Sexy Beast II

by Kate Douglas, Noelle Mack

  “Do the lions nod back?” Her tone was light, but Tanya was touched. She knew what he meant about those old soldiers. Marching bravely on, more in remembrance of their fallen companions than for their own glory, and fewer of them each year.

  “Always,” Jean-Claude replied.

  She stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. The lion turned his noble head in their direction, his eyes bright and golden. “Look at you,” she called to him. “Your mane is a mess. Do I have to comb it out all over again?”

  The lion nodded gravely as they walked toward the rock he sat on.

  “Holy cow. He understands.”

  “Of course, my dear. He is rather better at mind-reading than I am, and he has a superior sense of smell. I am sure he knows exactly what we did last night.”

  They stopped at the base of the rock. Tanya reached up and tentatively patted one mighty paw. “Don’t tell, okay?”

  “Who would he tell?”

  It hit her again that she was in another time and place, and very, very far from home. But with Jean-Claude by her side, that didn’t seem to matter at all.

  He motioned for the lion to jump down. It obeyed, landing with an almost noiseless thump that shook the ground all the same. Tanya was thrilled to find herself looking straight into his eyes, and only a few feet away. The lion closed that little distance, though, padding over to her and rubbing its gigantic head against her shoulder, catlike, and ridiculously friendly. She stumbled against Jean-Claude, who told the animal to stop.

  The lion yawned disrespectfully and strode past him. For a moment Tanya wondered if the two would engage in a brotherly tussle on the grass. Strong as he was, Jean-Claude wouldn’t win that one. But the lion circled around him and settled down in front of her. Tanya opened up her styling bag.

  Even though his mane was mussed, it was in much better shape than yesterday, and she was able to begin beading the locks she twisted gently between her fingers. Jean-Claude stretched out on his side to watch her, twirling a stem of clover between his fingers. The lazy sensuality of his powerful body was something to see, and the memory of last night’s blazing sex made her feel pleasantly hot for him again.

  A few hours later she was done and her bag was nearly empty. She’d used hundreds of beads but the effect was spectacular. The crystal beads in the lion’s mane caught the sunlight and sparkled as if the animal had come down from the starry heavens to strut his stuff on earth.

  Just for the hell of it, she took a big mirror from her bag and held it in front of him. The lion squinted down his nose when he looked into it, and Jean-Claude laughed. “My brother, you are magnificent. But not when your eyes are crossed.”

  Looking annoyed, the lion got up and walked away, switching his tail.

  Tanya laughed too. “Now what?”

  “Now we bring back the tent.”

  “We?”

  Jean-Claude scrambled to his feet and brushed bits of grass and clover from his clothes. “Are we not partners in this fantasy?”

  Aww. She felt honored. “If you say so.”

  “I am hoping that our sexual energy will inspire fresh creativity.”

  Whatever, she thought, smiling at him. Tanya kneeled to tuck her brushes and gear back into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. He reached out a hand to help her up and they walked from the field, watching the tent rise up from nowhere, its poles topped with bright pennants as before.

  Magic time. Ordinary life was never going to be the same after having this much supernatural fun. She heard the shouts of people inside—Jean-Claude had conjured up many more this time.

  They went down the sawdust path and he held open the flap. As before, the performers didn’t seem to hear or notice them. There were gymnasts—men, stripped to the waist, spanking excess chalk from their strong hands—and acrobats, mostly female, with supple bodies that she envied.

  The lion had entered ahead of them, and a slender woman, Chinese, with flowers in her black hair, was riding on his back. Following them was a juggler dressed in motley colors, throwing rings in arcs above his head, not even looking as each ring seemed to return obediently to his catching hand. The arcs became higher and higher—certainly high enough to touch the tent, Tanya thought, which wasn’t as large as modern ones. With a start, she watched the flying rings pass through the fabric of the tent’s top without tearing it and come back down again. It was a very clever illusion—or just plain magic.

  Each person the lion passed admired his beaded mane, toying with the beaded braids that Tanya had woven. He nodded regally to all, making the beads click rhythmically with each soft step he took. The Chinese woman slid off his back when he completed a circle of the inner ring and stood on her tiptoes to scratch him between the ears.

  She couldn’t reach. A muscular gymnast came over and lifted her by the waist to make it easier, and the lion closed his eyes, enjoying the delicate scratching, a blissful grin on his face. The gymnast set her down and she vanished in a puff of smoke and flower petals. The lion sneezed and a flower petal settled on his broad nose.

  “Hey, that was adorable. Bring her back.”

  Jean-Claude shook his head. “Later, perhaps. I have in mind something darker—and more intense. Our bedsport has been gentle but I suspect you have a wild side.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “Wild? Who, me? Look, just because I got on all fours for you doesn’t mean that—”

  Jean-Claude patted her thigh. “Do not take offense. I have been working on an entertainment for a rich fellow who worships women and wishes to be thoroughly dominated by one. As before, the participants are imaginary and we are only spectators.”

  Tanya settled into a plush velour seat that tipped back slightly. “Rough play, huh? Sounds kinky. But I’m starving. Think you could conjure up a hot dog, popcorn, and cotton candy first?”

  He made a face.

  “Oh, don’t go all French and snooty on me. Junk food is part of going to the circus.”

  Jean-Claude snapped his fingers and a basket appeared on the bench.

  “Good going,” she said. “What’s in it?”

  He didn’t answer her for a moment, looking out over the troupe of performers absent-mindedly, as if he were figuring out which one he wanted to do what. She touched his shoulder and repeated her question.

  “Hmm? Oh, cheese and bread. And chocolates. Pears. Champagne.”

  “Well, can’t complain about that.” She opened the lid of the basket. “This stuff looks tasty.”

  Jean-Claude nodded absent-mindedly, watching the circus performers mill around. He was communicating silently with each one, evidently, because most of them faded away into the shadows, along with the lion, until only three were left: two male gymnasts and a female acrobat. She was dressed, if you could call it that, in a black leather strappy thing that reminded Tanya of a Karl Lagerfeld creation.

  The men stepped into an open cube about ten square feet, made of thin steel rods, facing each other on opposite sides with arms and legs stretched out and hanging on for dear life. With a flamboyant gesture, the woman signaled an unseen someone to lift the cube far above the ring. It hung there, spinning slowly, as if it had been drawn in space, an illustration of geometry and perfect human proportion.

  “No net?” Tanya whispered.

  “Have you forgotten that they are imaginary?”

  “Oh, right.” Still, the men looked incredibly real, with straining muscles in their arms and legs as their hands clutched the rods and their toes gripped them.

  Another snap of Jean-Claude’s fingers and the men’s gym pants vanished, leaving them completely naked, their big cocks and balls clearly visible between their spread legs. Neither man was erect, but the sight was impressive enough to make Tanya suck in her breath. Jean-Claude looked down at her and smiled slightly.

  “To your taste, mademoiselle?”

  Tanya nodded. Her eyes widened when the cube revolved, giving her a look at each man’s magnificent tight ass and the back view of what the
y had between their legs. Jean-Claude sat down beside her.

  “Good. And now for the woman.” He pointed up. The acrobat was coming down from on high, standing on a platform, unstrapping the black leather outfit to expose her breasts and buttocks. She held a many-tailed whip, Tanya noticed. Jean-Claude really was going to kink things up. No wonder this was adults only.

  The cube revolved in mid-air and the woman inspected each man in turn, touching the buttocks of each with the handle of her whip as they passed in front of her. Looking at one another, then at the lovely dominatrix, the men got erect fast. Their cocks jutted out and their balls no longer swayed between their legs.

  “They cannot pleasure themselves, you see,” Jean-Claude whispered. “If they let go, they will fall. So they must submit to milady’s will.”

  The cube stopped and one man was before the woman. Tanya saw the muscles in his back ripple with tension. He had no way of knowing when the dominatrix would begin, save to look in his partner’s eyes…which widened when the whip licked through the air. The man in front of her took the lash on his buttocks without a sound at first, standing strong and scarcely flinching under each stripe. The other man watched intently, his gaze moving from his partner’s face to the stiff cock that grew stiffer with each lash.

  The man being whipped was shiny with sweat, his powerful body trembling with the strange pleasure he was being given. He moaned, hanging on to the rods, tensing his buttocks when his cock began to throb uncontrollably, ejaculating in a white spray that fell into the darkness below the cube.

  Tanya sat forward in her seat. The cube revolved again, and the second man took his punishment like the first, begging the woman to give him more and do it harder. He too quickly climaxed under the whip, much to her satisfaction. Exhausted, they clung to the rods while the dominatrix was lifted on a wire, then let down between them in the middle of the cube.

  She wound a leg around the wire and grabbed their cocks, one in either hand, rough and ready. Jean-Claude narrowed his eyes, Tanya saw, focusing mentally. The men again became erect, and the woman lowered herself on the wire so that she could take one cock in her mouth and the other in her pussy. She swung between them with skill, working the huge cocks of her submissive lovers for her own pleasure, in an erotic rhythm that didn’t quit. Tanya was totally turned on. This was one hell of a show.

  From somewhere came music—a heavy, throbbing beat that didn’t quit either. Jean-Claude pulled her onto his lap, facing out toward the trio in midair. Tanya felt his hands slide up inside her top and arched her back, craving hot nipple play. He didn’t have to take his cock out and she didn’t have to get undressed. Straddling his thigh would do just fine. He seemed to know instinctively what she wanted and leaned back so she could ride his leg.

  She watched the woman and the two men, who flashed in and out of her field of vision. Tanya squirmed in Jean-Claude’s lap, pressing her pussy against his thigh as he reached around to tug at her nipples. The dominatrix reached climax seconds before she did, banging her bottom hard against the man with his cock buried in her pussy and letting go of the other one.

  Tanya gasped and hit that high herself.

  4

  Jean-Claude stroked her back, letting her calm down a little before he turned her around halfway, still on his lap but resting against his chest. Tanya pressed her thighs together to stop them from trembling, still excited by the erotic act he had created out of thin air just for her. That hadn’t been on her mind. Was it his hidden desire? Did her masterful lover secretly enjoy being whipped?

  “No, my darling—ah, forgive me. I promised not to read your thoughts but I picked them up before I could help myself. My client will enjoy this trio. Your uninhibited response is proof enough of that.”

  Tanya had to wonder where her inhibitions had gone. She didn’t seem to have a single one where he was concerned.

  “Shall we invent another scene? Theme and variations?”

  We again. She supposed she could change careers. Explaining to her parents that she was going to (a) move to France to live in a chateau and (b) fall in love with a time traveler and (c) manage an erotic circus would be a challenge. Her dad, the nicest guy in the world, might even look up over his newspaper.

  Fall in love? Whoops. Had she really thought that? She looked up into Jean-Claude’s soulful eyes and patted his cheek. He hadn’t mentioned it again after his brief speculation on the subject.

  Could happen, though. She knew that instinctively. He might very well be the one. Meaning the One. Because she didn’t do anything halfway.

  “Is something the matter?” Still cuddling her, Jean-Claude reached for the basket and took out a pear. He turned it around in his hand and took a bite, munching it thoughtfully. “You did not eat.”

  “Well, no. I was a little, uh, distracted.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  Tanya sat up. “I didn’t eat. And you didn’t come.”

  Jean-Claude shook his head and finished the pear. “I can wait.”

  Flushed with happiness, Tanya got up and stretched. He ran an appreciative hand over the curving shape of her waist when her top rose and bared her middle. “Ah, my dear, you are woman incarnate. So sensual. So alive.”

  “Worship me. Go ahead. I like it.”

  He sat up and nuzzled her belly, making her laugh. “A giggling goddess. Tanya, Tanya…you were meant for me.”

  She stroked his thick, dark hair. “Speak into the bellybutton, please. And tell our studio audience how you feel.”

  He stuck the tip of his tongue into it and made her laugh even more. “Come. Let us go back to the chateau. There is a room I would like you to experience.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You will see.”

  Tanya tiptoed in. The walls were covered with paintings—original paintings, not wallpaper, and probably worth a fortune. Figures from classical mythology, naked nymphs and nude youths, mingled with fine ladies in period silk gowns and their amorous lovers in imaginary gardens. It was a room made for love.

  Every detail radiated tenderness, right down to the dewdrops on the painted leaves. The lovely women on the walls rested dainty hands on the thighs of their swains, who all seemed about to burst out of their breeches. The contrast with the darkly sexual scene they had just witnessed was extraordinary.

  Tanya spotted a lion in the background of one, led by a nymph, by a pink ribbon around its neck. It had a slightly foolish expression, and its golden eyes seemed to be staring at the nymph’s bare bottom. An amusing touch, as Jean-Claude would say.

  Tanya had a feeling that he had designed this room himself, although she knew he hadn’t painted it. The signature of the artist was one she remembered from the Frick, the most exclusive museum in New York, where paintings very like these adorned the walls of a room of their own.

  But that room didn’t have a bed like this, a spun-sugar fantasy of white lace and linen within the framework of a four-poster fit for Madame Maintenon. Like the paintings, like the room, made for love.

  Jean-Claude stayed near her, not saying anything, letting her enjoy the art and the suggestive scenes within each panel. Tanya looked up at his handsome face. With his long hair drawn back and his old-fashioned clothes, he was raffish and elegant as the noblemen in the paintings. She looked down. Yes, he was erect. Undoubtedly picking up her response to the paintings but too sneaky to say so.

  Without saying a word, he undressed her and carried her to the bed, setting her down in the middle of all that white. Tanya felt like she was floating on a cloud. Sweet. She watched him undress, longing to make love to him face to face this time. Naked at last, his hair untied, he turned his back to her, looking for something in an armoire—oh, my. He had lengths of silk in his hands.

  “May I tie you? I want to pleasure you with my mouth and my body, but only with gentleness. It is the most incredible sensation, my darling Tanya. Allow me.”

  His voice was soft and sensual, and the hints of gold in his e
yes shimmered under his downcast lashes. His hair spilled over his shoulders, a glorious dark sheen in it. “Yes,” was all she said, spreading her legs far apart so that her toes nearly touched the bedposts. Slowly she reached over her head, extending her arms.

  He savored the pleasure of tying her up, wrapping each wrist and ankle in silken bonds. Tanya couldn’t move. She didn’t want to. Exposed and bound, her body ached for the tender release she knew he would provide. Jean-Claude moved to the bed and bent over her, caressing her body in long strokes, his hands warming her skin. He parted her labia and looked long and lovingly at her there, running his fingers easily through her curls. Then he came over her, his head between her legs and his cock over her face. She couldn’t move up to suck or lick him, and she knew he didn’t want her to.

  But he did want her to look. A dominant male, proud of what he had. And he had reason to be. Feeling his lips brush her labia and draw her clitoris into his mouth, she admired the huge, silky-hot cock and heavy balls that had given her so much pleasure her first time with him. Jean-Claude began…and proved to be a master of oral loving, bringing her close to climax within minutes, then pausing to nip the inside of her spread thighs, making her tremble.

  He let her rest. And he started all over again. Tanya was wild with lust and something else that his subtle lovemaking unleashed deep within her. She strained against her bonds, and he stopped what he was doing to release her, slowly and surely. His deliberate expertise made every sensation that much stronger. Tanya grabbed his shoulders when her hands were freed, pulling his head to her breasts, making him suck and suck until the feeling almost made her come.

  But she needed his cock for that to happen. He knew. Gazing into her eyes, he moved her hand to his shaft, looking at her while she stroked it, murmuring words of ardent desire in French. She didn’t understand it, but she didn’t have to. She knew why it was called the language of love.

  He released her ankles, rubbing them one at a time in his strong hands, rubbing her feet and kissing her toes. He lifted up her legs to her shoulders and tied her hands to her thighs. Then he buried his face in her pussy once more, giving her a lascivious tongue-fucking but staying away from her throbbing clit. She couldn’t touch it. Couldn’t touch him.