muscle. If you do, I’ll have to use these shackles, unless you’d prefer I do so now.”
I remembered how badly I wanted to be bound on previous occasions. “My lord, if you please. Bind me now.”
Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey Page 27
