Scandalicious (18 page)

Remembering her main purpose for being there, she removed the tube of lip gloss from her bag.

Madam and her escort entered the limo. Her presence was frightening. Extremely intimidating. She exuded power and dominion. “Ah, the girl is here,” Madam said to her companion—the same strikingly gorgeous, pretty boy with the golden curls. The one that had been kept on a leash at the dinner party she’d hosted.

This time he wasn’t showing off his bare chest. He was well-dressed in an expensive suit and tie. And Madam was a vision in her flutter, silver gown.

Melanee could feel her heart pounding in fear and anticipation. “Good evening, Madam Midnight.” She bowed her head as if greeting royalty.

There were three separate little couches; Madam sat on the far end. The escort closed the mirrored partition and then joined Madam, leaving the middle couch empty.

Melanee took the liberty of scooting over to the middle seat. She had a service to perform and figured she should be close to Madam and her boy toy.

Madam and the boy toy were the oddest couple. Not only in appearance but in behavior. After sitting next to Madam, the boy toy wrapped both arms around her and lowered his head to her bosom. Then he closed his eyes as if trying to get some rest.

“Tired, dear one?” Madam spoke in a kind voice that Melanee hadn’t heard her use at her dinner party. From her purse she withdrew a pacifier—a blue fucking pacifier with a curved nipple—and inserted into the boy toy’s suckling lips. Then she embedded her long, jeweled fingers into his hair, and began stroking through his bouncy golden curls.

Okay, I don’t know this routine. Colden didn’t mention anything about a pacifier. What am I supposed to do
? Melanee tried to keep a straight face, as though seeing a grown man being given a pacifier was an everyday occurrence. She’d heard of the fetish, called infantilism, but had never seen it in practice. What was her role? Colden hadn’t mentioned that she needed to pack a diaper bag or baby bottles. Or had he? Shit! She would have remembered something like that. The fact was, Melanee was unprepared, and for that transgression, Colden would be unforgiving.

Madam caught Melanee’s eye as she administered to her…uh…baby. Melanee bestowed her with an endearing smile and then said, “Aw, your little boy is adorable.” Unaware of the rules to this game, she didn’t know what else to say.

“He’s uncomfortable around strangers,” Madam hissed, stroking the boy toy’s hair with more fervor.

This wasn’t going well. Not at all.

“Sweetheart, intermission is over. We have to go back inside.” Madam withdrew the pacifier. Boy Toy whimpered when she returned the object to her purse.

She turned cold eyes on Melanee. “You did absolutely nothing to console him. I’m going to have harsh words for your master.”

The driver opened the door for Madam and her escort. Outside of the limo, Boy Toy straightened his shoulders and appeared to be once again, a normal, adult male.

“I could get in trouble if Madam found out that I shared information with you. You seem like a nice girl, and if you don’t mind I’d like to offer some sound advice.”

“Please. I need your advice; I’m not sure of what I’m supposed to do.”

“I’ve been with Madam for a long time, and I’m pretty much accustomed to her moods and her wide range of erotic pleasures. If pleasing Madam is important to you—”

“Oh, it is. Definitely.” Wistfully, she envisioned Colden’s pussy paddle and the sweet pain that it delivered.

“Well, if I were in your shoes, I’d take something from the storyline in that movie. There must have been a reason that she wanted you to watch it.”

Finally, Melanee got it. And she wouldn’t need any lip gloss.

P
eople began trickling out of the Walnut Street Theatre. Melanee sat up straight when she spotted Madam and the boy toy. Madam was such a cultured and refined woman, Melanee didn’t want to displease her with slouched shoulders and poor posture.

When Madam and her youthful escort got into the limo, Melanee could tell from his petulant expression, that something was bothering Boy Toy.

Afraid to speak without being spoken to, Melanee sat quietly. A trained submissive never looked a dominant straight in the eye without permission, and so Melanee kept her eyes cast downward, but managed to steal glances.

The boy toy wasn’t cozied up with Madam, nor was he being calmed with a pacifier. Looking pissed and mumbling in discontent, he sat in a separate couch, between Madam and Melanee, and Melanee wondered if she had imagined the spiteful glares that he seemed to be sending her way.

When Madam opened her purse, Melanee assumed it was time to indulge the golden-haired boy. He was being so fussy, Melanee half expected Madam to pull out an actual baby bottle, replete with milk. Instead, Madam withdrew a key ring from her purse, with a single silver key dangling from it.

“Garrett won’t be joining me at my home; please drop him off at the apartment on Green Street.”

So his real name is Garrett,
Melanee mused, as she took another
quick look and noticed that Garrett’s mouth was parted in shock and indignation.

“Start the film from the beginning,” Madam instructed Melanee without bothering to look at her.

Fumbling with the remote, Melanee followed her orders. She kept her eyes glued to the screen. Though curious to see where Garrett was being ditched, she didn’t risk missing a second of the film. For Melanee,
100 Tongue Strokes
was not to be viewed for entertainment; she had to study the film as though watching a training video.

After Garrett exited the limo, Madam and Melanee rode in complete silence for the duration of the ride. The limo glided to a smooth stop when they reached Madam’s grand home, and when he opened the door for Madam, the butler was there to greet the woman of the house with a courtly bow.

“Good evening, Madam. Did you enjoy the musical?” the butler inquired. He sounded to Melanee like a character from a movie. He took his butler role way too seriously.

“It was divine; simply divine,” Madam said, sounding equally theatrical. “I want you to inform my assistant that I’d like to invite some of the cast to a private party.”

She handed the butler the Playbill. “I’ve circled the names of the cast members whom I’ve found interesting.”

Madam had it going on. She could summon actors to her home to entertain her. Melanee was certain that the actors wouldn’t be obliged to sing or speak lines from the play; they’d be required to showcase other talents. Melanee was impressed with Madam’s power.

Peering through the tinted window, she watched Madam being escorted to her front door by the butler, while she was left behind without any instructions.

“Are you supposed to take me back to my apartment?” Melanee
asked the driver after Madam and the butler disappeared inside the house.

“No, I don’t think so. More than likely the butler will be back for you,” the limo driver replied.

Though Melanee tried to concentrate on the erotic, foreign film, the suspense was killing her, and she couldn’t help staring out of the window.

Over an hour elapsed, and at the exact conclusion of the movie, the butler came outside. With his shoulders squared and his torso erect, he strode toward the limo. Each precision-step looked similar to a military march. When the butler approached Melanee’s side of the limo, she jerked away from the window and refocused her eyes on the TV screen and the rolling credits.

The butler opened Melanee’s door. “Follow me.”

It was déjà vu all over again, as Melanee dutifully followed the butler along the path that led to the servant’s entrance. She hoped she wouldn’t be required to repeat her dick-sucking performance. But of course, she’d do whatever Madam required of her.

She stripped out of her clothes inside the kitchen pantry and folded them into a pile, exactly as she’d done before.

Naked, she followed the stuffy butler down the corridor, but this time, he didn’t escort her into the grand room. Instead, he made a right turn, ushering her toward what appeared to be a secret staircase.

Midway up the stairs, the scent of roses filled the air. At the top of the stairs, the butler opened a door to an enormous and beautiful bathroom. Like the princess in the movie, Madam was soaking in a sunken tub filled with rose petals that floated upon soap bubbles. Lit candles surrounded the ledge of the tub, creating a relaxing ambience. It was a glorious sight. The room looked and smelled heavenly.

Madam’s eyes were closed; her head rested on a plastic pillow.
The butler cleared his throat, and Madam’s eyes reluctantly fluttered open.

“The girl is here,” he announced.

“I can see that; I’m not blind,” Madam said in the snippy tone that she seemed to use most of the time.

“Shall I send the masseur in?” The butler gazed at his watch. “Will you be ready for him in an hour?”

Madam laughed. The sound was both wicked and lovely at the same time. “I don’t require strong hands to help me sleep tonight.”

“Very well. I’ll dismiss the masseur. Shall I set out your sleeping tablets?” he asked, his eyes wandering curiously from Melanee to Madam.

Melanee didn’t dare speak without Madam’s permission. She communicated her puzzlement to the butler by lifting a brow and shrugging a shoulder.

“This girl will lull me to sleep, using a much gentler touch.”

The butler glared at Melanee with hatred. He bowed and then left the room.

Being left alone with Madam was an experience in terror. Madam gave a sigh and then closed her eyes again. While the woman’s eyes were closed, Melanee explored her face. Madam was beautiful. Her bold features—broad nose and full lips looked as though sculptured. Her eyes traveled to the exposed body parts, her toned shoulders and her long and shapely legs. Twin nipples that were dark and beaded poked through the white suds.

She hadn’t been given any specific assignment, but following the storyline, Melanee remembered that the movie began with a bathing ritual. She recalled that the female attendants had sat on the ledge of the tub while attending to the princess.

Melanee had never bathed a grown woman or anyone else. She
would have loved to soap up Colden’s hard body, but he’d never allowed her that pleasure.

Bathing a woman turned out to be a surprisingly enjoyable task. She squeezed a minty bath gel onto the bath sponge and began lathering Madam’s neck, shoulders, and arms. Imitating what she saw in the film, she set the sponge aside and dipped her hands into the warm, sudsy water, and tended to Madam’s large beautifully formed breasts. Her soapy hands glided over mounds of luscious flesh, fondling and stroking, drawing a sigh of pleasure from Madam. Her thumbs played with the hardened nipples until Madam whispered, “Enough!”

Respectfully, Melanee withdrew her hands quickly. In her haste, she caused a splatter. “I’m so sorry, Madam,” she apologized. She winced when she noticed clusters of white suds dotting Madam’s exquisite, velvety skin. Using her finger, she delicately wiped soap from Madam’s smooth brown face.

“Kiss me.” The words were spoken without emotion, as if she were requesting Melanee to pass the salt.

She inhaled deeply, hoping that she didn’t tremble while kissing this intimidating woman. As her lips met Madam’s she was amazed of the soft and full texture; it felt like sinking her lips into a pillow. Soft and sensuous.

Not expecting it, she gasped at the sudden intrusion of Madam’s tongue inside her mouth. But the taste of it was so appealing; she threw herself fully into the sweet kiss.

Without planning to, Melanee’s hand broke the surface of the water, finding its way between Madam’s firm thighs. She parted the satiny folds, moving the tip of her finger circularly around the entrance. Unable to resist, she prodded a finger into the tight sheath and began to thrust and probe—slowly and deeply, shocking a whimper out of Madam. Plunging as deeply as possible, she
invaded Madam’s pussy. She smiled when she felt Madam’s pussy clenching around the intrusion.

Melanee didn’t stop probing until her finger was drenched with dewy cream.

On cue, the butler knocked on the door and entered. He picked out a towel from the rack. “Madam, you don’t want your beautiful skin to wrinkle. I think you should get out of the tub now.”

Madam ignored him.

“For the sake of your beauty, please let me dry you off?” The butler stood at the ready, holding a big fluffy towel.

Madam opened her eyes. Considering the butler’s words of warning, she pondered a bit. “You’re right,” she agreed.

The butler made quick steps to the tub, and helped Madam out. He shot an angry glance at Melanee. “Sit over there and wait,” he said in a stern voice, and then pointed to a chair on the far side of the room.

Melanee was surprised by her reluctance to stop tending to Madam. She’d never felt so submissively connected to anyone other than Colden.

Banished from Madam’s bath, Melanee watched with envy as the butler tenderly towel-dried Madam Midnight.