Indecent Intent (7 page)

Susan looked up from her enjoyable task, her perfect features glossed with glistening juices beneath the stark overhead lighting. ‘Didn't I tell you that shaving would make you more sensitive?' she cooed. ‘No barrier, you see, to your pleasure zones… just smooth, silky flesh.'

The lovely blonde then used her fingers and thumbs to spread Gabrielle further, making the bound girl yet more accessible to her wily tongue, and Gabrielle could not hold back the soft mewl of delight that escaped her slightly parted lips. The pleasure building in the pit of her tummy was almost unbearable; so intense it was almost a pain.

‘I-I want to… to come,' Gabrielle managed to mumble. ‘Please, I can't bear it any more… I need to come…
please
…'

Then at the most inopportune moment possible, as far as Gabrielle was concerned, the door opened and Susan instantly rose and moved away from her, patting her hair into place and smoothing down her clothing. Gabrielle felt her body stiffen in the restraints and she hovered agonizingly on the point of a shattering orgasm, and then slowly opened her eyes to see what the untimely interruption was.

Marshall Verity was standing there, dressed in only a white toweling robe, the center's motif stitched on the chest of it. Gabrielle knew she should be mortified for the man, still a virtual stranger despite what they'd been through in such a short space of time, to see her in such an immodest and provocative situation, but she wasn't. He had engineered the whole scenario, she knew, and Tom had been prepared to sell his own wife to him, so why should she be coy about anything that happened? None of this was her doing.

‘Leave us,' he said to Susan, his eyes never leaving Gabrielle as he spoke, devouring the vulnerability and beauty of her.

‘Whatever you say, master,' the female said contritely, like a child who had been discovered doing something she should not have been doing, and lightly scolded as a consequence.

‘And we're not to be disturbed,' he added as she left the room, nodding her understanding of the order, and closed the door.

For long minutes he just stood there, gazing down upon Gabrielle, and then, just as she was going to say something – anything – to break the uncomfortable silence, he moved silently between the stirrups and placed his hands on her knees. ‘You see how obedient my girls are, even when it causes them disappointment?' he said. ‘That's because they all long to serve me. Will you long to serve me, dear Gabrielle?' Distractedly, his thumbs massaged her knees as he spoke, as though he was doing it without thinking. But the simple touch was nice, and Gabrielle could not help but enjoy it.

‘Will you?' he said, and Gabrielle sensed he was asking himself the question, not her. ‘Will you learn to serve me?'

For some reason her thoughts flickered back to Tom. What was he doing with all that money? Winning? No, she thought scornfully, losing – definitely.

‘Your life with me will be far more comfortable than it could ever be with that loser of a husband of yours,' he said scathingly, cutting into her thoughts, and then the cajoling tones in his voice were replaced with something sharper as he said, ‘What do I have to do to make you want to me?'

So he was asking her, after all. But the good memories of her marriage to Tom were still far too fresh in her mind; too raw. ‘Time,' she whispered. ‘Just give me time. Who knows what will happen.'

Verity smiled and his hands moved in unison, powerfully and slowly down her thighs. ‘A good answer, my dear,' he said, nodding approvingly, ‘but don't try my patience for too long.'

His touch was very nice, but it could not distract Gabrielle from wondering why he needed her so badly when he had the pick of so many other girls – all of them utterly beautiful.

‘You have a vibrant innocence about you,' he said, answering her unspoken question, once again seeming to know what she was thinking, ‘combined with a paradoxical sensuality that intrigues me greatly.' His fingertips lightly reached the very tops of her inner thighs, resting mere millimeters from her shaven sex lips.

‘I might be young, but I'm a married woman,' Gabrielle reminded him, ‘and what Tom and I got up to makes me anything but innocent.'

He chuckled, and she inhaled sharply as his thumbs delicately touched her aroused sex lips. ‘It is those little nuances, the tiny contradictions in you that I find so intriguing,' he said, observing her delicious and thoroughly natural reaction to his touch. Without any apparent aid his robe fell open at that very timely moment, and his erect cock sprang up from his groin, pulsing gently as it pointed at her spellbound face.

‘I see how you stare at my penis,' he went on, his voice low and husky.

Gabrielle felt her cheeks glow with renewed embarrassment, not even aware that she was staring at its powerful beauty – or was she?

Then his hips moved forward and the veined underside of the turgid column rested against and between her wet sex lips, its shiny purple globe hovering above the hollowed plain of her tummy. He held himself there for a few minutes, breathing calmly, looking down upon the bound beauty and allowing her to fully appreciate what she was about to receive.

‘Tell me what you want,' he said quietly, almost hypnotically. ‘You want me to fuck you, don't you?'

Gabrielle felt as though she was in a dream, that she could not speak.

Verity eased back, his cock nudged at her succulent entrance, his hands were back on her knees, and with one long slow shunt he filled her completely, her back arching in unison with the penetration despite the bonds that held her so securely.

‘Oh yesss…' he hissed through gritted teeth as his balls nestled between her thighs and his pubic curls rested against the smoothness of her shaven mound. And then he started to move, slowly at first, but increasing his pace until he was thrusting in and out of her body, rapidly approaching his orgasm. Gabrielle yearned to move with him, but she was pinned there on the chair, a body for him to fuck, moving inexorably towards a shattering climax of her own.

‘Tell me what you want now,' he grunted, his hands clamped obsessively to her knees as he fucked her.

‘You want me to fuck you until you come, don't you?' His urbane façade faltered, his jaw clenched and beads of sweat glistened on his face and chest as he moved with decreasing finesse, trying to hold back and savor the pleasure for as long as possible, wanting to see her come first, to prove his power over her.

‘You do, don't you?' he persisted.

‘
Yes
…' she breathed, barely aware that she'd responded. ‘Make me come…
master
!'

‘Oh, my dear girl!' Verity panted, and then his brow furrowed as he fucked her with ever increasing intensity. Gabrielle heard a scream, her own, as her pleasure built to a peak that was unbearable in its intensity, and she was consumed by a wonderful orgasm.

‘Yes!' Verity grunted victoriously. ‘I'm coming now! Feel me coming deep inside you, my dear girl.'

‘I… I can feel it,' sighed Gabrielle, mumbling almost deliriously. ‘And I'm so very grateful… master.' Why she addressed him in such a manner again she had no idea, but the whys and wherefores seemed totally irrelevant at that moment.

He did not pull away from her immediately, but stood there, his vice-like grip upon her knees gradually easing, his eyes closed, his breathing calming as his spent penis slowly softened and slipped from her.

After long silent minutes, during which Gabrielle began to feel strangely close to the man, as if there was now a powerful bond between them, he opened his eyes and looked down upon her. ‘I'll send Susan back to show you where to shower and freshen up,' he said, and his tone hurt her; it was cold and detached, as though they had not just been so intimate together at all – as though it had meant nothing to him.

Without another word Verity turned, did up his robe, and left the room.

Tears blurred Gabrielle's eyes, but she must not cry; she was stronger than that and Marshall Verity was not worth her tears. He was just a sad and lonely rich man. He meant nothing to her… nothing at all.

Gabrielle sat in the luxury of Marshall Verity's private jet, still finding it hard to believe such opulence really existed. In the cabin were mod cons she could only ever dream of possessing, particularly with Tom's proven ability of quickly losing any money they might have.

Verity relaxed in a large comfortable seat, similar to the one she sat in, and held up a flute of bubbling champagne, smiling confidently at her. ‘To us and our time together, my dear,' he said.

Gabrielle politely reached for the crystal glass of bubbly on the occasional table beside her, and sipped the delicious drink. ‘To us,' she repeated, but with little enthusiasm.

‘Is something wrong?' he asked, an amused frown on his face. ‘Don't you crave a life of private jets, luxury cruises, designer clothes the likes of which any girl would give her right arm for, and the most delicious delicacies the world has to offer, prepared to perfection by the finest chefs?'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I mean… no. Oh, I don't know what I mean. Why do you always throw me into such confusion?'

Verity got out of his chair and knelt beside her knees, sliding the silk of her skirt up her smooth thighs. ‘You've never known a man like me before, have you?' he said.

‘I've never known any man, except Tom.' She paused, knowing that this was a little lie. ‘Well, except…'

With one hand Verity eased her knees slightly apart and with the other he rucked the silk of her simple but obscenely expensive dress up around the tops of her thighs. She tried to close her knees, but he tapped the pale flesh of her inner thighs and she froze, her legs parted, knowing that her pose was lewd and the absence of any knickers left her freshly shaved sex shamefully naked.

‘Except the man your husband forced upon you,' Verity finished for her, with a knowing smile.

Gabrielle bowed her head as she felt her face flame with embarrassment. His fingers cupped her sex, the touch surprisingly gentle and sensuous. His palm stroked the valley between her thighs and cunny, feeling the new smoothness with obvious relish and growing ardor.

He dipped his head and blew, very softly, over her moist sex, making her flinch but bear towards him at the same time.

‘You know about that… the episode with his friend?' asked Gabrielle.

‘My dear, I know everything about you,' he stated frankly. ‘Oh yes, I even know your most secret desires and fantasies.'

Gabrielle closed her eyes and lowered her face, trying in vain to hide from the shame of his forthright words, in no doubt that he did indeed know more about her than she cared for.

‘No, no, my dear,' Verity chided, tutting gently. He lifted her chin and she could smell the sweet fragrance of her sex on his fingers. ‘Be proud of yourself. Be proud of your body and how it reacts to my wants and demands.' Then he dipped a finger into Gabrielle's champagne and, without warning, pressed it into the tightness of her vagina. The action was so sudden that she had no time to protest or respond against the intrusion, but despite her reservations she felt very moist and available, ready for whatever he required.

‘Press down, my dear girl,' he whispered, and Gabrielle could do nothing else but obey. It felt so strange to be sitting in the luxury jet of a man she barely knew, a man who was kneeling by her feet and frigging her with the crew so close by just on the other side of the partition.

As her pleasure mounted her clit felt engorged and ached to be relieved of its need. She began to move on his finger, gently grinding her hips, and he murmured his approval.

‘Please…' Gabrielle sighed, not quite knowing for what she pleaded.

‘What is it, young lady?' he asked in mock innocence. ‘Am I not pleasing you?'

‘Yes,' she groaned. ‘Yes you are. You know you are.'

‘Perhaps you need a little more lubrication,' he said, slowly drawing his finger out of her clutching flesh. Gabrielle sighed, her sex was engorged with longing and she felt the eager throb of her clitoris. She slid lower in the deep seat and parted her legs a little more, posing her naked mound in a gesture of offer.

He knelt there at her feet, breathing in the scent of her musk, strengthening as her wantonness increased. He smiled up at her and slid two fingers into the succulent flesh of her sex. The soft wet lips clutched about his fingers, caressing them as if they were his cock.

‘Beautiful, my dear,' he crooned. ‘You are so innocent, yet so whorish.'

The fingers slid back and forth within her, sliding in her copious juices. He added another and began to thumb the tip of her clitty as well. Her juices flowed, slick and creamy, trickling warmly down to her bottom cleft.

‘Yes,' he murmured, ‘you are just what I needed.'

She was puzzled for a moment, until her climax grew within her and swamped her senses, making her body feel warm and molten.

‘Don't come just yet, my dear sweet girl,' he urged. ‘Hold on for me. I want you to learn to hold on for me. Make your pleasure last.'

Gabrielle shuddered. ‘I don't think I can,' she gasped. ‘It's too close, too strong.' The fingers thrust with greater intent, plunged relentlessly in and out, and her ecstasy came in great waves of passion that made her stiffen, groan from deep in her throat, and shudder in release.

‘You weak creature,' he rasped, his mood changing alarmingly as he pulled his fingers from her. ‘Why are you like all the others? Why have you no self-control? I thought, just perhaps, that you were different.' He stood and moved to a window, looking out and leaning with his hands against the plane's bulkhead.

Suddenly feeling cold, deserted, ashamed and alone, Gabrielle straightened up in the seat and smoothed the folds of silk down over her thighs towards her knees.

‘Don't you dare do that!' he hissed, as though he could see her and what she was doing. ‘Leave your sex bare. Show me your shame. Leave your legs apart until I give you permission to do otherwise.'

Gabrielle allowed her gaze to follow his and, through tear-blurred eyes, saw that they were over the flatlands of the mid-West with the strangely cut circles and triangles of different crops.

‘Where are we going?' she dared to ask, keeping her eyes respectfully averted from her new owner.

‘To one of my homes,' he said shortly, still staring out of the window as if he could not get enough of the endless flatlands.

‘Is it far?' Her words were muffled by a choked sob.

‘Florida,' he said. ‘You've disappointed me, Gabrielle.'

‘Florida's a big state,' she pointed out, not wanting to dwell on the thought of a disappointed Marshall Verity.

He turned from the window and returned to the other capacious seat. ‘Come over here and lie across my lap,' he ordered, ‘but keep your skirt up.'

She obeyed, sensing it would be unwise to displease him any further.

As she lowered herself a little awkwardly across his lap she could feel the toned muscles of his thighs against her middle. He had opened his trousers and she felt the hot thickness of his cock pressing up against her tummy.

‘I'm going to spank your bottom now, my dear,' he told her in an austere, matter-of-fact tone. ‘You have displeased me somewhat and so I am going to spank you.'

Gabrielle felt she should be alarmed, even afraid, but there was something else; she felt a kind of inner strength. His powerful manhood pulsed against her lower belly and for some reason she wanted to feel it in her mouth, stretching her lips, and taste the salty bitterness of his seed on her tongue and in her throat…

The first blow of the flat of his palm made the firm pale flesh of her buttocks quiver enticingly with the force of it. There was a glow of heat in the globes of her bottom, too, which had still not faded when the next slap struck. She could hear his breathing quicken, and tried hard to suppress her own sobs of pleasure and pain. He continued to spank her, striking with firm, deliberate smacks until the tears squeezed from her tightly closed eyes and dripped from her cheeks to the plush carpet below. Gabrielle's poor buttocks glowed and she writhed inconsolably on his lap, but still he spanked her, making her pay for the indiscretion that had displeased him.

Eventually the deliberate onslaught ceased, and the only discernable sound above the dull drone of the jets and the hissing whisper of the pressurized cabin was his breathing, gradually slowing, and her muffled sobs, her shoulders moving in unison with them.

One hand lay on her back, between her shoulders, rubbing in gentle, comforting circles, and the other lay still on her buttocks, absorbing the rosy heat of her punishment.

‘You took it very well, my dear girl,' he said softly. ‘Very well indeed. I am pleased with you.' His fingers squeezed the pliant flesh of her bottom, easing the firm cheeks apart until her sobs changed to a tentative gasp. Then she stiffened and held her breath as she felt the warmth of a moistened fingertip at the tight pleats of her anus. She instinctively tried to clench her buttocks together, but his grip easily overcame any token resistance.

‘One day soon,' he said, ‘I shall fuck this lovely tightness, and then you will be mine forever. Do you hear me, my dear?'

Breathless and trembling on his lap, Gabrielle tried to nod, her lustrous hair sweeping the carpet.

‘And will you enjoy that?' The tip worked into her secret passage, helping it to relax and loosen a fraction. She felt it press open the tight pleats. She gasped, more loudly this time, but bore up to the invading digit, lifting her hips ever so slightly. ‘I think you will,' he answered for her. ‘You will join my other girls in my mansion.'

Another probing finger made her rear entrance more open and Gabrielle could not help but part her legs a little more across his lap, silently encouraging him to invade her sex as well as her bottom.

‘You wanton little whore,' crooned Verity, cupping her offered sex. Gabrielle moved against his fingers, bearing up with her bottom and down with her denuded sex. She wanted him to open her up, to rub her clitty, to press a finger into her slippery opening as he was doing with her bottom, to finger-fuck her in both places.

‘You will enjoy my home,' he said, agitating the smooth puffiness of her sex lips back and forth around her clitty.

Gabrielle ached for release. He was tantalizing her with his caresses. As delicious as they were they tormented cruelly by keeping her hovering on the brink of an orgasm. It was heavenly torture.

‘W-what is… what is… s-so special about it?' she stuttered. Her whole body glowed with need and she could feel her juices seeping from her shaven sex lips.

Verity slid two fingers gently into the tightness of her bottom. ‘It's big,' he told her, ‘and on the Intracoastal Waterway. Do you know it?'

It was as if there was absolutely no intimacy going on between them. He spoke so matter-of-factly. It was as if they were already taking afternoon tea in the drawing room of his mansion. She could barely speak, such was the pleasure he was giving her, and she inhaled sharply as he pushed two fingers into her sopping vagina.

‘I asked you a question,' he calmly reminded her. ‘Do you know it? I don't like to repeat myself.'

‘Y-yes,' she gasped. ‘I know of it. Our trailer is out west of the peninsular so I've never been there, but I know it runs along the east.' She knew her juices were seeping over his fingers and colored with the shame of her lurid behavior.

‘Naturally, I also have a yacht,' he told her. She felt so full of his intruding fingers, but she could not help but bear up to them. His voice sounded far away; not registering in her sex-absorbed brain. ‘It's docked at Bahia Mar. I suppose you know that, too.'

Her orgasm was so close that she felt light-headed, detached from her own body. She struggled to speak, struggled to answer him. She felt used and wanton at the same time, dirty but yearning to be fulfilled. ‘Please…' she murmured, her head hung low over his lap, ‘please let me come again.'

‘You've done very well, my dear,' he said at last, bending over her and brushing a kiss against her hair. ‘This time you've held back your orgasm better than most of the others are able to.'

He thrust fingers deep into her vagina and her bottom and pumped them in and out of her clutching wetness until she wailed her release, not caring about the fact that the crew would know exactly what was going on. So exquisite was the release that she hoped she would never stop coming, there, draped across the dominant male's lap in the luxury of his private jet.

Scarcely able to breathe when his skilled fingers finally stopped moving and left her, she lay limp across his thighs.

‘We're going to have such fun when we reach my home,' he said, and rolled her from him as though she was a rag doll. ‘But I'm going to rest now. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up.'

Dismissed, Gabrielle was scarcely able to stand on legs that were weak and uncertain as she moved. Closing the door of the tiny bathroom behind her, she leaned against it wearily, her eyes closed. When at last she opened them she saw, in the mirror, a girl she barely recognized. Her red hair was unruly and heightened her wanton appearance. He eyes were sparkling and round, her lips pouting and moist, and she could see the outline of her erect nipples through the silk of the loose-fitting dress. As she lifted it over her head it made her sigh softly as it smoothed up over the roundness of her firm buttocks. It was not that he had been particularly severe with her, but still her flesh was tender and glowed, and even the delicate touch of the material heightened her awareness that she had just been spanked over the man's knees.