Elsa sat back and reached up on the wall for a two-way strap-on. She pulled aside her thong as she inserted the phallic shaped vibrating portion into herself and hooked the belt. Then she lifted Sarah’s legs, pushing her knees wide apart and placed the tip of the soft silicone dildo at her opening. She inched her hips forward and felt it sink into the wet, pink flesh. Elsa rode Sarah with the skill only a woman would have or even know about when it comes to pleasuring another woman. To Sarah’s surprise, her body welcomed Elsa’s ministrations. Hands squeezed her breasts and Sarah reached up to reciprocate. The two women explored each other’s bodies and found a rhythm that tightened their insides with every stroke. The dungeon had turned from its usual non-penetrating sadism into a girl-on-girl orgy.
Chapter Twelve
PAUL COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes. The woman on the other side of the glass being pleasured by three women was none other than the pretty American he’d run into at the airport. What luck! The sexy sight of these beautiful ladies performing cunnilingus on the tied-up woman was almost too much. He was hard to the point of pain, stroking himself and wishing he was the one fucking the blonde American. He completely forgot why he was there in the first place; forgot about evaluating the dommes, forgot about his uncle, and forgot his senses as he simply enjoyed the amazing visual of these women pleasuring each other. He was enraptured. He would never in his life forget witnessing this. He almost wanted to send his damned uncle a thank you card. Almost.
The American wrapped her legs around Elsa’s waist as the domme put her back into it, shoving the dildo deep and receiving her own pleasure from the vibrator moving inside herself. This, he thought, was art. Vermeer should‘ve painted such beauty! As the ladies all reached their climaxes one after the other, Paul shot his load into a tissue conveniently available for those who probably sat in this room often, indulging their fetish for voyeurism. This had to be one of the best jobs he’d ever taken on.
One thing he knew for sure. He needed to meet this woman again before he left Berlin. Such a sensual and sexual creature should not go unnoticed or unappreciated by himself. He smiled. Looking down at the center of the dungeon floor, he watched as Nadia and Nicolette pulled apart and got up. They stood and both looked at Elsa doing the American. They began clapping their hands at the marvelous performance, and then walked over to the table where they each, in turn, leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. Elsa sat back and withdrew the dildo. She grinned like a cat as she slipped the blindfold off of the blonde American’s head. The show was over.
Nadia and Nicolette walked out, waving their goodbyes, and a moment later, entered the observatory where Paul sat, now tucked away and straightened out.
“Ladies, what a perfectly charming performance.” His devastating dimples peeked out around the edges of his full lips.
“You liked, Paul?” asked Nicolette.
“Oh, yes. Not exactly the S & M you usually do, I’m sure, but I quite enjoyed it. You both would be wonderful additions to my uncle’s dungeon. Shall we talk about it back at my hotel room?” Paul, always thinking ahead, worked to get both women to join him for a little more of what he’d just watched, but he planned to participate this time.
Nicolette was quick to decline. “Ah, no thank you, liebling. Not my cup of tea.” She wagged her finger at him.
“What about you, Nadia?” Nadia liked both men and women, and the handsome Dutchman was appealing. “Only if you buy me a drink first. I’m parched,” she replied.
“Of course.” He laughed. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he steered her toward the door, intending to leave straightaway. Down the hall, Nicolette could hear him asking, “And who was the lovely guest of honor in there? How did you find her?”
Nicolette looked through the glass at Sarah and Elsa, watching as they put their clothes back on. She had enjoyed the pretty American. It wasn’t every day that she got a little break from spanking old, wrinkly men and instead, got to enjoy herself with a hot woman. Sometimes, she, Elsa, and Nadia had fun with the Subs, but this was the first time they all had really let loose, the first time she’d seen Elsa enjoy a woman. She’d wondered whether or not Elsa swung both ways. Now she knew, and she’d be sure to capitalize on that next time. Nicolette desired Elsa. Now, she knew there was a chance.
DRIVING BACK TO HIS hotel, Paul’s thoughts ran wild. He intended to enjoy himself with Nadia and would try to convince her to come to Amsterdam for his uncle too. Sure, she wasn’t Peter Knudson’s first choice, but what difference did it make as long as the dominatrix was good at her job? He planned to pump Nadia for information about the American who he now remembered was named Sarah. His plans didn’t end there. The images of women touching, spanking, sexually torturing, and pleasuring each other were fresh in his mind and unbelievably, he had yet another erection.
A hedonist through and through, Paul did not feel bad for one moment about mixing business with pleasure, or even having multiple women back to back while on vacation or at home. Life was pleasure and so he lived to please himself.
Chapter Thirteen
SARAH ARRIVED BACK at her hotel around four in the morning completely exhausted. She kicked off her boots, whipped off her belt and lay there with an incredulous smile on her face. She recalled the extraordinary anxiety, fear, and excitement. Having so many hands on her at once was overwhelming. Mouths sucking and lips kissing while fingers stroked, and naked flesh pressed against her own was something she knew she would never forget. Standing on weakened legs, Sarah pulled her dress over her head and tossed it on the chair in the corner. She made her way to the bathroom where she relieved herself. It was then she looked down and realized she wasn’t wearing her thong. A laugh bubbled up and escaped, echoing off the tiled walls.
Her body throbbed the beginnings of the aches and pains it would feel full-on the next day, so tired or not, Sarah forced herself into the shower to bathe off quickly under a hot spray. As she ran the soap over her breasts, she cringed just a little. They were sensitive to the point of pain. Nipple clamps, she thought. Never again with those, but that leather crop, now that was something else...
She finished her shower, dried off, and threw on a T-shirt. Crawling into bed, she considered what she would do tomorrow. Her eyelids felt heavy, and as they closed for the final time that night, her last thought was, I wish Anthony was here.
IN THE BERLIN MARRIOTT, Paul strained against the backside of the woman face-down, on all fours. Nadia pushed her bottom up against the handsome Dutchman, enjoying the last waves of her orgasm. He pulled out and stepped off the bed, yanking the condom off as he walked to the toilet. She rolled over and looked up at the ceiling, listening to the loud stream of piss coming from the other room.
“Why are you so fascinated with the American?” Nadia endured many questions about Sarah when she and Paul had left the club. Even as she asked questions about her new job in Amsterdam, he had peppered their conversation with queries like “How do you know her?” and “Where is she staying?”
She could only answer that Sarah was a new friend of Elsa’s and she had no idea how they knew each other or where the woman was staying. It had become annoying, so Nadia had shut him up with a kiss that ended, well, it ended just moments ago. If he was still interested in the American after all that, then she didn’t know her stuff!
Paul stepped out of the bathroom, naked and god-like, and Nadia was once again struck by his male beauty.
“It’s nothing. I simply found her performance entrancing.” Nadia pouted and Paul saw that he needed to apply a Band-Aid to wounded female pride. “Of course, it’s completely obvious now that she was only so eye-catching because of the dark-haired beauty wielding the crop.” Nadia smiled like a contented cat.
Paul leaned down and placed his hands on either side of her head as he lowered his body on top of hers, wrapping his arms around her torso and rolling her over on top of him. Nadia squealed delightedly as he slid his hands down to palm each cheek of her lush buttocks. He
squeezed and wiggled her hips over his own. “The way you whipped her wet little cat had me so fucking hard that I could have broken down that mirrored wall with my mighty hammer.” He kissed her deeply, and then trailed his tongue down her neck to her shoulder.
“You’re insatiable, Paul, Liebling...or should I call you Thor?” She felt him harden once again. She hadn’t been with such a man before, one who could keep loving a woman’s body until she begged him to stop. Maybe he was the god of legend after all. She spread her thighs to straddle his hips and slid back and forth over the length of him. Paul let her do what she liked as he enjoyed watching her ecstatic facial expressions. He found himself wondering what Sarah would look like riding him. The memory of her face as the two dommes worked her over filled his mind. Golden-haired and radiant, she looked like a sacrificial virgin as the leather crop smacked her most sensitive part over and over again. He imagined she would taste of sex and honey. He closed his eyes and let Nadia find her pleasure while he relaxed, absorbing the slick sensations stimulating him once-again.
He knew later he would contact Elsa and work his charm toward finding Sarah. Nadia need not know this. She was an incredible woman, and he appreciated her. His uncle would appreciate her work in his club, he was sure. The loss of Elsa was the gain of Nadia in his mind. What difference does it make?
“Ah..ah...ah...” Nadia reached her climax. Paul still had not found his. She looked down at him. “Not yet, eh?” She slithered down and wrapped her lips around him. Paul smiled. Women always came easy to him. He barely ever had to ask.
As his breath hitched and his pleasure peaked, he envisioned a blonde head in place of the brunette. Nadia swallowed, another point in her favor.
As she settled next to him falling asleep, he reached over and picked up his mobile and texted his loathsome uncle.
Mistress Elsa is not interested, but I secured another worthy domme, Mistress Nadia. She’s fantastic and is willing to start in two weeks.
IN A DAMP OFFICE IN Amsterdam in the early morning, Peter stared at the message on his phone. His brow furrowed and his face turned an angry shade of red. He failed! The worthless shit failed. I send him to do one simple task, and he fucks it up. He thought about the sublime blond boy. Oh, my angel...
Peter flung his phone across the room where it smashed into the opposite wall. Surprisingly, it was still in one piece, which should have pleased him, but instead, it made him angrier. The thought of the beautiful boy being out of his reach stirred an inner rage. He’d lost Paul when Paul grew up. Therefore, it should be Paul’s responsibility to find a replacement and Peter knew who he wanted. The Berlin angel. Failing to secure the sister meant losing the boy, and if he had to lose something, then is stood to Peter’s reasoning that Paul should lose something of equal value. But what? Or more to the painful point, who?
He pressed his hands together in front of his brooding visage and pondered a fitting punishment for Paul. Peter’s reputation for viciousness was no joke as all his staff knew not to cross their boss. Paul Christiansen was about to be reminded why he feared his uncle so much for so long. He will pay for this.
Chapter Fourteen
ANTHONY STEPPED OFF his flight into the hustle and bustle that was Schiphol airport in Amsterdam. He walked through the cavernous space, dodging people coming and going. He was lucky that he had only his carry-on which contained his clothing for a week, his camera, and iPad. He passed all the shops on his way out of the secured area and into the general section of the airport leading out to the street. Outside, tulips of all colors filled planting beds. Taxis lined up along one lane of traffic while shuttle buses occupied the lane closest to the sidewalk. Eager cab drivers wearing black suits stood by their dark Sedans waiting for customers. Not your typical New York City cabbies at all, he thought. These drivers were far more professional in appearance, more like personal drivers for the rich and famous. Despite the summer month, the air felt more like spring with a crisp breeze. Gray clouds thick with the promise of rain hung low in the sky. Not the brightest welcome one could hope for. Anthony flagged one of the many secret-service-looking cab drivers and gave him the name of his hotel located in the heart of the city. It was a bed and breakfast, which he preferred. As they drove off airport property, he found himself looking forward to the day cruises. His driver, who introduced himself as Carl, kept up an amiable chat asking Anthony about his trip to the Netherlands and recommending various spots he might visit. He even hinted at a “great place to relax and meet a nice woman” in the Red Light District.
Anthony chuckled. He never paid for sex. Never needed to, but he smiled and thanked the man kindly without indicating whether he would take him up on the offer.
The words “a nice woman” caused flashes of seductive brown eyes framed by mussed blonde hair—hair he’d mussed with his own hands as he’d cradled that face and kissed her ripe lips senseless—to fill his mind. Sarah. He still couldn’t shake thoughts of her. Maybe he just craved one more tumble in the sack. That is probably it, he thought. Sometimes it takes a little longer for sex to grow stale when it comes from someone as fresh and sweet as Sarah. He’d only had a few days with her; not nearly enough time to wear out the welcome mat at the altar of her incredible womanhood. Hers was an altar he could stand to worship at a few more times. Not many women managed to hold Anthony’s attention for more than a few weeks. Most only managed a few days, but most weren’t Sarah. Most were jaded and knew the score. Craving more of this particular woman must simply have to do with him being her first. It was a kind of heady feeling knowing that no other man had touched her, caressed her, tasted her as he had.
She was like a new toy, wrapped in packaging that no one had ripped through already. Pristine. He was the one to tug at her ribbons and watch as the shiny paper fell away and the delicate tissue parted revealing the treasure inside. He was the one to lay hands upon that treasure and claim it for his own. It was his. She was his. Or she had been, until he tossed her aside and walked away. Dumbass! He wondered, as the car passed rows of Dutch homes along the canals, what she was doing now—who she was doing now. The thought of another man touching her made his skin hot and his fists clench in his lap. Would she respond to another man the same way she did with him? Would she so easily invite someone else back to her hotel? No. No, not his Sarah. She wasn’t that type. Had she received his drunken email yet? Anthony looked down at his mobile. No messages.
As the cab pulled up to the B&B, he gave himself a mental shake and a quick reprimand to stop thinking about her. Amsterdam and its canal cruises awaited him, and he was eager to see the sights. Carl waited patiently as Anthony paid the fare and added a generous tip. With a tip of his hat, the driver was off once again, and Anthony headed inside just as the wind picked up and rain began to fall.
Chapter Fifteen
THE SUN SHINED BRIGHTLY through the crack in the curtains hanging over Sarah’s hotel room window. It found its way to her eyes and pried them open. They felt gritty, as if sand had been sprinkled into them. She reached up and rubbed them with the back of her hand. A nagging beeping sound came from the bedside table. It was her cell phone. Still half asleep, she picked it up and peered at the screen through one eye. YOU HAVE MAIL.
Sarah pressed the email icon and waited for it to open. Images, one after the other, began to flash across the screen of herself smiling, shopping, and standing in front of tourist spots in Barcelona. Then a picture of herself sleeping with a sheet barely covering her modesty. In that one, Anthony’s face looked out at her from his spot next to her slumbering, completely unaware form. He was smiling that smile that made her heart flip-flop. Dimples on either side of his full lips taunted and teased from amidst five o’ clock shadow as his eyes looked...satisfied?
Anthony had sent her these pictures. And there was a message. I fucking miss you.
Sarah sat up and stared at the phone. Tears stung her eyes and hope filled her wounded heart. It was quickly replaced by anger. “You miss me?” she said
out loud to an empty room. “But you’re the one who left! No goodbye or a note or anything!”
She slammed the phone down onto the other side of the bed. Covering her eyes, she struggled not to give in to the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Tears fell and because they did so, she became angrier. She didn’t want to cry for a man who would just walk out on her like Anthony had done. She forced herself to breathe in and out slowly. It took five minutes to calm down. She laid back down and looked over at the phone. Picking it up, she began viewing all the pictures again. There were a few selfies they’d taken together. I fucking miss you. The words echoed in her thoughts. He misses me, she thought again. She smiled, a watery, wobbly smile that was a fusion somewhere between joy and pain.
She wondered if she should reply, and if so, what should she say? She couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound naive or desperate, so she decided to wait. Maybe Elsa could help her figure out the best way to deal with this new development. And with that, Sarah recalled the night before. Her cheeks pinkened at the memory of Elsa wearing a realistic strap-on, deep inside of her and kissing her—everywhere. It was actually damned hot and exciting even in instant memory replay. Almost as good as the real thing had been with Anthony. She wondered what Anthony would think if he knew she’d had sex with another woman—three other women. Maybe it’s time to find another man and see if there is a difference?
“But he fucking misses me,” she said. With that, Sarah wondered if she could be with another man and not think of Anthony, not feel like she betrayed him somehow. Being with another woman didn’t feel quite like cheating. Wait! Cheating? But we’re not a couple. You can’t cheat if you’re not part of a couple and emailing how much you miss me doesn’t make me yours, De Luca! You don’t get to walk out without a word and then come back with a few sweet words and make me feel guilty.”
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 11