The Marquis' Book of Pleasure & Property of the Marquis

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  It took some minutes for her to recover, only when the throbbing in her branded thigh began to awaken her conscious mind to the truth about this last dreamy pleasure.

  “It is done,” Darius finished the ritual with the simple statement. “Take care of the wounds as I described and they will heal well. You’ll note some changes over time in the appearance, though the essence, your mark on the slave, will remain intact.”

  Christian Barth had already disappeared from the hut. Essex soon vanished, too. And Darius remained only long enough to offer his final instructions. “Leave the door unlocked when you leave. We’ll need to make certain the fire is out before we set the lock again.”

  ***

  The evening proceeded quietly thereafter, with a subdued hush settling over the six guests remaining in Christian Barth’s island home.

  The three slaves refused to acknowledge what had happened, as though the hot iron had not seared their upper thighs with their master’s brand; or perhaps that with the swipe of a hand, they might vanish the marks burned into their flesh. Though there was a throbbing ache where the irons had hit, they ignored the sensations, letting them slide by with no apparent recognition. What they could not ignore were the pangs of sexual hunger rampant in their bodies.

  After a late supper, as the evening light dwindled into darkness, the three slaves sidled up to their masters and drew them away from their conversation. Stirring them into amorous pursuits, Laney beckoned her husband with her dark eyes in molten shades of lust, pulling him upstairs. What power bloomed in her now! It took so little to rouse his lecherous urges: the tease inside her eyes, wet lips, and her naked, collared body moving with a sexual heat that was so natural to her now, billowing far beyond her flesh alone. She, with her sister slaves, might have wooed an entire army of men with the energy their bodies bred.

  As she and Erik retreated up the stairs, Laney saw Sandra seducing Jason. The steamy temptress knelt between his legs rubbing her breasts against this thighs, while her hands groped for the hardening rod inside his shorts. He fed her need, rising enough to push the shorts down his legs and let his erection float free before her face. As her mouth covered the beautiful organ, she began to suck with the skill of a whore. A gaze of jubilant surrender met Jason’s eyes and he smiled knowingly as he held her head to his cock and playfully ran his fingers through her sunny blonde hair.

  The air was fraught with sexual sounds. In some distant corner, Matthew and Elise were making love, the willing slave laid out on a table on her back. Her head dropped over the edge so that she could take her husband’s cock inside her mouth. He fucked her face fiercely as his desire gathered momentum; then he moved to the other end of the table when he was ready to cum and fucked her there as vigorously. Their passionate cries signaled the wet and happy ending, while their bodies collapsed in a heap of exhaustion until they were revived enough to return to their room upstairs.

  When a state of peace finally returned to the creaky old house, the lovers were in their rooms, tucked inside beds, snuggled together despite the sticky, humid night. A breeze ruffled the hair on their arms, and sometimes teased an exposed crotch as though the sensation might awaken more lust. Occasionally, one of the six would stir, but the arousal was only momentary. The energy soon settled and they fell back asleep.

  In each room, a slave collar was discarded on the floor, where it remained all night, unused.

  ***

  The morning air rustled in agitated gusts, signaling a change in weather. Erik and Matthew were up early, inspecting the boat; and once roused, Jason followed, yawning as he met his friends on the dock.

  “It’s running perfectly,” Erik referred to the boat.

  “Then it’s time to split,” Matthew said as he stared around at the uneasy sky. “Think it’s gonna storm?”

  “No,” Erik declared flatly.

  “And how would you know that?” Jason finally opened his mouth to speak.

  “These two weeks wouldn’t end this way. The sky is just restless enough to get us moving.”

  “I don’t need the sky to goad me,” Matthew declared.

  “But perhaps someone thinks we do,” Jason returned.

  “Are the ladies getting packed?” Erik asked.

  “Laney’s dressed and in the kitchen,” Jason reported, “and I know Sandra was closing up our suitcase as I left. Didn’t see Elise.”

  “She’ll be ready.” Her husband was quite sure of himself.

  Returning to the house, the three ate a breakfast of cold muffins and juice, then hauled their suitcases and camping gear to the dock, while the women followed their tracks to the beach.

  “Sky looks strange,” Laney noted staring up.

  “Doesn’t it figure?” Sandra said.

  “We’ve already noticed and written it off, ladies,” Erik told them, as he pulled their luggage into the boat.

  “Full tank of gas?” Matthew wondered as he hopped aboard.

  “Looks that way to me,” Jason said. “Old Archie was ready for us.”

  “Makes sense,” Erik noted. “You ready?” he looked up at the three women on the dock, where they waited as though they needed a direct order to get inside.

  Suddenly embarrassed by her hesitation, Laney moved first and the other two quickly boarded with smiles. As they cast off, the six stared back to the small rocky beach where they’d run aground two weeks before. Just barely over the sand dunes beyond, they could see the tops of the palms and the roof of the house. It was their last glance, before Erik piloted the boat out of the bay into the open seas, where he headed for the Florida coast. Marquis Island quickly disappeared from view.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later ….

  They sat in a booth at the back of Checkers Bar; Laney facing Elise on either side of the table.

  “What’s keeping Sandra?” Laney asked.

  “She has a new client,” Elise rolled her eyes teasingly as though that should mean something.

  “Who?”

  “She’s not saying, though she keeps mentioning Robert Divine.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Laney, where have you been? Robert Divine is the hottest artist in the village right now.”

  “Oh?” The news wasn’t particularly earth shattering.

  “She’ll get a swelled head.”

  “Who’s gonna get a swelled head?”

  “Sandra! We’re talking about Sandra!” Elise noted her friend’s vacant expression. “Are you even here?”

  “I am—just a little distracted.”

  Elise looked worried. “You’re supposed to be the sane one, sweetie.”

  “I am. Usually.” She stared around, her eyes finally brightening as she spotted Sandra coming through the door. Laney waved.

  The blonde rushed in happily. “Sorry I’m late. Did you order my latte?”

  “I’m having beer,” Laney said. “Tastes better this time of day.”

  “I have another client at seven so I can’t drink,” Sandra said.

  “Interior design has picked up, huh?”

  “Yes,” Sandra gave extra sizzle to the “s” at the end of her reply. “How about you?”

  “The law never changes. I mean laws constantly change, but the profession is as cutthroat as ever.”

  “I don’t understand you, Laney,” Elise declared. “I thought you were getting out of the corporate game?”

  “I’m slowly pulling away, but it’s as though my feet are stuck in quicksand. I try to pull one out and I only sink in further. Erik keeps telling me to just resign.”

  “Then do it!” Elise said. She still liked to dress in drab colors, though she managed to perk up the black and brown with a spark of vexation in her eyes.

  “I’d rather talk about your next concert,” Laney changed the subject.

  That put a smile on Elise’s face. She rummaged through a huge leather bag at her side and pulled tickets from an envelope. “Here. Friday. Two weeks. That’s all I’ll say, exc
ept that I’m playing Chopin, and you’ll love it. And be sure to drag the guys along. I promised Matthew they’d be there.”

  “You’re having a hard time getting him to go?” Sandra wondered. “He loves your Chopin.”

  “Oh, he’s in one of his restless moods.”

  “Like how restless?” Laney wondered.

  “You know Matthew, he’s always disgruntled, wouldn’t be happy otherwise.”

  “About anything in particular this time?”

  “I don’t think so. We usually don’t talk about it. I just sit patiently by until he comes around—or I prod him,” she giggled girlishly.

  “You don’t wonder if, maybe…” Laney hesitated, “his restlessness has anything to do with the island?”

  That one loaded word awakened Sandra and Elise from the mindless chatter for just an instant. Their bodies took note of the memory, registering that truth in their eyes, while Sandra nervously fidgeted with her straw wrapper.

  “No, I don’t think it has anything to do with the island,” Elise answered crisply.

  Laney eyed her friends uneasily. “You know we never talk about it. Don’t you wonder about that?”

  “Not really,” Sandra answered. “It was sort of like a dream—that’s how I think of it.”

  “A pleasant one?” Laney asked.

  “A bizarre one…but not an unpleasant one.” Her eyes did look dreamy, so it was easy to believe what she said.

  Laney turned to Elise, expecting a reply, though Elise didn’t answer right away, but tossed her long hair back with her delicate hand, and sighed. “Sometimes I think about it, but it doesn’t seem real. And it’s not like a dream for me, it’s as though I stepped into another world for awhile—opened a curtain and slid into another reality—and then stepped back.”

  “So, it has no impact on you now?”

  “Maybe our sex is a little raunchier. I think Matthew remembers then. He gets rough, I shut up, and submit, and we’re going after each other like a couple of pagans.” She smiled, as though she were holding something back.

  “I can sometimes see the island in Jason’s eyes,” Sandra admitted. “But I’m not sure how it affects anything but our memories. Sex seems the same, and it’s very good. Maybe it mixed things up a little, but it’s all so far away now.”

  “And your brands are far away, too?” Laney was getting impatient.

  Sandra snickered. “It was like a worry stone for the first few months. I’d touch it and this funny feeling zapped my body. But it didn’t last. And I don’t think of it anymore, and Jason doesn’t seem to either.”

  “You know, I was thinking of having a tattoo worked around the initials,” Elise said.

  “So you can hide it?”

  “No. I think it would add to the look.”

  “And it’s just a decoration?” Laney couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “What else would it be?”

  “Nothing else I guess.” Didn’t they remember what Darius said about the brands? Or what was written in the book? Were they denying it all? Had it been the island and nothing more? Was it a magic for a season that was founded on shifting sands? She looked at them both guardedly. It seemed pointless to ask now. “I suppose it goes without saying that you two wouldn’t go back to Marquis?”

  “For what, Laney?” Elise looked shocked. “It’s a broken old house, with an ancient caretaker who got lucky last summer when we crashed his beach party. Maybe it was good, maybe very good. But you don’t try to rewrite the script, or even play it over again. It was what it was. And now is now, and Marquis Island really doesn’t matter very much.”

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Laney quietly agreed.

  ***

  “They didn’t understand, Erik,” Laney stormed through the bedroom. “They weren’t there anymore. It was almost like it didn’t happen for them and they’re trying to rewrite history into something else?”

  “Did you expect anything different?” He was taking shirts from his suitcase and putting them in his drawers, tossing dirty laundry on the floor, which Laney quickly retrieved. “Sandra’s about the most gentle soul on the planet and you think she’ll ever let herself go that dark again? Jason’s hardly any better. I think his heart would break.” He stopped unpacking his suitcase for a moment. “And Elise and Matthew? Trust me, Matt has a big fascination for S&M, but he’d be too afraid of it, and since Elise pulls the strings and has him collared, don’t expect it to go anywhere but in the dead desire pile.”

  “You know, I thought I would be the one to dust off my feet and walk away.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes we surprise ourselves, darling.” He pulled her into his arms, and his dirty laundry dropped to the floor. “You want to go back, don’t you?”

  Her cheek was pressed against his chest so she could feel the thump of his beating heart. “Yes, I do,” she whispered.

  He ran a hand through her hair, which seemed to energize his passion.

  “When I was in Boston, I met with Darius,” he told her calmly. “Next weekend…” He felt every muscle in her body tense. He imagined her biting her lip the way she did when she couldn’t think of anything to say and was just a little scared. “I already have the new collar, one Darius had made especially for you.” Perhaps without knowing, or perhaps completely by design, his hand drifted to her upper thigh where through her silk robe he ran his fingers over the initials “EP” branded into her flesh.

  Laney began to ease and her cunt turned hot and liquid, feeling as though it would melt and float away. Her mind began to drift and images began to appear—of Darius’ face, and her master’s eyes, and the look of a hand grasping the handle of a whip before the thongs descended to her naked ass with a biting snap.

  Property of the MarquisPrologue

  Morning, at daybreak, just as the sun brightened the blue and yellow room and cast its golden light across the bed, Laney awakened, her hand outstretched along the smooth sheets beside her. For a moment before she opened her eyes, before she became conscious of the day, she imagined Erik having just climbed from between the covers and leaving an imprint of his body heat on the bed. With a soft smile on her lips, she opened her eyes and gazed at the empty space beside her, but there was no imprint of her husband’s body there, nor were there sounds of him showering in the adjacent bathroom, or the tangy aroma she associated with the man she loved. Every morning for six months she’d lived without the sounds and sights and smells of her husband, not since the private jet went down had there been any tangible, touchable evidence of his physical being.

  She gazed at her outstretched arm and the bracelet that ringed her wrist with the simple platinum band. Her heart thudded in her chest with a familiar pang of grief, although today, alongside that familiar grief was a stirring physical sensation, a wildness in her belly. She tasted a new desire on her lips. She’d been dreaming of the island—Marquis Island—all night long: the air, the breeze, the scent of island wildflowers, and her legs opening wide as some man’s enormous cock was driven deep between her thighs. She rubbed against the sheets beneath her naked ass, while every sexual nerve in her was awakened by the memory of that dream. Her right hand strayed to the moist valley between her thighs, a finger pushing its way between the cleft formed by her plump labia.

  “No, goddammit!” she suddenly shook herself from the delightful amusement, and jumped from bed. As she headed for the shower, she tore off her nightgown and left it in her wake. Briefs to be filed in court, a new client at ten, and the verdict of Jones v. Dalton. Then dinner with Sandra and Elise.

  She rubbed her lean body with the foamy, tangerine scented body wash, then stretched to rinse the suds from her elongated breasts. Her belly was flat and firm, her thighs muscled from jogging, her bottom small, round and tight. As her hands glided over her flesh, the platinum bracelet slid down her arm; where it touched, the skin seemed to burn. For a moment, she fingered the shiny metal surface, then cradled it in her palm. Closing her eyes the isl
and returned to her again…and Erik returned to her, vivid, as if he might walk through the door alive and breathing. Her dream reformed, and behind her husband loomed the vague image of another man, an unfamiliar face cloaked in darkness. Her eyes jerked open and the real world descended on her again. The water flowing over her skin seemed to soothe the fire stirring in her belly. Sighing deeply, she shook the troubling images from her mind once again and continued to rinse herself, as if she could end the moment without any further disturbance. But then her fingers glided against the brand on her left flank. EP. Her husband’s initial burned into her skin. Her belly spasmed hard, and she felt momentarily faint. The brand throbbed as hot as it had been when it was new.

  Oh, please! she pleaded to the steamy air. Jerking her hand away from her thigh, and her mind from the thoughts the mark evoked, she stepped from the shower and reached for her towel.

  Chapter One

  With her arms loaded with packages, Laney awkwardly reached for the door knocker and let if fall, announcing her presence at 23 Arbor St., Elise and Matthew’s brown Victorian row house. A moment later, Elise answered, looking like a vision of loveliness, as usual. Her mane of chestnut hair spread across her shoulders and her smile was gentle, although there was that fire in her eyes that Laney associated with the often high strung pianist. She was barefoot, dressed in a long, diaphanous, plum-colored skirt and a small t-shirt that rode up high enough to display her small white belly and a pierced navel. Jutting from her small breasts, Elise’s bud-shaped nipples poked right through the pale yellow fabric, and might have easily diverted Laney’s attention, however, those sweet buds were nothing unusual to Laney’s eyes.

  Instead, Laney stared at the navel ring in amazement. “Woah! Is that new?”

  Elise blushed. “You like it?”

  “Humm. Don’t know… but I think it’s…it’s very you. I mean the whole outfit… you have me aghast,” she laughed.

  “Really?”

  “You suppose you could help me,” Laney asked, as she juggled the packages in her arms.