La Brat

by Ashe Barker

  She stopped breathing, held herself poised, desperate. Beyond pleading, past telling him what she needed, she knew he knew anyway. He always seemed to know. At last, he surged forward, filling her in one long, slow stroke.

  Eugenie’s muscles gave up the struggle. She would have collapsed onto the bed but for Aaron’s arm around her waist. He leaned over her, his lips at her neck dropping soft, light kisses in that most sensitive spot below her hairline.

  “Okay, baby?”

  She managed a mumbled yes, squeezing around him in a nonverbal form of communication just for good measure. Aaron got the message, setting up a brisk rhythm of short strokes that sent Eugenie’s senses spinning. Her orgasm erupted, sweeping through her in a series of pulsing convulsions which started at her center and rolled out toward her fingers and toes. Her entire body tingled, her pussy clamped hard around his cock as she sought to hold him within her forever.

  Her bone-deep orgasm left her gasping. As her muscles relaxed, Aaron lowered her to the bed, but continued his long, slow strokes. He reached around her to roll her clit between his finger and thumb, eliciting another moan as she started to climax again. The second orgasm was less intense, but seemed to be endless, a series of mini-peaks sending shudders of pure pleasure shooting through her. Where the first orgasm had crackled and sparked with electricity, this was more the gentle, continuous glow of a candle, glimmering, hot, and so sensual it made her ache.

  She stretched her arms in front of her, grasping at the duvet and crumpling fistfuls of it when her body convulsed around his plunging cock. Aaron increased the pace, intensifying the sensations. He drove each thrust deep and straight, his own climax mounting. Eugenie could hear his breathing become more labored. She turned her head, squinting. Her vision was blurred by tears, but she was still able to see the veins on his forearms lacing across his skin as his muscles flexed. With a final muttered curse, he buried his cock balls-deep and held still as he filled the condom with his warm, thick semen.

  * * * *

  Another vol au vent?” Eugenie reached for the plate, intending to pass it to Aaron, sprawled beside her on the manicured grass that carpeted Versailles’ extensive grounds.

  “No. I’m stuffed. Wouldn’t mind a glass of that Chablis, though.” Aaron opened one eye, squinting into the sun. His grin was infectious.

  Eugenie beamed back at him as she poured the chilled wine into a delicate flute. Even while guests dined al fresco, Totally Five Star standards applied. No unbreakable plastic for them, no paper plates or polystyrene cups. Guests did not rough it. Ever.

  Aaron propped himself up on his elbows so she handed him the glass and settled beside him. Together, they surveyed the remains of the wedding party milling around on the lush lawn. A handful of guests were playing a rowdy and very competitive game of boules, though from their good-natured bickering, Eugenie doubted that any of the competitors actually knew the rules. Other conversation was more muted, the excitement and intense celebrations of the previous day now giving way to quiet relaxation. Most of the remaining guests were close friends or family of Lucas and Farah so the atmosphere was one of intimacy.

  Elise seemed to be everywhere, moving easily from group to group, chatting, checking, ensuring the smooth flow of conversation as well as fine wine.

  Aaron turned to Eugenie, his expression warm. “You must be very proud. This wedding has been a roaring success and that was your doing,”

  “I am proud. And relieved. I’m glad it’s all over, but I won’t know what to do with myself when I come back to work.”

  “Relieved? I never doubted you. Neither did Elise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And as for not having anything to do, I reckon this is just the first of many. You’ll be rushed off your feet.”

  “Probably. I hope so. We had a few enquiries about other functions once the news got out that we were hosting this wedding, and some of those will start to convert into definite bookings now. The media coverage will have helped us.”

  “Elise will be delighted.”

  “And me. I came here determined to start over, to reinvent myself. I so wanted to make a success of this job.”

  “Why reinvent? What was so wrong with the old Genie?”

  “They used to call me La Brat. I wanted to leave that image behind. I wanted to grow up, I suppose.”

  “Well, sweetheart, I’d say you’re all grown up now. And you are a success. You’re a fucking legend.”

  Eugenie laughed, the sound one of genuine pleasure. She shifted her position, wincing a little as her bottom connected with the hard ground beneath her. She rolled onto her side.

  “Sore?”

  “A little, Sir.”

  “That’s good. I like to leave a lasting impression.”

  “I believe you may have mentioned that, Sir. And you succeeded. My bottom was still pink when I got dressed this morning.”

  He sipped his wine, a contemplative gleam in his eyes. “I imagine so. No regrets?”

  She smiled as she shook her head, the gesture emphatic. “No, Sir. It was wonderful. I feel wonderful. Thank you.”

  “I want to know if that changes. You’ve never been unduly prone to sub drop, but that was an intense session, on top of everything else that happened yesterday.”

  Eugenie frowned at him. “Sub drop? Oh, you mean if I get weepy, or depressed.”

  “Yes, could be. Any sort of negative feelings linked to being spanked until you screamed for me to stop and then some. Or fucked until you almost fainted.”

  “I did not scream.”

  “Oh, but you did, sweetheart. Believe me.”

  “Well, perhaps a little. But I never wanted you to stop.”

  “I know.”

  Eugenie’s smile was more secretive now, her mouth curving as she relived the intensity of last night’s scene. Her buttocks clenched and her pussy moistened. Aaron grinned at her, his expression wicked. He knew, he bloody knew what was happening to her body.

  “Are you okay, girl? You don’t look exactly comfortable.”

  “How much longer before we can go home?” Eugenie clamped her legs together, trying to create a little friction against her clit. She was sorely tempted to sidle a bit closer to Aaron, just enough to be able to rub herself against his thigh. She hoped none of the guests, or worse still, her boss, would notice her dilemma. How embarrassing to be caught humping off in a public park in front of a bunch of VIP guests.

  “So, you think of my apartment as home, do you?” Aaron’s expression became more serious. He was seemingly oblivious to Eugenie’s plight as he watched her contortions. “Maybe we should move the rest of your stuff in—anything not smoke-damaged that is.” He balanced the wine glass on the grass and lay back. “Perhaps Elise could find us a bigger place.”

  Eugenie stopped wriggling and stared at him. “You meant what you said then? Before. You want me to move in with you? Permanently?”

  “It makes sense. As I told you, a live-in submissive has its attractions. And you don’t eat much.” He turned his head to catch her gaze and held it. He wasn’t going to push her, but Eugenie knew he expected an answer. For her part, although the suggestion was not entirely unwelcome, she had her reservations.

  “Living with a Dom could be a bit…overwhelming at times.”

  “It would have its compensations. I think you know that. I’m demanding, I know, but not unreasonable. Do you think you could live with me?”

  Again, Eugenie took her time. She was well aware that this was a pivotal moment, a decision that would define their relationship for the future. She studied her hands as she considered, turning over in her head how she thought this latest twist in their story might pan out. Where this new chapter might take her. She shifted to face him.

  “You are suggesting a permanent arrangement, Sir?”

  “I am. Permanent and, of course, exclusive.”

  “I see, Sir. Demanding but not unreasonable, I think you said. Do you have definition of no
t unreasonable that I might be able to consider?”

  “I’ll spank you when you need it. When I think you need it. And I’ll stop when you ask me to. I’ll provide you with orgasms to curl your toes. Your underwear will require changing several times daily. I will not fuck you in the office, apart from exceptional circumstances. I think the rest of our rules will be familiar enough to you.”

  She made a thorough and careful study of her fingers, making him wait for her answer. She stroked her chin, considering. At last, she peeped up at him, her smile mischievous. “I see, Sir. I accept your terms. But you should know I would require a lot of compensating.”

  “Excellent. So we’re agreed. I’ll talk to Elise about a bigger flat. And pink bottom or not, I intend to spank you when we get back for your sassiness just now. La Brat is alive, kicking and soon to be screaming here at Totally Five Star Paris. I intend to keep her very busy.”

  “Thank you, Sir. And I’ll try not to be too much of a nuisance.”

  “That’s not part of the deal. I have no quarrel with brattiness, as long as you’re my brat. I think I can manage you. You’re a complicated little subbie, but I think I have you worked out now.”

  Eugenie rolled onto her stomach, turning her head to give him a long look over her shoulder. “Yes, Sir. I think perhaps you do.”

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  Totally Five Star: Chameleon

  Ashe Barker

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Christ, it’s hot.

  Ethan straightened. Scowling, he ran his fingers across his brow and flicked off the moisture. He leaned into his car to retrieve a liter bottle of water and took a long drink. The liquid was warm, but still wet enough to help—a little. He returned to stand at the front of his car, leaning over the large geological chart spread out across the bonnet. He studied the details on the map, resting his hands on the curling paper in an attempt to smooth it out, only to wince as his palms flattened on the scorching metal of the car. He stood up again, fast, shaking his hands and cursing the heat, the dust, the general desolation that was this place.

  Forty degrees Celsius and rising, and still not nine in the morning. He had maybe an hour’s work to do here before he could head back to the blessed, air-conditioned cool of the Totally Five Star hotel in the center of Marrakesh but that was eight miles away to the north. Here, in the arid desert—in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains—was where his friend James Conroy had it in mind to construct his latest project. It was why Ethan found himself out in the already searing heat, parked in the dust at the side of the long road leading from Marrakesh to Tahnaout, boiling his nuts and squinting at the glowing metal of his hire car.

  James was CEO of the Totally Five Star chain of hotels, internationally renowned playgrounds of the rich, the famous and just occasionally the infamous. The Marrakesh Totally Five Star was without doubt the best hotel in the city, arguably in the whole of Morocco. Constructed in the style of a series of Arabian riads, it offered its exclusive clients a rare blend of privacy and luxury, an oasis of Western efficiency set against the backdrop of exotic Eastern tranquility. The Totally Five Star was a slice of authentic Eastern promise, but the water ran hot, the electricity never failed and the newspapers were in English.

  Despite all this, James wasn’t satisfied with it. He loved horses and saw no reason why his guests should be denied this fine Arabian tradition. But downtown Marrakesh was not the right location for an equestrian themed leisure spa. For this, James would need space—lots of space. Ethan looked around him, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees. No shortage of space here. Flat, endless, timeless space, shimmering away to the horizons in every direction. James had acquired an option to purchase several thousand acres of scorching desert, intending to transform it into an annex to his opulent hotel chain, this time catering to horse lovers. There would be the usual other spa facilities too, of course—swimming pools, Turkish baths, massage, beauty and health treatments—all the pampering that money and an abundance of leisure time could make possible.

  But only if Ethan said so. James needed Ethan to complete the geological survey and tell him if this site was suitable for what he had in mind. He needed to be sure there were no hidden deposits of toxic substances, no subterranean instability rendering the location unsuitable for a major development. So he’d called his old school friend, Ethan Savage, now heading up his own company specializing in geological surveys. Savage Geo was just the firm James required to start this ball rolling, to help him take the first steps in turning his dream into reality.

  This is what had brought Ethan here. This was why he now found himself sweltering in the morning heat of the Moroccan desert, his eyes scrunched into tight creases behind his dark Ray-Bans as he peered at the charts before him, matching the diagrammatic representation to the reality of the actual contours and hollows of this barren landscape. He’d need to do some bore holes, sink some test probes to check what was actually going on below the surface, but so far, he’d seen nothing to cause him any real concerns. This scheme of James’ might just work. Though Christ only knew how James would manage to recreate the lush cool of the Totally Five Star out here, where the very air vibrated in the heat.

  On that thought, Ethan straightened again and took another long drink. As he bent to place the bottle back in the car, something caught his eye. A glimmer, a slight tremble of motion in the distance. He squinted back along the road as it snaked away across the hillside, shading his eyes to focus. Something glinted, shimmered, right out there on the horizon. He walked around to the boot of his car, where his field equipment lay stowed, and opened it to grab his binoculars from his rucksack. He raised them to his eyes, adjusted the focus and blinked in surprise as the hazy vision solidified.

  A head. A woman by the look of it, heavily cloaked, emerging slowly over the horizon. Her pace slow, sedate, rolling slightly. Ethan watched, puzzled, but soon understood the reason for the curious gait. Another head, this one gray with long ears pointing straight toward the heavens—a donkey. As they crested the hill, Ethan saw that the cloaked woman sat astride the animal, perfectly in tune with its leisurely pace as the beast ambled placidly along the ribbon of tarmac. Neither the woman nor her mount appeared to be in a hurry. As Ethan watched through his binoculars, a pair of shoulders appeared, also shrouded in a heavy cloak, the fabric enveloping her small figure. She didn’t appear to be guiding the donkey. She had tucked her hands inside the drapes of her clothing, perhaps for protection from the searing heat. Her feet, too, were swathed within the cloak. The ethnic details in the brightly colored fabric crystallized as he watched. He suspected the multihued woolen fabric to be hand-woven. When the pair came fully into view, Ethan could make out panniers swaying on either side of the beast, one with a small, rolled up carpet peeking from it.

  As they made their slow, unruffled progress down the road toward where he stood, Ethan dropped the binoculars onto the passenger seat, preferring to watch them with the naked eye. He stared, unashamed, as they drew nearer, taking in every detail of this pair, so incongruous almost anywhere else yet so perfectly placed here in this unchanging landscape. Ethan strolled to the rear of his car, resting his hip against the boot. He made no pretense of disinterest, not so much as a passing nod. His fascination was total.

  The woman and donkey would not have looked out of place in Biblical times, and it struck Ethan that in many ways not much had changed here in over two thousand years—at least on the face of it. He watched as the woman reached up to rearrange her cloak slightly to cover most of her features, the traditional modest feminine gesture so common hereabouts. Now she gave off no clues at all, there was no way he could surmise what might lie hidden beneath the heavy shawl. Long minutes crawled past as the pair covered the distance separating them from Ethan. He regarded them solemnly during the whole of their journey.

  At last, they were close enough for him to make eye contact. On impulse—and because it se
emed impolite not to—Ethan removed his Ray-Bans and met the woman’s gaze. She looked him in the eye, direct, unafraid. And certainly not so much as hinting at the timid modesty he might have expected. Her eyes were dark, lined in the local kohl, but her Berber heritage was evident. Despite having no other clues to tempt him, Ethan found her eyes oddly beguiling. Intrigued, he would have liked to know her, to chat perhaps. But that would never happen, not here. In this magical, timeless place, worlds passed within inches of each other, beings such as she and he might co-exist, but their lives did not touch, would never touch. They were a million miles apart.

  The woman and donkey drew alongside, and Ethan greeted her in the way that seemed natural to him. He nodded, offering her half a smile—polite, distant, acknowledging her presence in this remote place, and his. The woman inclined her head slightly, the movement almost imperceptible but enough. Just enough. As she passed, she dropped her gaze from his, returning her attention to the road in front of her as the donkey carried her onwards.

  The innate submission in her response to him affected Ethan powerfully. His cock twitched and leaped to attention with a degree of enthusiasm that even he felt was unseemly in the circumstances. With his erection straining the front of his faded jeans, Ethan turned, following her with his eyes as she moved away from him, relieved that she could no longer see him, as the effect she’d had on him would have been difficult to conceal. From the back, she appeared even more mysterious, even more inscrutable—a small, still figure swaying gracefully with the motion of the donkey.

  Ethan shook his head slightly, intrigued, mesmerized, though he couldn’t say why. Where else in the world could two people so different in every respect meet, pass each other, nod a greeting, neither one in the least surprised to see the other, and both with a perfectly good reason to be there?

  What was it about the small woman that fascinated him? He knew nothing of her life, nor she of his. They would never meet again and he doubted he’d even recognize her if they did. Still, he stood transfixed, watching as she slowly receded from his sight.