The male sex slave came into the bedchamber. He stood six feet, five inches tall. He was totally naked, for he was not allowed to cover himself except in cold or wet weather, and only if his mistress permitted it. His body was perfection, with everything in proportion and nicely muscular. He was devoid of any hair except on his head, and it was bright red-gold. His eyes were bright blue, but before his mistress he kept them lowered unless commanded to raise them. His genitalia were huge, even at rest. They were bound in leather lacings. He knelt before her, his head down.
Ashley slowly licked her lips. “You are not ready for me,” she said in a hard, deadly voice. She raised his head up with one finger of her hand, but his eyes remained unfocused, not looking at her. “Why are you not ready for me? Have you not been told you must be ready for me at all times, Quinn?”
“Yes, mistress,” he replied low.
“Yet you choose to disobey,” Ashley murmured. Her hand ruffled through his thick hair. “Oh, it is a bad slave, it is. You are bad, are you not, Quinn?”
“Yes, mistress,” he agreed in a toneless voice.
“Then you must be punished, Quinn,” Ashley said. “I will not be disobeyed and defied by a slave. Your bottom must be burnished until it glows and your cock is standing tall and ready for me. Prepare yourself at once!”
The tall slave stood and went quickly to a cupboard, then drew out several items. One was a device consisting of a bar set between two sturdy marble columns. The bar was wrapped first in thick lambskin, which was then covered in silk. The bar could be raised or lowered to accommodate height. From either end of the bar hung short gold chains with gilded leather manacles. Quinn rolled the contrivance into the center of the chamber. He adjusted the bar to fit his height. Returning to the cupboard, he brought forth a leather strap some eight inches wide and an inch in thickness, which was attached to an ivory handle. Bringing it to his mistress, he handed it to her, eyes still lowered, tensing when the fingers of her other hand wrapped themselves firmly about his balls.
“You will quickly get hard for me, won’t you, Quinn?” she whispered in his ear, her tongue licking at him.
“Yes, mistress,” he replied softly, reaching up to pinch one prominent nipple.
In return she squeezed his balls tightly. Not hard enough to cause him pain, but hard enough to remind him that she was in charge here. “Make yourself ready, then, Quinn,” Ashley told him.
He bent himself over the padded bar and fastened the gilded leather manacles about his big wrists. His mistress tilted the bar so that his buttocks were elevated and most prominently displayed. Then he spread his legs slightly apart. She came around to stand directly in front of him. She thrust her mons directly into his face, and his tongue immediately pushed into her slit and sought her clitoris. Her hiss of indrawn breath told him that he had found his target.
“I did not say you could lick me, Quinn. You really are a very badly behaved slave tonight. That clever tongue of yours will not deter me from whipping you.” She stepped back just slightly and held out the leather strap to him. “Kiss it, and thank me for what I am about to do,” she said softly.
He kissed the strap—a slow, deep kiss. “I would rather this be your succulent lips, mistress, but thank you for the correction you will give me.”
Ashley smiled and moved around behind the slave. Raising her arm, she brought it down with all her strength upon his deliciously wicked butt. For the next few minutes the only sound in the room was the strap smacking Quinn’s ass, but then, as the color of his buttocks began to glow pink and then a fine burnished red, Quinn groaned. This admission of her superiority let a flood of pleasure fill her. “Are you getting hard, Quinn?” she demanded of him. “I want you as hard as rock.” The strap bit into his succulent flesh several more times.
“I am hard, mistress. So hard I will keep you writhing with pleasure for the next several hours if you will but let me,” Quinn told her. The leather about his cock hurt him.
“Are you certain you can keep your promise to me?” Ashley asked him. “If you do not I shall devise an even more painful punishment, Quinn.”
“See for yourself, mistress,” he invited her.
Lowering her arm and setting the strap aside, she moved around before him and bent down. The straps on the slave’s penis were near to bursting. She undid them, freeing him of the tight leather. The penis swelled a bit more. “Perhaps you are ready, or near to it,” Ashley allowed. “A few more strokes and you will be near. Then I will finish you off with my mouth before I let you fuck me,” she told him. Picking up the strap, she laid five more blows upon him. Then, setting the tawse aside, she moved to the bedside, where a basket of toys was waiting. Choosing a finger-thick piece of marble with a silver loop handle at its end, she dipped it into a bowl of sweet oil.
He howled in outrage as she slowly pushed it into his anus.
“No!”
Ashley laughed. “You do not tell me what to do, slave. I tell you, and it amuses me to bugger your ass while I suck your cock. We will see if you are as strong as you claim you are. If you come then I will give you as a toy to the other men slaves. If you can hold your juices until you are inside me, I will reward you with a wool garment you may wear in icy weather even without my permission.” Sitting down before him, she studied his enormous penis thoughtfully. Then, leaning forward, she took the tip of him in her mouth and sucked hard. He was so big she knew she could not even devour half of him, so she concentrated upon his sensitive tip, her tongue encircling it, nipping at the tender flesh with her little teeth.
Quinn groaned, struggling to keep himself from releasing his passions. Had he been able to he would have put his fist into her dark hair to hold her firm and shoved his penis down her throat, making her milk him dry. But his arms were bound, and the sensation of the little dildo in his ass was frustration beyond all. The thought of putting her under him in a few minutes and fucking her until she was senseless helped him to control himself. That and her promise of a warm garment he might wear whenever he was cold. Sometimes the damp coming off the River Tiber in the winter was almost painful when it worked itself into his bones. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated more on the shameful sensation between his buttocks instead of the delightful sensation of her skillful mouth. Finally she released her hold on him, laughing.
“You are strong, Quinn,” she told him. Standing up, she first withdrew the little dildo from between the cheeks of his ass, and then she released him from his manacles.
He stood tall, towering over her. “Am I forgiven, mistress?” he asked her softly.
Ashley ran her hand up his broad, smooth chest. “You are forgiven,” she said. “Now put everything away, and then you may take me to bed, Quinn.”
He quickly obeyed, and when he turned about he found her already sprawled upon the great bed on its raised dais. He joined her to lie upon his back. Then, lifting her up, he lowered her slowly onto his thick, hard penis, drawing her down, down, down, until she had fully sheathed him.
“You may look at me,” she told him, and his blue eyes locked onto her green ones as she began to ride him.
Reaching up, he took her breasts in his hands, playing with them, kneading them, leaning forward to at first lick, and then suckle the nipples. He smiled as her eyes closed and she moaned softly. “The mistress is skilled at riding,” he said.
“I learned at an early age from an uncle,” she told him, her eyes still shut.
“And did he possess the weapon I wield for you, mistress?” Quinn asked daringly.
Ashley laughed, and her eyes opened to meet his. “You are unique in your attributes, Quinn,” she told him. “Most deliciously unique.”
He wrapped his arms about her and, sitting up, forced her to be still. His mouth closed over hers, his tongue snaking into her mouth to play with her tongue. Her breasts were mashed against his chest, and he actually felt her heart jump when he rolled her over to put her beneath him. “Wrap your legs about me, mistress,” he growled in her ear. “You have had a most trying day, I can see, and you need to be well fucked before you sleep tonight. I am your slave, and I am ready to service you.”
“Yesss!” Ashley hissed. She did want to be fucked. Fucked hard, so that all the frustration of the day would melt away. “Fuck me, Quinn!” she ordered him. “Service your mistress, and service her well!”
He began to move on her, at first with long, slow strokes of his long, thick penis. He pushed hungrily into her, making her whimper with her need for his hardness. He stopped after a few minutes and let her feel the throbbing from his member as it lay buried within her tight vagina. Her legs were tight about him as she opened herself as wide as she could to his passions. His big body towered over her. He held her arms pinioned over her head.
“Make me come!” she demanded of him.
The rhythm increased until his penis, wet with her juices, was flashing back and forth within her. Reaching out, he began to tease at her clitoris, rubbing and then pinching it. She squealed, and then he felt her hidden walls beginning to contract against his thick peg of flesh. The clitoris beneath the ball of his thumb grew swollen, and then her lust exploded, and she screamed with the torrent of pleasure that began to overwhelm her. When some minutes later she came to herself once more, she was pleased to find he was still hard, and still within her.
“The gods!” she exclaimed. “You are truly very proficient with that weapon of yours, Quinn.”
“You are pleased with me, mistress?” he asked her softly.
“You have been a good slave,” she said. “But the night is young yet, and I am still hungry,” Ashley told him. “You will have to work hard to earn your wool garment.”
“If the mistress is hungry, then the mistress must be satisfied until she is no longer hungry,” Quinn said. Then he began to move on her once again.
If there was one thing Ashley loved about the Channel, it was the tireless men—and her ability to enjoy several orgasms in a single visit. She had five that evening, and awoke the following morning replete and more relaxed than she had been in several weeks. Automatically she closed off the television screen and set the remote aside. Outside of her windows it was already growing light, but a glance at her bedside clock showed it was just five fifteen in the morning. But then, it was June. The birds were already making morning noise in the trees around the house and the ivy climbing up the side of the building. She stretched, and then, rolling over, Ashley went back to sleep.
She awoke to the sound of a knock on her bedchamber door.
“It’s eight o’clock, Miss Ashley,” Byrnes’s voice said through the door. “I’ve set your breakfast out on your terrace.”
“Thank you,” Ashley called out to let the butler know she was awake. Getting up, she ran into her shower and refreshed herself with a quick warm-to-cold rinse. Then, toweling off, she slid on a pair of pale green silk bikini pants, and wrapped a matching silk robe about herself as she moved from her bedroom out into her sitting room and then onto the stone balcony overlooking the sparkling waters of the bay.
Seating herself at the little round café table, she gobbled down a bowl of strawberries and cream. The berries had obviously just been picked, as they were still warm with the sun, as last night’s fruit had been. The plate beneath the silver dome contained her usual breakfast: one scrambled egg, three strips of bacon, and half of a whole-wheat English muffin with butter. And iced tea, since Ashley occasionally had the odd habit of preferring Crystal Light iced tea to coffee with breakfast. Mrs. B. kept a large container of it in the fridge for her.
Her breakfast finished, she picked up the telephone and called Tiffany Pietro d’Angelo before she left for the office. “Hey, Tiff! Ashley. Any word for me on Prince Charming?”
Tiffany laughed. “Ray was out of town taking a deposition in D.C. yesterday. Joe didn’t want to discuss it with his assistant. He should be back to the city this morning. How about if I call you when we get something from him?”
“Okay,” Ashley said. She was disappointed. She had hoped for something this morning. “Tiff, are you sure this is okay?”
“It could be a perfect solution for you, Ashley.”
“But if this guy is normal, how come he isn’t already married?” Ashley wanted to know again. It was such a radical idea, an arranged union. “What if he has two heads?”
“Well, if he does, let’s hope they’re both handsome and have wicked tongues,” Tiffany said mischievously.
“You are terrible.” Ashley giggled. “Okay, I’ll admit to being nervous. I just wish I knew a little bit more. I mean, if I have to go out on my own again, I better get moving pretty fast. Eighteen months will go like wildfire, Tiff.”
“Look,” Tiffany said, “it’s Thursday. We should have something late today or tomorrow to tell you. Now I gotta run, sweetie. I open the office in the morning. Have a good day.”
Tiffany put the phone down and turned to her husband. “Joe, first thing, you phone Ray. Ashley is very nervous, and she needs to know something about this guy. And frankly, I’m dying of curiosity too.”
“I’ll call him. I’ll call him,” her husband said. “How about I call him now? He’ll be commuting, and his cell is always on.”
“He’ll be on the subway,” Tiffany protested. “He won’t be able to hear a thing.”
“Subway? Ray Pietro d’Angelo? Not since he was thirty, babe. He has a car service pick him at his apartment every morning.” Joe picked up his own cell and began to dial. “Ray? Joe. You know that client you were telling us about the other night at dinner?…Yeah, the guy who needs to get married. I’ve got the same situation with a client…. Ashley Kimbrough, owner of Lacy Nothings…. Yeah, the gift Tiffany brought Rose came from there. She’s pretty, thirty-three, rich, successful, and has to get married by thirty-five or she loses everything to some cockamamie group called the Society Seeking Extraterrestrial Life…. Yeah, SSEXL.” Joe listened a few moments, and then he laughed. “Nah, her grandfather put a clause in the will to satisfy his crazy girlfriend who’s into that crap. Now tell me a little more about your client.” He listened for several minutes, finally saying, “Sounds to me like he’d be perfect for my client, Ray. They’re both self-made with regard to their businesses, and dedicated to what they do. They’re careful with money. Different religions, but not overly religious. This could be a win-win thing. Talk to your client, and let’s set up a meeting as soon as possible. Your guy has only nine months left before he hits the big four-oh…. Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later today, buddy. Hi to Rose.” Joe Pietro d’Angelo closed his cell and turned to his wife. “Ray says hi to you,” he said.