Bad Girl: Les Pétales

by Kailee Samuels

  Jake’s body was the thing of fairytales, caught between the pages when my hand would find its way to the dampness seeping onto my petals.

  While it seemed strange—I had been friends with this man, I had slept with this man, and now, had sex with this man, but I had never seen his body quite like this. I had kissed his flesh and loved him in the darkness, but I had never actually seen his cock or his body which brought me so much pleasure.

  He offered a crooked snarl. “You’re blushing, Anna.”

  “Because I didn’t know.”

  “You didn’t need to know,” he said, tucking his finger beneath my chin and lifting my face to his. I was captivated by his blue eyes and charmed by his presence. “We were taking baby steps to get here. We needed the mental connection, the building blocks to sustain what I’m about to do to you.”

  I couldn’t breathe. This handsome man loved me. “And what are you about to do?”

  “The first thing I’m going to do is punish you for refusing to marry me.”

  “That’s not fair!” I rapidly spat. “You can’t!”

  With a devious smirk, he sexily laughed. “Oh yes, I can.”

  I sighed, loosening up. “It’s not fair.”

  “And then, baby girl, I’m going to discipline the fuck out of you for running off into the woods.”

  My thoughts exploded with the kinky ideas of what Jake had in mind for me. I wanted to know the depth of his depravity. I needed to know how far he would push me. Certainly, he had more than a wooden hairbrush and sensual whip skills. “Do it.”

  He knelt in front of me. “Do you consent to whatever I deem for you, Anna?”

  “Yes, I do, Sir Jake.”

  A wolfish grin upturned on his lips. “And your safeword?”

  “My safeword is Romeo,” I maintained, desperately wanting to hide. With a brave gulp, I whispered, “I’m ready.”

  And that was all that it took as he stood up and offered his hand. “Take it. I won’t hurt you. I won’t drop you. I won’t let you down. We will be good.”

  I slipped my fingers into his as he produced a blindfold that was tucked into his waistband. “You won’t hate me if I safeword?”

  “No,” he assured, covering my eyes. “But you need lots of training if you are entertaining the gala. They’re going to expect the best. I had Lele ready, but she walked out.”

  In the darkness of the blindfold, I found comfort and sensed there was more that Manley and Sir Dane hadn’t said. “… What was the real reason for her leaving?”

  He stepped directly in front of me as the undulations of his breath cruised over my skin. Pushing past the comfort zone, he waited as I began to fidget. I was apprehensive in his bravado presence. Just because he was Sir Jake at that point, this was not my best friend, or the man who made love to me, or the man who chased me in the woods. This was his Dominant—and we hadn’t fully met yet. Excitement burst through my bones as I teetered between my feet.

  “Be still, Anna,” he reprimanded, maintaining his even breaths upon my flesh. “Lele left because I told her this morning that I wanted to collar you. She flew into a tantrum, swinging and punching at me. I sent her to Wilma Manley’s office for her to deal with the fallout of my choice.”

  Back up.

  “You want to collar me?”

  “Yes,” he said with a low, seductive voice. “Eventually, I want to collar you.”

  The out of control, hyper girl in my soul, begged me to move, but I held still, silencing her cries. “You were with Lele?”

  “I did some of Lele’s training,” he informed as my fingers started twisting. “That is why I was gone for weeks at a time.”

  Suddenly, the worlds between Las Vegas and L’Académie assimilated into one. I was dizzy from the overload.

  This was the same man who kissed me in Daizou Ito’s suite.

  This was the same man who insisted on countless blow jobs.

  This was the same man who waited for me on my eighteenth birthday.

  This was the same man who hunted me down in the dark woods.

  This was the same man who took wood to my ass…and got an erection because of it.

  Everything I saw wasn’t everything that was. He presented bits and pieces of himself—bite-sized niblets—until I could swallow the whole of who he was—a dangerous killer with a fetish streak.

  My irrational, bubblegum smacking self would’ve gotten mad and called him a prick for lying to me, but he hadn’t ever really lied.

  He did the greatest thing ever.

  And gave me exactly what I could handle.

  His hands cupped my elbows steadying my body as I fluctuated between passing out to the ground and staying upright. If Jake determined that I could handle his Dominant—that meant one thing.

  My submissive would.

  I was ready—mentally, physically, sexually, even spiritually. Jake wouldn’t have offered if he thought I would get hurt. Only then did I discover the real meaning of trust. He had watched over me for so long. The last thing he would have ever done was put me in a risky situation.

  I was his princess, his brat, his doll, his queen long before those terms became commonplace. Jake understood the role of the Dom meant providing—all things—not just pain or pleasure.

  Slipping his fingers under mine, he tugged the blindfold off of my eyes and kissed me hard. His tongue invaded my mouth as he seized every ounce of willpower I had, placed it in the palm of his hand, and tucked it inside of his heart. Picking my body up, he held me in his arms as I saddled around his soul.

  With all of the worry I had about being a burden and dependent on another, he assuaged my hiccups in one kiss lassoing around my heart and imprisoning me to him. I didn’t ever want to be without this man—any of him. Spinning around, he laughed, and I grinned.

  He was always crazy like that.

  After spending hours building the perfect scene, he would tear it all down to shift gears and change direction. I’d be tethered up on the rack, and he’d change his mind and decide he needed to be in me—right then. Or we’d be making love, and he’d be on the edge of release only to stop and spank me.

  Jake was a practitioner of disciplined Dominance—everything had a purpose, a reason, and a more significant meaning.

  He was an artist—painting my body with his control—and being underneath him was the treat of my life. I’m sure not every bottom would have welcomed his splatter and creation of my submission, but he was matched perfectly for my high-maintenance, often misbehaving self. I was malleable and fit his needs.

  We were rare.

  In his arms, he carried me over the threshold to the door where he had entered. The room I had been in was a waiting area. I gasped at the equipment in the enormous dungeon.

  I was the girl at a carnival wanting to ride every ride and begging to stay until closing. The dungeon of L’Académie was magical with classic style, rough-hewn woods and heavy black leather furniture with rivets and scrollwork. The cell was elegant as a grand cathedral and built for worshipping submissives.

  It was a hell of a shock to my system as I glanced around the room starry-eyed. I wanted to get into all of it. And we did.

  “Where do you want to go first, baby doll?”

  la fille de la bibliothèque

  CHAPTER 11

  Training with Jake rapidly escalated as we worked to prepare for the gala. We practiced everywhere, leaving no room untouched with our kink. He was divine in his domineering ways with a reserved presence. He rarely angered. That wasn’t to say he was a pushover, in fact, far from it. But he kept his temper in check.

  His behavior with me and the rest of the world was wildly—almost unbelievably—different. Our intimacy afforded a certain amount of his tenderness, but there was more to it. If I tried to pick a fight, he wouldn’t bite. If I tried to argue, he wouldn’t yell. His patience with me seemed to know no bounds.

  And I thrived in his gentle warmth.

  The thick wood of the pa
ddle welted my ass again as I stayed bent over the desk in the library. Jake had been torturing me for hours in broad daylight. I could see the gardeners planting yellow daisies, and I assumed they could see me.

  “Touch your pussy,” he hissed, pacing behind me.

  Spotting two of the gardeners watching, I whined, “… Jake.”

  “Anna, I told you to touch your pussy.” I lifted to turn the opposite way so that they couldn’t see my face. He tapped the wooden stick lightly upon my cheek. “No, no, no! Touch your pussy in front of them.”

  “But…”

  “Stop throwing a hissy fit about this,” he reprimanded as I moved to face the onlookers. “You are going to have several dozen people with all their eyes on you at the gala. If you cannot touch your pussy on command, we have real problems. This is a basic skill.”

  “No,” I sassed, fully prepared to go to war. “Having them watch while you whip me is one thing, but having them stare while I pleasure myself is too much.”

  “Bullshit, stop your bellyaching.” He strode to where I could see him and the prick waved to the gardeners with an inviting smile. “Don’t make me bring them in here,” he warned, holding his ground. “I will do it.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed him. Since we started working together a week ago, he had yet to allow anyone the privy of his bottom. I decided to up the ante with a smart remark, “No, you won’t.”

  “Touch your pussy now,” he commanded, swatting my ass hard. “Or punishment is coming.”

  “Jake…”

  He said nothing else as he opened the French door and invited them inside. My eyes widened at the sight of two grungy dirt dwellers in my library. The same library I spent hours upon hours cleaning. Their presence was degrading to the room and me.

  “You boys need a break?”

  “Oui, oui,” they said as strings of indiscernible French came out of their mouths. “Oui, oui.”

  If I was staying here, I was going to have to learn more of the language soon. I knew a few select words, but not enough to shout to these men that Jake was insane and they should get back to work.

  The one sound I did understand was their zippers coming down. Jake grabbed my waist and flipped me onto my back on the desk. I was furious, giving him disdainful stares. If he did this, I would no longer speak to him. He smirked and waved them on like I was a buffet for the taking.

  The two young men would’ve probably been decent looking if cleaned up. Both had dark hair. One had mocha brown eyes, and the other one had a pale gray green-gray. The brown-eyed one had a plentiful beard, but the other one kept only a mustache. I peered to their undone pants as their playthings remained concealed. I glared at Jake with a—you wouldn’t dare do this—look.

  He smiled broadly and mumbled, “Attendez s'il vous plaît.”

  “I hate you for this,” I hissed as Jake spread my legs apart and plunged his finger inside of my swollen, hot core. He made the men wait through his grand gesture of owning me. He figured I couldn’t say no and waged a hefty sum on my not calling a safeword as well.

  He was right—on both counts.

  “And I told you,” he said, lifting a brow. “Touch your pussy. Do it. Or I unleash them,” he simmered, darting his eyes between both of the eager men, “gardeners to plow your petals.” He winked.

  Bastard. Prick. Asshole.

  Frustrated, I muttered, “Can’t we just have a scene with Manley or Sir Dane?”

  His finger twisted up inside of me and hit the spot where all my willpower would cease. “No,” he said with a nod. “Last chance.”

  Reaching down, I dabbed my finger in the slit once as my proverbial flip off and fuck you. I was pissed, and there was no chance in hell I was playing with myself in front of these filthy men.

  “You want to play that way, baby girl,” he hissed, producing a pair of iron shackles from the desk drawer. I noted the authoritative rise in his voice as my body quaked. “We can fucking play.”

  Striding closer, he yanked my hands above my head as our eyes met. With his relentless focus, I could do nothing to prevent his pivotal move. This would change us—who we were mere minutes ago dissipated into the musty air. The heavy metal cuffs latched around my wrists before I could say another word. His Dominant was out for blood, and I could do nothing but yield.

  Stepping to the bookcase, Jake propped his boot on an empty shelf as my inside voice screamed—no. It was insulting, and he knew it as his scathing gaze ripped me to shreds.

  With a sexy as fuck grin, he lit a cigarette and muttered, “Prenez la fille,” he offered my body for their consumption. “Maintenant.”

  Oh. Shit.

  Take the girl. Now.

  With my hands bound, I flailed about like a fish in an attempt to get away, but I glanced to Jake and his expression of pure lust. He wanted me to do this—fighting or not, it didn't matter. This wasn't about behaving, but his being a voyeuristic Dominant over my submissive scene with strangers.

  It wasn't simple addition, but a calculus problem fit for a math genius. He was a qualified teacher, but I was only a student. My participation was all he wanted. He didn't want me to ace it—that was me, my competitive streak was fierce.

  The compelling motivation behind it all, which I understood, was not in letting these particular gardeners have at me, but getting accustomed to strangers. He certainly didn't expect me to allow them into my inner sanctum of thought. He only wanted me to entertain them, and I could do that. My worlds were quickly merging as I tried to remember who I was with Jake didn’t define who I was with them.

  His eyes sparked to mine as he flicked his brow up and offered a wink. With a nicotine cloud surrounding him, he whispered, “Let go, Anna. I want to fly.”

  They held back studying the passage between Jake and me.

  It was one thing to walk around the manor naked; it had become my home. And quite another to have these drooling boys getting off on me.

  So, I did the only thing I could.

  I closed my eyes and licked my lips. Opening my eyes, I blinked at the men seductively as I tapped into my former showgirl self. If Jake wanted performance, I'd give him one.

  Four rough hands were on my skin in a lightning flash. Fingers stroked belly and my devil’s triangle. Lips succumbed to the peak of my nipple and my dirty mouth. Two hot cocks searched for a place to play as I noted Jake move to smash his cigarette into the ashtray.

  He took his spot at the throne—no way in hell they were getting inside of his chapel. With his hands upon my knees, he muttered, “Close your eyes. Relax.”

  I loosened up my legs as Jake thrust inside of me. The gardeners were still looking for a place to release. One was pumping his dick as the other took to kissing me. I was overwhelmed by the sensations of three men. I tried to keep my focus entirely on Jake and his cock serving every need I ever had, but when the boys took their mouths to my nipples, I lost it.

  I was soaring—coming hard and fast on Jake. “Don’t you stop, baby girl. Keep flying.”

  “Sucez-moi, s'il vous plaît,” one moaned from my breast.

  The phrase I understood as I had heard it drop from Jake’s mouth more than once. I kept my eyes shut tight and my mouth wide open as I struggled to keep up with the two cocks upon my lips.

  Fingers pinched at my rosy tips as the war waged in my damp hole of undoing. After all, I had caused all of this. If I would have surrendered and touched my pussy, then perhaps I wouldn’t be forced to serve three determined cocks.

  I imagined the amount of come and the warm drizzle covering my body. Jake protected me. He wouldn’t let them harm me. When I realized that, I swallowed the whole of one for a moment and switched to the other. I was alternating between two well-endowed Frenchmen who only wanted to get their rocks off. They didn’t wish to paddle or lash at me. They needed a reservoir, and I proved myself more than worthy.

  Without a doubt, the time served in the library that afternoon was a delightful piece of the puzzle, but I refused
to be defined by the leniency of my Master. I longed for the transgressions committed against my body by one man—Jake. This was all in good fun, but it ultimately meant nothing. I would likely never see these men again, but I was a woman, and they had primal needs. In all of it, I realized Jake’s point wasn’t so much in serving multiples, but understanding core principles about sex.

  Men. Women. Sex.

  Arching my back, I gasped between gulps of dick, “Let them fuck me.”

  Jake snickered, “You’ve come a long way from refusing to touch your pussy.”

  “It’s the principle,” I argued, continuing my fight. “I don’t buckle easily.”

  “If you think I’m going to let them fuck my flower, you got another thing coming,” he snapped, thrusting deep into me. “This is mine. And the only one you are bucking on, baby, is me.”

  The battle for domination of my wet mouth continued until one came suddenly on my face. It wasn’t long before the other one plunged deep into my throat and shot his load.

  “Merci,” Jake praised, pulling out of me.

  I peeked open to find handshakes and shoulder pats for the use of his girl. I was fired up, covered in come, and desperately wanting to find the ground. He showed them to the door and rather violently pulled the curtains closed. They were gone, and I was alone with the monster Jake proved to be.

  “You are such a good girl when you want to be,” he complimented, running his finger through the come on my cheek. “But sometimes, you are nothing but a bad little bitch.”

  Flipping my body over, Jake tore his belt from his pants. I should’ve known it was going to be bad. My need to fight over the most basic of principles—do this—warranted every lash I was about to receive. He didn’t hold back striking the very leather which kept his pants secured to his body. There was something so poignant about that to me, and there still is. I found it a crowning achievement to have earned the reward of his belt. He owned me, but I kept him. It was the first time he ever whipped me with a belt. And it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Touch your pussy means touch your pussy.”