Trinkets

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Tessa sat in the high-backed velvet chair for nearly three hours, fighting off the urge to sneeze from the fumes of cigar smoke. She waited on the men, bringing them drinks as they instructed her. Otherwise, she was ignored by them all, including Miles, who assumed a visage as icy as Damien’s. Only an occasional glance suggested that a couple of the men deliberately restrained their urge to play with her.

  Tessa decided early on that this humbling interlude was a gesture by Miles to Damien: a message to him perhaps, that his submissive was indeed up to the task of compliant service. With that in mind, she played the part carefully, making certain not to falter at any point, for any reason.

  When they left, Miles continued his vacant, icy manner. Where Tessa had hoped they would be together for a night, she was disappointed to find him dropping her at her apartment with no further sexual escapades. She would have begged to have him whip her raw, if only he would display some of the passion beneath the surface of his wintry cold. This ice was horrid to endure.

  “I’ll be arranging things with Vincent,” he announced, as the apartment elevator came to a stop with a sudden jerk.

  “For when?”

  “Now how would I know that now?” he snapped.

  “I guess I’m anxious,” Tessa offered.

  “Much too anxious,” he replied.

  Tessa entered the elevator and was on her way, without any inkling of affection from the man she loved.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tessa’s doorbell blared its obnoxious noise until it woke her. “Sleeping in” was cut short. Glancing at the clock it was ten a.m.. She pulled herself from bed and threw a robe around her, dashing out of the room. The bell still buzzed offensively, and it did so until she finally opened the door.

  With a broad smile and fitful laughing, Martine pushed her way past Tessa, with Miles and Vincent trailing.

  “Why didn’t you use your key?” was on the tip of Tessa’s tongue to say, but she was too surprised by the men to speak at all.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Why I’d think you’d have that all figured out,” Miles said, cheerfully. His mood was one hundred and eighty degrees opposite what it had been two nights before, when he’d left her at the elevator. His quick changes always took her off guard.

  Tessa had suspected that Miles and Martine were spending the night together when her roommate slipped out of the apartment the night before, with that typically vague smile of lust written on her arrogant face.

  “We just had breakfast,” she announced, looking at Tessa haughtily. “Then we grabbed Vincent to come along. I’ve been dying to see you pierced, my love. I’ve always wondered what it would look like seeing a needle poke through your unwilling flesh.”

  “You are horrible,” Tessa said.

  The three plopped down in the living room with an unabashed insouciance. Tessa had never seen Miles so exuberant.

  “I suppose, if you’ve had breakfast, I don’t need to make you coffee?” she asked.

  “Do you have any beer?” Miles asked.

  “In the morning?” Tessa countered.

  “It’s almost noon,” he said.

  “It is not!” she snapped back—to her surprise and theirs.

  Miles didn’t seem to care what she said, or how she said it; though he did look as if he was keeping count of all her faults for later.

  “C’mere,” he said, motioning her to him, “C’mere.” She hesitated, but he was patient.

  Her robe had fallen open because she hadn’t taken the time to tie it. But she didn’t bother covering anything. Why should she be modest, when they’d all had a thorough knowledge of her body, sex and all?

  Presenting herself to Miles with a pout on her face amused him. His expression was positively wicked, and though she knew what was likely to follow, she wondered what bizarre scheme he’d cooked up to accompany the ritual. The three of them looked much too inspired to have some mundane ceremony in mind. Martine was looking as amused as Miles, and Vincent was eyeing Tessa with a studied interest that sent a quick chill through her from head to toe.

  Tessa stood to Miles’ left side as he lounged in a chair looking up at her. She realized that this was one of the few times that he’d been in her apartment. Unlike times before, he was planning to stay. Why here? Why now? she wondered. Why not pierce her in the dark confines of Maya’s salon, or the created theatre of the garret? Her apartment was bright and cheerful with sunlight streaming through the half closed blinds, hardly the place for decadent piercing rituals.

  Miles fingered her nether jewelry as he looked at her face. She was aroused by his play, and though she remained placid, she gave herself away with the nectar seeping from her pussy.

  “So, you’re ready to have yourself pierced again?” he asked.

  “I guess so.” This must be the rod Damien had ordered for her.

  Miles amusement didn’t cease, nor did Tessa’s worry over his strangeness. His eyes danced lightning hot, the more he stared at her, the more intense they became. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding in her temples. She looked down to see her breasts moving rhythmically, sexually as the excitement in her body increased. What had begun as a startling invasion of her morning was quickly becoming a rush so overwhelming that she could hardly stay on her feet.

  The longer Miles stared at her, the more his eyes darkened. As always, the environment around him followed his mood, and this day was no different. The sun, though it did not hide behind clouds, nor was it swallowed up by some descending spaceship, suddenly seemed less shrill; the rays of light that bathed the room softened to make their surroundings as warm and succulent as her pussy was feeling, as mysterious as Miles’ aura.

  The three: Miles, Martine and Vincent, moved in unison, rising to surround their waiting submissive. Martine, standing right in front of her, pulled the robe from her body with a gentle tug, and then leaned in and kissed her mouth, while Vincent from behind drew Tessa’s hands above her and fastened them securely in wrist cuffs.

  The low, marble coffee table between the living room couches was quickly cleared, and Miles led her there. He gently eased her down to its glacial surface and laid her back as if it were an alter. Her hands were stretched over her head and tied by ropes to the legs of the table. Her legs were spread as wide as they would go, Vincent carefully adjusted them exactly were he wanted them. He bound her ankles with ropes and secured them in their awkward pose, so that her pussy was open wide. Once Miles buckled a leather strap around her waist, and tied it down tightly against the table, she was secured against any movement. Only her head was still free to roam from side to side, as she watched the silent ritual of her bondage.

  Martine attached clamps and chains to Tessa’s gold nipple rings—the chains like reins for Martine to pull, each tug startling her immobile body.

  “Humm, so juicy,” Martine murmured, as she knelt between Tessa’s bound legs and pushed her fingers into her cunt. “Squeeze,” she told Tessa and her submissive roommate squeezed the cock-like fullness inside her, moaning softly as she did.

  Martine bent over her crotch and licked her clit, winding her tongue around the jewelry, and parting her labia so that she could make a quick journey into the interior of Tessa’s slippery cunt. The surrendering Tessa tried to squirm as the pleasure mounted; but there was no way to move, no physical response possible equal to the exquisite feelings that were moving through her.

  Vincent knelt beside Martine and pushed a fat pillow under Tessa’s hips. Her cunt stood out prominently now, the jewels gleaming, dragging her inner lips and hood of her clit like weights. Often, they felt heavy, tugging at her as if they were to remind her where all her thoughts should remain.

  “He wants her open,” Vincent stated in his typical cool reserve. He pulled a gold bar from his pocket and showed it to them. Like its predecessors, this piece of jewelry reflected back the shiny gold of its earthy color. It was three inches long, smooth and round on the ends, so that it w
ould not cut her skin. Welded rigidly at either end of the rod there were posts that would soon pierce her pubic lips and be held fast with tiny screws.

  “I worked it especially for her, I trust it fits, Vincent said. The fact that it might be too big for her labia to handle filled the next moment with rightful suspense. Four pairs of eyes stared at the simple decoration in baited anticipation.

  Though Martine had continued to play with Tessa and her toys, she finally backed away when Vincent was ready. Moving off, she still hung on to the chains attached to Tessa’s pierced nipples, tugging at them enough so that her bound slave wouldn’t forget the pain. Tessa tried to wriggle against it, but her movements were pointless, and she knew it.

  For some moments, they all watched as Vincent pushed Tessa’s outer labia back, opening her cunt wide.

  “Here?” he asked Miles.

  “I should think that would do. How does it fit?”

  “I’m not often wrong in my estimations, and I wasn’t wrong this time. It will be a little uncomfortable at first, but then, that is the point, isn’t it?” he stated coldly. “She’ll get used to it.”

  Miles nodded. He had wanted this for her; he had imagined it many times. He knew Tessa would wear the bar not just because he wanted her to, but because it fit her unorthodox personality. He wasn’t completely happy that Damien had insisted on this so soon. He had other plans in mind for this addition to Tessa’s anatomy. But then, perhaps he was being too cautious with her. Looking down on her now, he was glad he hadn’t waited. His little lamb of a submissive was so deliciously spread out for them, he couldn’t keep his cock from responding, and he wouldn’t want to.

  “It fits perfectly,” Vincent said, showing him how the bar would be wedged high between her labia and held with studs. Her cunt could not close unless the rod was removed.

  As she was poked, prodded, tugged and pinched, she lay back in her forced surrender, wondering if she would wear this ornament forever. What her captors seemed to have in mind was something as enduring as the color of her eyes or the shape of her nose.

  “My God, that’s perfect Miles,” Martine gasped. “What a fine badge of submission! Knowing my roommate, she’ll never stop being horny. She hardly has a off day, ever; but now, it’s almost as good as if you’d branded her with fire.”

  Miles agreed. “Do it,” he ordered, and standing back, he watched as Vincent worked, admiring the skill of the man’s fingers as they began their task.

  Martine stroked Tessa face, her eyes looking into Tessa’s eyes.

  “It’s going to hurt,” Tessa exclaimed, as her body tensed anxiously.

  “Just let it turn you on,” Martine purred sweetly, tugging at the nipple rings, as if that pain would somehow ease the one down below. As Tessa cringed in reply, the heavy needle pierced her flesh.

  “Noooooooooo,” she screamed as a searing sensation ripped her nerves. She tried to twist away, without success. “Gawwwwd, nooooo,” the woeful sound of Tessa’s voice smashed nastily into their ears, though it didn’t worry the others as much as it pleased them. They saw the effect, and that was remarkable.

  Her cunt throbbed in ways it never had. If only she could release some of the terrible tension that made her so afraid. But she couldn’t move. “Nooooooo, please no more,” she pleaded.

  “It’s done,” Vincent announced, to her surprise.

  “Done?” She looked up to verify his words.

  “It’s done. But perhaps you can’t see it from your position,” he noted, “there’s a little blood, but we’ll watch it carefully.” He dabbed at her sore cunt for some moments with a cool ointment that eased the immediate sting.

  With the piercing over, the three in choreographed unison backed away, leaving Tessa on her alter without a hand to comfort her. They moved to the other side of the room where Tessa could not hear them speak. That was okay with her, she was getting used to the feelings in her pussy. The rod had been cold when she first felt it, though now, the metal was beginning to heat from the warmth of her own body. Still, that was little consolation. The foreign presence splaying her open was defilement far more sobering than any of the other studs and rings had been. They were sassy decorations, statements of submission perhaps, but this was equal to being bound, permanently.

  With the rod in place, her splayed pubic lips exposed her clitoris and vagina to any sunshine or breath of air that crossed them; it made her whole cunt twitch and the opening between her lips spasm involuntarily.

  “So, my love,” Miles voice brought her out of her reverie. He was looking down on her, moving closer, reaching low enough to pick up the chains. He tugged them as Martine had done. “How does it feel?”

  “Strange.”

  He nodded, the answer acceptable.

  “You’re ready then for Damien’s Ball. At least your body is ready. Match your mind to the state of your cunt and you’ll have a successful soiree. Otherwise, you’ll hate it.” The way he spoke to her sounded as if he doubted her fitness for the role. Though even more disturbing was the hint of mockery in his voice. It challenged her to remember the moments when his warmth embraced her, the times he’d said “I love you” clear out of the blue, the instants of pure bliss when it seemed that they were inextricably one in their crazed sexual desires. Now, the icy chill was so profound, she wondered if she’d misread him all these months.

  “So, she’s mine,” Martine said, slithering up to Miles’ side. Her hand met his crotch in front, her fingers fondling what looked to be a stiff dick.

  Miles pushed the woman down to her knees, while his eyes remained on Tessa. Opening the fly of his jeans, Martine pulled out the long shaft, and opened her mouth to take the purple head.

  Tessa turned her eyes away.

  “Look at me, Tessa,” he ordered her.

  She didn’t want to see Martine satisfy him, and she was bold enough to defy him, at least for an instant.

  Seeing her eyes retreat, Miles pushed Martine aside and bent over his recalcitrant submissive, pulling at the chains so hard she thought her nipples would be ripped off.

  “Yeeeeseeeesh,” she squealed as she watched her breasts and nipples stretched out tight. He wouldn’t stop.

  “Are you going to defy me bitch?” he asked. He knelt beside her, his face in her face.

  “Pleeeeese,” she was beginning to cry.

  “What is it?” he demanded, unmoved by her tears.

  “Please, no.” She was desperate, she could hardly think through the pain. “Please, I’m sorry.”

  “You damn well better be,” he said, releasing the chains for an instant, then tugging them again.

  “Oh gawd,” she cried. He grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.

  “You watch us, slut. You watch her take my cock. Don’t you dare take your eyes off of us for a second; you hear me?”

  “Yes.” Her frightened eyes were fixed on him.

  He eased his grasp on the chains, though he didn’t drop them. Standing again, Martine resumed the blowjob, taking the thick prick inside her mouth with a pleasure she would not often show any man. Throwing the facts in her roommate’s face was motivation enough. She bobbed up and down on Miles shaft, and then feeling him about to explode, she backed away, and let his cum spew out on her face for Tessa to see.

  Miles groaned lustily as he looked down at his bound slave and tugged the chain again.

  “Maybe you’re not ready for Damien’s Ball,” he remarked when he put his cock back inside his pants. “Untie her,” he ordered Martine. “Let this sub sulk for awhile, if that’s what she needs; let her think about being submissive. She’s a far cry from the good little whore she needs to be.”

  He left with a look of disgust on his face. Vincent had left earlier, so Tessa was left alone with her roommate.

  “I would have liked to have sucked this pussy of yours so prettily laid out, but you don’t deserve it,” Martine said, swaggering about as arrogantly as Miles.

  She undid Tessa’s bonds: her
wrists, ankles, knees, and the strap around her waist. But she didn’t bother to help Tessa from the table. Over an hour under the strain of the ropes had left her weak. She felt her wrists, which were sore and marked where the cuffs had cut into her flesh. She must have strained more than she realized and she needed to rub them to restore any feeling. Her legs ached; they’d stiffened into their strained, awkward positions. Worst of all was the bar at her cunt, which stretched her flesh as she sat against the hard surface of the coffee table. Its presence would be an obsessive nagging complaint until she got used to it, until her flesh conformed to the way it was unnaturally pulled; that is, if she ever got used to it.

  Tessa expected this piece of submissive garb to excite her; but at the moment it was only a flaming annoyance. She was glad that Miles and Vincent had left, glad that Martine was ignoring her, off in the kitchen somewhere. Pulling to her feet, she quietly retreated to her bedroom.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tessa danced. She threw herself into a savage abandon, jostled and jolted by a throng of dancers around her.

  The handsome fellow who whisked her onto the dance floor was hypnotized by her undulating groin, the way it pulsed against his when they were close, and the way it swayed lasciviously as he watched.

  She was gorgeous. He didn’t know her name, but the moment she walked in the door of the club, he knew she was the woman he’d hit on. She was hot, the kind of nasty slut who’d last the night. The more she danced the more she turned him on. Her long blonde hair moved sensuously as her upper moved to the music; he couldn’t wait to run his hands through her soft curls. Her mini skirt was riding so high on her thighs that he could see the lacy tops of her black stockings. She had smooth hips, firm legs and the hint of a very fine crotch at the bottom of it all. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, her nipples were pierced. He could see the hint of her jewelry through the lacy bra beneath her sheer blouse; and in just the right light, he could see the dark shades of her aureoles, the erect buds, and a glint of gold winking through the creamy fabric.