by Vivien Sparx
“Well… I’m not sure…” Her voice was soft and strangely unsteady. Lucien watched her, sensing she was weakening, her resistance dissolving. She stood quite still, aware he was watching her closely, knowing that this was a turning point for her. She needed to make a decision. She sank back down onto her chair and stared towards the penthouse door, trying to sort out her thoughts.
She knew he was right. She couldn’t stay at Lea’s place indefinitely – and certainly not sleeping on her couch. And she did need time to consider her future. She had no job – what was she going to do for an income?
“Would you like me to stay here?” she asked.
Lucien’s face was impassive. “Angelica, I don’t care, and I don’t play that game with any woman. I will not chase you. I will not try to convince you. You come to me. I won’t come after you.”
She sat back.
That was a slap in the face!
Well, she shrugged to herself, at least she knew exactly where she stood with this man. There could be no question of deception. She could walk away. He wouldn’t stop her.
“I’ll need to think about it,” Angelica tried to salvage some of her pride. “But if I do, what’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Lucien said. “But there are conditions. If you stay here, you will learn the art of sexual submission.”
Angelica recoiled. “You want me to earn my food and board by submitting to you?”
Lucien shook his head slowly, and there was a brief flicker of that winning smile she was becoming accustomed to. “No. I want you to earn the privilege of the Devil’s Touch as a reward for submitting to me.”
They stared at each other for a long moment of silence, like an undeclared battle of wills. Angelica looked away first.
Lucien glanced at his watch again. “I have to go,” he said. He jotted a phone number on a white embossed business card and handed it to Angelica. “That’s my chauffeur’s number. I’ll talk to him on my way to this meeting. If you decide to stay, phone Edward and he will pick you up and bring you here tonight. I should be finished my business by 6pm. If you’re here, we’ll go to dinner, and if you’re not?” he smiled suddenly. “Well, have a nice life, Angel.”
* * *
Angelica crippled her credit card buying a t-shirt and a pair of denim jeans from the hotel lobby boutique, paying double the retail price, then caught a cab to 14th Street.
She combed her fingers through her hair, watching the faces of the crowds on the sidewalk as the cab dodged and weaved between traffic and potholes. Down here at ground level, the world seemed very different to the rarified air of Lucien Lance’s world.
Angelica pushed a crumpled bill through the slot in the cab’s armored Perspex screen and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
‘Donatello’s’ was a low-key Italian restaurant hidden under a candy-striped awning on the sunny side of the street. Angelica pushed open the door and let her eyes adjust to the sudden gloom. There was a long serving counter on one side of the room and a series of booths on the other. Each of the booths was dark timbered and the tables were covered with bright checkered cloths. In the center of each table was a candle in an old wine bottle, the glass sides streaked with lumpen trails of dripped wax.
Lea Foglesong stood up from a booth near the back of the restaurant and waved to her.
“Wow!” Lea hugged Angelica then held her at arm’s length for a moment, carefully studying her face. “You look like you got laid last night!”
Lea was a twenty-six year old beauty; olive skin and long dark hair framing a friendly face and a flashing white smile. She was Angelica’s best friend – a free-spirited Aquarian who spoke her mind, and had a wicked sense of humor. A product of her origins, Lea’s heritage was a fascinating mix of Native American earthiness and Sicilian passion.
“Pizza?” Angelica changed the subject quickly.
Lea grinned. “Of course. It’s better than eating my cooking.”
They ordered quickly and Lea chose an eight-dollar bottle of red wine. The women toasted each other and then Lea leaned forward, her face alight with anticipation. “Spill,” she demanded. “And tell me everything. Leave nothing out.”
Angelica twisted the stem of her wine glass between her fingers and looked down at the table. She knew she could tell Lea anything and trust her to take the secret to the grave – but she didn’t know where or how to start. She took a sip of her wine and made a face. Then, finally, she just started talking, and did not stop again until their pizza arrived to the table twenty minutes later.
Lea sat back into the gloom at the back of the booth, her eyes wide and shocked. She had never expected Angelica to carry through with her plan! She never thought she would actually pick up a man for sex. And what a man.
Lucien Lance!
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Lea launched a barrage of questions.
“So what happened? What is his penthouse like? What is he like in bed? Does he have a brother for me?”
Angelica giggled and shared the details of her lovemaking with Lucien in a series of scandalous whispers and Lea’s shocked exclamations. Then, when the pizza was finished and the wine bottle half-empty, Angelica finally told Lea about the Devil’s Touch.
“It was…” Angelica’s eyes went wide and she looked to the ceiling in search of the right words, “… the most devastating, euphoric feeling of pure ecstasy I have ever experienced.”
“Really? Truly?”
“I fainted,” Angelica confessed. “When I… you know… the intensity was so complete, I actually passed out! As I came to, he was kneeling over me holding a glass of water. He said all women react the same way.”
“My God,” Lea gasped. She squirmed on her seat and her eyes were wide with amazement and envy. “What was it?” she grabbed Angelica’s hand and squeezed hard. “How does he do it?”
Angelica lowered her head again and closed her eyes. She tried to cast her mind back to Lucien’s bedroom and recall the feelings and sensations before she had been overwhelmed.
“Fingers,” she said, “his fingers were everywhere. God, he has the most amazing touch – and the way he caressed and teased me – and then his mouth, his tongue…”
“Alright!” Lea suddenly clamped her hands over her ears and sat back in her seat. “I can’t stand it. You’re driving me insane with jealousy.”
They laughed through two more glasses of wine and a platter of crusty herb bread before Angelica’s face suddenly became serious.
“He asked me if I wanted to stay with him, Lea. Lucien asked me if I wanted to spend a week living in his penthouse – at least until I get my life sorted out.”
“You’ve hit the jackpot!” Lea clapped her hands. But then she saw Angelica’s troubled expression and she frowned. “You said yes – didn’t you?”
“Not yet. I said I would think about it.”
“Why?” Lea practically leaped across the table. “What do you need to think about?”
Angelica sighed. “More than you could imagine,” she said, her tone ominous. “You see, Lucien isn’t interested in the kind of sex you might think. He’s a dom, Lea. A Master. And he wants me to submit and obey him as his sex slave.”
Lea shook her head, and it was a tragic, sorrowful gesture as she looked at Angelica. “You sad, silly little girl,” she whispered. “If the Devil’s thingy –”
“- Touch. He called it the Devil’s Touch.”
Lea went on without pause, “… is everything you said it is – and if you can have it any time you want – I would crawl across a mile of broken glass! Every woman in the world would. Submission? So what? I’d get down on my knees and beg for it.”
Angelica smiled but it didn’t quite reach to her eyes. She was still doubtful. “I don’t know anything about submission,” she confessed. “I don’t know what happens, or what he would expect from me.”
For a romantic like Lea Foglesong, Angelica’s adventure was like something torn from the pages of the st
eamy erotic romances she read. This was her chance to be a part of a real-life romance – she wasn’t going to allow Angelica’s reluctance to stand in the way.
“Come back to my apartment,” she said. “I’ve got some stories about Masters and their submissives on my kindle you can read. They’re written by a woman named Vivien Sparx. After you’ve read ‘Her Master’s Kiss’ you’ll know what to expect. Then you can make up your mind.”
* * *
It turned cold in the afternoon. A mean little wind hunted through the city’s streets and the sky began to fill with cloud.
Angelica settled herself on Lea’s lumpy old sofa and pulled a blanket over her knees.
She began to read.
Time passed quickly. While Angelica became absorbed in the Vivien Sparx bestseller, Lea hummed around the apartment doing housework. Occasionally Angelica would look up from the kindle and stare off into the distance as her mind filled with erotic images. Then she would bow her head back over, and apart from gasps and murmurs, she remained silent.
Lea found half a bottle of wine in the bottom of her refrigerator. She drank, and she watched.
“Good story?”
“Good,” Angelica nodded.
“Still scared?”
“A little – but I’m kind of intrigued as well.”
There was a sudden loud knock. Lea set her glass down on the kitchen counter and Angelica looked up sharply. When Lea opened the door, Duncan Charleton was standing there.
He was a tall, thin man, a few years older than Angelica with lank sandy hair. He had a narrow face, sallow cheeks and a scruffy moustache.
Angelica gaped at him from the sofa, and then her eyes slowly narrowed. “What do you want?”
Duncan stepped into the apartment. “I want you back, Angelica. I’m miserable without you.”
Angelica said nothing and Duncan pressed on in a rush. “You’re the woman for me,” he said. “You’re the only woman I want or need. I… I made a mistake.”
Angelica set down the kindle and stood up, her hands on her hips. “And what happened to Penny, Duncan? I thought you and your new girl were planning a life together.”
“It’s over.”
“Already?”
Duncan nodded.
“After one night?”
He nodded again.
Angelica kept her expression cold and remote, but inside she felt a surge of deep vindication and satisfaction. Looking at Duncan then, she wondered what she had ever seen in the man.
“I broke it off,” Duncan lied. “I missed you too much.”
Angelica nodded. “I see,” she said softly.
“It’s only been a day, baby. I was hoping we could just put this behind us – move on from here. I want you to come home with me. Come back where you belong.”
“It hasn’t been a day, Duncan,” Angelica said. “It’s been a month. For a whole month you’ve been cheating on me. You told me that.”
“Yes… but -”
“And I do want to move on, Duncan. But not with you,” her voice became louder, firmer. “I’ll never come back to you. We’re finished.”
Duncan shook his head again. “Angelica! You don’t mean that!”
“Yes, I do,” she said adamantly. She pulled the small white card from her pocket and smiled. “Now, if you will kindly get out – and go to hell – I’ve got a phone call to make.”
* * *
Angelica packed clothes, shoes and cosmetics into two large bags and carried them down the steps of Lea’s apartment to where the limousine waited.
Edward, Lucien Lance’s chauffeur, put the bags in the trunk and handed Angelica an envelope before holding the door open for her. She climbed into the limousine and waved goodbye to Lea.
Inside the envelope was a key to the penthouse and a plain white card with three lines of neat handwriting on it.
I knew you would make the right choice.
You can’t deny the temptation you see;
It’s the angel in you and the devil in me.
L.
She should have been angry that he would be so presumptuous, and she wanted to be. But he had been right.
That’s what made her angry.
Lucien arrived just after 6pm to find Angelica waiting for him, dressed in a conservative peach-colored blouse primly buttoned to her neck, and a black knee-length skirt. Her make-up was done and her hair brushed out in long golden curls that cascaded over her shoulders.
Lucien set his briefcase down.
“If you cannot adhere to my rules, now is the time to leave,” he said, “because I told you what I expect if you stay, and how you will be rewarded for your obedience.”
Angelica did not move. She didn’t speak. She simply stood and stared at him. She could feel the heat of Lucien’s gaze touching her all over, making her squirm.
“Welcome to my world,” Lucien said at last. Then he added abruptly, “Now change the blouse.”
Angelica blinked.
“You dress like a secretary, and I want you to dress seductively. Tomorrow we will get you a new wardrobe, but for now, that blouse has to go.”
Angelica stared open-mouthed at him, shaking and flushing with hurt. She felt her face begin to crumple. She had spent the last hour dressing. “This is the only blouse I have with me,” she muttered petulantly.
Lucien nodded. “Fine.”
He strode to the phone and called the lobby reception desk. “I need women’s blouses in a range of sizes and colors brought up to the penthouse,” he said. “Immediately.”
He listened for a moment then frowned darkly. “What time did the boutique close?” He glanced at his watch then said, “Not good enough. Open it again. Now. I want a range of blouses here in fifteen minutes.” He dropped the phone back into its cradle leaving Angelica rooted to the floor in shock.
“This is a business dinner I am taking you to,” Lucien said as he went to his desk and glanced at a small stack of envelopes, shrugged off his coat and slipped the tie from around his neck as he headed through to the bathroom.
As Lucien changed, he called out to Angelica through the open door, “Do exactly as I tell you tonight. This man we are meeting is a tough bastard.”
He emerged from the bedroom in a three-piece charcoal grey suit and tie just in time to hear a polite knock at the door. A white-coated attendant wheeled a clothes rack inside the entryway, hung with over two dozen women’s blouses in a range of soft shades and colors.
Lucien tipped the man and dismissed him with a nod of his head.
He ran a critical eye along the rack and settled on a dove-grey blouse that was cut low in front, with small glittering buttons. “Put this on,” he insisted.
Angelica took off the blouse she wore and slid the new one over her shoulders. The fabric was like a silken kiss against her skin. Expensive, it hung from her beautifully, but it was so fine, so delicate, that it was almost sheer. She gaped at Lucien. “You can see my bra,” she said. “It’s almost transparent!”
“Yes,” Lucien folded his arms and studied her. The delicate white lace of her bra showed clearly. “It’s perfect. Let’s go.”
Angelica felt a rush of embarrassment. “I… I can’t!” she protested. “Not wearing this.”
“You can – and you will,” Lucien said slowly, and his mouth drew into a thin bloodless line.
Angelica did not move.
Lucien raised an eyebrow, and his eyes became dark and menacing – then they flashed.
“I expected this to happen, but not so soon,” he said grimly. He grabbed Angelica’s wrist.
Angelica did not realize what was happening until Lucien began to drag her towards a leather couch and away from the door. Then suddenly she knew – and she cried out at him with an incredulous sound of dismay.
She tried desperately to pull free from him, but Lucien was too strong, too powerful. He pulled her down over his lap and held her easily.
Angelica squealed in fear and outrage. She began to
flail her fists. Lucien pinned her under the weight of one arm and tugged at her skirt until it was bunched around her waist. “No!” Angelica cried.
She was wearing brief white lace panties with a wide waistband that narrowed to a thin strap, which disappeared between the clenched cheeks of her buttocks leaving the smooth rounded flesh of her bottom exposed.
Lucien growled, then raised his hand high over his head.
Lucien’s first smack landed on skin with a crack that sounded like a pistol shot. Angelica stiffened then howled – as much from the shock of it as the sting. Then he smacked her again.
And then again.
Lucien stopped only when Angelica’s tantrum of kicking and screaming was reduced to tearful sobs. Then he lowered her skirt back over her burning red bottom and told her calmly, “You are wearing that blouse, and we are leaving right now.”
* * *
The Limousine stopped outside a discreet, elegant restaurant set back from the curb. The chauffeur held the door open and Lucien climbed out first, turning and giving Angelica his hand.
Angelica was intensely aware of Lucien. His closeness affected her in a way that left her almost giddy in some instinctively primitive response that she could not control or ignore.
The maître de led them to a discreet corner table and then the proprietor came through the kitchen doors and welcomed Lucien like an old friend.
Lucien glanced at Angelica and nodded at the chair beside his. There was no denying the implicit command in the gesture, nor the fact that he expected instant obedience. Angelica sat, docile, her bottom still tender and warm from her humiliating spanking.
When the proprietor shuffled on to the next table, Lucien relaxed back in his seat and studied the menu. Then his eyes strayed to Angelica sitting demurely with her hands in her lap beside him.
The force of his gaze was intense enough for Angelica to sense it. She glanced up at him suddenly and seemed to pale in confusion under Lucien’s dark eyes.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”