by Sarah Fisher
He had planned on a mural, something cool and green in the long gallery overlooking the swimming pool, but now - he smiled and sipped his aperitif - now perhaps the mural could wait awhile. He sat down by the desk and opened the top drawer. Inside, in a small box, were a set of ornate body rings. He stroked the cool silvery metal and let his mind picture a dozen erotic possibilities. He imagined Alex tied and subdued, completely at his mercy, bucking against her restraints as he taught her the lessons he loved so well. She would learn to be compliant and obedient, and she would learn to understand that his word was law, and that her body was his alone to command or give away as the fancy took him.
He imagined her nipples, puckered and dark, pierced by the silver rings. He could see them glittering in the gloom, and below them the subdued flash of the one that would nestle in the lips of her sex. The rings, and other sets like them, were reserved as a gift, as markers for members of his discreet and beautifully trained stable of girls. He lit a cigar and then picked up the phone. He knew someone else who might enjoy the education of Miss Alex Sanderson.
Alex woke just after seven. Outside the light had subtly changed to a softer evening glow. Although the sun was lower it was still pleasantly warm. Alex pulled a thin cotton dress off its hanger and slipped it on. Glancing at her reflection in the bedroom mirror, she twisted her thick copper hair into a bun and secured it with a clip. The effect was soft and feminine. She stretched and smiled at herself. Recovered from the journey she felt relaxed and ready to face whatever Peter Tourne might have in mind. At least this time she would be ready for him. As she leant forward to add the lightest touch of lipstick there was a knock on the door. It was barely ten to eight, fleetingly she wondered if it was the housekeeper returning with another dire warning.
‘Come in,’ Alex called.
The door opened slowly to reveal a beautiful blonde girl, dressed in a cream evening dress. The girl hesitated in the doorway.
‘Hi, can I help you?’ said Alex, spraying on some cologne.
‘I come to invite you to join Peter for drink before dinner,’ she said slowly, struggling with the English words.
Alex turned and extended her hand. ‘I’d love to, my name’s Alex - Alex Sanderson.’
The girl smiled and blushed. ‘I know. I’m Gena.’
‘Right, and are you Mr Tourne’s girlfriend?’
The girl’s colour deepened and she shook her head. ‘No.’ She paused for a moment, considering her reply. ‘I am his slave. He understand me.’
Alex turned to pick up her handbag. Gena’s words must have lost something in translation; surely she really meant servant, or secretary.
In the hall of the villa Peter Tourne was sitting by the little fountain waiting for the two girls to arrive. Beside him stood another man, dressed in expensively casual clothes. As Alex and Gena came in through the French windows the other man stepped proprietarily towards Gena. Peter Tourne smiled a welcome towards Alex.
‘Good evening,’ he purred as he got to his feet. ‘You look lovely.’
Alex smiled politely. ‘Thank you,’ and then glanced back at Gena and her companion.
‘Forgive me. Let me introduce my friends,’ he said, taking her arm. ‘May I present Starn Fettico and Gena?’
Starn Fettico’s smile was fixed as he stepped forward to shake her hand. His eyes moved slowly over her face, as if he could look inside her mind, whilst his other hand rested casually on Gena’s hip. Alex sensed there was something wrong, something unsettling, but didn’t resist as Peter Tourne led her up a sweeping flight of stairs into a sitting room.
‘Would you like an aperitif?’ he asked, indicating a tray on the side table. Alex nodded and accepted the glass he offered before turning back towards Gena and Starn, who had followed them up.
What she saw made her gasp. Starn was standing close behind Gena, his hands reaching around and cradling her large breasts, his tongue lapping at her throat. Alex looked away quickly, feeling her colour rise. Peter Tourne lifted an eyebrow as Alex fought to compose herself. Behind her she heard Starn moan.
Alex coughed. ‘Look, Mr Tourne,’ she began uncomfortably, ‘if I’m interrupting something...’ her voice faded away.
He casually sipped his drink. ‘They disturb you?’
Alex shook her head. ‘No, but I’m employed to - ’
Lifting his hand he silenced her. His eyes were dark and hypnotic and did not leave hers as he spoke. ‘Gena, take off your dress.’
Alex blushed furiously. ‘Please, this is hardly what I’m here for!’ she blustered indignantly and turned to leave.
Behind her, framed in the doorway, Gena had already slipped off her evening dress. Alex swallowed hard, feeling the heat flooding through her body. The blonde girl was naked beneath the creamy silk sheath, her body as pale as snow, but what was more startling was that she was shaved, her sex as pale and vulnerable as the rest of her body. Alex froze, feeling a thread of panic bubbling up inside her. The girl’s heavy breasts were pierced with silver rings and below her outer labia were similarly adorned.
‘What is this all about?’ Alex hissed, suddenly remembering the housekeeper’s words to her earlier.
Peter Tourne laughed softly. ‘Perhaps you would like to paint Gena for me?’
‘Perhaps not! Usually I’m told before I get a life model!’ She struggled to regain her poise. ‘And they don’t usually strip off just before dinner!’ As she spoke she noticed the way Starn’s eyes slithered over the ripe and vulnerable curves of Gena’s body. She shivered and then swung back to face Peter Tourne. ‘Is this some kind of test?’
He lifted his hands. ‘No, not at all. Gena, come here.’ The blonde moved closer, so close that Alex could smell her expensive perfume and feel her body heat.
‘Closer,’ he coaxed.
Alex stepped aside as Gena glided towards him, and then watched mesmerised as he stroked the girl’s heavy breasts without her offering any form of resistance. His fingertips lingered over the puckered outline of her nipples and the glittering silver rings that hung from them. Gena, eyes downcast in submission, moaned softly as he caressed her.
Alex shivered, wondering why the exhibition excited her almost as much as it repulsed her. ‘Please,’ she murmured, uncomfortably aware of the fluttering sensation deep in her sex. ‘I think I’ve seen quite enough of this.’
As she spoke, his fingers moved down over the soft swell of Gena’s belly. He looked across at Alex, his eyes reduced to dark pinpricks.
‘Don’t tell me this doesn’t move you, Miss Sanderson,’ he said softly, his fingers tracing the plump outer lips of the other girl’s quim.
Gena shuddered under his touch and to her horror Alex felt the flurry of excitement flare white hot deep in her belly.
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, controlling her voice as she spoke. ‘I’d have to be dead not to be moved by something so erotic, Mr Tourne, but I think you’re making a grave mistake.’
Peter Tourne chuckled, his slim fingers parting the moist lips of Gena’s sex, sliding unhindered past the heavy ring. Alex gasped, unable to look away as he caressed the girl’s compliant body. It felt as if his fingers were on her own flesh.
He looked at her levelly. ‘A mistake? I don’t think so,’ he said softly. ‘Do you?’
Alex felt her colour draining. From the corner of her eye she could see Starn moving around to get a better view. He moved silently, like a predatory wolf.
Alex stared at Gena. ‘Is this what you meant when you said Mr Tourne understood you? That you were his slave?’ she asked. The blonde girl nodded, her excitement was obvious.
As Alex spoke, Tourne tipped his glass, trickling the wine over Gena’s gorgeous body. She shivered as the sticky liquid trickled down over her breasts, leaving a slick glistening trail in its wake.
‘Woul
dn’t you like to lick it off?’ he said quietly, staring at Alex. ‘Wouldn’t you like to taste her sweat and her juices mingling with the bittersweet taste of the wine?’
Alex didn’t move.
Tourne shrugged and then glanced at Starn who was now standing beside him. Starn grinned and stepped towards Gena, his tongue already protruding between thick red lips. Alex closed her eyes and looked away as Starn’s lips closed around one of Gena’s engorged nipples.
Tourne laughed. ‘Open your eyes, Miss Sanderson, we’ll leave them to play while we have our dinner.’
Alex flinched as his fingers closed around hers, but she did not protest as he led her away. As they moved across the room, she heard the soft little noises of pleasure as Starn sucked greedily at Gena’s willing body.
Alex let her host guide her up another set of steps to a large airy dining room. From the windows she could see the garden below, and beyond that the rich blue waters of the sea. Her discomfort was rapidly turning to anger.
She swung round to face him. ‘I think,’ she said with great deliberation, ‘that you would be better getting someone else to paint your mural, Mr Tourne. I am not particularly impressed with your behaviour so far, and I am not sure that I can give you whatever it is you want.’
Peter Tourne smiled. ‘So spirited - I like that. Just tell me truthfully that Gena’s activities didn’t excite you?’
Alex swallowed. ‘I’m really not into women or voyeurism,’ she said flatly.
He laughed. ‘Perhaps not. But her obedience, her compliance, tell me that didn’t fascinate you.’
Alex slammed her glass down onto a side table. ‘I’m really very sorry, I’m not sure what it is that you want from me, Mr Tourne. What do you want me to say? That you shocked me? Well, you did. That what I saw excited me? Well, as I said just now, you’d have to be made of clay not to find...’ she hesitated, wondering why it was she didn’t just walk out.
Why on earth was she arguing with him? All she had to do was collect her things and leave. What held her back? She realised with horror it was because there was something about this bizarre and stunning scenario that had electrified her. She could still feel the little frisson of excitement that Gena’s performance had ignited in her belly. She couldn’t define what it was, or perhaps she was afraid to admit that the blonde’s unquestioning obedience to Peter Tourne had mesmerised her. Sex without responsibility, an unquestioning obedience to another’s desires, wasn’t that a dark dream she had always denied existed in her heart? Alex felt herself flush scarlet.
Tourne smiled warmly and guided her to the exquisitely arranged table.
‘Don’t worry about that now - let’s eat,’ he purred softly. His powerful self-confidence frustrated Alex. ‘Let me tell you about my plans for the mural. Perhaps you and I can take a walk down to the gallery after dinner?’ His tone was now matter of fact. Alex nodded dumbly and didn’t resist as he poured her another glass of wine.
Dinner was exquisite, served by Peter Tourne’s houseboy who moved like a ballet dancer between them. Despite the convivial surroundings Alex found it impossible to concentrate on the meal, her mind drawn again and again to thoughts of Gena and Starn in the room below. Peter Tourne reverted to the role of perfect host, spoiling her and asking questions about her trip, her life her art.
She willed herself to relax. The combination of wine, food, and conversation slowly eased away the tension. If it hadn’t been for the recurring images of Gena’s smooth excited body and Starn’s glittering predatory eyes constantly bubbling up in Alex’s mind, the meal would have been perfect.
The young servant served their coffee on the balcony outside the dining room. As Alex and Tourne stood side by side, looking out over the evening, watching the light changing on the sea and sky, he turned to her.
‘You will stay.’ It was a statement, not a question.
Alex bit her lip, not letting her eyes meet his.
‘Yes,’ she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. As she said it she knew that she’d agreed to more than just painting the mural - and the forbidden, unspoken possibilities excited her.
He nodded. ‘Good, in that case I think we should go and look at the gallery,’ he said, indicating she should follow him. When she finally caught his eye she could see the gleam of desire there. Alex swallowed hard as she allowed him to take her arm, her heart beating like a drum in her chest.
Below the terrace a winding stairway threaded a path around the outside of the villa. Alex tried to keep her eyes on the sea, resisting the temptation to look in through the windows in case she caught sight of Gena and Starn.
Finally Tourne led her under an archway and into a wide gallery overlooking a swimming pool below. She could immediately see why he’d commissioned the mural; the gallery was a superb site. She turned round, about to congratulate him, but something about the way he looked made her swallow the words. His eyes glistened, while the rest of his face seemed devoid of expression. She stared at him, all her previous fears returning.
‘What do you want from me?’ she stammered, backing away from him.
He smiled thinly, though she noticed the smile did not quite reach his eyes.
‘Oh Alex, you disappoint me. Can’t you guess? I want to instruct you, to teach you to obey, to let go - ’
‘Like Gena?’ she whispered.
He watched her slow retreat along the gallery, the heady mix of emotions propelling her back towards the steps.
‘You’ll be better than Gena - far, far better,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’ He turned his back on her and walked towards a door set in the far end of the gallery wall.
Alex felt the flutter of fear growing with every passing second into something more electric and enticing. She stood frozen by the archway, afraid and yet some how compelled to follow. He opened the door, his face now obscured by the evening shadows. They stood there, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity. She could feel the pulse rising in her throat.
‘Come.’ His voice was stronger now; firm and authoritative. He held out his hand and Alex knew then that she was lost. Slowly she walked towards him through the fading evening light, knowing that some part of her longed to experience whatever Peter Tourne had to offer her.
Above her, unseen amongst the verdant green climbers, the housekeeper watched from her apartment window. The old woman let out a thin, bitter sigh.
‘You should be a man, Alex Sanderson,’ she whispered, and closed the window quietly.
Chapter 2
The room beyond the gallery was gloomy, lit only by skylights that caught the last rays of the evening sun. Alex stood in a pool of light, losing Peter Tourne in the shadows.
‘Where are you?’ she said unsteadily, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice.
‘Here,’ said he from behind her.
Alex trembled. ‘Please... what do you want me to do?’
He stepped closer. ‘Everything,’ he purred. He stroked her neck. He touched her gently, his tenderness surprising her. She let out a thin hiss, jumping at his caress. His fingers were cold, almost unnaturally so.
‘You will learn to obey me,’ he murmured. ‘You won’t need to ask me what I want, you will know instinctively. You will be available for everything I desire.’ He paused. ‘All the time, night and day.’ As he spoke his fingers caught in her hair, jerking her head back. The pain made her gasp. ‘Do you understand?’
Alex shrieked as his fingers tightened in her curls, his lips pressed into the soft curve of her neck. ‘Tell me you understand,’ he said.
She grimaced and twisted as his fingers tightened again, pulling her closer. She whimpered and then whispered, ‘Yes - yes I understand! Please, you’re hurting me!’
Peter Tourne stepped away from her. His expression was one of triumph.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now take
off your clothes.’
Alex flushed. ‘No,’ she said immediately.
He pouted in displeasure. ‘You tell me you understand,’ he said flatly, prowling around her. ‘But you obviously don’t understand, or you would obey me at once - like Gena does.’
Alex started to justify herself, but to her horror he sprang forward fluently and grabbed hold of the neck of her dress, his fingers closing tight round the fabric. Alex shrieked, feeling the cloth bite into her flesh. Before she had a chance to resist he pushed her violently against the wall. Hitting the cold bricks knocked the breath out of her. She struggled to regain some shred of control, fighting her fear and surprise.
Peter Tourne’s fingers tightened on her dress, wrenching at the thin material. She twisted and turned under his grip.
‘Let go of me!’ she hissed in terror. Looking up into his face all she could see were his eyes, bright and catlike in the gloom. She knew he was relishing her struggles - the realisation unnerved her and she froze. He gave the material another sharp tug and the summer dress ripped to the waist, revealing her delicate lacy bra beneath.
He grinned as she instinctively tried to cover herself. He pushed her hands away and traced the soft curve of her breasts. She whimpered as his fingers tracked across her nipples, roughly brushing and nipping at their sensitive peaks. She let out a sob and then pushed against his chest, trying to break away.
He let go of her, the smile fading. ‘Why are you fighting me, Alex? We both know this is what you want. Take off the rest of your clothes.’ His voice was low and hypnotic. ‘Do it now before I lose my patience with you.’
Alex watched him like a hunted animal, glancing instinctively towards the door. He followed her eyes.
‘You may leave if you wish,’ he said evenly. ‘But we both know you want to stay, don’t we?’
He was right - and she knew now why Gena had said Peter Tourne understood her. She shivered and caught hold of the ragged remains of her dress, pushing it down over her hips. In the gloom he watched her coldly.