Before Tessa had a chance to rise, Miles entered, this time alone. He looked at her miserable, trembling body. “My, look at this; he’s replaced Martine’s faded cuts.”
“It hurts like hell,” she said, her annoyance surfacing.
“You do look a bit worse for wear, Tessa,” Miles remarked. It was actually a friendly comment, though Tessa wasn’t in a friendly mood.
“And I should be,” she blurted out.
“Rattled?” he asked.
“This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen,” she charged at him. “These people are like ghouls, watching as if I were some sort of bauble being brutalized for art’s sake, and their perverted pleasures. Is this what I am?” she asked angrily.
“Is it? You tell me. What are you today that you weren’t yesterday?”
“I didn’t like it at all Miles,” Tessa ignored his implication. “Your friend is creepy.”
“Creepy!” he laughed.
“Odd, strange, bizarre,” she fought for another adjective.
“Bizarre? Yes. But he’s harmless.”
“Not with those eyes, or with that baton.”
“There are women would have given anything for the pleasure you had from Damien today.”
“And what makes him so special?”
“Only what you believe makes him special. If temporal power is important to you, he owns a great deal of that.”
“I don’t give a shit about who he is,” Tessa said. Her anger was only beginning to quell. “Besides it wasn’t just him, it was those fiendish women. I’d rather have Martine dominating me any day, than those bitches hovering around me as though I were their pet.”
“I wasn’t asking you to like it, Tessa.”
“Then what’s the purpose?”
He looked at her with a comical grin. “To shock them.”
“That you certainly did,” she agreed.
“Ah. Not as much as I would have liked.” He almost sounded disappointed. “Some were expecting your antics.”
“Antics! My punishment, my defilement a simple antic for your company’s pleasure? Is that all I am, entertainment, a trinket for whatever you desire?”
“Sometimes that’s all you are, and you know it,” Miles spoke truthfully. “Because, that’s all you want to be.” He looked at her with a wise expression. His knowledge of her was so complete that she couldn’t dismiss anything he had to say. “So now, Tessa, you tell me, why are you so pissed off?”
She pouted for a moment. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.” She was standing now, still in complete disarray, with her skirt and silk still askew about her middle. Miles gently placed his hand on her cunt and felt the softness there, and the jewelry, and the wetness she couldn’t refute. “Frankly, Tessa, I think you’re lying to me.”
“Lying, never!”
“Then you’ll have to tell your body to quit giving you away.”
“My body reacts, it’s all physical,” she contended. “If my mind’s not there, how can I have any pleasure?
“Be a little more honest with yourself, sweetheart,” he said, “If you plan to stay with me, there will be more days like today, and I’ll expect a better showing from you.”
“What I went through was not enough?”
“Just a taste, just a taste.”
He took the knotted scarf from around her waist, and pulled it away. Then he pushed the leather skirt back over her hips, so that it was straight around her body. After shaking out the wrinkled silk, he then wrapped it around her again with a flourish to match the way Maya had fashioned it.
“There, you almost look presentable, go fix your hair, but not too tidy. I like it mussed.”
He was being so affectionate, and incredibly sweet, a side of him that made her feel magical inside. She let his gentle eyes caress her for a minute, then she retreated to the bath to fix her hair and makeup.
Tessa wondered as she stared at herself in the mirror, why this place, and Damien, and the women—those ghastly women—had so upset her.
One thing she knew for certain, she was horny. She felt as if there were a thousand hungry dragons crashing through her on a rampage. She wished that Miles had just flung her down and screwed her, but she hadn’t words to ask the favor; and likely, he wouldn’t have granted her the pleasure.
When she returned to him, she still had no answer to his question about her anger. As it was, Miles was too preoccupied with returning to his gathering to talk to her about it. He did offer one word of advice, as they were leaving the room. “It’s a grand joke Tessa, that’s all it is. Treat it like one and you’ll have a much better time.”
“That’s how you see this afternoon, a joke?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Frankly, I hadn’t planned that you and Damien would be interrupted. It began as just a friendly sharing between friends, an initiation that you needed to endure, for reasons that will become clear in time. But the others, they were interesting accidents, comical ones at that.” Seeing the twinkle in his eye, she could tell he was sincere.
A joke? Comical? Was that so ridiculous? Perhaps all the anger was for nothing. Had she passed a test, or failed one? Only time would tell.
Resuming her place on Miles’ arm, the returned to the dining room where lunch was just being finished. Having had nothing to eat herself, Miles stopped at a tray of unserved plates of food; and with some curious onlookers stealing glances at them, he fed her with his fingers. She laughed at the mess he made, as pieces of poached salmon and crepe suzettes stuck to her mouth.
Her earlier upset seemed incredibly silly in this light, and she felt foolish for being so angered.
After wiping her face on a napkin, she strolled with Miles to where Damien and his prissy wife, Adelle, were shaking hands with other art patrons.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Tessa said boldly.
Damien nodded at her coolly. Ah! That impeccable cool! Men like him would never be rattled, or taken off guard. But that wasn’t the point. She had the satisfaction of satisfying the man in a way that his little woman never could.
Lust like hers made her an uncommon piece of art.
Chapter Thirteen
“Where did he take you?” Martine asked. She was leaning against a display case that Tessa was arranging with artifacts from the Mesopotamian Era. Martine’s slit skirt was rising high on her hips.
“A luncheon,” Tessa replied.
“Ah.” Her friend nodded.
“Haven’t you seen him lately?” Tessa asked.
“Not for a week.”
“Ooooo, you think he’s lost interest?”
“No,” she answered indignantly.
“Well, he’s left me for a week at a time, I suppose it’s within his standard operating procedure,” Tessa admitted, as she tried hiding the pleasure in Martine’s abandonment, if that’s what it was.
“So how was the luncheon?” Martine asked.
Tessa spent some moments considering a reply. Exactly how much did she want to reveal about her afternoon with Miles? Her relationship with Martine had always had its prickly side; they never seemed to want to get along, and yet, they did have some of the best sex ever. Perhaps it was time for a truce.
“Enlightening,” Tessa finally admitted.
“How so?” her roommate asked. Tessa had been carefully fixing her artifacts with a precision that annoyed Martine. It was like everything else with Tessa. Perfect, it had to be perfect.
“Oh, a roomful of his stuffy art patrons, and then there was me, dressed in a leather skirt and silk scarf like some art patron from the fiery dungeons. At least that’s the way I must have looked to them.” She said it with an amused smile. “Unfortunately, I didn’t appreciate the humor of it, right off. Miles had to point it out to me, after I faltered a bit giving his Mr. Big Bucks the show he wanted.
“Mr. Big Bucks?”
“The guy who buys the videos.”
“Oh, that’s interesting, what’s he like?”
“Weird? How?”
“I don’t know,” she thought back. “I guess it was his eyes; they were really queer, in the old sense of the word.”
“Sounds like something right up your alley.”
“Not really, not like that. He made me feel weird.”
Martine shifted her stance, raising a foot to rest against a foot high stool Tessa had used to reach the top of a display case. Her skirt was rising even higher on her leg. It wouldn’t have taken much to bend down and see Martine’s cunt peeking out from underneath. “Did Miles pierce you again?” Martine asked abruptly.
The question came like lightening, out of the clear blue, just as Tessa was almost enjoying a good old-fashioned woman-to-woman moment. She hedged a little, trying not to look Martine in the eye.
“C’mon bitch, tell me. He did, didn’t he?”
“So what if he did?”
“I want to see,” she said. Martine was horny—she was practically rubbing her hips against the display case. All the usual signs were there, including the manner of nasty dominance that normally appeared when she wanted Tessa to submit to her.
“When we get home,” Tessa offered.
“No. Here. Now.”
“I’m working now, and you should be, too.”
“Oh, don’t give me lectures about your job responsibilities, you who fly off with Miles at the drop of a hat.”
“I work independently, you know that. Right now, I have a five o’clock deadline on this exhibit.”
“That’s okay, it won’t take but a minute to please me, oh precious one.”
Tessa was annoyed. Here it was again, the choice to fight or surrender to Martine. This time however, there was a little voice inside her head that began to speak in tandem with all the thoughts that would object to Martine’s command. It was a simple reminder of the night they’d spent together, Tessa under Martine’s lash. The point of the night was all too apparent before it was over. Miles, in his inimitably, crafty way had led her to the undeniable truth, that she really desired Martine’s dominance, nearly as much as she desired his. Reminded of that now, how could she refuse her?
“Lift up your skirt,” Martine commanded, impatiently. She didn’t share Tessa’s interminable quandaries.
“Right here?”
“Yes, there’s no one around.”
“But someone could come around the corner in seconds.”
“Then you’ll be embarrassed at worst, at best titillated. Raise that skirt. It’s only four fuckin’ inches.”
Tessa would never have hesitated this way in front of Miles. He would have punished her ass hard if she’d resisted him even the slightest bit. Still, Martine was not Miles. Finally deciding to obey, Tessa glanced around one more time and then tugged her skirt up at the center before Martine’s watchful eyes. The three rings sparkled in the light.
“My God, they’re beautiful, Vincent do these?”
“How do you know Vincent?” Tessa asked.
“He did the dragon tattoo on my thigh a few years back. Miles and I thought it was an interesting coincidence.”
“Did he screw you, too?” Tessa asked.
“Did he screw you?” Martine asked, as if she was offended by the question.
Tessa pushed her skirt back down and shrugged. “So, we don’t tell each other everything,” she quipped.
Martine chuckled. “He did, didn’t he?” she said, reading Tessa’s mind. She didn’t need an answer. “He was always one of my favorite fucks,” Martine offered.
“More than once?” Tessa inquired curiously.
“Gawd yes. We had quite an affair, but he kept trying to poke my body with a bunch of holes like yours.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t pierced yourself.”
“It doesn’t suit my style, I think of it as something that submissive women do.”
“And Vincent wanted you to be submissive?”
“Oh, he never really tried. What really broke us apart was his bitch. I couldn’t stand her.”
“Maya?”
“I quit seeing him when she rolled around, we didn’t get along.” Martine punctuated her comments with a snarl.
“I think they’re married,” Tessa said.
“That’s too bad, the streets could use a good one like Vincent. He’s so civil while he’d pummeling you, so decent.”
“That’s an interesting judgment. Surprising, coming from you. I didn’t think being decent was important in your world. “You’ve never been very particular about the men you fuck.”
“Oh, and you are? You’re only a little more particular than me.”
“You’re probably right about that,” Tessa conceded. “Except for now. I think Miles is changing me.”
There they were again, Tessa thought, at one of those almost tender moments where they were connecting as friends.
“That’s what I mean, Tessa. The thing with Vincent, it’s like Miles. He’s decent, really decent, a scoundrel, a pervert, a real nasty scene maker; but he respects you and me. Isn’t that why we like him?”
“I suppose it is,” Tessa mused. Strange the two of them agreeing on something. “You can even see where he’s vulnerable—the little chinks in his armor.”
“All men are vulnerable,” Martine offered as if she knew them all.
She would know, Tessa thought, since she was an expect at finding a man’s weakness.
Lest the moment be too sweet and friendly, the bitch changed on a dime. “Raise it again, slut, I want it now,” she ordered.
This time she didn’t give Tessa a choice, her hand reached in and pulled the skirt up, finding its way to the rings. She yanked on the clit ring so hard it brought a muffled cry from her victim. Tessa tried not to move, or make the slightest peep. Though she knew that it would only be moments before Martine would have her panting, begging to come; she might as well give in.
Martine’s fingers continued to play, one finger poking its way inside Tessa’s cunt. “This canyon of yours is like a raging river,” she observed.
“How poetically stated,” Tessa replied, as she felt stabs of need rise inside her belly, orgasmic waves beginning to roll through her, “you really shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“Oh, but it’s so fun wondering if you’re going to get caught. Wouldn’t you love to see the curator’s face right now, his beady little eyes staring into your lust. He’d know for sure what a naughty little whore you really are. I’m sure he’s wondered, the way you flaunt your private parts around here like they were just another display.”
Tessa wanted to remind Martine that she was just as much a slut, but she couldn’t find the words. The way her pussy wanted to cum, she was losing touch with anything but the shrill shiver of desire attacking every nerve.
“That’s it cunt,” Martine purred at her. She leaned in closer so she could whisper in her ear. Inserting three fingers in the sopping pussy, she rammed them like a cock, and Tessa widened her stance to accommodate the intrusion. She was at the edge, unable to keep herself from thrusting her groin into Martine’s fist. “I’ll have it all in here next time slut, I’ll fuck you with my fist.”
Tessa reacted to the threat with her hips, moving in lusty unison with the pounding hand, wishing she Martine would fuck her harder still.
“You want it now, don’t you?” Martine murmured.
“But please not here.”
“There’s no one around, let’s try.”
“No, please, not now.”
“You want it slut, admit it. You want my whole hand up your little whoring cunt, jamming its way to the center of your belly.”
“No, please, no.” She denied the desire with little conviction.
“Admit it bitch,” Martine seethed, her mouth against Tessa’s ear, so the submissive could not ignore the order. “Admit it, or I’ll raise a ruckus, and bring out the posse.”
“Martine, no.”
“Admit it!”
she hissed again.
“Yes, I want your fist inside me,” Tessa gasped. Their bodies were so close that their hot breath mixed, the slightly stale smell of smoke on Martine’s, a hint of mint from a lozenge still lingering in Tessa’s mouth. They were close, but not close enough—Martine backed off.
“Raise your leg so I can get the right angle,” she ordered.
With her foot now resting on the stool where Martine’s once had been, her skirt was hiked so high that even her butt showed from behind—from the direction that she would be discovered, if she were discovered. They had to be quick, but she wanted it now, wanted Martine fully fist inside her. Her cunt opened like the petals of a flower, the nectar of her female center dripping over her roommate’s hand to coat the path. Tessa was too far gone to stop, even if someone happened round the corner.
Dropping to her knees on the floor between Tessa’s legs, so she could get the proper angle with her hand, Martine’s three fingers in her cunt became four, and then her slim, wet hand slipped inside all the way, filling her expanded cavity. Fuller than Miles filled her, fuller than Vincent had, fuller than any of the dozens of cocks that had widened her cunt over time. She tensed, feeling Martine’s fingers come together inside her to make a fist. The brutal reality of her submission hadn’t escaped her, but it wasn’t time to consider that. She was moving rapidly to orgasm, each thrust of the rude fist taking her quickly to a climax. She collapsed forward against Martine’s smaller but firmly set body and the two worked in unison as Tessa’s body tensed and eased and tensed again, and finally waves of orgasm set her murmuring softly, “Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh, yessssss.” Her inner muscles squeezed the offending fist just as they might tighten around a cock.
“Yes baby, that’s right, you love it, Tessa, yes you do,” Martine urged her friend.
“Aaaaaaahh, yessssssssssssss,” she exclaimed in return, finally falling limply against her roommate’s shoulder.
As Martine withdrew her hand, she brought it to Tessa’s lips, “Lick it darling, think of it as my nectar.” Dutifully, Tessa’s lips lapped the wet fist. Her only thought was how empty she felt, how large and open and empty.
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