Beautiful Losers (Modern Erotic Classics)

by Remittance Girl

  I positioned myself as Jean giggled. ‘Shut up, you. I’m starving,’ I hissed.

  Sebastian looked through the viewfinder again. ‘Now, tell him that if he doesn’t give himself to you willingly, you’re going to fuck him with the handle of that riding crop.’

  My head snapped up. ‘Eww, gross! Do I have to?’

  The glare Sebastian gave me was a little strange. ‘Do it! And damn well sound like you mean it!’ He gave me this slow nod and what people describe as a significant look.

  That’s when the penny dropped. This, it seemed, was Sebastian’s response to my plea for help regarding the whole domination thing. I wanted to tell him that his timing sucked, but not in front of Jean. I returned Sebastian’s ‘significant’ look. Meanwhile, inside, I was thinking, Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. But it wouldn’t do to say that either, especially with Jean still giggling away like a lunatic.

  I glanced down at Jean, fighting the infectious urge to join him. What do you really want, my beautiful friend? I thought. You don’t really want me to giggle with you. You want me to want you, past all the superficialities and the silly wig and the smeared lipstick. You want me to want you despite all that or because of it. And, the thing is, I did. But I wished I were bigger, stronger, more male, more aggressive, more demanding. Most of those things weren’t going to happen. I’d just have to be a lot more me. More substantial somehow.

  To hell with the tugging of the bodice; I gave it a good yank and the first few hooks gave way. Trapping his small pink nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I gave it a hard pinch and a twist. That, at least, stopped the giggling. I didn’t let go.

  ‘Jean,’ I whispered, bending over him and looking directly into his eyes. ‘Stop all this silliness or I’m going to bugger you with this crop.’

  For a moment, his eyes flickered, and I was worried that he’d start giggling again. I gave the nipple a painful tug and brought the head of the crop up to his cheek, letting the leather tongue play against his skin. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  The short, soft whimpering sounds he made bypassed my brain and embedded itself in my pussy. Beyond that, I could tell I had his full attention because he blinked and looked a little shocked.

  ‘That’s right, pretty Jean. I’m fucking tired of all this bullshit. I came for you – don’t you know that? That night I accepted your invitation, it wasn’t for Sebastian; it was for you.’ I released his nipple and drew my hand up under his jaw, holding it to ensure his attention. Beneath the blinding white make-up, I could feel the beginnings of a beard. There was something about the anomaly that I liked, that made me brave.

  ‘I know,’ Jean whispered.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I said, my voice rising. My fingers squeezed his jaw. ‘But you will.’

  And suddenly, it was like being possessed by someone else completely, as if an entirely different person had crawled into my skin and was growing bigger, stronger, more. It didn’t matter that I was four inches shorter or twenty pounds lighter. He felt frail and delicate in my hands. I covered his mouth with mine and I kissed him in a way I don’t think I’d ever kissed anyone in my life.

  Vaguely, I heard the shutter clicking and whirring, but my focus was all on the tongue I was pushing into Jean’s mouth to claim it, and the distinct bulge that, despite all the layers of skirt I was sitting on, I could feel growing at his crotch.

  When I felt his arms rising up to embrace me, I grabbed them and slammed them back to the floor. ‘Don’t you dare touch me until I tell you!’

  ‘Shira?’ he said, his voice small and unsure.

  Footsteps on metal told me that Sebastian was climbing down from the ladder. Suddenly, it bothered me that he was there and witnessing this transformation, and I liked it less that he was documenting it. But if I stopped and told him to go away, I would lose my ground with Jean. And that’s what it felt like – like clawing territory, like pulling something into me. I pulled my focus back to Jean.

  ‘Don’t you ever kiss me like a sister again. Do you understand?’ I reached beneath the wig and let it fall away, then grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of Jean’s head and lifted it nearer.

  ‘But . . . I . . .’

  I gave him a smart smack on the cheek and held his jaw again. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me. I know you know what I mean. Never, ever again.’

  The smeared, painted lips trembled, the fine Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. ‘I promise, Shira. I swear.’

  The words spread out over my chest, setting it on fire, making my skin rise and my nipples sting. ‘That’s better,’ I whispered, and kissed him again.

  This time, as his mouth opened to mine, he shuddered beneath me. I took the offer of his tongue savagely, sucking it into my mouth, letting my teeth graze over it, feeding all my desire into that sweet, open wetness. That’s when I felt him change; I felt him kiss me the way he’d kissed me the night he forgot I wasn’t Sebastian.

  Shifting, I pulled at the dress, feeling more and more of the little hooks pop and give with every yank. Even that small destruction felt good, like I was ripping open more than the dress. And my hand was greedy for the soft skin beneath, the erect nipple, the rising breath, the beating heart and the muscles rippling with tension beneath the skin at his belly. I liked what my touch did to him. I liked how he gasped as I gripped his cock and squeezed it hard. I liked the way his hips thrust upwards helplessly, mindlessly. But I loved that, only moments later, as I pulled his head back and bit hard at the flesh on his neck, he exploded in my hand like a virgin who’d never been touched.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:

  VIRGIN ON GLASS

  I’ve noticed that most men will sustain any game going, no matter how strange or ridiculous it may be, right up until the point of ejaculation; after that, it’s as if someone pressed the reset button. They’d go back to being normal. Jean, however, was different. He gazed up at me with huge, very soulful eyes.

  ‘I love you, Shira,’ he said, in a tone that could only be described as spacey.

  I repressed the urge to respond in baby talk, and kissed his cheek. ‘It’s mutual.’ Sebastian was still on his knees, a little distance away, camera in hand. ‘Are we finished here? Can I eat?’

  ‘That was phenomenal,’ he said, beaming. The bulge in his crotch was metaphorically beaming also.

  Shrugging off the finery, reflecting on the cost of dry-cleaning velvet and pulling Jean to his feet, I was surprised at the lingering urge I had to drag him upstairs, tie him up and fuck him senseless. It occurred to me to wonder when this dommy thing was going to wear off.

  Jean took himself off to remove the make-up and get out of his costume, but Sebastian trailed after me into the kitchen and hovered like a vulture as I ate leftover Chinese.

  ‘You did great, Shirakins.’

  ‘Yes, you said that. Thanks.’ Honestly, I didn’t know what else to say, still a little disconcerted at having been demonically possessed by Elsa, She-wolf of the SS. ‘By the way, you are not using those photographs in public. Understood? That wasn’t for public consumption.’

  Shrugging non-committally, he pushed the camera across the counter. ‘There aren’t any pictures of your face. Take a look.’

  ‘I don’t care. You set me up in there. I understand why, but don’t . . . just don’t . . .’ Scrolling through the images on the camera screen, I could see what he meant. Everything was an extreme close-up: the curve of a jaw, tendons on a neck, the edge of a mouth, the smeared lipstick and the beauty mark, my fingers on Jean’s nipple, the tongue of the crop against his cheek, and a number of even more explicit images but all in macro details that – to someone who didn’t know the context of the pictures – would be hard to identify precisely. The intimacy of the images took my breath away. ‘Oh, but – they’re very, very good.’

  ‘Can you see what I was going for?’

  ‘Yes. You definitely got it.’ I handed back the camera. ‘You’re amazingly talented, Sebastian. Why do you waste so much time?
’ I finished the last of the chicken; at least the hunger shakes were gone.

  He waved my question away and put the camera back down on the counter. He opened the fridge, took out a half-filled bottle of white wine and poured a glass for me. ‘Do you understand what happened with Jean?’

  I gratefully downed half the glass and waited to feel it hit my bloodstream. ‘I don’t even understand what happened with me.’

  ‘You didn’t enjoy it?’ He sipped from a glass he’d poured for himself. ‘I got the impression that you did,’ he said, looking droll.

  ‘I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I just still don’t really know what it was.’

  ‘But you felt it, didn’t you? When he turned?’

  ‘Oh, I definitely felt it. It was quite strange.’

  ‘And you responded – well – very naturally. He was very happy.’ Sebastian couldn’t keep the smile off his saturnine face. He stooped to kiss me. ‘So now I need you to help me.’

  Jesus, the scheming never stopped. ‘Help you do what?’

  ‘Help me make him feel safe.’

  I cocked my head and locked gazes with him. ‘Safe about what?’

  Sebastian took another sip of wine. I heard Jean’s footsteps on the stairs. ‘You know what,’ he muttered.

  Jean’s arrival cut the conversation dead and left me with the uncomfortable sense that I was participating in a conspiracy. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being an agent of Sebastian’s desires. It hadn’t bothered me before, but an urge to protect Jean crept up on me. Was this part and parcel of being possessed by a dead film dominatrix? Still, I reasoned, if I agreed to be part of Sebastian’s machinations, I would be there at least, and could help mitigate whatever damage might happen should something go horribly wrong.

  Jean was showered and wrapped endearingly in an oversized, old-fashioned man’s silk dressing gown. He stood with his arm draped around me, stealing sips of my wine while he browsed through Sebastian’s photos. ‘My ears were burning,’ he said casually, his gaze fixed on the camera’s tiny screen.

  Sebastian and I exchanged looks. ‘You were eavesdropping,’ I replied.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Jean, softly.

  ‘Well, good then. It saves us having to talk about it.’

  A warm nose nuzzled against my ear and he tightened his arm around my neck. ‘Don’t let him hurt me,’ whispered Jean.

  I would have taken his plea seriously if, firstly, he hadn’t delivered it with a little boy’s voice and, secondly, if he hadn’t pressed an insistent erection against my hip. What was it with the men in this house? They all had permanent hard-ons.

  ‘What makes you think that he wants to hurt you?’ I teased, my words meant for Jean, but my attention fixed on Sebastian, who wore an engaging smile.

  ‘He’s baa-ad.’

  ‘Oh, he certainly is, but that’s why you like him.’

  The whole infantile game was doing my head in, especially as we all slipped into it so effortlessly. What exactly we were avoiding so concertedly by not acting like normal adults?

  ‘Do you like him when he’s bad?’ Jean asked in a stage whimper.

  ‘Hmm. I’m not entirely sure yet.’ My attempt to fight a smile failed.

  All this was, of course, stroking Sebastian’s ego in exactly the right way. He leaned against the counter, propped up on his elbows, draining his glass. ‘Don’t deny it. You both adore me when I’m nasty.’

  Disengaging myself from Jean’s limpet grasp, I slid off the stool and threaded my fingers through his. ‘I think we should go up to Sebastian’s room and see just how bad he can be.’

  Sebastian stalked around dimming all the lights in his room as he pulled his clothes off. I lay on my side, facing Jean, feeling the tension in his body, reading it on his face.

  ‘Are you sure you want me to stay?’ I whispered. He seemed more distracted now, nervous, clutching my hand with ferocity. All the earlier flirtatiousness had evaporated. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’

  ‘Yes, he does,’ Sebastian said with a growl, climbing onto the bed beside us.

  Scowling at him, I propped myself up on my elbow. ‘No, he fucking doesn’t. And he can change his mind if he wants.’ Looking down at Jean, I smiled. ‘Anytime you want.’

  ‘No, I do. I want to,’ said Jean. ‘But don’t go, Shira. Don’t leave me, okay?’

  I snuggled back down, kissed him softly on the lips and said, ‘I’m not going anywhere, I promise.’

  Spooning against Jean’s back, Sebastian peered over Jean’s shoulder and gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. I glared back. ‘And this stops, immediately, whenever he says. Clear?’ I glanced from one to the other.

  ‘Yes, Mistress Shira,’ joked Sebastian.

  I felt Jean’s fingers clench mine again. But it was Sebastian I scowled at. ‘This isn’t about you getting off.’

  It was hard not to remember the very first time I had sex, and how awful it was, and how much it had hurt, and how much of an asshole the guy I’d done it with turned out to be. Maybe I was unfair for ascribing those qualities to Sebastian, who had buried his face in Jean’s neck and was kissing him. But I was scared for Jean, and fiercely protective of him.

  The little boy voice I’d heard earlier in the kitchen had chilled me; it had brought to mind Jean’s abuse as a child. I had assumed that he would want something as far from that experience as possible, but it was like he was reverting.

  I lay my head right next to his on the pillow. ‘Jean? Are you sure?’ I whispered again. ‘Tell me you’re sure.’

  His eyes were half-closed. Sebastian was kissing his shoulder and had snaked his hand around, and stroked Jean’s erect cock. I cupped my palm to his face. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Kiss me, Shira,’ said Jean.

  Immediately I felt the jolt of desire mixed with tension in his lips. My emotions were all mixed up and confused, so I kissed him harder, deeper, exploring his mouth with my tongue, as if I could find something there that he couldn’t tell me in words.

  I felt someone grab my free hand and glanced up to see Sebastian turn my palm up, squirt a pool of cool gel into it, and guide it down to Jean’s cock.

  ‘Oh,’ I muttered, a little surprised. My fingers slithered up and down the shaft. ‘That works very nicely.’

  Jean gave a sigh and a little shudder, his eyebrows creased. I kissed him again as I stroked, and felt his body relax. He raised one leg and draped it over my hip.

  A gasp against my lips told me that Sebastian had eased his fingers into Jean’s ass and, for a moment, he tensed up again. But this time it was Sebastian who soothed him, shushing him softly. ‘We’ve done this before, sweetheart, a million times. You liked it, remember?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jean whimpered, his mouth so close I felt the sibilance drift over my skin. His hips moved, pushing his shaft through my grasp.

  ‘Don’t let him come, Shirakins,’ said Sebastian. ‘Not yet. Don’t let him get too close.’

  I eased my grip on Jean, which had inadvertently tightened in a mix of worry and excitement. ‘How? How will I know?’

  Sebastian snickered. ‘Women.’

  But Jean slid one arm around my shoulder, moaning as Sebastian opened him with more fingers. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll tell you,’ he stuttered.

  I hadn’t been turned on until then. I was too worried, too nervous myself. But when Jean’s hand relaxed around my neck, and he pulled me closer with his leg, the combination of his body’s lithe undulations and the insistence of his cock, pushing so fluidly through my fingers, swept me away.

  This time, it was Jean who kissed me: a hungrier, messier kiss, full of lust. Then he pulled his face back. ‘Let me fuck you, Shira.’

  ‘No, Jean,’ I whispered. ‘Not this time.’

  A cold, peeled condom plopped onto my shoulder. I shrugged it off and it slithered down my back. ‘No!’ I hissed at Sebastian. ‘I can’t take care of him if he’s fucking me.’

  Jean stopped moving; Sebastian had stopped
fucking him with his fingers. I couldn’t see him, but I heard the slick, wet rustle as he sheathed himself. Jean heard it, too. His hard-on twitched in my hand, but it was still hard. That, I was sure, had to be a good sign.

  ‘You still okay?’ I brushed my lips against Jean’s.

  ‘I think so,’ he squeaked.

  I pulled my hand, still clasped to Jean’s, up between us and held it to my chest. The bed rocked as Sebastian positioned himself. Legs shifted, hips moved. I knew the exact moment that Sebastian pressed his cockhead against Jean’s ass, because Jean caught his breath and froze. I clenched every muscle in my body in useless empathy.

  ‘Shush. Sweetheart, relax,’ Sebastian murmured, stroking Jean’s chest.

  I let go of Jean’s hand and threaded my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, pressing my face against his. ‘Breathe, Jean. There’s nothing to be scared of. No one’s going to hurt you.’

  He made a little sobbing sound, deep in his throat and let out a jagged breath. Sebastian wasn’t forcing anything. He held himself there, caressing Jean’s side, letting him relax in his own time. Grazing Jean’s cheek with my fingertips, I kissed him deeply, and began to stroke his cock again.

  Suddenly, Jean’s eyes flew open and, even in the dim light of the bedroom, I could see the flecks of lighter blue in them. ‘I need . . . I need to say it.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you want to stop?’

  ‘No. But I . . .’ Jean arched and reached back, sliding his hand around Sebastian’s neck. ‘I need to say it. I need to say “no”.’

  Sebastian lowered his head. He was breathing hard as he pressed his lips to the side of Jean’s face. ‘Say whatever you need to say.’

  ‘Don’t stop. No matter what.’

  I didn’t understand what was going on exactly, but it felt like we were all walking across a very thin tightrope in bare feet. I was scared and overwhelmed and turned on, and I knew Jean was too. But I didn’t know what he wanted.