City of Light

The long, confident stride as he approached was hypnotizing in its seductive grace. Strong hands, capturing her wrists, pulled her fingers away from her sore swollen lip, never breaking the intensity of their gaze. She recognized him, of course, from the family portraits that lined the de Lion hallways, Andreas’ dark good looks handed down through the generations.

“It frightens you?” Beautifully accented English, the sensual roll of the “r” teased her ears. Cyn nodded, flinching from the sound of the leathers descent.

“It arouses you.” The whisper, teasing, confident, was not a question, his hand lifting her fingertip to his mouth, licking the smear of blood, bathing her in a sensual shimmer. Moving lower, one finger brushed against a hardened nipple, causing her to shudder with a cascade of conflicting emotions; disbelief, arousal, shame, fear. Her own soft moan; of protest, of longing, of uncertain distress, brought a gleam to his eyes, his fingers gentling her, the curl of a satisfied smile to the corners of his mouth.

“Close your eyes, bella.” The moment: surreal, her eyes slipping closed. Cringing at the sound of whistling leather, her body tensed against his in response.

“Feel her need.” His warm breath caressed her ear, decisive fingers encircling each wrist possessively, stroking slowly, liquid heat coursing through her. Again she hears the crack of leather on flesh, the sudden thrust of his knee between her thighs pressing her intimately against him that left her crying out her pleasure softly.

“Yes, uccello piccolo, my little bird. Listen. Hear her pleasure.” The woman’s cries echoed in her ears, screams of pleasure pain that wrapped themselves around the audience, teasing, stroking, inviting.

“Keep your eyes closed, little bird.” His voice warmed with reassurance. Strong hands gently pushed her backward, pressing her against the cold stone of the arch. “Spread your wings for me, uccello piccolo…let her teach you how to fly.” Large masculine fingers hot and firm against her pelvis stroking her to new heights, the timbre and cadence of his words urging her on. The repetition of the whistle, crack and cries was gaining momentum, urging her to wanton release, her body writhing in unrestrained abandon against the heat of his hand.

His touch became more intimate, pushing her hemline up over the curve of her hips, a heated palm that slid over her belly, its path bringing her achingly close to erotic crescendo. “Wait, little pet. Raise your arms above you, grab the stones.” Green eyes tightly closed as if in doing so she shut out the wanton reality of the moment. Lips parted, small rhythmic gasps spilling from them she moans for him. She raised her arms, fingers grasping the stones above her head, mimicking the pose of the other woman.

With her small whimper, a soft plea, his hand slipped lower, her hips thrusting her bare sex closer until the tips of his fingers rested teasingly against her wet, eager entrance, leaving her writhing in mindless hunger. When the heel of his hand brushed lightly against the swollen hungry nub of her clit, her whimper becomes a soft groan.

“Please.”

“Yes bella. Arch for me. Writhe for me. Show me.” With bittersweet abandon she thrust her hips forward, to impale herself on his fingers, her slick, wet, needy flesh hungry for more.

“Thrust, thrust, thrust…yes cara, show me. Your heat, cara bella. Show me.” Her back arched, head thrown back, the soft rhythm of his chant timed to each thrust of her hips. His free hand released the buttons of her blouse with practiced ease, the heat of his palm teasing, cupping the full swell of each breast. “Magnificent, cara. Open your eyes…look at her.”

She’d done that, avoiding his avid gaze with a soft blush of disbelief and shame, quickly forgotten in the ecstasy so clearly painted on the bound woman’s face. Her cries had become a crescendo of pleading, urgent whimpers, head back, eyes closed, full lips pulled back in a grimace.

His fingers, releasing her breasts, pulled the coarse lacy rim of each cup roughly over each nipple, pinching at each, heightening her awareness. Cyn’s world turned to shades of hungry aching need, hips bucking furiously against his fingers, grunting each time the heel of his hand came down on her clit.

“Watch, bella.” Reaching upward, his hand grasped her chin, directed, demanded, pinned her gaze to the bound woman. His mouth savaging each nipple had her crying out in response, the tidal pool of heat in her belly expanding in waves, forcefully.

The bound woman’s companion dropped to his knees behind her, the leather of his whip wrapped around her neck above the gleaming gold of her collar. He was rampantly aroused, releasing his rigid, throbbing member from leather pants with one impatient gesture. Her back, arched at an impossible angle, her face a snarl of primal greed. Cyn’s scream was without volition, echoing her own hunger as the man reached between his partner’s legs to spread her roughly, pulling back on the leather of the whip as he slid into her, hard, fast, savagely.

Cyn tensed, her body perched on the edge her fingers like claws against the rocks above her head, her hips and thighs thrusting with abandon, against Andreas’ fingers, the bound woman’s howl of climax reverberating around the room an elemental climax of aching release. Suddenly, those black eyes were directly in front of hers, she could feel the trail of bite marks he left, none of them gentle, like a ladder up her chest and neck.

“Now cara bella?” It was a question, his eyes intent on her response. She felt his gentle nod of acknowledgement, unprepared for the vicious descent of his mouth, his teeth bearing down on the swollen, battered flesh of her lower lip. Tears sprung to her eyes, the pain searing through her, sublimated to her belly, that strange alchemy between pain and pleasure leaving her gasping. Shaking, she felt her belly contract, the lapping, viscous waves of ecstasy tearing through her like a tidal force, his smile, of gentle satisfaction, the final sensual straw. She heard her own howl of release, as if from a distance, her senses completely overwhelmed. His arm was an iron band around her chest when her hands released, dropping her fully upon the hand between her legs. A final thrust of his fingers, deeply inside her pulsing, gripping cunt sent her into a different reality altogether, to lie draped, gasping, shuddering in his arms.

Slowly, so slowly, she came back to her senses, like swimming from the bottom of a pond. Andreas cradled her against his body, fingers and lips once so cruel, now achingly tender; gentling her like one would a frightened animal. Shuddering and limp, lying against him sobbing with sweet release…release of pleasure, release from fear, emerald eyes pooling with her tears, their soft trail over her cheeks dampening his shirt

“Cara bella…it is much, much better, yes?” Her shy nod had lit up his face with a smile.

*****

Present Day, Paris

“And now, aggravating slave? Where do you slip off to now, with that satisfied smile?” His teasing breath whispers against her ear as he buries his face in her hair.

“How did you do it, Ruan? How did you set it up?” She shivers as she watches him nod softly; his intuitive leap combined with his understanding of her brings him to the same place she had been with little effort.

“I was supposed to assure your safety, my love,” his voice harsh with regret, “I did not. For a year you cringed from me, yet in your dreams you writhed and begged for more. I had to do something.”

“We worked out a plan, Andreas, Adriana and I, to the finest detail and even then I despaired of it working. You were as skittish as a young horse, at the chateau that night, Cyn. Cringing against me the moment anyone approached. Do you remember?” Tilting her head up, meeting her eyes with a searching glance, he captures her lips in a breathtaking kiss with her nod.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to leave my side; not, sweet tramp, that I’m ever eager for that to happen. I waited for Andreas’s nod and sent you down that hall for a reason.” She shakes her head, adoration glowing in her eyes.

“Andreas was behind you, keeping an eye on you until he slipped into the shadows of the room that captured and held your attention. He told me afterward, Cyn, that he nearly abandoned the plan himself. The look on your face, so frightened, so alone, made him want to take you in his arms and carry you back.”

Again she shakes her head a wry smile, wistful, shaping her lips.

“Thank you, Master…for leading me to freedom. I do enjoy it, so very much.” His laughter is deep, husky and full bodied with amusement.

“Yes Cyn, you do, such a treasure. Your proclivity for nearly any act is breathtaking, your curiosity relentless, you imagination magnificent. Your propensity for climax…exquisite. ” His fingers drop lower, falling over her hardening nipples, cupping her breasts in his palms, his teasing bringing warm color to her face.

“Do you remember our third year, tramp of my dreams?”

*****

One year ago, Concorde St. Lazare Hotel – Paris

She does, especially the hours before the beginning of the party, the luncheon with Adriana, the soft velvet bag that she’d been handed but not allowed to open, the feel of the heavy links lying beneath it’s lush fabric, the warmth in Adrianna’s eyes as she watches her reaction intently.

“Save it for later, Cyn,” Adriana’s throaty chuckle, followed by the quick slap of her hand when she continues to play with the soft tassel of its closure.

God! She’s panting, her mind a chaos of whirling impressions. She doesn’t remember the short journey from the street into the lobby, its imposing décor leaving no impression on her dazzled senses. Out of the well-traveled path of its other patrons, she leans shakily against a towering marble column, her focus intent on the soft, thick velvet of the bag clutched between shaking hands. Her fingers, clumsy with shock, twist at the silken cords that secure it, hiding its contents from her gaze.

A soft shudder wracks Cyn’s body as the cords part, her hands cradling the splendor of the golden collar, revealed in all its magnificence against the rich, black background. Her eyes, mesmerized by its warm sheen, are two emerald pools of awe, apprehension and wonder. She remembers, clearly, her first experience, her initial exposure, to this golden promise, last year.

Shuddering and mindless, still, from the creative touch of his fingers, her eyes take in the exquisite golden object that encircles the kneeling, whip caressed woman, sprawled on the floor before her. With an uncanny ability to read her mind, his voice caresses her ears.

“The de Lion Collar, little bird, offered to those that not only possess the fire, but have the ability to make it burn for others.” The soft stroke of his fingers against her wet, sated flesh makes his point for him. Her gaze takes in the treasure as his exotically accented English explains its bold golden symbols. Symbols recognized in the clubs, parlors, and of course, boudoirs, of both Europe’s and America’s hedonistic elite.

A tremor of disbelief engulfs her, gentle fingertips tracing the outline of the two rampant lions facing each other in the center of the collar, their sapphire eyes gleaming with decadent intentions, their bared, reaching claws framing the majestically detailed form of a young woman, nude and kneeling between them, the bound braid of her hair falling over one shoulder, head bowed, palms resting lightly on either thigh. Fleurs de lis, that mystical historical lily, parade around the collar, each a clear representation of the heart of feminine sensuality.

The tremor becomes a shiver, shaking her deeply, the collar’s symbolism unmistakable. It represents their commitment and her complete surrender, to the de Lion house, should they choose. All she need do is wear it tonight, to the party. It symbolizes an ecstasy of submission to every exquisite depravity those two intelligent, experienced and imaginative minds can conjure over the next year.

“Cyn, bella. You will wear it with the style that is uniquely yours. Yes?” The slow caress of his words at her ear brings the instant, earthy fire to her veins as it has from the beginning. His presence, taking her unaware, startles a soft exclamation from expressive lips, her body shying back abruptly against the chill stone of the column, fingers fumbling desperately at the golden object tumbling from her hand.

“Easy, uccello piccolo. Beautiful things should be handled firmly, with care and consideration, no?” Innuendo flares brightly from black eyes as he steps forward, strong masculine fingers covering hers, capturing the symbolic treasure between them, the heat of his body creating a sharp dissonance to the cold marble at her back. Her senses run riot, skin sensitizing painfully, her body softening, inviting, lips parting, breath quickening, like her pulse, to his presence.

Uccello piccolo, his little bird. She lowers her eyes, color staining her cheeks, hiding from his perceptive look, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“No, little bird, ” reaching one strong had to cup her chin, his fingers freeing her lip from her teeth, “we both know where that leads, do we not? I do not suggest the lobby as…appropriate, no?” As always, his nimble, intuitive thoughts follow hers. His fingers trace the soft arc of each eyebrow, his gaze on her lips, his tongue insinuating itself between the warm flesh of her lips with exquisite slowness, his teeth clamping down lightly on her lower lip, leaving her to tremble with aching greed. “Do you remember?” The tension in his voice tells her he has felt her need, one muscular thigh slipping between hers pressing against her intimately against the column at her nod.

“Good. Now go, bella…before I follow you up and we both miss the party tonight.”

She’d gone, back to her room to find Ruan sitting on her bed, his smile of pride and appreciation made her tremble that much more. He’d tugged the rich velvet out of her shaking fingers, dumping the golden links in a gleaming puddle on the duvet, his brilliant eyes deliciously black with arousal.

“There are women, little Cyn, that work for years for this honor. Even then, many are not offered what you’re being offered tonight.”

She had shivered beneath his tone, dazzled by the rich sparkle of the collars gleam on the covers. Precious recognition of the qualities they sought, it was one of ten offered every year by the de Lions, an invitation to join their house to train and learn beneath the best dominants in the world. Ruan being one of the mentors of the House de Lions and both of them intimate friends of the family, the gesture was more symbolic than anything, but an honor nonetheless.

Together, hand in hand, they’d accepted, standing side by side in that immense majestic ballroom, as André and Adriana fasten the locking clasp around her neck, Adriana’s fingers teasing the pounding pulse that it rests on with a warm smile of welcome.

*****

Present Day, Paris

“Beloved Master, magnificent hero of my heart,” the amusement in his eyes warms her soul, “where do you suppose this year will lead us?” She basks, exquisitely in the heat and love and protection of his arms, her every sense tuned and expectant as they approach the chateau, their fourth year in attendance. She’d worn both collars, his and the de Lion talisman, with pride for a year.

“Does it matter, sweet tramp, slut of my most perverse dreams?” The low masculine croon shivers through her.

“No my love. Wherever we go, I am with you. It is all I have ever needed.”

“What will you do for me, beloved tramp?” His eyes reflect the seriousness of his question.

“Anything,” her breathless answer.

“What will you endure for me, my love?”

“Everything,” simple satisfaction drips from each word, her surrender, complete in its totality.