Tasting Pleasure

by Anarie Brady

  Ivory bent her head back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Mr. Devonshire gently pushed her shoulders down so she lay on top of Paul.

  “That’s it, Ivory. You ready for us both?” he asked.

  “Ready and willing,” she answered.

  Deftly, Mr. Devonshire tore open a small package lying on the bedside table and worked the condom over his erect flesh. He then climbed on top of Ivory, plunging himself deep into her arse. The men moved in synchrony with each other and Ivory, beautiful Ivory, buried her face in Paul’s shoulder and whimpered, her body overtaken with tremors of delight.

  Alicia watched in fascination as Paul violently thrust his hips upward, his fingers digging into Ivory’s arse cheeks, as he too found his release. To her surprise, though, Mr. Devonshire withdrew and whispered something into Ivory’s ear. She laughed and kissed him, snuggling up to Paul.

  Alicia’s breathing quickened when her Master turned toward her and removed the condom, tossing it into a small refuse bin. “Now, my dear companion, stand and turn. Place your hands on the arms of the chair.”

  Smiling and grateful, Alicia immediately complied. She heard Mr. Devonshire pick up her present—the metal paddle. Already she felt her pussy begin to twitch with anticipation as she realized he had yet to use the implement.

  “You’ve been a very good girl, Alicia. Granted, a few mistakes, but you are an excellent companion. I’m very proud of you,” he said. “Prepare yourself now. I’m going to spank you, leave marks on you. Toy will be emblazoned on your arse—even more than it already is—and on your thighs. Cry out if you need to, but do not squirm. When I finish, don’t even think about rubbing your arse. Allow your body to absorb the sensation.”

  Remembering the sting of the paddle, she could anticipate the sharpness of the metal. She could also visualize how her body would look, her skin reddened from the slap of the paddle except for the white image of the letters.

  She closed her eyes as the first swat came, her pussy lips beginning to engorge with anticipation. Six swats later, she nearly came. Her voice ragged, she begged, “Please, Sir, Please. Enough. If you strike again, I’ll come.”

  His hand, like a soothing balm, ran over her tormented flesh. His fingers dipped inside her, testing. He laughed. “Enough it is, then. But tell me, my dearest companion, do you really want to come?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh God, yes! Please, Sir, let me come!” she begged.

  “Very well, but not before you have taken my seed,” he commanded just before he plunged his manhood into her waiting body. “You will wait until I fill you. You will learn patience.”

  Alicia nodded and prayed she could hold out. He grasped her hips, raising her feet off the ground with the force of his thrusts. One! Two! Three! On the third, he grabbed her braid, pulled back her head and cried out his own delight. The feel of him inside her combined with the tug on her hair was more than she could bear, and Alicia’s voice joined his as she also found her release.

  Chapter Sixteen

  True Love Caviar Bites

  1 small cucumber, scrubbed and trimmed, alternating 1/8” strips peeled from skin

  1/3 cup low fat sour cream

  1 Tablespoon fresh tarragon or 1 teaspoon dried tarragon

  Freshly ground black pepper to taste

  1 jar red caviar

  Fresh parsley springs

  Slice cucumber into 1/4-inch rounds. Scoop out seeds. In a small bowl, combine sour cream, tarragon and pepper. Place one teaspoon of the sour cream mixture in each scooped out cucumber slice. Garnish each with about 1/2 tsp caviar and a dill sprig.

  Alicia gazed at the handsome man filling the doorway of her bedroom at her flat.

  “You were extraordinary last night, Alicia,” Mr. Devonshire complimented.

  “Thank you, Sir,” Alicia humbly answered Mr. Devonshire.

  “Come, sit on the bed for a moment. I want to discuss something with you,” he held out his hand and walked her to the bed.

  She perched on the edge and turned her body to face him.

  “Your bottom, does it still pain you?” he asked.

  “No, Sir, not at all. I saw the markings in the mirror though. If I may say so, they are lovely.”

  Mr. Devonshire laughed. “You certainly may say so. And I agree wholeheartedly. It is a lovely arse—with or without the labeling.” He leaned over and kissed her.

  Alicia blushed but held his gaze. A year ago she would never have been able to look at him, fully dressed, while she was totally naked. Not only that, but she would never have been able to speak with him about such things without stumbling over her own words. She grinned slightly, thinking of how much confidence she had gained.

  “You seemed pleased with yourself,” he noted.

  “Yes, Sir, I am. I was just thinking that I’m not the shy, tongue-tied tourist I once was. I owe that to you,” she answered.

  He paused for a moment. “Not entirely. You set the goal and made the effort. You have endured much this year. You, not I, deserve the credit. I am simply happy to be a part of it.”

  Alicia didn’t quite know what to say, so she remained silent.

  “I have a new proposition to put before you,” he continued. “I would like, with your consent, to upgrade your position.”

  “Sir?”

  “To that of slave.”

  At that word, Alicia frowned. Images of shackled men and women tortured and forced into hard, punishing labor flashed in her mind.

  “I see you are hesitant,” he said. “I quite understand. But this would not be the slavery of the past, but a slavery of your choice.”

  “Please explain, Sir.”

  “Here, look at this.” He handed her a small booklet.

  Inside were pictures of both men and women in poses similar to her greeting positions. Most wore collars, some both collars and cuffs, all were naked. A few sported a tattoo similar to a barcode on their neck, ankle or lower back. Carefully studying these people, Alicia could detect a sense of contentment in their eyes. Many wore bright smiles. She looked questioningly at Mr. Devonshire.

  “This is a sexual slave registry. Every person listed has freely chosen to be a slave. If you agree, I will submit your name. You will be known as my slave, with Paul as your secondary Master. You will be assigned a number. And from then on, you will belong to me. Our contract will no longer be private but very public. Anyone who visits this site will know your position. But let me assure you, my love, the choice is yours. If you don’t want this new position, you will not anger or disappoint me in any way.”

  Alicia considered carefully. She had never felt so loved and protected as she did when she was with Mr. Devonshire and Paul. Rather than being treated with disrespect, she knew the men truly appreciated her efforts to please them. She could not imagine her life without them. Still, some doubts lingered. Unconsciously she began to twist a thick lock of hair around her finger. Did she really want complete strangers to know she had chosen to be a sexual slave? For that matter, what about her friends still in America? What would they think?

  “May I ask you a few questions?”

  “Of course, my dear. Ask anything you wish. In fact, I order you to be completely honest and open. I do not want you to accept only because you want to please me. I want you to be pleased with your decision.” He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them gently.

  Alicia smiled. “If I don’t accept this, will it end our relationship?”

  “Good Lord, no! This is simply an option for us. I am very pleased with you. In all honesty, I think I would be lost without you in my life. You have come to hold a very special place in my heart.”

  Alicia blinked her surprise. Could Mr. Devonshire be falling in love with her?

  “Wow. Okay. Ah, next question. Would you require my picture on the registry?”

  “Yes, Alicia, I would. I want the world to know what a beautiful slave I have. I want your lo
vely, naked body displayed.”

  When he put it that way, she couldn’t help but feel complimented.

  “Would I have to get a tattoo?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Only if you want one. Remember when I could have branded you and did not? I meant what I said. I will not now or ever permanently mar or mark your body without your express permission.”

  “Good. I’m afraid of needles,” she answered with a relieved sigh. “Mr. Devonshire, what happened with Megan last night?” she continued.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because even though she hated me, and I wasn’t all that fond of her, I don’t want to see any harm come to her,” she replied truthfully. The idea of anyone suffering tore at her heart.

  “Megan overstepped her bounds—certainly with you, but in other ways as well. I gave her a choice. She could either leave me entirely or submit to an intense submissive training program.” He hesitated and looked down. “I care about Megan. She truly does have a kind heart. When she first came to me as a model she laughed often and had a sparkling personality. Last night she admitted that she was no longer happy as a companion. She is unsure if she is simply unhappy with me or with the lifestyle.”

  “What was her decision?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. That, also, is a big decision. I gave her a week to consider. If I don’t hear from her, I’ll know she has decided to leave me, which is what I suspect she will do.”

  “But doesn’t she work for you as well? Won’t she be out of a job?” Alicia probed.

  “Yes and no. She will no longer be working for me, but that ended last week due to other issues. She is, however, a much sought-after model. I gave her a letter of glowing recommendation and will certainly be happy to give references to any other prospective employers. In fact I’ve had two artists call about her already.”

  “That’s good. I would hate to see her destitute.” Alicia shivered slightly. “I remember very well having to worry over every single purchase.”

  “Megan does not have to worry about that. She actually has no need to work at all. She had an uncle who passed away a few years back and left all his worldly goods to her. She has a substantial income independent of her career,” he supplied. “Any more questions?”

  “Well…” she hesitated.

  “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “What about my career? I mean Tasting Pleasure is going well now and I so enjoy the work.”

  “Then by all means continue. As I said, nothing has to change except your title. Think of it this way. In a marriage, a traditional marriage, the people involved generally do not change personalities, careers, habits. All that changes is the woman’s name, her title.” He ran a hand down her hair, picking up a lock and gently twirling it through his fingers. “Your cooking talents are extraordinary and any fool could see how much enjoyment you derive from the work. My goal is to see you happy. Still, are you sure you enjoy every part of the business?”

  Alicia hesitated. “You have a point. The paperwork, the accounts, the numbers. I’ve always had trouble with the business side of things. I think I give a fair product at a fair price, but keeping track of it all— Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by it.”

  “Why have you not come to me for help?” he asked with a slightly hurt edge to his voice.

  “I didn’t want to trouble you,” she whispered.

  “Alicia, I will never interfere with your work, you know that. But helping you with the books would be a small matter for me. If you trust me to do it, I’d be happy to take over that task for you. In all honesty,” he smiled, “I like working with numbers. There is a logic and symmetry to them that appeals to me.”

  Alicia closed her eyes in gratitude. “That would be fabulous, Maverick. I’ve been afraid that I’ll screw everything up just because I can’t keep my accounts straight.”

  “I have some time this afternoon. Why don’t we get started then?” he asked.

  “Thanks.” Suddenly Alicia realized she had used his first name. “Oh my, Mr. Devonshire, I just called you…”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “But we were discussing business. Think nothing of it. Back to the matter at hand, though. Any other questions?”

  “Would I continue to live here?”

  “If you like. Or you could move in with me and occupy the room next to the playroom. Or Paul has stated that you are welcome to live with him as well. I leave that decision to you.”

  Alicia considered. “Perhaps a compromise.”

  “Go on.”

  “I think this should be my main residence. After all, I do run Tasting Pleasure from here. Also it allows some degree of privacy. But I will give a key to both you and Paul so you will have access to me whenever you wish.” She paused again. “If it is agreed, though, maybe I could leave a few items at each of your homes—a toothbrush, change of clothes, hairbrush. That way if you’d like to me stay for a while, I could.”

  Mr. Devonshire cupped her face in his hand. “An excellent suggestion. Except you will not bring anything to our homes. Instead, we will provide you with anything and everything you need. Clothing, personal care items, jewelry, bedding—everything. If you belong to us, your care is our responsibility. I will prepare the room for your use. Paul has already furnished his guest bedroom for you.”

  “Oh,” she was stunned. “Okay. One more question.”

  “Yes?”

  “I am going to assume that my new status will have some marking, if not a tattoo.”

  “Certainly.”

  “What will it be?” she asked hesitantly.

  “In truth, Alicia, I was hoping you would agree, so I registered you last week. Nonetheless, you should still feel free to decline. I can always cancel the registration.” He ran his thumb along her jawline.

  How does this man know me so well? she wondered.

  “Wait here a moment. I have a gift for you.” He kissed her and went into the other room to return a moment later carrying a small box wrapped in gold paper and sporting a bright blue bow. He placed the gift in her lap.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Open it.”

  Giggling with anticipation, she untied the ribbon and ripped off the paper. She held a small, blue velvet jewelry box. She opened the hinged lid and gasped. Inside lay a lovely gold anklet. Tiny golden bells lined the chain, and a small round medallion dangled close to the clasp. Inspecting this more closely revealed an edging of dark blue sapphires and a number engraved onto the center of the circle, 927-513-908. Alicia was stunned.

  “If you choose to accept your sexual slave status, you will wear this anklet. If, though, you wish to negate that status, even temporarily, simply remove the anklet. The choice is yours, just as the choice to become a companion or use the safe word was yours. You will, naturally, still be able to use that word whenever you decide.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

  “Also inside the box is a small piece of paper. It is the website of the registry. You will, if you want this, go to that registry and fill in your information. I have naturally completed the basic application, including a lovely picture from last night, but have left the details to you.”

  Still Alicia was silent. Did she want this?

  “You may wear the anklet as much or as little as you like,” Mr. Devonshire assured her. “Why don’t you take a few days to consider?”

  But she did not need a few days. She knew her own mind and her options. She removed the anklet from the box and hooked the clasp around her left ankle. The bells gave a pleasant jingling sound. Alicia knew that even the slightest movement would set them off, thereby alerting her Master to her movements. Once the symbol of her new status was attached, she slid to the floor to kneel before Mr. Devonshire.

  “I need no time, Sir. I belong to you and to Paul. I have for quite some time. Truthfully, I am not complete without you. On the days when I am not with you or him, I am destitute with loneliness.” She looked up at him with a new confidenc
e. “My skin craves the taste of leather. My mind seeks commands. When I am with you, singly or together, I am whole.” She bent her head to rub her cheek against his leg.

  “Ah, Alicia,” he said, petting her head, “you have made me a very happy man.”

  “And I, Sir, am a very happy slave,” she said before taking his manhood into her mouth.

  This, she thought, was the ultimate in Tasting Pleasure.

  Epilogue

  “Alicia!” Maverick shouted, running a hand through his hair. “You have everything! For God’s sake, woman, you’ve packed and repacked at least five times.”

  “I know, but I haven’t seen Jo in years. I’m just really nervous. What if she doesn’t like me?” Alicia ran her long braid nervously through her hands.

  “Then she wouldn’t be worth this anxiety, my love,” Maverick stated simply. He gathered his wife into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “You are a brilliant cook, a highly intelligent woman, and possess one of the kindest souls I’ve ever been fortunate enough to encounter.”

  Alicia looked up at her husband. “Thank you, Sir. Have I told you how happy you’ve made me by agreeing to this trip?”

  Maverick chuckled. “Only a few dozen times. And I’ve told you, I’m thrilled to have this opportunity. Not only will we be able to reunite with your cousin, her husband and their friends, but I will have the opportunity to photograph an area few people in England know of.”

  “Not just England. Many people back in the States are unfamiliar with Giant City. Southern Illinois is known primarily for its corn and bean fields, not wineries, incredible natural rock formations and rich Native American history,” she stated. “I just can’t seem to stop feeling so nervous about seeing Jo again. We were close as children, but we lost contact after my dad left his position at University of Illinois at Springfield and became the head of the Native American studies in Carbondale.”