Inferno Anthology (14 page)

“We are,” Errol said, turning the kitchen table around to sit down and face her. “In a way…now strip. I need you naked for this, Taryn.”

Taryn unbuttoned her shirt slowly, tossing her shirt onto a chair while Errol watched. She unzipped and peeled down her jeans, leaving her standing in front of Errol in just her lace bra and sheer panties. Her mind still on Madame Xaviera’s seductiveness, Taryn suddenly felt inadequate and unattractive in front of Errol.

“Now,” Errol said, “take off everything.” His voice was firm and commanding, not at all like a lover.

“I don’t…” Taryn started saying. She unhooked her bra and was letting it slide off when she covered herself back up.

Errol was in front of her in a swift moment, his hand, pulling her hand off of her bra. “Don’t cover up,” he said. His lips hover over her ears. “Don’t cover up your magnificent breasts, Taryn.”

“But they’re not so…so…large…voluptuous like…” Taryn dropped her chin to her chest.

“What is it? Something happened in class?” Errol put his hand to her shoulder.

She shook her head and nodded.

“Yes? No? Maybe?”

The playful tone of his voice was wonderful to hear, but not enough to pull Taryn out of the dark mood she’d allowed herself to slip into. Xaviera was getting to her, in every way possible, and she didn’t know how to cope with it. New to this game of love, lust and eroticism, she wasn’t equipped to compete with a woman like Xaviera.

Errol turned her to face him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

The burn of tears stung her eyes as she looked up at him. She clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling, while a ball of hurt crammed her throat.

“It’s Xaviera, isn’t it?”

She shot him a quizzical gaze. “How d’y…?”

“Xaviera has always had a talent for annihilating any other women in the room… in the building… hell, in the city. What happened?”

Taryn shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Come on. I know her. I know you.”

“What do you know about her that would make you think she’d specifically target me?”

The playful grin faded and his gaze turned thoughtful and concerned. “You think she specifically targeted you? Only you?”

“I don’t think it, Errol. She
did
target
only
me. She was a sweetheart to all the guys in the class and was minimally polite to the other girls… but me?”

“What did she do?”

“She humiliated me in front of the whole class. She taunted me for not knowing…”

“For not knowing what?”

Frowning, Taryn turned to grab the stupid ball thing off the counter. “For not knowing what this damned thing is for.”

“Ah, yes.” Errol took it from her hand. “This is used to…”

“I know what the thing is for now,” Taryn growled.

Setting the instrument back on the counter, he pulled Taryn into his arms. “Don’t let her get to you. It’s a silly game she enjoys playing. She enjoys the torment of others. If she sees she’s getting to you, it’ll only get worse. She has that mean-streak in her. One might even call her a bully.”

Taryn pulled back to look at him. “Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“About us?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t tell her anything, but she probably suspects. She’s good at picking up on things like that.”

“She wants you, doesn’t she?”

He shrugged again. “Could be.”

Feeling defeated, Taryn dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t compete with someone like her.”

“Who said anything about competing?”

She met his gaze.

Errol grasped her shoulders, shook her playfully and kissed her brow. “Enough of this for now. I’ll pour you a glass of wine, you’ll sit back and relax a bit and dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes. How does that sound?”

Taryn sensed there was more to it than just that, but she didn’t argue or question. Sitting down with a glass of wine sounded good and she longed to put Madame X out of her mind.

After a cozy dinner of
pot-au-feu
, Errol and Taryn lingered at the table over a last glass of wine. They’d avoid any conversation that could bring them back to Xaviera, but the question continued to gnaw at Taryn. Was Errol going to have an affair with her? Had it already begun?

“Now feel better?” Errol asked as he rose to clear the dishes.

Taryn nodded slightly before she rose to help him, but he shook his head and gestured to her seat. “Wait here.”

A few moments later she felt a strange sensation on the back of her shoulders. “What are…?”

“Close your eyes,” Errol ordered. He reached around to unclasp her bra then pulled it off her shoulders.

Once again she felt a strange, but pleasant sensation as something rolled along her back.

“What instrument could possibly create such a sensation on your skin?”

A gentle, probably fluted wheel ran smoothly back and forth. “A pastry trimmer.”

“Not bad.” He set the tool on the table.

Keeping her eyes closed, she waited a moment.

“Now this.”

She felt a gentle but sharp pounding on her back.

“Hurt?”

“Barely.”

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“A meat tenderizer.”

“Right.”

Another moment of silence passed before a sharp scraping sensation passed across her back. “That could be a lot of things. A spatula?”

He passed from shoulder to shoulder. “Feel the width.”

She concentrated on the slow passing of the instrument. “A dough scraper?”

“Good.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. You’ve graduated to the next level.” He guided her to the couch, but before she sat down, he slowly and meticulously took off every stitch of clothing she had on. Grinning, he said, “The better to help you feel every movement of every tool.”

“Right,” she said knowingly.

“Lie down and close your eyes.”

She did as she was told, then Errol took her hands and set them on the armrest above her head. Moments later she felt a funny prickling sensation across her belly.

“I have no idea,” she confessed.

He passed the instrument slowly over one breast, dipped into the valley then up and over the other breast. She nearly opened her eyes, the sensation was so strange and foreign.

“You’re not concentrating on what it could be.”

“It’s funny. It tickles.” She concentrated. “This is another pastry thing, isn’t it?”

“Could be.”

“A roller docker… or dough prickler?”

“Right again.” He set it down and quickly brought out the next test.

Three dull blades plied at her skin in unison. “That’s easy,” she said. “A pastry blender.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this?”

Two slightly sharper blades rocked back and forth over her thigh. “One of those things you use to chop herbs.”

“The name?”

“Oh, something weird and funny.”

“Like?”

“Mezzanine?”

“Close.”

“Mezza… something.”

“You got half of it right. Think of the moon.”

“The moon?” She rifled thought her culinary vocabulary. “The moon… lunar? Oh, I know. Mezzaluna!”

“There you go.”

Seconds later she felt a vaguely oval pressure on her upper thigh. It cut lightly into her skin, like… a… heart. “A cookie cutter,” she said.

“Too easy.”

She heard the tinkling of metal against metal as she waited.

“You’ll never get this one.”

Cold metal touched her breast, surrounding her nipple.

“A guess?” he offered.

“Too vague.”

“Here’s a hint.”

A strangely erotic sensation ran through her as something cool and hard prodded her nipple while the rim of metal remained on her skin. “That’s… odd.”

“Again?”

She nodded, partly to better discover what the instrument was, but also to feel that sensation again. The prodding motion repeated itself several times.

“I like it,” she finally said, “but I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Want to touch it?”

She brought her hands up, but he pushed them back down. “Not with your hands.”

Frowning, she didn’t understand where he was going until she felt the cold metal on her lips. She smiled as he gently nudged the instrument into her mouth. Running her tongue along the instrument, she tried to imagine what it looked like.

“Watch your tongue,” Errol warned.

The prod that’d aroused her nipple now worked its way to the center of the circular metal rod.

“The only thing I can think of,” she said, “is a cherry pitter.”

“Ooh, what a talented tongue you have there.”

She grinned behind her closed eyes as he set the pitter down and picked something else up. She heard a short, sharp intake of air then a tight suction pulled at the skin of her belly. “Hmmm. That’s strange.”

“I know you know this one.”

She felt nasty and dirty as the thought hit her. Of course she knew what it was… a baster. But she was curious to feel that sucking, suction sensation… elsewhere. “Try again,” she whispered.

He knew her too well. In the next instant the suction pulled on an already erect nipple. An excited gasp escaped her and her eyes flew open for the briefest second.

“Oh, you like that one, don’t you?”

“You surprised me, that’s all.” She tried to leave the lust out of her voice, but it still sneaked in.

“Well then, how’s this for a surprise.” He brought the baster to the sensitive nub of skin between her thighs.

“Oh, shit,” she cried out as she brought her hands down.

Errol quickly stopped her from touching the implement and brought her hands back over her head. “Don’t make me have to tie you up.”

Repeatedly he pushed the air out of the baster and set it on her to suck. “Too much pleasure can get redundant,” he finally said as he pulled it away. “We need to find something that will… bring another dimension to your senses. In the meantime, what instrument of the kitchen was able to bring such rapturous cries of pleasure out of you?”

She smiled. “A baster.”

“Like a turkey baster?”

She cracked her eyes open and glared at him. “What are you implying?”

He chuckled and put his hand over her eyes. “Never mind. Onto the next…”

A light tickling sensation ran over her wrists. Three times the light touch passed over her skin before Errol lifted her hands and put something under her wrist. Then she felt the unmistakable tug of rope binding her.

“Twine?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice suddenly losing its playful appeal. “Ready for that other dimension?”

Taryn hesitated. “Like what?”

In addition to being bound together, Taryn’s hands were secured to something that kept her from bringing her hands down in front of her.

“Do you trust me?”

Again, she hesitated.

“Just in case…” Something light and airy brushed across her face.

“A dishcloth?”

“Close.”

“Cheesecloth?”

“Perfect.” He set the cheesecloth over her eyes and reached under her head to knot it tightly.

“Errol?”

“Trust me,” he whispered into her ear. His hand clamped over one ankle and he pulled it up and secured it to the backside of the sofa with another cheesecloth, leaving her feeling vulnerable and over exposed. “Forget everything you hear. Forget everything you’ve seen. Forget everything you’ve tasted. Forget everything you can touch. Just feel.”

Taryn felt the sharp slap of something rigid yet pliable against her thigh. A surprised yelp escaped her.

“Like I said, too much pleasure can become redundant. Your mind, your body, your skin needs a more intense source of stimulation.”

Again the sharp slap on her inner thigh brought out a yelp.

“What implement could cause such delicious pain, Taryn?”

The sharp slap burned across her belly.

“A spatula?” she hissed.

“Too easy.” He tossed it aside.

A sound smack reverberated on her upper thigh. Already she could envision the red welt. Swallowing, she wondered how far he would take this.

“What is it, Taryn?” Errol asked as he brought it down again on her forearm.

She winced and brought in a sharp breath. “Something hard. Something inflexible.”

“You’re thinking too much. Just feel it.”

Another smack came to her shoulder. “A wooden spoon,” she cried out.

“That’s my girl.”

“Errol…”

“A little reprieve from the pain, love?”

“Yes.”

He rolled something along her leg, starting at her ankle and rolling up to her knee. The implement had ridges or grooves and wasn’t quite round as it seemed to deviate from a straight course.

“I don’t know,” Taryn said.

“Maybe this will help.”

He turned the tool upward and Taryn immediately felt its sharp point. Not the sharpness of a knife, but the pointed end of…? She couldn’t quite imagine. Several times Errol rolled it from its rounded outer edge to the point and back to the rounded edge again.

“Now?”

She shook her head. “It almost feels heart shaped.”

With a light touch, he trailed the point up the inner thigh of the leg that was pulled up to the side of the sofa. Slowly, he introduced the tool to her moistened lips.

“Errol?” Though strongly aroused, she feared his next move.

“Let go and trust me,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

He gently nudged the tool in. It was wider, broader, bigger than she’d initially thought. Licking her lips, she surrendered to the odd yet pleasurable sensations the strange tool brought her.

Errol pulled it out, ran it along her lips then returned to push it in a little deep. With a gentle hand he rotated the implement inside her. She felt the workings of the ridges, the ebb and flow of pressure. Still rotating, he repeatedly pushed it in further then brought it out.

Surprised by how much pleasure the strange instrument brought her, she raised her hip to meet it with greater force.

“Don’t move,” Errol ordered.

Using every ounce of restraint, she remained still, losing herself in the solitary sensation of his tool.

“And if we add this?”

Something warm, moist and gently firm brushed along her lips just outside the rotating ridges inside. Errol’s lips and tongue were on her, while he continually plunged into her with the instrument.