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With a sigh, he beckoned to Maxim. “Lie back,” he said to Valentina. “Let him have your pussy. He may only use his mouth.”
“Not his cock?” She stared at it, disappointed.
What a greedy little wanton she was. “Not his cock,” he said acerbically. “He isn’t deserving.” Michel didn’t admit that he was too jealous to let Maxim fuck her, even though the young man was gay, and his slave. Michel didn’t believe he could stand by and watch someone else fuck Valentina without suffering for it, and he didn’t like to suffer.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured as Valentina lay back and spread her legs. He trusted Maxim would make things good for her. It wasn’t the first time Michel had made his slaves go down on a woman, although he imagined it would be the last. He watched Maxim for a while to be sure he performed with adequate enthusiasm before he ordered Leonid between his legs. Still he watched the other pair as Leo sucked his cock, drawing it deep into his practiced throat. Michel reached to touch Valentina’s hair, stroking the wavy strands in time to Leo’s bobbing strokes. His cock filled with heat and anticipation, his whole body given to sensation. Valentina’s cries and moans of pleasure heightened his own enjoyment of this sweet interlude, as did the knowledge that both his slaves’ cocks ached for release.
In the end, Valentina’s glorious lust undid him. He wanted to draw out this sensual moment, feel the waves of his climax as she too climaxed, but it was not to be. The way she grasped Maxim’s hair, pulling his face into her, the way her whole body quivered as the slave licked and teased her clit... Michel’s orgasm roared to life and exploded with greater intensity than he’d felt in a while.
As soon as he’d emptied himself in Leo’s mouth, Michel nudged him back and then pushed Maxim away from Valentina’s pussy. She made a small “oh” sound as he grabbed her thighs and opened her wider for his pleasure.
“Ah, mignonne,” he sighed as he took her with his mouth. She tasted sweet and piquant, unique. She was provocative beyond his ability to bear, provocative enough to drown out the clanging alarm bells in his brain.
No, no, no. When had he last behaved with such poor discipline? She quaked beneath him, but he didn’t want her fear. He wanted her surrender, her capitulation. He licked every inch of her and teased her pearly clit until she shuddered. The sounds she made were as delicious as the taste of her, as exciting as the feeling of her fingers twisting in his hair. When he growled, she opened her hands and dropped them to his shoulders. He drove into her with his tongue, consuming her, memorizing her flavor and all the secret spots that made her twitch.
He was generally capricious about his slaves’ pleasure, denying orgasms as often as he allowed them, but in that moment he needed her climax like he needed air and water. When she dug her nails into his neck and cried out in ecstasy, he wished to begin all over again, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he pulled her up into his arms and gazed at her. She melted against him, locking her arms around his neck. How sweet she was. How dangerous to his continuing mental health.
“You must go,” he said.
She stiffened, her pretty mouth turning down in disappointment, or perhaps horror that after such heights of pleasure, he would summarily send her away. “Why? What have I done?”
“Nothing. It is merely time for you to leave. I have no more need of you here.”
“No, I want to stay,” she begged, clinging to him. “Please!”
He ignored her, carrying her to the door. “You can’t stay.” He let her down and nudged her out into the anteroom. “No arguments. Get dressed and go back out into the club. Dance a little before you go home. Everyone loves to watch you dance.”
He closed the door on her wide-eyed shock. He heard her kick the door, once, twice. Silly girl, to think she had any choice in this matter. He turned to his two boys, his valued slaves who had given him so much of themselves through the years. Maxim looked at the floor but Leo met his gaze. To Michel’s horror, the man’s eyes said, I understand. How dare he? How dare he presume to understand what Michel could not? He felt endangered, enraged. He felt a need to expend energy that had no other place.
“On the floor,” he barked at the men. “Now.”
He went to the wall for the snake whip. He marked their backs first, reveling in their pleading groans as they writhed on the floor. Then he had them stand, taking measured shots at their exposed, straining cocks. He didn’t injure or draw blood, didn’t leave them with anything more than a few welts. The whip was one of his favorite toys and he knew how to wield it with a delicate touch. Then he took up the flogger and beat them until they pleaded for mercy. Respite. Orgasm.
Before he’d allow that, he fucked both of them in the ass, first Leo and then Maxim, a long, brutal session that emptied him out with a mind-blowing climax. Then, finally, because this was the end of so much more than this one night, he let them come, tormenting them again with the whip until they shot onto one another’s rigid, muscled bellies. By the time they stumbled from the room, they’d been used in all the ways they best liked to be used. He didn’t say goodbye, and they didn’t say goodbye, although the finality of this parting was mutually understood. None of his slaves had ever resisted when they left his private room for the final time. It was for that quality Michel chose them in the first place.
He crossed to sit in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. Why wasn’t he in Brussels? Why had he released Maxim and Leo on the very night he’d brought Valentina here? Why was he suffering? His life was not in balance for the first time in many years. It was her fault, Valentina’s, and his fault too. He was acting weak, pathetic, and obsessed. She was a hazard to him, a threat from the crown of her blaze-red hair to the tips of her toes. If he allowed her to conquer his restraint and his reason, it was no one’s fault but his own. With a muttered curse he stood and went to the door. He tore it open and nearly tripped over the small figure huddled on the other side.
She was not dressed, and she had not gone back out to dance and have fun as he’d commanded her. She gazed up at him with her large hazel eyes. Her expression was as bleak as his slaves’ when he’d released them.
“Oh, please,” she sighed. “Why won’t you do that to me?”
He sucked in a breath. “You were supposed to leave. You were supposed to dance and go home.” He pulled her up and reached for her clothes. “For God’s sake, at least get dressed.”
She shook her head and set her chin. “I don’t want to get dressed. I want to be yours, like them.”
“No.” He threaded her arms through the straps of her bra and clasped the front closure, avoiding her gaze. That finished, he leaned down and made her step into her garter skirt.
“I don’t care if you hurt me and make me do awful things,” she said as he pulled the skimpy garment up her legs. “I want to be your slave, like them. Can’t you have a girl too? I heard that you like both men and women.”
He grimaced. “I like people. People who excite and inspire me.”
“Then why not me? You said I inspired you.”
To his chagrin, La Vampa started to cry. Not the volcano of tears he expected, but silent, sparkling trails running down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands as he smoothed her stockings up her legs and attached them to the garters. Her body shook with a misery he could not understand.
“Why?” he asked in frustration. “Why must this be?”
“Because I belong with you.” She pushed his hand away, fastening the last garter herself. “Why did you bring me here and show me this if you weren’t going to give it to me? Why are you doing this?”
“Stop this, Valentina. Stop fighting with me and making demands. If you must know...” His voice trailed off. He was about to hurt her. “If you must know, you are not the type of submissive I’m attracted to. Your uncontrolled dramatics are not to my taste.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes dilating in pain. He bit back apologies, excuses. Amorous protestations. Everything about you suits my tastes, littl
e Vampa. The truth is, you set me on fire, which is why this cannot be.
He turned away from her to dress, and by the time he turned back she was gone, leaving nothing behind but an irritating sense of loss.
Chapter Five: Drama
Valentina lay awake in her dormitory apartment feeling suffocated and confused by everything. Mr. Lemaitre didn’t want her. Why? Why had he taken her back to his private room only to tease her and show her what she couldn’t have?
She pulled the covers over her head as images of the evening’s events replayed in her mind. Mr. Lemaitre’s fine, strong body revealed to her in all its magnificence, the bodies of his slaves on display for her. Choose the one you like the most.
Couldn’t he understand that he was the one who called to her with his creativity, his sexuality, his force?
