The Labyrinth of Passion (romantic experiences)

by Charles Westmont

  She was confused at first, “What does he mean by master and his property,” she asked herself. Yet, she felt very secured and calm. Thereafter, when sitting in the car, she would always grab that hand and place it on her thigh.

  They had just left Lyon, climbing toward Geneva. Etienne could not get enough of listening to her. He was always aroused by the flirtatious tonality of her voice. “I must be out of my mind, he thought, but I feel that we never stop making love. We are in communion in all circumstances, with every gesture, every expression and every word. The feeling leaves me only when we are away from each other.” They entered Geneva and rain was pouring in buckets.

  They booked at the Hotel President, a glass tower adjacent to the Hilton Casino, overlooking the lake. They had dinner at the Casino, waiting for their suite to be made available. They were offered the only suite left on this busy night of the Red Cross annual convention. A senior official of the international institution had been taken to hospital, freeing the penthouse suite, just before their arrival.

  Justine looked delightful in the short black dress. “What a spectacular suite!” Justine was waltzing, going around and around from room to room. Etienne found her spread-eagled on the large canopy bed. “Thank you, I will take the suite, have a good evening sir,” she said teasingly turning away from him. He jumped on top of her, his teeth worrying the nape of her neck. He slid the zipper of her dress, without releasing his hold of her neck and began a slow caressing ascent with his nail raking slowly from the tip of her lower spine on a path to her neck. He repeated the motion up and down barely touching her flesh. She was by then squirming, her breasts and belly rubbing the dark satin bed cover to the accompaniment of a grateful sigh. He rose and left the room. He stood in front of the bay window, watching the heavy rain beating against the glass and covering the city in a grey veil. Just ahead in the middle of the lake the great water jet was returning its water towards the clouds in defiance.

  She came to the doorway, crawling on all fours. She was holding three Hermès scarves in her mouth. Without a word, she turned around toward the bed, dragging the scarves. She was sitting against a bed post, with the scarves dropping on her lap. Both her arms were extended toward Etienne in a silent surrender begging for attention. Her head was turning left and right and her eyes were boasting a catty glare focused on the crossbeam of the canopy.

  Etienne was not in a state to refuse her advances. He tied both wrists with the scarves. He used the last scarf to blind her eyes. He helped her to stand on the mattress and led her to the end of the bed, where he proceeded to tie both arms, leaving her on her knees, fully extended, hanging from the canopy. Her naked body was in full exposure, offered for an eventual aggression. He left her in that vulnerable position and turned on the TV set, pretending a lack of interest. He went around the room making noise with everything he could find.

  “Etienne my arms are sore,” she begged after a while.

  Etienne jumped on the bed and softly kissing her open lips, he began to untie her arms from the canopy, but left the scarves around her wrists and over her eyes. He then laid her on the mattress and proceeded to tie her arms to the bed posts. He left her again, without a word, resuming his hullaballoo.

  He could not wait to come back, mulling over his next move. “Sweet and sour,” he thought to himself, “the little pest will enjoy a little pain assorted with pleasure.” He was admiring the vision of her immaculate body sprawled helpless on the dark bedcover. His organ stood at attention, releasing lubrication that marked his pants. The smell of her cunt was irresistible, pulling him to present his lips and tongue to begin a light brushing around her slit, glowing with secretions. He was licking, moving his tongue around and around her vulva. The harder his tongue and lips were sucking, they could not drain the generous moisture. Her mouth was parted maintaining a light moan that resembled the beginning of a lament. Etienne was reaching a level of pleasure that he had rarely experienced before. He removed his face soaked with her love juices. He turned her on her side and parted her ass as wide as it would give, to begin tracing circles around her anus. He kept dipping his finger in her cunt to lubricate her anus. An escaping finger, still dripping, began pressing to force an entrance. The finger penetrated slowly, and began an in and out undertaking. Etienne’s excitement augmented at the warm feeling of the muscle contractions trying to force him to exit. It did not prevent repeated infringements. He actually proceeded to have a second finger to force an entry. After he attempted a third invader, he understood from her reaction that he was exceeding the threshold of gentle pain.

  Etienne turned Justine on her back and he brought his lips to hers. Her lips and tongue’s ardor confirmed an approval that he was on the right path. “I must find that Point G,” he said to himself. For an introduction, he wet his index and began toying with her love bud. The little thing responded instantly, with a light swell and a compression of her pussy. “Here’s a little pain,” he said, “catching the protruding germ in a tight pinch and rolling the little victim in a contracting and retracting vice. She brought up her lower body in full extension. Etienne figured that he could release his victim. She would not escape very far.

  She rubbed her reddened wrists, free of the scarves and brought her arms around Etienne in an embrace. “I love it! I love it! More! More!” and she fell on her back. A new eruption had flowed along her thighs. Etienne recuperated the love lotion and began to penetrate inside her pussy with two fingers, moving them in and out. While outside, he would rub firmly her throbbing love bud, until he pinched the little victim. He had to slow his action, feeling that she was on the verge of an orgasm. He would then continue, always stopping on the edge of bliss. His carefully measured aggression was also helpful in his case. His hardened organ was coming close to a similar fate. Stopping, with three fingers buried inside her, he turned his hand to feel the inside of her pussy, directly under her clitoris. He was rubbing softly and he could feel a slightly rugged patch, the size of the tip of his finger. The patch seemed to be pushing at his middle finger with a pulsing swell. He continued his rubbing action until he felt her entire body contract and then start shaking wildly, ending in a scream.

  She came back to a more relaxed position, her face invaded by the loveliest of smiles. Etienne had little time to react, when he felt his organ throbbing. Pulling down his zipper, he buried his organ in her opened lips. She trapped his manhood and began sucking him gently. He collapsed over her face. She eventually pulled out for air and jumped on him demanding a passionate kiss before falling into a deep sleep.

  Etienne was still awake and slipped away to the living room window. He looked up at the grey sky. “Thank you! Thank you!” he whispered, for so much pleasure and happiness from the blessing of feeling love.”

  Inspiration

  They left Geneva in the morning and stopped in Neuchatel for lunch on a terrace restaurant overlooking the banks of one of Switzerland’s magnificent large lakes. They stood on the deck, over the water, their body pressed in a loving hug. The vegetarian meal was given special attention from the chef, who said that he was excited by the opportunity to create new flavors, “It will take me a little while, because I have to cook from scratch,” he said, acknowledging Etienne’s request. He had left for his kitchen quarters to cook what he described as Swiss delicacies that were certain to please their palates.

  As they waited for the service, Etienne was drowning in Justine’s blue eyes as they reflected the waves of Lac de Neuchatel. “My little love wonder, I want to tell you in words, what my action and body have been telling you for some time. You are the love of my life. I love you.” All the drops of water impregnated with the glare of your eyes stand as witnesses of the eternity of my feelings. They were sharing that powerful feeling of love that was pulsing inside their body. They also felt a voice, “Beware of the power of the Ring.” They walked back to the table intoxicated with love and confusion.

  On the way back to Paris, they began an interesting c
onversation about angels. Justine confessed, “I am not much of a church going person and I have strong reservations with regard to religions. I believe in God and in the angels. I know angels are providing me guidance and protection. On occasion I can feel their comforting presence.”

  A young woman growing up in the south west of France, Justine learned very young that Dordogne had attracted many spiritual movements and organizations from ancient times. They built monasteries, abbeys and other places of worship. She confided that a few years back, she was accepted as a novice by a community of Tibetan monks. She took quite an interest in their rituals and their prayer machines. She learned the art of meditation. She accepted to have her head shaven and wore the cassock. She was given the name of Atia, a rough translation of angel in an ancient Tibetan dialect. After a few months, she became aware that her destiny was to return to the world.

  Etienne talked of the religious education that he had received at home and in a private college specialized in preparing pupils for the catholic priesthood. Many family members had joined the orders through the ages. By nineteen, he elected to take a distance from Catholicism. He never rejected spirituality and his strong belief in perfection and of an afterlife. In the course of his frequent trips, he would chapels that he always found conducive to relaxing meditation.

  Angers

  Etienne and le Divin Marquis stopped in Angers on the way to the Loire Vallée to express their sympathies to a dear friend and associate, who suffered the loss of a son in a dramatic car accident in Buenos Aires. The young man’s Austin Healy missed a sharp turn to end his life at the bottom of a cliff. For Philippe, the loss was devastating, a second son had preceded the first in death, less than two years earlier. Philippe Panet was a great statesman. His public and private career, after brilliant studies in economics, took him from being a business executive in the early years of the Second World War, to being a representative of his country at the United Nations. The memorial service was taking place in Avilande, a family estate, just outside of Angers. The city was one of the principal administrative jurisdictions of French royalty in the Middle Ages.

  Arriving at the Avilande estate in the early afternoon, Etienne left Justine in a park adjacent to a small Roman chapel and an ancient cemetery. “I think it is better, that I wait for you here,” she suggested, “I have not been introduced to Mr. Panet. Under the circumstances, it is more appropriate, that I wait, while you pay your respects. I will be perfectly happy to explore the surroundings.”

  Etienne joined le Divin Marquis on the way to the main gate of the manor. Avilande was a magnificent ancient estate. The main pathway led to the ruin of a medieval castle that had been left to the mercy of the elements over many centuries. Philippe Panet had acquired the property after the Second World War, with the secret dream of restoring the ancient structure. Economic considerations led him to consider instead, the renovation of a large dependence into a country manor.

  Philippe was waiting on the steps of the main entrance. He could not dissimulate his sorrow. He hugged his two Australian friends. Serge, his eldest and sole remaining child came to join the group, extending a warm welcome. Serge was married a few years earlier, after many years as a jetsetter. His young wife, a princess from India, had given him four boys in less than ten years of marriage. Their joyous child play was a relief to an otherwise somber reunion. After paying his respects to the family members, Etienne asked to be excused and left le Divin Marquis with his host, after getting directions to an open drugstore.

  Etienne entered the chapel, to find it empty. A lone candle was glowing on a statue. The park was also empty. Etienne walked towards the rear garden. Ancient tombstones were lined awkwardly. Nature had gained over the old cemetery, leaving a natural tree lined tunnel that was winding out toward the forest. Etienne was on the pathway when Justine appeared in the distance sitting on a marble tombstone. Her back was turned away from him. He approached quietly from behind and slipped unnoticed on the tombstone. Justine appeared absorbed by her labor. She had collected a bunch of wild flowers. Her head was adorned with a multicolored crown. She was completing an assorted bracelet.

  Etienne stood silent. He was always overwhelmed by her beauty, but her vulnerability, conspicuously offered with the long golden locks touching the stone at the lower of her back, the honey gold silky complexion of her nude shoulders and backside, revealed by the strapless sundress, had already filled his stomach with countless buzzing butterflies. He knelt behind her and he could not restrain two wandering hands that cupped her covered breasts. His lips began brushing her bare shoulders, while his hands continued in their quest, fondling the willing captives. She kept working on the flower bracelet, as if nothing had happened. His lips kept competing with his hands. Justine and Etienne felt each other’s breathing and heartbeats accelerate with anticipation. Justine kept ignoring the caresses. Etienne could not, however, prevent his hands from unbuttoning the upper end of the strapless top and progress from gentle fondling to kneading. He could feel the breasts swelling between his fingers, like clumps of dough ready to bake. Etienne left the breasts to complete unbuttoning the dress. Maintaining his position behind Justine, his hand slipped to her crotch. She began a light moan, opening her thighs wide. She dropped the bracelet and her hands joined with his in the tango of caresses. Justine kept caressing herself, her eyes closed. Etienne turned to face her and lay her softly on the tombstone. He then climbed over her, brushing her body. His lips paused between her thighs to taste her honey and reached higher to her parted lips for a long passionate kiss. She pushed him aside and kept caressing herself while he stood over her. She reached his hand and pulled him down at her side. She then rolled over him and opening his pants, she pulled his organ inside her. She than began a gentle trot rubbing her body over his and accelerated to a wild gallop. Etienne could observe her eyes closed and her face distorting and grimacing with the pleasure. It took little time for her face to begin to glow, a telltale witness of her reaching rapture, followed by Etienne, who pulled out and erupted over her breasts. Etienne opened his eyes to face her smiling at him.

  Etienne was invaded by a sudden feeling of dismay. Her face had been transfigured, her lips were still slightly parted and her eyes were gleaming strangely. He could feel the love, the pleasure, but something else was haunting his feelings. He could feel the emanation of a power, an overwhelming power. The power of the conquest felt by a woman from the gift of herself, the gift of shared euphoria given to her lover. And yes, there were undertones of unsettled fear in his heart.

  The Divin Marquis was pacing the estate portico. “I hope you found what you were looking for,” he said with a smile. He certainly perceived the telltale stains on Etienne pants. “I transmitted your regards to our host. They were preparing for a private ceremony.” The threesome jumped in the car, James steering for a short trip to the Loire Valley, towards the Chateau de Chinon.

  Chinon

  The Divin Marquis settled on the rear seat for his usual afternoon nap. Justine was driving down the dark national road sucking her thumb with the secure feeling of Etienne’s left hand resting on her thigh. Etienne turned toward the back seat and noticed the Divin Marquis was bent face down, in an awkward posture. “Please pull gently on the side,” he whispered. The car came to a halt and Etienne jumped out to open the back door. “I think that he is unconscious,” he cried. Justine came to his side to help pull the Divin Marquis out of the car. The night was pitch black except for the rare car beams in the distance, the national road quiet on this Sunday evening. They carried the Divin Marquis‘s limp body to the front of the car. They laid him on the ground. Etienne bent over and began CPR. They alternated every minute. “I think I have a pulse,” Justine rose her head and the Divin Marquis began coughing. He opened his eyes, silent, looking at his friend. “How do you feel?” asked Justine. Etienne was helping him to stand. “Do you feel any pain?”

  The Divin Marquis wobbled to his feet in a daze, attempting to focus in
the darkness. He smiled, “I am OK. I don’t know what happened.”

  “We are only a few kilometer from Tours, I will drive to the hospital,” said Etienne. They helped the Divin Marquis to the car and Etienne started in the direction of Tours.

  They entered the hospital courtyard and the Divin Marquis tapped Etienne’s shoulder, “I feel perfectly OK, I would prefer that we pass on the hospital and go to our original destination. A diner of Boudin Noir at the chateau should bring my strength back.” After objections and counter objections, Etienne turned the car around to tackle the few kilometers to the restaurant du Chateau Chinon. Chinon, a town rich in history is nestled in between the ruin of a medieval Château on top of the hill and the river Vienne.

  “It was home to the Plantagenet Kings, where Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine conceived Richard the Lionhearted. Joan of Arc came to the chateau to marshal Charles VII’s forces. Legend has it that the king traded places with the court jester as a test, to see if Joan was truly guided by God. Joan came into the hall and walked directly to the King, totally ignoring the imposter,” Etienne was recalling the legend of Chinon, in an attempt to maintain the Divin Marquis’s attention.

  Etienne pulled the car onto the curb at the front door of the Restaurant du Chateau. He walked in and hugged Martine, who was turned away from him, talking to Jean Charles. She twisted in his arms trading a shocked frown for a beautiful smile. “There you are blasted Australian,” Jean Charles let out, coming to shake hands with the Divin Marquis. “And who, may I ask, is the glamorous companion. Martine, they did not tell you that they were bringing such special company.”