AMÉLIE
Amélie’s eyes opened when the arm curled around her belly tightened and a deep, drowsy voice sounded at the back of her hair.
“There’s a cat that needs feeding and there’s a beast that needs to be worked, baby.”
After that, Olly pressed his hard cock to her ass.
She felt her eyelids drift down, enjoying the hardness at the curve of her ass, but more, the contentedness she felt finally waking up with Olly (after she’d finally slept with Olly), not to mention all that had happened last night and anticipating what would happen that day.
Then she turned in his arm.
She took another moment to revel in Olly, snuggling in to his big, warm body, nuzzling then kissing his throat as she snaked her arm around his waist.
“I’ll go feed the cats,” she said there.
“Good call, but if you tell me where their stuff is, I’ll—”
She tipped her head back and when she did, Olivier interrupted himself to dip his chin down to catch her eyes.
“No, Olivier. You’ll have ten minutes to prepare for me. Today, all day, you serve me.”
She saw the banked fire stoke in his eyes, felt his arm tense around her and she pressed closer.
“All day, Olivier. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Try me,” he challenged.
Oh, she was going to.
She grinned slightly.
Then she ordered, “When I get back, I want you in this bed on your back, head to the pillows. And I want three towels down on the bed under your hips.”
“You got it, Mistress.”
She liked he was ready for play.
But she was not done.
“And I want your knees up, legs spread, hands at your inner thighs, keeping them open for me. No harness.”
The fire in his eyes blazed and the drowsy was gone from his voice, but not the gruff, when he replied, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Right.” She touched her lips to his. “Prepare for me, chevalier.”
Without hesitation, Olivier rolled one way.
Amélie rolled the other.
She pulled on her robe, went to the guest bath, brushed her teeth, opening one of the new toothbrushes she kept there for use of guests who might have forgotten to bring one to do it. She then splashed water on her face. After that, Amélie went to the kitchen, fed her cats, and made coffee.
She was hips to the counter, sipping said coffee, thinking it’d probably been over fifteen minutes since she’d left him so she contained a now-grouchy in the laundry room Cleopatra before she grabbed the bowl she needed and went back.
But she also retrieved his tail before she entered her room.
He was in position and more than ready for her, his big cock hard and lying on his stomach, his blue eyes going immediately to his tail.
Not saying a word, Amélie approached the bed, swung the tail out and set it at the side, doing this before she skirted the bed and went to the bathroom to prepare.
She came back with the big fluted glass bowl filled with warm water, as well as shaving cream, a razor, and several hand towels, one of which she’d wet with hot water and wrung out.
“Mistress,” he grunted.
He knew what was coming.
Her rookie with the good instincts.
He wanted to be thrown in the deep end?
She’d help him surf that killer wave.
“Stay in position, mon chou, you’ll want to remain steady,” she ordered as she sat on the side of the bed, not hesitating a second to place the hot towel where she needed it. She then looked to his eyes and got a hint of that wild she was growing to love, with it coming the delicious understanding she’d never quite tame her sweet beast. “We won’t want any accidents while I shave you.”
“Amélie.”
She said nothing, just held his gaze steady.
“Fuck,” he whispered his surrender.
“You’re beautiful, beast. As you are. We’ll see how I prefer it when that pretty cock is entirely exposed to me.”
He dug his head in the pillow and muttered again, “Fuck.”
Fighting a contented grin, she set the bowl on the bed, the towels and razor down, and she filled her palm with shave cream.
She gave the towel a few more moments to do its work before she pulled it away.
She lathered him.
At this touch, his hands automatically clenched at his thighs, drawing his ass up, pressing his legs wider.
Her clit pulsed.
Lovely.
“Yes, Olivier, I like that position better. Retain it,” she commanded.
“Christ,” he groaned.
She picked up the razor, swished it in the warm water, and went to work.
She was wet before the first stroke.
On her last, she felt herself dripping as his body shuddered, his balls heavy, his cock red and distended, his noises choked back.
Amélie threw the razor in the bowl and took a towel, wiping away any residue.
“Pretty,” she whispered.
And he was.
She liked him like this and she’d have him this way often.
But so she could groom him, he’d also need to grow it back.
She looked from his pretty dick to his clenched jaw, which was all she could see, his head pushed back, his throat moving with a swallow.
And she felt more wet gather between her legs.
She could have no idea if he liked how he now looked, but it was clear he’d enjoyed being shaved.
She ran a lazy finger on the smooth skin, then around his balls and down to his hole, where she touched it to his rim.
His legs trembled and he pressed in, forcing the tip of her finger inside.
She liked that so she bent over him and ran her tongue along his sac between his testicles and up the underside of his cock.
“Baby.”
She straightened away, pulling her finger from his ass. “You’re taking your tail now, Olivier.”
He lifted his head to look at her.
Wild gone.
Nothing but need.
My.
There was simply no way to express how delighted she was Olivier so liked his tail.
“Yes, Mistress,” he pushed out.
“Stay in position.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he gritted, impatient to be filled.
She gave him a smile, reached to the tail, shifted the other way to reach to her nightstand, and she grabbed what she needed.
She prepared the plug, tossed the tube aside, and looked to Olivier.
“You’ll take it all at once?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
She tilted her head. “Rough?”
“Whatever way you want to give it to me, Mistress.”
She straightened her head.
“Please,” he forced out.
Amélie knew precisely how she wanted to give it to him.
So she positioned it and in one smooth stroke, drove it home.
Her inner thighs quivered watching his hands at his thighs jerk his entire bottom half up as he dug his head in the pillows.
Even better than expected.
She gave herself a long, lovely moment to enjoy the scrumptious view before her in her bed before Amélie retrieved the remote control and set the toy to vibrate, medium low.
“Turn, Olivier, offer your tail to me. On your knees. Cheek in the pillows. Arms out.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Amélie didn’t either.
She moved from the bed and pulled the hidden sashes out from under the headboard, lifting them up. She bound one lash of silk around his wrist, holding his arm firm and wide, then she moved around the bed and lashed the other.
After that, she took the bowl, the towels, and the razor to the bathroom and she tidied.
Done, she went back to the bed, stroked his ass, and leaned in close.
“You’ll remain this way for me for some time, Olivier. I’ll be back to play.”
His cheek in the pillow, she saw his eyes widen and cut to her. “Baby—”
“If I come back and see you’ve moved, this will annoy me.”
“Mistress.”
She twitched his tail. “Be good.”
And then she walked out, setting the vibrations from medium low to medium.
So she smiled when she exited the room as she heard his groan.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, she hit the remote to a setting she had not yet used two steps before she entered her bedroom.
She heard his, “What the fuck?”
But what she saw was her custom-ordered tail that she’d had made on a rush (and at great expense) was a thing of beauty.
On its own, Olivier’s tail was twitching.
“Amélie,” he grunted.
“Yes, Olivier?” she asked, entering the bed from behind.
“Baby, give me something.”
“All right,” she answered agreeably, and she reached between his legs, grasped his cock in a tight fist, and ordered, “Perform for me.”
“Thank fuck,” he grunted as he jacked her fist, his ass moving through the air, and she bit her lip. Enjoying the show tremendously, she reached with her other hand to part her robe. Honing in on her target, she lazily circled her clit.
Oh yes.
Much better.
“Stop,” she commanded, her voice husky.
“No, baby.”
She gave him a hard tug.
“Stop,” she snapped.
He stopped.
He was breathing heavily.
She turned his vibrations up.
“Mistress, fuckin’ fuck,” he growled.
“Perform,” she ordered.
He thrust into her fist.
She gave him that until she felt his excitement ramp.
“Stop.”
He came to a juddering stop, now puffing out air.
“Whatever you want, whatever you want, Amélie. Just let me come,” he pleaded.
“Perform.”
“Fuck yeah,” he gritted and pumped her hand.
She gave him time, took him higher.
Then she ordered, “Stop.”
“Fuckin’ fuck me,” he groaned as he stopped.
She pulled her finger from her clit, her hand from his cock, and heard his, “No, baby, please.”
She stopped his tail twitching and lowered the vibrations.
“Mistress—”
“On your belly.”
“Christ, Amélie.”
She cracked a hand against his right flank. “Now.”
He slid off his knees on an incensed growl.
She liked that sound but she didn’t revel in it.
She pulled one of her beast’s long, heavy legs wide and lashed it that way with another silk sash that was attached to the bed but hidden under it, tugging it tight at his ankle.
The same with the other.
She moved to the end of the bed, took in his magnificent beauty, and cooed, “So beautiful.”
It was an understatement.
He was simply glorious.
“Mistress, fuckin’—”
She set the vibrations to high and watched with great delight as Olivier humped the bed, all that power leashed except at his hips, his fingers fisted around his bonds, the bed creaking, his tail swaying, his hips thrusting violently.
His grunts came fast and deep, his movements jerky and desperate, and she turned the vibrations all the way to low.
“Please, God, fuck, baby … Mistress, jack my ass. Let me come. Fuck.”
“I’ll be back, Olivier.”
She watched the bed jerk with his nonverbal denial.
Glorious.
So again, Amélie was smiling when she left the room.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, she walked back to the room, stood outside the door and turned up the vibrations.
She heard his groan of pleasure and fury.
So she was once again walking away smiling.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, she did the same, heard no groan but a warning rumble and again wandered away with a grin.
* * *
Half an hour after that, she walked into the room and felt the shudder roll up her pussy at the sight of her beast, his entire body slicked with sweat, lashed spread-eagle on her bed.
She turned the vibrations down low and even though he was prone, she saw his large, powerful frame slump into the bed.
He saw her, too, and begged, “Baby, please, fuckin’ let me come.”
“You’ll come, my steed,” she assured.
“Now, Amélie, in you, loosen the ties and slide under me.”
She sat on the side of the bed and held his eyes.
“Mm,” she purred. “Perhaps another time.”
His eyes tilted to the side and locked on her, the heat there, the fury she’d heard, the deep, dark, delicious need shadowing him, her, even dimming the sun in the bright room, he growled, “Let me have your pussy. I won’t eat it. Just hold my face to it.”
“Another excellent suggestion, mon chou, but today I’ve decided on something different.”
“Mistress, I’m beggin’ you—”
Suddenly, she darted a hand between his legs, gripped his balls, and rolled the remote all the way to high.
His head jerked back.
Top to toe a thing of beauty.
“Perform, beast,” she ordered.
She didn’t have to order it. Holding tight in order to keep hold, Amélie watched as he fucked the bed.
“Come at will, Olivier.”
“Yeah, fuck yeah, fuck, fuck, squeeze my balls, baby.”
She squeezed.
And he blew, his grunts thundering through the room, the entire bed shaking as Olivier ejaculated his seed into the soft towels under him.
When his noises subdued and his thrusts weakened, she brought him low.
Then it began.
She took him up and took him there, listening to his words—angry, pleading, challenging, threatening, desperate. She did this touching him, stroking him, gripping him, squeezing him, his tail jacking his ass low and high, Amélie watching the entire show, glorying in all that was Olivier.
On his third orgasm, less powerful than the first two, she set the plug to low, took her toy from the pocket of her robe, lifted the robe up to her waist and moved to straddle his back, facing his lower half. She dropped the robe and felt his whole body twitch powerfully and magnificently as the silk slithered over his skin.
Rubbing herself against him, pressing her toy to her clit, Olivier emitted low frustrated snarls, yanking at his lashes feebly, and Amélie loved every fucking second, eyes to his beautiful, filled ass as she made herself come against the small of his back.
He’d been so marvelous, this didn’t take long.
And her orgasm was not as glorious as watching him have his, but it wasn’t far from it.
When she caught her breath, she swung off him, turned off and carefully extricated his tail, and set it aside.
Only then did she turn to his head, doing this shifting astride him again, this time facing his upper half. She lowered her body to his.
She got close and smoothed his hair away from his temple, bent deep, and touched her lips there.
“You please me,” she shared gently.
“Next time I fuck you, gonna split you in two,” he muttered, his deep voice drowsy and muffled by the pillow.
“Something to look forward to,” she whispered as she stroked his hair and watched his eyelids flutter.
He was fighting sleep.
Amélie had a lot of patience so she saw it when he lost.
OLIVIER
Olly woke up and the first thing he saw was the glass of ice water on the nightstand.
Then he realized he was no longer tied to the bed or lying in his own cum.
He was on his side and under the covers.
Fuck, she jacked it all out of him, he didn’t even feel her take care of him afterward.
He pushed up, reached for the water, downed it and knew he needed food.
Seriously.
He rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom, saw his duffel and looked back to the nightstand.
He didn’t hear her or see a note.
This meant, he assumed, he was at ease so he grabbed a quick shower, got out, toweled off and bent over his duffel, pawing through it. He nabbed underwear, clean jeans, a tee and tossed them to the counter, starting to get dressed when he saw his shaved cock and balls and stopped dead.
It wasn’t like he checked his brothers out but it still was not lost on him God saw fit to grant him a great dick.
But fuck, he liked it shaved and he could not fucking believe after she worked him over and good, he felt himself start to get hard, remembering the feel of Amélie gliding the razor there, more of her dragging her tongue there, and her whispered “pretty.”
His Mistress knocked it out of the park every time and he hoped her imagination never dried up because she rocked his world each time she did it.
He stopped staring at his dick, dressed, and went in search of two things in a specific order.
Amélie and food.
Fortunately, he found her in the kitchen.
As she’d once said, two birds …
Her eyes came to him as she watched him walk her way.
She was in another pair of jeans, hair down, no jewelry, but a sexy, slouchy green top that looked like it had wings under the arms and it also fell off her shoulder, exposing a white tank under it.
Hot.
She was facing him and he moved right into her. Lifting a hand to scoop her hair to hold it in a tail behind her neck, he slid his other hand from waist to the small of her back, drew her to him and bent, kissing her bare shoulder.
“How are you, darling?” she asked.
He lifted his head but held on to her. “Hungry.”
Her mouth quirked. “I’ll bet.”
“Looked like you had enough to make ten sandwiches. You do that, I’ll eat ’em all.”
She gave him a full grin. “I’ve got the Foreman heated up, waiting for you, so in but a few minutes, I could give you a burger.”
“Better,” he grunted.
“Pull a stool around to the side of the island and I’ll get cracking,” she ordered.
“Got only about that in me to do, sweetheart, until you feed me.”
“Then I best get cracking.”
Even saying that, she rolled up on her toes and he took his cue.
He bent and gave her his mouth.
She took it and Olly took hers too. Even starving, he took his time to explore it with his tongue before he ended it and lifted away.
“Burger,” he muttered.
“Right away,” she replied.
He let her go and got his stool.
She shifted to the Foreman and got cracking.
Cleopatra came out and wove around the foot he had on the floor, tilting her kitty head to sniff the one he had on the rung.
“Water, beer, Coke, Sprite, something else?” Leigh asked and he looked from her cat to her.
“Water, babe. And a Coke.”
She nodded and brought both to him.
“Cheese selection, Olly,” she said after he’d downed half the bottle of water she gave him.
“You got American?”
“Alas, no.”
He grinned at her. “Cheddar.”
She nodded and he decided to buy a Foreman because she wasn’t wrong. She had a double burger with double cheese in front of him in no time.
He didn’t hesitate to lift it up and dig in.
“No condiments?”
He saw her at the opened fridge. “I’m good,” he replied with his mouth full.
“Onion? Tomato? Pickle?”
“Good, Leigh.”
She nodded again then asked, “Chips?”
“Whatever your hand grabs.”
She brought him whatever her hand grabbed, sour cream and chive. He broke the bag open and dug in.
“I’m seeing I should feed my beast before I test him,” she noted.
He shook his head, swallowing a huge bite. “No, baby. You go your own way. You got your shit tight. I can recuperate when you’re ready.”
She leaned a hip into the counter and remarked smugly, “I take it you enjoyed your morning.”
He lifted eyes from burger to her, saw Leigh was cute when she looked smug, but when he spoke Olly dropped his voice to a rumble.
“Next time I’m inside you, gonna drill you and keep doin’ it until you come for me … repeatedly, beggin’ me for more until you beg me to stop.”
Her lips parted and her eyes went half-mast.
His tone changed when he finished, “That said, how you worked me was staggering. And I mean that in a good way.”
Her grin came back. “I’m pleased, Olly.”
“Leigh,” he called even though she was looking at him. But she got his tone and he knew it when her body locked and her gaze riveted to his. “Disappeared,” he whispered. “That thing fuckin’ with my head. Gone. Thank you for that freedom, sweetheart. If you didn’t struggle with it, I’m seriously fuckin’ glad, but if you didn’t, you can’t know what it means. And it means too much to say, Leigh-Leigh. So I hope you get how deep I’m givin’ that gratitude because it’s really fuckin’ appreciated.”
She got close and put a hand to his thigh. “So nothing fucking with your head as I took care of you this morning?”
“Outside wishin’ I could get free to spank your ass, not knowin’ if I wanted to do that before or after I fucked it, that is whenever I wasn’t totally focused on what was happening up my own ass … no.”
Her smile came back. It was softer, but happier.
“Good.” She slid her hand up nearly to his dick. “But no one spanks me, Olly.”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, tossing a chip into his mouth.
Her eyes sparkled at him before she bent in and touched her mouth to his cheek that was working the chip.
She moved away, doing things, tidying things, but Olly focused on eating.
He was downing the Coke when she came to whisk his empty plate away.
He put the Coke on the counter as she told him, “Dinner needs simmering so even though you just had lunch, I’m starting it now.”
“You had lunch?” he asked.
She looked to him, having grabbed a yellow onion. “Yes.”
He grinned at her. “So one meal this weekend we’ll eat together.”
She grinned back. “Perhaps. I do hope to have a few with you tomorrow, though.”
What Olly hoped was that she worked him in the morning. Even if she did the same exact thing, he didn’t care.
Though if it was up to him, he’d change one nuance of it.
He didn’t share that. He looked to the onion she’d put on a cutting board.
“You need help?” he offered.
She turned to him and tipped her head to the side. “What I need right now, my sweet beast, is for you to stand up, pull your jeans down to your thighs, rest again on your stool, and let me see my pretty groomed cock while I work.”
Her “pretty groomed cock” jumped at her words.
“Amélie.”
“Now, Olivier, if you please.”
“This servin’ you all day?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” she answered.
He held her eyes, not struggling against that thing that fucked with his brain.
Now battling the man he was who wanted to take control. Spread her on the counter and eat her until she begged him to fuck her and then fuck her hard until she came, crying out his name, rather than stand at command and give her what she ordered.
But this was the game and she knew how to play it, how to take him there at the same time keep the man he was intact. So he won the battle, accepted the challenge, stood up, and carried out her instructions then sat back down, bare cock semi-hard but not there yet.
“Gonna drill you ’til you beg me to stop,” he whispered, his gaze still locked to hers.
“Stroke yourself leisurely, please,” she replied.
He did.
She went about her business with the onion.
He kept stroking as she cooked. Filling the air of the room with good scents. Sautéed onions. Seared steak she cut up into cubes. Spices she dashed into the lot.
He watched her while she did it, liking seeing Amélie in a space like that, doing normal shit.
Getting off on seeing her do that while he was exposed for her, stroking his dick.
But his Amélie, she was hands-on. She didn’t leave him be, ignore him, make him feel like a piece of furniture.
She looked to him a lot while she cooked. And his cock. Her face getting hungry. She’d often come to him and touch his jaw. Kiss the side of his lips. Run her finger along his that were fisted around his dick.
Oh yeah.
She knew how to play the game.
It occurred to him vaguely—because jacking himself, even leisurely, exposed to her eyes and touch, he was getting hotter as the minutes wore on—she was making steak chili.
“Chili?” he asked.
“Nachos,” she answered.
She was making him her nachos.
Fuck, even that felt good.
“Baby,” he murmured.
She looked to him.
“Will you come here?” he requested.
She came to him, getting close and putting her hands to either side of his neck.
He didn’t know how to share this with her.
He just knew after that morning he needed to share it with her.
And she was his Mistress, his Amélie, his Leigh, she’d listen.
“You got a cock?” he asked.
Her brows drew together and her hands gave him a squeeze. “I’m sorry?”
“What we saw, in the hall, that Mistress—”
She swayed even closer, her movement cutting off his words, her face dipping to his, her eyes showing she was surprised and intrigued.
“Would you like me to fuck you, Olivier?”
“Was alone today, Leigh.”
Something washed over her face, understanding, maybe regret, and through her lips, she breathed, “Sweetheart.”
“You’re up my ass, you take me there while you’re there and my guess is, that’ll take you there.”
“Did you not like being alone?”
He couldn’t say that. Not with the way she’d worked him.
Olly did not lie, it was staggering in a good way. Torture, pure and sweet, and in the end, she’d made every second worth it. He’d never come so hard as that first time she’d made him come that morning.
Which was what he felt in every new scene she gave him.
So he explained what he was feeling by sharing, “No one has spent that much time on me.”
She nodded. “Just to say, what we did today is not unusual in play.”
“Never had it.”
“Did you not like it?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“You prefer me close,” she stated.
That was where he was at.
“Yeah.”
“I know that but I thought here, in my house, the two of us alone, you’d know I wasn’t far.”
“I knew that but—”
“We’ll have prolonged play again, Olivier. But I’ll have more of a care. You’ve always shown you don’t like me far. When it happens again, we’ll work up to it and see where you are.”
“Thanks, baby, but just to say, where I am right now is needin’ not to jack my junk leisurely.”
She looked down then up and before he knew it, her hand was in the back of his hair, tugging it so she could drop her mouth to his and kiss him hard.
When she was done she ordered, “Up, mon chou, jeans where they are, hands to the counter.”
His dick jerked in his hand, he felt it.
And he got up and did as she said.
His head turned to her, he saw her assessing his position before she looked to his eyes.
“Legs wider apart, my steed, and feet farther from the counter, please.”
He felt his balls get heavier thinking she was in the mood to knock it out of the park again.
And Olly was always in the mood to let her.
He did as told and the second he was done, she ordered, “Tip your ass.”
Fuck yes.
He tipped his ass.
She studied him again before she purred, “Perfect, mon chou. Now stay in that position, don’t move or alter it until I give you leave.”
He not only heard but felt the rough in his voice when he replied, “Yes, Mistress.”
She gave him a small smile, hooded eyes, and he felt his balls grow even heavier.
Then she went back about her business, finishing with her chili.
But she was much more hands-on with Olly this time.
She came often to cup his balls, gently massage them, reach through and stroke his cock.
But after she tended him, she’d go back to what she was doing.
Through it, Olly didn’t know if it was better, holding position, knowing she was acutely aware he was there, available for her to tend to, take from, give to, or if he preferred when she was actually there tending to him, taking from him, giving to him.
His cock was aching, his legs trembling, his ass clenching, his balls hanging heavy by the time she had the chili simmering and the kitchen wiped down and tidy.
She seemed to be set to start something else and he couldn’t stop the words from rumbling out of his mouth.
“Need you, Mistress.”
Amélie turned to him.
“Please,” he whispered.
“So good,” she whispered back, thank fuck, doing it moving to him.
She positioned behind him and he felt her press her tits in his back.
Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Amélie,” he groaned.
She reached around with both hands, gripping his cock and cupping his balls.
“You do not move. You do not thrust. You take what I give you,” she commanded.
“Right, baby,” he grunted, amazed he could say words now that she was clearly getting down to business, his mind this time having a singular focus, her hands on his dick and balls.
She stroked, and fuck him, she did it like she had all fucking afternoon.
“Amélie,” he forced out.
“You take what I give you.”
“Need more.”
“Patience.”
Fuck.
He took what she gave him until his whole body was trembling, he felt a sheen of sweat break out, and he was grinding his teeth with the effort not to thrust.
Or come.
She released him and moved away.
“Jesus, fuck,” he panted, his eyes slicing to her. “Baby, fuckin’ please.”
She said nothing but Olly watched her walk to her purse on the counter and come back with a condom.
Thank Christ.
Standing behind him she slid it on.
“Up on your toes, Olivier, press your ass into me.”
He instantly gave her what she wanted.
And staying behind him, pressed to his back, she reached around and wrapped his cock with her hand. She also slid a hand flat down his back, through his crevice, shoved her finger only to the first knuckle up his ass, and she started to jerk him off with a purpose.
“I wish to hear your pleasure, beast,” she ordered.
“More up the ass, Mistress.”
She slid her finger deeper.
Outstanding.
His head dropped back.
“I need to thrust, Amélie.”
“No.”
“Then jack me harder, baby.”
She gripped him tight and stopped stroking.
Shit.
“Ask nice.”
He turned his head and caught her eyes.
She looked into them and the hunger took over her features.
“Please.”
“Hold still, Olivier.”
He locked his body the best he could against the trembling.
And she jacked him harder.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Fuck. Fuck, baby. Beautiful.”
“Come at will, mon amour.”
“Faster,” he grunted.
She went faster.
“Harder, Mistress.”
She gripped him tighter, tugging deep.
And she gave it to him. His head flew back and he exploded, shooting hard into the condom.
When he was spent, head now bent, hips juddering with the aftershocks of a fantastic fucking handjob, and she was just milking him, she pulled out of the back, rimming his hole gently and pressing her tits into him.
“Clean up and when you get back, my Olivier, we’ll be going to the stables.”
He felt his body get tight.
She did too.
“Olivier?” she called.
“Those stables, that guy you had when you were younger—”
She pressed close with everything, her hand sliding up his cock to the base, her other hand flattening at the back so she was holding him through the cleft of his ass.
“The ranch we had back then was much bigger, mon amour. When my father passed, I downsized. In nothing we’ve done here do you come after another. Your place everywhere we go and everything I use on you is just yours.”
Olly felt his body relax.
Then it hit him they were heading to the stables.
Jesus.
Fuck.
Serving her all day.
She’d laid down the challenge.
He’d accepted it.
It just might kill him.
But he was loving every minute of it.
* * *
His tail up his ass again, vibrating, Amélie and Olly were alone in one of her empty stalls.
She’d let the horses out to pasture.
She’d also restrained him at his ankles, legs spread wide, and his arms, also spread wide, not much slack.
She’d further strapped his ass open and harnessed his balls.
And she’d kept the vibrations low up his ass while she cropped it as well as the backs and insides of his thighs.
And last, she’d paddled his balls with that biting sweet sting he liked so goddamned much.
Sweet agony.
All of it.
Yeah, this just might kill him.
And it was going to be a fucking astounding way to go.
She’d taken her time with it all. Each step. Lavishing him with attention to the point Olly did not feel he was in a stall in a stable.
It was Amélie and Olivier, what she was doing, what he was feeling, that was his whole world.
The crop went away and he felt the vibrations increase even as he felt his hole stretched.
That fucking tail not only twitched, it lifted.
Olly shuddered.
“Beautiful,” she whispered, and he felt the slide of the crop through his legs from behind, shafting up, stroking his balls and dick.
Olly rode it.
“Beautiful,” she breathed, taking more, watching him give her what she wanted.
Finally, she glided it away and, drifting a hand over his hip, she moved to his front.
He did his best to catch her eyes.
“Your ass red from my crop, your tail seated so pretty, your cock heavy.” She gripped his dick and her grip shot from cock to balls to ass right up his spine, radiating over his scalp then spiking down over every inch of his skin.
Agony.
So damned sweet.
He gritted his teeth.
“Are you enjoying serving your Mistress, my beast?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“You have so much to give, all of it pleasing,” she shared.
“Thrilled, Amélie,” he grunted, because she’d said that while she stroked him deep.
“One last thing I ask of you, mon chou, and I’ll be releasing you so you can give it to me.”
“Anything.”
He said it. He meant it. In a stall. In her barn at the club. In her bed. Balls paddled. Ass strapped. Bent over a table in the social room. On his back, his legs in the air, stretched wide, her pussy shoved in his face. Naked and on hands and knees before her, her pretty feet resting on his back while she read a goddamned book.
Fuck, he’d take her fucking him up the ass if she was behind the cock.
Olly would take anything from his Amélie.
So he could give everything to his Amélie.
“Do you remember the second time I had you?” she asked.
He tried to focus on her when he had so much to focus on. The air on his tanned ass and thighs was burning into his skin, up his hole, into his balls. Those balls were straining. His tail was still thumping up his ass. And if she didn’t stroke him again, he was afraid he’d lose it and thrust.
She tugged him, it shot up and back, and he grunted at the beauty.
“Olivier?” she called.
“I remember,” he pushed out.
“Assume that position.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“So good,” she murmured, let his cock go and moved to the restraints.
She released him and Olly dropped. He turned his calves in at the back, arched into them with his hands at his ankles, back bowed, this shoving his tail deeper up his ass, and that felt so fucking phenomenal, he felt a drop of pre-cum drip from his dick.
“And what caused that, I wonder,” she purred.
She could take her pick.
Amélie smoothed her finger over the head of his cock, whisking away the cum, and he watched her touch that finger to her tongue.
Fuck, he needed this done.
“Mistress.”
She turned her eyes to him, on his knees, arched proudly, offering his cock to her.
The hunger took over her face and Olly nearly exploded at the look of it before she bent to him, latched on and jacked him brutally, just as he needed it. Using his dick to yank his whole body into a deeper arc, shoving his tail farther up his ass, blanking his mind to everything but her and him and that moment they had together of trust and giving and understanding and sheer fucking beauty.
“Take my cum,” he grunted.
“Give it,” she ordered.
And he shot, hearing his uncontrollable snarls, his cum jetting up his belly as she milked him dry.
When his load slowed, she drew down the vibrations and stroked him gently, gliding a hand over his cock head as he shuddered through the last spurts, and when she released him, he slumped, ass to calves, arms falling forward, head bowed.
He felt her get close and she stroked the back of his hair. So it took effort, but he gave his Mistress what she wanted.
He tipped his head back.
She moved and kissed him, deep and soft.
When she lifted away, she whispered, “You’re like a dream come true, my Olivier.”
He seriously fucking liked it that she thought that way, said it like she meant it more than he could imagine, and did it looking at him like it was the straight-up truth.
He also knew what she meant.
“Right back atcha, baby,” he mumbled.
With his words, Olly watched his Amélie’s eyes smile.
“Serving is done,” she said softly. “I’m unsurprised but still feel the need to share that you’ve performed magnificently. I’ll take care of you now, but for the rest of the night, it’s just Olly and Leigh.”
The good part about that was that he wanted that, was looking forward to having Leigh and nachos and probably college football (and some recuperation time) at her kick-ass ranch in the Arizona mountains.
At the same time he was disappointed it was over.
He’d get it back.
And if he worked it right—and he was going to fucking work it right—he’d have them both.
For a very long time.
* * *
It was the early hours of the morning when Olly woke her.
The cats vacating the premises immediately, he didn’t delay.
He worked her until he had her excited and under him.
Then he hauled her up to her knees and he drilled her.
He’d come five times that day. He was primed.
So he mounted her, curving over her, mouth working every inch of her neck, up behind her ears, shifting her hair out of the way when he needed to, tugging it out of the way when he felt like it.
And he fucked her, powering into her, hard and deep, alternating fingers to clit and each tit like he could take her until dawn and beyond.
And her harsh breaths, her whimpers, her soft cries, her hot, drenched pussy spasming around him driving him on, her lips begging him not to stop, Olly took Leigh there.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Until her knees gave out from under her and she was held up only by his dick.
Olly caught her at the top insides of her thighs, pulling them apart, feeling the contraction of her cunt around his dick when he did, hearing her sharp gasp hit him right in his balls.
And he continued to pound into her.
Until she came again.
And after, finally she twisted her neck to catch his eyes and begged faintly, “Please, baby, I can’t take more.”
Only then did he drive deep, filling her and watching her head jerk back convulsively, her hair dark in the shadows flying down her back, her sweet ass arched to him, and his grunt scored through the room as he shot deep inside his Leigh.
Still recovering, he took her down to her belly, covering her and only pulled out when he heard her breath even.
He was a lot easier on his Leigh. One “please, baby,” and he gave her what she wanted.
He thought this, doing it smiling, as he went to the bathroom, cleaned up, took a warm cloth out and cleaned her as she purred sleepily.
Leigh-Leigh purring sleepily, barely able to move her beautiful body.
Fucking cute.
Olly returned the cloth and climbed back into bed with Leigh, tucking her under him and yanking up the covers.
“Too much weight?” he asked.
“No,” she mumbled.
Good to know.
He liked Leigh right there, trapped under him.
“You’re right, Leigh-Leigh, the correct blend of sour cream and guacamole, a delicacy.”
“Shut up, Olly,” she ordered, her pretty voice drowsy and adorable.
He grinned into her hair.
She snuggled under his body.
But Olly lay in the dark thinking that this was having it all.
And like his dad with his mom, he finally understood that, when you had it all, you never let it go.
Even if it goes away from you.