Karma (15 page)

"Prepare yourself, for this will hurt,
ma petite,
"
he said, as he unclipped one of the biting metal clamps. Jennifer cried out,
her eyes flying wide with shock and surprise as the blood rushed back into her
nipples.

André laved and sucked, massaging with his hands. He did
the same to the other nipple. André took his time, gently licking, stroking and
soothing. Squeezing and caressing her breasts with his hands, his skilled
fingers
gently rolled and
tugged her sensitive flesh.

Jennifer's breasts and nipples were swollen and red,
evidence of the effect the clamps had made on her tender flesh. One of André's
hands trailed down, and two of his fingers penetrated into her depths with
slow, erotic control.

Watching, Marcy began to feel overheated in this small
room. Those eight screens were amazing – they each took in a different angle of
the scene. Jennifer's lust-filled expression, André's heavy lidded eyes, firm
lips and his no-nonsense control, and the sexy detail of what André was doing.

Holy shit,
Marcy thought as a long
forgotten aching sensation began between her legs. Something there was
throbbing. Her body felt hot and her skin tingled. Without thinking, she put
her hand down between her legs and began to touch herself. She imagined Mike
doing to her exactly what André was doing to Jennifer.

Jennifer gave a deep sigh and her hips arched. He moved
then, fingering her and rubbing her clit, faster now, yet still in a highly
controlled way. He brought her close to the edge, and then let her arousal
recede, close to climax, rest, close to climax, rest.

This torment went on for some time. The woman's chest
rose and fell in ragged, rapid breaths. Sweating and moaning for release, Jennifer
began to shamelessly beg and plead.

André was rock hard, yet he seemed to have no thought for
himself or his own sexual relief. "Your arms are cuffed over your
head," he said in a dark, sexy voice. "You are bound to my will,
Jennifer, no?"

Jennifer gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
"Oh, God yes," she gasped. "Yes, Sir!"

"Do you wish to come for me,
ma petite
?"
he asked, looking into her eyes.

"Please, oh please, yes Sir!"

André smiled. "This is my body," he said,
grasping her mound firmly. "I want to watch as it reaches orgasm. Do not
take your eyes from mine
, ma petite.
" The intent, commanding
expression combined with those firm lips on André's implacable face was
probably enough to make the woman climax on their own.

"Yes, Sir," she panted.

"Good girl," he said.

André's thumb was circling and stroking her clit. He had
three fingers deep inside her. The astute Frenchman was studying her, utterly
attuned to his sub. Was he aware of her arousal, and the sexual tension that
was building inside her? Could he feel it with his fingers? That exact point
where she was just on the peak of orgasm?

"Come, Jennifer," he demanded abruptly with an
authoritative voice. "Come for me now."

André thrust his fingers deeper, his hand slamming hard
against her sensitive entrance. His thumb pressed and flicked against her clit.
With the other hand he pinched one swollen aching nipple
hard
.

These added sensations clearly pushed Jennifer right over
the precipice.

The woman arched up and cried out with a deep, moaning
incomprehensible cry. Her face screwed up in a harsh grimace that looked something
like anguished suffering. But clearly whatever she was feeling it was far
removed from excruciating pain. Jennifer's hips jerked uncontrollably, wracked
with violent spasms.

Marcy stopped breathing for a moment when she saw the
woman's eyes roll back in her head.
Holy fuck!

Jennifer collapsed completely, her knees giving way. André
caught her before she injured her wrists. The muscles in her diaphragm rose and
lowered with every breath. Her intense orgasmic reaction went on for some time.

André held tight through her aftershocks. He soothed and
stroked Jennifer's skin in a lazy, yet caring manner.

"
Oui,
oui, bonne fille, belle fille,"
he murmured.
But
most of what he said was in French and Marcy couldn’t understand. The tone of
his voice was gentle, praising, soft and appreciative.

Whew!
Marcy figured that if that
was an orgasm, she really wanted one. She recalled André's words:
Never be
afraid to speak of what you crave.
That really hit home.

I've been a big chicken all my life,"
Marcy
decided
. Maybe not a chicken. When it comes to men and sex I've been more
like a mouse. Well, not anymore.

Marcy recalled Jennifer's astonishing orgasm, the pink flush
of her skin, the light sheen of sweat all over the woman's body and her eyes.

Suddenly thinking of that romantic comedy, "
When
Harry met Sally,
" Marcy giggled. While arguing in a Manhattan deli, the
actress Meg Ryan asserts that a man can't recognize when a woman is faking
orgasm. To prove her point, she fakes a climax as other diners watch. Then one patron
says, "I'll have what she's having."

Well, Jennifer's orgasm hadn’t been faked, but the
sentiment was the same. I'll have what she's having indeed. Man oh man, the
woman's eyes actually rolled back in her head! Marcy really wanted to
experience a climax just like that. Could she give one to herself? That seemed
incredibly doubtful. But could Mike give it to her?

With an abrupt whirring, the mechanism lowered Jennifer's
arms. André unhooked the cuffs from the chain, but left the cuffs on her
wrists. He held her by the waist as she stood on shaky legs. For some time he
let her recover, holding and stroking her. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

"Can you stand,
ma petite
?" he asked
kindly.

"Um?" Jennifer said with an obvious internal
glow. Her eyes were glazed and dilated with pleasure, her brain attempting to
get into gear.

"I asked if you can stand," he repeated.

"Oh. Yes, Sir." On trembling legs, she did so.

"Hands behind your back," he said. Jennifer
complied instantly.

"
Oui,
very good." André moved behind her and linked her cuffs together, trapping
her arms behind her. He moved back around to the front of her. Then he wrapped
his hand in her hair and pushed her lower. Jennifer went to her knees.

"Spread
your thighs further apart, Jennifer," he ordered. "I wish to see
everything."

"Yes,
Sir," she said and she did so, keeping her eyes on his.

"So
beautiful," he said holding her gaze and standing close – looming dominant
and dangerous above her. "The petals of your sex are pink and swollen. The
perfume and sight entices a man to taste and to lick such slick female essence.
You are stunning like this, flushed from an orgasm, open and available to your
Dom." He looked down at her with a fond, yet intent expression.

"
Ma
petite
, you are on your knees before me," he said in a softly. His
knuckles grazed down her face approvingly. "Tell me how it feels to be
kneeling before your Dom?"

"Remarkable," she said. "I feel sexy,
feminine and desirable. I just had an amazing climax, yet I'm so turned on
right now, just with the thought of pleasing you, Sir."

"You do please me," he said, rubbing her lips
with his thumb. Jennifer opened her mouth, and took his thumb inside her,
licking and sucking desperately, as if it was something else. André's soft
chuckle was deep with lust.

"Your nipples are red and swollen, aching to be
touched. Your beautiful buttocks are red from my crop. You are bound and
helpless, on your knees, waiting to serve me in any manner I wish. Nothing could
be more attractive. Your submission has made me very hard
, ma petite
."

"I'm glad, Sir."

"Jennifer, it is in your nature to please your
Dom," he observed. "It is who you are. Now tell me what you want.'

"Please, I want to suck you, Sir."

"Ah. Just so. Women have unfilled places, sad, empty
voids that ache for cock. Your mouth is such a place. Would you like to take my
cock inside your mouth, filling that emptiness inside you?"

Jennifer moaned, apparently too overwhelmed with this
erotic vision to speak.

"Would you like me to give you permission to suck my
cock?"

"Oh… God, yes please," she finally gasped and
then added, "Sir."

André stroked her face again in that fond, affectionate
manner that he had. "It is very well,
ma petite
. Do you suck your
husband?"

"Not often, Sir."

"Why not?"

"It's not the same with him," she said.
"He begs me to. You allow me to. I can't explain the difference."

"Charles will be taught how to dominate you,
ma
petite,
for I will instruct him." He laughed then, a sexy,
lighthearted sound. "He will learn how to make you sob and beg for the
privilege of sucking him,
je vous assure
. Together you and Charles have
love and children and respect for each other. After what I teach you both, you
will also enjoy excellent sex as well."

He took her chin in one strong palm. "How much do
you wish to have my cock inside you?"

"Oh, God," Jennifer moaned. "My mouth is
watering. I've never felt like this. I really want it, Sir. Please may I suck
you? Please?"

His chest shook slightly with his low laugh. "These
pleading words are a delightful song from your sweet lips,
ma petite
.
Being allowed to suck a Dom's cock is a great pleasure for a submissive. Do you
understand this now? When I say that it is in your nature to please your Dom?"

"Oh, yes, Sir."

Marcy watched as André lowered his zipper, taking the
rigid length of his erection in his right hand. With a hank of her hair in his
fist, he held Jennifer's head with the other. "Open your lips,
ma
petite,
and stay very still."

She did as she was told, and Marcy watched as he put his pulsing
shaft deep in her mouth. "You may suck me now." When her cheeks
pulled in and her mouth worked, André's eyes drifted shut for a moment in
pleasure.

"
Merde, oui
, that is good, very good,"
he said, petting her head. "That is right. Use your tongue,
oui
. I very
much enjoy the feel of your warm, wet and willing mouth,
ma petite
."

He tapped her on the chin as her eyes had lowered, away
from his face. When she looked up, his lips curved in that enchanting, gorgeous
smile of his. "Would you like me to allow you to swallow my seed?"

The urgent affirmative nod and sounds indicated yes. André
chuckled and removed his cock and Jennifer made a deep sound of protest. He put
it back inside his trousers and zipped himself back up.

"You have pleased your Dom,
ma petite
,"
he said, his voice husky and low. "You are a most willing submissive. Your
husband, Charles is a lucky man." he took her by the elbow and raised her
to her feet. Then he uncuffed her wrists. He walked her to the bed. "Lay
on your back, face up, for you have been very good."

André gave the woman a sensuous kiss that looked as if it
made her toes curl. "For your reward, I am going to fuck you."

Marcy paused the video. She had seen more than enough.

In three short weeks
everything
in her life had
changed, and she was changing, too. The array of emotions and sensations that
had been swirling around her suddenly fell into acute and painful focus. Her
skin was tingling, her pulse pounding, and she was short of breath. Her sex
throbbed, wanting relief.

Marcy had been here before. This was the place where her
body demanded that something happen, but it never did.

I need to fucking come, God damn it.

While Marcy found herself heated to boiling point, in
spite of the security room's excellent air conditioning, across town, Trent Berger
was completely unaware of the fire he had started with his wife.

Debra Berger couldn’t stop crying.

She had managed to keep a straight face, hiding her tears
until she made her way out to the pool and cabana, hiding from her household
staff.

While she loved her servants, they would still report back
to her father. Daddy always kept a close eye on her, even after she had been
married for three years. Debra couldn’t face her servants or her father right
now.

Debra
had been talking to Trent on the phone, simply asking him when he expected to be
home. But Trent had gotten angry with her and had called her a stupid cunt. A stupid
cunt! The shock of him saying such a terrible profanity to her made her head
swim.

Debra
could hardly even bring herself to
think
that horrid word!

An only child, Debra Berger had experienced a sheltered upbringing.
Five foot eight, blonde, and blue-eyed, she had the stunning features and
figure of a model. Debra had been the most popular girl at her expensive
private Christian school. She had also been one of the first students to sign a
virginity pledge and had worn a purity ring promising chastity until marriage.

That pledge unfortunately slipped during her college
years, when she foolishly gave herself to a young man that she thought she was
in love with. He had been really mean not long after he had gotten what he
wanted. He had called her a "gorgeous, gullible airhead." That had
been bad enough.

But for her husband to call her a stupid 'C'! She
flinched with the memory of it.

When Debra had met Trent she thought she had found love.
Trent was a much older man, a man of the world. He didn’t seem to think she was
stupid then. He had been thrilled with her views on morality, and had been
devoted, and charming. Trent told her that they would wait to make love. Wait
until they were married. Obviously he wasn't just after sex like the other younger
men were.

Trent also had a broken heart, and he had turned to Debra
with his sorrows. His story had been so sad!

Trent's wife had been terribly unfaithful, constantly off
having sex with a number of other men! His ex-wife, Marcy, was not a Christian
woman, and that was where Trent realized he had gone wrong. He never had a
proper Christian wife who would be loyal and true. While as a Christian, Debra
could never expect to be perfect, she would at least try her hardest to follow
the path of Jesus.

Trent had a daughter from his first marriage. He had
assured Debra that although he would always love and support the poor child, he
knew that little Katie was not the fruit of his own loins.

The whole idea of it scandalized her.

Daddy had been against her marriage with Trent. He wanted
her to be with a younger man, a man without an ex-wife. But as Debra had her
heart set on Trent, Daddy had given in.

Debra wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Daddy
would be wild with rage if he knew what Trent had said to her. He would be mad
at her, too. When her father got angry, which wasn't often, he was a little
scary. Debra loved her father, and didn’t want to let him down.

Maybe Trent was just having a bad day? But no matter how
bad a day he was having, there was no excuse for him to call her a stupid 'C.'

Unfortunately, this incident hadn't been the only thing
that had upset her.

So many little things didn’t add up, and now they were
coming to a head. She hated the porn Trent liked to watch, where the women were
degraded and heavily made up like something from
Sodom
and Gomorrah.

Why would a good Christian man enjoy that? Trent had sex
with her whenever
he
wanted, even if she didn't feel well. Trent would
quote from the bible:
"Wives be subject to your own husbands - for the
husband is the head of the wife."
He would also remind her that it was
her job to
"honor and obey."

Debra knew that she tended to be naive, yet it was
beginning to sink in that perhaps Trent didn’t really care for her. But why then
had he married her? Trent rarely went to church anymore. In fact he only seemed
to be Christian when it was in his advantage to be so.

This uncharitable thought overwhelmed her with guilt.
Wasn't it her job to be behind her husband 100%? What kind of wife was she, to
doubt him?

A colorful box of Kleenex tissues was placed in her lap,
and Debra raised her head.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Berger?" said a low, kind
voice.

Without waiting for a reply, the pool boy sat down next
to her. His name was Martin Quinn. He was a handsome young man, perhaps her age
with dark brown hair and golden brown skin. Martin wore cut-off jeans and a t-shirt.
Debra had chatted with him, but only a couple of times. She was embarrassed
about weeping in front of him.

"I'm fine," she sniffed, mortified at being
discovered crying.

"I won't tell anyone, I swear," Martin said,
somehow understanding her fear. "It's your husband isn’t it? He did
something to upset you?"

Debra couldn't believe her response. She just opened her
mouth and unloaded on Martin, explaining what had happened, telling him all her
doubts and fears. He was such a good listener. Martin sat through everything
she said, occasionally making encouraging comments. He seemed to understand
completely.

"I just feel so stupid. I waited so long. Do you
think I might have made a mistake? Do you think I married the wrong man?"

"You're not stupid," Martin said. "I've
been watching you, forever. I think you’re the most beautiful person in the
world. You're kind, and caring and upbeat. I don't think Mr. Berger deserves
you. I don’t think anyone deserves you!" Martin said vehemently.

"Really?" Debra said, instantly feeling much
better about everything.

In the end Martin and Debra talked for hours. She heard about
his love of animals. Debra loved animals, too. Martin had been putting himself
through veterinary school, and was on his final year. She learned about how his
parents had died in an accident when he was young, but he had been raised by
his grandparents who would love her because "they were the best people in
the whole world."

Martin and Debra both already went to the same church, so
they had a number of friends in common.

It was a small thing, this tiny little incident of an
upset wife and a kind friend luckily being right there, on hand to console her.
Yet small things sometimes had great consequences. Like a bite from a tsetse
fly, a match thrown in a dry forest, or a hairline crack in a dam. Who could
have imagined the outcome?

Even a tiny idea, at the right time or place, could
change the world – much less the lives of a few people, all unknowingly going
about their own business in Las Vegas…