Prodigal Slave

by Roxy Harte

  “I’m all for an audience sometimes,” he admits, “but not tonight. Tonight I want to get to know you. I want to learn what pleasures your body.”

  His words make me tingle, my need mounting. I was ready to rip off his clothes, not caring if it pleased my whole body, just one small part. By the time we reach our room though, the moment is passed, and I am nervous and on edge. I know the exact moment he is going to kiss me, and I swallow hard, wetting my lips in anticipation.

  “I want to make love to you, Belle.”

  I open my mouth to agree, and he commands the moment, kissing me with a fierceness I hadn’t expected. Fierce yet gentle, his passion stealing my breath, the softness of his lips and tongue making it impossible to think. I remember him saying to me that he fucks as well as he kisses, a truth confirmed by Frankie, and I think if that is really true I may not survive the night.

  He wraps his hand into my hair, pulling me closer, forcing me to stay with the kiss, as though I might want to pull away. It is a dominating move and I wonder if that is the way it is to be then, me topped by two men. I close my mind against the earlier fantasy of me topping him, but then I wonder why. Why shouldn’t I have the opportunity to top him?

  I wrap my hand into his hair, my fingers mean as I jerk his head back, gaining his gaze. I lift my lips close, closer, but not touching his, and when he tries to move closer, tries to touch our lips, I hold him back, feeling the build of sexual tension between us as we both fight to control. We both plan to top.

  “Do you want me, Pierre-Louis?” I whisper against his mouth.

  “Yes,” he whispers back and I feel the dynamic beginning to shift.

  “How badly?” I demand.

  “Desperately.”

  I arch my brow at him. “Really?”

  He nods and I jerk his head back, commanding, “Kneel.”

  He does, surprisingly, and I have a moment’s panic. I let go of his hair. Oh shit, now what?

  “You’re trembling” he says.

  Great. He noticed. I admit, “I’ve never topped before. I just know that tonight, for this to work, I need to be in control.”

  “Oui. I agree.”

  “You do?” I squeak.

  He chuckles. “I am more than capable of topping you, but I think for your comfort and your peace of mind, tonight, so you don’t feel manipulated, you should be in control.”

  I nod, need sizzling through me. I cannot remember ever being this horny.

  “May I assist you with your dress?” he asks.

  I lick my lips and nod, turning my back to him to give him access to the zipper. I feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric as he unzips me, the cooler room air teasing my bare skin as it is exposed inch by inch. I shiver as the fabric falls open and starts to slide off my body. He controls the chiffon’s fall, helping me to step from the fabric.

  I am wearing only thigh highs and my stilettos when I turn to face him. Still kneeling and wearing his suit and tie, he looks at me appreciatively. I grab his hair at the crown and pull his face into the juncture of my thighs. “Do you want this?”

  He pushes his face deeper and I jerk his head back. “Yes,” he answers.

  I push my pelvis toward him, teasing while I still hold his hair in a tight grip. He nudges forward, his nose pushing between my thighs. His cheeks are rough where his five o’clock shadow scrapes against my sensitive inner thighs.

  “I want to lick your clit.”

  The flesh in question jumps at the suggestion, fully agreeable. I separate my legs just enough to give him access. His tongue flicks out like a snake’s and taps my clitoris. I flinch and his hands go around the backs of my thighs.

  His voice is gentling and confident when he says, “Easy, Belle.”

  Belle. Beautiful.

  I like that he is not calling me Cassiopeia, though Charlotte or Charley would have been fine. I smile softly, thinking belle is better.

  I tremble beneath the touch of his hands. His tongue flicks out again. Tapping. Tapping. I close my eyes when he licks, pleasure stabbing through me, making me gasp. My knees threaten to buckle. His grip on my thighs is tight as he pulls me against his mouth, his licks taking on a rhythm. Pleasure weaves around my clit, making it pulse. I find my need heightening, spiraling, as I climb a familiar peak. “Oh God!” I spasm against his lips and tongue. He keeps stroking, keeps pushing my need higher, until I am jerking with each electric-filled touch. “Ah! Ah! Ahh!” I gasp and buck against me, finally screaming, “Stop! Stopstopstop. I can’t take any more.”

  He pulls his face away and I shake where I stand. He keeps his hands on the backs of my thighs and I am certain it is only his support which keeps me from falling. I think he waits for me to command him to do something…

  “May I stand?” He asks.

  “Please,” I say, thankful he thought of it.

  I put my hands on his suit jacket covered chest. I ask, “Help me to the bed?”

  “My pleasure, Belle.”

  He surprises me by lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. He lowers me gently and gives me a questioning look. I think I should have undressed him while we were standing, I could have slid his suit coat off his shoulders, untied his tie. I could have unbuttoned his shirt and unhooked his belt. “Take off your clothes; I want to see you naked. Slowly.”

  Watching him is better than helping him, I decide, as he slides out of the jacket and folds it before laying it on a chair. He slides off his tie and tosses it to me. I think we both have the same idea: it might come in handy. He unbuttons his shirt, slowly and deliberately exposing each inch of muscled chest. I inhale a shuddered breath. He is more exquisite each time I look at him.

  He steps out of his shoes and lowers his slacks. He saves his thong for last. Am I surprised he is wearing a thong? No. With a body like his, he should never wear more than a thong. He steps closer and I hold out a hand to lead him to the bed, seeing his erection is strained. He is so hard, I wonder if it hurts. He takes my hands and a single step forward, commanding, “Roll over.”

  I frown. “I thought I was supposed to be topping you.”

  “You are.” He lifts a challenging eyebrow. “Command me to fuck you from behind … like an animal. Demand I fuck you as you’ve never been fucked before, Belle.”

  My heart leaps into my throat, I forget to breathe, but I manage to roll over onto my stomach and push myself up onto my knees. “Fuck me, Pierre-Louis.”

  He grabs my hips and pulls me to the edge of the bed so that my legs drop over the side, he steps between my legs. I hear a foil tearing and turn my head to watch him roll the condom down his length. He pushes his weight against me, bending over me, but he doesn’t thrust inside, not yet. I feel his hand move between my legs, his fingers rubbing my slick slit. He draws my moisture in and around, before sliding his finger inside of me. I push back against him, “Now, please, Pierre-Louis.”

  He fingers me, alternating thrusts, soft slides with harder thrusts. I push back against his hand, anxious for more. He draws my wetness over my clit and swirls its head, making me cry out. He pulls the fluid back along my slit, all the way to my anus and I shy away from his touch. He gentles me, “Sh-sh-sh, relax. I won’t take you here—” making certain I understand exactly what we’re talking about, by sweeping his fingers in a teasing arc around the rim “—until you command it, but let me play a little. When you come I want it to be like fireworks going off in your body. An explosion of pleasure, oui?”

  “I want you inside of me,” I say.

  “A bit longer, ma belle. Let me play a bit longer.”

  I feel his erection slide between my ass cheeks, rubbing, not penetrating, as his fingers go back to rubbing my clit. Oh God.

  I let him have his way, playing, teasing with his fingers every slick needy place between clit and asshole, making me want and need enough to beg. “Please, please, please.”

  “You want me inside of you then?”

  “Yes. Fuck me!”


  I feel his penis push against the opening of my vagina and I thrust back, forcing him in. He pushes deeper and then even deeper, until I am full. He withdraws a little then thrusts in again.

  “Not gently, Pierre-Louis! Fuck me like you mean it.”

  Grabbing my hips he pulls me back on his length as he thrusts forward. It hurts, it feels amazing, and I think I babble a little incoherently under my breath. He thrusts again, pushing as hard as he can against the solid wall inside, making me scream and moan.

  “Faster! Harder!”

  He honors my request, thrusting harder, deeper, faster … the whole time rolling my clit between his finger and thumb, leaving me gasping, panting. I spasm against his hand, cumming, but he doesn’t stop thrusting.

  He works me into a second frenzy, but my body won’t climb high enough to spiral back down. I need more.

  “Command me, ma belle.”

  We both know what he is asking.

  I shake my head, not from fear, or some feeling of taboo, but because no one has ever gone back door on me except for Master. I don’t know how he would feel, I don’t know how I feel…

  He pulls his penis out of my vagina, and I moan at the loss of fullness inside my body. He rubs its slick head against my anus. My body responds, pushing back, wanting, needing, but he doesn’t penetrate. He leans his weight over me, his chest is hot, damp, and heavy against my back. He whispers against my cheek, “I am at your command.”

  My mouth responds to my need, begging. “Please, Pierre-Louis, I need to cum again.”

  “Oui, I want you to.” He rubs my clit harder but we both know I need filled, I need the sensation that comes with being filled in my ass.

  “Doitdoitdoit,” I beg.

  “It?” He teases.

  “Fuck me in the ass, Pierre-Louis, and do it like you mean it, damn you!”

  He chuckles, pushing into me with first his finger, then two fingers, loosening me, making me see stars, making my body quake with need. He finally pushes in the head, waiting for my body to adjust. “Give me your hands, Belle.”

  I bring my hands down to my sides.

  “Hold open your ass cheeks.”

  I do as he asks, feeling naughty, dirty, slutty … and incredibly turned on … all at the same time. His request twists something in my head, making everything rev up a notch.

  He pushes his length in deeper, still rolling my clit between his fingers.

  “Feel me entering you with your fingertips, ma belle, know I am feeding your dark hole my cock.”

  I feel, I hold myself open, but I also feel his length sliding through my fingers. He thrusts. In. Out. In. Out. The sensation is mind stretching, my entire body responding to each stroke. I start to cum, but I want him there as well. I beg, “Cum in me Pierre-Louis. Cum for me now.”

  He pushes in hard, forcing a small scream from my throat. My orgasm washes over me and through me, a tidal wave of sensation. My clit spasms, my twat clenches and my ass contracts. It is as if three distinct orgasms are crashing over my body simultaneously. I hear him over me, his ravaged breathing, his pants. He moans against me, going still. I buck against him as fast and hard as my hips will bounce, until I am cumming again. “Ohhhhhhmmmmyyyyyggggooodddd!”

  I think we are through and I collapse under his weight, crawling up and into the bed only after he stands and moves away. When he rolls me over and pushes the hair out of my face, I see he has pulled off his condom but is unrolling a fresh one. Really?

  “You wish to still fuck, oui?”

  I nod, wide-eyed as he crawls between my legs and guides his erection into me. I am left speechless and wondering why I hadn’t considered a younger man all those nights I was lying alone knowing John was with one of his students…

  * * * *

  I awake to sunlight streaming in through an open window and the sound of a shower running. I sit up, thinking I will join Pierre-Louis in the shower but my body protests, every single muscle screaming. I push the covers off my legs and it is with some effort I throw them over the sides of the bed. This is ridiculous. We didn’t bicycle that far. I’m not this out of shape, am I? I hear the water shut off and panic. I cannot let him see me struggling to get out of bed. I hurry to push off the mattress and stand, fighting back a shriek as my calf muscles take my weight. Oh, God.

  I hurry across the room, saying “ouch,” with each step.

  Pierre-Louis comes out of the bathroom scrubbing his hair with a towel. He is nude and perfect and so fucking young. I feel like a train ran over me in the night.

  He sees I am awake and smiling widely comes to my side to pull me into his arms. “Belle, you slept well?”

  “Yes.”

  He kisses me softly and I startle when I hear a soft rap at the door. “Room service,” he explains. “You were sleeping so sweetly, I wanted to surprise you.”

  I smile. “I’m surprised. Mind if I shower first?”

  “Of course. Go, go.”

  While he is dealing with room service, I hurry out of sight, my legs and ass muscles screaming with each step. I hope a shower helps because I see no way of sitting on that damn narrow seat a second day in a row. I hear him talking as I turn on the shower and step inside. The warm water is a balm and I close my eyes. Only opening them when I feel his hands massaging shampoo through my tresses.

  He steps inside the stall with me and rubs my scalp. It feels wonderful. “I told the tour leader we would not be cycling today. I hope you are not too disappointed.”

  He rinses my hair and I open my eyes. “Did I oversleep?”

  “We overslept. I thought the alarm was set … but no.”

  If I could manage it, I would jump up and down. As it is I contain my excitement. “I loved yesterday, but I’m sure we can find something to do to entertain ourselves today, right?”

  He smiles. “If I can lie in bed naked with you today, it will be a day well spent.”

  I tilt my head to kiss him, agreeing, “Very, very, well spent,” as he kisses me with deliberate slowness.

  I am not surprised when he pushes me up against the cool tile wall, or when he pushes his fingers through my slick folds, or even when he lifts me. I am surprised when my body doesn’t rebel and my muscles don’t scream in pain he impales me. Holding me against the wall, he lifts my ankles up to his shoulders so that I am bent in half. He pounds into me, I pound into the tile. My clit is crushed between our bodies on each thrust and released on each withdrawal. I am panting and screaming, my fingernails run down his back tearing a groan from his throat. He pounds harder and I bite down on his shoulder, liking the roughness, needing him to be rougher. He bites too, holding my shoulder in a firm grip between his teeth as he pounds me senseless. My vagina contracts around him and he shudders, growling like a wild beast.

  Spent we cling to each other, warm water sluicing over us.

  I wipe his shoulder, realizing I drew blood. I don’t know whether to apologize or say nothing. He asks, “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough?”

  He lowers me to the ground and I can barely stand. “Not too rough. Besides, I should be asking you that. You’re the one bleeding.”

  He laughs at me, asking, “You have met François’s cane, oui?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  We don’t leave our room but I do call Frankie. In a pinch and out of condoms, I try to think of a polite way to ask him if they are fluid-bonded. Pierre-Louis swears they are, so technically the only problem is me always demanding they suit the boys up before they go for a swim in my twat. This isn’t a conversation I am ready for once I have him on the phone.

  “You sound stressed, what is wrong?”

  Pierre-Louis kisses a path from my breasts to my clit, flicking out his tongue to make me jump. I almost shriek into the phone, “Nothing.”

  “Yes, there is something. You have only been away thirty-six hours. Tell me you do not hate each other.”

  “We don’t hate each other.”

  Pierre-Louis slides his tongue through m
y folds, making my breath catch and I gasp softly. Using my knee, I try to nudge him away so I can actually have this conversation.

  “Ha!” Frankie cries out, “I know that sound. He is between your legs, oui?”

  He sounds positively overjoyed.

  “Yes,” I admit.

  “Then what is the problem, American morals? You must call me first to make certain I am okay with the two of you fucking?” He laughs. “Please, fuck! Fuck like bunnies in the springtime.”

  The visual is overwhelming.

  “That’s the problem. We have no condoms.”

  The line goes silent.

  “We had condoms, but now we are out. Pierre-Louis is trying to convince me that since the two of you are fluid bonded and have been exclusive for almost a decade and because you have both been tested regularly … that it would be safe for the three of us to be fluid bonded. I realize over the phone isn’t the best way to have this conversation.”

  I stop babbling because a moan fills my throat. Pierre-Louis intent on distracting me. He pushes a second finger inside my twat to join the first in creating havoc with my g-spot.

  “I wish you were here.”

  “Me too,” he whispers. “To see your face right now. To see Pierre-Louis’s. Mon dieux.”

  I close my eyes, having one lover on the phone and one lover between my legs stretching my limit on how much I can take. Frankie makes a sound in the back of his throat and I know he is touching himself. “Tell me what he is doing.”

  “He is stroking my g-spot with his fingers.”

  “Ahh,” he sighs. “And you are enjoying it?”

  “You haven’t been listening to my moans?”

  “We are fluid bonded. We have been for seven years. If you choose to enjoy him bareback, it will be fine. But I will expect the same privilege when you return.”

  “Of … ahhhhh … course.” My back arches when Pierre-Louis licks his tongue over my clit. I am embarrassed by the sounds I make in my throat and tell Frankie, “I should go.”

  “Hang-up?” he asks, demanding, “No. I want to hear. Put the phone on speaker and enjoy him, but do not disconnect.”