by Madison Faye
This ratcheted up the pleasure pain and Angel thought she would die from the pure erotic flush that pulsed through her entire body. “Unhhh…” she let out helplessly. Unable to control her voice, her body, or anything as the overload of sensations rode her hard.
“Yes, that’s it… feel it now?” he whispered.
Angel was panting and shaking like she’d never done in her life as her juices gushed and her body tightened. Ohhhh… I can’t come yet. I cannot!
Then a sting lapped across her open ass cheeks.
The pain of a threaded but soft whip hit her like a cannon of twisted gratification in the middle of all the pleasure. Her asshole throbbed, her pussy pulsed, her nipples kept hardening and sending electric currents through her nerves. She was burning—on fire—with mind-blowing pleasure like she’d never felt before.
Panting and attempting to keep her pussy from gushing with her impending climax, desperately breathless, Angel let out a scream as he hit her ass with the soft suede whip again.
Her mind was sent into euphoria as the clamps pinched her nipples, the straps rubbed her swollen clit, her ass stung, and her body nearly convulsed.
Suddenly, the mysterious master moved to the front. “Open your eyes. I wish to watch you come for me…”
Her eyes popped open as all the air left her throbbing, tensed-up body.
Bastien?
His sweet smile didn’t match the sensual glint in his beautiful eyes. “Come for me, sweet slave.” He tugged on the nipple clamps.
Her nipples tingled and sparks set off along her nerves. Her body convulsed again, this time violently bowing up from the cross with a huge spasm while her pussy creamed along the strap as her ass pulsed from the sensation of the plug. Angel let out a long, satisfying scream…
* * *
Awaking while bolting upright in her bed, Angel clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream. Sweat beaded along her brow. Reaching down, she felt her cum smeared across her thighs. This dream was the most outrageous yet. There was no way that Bastien would do those things. It had been an exhilarating fantasy-torture dream, only for her to come down to harsh reality. Her mind, her inner self was trying to turn him into the ultimate dom and for her… the ultimate man.
Only it was just a dream, a secret wish that would never come true.
She looked around. A dungeon? A cross? Not here in this elaborate apartment house. Yes, I am going insane.
As the sun came in through the venetian blinds in the ornate bedroom, Angel realized that she was entirely and completely in love with the French savior of her life. For a while, she’d believed it was just because she felt grateful or just because she’d been desperate. She’d held onto those reasons for the last week, but as he came in with her breakfast tray, her body stiffened and she found herself holding her breath. Her heart pounded in her ears whenever he came into view.
She squeezed her thighs together, knowing that now she had no time to clean herself up. Oh, God, I hope he doesn’t catch a whiff of it. Her stomach clenched at him knowing she’d had a wet dream. No. More than a wet dream… a living BDSM fantasy of epic proportions.
Fighting her true feelings for him during these glorious happy days had been hell within the heaven he’d so artfully built for her. In some ways, she was treated like the princess of fairy tales and there were a few times she shouted in her mind at the missing Brandon beast that she was now at the fucking ball, and she was in fact the guest of fucking honor at the ball!
Bastien had made her that. Even when she got twinges of just how sick she’d been with fear and submissiveness while living as an abused slave… one endearing smile from her French companion would wipe it all away.
Angel released a heartfelt sigh. Companion. She’d always said there was no such thing as fairy tales, that real life was harsh and just when something seemed too good to be true? You found that it really wasn’t true and all the good parts were illusions. Fractures in a dream you made. The fracture to this tale, where the good-looking, suave, handsome hero saves the damsel in distress? Angel rolled her eyes. And was I ever in distress!
In this fairy book story, the problem was her… just her. She was on constant pins and needles the entire time he was near, because of want and need. She constantly fought a purely sensual, insanely overpowering necessity to have him fuck her until she passed out. She was having more than extreme dreams now too. This last one was so far into the world of BDSM that even she had never fully envisioned a scene like that in real life.
All the while being around him she’d suffered with an acutely turned-on anguish. He seemed unaffected by any attraction to her. Yes, he would look at her with an intensity at times, but it would be so fleeting to Angel. She’d come to the outrageous, forgone, impossible conclusion that maybe he was a rare male specimen, one who didn’t allow lust to rule him. That possibly, he just wanted companionship and despite her being a female, he still wanted her friendship.
Many days and nights she’d spent torn over how to seduce him and every time she would chicken out. He may reject her and tell her in that soft accented voice that he just didn’t want her in the same way.
If she really faced the harsh truth, it may be because she was more than damaged goods. Her admittance to her love for domination and being a submissive may have put him off, despite the fact that he hadn’t noticeably reacted to her confession.
Angel feared and believed that even if he became attracted and suddenly wanted her, that after the start of a physical relationship, she herself would lose her attraction for him. She’d admitted and faced the truth about herself years ago. Dev had come along and had showed her that truth. She’d never even orgasmed before she met him. It was funny that after dreaming and thinking of no one except Dev for the last three years, these last thirty days were spent without him being in her mind at all. This did startle her.
They had met in the States where they’d come across each other at an S&M club when she’d been exploring them. It was actually her first time there. He was French and older than her, but God damn, if he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d ever met. They went at it that first night and he showed her what true mastery was. Her mind had hung onto the three-week relationship for all the time she was trapped with Brandon; it had helped to keep her sane.
Back then, Dev had told her he was returning to France. She was hurt and devastated because he didn’t ask her to go with him and he’d kissed her on the forehead like she was his daughter or something, then he walked away. That hurt, combined with a new need for sexual satisfaction that she had briefly tasted for a mere twenty-one glorious days, was what began her journey on the road to finding someone who could replace Devareaux.
After two years, she met Brandon. American and good-looking. His mastery, coupled with the fact that he looked like a younger version of Dev, had made her lose her senses as she fell in with him while losing her freedom and sanity in the process.
When Brandon said he’d planned a trip to Europe, she had been about to leave him, but she didn’t, because it might lead to finding her mother, who’d been in France for the last three years, married to some poor unsuspecting man that hadn’t seen her true colors yet. So, like a fool yet again, Angel left the U.S. with him and had spent the last few months in a true horror show.
However after two months, she couldn’t find Claire and realized her mother had probably burned that bridge already and was promptly kicked out by said unsuspecting new husband.
Angel admitted to herself that for a while she did feel as if she deserved all Brandon was doing to her for being such a deviant in the first place, and so she didn’t fight it. She’d been so driven for the beguiling sensations of sensual bondage and succulent sexy pleasure that she’d traded herself in for a poor, demented copy of the real thing.
She pushed away the memories of her sordid past and of Dev, even as she felt that Bastien’s manner reminded her of Devareaux in so many splendid ways. Except for one way, as she knew Bastien was
n’t a dominator in that sense of the word and she figured the similarity was also because Bastien was French as Dev had been.
Pasting a happy smile on her face, she gazed up at the main subject of her tortured thoughts. Just leave it alone and try to be happy. Bastien was constantly telling her that she had the right to be happy, just like anyone else. I could live with him forever, I suppose and just masturbate myself to sleep every night, like I’ve done already. She could feel the swirling flush run along her face at the thought of all the fantasies Bastien had starred in, without even knowing about it. If he knew the details of this last one he would probably tell her to leave, once and for all.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” he asked.
What is it? He must have caught her staring at him with that yearning on her face. Angel batted her eyes and laughed nervously. “Oh, no, it’s nothing. I’m just always so glad to see you.” So happy that I ache, while so overjoyed that my panties are soaked whenever you come near.
Her smile grew, as she wanted to laugh aloud at just what a stupid woman she was. I truly deserve this. To finally fall hopelessly in love with a man and he treats me like his little sister. I’ve fallen for the prince, but he will turn out to hate me when he finally finds that I’m not his true Cinderella.
He set the tray down and handed her the napkin. “Well, today is special.”
Still distracted by her secret thoughts, images of her dream, and feelings for him, Angel gazed up in confusion from the lovely breakfast. “What?”
Bastien nodded. “We’re going to go out on the town!”
“Going out on the…”
At her lost expression, he laughed. “Yes, you see… Um?” He placed his hands on hers.
Angel held her breath, willing herself to not tremble and to not flush at his touch. “Oui?” she asked.
“I have not told you the entire truth.”
Angel stared at him. Oh, here it comes—he’s gay!
Bastien wrinkled his brow and tilted his head at her. “You must know that I am… how you say… wealthy?”
Angel nodded as she smiled with relief that he wasn’t going into the ‘I’m a French homosexual’ speech.
“I own a string of clubs,” he announced it as though it were some big revelation.
Angel grinned at him. “Well, I’m not stupid, you know?”
At her odd question, Bastien pulled his head back, looking puzzled.
“I mean, you never work, and you throw money around like you were feeding the pigeons birdseed.”
At her description, he looked a little mystified for a second, and then he laughed.
His deep throaty laugh always gave her goosebumps and she resisted the urge to rub at her arms. “You own that sailing boat that I had assumed you rented, right?”
He nodded.
“This building that has your apartment while the others are all empty?”
Bastien again nodded.
“You own the entire building, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You are not a cabby, but you own the cab company?”
“Oui. I do go out and drive one when I feel like it.”
She stared at his face. “So, why did you hide all of this?” She took a bite of her toast.
“Hide?” he repeated.
Nodding, she raised her juice glass. “Yes—oui.” She took a sip.
“I did not hide it… I just did not flaunt it.” His eyes took on a glimmer of some unidentifiable emotion.
Angel held the juice in her mouth while she stared at his dark eyes. She’d seen that glint in his eyes only a couple of times before and it would cause her to freeze up and hold her breath. It made her feel like he was on the verge of telling her something. Maybe something that would end all of this. It made her feel afraid and it was the only time she felt any fear at all these days. Was he about to tell her to leave? The ride was over and she was healed now, so maybe this is what he’d been trying to say. He would treat her to a night out—then the axe would fall.
Chapter Eight
The stony look passed and Bastien reached across to lift the napkin and dab at her lips.
Angel finally swallowed the juice and released her breath.
“Well, you take your shower and I bought you a new outfit to wear.”
Angel laughed. “Another one?” She shook her head. “You are too good to me, Bastien.” He’d stopped showering her and carrying her everywhere and she felt the keen disappointment again that he had stopped those sweet rituals. She figured it was because she’d healed up. But will the wounds on my insides ever heal?
Bastien stood up and nodded. “We stayed up very late last night, playing that poker as you called it.” He rolled his eyes. “A silly game it was.”
She grinned at him. “Yes, but I never showed you the real poker game.”
He paused and swung his dark gaze down. “Oui?”
Nodding her head, she giggled. “Strip poker is where it’s at, sweet Bastien.”
He froze and stared at her for a few seconds. “I am not sweet, Angel.” His tone had dropped.
Gazing up, she herself froze. There was that glint again. What is happening here? “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it like…” How did you mean it, Angel? You do think he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever known.
Blinking at her, he seemed to snap himself out of whatever thought it was that had made him angry. “No, pas… I mean, it is just a term of endearment in your country, yes?”
All she could do was nod, as she was so wound up by this new, peculiar sensation she had. Some indefinable vibe that she couldn’t place. Suddenly, she allowed that old fear back in. Is he now going to tell me it’s time to move on, that I’ve worn out my welcome? He did have a life before me, I’m sure. All of these fears seemed to escalate in her mind as she lost her appetite.
Walking over to the closet, he took out a garment-bagged hanger and placed it on the bed. “As I said, we will be late, as the sun has now dipped and Paris will light up with a world of delight.”
Angel gulped down all the insecurity and decided to match his casual attitude. “Okay.” She set the unfinished tray aside and got up.
Bastien took the tray and walked to the door. “I will be getting ready as well.” He shut the door behind him.
It was funny how after those first three days, he’d become the ultimate gentleman. He never saw her nude again, he’d made sure not to. No more kisses to her skin. No more anything really except he would hold her hand. No wonder she called him sweet. Not that he’d liked that when she said it a few minutes ago. She shrugged; well, why would he try to see her nude or hit on her liked she’d hoped? He didn’t seem attracted to her, so what would be the point?
Sighing, she stared down at the dress.
This creation of material was the most sophisticated, but also the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She slipped it on over her body and actually let out a long moan of pleasure. It was made of the softest black silk and it looked more expensive she was sure than anything she’d ever had on. She’d gained a few pounds while eating all those delicious meals and had worried, but it fit just right.
Bastien seemed to know everything about her, including her dress size and she knew that didn’t work in reverse, despite his admittance to the wealth. She knew very little about the man with the stormy black eyes and the warmest smile she’d ever seen on a man.
Along with the dress were white lace panties and no bra, because the back dipped all the way down to almost her crack and the bustier did the bra work and only too well.
She could feel that her breasts were uplifted by the black silk material with its bustier-like lining. The effect was like an offering of her tits to the observer of this dress. It was long, but had a slit along the skirt that showed her entire leg and thigh when she walked.
Making her way to the living room, she marveled at how the silk swished when she walked, flashing her thigh in a sexy way.
Bastien took her breath away when he appe
ared in the living room a few minutes later. He wore black leather and she’d never seen him in anything but jeans and dress pants.
Angel gulped visibly when he stepped up and took her hand. Is my tongue hanging out? She raised her fingers to her mouth to be sure. Maybe she had drool at the corner of her lips. She causally swiped her mouth.
He chuckled at her stunned expression and let out a long wolf whistle as he admired her in the too sexy, ready-to-be-fucked-sideways dress. “Ooh la-la!” he exclaimed. “You look good enough to—”
Angel balled her hands into fists at her sides. What? she screamed in her head. Good enough to eat, lick, fuck? Please, mean it that way, please? She trembled visibly and couldn’t stop it from showing.
Looking concerned, Bastien took a step forward. “Is it too revealing for you?”
Revealing? The word repeated in her stunned mind. I wish I were naked and could entice you. I would fall to my knees and beg for you to just want me a little. Swallowing heavily, she shook her head. “I just wondered about how much it must have cost.” She’d lied outright. A twinge of dread crept up on her. I may be lying my ass off many times tonight. Her eyes were dropping without her permission to check out the tight leather stretched across his crotch. She jerked her eyes up.
Bastien was staring at her.
Her face flamed as she felt a flush at that now familiar intense look he wore.
As though the tense moment had never happened, he stepped forward with a smile and took her hand. “Let’s go.”
Angel just allowed him to tug her along, but for some inexplicable reason, she suddenly didn’t want to go.
When he uttered his phrase, the metal door opened and he halted.
Angel ran into him, his hard body knocking her back a few steps.
“Que diable?” Bastien gasped. “What the fuck?”
Angel strained to peer around his shoulder to see a woman’s form standing in the hall. Squinting, she tried to get a better look, but couldn’t.
“Well, that’s not a polite greeting, is it, Bastien?” a woman retorted with venom in her voice.