Hotel Pavane Ch. 01

When he looks at her now there is something new in his eyes, something she hadn't expected to see there: a kind of angry lust that makes her weak. She makes herself stand up straight. There's no sense in trying to pretend or make excuses. He knows what they mean.

"It's that bad?" he asks.

She shrugs. "At times."

His eyes soften now and she's relieved she's not going to be lectured or consoled. He's to wise for that. When he takes her in his arms, though, there's a savagery in his touch., a sudden hunger, as if he's afraid now that he might lose her. One hand goes to the back of her head, holding her in place for his kiss, while the other slides over her back, pressing her close, then down across the small of her back over her bottom, where he opens his hand and grips her tight, squeezing her possessively, so hard that Marija gasps in surprise.

Yet his sudden hunger thrills her too. He doesn't give her time to worry or think or say yes or no. He's just there, bearing down on her with this furious need, and it's all she can do to keep from being swept away on this cataract of passion. His sudden hunger for her is overwhelming. It's as if she's standing under a waterfall trying to breathe.

Both hands are on her ass now, and as he kisses her, he bends her back, keeping her hips pressed to his. He gathers up her skirt, lifting it over her bottom till she feels the cool air of the room against her naked ass. Now her decision not the wear anything underneath her dress comes back to haunt her. What will he think of her now?

His hands find her naked skin, and if anything it only inflames him more. He grabs both buttocks in his hands and sinks his fingers into her flesh, then pulls them apart. One finger slides down her crack and probes at her anus, and Marija turns her head to the side and gasps for breath, shocked at his boldness. She clings to his jacket if she might fall.

He pulls her over to the bed and stands her there, posing her like a doll as he kisses her face, her eyes, her mouth. His kisses are tender now, but still trembling with a restrained hunger. He seems poised on the edge of some terrible violence, and she's almost afraid to move, afraid she might set him off.

He grabs her arms and pushes her elbows back, forcing her breasts to strain against the thin fabric of the dress, and he pulls her against him, crushing her yielding softness against his chest and making her his prisoner.

"I'm going to fuck you, Marija," he whispers hotly. "I'm going to fuck you so good you won't ever think of those pills again. You're more than what your boyfriend thinks, and you're more than you know. That's what I'm going to show you."

He runs his hands up and down her body, from the hardness of her back down to the softness of her ass and Marija shelters in his arms, her hands against her chest.

"You just leave everything to me," he says. "Understand? You don't have to do anything. You just do as I say."

She already feels overwhelmed and capable of doing nothing. It's exactly what she wants, for someone to take charge of her and do things for her.

He turns her around so her back is to him and unzips her dress. She stands there like a child as he pulls it up over her head, leaving her naked but for her shoes and her stockings, her garter belt and jewelry. She should be ashamed to be seen in her nakedness, but already she's taken his advice to heart. She'll do nothing, not even judge herself. She'll let him do as he wishes.

He turns her to face him and steps back, holding her at arm's length so he can have a good look at her. He scans her body up and down, as if confirming what he already knows, and Marija stands there nervously in her nakedness as he inspects her like a simple commodity. His face seems cold and distant, his inspection almost degrading, until his eyes meet hers again and she sees such a look of heat and desire there that she feels herself began to swell and grow wet for him. Her pussy, her whole being, feels like a flower opening to the sun under the heat of his eyes.

He goes to the wall switch and turns off the lights. The only illumination is from the moonlight seeping through the French doors. He takes off his jacket and kicks off his shoes; removes his tie and unbuttons his shirt; shrugs off the shirt and lets it fall around his arms as he works on the cuffs, and the sight of his chest and the domed muscles of his shoulders makes her breath race. He's thicker and darker than Andre, and altogether more dangerous. She's so intent on watching him strip that she doesn't even notice her own nakedness.

He pulls off his socks and unbuckles his belt, opens the zipper and lets his pants fall to the floor, and Marija can see his cock tenting his shorts, his beautiful, threatening cock, hard just for her.

When he comes to her and embraces her again, his shaft presses into her lower stomach and she has the strong urge to reach down and feel it, but he grabs her arm as she reaches for him and stops her.

"No," he says. "I'm taking charge. I'll tell you when. Now down. Down."

He grips her wrists and uses them to force her down to her knees at his feet. There's no real need to force her. She's willing, but his strength excites her: a measure of his hunger. She wants to be used, which is strange, because she's always hated being treated as a sex object, but now his force is exactly what she wants. She wants to feel the depth of his need for her. She wants him to make her do things.

He holds her with one hand on her wrist and pulls down his shorts with the other. His cock springs free, standing straight out in rampant eagerness. He's shaved entirely bare, which only makes him look bigger and more magnificent: thick and hard and wreathed in veins, arching upwards defiantly and capped with a straining helmet like a medieval warrior. Below it his balls hang ripe and heavy, obscenely potent, like stones for a catapult.

Marija looks up at him from her knees. He looms above her, still holding her forearms in his hands, glaring down like Zeus from Olympus, his hips thrust forward slightly. Marija has a brief thought of Andre, of a line she never meant to cross, and then she closes her eyes. She opens her mouth and takes him inside.

He moans, almost a growl, and she feels his hands tighten on her arms, urging her on. She slides her face forward, feeling the head of his cock rubbing across the roof of her mouth and over her soft palate. She hears him groan again and he shudders, and something inside her smiles with deep relief and satisfaction.

She's never thought of herself as being particularly good at oral sex, but then she'd never really had any way to judge. Andre had tended to lie back and keep quiet, but Ariel is the exact opposite. She can feel his cock quivering in her mouth, hear his satisfied moans as her lips envelope his shaft, and feel his excitement in the way he grips her arms.

He lets go of her now and reaches down and caresses her face, running his hand over her cheek and then over her lips to feel them stretched around his cock. "Yes," he whispers. "Like that. Show me how you love it."

He begins to move his hips, slowly fucking into her waiting mouth. Marija puts her hands on his thighs and feels the iron-like rigidity of his muscles. Above her, she can see his stomach trembling with tension, and the realization that she is having such an effect on him arouses her terribly. She begins to bob her head up and down on his cock, sucking as hard as she can.

Already he's panting. Marija weighs his balls in her hand, feels their heavy potency, and his overwhelming maleness makes her groan herself. She knows where that cock is going, knows there's no way to stop him, and it's such a relief to her. He reaches down and combs his fingers through her hair, pushes it back from her face so he can watch her, then holds her head gently as he begins to fuck her mouth with slow, deep strokes.

The way he uses her excites her: the way he takes control of her and imposes his will leaves her free of any responsibility, free to just experience the feel of him in her mouth. His excitement communicates itself to her, and suddenly she's on fire, sucking his cock, pulling it from her mouth and rubbing it over her cheeks, painting her face with his seeping lubricant. Ari thrusts his hips out, wraps her hair in his fists and begins to fuck her mouth with a hard, steady rhythm.

It's a savage way to treat this girl, yet she responds with moans and gasps of her own, thrilled by his violence. His stomach trembles, the big muscles in his thighs stand out like steel cords, and he lets her feel all his animal desire, pure and undiluted. But when he feels himself close to coming—when he feels the muscles tightening in his ass and belly, the fire in his nerves that signal the start of release—he stops, pulls his prick from her open mouth and bends down. He lifts her to her feet before she knows what's happening.

"On the bed," he says, and he pulls her over and pushes her down face first onto the mattress.

Marija wipes her mouth with her hand, totally confused, on fire for him and feeling her mouth's emptiness throughout her entire body, as if a part of her is missing. Her sudden need makes her weak and unsteady, and she lets him push and pull her around on the bed until he has her as he wants her: head down on the mattress, ass in the air, knees parted.

She remembers the mirror standing against the wall, and looking over she can see herself. She looks at the woman on the bed, the wicked stockings and garter belt, the breasts hanging down in elongated cones. She is a slut, she realizes, a brazen, shameless slut who's about to be fucked by a total stranger.

As if reading her mind, Ari caresses her naked ass and says, "I want you to forget all about who you are. For tonight I want you to be nothing but a body, pure sensation. All you do is feel."

He pushes her knees together and pulls her hips back so that her puffy lips are compressed into two fleshy buns between her thighs. He holds her knees together, squats down and licks her, a lewd, animal-like swipe of his tongue, totally unexpected. She shudders, and he licks her again, pushing his mouth against her and trying to spear his tongue inside, though with her legs compressed he can only just touch the sensitive nerves at her entrance.

Marija groans. The way he licks her and presses his face against her is obscene, primitive and feral. It's totally unlike what she expected from this worldly and urbane man, but the very wildness of his actions arouses her terribly and brings out her own primal feelings, dirty and deliciously alive.

She sneaks a glance in the mirror again and sees him kneeling on the floor, his face pressed into her ass. One hand caresses her buttocks, pulling them apart and squeezing. His other hand is on his hard, glistening cock, and he's pumping himself, masturbating as he licks and mouths her pussy.

He raises his hand and brings it down sharply on her ass, totally unexpected, making Marija cry out in surprise. No one has ever struck her before, not even in play, and it shocks her, but when she tries to move he pulls her roughly back into place and slaps her bottom again.

"Ow!"

"Shhh!" he warns. "Stay still! I'm not hurting you."

He slaps her again, and Marija grabs onto the bed cover, not knowing what else to do. It's a violation of all that she believes about love-making, and yet the angry sting of his hand on her flesh satisfies something deep inside her, some need to be owned and possessed, to be punished for her own erotic desires.

Four times he spanks her, and then his hand slides over her ass like a thief returning to the scene of the crime, caressing her, feeling the heat rise to the surface, worshipping her reddened skin. He slaps her twice more and now she makes no protest, feeling his blows as rightful possession. She feels the mattress sag beneath his weight as he climbs into the bed.

"I'm going to fuck you now, pretty," he says. "Just like this. Like animals fuck, back to front. Spread your legs."

She's on fire for him now, wet and aching between her legs, consumed by a wild mixture of shame and raw sexual need. She knows what he meant about forgetting who she is. She doesn't want to think about that, about guilt and remorse and making it good for him or what he'll think about her afterwards. She just wants his hardness inside her and the fierce strength of his lust possessing her. She spreads her thighs and lifts herself up on her forearms, daring to look back over her shoulder at him..

He doesn't come right into her. Instead he reaches beneath her from behind and presses hard against her labia, as if checking her condition, seeing if she's ready. His fingers slide between her lips and find her secret flesh, the eager bud of her clitoris, and his touch is almost too much to bear. It's a casual, almost cruel gesture, as if he were checking his bath water, and the callous way he touches her turns her heat into a raging flame. It's so foreign to her to be treated like this, but it inflames her.

He works a finger into her and pumps it in and out mechanically, his other hand on the small of her back. Marija can feel his eyes on her, and she gasps and covers her head with her hands, lacing her fingers in her hair as if she can hide herself from what he's doing to her.

"Do it!" she hears herself cry. "Fuck me!"

He only grunts in acknowledgement, and again the mattress rocks as he gets into position. His big cock nudges at her opening, and she grabs the covers and holds on, waiting for his entry, not daring to think.

It's been so long, and she's grown tight, but he's amazingly hard and won't be denied. His hands go to her hips and he grabs the crests of her hips bones and pushes forward, and she feels herself opening up to his onslaught, her stubborn flesh yielding before his irresistible attack.

"Oh!" she cries. "Oh God!"

"Tight," he says. "You're all closed up, aren't you, Marija? But we'll open you up, pretty. You'll see. I'll open you up!"

It's like being a virgin again, the same fear of pain, of inadequacy, but now she knows she doesn't have to do anything. It's like he said: he's going to take it from her. She just has to be there for him and he'll take what he wants.

"Oh!" she cries out again as he shoves the entire length into her at last, and she feels unused muscles stretch and throb around him. Delicious pain, a thrilling ache as he fills her, till he tightens his grip on her hips and pulls her all the way back, thrusting forward and impaling her on his rampaging cock, flattening her buttocks against his hard stomach.

Marija looks into the mirror and sees their image. He's standing tall on his knees and leaning back slightly, his hands on her hips; she's kneeling slavishly before him, ass up, back bowed down as she presses her tits against the bed. All her attention's on his throbbing hardness inside her, on how good he feels, on how sweet it is to be caught on the end of that angry male shaft.

"All right," he gasps. "Here it comes, Marija. Get ready for me."

She doesn't know what he's talking about. Wasn't he already in her balls deep? Her pussy's stretched around the thick base of his cock like an elastic band. She can feel him throbbing inside her. But now he pulls back, increases his grip on her hips, and begins to fuck her, slamming into her, the knobby shaft of his cock bumping over her flesh.

"Oh yes! Oh yes! Fuck me! Do it!" she yells.

His roughness and selfishness thrill her to the core. He fucks her like she belongs to him, like she has no purpose other than to serve him, and his selfishness sets her free. There's nothing she can do, no way she can reciprocate. Her only option is to lie there and moan and get fucked, possessed by his savage lust. It's delicious, liberating, and before she knows what's happening, a little orgasm washes like a wave of fire through her body, summoned by his lust. Her body, her very sensations are no longer hers to control. They belong to him.

He seems to know exactly what she's feeling, for no sooner has she come then he pulls out of her and pushes her over on her back. Marija's too weak to even try and resist him. She's like a rag doll in his hands, and as soon as he has her on her back, he enters her again with one smooth move of his hips. He falls on top of her, cradling her head in his hands, and his ass begins to rise and fall, thrusting his prick into her like a battering ram, knocking down all her defenses, battering her senseless.

He kisses her, biting and licking her lips like an animal, swallowing her moans and groans into his mouth, and his hips never stop working. Her knees are spread wide, her feet planted weakly on the bed, and her hands grab at the bed cover in a desperate attempt to hold on.

"Take it, Marija!" he moans into her mouth. "Take my big cock and make me come! Can you do it? Can you make me come? Can you make me come in that hot pussy?"

She wants to. She wants to fuck back at him, to make it good for him, but he's already moving so fast, fucking her so brutally she can't get any sort of rhythm or purchase on the bed. She feels herself climbing to another orgasm, her feet and ankles tingling, her face growing hot and flushed.

She turns her head and looks in the mirror and sees herself pressed into the mattress, her knees up and apart and shaking with every bruising thrust of Ari's hips. She sees his muscular ass rising and falling, his buttocks clenching as he feeds his cock into her and stirs it around inside. His shoulders are thick knots of muscle; his face a mask of furious lust and anguish. His violence overwhelms her, thrills her. He fucks her so hard the entire mattress sways beneath her, the whole world rocking to the angry rhythm of his prick inside her.

Ari grabs her wrists and pushes them down beside her shoulders, holding her to the bed, holding her immobile while his thundering cock hammers at her cunt, filling her and releasing, filling and releasing. Marija can't move, can't resist him if she'd wanted to. She closes her eyes, opens her mouth to his ravishing tongue and gives up; gives up fighting, gives up resisting, and opens herself to him entirely: not just her body, but her heart and soul, letting herself be conquered by his thrusting cock and the tight grip of his hands on her wrists.

She knows then that surrender is triumph, that letting go is security. His wild need proves her worth, and the only way she'll find herself is by giving herself away, and with those thoughts in her mind, she climaxes. She climaxes with a violence and a thoroughness that she's never felt before, as if her entire soul were washed in brilliant light. For those brief moments she's entirely sexual, nothing but cunt, and she plants her feet on the bed and thrusts her hips up at him hard, enveloping him in her clutching sheath and letting him feel her raging joy.

She has an image of his face above her, his look of furious lust replaced by one of sudden astonishment. His eyes glaze and go sightless, and with a low, feline growl she feels his cock jump inside of her, feels his entire body tighten into one, tense and trembling mass of muscle, and feels the burning jolt of his ejaculate splash inside her, one gout after another, and each one pushing her higher into a brilliant darkness.

*****

He's lying on his left side facing her, the covers pulled down to his waist, his back to the open French doors so that his right arm and shoulder are lit by moonlight, his face in shadows. "You're sure?" he asks.

She's on her back, the covers under her chin. She's always cold at night, even in the summer. "Yes. Would there be a problem?"

He lifts himself up on his elbow and looks down at her, reaches out and runs his palm across her breast. "No. No problem. I'd even waive my fee, if that's what you really want to do."