‘Ouch!’ Gabrielle Turner pouted her full lips and sucked the fingers of her right hand, her brow furrowed sulkily. Her long red hair swayed about her oval face, shimmering in the blaze of electric light. Her breasts heaved within her tight T-shirt and her nipples became hard and their outline plainly visible through the straining white material as a sharp pain shot through her young body.
The sounds of Las Vegas were all around them; the electronic sounds of the slot machines, the occasional clatter of a winner’s coins spilling into the collecting tray, the whirring as handles were pulled in the hope of a jackpot.
‘Oh, man!’ exclaimed Tom, her husband, grinning – oblivious for the time being of his surroundings, and concentrating only on his beautiful wife. He swung her into his arms and whispered in her ear. ‘That was so sexy – the way you slipped your fingers between your lips. Push them in and out like you were sucking my raging cock. Go on, do it!’ he urged.
Gabrielle smiled, her green eyes becoming heavy. ‘Later,’ she said, and placed her fingers between her lips once more. ‘I got stung… it hurt.’ She looked at her fingers, frowning. ‘What was it?’
Tom released her and ran to the bottom of the short flight of carpeted steps that led directly into the casino, and held out a hand to his wife.
‘Static electricity, I guess,’ he explained. ‘Vegas is the most electric, the most exciting town in the whole of the States.’
Gabrielle walked down the stairs and, keeping her fingers well away from the brass handrail, placed her hand in his. ‘I’m not sure I like such painful excitement,’ she said warily.
‘You little liar,’ he teased. ‘You love it, and you know you do.’
‘I don’t like being stung by a piece of metal,’ she argued.
‘But you like being stung by the strap,’ he whispered, ‘across your bare bottom until your skin burns and you beg me to fuck you.’ His ice-blue eyes sparkled enthusiastically as he looked into hers, but then his gaze drifted across the noisy room and he didn’t listen to her reply, but instead listened to the clatter and jingle of the countless fruit machines.
‘Are we checking in?’ asked Gabrielle, not for the first time, but she couldn’t gain his attention until she pressed her shapely body against his and surreptitiously slid a hand between them, rubbing his cock to swift erection in his tight and very confining jeans.
‘You little whore,’ he hissed, but she smiled and gently writhed against him until he had to take her in his arms and give her a long and passionate kiss. They remained locked together until Tom could be sure he looked a little more decent, then he laughed and flung his arm round Gabrielle’s slim shoulders and they were able to walk side by side, because he had regained control of his body and emotions.
‘My gorgeous little whore.’ It wasn’t an insult, but simply a pet name he called her in their more intimate moments. ‘My sweet little tramp.’ He brushed a kiss on the lobe of her ear. ‘I guess you’re right about checking into our room, and then we can have us some fun, and…’
Holding hands they walked towards the registration desk, their eyes flashing secret messages to each other as they made their way through the crowded casino. The denim jeans she wore were also tight, cutting between her plump sex lips, not that she minded feeling or even being confined, she thought with a wry smile. ‘And what?’ she teased.
‘Depends on the bed,’ he said, his voice low with lust.
She swayed against him, brushing her nipples against his broad chest, bringing them once more to eager erection.
‘Your cases are in your room, Mr Turner.’
The voice cut through the hubbub of the casino and interrupted their next lingering kiss, and Gabrielle swooned with arousal and her weak legs might have failed her had Tom not kept a strong arm around her waist.
‘Oh yeah, right,’ he said, and Gabrielle smiled as she saw a crimson stain darken his cheeks. ‘Yeah, right,’ he repeated, and pressed a crisp five-dollar bill into the bellhop’s hand.
‘I guess they don’t like us making love in their casino,’ he said to her under his breath, as they followed the bellboy to the front desk.
‘We weren’t making love,’ said Gabrielle, staring enviously at an elegantly dressed female, no more than her own age, who smiled up at a distinguished looking man as they walked confidently to the elevators.
‘Almost,’ corrected Tom, signing the registration card that one of the girls on the front desk pushed towards him. She had a beaming smile that showed a set of the most perfect teeth Gabrielle had ever seen.
Were all the girls in Las Vegas, she wondered, potential showgirls? She suddenly felt dowdy.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ said Tom, guiding her with a light pressure on her elbow to the bank of elevators.
Gabrielle hoped they didn’t bump into the distinguished man or the elegant girl as they went up to their room. It was all so smart, so well groomed and luxurious; all so different to their normal lifestyle.
The elevator pinged as it arrived and the doors whispered open to allow them to enter. ‘We’re on the top floor,’ said Tom. ‘The thirty-sixth… near the wedding chapel.’ He held her to him again, caressing the pale sweep of her neck with the tip of his tongue and she shuddered against him, feeling his hardness. ‘The bridal suite was taken,’ he told her, running his fingers through the mass of red-gold curls that swept her shoulders.
‘Oh, Tom,’ she murmured, her own voice husky with desire for him. ‘How can we afford all this?’
The elevator pinged again and the doors slid open to reveal three long sweeps of richly carpeted corridor. Displays of fresh exotic flowers, much out of season, exploded in brilliant colour against the muted paleness of the walls.
‘I told you,’ said Tom. ‘I won at craps… big bucks.’
Gabrielle followed him, aware that her sneakers looked somewhat out of place on the deep pile carpet. ‘But how much?’ she asked not for the first time.
He swiped the plastic card, the key of their room, into the door lock slot and held it open for her with a flourish. ‘How much doesn’t matter, honey,’ he assured her. ‘Big bucks are the only thing that matter, and I won a pile.’
Gabrielle gasped as she walked over to the floor to ceiling window. ‘The Strip,’ she whispered in awe. Dusk was just falling and the lights were coming on, the billions of lights that lit up the Nevada desert. Far below her was the volcano that fronted the Mirage next door. Across the street were the new Venezia and only a few yards beyond that was the fabulous Caesar’s Palace. ‘We’re here, Tom,’ she whispered. ‘We’re actually here, and I love it.’
‘I knew you would, honey,’ he smiled, and then pulled her to him, in a movement which, done by anyone else, would have been too rough. The T-shirt was pulled over her head and twisted around her wrists, rendering her arms helpless. She smiled and hooded her eyes, encouraging him, swaying her bare breasts against his sweatshirt. The pain in her tight pink nipples was exquisite and there was a heavy weight in her flat belly and a liquid melting in her sex.
‘Bedposts,’ he murmured, glancing towards the huge four-poster that dominated the room. ‘A real colonial style bed.’
‘Hm,’ she pondered, brushing her full lips against his, ‘just like we’ve always wanted.’
He pushed her across the room and flung her on the bed, unzipping her jeans at the same time. She was giggling like a teenager. ‘Maybe this weekend we’ll win enough to live in a condo or even a house,’ he said huskily. He threw her sneakers across the dusky pink carpet and tugged her jeans down her slender legs.
The giggles faded and she began to struggle against him. ‘Not more gambling?’ she pleaded.
He tore the T-shirt from her wrists and pressed one trim arm hard against one of the bedposts. In the same easy movement he pulled a length of cord from his pocket, snaking it round her wrist and tying it to the oak post. ‘Sure, why else come to Vegas?’ he said, a frown making him look older than his twenty-five years, but in a few more minutes he was breathing heavily with lust as he tied her other arm to the opposite bedpost.
‘But Tom, you promised,’ she murmured, tugging at the bonds, but he hadn’t been playing when he tied the knots. There was no escape for her.
He grabbed her cotton panties and she felt the release of tension as they ripped, hanging open and in tatters on her thighs, revealing her full mound with its bed of lush red curls.
‘That’s the only pair I’ve got!’ she squealed, almost in tears, closing her thighs and feeling the tickle of soft torn cloth against her inner thighs.
‘Never trust a gambler, honey,’ he whispered, grabbing one slender ankle and tying it to a post at the foot of the bed.
‘A second honeymoon,’ Gabrielle protested, despite her mounting excitement, ‘that’s what you said we’d be having – that’s what you promised.’
Her legs were spread to their fullest extent and she felt Tom kissing the outer lips of her cunny. She couldn’t deny the pleasure that made her belly feel warm and fluid, but amidst her conflicting emotions was one of feeling let down yet again, and tears seeped from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
A rustle of clothing told her that Tom was shrugging out of his own clothes. ‘And what’s this if it’s not a second honeymoon?’ he scoffed.
‘But if you didn’t gamble,’ she whispered, ‘we could live in something so much better than that awful trailer park.’ She raised her head and blinked at him through her tears. He was naked and their case was open on the floor, their few clothes strewn about the carpet as Tom hastily searched in it.
‘Got it.’ He straightened up, his cock standing upright and turgid, its knob shining and forcing itself out of the foreskin, which folded neatly behind his globe. In his hand he held a short flail, with many fine leather strands. The handle was polished wood, beautifully smooth and carved in the shape of a phallus, which shone in the many colored lights from outside.
He threw himself on the bed, straddling her hips, brushing his buttocks against the curls on her mound. ‘If I didn’t gamble we wouldn’t even be here,’ he said reasonably, then bent to kiss her.
Gabrielle’s first instinct was to turn her head away, but her body betrayed her; the ache in her breasts increased and the fullness and heat of her sex was becoming unbearable. In her helpless condition, bound and spread on the bed, there was no way she could make him fuck her. She had to wait until he did it in his own time and she knew that could be hours, depending on his mood.
‘What do you want me to do first, honey?’ He grinned down at her, teasing her unmercifully by letting his cock brush her trembling belly.
‘Promise me we won’t go home poorer than we arrived here,’ she said, choking back the sobs, trying to hold them back.
‘Oh, shit, honey,’ he sat back on his heels and let the flail flick her breasts just enough to allow her to feel its sting and arch her back slightly from the bite, ‘you know I can’t promise that. We might go back with less than nothing or we might go back as rich as that guy…’ he struggled to remember, ‘that guy who made everything he touched turn to gold.’
‘Midas,’ she supplied, looking down her body at the fine red weals that were stark across the pale flesh of her breasts.
‘Yeah, that’s him… Midas.’
Despite being unhappy with Tom’s continuing irresponsible attitude, Gabrielle moaned softly as she felt her sex lips being forced apart by the thickness of the polished wooden phallus. His thumb brushed the rearing little knob of her clitoris and she couldn’t hold back the mew of pleasure that escaped her trembling lips. The phallus was pushed deeper into her cunt, slowly until the globe of it touched the very entrance to her womb. It was a kind of pain, but one that only added to the pleasure of his thumb’s gentle caresses. He began to move it back and forth in a slow rhythmic manner, and she knew her sex was oozing a coating of sexual juice.
After what seemed an age, the pumping stopped and he drew the phallus from her, holding it close to her face. She could smell her own musk, heady and strong. In the dim light she could see the glistening of creamy droplets of her own juice. It gave her a thrill of naughtiness that brought her closer to her climax.
‘Lick it,’ he ordered. ‘I want you to lick your own juice, to taste what I taste when I go down on you.’
Even though Gabrielle felt a burning flush of shame stain her face and breasts, his crudeness also increased her wantonness. She was playing the whore; just the way Tom loved her to.
The wooden cock, shining with her cream, was wiped across her parted lips. She could taste herself. It wasn’t that Tom hadn’t done this to her before; he had. And he had made her lick other girls. He was an artist in finding ways to humiliate her and she had to admit she enjoyed every moment of it, but somehow, in this luxurious bedroom it was different. It was as if they were defiling the sanctity of their loving. No, it was more than that. It was as if they were being watched…
‘Lick it.’ His voice was threatening and she screamed as the flail cut down across her helpless breasts, adding to the scarlet weals. ‘Do as I say, my gorgeous little whore, and lick it!’
She opened her mouth to protest, but instead the moist phallus was forced between her parted lips and any words were effectively muffled.
‘Use your tongue on it,’ he growled, and as he spoke Gabrielle experienced the warmth and strength of two fingers driving into her vagina. Another joined them, and a fourth, until she felt deliciously stretched.
‘Bear down on my hand,’ he commanded. His voice was cold and expressionless as if someone or something quite alien was driving him. ‘And I’ll fuck your ass with my thumb.’
Even if she wanted to, Gabrielle could not protest with her mouth full of the unyielding phallus – but the truth was, she did not want to protest. The truth was that she enjoyed Tom humiliating her, even enjoyed his cruelty, when he was in one of these moods.
‘My little whore,’ he murmured. ‘My delicious little whore.’ As he promised he prodded his thumb into the rose of her anus and kept thrusting the four fingers into her vagina. His blue eyes glinted as he watched the changing expression on her face; the change from endearing uncertainty to heavy-eyed, undiluted lust.
She desperately wanted to come, but then again, somewhere at the back of her spiraling emotions she knew that if she did before he was ready, before she had his permission, she would be punished. But she bore against his moving fingers and sucked obediently on the phallus. There was more pressure between her buttocks and she bore down even more eagerly. Her whole body was on fire and she knew her juices were running freely, slicking his fingers. Her clitoris felt hugely swollen and hot. Oh, she could not hold back… she simply could not!
‘I know you’re coming, you little whore.’ His voice seemed far away and didn’t sound like Tom at all. ‘You dirty little bitch.’
She knew her bottom was breached and he was fucking it with a finger, maybe two. Her clitoris throbbed and she tried to cry out, but couldn’t because of the phallus. The pain in her shoulders and hips from her bonds meant nothing now, because her body was consumed with an ecstasy she simply couldn’t deny. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but they were no longer tears of annoyance – they tears of wondrous release.
‘I didn’t want you to come just yet. I hadn’t given you permission.’
Gabrielle knew her husband would be angry, but she couldn’t help it. It was the way she was; the way she was made. He pulled his fingers away and her vagina clutched at nothing in the pulsing aftermath of her orgasm. His glistening fingers slapped her breasts and again she smelled her own musk, much stronger now. He dropped the flail to the floor and eased his fingers into her mouth, making her suck and lick them.
‘And so because of your poor behavior, I’ll have to punish you now,’ he decreed.
She felt the bed move as he got up, and raised her head to watch him move across the room. He was a powerful man with broad shoulders, narrow waist and taut buttocks. She saw his hand go to his groin and she whimpered.
‘For that you don’t deserve to be fucked,’ he said, still with his back to her.
‘Oh, please.’ Gabrielle knew he liked her to plead with him for the pleasure of his body.
His sturdy legs moved apart; he was jerking himself off. She could see his elbow moving back and forth and knew his hand was working on the shaft of his erect cock.
‘I need you, Tom,’ she said softly.
‘You whore,’ he grunted, his breathing ragged; he was very close to coming.
‘If you don’t want to fuck me,’ she said, her voice plaintive and soft, ‘at least humiliate me by coming on me.’
‘Yeah,’ he growled, ‘that’s what I fully intend to do.’
He moved backwards across the room as if he even wanted to deny her the pleasure of seeing his turgid cock, then he was standing on the bed, his legs spread wide, his cock thrust forward, his balls drawn high. ‘Drink it down,’ he ordered. ‘There’s plenty of it because that’s how you affect me, you dirty little whore.’
Gabrielle obediently opened her mouth and closed her green eyes.
‘Look at me, you bitch.’
Her eyes opened again and she saw the grimace on his face, saw the first throb of his climax, saw his globe gleam with pre-issue. The first splash landed on her breasts and she heard him grunt his pleasure. He swayed a little over her, grunting as each wave of pleasure rocked his body. Gabrielle licked the salty bitterness that drooled down over her parted lips, collecting the warm cream as quickly as she could.
‘Drink it…’
‘I am,’ she assured him huskily, but as his orgasm neared its completion he dropped to the soft mattress, his knees astride her hips, wiping the spillage of his come into the dip of her quivering tummy and over her heaving breasts.
Only then did he consent to lie beside her, giving her slow but affectionate kisses, then petting her swollen nipples with his lips and tongue. He continued to massage his seed into her tummy and pubic mound until, at last, his sensual fingers slid into the wetness of her slit, making her groan again with longing.
‘You’re soaking,’ he murmured into the warm soft sweep of her neck.
‘What do you expect?’ It was her own loving Tom who was lying beside her again, not the animal who had abused her only moments before. She sighed as his middle finger petted her clitoris, dipping into her slippery opening. She couldn’t help but urge against his touch, arching her bound body as much as she could.
‘Shall I kiss you there?’ he teased. ‘Would you like that? Are you ready for it?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured, but in spite of the intimacy of the moment, she couldn’t shake off the horrible feeling that they were being watched, but the way she felt, so aroused and wanton, so tightly bound and vulnerable, she chose to dismiss the strange feeling and concentrate on what her husband was doing for her. ‘Do whatever you want,’ she encouraged him, ‘and as hard as you want.’
‘Shall I suck your clitoris?’ he teased.
The room was warm. The heating was turned up because it was March and a cold wind was blowing across the desert. There was snow on the mountains, but their loving was so intense that their bodies were slick with sweat.
‘Yes, please suck it,’ she murmured, straining against the bonds and trying to lift her head from the pillows to watch him slide down her body.
He knelt between her parted thighs, his fingers driving into the toned muscles, blue eyes glinting with renewed lust as he observed how far he could push her. ‘Finger up your ass, my darling wife?’ he offered crudely. ‘My tongue in your cunt?’ His voice was thick with need.
‘Anything…’ she whispered, wishing, just this once, that her hands were free so she could twist her fingers in his unruly brown hair and press his face to her open crotch.
His breath was warm as he opened his mouth on her heated sex flesh. Gabrielle tensed, arched towards his face. She felt his fingers part her swollen outer sex lips and smooth the inner folds to ensure that her clitoris stood proud and erect, unhindered by anything. He kissed it, taking the bud of flesh between his lips, drawing the tiny hood fully back. She shuddered with delight and felt the pressure of a finger probing at her anus, pushing very gently until it was fully inside. It drew back and forth and she wished his cock was pillaging her rear instead.
‘Nice?’ His tanned face rose from between her thighs. His lips glistened with her juices, but his finger still drove slowly back and forth in her rectum.
‘Mmmm,’ she purred, bearing down his hand. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘Do you want me to untie you?’
‘No, and don’t stop what you’re doing.’ She could see his cock rearing up between his own thighs. ‘Unless…’ His cock looked gorgeous, thick and long, its globe probing from his rolled-back foreskin.
‘Unless what?’
Gabrielle moved frantically against her bonds. ‘I want you to use your cock instead of your finger. Untie me,’ she could scarcely speak for excitement, ‘and turn me over.’
His face changed, became dark and broody. ‘Don’t give me orders; you know better than to give me orders,’ but she felt his fingers about her ankles as he unfastened the knots. ‘Okay, I’ll fuck your ass. I’ll do what you want, but not the way you want it.’ Roughly, he flung her legs over her shoulders until her knees almost touched the crisp white pillows. She knew her sex and anus were fully exposed to him and wicked naughtiness thrilled her. He spread her legs fully on each side of her head and she felt the warm wetness of his tongue between her taut buttocks.
‘You’re a born whore, Gabrielle,’ he said, kneeling up and positioning himself. She felt him slide the length of his cock over her slit, wetting it with her juices. She knew she was breathing fast and shallow as she waited for the pressure and the pleasure.
‘I’m not a whore,’ she countered breathlessly. ‘I’ve never taken money in exchange for my body. Never.’
Tom thumbed her clitoris and she whimpered. ‘But you love sex,’ he goaded. ‘You love to be degraded, and humiliated, and used – don’t you? Come on, dear wife of mine, admit it.’ His slippery globe was at the wrinkled bud of her bottom, pushing until the tight opening began to yield. ‘And that’s what I love about you.’
Gabrielle sighed, part with pain and part with pleasure. His cock was thick, but she still bore against it. ‘Yes, I admit it,’ she murmured. ‘I love it. I love everything you do to me.’
He was inside her, sliding deep into her rectum. ‘Especially this, eh? It’s a pity I can’t get money for your gorgeous ass.’ He was fully embedded, grunting and straining with pleasure, his groin pressed hard against her buttocks. ‘You’re so submissive…’ His breathing was hoarse, rasping. ‘You’re so passive.’
Suddenly the pleasure she’d felt from this latest humiliating invasion evaporated and she froze around him, tight as a tourniquet. For some strange reason she could not shake off the horrible feeling they were being watched.
‘Oh, that’s beautiful, babe!’ he crooned, oblivious to her concerns.
The pain in her arms, tied to the bedposts for so long, began to increase, and her legs ached from the contorted position.
‘I – I can’t hold on much longer,’ he grunted through gritted teeth, and sweat dripped from the tip of his nose onto Gabrielle’s breasts. ‘I’m going to come in your fucking ass! Will you like that, my little whore? You will, won’t you?’
Tom was pressing her sex lips apart as he drove into her bottom. Something, maybe a finger, or maybe a thumb, or maybe the phallic handle of the flail, was rubbing her sex bud at the same time. Gabrielle, despite the nagging conviction of being watched, was again almost delirious with pleasure, crazy with love and lust. She couldn’t help but scream as she felt him pulse inside her… but was that her imagination or did she hear the door of their suite open and hear a suppressed girlish giggle?
‘In some states this wouldn’t be allowed,’ said a deep, very English voice. ‘Isn’t that correct, my dear?’
Gabrielle felt her bottom muscles contract even more tightly around Tom’s cock.
‘Jeez, honey!’ he grunted. ‘Not so hard! My cock can only take so much!’ In his passion he hadn’t heard the door or the giggle or the clipped voice.
Gabrielle tugged desperately at her bonds. They were not alone. Now she knew it for certain; they had been watched from somewhere and now they were not alone. She peeped over Tom’s broad shoulder and she felt all colour drain from her face. He was still blissfully unaware of their visitors as he rutted against her. His cock still throbbed powerfully within her and he tried to claim her mouth with his, but her lips were dry and she was more concerned about what she could see.
‘No Tom, don’t,’ she begged quietly. ‘No, you don’t understand.’
‘Don’t understand what?’ he croaked, gripping her chin unnecessarily tight, forcing her to look into his blue eyes. ‘What are you talking about? What gives?’
Tears spilled down her flushed cheeks and soaked into the pillow. ‘Look,’ she managed, ‘behind you. Look, Tom, please…’
Tom, realizing something was not right, followed her gaze over his shoulder to the elegant Louis XV sofa by the door. ‘What the… what the hell?’ he spluttered.
‘What the hell, indeed?’ echoed one of the intruders, sitting there, totally at ease, a look of amusement on his face. ‘Your treatment of your wife is verging on the brutal, I have to say.’ It was the distinguished man Gabrielle had noticed downstairs, and beside him was the lovely blonde.
Gabrielle felt Tom’s cock instantly shrivel and slide from her, and she watched him move quickly down the bed to struggle into his jeans, but he made no move to release her or help cover her own nakedness. Shamefully, she lowered her legs and squeezed them tightly together.
‘Who the fucking hell are you?’ Tom growled at the intruders. ‘And who the fuck let you in here?’ He then at least tossed the corner of the tumbled bedcover over Gabrielle’s legs, but she knew her sex was still partly visible. The lush curls of her pubis, moist from her juices, escaped the carelessly thrown cover, and she could feel the warmth of Tom’s seed trickling between her bottom cheeks. Her trembling belly and breasts were exposed and her wrists were still bound tightly to the bedposts.
The man laughed effortlessly. ‘Who let us in does not matter,’ he said. ‘And besides, we’d been enjoying ourselves watching your performance long before we made our discreet entrance.’ He waved an elegant hand at a mirror on the wall opposite the foot of the bed.
‘You’ve been watching us through that?’ Tom frowned as he reached for his T-shirt.
‘Indeed – it’s a two-way,’ explained the visitor. He stood up and Gabrielle felt more naked and exposed than ever, his expensive double-breasted pinstripe navy suit somehow making her feel that way. ‘I’m Marshall Verity,’ he said. ‘I’m a…’
‘I know who you are, Mr Verity; I read the papers,’ Tom said. ‘And I know you’re extremely wealthy. But what the fuck—?’
Marshall Verity’s confident laugh interrupted Tom’s tirade even before he got into full flow, looking at Gabrielle in a way that made her feel awfully vulnerable, awfully used, and more humiliated than ever. ‘I am extremely wealthy,’ he said with a satisfied grin, ‘you are right. And I am into enjoying as many women as I can lay my hands on,’ he added, and then reached back and, immediately, the stylishly dressed girl took it. And she didn’t object when Verity lifted her short skirt, smoothed her naked belly and caressed the frilled suspenders that framed her naked sex.
‘Well, I’ll…’ Tom gawped between the milk-white thighs that were so willingly displayed. ‘She’s as smooth as silk! Not a wisp of hair… do you see that, honey?’ he said to Gabrielle.
Unwillingly, she stared at the girl’s shaven mound, but she had to secretly admit that the mouth-watering sight turned her on. She imagined how she would feel if shaved like that, and felt her clitty pulse with renewed excitement.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Marshall Verity coaxed, probing for reactions. He let his fingers stroke back and forth over the shaven mound, let them drift over the silky outer lips. ‘And she’s all mine.’ He slapped the girl’s thighs. ‘Open a little wider, my dear,’ he encouraged, ‘and show these nice people how completely you are mine.’
Tom gave a grunt of surprise and delight as the girl seductively angled her hips a little. ‘She’s ringed!’ he enthused, his eyes glinting hungrily. His lips were arched in a wicked smile and he rubbed the crotch of his jeans, which were already significantly tented again. ‘Doesn’t she mind?’ he asked like an excited teenager. ‘Does it hurt her?’ He moved forward to be closer to the newcomer and the girl, and for some reason Gabrielle found herself becoming breathless at the thought of belonging to a man like Marshall Verity.
‘It doesn’t hurt, Susan, does it?’ Marshall Verity asked of the girl. He slipped a finger through the ring that held the succulent inner lips together.
The girl shook her shimmering cascade of naturally blonde hair, and Gabrielle found herself straining at the bonds about her wrists, wanting to be closer too.
‘The ring is quite wide in diameter, you see,’ said Verity, and with a hand in the small of her back he guided the girl towards Tom, who stood speechless, his mouth hanging open. ‘Wide enough to take a tongue through its centre,’ he added, as he walked slowly towards the bed, ‘but not so wide as to allow the intrusion of an erect penis.’
Gabrielle clenched her thighs tightly together, but the cover Tom had carelessly thrown over her completely slipped away and she was totally naked once more. Verity gave a soft chuckle as he watched her strain at the bonds around her wrists.
‘C-can I?’ Tom stumbled, his voice little more than an animalistic grunt, his anger at the trespassers forgotten – his wife forgotten.
‘A can, I believe,’ Verity said imperiously, not looking at Tom, keeping his eyes sharply focused on the lovely vision tied to the bed, ‘is what you Americans preserve meat in, is it not?’ He sat next to her on the mattress and she could not help but tremble and flinch away. He was so different from anyone she had ever known. ‘The phrase you are looking for, I believe, is: “May I?”’ His manicured fingers cupped each of her breasts in turn, felt their smoothness, their firmness, and the tautness of each nipple. And then he nodded with satisfaction.
Venturing a quick glance at Tom, Gabrielle saw her husband frown at Verity’s supercilious correction, but his eyes were still glued to the silent blonde, his tongue virtually hanging out. ‘Okay,’ she heard him whisper impatiently, ‘whatever you say… May I?’
Gabrielle closed her eyes as she saw her husband’s hand slowly cup the bloom of the girl’s smooth cunt, glimpsed a finger slide in her to the knuckle, watched the girl’s little silent sigh of delight. Tears squeezed from her tightly closed lashes and meandered afresh down her cheeks, around her cute ear lobes, before again soaking down into the plush pillows.
Verity ignored Tom’s rude sneer, and used the man’s distraction as an opportunity to ease his wife’s thighs apart with cool hands. He smiled at her as he picked up the flail, draped it across the flat dip of her tummy, and fingered the smoothly carved handle. ‘This little bush will have to go,’ he said, almost hypnotically, drifting his fingertips across the lushness of her pubic curls. ‘I like my girls as smooth as silk and easily accessible.’ He smoothed the curly fronds away from her slit, baring the flushed inner skin, exposing the prominently erect clitty.
Gabrielle cast pleading eyes across the room, but Tom was far too engrossed, too oblivious to be aware of anything but the lovely blonde girl. He was on his knees and the girl sprawled on the little Louis XV sofa, her eyes closed as Tom’s tongue darted through the gold ring into the silky purse of her sex.
Gabrielle tried to choke back a sob of despair. ‘Oh, how easily your husband forgets you,’ taunted Verity. ‘Only moments ago he was being intimate with you, and now…’ He shrugged, shook his head in mock disappointment, and tutted. ‘Are all American husbands so disloyal, my dear?’ He pushed the knob of the phallus between her spread sex lips, making her gasp, partly from dismay and partly with pleasure. He eased the polished wooden cock deeper. ‘See how deep his tongue sinks into her,’ he whispered. He bent over her and Gabrielle could feel the slight roughness of his immaculate suit against her breasts, the coldness of the blue stained ivory buttons of his jacket against her burning skin. ‘You might not exist, for all he cared.’
His teeth grated the tightness of each nipple in turn and he grinned at her, his brown eyes dark and unfathomable as he raised his well-groomed head. ‘Has he ever been unfaithful before?’ he asked.
Gabrielle bucked instinctively against the wooden cock and Verity laughed. ‘It turns you on, does it not?’ He slid the smooth thickness back and forth in a slow sensual rhythm. ‘It turns you on to watch your husband licking another girl’s cunt?’ With his free hand he massaged the flat tautness of her belly, pressing hard as though feeling the length of the phallus through her flesh. ‘Tell me…’ The slow rhythm of the wooden cock and his palm became more insistent. His face was set in an emotionless expression that chilled Gabrielle to her bones, although for the life of her she couldn’t have said why. It was as if she had a glimpse of her future – and she didn’t like what she saw at all.
‘Tell me,’ he insisted, and strong fingers slapped her cheek, not hard, but the action still shook her. She whimpered, not in pain, but because of the shock and indignity of being slapped by a complete stranger, and because her eyes darted to Tom kneeling between the girl’s thighs, his tousled head buried between their toned smoothness. But, she had to admit, it wasn’t the first time he had licked another female in her presence.
‘Yes,’ Gabrielle whispered shamefully, closing her eyes. ‘If that’s what you want to hear, then yes, it turns me on…’
The wooden cock left her, making her gasp softly at the loss, and then the fine leather strands were lightly whipped back and forth across her quivering tummy and breasts.
‘Louder,’ Verity ordered. ‘I want to hear you say it much louder. Tell me exactly what he made you witness. Tell me in detail.’ He loomed over her helpless body again and kissed the thin red weals left by the flail. The movement of his lips was so tender, so loving, and yet Gabrielle harboured the disturbing sense that he despised her – as he despised all women.
‘Once…’ she started, ‘once he brought a whore back to our trailer.’
Verity laughed. ‘He did what? Did I hear you correctly? He took a whore back to your home?’
Gabrielle knew what he was thinking; what was she if she wasn’t a whore?
But she nodded and continued. ‘Yes, a whore… a hooker.’
‘To your home?’
‘Yes, our trailer.’
‘So you live in a trailer.’ Verity was clearly greatly amused. The laughter was harsh – cruel. ‘This gets better by the second.’
Cheeks fired by embarrassment, Gabrielle nodded and tried to squirm in her bonds.
‘Go on,’ he said, teasingly drawing the leather strands across her breasts. They were damp and she could smell her musk, strong as it always was when she was excited. ‘Tell me about the hooker.’
‘Well, Tom lay on our bed and watched us.’ Gabrielle swallowed hard. She could not be more humiliated than she was right at that moment; naked, bound, and so very vulnerable, and she did not want to tell this stranger what Tom had made her do.
‘He watched? You mean, he made you go with the whore?’ With twinkling eyes he followed her gaze to Tom’s bobbing head. The lovely girl on the sofa was groaning with obvious delight, her eyes closed and the tip of her tongue circling her moist, red, slightly parted lips.
‘Yes,’ Gabrielle breathlessly confirmed. ‘Yes, he made me lick her…’ Her eyes became blurred with tears as she stared at her husband’s head, moving aggressively between the girl’s thighs. ‘He made me lick her, just like that.’
‘Not quite like that, my dear girl,’ Verity corrected. ‘I doubt you had to slip your tongue through a gold ring.’
Gabrielle shook her head, her red hair lustrous on the white pillow. ‘No,’ she quietly agreed, ‘the girl wasn’t pierced.’
Verity smiled encouragingly. ‘Now, tell me more about the whore and what your husband made you do with each other.’ He moistened his fingers with her juices and smoothed her pubic curls so that her sex and her erect bud were bared to his gaze and anything he wished to do.
‘Her bottom,’ Gabrielle murmured, slowly beginning to feel she was cleansing her conscience by confessing all.
‘Her bottom?’ he coaxed. ‘And what exactly did he make you do to her bottom? Did he make you lick it? Or finger it, perhaps?’
Gabrielle nodded, her eyes closed, squeezing back the tears that beaded and glistened on her lashes.
‘Come along, my dear…’ he insisted, ‘tell me everything.’
‘H-he made me use my tongue,’ she gasped, ‘and – and then a finger while he…’
‘Fucked her?’ finished Verity, hugely excited by the scene the delicious tied girl was describing. He looked back at Tom kneeling over the girl, one supporting leg straight and the other knee on the seat of the sofa, his jeans open as he masturbated frantically over her, and then groaned and gazed up at the ceiling as he erupted over her suspenders and smoothly shaven sex mound. ‘Your husband is a man after my own heart,’ said Verity, with a smile. ‘Perverted to the maximum and delicately sadistic.’
‘Will you let me go now?’ asked Gabrielle. Her arms were numb after so long tied to the bed. The excitement she had felt earlier had dissipated. She wanted a shower or, even better, a soak in a fragrant bath of hot water to ease the aches from her body, and most of all, she wanted the strange intruders out of their room.
Verity shook his head and gave her another confident smile. ‘Not unless that’s what your husband wants. He tied you – it’s for him to decide when to untie you. Not me.’
Gabrielle watched as he put down the flail, and watched as he reached into a pocket of his immaculate jacket to draw out a small roll of notes. Then standing up he let them fall onto her tummy, one by one, making her skin quiver as each one tickled her sensitized flesh. She saw Tom’s eyes glint with greed as he looked over and noticed the shower of notes kissing her pale skin.
‘Do you want her untied, Tom?’ asked Verity.
Tom was already standing, the lovely blonde forgotten, fumbling with his zipper to fasten his faded jeans.
‘Maybe,’ he said hesitantly, shrugging, ‘if she doesn’t fool with my plans for the casino tonight.’ He moved like a man under a spell and stood beside Marshall Verity over his wife, but his wide eyes were only for the many notes scattered over her and the bed.
Verity smiled, unnoticed, and ghosted back to regain possession of his blonde partner. ‘Thank you both for a most entertaining time,’ he said in his crisp English tones. ‘Please take my little financial gift as a thank you for your hospitality.
‘Perhaps we might meet up again sometime soon.’ His eyes lingered on Gabrielle. ‘Sometime very soon.’
Gabrielle, wearing a short black dress, the only decent thing she owned, put the finishing touches to her make-up. It wasn’t easy; her eyes were still a little puffy from the tears she had shed during the afternoon. Her hair fell loose to her shoulders, shining and glossy, brilliantly red against the black of the dress.
She touched her wrists. They were still a little tender from the bonds she’d been held in. Her shoulders ached and her breasts were also a little sore. She’d not been whipped at all hard, but still hard enough for the touch of her dress to remind her constantly that the flail had been used on her.
‘And if you don’t behave,’ said Tom, adjusting the tooled leather belt with the silver cow horn buckle through the loops of the fresh pair of jeans he’d put on after a shower, ‘I’ll drag you back here, tie you to the bed again, and whip your disobedient butt. Understand?’
Gabrielle understood only too well. He was referring to his gambling. He would take no interference when engrossed in losing their money, and he would do exactly as promised if she did try to interfere.
She watched him stuff the wad of notes that strange man had thrown over her into a back pocket of his jeans. ‘Oh I understand; if I interfere with your gambling, you mean,’ she said, wondering as she had wondered so many times before how the man she loved could become such a selfish brute whenever gambling – or the occasional whore – was involved.
Why did she put up with it?
Because he was her husband and she loved him, no matter what, that’s why.
‘And you’d be damn right, honey,’ he confirmed. ‘Now let’s go and have us some fun!’
‘Some of that is my money,’ she ventured as they left the room; after all, she’d suffered shameful humiliation for it while Tom had done nothing to protect her honor, preferring to indulge himself with that blonde – right in front of her! Surely she was fully entitled to a share of it?
‘You’re my wife, Gabby,’ he pointed out unnecessarily as he guided her to the bank of elevators. ‘You’re not a whore. Only whores get paid for services rendered.’
‘But you’ve used me like a whore, Tom.’ A sob caught in her throat. ‘What about that time you let Clint fuck me? And all for… for…’ She couldn’t say it; it was all too, too humiliating. Clint was an old friend of Tom’s from school.
Another couple stood waiting for the elevators. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. They were on honeymoon and madly in love, Gabrielle guessed, suddenly feeling sad and envious. This trip was meant to be a second honeymoon for her and Tom, and it had all gone so badly and bizarrely wrong in only a few hours of their arrival at the hotel. The thought made her spirits sink further.
‘For only ten bucks?’ finished Tom with a low chuckle, and then the grin faded from his face as quickly as it had come. ‘We needed food, didn’t we? It paid for the pizza, didn’t it? Don’t give me a hard time now, honey. I was only doing the best by my wife.’ He smiled and nodded at the other couple, as though there was no tension between him and his wife whatsoever. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m here to enjoy myself as much as I can,’ he hissed at her under his breath.
Gabrielle couldn’t believe his words, and was suddenly sick of it all; sick of the way Tom treated her; sick of his gambling when they had no money; sick of him being unfaithful, even to the extreme of spending what money they didn’t have on whores.
In an instant it all seemed so clear, and she made her mind up there and then; when they got home after their vacation she was leaving him.
What kind of a life was this anyway? Living in a cramped damp trailer in a park on the edge of a swamp. Plagued by mosquitoes most of the year and working all hours as a waitress. She would go back to school. She didn’t care if she starved to do it. She would work as hard as she could and get a proper education. Computing – that’s what she’d learn! Yes, she would get a real life. She would get a real life without Tom!
The elevator arrived at their floor and Tom guided her into it. The other couple followed them, too busy again with each other to care about anyone else. She watched Tom adjust the bootlace tie he wore with his white shirt. The tie was clipped neatly under the collar with a silver cow horn fastening to match his belt buckle. He’d sold every scrap of her jewelry to pay his gambling debts, but somehow he never seemed to want for anything. Gabrielle sighed – suddenly everything seemed to be coming a whole lot clearer.
‘What do you think of Marshall Verity?’ Tom suddenly asked.
Gabrielle shrugged, feeling strangely indifferent about everything.
‘Interesting guy, I thought,’ he went on, giving the tie clip a polish with his cuff. He patted his rear pocket. ‘Generous, too,’ he grinned, then pulled her to him and whispered, ‘I know you were attracted to him.’
She stiffened against her husband’s lean body and frowned up into his twinkling blue eyes. He held her closer and surreptitiously caressed her buttocks, stroking the silky material over her firm globes and pushing it into the deep valley between them.
‘We’re here for a few days,’ he observed, again unnecessarily.
‘So?’ Gabrielle challenged, although her body was betraying her yet again; the silky cool caress of her dress between her buttocks was turning her on. She wore no panties, as Tom had ruined the only pair she’d possessed and packed. She had been hoping he would treat her to some nice new underwear whilst on their vacation – but that now seemed a futile hope.
‘Well, don’t you see?’ he went on in hushed tones. ‘Maybe there’s more money to come if you’re particularly nice to him.’
Gabrielle wanted to pull away from her husband; wanted to get out of the elevator; wanted to leave the hotel; wanted to get on a plane back to Florida. But he held her easily and possessively, and she did not want to make a scene, and she did not want to incur his formidable wrath.
‘Is that all you think about, Tom?’ she said, praying he could not read her thoughts. ‘Money?’
‘Isn’t that all he thinks about?’ he hissed back. ‘That and women?’
Gabrielle could see the other couple glancing at them, their interest in each other distracted for the moment.
‘All you’ve got to do,’ Tom continued, an underlying threat in his tone and in his body language, ‘is be nice to him, honey, and we’ll be in clover.’ He kissed her forehead and she blinked up at him. ‘Just be nice to him like you were to Clint…’
He sickened her! He was acting like a pimp, and she knew that if she did what he wanted he would only go and lose any money that other creep might pay her on a roulette wheel or a poker game. She was seriously beginning to suspect that this whole trip was really planned for the reason of finding a sugar daddy to milk, and nothing to do with a second honeymoon at all!
The elevator reached the ground floor and, as the doors opened, she heard the sounds of the casino: the music from the quarter machines, the ping of the nickel machines, the shouts of joy from the winners as coins clattered into trays.
‘Maybe he’d give us enough to buy a condo,’ Tom suggested, his arm around her waist, all charm once again, ‘or even a house. You know how much you’ve always wanted your own little house, honey.’
‘If you don’t squander it in places like this first,’ said Gabrielle, her eyes downcast.
‘If he showers money on you like he did today,’ he said, holding her tightly, ‘I promise I’ll get a real job and never gamble again. I only do it to get a life for you, honey. You know that.’
She could almost believe him, he sounded so sincere. Then he kissed her affectionately, making her question her newfound resolve. Oh, why couldn’t it always be like this? Why? She would never leave him if he only did as he continually promised. She still loved him, but how many times had he promised her things would be different…?
He guided her over to the change kiosk and peeled a note from the wad. ‘Enjoy yourself with this, honey,’ he said proudly, as if giving her hard-earned wages.
Gabrielle looked at it. ‘Five bucks?’ she said miserably.
‘Yeah,’ he said with a patronising grin. ‘Get some nickels. It’ll keep you busy for an hour or so.’
‘But, what about dinner?’ She was hungry and the appetizing smells from the buffet were causing her stomach to grumble.
‘I’ll play a few hands of blackjack and then we’ll have something to eat.’ He’d already pocketed a stack of chips. ‘I’ll meet you by the nickel machines.’
The five dollars he gave her wasn’t enough to buy dinner and she had no money of her own. With a sigh she bought some coins and made her way to the poker machines, and as soon as she was seated at her chosen one-arm bandit a cocktail waitress appeared and asked what she would like to drink.
‘I don’t have any money,’ said Gabrielle, feeling her face flush with embarrassment.
‘It’s on the house, ma’am,’ said the girl, with a smile. ‘This is Las Vegas and you’re gambling, so it’s on the house.’
‘Oh, of course,’ Gabrielle said sheepishly. ‘Then I’ll have a pina colada,’ she added, naming the only cocktail she knew and suddenly feeling she deserved a little treat.
Then, with the first coin she slipped into the slot she won on a royal flush. Amazed that she could be so lucky she watched, mesmerized as the coins flooded into the tray. Gradually she was beginning to feel good about herself again, Tom forgotten for the moment.
‘Beginner’s luck?’ said a familiar voice at her shoulder. It was Marshall Verity, accompanied by a different girl.
Gabrielle didn’t turn to greet him. If she were cool towards him maybe he would go away, she hoped, remembering what Tom had suggested in the elevator. But he didn’t go away. He stayed and sat at the next machine, watching her.
‘Your husband at the tables?’ he asked congenially.
Gabrielle nodded, still not looking at him, finding his strange presence unnerving.
‘That figures,’ he said, with a cynical smile. ‘Been gone long?’
She wished he would go away; wished the waitress would bring her drink or she would win enough to buy herself dinner. ‘No, not long,’ she said tersely.
‘Have you had dinner?’ Verity put his hand on her thigh and his touch felt… oh, so much more sensual than it did earlier that afternoon. Was he going to invite her to eat with him? There would be no harm in that, surely? And she was so hungry. She shook her head.
‘Laura and I were just going up to our suite,’ he said, smiling up at the dark-haired girl who accompanied him. ‘Since Tom is otherwise occupied, would you care to join us?’
The pina colada was placed on a coaster at the side of Gabrielle’s machine and she reached for it, her lips suddenly very dry and her tongue feeling far too large for her mouth. Heaven only knew what she would be letting herself in for if she agreed to go with Verity and his girls.
The cocktail was taken from her. ‘This is far too tacky for someone like you,’ said Verity. ‘Don’t drink it. Sip champagne with us and enjoy a gourmet supper.’ His warm hand was laid on her bare back where her dress cut away and he caressed her skin with manicured nails. The touch made her shudder deliciously. She stood up and looked across the casino for Tom, but there was no sign of him.
‘When I last saw him,’ said Verity, ‘he was on a winning streak.’ He stood very close to her and his cologne was intoxicatingly expensive. He buried his face in her neck and brushed a kiss there. Gabrielle thought she would swoon with the tenderness of it, and yet, after the afternoon’s strange events and what Tom had said in the elevator, could she really trust this man?
‘Say you will join us,’ Verity enticed. ‘We would all enjoy your company… there will be just the four of us.’
Gabrielle’s empty stomach betrayed her, making the final decision.
Verity gave a low laugh. ‘That’s settled then,’ he said, interpreting her lingering indecision as acquiescence, taking her arm, and beckoning the other girl to pick up Gabrielle’s winnings and follow them.
Trembling against his body Gabrielle felt compelled to walk with him, even though there was no obvious force in his lead. She was very aware of her nakedness beneath her dress, and it was as if he was aware too, although he didn’t touch her or even look at her. The sheer black nylon stockings held up by a tiny black garter belt and the high heels of her shoes made her more aware of her vulnerability to the powerful man.
‘Not that way,’ he said as Gabrielle stopped by the public elevators. ‘We have a private elevator.’ He ushered her through a door and into a narrow softly lit passage. ‘Far from the madding crowd,’ he said, with a smile.
‘What do you think of her, Laura?’ he asked, as they whisked silently up to the thirty-sixth floor.
The dark-haired girl looked Gabrielle up and down with velvet brown eyes. ‘She’s pretty, and her hair is genuinely that colour?’ she remarked.
Verity laughed. ‘Indeed, yes,’ he said, making Gabrielle blush. ‘I can vouch for that!’ And then there was no time to protest, and Gabrielle wasn’t sure that she wanted to as he lifted her skirt to display the richness of her pussy bush.
Without hesitating the other girl crowded closer and slipped a delicate finger into the thick curls, and between Gabrielle’s sex lips. Unable to resist, Gabrielle leaned back against the padded wall of the elevator and instinctively parted her thighs, grinding gently against the slender intrusion.
‘She’s very wet,’ murmured Laura. ‘She’s very wet and ready…’
‘Hm,’ agreed Verity, his hand in the pocket of his exquisitely tailored trousers, ‘she’ll fit in well with our little ménage, I think.’
If this was meant to mean anything sinister it escaped Gabrielle’s notice. She was intent on the movement of the girl’s finger in and out of her vagina. The most important thing in the world to her at that moment was to release the sexual tension that was building within her. She wanted to come! It was new to her to be fingered by another girl, apart from the whore Tom brought back to their trailer that time, and she had to admit that she liked it. She liked it a lot!
‘Here we are.’ Verity’s cultured tones broke the spell and the dark-haired girl slipped her finger from Gabrielle’s cunny, smiling mischievously and watching Gabrielle’s reaction as she slipped it between her shapely lips and sucked.
‘Mmmm…’ she sighed, as she savored the taste of the confused redhead.
So near to coming, thought Gabrielle as she followed Verity from the elevator on legs that felt too weak to support her. Her sex ached for release and she could feel her warm juices on her inner thighs. Her breasts felt heavy as they pouted against the bodice of her dress.
Verity slid the card into the door slot of his private suite and Gabrielle gasped as it swung open. Countless tiny lights lit the scene from crystal chandeliers hung from the ornately plastered ceiling. Several beautiful girls, dressed in costumes designed to whittle their waist and accentuate their breasts and shaven sex mounds reclined on comfortable leather sofas. They lounged in ways to show their ringed sex lips to best advantage.
‘Welcome to my world, Gabrielle,’ said Verity. ‘These girls have already had dinner so we shall go straight through to the dining room.’ He led the way, and without looking back issued a further order. ‘Stay just as you are, my beauties, until I return with your new friend.’
Was she, thought Gabrielle, the new friend? She shuddered. What did he mean about fitting in? She felt strange, a little unsettled, as though her world had suddenly gone beyond her control.
The rooms in the vast suite, Gabrielle noticed, had mirrored walls. Wherever she looked she could see herself. Without seeking permission the girl he called Laura sidled seductively behind Gabrielle and slipped her arms through hers to cup and massage her breasts through the black silk dress. Despite her trepidation Gabrielle felt her body instantly return to that delicious wanton state she’d enjoyed in the elevator; dreamy and so very receptive. Before she knew it and without resistance, her dress was unzipped and allowed to shimmer down her body to form an inky-black puddle around her feet, and she was naked apart from the garter belt and stockings. Her hunger became greater, the emptiness in her tummy didn’t wane, but now she had an even greater hunger to distract her.
‘Do sit down,’ invited Verity, indicating the long dining table.
Gabrielle felt totally bewildered. This wasn’t what she wanted at all – was it? Did she want to be under the influence and effortless control of a virtual stranger and his harem of pampered girls? Perhaps it was. She no longer knew. Perhaps she no longer cared. She considered how Tom would react if he knew what was developing – briefly, and then he was forgotten again.
Laura slipped out of her own dress and was as naked as Gabrielle. Verity sat down at the head of the table, fully dressed, and this made her discomfort and feeling of vulnerability all the greater. A door behind them opened and the blonde girl who had accompanied Verity to Gabrielle’s room that afternoon entered with a laden tray.
‘I hope you like my choice of first course, my dear,’ Verity said to Gabrielle. ‘Salmon mousse – so light and easily digested, don’t you think?’ He watched the blonde place delicate bone china plates at the four laid places. ‘A spatula for Gabrielle, my dear Susan.’ He caught Susan’s wrist and twisted it cruelly. ‘Did you forget?’ And then he turned to Gabrielle. ‘Relax and open your legs, my dear girl. Laura is going to finish what she started in the elevator. I’m sure you’ll agree you’ve waited far too long for a conclusion.’
The same sense of confusion came over Gabrielle as Susan handed a silver spatula to the dark-haired girl and she took her plate of salmon mousse under the table. Without really knowing why, Gabrielle obeyed the outrageous order, parting her thighs obediently, as she began to eat the delicately flavored mousse, and then she gasped as an ice-cold sensation probed the heat of her sex.
It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact, quite the opposite, and she pushed against the pleasure as more of the mousse was spread between her sex lips and into her vagina. She felt her clitoris swell and pout against the creamy delicacy, and then experienced a new sensation; the warmth of a tongue lapped from her bottom cleft up one swollen sex lip and down the other.
‘Does she taste good, Laura?’ Verity casually asked, as he poured some sparkling champagne into four crystal flutes.
‘She does,’ the girl murmured from under the table, and Gabrielle felt her face burn as though she had done something unforgivable.
‘Very good…’ said Verity, smiling with approval and dabbing a crisp white linen napkin to his lips before elegantly picking up one flute and savoring his drink. ‘Did you enjoy the mousse, my dear?’ he said to Gabrielle, and placed a warm hand over hers, where it lay unmoving on the table.
She could only nod. Her clitoris was wallowing in the attention the girl beneath the table was doting upon it. The girl was keeping her on the very brink of an orgasm with her expert attentions. Her vagina pulsed as the girl sucked on the cocktail of salmon mousse and Gabrielle’s juices. Although she was drowning in a pool of pleasure, Gabrielle also felt humiliated by what Verity was doing to her. She was free to go; she knew that and yet, somehow, she was glued to her chair. She looked at him through misty eyes. He wielded such power and yet he was smiling at her. It was a very special kind of power he possessed. He squeezed her hand. She’d read about such a thing before Tom convinced her to drop out of college. He was provoking her to stay by Foucauldian power.
‘What special delights do you have for our main course, Susan?’ he asked the blonde conversationally.
‘Steak tartar and green salad, sir,’ she supplied, appearing again with the loaded tray.
‘Ah, one of my favourite dishes!’ he exclaimed. ‘Have you tried it, my dear?’ he asked, squeezing Gabrielle’s hand again.
‘No.’ She’d never heard of it, but if it were steak surely they wouldn’t taunt her pussy with it? How could they? But in spite of her fears and anxieties she was still terribly turned on, and so, unable to resist, she spread her legs wider under the table and gingerly lowered a hand to feel where Laura was enjoying her own tasty delicacy.
‘At least she’s obedient,’ the dark-haired girl said from where she knelt unseen, and then the blonde passed down a plate of steak to her.
‘As I suspected,’ said Verity, and then he shook his head and tutted. ‘When I think of how I was forced to arrange punishments for some of you girls – those who were not initially so obedient. It makes me shudder. You think I like seeing you marked with the whip?’ He shook his head again. ‘I cannot bear to see perfection spoiled, which is why I have your pussies shaved every day. In that way I can see their beauty to the full.’
‘The steak’s raw,’ murmured Gabrielle, using her fork to probe what looked like an uncooked hamburger, served on a bed of crisp lettuce leaves.
‘Of course the steak is raw, my dear girl,’ he said, taking a forkful of the chopped lean meat. ‘Steak tartar is meant to be entirely rare. Try it. You’ll find it delicious.’
A cold substance, a chilly softness, was eased against and into Gabrielle’s vagina. With wide sparkling eyes and a bemused expression she looked at Verity, but he continued to eat as though nothing untoward was happening. Susan was also eating with evident relish. They were behaving as if everything was perfectly normal and natural.
Gabrielle squealed softly as she again felt the tip of a tongue flick against her. There was no way she could stop herself from bearing down on the gentle, moist pressure. The tongue delved deeper when the finely minced steak was eaten away until it pushed into her tightness. She squealed again, this time with pleasure.
‘Are you not enjoying your steak, my dear?’ asked Verity, nodding at Gabrielle’s untouched plate.
Breathing rapidly she tried to nod and held her fork tighter with fingers that trembled. The tongue was inside her, wriggling expertly and inducing a myriad of conflicting emotions for the poor girl. She knew she was going to come, despite the embarrassment of doing such a thing at the dinner table and in the company of virtual strangers. It was building up inside her. She could not hold back. She looked at Verity, as if for help, but he merely gazed back at her with a mildly amused look on his face.
‘You’re still not eating, my dear,’ he remarked. ‘Perhaps you would like some help since you seem otherwise occupied.’ He nodded at Susan, who took Gabrielle’s fork from her and began to feed the raw steak between her open lips.
‘Oh, I think I’m… coming,’ murmured Gabrielle, dutifully trying to eat the steak at the same time. And then she closed her eyes and shuddered beneath the force of an exquisitely disgraceful orgasm, feebly trying to push the blonde girl away, but with little real conviction. Wet suckling sounds drifted up from beneath the table, from between her limp thighs, as the dark-haired girl diligently saw Gabrielle to her exquisite completion. How could anything so wickedly humiliating be so delicious? Gabrielle’s spinning mind was in utter disarray, but at that moment she really did not care.
‘I think we’ll give dessert a miss,’ Verity said. ‘I believe we have more important matters to discuss. Get up, Laura.’ He waved a hand at the dishes, a slight look of impatience on his face, and Susan and Laura, who appeared with a flushed complexion and a twinkle in her eye, cleared the table and left Verity and Gabrielle alone.
There was a few minutes’ silence while he observed her with an unfathomable expression, sipping his champagne, and she avoided looking at him, and then he spoke again.
‘While we’ve been indulging ourselves,’ he eventually broke the awkward silence, ‘we’ve been forgetting something… or should I say, forgetting someone?’ He raised an eyebrow at her, as though she should know what he was talking about, but her confusion was as intact as ever, fuelled by the warmth of her recent orgasm. She gazed at him uncertainly.
‘Oh, come now,’ he chided, leaning a little closer to stroke her hand again. ‘Have you forgotten him already?’ There was amusement in his voice.
Tom. He was talking about Tom, and Gabrielle had to admit to herself that her husband was not at the forefront of her thoughts at that precise moment. ‘What… um, what about him?’
‘He’ll lose tonight,’ said Verity with a wry smile. ‘In the casino, he’ll lose all the money he has. But I hardly need tell a bright girl like you that, now do I?’
Gabrielle, her hand inert beneath his, said nothing, but lowered her gaze in sad acknowledgement of what the man said. She knew Tom would lose everything, as he always did.
‘Why do you put up with it, my dear?’ His hand squeezed hers warmly. ‘You deserve so much better.’
‘Because he’s my husband,’ she said, not daring to betray Tom by telling a virtual stranger that earlier that evening she was again prepared to leave the loser. A virtual stranger? That was rich, considering she was still sitting virtually naked before the man.
‘Very commendable, my dear, even if a little fanciful. Loyalty; I saw that in you from the very first. Loyalty and spirit. But your loyalty is misplaced, my dear. I know it isn’t returned. I know he is disloyal to you.’
Gabrielle cringed inside, the man’s accurate words digging painfully deep. She had given so much up for Tom, and received so little in return. She still loved him – she always would love him – but it was finally time to think of herself for a change. So much stronger was her resolve than ever before that she felt no shame for her complicity in Verity’s depraved sexual games.
‘Would you like me to prove it to you?’
No, she wouldn’t. She knew the man was right.
Verity stood then and moved behind her chair. He placed his cool hands on her shoulders and started to massage her expertly, the material of his expensive suiting brushing her naked back. ‘He will lose all you have,’ he went on, ‘to the point where I doubt whether he’ll be in a position to pay the hotel bill.’
‘Why… why are you saying all this to me?’ Gabrielle asked, the masterful hands making her close her eyes and wallow in the relaxing pressure of them.
‘Because I want to help you, my dear girl,’ he said, smiling slightly above her. ‘And I would like to help Tom. Would you like me to help you both?’
‘Why would you want to help us?’ she asked quietly, gently rolling her head, easing the tension she suddenly realised was in her neck muscles.
‘Because I like you,’ he said simply, and then, unseen behind her, his expression changed, became an emotionless mask. ‘But, as with all things, there will be a price…’
Gabrielle barely heard him, so engrossed was she in the magical feelings his hands were creating in her shoulders and neck. But then the fingers stopped moving and left her.
‘Now, my dear,’ he went on, the termination of the massage bring her awareness back to his words, ‘I’m going to strike a bargain with you.’
Gabrielle opened her eyes. ‘A bargain?’ she could hear her own voice tremble. ‘What sort of a bargain?’
‘You can enjoy all this luxury and more for one year,’ he explained, moving away to gaze out of the panoramic window, his back to her. ‘If Tom will allow me to buy you for that year.’
Gabrielle stiffened. He could not be serious! ‘B-buy me?’ She could scarcely speak, so she reached for and sipped some of the glorious champagne to wet her suddenly dry mouth.
‘Just for a year,’ Verity repeated, confirming his proposal. ‘And for that I will pay two million dollars.’
He said the sum so calmly.
Gabrielle’s breath caught in her lungs and her pulse quickened, pounding at her temples.
‘However, if he loses the money with his gambling…’ Verity turned and stared at her, his hands resting comfortably behind his back, his stare more intense than she had ever noticed before. ‘If he loses the money,’ he said again, stressing the clause, impressing upon her the likelihood of such a loss occurring, ‘you are mine forever, and he works for me for the rest of his miserable life.’
‘But – but you know he will—’
‘Lose?’ Verity laughed. ‘Of course he will lose. The man is a born loser. And then you will belong to me, fair and square.’
‘And if he refuses?’
‘If he refuses…?’ the amusement vanished from his face, to be replaced by a cold, threatening stare. ‘My dear, your husband is already in debt to me… he has no choice but to accept my offer.’
‘Two million dollars?’ Tom’s eyes flashed with greed. ‘Two million dollars?’ He gazed around Marshall Verity’s suite, imagining how it would feel to occupy such luxurious surroundings.
Gabrielle hung her head. Once again in the black dress she looked both deliciously sexy and demure. She knew what Tom’s answer to the proposal would be, but maybe he would soon win at poker or craps and be able to pay all the money back to Verity early, but she knew it was a vain hope. He’d never been on talking terms with Lady Luck, so why should she befriend him now?
What would happen to her, she wondered, when the inevitable happened – when he lost the lot? Yes, she’d earlier been on the verge of leaving her moron of a husband, but so she had been many times before, and hoped to be many times again in the future. But she loved him, and she could not help but love him.
‘Only for a year?’ Tom didn’t seem able to believe his luck or his ears. He looked at his wife, his face a confusion of emotions. She lifted her face and looked back at him, pleading silently with her sparkling eyes. Perhaps he would come through for her. Perhaps at the last minute he would change his ways and do the right thing by her – do what he knew he should do.
But the greed was still there. She could see love in his eyes, too. She could see loss, and even pain. Yes, he did love her, despite the selfish way he treated her most of the time. But the greed was still there.
‘And I have Gabrielle,’ Marshall Verity confirmed. ‘She is mine to use as I wish. Her body, especially, is mine.’ His hand rested possessively on her bare forearm. He stood beside her, looking intently at Tom, safe in the knowledge that his offer would be accept.
‘And you will give me two million dollars?’ He was looking at Verity again, the deal being struck around Gabrielle, her input not asked for and not wanted – her feelings bypassed.
Verity’s hand moved and his arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him in a symbolic gesture of ownership. He was closing the deal. Even if Tom wanted to decline the proposal, it was now too late. Verity knew that, Tom knew that, and Gabrielle knew that.
She hung her head again.
‘So, it is agreed,’ Verity said, concluding the transaction, and despite her closeness to him, Gabrielle stood alone, belonging for a moment to neither man. She had never felt more lonely in her young life.
‘She is mine… for a year.’
She noticed how the man paused for a brief moment before confirming the timescale of the arrangement, emphasizing it, and an ominous shiver ran down her spine.
‘I’ll arrange the money for you immediately.’ Then, as if to stress the rules of the deal, his hand slipped down from her shoulder and cupped her breast through the soft black silk of her dress. He stared directly at Tom, and his hand began to move in slow circles over the firm orb.
Tom rocked forward a fraction, as if to protect his wife, but then realization dawned.
She was no longer his.
Gabrielle closed her eyes in a childishly futile attempt to hide away from the dreadful scenario, and her cheeks flushed pink.
‘It’s a little late for coy poses, my dear,’ said Verity. ‘Too late for false modesties, particularly when we’ve all seen your deepest desires, your basest instincts.’
He looked at Tom, disdain suddenly evident on his face. ‘You may go now,’ he said, arrogantly dismissing him, his hand still mauling her breast. ‘And just to clarify, for the duration of your stay here which, I suspect, will be a short one, if you see your wife you may not talk to her, and you may not, under any circumstances, touch her. Do I make myself clear? You’ve given up ownership of your wife. You’ve hired her out to me.’
Tom looked forlornly at her, as though at last realizing the full import of what he had agreed to, and then turned and left the luxurious suite.
Gabrielle watched the door close quietly behind him, her vision blurred with tears.
The following morning, after a night spent alone in one of the suite’s luxurious bedrooms, Gabrielle was taken by Marshall Verity and Susan in a luxurious limo to some kind of a private health club.
It was a beautifully sunny morning.
In the plush reception area Verity stopped to talk to an austere man whom he seemed to know very well, and Susan, reacting to his silently nodded instruction, led Gabrielle along a corridor, hushed with expensive fitted carpets and maple-paneled walls, to a private room.
It was small, but as clean and sterile as any operating theatre. The walls were white, as were the cupboards and shelves that lined them, and in the centre of the tiled floor was a black medical chair. The sight of it made Gabrielle shudder. Metal stirrups rose from the lower corners of it, and leather straps dangled ominously from the arms and headrest.
‘Take off your clothes,’ said Susan, interrupting the overbearingly hushed atmosphere of the room, and despite her reservations and despite wondering why on earth she was there, Gabrielle, with trembling fingers, felt utterly compelled to obey. ‘Take them all off, your underwear too,’ Susan qualified the order.
And then the reason for the visit seeped slowly into Gabrielle’s thinking, and she knew what was to come. Verity liked his girls to be hairless, and she was to be shaved smooth. Well, she could live with that.
‘H-how long have you been here?’ she ventured to ask, as she dropped her T-shirt on an available chair and began to twist her hips to help ease her tight jeans down.
Susan shrugged and Gabrielle heard the clatter of metal from the surgical cart beside which she stood making preparations. The noise made Gabrielle shudder, and she hoped Susan’s hands were steady.
‘Don’t you know?’ she persisted. ‘Don’t you know how long you’ve lived with Mr Verity?’ she kicked her shoes off and her bare feet felt chilled by the tiled floor as the jeans joined the T-shirt, and then her bra joined them, on the chair.
‘We don’t ask questions,’ Susan said, ‘we are done to. It is our duty to do no more than what we are ordered to do.’ She moved to the chair and patted it in invitation. ‘Sit here,’ she continued, ‘and place your legs in the stirrups.’
Gabrielle, determined to be obedient and brave, sensing it would help her time under the ownership of Marshall Verity, did as she was told and slipped elegantly onto the chair, and then lifted her ankles into the stirrups. Susan strapped them tightly and then did the same with Gabrielle’s wrists, securing them to the padded black arms of the apparatus. Then her head was positioned on the waiting rest and the leather straps there secured firmly around her forehead, and she was effectively pinned, unable to move.
‘Have you ever had your sex shaved before?’ asked Susan, smoothly and proficiently adjusting the chair until Gabrielle was almost reclining fully back.
Gabrielle shook her head fractionally, just as much as the straps would allow.
‘You’ll find it makes you very sensitive,’ Susan went on, with a little knowing glimmer in her eye.
With her ankles locked in the stirrups Gabrielle felt extremely open and vulnerable, aware that her plump sex lips were parted to reveal her flushed inner flesh and the erect bud that nestled there. Susan gazed down at her bound possession for long silent moments, and then roused herself and took a razor from the utensil trolley that stood beside her, offering a wide variety of instruments for her usage, most of which Gabrielle could see from the corner of her eye and which made her cringe inside.
‘You have an extremely inviting clitoris,’ the girl remarked, and Gabrielle blushed deeply at such an intimate and bizarre observation. ‘Extremely inviting…’
Gabrielle’s cheeks darkening with embarrassment, she closed her eyes, as if this would shut out the humiliation she felt. Then a fingertip touched the sensitive peak of her clitoris and slid back and forth, the cultured touch quickly bringing her so close to a climax, but as suddenly as the titillation began, it stopped.
A soft slopping sound reached Gabrielle’s ears and she opened her eyes to see what was happening, feeling strangely empty after being teased so. Susan held a stainless steel bowl and a shaving brush.
‘You must keep very still,’ she said. ‘Very still indeed.’
Such was the hold of the chair, how could Gabrielle do anything else?
The shaving foam felt warm and comforting as it was gently applied, and Gabrielle began to relax and enjoy the feel of it on her hot flesh. Once satisfied her charge was liberally and efficiently coated, Susan placed the bowl back upon the utensil trolley and picked up a razor.
‘You’re doing very well,’ said Susan. ‘Now remain as still as possible while I…’
The touch of the razor was as light as the touch of a feather and Gabrielle began to relax again, gradually beginning to really enjoy the intimate attention. But Susan was extremely efficient, soon the task was complete, and warm water rinsed the remains of the foam from her, and Susan was especially gentle when she patted her dry. She was right, Gabrielle realised; it did seem to make her very sensitive. Even the soft white towel being patted gently between her legs and over the denuded skin made her feel breathlessly aroused.
‘Would you like to see what your sex looks like now?’ asked Susan.
Gabrielle felt confused, unsure how to react to the question, but the choice was taken from her as Susan held a mirror between her parted thighs.
‘I love to see a freshly shaved girl,’ the blonde breathed huskily. ‘What do you think of my handiwork?’
Gabrielle knew she was blushing still, but looked in the mirror and gasped at the nakedness she saw there. The flesh of her mound was very pale and looked plumper than usual. The outer lips, too, seemed more swollen and much paler than she had ever seen them. By contrast the inner lips were scarlet against the pale flesh. The little bud, too, was darkly flushed, prominent and proud. It seemed to be asking to be petted.
With her wrists and ankles still tightly secured, Gabrielle remained helpless. ‘Will you please release me now?’ she asked tentatively, not wanting to comment on the question.
Susan moved gracefully round and stood between the stirrups. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Are you not enjoying all the attention I’m heaping upon you?’
‘No,’ Gabrielle answered timidly, ‘it isn’t that…’ but the words caught in her throat as she sighed, the deft stroke of a finger making her shudder softly.
‘You like a girl’s touch,’ Susan remarked confidently. ‘I could tell at the dinner table last night. So would you like to feel my tongue on your inviting little clitty while you’re so available to me?’
Gabrielle closed her eyes. At that moment she didn’t have a clue what she wanted. What the girl was suggesting was shameful, yet she could not help but yearn for her to do it.
‘You shouldn’t ignore me when I ask you a question,’ Susan said, and although the words were spoken softly, there was an unmistakable underlying threat to them.
The fingers continued to tease, Gabrielle sensed movement – the slight whisper of clothing as the female moved – and then she inhaled sharply as a tongue eased into the moist opening of her sex. She felt it push into the softness of her, and sighed with wanton pleasure. A finger rhythmically and expertly rubbed the tip of her clitoris, inducing her hips to roll sensually on the partly reclined surgical chair. She moaned and strained in the grip of the restraints, pulling on the wrist straps and trying to lift her head.
Susan looked up from her enjoyable task, her perfect features glossed with glistening juices beneath the stark overhead lighting. ‘Didn’t I tell you that shaving would make you more sensitive?’ she cooed. ‘No barrier, you see, to your pleasure zones… just smooth, silky flesh.’
The lovely blonde then used her fingers and thumbs to spread Gabrielle further, making the bound girl yet more accessible to her wily tongue, and Gabrielle could not hold back the soft mewl of delight that escaped her slightly parted lips. The pleasure building in the pit of her tummy was almost unbearable; so intense it was almost a pain.
‘I-I want to… to come,’ Gabrielle managed to mumble. ‘Please, I can’t bear it any more… I need to come… please…’
Then at the most inopportune moment possible, as far as Gabrielle was concerned, the door opened and Susan instantly rose and moved away from her, patting her hair into place and smoothing down her clothing. Gabrielle felt her body stiffen in the restraints and she hovered agonizingly on the point of a shattering orgasm, and then slowly opened her eyes to see what the untimely interruption was.
Marshall Verity was standing there, dressed in only a white toweling robe, the center’s motif stitched on the chest of it. Gabrielle knew she should be mortified for the man, still a virtual stranger despite what they’d been through in such a short space of time, to see her in such an immodest and provocative situation, but she wasn’t. He had engineered the whole scenario, she knew, and Tom had been prepared to sell his own wife to him, so why should she be coy about anything that happened? None of this was her doing.
‘Leave us,’ he said to Susan, his eyes never leaving Gabrielle as he spoke, devouring the vulnerability and beauty of her.
‘Whatever you say, master,’ the female said contritely, like a child who had been discovered doing something she should not have been doing, and lightly scolded as a consequence.
‘And we’re not to be disturbed,’ he added as she left the room, nodding her understanding of the order, and closed the door.
For long minutes he just stood there, gazing down upon Gabrielle, and then, just as she was going to say something – anything – to break the uncomfortable silence, he moved silently between the stirrups and placed his hands on her knees. ‘You see how obedient my girls are, even when it causes them disappointment?’ he said. ‘That’s because they all long to serve me. Will you long to serve me, dear Gabrielle?’ Distractedly, his thumbs massaged her knees as he spoke, as though he was doing it without thinking. But the simple touch was nice, and Gabrielle could not help but enjoy it.
‘Will you?’ he said, and Gabrielle sensed he was asking himself the question, not her. ‘Will you learn to serve me?’
For some reason her thoughts flickered back to Tom. What was he doing with all that money? Winning? No, she thought scornfully, losing – definitely.
‘Your life with me will be far more comfortable than it could ever be with that loser of a husband of yours,’ he said scathingly, cutting into her thoughts, and then the cajoling tones in his voice were replaced with something sharper as he said, ‘What do I have to do to make you want to me?’
So he was asking her, after all. But the good memories of her marriage to Tom were still far too fresh in her mind; too raw. ‘Time,’ she whispered. ‘Just give me time. Who knows what will happen.’
Verity smiled and his hands moved in unison, powerfully and slowly down her thighs. ‘A good answer, my dear,’ he said, nodding approvingly, ‘but don’t try my patience for too long.’
His touch was very nice, but it could not distract Gabrielle from wondering why he needed her so badly when he had the pick of so many other girls – all of them utterly beautiful.
‘You have a vibrant innocence about you,’ he said, answering her unspoken question, once again seeming to know what she was thinking, ‘combined with a paradoxical sensuality that intrigues me greatly.’ His fingertips lightly reached the very tops of her inner thighs, resting mere millimeters from her shaven sex lips.
‘I might be young, but I’m a married woman,’ Gabrielle reminded him, ‘and what Tom and I got up to makes me anything but innocent.’
He chuckled, and she inhaled sharply as his thumbs delicately touched her aroused sex lips. ‘It is those little nuances, the tiny contradictions in you that I find so intriguing,’ he said, observing her delicious and thoroughly natural reaction to his touch. Without any apparent aid his robe fell open at that very timely moment, and his erect cock sprang up from his groin, pulsing gently as it pointed at her spellbound face.
‘I see how you stare at my penis,’ he went on, his voice low and husky.
Gabrielle felt her cheeks glow with renewed embarrassment, not even aware that she was staring at its powerful beauty – or was she?
Then his hips moved forward and the veined underside of the turgid column rested against and between her wet sex lips, its shiny purple globe hovering above the hollowed plain of her tummy. He held himself there for a few minutes, breathing calmly, looking down upon the bound beauty and allowing her to fully appreciate what she was about to receive.
‘Tell me what you want,’ he said quietly, almost hypnotically. ‘You want me to fuck you, don’t you?’
Gabrielle felt as though she was in a dream, that she could not speak.
Verity eased back, his cock nudged at her succulent entrance, his hands were back on her knees, and with one long slow shunt he filled her completely, her back arching in unison with the penetration despite the bonds that held her so securely.
‘Oh yesss…’ he hissed through gritted teeth as his balls nestled between her thighs and his pubic curls rested against the smoothness of her shaven mound. And then he started to move, slowly at first, but increasing his pace until he was thrusting in and out of her body, rapidly approaching his orgasm. Gabrielle yearned to move with him, but she was pinned there on the chair, a body for him to fuck, moving inexorably towards a shattering climax of her own.
‘Tell me what you want now,’ he grunted, his hands clamped obsessively to her knees as he fucked her.
‘You want me to fuck you until you come, don’t you?’ His urbane façade faltered, his jaw clenched and beads of sweat glistened on his face and chest as he moved with decreasing finesse, trying to hold back and savor the pleasure for as long as possible, wanting to see her come first, to prove his power over her.
‘You do, don’t you?’ he persisted.
‘Yes…’ she breathed, barely aware that she’d responded. ‘Make me come… master!’
‘Oh, my dear girl!’ Verity panted, and then his brow furrowed as he fucked her with ever increasing intensity. Gabrielle heard a scream, her own, as her pleasure built to a peak that was unbearable in its intensity, and she was consumed by a wonderful orgasm.
‘Yes!’ Verity grunted victoriously. ‘I’m coming now! Feel me coming deep inside you, my dear girl.’
‘I… I can feel it,’ sighed Gabrielle, mumbling almost deliriously. ‘And I’m so very grateful… master.’ Why she addressed him in such a manner again she had no idea, but the whys and wherefores seemed totally irrelevant at that moment.
He did not pull away from her immediately, but stood there, his vice-like grip upon her knees gradually easing, his eyes closed, his breathing calming as his spent penis slowly softened and slipped from her.
After long silent minutes, during which Gabrielle began to feel strangely close to the man, as if there was now a powerful bond between them, he opened his eyes and looked down upon her. ‘I’ll send Susan back to show you where to shower and freshen up,’ he said, and his tone hurt her; it was cold and detached, as though they had not just been so intimate together at all – as though it had meant nothing to him.
Without another word Verity turned, did up his robe, and left the room.
Tears blurred Gabrielle’s eyes, but she must not cry; she was stronger than that and Marshall Verity was not worth her tears. He was just a sad and lonely rich man. He meant nothing to her… nothing at all.