by Nikki Sex
Elizabeth remembered the saying André had told her, the knowledge that had so opened up her awareness: 'Life's most obvious truths are the hardest to see but once you've burned everything to the ground they are the only things left standing.'
The saying was accurate for everyone, including Monsieur André Chevalier. For Elizabeth knew him now, from this one intense day in his company. Unexpectedly, while André was finding and unlocking the key to her soul, she had accidentally done the same to him.
We have both come through the fire, she thought. And with the debris cleared away I see my captor clearly now.
Elizabeth understood something about André that she felt he was only just beginning to understand about himself. Like linking to a computer, data transfer could occur in both directions, and that is what had happened through their coupling. Although she was the one that was chained, André Chevalier was the real captive. Somehow she knew that he had never understood that hard truth until today. Their amazing sexual connection had exposed it to him – and to her.
Thoughtlessly she had looked at him with compassion. Elizabeth shivered as she recalled André's murderous look. He had responded to her sympathy with savage dominance. "Up now, Elizabeth. On your hands and knees on all fours, ass in the air, rest on your forearms."
The man had wanted to be cruel, to distance himself and separate from her, and even then she hadn't been frightened of him. I know him, she thought. André Chevalier has no power to hurt me, because I understand him.
She and Mark did not have a good sex life, but they would now, thanks to André. For, come hell or high water, she would confront Mark, tell him all her secrets and repressed desires and bare her soul. Only denial and cowardice had prevented her from looking at herself and exploring her sensual needs. But what was Mark's reason for giving up sexually on her? Had he been afraid to lose her?
Elizabeth smiled, inexplicably certain that that was his biggest fear. The big tough guy had his own weakness. He was afraid because he valued her too much. Well, together they would work it out. For Elizabeth was not alone. Mark was her own true love and she was his. He was her best friend, a man to cherish and care for, a man who was unconditionally on her side.
And André? While Elizabeth knew nothing about the man, she did know this: he had discovered a real bond with her. But she wasn't his to have, and she would soon leave him and then he would be alone. Her heart twisted at his pain.
After discovering the joy of honest connection, Elizabeth knew that André Chevalier had realized that he needed what she and Mark, for all their problems, already had. André was lonely because he was all alone. He understood this now.
André Chevalier was missing the profound satisfaction of true love.
Book 5: Elizabeth’s Love Ties
1. Mark Nelson
Life sucks, Mark mused, burning with resentment. My wife has been fucking André Chevalier. And she loved every minute of it.
Upon being left alone, Mark had listened all the way through the audio of his wife and the counselor. It had shocked him to the foundations of his entire reality, making him re-think everything. Immediately afterwards he had taken a long cold shower, ignoring the enticing smell of food and the rumbling complaints from his stomach.
Elizabeth has been faking orgasms, he thought. But she can come with Chevalier, alright.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mark knew that the anger he was directing at his Lizzy was unfair, but he couldn't put any of it aside. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, but it had hurt him, knowing that he couldn't satisfy his own wife. After toweling off he noticed the array of clothes that had been left for him. There was plenty to choose from. He settled on an up market, black tracksuit and black T-shirt. Black. The color of my mood.
He pulled on the T-shirt and scowled. Mark had watched every bit of the video of Chevalier sexually tormenting and fucking his wife. Even wild with fury and burning with jealousy as he was, it had still given him the hard on of all hard ons. Why hadn't he been the one to unlock Elizabeth's sexuality? But Mark didn't need a brain like Einstein to answer that question. The real question was, why hadn’t he figured out his own sexual preference?
Dressed, Mark slammed out of the shower area in disgust. So many years in denial as such perverse desires had been too uncomfortable to accept. But right now, even more than he wanted to kill Chevalier, Mark wanted to dominate and fuck Elizabeth silly, exactly as that rat bastard had done.
A smorgasbord of food had been left in heated and cooled compartments on a table near the wall. Ravenous, he piled a plate full of a number of delicacies without thinking, sat on the couch and began to wolf it down. While he did, he read through the little booklet, the training manual concerning BDSM. Mark was a quick study, and while the subject was new to him, it was also bizarrely familiar. It was like finding an old photo of oneself and suddenly remembering completely forgotten moments from one's past. Only BDSM was not anything he had ever experienced. Perhaps it was more like learning another language as a child, moving to another country, and then suddenly finding you have the ability to understand and speak it as an adult. Sexual domination for him was inbuilt and instinctive, like some sort of natural law.
I am a dominant and Elizabeth is a submissive, he thought, and the truth of these statements seemed as certain and definite as gravity. "Dominant," he said out loud. And his lips curled into a smile of genuine pleasure as he whispered, "Submissive." Even the word made him hard. Mark felt a surging sense of 'rightness' inside. These concepts, instead of being foreign, were as recognizable to him as his own face. For so many years, he had repressed his own desires, forcing himself "to be good." When all along Elizabeth had wanted to relinquish control in bed - she couldn't orgasm unless dominated, and by God he had wanted to dominate her. Both of them had been denying and suppressing their sexual needs. The irony was absurd.
If it wasn't so sad and stupid, he thought, I would be laughing my ass off.
After finishing the first plate of food, Mark went back for seconds, and this time he was slightly more discerning, going for seconds on the prawn and chicken curry. There was so much he hadn't known or understood about his wife, or for that matter, about himself. Why hadn't they talked about it? He was afraid to lose her by exposing the darker side of himself, but what was her excuse? Elizabeth had secrets. Of course he had secrets, too, so he shouldn't feel betrayed. Yet he did.
Sitting on the comfortable lounge, Mark drank a bottle of Corona Extra. In fact, he had been drinking a number of beers, and had lost count somewhere around six. In a drunken haze, Mark listened to the audio of his wife and the expensive "sexual counselor" once more.
The second time he heard it made him feel even worse than it had before.
2. Audio
André: "You are a treasure, Elizabeth, and Mark is a lucky man. Thank you for telling me this truth of yours. I am honored. You have not spoken of this to your husband, no?"
Elizabeth: "I..no, I haven't, Sir."
André: "Because you did not wish to hurt him, to make him question his manhood perhaps?"
Elizabeth: "Sir, I didn't want to hurt him."
André: "Because you love your husband Mark, very much, this is so?"
Elizabeth: "Yes, Sir."
André: "Again, I thank you for telling me, mon cher," he said. "You see? These little truths between us will not harm you. Tell me, have you ever masturbated in front of anyone?"
Elizabeth: "No, Sir."
André: "Not even your husband, Mark?" His tone was incredulous.
Elizabeth: "No, Sir."
André: "How often do you masturbate? And where do you do it?"
Elizabeth: "About once per day, I guess, and in the shower."
André: "Why do you not do it with your husband? He would enjoy watching, I am sure."
Elizabeth: "I don't know. I guess I am a bit embarrassed and ashamed that I even do it. It is an impulse, a need that I just want to get over and done with. I never thought of telling Mar
k, or doing it with him. I don’t even think I could climax with him watching - it would distract me. Besides, he might think I am a slut or something."
André: "Mon Dieu! The truth from your lips is like the song of angels, mon cher. You do not shy around the difficult subjects, explain and make the justifications. I bow to you."
Elizabeth: "I've been worried about Mark. Is he alright? Is he…very angry?"
André: Laughing. "You know this man very well. He is very angry and not at all convenable, this large, tough husband of yours. J'assure, Mark does not suffer too much. The torment that comes to him he brings on himself. Bon. Do not fear, mon cher. As long as you are good, I will let you spend at least an hour each day together. If he does not obey me I shall punish him another way, not by robbing you of time spent with him."
Elizabeth: "If he finds out I've had sex with you…well, I don't know what would happen. Do you think he'll hate me for being a slut? I don’t know what I would do without him."
André: "I envy this husband of yours. You and I, together we have sex and respect. But with you and Mark there is love, no?"
Elizabeth: "Yes, we love each other, but he's also my best friend."
André: "You will not lose Mark, mon cher. I will manage this unmanageable husband of yours, this I swear. He is very difficile, no? But I have days to find the lever that will work on him. It is for me to tell him what we do together, and for me to resolve your concerns."
Elizabeth: "Thank you, Sir."
André: "Mon cher. You tell me that it is becoming difficult to climax with your husband, Mark? And that you have not told him this as you do not wish to hurt him. You are afraid he will feel less of a man, yes?"
Elizabeth: "Yes."
André: "And you masturbate to ease your need, but this is another secret, no?"
Elizabeth: "Yes."
André: "And you do not have the affair or go with another man?"
Elizabeth: "No! Of course not. Never."
André: "Then how often do you fake the orgasm, when you have sex?"
Elizabeth: "I..well," she stammered, "most of the time."
André: "Your husband, he is a sensitive and considerate lover?"
Elizabeth: "Oh yes, Sir. Mark is always very caring in bed."
André: Laughing. "And so, this is where he goes wrong. Mon cher, sex and love are two very different matters."
3. Mark's Explosion
The video of André Chevalier fucking his wife, the audio version that confirmed that he was crap at satisfying her, the indignities he had suffered as a prisoner, all of these things culminated in an overwhelming surge of violence that couldn't be held inside.
With sudden uncontrollable wrath, Mark stood up and screamed out loud in a primal soul wrenching sound of pain. It is too much! he thought. Everything! Everything I haven't said, everything I haven't done! So much time wasted!
His body heated like a furnace and his vision blurred with rage. "Fuck this shit!" he yelled as he walked over to the large flat screen television and threw it across the room. It made an extraordinarily satisfying crash against the wall.
And I'm just getting started! he thought, exhilarated by the wanton destruction of the massive TV, the largest he had ever seen.
Like a bonfire made from thin, dry kindling soaked in gasoline, Mark's rage exploded as if lit with one well placed match. "Fuck this, too," he added, throwing the table the food was on, including the food, across the room. He picked up the expensive expresso machine and, going for distance, he heavily projected it, as if he were an Olympian making a shot put throw. It split into three pieces and Mark gave a bark of laughter as coffee grounds and beans flew like shrapnel across the room.
Still giggling like a madman, Mark tossed a chair, and when it didn't break he grabbed it and smashed it again and again until two legs came off. Then he flipped over the large leather couch, grabbing a table knife and hacking into it. Tossing each glass and plate hard against walls, as well as both side table lamps, and then ripping pictures off the wall and putting his foot through them, Mark reveled in the willful demolition of all things Chevalier. There wasn't much in that small room, but anything that could be broken, was.
Mark's rage burned bright and hot for a few extreme minutes, and then died down. After destroying the room and everything in it Mark felt better, but the thrill didn't last. The alcoholic buzz from a number of beers he had consumed began to ease into a mind-numbing low. With a deep sigh, he turned the couch back over from where he had thrown it. Then he sat down, his passion cooling to glowing embers of heat.
It was not long after that André Chevalier opened the door.
Mark watched André come in, the man's face composed, yet his eyes held a wary look to them. André gestured to the destruction that littered the room, "Did this make you feel better, Monsieur?" he asked.
Mark blinked and then stared at the bastard, the man who had been fucking his wife. What was with the clothes he was wearing? André Chevalier was usually dressed to the nines. What? Mark's mind whirled in befuddled confusion. Was that a tracksuit? Had the man just come from the gym?
Four inches shorter, and slimmer, André's darker hair was straight and cut short compared to his own longer brown wave. The man looked aesthetic and almost effeminate next to Mark's large muscular frame. André was always well dressed, with little chest hair compared to Mark's, "Hugh Jackman" Wolverine-ish pelt.
What does Elizabeth see in this little prick? he thought. André's arrival fanned the dying flames of his fury, and an ember of anger began once more to burn. Mark stood up as André shut the door, and approached him.
"Bastard!" Mark said, balling his big hands into fists.
"Monsieur," André said calmly. "We need to talk, I think."
Mark drew himself up into a skilled boxing stance, then came toward his enemy and started swinging. André ducked, dodging the blow by a narrow margin.
"Really?" Mark said derisively, drawing back another fist. "Because I think I need to beat the shit out of you."
4. André Chevalier
Merde! André mentally swore. The big man is fast!
André dodged the drunken man's blow without too much trouble, but he couldn't evade forever. It was too bad, because neither avoiding this fight, nor winning it would achieve his objective. In these circumstances, it was best to lose, or all would indeed be lost.
I have made many mistakes, André thought with a healthy chill of fear combined with calm inevitability. And it is for me to make it right. Yet I suspect this will hurt very much. C'est la vie.
"You rat bastard!" Mark shouted, cramming a furious fist into André's stomach, and then he caught him with another strike to the head as André jackknifed. André gasped. Ducking and turning, he escaped further blows.
That last hit had almost knocked the wind out of him. Putting a hand to his face, he wiped blood from his bleeding nose. Even drunk, the jealous warrior was utterly dangerous. André had been studying the big man for some time on the closed-circuit TV. He had watched and waited until after Mark had imbibed a large amount of alcohol, the effects of which he had hoped would make him less formidable. Then, after the man had taken his rage out on his furniture and possessions, expending his strength, André had come in. He had intended that the big man would be to some degree, worn down. Apparently the giant still had lots of energy left.
"I have fucked your wife Monsieur," André said, intentionally goading him, while holding a cloth against his nose to stop the flow of blood, "and your wife has fucked me. Elizabeth has had many orgasms under my hand, and under yours, perhaps not so many, eh? Tell me Monsieur, are you angry with her, or with me?"
André witnessed Marks face first turn white with rage, as he processed what he had said. Mark rose to his full height with his arms aggressively held at shoulder height. As the blood rushed back, making his face crimson, Mark screamed, "Fucking bastard! I swear I'll kill you!" With that he sprang toward André.
Another blow smashed Andr�
� in the mouth, cutting his upper lip against his teeth, drawing more blood. Spinning on his heel, he moved to escape this punishment. This was a mistake, as Mark continued to rain physical blows in a steady stream, each strike punctuated with words that André hardly heard. "Fuck my wife, will you?" One pummeling blow gave him an agonizing jar to the kidneys. "I'm going to tear your arms off and jam them up your fucking ass, you piece of shit!"
André jumped away, and faced forward in a defensive crouch. With non-inebriated speed he was able to grab two fingers of Mark' hand, painfully twisting them, wrenching them back behind the man's torso. With the other hand he grasped the back of Mark's neck, propelling the man with considerable force, striking his forehead against a wall.
What followed was a ridiculous series of punches and falling blows pounding into male flesh. Mark, even drunk, and almost twice André's weight, had an extreme advantage. André's effectiveness was that he was fast, fit and fresh. But both men, he noticed, sweating and exhausted, were flagging under this exertion.
"Your wife loves you," André said, panting loudly and escaping behind the couch after getting a vicious thump in on Mark's face. Unfortunately the strike, while cutting the big man's cheek, had little other effect. "It is not me she loves, Monsieur."
"This isn't what I wanted!" Mark shouted.
Je suis désolé, Monsieur," André said. "Excusez-moi, but do you love your wife?"
Mark paused, his eyes wild, looking as if he may explode. "Of course I love her!"
"Monsieur, if you love her then you will speak honestly to her. The way of silence is death to a relationship." Mark reached for André then and, with an evasive jump, André escaped, turning to face the bigger man once more, in a prepared stance. "Silence is the way of the coward. I do not know what you fear, Mark, but it is time to face this fear."
