Just a few heated words and a bit of humiliation.” He lifted my skirts and pulled my dress and chemise over my head in one piece.
I struggled a little with the folds for form’s sake.
Victor shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m going to give you the satisfaction of making you do anything.”
I stood there trembling and naked, waiting.
He smiled. “Lie down on the bed and pleasure yourself.”
My eyes widened and I didn’t move.
“Did you hear me?” he said softly. “I told you to lie down right there and spread your legs. I shall arrange you like a statue.”
I lay down. My heart was beating like a drum. Carefully, lightly, he fluffed my hair over my shoulders. “That’s better. Now open your legs.”
He caressed the inside of my thigh. “That makes a prettier line.”
Of course everything was completely exposed, and he made a show of stroking my lips softly. “Now put your hand there. Just as if you were alone.”
I did. The jolts of pleasure that went through me were extreme.
“Move your hand just so. I want to watch you.” His face was rapt and I could see the passion rising in him, under the leash of control.
I moved my hand, succumbing to the growing warmth.
“Like that,” he said. “Lovely. I think I will have you sculpted like that. As Aphrodite, perhaps. But everyone who sees it will know it’s you. Do you want the entire world to see your charms?”
“You wouldn’t,” I said.
“Are you sure of that?”
His voice was as much the spur as my fingers. I closed my eyes, losing track of everything else. I heard some small movements, but paid them no heed.
“You are lovely that way, my dear. I believe you’d do nearly anything.”
“Yes,” I whispered. To touch myself this way, to come naked on the bed while clothed he stood watching was . . .
And then there was a cool touch between my legs. The ivory phallus slid inside, oiled and hard. I shrieked and came between his hands and mine.
He laughed.
I sat up unsteadily. It shifted, pressing inside me. He was standing beside the bed. “Don’t take it out,” he said. “Leave it there.”
I could see the strain on his face, and with something like a purr I opened the buttons on his trousers and took him in my mouth, kneeling on my haunches. The phallus inside me slid slick and wet with my movements. It was like being penetrated twice, once there and once in my mouth, where I took him completely.
In the end he had to hold on to the bedpost to keep from falling. He clasped at my hair and called out something I didn’t quite understand. I did not let him fall.
A fterward we lay together lazily. Usually he would dress and leave before too late, but that night he showed no inclination to go, lounging next to me wearing his ruffled evening shirt and nothing else. Which was also unusual. Victor usually hated being en déshabillé, and he was never naked if he could help it.
“My dear,” he said, “be entirely truthful with me. You hate this house.”
“I do,” I said. “It is too old and sad. And too far from where you live. It takes you too long to get home at night, and you will not stay with me because you must leave so early. And there is no other suitable room if you wanted to stay in your own bed.”
“And you hate it,” he said.
“And I hate it,” I said. “If I were choosing a place, it would be closer to you and would be both simpler and more elegant. And more modern. Not larger. I don’t need more space. Just better arrangement.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Well, perhaps I can look for something different for you.”
I leaned back against his arm. “I will pay the rent out of the money you give me. I’m not asking for more money.”
He shrugged. “Which is as well. You know I am no spendthrift. Though”—he brushed the damp hair back from my forehead—“I think it’s time I gave an entertainment of my own.”
“A ball?” I asked.
“Nothing as grand as that. Perhaps a
I struggled a little with the folds for form’s sake.
Victor shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m going to give you the satisfaction of making you do anything.”
I stood there trembling and naked, waiting.
He smiled. “Lie down on the bed and pleasure yourself.”
My eyes widened and I didn’t move.
“Did you hear me?” he said softly. “I told you to lie down right there and spread your legs. I shall arrange you like a statue.”
I lay down. My heart was beating like a drum. Carefully, lightly, he fluffed my hair over my shoulders. “That’s better. Now open your legs.”
He caressed the inside of my thigh. “That makes a prettier line.”
Of course everything was completely exposed, and he made a show of stroking my lips softly. “Now put your hand there. Just as if you were alone.”
I did. The jolts of pleasure that went through me were extreme.
“Move your hand just so. I want to watch you.” His face was rapt and I could see the passion rising in him, under the leash of control.
I moved my hand, succumbing to the growing warmth.
“Like that,” he said. “Lovely. I think I will have you sculpted like that. As Aphrodite, perhaps. But everyone who sees it will know it’s you. Do you want the entire world to see your charms?”
“You wouldn’t,” I said.
“Are you sure of that?”
His voice was as much the spur as my fingers. I closed my eyes, losing track of everything else. I heard some small movements, but paid them no heed.
“You are lovely that way, my dear. I believe you’d do nearly anything.”
“Yes,” I whispered. To touch myself this way, to come naked on the bed while clothed he stood watching was . . .
And then there was a cool touch between my legs. The ivory phallus slid inside, oiled and hard. I shrieked and came between his hands and mine.
He laughed.
I sat up unsteadily. It shifted, pressing inside me. He was standing beside the bed. “Don’t take it out,” he said. “Leave it there.”
I could see the strain on his face, and with something like a purr I opened the buttons on his trousers and took him in my mouth, kneeling on my haunches. The phallus inside me slid slick and wet with my movements. It was like being penetrated twice, once there and once in my mouth, where I took him completely.
In the end he had to hold on to the bedpost to keep from falling. He clasped at my hair and called out something I didn’t quite understand. I did not let him fall.
A fterward we lay together lazily. Usually he would dress and leave before too late, but that night he showed no inclination to go, lounging next to me wearing his ruffled evening shirt and nothing else. Which was also unusual. Victor usually hated being en déshabillé, and he was never naked if he could help it.
“My dear,” he said, “be entirely truthful with me. You hate this house.”
“I do,” I said. “It is too old and sad. And too far from where you live. It takes you too long to get home at night, and you will not stay with me because you must leave so early. And there is no other suitable room if you wanted to stay in your own bed.”
“And you hate it,” he said.
“And I hate it,” I said. “If I were choosing a place, it would be closer to you and would be both simpler and more elegant. And more modern. Not larger. I don’t need more space. Just better arrangement.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Well, perhaps I can look for something different for you.”
I leaned back against his arm. “I will pay the rent out of the money you give me. I’m not asking for more money.”
He shrugged. “Which is as well. You know I am no spendthrift. Though”—he brushed the damp hair back from my forehead—“I think it’s time I gave an entertainment of my own.”
“A ball?” I asked.
“Nothing as grand as that. Perhaps a
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