Bad Girl (Les Pétales) Page 6

  We were ugly. We were lost. We were over.

  Entering the small bedroom in the mansion, I raged with anger. Jake had some nerve, and while I wanted to hate him, I just couldn't.

  But that didn't mean I had to speak to him, either. He betrayed my trust, and it would be a long time before I could forgive him. He placed his own needs in having me—before my needs—and that earned him a selfish card.

  I considered asking the girl if I could leave, but I didn't believe Jake was entirely lying about my safety. I had three simultaneous deals running at the same time. I was either crazy or stupid.

  With short dark chocolate hair, the girl looked at me with her large blue eyes. “Puis-je vous apporter quelque chose?”

  I blinked. Without a clue what she was saying, I shrugged and said, “American.” I smiled and blushed at how distracted I was. Realizing American wasn't a language, I corrected, “English.”

  “Non,” she lightly whispered and shook her head. She lifted her hand and departed the room. Shutting the door, she peeped back and offered a wink.

  I glanced around my surroundings. There was a twin bed, nightstand, chest of drawers, and desk with a bookcase. I peered out the curtain and noted the heavy iron bars on the window. My fingers slid across the fine-grained wood of the desk, and I noted the books on the shelf—books by Marquis du Sade, Sigmund Freud, and numerous other well-worn kinky books. I gasped in wonder as I immediately understood the one thing they all had in common.

  Oh. Shit.

  With the word sadomasochism floating in my head, I jumped at the sound of the door creaking open. A lovely strawberry blonde woman entered. She was approximately my age. I turned toward her, but hurried back and bumped into the desk. I was corned. Her eyes careened over my face, and she kissed me.

  Slow. Steady. Sensual.

  A peck.

  “Hello,” she whispered in English. Her accent was heavy, but I hoped we could at least converse. “My name is Parvati, but everyone calls me Lele.”

  “…That’s a beautiful name,” I complimented, repeating her name, “Parvati.”

  Her soft smile warmed my heart and provided reassurance that I would be okay. She was gorgeous, not showgirl stock or model perfection, but timeless. “My paternal grandparents were from India. They moved to London, where my father was born. There he met my mother and honored his history with my name, but please don’t use it. Call me Lele.”

  Curious, I inquired, “How did you end up in France?”

  “I met a man who showed me his London, and I fell in lust with it. Then he showed me his England, and I fell in love with it. And finally, he showed me his world, and it eternally changed mine.”

  I gasped in awe, “Wow…”

  “It has been a remarkable journey,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. I thought it strange. “Sir Dane is an incredible man. I’m certain you will meet him.”

  Shuffling my feet, I brushed my hair back. “Can you tell me what this place is?”

  “It is a place for love.” She glowed, smiling. “Are you hungry?”

  I tossed my head once as the last thing I could think about was eating. “Can you tell me where Jake is?”

  “He is preparing.” She extended her hand to reach for mine as she offered, “Let's go get you bathed. You've been traveling for a long while.”

  She hurriedly moved about the room and opened a door which led to the bathroom. I had assumed it was a closet. I heard the shower come on and shortly after that, she reappeared. “Get washed.”

  “I have no clothes.”

  “I will get you a temporary garment to wear.”

  I didn’t think much about her saying temporary garment as I imagined there was a glitch in translation. I took my time in the warm water and wrapped in a towel as she remained in the bedroom. She hadn’t brought clothes into the bathroom, so I peered out and saw her holding a folded turquoise piece of fabric. “Please, dress here.”

  Her tone was formal and authoritative. I had changed in front of plenty of girls before, but there was something in her stare sending paralyzing shockwaves through me. The temporary garment was similar to a smock or hospital gown. “Do you have no pants I can borrow?”

  “You won’t need them,” Lele clearly announced. “Follow me.”

  “This place is…” I stopped, unable to complete my sentence as we walked the halls of the old empty chateau to the gigantic kitchen. I was too stunned to comprehend. Too young. Too naive. I thought I knew many things, but as it turned out, I didn’t know anything.

  “Everything will be okay,” she comforted with a smile. “Please sit.”

  I pulled one of the heavy wooden chairs away from the table. With slight trepidation, I sat down and studied the space we inhabited. I considered where Jake might be in the vast mansion, but I didn’t honestly want to see him.

  Lele cut pieces of bread from a loaf and placed them on a plate she set before me. “Bon appétit.”

  She grabbed an apple and brought it with a paring knife to the table as I took a nibble of the crust. Holding the red flesh with her left hand, she proceeded to stab the skin with the blade, so that the knife was stuck inside of the upright sitting apple.

  “Show me how you cut it.”

  I furrowed my brow, uncertain by her actions. “… Why?”

  Failing to note the wooden spoon in her hand, I felt the immediate sting in my thigh as she popped me hard. “First rule. Don’t ask why.”

  Startled, I blinked and pushed the plate of bread away. I wanted to say something, but I was so stunned by her behavior—words escaped my capacity—no longer capable of any verbal communication.

  With her stern look, she commanded, “Cut the apple, Anna.”

  Picking the apple up by the knife, I proceeded to slice it into thin quarters as she observed my moves without a hint of emotion. I gathered the bits, reforming the sliced apple into a whole, pushed it in front of her, and let go. Pieces of the apple fell to the table in a perfect circle as she smirked.

  “There.”

  “He was right; you are a smart-aleck,” she declared, popping a piece of apple into her mouth. “Probably too much so for your own good.”

  Handing over a piece of the apple, she swooped her thumb over my finger as I said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I failed to understand what we were doing or where this was leading. “I’m only going to ask you this one time, so consider your answer carefully. Do you want the freedom to blossom as the apple did before me, Anna?”

  I didn’t actually know what I agreed to, but I heard the word freedom and instantly answered, “Yes, Lele.”

  “You agree to do everything I say. And if you need to cease, you say my name—Parvati. Do not call me by my given name unless you need to stop.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what I was thinking, but her offer sounded too good to be true. And while I didn’t plan on being sent off to a chateau in the dark woods of France to be submissive, I understood what was occurring. Jake quietly prepared my mind for this by giving me books. His deceit and betrayal ran deeper than I imagined.

  And it was there, in the kitchen of L’Académie, when I realized, I had no idea who the man I had given all of my trust even was.

  * * *

  Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed with my belly full of apple and bread as I watched Lele shut and lock the door. It didn’t matter to her if I had charted over the globe for two days or feared for my life or Jake—bless his soul—brought me here and disappeared. It didn’t matter if I was tired or grumpy or needing to cry.

  If I came to be alone, I came to the wrong place.

  Lele inched closer to me. “You will see Jake again soon.”

  “I'm not thinking about him.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I wasn't sure what I should say, so I went for honest. “How I ended up here in this place.”

  She must have noticed my enchantment of the bookshelf as she gripped m
y hand and whispered, “L’Académie is where you surrender to the love. You have been given this gift of time. Explore its richness and expand your experiences. Don't hold yourself back. And don't think about becoming the books on the shelf, write your own story, Anna.”

  Flicking my eyes to her, I relished in her understanding temperament. Her introduction did little to appease my nerves, but her lips did plenty as she kissed me slowly.

  In sheer exhaustion, I fell into the trance of her mouth as we tumbled back onto the bed, and I allowed her seduction. My breath sped up as I mumbled against her lip, “Tell me about the experience of this French academy…”

  Like a wave, her fingers fluttered against the skin of my thigh and threatened to submerge into the depths of me. “Can you imagine…” Her words paced and rhythmic matching her touch. “Jake with a paddle in his hand? Or worshipping your body for hours on end?”

  I gasped as my hips lifted. I wanted her fingers inside of me—finding the bliss and bringing forth the beauty that I had been missing.

  “Please,” I begged, licking my lips. “Please, Lele.”

  “Please what?”

  “Don't stop,” I muttered, which was not exactly what I wanted to say. Her fingers teased against my swollen lips. “Fuck me.”

  Her hands wrinkled the gown up, and I pulled it the rest of the way off. Her mouth engulfed my nipple and suckled it to a peak as I bucked against her hand demandingly. She refused to give it to me, so I changed the script and rolled her over on her back.

  Straddling her midsection, I unbuttoned her blouse and smiled at the heft of her breasts. I filled my hands with their ripeness and lightly pinched at her nipples. She swatted my ass with her hand. “Harder, bitch.”

  “Yes,” I eagerly replied, locking my thumb and forefinger around the nubs and pulling taut. Her hand dropped between us, and she rubbed my clit. I closed my eyes and moaned.

  “Are you thinking about Jake fucking you?”

  “When don't I think about Jake?” I cried out as I tried to keep up with her moves. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How good you would taste on my lips…”

  Her hands gripped my ass and urged me forward as I straddled over her face. She licked me from my clit to my ass. I had never experienced anything quite so enjoyable. Within seconds, I climaxed on her tongue.

  “You will meet with Sir Dane, tomorrow,” she whispered, savoring the glistening wetness on her lips. “I think, he's going to like you.”

  Burning Petals

  CHAPTER 6

  Lele stayed the night in my room. I started to believe it was part of her job, initiating the innocent into the academy. She had escorted me to the library, but calling it such didn't do it justice. The massive space contained thousands of books. So many in fact that there would be no way ever to read them all.

  The door opened, and a man in a white coat appeared. He was startlingly good looking with a dangerous grin that spoke of mischief and mayhem. He was tall with dirty blonde locks, a distinct, angular jawline, and ocean blue eyes. “Good Morning, Anna. I'm Dr. Phillipe Kerris. I'm here to conduct your exam.”

  I feared to correct him as I said, “I'm here to meet with Sir Dane?”

  Closing the file, he smirked at me. “I am Sir Dane. But right now, I'm Dr. Kerris.”

  “You're an American…with a half French name?”

  “I am,” he said, uncovering a padded table close to the bookshelves. “My mother is French, and my father is American.” He popped his hand on the leather. “Come here.”

  Trembling, I stepped closer, and he extended his hand as his kind deep blue eyes filled my insecure bubbles with relief. “Is this much anxiety normal?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Keeping my eyes on the floor, I blurted out, “Jake told me I was in danger to get me here. He lied.”

  He stepped closer and carefully lifted the gown over my head. “Jesus…” he mumbled under his breath. I couldn't tell if something was right or wrong. I peered over my shoulder and noted his sexy gaze. I wasn't a fool; I knew by the look what had him so distracted.

  “I've been a Vegas showgirl for three years…”

  “That explains the physique.” He grabbed his pen and pad making notes. “Any pregnancies?”

  “No.”

  “Any issues with pain, restraint, or forced behavior?”

  I thought of the night with Angelo, but I also acknowledged I needed to move beyond that point. “No.”

  “… Sir,” he corrected, snapping his pen on my ass.

  “Yes.”

  “Say Sir after you answer, Anna.”

  Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I exposed my breasts for his viewing and smirked. “Dr. Kerris, I'm aware of what you want me to do.”

  “You're intentionally misbehaving.”

  “Yes,” I giggled as he stripped off the white coat and dress shirt.

  With nothing on but black, loose-fitting trousers, he said, “Sir Dane will see you now.”

  I bit my lip and lifted onto the ball of my feet as I shifted my buttocks out slightly. “Took you long enough, Dr.” I winked.

  “You are trouble, missy.”

  “… You don’t say?”

  He snarled and turned the front of my body to the table. My fingers clenched against the slippery tanned hide. “Ever been whipped?”

  “No…Sir.”

  “Would you like to be?”

  Turning my head, I kept my eyes lowered until he noticed me, at which point, I lifted my lids suggestively. “I guess it would depend on who did it.”

  “Let’s see how you do with a little scene.” At that exact moment, two men walked in with full masks on. Immediately, I tensed up at not knowing who I was playing with. “If you do well this morning, we will start your formal training in the dungeon this evening.”

  I wanted to say something—anything really, other than Parvati—but I wasn’t sure what. The men were confident and foreboding dressed in dark slacks. They were similar in height and built with slick torsos weeping of muscles that I desired to lick and touch. The heat between my legs was like a blazing fire as I accepted my fate.

  Jake had known this secret part of me that even I had failed to acknowledge. I was starved, ready for humiliation and torture all so I could be fed the feast of my pain and flutter in their pleasure.

  The keenest observers of our needs were often the most intimate ones. The ones we never expected to want but a lustful need dripped with a heady intoxicant of desire. And it was there in the droplets of desire where ecstasy bloomed. And I chased the dew.

  There was no other choice but to succumb to the passion.

  Sir Dane took a seat in a crushed red velvet chair near the window. “These men will be working you over. If you need to stop at some point, you know the word.”

  “I do, Sir Dane.”

  “Good girl,” he praised as the men flanked either side of me.

  The man to my left produced an apple and pressed it to my lips. I kissed the tough peel and sank my teeth into it as he let go and suspended the apple between my lips.

  “You are a remarkably quick study, Anna,” Sir Dane remarked as he crossed his legs. “Or will that be slave Anna?”

  Rolling my eyes, I tried to smirk. If I could be in the top tier of showgirls, then I could do this. I was competitive like no one else—I wanted to be the best girl on the floor, the most adored amongst the mafia, and the kindest to my peers—it was who I was. And this was a challenge worth taking.

  As a side note, I should say that in over six decades of servitude that most bottoms are competitive, not in the same way as athletes, but not much different, either. They liked a friendly spar amongst themselves.

  I knew when I saw you two together how well matched your Dominant masochist, and her submissive brat would be.

  You were quite simply meant to be.

  Standing with an apple between my teeth, I was bare-assed naked in a room of three men as I waited for these two to hav
e their way with my flesh. The one on my right hoisted my bottom up onto the table. My palms were sweating. My mouth tasted of cotton.

  And all they did was have a scene with one another.

  L’Académie was heaven compared to the hell I’d put myself through for three years. Every moment had a purpose. Every lash had an impact greater than a welt. Every word spoken held the weight of a heartbeat.

  And I learned timing was everything.

  Those heartbeats were time—a priceless currency—for which every second mattered. Those lashes were declarations of love. And every purposeful moment pushed me to think and react accordingly.

  Lightly I rocked my tucked ankles together as I was privy to their dance—a caning and anal sex. I had never witnessed such an act between two men. It was foreign.

  Exotic. Sensual. Erotic.

  I learned so much that day in my study of body language without depending on expression to convey the message — the first of many lessons, all set to test my limits and push my boundaries. I imagined if I had turned my nose up at the bucking of them, I would have been politely and respectfully escorted to the door to find my way home.

  But as I stared with such virgin curiosity, I longed to relieve myself as the ache between my thighs demanded—drenching and throbbing—at me with every thrust of their hips and grunt from their lips.

  When Sir Dane finally removed my body from the table, I left a puddle. He spotted the wetness and smirked as he picked up the beat where we left off. “Now, how do you know Jake lied?”

  * * *

  The truth was I didn’t know.

  I guessed, but guessing in the confines of a French chateau was a terrible idea. I spent the afternoon in what Sir Dane referred to as an early punishment phase. I cleaned the toilets.

  And there were many, many toilets.

  I lost count at a dozen.

  To keep me company, he sent Lele along to stand over the top of my naked, kneeled body. It was mortifying.

  Demoralizing. Humiliating. Degrading.

  And I loved every second of it.