Sacred Revelations

by Roxy Harte

  Her mouth responds to mine with enthusiasm, tongue stroking tongue. Just the bobbing motion of her face tells me that her body is taking the full brunt of the two men on top of her. “Open your eyes, Kitten. I want to see you.”

  Still kissing me, she opens her eyes and her gaze goes to the two men for only a second before locking on mine. Her eyes fill with wonder and more, hunger maybe, making me ask, “Do you like this, Kitten?”

  “Yes, Master, thank you for sharing this with me.”

  I kiss her again, rewarding her honesty.

  Without looking, I feel the woman lying beside us move. Half-sitting, half-lying, she reaches out her hand to stroke Kitten’s neck, her fingers traveling up to come between our mouths, touching us both as we kiss. My eyes don’t leave Kitten’s as the woman explores us with her fingers, traveling to touch anything exposed, shoulders, hips, knees, not focusing on one or the other, but touching each of the four of us in turn, with fingers, with lips, pinching a nipple, stroking a leg.

  For the most part, all of my clothing is still on, but the woman manages to find me erect. She leaves me covered, patting me lightly, as if to say, I’ll be back, or maybe another day. I really miss her touch when she withdraws her hand, but I am not left untouched for long. Kitten’s fingers replace the woman’s, finding me hard, finding the clasp that holds the pants closed, managing to open my pants while she stares into my eyes. Her kisses and her touch leave me breathless. Oh God.

  If I were less experienced, less skilled, I would have come in her hand with that first touch and, as it is, I struggle not to come on the first fluid stroke of her fingers.

  I don’t take my gaze from hers, even when Gulliver and Phillip start breathing hard in unison. But then Kitten moans into my mouth and I know it isn’t reaction to the boys fucking on top of her, but rather because the woman who left me wanting saw no such reason not to touch Kitten.

  I want to look. I want to see what she is doing that is bringing Kitten so quickly, but then Gulliver grunts, his orgasm shaking him and the bed, Phillip yells, and Kitten sobs into my mouth, “Oh God, oh God, I am so going to hell for this.”

  It is more than I can take, and my own wracking orgasm joins theirs. We may all go to hell for this one.

  I have never been a believer of too much excess, but after too many glasses of champagne, too many hors d’oeuvres, and a seven-course meal that would have left Henry the Eighth feeling gluttonous, not to mention the sex…and sex…and sex…I never thought I’d say it, but am I feeling the excess and have rarely been this glad to see my home, my bed, my shower, and yes, yes, yes, my toilet. I come out of a steamy shower to find Kitten sitting on the edge of the bed, drying her hair.

  “Don’t go in there for a bit, eh?” I try for humor, tilting my head at her non-reaction, not even a snicker. “It was a wonderful party, Kitten. If I haven’t told you thank you yet, really, thank you for making it an incredible night.”

  “You said thank you earlier,” she answers, not looking up, staring into space.

  Leaning in the doorframe, I bend at the waist to swiftly towel-dry my own hair, watching her from the corner of my eye, recognizing the look on her face. It’s the thinking too much look. The oh my God what have I done look. I’d hoped she was past that. Obviously, she isn’t.

  A smudge of white grease paint remains in the crease behind her ear. Taking an edge of the towel, I scrub with the barely damp terry, making little improvement. “Bitch to get all this white off.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “Kitten?”

  “Hmmm?”

  I squat in front of her, making her look at me. “You didn’t do anything to be feeling guilty about.”

  She swallows hard and a tear drips down her cheek. “And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.”

  “Kitten?”

  Her gaze meets mine, but her eyes are unfocused. “I remember the verse but for the life of me I can’t remember whether it was prophesy of the forthcoming flood, or Sodom and Gomorrah. Perhaps it was the foretelling of both. When God gets fed up, he destroys. It seems so important to remember what it takes to make God so mad that he gets fed up, gives up, and destroys.”

  I shake her shoulders, making her face me. “Kitten, God isn’t going to destroy you for what we did tonight.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Kitten, love. You are perfect in God’s eyes.”

  “I haven’t been perfect in a very long time, Master.”

  I kiss her face, glad her eyes seem focused again. “You are perfect to me, Kitten. In my eyes, you can do no wrong. I love you. Don’t feel guilty about tonight. Tonight was wonderful.”

  She pulls back and searches my face for the truth, whatever had made her feel so torn, the answer she finds in my face makes her smile.

  “I scare you shitless when I get all maudlin, don’t I, Master?”

  “Maudlin? Is that what you call it? God, Kitten, I was waiting for you to start speaking in tongues.”

  “Sh-h, Master, don’t make fun of the sacred.” She laughs, grabbing my face and kissing me hard. “Oh God, Garrett. I don’t know what I believe. I have all these verses in my head, memorized, stuck there, for better or worse. Sometimes they start battling in my brain and it’s hard to think.”

  “You’re thinking now.”

  “My brain stops reciting when you kiss me.”

  “Then I will endeavor to kiss you more often.”

  “My brain isn’t reciting but I’m still confused about tonight. I don’t understand how I could let that happen.” She looks at me, I lift my brow. “Three in the bed? Before, I mean, after we joined them, watching them was one thing, but we joined them, making it five in the bed. Oh my God.” She wipes her hand over her face, pinching her entire face between her hands.

  “Not attractive,” I tell her, pulling her hands away from her face to protect her from herself. Holding her hands, I’m glad when she meets my eyes. I stroke the side of her face and she rubs her cheek into my palm, her eyes drooping with pleasure and maybe exhaustion. I hold her face, asking, “Did you like it?”

  She looks away, not pulling away, letting her face lie in my palm, but blushing fiercely, refusing to answer.

  “Did I force you to do something you didn’t want to do?”

  She pulls her lip between her teeth. “Could I have worded out?”

  “You can safe word whenever you need to. I told you that.”

  “I know, I didn’t want to. I didn’t even consider it. Tonight everything felt so…” she looks at me confusedly, like she’s trying to figure out what she wants to say. “Right. Everything happened just perfectly—we only did what we should be doing. My God, there were five of us in a bed together, how can that be right by anyone’s standard?”

  “You enjoyed it.”

  “Yes.” She nods, hiding behind her hands and for a minute I think she will break into tears, but when she peeks around her hands to catch my gaze, she is smiling. “I am wicked, totally sinfully wicked, by my father’s standard, condemned to eternity in hell; but God, Master, I enjoyed tonight—all of it! The nudity, the costumes and makeup, the dancing and food, the sex on the beds and the tables and the floors. It was an orgy from beginning to end and I loved it!”

  “I didn’t get to have sex on the floor,” I pout, pulling her down onto me, rolling us onto the soft, plush carpet, kissing her hard, rewarding her honesty with the graze of my teeth on her bare shoulder. I forget I’m exhausted, I want her again.

  The first time I woke up the sun was setting, warm orange hues casting the bedroom in shades of mystery, softening the hard edges. I didn’t get up, not even to drop the blackout shades. I did roll over to wrap my arms around Kitten, finding us still on the floor. I managed to drag a blanket over us, not wanting to move, not wanting to wake her, not even to help her into the softer, more comfortable bed. We’d slept all day on the floor, wou
ld a few more minutes make a difference?

  I wanted to be at the club by ten. Waking at midnight, I realize that isn’t going to happen. On my second waking, I roust Kitten, managing to get her up onto the mattress. Her groans let me know that being awake isn’t appreciated. I manage to stumble to the bathroom, piss, swallow Tylenol with no water, and climb back into bed. Strangely, I am proud of myself for the accomplishment.

  “Damn. Why did you do that?” Kitten growls from beneath the blanket.

  I’m too tired to pull a Dom, so I settle for asking, “What’d I do?”

  “You pissed. Now I have to piss.”

  “Oh, that.”

  While she takes care of her own bladder, I lie in bed grinning like an idiot. We sound like an old married couple. It’s pathetic, I’m totally in love with her and I don’t care who knows it. It seems important to share this new realization with someone, so I call the club, surprised when George answers, but I don’t bother inquiring as to why. If anything tragic requiring my attention would have happened, I’d know it by now.

  “I wanted someone to know, I won’t be there tonight.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  “Everything’s perfect. I collared Kitten last night.”

  “I was there, Garrett.”

  Kitten flops down on the bed, pulling all of the sheets and blankets onto her side.

  “Share,” I growl. She harrumphs but acquiesces, taking elaborate measures to make sure I’m comfortably covered. “Good girl, thank you.”

  She lies down on her pillow, watching me.

  “Garrett?” George’s voice bellows over the phone. “Is everything all right?”

  I smile at Kitten, “Everything’s wonderful, George. I just wanted someone there to know that we won’t be there. So, you’ll take care of things?”

  “Oh sure, I’ll take care of everything. Fyre’s gone, you’re gone, Morgana called in with the flu, right, like I believe that. I was at that party, too, damn it…”

  “Thank you, George,” I cut him off mid-sentence, clicking my cell phone closed with a sigh. “We’re playing hooky tonight.”

  “Thank God.”

  I laugh at her heartfelt response.

  “I don’t know about you, but damn, that was a helluva party.”

  “You throw a mean party, Kitten.”

  “Do you think we could do it again?” she asks, pulling the blanket up under her chin, looking very innocent. “We could make it a once-a-month event!”

  “Dear lord, Kitten,” I groan. “Ask me again after I’ve recovered completely from this party.” I use the last of my energy to swat her behind, making her giggle and rub against me sweetly. “Go to sleep.”

  In all, we slept twenty-one hours with only a few bleary moments of bathroom stumbling before either of us felt like facing the world for real and then we only made it as far as the kitchen for juice and the sofa for an afternoon of television channel surfing. When it was time to face the realization that we had to get dressed for work, I wasn’t excited. Strange, I love the club. I always want to go to work. It takes us both an exceptionally long time to get dressed and out the door.

  Lazy, I call for the limo, usually reserved for special occasions and PR moments. Tonight, it’s pure lethargy. That and I want to hold Kitten in the backseat. I torment her terribly, pinching her nipples and teasing her clit through her satin panties.

  “I love to touch you,” I growl, hugging her tight.

  She reaches up to stroke my cheek. “I love to touch you, Master.”

  Too soon, we are pulling up in front of Lewd Larry’s. I almost ask to be driven around the block again, just to play with her more; however, feeling slightly guilty, but not too much, I get us into the club before the public doors open.

  It gives us a chance to walk through the lower levels to the elevator without excessive scrutiny. I allow Kitten to walk beside me, though we don’t hold hands. I find myself wanting to hold her hand as we walk. If the doors had already been open and guests present, she would have had to crawl behind me.

  Inside the elevator, I press her back against the glass wall, kissing her, holding her hands high above her head. “I want to bind you tonight.”

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  It has been a long time since I’ve played with her at the club. Tonight, I decide, I want to play. If I have to be here, I want to enjoy it completely.

  “How do you want to bind me?” she whispers, her voice shaking just a little. It pleases me that I can get such an intense response from her with just a few words.

  “Leather cuffs around your wrists, your arms pulled high over your head, stretching you onto your tiptoes.”

  “And then?”

  “I don’t know.” I kiss her nose as the elevator doors spring open. “When I decide, you’ll be the first to know.”

  In the middle of the hallway, I stop to kiss her.

  “Are you recovered fully from the party?” she teases.

  “Why?” I ask, intrigued.

  “Just wondering if we could do it all over again?”

  Every nerve ending in my body springs to attention with her question.

  “Mr. Lawrence?” I turn with slight irritation to my waiting secretary, sending Kitten into my office to wait for me while I get a report on last night’s numbers from the main office. I am pleased to find that the public numbers were staggering, but then any time something special happens at Lewd’s that pulls major news coverage, our public numbers go through the roof. I didn’t watch the news to see if Jackie’s party rated high on the publicity charts, but knowing Jackie, she sold them exclusive video footage from inside the Masquerade Ball.

  I’m not surprised to see the members-only numbers are low, very low. Jackie’s little birthday bash had a significant effect on attendance but not on overall income. Thus assured everything went smoothly in my absence, I make my way to my office and Kitten.

  “Miss me?” I ask from the doorway.

  Standing beside my desk, she is distracted, stroking the top of my computer monitor with reverence. This is the third time I’ve caught her this way, looking at the keyboard with intense longing. It makes me jealous and envious.

  “Kitten?”

  “Hmmm?” she asks, utterly distracted She sits in my desk chair, touching the keyboard, not turning on the computer. Her fingers fly across the keys, her eyes close and a tear slides down her cheek. Shoulders slumping, she stands and walks away from the computer, sighing heavily. She walks to the window and looks down at the forming line, forgetting that I am even here or that we were having a conversation.

  She’s a writer. I’m not sure when I’d forgotten and maybe never considered what she’d given up to be here with me. I remember my first year away from the hospital, holding a butter knife would make me long for the smell of disinfectant. I made the choice to walk away from medicine and still it took years to not regret the decision. Some mornings, I still wonder. No one gave her a choice. She deserves time to be herself in addition to being mine. I don’t mention it now, but I add this latest revelation to my things to do for Kitten list.

  I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her waist to pull her hips into my groin as I rest my chin on her shoulder. “You were asking me if we could do something again, Kitten, but you didn’t tell me exactly what it is you want to do again?” I whisper, sucking her earlobe between my lips. Her eyes close and she sighs.

  “The Masquerade Party,” she answers. “I was thinking that everyone had so much fun, we should do it again. A new tradition maybe, like Margarita Movie Mayhem Sundays, just for our friends, or if you think the members would be interested, we could offer it every three or four months as a gala, extra charge for admission of course.” Her eyes open and she looks over my chin as I continue sucking her earlobe. “Well?”

  I release her lobe, kissing her cheek, “You’re expecting a response?”

  “You hate the idea.” She pouts.

  “I’m
glad you enjoyed it, Kitten. I’ll bring it up at the next board meeting.”

  “Oh.” She turns back to the crowd, but I feel her disappointment at not receiving a more enthusiastic response. “The line seems small tonight.”

  I peek over her shoulder, looking down the three stories to the sidewalk below. Ten early arrivals make a ragtag line. Tourists. “Still early. I’m not worried.” I kiss her shoulder, “I need to make an appearance in the kitchen tonight, you going with me or staying?”

  “If I stay in your office, will you lock me in the cage?”

  Her question takes me by surprise, I’ve never locked her inside the cage Lord Fyre designed and had made for her since having it delivered to the office. It is here more as a reminder, though I’m not sure who I’m reminding, her or me. “Do you wish to be locked in the cage?”

  “It will keep me from being bad if you lock me in the cage, and I really don’t like going to the kitchens.” I applaud her honesty, some of the kitchen staff make her nervous, the head chef especially, having made a crude remark in her presence the last time we toured. She doesn’t know that he was severely reprimanded.

  “What could you possibly think of doing in my office that would get you in trouble, Kitten?”

  She looks at the floor and shuffles her feet. It makes me wonder what she’s done in my office in the past that is making her act this way tonight.

  “When you left me alone the last time,” she admits, “I turned on your computer.”

  Her admission leaves me no choice but to punish her. “Feeling guilty?”

  “Yes.”

  “You thought you could keep this secret from me?”

  “Yes.” She drops to her knees, pressing her cheek to the top of my dress shoe. “I’m sorry.”

  “What did you do on the computer, Kitten? Surf the web? Chat rooms? Porn sites?”

  She gasps. “No! None of those! I only opened Microsoft Word. I wrote.”