A Dangerous Legacy Pt. 04bymadam_noe©
©Nora Quick 2013
I couldn't write anything more of the dark Borgia biography and I'd given up on Googling my aunt Alessandra. It had to be an assumed name. In fact, I found no record of anyone named Joeson anywhere. So instead of writing or searching, I thought. I sat on the couch of my office with a book in my lap, pretending to read, petting Diego at my feet absentmindedly as I thought long and hard.
I loved Julian, wild, free, shy, and yet so confident. Shameless was the best word for him.
Free was the best word for Pierre. He laughed easily, always had a positive outlook. He encouraged this "innocent" side to me more than either of the other men. With Pierre I felt like I was revisiting a familiar world with new eyes. With Julian I felt I was visiting a world I'd only glimpsed.
With Andre I felt overwhelmed. He seemed to be leashed strength. He wasn't quite as tall as Julian, nor was he as broad as Pierre, but the combination of height and strength made me feel deeply feminine around him. He was smart, brilliant actually, and when we spoke I always felt I was learning, but never condescended to.
Still I didn't know what drove him. For Pierre it was figuring things out, tinkering, taking them apart and putting them back together better than ever, a master builder. Julian lived to create, reveled in the sensual, a creature of seductive comfort.
Andre made money with the same ease most people breathed, dressed like he was always ready to either head up a gentleman's motorcycle gang or guide a corporate takeover. Whenever the men had to accomplish any task together all three or in a pair that Andre was part of, he was the clear leader.
And yet he smiled easily and cuddled with me as if we'd been doing it for years. I didn't know what he did for fun. Hell, I didn't even know what he did around the house. Julian cooked and Pierre tinkered and chauffeured. I guess Andre cleaned, but I couldn't quite imagine it.
I'd just have to find out more that night. Andre had always treated me tenderly for all his strength, but whereas I had a firm grasp of just who Julian and Pierre were, I was lost with Andre. I wanted to love him, but I needed to know more.
A knock came at the door. I leapt up, dropping the book which scared Diego. A knock could mean one of the men, and possible temporary relief from the arousal plaguing me. I'd been wet all day.
The door opened and Diego streaked out, making Andre step back with a small smile. "How's writing going?"
I crouched and picked up the book with a sigh. "It's not. I was attempting reading but I can't concentrate."
I remembered the promise he'd exacted, that I always had to be honest. "I am so damn...horny. Frankly I'd masturbate, but for some reason it feels wrong."
His eyes glittered as he closed the door behind him. "Oh? You've become quite a good girl."
Setting the book down on a shelf I folded my arms beneath my breasts. "What does that mean?" I wanted to be sure, even though I knew I had once played this game from the other side.
He looked me up and down, noting the simple blue sweater dress I'd put on that morning. "Your pleasure is our responsibility, and our privilege. You'd have to be quite a naughty girl to interfere with our duty."
He approached me slowly, his face serious but his eyes unusually playful. I backed up, warily, though I felt my nipples harden as my mouth went dry. Licking my lips I saw his gaze dart there, sinking lower to my breasts, and I shivered.
"Funny, Julian tells me he feels like my slave and yet you make it sound..."
"Yes?" He raised a single auburn eyebrow.
"Like I'm your slave."
He backed me to the wall, trapped between the window and my desk. Still Andre kept coming until his delicious body pressed into mine. "Anna, would that be such a bad thing?"
In the past if I'd ever thought of being submissive to a lover I'd always felt a sliver of shame. But with Andre, hell with them all now it was a different matter...a new me, I'd promised myself. And the new me was insanely aroused by the thought.
"No," I breathed at last. "It just...makes me nervous."
One hand landed on my hip and the other reached between us to drag its knuckles over my nipple. "Thank you for being honest. Yes, submission scares you, but it excites you as well. And it makes you blush. You're so fetching when you blush."
I couldn't make any reply other than a whimper as I remembered the fantasy he'd confessed our first night together. I tipped my face up to meet him as he bent his head and took my mouth. Clutching at his shirt I rubbed my body against Andre like a cat. I felt his erection and it thrilled me. I wondered if he would make me kneel, take his cock into my mouth, lick him nice and slow, or suck fast and hard.
The thought of his pleasure under my hands was heady. Even if he ordered me, called the shots, pleasuring him and watching it was the real treat, and I loved the feeling of power that act would give me.
Andre pulled back, his look knowing and not quite smiling, but definitely amused. "Strip for me, nice and slow."
He pulled back and sat on the loveseat, looking imperious.
I remained at the wall, shivering and unsure.
"I know what you need," he said with a smile and found the remote on the side table. All week long Pierre had wired the entire house to a central server. The remote was basically a smart phone that connected to it and within seconds he had the list of music pulled up, copied mostly from playlists on my computer.
Seconds later Rob Zombie's "Foxy Foxy" began.
"Strip," he said again, tossing the remote carelessly to the desk.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was power too. Even as I did as he bade, his arousal was mine to conquer.
I let myself dance and sway to the music, stroking my hands over my body. When I heard his rumble of approval I let my eyes close. There wouldn't be much to the act, I'd worn the dress over panties and a bra and nothing else as the house was toasty warm.
Still I managed to lower to side zipper and slowly pulled it from me, peeking from beneath my hair. Andre blatantly adjusted himself, wholly male and fully aroused as the dress pooled at my feet. I stepped out and turned, bending down to show him my ass. Pierre was a breast man, Julian liked my legs, knowing the way it seemed to work with them I was willing to bet Andre was an ass man.
When I felt his hand smooth over my cheeks I danced away. Keeping my back turned I undid my bra, then turned to face him. Slowly I lowered the cups while I kept swaying to the beat. As much as he liked my ass, he stilled and went into near hypnosis as I revealed my breasts.
The music changed, and Danzig rang out now. I shimmied slowly from my panties and was left wondering what to do now that I was naked save my shoes.
"Come here," Andre growled. He urged me over until I was straddling him on the loveseat, then made me stand up. He held me by my ass, cupping it, and brought his face towards my pussy. "Hang on to the shelves if you need to."
He descended. I did indeed have to grip the shelves as he feasted. There was no artifice or teasing, there was just pure, raw, driving passion. Straightaway he began to suckle and flick at my clit with his tongue. It was brutally clearing the path for something more.
I'd been keyed up on edge since morning and it took only a few short minutes, but soon I was wailing with the climax, and impressively he was supporting my entire body weight. I was boneless as the pleasure wracked my body, and still he did not relent. Together we eased me down until I straddled him on my knees, and Andre kissed me.
Uncaring of anything but my need I ground my wet pussy into his pants, smearing my juices as I undulated. My nipples grazed his crisp shirt and knowing he was fully clothed while I was naked only drove me crazier.
The music had long ago bled in Ozzy Osbourne and I realized he'd selected my favorites, anything with a slow, haunting, or sensual beat with the growling vocals and gently wailing guitars of metal. Just when I was about to ask "What now?" Andre guided me to my feet.
Reaching behind him he pulled something from the small of his back. I was shocked to find it was a small dildo. Well, average, but after a week with three men who made John Holmes look like an amateur, my standards were skewed.
"Wh-what's that for?"
"Bend over your desk and spread your legs."
Electricity shot through me and I nearly ran the four steps to my desk. I bent over, legs straight, ass high in the air. I couldn't wait to discover what this interesting turn of events brought.
"Keep your eyes forward, Anna."
The command was there, even as his voice turned breathy. I trembled, gripping the desk when I felt him stand behind me. His pressed trousers brushed against my bare skin. Andre bent, his knees going gently into the back of mine and something cool and hard probed me. Though the motions were familiar and I should have expected it, when Andre dipped his hips and slammed in, it was a shock.
It was only the dildo, held to the side of the ridge of his cock was by one hand it felt like. He began to move and I was lost to sensation. In and out, the man had a grinding rhythm that was raw, powerful, and pure heaven. I cried out, knuckles white on the desk as he thrust the dildo in and out again, and again, and again.
It felt damn good, a pale shadow of what I truly wanted, but the feeling of a powerful body thrusting against me and a hard length filling me was a balm to my soul. Still, I needed more.
"Please, let me touch my clit!"
"No, Anna. I told you, you don't get in the way of our duty!" As he spoke his other hand slid around my thigh. Two thick fingers formed a V over my clit and with each thrust jostled against me, shooting white-hot sparks of pleasure through my entire body. But just when I thought I'd caught the tail of an orgasm, he bent over, pressing his chest to my back, and slowed.
"Andre, please," I moaned.
His mouth slid against my ear, and I knew the sweat from my body was ruining his clothes. Cruelly, his thrusting stopped completely. "Yes, say it again, Anna."
Slowly, impossibly slow, he pulled out and pushed back in, then held still. His fingers had begun to make small circles around my clit. The teasing was maddening.
"Again, Anna, I love to hear you say my name and beg."
"Andre, please, please, please fuck me, now, hard, fast, fuck me now, please!" even I knew there was more command than plea to it, but it seemed to please him.
Growling he began to move once more, slamming inside me, still bent over me. One hand teased my clit and the other wrapped around me, holding me in place. I had no clue how the dildo remained in place, but I didn't care. I felt his teeth on my shoulders, his muscles caging me.
It was a wild ride, a desperate kind of claiming. It felt so damn good to be filled I felt my body coming apart at the seams. As he thrust Andre rocked my entire body, and my breasts dragged heavily across the wood of the desk. My head knocked the pen holder down and my scrabbling hands knocked the keyboard to the chair.
Straining, pleasure streaming through me like lightning from our contact points, I nearly fought the ecstasy. Andre's hips rolled sweetly, curling into me, each pass of the dildo scraping that sensitive spot inside. Finally, at last, I came screaming his name.
Andre kept thrusting through it all, teeth scraping my shoulders and neck. I shook with the pleasure as I pulsed deep inside and felt resistance pushing back. It was glorious, all pressing heat and light icy shivers.
Over and over he thrust in until I was wrung out, crying out for quarter, and at last he yielded. As he pulled out I collapsed fully to the desk and peaked over my shoulder. He'd zipped the dildo up in his pants so it was held in place. Ingenious.
"When?" I asked, and he knew what I meant.
"I hate waiting."
He tossed the dildo aside and grabbed me, turning me as I rose.
"I know you do, sweetheart. I promise you, next week you'll have so much of us inside you you'll be begging us for rest."
I kissed him soundly and shamelessly wiggled against his erection. "We'll see about that. I've been waiting years for you."
Pulling back he smoothed my hair and searched my eyes. "We've been waiting all of our lives for you."
In that moment my heart felt like it had been strolling along aimlessly, and now tripped and fell in love with him. I couldn't name just what had made it take that leap, but it was a done deal. This kiss was slower, deeper, my emotions, unspoken, poured through my lips.
"We both need a shower," I managed when he pulled back. At his grin I shook my head. "If we take one together we'll never be ready by dinner."
"But you have such a nice shower."
"I do, and you can use it after me." I grabbed my dress and slid it over my head. "By the way, how should I dress for dinner?"
"Sexy. Dress to be fucked," he said darkly, and swatted my ass.
Well...that sounded promising.
Our final night. Andre's night. With no knowledge of what tomorrow would bring, this could truly be the last night for us, and I'd come to realize, with certainty, I was in love with them. We'd only known one another for a week, it was true, but living in the moment allowed me to focus on the men they were, and not the lives they had lived. It went against traditional argument, I supposed, for most people judged others by their past.
I couldn't. These men thought me good, but I had led a dark life, been a rotten kid, a miscreant teenager, and a bad girl until life had slowed and I'd become a numb statue. I had worked hard to become a different person even before Alessandra bippity-boppity-booed her way into my life. Whenever someone judged me for a deed done in desperation a decade earlier it broke my heart in a strangled way that made me feel some kinship with Jean Valjean. More than once I wanted to beat some people about the head with that novel. But for once I'd never had to fear such rejection with these men, since the past was forbidden.
And so I'd made a choice somewhere with the confluence mind and heart to love my men for who they were. If I didn't want to be judged by my past, I would not waste time wondering overmuch at theirs. Magic powers, mysterious pasts, unknown tests aside, that was perhaps the scariest change in my life. I'd never thought I could love more than one person at a time, but they made it so easy.
Dress to be fucked, my brain thought again in my daze. I'd bathed, moisturized, smoothed, and painted myself into defined elegance. But now did I dress in lingerie, a skimpy outfit, or just a pair of high heels, a strand of pearls, and a smile?
Why was this such a quandary? With these guys I could probably wear a traffic cone hat and gunny sack for a dress and they'd be all over me. Dressed in my robe I decided to solve this with practicality, so I padded down to my office. Behind the closed swinging kitchen door the men's voices were loud, booming laughing. Plotting. I was tempted to listen, but decided not knowing was more delicious. It seemed tonight I was to play the part of willing sacrifice and I would be the innocent party (snort!) defiled by their lascivious master knowledge. I'd never been one for so much drama, but I was coming to like the games they seemed to enjoy playing.
Laptop in hand, I went back upstairs, Diego trotting behind me. I stopped to grab him a Milkbone and as I settled on my private loveseat I scratched hind his ears, stroking his silky brown and black fur as he curled at my feet. I Googled several options of "sexiest woman" "sexiest women" "sexiest woman in the world" and "sexiest outfit." What I got was apparently men were driven insane by low, tight pants, a bra top, and a leather motorcycle jacket.
But was it really me? It was the old Anna before Alessandra had given me the means to evolve. Did I still wear leather? Could I?
No. the truth was, not in this way. I was no longer the obvious bad girl I had been in my twenties, instead I was something else. So I searched various outfits and came up with one I used the magic box to conjure. It was difficult to get into it properly and have it cover everything, but I was told it would be easier to remove. It seemed that way.
It was merely, for the most part, a single white cloth. The skirt was band-aid sized and the cloth twisted to secure the skirt and then wrapped around my body. It widened just barely over my breasts and wrapped around my neck, coming down to tie off on my arms.
The effect made me look like a bit like a Greek goddess. If I wanted to be Aphrodite I needed more. So I curled my hair and piled it atop my head, keeping my eye on the time. I deepened the liner around my eyes and gave them an exotic slant and added little subtle shimmer cream. Then I conjured up heeled sandals that were subtly Greek inspired, but true fuck-me pumps.
I left off any underwear and decided I was dressed to be fucked.
The last step was to set Diego in the yard. I had no idea what the night would bring, but we probably didn't need my furry little best friend close. Unsure, aroused, and ready, I came down the stairs. There was a note on the credenza:
Feeding Diego on the three-season porch. Please seat yourself in the dining room and put this on.
It was written in surprisingly elegant scrawl with no signature. Andre, I could only assume. Beneath it was a black silk length with a widening flare that made it perfect as a blindfold.
So, it seemed Julian wasn't the only kinky soul dwelling in the house.
In the dining room I found the two arched doorways had been covered with heavy velvet curtains. Inside the light was off but candles were everywhere. It was like they had taken every candelabra and stick from all of Vincent Price's movies and assembled them here. They were all old and intricate, nothing from Sears.
The buffet sported food that smelled heavenly. I could see fresh shrimp, chicken corden bleu, potatoes dauphinoise, seared vegetables, fresh fruit with some swimming in champagne, some in cream. There were fresh baked rolls and something that was cheese and vegetables and looked like heaven.
Stomach grumbling I found my chair at the head of the table and sat fighting tremors of need. With shaking hands I looked around as I smoothed out the blindfold, wondering why the candles, why so much theater if I was to be blindfolded?
Sighing reluctantly I put the blindfold on and tied it loosely. The virgin sacrifice didn't have to be completely compliant, I thought with a smile.
Curtains rustled but no other sound came, yet I could sense someone drawing close even though the blindfold plunged me into darkness, letting me see only the cream-colored carpet. My nipples drew taut and my body tightened the way it always did around them. I was already mindlessly aroused and regretting the lack of panties, feeling the moisture between my legs begin to coat my thighs.
Someone stood behind me and settled their hands on my shoulders. Large and rough, I trembled as they began stroking my bared flesh. "Andre," I sighed out, and he stopped.
"How did you know?" he gruffly whispered into my ear, making near-violent shivers course though me. The blindfold tightened, cutting off all light.
I reached up and grabbed one of those hands, bringing his palm to my lips so I could softly kiss it. "I know your hands. So large, your fingers so long and thick, the skin rough. Sometimes..."
"Yes?" He nipped gently at my ear and I let out a loud, long moan. "Sometimes?"
"I think I could come just from feeling them on my skin."