by Josie Litton
Without a moment’s hesitation, she shot back. “Neither are you when you know nothing of those lives!”
They glared at one another, neither willing to give the proverbial inch. It occurred to him that they were having their first real argument aside from his spate of incoherent rage when he’d awakened to the realization of what she had done to him.
How very odd. He couldn’t remember ever having any inclination to argue with a woman before. What would have been the point? But Jane was so stubborn, so maddening, so…everything. Someone had to set her straight and he was just the man to do it.
He was about to chastise her--verbally, of course, he hadn’t totally forgotten the torque-when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed the man standing at one of the bars. Tall, well-built, in perfectly tailored bespoke evening clothes the equal of his lordship’s own, the proprietor of the Odalisque had turned his head in their direction.
It was uncanny how Lucius Belmont could sense even the smallest disruption in the normal flow of events within the club that was his creation and his domain. Of an age with Lord Adrian, and equally compelling, his origins were as mysterious as was the source of his wealth. Lacking both title and family name, he had nonetheless carved a formidable swath across the empire, making both friends and enemies in the process.
His lordship was happy to count himself among the former but he still had no wish for Lucius to be aware of his presence that evening.
Quietly, he said, “We should not be having this discussion here.”
“We should not be having it at all as you are clearly incapable of understanding--”
“Jane.”
His use of her given name drew her up short. She faltered. Gazing into her eyes, he saw the same battle between arousal and anger that raged within himself.
That decided him. With a firm hand at her waist, he guided her off the center floor toward much needed privacy.
Chapter Eight
The moment they were alone, Jane stepped beyond the circle of his arm and put space between them. Determinedly, she said, “I realize that I’ve shocked you but--”
She broke off as her startled gaze took in their new surroundings. Her sudden preoccupation was understandable given where she found herself. The private box was a classic bijoux, a small room decorated in the Baroque style with the same attention to detail that would be given to an exquisite jewelry case.
The walls were covered with silk-and-velvet brocade in shades of burgundy and gold. A gilded crystal chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling. Along one wall, a trompe l’oeil mural fooled the eye with a view of a bucolic, landscape wherein satyrs and nymphs fucked and frolicked.
Two of the remaining walls depicted a truly impressive range of carnal activities involving every imaginable combination of participants. Rumor had it that among the faces agape with dull-witted lust were several well-known politicians and men of the cloth whose stock in trade was the decrying of anything that they deemed to be immoral. One and all were shown in the process of enthusiastically buggering and being buggered, frequently each other but also several startled looking sheep and in one improbable case, a camel.
Most of the exquisite room was taken up by a large canopied bed equipped with an overhead mirror and discreetly mounted metal rings. At its foot, a deep leather couch faced an expanse of tinted glass looking out over the main floor of the club. Visibility could be adjusted to serve every inclination from that of the most blatant exhibitionist to the coyest voyeur. At the moment, the window was set to provide a clear view of the activities on the other side while allowing only a shadowed glimpse of the room’s occupants.
Slowly, Jane looked around, her expression one of unwilling fascination. “This is…extraordinary.”
Secretly pleased by her admission, his lordship nonetheless said, “I’m surprised you’d say that given that this wouldn’t exist but for your despised ‘betters’.”
Jane rallied at once, giving every indication of being prepared to take up where they had left off. “I am perfectly capable of appreciating--”
She broke off again as a naked man and woman stepped into the room. Both were young and attractive in the extreme. Lithe and athletic rather than bulky, the male’s bronzed body glistened with oil that emphasized the rippling movement of his muscles. But of far greater notice were the enhancements to his cock aimed at assuring that he would be available to service any number of members throughout the evening. To that end, a triple metal ring clenched his balls and the base of his cock. A second, smaller ring was secured further up around his crest. From it, a smooth metal plug disappeared into the opening of his penis, of a length sufficient to maintain his erection while also assuring that he could not come.
His lordship winced at the sight and turned his attention to the female. Objectively, she was beautiful although his thoughts were too consumed with Jane to be stirred by her. He did like the tattooed flight of butterflies that extended from the underside of one high, lush breast down her side to the mound of her bare sex. When she moved, they appeared to flutter.
Both servers carried silver trays. On a table beside the couch, the young man set a chilled bottle of champagne, two flutes and a plate of delicacies. Nearby, the young woman placed an assortment of sex toys. His lordship cast a knowledgeable eye over the latter and was pleased by what he saw. One could always count on the impeccable standards of the Odalisque.
When they had accomplished their tasks, the pair stepped back, eyes downcast, and assumed their positions along a wall where they waited to be called upon.
“They’re staying?” Jane inquired. Her voice was a notch higher than usual.
“Unless you wish otherwise. If they stay, they’ll do whatever you tell them to. For example, you can have them fuck each other in whatever way you like while you watch or--”
“Go!” she said. And then, because she was Jane, she added, “Please.”
Punishment was still in the cards, obviously, but on the other hand he would have to find some way to reward her for being so in tune with his own desires.
When they were alone again, his lordship wasted no time. Taking a seat on the couch, he patted the space beside him. “You should get comfortable. The show is really just beginning.”
Slowly, she edged toward him and lowered herself on to the couch, leaving a good foot of space between them. Her gaze darted to the window, away, and back again. He observed with satisfaction that she appeared drawn as the moth to the flame.
“How much more can there be?” she asked.
He laughed, their earlier argument set aside if only temporarily. From the plate of nibbles, he selected a slice of fig topped with pancetta and a sprinkling of chili. They’d both been drinking since the car. If she had any regard for her health, she would eat something.
“Try this,” he said, holding out the tempting morsel.
Distracted, she leaned forward and took a bite. Her eyes widened with startled pleasure.
With an effort, he managed to conceal his satisfaction at the small victory of coaxing her to eat from his hand.
“Had you secured employment in the kitchen here,” he said, “you would have discovered that the Odalisque boasts this city’s finest chef, easily one of the best to be found anywhere in the world.” As she took another bite, he added, “Moreover, she is a woman.”
The little treat was entirely devoured before Jane said, “I wouldn’t have expected that.”
“And yet it is so. The proprietor here is, of necessity, quite broad minded.” He filled a flute and gave her a sip before following it with a caviar and crème fraîche tartlet.
“I didn’t realize I was so hungry,” she said when that, too, was gone in a quick bite.
“Try another.”
When she had done so, she licked her lips and said, “The one thing I can expect of you is that you will do the unexpected.”
Obscurely pleased, he shrugged. “What can you possibly mean?”
“We were argu
ing and now you are feeding me. Why is that?”
“Because someone should look after you and you do not seem inclined to do so.”
The words were out before he was barely aware of speaking them yet he would not have taken them back even if he could have. Why should he when he had only spoken the truth?
Her recent actions made her reckless disregard for her own well-being all too clear. Attempting to infiltrate the Odalisque with no apparent thought for what making an enemy of a man like Lucius Belmont would lead to. Then agreeing to the contract with him, a classic case of out of the frying pan into the fire if there ever was one.
Clearly, she was many things beyond maddeningly beautiful, enthrallingly sensual and utterly infuriating. But prudent and sensible were not on the list, especially when it came to her own safety.
“I have looked after myself for years and done well enough,” she said.
“While conceiving the most outlandish notions and putting yourself at very real risk.” He gestured to the torque. “Before too much longer, this will come off. And then--”
A shadow moved behind her lovely eyes. She sighed and sat back against the couch. “How far do you think I will have to go to escape your wrath? I was thinking of America or possibly Australia--”
He waved a hand negligently. “Both are within my easy reach.”
“No doubt. There’s always Argentina; I hear good things about the beef there and the people are said to be most pleasant.”
“I’ve heard the same but again…”
“That reach of yours. Of course, I could seek sanctuary somewhere truly remote. Nepal, perhaps? Although I’m not sure that I’d like the climate. Or I could throw myself on the mercy of Holy Mother Church and become a nun.”
He sputtered, spraying a mouthful of champagne in the direction of the window. Jane thoughtfully handed him a napkin.
Mopping his chin, his lordship said, “Please believe me, you are the last woman on earth who should ever take a vow of chastity.”
She raised a brow. “You don’t think I have the fortitude for it?”
“I think it would be a bloody crime against nature. Jane, you are--”
Belatedly, this time his brain did engage. Did he truly want to tell her right then that she was the most challenging and fascinating woman he had ever met? That his thoughts night and day were consumed by her? That as unpardonable as her behavior toward him was, the thought of being without her was rapidly becoming intolerable?
Fortunately, he was spared any need to explain himself when her attention was drawn back to the window. A new performance was beginning. On one of the stages, a black corseted woman of undeniable beauty but stern demeanor surveyed a naked male stretched out on a rack. Shackled at wrists and ankles, his impressive cock was erect and waiting, stretching almost to his naval.
Cameras positioned above the stage gave a bird’s eye view of the proceedings, displaying them on large video monitors around the main floor.
With a cool smile, the woman raised a riding crop. Braided leather, black, excellent quality with a devilish little flap at the top for extra oomph, it was perfectly designed for its purpose.
Slowly, she stroked the tip of the crop down the man’s chest, around his naval, and over his abdomen before flicking it lightly against his inner thighs. His muscles jerked and quivered. A low moan escaped him.
For long, exquisitely tormenting minutes, she teased him with strokes of the crop over his body before finally sliding it under his prick and raising the turgid member, turning it this way and that on display. As the audience watched with avid attention, she laid the quivering cock back against his abdomen and, without warning, gave it a good whack with the flap of the crop. Followed quickly by another and another.
Slow strokes of the crop alternated with the swift blows. The glass somewhat muted the man’s groans but they were audible all the same. Struck repeatedly, his already impressive erection hardened even further. A few drops of pre-cum oozed from his tip.
“Naughty,” the woman said quite clearly and whacked his balls, breaking off only to stroke the crop once again along his inner thighs up to his groin. Playing with him in that manner, she continued striking and stroking, stopping every time he appeared close to coming.
Despite his inevitable feelings of male solidarity with the poor fellow being so abused, his lordship did manage to glance over at Jane. She was staring wide-eyed and flushed.
Without taking her gaze from the glass, she said, “That must hurt awfully, don’t you think?”
“I rather suspect that’s the point,” Lord Adrian muttered. Her interest in the proceedings was beginning to concern him.
So, too, was his own reaction. Despite his utter aversion to ever experiencing anything remotely similar, his painfully erect cock was hardening yet further within its gold sheath. Something about the domme’s utter concentration on her sub, her intense focus on his responses to the exclusion of all else--
She continued tormenting him for what his lordship could not help but think was an excessively cruel length of time, for all that he had to assume she knew her business. The hypocrisy of any such criticism coming from him did not entirely escape his notice but he was too distracted to dwell on it.
Finally, she let loose a rain of swift blows on cock and balls together, all the while sternly cautioning her groaning, writhing victim not to come. At long last, she bent down close to him and whispered something in his ear. The veritable geyser of ejaculate that erupted from him at that signal was met by enthusiastic cheers from the audience. In its aftermath, the domme took a bow while the newly flaccid male laid back, eyes closed, and wallowed in his bliss.
“Good lord,” Jane said.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Lord Adrian blurted. Rather than take any chance that she might, he hastened to distract her.
Sliding a hand between her legs, he eased it up between her thighs where he was delighted to discover that he wasn’t the only one not wearing panties. She shot him a warning look for his effrontery, only to gasp a moment later when he parted her outer lips and circled a finger around her clit.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured. From watching the poor fellow get cropped? Hell on wheels, he really didn’t want her thinking about that.
Fumbling for the tray of toys, he grasped the object he’d taken particular notice of earlier. A jade dildo, exquisitely made, the curved stalk carved with a spiral ridge and angled just so for maximum stimulation. While it was far from as impressive as his own endowment, it would do in a pinch.
“You feel like you need to be fucked. Badly.” Glancing down at his gold-sheathed cock, he added, “What a pity I’m out of commission.”
“If you’re trying to get me to release you, it won’t work… Aaaahhhh…”
Her lovely head fell back against the couch as he rubbed the jade stalk between her labia and over her clit. She was so primed, so ready. It would take very little effort to make her come.
With a wicked smile he took care she did not see, his lordship worked his wiles on his naughty pet. Having spread her lovely legs, he took a moment to enjoy the sight of her bare, glistening pussy before deploying the dildo. Sliding it just the smallest way into her, he let her feel the thick round bulb at the top while he once again confirmed that a pierced tongue properly wielded has a remarkable effect.
Her clit was swollen to the size of a ripe berry, her back arched, her breath coming in ragged pants when he raised his head and said, “I’m curious, was the pet program your second choice for an exposé?”
She blinked, heavy-lidded, dazed with pleasure. “W-what…?”
He gave her clit another swipe to assure she remained in a proper state of mind and pursued the matter that had been concerning him ever since she revealed her insane desire to get down among the gutter dwellers.
As much as he would have preferred not to think about it at all, she simply did not strike him as the sort to balk at the first hurdle. Especially not if she was truly
driven by a reformer’s zeal, no matter how woefully ill-conceived that might be.
“After you realized that you couldn’t get into the Odalisque, did you decide to expose the pet program instead? It would have been equally revealing of the foibles of your “betters”, wouldn’t you say?”
A little twist of the jade stalk for encouragement and she cried out. “Yes…no, I don’t know!…Ooohhh--”
He was throbbing, in agony, his own arousal heightened excruciatingly by hers. Only with the greatest effort did he manage to stay focused.
Another twist, a little deeper, his tongue again on her swollen bud, and, “But you do know. Did you intend to write about the pet program?”
“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Don’t stop!”
He looked up at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and parted lips, the smoky heat in her eyes, the quivers running just beneath her exquisite skin. A choking sense of loss swelled within him.
On some level deep inside he had wanted to believe that her touching, if misplaced conviction that he could be a better man was real. To be seen in that light, to be the recipient of that faith had awakened something in him that he had thought was long extinguished.
But it had all been an illusion. He had never been other than a means to an end. In all fairness, what could be more fitting given his own use of her?
Yet it hurt all the same, and far more deeply than he would ever have expected. He could not afford to feel that pain or the anger that came with it. Not knowing as he did what the price would be.
Instead, he made her come, watching as she did, savoring the beauty and power of her release. Even then, believing what he did, he could not help but be affected by all she was.
But afterward, when she lay in his arms on the couch, her eyes closed and her breathing eased, he could not resist the impulse to poke the wound.
“Why me? You must have been offered other contracts.”
