by BETH KERY
“Your bath awaits,” he said with a flourish once they’d entered.
She purred in satisfaction at the vision of the large Jacuzzi bubbling away on the center island, steam rising off the surface.
“Will you get in with me?” she asked huskily when Lucien turned her and began to unbutton her blouse.
“That’s the plan,” he replied, slipping her blouse over her shoulders.
Once they were both naked and submerged in the bubbling water, Lucien leaned against the side of the tub and pulled her into his arms, her back against the front of his body. She moaned softly as he began to run his hands over her, caressing and massaging, his touch decadent in the midst of the hot water.
“You could make a woman into a slave with those hands, Lucien Sauvage,” she mumbled, her head resting on his chest, her eyelids fluttering closed in sensual pleasure. She sensed his smile near her cheek.
“I can’t see you being a slave to any man. Could you?”
She went still, the back of her neck prickling.
“Perhaps,” she breathed. “What if I wanted to experiment with the idea once in a while, at my discretion . . . with you?”
“That would be your decision. But after you consented to this enslavement, your freedom of choice would end for an agreed upon span of time. You would be at my mercy until the period ended.”
She inhaled sharply when he began finessing her nipples with his thumb and forefinger and she felt his already semi-erect cock stiffen into full readiness along the crack of her ass and her lower back.
“How long would this span of time last?” she asked, stifling a moan when he cupped her breasts from below and squeezed them gently at the same moment he tweaked her nipples.
“Hypothetically?” he asked right next to her ear, his rich voice causing a shiver to run down her neck.
“Yes.”
“Well, for an example, if you agreed to be my slave tonight, it would last until I had my full pleasure of you or until morning came . . . whichever comes first.”
A thrill went through her. She bit her lip and pressed down subtly on his erection, shifting her hips. “And you could do anything to me that you wanted during that time period?” she whispered.
“Of course. And you would have to accept it. It would require a great deal of trust on your part to allow it,” he said, opening his large hand over her belly and stroking her, his hand looking dark and masculine against the pale expanse. He pinched an aching nipple, the sharp sensation a contrast to his languorous caresses on her belly.
“I do trust you that much,” she declared heatedly. She twisted around and met his stare. “I do. I will be your slave . . . for tonight,” she added with small smile, shyness unexpectedly crashing into her at the realization of what she’d just said.
“You will do whatever I command?” he clarified, gray eyes gleaming.
“Yes.”
He studied her closely. “You could truly submit to that degree? You would have to do everything that I insisted you do. You would have to make my pleasure your highest priority, knowing that it would please me if you followed my demands without question. This is what you agree to for the night?”
“I agree to it,” she said without hesitation.
He looked amused . . . and aroused by her daring.
“Then wash me, little slave.”
She moved away from him momentarily, turning off the whirlpool. She wanted to be able to look down into the clear, still water and see his body perfectly. Her smile was supposed to be seductive as she turned to face him and reached for the soap and a washcloth, but when Lucien’s eyebrows went up amusedly, she suspected she’d looked more mischievous than anything. She put her knees on either side of his hips, kneeling and lathering up her hands before placing them on his chest. She relished the opportunity to touch all that lean, hard muscle and smooth skin without restraint. He said nothing while she cleaned him, but she felt his gaze on her, watching her every movement. The sound of the water trickling from the washcloth onto his skin and back into the water struck her as highly sensual. Elise couldn’t help noticing that his cock was becoming stiffer and more swollen with every pass of her lathered hand and the cloth.
Excitement raced in her blood. She would clean his belly and thighs, torturing him as he had tormented her last night, and then finally touch his cock. She had just slid her hand against his flat, ridged abdomen, however, when he reached up and grabbed her shoulders.
“Lucien,” she murmured, frowning at the thwarting of her mission when he firmly pulled her down against him, her knees bent as she knelt over him, her belly sliding against his delicious erection and hard torso. He shifted, so that she lay against him, her belly and breasts in the water while her ass and pelvis were above the surface.
“Give me that,” he demanded softly, reaching for the soap in her hand.
“But I was washing you,” she protested a moment later when he lathered up her back with large, soapy hands.
“I’m clean enough,” he murmured. He firmed his hold on her waist and slid her higher up his body, her legs straddling him and her face just inches from his. So she was looking directly into his eyes when he matter-of-factly slid a finger between her ass cheeks.
“Lucien?” she whimpered when he touched her anus with the tip of his finger, rubbing against the sensitive area firmly.
“Hush,” he soothed before he penetrated her with the warm, slippery finger. Her mouth fell open and she gasped against his lips and the foreign invasion. Beneath her, she felt his cock lurch next to her skin.
“It feels . . . odd,” she whispered dazedly. “Do you have to do that?”
A small laugh fell past his lips. “Yes. I suppose I do,” he replied as he began to slide his finger in and out of her asshole. It felt shamefully good having him touch her so intimately while he watched her every reaction so closely. Her cheeks flamed with a strange mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
“And I suppose I have to let you,” she said. “Because I’m your slave for the night?”
“That’s correct.”
He used his other hand to push her face down to him. He kissed her for several minutes passionately while they lay in the hot water and he continued to thrust his finger in and out of her. It felt almost unbearably intimate to her . . . untenably exciting. By the time he sealed their kiss she was panting softly and her sex was aching and ready.
“Finish washing up and get out of the tub,” Lucien said next to her mouth. She moaned softly when he withdrew his finger from her ass. She began moving her hands over his slick body hungrily, but he caught her wrists. “Do as I say,” he said, his voice soft but with an edge to it that matched the hard glint in his eyes.
She washed cursorily and left the tub, reaching for a towel. She watched in the large vanity mirror behind her as Lucien, too, finished washing and rose from the water like a gleaming, rippling god.
“I’ll finish up in my dressing room,” he told her a moment later as he stood next to her, the vision of him with the white towel draped low across his hips distracting her. “Don’t get dressed yet.”
“Why not?” Elise asked, forcing herself to look away and tucking the towel between her breasts.
“Because I will choose what my slave wears for dinner,” he said, his tone implying his reasoning couldn’t have been more obvious. He responded to her incredulous glance with a small smile before he left the bathroom. Elise could tell from that knowing look that he had something in mind—the devil’s work, no doubt.
When he knocked and reentered the bathroom ten minutes later, she’d tamed most of the damage caused by the humidity of the bath to her hair and applied her makeup. She glanced around in interest at the sight of Lucien looking drop-dead gorgeous in a dark gray suit that had been perfectly tailored to his tall form; a cuffed white shirt;
and a black, white, and silver tie. She rotated on the vanity stool she sat on when she saw he carried one of her blouses. He draped it over a second vanity stool and turned to her.
“Stand up, please,” he said.
She rose slowly, a little mystified by his manner, a little wary . . . increasingly excited. He reached for the edge of the towel she still wore and tugged. She stood before him naked. The smell of his cologne filtered into her nose and she inhaled deeply. It wasn’t until then that she saw he held the black velvet bag in his other hand.
The black velvet bag.
“Lucien . . . you’re not going to make me go out in public wearing those . . .” She faltered when he withdrew the exquisite necklace, and then the attachable nipple chain.
“Yes,” he said simply as he put the necklace around her throat, the metal and jewels feeling cool against her heated skin. He set the velvet bag on the counter and placed the nipple chain on top of it. Her confusion mounted as he sat on the vacant stool and put his hands on her waist, pulling her between his long, spread thighs.
“But . . . people will see, won’t they?”
“You must trust that I wouldn’t expose or humiliate you,” he said, his gaze fixed on her breasts. He looked up at her. “You do, don’t you?”
“Yes, but . . . Lucien,” she exclaimed in surprise when he inserted a nipple into his warm, wet mouth and began to lash at her with his tongue. Liquid heat surged at her sex, as if he’d demanded the wholesale reaction with his sucking mouth. She clutched onto his head and moaned in sharp pleasure spiced with just a dash of pain for the next minute as he moved his head back and forth between her breasts, making her nipples stiffen and redden.
She was so wet by the time he moved back his head, she might as well not have bathed. He picked up the nipple chain and methodically attached it to the necklace. Her mouth went dry when he slipped the loop between his fingertips and shaped it around her swollen nipple. She moaned shakily. He twisted the sapphire bead, narrowing the loop, as he watched her face closely. When she winced slightly, he stopped.
“Can you handle that?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. The pinch was abrasive on the sensitive flesh, but the sensation was a highly erotic one as well; one that she couldn’t escape. She truly would be a slave to the experience all night . . . a slave to Lucien and her desire to please him.
He attached the chain to her other nipple and stood, his gaze glued to her breasts. Unlike last night, this time Elise could see herself in the mirror. Even she had to admit that the jeweled combination of the necklace and nipple chain was stunning to behold. As in all things, his taste was immaculate. Her clit twanged with arousal. She experienced an almost overwhelming desire to touch herself, to rid herself of this plaguing ache.
Lucien picked up the white blouse and held it up for her to put on. She met his stare in amazement.
“That’s a sheer blouse. I can’t go out in public without a bra and camisole on under it . . . let alone wearing this thing,” she said, pointing to the swaying nipple chain.
“I told you I wouldn’t expose you. You will wear a jacket and button it until we are alone together. No one will know.” He jerked up the blouse an inch, a hard look on his face. She had no choice but to turn and slide on the blouse. He buttoned it for her. When he reached the button covering the sapphire weights on the chain, she gasped at the tug on her nipples.
“Okay?” he murmured, his long fingers pausing.
“Yes,” she managed. For a moment, she could perfectly feel her heartbeat in the swollen crests, causing a pleasurable throb. His fingertip brushed ever so lightly against a nipple, teasing her. Heat rushed through her at the erotic sensation and the primal flash in his gray eyes. If only he’d touch her pussy . . . make her come in that magical way of his. . . .
“You’re so lovely,” Lucien muttered thickly when he’d finished. He turned her so that she could see in the mirror. The dark blue sapphires shone against the pale skin of her throat, mimicking the shine of arousal in her eyes. The placket of the sheer white blouse was double-thick, making it more opaque than the rest of the garment. It mostly covered the dipping nipple chain and center sapphire weights. But the fabric over her breasts was whisper-thin and fairly tight. Her nipples looked fat, dark pink, and stiff against the blouse.
An involuntary whimper left her throat.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” Lucien said, moving back her hair and brushing his lips against her hairline, making her shiver in pleasure.
He left the bathroom, and she told herself to put the finishing touches on her makeup. Instead she just stood there, staring at the image of herself wearing nothing but the necklace and nipple chain and a blouse that covered nothing, and only made her breasts appear more exposed and lewd than they would completely naked. She touched one of the vividly pink tips experimentally. A sharp pain of arousal tore through her.
This is what Lucien would do to her all night. Play with her. Tease her. Make her mad with arousal.
Her hand moved between her naked thighs, her finger agitating her slick, swollen clit. Oh, yes . . . if she hurried, perhaps she could bring herself relief before Lucien returned. Her body tightened as she raced for the finish line, her hand moving faster and faster—
The next thing she knew, her wrists were pinned behind her and her back was pressed against the length of Lucien’s body. She met his gaze in the mirror and saw that he was amused, but also vaguely annoyed.
“Little hedonist. I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I?”
She made a frustrated sound and pulled at her wrists, but he held firm. “It’s only natural,” she defended. “You’ve got these instruments of torture attached to my breasts.”
He leaned down, his chin brushing the side of her head. “It’s not natural to all women to become so turned on by a nipple chain, lovely. That it does arouse you pleases me. But you aren’t allowed to come until I give you permission, are you?” he asked quietly near her ear in a hard voice. “You’re impulsivity does not please me. I will have to punish you for it.”
His low, rough voice made her nipples prickle against the sheer blouse.
“Finish dressing and put on your bracelets, one on each wrist. They are in the bag,” he instructed, freeing her hands. For the first time, she realized he had more of her clothing slung over his forearm. He placed a black pencil skirt and matching blazer on the stool. “Then come out into the bedroom. I will give you your punishment before we go for dinner. And if I discover you touching yourself again,” he added dryly as he began to leave the room, “I will make you regret it.”
Her ragged breathing hitched in excitement at his threat. She reached for her skirt, overly careful in her movements so as to prevent the sway of the chain and tug on her nipples. “Lucien,” she spoke to his retreating back. “There’re no panties here.”
“You won’t be needing them,” he said before he walked out the door.
“Of course not,” she muttered sarcastically under her breath as she pulled on the fitted black skirt and ever so tenderly straightened her blouse. As a slave, it was her responsibility to make things as convenient for him as possible.
The jacket helped a little, stabilizing her breasts and the wicked, swaying chain. She looked at her reflection in the mirror before she walked out of the bathroom. She’d buttoned her jacket. If it weren’t for the vivid color in her cheeks and lips, not to mention the brightness of her eyes, her look might have passed for chic conservative. The shimmering sapphires at her throat and wrists winked at her in the mirror, as if they shared a secret.
Lucien straightened from the bedside chest when she walked out. He glanced over his shoulder.
“You look stunning,” he said slowly. He blinked, and then nodded toward the foot of the bed, where she saw a black pair of Christian Louboutin pumps resting.
“Put on your shoes,” he instructed. He turned once she stood in her heels. She glanced downward to what he held in his hand. Her expression flattened in disbelief when she saw the box of butt plugs she’d discovered in the drawer while he was out of town.
“Don’t panic,” he said. “If it helps you to know it, this isn’t part of your punishment. I would have put one of these in you whether I found you masturbating or not. I will make this as comfortable for you as I can, but that will take some time and patience. On both of our parts,” he added wryly under his breath. “Fortunately, we do have the gift of time tonight.” He opened the seal on the box and withdrew the smallest, narrowest of three rubber butt plugs. “Now, lift your skirt up over your ass and bend over the bed,” he said so matter-of-factly. It took him a moment to notice her incredulous, defiant glare.
“Do as I say,” he said, a trace of steel in his soft tone. “I would not ask anything of my little slave that I didn’t think she could take.”
Her chin went up at that, but so did her skirt. Her fiery glance over her shoulder before she leaned over and placed her hands on the mattress told him loud and clear that she could take it all right. She kept her head turned, wariness and excitement pulsing through her in equal measures when he set down the box of plugs and extricated the wooden paddle from the drawer.
“Look down at the bed,” Lucien said.
She turned her head slowly, painfully aware of her throbbing nipples and the cool, air-conditioned air tickling her wet pussy.
Smack.
She moaned softly at the stinging pain on her ass. A surge of liquid warmth dampened her sex even more. He paddled her again.
“I expect you to ask my permission to come, especially tonight,” he said from behind her. He landed another spank and her ass began to burn in earnest. “Tonight, you are my slave, so everything about you is mine, including your pleasure. Do you understand?”
When she didn’t immediately respond, he placed his hand on her shoulder and paddled her again, steadying her when she lurched forward slightly. She squealed.