“I did not say you could lick me, Quinn. You really are a very badly behaved slave tonight. That clever tongue of yours will not deter me from whipping you.” She stepped back just slightly and held out the leather strap to him. “Kiss it, and thank me for what I am about to do,” she said softly.
He kissed the strap—a slow, deep kiss. “I would rather this be your succulent lips, mistress, but thank you for the correction you will give me.”
Ashley smiled and moved around behind the slave. Raising her arm, she brought it down with all her strength upon his deliciously wicked butt. For the next few minutes the only sound in the room was the strap smacking Quinn’s ass, but then, as the color of his buttocks began to glow pink and then a fine burnished red, Quinn groaned. This admission of her superiority let a flood of pleasure fill her. “Are you getting hard, Quinn?” she demanded of him. “I want you as hard as rock.” The strap bit into his succulent flesh several more times.
“I am hard, mistress. So hard I will keep you writhing with pleasure for the next several hours if you will but let me,” Quinn told her. The leather about his cock hurt him.
“Are you certain you can keep your promise to me?” Ashley asked him. “If you do not I shall devise an even more painful punishment, Quinn.”
“See for yourself, mistress,” he invited her.
Lowering her arm and setting the strap aside, she moved around before him and bent down. The straps on the slave’s penis were near to bursting. She undid them, freeing him of the tight leather. The penis swelled a bit more. “Perhaps you are ready, or near to it,” Ashley allowed. “A few more strokes and you will be near. Then I will finish you off with my mouth before I let you fuck me,” she told him. Picking up the strap, she laid five more blows upon him. Then, setting the tawse aside, she moved to the bedside, where a basket of toys was waiting. Choosing a finger-thick piece of marble with a silver loop handle at its end, she dipped it into a bowl of sweet oil.
He howled in outrage as she slowly pushed it into his anus. “No!”
Ashley laughed. “You do not tell me what to do, slave. I tell you, and it amuses me to bugger your ass while I suck your cock. We will see if you are as strong as you claim you are. If you come then I will give you as a toy to the other men slaves. If you can hold your juices until you are inside me, I will reward you with a wool garment you may wear in icy weather even without my permission.” Sitting down before him, she studied his enormous penis thoughtfully. Then, leaning forward, she took the tip of him in her mouth and sucked hard. He was so big she knew she could not even devour half of him, so she concentrated upon his sensitive tip, her tongue encircling it, nipping at the tender flesh with her little teeth.
Quinn groaned, struggling to keep himself from releasing his passions. Had he been able to he would have put his fist into her dark hair to hold her firm and shoved his penis down her throat, making her milk him dry. But his arms were bound, and the sensation of the little dildo in his ass was frustration beyond all. The thought of putting her under him in a few minutes and fucking her until she was senseless helped him to control himself. That and her promise of a warm garment he might wear whenever he was cold. Sometimes the damp coming off the River Tiber in the winter was almost painful when it worked itself into his bones. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated more on the shameful sensation between his buttocks instead of the delightful sensation of her skillful mouth. Finally she released her hold on him, laughing.
“You are strong, Quinn,” she told him. Standing up, she first withdrew the little dildo from between the cheeks of his ass, and then she released him from his manacles.
He stood tall, towering over her. “Am I forgiven, mistress?” he asked her softly.
Ashley ran her hand up his broad, smooth chest. “You are forgiven,” she said. “Now put everything away, and then you may take me to bed, Quinn.”
He quickly obeyed, and when he turned about he found her already sprawled upon the great bed on its raised dais. He joined her to lie upon his back. Then, lifting her up, he lowered her slowly onto his thick, hard penis, drawing her down, down, down, until she had fully sheathed him.
“You may look at me,” she told him, and his blue eyes locked onto her green ones as she began to ride him.
Reaching up, he took her breasts in his hands, playing with them, kneading them, leaning forward to at first lick, and then suckle the nipples. He smiled as her eyes closed and she moaned softly. “The mistress is skilled at riding,” he said.
“I learned at an early age from an uncle,” she told him, her eyes still shut.
“And did he possess the weapon I wield for you, mistress?” Quinn asked daringly.
Ashley laughed, and her eyes opened to meet his. “You are unique in your attributes, Quinn,” she told him. “Most deliciously unique.”
He wrapped his arms about her and, sitting up, forced her to be still. His mouth closed over hers, his tongue snaking into her mouth to play with her tongue. Her breasts were mashed against his chest, and he actually felt her heart jump when he rolled her over to put her beneath him. “Wrap your legs about me, mistress,” he growled in her ear. “You have had a most trying day, I can see, and you need to be well fucked before you sleep tonight. I am your slave, and I am ready to service you.”
“Yesss!” Ashley hissed. She did want to be fucked. Fucked hard, so that all the frustration of the day would melt away. “Fuck me, Quinn!” she ordered him. “Service your mistress, and service her well!”
He began to move on her, at first with long, slow strokes of his long, thick penis. He pushed hungrily into her, making her whimper with her need for his hardness. He stopped after a few minutes and let her feel the throbbing from his member as it lay buried within her tight vagina. Her legs were tight about him as she opened herself as wide as she could to his passions. His big body towered over her. He held her arms pinioned over her head.
“Make me come!” she demanded of him.
The rhythm increased until his penis, wet with her juices, was flashing back and forth within her. Reaching out, he began to tease at her clitoris, rubbing and then pinching it. She squealed, and then he felt her hidden walls beginning to contract against his thick peg of flesh. The clitoris beneath the ball of his thumb grew swollen, and then her lust exploded, and she screamed with the torrent of pleasure that began to overwhelm her. When some minutes later she came to herself once more, she was pleased to find he was still hard, and still within her.
“The gods!” she exclaimed. “You are truly very proficient with that weapon of yours, Quinn.”
“You are pleased with me, mistress?” he asked her softly.
“You have been a good slave,” she said. “But the night is young yet, and I am still hungry,” Ashley told him. “You will have to work hard to earn your wool garment.”
“If the mistress is hungry, then the mistress must be satisfied until she is no longer hungry,” Quinn said. Then he began to move on her once again.
If there was one thing Ashley loved about the Channel, it was the tireless men—and her ability to enjoy several orgasms in a single visit. She had five that evening, and awoke the following morning replete and more relaxed than she had been in several weeks. Automatically she closed off the television screen and set the remote aside. Outside of her windows it was already growing light, but a glance at her bedside clock showed it was just five fifteen in the morning. But then, it was June. The birds were already making morning noise in the trees around the house and the ivy climbing up the side of the building. She stretched, and then, rolling over, Ashley went back to sleep.
She awoke to the sound of a knock on her bedchamber door.
“It’s eight o’clock, Miss Ashley,” Byrnes’s voice said through the door. “I’ve set your breakfast out on your terrace.”
“Thank you,” Ashley called out to let the butler know she was awake. Getting up, she ran into her shower and refreshed herself with a quick warm-to-cold rinse. Then, toweling off, she sli
d on a pair of pale green silk bikini pants, and wrapped a matching silk robe about herself as she moved from her bedroom out into her sitting room and then onto the stone balcony overlooking the sparkling waters of the bay.
Seating herself at the little round café table, she gobbled down a bowl of strawberries and cream. The berries had obviously just been picked, as they were still warm with the sun, as last night’s fruit had been. The plate beneath the silver dome contained her usual breakfast: one scrambled egg, three strips of bacon, and half of a whole-wheat English muffin with butter. And iced tea, since Ashley occasionally had the odd habit of preferring Crystal Light iced tea to coffee with breakfast. Mrs. B. kept a large container of it in the fridge for her.
Her breakfast finished, she picked up the telephone and called Tiffany Pietro d’Angelo before she left for the office. “Hey, Tiff! Ashley. Any word for me on Prince Charming?”
Tiffany laughed. “Ray was out of town taking a deposition in D.C. yesterday. Joe didn’t want to discuss it with his assistant. He should be back to the city this morning. How about if I call you when we get something from him?”
“Okay,” Ashley said. She was disappointed. She had hoped for something this morning. “Tiff, are you sure this is okay?”
“It could be a perfect solution for you, Ashley.”
“But if this guy is normal, how come he isn’t already married?” Ashley wanted to know again. It was such a radical idea, an arranged union. “What if he has two heads?”
“Well, if he does, let’s hope they’re both handsome and have wicked tongues,” Tiffany said mischievously.
“You are terrible.” Ashley giggled. “Okay, I’ll admit to being nervous. I just wish I knew a little bit more. I mean, if I have to go out on my own again, I better get moving pretty fast. Eighteen months will go like wildfire, Tiff.”
“Look,” Tiffany said, “it’s Thursday. We should have something late today or tomorrow to tell you. Now I gotta run, sweetie. I open the office in the morning. Have a good day.”
Tiffany put the phone down and turned to her husband. “Joe, first thing, you phone Ray. Ashley is very nervous, and she needs to know something about this guy. And frankly, I’m dying of curiosity too.”
“I’ll call him. I’ll call him,” her husband said. “How about I call him now? He’ll be commuting, and his cell is always on.”
“He’ll be on the subway,” Tiffany protested. “He won’t be able to hear a thing.”
“Subway? Ray Pietro d’Angelo? Not since he was thirty, babe. He has a car service pick him at his apartment every morning.” Joe picked up his own cell and began to dial. “Ray? Joe. You know that client you were telling us about the other night at dinner?…Yeah, the guy who needs to get married. I’ve got the same situation with a client…. Ashley Kimbrough, owner of Lacy Nothings…. Yeah, the gift Tiffany brought Rose came from there. She’s pretty, thirty-three, rich, successful, and has to get married by thirty-five or she loses everything to some cockamamie group called the Society Seeking Extraterrestrial Life…. Yeah, SSEXL.” Joe listened a few moments, and then he laughed. “Nah, her grandfather put a clause in the will to satisfy his crazy girlfriend who’s into that crap. Now tell me a little more about your client.” He listened for several minutes, finally saying, “Sounds to me like he’d be perfect for my client, Ray. They’re both self-made with regard to their businesses, and dedicated to what they do. They’re careful with money. Different religions, but not overly religious. This could be a win-win thing. Talk to your client, and let’s set up a meeting as soon as possible. Your guy has only nine months left before he hits the big four-oh…. Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later today, buddy. Hi to Rose.” Joe Pietro d’Angelo closed his cell and turned to his wife. “Ray says hi to you,” he said.
“And?” Tiffany asked.
“And what?” he teased her.
“Joe, I’m gonna kill you,” she threatened. “Gimme the details!”
“The guy has to get a wife before he’s forty or, like Ashley, he loses everything. Crazy thing is, he’s the one who made his father’s firm so profitable, but the family is very old-school. When the old man died he gave a quarter mil to each of his six daughters; set his wife up in style; and then the bulk of it went to the son. With a catch, of course: If the son doesn’t marry by forty it all gets sold and divided among the women. The sisters are even now looking for a buyer for the business,” Joe said.
“Nice girls,” Tiffany remarked. “Filled with sisterly love. So how come the brother is turning forty and isn’t married? Is he gay?”
“No. Just a workaholic. There’s never been time for him to get into a relationship that could thrive. If he isn’t working, he’s flying all over the world drumming up work for his business. He loves what he does, and Ray says he does it very well.”
“Does what well?” Tiffany wanted to know.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? He’s Restorations and Replications, R&R. You’ve heard of them, Tiffany. They’re the fancy antique restorers, and they also design furniture that looks like it’s antique for all that new money that wants to look old and respectable,” Joe told his wife. “His father had a good restoration business going, but it was the son who saw the need for new antiques. And it’s all American-made, although he has brought expert artisans over from Europe and Ireland to teach his employees the old tricks of the trade. He’s one smart guy. Just like Ashley, he saw a need and stepped in to fill it. It’s made him a multimillionaire. He won’t lose it for lack of a wife.”
“He could get one of those mail-order brides, couldn’t he?” Tiffany said.
“Nah, not his style. With the people he associates with in his business, he’ll want someone who is educated, can speak intelligently with his clients, and will be a terrific hostess. And Kimbrough Hall would be a wonderful place for him to entertain. We both know that Ashley isn’t going to give up her home for anyone, and besides, he’d be nuts not to want to live there. It’s a perfect venue for a guy in his field.”
“So now all we have to do is get Ashley to agree,” Tiffany said.
“No, first Ray speaks with his client, and then if the man is agreeable we set up a meeting with our client. They might not even like each other, Tiff, and they have to at least like each other to make this work,” Joe said to his wife.
“How could any man not like Ashley?” she replied. “She’s gorgeous.”
“A lot of men have liked her, but for all the wrong reasons,” Joe reminded her. “At least with this guy we start with an even playing field. She’s rich; he’s rich. So we know he’s not after her money. Still, I’m going to run a check on him just to be certain. We can’t be too careful, and Ashley has got to be protected.”
“When will you talk to Ray again?” Tiffany wanted to know.
“This afternoon,” Joe replied. “Don’t call Ashley.”
“Why not?” Tiffany wanted to know.
“Because until Ray’s client says he is willing to meet her we have nothing. I don’t want her getting her hopes up, only to dash them. She’s had enough sorrow these last few years. She doesn’t need to be rejected by someone who hasn’t even met her.”
“You’re right,” Tiffany agreed. “Poor kid. Losing her grandfather and her brother, having three weddings called off. It’s a lot to bear. It’s a wonder she’s so normal and nice, isn’t it?” And then Tiffany remembered Ashley’s remark yesterday afternoon about someone’s cute butt getting whipped. She almost giggled as she considered what kind of fantasies Ashley must have on the Channel. But hell, if a little naughty spanking took the edge off of her nerves, so what? That was the beauty of the Channel: Nothing was real. She turned to her husband. “You playing cards tonight with your group?”
“Yeah. We’ll have dinner at the club and play there,” Joe told her. “You don’t mind being alone, do you?”
“Of course not,” Tiffany said with a smile, and she patted his shoulder. “You need your nights out.” And I need the Channel, sh
e was already thinking. Tonight she was going to let the young sultan spank her, and then he would fuck her brains out. No. She didn’t mind Joe’s card playing after work at all. She welcomed it!
CHAPTER TWO
Ryan Finbar Mulcahy winked at the receptionist in the foyer of Alexander, Stoddard, and Kingsley as she told him to go right into Mr. Pietro d’Angelo’s office. He heard her giggle behind him, and he grinned. She was petite and blond and cute. Just the kind of girl he’d marry if she weren’t so damned young. Was she even twenty? he wondered. And he winced, realizing that the receptionist was probably young enough to be his daughter. He had nine months to go until he was forty. It was a sobering thought.
“What’s up, Ray?” he asked as he lowered his long frame into a chair opposite the desk. “What’s so urgent that you have to drag me from work?”
“Your mother called me a few weeks ago,” Ray began. “She and Frankie don’t like what your other sisters are doing. You know they’ve lined up a buyer for R&R, don’t you? What the hell is the matter with them, Ryan? Wasn’t what your dad left them enough? Unfortunately there’s no way around your dad’s will.”
“What did Ma want?” the younger man asked.
“To arrange a marriage for you,” Ray said, watching to see what Ryan’s reaction to this news would be.
“So she did it, did she?” Ryan Finbar Mulcahy laughed. “She’s been threatening to sic a matchmaker on me for a year now. She says she and Dad were matched and made a go of it. There’s no reason I can’t. And Frankie’s in on it too? What a sweetie that baby sister of mine is,” he said.
“I found a possibility,” Ray continued, and swallowed a chuckle at the look of surprise on his client’s face. “She’s got the same problem you have—a will that says she’s got to marry or lose it all. You’ve got enough in common to at least meet. I want to arrange it.”
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