AMÉLIE
After they went through the doors to the playroom, for the first time, Amélie took Olivier’s hand and moved him slowly, dallying in the passageways.
There was not a great deal to see that early in the evening, however, what there was, she wanted to see his response not only to others at play, but also to being on the other side of the glass.
So she stopped at a window displaying Mistress Shoshana with a female sub.
Her sub was bound with rope horizontally all along her torso, hips, and thighs, trapping her arms to her sides, her forearms to her upper thighs. Her breasts were tied tight in a way that looked painful, nipple clamps affixed. She was on her knees on the floor, bending over with difficulty, kissing Shoshana’s boots.
A glance at Olivier said this did nothing for him. He didn’t look bored or uncomfortable, he didn’t look much of anything.
Not a surprise. He was assuredly not a boot-kissing sub.
She didn’t pause at a silhouetted room that looked like two Doms were working a sub tied down on his back.
She did pause to watch Master Penn with his Shane.
Shane was lashed tightly to a spanking bench with an abundance of straps, one nearly every inch apart on his skin. This being on his belly, his arms and legs bound to the legs of the bench.
His cock was wound round and round with silk rope, this binding him at the base of his balls as well.
He had a rather large phallus in his mouth that he looked to be blissfully sucking as Penn (plugged himself with a toy that was quite impressive) drove into his sub’s ass with not a small amount of fervor.
Amélie kept Olivier there, holding his fingers laced in hers, but her thumb stroked his wrist in a soothing way that also helped her to feel his steady, not accelerated, heartbeat.
This did nothing for him either and it appeared, unusually, that Olivier didn’t get much from watching.
She was about to move when Shane’s head suddenly shot back and he spurted from his rope, his body bucking in his bindings. Following him closely, Penn buried himself to the root, arching back delightfully, his face a mask of ecstasy, as he poured his seed into his submissive. Even in the throes of an apparently intense orgasm, he had the presence of mind to slap Shane’s right flank repeatedly, forcing more of an offering from his toy.
After giving herself the pleasure of watching Penn build a near-simultaneous orgasm with his partner, she tugged at Olivier’s hand to start them moving again. They didn’t run into anything more to watch as they made it to the room Olivier referred to as her “barn.”
They went in, she flipped the occupancy switch, and Olivier closed the door after he followed her inside.
“Mistress Amélie, a second…” He trailed off and she turned to him to see his eyes serious and on her.
She moved closer, raising a hand to put on his chest. “Yes, Olivier?”
“Need this…” He shook his head. “We’re in here but I need to talk freely. You and me. Just Amélie and Olly. Do you get me?”
She got him and sent that message by coming closer, resting her hands on his hips and saying, “I get you, Olly.”
Relief hit his face and he dipped it closer as he moved his arms around her to hold her in a loose embrace.
“Do a lot for you. Take a lot from you. I want you free to do your thing with me. But I’m not thinkin’ I want a plastic dildo, or anything like it, in my mouth, and I do not want you to share me with a guy, lettin’ him fuck my ass.”
So their leisurely stroll observing the playrooms got her something. Territory he did not wish to inhabit, play he found unacceptable.
But she found this mildly disturbing. Not his boundaries, in truth, the way she’d found he was, she’d expect Olivier to have both. But the fact it gave the impression that this was the first time he’d seen such play or considered the possibility it might be used on him. The play they’d witnessed was actually mild and often done, no matter the sexes involved.
If it wasn’t his thing, he should have already expressed those were lines he would not cross.
Although she’d noticed it was very clear he’d had less experienced or talented Mistresses working him, it was the first time since their first session he gave that odd impression he was green.
“My ass is yours,” he went on, pulling her closer, taking the loose out of his hold. “I gave it to you. I don’t have to say that. You know it. You can do what you want, you’ll guide me with you. But I don’t … I … fuck,” he hissed, looking over her head. His gaze again dropped down to her. “I guess I don’t want you to share me.”
That.
Now that.
That was another story.
“First, mon grande, those are boundaries and I can see in your eyes they’re firm ones. You’ll need to change your profile for hetero play only and find a way to share you don’t want to suck cock in its variety of forms.”
She expected amusement and/or relief but instead he seemed more agitated. “Share on my profile.”
“It’s a requirement, Olly.”
“Yeah, and I’ll do that, not a big deal, but this is me and you. Why would I need to tell everyone in the club if I’m with you?”
“Because it’s a requirement,” she repeated.
“No, baby, I get that. I’ll do it. But you say it like I gotta do it in the next second when it isn’t a big deal because it doesn’t matter because,” he gave her a squeeze, “I’m with you.”
She felt her lips part when she understood him.
He’d change his profile when he got to it because it actually wasn’t important to do it as soon as he could because the only person who really needed to know was her and she already knew.
He was hers.
She wanted …
No, needed that confirmed.
“Are you saying, Olly, that it’s also me who needs to make a note on your profile?”
“Come again?”
“I don’t like sharing.”
His arms tightened further and his face dipped closer, eyes darkening.
“It’s your prerogative, mon chou, to be claimed as exclusive, not mine,” she told him. “Are you saying I can claim you as mine, not in here, when I have you in a playroom, not when you allow me to do it by giving you commands to carry out when you leave me, but to the club?”
“You can not only do that, Amélie, I hope to fuck you do.” He grinned. “Though maybe not in the next second.”
She slid her arms around him, happiness filling her heart even if she felt the extent of it was too much to share with him at this juncture. So she hid it even as she gave him a firm squeeze to share at least some it.
“All right, not in the next second. Now, my chevalier, please take your clothes off and—”
“Leigh-Leigh, baby,” he whispered.
She blinked, automatically melting into him at his giving her a nickname.
She swallowed so it wouldn’t come out as a squeak when she asked, “Yes?”
“Before we slide into what we have, while we have now, thanks for givin’ me now, sweetheart. Means a lot you’d step outta the scene and listen to me.”
She didn’t know whether to cry tears of joy or be insulted.
“I’ll always listen to you, Olly, out of the scene or in it.”
“I got that from you but you gotta get knowing it means a fuckuva lot.”
Fuck, she could fall in love with this man.
“You do know that right now I’ve made it my absolute mission, when it was just my definite intent, to make you come harder than I’ve ever made you, right?”
He started chuckling, her body moving with his as he did, and honest to God, it felt better than any orgasm she’d experienced.
“Have a feeling your definite intent was enough, Amélie, but I approve of your self-appointed mission.” He let her go, finishing, “So I best get naked so my Mistress can work over her beast.”
“Do that,” she said haughtily.
He gave her a cheeky grin and moved his hands to his suit jacket.
She moved hers to the buttons of her blouse, walking to the table unbuttoning them.
“Once you’re done with that, Olivier, go to your stable. Stand in the middle, facing out, your gaze to the room, not me, please,” she ordered.
She went through her bag, pulling out the things she’d need, arranging them, and took off her blouse to expose the cropped bustier, which bared an inch section of skin between the waistband of her pants and bra, as well as her arms.
The rest was covered but all skintight, leaving very little to the imagination.
She went to the opening of the stall, which had three walls that would completely hide most people, but Olivier was a head above them.
He was standing naked, semi-hard, but his pecs jumped, his abdominal muscles tightened, and his cock seemed to grow before her eyes when he saw her without her blouse.
“My chevalier,” she called his attention from her chest to her face. “With your life in the outside world, I need to know how to cuff you. Do you need no visible marks?”
He nodded, swallowing.
She nodded back and moved again to her table.
She grabbed the fleece-lined shackles, rather than the metal ones, and came back. She started with his arms. Asking him to lift them above his head she cuffed him to the chains so his arms were up high with little bend, but he was not stretched and instead had a good deal of motion.
When he had his hands around the chains that would support him in order to accomplish what she asked next, she commanded, “Spread your legs to the outer rings in the floor.”
He did that, too, though with a slight hesitation, when he’d not hesitated with the arms.
When she had him shackled to the floor, link on cuff directly to the ring on the floor, no movement for his feet, only slack provided for him to sway his body, she stepped back and looked him over.
Swollen cock, swollen balls in their harness, he was so splendid, she could throw her plans out the window, drop to her knees, and suck him off happily.
He would come hard but not as hard as she was going to make him do.
More than once.
So she set about doing that and took her time. Strapping his ass open first, she then went to her handle-less equine grooming brushes.
Returning to him, she curried him everywhere, taking her time doing it, enjoying every stroke but doing it with the goal of having every inch of him sensitized. She started with a soft bristled brush that he enjoyed and she knew it by his extended, heavy cock, his frame swaying to reach her strokes, his offering of flesh, his playful nips at her ear and neck when he could steal them.
She got serious with her next brush, a tougher bristled one that caused him to suck in breath on the first few strokes, but he eventually swayed into them as well, her mighty, sweet beast.
She spent extra time on his back and inner thighs, brushing from up high, close to his scrotum, forcing noises that she fancied sounded like a lion purring.
When he was roughened up everywhere, his skin pinkish with the grooming, she went to her oils.
This was what she took extreme care and even more time with. A warming oil that she slickened him with liberally. It smelled of eucalyptus, a soothing scent that opened the nasal passages, adding another heightened sense to their play.
She oiled and massaged every inch of him, from neck to feet, cooing to him, brushing him with her breasts, touching her lips to his glossy flesh, using her thumbs to dig in, enjoying the muscles she encountered loosening under her touch.
She finished behind him. Reaching between his legs, she massaged the oil into his balls as she concentrated between his ass straps, gliding slippery fingers in and out of his hole gently, not going too far, feeling him tighten around her as the purring turned to a heady, pleasured growl.
Yes, Olivier liked this. He accepted her at his deepest vulnerability with no hesitation this time, allowing her to see, hear, and feel his enjoyment.
Finding herself needing to control the trembling of her hands (and legs, and other places) at the intoxicating experience of grooming her beast, feeling his excitement increase, the easy way he now put himself in her hands, she left him and moved first to the control panel to pull up both sets of blinds.
Then she went back to the table to collect the final piece to prepare him to perform.
She came around the stall and his lazy, aroused eyes sharpened as the wild held at bay under her ministrations came creeping.
“Shh, Olivier,” she shushed, moving to him. Sliding the bottle of oil she still held in her hand between her breasts with the control she’d already put there, she reached out to stroke his cock calmingly. “Shh, beast.” She pressed close, still stroking, head tipped way back to catch his gaze. “I’ve got you.”
The words came clogged when he noted, “That’s big.”
“Yes, though I will assure you that my aim is not to stretch you, cause you pain. I don’t want you to become accustomed to that.” She gave him a tender smile. “I wish you to remain tight. This is the biggest you’ll ever take.”
It was like he didn’t hear her. “It’s bigger than the other night.”
“Yes, mon chou, but trust me. You’ll like it.”
The wild seeped into his eyes and he gave a slight yank on his bindings, chains clinking. “Mistress.”
“Shh, my steed. Look at me. Take a deep breath. Look at me. I’m right here. Breathe deep. Then let me give you something.”
He looked at her. He took a deep breath.
Then he jerked up his chin like a stubborn stallion, neck tight, eyes still untamed.
“You please me,” she shared her massive understatement.
He said nothing.
She stroked him several more times to assure him of her care, her presence, before she moved behind him.
It was a juggling act, the plug under her arm, the oil, and the need to keep reassuring him as she dribbled the oil from his waist in a maddeningly slow line along the opened crack of his ass, the slick of it sliding under, dripping to his balls she was holding and gently massaging.
It took some time but he relaxed under her attentions, pushing back, tilting, offering.
God, but she wanted to take a bite out of that superior ass.
But it was time to give, not take.
She continued to assure at his balls while she held the toy to his coated hole.
She slid it in, out, not much, stretching, a little teasing.
She bent at the knees and reached deep to grab his cock and she started stroking, tight, commanding quietly, “Take it, press into it, accept what I’m offering, my steed.”
She stroked faster and he got her message, gently fucking her oil-slickened fist, for fucking her fist meant fucking his own ass. He took it, shoving back more, more, widening, accepting, taking it into himself in his own time, until the widest part of the plug opened him beautifully through a ragged groan tearing out of his chest, and his rim closed around the root.
“Magnificent,” she breathed, set the oil aside, and dragged the fingernails of both hands up his buttocks, watching with fascination, her pussy clutching, as they tautened against his straps.
Oh fuck yes.
Magnificent.
She pulled the remote out of her bra.
She moved around him, held his cock again in a fist, and looked into his burning eyes, dark as night, radiating need.
Her clit pulsed.
Yes.
Magnificent.
“Are you ready to perform for me?”
His voice was hoarse when he replied, “Yes, Mistress, whatever you want, baby.”
She leaned up. Pressing her body into him, he strained his neck down and they kissed, tongues tangling, wet and deep.
She hit the switch on the remote and he ripped his mouth from hers.
She felt a mini-convulsion, like a small orgasm, and nearly had to grab on to him to stay standing as his face saturated with pleasure.
But when his closed eyes opened, she saw only fear.
“Calm, beast.”
“What’s that?”
What it was was his plug vibrating up his ass, the end inexorably thumping against one of the most sensitive places in his body.
“A vibrating plug, mon chou. Calm. Give into it. Feel it. Let it take over. Don’t fight it. Let it guide you,” she advised, releasing his cock and stepping back a step so she could watch.
“Mistress—” he started to protest.
“I’m right here.”
She increased the vibrations (and thumping), taking it up two settings.
His head flew back, his back bowed, his hands wrapped around the chains he was dangling from rattled them.
“Don’t fight it, Olivier.”
He dropped his head down, his eyes scoring into hers, that dark shadow suffusing his face, shrouding them both in his need.
“Baby.”
She increased the vibrations.
Unable to stop, he started thrusting, his powerful body swaying against his bonds, fucking the air so mercilessly, it was like she felt him in her pussy.
“You’re so beautiful,” she told him, fighting her need to go to him, touch him, sink to her knees in front of him and accept his rutting in her mouth.
She increased the vibrations and he gave her what she loved, his deep, decadent, animalistic, guttural grunts of pleasure filling the room.
And she knew he was gone.
But he also told her.
“More, Mistress, jack my hole. Please, baby. More,” he begged, still thrusting.
She turned it all the way to high.
Immediately, his body formed a perfect arc, head back, cock thrust proudly forward, shooting his seed gloriously across the floor.
She allowed the vibrations to continue as he convulsed through the last spasms, the final emissions trickling, and she turned the remote all the way to low.
Olivier went slack and hung from his shackles.
She took a moment to take small, deep breaths to calm her reaction to his glorious display before she went to him, telling him of her pleasure, running her hands over him.
Then she began to truly break him into their night’s mission.
She increased the vibration. He expressed surprise, then fear, but quickly became hard again for her.
She took him there, with patience, with pleasure, to the point her stallion was performing beautifully, driving his hips through the air.
And before he could come, she took him down only to give him the shortest of breathers and begin to build him back up.
Once there, she’d take him down.
And up.
Hanging from his shackles, at an ebb, his ravenous eyes, the pupils appearing nearly black, semi-focused on her.
“Please, fuck, baby, let me come. Christ, you’re killin’ me. I need to blow,” he begged.
She wanted to give him anything he needed.
He just didn’t know it wasn’t what he needed.
Not yet.
Amélie had to show him.
She moved to him, touched his chest, and the simple touch forced up a guttural growl she felt deep in her womb, he was so sensitized. She lifted up to his mouth to brush her lips against his, and he tried to deepen the kiss.
She pulled half an inch away and his lips curled back in a snarl.
“Not quite yet, my steed,” she whispered.
The snarl went feral.
She increased the vibrations.
His jaw turned to stone and his head rolled back.
Amélie again fought against climaxing, just watching him.
Again and again she brought him close to orgasm and when she was on the way to building him up yet again, she commanded, “I’m going to unshackle you. When I do, you may drop your arms and I want you on your knees. Once there, don’t move another muscle, Olivier. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he gritted between his teeth.
She unshackled him, legs then arms.
He dropped his arms and went to his knees.
Beautiful.
She moved in front of him, taking the vibrations up a note, watching him battle the pleasure pulsing up his ass, his muscles straining, his hands fists, perhaps so he wouldn’t tackle her, rip her clothes from her, throw her on her belly and mount her.
Oh, how she’d glory in that. Breaking his control. Experiencing firsthand that wild.
And she continued her torture, slowly taking off one boot, the other, then rolling down her pants, taking her panties with them.
He watched avidly, and when she revealed it, his eyes locked on her glistening pussy, his lips again pulled back in a snarl, growl rolling up his throat.
She moved in front of him.
And made her second mistake with him, her second mistake with anyone in years.
She’d pushed her beast far and her mistake was feeling she could push him further.
Lifting her leg to throw it over his shoulder, allowing him to smell her, see her, she did this saying, “You may now eat—”
She got not another word out.
One of his arms closed around the hip of her upraised leg. The other hand went to the inside of her other thigh and she cried out as he lifted her and swung that leg over his other shoulder. Shoving his face in her pussy, his hands going from her ass up her back, his long arms on either side of her spine as he fell forward, controlling her, holding him to her.
She had the presence of mind to keep her head lifted so when she hit floor, she didn’t bang it against the wood.
But she had no time to recover or get control.
He clamped down on her hips by curving his long forearms around them, crossed at her lower belly, and in random, effective, mind-boggling jerks, he forced her to ride his face while on her back as he ate her, no finesse. Sucking her clit, fucking her with his tongue, dragging his teeth down the sensitive sides.
He kept rocking her against him as he took one arm from around her and put his hand between her legs. He drove two long fingers inside her, fucking her mercilessly.
Oh yes, he reached places others could not go with those long fingers.
Fuck.
Luscious.
“Olivier—” she whimpered, arching into him, rocking into his pulls. Not a demand to stop, a demand never to stop.
“You want a finger up your ass?” he growled into her flesh.
“Yes,” she gasped.
He adjusted, his fingers gathering her wet and fucking her pussy and ass as he continued eating.
In no time at all, he drove her there and as she went, she had it together only enough to turn the vibrations up her steed’s ass all the way to high.
The explosive growl he forced up her pussy sent her flying. She dropped the remote and grasped his head, holding him to her, shoving him deeper even if there was nowhere to go, calling out his name in soft mews, fighting for breath.
This was it. She’d never been there before.
Nirvana. A miracle. Arriving in heaven on an explosion with Olivier’s mouth to her cunt, she never wanted to leave.
“Baby,” he groaned between her legs.
“Come on me,” she pushed out, still climaxing.
She lost his mouth but her waning orgasm waxed when she was dragged across the floor between his legs. He put his weight in one hand at her side, gripped his big dick in the other, and arched back, shooting his cum over her belly and chest.
Still experiencing a colossal aftermath, she almost didn’t notice his body stayed arched, his head back at a straining angle, his jaw so hard it looked like it would shatter, and his hips were giving desperate thrusts as faint spurts shot from his cock.
She felt frantically around for the remote, took it up, and turned off his plug.
He collapsed on her in a bone-crushing heap, giving her all of his weight.
Obviously recognizing he was cutting off her oxygen, about to suffocate her after giving her the best orgasm of her life (and she was unable to decide if she didn’t mind that end), he lifted some of his weight up to a forearm at her side but kept covering her with his body.
She wrapped her arms around his waist.
He was panting into her neck.
Amélie was also panting, doing it holding him loosely and staring at the ceiling.
Then she said, “You lifted me up.”
His body tensed.
“You lifted me up,” she repeated.
Slowly, his face came out of her neck.
She saw his guarded eyes.
“You lifted me up and wrapped my pussy around your face,” she told him something he was there to experience since he did it.
“Mistress, I—”
She burst out laughing.
Too caught in her hilarity, she didn’t fully register his relief as she asked, “How many people in the history of the world could do that? You and an East German female shot putter, circa the 1970s?”
He grinned. “I thought you’d be pissed.”
She moved a hand to cup the side of his face. “Darling, I’ll paddle you some other time, when I haven’t just been eaten out fucking amazingly by my beast.”
He kept grinning.
“I’m not certain I can move,” she shared. “We might need to curl up on our clothes and sleep here.”
“Works for me.”
She lost her humor and reflexively dug her fingers in his skin.
So easy, his ability to share he wanted more time with her.
Which for her meant time with Olly.
Sleeping with Olly.
Waking up with Olly.
God.
A magnificent dream to share all that with her magnificent beast.
He caught her mood change and dropped his head so his mouth was at her ear and he shoved an arm under her to hold her close even if the only way they could get closer was if they were connected.
And there he whispered fiercely, “I wanna fuck you, Leigh-Leigh. I wanna bury my cock inside you, fill you full, force you to release, give you what you just gave me.”
Feeling everything at once, all the good things of life crushing down on her in that warm, exquisite, unrestrained way Olivier had just given her his weight, she slid her hand up his back, turning her head slightly, and whispered back, “Olly.”
He paused before he kissed her neck and finished, “Think about it.”
She didn’t need to think about it.
She was taking his cock inside her on Friday.
He lifted his head and his somber mood was not gone. “I hurt you?”
“Um … no,” she said firmly on a gentle smile.
“Baby, I’m a big guy and you took all my weight.”
“For only a few moments.”
“And I slammed you to the floor.”
“It was a controlled fall.”
“Amélie—”
She moved both hands so they were holding his face. “I’m fine, mon chou.”
The somber stayed but it shifted, intensified, before he growled in a tone that vibrated in her soul, “Marked you.”
She drifted her hands down to his neck and stroked his jaw. “Yes, you did, Olivier.”
“You wanted that.”
It was not a question.
It was a declaration.
“Yes, Olly,” she whispered.
His stare stayed locked on hers as he announced, “I’m yours, you can claim me, but get me now, Amélie, or we gotta have another conversation. You claim me, I claim you. I get my place. I get you make this decision. But I’m fuckin’ sayin’ it anyway. You’re mine.”
She was his.
No Domme allowed her sub to claim her. Not like that.
But she already knew it.
She actually knew it the first time she’d had him.
He would be hers, and now he was.
And she would be his.
And now she was.
“I’m yours,” she whispered.
He bent his head and took her mouth.
They kissed for a long time before he slid his lips to her ear and said, “You were right. I got off huge, but I gotta ask my Mistress to slide this thing outta my ass.”
“Get up, darling, let me take care of you.”
He got up, pulling her up with him, both of them holding on to stay steady, doing this several beats before he said, “You get this thing outta me, I’ll get the wipes. You cool with that?”
She nodded.
They cleaned up. Dressed. As they did, vaguely, she caught the people outside floating away; the only one she focused on was Aryas smiling at her arrogantly.
She didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t do anything. She had to concentrate on what she was doing as she could barely move.
She needed a bath and bed.
She just wished both would happen with Olly.
It was at the door when he curved an arm around her waist, pulled her close, bent his face to hers, and made that hope she was struggling with controlling burst forth in a blaze of glory.
“Babe, didn’t know when you wanted me here tonight, didn’t know how to get hold of you. We need to share numbers, yeah?”
“Yes, Olly,” she agreed, shocked to her soul she didn’t sound breathless to panting, such was her glee.
“Right, do that now?”
“My purse is at the front desk. We’ll do it before we leave.”
“Gotcha,” he said, opened the door, and guided her through.
Their audience was gone.
Except one.
Stellan was standing there, looking beyond peeved straight to angry.
“Get rid of your stud,” he ordered angrily.
Irritation flashed through her and she opened her mouth to speak.
Before she could, Olivier used his arm still around her waist to pull her behind him and he stepped in front of her, his aggression clear.
So was his possession.
And his protection.
She lost all thought, only had feelings, and two words drifted into her mind.
Oh my.
She came back to the situation when, pushing his shoulders off the glass of the room across the hall, dropping his crossed arms, Stellan ordered, “Stand down, slave, and run along.”
An intolerable order for a Dom to give.
Olivier was hers.
“I said, run along, rutting steed,” Stellan clipped when Olivier didn’t move.
“And I say fuck you, asshole,” Olivier returned.
Oh no.
Stellan’s face turned to granite.
She put her hand on Olivier’s arm.
“Get rid of him, Leigh,” Stellan ordered her.
“She gives me my orders, not you, and I like what she gives me. But you know that, don’t you, Master?” Olivier asked maliciously. “You’re always on hand to watch.”
So he wasn’t totally oblivious to his audience.
“Olivier, mon chou, meet me in the foyer, please.”
He jerked his head to look down at her.
“Please, the foyer,” she reiterated. “I’ll speak with Master Stellan and meet you there.”
His eyes were communicating. He didn’t like leaving her and she had reason to believe that it wasn’t just protective possessiveness but that he felt he had reason to feel protectively possessive with what all three of them knew.
Olivier was right.
Stellan was always on hand to watch.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed he held an interest, but not this much.
In fact, he’d never been so interested in her work with her toys.
“Mistress—” Olivier started.
“Olivier,” she interrupted firmly, also speaking with her eyes and the hand she was using to squeeze his arm reassuringly.
It was a command he needed to obey, but still communicating she understood him and she’d be fine.
He hesitated magnificently then dipped his head respectfully to her in a way that was a thing of beauty before he sliced a scowl through Stellan and sauntered away, delivering his final cut to Stellan by doing it turning his back to the Dom without hesitation.
Amélie knew she shouldn’t feel this way, what her beast had done in these hallways was not right.
But still, she couldn’t help but feel Olivier’s show of rebellion and disgust for Stellan’s behavior was glorious.
“You allow a slave to talk to a Master that way?” Stellan asked.
“What I don’t allow is a Master to talk to my sub that way,” Amélie shot back.
Her point was more valid than his but he didn’t give it to her.
He decreed, “You’re in too deep with that one, Leigh.”
“I think I can decide where I am and if I want to be there, Stellan,” she retorted.
“He’s wrapping you around his little finger. Fuck, you both made out after you worked him your second go.” He lifted a hand high and stabbed his index finger over her head to indicate the room behind her. “And tonight.”
“I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed you didn’t kiss your toys,” she returned.
His jaw got hard.
That was a point conceded.
That didn’t mean he was finished.
“He’s dragging you under, topping from below, and I’d never thought I’d see this from you but it’s right in front of me every time you work him.”
“Then you haven’t been watching closely,” she replied.
“Leigh—”
“No,” she hissed, taking a quick step so she was in his space. “Your commentary on what happens in the playrooms is not welcome. It’s highly unsuitable. And it’s infuriating. Your commentary on where I am with the toys I play with is even more of the three. How you can feel you have a say in either is beyond me but let’s get that point clear, shall we? You don’t.”
“You can be affectionate with your slaves—”
“Not can be, Stellan, I always am and you know that.”
He speared her with his gaze. “Yes. In there.” He jabbed his finger to the room behind her again. “But you’re practically fucking cuddling him in the hunting ground. This is more and you know that.”
She drew in a steadying breath and agreed, “Indeed I do.”
His anger grew; his eyes flashing to the room she and Olivier had just shared and back to her, he stated, “Guy like that will chew you up and spit you out.”
Her heart clenched.
“Really, your commentary on your assessment of his intentions isn’t welcome either,” she fired back.
“Not the slave,” he stated, getting closer to her, too, looking down into her eyes from the superior height she’d always found so attractive. “The guy. The man he is. You’re falling for him, Leigh, and you’ve had him, what? Five times?”
“You would know, you seem to be marking them closely.”
He continued to appear furious before his face warmed.
“Leigh—”
“Oh no, Stellan. I’m not one of your toys. You don’t get to be a stern tyrant, bending me to your will, seeing I’m not going to break, noting the challenge and going in with the sweet. Fuck that. And as Olly said, fuck you.”
She turned on her boot to march away but turned back.
“And if you ever speak to Olly or anyone’s sub like that without their owner’s permission, swear to Christ, I’ll note that in your fucking profile, Stellan. That was not on. And you,” she jabbed her finger at him, “know that.”
“A slave is a slave,” he bit out. “And you know that.”
“Indeed, but do not pretend with your avid observation of all that has happened between Olivier and me that you don’t get what I’m saying. Aryas would lose his mind if he heard you speak that way to Shane, in front of Penn or not. My beast is owned and you fucking know it so stand the fuck back.”
He looked like he’d paled when he said quietly, “Penn and Shane?”
She’d given too much away for he did not miss her meaning in the slightest at her mention of Penn and Shane, indicating openly where she was wishing things would go with Olivier.
She also didn’t reply. She marched away, trying to deep breathe, calm herself, not wanting to get back to an angry Olivier, who’d shown, and admitted, he had a bad temper, while she was still so very angry.
A desire thwarted for she turned a corner and rammed right into him.
His arms wrapped around her and her head jerked back.
Her eyes narrowed as she lifted her hands and curled them on his biceps.
“I ordered—” she began.
“Spank me, paddle me, whip me, I don’t fuckin’ care. Do it for hours, gorgeous. It’ll be worth it, seeing that and hearing that.”
She snapped her mouth shut, terrified now of what she’d exposed with her words.
He smiled down at her hugely.
“Stand the fuck back,” he quoted though his big grin.
“Olly,” she said.
“That was not on and you know that,” he kept quoting.
Relief swept through her at his teasing, she slapped his biceps, got up on her toes, and hissed, “Olivier!”
“He stalked off in the direction of the Dom lounge, baby. He can’t hear.”
She had to admit, that gave even more relief.
“Olly, I told you to go to the foyer.”
He dipped close. “And Leigh-Leigh, I’m an alpha-sub and the operative part of that in every sense … and I’ll say that’s even when you’re jacking my ass, as I proved tonight … is alpha. No way I’m gonna leave any woman, much less one who means something to me, alone with a visibly ticked-off dude.” He shook his head when she opened her mouth. “It’s just not gonna happen.” He grinned again. “Now I get you can take care of yourself, at least verbally, though I know for certain you’d swing a mean bat. But I don’t give a fuck. I understand where you were and where you needed me to be in these halls when dealing with that fucker. But that’s the way it is.”
He gathered her closer and summed it up succinctly.
“Paddle my balls on Friday, but that’s the way it is.”
She stared into his eyes, standing in his arms, holding on to bulging biceps, still tingling from the orgasm he’d given her, hell, tingling from everything he’d given her, hearing all the words he’d said after he’d heard all the words she’d said to Stellan.
And she knew this time it was she who was gone.
All evidence was suggesting Olivier was the one even if it turned out he didn’t agree.
And the last part terrified the life out of her.