Fanchon's Book(36)

I moved to obey, dazed, bewildered frustrated tasting her and wanting more. But before' I could turn the faucets I heard the trickling splash behind me and for the first time I felt something like embarrassment and was actually relieved when I got the water gushing noisily into the tub. Still, I couldn't resist the urge to swing my head around and look at her. At her beautiful face. At her lovely naked body. At my mistress my owner my princess my goddess-and somehow I was no longer embarrassed by her wickedness' after all hadn't I knelt before that toilet as if it were a throne? Yes, and I would be there yet if she hadn't stopped me, fight there in front of her, cringing at her feet, burrowing between her thighs, sucking, sucking-if she hadn't sent me away…

"Hey, what the hell are you staring at? Pay attention to your work, damn you. Don't be such a glutton. Don't worry, you hungry bitch, you'll get all that's coming to you. And aren't you lucky?-this is only our first night here."




Chapter 12

A many-textured thing, that was our love. What would the new day bring? More of last night's madness?

Ah yes, more, more, more-and madder? But the joy of the moment was joy enough: the joy of waking up and remembering, of seeing the four walls of our insular world, of feeling the intimate presence of my beloved, of knowing we were on a holiday and wouldn't have to wait until nightfall; hmm, wouldn't it be interesting to experiment in broad daylight?

Now?

Not that daylight seemed broad, exactly, I could make out the mid-afternoon hands of the clock, but only gray weather filtered through the window blinds. Our "rainsquall" must have decided to stick around. Or spawn progeny. Still, who needed bright and cheery atmosphere? Not we two, certainly, not for our kind of love, no, I could already taste the darkness of my desire. The memory of last night was on my lips as much as in my mind.

Beside me, naked legs gracefully askew, Kristi slept. I bent and sniffed deeply, filling my flaring nostrils with the intoxicating musk-aroma. Need surged in my loins: awake, my darling, awake and let me love you but she remained untouched by my plea, the loosely tossed limbs quiescent, their beauty a temptation, their pose a challenge.

Did I dare?

I dared. With more bravado than bravery, I slid to the foot of the bed, tense, breathless; aware of the possibility that she might wake up angry. But it.was a calculated-risk that struck only minor terror in my ambitious heart-even in anger my beloved could be captivating: she wore the-mood like a royal mantle. Anyway, the consequence could hardly be more dire than my need. And if I drew her from sleep slowly enough, carefully, delicately, she would probably be pleased…

Her feet were soft. My lips paid a lingering tribute. Soft and clean and perfumed; hadn't I bathed and scented them myself? So dainty-but cruel too at times; last night she had crushed me to the floor with her foot on the back of my neck, not once but often; it was one of the things I recalled most vividly. That and the finger-snapping, the peremptory signal she had used in conditioning me to instant obedience-all part of what she called my "training"-nor could I forget how she had finally united both tokens of servitude to evoke the groveling ritual with no command other than the wordless snap of her fingers. The thought turned me hot with humiliation; such a shameful thrill! and almost instinctively I ducked my head and relived it, rubbing the nape of my neck against the sole of her foot.

"Mm… Fanchon?"

"Oh. I-I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's all right. No, don't stop. I like that. Hmm, I must have trained you well last night, you do it so naturally." She flexed her knee and stroked my face with her toes. "Ooh, your skin is warm. Are you excited, dear?"