A Dark Beginning: A China Dark Novel (20 page)

He then softly kissed the very tip of her nose, and she had to suppress a giggle. He moved to her cheeks. He was addressing every inch of her face, and she closed her eyes to allow him to plant the faintest of touches on each eyelid. His breath was a musky mix of champagne, maleness and cigarettes. China normally hated the smell of cigarettes but the acrid undertone of nicotine provided a forbidden sub-note to the earthy spices that only seemed to enhance them. When he kissed her ear and gently pulled at her earlobe with his teeth she sighed and felt goose bumps race down from her neck and along both arms..

Her head was thrown back, to give him easier access to her, and he wasted no time in circling her arched neck with kisses, occasionally nipping with sharp teeth and making her whole body twitch. While his kisses made her quiver she looked up at the night sky, making note of each of the constellations that Leandro had pointed out to her. She could see the balconies of the hotel above her and could just make out the shadow of a man against the starlight. She wondered if it was Philip. She hoped it was. This was all for him, either to teach him a lesson, or give him what he wanted. Either way, he was her chosen audience, so she might as well put on a show.

She sighed louder as Leandro bit her neck at its most sensitive point, just where it curved out to her shoulder, and she dreamily wished for the sound of that ecstatic exhalation to carry up to Philip. Leandro’s hands had moved down to cup her buttocks now, through the flimsy material, and she loved how his strong grip dug into her ample flesh. He was alternately stroking and grasping each cheek as he kissed and bit her neck. There was a delicious pain as he sucked her flesh hard into his mouth. That would leave a mark, China had no doubt about that. He wanted to mark her flesh and she wanted him to. A symbol of ownership, even if only for a brief period of time. She would proudly display those dark bruises on her neck that were the result of such intense pleasure and beautiful pain. She languished in this vampire embrace of delicious agony, and her eyes were shut now, her cries more insistent as she was tenderly bitten by this beautiful Italian boy, for she thought of him as a lost boy, never really grown up or recovering from his humble beginnings.

One of his hands moved around the front to hold an eager breast. She gasped out a single loud word, “Yes.” He grasped the shoulder of her dress and roughly pulled it down, taking the bra cup with it so that a full globe of firm flesh dropped heavily into his waiting palm. He massaged it roughly, coarse fingers flicking across her erect nipple, making it even harder. She let out an unfeminine grunt as he lightly pinched the nipple and nibbled her neck just below her right ear. His tongue moistened her flesh so that when he moved on there was a delightful chill left behind as a delightful contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He pulled the top of her dress completely down and expertly undid her bra with a single hand. The top half of her dress now hung from her waist and she stood there topless in front of him, with her back pressed almost painfully onto the cold steel of the iron railings. He admired her for what seemed like ages, before edging the dress fully off her. She obligingly stepped out of it wondering if, hoping with all of her heart that, Philip was still watching from the balcony above.

She was standing there in just her knickers, which were good ones she was pleased to remember. She raised her arms and clasped both hands together behind her head, just as she had seen Esta pose at one point during her lap dance. This had the exact effect she was looking for as Leandro gasped at her large but pert breasts thrusting towards him. Her curves felt wonderfully heavy and so perfect as she watched Leandro’s eyes hungrily devour her body. His boyish grin became predatory as his eyes descended at a leisurely roaming pace and took in her well-shaped legs, calves accentuated because she remembered to keep on her black stilettos. He knelt before her, not caring that the rough patio stone would ruin the fabric of his tailored trousers.

His fingers barely touched her calves, but she could feel the delicate static of electric shocks spark across her skin as he traced his fingers up the curve of her legs. He gently tickled behind her knees, making her giggle, but when he moved his hands up behind her thighs and she could feel his hot breath on the front of her legs she moaned out loud. He leant forward and kissed the lace of her knickers. She could feel his lips pressing hard against her pubis and she froze, not wanting to peak too soon. He kissed and pulled at the lace with his teeth, every now and then his tiny, nipping bites would catch a small morsel of her flesh and make her squeal. She felt soaking wet down there, and almost fainted when she felt him press his tongue between her thighs to lap at the gusset of her underwear. His hands were now massaging her buttocks and he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and edged them down.

As the cool night air met with the dampness of her pussy she shivered, but the cold didn’t last long as Leandro quickly forced his hot mouth against her exposed flesh. His tongue pressed into her and writhed around at the entrance to her pleasure. She parted her thighs to give him easier access and she relaxed against the railings. He worked her hard, lips, teeth and tongue mashing into her pliant flesh and she could feel the tears from her pussy running, teasing, tickling, down her inner thigh. At first Leandro’s mouth was in slow rotation, touching every part of her, moving on and moving back, but as her panting increased, he kept up with the rhythm of her body and her exhalations, worrying at her like a dog with a toy. Each time he would bite too hard and make her scream, he would instantly follow with caressing strokes from his lips and tongue, soothing and providing an exquisite counterpoint to the pain. Each time she liquefied just a little bit more.

Just as she was approaching her climax, waves of heat and ice building in her lower belly, he pulled away, leaving her bereft, cold, wanting, needing. She gasped and doubled over hugging her belly. The frustration she felt as the waves in her belly subsided fed her lust and made her more determined to slake the thirst that raged inside her body and mind.

She stood up straight, naked apart from her black high heels and looked down at Leandro’s kneeling, bow headed form.

“Why did you stop?” she demanded.

“Tell me what to do,” he said.

“What?”

“Tell me what to do. I act on your instructions alone. I do whatever you ask. Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. I worship you now. You are my goddess, you are my Halcyone. Rid me of evil my queen.”

China shook her head to get her thoughts straight. Was she hearing him right? What was it about her that inspired the submissive slave in a man? Even someone as rich and apparently powerful as this Italian God of a man was only put on this earth to please her. A wicked smile stretched across her face as she stood proudly over him.

“Strip.”

He was so eager to remove his clothes that he almost fell over, making China laugh. When he stood there naked in front of her she took in the luxuriant vision of his well-toned, olive skinned body. Another man who took care of himself. She seemed to always pick them. He was semi-proud at the moment, and strong evidence was there of an impressive potential for growth. She strode around, lingering a while behind him to admire the tightness of his bottom. His body had a fine roadmap of dark silky hairs, and his olive complexion was complete. No tan lines on him.

“Kneel.” He did so without hesitation.

She moved close to him and then dipped down to sink her teeth into his neck. He cried out as she bit harder, taking care not to break the skin, and she sucked flesh deep into her mouth, drawing in the flesh until she could feel him shake with the exquisite discomfort she was administering. “Now you are marked as mine, slave.”

His head remained bowed. “Look at me,” she demanded, and he did so, his eyes adoringly peering up at her. She dropped her hand to the soft flesh between her own legs and started to stroke herself. His eyes lowered to watch, mesmerised. “No, slave, keep looking at my face. That is where you’ll see my true pleasure.”

As she played with herself she untethered her passions, revealing her every emotion through her facial expressions. She hardly noticed that he kept looking into her eyes, this was all about her, he was just a tool, a helpless celebrant at her alter of sexuality. She was so close to coming now, her eyes were heavily lidded, but she kept eye contact with him. She stopped herself with a huge effort of willpower. The sight of his enraptured face was almost as good as the orgasm she had so narrowly avoided. He was desperate for more of her. He would worship her forever if she told him to. Who needed drugs when you had this kind of power rush? She was amazed that more women didn’t know about this. Or maybe she was exceptional. At one time the very thought of being unique would have seriously bothered her conformist nature, but now she desired, no needed, that exclusivity, that feeling of being stunningly different. It made her someone in a world of ubiquity. Someone who would be remembered by those she consented to honour with her attention. She was in love with herself for the first time in her life.

Leandro was still kneeling, hungry for her attention.

“Lie on your back.”

He flinched as his bare back met the cold rough stone of the balcony but he didn’t complain. She stood over him, making sure he could see the pouting pink flesh between her legs. She let him look at it for a few moments before she knelt beside him. She looked up at the shadowy figure regarding them from the balcony above, making sure they were still there, and now knowing it was Philip. She smiled up at the shadow and then bent over and took Leandro’s heavy, semi-erect cock in her mouth. It grew so quickly that she almost choked, and had to withdraw some of the rigid dark flesh. It was like a magic trick or a film special effect, the way the flesh hardened in seconds to change a drooping piece of heavy meat into a magnificent pole of gleaming stretched flesh. She kissed and sucked Leandro, the goddess in her quenched by the uncontrolled cries and gasps that he emitted. She swirled her tongue around the shiny, bulbous head, hardening the tip of her tongue to flick his shaft and balls. Gripping the base of his cock tightly in one hand she pressed it downwards towards his thigh, stretching the flesh further and making him groan before running her stiff tongue along the full length. She was putting on a show for the audience of one on the balcony above them. She sucked Leandro into her mouth again, moving her lips as far down the shaft as she could bear without gagging, and swished her tongue around him.

His body started to quake and she could feel his balls tightening so she quickly withdrew and grasped the base of his cock very tightly. “Not yet you don’t. You’ll regret it if you come before I tell you that you can.” She slapped his face playfully hard to make the point and hopefully stop his orgasm. It worked. His breathing calmed down and his balls relaxed.

“I don’t want your cum wasted,” she said, straddling his waist and lowering herself onto him. He slipped inside easily, they were both so wet. It felt amazing, a rigid pole of heat searing into her, burning exquisitely, stretching her, filling her.

She set the pace. With both hands resting on his chest she arched her back, pressed her hips forwards and started to rotate, lift and drop. She rose until just the head of his cock nestled in the folds of her gaping pussy, and then she slowly dropped and rotated, relishing the sensation of his heat penetrating her then leaving her, filling her, then she was empty save for a hot blossom of pressure at her entrance. She didn’t look at him while she fucked him. Her face was turned upwards towards the silhouette on the balcony. She wanted that lone voyeur to witness her ecstasy. She wanted him to see her flinch each time Leandro’s cock reached new depths, and then to see her sheer pleasure as she slid his shaft in and out of her hungry pussy. She wanted her husband to see another man invade the pussy that had belonged to him for so long. It was no longer his, it was hers, and she would do with it what she wanted, grant access to whoever she chose, gain her pleasure anyway she saw fit.

Leandro started to twitch inside her, and she could feel the tension in his thighs as she dropped onto him. The thought of this beautiful man spraying his hot seed into her womb brought her own climax closer. She started to work him really fast. There was less delicacy in her movement as she drove him deeper and deeper into her, faster, the rhythmic action necessarily shorter as her buttocks slapped against his thighs. When he cried out his ecstasy she dropped with all her weight onto him, driving him so deep that he penetrated her in a way she had never experienced before. Ice flooded through her, washing out from the centre of her being, followed by a burning wave of heat that forced her to cry out to the night sky. She suspected that everyone awake in the hotel would have heard that almost lupine howl, but she didn’t care. As long as Philip heard, he would know that she had just been brought to a unique crescendo by another man. This sent a second wave of intense pleasure through her body, that taboo thought intensifying the second climax to a cramping wave of muscles in her stomach, chest and neck. She slumped forward onto Leandro.

When her orgasm finally subsided and she felt Leandro’s member slip heavily out of her, she gently said “I have to go.”

He looked devastated. “Will you not stay the night?”

“Not tonight,” she said, and then after a moment’s hesitation, “Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see.”

As China reached her room she was increasingly nervous. The exhilaration of the recent fucking had started to subside and she was worried about Philip. What would he really be thinking? There was even the possibility that this could be the end of their marriage. How could she have been so stupid? Why take such a huge risk? She was angry at herself and at Philip.

The door was open, a sure sign that Philip knew she was on her way so had definitely been her silent voyeur. She could feel herself physically shaking. Her dress wasn’t on properly, it just wasn’t hanging right, her bra was in her hand, and her knickers were sticking to her. She wanted to cry at her own failure, at not being strong enough to resist temptation, over not resisting the chance to teach Philip a lesson, knowing it was just a hollow excuse to fulfil her own burning desires. But mostly she wanted to cry at the possibility of losing Philip, a husband that loved her so much but who wanted her to be fucked by strangers.

Tentatively pushing the door open and entering the room she was surprised to see Philip sitting up in bed with the light on. He smiled nervously at her, and a flood of relief washed over her as she knew that he wasn’t angry with her. She was still angry with him however.

“Well,” she said. “Are you happy now?”

“You were fantastic,” he whispered. He sounded out of breath and she saw that he was shaking uncontrollably.

She was torn. His compliment made her feel great, and she was so glad that he had enjoyed her show, but she wanted him to be angry. The conflict raged in her head as she tried to convince herself that his lack of jealousy meant he loved her less.

“Weren’t you just a bit jealous?”

“Oh yes. Very much so. But that made it even more intense.”

She was still struggling with this concept. For her, jealousy was a destructive emotion that should hold no pleasure at all. How could anyone gain pleasure from jealousy? But then she recalled the intensity and chaos of her feelings when she had watched Esta with Mark and she was even more confused. “You’re impossible,” she spat out, not knowing what else to say. She dropped her bra on the floor, noticing the passion in Philip’s eyes as he watched it fall. She walked over to the bed.

His eyes searched her neck and she knew that he could see the marks there. Looking in the mirror next to the bed she was shocked at how dishevelled she looked. The bruises were developing nicely on her neck. She hadn’t brought any scarves with her as she didn’t think she’d need any on this trip. It would be impossible to hide her disgrace. She had all but forgotten her earlier intention to proudly display these shameful marks on her flesh. But then again, was it really her shame? Surely this was Philip’s shame she was openly displaying on her skin. The obvious bite marks would tell a story to everyone who had seen her leave with Leandro earlier. And that story cast Philip in the role of pathetic cuckold, and her as the irresistible seductress. She was sure some would actually prefer to cast her in the role of leading slut, but as she never had to see these people again after this week she could live with their temporary misreading of the situation.

Studying herself further in the mirror she saw that her hair was in untidy disarray, her make-up darkly smudged, and her dress was torn on one shoulder. Her breasts were very clearly visible through the thin material. Damn, she had to admit she looked hot when she was a mess.

She looked back to Philip and saw his nostrils flare and his pupils widen as he detected the natural feral aromas that she had brought into the room. She smelt very strongly of Leandro. There was the cigarette smell that clung to her clothes now, the dreamy aroma of his powerful after shave, and above that all she could smell sex, his sex and hers. The sharp aromas of Leandro’s semen and her own sexual fluids were obvious.

“You like that smell do you?” she asked. He just nodded, still shaking.

She knelt on the bed in front of him, straddling his hips. “Lay down,” she said quietly. He responded almost as quickly as Leandro had when he had been commanded by his mistress, shuffling himself flat on his back between her legs. She was getting used to instant obedience.

She crawled further up the bed until her knees were either side of the top of his head, and lifted the ragged hem of her dress. “Let’s see how much you really do like it.” And with that she lowered herself slowly onto Philips face. She ground out her third climax of the night on his mouth, listening to the wet snuffling sounds of him struggling to breathe but desperate to compete with her recent suitor in providing his wife ultimate pleasure.

In the morning she decided she would tell him about Mark. She no longer feared losing Philip over her extra-marital desires. His reaction tonight had solved her earlier quandary.