André paced back and forth for a moment, stopping in front of her again. "Four, you will never avoid telling me the truth or directly lie to me, Jennifer. I assure you, I will know if you are lying. This is a most important rule. Lie to me and I will punish you. I will have much more from you than just your body. I will know everything, your hidden thoughts and secret fantasies."
He paused. Marcy could almost see the electric sexual tension. It was a palpable force that lay thick between them. She could almost feel it, too, even though she was nowhere nearby.
André looked at the woman with hard eyes and a no-nonsense manner that froze her in place. "Right now you are mine completely," he said with confidence and authority. "Body, mind, heart, and soul."
Marcy shivered at the power he displayed. André's heady male dominance thrilled and scared her, and she was just watching from afar. How was Mrs. Whittington coping with that kind of intensity?
"Five, if you want or need something you must ask me," he said. "You must not do anything without my consent. You are not allowed to orgasm without my permission, Jennifer," he added with dark humor, "I expect that you will beg me to allow you to come, oh so many times. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered.
He made her repeat the rules, making sure she understood them completely. André stepped close to her then, took her face in both hands and gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead. "What is your safe word, ma petite?"
"Red, Sir."
"Do not be afraid to use it," he said.
"What happens if I use it?"
André's eyebrows lifted encouragingly. "What happens if I use it…"
"Oh, sorry. I meant to say what happens if I use it, Sir?"
"Then all action will cease and we will discuss what must be discussed." He arched one elegant brow in a cocky, playful manner. "It has been many years, ma petite, since a woman has used her safe word with me."
Jennifer giggled.
"My absolute authority over you is an illusion, Jennifer," he said. "It is from your own will that you give me this power. You have control. You can stop me at any time. This scene is your choice, comprenez vous?"
"Yes, Sir," Jennifer said. "Thank you, Sir."
Marcy sat back in the chair, and took a deep breath. Wow!
Marcy had learned more about her boss in the last ten minutes than she had since she had begun working here. She checked the time, grimly wondering how long before the Security guy returned. Not that it mattered.
There is no way I'm leaving this show just yet, Marcy decided. Whatever this was, it was nothing like Trent's porn.
20. Scene
"Do you trust me?" André asked Jennifer.
Her lips curled up into a grin at that, and a more confident personality shone through. "You know that I do, Sir."
"Bon," he gave her a panty-melting charismatic smile. "You will not regret it, ma petite, I swear. And so, you are ready to begin?"
The woman swallowed and took a deep, steadying breath, as if preparing to jump off a cliff. In many ways, she was, Marcy figured. Marcy admired the woman. Having never experienced an orgasm or not, Marcy didn’t think she had the guts to try anything like what Jennifer was doing right now.
"I'm ready, Sir," Jennifer said
André stood back a pace. "Then you will strip for me, right now."
Jennifer's face reddened and her eyes lowered, but she began to unbutton her blouse. "Stop," André said. "Look at me, ma petite. During this scene I wish for you at all times as much as possible, to meet my eyes. Undress while looking at me."
"Yes, Sir."
Jennifer dropped her clothes to the floor where she stood. It was difficult to do otherwise while meeting André's eyes. When she got down to only her bra and panties, she flinched and seemed embarrassed, or perhaps ashamed. André noticed instantly.
"Stop, Jennifer," he commanded his eyes hard upon hers. "You will tell me what is in your thoughts right now."
She bit her lower lip.
"Do not think to lie to me, ma petite," he said in a deceptively mild voice. "For of a certainty, I shall know."
Jennifer swallowed and her voice became louder as she managed to get up the angry courage to say what she felt. "Sir, I was thinking that I'm old and fat and ugly. I was thinking that you are handsome and at least ten years younger than I am. I felt ashamed because you'll be disgusted to see me naked. How could you be physically attracted to me?"
"Très bon," he said softly. "You have pleased your Dom. You are very brave to be so candid, ma petite. Remain still for me now." He came toward her then and took her right hand in his, pressing it against his cock. Marcy watched Jennifer's eyes widen in astonishment. André's thick shaft bulged, big and stiff in his pants.
"I am so very hard for you, ma petite, and while these most sensual undergarments are enticing," he gestured to her bra and panties, "it is not these that have aroused me."
They stared at each other for a long moment, with André holding her hand firmly pressed against his rigid shaft. Jennifer, blushing and unable to meet his eyes, looked away.
"Stand up straight, hands to the side," he ordered abruptly and Jennifer instantly complied. He trailed his fingers along her stomach and up her shoulder as he walked around behind her. Then he unfastened her bra, letting it fall to the floor. He made the full 360 degree circle, stopping in front of her, studying her face.
"Shall I tell you what I see when I look at you, Jennifer?" he asked in a low, sexy voice. "I perceive a strong woman, a woman who has the courage to bravely submit to another in her desire to discover more about herself. How many, young or old, would have the valor to face such a test?"
André's words and the tone and manner in which he spoke them were compelling. Utterly absorbed, Jennifer stared at him. Marcy, sitting on the edge of her seat in the security room, barely breathed.
"My eyes observe oh, so many things." He teased a gentle finger over her mouth, running along her bottom lip, and moving along the top. "There is botox here," he said. He traced along her eyebrows, and gently touched between them, from where her frown lines would be. He smiled. "And botox here, too, I think."
"Yes, Sir."
He stroked the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. "There are fine lines, under the make-up." Using both hands, he slowly ran them down her neck, across her collar bones. He palmed both of her heavy breasts, holding them and feeling the weight of them.
The woman swallowed and licked dry lips.
"I do not think that you and I see your body with the same eyes. I observe these large breasts that hang low without the bra, and see here?" he trailed his fingers over the side of them. "Stretch marks. You have carried children inside you, ma petite. I knew this before this moment, of course, yet now my eyes witness the truth of it. Your nipples are longer and darker than before pregnancy, no?"
He plumped and squeezed them between his thumb and forefingers. They responded by peaking into hard nubs. Jennifer's breath caught. She began breathing faster.
He traced her areola with a gentle finger. "Your areola is large and has become quite dark against your pale flesh." André's hands moved down her body, as he squatted down in front of her and pulled her panties down to her ankles. Jennifer quivered.
Marcy was stunned to see that the woman, who she had assumed to be so conservative, had no pubic hair at all.
"Step out, ma petite," he said and the woman did.
He was on one knee before her, and he traced the long thin scar just above her pubic area. "It was the cesarean operation that made this mark." He put his hands on her hips squeezing her generous rolls of soft skin. Bending close, he kissed her scar with reverence.
"Do not be ashamed of your most beautiful body, ma petite," he said, placing a hand flat on her abdomen. "Me? I would be proud. For you have given life! This strong female flesh has carried and born children. Such scars, wrinkles and imperfections were honorably earned. You are a mature woman, with many life experiences."
&
nbsp; André's pupils flared with lust, yet his eyes softened with understanding as he met her gaze. "You have so much wisdom that I, as a man, could never hope to know. Do you begin to comprehend why I find you desirable?"
Marcy's chest tightened. What a beautiful thing to say. André Chevalier was not like anyone she had ever known. Those words came from the man's heart and soul. Mike had told her that André understood women, but Mike hadn't been able to explain how much André obviously treasured them.
Wow. Just wow.
She studied the older woman, a contrast with the younger man on the video before her. The intimacy between them was obvious. Marcy's eyes stung.
Jennifer was timidly smiling at the man kneeling before her. Marcy could see the emotion in her expression – her eyes were bright, with tears perhaps? Yet the woman laughed it off with a shy, nervous chuckle.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I've never seen myself like that before."
"You are so very beautiful, ma petite," he said, and his face reflected his admiration.
"Thank you," she whispered once more. "Sir."
André gave her a playful grin back. "Besides, your sharp unyielding bones are covered in exceptionally soft female flesh. When I lie on top of you and push inside, it will be a most comfortable ride."
Jennifer's pale face and chest colored brightly at that, and André gave her a low, sexy laugh.
Grinning at André's outrageous charm and audacity, Marcy checked the time again. Crap, she thought with a disappointed sigh. I really have to go. Just when it was starting to get good, too.
21. Marcy's Obsession
The next few days went by in a blur.
Marcy took Katie and Sam to school, went to work, and often picked the girls up again when her roommate was working. Mike Thompson had texted her a few times, but he had gone to L.A. for some sort of technology conference. Marcy found it difficult to admit to herself, but she really missed him.
Meanwhile her mind returned to the scene that she had watched with André and the older woman again and again. Every time she recalled it a wave of different emotions flowed through her.
She suffered nervous anxiety for a start. Did André know that she had watched that scene? Would he be mad at her if he did? She was also curious about sex, and experienced tendrils of desire. Did she really want to try sex again?
It made Marcy wonder if with a different man - perhaps a man like Mike - she might be able to reach orgasm. Sex was such an embarrassing subject, mainly because she was so bad at it.
Being in André Chevalier's home, surrounded by French people who had no problem chatting about sex, and asking her who she was sleeping with, was a unique situation. Her fellow staff regularly complimented Marcy, telling her how much they enjoyed her company. They were effusive in their praise, admiring how keen she was in her work, saying how lovely she was, and how lucky the man in her life must be.
Mike constantly complimented her, too. His tone of voice, his care and respect made her feel desirable.
The damn man was still pursuing her, just really subtly. With time on her hands again because of fewer hours of work, Marcy was becoming more aware of her appearance, and hyperaware of her femininity. Her clothes fit her better. Somehow, without even trying, she had lost three pounds. How had that happened? Was it because of those long walks with Mike and his golden retriever? Or was it just because she was extraordinarily happy?
Marcy had begun to actually feel attractive, but with that came a strange restlessness.
For so many years Marcy had pushed her sensuality into the background. No, not just into the background. It was more like she had buried it so deeply that she never thought of it at all. And she had buried it, not to protect it, but with the intention of forgetting it completely.
Marcy had sworn off sex and men. They were things that she wasn't any good at, and was better off without.
Instead of sex, Katie had been her number one priority. There had been so much to do. Marcy had concentrated on getting through a divorce, nursing her dying mother, selling her mother's home to pay medical bills, finding work and accommodation, and managing debts. The last four years had been exhausting, really.
And here it was, all coming back to sex, a focus she had rejected.
With her new boss's line of work, that subject was thrown in her face day after day. The delicious irony of her situation couldn't be overlooked, any more than an unexpected slap in the face. How had it happened? The more she ran away, the closer she came to the thing that she had been avoiding for years.
The universe was obviously trying to tell her something.
Marcy recalled Carl Jung, the famous Swiss psychiatrist. He had said, "That which you resist, persists." Marcy had been resisting men, and more importantly, sex. So what did she get? A job surrounded by sexuality, and Mike Thompson, a man who wasn't going to give up any time soon.
Have sex, don't have sex; avoid men, spend time with men; should I? Shouldn’t I? The confusion and uncertainty of her circumstances were stressing her out.
So maybe she should stop 'resisting.' Just give in and let it happen.
Marcy was beginning to consider that perhaps she had been too hasty after her divorce. If her recent erotic dreams involving Mike were any indication, maybe she should try sex again. The scene she had watched with André had aroused her, of course, but it had done more than that.
She had become obsessed.
Marcy now had a strange thirst that she simply couldn’t quench.
She didn't know if she was submissive; for all she knew, maybe in her heart she was Dominant. The cuffs, toys and whips, spankings and bondage did nothing for her. The thought of sex did nothing for her either, because for so long the idea of being skin to skin naked with a man had been utterly off her radar.
What had caught her imagination was the passion and communication that had passed between André and Jennifer. During that scene Marcy had witnessed an enticing closeness that signified genuine intimacy, and even love.
Jennifer Whittington had shown astonishing bravery in jumping off that risky cliff. Marcy admired her. The way André had touched the woman, the awe and reverence he had displayed.
Was there anything Marcy wouldn't do for a man that looked at her like that?
No, it was not the possibility of sex that had interested Marcy, as much as the intimate connection. Marcy had never known that with Trent. When she was young and naïve, she had succumbed to the madness and temporary insanity of 'love.' Back then, Marcy had imagined that she had found such a bond with Trent. That was why she married him.
Now she knew better.
"True Love" was something Marcy had never experienced. Was that what was missing with Trent? The fact that he never really cared for her? That there had been no real connection with him? That he had been using her right from the start?
Marcy had completely given her heart to Trent, but on his side it was all fake and pretense. Would she ever find love? Would she know what it was if she found it?
Mike Thompson was in her life now. An impossible man to shake off, he was relentless in his pursuit. While continuing to resist him, she considered him one of her best friends. The man came over virtually every day, and always spent equal time and attention with Katie. He took them bowling, mini golf, and to movies. Long walks in the park with Ziggy, and playing fetch was a given. Katie was nuts about that dog.
They had also been to his house for dinner, and what a house it was. All single story, warm and welcoming with a large wooden deck, pool and spa. The damn thing was a mansion. Had his wife enjoyed decorating? The furnishings and interior had a distinctly soft and feminine touch. Mike's house was a home.
"Do you like it?" Mike had asked as she stood outside his home for the first time.
"It's fantastic," Marcy had said.
"My wife, Barbara got it for me."
"Sorry?"
"When we were first married we bought this home together." Mike cocked an ironic eyebrow at her. "It
had to be big. We wanted lots of children."
He shrugged in a brooding forlorn way that made her wonder, why hadn't they had children? Had Barbara been incapable of conceiving? Or perhaps Mike was sterile from a childhood illness?
Something in his brown eyes looked so sad and wounded. Children were clearly a sensitive subject, so Marcy didn't ask.
He ran a hand over his moustache and trim beard. "Anyway, I immediately got life insurance because I was worried about dying and leaving her with debts. Barbara demanded that we get life insurance for her, too, because she didn't want to leave me with debts either."
Mike had shrugged then, but his sorrow had shown. "She died first and I got the house."
He had really loved his wife; that much was obvious. Marcy found that fact made him more appealing. Mike was nothing like Trent. He would never cheat on a woman, Marcy felt certain of that. He was a loyal love-one-woman-faithful-forever kind of guy.
The relationship Marcy and Mike had together was one of mutual companionship. Marcy liked him. A lot. Katie liked him, too. Mike was naturally good with children, and would be a wonderful father.
Marcy didn’t know it, but she was beginning to give in. Mike was in her thoughts all the time now. She recalled when Katie had fractured her arm. That terrible phone call with Trent, and all her concerns for her daughter had accumulated into an emotional flood of tears.
Mike had folded her into him, patting and soothing while she wet his shirt from crying. It had felt so good to be held against his big chest, to be comforted by him. Safe. Protected. Cared for. Marcy never cried in front of anyone. Wasn't it odd how natural it had been to turn to Mike?
He had been a virtual stranger at the time.
Instinctively she had felt comfortable with him. What would it be like to be sheltered in Mike's arms once more? To be kissed? Maybe she should start with a kiss and see how that went?
But honestly, sex was completely out, unless she could become more confident about it somehow. Days ago, Marcy decided that if the opportunity came up, she would discuss her inability to orgasm with André. André was so liberating. That man was as calm and carefree on the subject of sex as he would be while discussing a good wine.