Flesh [The Island of Madam Sin Book 1]
Click on image to enlarge.
by Judith Devere
Category: Erotica/Bisexual Erotica
Description: Living with her father at Rylands, their Georgian mansion in rural England, Katrina Mandell has it all: youth, beauty, a privileged lifestyle and a burgeoning career as an actress. Her life could hardly be more idyllic--until one evening during a cocktail reception at Rylands, she stumbles upon her father's partner, billionaire entrepreneur and ultimate hedonist Armand Leveq in his guest bedroom with her beautiful stepmother, Marguerite. Through the partly open bedroom door, Katrina witnesses a sado-masochistic encounter between the two, in which Armand subjects the willing Marguerite to a variety of sexual excesses. The experience stuns and appalls Katrina, while at the same time paradoxically planting in her a dark seed of arousal, which, although she has no way of knowing then, will in time grow and flourish. Two years later, she learns from Armand that her father has been systematically siphoning money from their joint business, she agrees to indenture herself body and soul to Armand for six months in return for his not reporting the matter to the police. In the weeks that follow, Katrina's life changes beyond all recognition. Beginning with a journey by land, sea and air--an erotic odyssey in itself--she is transported to Armand's chateau on a remote Caribbean island, where she is placed in the charge of the all powerful Christina SIN and her profligate associates. Part slave, part house guest, Katrina is tilted headlong into a world of unselfconscious debauchery in which submission, humiliation, pain and exquisite bisexual pleasure eventually become indistinguishable.
eBook Publisher: eXtasy eBooks, 2003 Extasy Books
eBookwise Release Date: September 2003
57 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [659 KB]
Reading time: 415-582 min.
"At last, you come to me." His voice was low, hoarse, the accent French but not pronounced.
"I?" She was suddenly short of breath in the intimacy of his embrace. When she was at last able to answer him, her voice was little more than a whisper.
"The way you looked at me as you left the room--I knew, could see in your eyes that you wanted me to come. I followed as soon as I could."
Armand's hands caressed her bare arms lightly. "I thought you would have come to me before tonight. I've been here two days already."
She gasped as he moved his hands to cup her breasts, taking their weight. She tilted her head back against his shoulder.
"I know. I wanted to, but it's been--difficult. Katrina only came home the day before you arrived. It's been almost a year since she was home last, and she's spent nearly all of her time with me since she got here. With Charles away at the office in London during the day, she's been like my shadow."
"And at night?"
"I could hardly leave Charles in bed alone as soon as you arrived. That wouldn't have been very tactful, would--aah!"
She broke off mid-sentence, the exclamation her response to the pressure of his fingers and thumbs as they pinched her nipples hard through the silk. Moving his hands up to her shoulders, he slipped off the narrow straps and eased the dress down her arms. She was not wearing a brassiere, and the silk glided easily over her skin, falling away to bare her breasts. He took them in his hands, caressing, then squeezing the yielding flesh, delighting in the hardness of her nipples now that they had swollen and stiffened with her arousal. Only her hips prevented the dress falling to the floor. Above the waist, she was naked but for her jewelry.
"Are you going to--punish me for keeping you waiting?" Her voice was low, her breathing shallow.
"Should I not? Tell me I shouldn't, and I won't."
She shook her head marginally, the movement reminiscent of a small unconscious shudder. "I can't. It isn't for me to say. Whatever you decide."
"Yes?" Was he agreeing with the statement or answering her question?
"Yes, I think that I shall punish you."
Her cheeks and the pale flesh at her throat flushed pink. "Now?" she asked diffidently.
"Very soon. But there is something you must do first."
He turned her around to face him. He did not answer the question in her eyes, instead raising his arms and reaching behind her head to remove the jade pin. Her hair, thick, shining, cascaded about her shoulders. With a single toss of her head, she shook it free. Then, for the first time since she entered the room, her eyes were able to take him in.
He was older than she by perhaps three or four years. Not handsome, exactly; his nose was a little too aquiline and his jaw a fraction too square to allow him that description, but neither was he unattractive. Indeed, there was a dark intensity about his eyes, which, together with the hint of mockery in his smile, many women found appealing, if somewhat intimidating. His body, like hers, was well proportioned, but there the similarity ended. He was lean and hard, the muscles precisely defined beneath his skin, crafted by a lifetime's devotion to sport and rigorous outdoor pursuits.
As she looked at him, her gaze was drawn inevitably to his erect penis, a rigid limb of flesh protruding from his groin. It was at once fascinating and terrible in its state of arousal. The pupils of her eyes dilated to better accommodate the image.
He stepped up close to her, taking hold of her again by the shoulders.
She obeyed, her nipples tracing two invisible parallel lines down his chest and stomach as she sank to the floor. His erection flinched as her breasts momentarily enfolded it in a transient embrace. Then she was on her knees, the swollen head of his cock mere inches from her face, its single eye seeming to glare at her voraciously as if it would devour her. The entire pillar of hardened flesh pulsed to his heartbeat. The skin, stretched taut, had taken on a satin sheen. He placed his hands on either side of her head, drawing her to him. Up close like this, the blood-engorged organ appeared monstrous, somehow incongruous with her fragile beauty.
But she was not deterred. She moved her head slowly from side to side, allowing his cock to brush across her cheeks and half-closed eyelids. A low growl deep in his throat told of his hunger for her. He took the shaft in his hand and guided the head to her mouth. Her lips, glossed pale pink, pursed to pay homage by kissing the tip where a tiny bead of clear, viscous fluid had formed in anticipation of what was about to happen. He paused, holding the moment as if to savor her submission, the absolute surrender of her delicate charms to the conscienceless instrument of his passion.
She parted her lips obediently to admit him. Then, slowly, carefully at first, began to take him deeper into her mouth, working her lips incrementally down along his shaft. He watched the process in rapt fascination. The prospect of her mouth distending to accommodate the expanded girth of his cock as it eased between her lips was almost too much for him. He struggled to maintain control as she warmed to her task. Raising her hands, she grasped his cock near the base with one hand while fondling his testicles with the other. Her tongue was busy also, wetly exploring and massaging every part of every inch of hard flesh as it filled her mouth. But she could not take his entire length, and when the rounded head nuzzled against the back of her throat, she began to withdraw again, gently kneading his balls and slowly masturbating him from the base of his cock. Each time it seemed he was about to slip free of her lips, she lowered her head onto him again, sucking him back in to repeat the process. Soon, her head was moving to and fro in a steady, insistent rhythm.
Seizing her by the hair, he threw back his head in abandon. Unable to withstand her expert ministrations for long, he was very soon on the brink of eruption. Feeling the flow rising in his loins, he looked down at her again, at the feverish working of her mouth. His penis gleamed wetly in the lamplight as it slithered back and forth between her lips. He could hold back no longer. Pulling her to him, he thrust deeply into her mouth as the torrent began to surge from deep within him.
Armand's cry of release was accompanied by a low moan of vicarious satisfaction from Marguerite herself, although in the rage of his passion he probably didn't hear it. She tried to consume the hot, salty flood entirely, but his repeated spasms rendered this impossible, so that what she was unable to swallow escaped between her lips and his frantically thrusting penis. Suddenly, in the final throes of his climax, his cock sprang free of her mouth, spilling yet more of the viscous fluid onto her face and breasts, where it clung like pearls studded on her flesh.
Spent now, he bent on one knee to embrace and kiss her. She wrapped her arms around him, exploring with her fingertips the hard musculature of his back. Their bodies, slick with perspiration and the random discharge of his seed, slid easily against each other. After a moment, he rose and went to the bathroom.
Marguerite resumed her original kneeling position as she waited for him to come back. She listened to the sound of rushing water from the bathroom for several minutes, until he returned with a damp flannel. Taking her by the hand, he helped her to her feet, and began to wipe her face with the flannel. Then he carefully cleansed her neck and breasts before tossing the flannel aside.
Standing before her, he looked directly into her eyes. "Now it is time for your punishment." He turned away and crossed the room to an antique leather chesterfield. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he held out his hand toward her.
"Come here, my darling."
Diffidently, she moved toward him. When she was within his reach, he took her by the wrist and pulled her to him. Laying her face down across his thighs, he took hold of her other wrist and held both together in the small of her back with his left hand. With the right, he grasped the hem of her dress and pulled it up above her waist. He arranged the folds of silk until he was content.
Marguerite was acutely conscious of her condition, draped across his lap in the manner of a child about to be chastised for misbehavior. Her dress was now bunched around her waist, above which she was quite naked. Below, she was wearing only a minuscule pair of silk panties, a matching suspender belt to support her stockings, and high-heeled shoes. He made an adjustment to the panties, pulling them up toward her waist, at the same time easing the silk off her buttocks so that it disappeared into the cleft between. This way more of her flesh was exposed. Raising his right hand palm downward, high above her rump, he paused.
"Are you ready?"
The question was rhetorical, her response the flinching and tautening of her buttocks and thighs in anticipation of what she knew was to follow.
The first slap was hard, although it did not seem so from the sound, which was absorbed by the soft furnishings in the room. It evoked a sharp intake of
breath from her. He paused for a moment to watch the imprint of his hand and fingers materialize, bright red upon the pale flesh of her right buttock. He landed another slap, this time on the left, then another--and another, strategically positioning the blows to spread the growing flush further afield. So far, biting her lip, Marguerite had managed to remain silent, but now as he increased the pace and force of the spanking, she marked each slap with a little cry of anguish.
"Aah ... Ooh ... Aah!"
Gratified, rather than deterred by her response, Armand intensified his efforts until she at last called out, "Oh, please stop. I don't think I can bear any more. Haven't I been punished enough?"
He stopped. She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes glistening with tears.
"Thank you," she whispered.