by Madeleine Oh
He leaned over and stroked his fingers down the side of her neck. “One thing I will insist on, you must wear a collar and lead. A velvet one.”
Dear heaven! That would be hard to refuse. “What color?”
“Red. Bright, glorious, sexy red. And nothing else.”
“Wait a minute, I’m not walking barefoot over the gravel and stones.”
“Then it is a good thing Luc bought you some red boots.”
News to her, but it would save her feet. “And if I have to kneel or lie down, I’m having some nice thick blankets.”
“How about an air mattress?”
That would do. “Sort of like a bouncy castle or a trampoline?”
“Oh, you are so impudent, Helen. Your chastisement, at my hands, will be truly deserved.” And truly enjoyed if past experience was anything to go by. “There will be no air mattress, but a soft pad that I will place on the stone bench under the pergola. I will spread-eagle you on your back and tie down your wrists and ankles with velvet straps and you will lie there helpless and submissive whilst I do whatever I want to your pliant body.”
Helen saw Luc’s signature in that little scenario. She took a deep breath, only too aware of tightened nipples inside her bra and the dampness between her legs. “Okay,” she said, “if you insist.”
“Oh I do, my dear Helen. I most certainly do.”
* * * * *
Adele wasn’t sure if having meals in the kitchen would be easier or harder. Easier really, from the point of serving, but she wasn’t too sure if she wanted the other employees invading her domain. All right, what would be her domain once she settled in.
Meanwhile, she set about delving into the basket of salad and vegetables Pipo brought in from the garden along with a request that she tell him what she needed in the morning. Although, with just three people to feed, including herself, the pile on the table looked enough to last a couple of days.
Several beautiful eggplants caught her eye. They were firm, small and still warm from the sun. Baked with garlic, basil and some of the bottled tomato sauce from the deceased Madame Louise’s larder they’d make a perfect first course. Adele ran her hands over the shiny flesh and smiled. There was something gloriously voluptuous about a purple eggplant.
“Bonjour.” Adele looked up. A man stood in the doorway. Branko. He was rather sexy, with a wicked spark in those dark eyes.
“Hello again. I’m glad you’re not permanently injured by my bashing into you.”
He smiled. “Not at all, Mademoiselle.” He held out his arms, palms uppermost. “As you see I am undamaged.”
Good thing too. She’d hate to have been responsible for a permanent injury. “I’m glad. Is there anything I can do for you?”
The way he grinned, she half-expected him to make a couple of interesting suggestions.
“I came to welcome you to Les Santons.” As he spoke he held out his hand. His was a very nice handshake, strong fingers, his grasp just firm enough to make her wish he’d held hers a little longer.
“You will be here for dinner?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, but Helen tells me we’ll eat in here.”
“She suggested it. Does that suit?” It had better. She was not serving here and in the dining room.
“Of course. We can eat together and get to know each other better. Since we all serve the same master.”
He put such a clear but very subtle emphasis on the word “Master” that Adele wondered if she was hearing more than intended. “He seems a very generous employer.”
“When he wishes to be.”
And what was she to make of that? Was Monsieur Prioux not always so open-handed?
Branko sauntered into the kitchen—no other word for it—and reached for one of the eggplants. Running his fingers over the shiny purple skin, he asked, “Are we having these beautiful fruits of nature for dinner?”
She was tempted to tell him no, salad of prickly pears, but couldn’t help smiling back. “Yes, baked with garlic, to start, and after that some veal chops I found in the freezer.”
“I look forward to dinner, Mademoiselle. If you need me, for anything, call me. My extension is 22.”
That was far too obvious for her taste. “I feel sure I can manage. Later I may need to start ordering fresh supplies.”
“I will be at your disposal. See you at dinner.”
When he left, the kitchen seemed sort of empty. Just as well. He was an incorrigible flirt and a distraction and besides, it was so much easier to work on her own.
* * * * *
Adele was pleased with herself over her first meal at Les Santons but even though the food went well, she sensed a tension between Helen and Branko. Why? She so hoped she hadn’t landed deep in some household feud. Helen was friendly enough, and given she was American, appeared to appreciate the cooking. That was unfair of Adele. What did she know about Americans? This one had, after all, given her a job.
“Where in America are you from?” Adele asked. Curious, yes, but…
“Virginia,” she replied. “I lived there all my life, until I came here. I needed a change. My husband died,” she added.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to intrude.”
“No intrusion. It happened. What about you?”
“I grew up near Lille and when my mother died recently, I decided to come south for sunshine.” Curiosity getting the better of her, she asked Branko, “Where are you from?”
“Croatia,” he replied, after a pause. “I was born in Zagreb but when I was a boy, my family moved to Italy and then France. There was a lot of turmoil when I was growing up.”
Of course, there would have been. “Seems we make a mini United Nations,” Adele said.
“I hope,” Branko said, “you will find us interesting.”
“I do already.” He was particularly intriguing.
They didn’t linger over coffee, much to Adele’s relief. She cleaned up, made a rough list of groceries she’d want to order in the morning and made her way back to her quarters. Although “quarters” was a pretty sparse way to describe the very spacious and comfortable apartment across the courtyard.
She needed an early night if she was to be up in time to have breakfast laid out by eight. She should have asked about bread but had forgotten. Another thing to add to her list. But she’d found brioche in the freezer. The late Madame Louise had stocked up well and they’d manage for one morning.
As she got ready to turn in, Adele couldn’t help wondering about her new, and as yet unmet, employer. What sort of person owned property like this? And enjoyed a lifestyle that included his own librarian and secretary as well as cook and gardeners and, according to Helen, a cleaning crew to take care of the house?
Sooner or later she’d find out.
Mind you, Branko wasn’t half bad but perhaps there was something going on between him and Helen. The tension between them had to signify something. Meanwhile, she was ready for bed. She’d traveled a good distance—in more than one way—since she left Lille that morning.
* * * * *
“So, we are agreed?”
Helen looked at Branko and shrugged. “I guess so.”
“You do not sound too certain. Have you never performed before?”
Thank gave her pause. She had… “Yes, but it was with Sam and a group I knew well.”
“You know me, Helen. We have played before and I think you found it pleasant, didn’t you?” More than “pleasant” and he knew it. “Tonight, there will be no group, familiar or otherwise, just the two of us in the moonlight.” And Adele at her window. Maybe.
“What if she doesn’t get up and watch?”
“I think she will. You were curious, weren’t you?”
True, but she’d been a horny widow at the time. “Okay, so she wakes up and sees us. What if she’s shocked and horrified and calls the cops?”
“My dear, according to Luc’s report, she will be far from horrified and will see us in a new light at breakfast. You
did after all.”
No point in denying that. “Okay, you win.” And she would too in the end. Branko was darn good and well worth all this palaver. “So, you need me naked. What time?”
“I will alert you. Fifteen minutes after her light goes out.”
“You’ll watch her room?” What a silly question. Of course he would. “Okay, let me know and I’ll be ready, but better make sure it’s a nice warm blanket on that bench. Nothing like cold stone to ruin the mood.”
His chuckle was downright lascivious. “My dear Helen, you will not be cold, I promise.”
Might as was well get ready. She wasn’t about to shower and go out into the night air but she stripped, rubbed her body with rose-scented lotion, slipped on the so-called “boots” that were not much more than firm-soled slippers and wrapped herself in a warm robe to sit and read until Branko summoned her.
She left the collar and lead on the dresser. He could put that on. It would help get her in the mood.
It was just after eleven when he came up to her room. “Ready?”
“Pretty much.” She put aside her book, stood, took off her robe and turned to look at him. And gaped. He was out to get Adele’s attention, no two ways about it.
He was wearing black thigh-high boots that fitted like a second skin and a matching thong, for want of a better word, long gloves and that was it.
“Nice getup.”
“Luc chose it.” Why did that not surprise her? “You’re not wearing the collar.”
“I thought you might want to put it on.”
“Coquine!” He smiled. “Come here and bring it with you.”
Easy enough to oblige. His fingers were warm against her skin as he fitted the velvet around her neck. She gave a little shiver as he kissed her shoulder. “You will perform well for me, Helen. I feel sure of it. Now, follow me downstairs.”
He took up the looped end of the lead and led her down the main staircase, across the entrance hall and out the front door into the moonlit garden.
Chapter Four
The night was still warm. Good thing that, as freezing and shivering wasn’t exactly sexy. Mind you, following Branko’s tight butt and being led on a velvet lead certainly stirred the submissive streaks in her DNA. How far was he going to make her walk? Around the house? She’d need more than slipper boots for that.
He headed straight for the pergola and the stone bench, walking slowly, as if stringing it out. Helen was downright glad of the high walls that surrounded the estate. Putting on a show for Adele was one thing, streaking and performing for the delectation of random passing tourists was quite another thing entirely.
Votive lights hung from the overhead beams—a rather nice touch, and they gave just enough light for her to notice he’d covered the bench with several blankets and tied them down. He obviously expected her to be moving. And he’d brought over a table from the terrace and on a spread-out cloth were a flogger, a blindfold and… Her mouth went dry at the sight of a bullwhip.
“You’re not using that on me.” No way in heaven.
“It’s just for sound effect, my dear. I’m nowhere near skilled enough to venture to use it on your tender flesh.”
But was he skilled enough to use it on Luc? Neither of them had ever given her a straight answer as to who’d wielded it when she’d watched from the rooms that Adele now occupied.
Thinking that she might be watching already sent a shiver down Helen’s spine. Could she really go through with this? Branko tugged, very gently, on her lead and she turned to look at him. He nodded at the bench and she lowered her head.
“What must I do?”
“Lie on your back and prepare yourself to worship my cock.”
She’d swear every nerve ending in her body responded to his softly voiced order. She crossed the few meters to the bench and took up position. “Spread those beautiful legs of yours,” he whispered, bending over her. “I want you open and available.”
She was spread before he finished talking.
He didn’t restrain her at first, just walked around her, whispering promises of how he would tie her down. First one leg, then the other, teasing her skin with his fingers and his mouth between times. It worked its intended purpose. She was aroused and longing for restraint. She wanted to be able to tug and pull ineffectively, to know her efforts would be useless and she was his captive plaything.
If only he’d get a move on and make good on his promises.
No point in saying so. Knowing Branko, he’d only delay even longer. But he’d very effectively aroused her. Helen was ready to moan aloud when he said, “Give me your hand.”
When she complied, he wrapped a soft band around her wrist. It felt soft like velvet, maybe matched the collar she still wore and the lead draped between her breasts.
The band might feel soft but when he let go of her hand, her arm immediately was stretched out over her head with a jerk. She cried out in surprise. “What’s that?”
“Bungee cords,” he replied. “It’s a bit of an experiment but they seem to hold you nicely. You can move but not much with your arms at that angle.”
He was right. Her arms were pretty much pinioned down and she didn’t have strength in her shoulders to exert enough force to stretch the damn bungee cord. Well, she wanted to be immobile, didn’t she? He was definitely satisfying that desire.
“Hand me your other hand. If you want to.”
He got it.
Now both arms were stretched over her head and if her legs were still free, they wouldn’t be for long. She looked up at his face as he bent over her.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’d better do something about that then, shouldn’t I? Legs still unrestrained, aren’t they?” he asked, shaking his head. “Can’t have that, my dear Helen. I like you best helpless. Come along,” he went on, as he walked to the other end of the bench. “Give me your foot, if you please.”
“And if I don’t please?” It came out unbidden.
“I will tie you down and leave you here until morning and you will not get your treat.”
Put that way… She lifted her left foot and placed it in his outstretched hand. Moments later, that too was anchored down. She had a little more movement with her legs than her arms but when she tested it too much, he slapped her thigh. “Keep still, Helen. I said ‘immobile’ and I meant it.”
Suited her. She had no hesitation offering her right leg when asked.
God, this felt so good. She was helpless, spread and waiting. The air was a little cool this late in the year but he’d soon warm her up so she wouldn’t notice a little night chill.
Branko walked around her twice before stopping behind Helen’s head. “Time to make sure our watcher is awake.”
As he spoke, the bullwhip cracked overhead and hit the paving stones. Helen shrieked. Damn! She had not expected that.
“Very good, and nicely natural sounding,” Branko said. She only just heard him over the sound of a second crack and a third. Then came a volley of them as the whip whirled and hit the ground back and forth on either side of her in rapid succession for several minutes. Putting faith in his promise that he’d not hit her flesh with it, Helen relaxed and listened. The sound was arousing. By the time he paused, to rest his shoulder and arm no doubt, she was very wet between the legs.
“How was that?” he asked. She heard the whip drop.
“Why don’t you check?”
“I think I already know, but just to be sure…” He stroked her breasts, tweaking her hard nipples, then trailed his hand down her body to feel between her legs. “You naughty girl, you’re wet and aroused. Now that, I think, deserves something special.” He picked up the flogger and waved it in her line of vision. “How about a little encounter with suede tresses? Just what will do you good.”
She could not agree more. “Please.” It wasn’t exactly begging, more like an entreaty she had every expectation of being met.
“Since you
asked so nicely, Helen.” He brushed the full width of the tresses across her breasts.
She sighed. This was so good. Her back arched, putting a little stretch in the bungee cords before they pulled her back. She didn’t care. He was caressing her, stroking her breasts, belly and thighs with the soft tresses. She’d be happy to go on like this for hours. Her sighs and soft moans filled the night air as her arousal grew, slowly and steadily. Would he change his rhythm? Strike a little harder with a slowly increasing force? What about a few well-aimed hits to her pussy? Now that was something to look forward to.
She let out another moan, almost a groan and prepared to beg for more.
Above them, in the night, Adele watched. She’d been barely dozing at the first sound of the bullwhip and was awake in an instant. Some sounds one responded to no matter what.
By the time the third crack echoed in the night, she was across the room and opening her window wide to see what in the name of reason was going on.
Spectacle was the only word for the sight below. By the light of dozens of candles, a woman was spread-eagled on some sort of table by the pergola and a near-naked man stood at her head, cracking the whip on the paving stones. He was skilled, even in the poor light that was clear enough. With confident movements he whirled the whip from side to side, hitting the ground but never touching the woman. Her quiet moans rose up to where Adele watched and she shut her eyes a moment, imagining herself in the woman’s place and feeling the rush as the evil whip cut the night air.
Adele grasped the window sill to steady herself as her body responded to the sights and sounds below. She had missed this. How many months had it been since she’d had a session with a skilled Dominant? And this man was skilled. Was it Branko? Had to be. The security on the estate was far too tight for random couples to wander in and frolic on the terrace at will. Besides, this scene was carefully choreographed. She’d taken part in far too many not to notice that right away.
Helen—it had to be her—moaned and Adele moaned with her. This was too much, too wonderful and… What the hell were they really doing? Had to be put on for her titillation. This employee benefit hadn’t been mentioned during the interview.