«Chicago, Sophie.» he says when he calms down.
He crouches down and caresses her face lifting her chin up to make her close her mouth.
«Oh sweetie...», he whispers touched, «really you'd have accepted that I would pissed in your mouth?»
She lowers her gaze feeling suddenly embarrassed.
«No, no, sweetie, no, please, don't be ashamed, there is no reason to feel embarrassed.» says him hugging her and kissing her head. «I didn't laugh at you, I laughed because that's what I do when I'm surprised. Pleasantly surprised.»
He takes her face in his hands and stares at her for a long time.
«Why were you ready to do it, Sophie?»
She wets her lips and raises a shoulder up to the cheek.
«Because when I'm your slave, all morality and logic are set aside. I become your doll, your plaything, I abandon myself entirely in your hands and it comes natural to me to accept whatever you want to do with me because I trust you deeply, more than anyone in my life. I know I'm in good hands, the hands of my Master.»
Tarasque holds his breath hearing those wonderful words. They stare at each other while moving closer until their lips touch, then, at that moment, both close their eyes. The kiss is slow and deep. And after an indefinite laps of time they move away and watch each other's bright eyes.
«So— You like to... to do that?» she asks.
He smiles moving just a corner of his mouth.
«It isn't exactly my passion, but I like the idea of you taking it to please me. In any case it excites me to pee on you rather than in you. Isn't bad to see you marked as my possession like that. What about you? You like it?»
«If somebody told me something like this only last month I would have been horrified just at the thought! I would have been disgusted, humiliated and offended, but now—», she licks her lips staring at him in adoration. «Oh my God, must be really something wrong with me because the thought of you wetting me excite me!»
He caresses her cheek.
«There's nothing wrong with you, sweetie, you just opened the locked door from the inside, the same door many of us keep closed forever. I am honored that you trust me up to the point to show me the most intimate part of you.» He touches her lips with his. «Your secret is safe with me, sweetie, you can unleash your instinct as you like when we are together. You can be my little fucked-whipped-pissed on slave, but out of here you'll be a respected lady and a spoiled woman, by me first. This will be our little secret, Sophie.»
They kiss again, passionately. He stands up, frees her from the chains and pushes her roughly on the straw, making her lie down on her back. Then he gets up looking at her and touching his member.
«Spread your legs, show me that sweet pussy of yours, little slave.» he says, getting back in role.
She complies, showing her pink and shiny clam. He looks at her, tilting his head to the side.
«Spread better those lips!»
She obeys and he moans satisfied.
«Mmmm, you look very wet. It seems you crave for something. Good. I'll give you what you want, little slave, you'll be filled until your pussy will be flushed and sore!»
He grunts like an animal and lies on her, penetrating her deep and beginning to push into her with passion. She is so warm and soft! He looks into her eyes, brushing the hair from her face, while pushing violently in her. Then he claws her abundant breasts, leaning down to kiss it passionately and then slapping it by the side. He looks at her intensely.
«I want you to say something after every slap. You know what that is?»
She nods.
«“Thank you, Master”?»
He pushes harder in her, trying not to lose the control.
«No, I want you to say: “I adore you”.»
She is astonished by that request. Tarasque slaps her breast again, making her startle.
«I adore you, Master.» she quivers.
He grabs her soft breast with both hands and slaps it again, enjoying seeing it bouncing under the hits.
«I adore you, Master.» she whispers again, this time with shivering voice.
He sucks her nipples and she closes her eyes, moaning loud. Then his strong hand slaps her on the breast two more time.
«I adore you, Master, I adore you!» she squeals overwhelmed with pleasure.
He licks and bites her up, making her arch the back. Then he slaps her again and again and again...
«Oh, yes, I love you, Jérôme, I love you!»
She opens wide her eyes realizing she called him by name and — most of all — she said “I love you”.
«I—I'm sorry, Mas—»
He immediately puts gently a hand over her mouth.
«No, please, sweetie, don't apologize for that. You said something beautiful.»
He kisses her mouth without stopping the powerful thrusts.
Something is happening to their relationship, something profound and tender. But this doesn't make it less intense, on the contrary, it makes it more rich in visceral emotions.
«I adore you.», she sobs in pleasure.
Those two words echoes endlessly for all the stables. And even more they echoes in Tarasque's head, along with another thought:
“No, Sophie, it is I whom adore you.”
- Chapter XV
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”
— Lao Tzu
~
Améthyste and Caligula
That evening a black car of the club stops near a wood path made of golden stones, leading to the private garden within the trees. The path is lit by many candles on both sides.
Two men in the red uniform of the Club D, open the car door. Sibylle puts down her elegant foot dressed in a lovely red-heeled shoe. Once she is standing, another man show her the path and she heads for it. The air is warm and smells of wild flowers. She can hear the cries of owls and other nocturnal animals.
The woman's legs move sinuously in that knee-length black chiffon dress, and her shoulders are elegantly covered by a large silver satin scarf. The hair is tied up, and on her face there is just a touch of makeup, as always. She doesn't need it, she is naturally beautiful. She arrives to the end of the path where there is a tall man dressed in an elegant white suit waiting for her. His face is covered down to the nose by a black mask.
When she arrives he smiles spontaneously and bows before her, taking her hand to almost touch the back with his lips. They look at each other and remain silent for a while. She simply smiles again, not knowing what to say. Claude indicates the striking white marble gazebo lit by many soft lights, and with a table for two at the center where the dinner is kept warm under silver food domes. Sibylle nods and they both walk there. She admires the pond nearby, where various waterfowl sleep peacefully.
Claude pulls her chair out and she thanks him kindly. He then sits in front of her and they both begin their romantic dinner made of smiles and intense glances.
They eat looking in the eye. It's weird, it's like they don't feel the need to say anything, as if the presence of the other is enough to feel good.
Claude breaks the spell by writing something in a notebook beside him.
“You look so beautiful tonight”.
Sibylle smiles reading those words. She simply thanks him. Claude brushes her hand and often — very often — caresses her face, leaving her puzzled. They toast with fine champagne and sip it without looking away from each other.
Claude gets up and she starts to do the same, not understanding what are his intentions, but he gently pushes her back on the chair. Then he does something unexpected: he bends to one knee in front of her as if he were to propose. He looks at her, she looks at him. The man's eyes become shiny and his hands seem to shake; he takes the notebook and begins to write something long.
Sibylle waits politely. When the man hands her the paper, she is touched by what she reads:
“Maybe I'm not even worthy to kneel before you, Améthyste,
you
deserve better, indeed you deserve a better man.
You deserve a man who can understand your value,
a man to whom give your sweetness.
But, please, just for tonight,
make me worth of you, even if I'm not.
I need you, I need your warmth.”
Sibylle folds the paper and puts it on the table, she looks at the man and the smile she gives to him is so sweet that he feels a pang in his heart. She caresses him on the mask, then draws gently his head against her. He embraces her delicate body, clutching himself to that warm chest, sobbing softly, closing his eyes and enjoying Sibylle's gently hands touching his hair.
«I have no intention to leave, Claude.»
He freezes hearing her calling his name.
What?! She knows it?! She knew it?!
He looks up at her and she smiles sweetly.
«Did you really think I would not recognize my husband? What kind of wife I would be? Yes, that evening with Nymphe I didn't recognize you, my mind was... distracted, but tonight — as soon as I saw you — I knew it was you. You think I want to go? Oh Claude, all this time I just wanted to be with you! And now», she begins to cry silently letting the tears wet her face, «seeing you on your knees in front of me, asking for my forgiveness, expressing your own feelings— How can I go? I love you, Claude.»
The man holds her tighter, sobbing quietly. What a wonderful feeling to be forgiven! What a great feeling to be accepted!
They stay gripped in that incredible embrace for a long time, enjoying the warmth of the other, enjoying the smell of the other, enjoying the breathe of the other.
It's Claude the first to move away from that hug impregnated of emotions. He stands up, takes Sibylle's face in his hands and stares at her for a long time before bending over to touch her lips with his. They both moan before let that kiss to become deeper and stun them. Sibylle holds on to the man's wrists, enjoying his known taste. She missed him so much!
But— it's strange— she is thinking of Drakkar. Is it possible to think of someone else when you are finally with the man you always desired to have? Is it normal to be in the hands of your husband and still feel the touch of another man on your skin?
That's what Sibylle is wondering. Is it okay to have Drakkar in her thoughts when going through such an important time as the reconciliation with her husband?
She has the bizarre thought that Drakkar's tongue is more sensual, warmer, more intrusive and more respectful at the same time. And the hands of Drakkar are stronger, but gentle too.
She shoos away those thoughts and focus on that magical moment with Claude. The moment she has been waited for so long. She dreamed for nights this moment that she almost feared it would never arrive. And now... Here is Claude confessing his love, just as she has always wanted.
The man moves away from her and smiles.
«Sibylle, please, forgive me if I have not been able to keep you close to me, it's all my fault.»
She smiles through her tears and turns her head to kiss his hand.
«You have been, instead: here I am in your arms.»
«I don't think I deserve you.»
She chuckles.
«Claude, you always say that no one can have what they don't deserve. If you have me, then, it means that you deserve it.»
He softens the look and sighs loudly.
«How I couldn't realize how wonderful you were? When I saw you with that girl, enjoying your femininity without inhibitions, I felt tingling inside. I realized how much I wanted you.»
She smiles shyly looking away.
«I am ashamed of what you saw, Claude. I feel so embarrassed to have shown myself in that way before you.»
«No, Bille, why?»
She makes a face of sympathetic impatience: she hates when he calls her that way. But at that moment it seems a nice sound, especially after she feared not to hear it anymore.
«Oh Sibylle, you were wonderful, beautiful and confident.»
She looks at him.
«Why you didn't tell me about the Club D? You are a member of the Diamond, it means you're in the Club since years. Why you didn't even mention it to me.»
«Because I didn't want to do certain things with you, you were my wife.»
«Precisely because I'm your wife we should share certain things. We are a couple, we shouldn't have sex with others in secret. We should live together the joy of transgression, honey, as a couple. It's us that must decide who and when and how others can join our core.»
«Wow, hearing you talking like this makes me shiver, Bille. See? I didn't know you at all. Another reason why I didn't tell you is because I thought that you would be horrified to hear about it, I thought you would have considered me a pervert.»
Sibylle shakes her head.
«You think too much, Claude.»
They both laugh, and then he takes her by the waist and sits her on the table. They kiss again, deeply, voluptuously. Claude lifts her dress touching her silky thighs and the fine black lace panties.
«Hmm, what a beautiful lingerie. You always wore voguish lingerie, Sibylle, I should have known from that, that you were inclined to pleasure.»
She cracks a smile while he takes a knife and cuts her pantie’s strings on both sides; he takes them off then spreads her legs apart bending to stroke her satiny black hairs. His fingers touch her lips, showing her pink opening.
Sibylle smirks.
«It seems my ‘vulgar’ pussy doesn't disgust you anymore.»
He looks at her.
«Now that I have seen how badly other men want you I became aware of your beauty, I have learned to appreciate it, too.»
He buries his face between her leg and begins to lick her passionately while she is staring in front of her, puzzled by those words. On one side she is happy that he changed his mind, on the other hand it bothers her that he bases his own choices on the judgment of others. Not even her husband's mouth can distract her from those thoughts. And this is another difference she notices: when she's with Drakkar nothing can deviate her mind from him. When she is with him she is too concentrated to enjoy every second with the man. And every word he says is in perfect harmony with the living moment, he is never offensive or inappropriate. Now she must enjoy the evening without much thought, she has been waiting this moment for so long that it would be stupid to ruin everything.
She puts her hands through his hair pushing him gently against her, urging him to lick her faster. But after a minute he stands up and frees his hard cock, penetrating her hastily. He never liked to lick her for long, it's just a lubricant action to him. Sibylle tries not to mind that disappointing feeling. Maybe Drakkar was beginning to spoil her with all that licking. She clings to his shoulders while the man grabs her buttocks, pushing hard into her. Sibylle closes her eyes and surrender to that violent invasion.
«Oh Claude, yes! Please, tell me I'm yours!»
The man grunts, before saying:
«You're mine, Bille! Will you be my dirty wife, hmm? Will you be my bitch?»
«I'll be whatever you want, Claude. I want to be yours, don't leave me, honey!»
He smiles.
«I'm not leaving you, you will be mine forever! I will not let anyone take my bitch away! Better for them to die now than try to do it!»
~
In that very moment there is in progress a delicate military operation of the DAFT. A large number of bulls have been called to intervene. A group of drug traffickers has been intercepted — thanks to the internal spies that followed the group for months — and now they are hiding in an abandoned factory just outside Paris. They are armed and angry because of the failure of their plan. Drakkar is in charge of that operation. He arrives at the factory by helicopter with his best men, and all are dressed in a black military suit, army boots, balaclavas, protective helmet, bullet-proof vest. They are heavily armed, holding weapons in their hands and — some of them — shields. They slide down on the roof of the factory with the cable and run qu
ietly inside with Drakkar at the head of the group, giving orders trough the earphones. He directs the men organizing the way they should move, how and when to split and where to go.
Some other groups of the DAFT arrive — this time by land — in their black bullet-proof vans. Drakkar coordinates with them too. All the men confirm to have understood the orders and get ready, preparing the weapons and taking their positions.
In the dark, merging with the shadows, jumping like cats in the night, listening to every sound and looking in every direction, Drakkar and his men move resolutely. The second in command receives the order from Drakkar to enter in action and burst in the factory with his men. In few seconds all the groups of the DAFT are inside, but things don't go as planned. Some groups move in the wrong direction and many hidden criminals begin to shoot incessantly, and — instead of facing the situation with cold blood as the bulls are trained to do — some of them panic and act in an uncoordinated manner. Now there are too many stray bullets, and in a few minutes is the chaos.
Drakkar gets angry, shouts his new orders, telling the groups to retreat in order to better organize, but many members of the DAFT seem stunned and unable to obey the orders. They go to hide in distant points endangering their lives. Drakkar yells again while the sound of bullets fills the air. He growls loudly and bangs his fist on the wall, then turns to his men there with him ordering them to rescue those in danger, and to the others he orders to prepare to intervene directly toward the hidden criminals. He enters in action with seven of his men. They move silently till they arrive to the criminals shooting at their comrades. Drakkar motion with his hands to his men to distract them while he and the others catch them by surprise. In few minutes they manage to capture four of them. His other men — those who went to aid their own companions — let him know by earset that they accomplished the mission. Now they are organized and cool again. Drakkar begins to give new orders on how to move and, finally, everyone seems to have regained control of the situation. The search for the remaining criminals last more than it should and this is bad because in this way they have the time to hide in the dark and organize too.
The Black Onyx Pact Page 33