by Nikki Sex
“Very good,” André said, after checking his watch. “I am the Dom, so all is under my control, n'est-ce pas? Even allowing you to use the bathroom, and exactly how much time I permit you to do so. You begin to understand how this little game we play goes, yes? But I think you have played this game before, with Paul Jarman.”
The heat that always flooded her when she thought of Paul, did so again. Emily shut her eyes and swayed as sensation filled her. It was as if that night with Paul was so intense, that every second of it was always in the present, close to the surface in her mind. Unexpectedly, and at inappropriate moments, these physical memories assaulted her, staggering her senses.
André laughed, it was such a light-hearted, joyous sound that the erotic sensations she felt, disappeared like a bursting bubble. Her body betrayed her so often, and so obviously. It was embarrassing. Lowering her head, she averted her gaze.
André’s knuckles gently grazed down her cheek and jaw. As he bent toward her, she smelled his cologne. He pressed his lips against her forehead in a soft, chaste kiss of approval and reassurance. Then he tilted her chin up with one well-manicured finger.
“Do not be ashamed, ma petite lapine. One day you spent, experiencing sensual pleasures, with this man, yes? And already, for you, there is no other. I will not trespass on what is clearly his. You are safe with me.”
Emily cleared her throat, reacting to the way he had said pleasure. The last part of the word, the "s" was drawn out in the subtle accent that spoke to something inside her. He was sexy as hell.
“Yet, tonight I am your Dom. This night, you obey me. Now, sit on the bed,” he said, and she did.
André questioned her about her sexual history, which included sex with three people, and reaching third base with a fourth. He discussed what her attraction was to these men, how long they went out and what they did to please her. While his questions were intrusive, they seemed to Emily, to almost be of clinical interest. André explained that he was a sexual counselor and the information he was gathering about her would assist him to help her.
Emily laughed when she found this out. André raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“It’s just that you work as a sexual counselor,” she said, “and here you are during your time off, working as a sexual counselor. I’m just surprised, I guess.”
André gave her a warm, panty-melting smile that touched her as completely as the palm of his hand. The man oozed charm and sex appeal. He shrugged. “My profession gives me great pleasure. Colin Wilkins, the club manager, told me of your problem. He knew I would be intrigued.
“No way,” Emily said, shifting a little further back on the bed. “Seriously? Colin told you about me? That’s why you’re here?”
“Mais oui.”
“Do you live around here?”
“No,” André said leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I live in Las Vegas.”
Staggered, Emily laughed out loud and then began to worry. What she was thinking must have shown on her face.
“My attraction toward you, ma petite lapine, was not your age, or your beauty, or your naivety concerning BDSM. People have fascinating stories. For me, I enjoy problems, particularly interesting and complex problems. You cannot deny that yours is unusual?”
“I see,” she said, nervously worrying her lower lip. But she didn’t, really. Once more, André seem to read her expression, and he chose to elaborate.
Tilting his head, he asked, “Do you think, Emily, that in normal life circumstances, we would ever meet?”
“I can’t see how.”
“Just so,” André agreed with a nod. “If we did meet, I may come to know you, but only as you portray yourself. In the way you wish for me to see you, yes? I would never have the chance to know the real you. Yet here, if I am very careful, you will submit and learn to trust me. Your submission will be a gift. For then, you will not hide. You will show yourself to me, Emily.”
Raising his hands, he spread them apart. “You on one side,” he held out his right hand. “Me, on the other.” He brought his hands together, and grasped them. “Here, in this place, it will be my honor to meet the true Emily.”
“Huh. Okay, but what about me meeting the true you?”
André straightened, and something in his manner portrayed business. “After this scene, you may ask me any questions you wish. I swear to be honest, and if there is something I cannot speak of, I will tell you. On my honor, I will never lie to you, Emily.”
Just who are you, André Chevalier? she wondered, but she said, “It’s a deal.”
Chapter 23. Rules
From: Candy
To: Paul Jarman
Subject: What is Love?
I found myself smiling today, because I was thinking of you. I was imagining seeing you again. It wasn’t about sex. (Honest! I swear! Okay well, maybe there was sex, but those rather comprehensive images came later!)
The thing that struck me was the exact thought I was thinking at the time. It was: “As long as Paul is happy, then I’ll be happy.”
What the hell is that about? Is that love?
Confused
~~~
From: Paul Jarman
To: Candy
Subject: Mental Overload
Jesus, woman! My brain is going to explode. I’m trying to get past the visuals you have of us together. Please send graphic details. I’m grinning like a fool. You’ve made me VERY happy.
Paul
~~~
“And now, Emily, we speak of your problem. Your request to explore pain, and pain alone, is unusual. It is my preference to proceed as I would with any submissive under my care. While we could discuss what will happen at great length, I believe it may be best to simply move forward and deal with any confusion, as it arrives.”
“That’s okay.”
“There are rules, Emily. Rules that you must obey if we are to proceed. First, you call me Sir.” André’s tone changed from friendly good humor to using that ‘Voice,’ and it was just like Paul’s: implacable and uncompromising. “You must always address me properly, Emily. Do you understand?”
André captured her with his gaze, making it impossible for her to avert her eyes. She swallowed hard, and nodded. “Okay.”
Fuck! This was the real deal, in front of her. Not the friendly, open André she’d seen until now. The shift was immediate, subtle and intense. He didn’t look anything like Paul, but he sure reminded her of him.
Her body trembled with a weird, off-the-charts combination of both fear and arousal.
"I have four rules for you, Emily,” André said. “That was the first rule, to always call me, Sir. Two; you may speak, only when spoken to. If you have a question, you may ask me if you are allowed to speak. Three; when I give you an order, you must do exactly as I say. Any questions, so far?”
“Just one, Sir. Um, I find my mind is not at its best, right now. This is a lot to take in. If I have a question, and I don’t understand your answer, will you take the time to explain it? I’m a little overwhelmed right now.”
André moved closer, looking down at her from mere inches away. His dominance went far beyond his superior height and strength. He was intimidating and even scary. When she tensed and slightly pulled back, his hard eyes softened.
He put his hand on her head, and gently ran his palm over her short hair in a gentle caress. “Of a certainty, I will be most careful with you, ma petite lapine. You are afraid, but this is not a bad thing. Fear, anxiety, arousal, and pain; all are emotions and sensations. They are neither right, nor are they wrong; good nor bad. They are simply passions, a most important part of life. Feel them, fully experience them, surrender to them, and learn to accept them. As a sub, you must let go.”
Emily’s tension eased slightly at these words. The idea of ‘just letting go’ sounded good.
Between always having to act cheerful with her mother, despite the shit that came out of her mom’s mouth; and always having to be the stable, sen
sible supervisor at work, she never really got to let go. Even with Tom, Paul’s dad, as much she cared for him, she couldn’t say and do as she liked.
It seemed that she hadn’t allowed herself to let go, or even to just be Emily, except briefly and only behind closed doors. Hell, even when she’d been in the throes of passion with Paul, she still was playing a part, the role of Candy. So the idea of letting go was as appealing to her as an oasis in a desert.
Sometimes Emily wanted to yell, and scream, and rage at how stupid Tom was. She wanted to do that with her mom, too. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t help, so she didn’t. And then there was Paul.
Emily kept most of her thoughts, her anger, grief and her brutally honest opinions about both of them deep inside.
Was André suggesting that as a sub, she could release these furies and frustrations through pain? Or was he saying that pain was simply another type of passion, a feeling that she could learn not only to endure, but to accept and even enjoy?
André, obviously aware that she was processing what he said, had become quiet.
Emily smiled up at him, a little awed by his cryptic words. Did this guy have communication skills, or what? He was aware when her mind was engaged, and he allowed her time and space to think things through. His ability to observe her seemed almost mystical, certainly beyond most human abilities. It was as if he could read her thoughts and emotions as well as her needs. Part of her wanted to watch him, so that she could learn from him.
Maybe he can talk some sense into my mom, she mused.
As if aware that her thoughts had become frivolous, André stepped back, and said, “Tell me the rules.”
Emily did so. She took her time, thinking them over and getting them right. André didn’t seem to mind her delay. His patience matched his hyperawareness.
“Very good, and now, a most important rule. You must never avoid telling me the truth, or directly tell me a falsehood, Emily. I assure you, I will know if you lie. This is most important. Will it be difficult for you?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, frowning thoughtfully. “I’ve told you so much, already. But maybe there are things that I might find too embarrassing to say. Honestly, I want to follow your rules, Sir. I’m in trouble, and I really think that you’re the perfect person to help me with this mess I’ve gotten myself into.”
“It is very good, petite lapine.” He made her repeat the rules once more, making sure that she understood them completely. "What is your safe word, Emily?"
"Red, Sir."
“You are very brave, and I think, very much in love.” He arched one elegant eyebrow. “This is, perhaps, not a good combination,” he added. “I know what you do here with me, is because of your love for Paul. You may hesitate, and perhaps even feel it is disloyal or cowardly, to stop a scene. I caution you against this, my-oh-so brave little rabbit. Do not be afraid to use your safe word. I will not think less of you, and neither would Paul."
“Okay, I’ll use it.”
She had already braced herself and decided to be stoic, to obey, and somehow get through this no matter what. How had he known? Calling her safe word had not been part of the plan. If she had been forced to call it, she had intended to go home having failed.
“This is my wish. Better too much, than too little.” He paused and his eyes twinkled. “It is perhaps fortunate for you that this is not my opinion on the subject of pain,” he said with an irresistible grin.
Emily laughed out loud at this funny, but not really funny, quip. She just couldn’t resist his charm. André was older, more experienced, and much wiser than she was, as far as she could tell. He was also amazingly observant.
"What happens if I say red?" she asked.
"Then all action will cease and we will discuss what must be discussed. We shall then continue, or not, as you wish. My absolute authority over you is an illusion, Emily. You choose freely to give me this power, and you can stop me at any time. This scene is by your will, comprenez-vous?"
“Yes, thank you, Sir.”
"Bon," he gave her another reassuring, charismatic smile. "All is prepared, are you ready to begin?"
Emily swallowed. André was right, she was here for Paul. If she could do this, then that was one bridge crossed. If he could ever get past the fact that she deceived him after that, well maybe they could have a future together. If she couldn’t deal with the pain thing, well, shit happens. Besides, she never really had Paul anyway.
"I'm ready, Sir," she said.
“Take a deep breath, ma petite lapine,” he said. Emily did as he asked, and found that it steadied her.
André nodded approvingly and stepped back a pace. He stilled then, and his face became implacable. "Eh bien. Very good. Strip for me, right now. Fold and place your clothes on the desk as you do so."
Chapter 24. Breasts
Well that was unexpected, Emily thought, rather taken aback. “Excuse me, Sir, could I ask a question?”
“For now, petite lapine, I relax rule number two. You may speak freely, until I tell you otherwise. What did you wish to ask?”
“Um, I didn’t think I’d have to take my clothes off. I mean, since we’re not having sex and all.”
He raised his elegant eyebrows. “Tonight you are my sub, and must surrender to my will. I wish for you to be stripped of all layers, in body, mind and soul. This is not about sex. This is about pleasing and obeying your Dom, do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, as she slowly began to remove her clothes, carefully folding them, as he ordered. She was trembling too much, to concentrate. Getting naked wasn’t the issue. Getting naked in front of a stranger, and a very dominant man, did something to her.
André stood very still, but closely watched her every move. It made her feel vulnerable, and exposed, which she supposed was the point.
"Stand up straight, shoulder’s back, hands to the side," he ordered abruptly. Emily hadn’t been aware that she was hunching, instinctively trying to hide.
“Bon,” he said when she stood straight and bare before him. “It is much better when you stand proudly, for you are lovely, ma petite lapine.” Trailing his fingers along her stomach and up her shoulder, André circled her as he walked around behind her. Emily felt his eyes, hard upon her and resisted the urge to squirm.
Finally André stopped directly in front of her, invading her personal space. Damn, he made her nervous, yet his approving gaze was pleasing. She imagined that she could feel the heat from his strong male body, and his scent was divine.
His brows drew down, as if perplexed. “Place your hands on your head, Emily,” he said quietly.
When she did, he came even closer, and studied just under her arms. What was he looking at? Surely he couldn’t tell that she had breast augmentation? That made her nervous. What would he think if he knew?
“Ah,” he said with strong interest, the light of understanding in his dark eyes. “You may lower your arms. I see that you have enlarged the breasts. Ils sont magnifiques. Most attractive. You look very well, ma petite lapine.”
A somewhat hysterical laugh bubbled out of her before Emily could stop it. “I’m sorry,” she said, when André gave her raised eyebrows. “I didn’t think you’d notice. Then when you did, I just expected that you would… I don’t know, tell me that it was a stupid thing to do.”
“Why would I say this?”
“Most people I know think I was an idiot to have needless surgery, or that I was shallow or vain to enlarge them. They say I wasted a lot of money, and should’ve been happy with what God gave me.”
“Who has told you these,” he paused and said in a harsh voice, as if he disagreed with the word, “opinions?”
“My mother, my friends.”
André threw up his hands and frowned with irritation, pacing as he spoke. Gesturing with his hands, he spoke passionately and his face became quite arresting. He was such an interesting man. It seemed that when his blood was up, his French accent also became more pronounced.
She nodded.
“Women of the North American continent, both Canadians and Americans, from the time of their youth, they frequently change the color of the hair, yes? And this is acceptable?”
“Of course, Sir,” she said.
“And if the children’s teeth, they are not straight, then the parents pay for them to become straightened, no? Eye surgery is performed, so that there is no need for the glasses. Clearly, these many individuals are not satisfied with the work of the bon Dieu. Such actions are expensive, and could be considered to be unnecessary, or perhaps vain.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, Sir, but you’re right.”
“There is nothing immoral. I see no sin in your choice, ma petite.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, feeling strangely vindicated about this sore subject.
“For me, I spend oh-so much on clothes.” André gestured to his outfit. “It is a form of art, you perceive. How one presents themselves to the world. An expression of oneself, oui? For you, the woman you see yourself to be, it is clear that she was not flat chested. You wished your body to represent the real you. It was courageous to go against the opinions of those around you, little rabbit. Perhaps you are in fact, the little lioness. I salute you.” With that he gave her a gracious bow.
Guilt had weighed heavily on Emily for so long. She’d never fully made peace with her decision, since she believed that her motivation to have the surgery stemmed from her creepy, obsession to be desirable to Paul. André saw the truth of it, and her reasons were not that simplistic. André knew her secret, understood how hard her decision had been to make, and applauded her courage. Wow.
Emily resisted the impulse to bow back at him. Buck naked in front of a virtual stranger, she felt ridiculously lighthearted. “Mr. André Chevalier, you are exquisitely dressed.” She looked him up and down in a cheeky, appraising fashion. “In fact, I could even say that you, Sir, are a work of art.”
