Mia
On Saturday morning Julian woke me with kisses. It made me open my
eyes with only the intention of having him finish what he had started.
When the sex was over, which was rather more gentle and exploratory than anything
I’d ever experienced with him before, I pulled away from his limp, satisfied
arms and made my way barefoot to the windows, staring down onto the bustling
boulevard below. If anyone cared to, they could look up at me from
the street, or across from a window in the opposite building. Before
last night, I would have hesitated to see if anyone was observing me. Before last night, I might have blushed furiously and rushed to drop the
venetian blinds so that not a single drop of light could pass through them.
Instead, I stood breathing deeply for several moments,
then reached forward casually to unlock one of the sliding windows and pull
it open. The chill winter air gave me goose bumps, but I ignored them,
and turned around to look at my lover. Just as I was about to speak,
the phone rang.
“Hello?” I looked at Julian while tugging my hair
back behind my left ear with a finger.
“Good morning, my darling. Did you sleep well?”
She had a way of making all this seem perfectly natural. A woman that
was used to having control and used to using her powerful influence over others. I found myself smiling a little as I sat down on the divan.
“Yes,” I said slowly. I laughed at the back of
my throat. “But we didn't do much of that.” There was a brief
pause.
“Is he still there?” She sounded rather brisk and
businesslike, and I looked up at him, losing my smile.
“Yes.” I heard her breathe once, calmly, and then
when she spoke I thought I felt an itch in my brain.
“Get rid of him. Get him dressed, do it as quickly
as possible, and send him home. Tell him you’ll call him later, and
that you’ll see him again this evening. Make sure that he’s out of there
by eleven.” Puzzled, I stared up at the clock across the apartment from the
other side of the low partition wall. It was ten past ten.
“Alright,” I answered slowly, standing up. Then
I heard the familiar sexuality in her voice as it changed its tone.
“I miss you. Talk to you later.” Then she hung
up.
“Bye,” I said dazedly, to the empty line, then I put
down the cordless and walked over to Julian, who was sitting up now, waiting
for the verdict. He reached across the bed and pulled me to him, kissed
me deeply, running his hands through my hair.
“I liked it better when it was long, baby,” he said into
my mouth, and I closed my eyes and let his tongue play with mine for a few
moments before pulling away.
“Come on. I’ve got to get dressed, get cleaned
up, and so do you.” I remembered Mona’s words. “I have some stuff
to take care of, some business, with my publisher-“
“But I thought he was in L.A. ” He moved forward,
mumbling against my throat, and I got off the bed, taking his hand to stop
it from wandering.
“He is. But he has offices here. Look, I’ve got
to take a shower-“
“I’ll come with you,” he said, and I shrugged, exasperated,
and let him follow me.
It turned into more sex, as he lathered me down with
soap and shampooed my hair lovingly, his lips everywhere. At first
I tried to fight him, but ever since last night his body was undeniable,
for it was linked to Mona, who had some indescribable kind of control over
me.
I took his sex, slick with soap and water, and knelt
down on the tiles, his hands roving through my hair, and kissed it, licked
it, speaking to him all the while:
“Hard and long and hot, aren’t you, Julian?” I
asked, kissing him wetly between his thighs, my fingers molding the length
of him. “You were big and heavy inside of Mona, weren’t you, big boy?
Thick and strong, weren’t you?” I massaged him while watching him succumb
to the pleasure, pressing himself back against the wall as he pushed my head
closer. I sucked him hard for several moments, then pulled away and
stood up again, roughly grabbing him by the back of the neck.
He stared at me, frowning for a long moment, watching
me watch him.
“You fucked her hard and good, now didn't you, Julian?”
I breathed, watching his eyes dilate until they were nothing but pupils.
He looked so ready to fuck right now that I almost couldn’t resist him,.
“You wanna do it to her again, Julian, hm?” My
free hand slid to his cock, the hot water rushing down on us and steaming
up the stall, my thighs parting and ready for him as he watched me take control
like Mona had.
“Come on, big boy, give it to me, give it to me
hard and good, just like you did Mona ...”
Ferociously, Julian suddenly threw me back beneath the
showerhead, reaching down to wrench my legs apart and force his fingers up
inside of me. Hearing my cry of surprise, he groaned in anticipation
and clamped his mouth to mine, before roughly thrusting himself inside of
me, rocking with the rhythm of sex and drawing my legs up around him so that
I was balanced against the wall and clamped around him like a vice.
It was so good that all I could do was scream into his mouth, my hands clenching
around his upper arms for dear life, until, finally, he gave me my orgasm. Gasping for air, I melted into him, let him kiss me softly, and hid my face
against his neck while he cut off the water and opened the shower door, reaching
for a towel to wrap me in.
As he brought me to the bed, I looked up at the clock
and saw that it was a couple of minutes past ten-thirty. He laid me
down gently, kissing my wet ear and pushing my hair back from my face, before
pulling away and standing naked for several moments.
Then he said quietly, “I’ll go now. I’ll call you
later.” Then I closed my eyes and listened to him get dressed. I didn't relax until I had heard the door shut behind him.
“Is he gone?” I closed my eyes and squeezed my thighs together, feeling
the soreness and suddenly missing his body already.
“Yes,” I said in a low voice, my throat catching
on the word.
“Good.” A short silence. “Alright then, we
leave on a plane early tomorrow morning. I’m sorry to say that I can’t
spend the day or the night with you. I have, however, arranged for some
entertainment for the evening. I want you to be waiting for my car
in front tonight at nine. Gerald, my chauffeur and protector, if you
will, will be waiting outside the car, he’s the one that brought us up last
night, you’ll recognize him. He’s my favorite, the best of my men.”
I blinked hard and stood up, walking around in search of my shoes. Her men. Christ.
“He’ll bring you to my place, but I’ll be out of town
until late. You’ll be occupied until you’re ready for bed, alright?”
“Alright.” I stepped into my low heels and looked
around for a sweater to go over my thin top.
“And darling “
“Yes?” I looked up at the clock. It was almost
two. I’d slept like a baby for two hours after Julian left.
“Have fun tonight.” When I heard the dial tone
I realized that she was referring to what she had in store for me at her
place.
“So what happened to you last night?”
Lucy chewed on her raisin bagel and stared at me as I
sipped at my hot chocolate and shrugged my shoulders.
“Don’t give me that,” she said slyly, widening her eyes
and leaning into the table. The deli had air conditioning in the middle
of winter, and it was freezing cold. We were still wearing our coats
and scarves.
“I saw you leave with that hunky beefcake. So?
Where’d you go? What happened?” She gulped down some of her coffee
and waited.
“Nothing,” I sighed, “nothing happened. He didn't
want to use a condom and I said no.”
“Hm,” she murmured thoughtfully, munching on some more
of her bagel. Swallowing, she added, “Well, it looks as if Julian did
a little better. That scumbag. But at least he left you alone.”
Feigning ignorance, I asked with only a mild play at
curiosity, “What happened with him?”
“Oh, he just got hooked up with some movie star and left
before they’d even exchanged two sentences.”
I felt my mouth try to smile, but I hid it behind my
mug.
“Mmm. Well, good for him. And I, well, I’ll find
somebody more worthy in the near future. I hope.”
Lucy laughed and saluted me with her cup of coffee. “Don’t we all!”
In the back of the limousine, which to me was definitely more than just
a “car," I stared out through the tinted windows at the large, imposing,
but inevitably chic dwelling that was supposed to be a townhouse but was
more a mansion in the middle of San Francisco.
It was made of stone and had an almost medieval aura,
with coned towers and a multitude of stained windows, ivy crawling up the
walls, and large, square paned front windows. We drove along a gravel
driveway leading up to the old wooden doors, tall and imposing, with huge
brass knockers. Instead of a male butler, Mona appeared to have a female
in charge of her house. The woman bowed extravagantly upon opening the
door, then lifted her arm back in a signal to enter.
Inside was marble, crystal, elegance, and money.
I closed my eyes, breathed in the superstar smell, and let the woman lead
me up a flight of stairs, down a carpeted hall along which alcoves displayed
exotic works of art. There were several erotic statues of nude men and
women, in various creative positions . These were chiseled of red and
black marble, the women black, the men red. It took me a moment to
realize that the pieces were also suggestive of chess pieces. Several
women were kneeling, head bowed, hair flowing alongside their graceful necks,
in the position of submission, hinting that they were pawns. The male
pawns had their heads thrown back and were also on their knees, their necks
strained as if to offer their throat to the slice of a blade.
“Mademoiselle. The mistress of the house desired that
you freshen yourself up and leave your personal belongings here. You
shall be resting here for the night. I will return in ten minutes to
show you to dinner.” The butleress bowed once again, closing the door
before her as she backed out slowly and gracefully, and left me to my business.
My room was very simple, but very, very elegant.
Rich solids like those of the wine red and midnight blue bedding and the same
colors on the room upholstery went well with the pale cream carpet. Went
even better with the gold embossed emerald fleur-de-lys cloth wall covering.
Before I even had time to take it all in and put my small suitcases in the
closet, there was a sharp knock on my door and it swung open, the butleress
waiting silently for me. I shrugged off my coat and scarf. Then
she moved aside and led me off to my fate.
Mia could smell the intoxicating aroma of rich, exotic spices from the far
eastern side of the house, and as she followed the smell and the butleress,
she could pick out at least a dozen different flavors and scents in the air.
The dining area was a sunken room with three chandeliers,
a ballroom’s span, two doorways leading off to the kitchen, and the private
“gentlemen’s” room. A large alabaster arch led to a checker-floored
hall and the rest of the house. Two young men and a model she recognized
as belonging to Revlon were already seated at the dinner table.
“Good evening,” said one of the men, who sat at
the head of the table and wore a distinguished dinner suit with a peacock
blue cummerbund. His collar was open and he wore no tie–in romantic
dishabille he stood to bow to her as the butleress led her to the chair opposite
him. The chairs, supposedly matching the table hidden beneath embroidered
ivory cloth, were a deep cherry red with oriental designs carved into their
backs. Glowing with their natural colors, the chairs echoed the deep
red mahogany in all three of her hosts’ hair. They were all tall, dark,
and beautiful, and could be mistaken for brothers and a sister. They
were all striking.
“Good evening,” said the other gentleman, and he wore
no cummerbund but a deep crimson bow tie to compliment his own dinner suit,
which had coattails that he flipped back behind him as he sank down slowly.
All three of her hosts’ eyes were locked on her, skillfully avoiding the cross
into staring. They were discreet, but she was still left feeling that
they were sizing her up for something planned later.
“Enchantée,” added the young woman, only inclining
her head graciously, reminding Mia of the old black and white movies where
women were always glamorous without even trying to be. All they had
to do was say a few simple syllables—like “echantée”—and look at you,
and it became apparent to everyone, including the lady, that she looked like
a million dollars and had more class than the Queen of England. At first
this made Mia instinctually a little jealous, but after sinking into her
seat, she became amused by it. A total reincarnation of the graven Hollywood
image, Tinseltown class in the flesh. Into Mia’s mind kept popping
the name Myrna Loy.
“Good evening,” Mia finally replied, seeing her
napkin on her plate before her and plucking it up before snapping it out to
spread it out neatly across her lap. The young woman sat on her right,
at the far end of the table next to the leading man and across from his supporting
actor. The lady watched Mia with lowered lashes and then looked across
the table at the supporting actor. He was smiling. The leading
man was contemplating, his eyebrow raised and his lips tucked in a wry bow
as he chewed on the inside of his lip, and inevitably the young woman looked
back down the table at Mia to settle on her own expression. It was
a high-browed moue of arrogance stemming from the obvious fact that she knew
something Mia didn't know.
There were no words exchanged until the first course
was brought out and they were left in absolute silence.
“So,” began the model, the leading lady, that one word
loaded with hidden meaning, falling heavy and breathless from her painted
red lips, “how about introductions, hm? Aren’t they in order?” She sounded Middle European, her accent too exotic to be French, too gentle
to be Germanic.
“Of course,” replied the leading man, a well-bred upperclass
American, and he lowered his indomitable eyebrow, relaxing his mouth and looking
down the table with a smoky black-eyed gaze and a suave Mediterranean look.
He had to have Italian roots, no doubt about it. Mia smiled without
meaning to at the thought that Mona had every intention of making sure she
had fun tonight.
“I’m Vincent.” He let his eyes linger with hers.
She felt his gaze as it dropped to her lips. He probably thought
that she was smiling because she liked him, which was in a way, true.
Her smile grew wider, and his own lips began to answer with a slow smile of
his own. She saw that he had perfect teeth. He gestured to the man next
to him.
“He’s Armand.” He nodded to the woman. “And
this is Lucia.” He said her name the Italian way, hard on the c.
“Hm. First names only.” Mia spoke to no one
in particular, and she raised her own eyebrow. “Well,” she said, sipping
on her red wine, “then you can call me Mia.” Tipping her head forward
in a small nod, she began to eat, and hardly spoke as the rest of dinner passed
on. The topics of conversation were the house, the weather, movies,
and travel. After a while words died down, and Mia, polishing off her
raspberry chocolate mousse, wiped at her mouth delicately with a napkin,
set the cloth down, and waited patiently for them to make their move.
“Paula,” said Vincent, deeply and calmly, not even raising
his voice. From out of nowhere the butleress appeared. “Please
show the lady to the green room. And make sure that the fire is roaring;
we don’t want her catching cold.” Paula bowed and waited for Mia to
stand from her chair.
“Wonderful to meet you,” said Mia, inclining her own
head even more graciously than Lucia had done without knowing it, and the
woman, who was just about her age, gave a sultry smile, lifted her chin a
haughty centimeter and looked down the length of the table at Mia. Her
eyes sparkled from beneath her thick, arching brows.
“Don’t worry, we will see each other again.” Her
accent seemed to have grown thicker.
“Of course we will,” Mia murmured, and she turned to
follow Paula without another sound.
The green room was upstairs, on the far end of the house
toward the back, so that the wet and dripping English garden answered the
undraped window as Mia looked out. Turning to look at the bed as Paula
waited for her approval, she saw that a green negligée, satin and lace
with spaghetti strips, awaited her, spread out neatly across the thick, emerald
comforter. The carpeting, draperies, wallpaper, upholstery, bed clothing
and the artwork on the walls and tables were either green, or had a hint
of it. Mia remembered green was the color for jealousy. Had Vincent
sent her here because he chose to, or had Mona had a personal comment to
make while she was away? Who was going to be jealous tonight?
“Please, mademoiselle, dress and sit here by the fire
to wait. I shall close the curtains and fetch you a robe.”
The robe was made of satin and was short, falling only
to mid-thigh, and as Mia tied it closed, Paula left the room and her in darkness,
with only the light of the fire to keep her warm.
Vincent did not knock on the door before entering, but entered quietly,
standing for a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. They fell on a shapely pair of legs, half folded and slightly drawn up to
the torso of the young woman that lay staring at the fire on the emerald
green chaise longue, her slightly curly, short mahogany hair a striking color
against the upholstery of the chair back, her burgundy mouth slightly open
as she licked her lips once, chewed on her lip for a second, then took in
a deep breath before closing it again.
He said nothing, only advanced, so that his shadow loomed
over her and shocked her into looking up at him. He was magnificent,
dressed in silky green boxers, his chest covered in a light fuzz of black
hair, the hair combed back from his forehead as if he had done it by hand.
He walked around the chaise longue to kneel at the head, his arm reaching
over to let his fingers trace the graceful line of her right ear, feeling
her shiver in response to his touch. He smiled, and let his arm reach
further, taking her hand, curled on her thigh, and bringing it to his
lips. Then he continued to hold it, letting both their hands fall to
her side, and while he let his eyes trace the lines of her body, she looked
beyond him to the door.
Armand did not knock either, and passing through the door he found himself
trapped in Mia’s gaze. Her delicately golden mocha skin glowed in the
light of the fire and flushed slightly under the touch of Vincent. Armand
smiled as he stepped forward in a darker pair of silk green boxers.
He walked right to the chaise longue and sank to his knees on the floor beside
Mia, his thigh settling on the soft, warm white faux fur of a bear.
His hand reached up to cup her chin, and she smiled faintly, then lost her
angelic look for one of martyrdom, her lips parting as she sucked in air and
let her eyes take in his dark brown hair, slightly mussed as if he, too, had
been combing his hair with his hand. Her eyes floated across his face,
darting, and he could tell that he had made her nervous. Pleasantly
nervous.
Armand leaned forward and let his lips touch her forehead
with a very light, airy kiss, then withdrew, to take her other hand and hold
it lightly against his chest, turning with it to sit down on the bear rug,
in wait for their last companion.
Lucia stepped in as if she were at home alone, with a classy, egotistical
shake of her hair and a sharp smile, turning to look at Paula pointedly and
waiting as the door closed silently behind her. She was dressed in a
long, sea green satin nightgown, shapely and not unlike something that a
woman might wear to a dinner Her russet hair spilled down the front
of her breasts and halfway down her back, and she shook her fingers through
it, before reaching out to turn the key in the lock. Barefoot, like
the men, she walked forward, but instead of paying homage to Mia, she stood
waiting with her hand on her hip while Armand stood to greet her. Feeling
her heart pounding steadily in her chest, Mia sat up higher in the chaise
longue.
Lucia reached for Armand as he stood and drew him to her, her mouth and
his meeting deeply and intently, her hands gliding over his muscular, tanned
body, their hips pressed together as they kissed. It was very erotic,
only watching them, and Mia felt a heat begin to pass through her, the back
of her abandoned left hand now pressed against her lipsticked lips. Then she felt a tickle of breath at the nape of her neck, and heard a deep
whisper in her left ear.
“You needn’t worry about anything. The two of us
have been . . . fixed. And Mona makes sure that everyone is cleanly.”
Mia nodded once, slowly, and then felt his tongue and teeth make love to her
ear. But she continued to watch Lucia, who now reached her crimson-tipped
fingers into Armand’s green boxers, scooping up the treasure hidden there
and making a pleased sound deep in her throat, before kissing him thoroughly
again. When she was through, she stepped back, then stood staring down
at Vincent until he stood, to receive the same treatment, only this time,
after weighing the size of his cock inside of his boxers, Lucia sank to her
knees and stared at it face to face, knowing that immediately beside her Mia
half-sat, half-lay, watching intently, frozen half in fear and half in desire.
Lucia smiled, her tongue gliding against her teeth, looking
at Mia now, and watching Mia’s eyes move from her to the sex of the man beside
them. Vincent said nothing. How he felt about this did not matter.
Lucia’s fingers glided back and forth against his sex, her lips almost touching
it, her hot breath caressing it, but no one in the room did anything, and
finally, she kissed the tip lightly before returning it to the boxers, squeezing
the Vincent’s upper arms after rising up to give him one more kiss.
Then she turned to take Mia’s hand.
Offering up her own, Mia was drawn onto her feet, and
for a long moment Lucia only gazed into her face, drawing unknown conclusions
and saying nothing. Then she cupped her hands on Mia’s bottom and pressed
her gently against her, making her feel every curve. She put her face
to Mia’s neck, while her victim, wide-eyed and unseeing, felt the lips and
tongue glide against her jugular vein, and then down to her collar bone, the
satin of her robe pushed back to reveal her skin pale and golden brown. Finally,
in protest, she made a tiny sound in the back of her throat, and slowly Lucia
released her. Smiling slightly, the fashion goddess then turned to
take Vincent’s hand. The four of them walked calmly to the bed, Mia
with her head bowed and Lucia with a wicked gleam in her eye.
On the silken comforter, Armand lay along the width of
the bed facing the foot, and drew Mia down to nestle her backside against
him for warmth, her bottom pressing into the hot cave of his pelvis, where
his hard sex pressed into the small of her back. She was lulled and
excited by the tenderness of the position and the violence hidden beneath
silk boxers.
Beside them, Lucia lay down on her back, the bedposts
framing the fire beyond. Vincent leaned over her as his left hand supported
him in the air and his right pushed the satin gown up around Lucia’s hips.
Coming between her thighs, he closed his lips around a nipple, looking up
only once to see that the seduction was working, taking in Mia’s helpless
expression and breathless state. He was still in his boxers, but made no move
to remove them, one hand cupping a high and heavy breast, rosy with a dark
aureola and nipple that he rubbed with his thumb, as his mouth closed repeatedly
over the other, making Lucia moan and sigh in encouragement.
Vincent's other hand wound into his lover’s thick, glowing
hair, his free one reaching between her legs and made purchase in her wet,
hot sex. Lucia arched her back and groaned, and he lifted his wet fingers
to his lips, gazing up into Mia’s eyes, before licking them one at a time.
He then stood straight and slid off his boxers in one graceful motion.
Mia parted her lips on a silent gasp, seeing him once again, even larger,
even harder than he’d been over by the fire. Seeing her expression,
Vincent smirked gently. He positioned himself in front of Lucia. The
woman sighed, parted her legs, and looking down, Mia saw Lucia place to fingers
of her right hand in a V, parting the lips of pink sex. Vincent took
hold of his shaft and the full, engorged head hovered, before he slid himself
in slowly, so that Mia could see every inch of him enter Lucia. Lucia
was glistening and the sound was moist; Mia bit her lip and held her breath.
The lovemaking was slow. Rocking deeply on the
bed, the two of them did not clutch each other, but remained separate at
the torso, Vincent’s arms bracing him as he slid in and out, Lucia stretching
her arms out to touch Mia and tangle her hungry fingers in the silk of the
bed. It was Armand who made the first move. Reaching down, he
untied Mia’s robe and kissed her neck, ignoring her sound of helpless pleading,
and slid the tie out of its loops, guiding her forward so that her chest
hovered above Lucia’s face. Lucia drew her down, kissing her lips lightly,
lovingly, before smiling as she felt Vincent remove almost everything of
his cock from her sex but the tip. She felt his hands like bands of
silk glide behind her knees, and then felt them draw her legs up and back,
opening her even further for Vincent’s entry. He slid in again, a little
more roughly, and did her slowly, working deeply, her legs stretching back
farther and farther in the air until she felt that she was all sex, just
wet, warm pussy, soaking and drowning in juices as Vincent finally drove
the both of them to climax.
When he pulled out he was still rather hard. Smiling
at that, he watched Lucia regain her breath and get up onto her knees, slipping
out of her gown and throwing it away from the bed, turning to face Mia.
Armand had begun his work already, the robe thrown back on the pillow, the
negligee unlaced down the front, revealing two dewy, flushed breasts with
dark burgundy nipples and aureola, their tips sore with hunger after Armand
fingers had played with them mercilessly from behind. Now he made her
move to face Lucia, letting her lean her back against his chest as she slid
down, one knee up, the other down flat, protecting her secrets. Vincent
only watched as Lucia reached out to unbutton the lace at the crotch.
The sex there was a treasure trove of innocent female heat, moist and ready
for the kiss that awaited it at the lips of the more experienced woman. But Mia was afraid of it.
“I-“ Helpless, she choked on the words and tried
to add more, but couldn’t.
“Shh,” responded Armand, and he took her hands, bringing
them to his lips in a firm hold. Lucia parted her knees, then eased
in, leaning on her elbows. She bent, using her fingers to part the lips
of Mia's sex, and then, lazily, slid her tongue out to meet Mia's waiting
flesh. The pleasure was incredible, but Mia tensed, feeling Lucia’s
hair slide against the insides of her thighs, the tongue, wet and hot, delving
and delving where only one other woman had gone, driving her crazy, raping
her gently, and when she opened her eyes she saw the woman’s dark hazel eyes
staring into hers hungrily, and above that Vincent had moved in, his hands
firm on Lucia’s buttocks, his sex moving in and out of her raised behind.
The heavy organ, filled with blood and a dark, hungry color, seemed to be
what was filling her, even from that distance. The medium-sized, throbbing,
thirsty, thorough tongue became a huge, hungry organ, and she closed her eyes,
desperate to hold on to control, then opened them again, watching wide-eyed
as Vincent pumped, his eyes dark and sleepy on hers, watching intently as
she watched him.
She felt Armand bend forward to kiss the top of her head,
then her shoulder, as suddenly she spasmed, refusing to cry out, feeling Vincent
flush Lucia through from behind with his empty fluids, and feeling it enter
her in a hot rush of Lucia’s humid oral heat. She felt herself soaking
with vaginal liquids, and sank into the bed, closing her eyes, feeling Lucia
kiss her sex lovingly, then her tongue playing with her bellybutton, then
her breasts, and when it reached her face, Mia made a ferocious sound and
eeled away, pushing herself into the headboard of the bed, hiding her face
behind a few locks of sweaty hair. There was absolute silence.
When she’d regained her breath, she turned to look at
them, her lips trembling, her face fighting to keep composure. She thought
she sounded pathetic, but actually her voice was husky and warm, soft as
she spoke to them with gently deliberate enunciation.
“I’m sorry, but Lucia, I can’t handle - this. I’ve
only ever -” They all looked at her, Armand with a concerned expression,
Lucia looking surprised, and Vincent calm and indomitable as ever. She
realized what she had to say.
“Mona,” she said, looking down at the bed, then up at
all of them. “I’ve only ever been with Mona.” Realization dawned
in their eyes.
“It’s alright. I understand.” Lucia reached forward
and squeezed Mia’s limp hand. “I was like you before. Don’t worry.
You’ll be fine.” Then she kissed her gently on the lips, a chaste but
loving kiss with the musk of Mia’s own sex, before turning to kiss Vincent
deeply, and then Armand. Lucia dressed again and left the room quietly,
while the men’s eyes remained locked on Mia.
“Come here,” commanded Vincent softly, and slowly,
Mia complied, getting on her hands and knees to crawl over to him. He
put his hand on her thigh, without words directing her to slide down onto
her back, and after doing so, he came between her thighs and let the moment
melt into the inevitable. In the exact same position as he had been
with Lucia, one arm braced as the other cupped her breast, squeezing, he bent
his head forward to suck and pull with his mouth at her nipples. Then
he let himself cover her fully, hips pressing into her pelvis as his sex,
buried to the hilt, throbbed, waiting before it would begin its onslaught
of pleasure. There was a sound behind Mia, and looking up, away from
Vincent’s captivating black eyes, she saw Armand smiling softly, moving around
the two of them to kneel behind Vincent.
Then Vincent said quietly, “It would have happened sooner
or later. You might as well learn to like it.” And with that he
closed his eyes and slowly removed himself from her. He remained on
top of her, while both of them waited.
Another sex, thicker and just as long, throbbing to a
different rhythm, slid into her from below Vincent. Armand let himself
rock in space for a moment, then slid it all the way in, and Mia closed her
eyes, her lips parted on a silent kiss as Vincent bit her shoulder lightly
and waited. Their partner slowly withdrew, and without wasting another
moment, Vincent replaced the emptiness inside of her and pushed himself all
the way in once again. This time he did not move an inch. Mia
opened her eyes, watching her lover’s face, waiting in silence as she tried
to figure out what was happening.
At the foot of the bed, kneeling on the covers with his
legs spread slightly, Armand was calmly fitting himself inside of Vincent,
pushing slickly into the tender folds of male flesh until it had made purchase
deep in his bowels. Vincent gave a low groan, and pushed forward, even
higher into Mia’s womb, as Armand slowly began the rhythm that would hold
them captive.
Armand closed his eyes, letting his head fall back as
his hips began to rock gently, slowly, and his right hand loosely gripped
Vincent’s hip. Mia lifted her knees and spread herself wide, closing her own
eyes as she felt Vincent thrust deeper, rocking with the steady rhythm of
the man inside him. They were like this for what seemed like hours,
all of them with their eyes closed, all of them breathing slowly, deeply,
quietly. When the orgasm came, it first shot deeply into Vincent’s rear,
Armand suddenly pounding between the flesh of his lover’s buttocks, breathing
heavily and at intervals goading himself and Vincent on, huffing, “Harder,
fuck her harder, God, yes, fuck her, that’s it, right there!”
Vincent threw back his head as this happened and thrust
as hard as he could, pounding roughly into Mia’s sex, as she strained against
the bed, her back arcing, her breasts rising to crush against his chest as
she gasped repeatedly, begging, moaning, her sex convulsing around his own
until finally, he released a flood of hot liquid into her and bowed his head,
still thrusting inside of her. Behind him, Armand withdrew, catching
his breath, and Vincent began to slow down, then he too withdrew, leaving
Mia shaking with her climax and curled up into a ball on the bed. Taking
her in his arms, Vincent held her close while she fought tears of helplessness
at her situation, at how easily she was taking to Mona’s little pre-planned
orgy, and kissed her softly on the forehead, pushing her dark hair back from
her face and looking down into her eyes.
After she’d calmed down a bit, Mia sat up and settled
herself against the headboard, watching as Armand stood at the little vanity
on the left side of the bed, farthest from the door, and picked up a small,
silken kerchief. In a small glass bowl filled with what looked like
soapy water, he soaked it, pushing it around in the rose petals and leaves
of mint that appeared to be in the liquid to not only scent but flavor it.
He did this with one hand, lifting it and squeezing it gently, then bringing
it to his sex. While Mia and Vincent watched, he cleaned himself thoroughly,
scrubbing until his sex was hard once again, glowing by the light of the fire
across the room and the soft light of the candle in the sconces on the wall. When he was done, he folded the cloth up and set it aside on a small, glass
plate, then dried himself with a small towel.
Finally, he turned to smile at them and walk to the bed,
his arousal apparent. Mia looked at Vincent, then down at his sex, and
saw that he was equally aroused. Drawing a deep breath, she kissed him
softly on the lips, then moved to welcome Armand. He sat down on the
bed, his back to the wall, a few inches away from Vincent, and closing her
eyes, Mia mounted him, her hands light on his shoulders as she sank down onto
his sex, feeling Armand’s hands close down on her hips. Then she lifted
up again, opening her eyes and looking down into his to see that he was staring
at her, his lips parted, his breathing slow, and she brought her mouth to
his, drawing in his breath and giving him hers. Behind her she sensed
movement, then paused in midair, as Vincent lifted her off of Armand and
pushed her up from Armand and placing her on her knees. She found that
her lips touched Armand’s sex, and looked up to see that he was waiting to
see what she would do.
When she covered the head of his penis with her mouth
he closed his eyes and reached out to tangle his fingers in her hair.
From behind her, Vincent slid himself into her sex again, soaking himself
in her juices for several moments while she loved Armand with her mouth.
Then Vincent withdrew, and directed her back to her former position.
Now she kissed Armand passionately, giving him his own taste, and he grasped
her to him with both his arms as she rode him slowly, intently, both of them
with their eyes tightly closed. A slick, hot sex rubbed against Mia’s
behind and she slowed down, feeling Vincent search with the tip of his cock
for her second entrance.
Upon finding it, his hands gently holding her buttocks
apart, he pushed slightly. The resistance was there, and she moaned–it
was an odd physical feeling, but it didn’t hurt. He pushed again, gained
an inch, and she whimpered, her hands gripping Armand tightly, her eyes closed
and her mouth panting, as Vincent continued to push bit by bit, the pressure
building, her innards tense, until finally he was in. The entire time,
she had been groaning loudly, blabbering, and when he was in she heaved a
sigh of relief, then tensed again as Armand pushed deeper inside of her sex. She was filled completely by two men.
Slowly, hesitantly, she carefully moved up and then down. The feeling was excruciating, a mix of discomfort and raw pleasure, a man
inside of her where no one and no thing had gone before, another unbelievably
delicious between the lips of her dripping sex.
“God, yes!” She gasped, and pushed down, down, beginning
a rhythm that allowed one man to slide deeper in while the other slid out.
She leaned back from Armand to gain momentum, the pleasure was incredible
and undeniable; she felt hands reach out to grasp her breasts and hips, guiding
her as they pushed her first up, then down. Somehow she had drawn her
knees up so that she was half-squatting above Armand, whose legs stretched
out beneath her. To help her each man supported her buttocks or her
thighs, so that she bounced up slowly, in a fucking rhythm that brought them
closer and closer to orgasm. When it came she screamed, lustily and
loudly from the depths that had been invaded by hot and hungry flesh, and
collapsed into Vincent’s arms as he slid out of her. He turned her over
to Armand, whose sex was still inside of her, and she clamped her arms and
legs around him, laying her head on his shoulder as she watched Vincent clean
himself the same way that Armand had.
Then he advanced upon the bed, and Armand released her,
pulling out, and pulled back, while Vincent took his place as watcher and
kissed her softly on the lips, before turning her around. Mia slid down
onto her back, remembering how Lucia had had her at her mercy, and closed
her eyes. Armand’s mouth was gentle and persistent, combing her depths
until she was so aroused she could hardly breath. Then he came between
her thighs and pushed himself into her, driving deeply, far more demandingly
than Vincent had, and she suddenly realized that he was the one she wanted
more. Opening her eyes, she looked right up into his and saw that he
had every intention of breaking her with his lovemaking, no matter how kind
his brown eyes were, no matter how angelic his expression.
Vincent gripped her hands as he felt her tense; on the
verge of bolting, running away, she closed her inner muscles tight around
him almost as if to expel him, looking around for help, for escape, her hands
held firmly in place by Vincent. Trapped, she saw Armand’s eyes widen,
and then his mouth tightened, before he thrust high and deep, making her cry
out as he lunged over her to close his mouth over hers. Closing her
eyes and furrowing her brow, she tried to maintain control as he drove repeatedly
into her, working his hips expertly so that she was left breathless and out
of her mind. She remained tight, but he worked her, forced her, so
that she opened, so that her legs somehow wrapped up and around him and she
was wide open, being taken, and willingly. Turning her face into her
arm, Mia began to whisper nonsense, gasping, trying to hide herself. But there was no escape, nothing in the world, except Armand, who was not
finished with her.
He reared up, and back, and taking her by the ankles,
he spread her legs wide into the air and drove higher, pounding deep inside
her. Mumbling, panting, Mia shook her head no and tried to fight the
pleasure he gave her, but he refused to let her, rocking harder than Vincent
had and making the bed shake with his movements. Finally, he tossed
her ankles onto his shoulders and gripped her by the hips, leaning into her
roughly and driving the point home, breaking all her barriers and conquering
her as he had intended.
Vincent only smiled as Mia gave a loud shout and began
to breathe as if she were giving birth, punctuating her gasps repeatedly with
her lover’s name: “Ar-Armand- ah, ah yes, Ah-Armand, please - yes,
God, Armand - Armand!” And with this last exclamation, she came, feeling
his own sex continue to pump repeatedly inside her while she cried his name
to the rhythm of her climax, until finally he came as well, pouring into
her to only leave her feeling broken and empty.
Vincent stroked the hair away from her face and looked
up at Armand, who was kneeling between Mia’s raised knees, still buried inside
of her flesh. The younger man looked up, a strange expression on his
face, and took a deep breath.
“I think you should go,” he said quietly, running his
right hand through his hair. Mia appeared to have passed out, but they
both saw her lashes pushing down against the tops of her cheeks. There
may have been tears beneath them.
“Don’t you think that’s up to her?” Vincent replied,
looking down. Her small voice spoke up from deep in her throat.
“Vincent--please. I think that’s all I can handle
for one night ...” Nodding his head, he left the bed without another
word, found his boxers and pulled them on. He left them in silence,
shutting the door behind him without looking back.
Armand pulled himself out of her and heard her tormented
moan, then drew her up to him while he leaned his head on the headboard.
“Hey, it’s alright. I know it’s terrible, the first
time--”
“You liked doing that to me.” She sounded bitter,
her voice raw and low in her throat. Armand smiled a little and rubbed
her arm.
“Of course I did. That’s my job. To enjoy
what I do makes it even better.”
“You’re not a prostitute?” She asked slowly, making
it sound like the rest of her question had the hidden amendment: “You’d better
not be.” He shook his head.
“I don’t exactly get paid for this. I’ve been with
Mona for a long time, and before her I had a more socially acceptable lifestyle.
I was a banker. Now I’m a lover, all day, all night, and an assistant,
when she wants me to be. Vincent, he’s been around longer than I have,
and so she’s had less interest in him. He goes where he wants, but he
always comes back, because he can’t leave her. None of us can, really.”
Silence. He lifted the covers and they both got under them, and he pulled
her close, crossing his right leg over her left, so that they were nestled
together.
“And I usually spend my time traveling. Since I
did have a talent before I met her, Mona makes me apply it in her favor.
Of course, it’s also in my favor. I’m not exactly her slave, and I don’t
have to stay. But I do it as a favor. We enjoy each other’s company. And we always do things for each other that make life easier.”
“What about me?” His warm brown eyes lowered to
look down at hers.
“You have beautiful eyes,” he said softly, and she shook
her head once. “They’re violet,” he added.
“That’s not what I asked,” she replied. He nodded
and gave a small smile.
“Alright. You want to know what the three of us
were doing here tonight.”
“Not exactly.” He raised his eyebrows as she pulled
away from him and moved about under the covers, finally extracting herself
from her negligée and tossing it onto the floor. Then she moved
to sit on top of him as he leaned his back against the headboard. His
organ lay, flaccid and calm between them, the moment being too serious for
sex.
“I got a call from Mona earlier today, and she told me
to expect a little fun. I had the feeling that it would be about sex.
What I’m saying is, how did this all fall into place? How did she plan
such a thing? Am I a favor? Are you breaking me in, like a house
pet? Are you supposed to be preparing me for something, or teaching
me something? Or did Mona really just want me to have a little fun and
so she left a few lovers behind for my pleasure?”
“All of the above,” he said softly, and Mia drew
in her breath and waited, putting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing
them, as if to say, “Tell me.” He sighed.
“Like I said, Mona and I, we make each other’s lives
a little more pleasant through an exchange of gifts and favors. For
example, and don’t be too stunned by this, since we have some business in
Japan, she asked, just as a fleeting joke I guess, that I bring around a
geisha girl for some fun. As a surprise, I purchased one for a month and
brought her to Mona. She was absolutely delighted. The two of
them, and sometimes a few others, enjoyed that month immensely.” Mia
stared at him for a long time before saying anything.
“It’s a power game for her, isn’t it? She gets
off on sex. She likes to try new things, and all these lovers of hers
-- they come and they go, don’t they?” Armand nodded. “And
does she like to play them off each other?”
“No, that’s inconvenient for her. She doesn’t like
jealousy and petty rivalries. It gets in the way of her fun. But
she does enjoy enticing her lovers into doing things that they wouldn’t necessarily
do, if it weren’t for her influence. It’s a way of breaking down their
inhibitions, breaking them in, like you said. She’s making them a more
suitable lover, for her and her other romantic interests. And you’re
right. She enjoys it immensely.” Pointedly, Armand looked down
and she followed suit, seeing that he had, in the course of the conversation,
become aroused. Without a second thought, she mounted him, but didn’t
move any more than she had to.
“And you enjoyed breaking me, didn’t you?” Mia
whispered softly. Armand looked up into her eyes, an element of respect
in his eyes, but otherwise unreadable. He said nothing. “Is she
the only one who enjoys power, or does she let anyone else have control?”
“Sometimes,” he breathed, as her mouth hovered above
his, her lipstick long gone. “For a little excitement. She likes
to have a few dominatrices around, and sometimes she keeps them to herself,
or has them discipline a few select lovers. But mainly it’s her who’s
in control.” She kissed him slowly, and he hardened inside of her, while
she remained perfectly still around his sex.
“You do realize that what you just did a little while
ago -- with Vincent -- was a little power game of your own?” Armand
did not reply, only let her kiss him, deeply and insistently. She pulled
her lips away, and smiled wickedly down at him.
“But not even Lucia could break me like you could, could
she, Armand?” He shook his head a little and she kissed him again, then
rose up on him once. She stayed in mid-air, unmoving. “You had
me crying out your name, didn’t you? I saw that look in your eyes.
When I said that you liked doing that to me -- what I meant was, you enjoyed
breaking me, didn’t you?” No reply. She slid down him swiftly
and clamped him with her inner muscles, seeing the look of helpless desire
on his face and realizing that she was about to repay him.
“Answer me,” she growled into his ear, and then
she bit his shoulder. He moaned, and she pulled back, then lifted up
once more, feeling him grow in size again. “Come on, Armand, baby, you know
what I’m doing, don’t you?” He stared, dazed, up into her eyes, and
she smiled a little, then slid down him again, squeezing him inside of her
so that he moaned even louder.
“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” She grabbed him by
the back of his head, her fingers tangled in his hair, and emphasized, “Didn’t
you?”
“Yes!” He gasped, finally, and she laughed, a naughty
little laugh, and began to ride him, as he buried his face between her breasts
and grasped her hips, driving her down onto him as she gasped hungrily with
her rhythm.
“Oh, Armand, and now it’s time for me to break you in
. . .”