Black Orchid (17 page)

'My, what beautiful skin,' she murmured and Con flashed
his whiter than white smile at her.

'Why don't you guys strip off and join us?' Maggie invited,
as casually as if she had been offering them coffee.

She turned back to Hilary without waiting to see if they did
as she asked. Taking her into her arms, she gently coaxed her
down onto the white, furry rug on the floor. The small button
nipples hardened again as Maggie pressed them against the
tips of her own and they knelt, facing each other as they
kissed.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Con kneel behind
Hilary, his big, dark hands trailing a path from her shoulders
to her waist and back up again. Jason was obviously watching
him, eager to learn, for she felt his narrower hands perform
the same action on her own skin.

His eager, youthful cock pressed against her back as he began
to kiss the top of her spine. Little sparks of electricity ran down
her back as Jason kissed her and Hilary kneaded her firm,
brown-tipped breasts. Although she could not see his hands,
Maggie guessed from Hilary's expression, and the small mewls
of delight which escaped through her pouted lips, that Con
had reached down between her spread buttocks.

Hilary's face was rapt, her eyes closed, her soft lips parted.
She had arched back her head so that it rested on Con's strong
chest. Maggie leaned forward to press her head against the
elegant sweep of her neck. A small droplet of perspiration ran
down Hilary's neck and Maggie caught it with her tongue.

Craving the salty moisture, she licked a path downwards,
between Hilary's neat breasts and on towards her navel. Jason
supported Maggie's hips, dragging her back slightly on her
knees so that her buttocks were held fast against his rising
tumescence.

As she darted her tongue greedily into the deep crevice of
Hilary's narrow navel, Con lifted Hilary up and impaled her
on his hard stem. Maggie watched, mesmerised, as, inches from
her face, the thick, black column disappeared into the pale pink
flesh, re-emerging shiny and wet with Hilary's fluids. She
pressed her lips down to where the two bodies joined so that
every time Con withdrew, she could lick the length of his wet
shaft.

Jason's hands played over her back, reaching down into her
bottom cleft where his fingers sought her moist centre. Maggie
parted her legs obligingly, welcoming his hand working over
her hot, hungry flesh as she feasted alternately on Hilary's
bulging vulva and Con's thrusting shaft.

Hilary was making small, grunting sounds as she neared
her climax. Con's big, black-skinned hands covered her small
breasts, his lips fastened on her arched neck as the first spasm
rocked her.

Maggie pressed in closer, eager to share in the tumult
which she could feel building between them. Her tongue
found Hilary's quivering pleasure bud and flicked at it,
drawing it out.

As Maggie pleasured Hilary with her tongue, she raised her
own bottom still further. Jason entered her with one swift,
sure thrust. His skin was warm and damp against hers, but
Maggie barely noticed him, she was so engrossed in what was
going on in front of her eyes.

She sensed the moment when Con began to come. Hilary's
sheath spasmed as the hot, milky fluid shot into her, mixing
with her own juices. It seeped out around his still hard shaft
and clung to Hilary's red-gold pubic curls. Maggie lapped at
the honeyed concoction oozing out of Hilary's body until Con
withdrew, grown soft at last.

Pulling away from Jason, Maggie whirled round and flung
her arms around his neck. The disappointment on his face told
her he thought she had had enough of him and she smiled
wickedly. The dismay turned to relief as she drew him down
and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Holding him close to her, she rocked her pelvis in time
with his urgent thrusts, stimulating her clitoris against his
smooth, soft skin so that by the time he climaxed, she too
was at the brink. As he came, with one final, triumphant
thrust, Maggie went over the edge, crying out as the hot
waves of pleasure washed over her.

Antony took one look at Alexander's angry, set face and shivered.
Maggie had been careless not to check the privacy switch
on the two-way mirror was off. From the moment she had
taken Hilary into her arms, he had felt Alexander's anger
building.

Now she was kissing young Jason with such obvious enjoyment
and Alexander's rage was almost palpable in the small
cubicle. His skin was white around the mouth, his startlingly
blue eyes stormy as he flicked them over Antony.

'Undisciplined bitch!' he spat.

Antony fidgeted uncomfortably.

'Maybe she hasn't realised yet,' he defended her weakly, but
Alex wasn't listening.

He had turned back to the scene in the office and was
watching as Hilary, Con and Jason all took their leave of Maggie.
Antony shrugged slightly. Maybe it was about time Maggie
too found out that loving Alexander wasn't all roses.

Frowning, Antony looked away, remembering how it had
been in the beginning, when Alexander had turned up for a
job as a trainer, one of the first at the Black Orchid Club. It
hadn't taken him long to lure Antony into his manipulative
web of seduction. Not that he had shown much resistance.
Antony smiled ruefully.

No, the good things about being in Alexander's thrall far
outweighed the bad. It was just that one had to put up with
certain . . . requirements. As Maggie would very soon find out.

Antony stood up as Alexander did and followed him out of
the cubicle.

Maggie stretched languorously as she pulled on her robe.
There was a pleasant ache between her legs caused by Jason's
youthful enthusiasm and the taste of Con's sperm and
Hilary's softer musk coated her mouth. She felt replete,
soaked in sex. She smiled to herself. How licentious she had
become!

In her private bathroom, Maggie ran a deep, hot bath,
pouring in a generous portion of floral fragranced bubble-bath.
She hummed happily to herself as she brushed out her hair
into a soft, dark cloud and piled it up on top of her head.

The mirror began to steam over as she creamed her face and
neck, tissuing it off before splashing her face with warm water.
The bubbles had risen to the brim of the bath now. Turning
off the taps, she stepped in.

She sighed as she sank her entire body into the sweetly
perfumed water. It washed over her, caressing her over-sensitised
skin as she leaned back on the inflatable cushion and closed her
eyes.

She gasped as hard, male hands suddenly reached down and
hauled her out of the water. Her eyes flew open as the draft
from the open door whipped her wet skin and she found herself
caught in the coldly furious blue eyes of Alexander.

'Alex! What are you doing. Oh!'

She found her feet dangling inches from the floor as he lifted
her up. His gaze was a flinty, icy blue and Maggie's eyes flickered
nervously to where Antony stood in the doorway. The light was
behind him, so his features were in shadow, but there was a
peculiar tension in the way he held himself that sent shivers
of alarm chasing across her skin.

Alexander never said a word, half dragging her over to the
toilet where he sat down on the closed seat and pulled her,
face down, across his lap. Maggie struggled desperately to right
herself, but her arms and legs were flailing helplessly, her
movements ungainly and uncoordinated.

Antony came to sit on the edge of the bath, his knees spread,
one either side of her head. It was he that spoke.

'You're wasting your time, Maggie. Lie still or you'll just
exhaust yourself.'

Maggie's frantic struggles stilled in response to his reasonable
tone and she strained her neck upwards to see his face.
Alexander's hand came down on the back of her neck and
forced her head back down so that all she could see was the
cream carpet, spattered with the soapy water which was dripping
from her wet body.

Her legs dangled helplessly, her toes barely touching the
ground as Alexander dragged her further over his knee, the harsh
denim of his jeans burned the tips of her breasts as they fell,
without ceremony, over his knee.

Even then, Maggie hadn't realised his intention and the first
short, sharp crack of his bare hand on her backside made her
jump and yelp in protest.

'Hold still, Maggie, what's the matter with you?' Antony's
bored voice came from above her.

'He hit me!' she shrilled indignantly, struggling vainly
against Alexander's restraining hands.

There was another sharp smack as his open palm once
again came down on her squirming bottom, swiftly followed
by another and another. The sound of his hand against her
wet skin seemed magnified in the small room, echoing off
the walls.

And it hurt. No matter how much Maggie fought against it,
there was no escape. Her bottom began to burn as he spanked
her mercilessly. Tears started in her eyes and ran, unchecked,
down her face. Why was he doing this?

Raising her eyes in a mute plea to Antony, she saw that he
had unzipped his fly and was slowly masturbating himself. He
smiled slightly at her, almost kindly, before nudging at her
trembling mouth with the tip of his cock.

Maggie tried to turn her head away, but Alexander's fingers
tangled cruelly in her hair at the back of her neck and held
her still. Inch by inch Antony eased his erect penis past the
barrier of her lips and teeth and into the hot, wet cavern
beyond. Maggie gagged as Antony's stem pumped in and out
of her unwilling mouth while the spanking went on and on.

Suddenly, Alexander's fingers entered her from behind. She
heard him laugh derisively and realised that she must be wet.
A wave of shame swept over her and she closed her eyes against
it. That she should have derived pleasure from this . . . this
humiliation! The tears trickled down her cheeks as Alexander
ruthlessly manipulated her clitoris so that, in spite of herself,
her legs opened wider, her bottom pushed higher in the air as
if to meet her punishment half way, welcoming it.

Antony was close to the edge now, his thrusts became more
urgent, even less considerate of her as he used her mouth.
Alexander took his hand from the back of her neck and reached
down to toy with her dangling breasts. She felt hot, her vulva
pulsating wildly as he pulled and tweaked at her nipples.

As Antony began to ejaculate into the back of her throat,
Alexander delivered a series of short, sharp slaps to the undersides
of her breasts and she came, thrusting her hips back onto
his rough fingers as her limbs went out of control.

She had barely had time to recover as Antony withdrew
from her mouth and Alexander pushed her off his lap, as if
she disgusted him. She lay on the floor at their feet, staring up
at them through her tears. Antony nonchalantly re-zipped his
trousers before stepping over her without so much as a glance
at her tear-streaked face.

Alex hunkered down beside her and studied it dispassionately.

'Tears suit you,' he said huskily, 'we shall have to see that
you shed some more.'

Maggie stared up at him resentfully. Her rear-end burned
painfully still, her breasts ached and her jaw felt as though
it had locked in place. She gasped as he suddenly grasped
her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled her
head up.

'It's time you learned the rules, Maggie darling. Have your
bath, then come up to the apartment. I haven't finished with
you yet.'

Rebellion flared in Maggie's breast.

'I could walk out the door!' she said, her voice shaking, 'I
could leave. You can't stop me!'

Alexander let go of her and stood up. He towered over her,
still lying naked at his feet and smiled at her in the strangest
way.

'Of course,' he said after a long silence, 'you may leave whenever
you wish. But I don't think you will.'

He laughed then, a small, cruel laugh which sent ice through
Maggie's soul. She did not dare to move as he stepped over her
and left her alone in the small bathroom.

She lay there as if frozen for several minutes, wondering
what he meant. Eventually she began to shiver and her arms
and legs began to cramp. Slowly, gingerly, she eased herself
into a sitting position. She winced as her sore buttocks scraped
against the carpet. Using the side of the bath to lever herself
up, she climbed into the now tepid water.

Sinking into it, she touched herself gently between the legs.
Her vulva was still swollen, her pleasure bud unsheathed. Tiny
aftershocks ran through her and she closed her eyes. And at
that moment she knew, with chilling certainty, that Alexander
was right.

The Black Orchid Club had become her home. She would
never leave.

Antony greeted her quite normally when she returned to the
apartment.

'Ah, Maggie! You're just in time for lunch.'

She glanced around her nervously as she took her place at
the table and Antony put a plate of homemade lasagne in
front of her. She helped herself to salad and fresh, crusty
French bread, realising as she did so that the table was only
set for two.

'Alexander isn't able to join us I'm afraid,' Antony said, as if
he had read her mind.

The awful tension which had been tying Maggie's stomach
in knots began to ease as she ate. Whatever else Alex might
be, she could not deny he was an excellent cook. Since she
moved in with him and Antony she had never had to lift a
finger in the kitchen and everything that had passed her lips
had been delicious.

She felt Antony watching her and raised her eyes to his.

'What? What is it?'

He smiled enigmatically and shook his head.

'I like watching you eat.'

'Oh? Why?'

'Because you eat the way you make love – with gusto!'

Maggie laughed and bit into her bread. It turned to sawdust
in her throat, almost choking her as Antony continued, his tone
ominous.

'And without discipline.'

'I don't understand you,' she protested after she had slaked
her sudden, inexplicable thirst with a tall glass of mineral
water.

'No. But you will. Don't look so worried,' he soothed as
Maggie was unable to hide a shudder, 'it's for your own good.
Everything has to have rules, after all, and very often it is
those very rules that, ultimately, lead to the most enhanced
enjoyment.'

He smiled slightly at her anxious bewilderment and raised
his glass to her.

'Have you finished?'

She nodded.

'Good. Then come with me – I have something to show
you.'

They went into the bedroom and from the top of the wardrobe,
Antony dragged down a large, flat, leather case like an artist's
portfolio. He motioned for her to sit and she perched on the edge
of the bed. A curious nervousness curled in the pit of her stomach,
keeping her silent. She could not guess what the portfolio
contained, but she had the distinct feeling that she was not going
to like it.

She watched in silence as Antony unzipped the case, then
untied the purple ribbons holding together the contents. He
spread them open on the bed and looked at Maggie, his expression
intent.

'You were drawn to Alexander from the moment you first
set eyes on him, weren't you?'

Maggie nodded, dropping her eyes before the inexplicable
light burning in his steely grey eyes.

'He has that effect on people. That's how it was with me.
You love him, just as I do, and in the name of love, you let him
hurt you. Oh, I know you think you're too clever to be drawn
into Alexander's little games,' he laughed, almost bitterly as
she murmured a protest, 'but you're not Maggie, any more
than I am. And, though you haven't accepted it yet, like me,
you are lost already. Look.'

Reluctantly, Maggie dragged his eyes away from her own
folded hands and looked at what was on the bed. Her eyes
widened and she gasped. There were photographs, huge, glossy
black and white photographs professionally lit. Antony had
spread some half dozen over the bed so that image after image
assaulted her shocked eyes. Quietly, he slipped off the bed and
left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

After a few minutes, Maggie picked up the nearest photograph
and pulled it onto her lap. It was a man, back to the
camera, his arms tied high above his head, wide apart, to a
support which was out of shot. He was naked, standing with
his legs apart, his face half turned to the camera, but in shadow,
so his features were indistinct.

There was something familiar about the broad sweep of his
shoulders, the smooth, strong length of his back . . . Antony!
There was a tension in the way he held himself, the muscles
bunching under his skin as if he was anticipating pain.
Between his legs, his testicles were just visible. They looked
horribly vulnerable.

The second photograph was posed at the same angle,
though now the man was slumped, his legs bent at the knees,
his head lolling forward, so that his face was out of sight.
Maggie gasped, bringing her fingertips to her lips as she saw
the clearly marked, raised weals across his back and buttocks.
They had been carefully criss-crossed over his velvet smooth
skin, applied with a precision that chilled her. Slowly, she
traced the marks with her fingertips before reaching for the
next shot.

Head and shoulders only, this time. Antony's face, tense with
concentration, his eyes closed and a frown etched between his
brows. His lips stretched around the wet, bulbous head of an
anonymous penis.

Picture number four, head and shoulders again. This time
Antony's head was thrown back, the strong arc of his neck
exposed. The fair hair was dark with sweat, plastered against
his brow. His mouth was open, as if he was crying out, his face
suffused with the most exquisite expression of pain. Though
the picture shocked her, Maggie realised she had never seen
him look more beautiful and, to her dismay, she felt a familiar
tingle between her legs.

The next photograph she picked up was a lovingly recorded
close-up of a male arse, presumably Antony's. His fingers were
also in shot spreading his own buttocks and exposing the
perfect tattoo on his inner cheek, the Black Orchid. His anal
opening appeared as a dark, forbidding cavern, glistening as
if recently oiled.

And finally, a woman, naked but for thigh-high leather boots,
gleefully inserting the biggest dildo Maggie had ever seen into
that gaping arsehole.

'Pretty pictures.'

She jumped as Antony's hot breath caressed her ear. She
hadn't heard him come back in and she dropped the last
photograph, feeling ludicrously guilty for studying it so
thoroughly.

His lips twisted in an ironic little smile and he gathered the
photographs up, laying them carefully in the silk-lined portfolio
and putting it back on top of the wardrobe. Then he turned
and smiled at Maggie with such sweetness that she felt tears
start in her eyes.

'You see?' he said softly.

Maggie wasn't sure that she
did
see, but she nodded,
smiling gratefully at him as he handed her a martini. He
watched her closely as she drank, waiting patiently for the
inevitable questions.

'But why?' she blurted eventually. 'He treats you so badly,
yet still you love him.'

'Alexander isn't like other men, Maggie. He'll never give you
what you want, but he'll keep you hanging on, just in case the
possibility arises. He's a control freak. A puppet master. And
we're his loving puppets.'

Maggie considered this for a few moments.

'And is that enough for you?' she asked after a while.

Antony shrugged slightly, a faint colour creeping along his
cheekbones.

'It has to be. Ask him for more than he's willing to give you
and you'll end up with nothing at all.'

A look of sheer desolation shuttered his eyes for a moment
and Maggie instinctively leaned across and pressed her cheek
against his. He enfolded his arms about her and turned his
face so that their lips collided. They kissed, languidly at first,
lovingly, but then something caught fire between them and
grew so that Maggie found herself clinging to him, rubbing
her thigh invitingly against his aroused crotch.

She gasped as he suddenly pushed her away.

'No!' he shook his head and sought to bring his ragged
breathing under control. 'You haven't been listening!'

Maggie laughed nervously and tried to get closer to him,
but he pulled away.

'I don't understand – we've slept together before, countless
times. You're aroused, I'm aroused – what is the problem?'

'Alexander hasn't given permission.'

Maggie stared back at him, not sure if she had heard
correctly. She withdrew to the far side of the bed and shook
her head.

'Hang on a minute . . . you mean, all those other times . . . it's
all been on Alexander's instructions? You must be crazy!'

'Not crazy, Maggie. I just play the game. As you must, if you
want to stay here.'

'I'm not sure I do!'

'Maggie, Maggie! Think before you do anything rash. You've
liked these past few weeks, haven't you?'

She nodded, reluctantly.

'And you've never been left without fulfillment when you've
wanted it?'

'No, but—'

'There you are then! Alexander can be generous too.'

'What about what happened earlier this morning?'

The humiliation of being dragged from her bath and spanked
was still with her. And Antony had had no small hand in her
punishment! She glared at him with remembered resentment.

'You got greedy, Maggie. Think about it – all the sensual
experience your avid little heart desires,
so long as you play by
the rules
.'

'Alexander's rules.'

'Quite.'

Maggie stood up and paced to the door and back.

'So far you've said a great deal about what Alexander wants
and nothing about yourself. How do you feel about my coming
here to live with you?'

Antony shrugged slightly, tracing the pattern on the duvet
with his fingertip as he avoided her eyes.

'What I feel isn't important.'

'Of course it is!' Maggie cried passionately, dropping to her
knees in front of him and forcing him to look at her.

'
You're
important, Antony. Surely you believe that?'

Her display had startled him, but now he smiled, almost
pityingly, at her.

'I made my choice, Maggie, just as you have. What Alexander
says goes. And it's not often that I wish things different.'

He suddenly pulled her against him and kissed her,
savagely. Maggie's lips were pulled back against her teeth
and she tasted blood before he broke away. Shaken, she paced
over to the window. All she could see was a never ending
vista of rainwashed rooftops, the only signs of life provided
by the pigeons.

'He said he hasn't finished with me yet,' she said when she
could trust herself to speak, 'what was that supposed to
mean?'

'The time has come, Maggie darling, to demonstrate your
commitment to our exclusive little
ménage à trois
. Don't look
so anxious – I promise you if you're good, you'll learn to enjoy
all of Alexander's little games. Eventually.'

'Have you explained everything to her?'

Antony looked up from the book he was reading as Alexander
walked into the lounge.

'I tried to.'

Alex smiled, the beautiful, toe-tingling smile which always
melted whatever resistance Antony might feel towards him.
He looked magnificent tonight, the white, pure cotton shirt
taut across his shoulders, the black trousers melded to his hips
and legs like a second skin. Antony sighed. But Alexander's
concentration was all on Maggie for now and he knew better
than to try to push himself in where he was not wanted.

'Where is she now?'

'She's sleeping.'

'Let her sleep. Tomorrow we'll start in earnest.'

Maggie felt groggy as she woke up. Antony was smiling down
at her, a tray in his hands.

'Come on, sleepy head!' he whispered, 'breakfast is ready.'

She struggled to a sitting position and breathed in the rich,
dark smell of fresh coffee.

'Hmm! Thanks Antony. What time is it?' she squinted at the
bedside clock and swore mildly. 'Why on earth didn't you wake
me up? Roll-call is in five minutes!'

She started to clamber out of bed, but Antony stopped her
with a hand on her arm.

'You've been relieved of all your duties for the time being.'

Maggie rubbed at her bleary eyes and stared at him, uncomprehending.

'What do you mean, for the time being?'

'Until your training is complete. Now eat up, there's a good
girl, we've a busy day ahead.'

Maggie gaped after him as he left her with the tray, her
appetite gone. Her training. Of course, what had happened
yesterday was just the beginning. Fleetingly, it occurred to her
that there was still time for her to back out. She could get up
out of this bed, get dressed and walk out of the door into the
normal world.

She bit into a warm, crusty roll, spraying crumbs all over
the tray. Melted butter trickled across her tongue and she closed
her eyes for an instant. Who needed normality? If she left here
now she might never find out where the outer parameters of
her own nature lay.

'I've run you a bath,' Antony told her when he came back
to collect the tray.

Maggie meandered into the bathroom and sank down into
the warm, oily water. It embraced her in its all pervasive
fragrance, rippling over her blemish-free skin and coating
it in moisture. If this was part of the 'rules' she figured
she could manage to summon up the appropriate show of
obedience!

Antony was waiting for her when she emerged, still damp,
wrapped in a towel.

'Come over here, Maggie,' he called.

She padded softly to the big, white leather couch. On the
glass-topped coffee table in front of it, Antony had spread a
pristine white towel. On the towel he had laid a large bowl of
clean water, a cake of soap, a small glass flagon of oil and,
mostly alarmingly of all, a pair of long-handled silver scissors
and a cut-throat razor.

'What . . .?'

'Hush, don't look so worried. Have you never shaved your
pussy before?'

He held out his hand and beckoned her forward. Reluctantly,
she lay down on the sofa, on her back. The soft hide felt cool
under her bare skin as Antony pushed towel covered cushions
under her hips, raising up her buttocks until they were level
with his eyes. She kept her knees pressed demurely together as
he stroked the soft curls of her mons absently with the back of
his hand while he reached for his equipment.