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Rossignol	By : Savaial Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5240 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Rossignol
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 18-Ch 18
- 19-Ch 19
- 20-Ch 20
- 21-Ch 21
- 22-Ch 22
- 23-Ch 23
- 24-Ch 24
- 25-Ch 25
- 26-Ch 26
- 27-Ch 27
- 28-Ch 28
- 29-Ch 29
- 30-30- Epilogue
- 28
- 29
- 30
“I hope you don’t mind the potato soup for breakfast instead of dinner,” Erik said, placing a bowl in front of me. “And I hope you’re ready for guests. I heard Christine’s alarm bell a few minutes ago.” He sat beside me, handing me my spoon and a large chunk of fresh bread. Without seeming to consider it, he took his mask off, placing it to his other side on the table.

Warmed by his apparent ease, for I had thought perhaps he would go uncovered only in the bedroom, I leaned against his side for a moment. “I’d rather they didn’t intrude on our honeymoon, but he is my brother and they do mean well.”

Erik’s thin lips pulled back into a smile. “Celeste, this isn’t a honeymoon, nor will we ever have one. I don’t have a birth certificate or even a last name; no one would wed us.”

“I don’t care.” I bit into my bread, watching him as I chewed. “We’ll forge our children’s birth certificate and make up a last name for them.”

“You… want my children?” Erik’s hands grew still over his soup.

“If I didn’t I’d hardly allow you to come inside me,” I pointed out. To my surprise and delight, Erik blushed. His golden eyes darted to me, then swiftly darted back to his meal. “I…have herbs to prevent and solve that,” he said quietly. “I assumed you knew or that you trusted me not to get you with child.” His hand curled over the heavy silver spoon and bent it with frightening ease. “After all, you could bear a monster.”

“I’ll take a smart child over a handsome one,” I said dryly. “Besides, you’re discounting the deChagney blood. There hasn’t been an ugly deChagney since 1587.”

I startled Erik into laughter. Smiling, he fixed his spoon and dipped it into the soup. His smile died slowly though, and he looked to me again. “I would marry you today if I thought I could,” he vowed softly. “Your brother made it clear he expected me to do so. Do you think he has influence enough to make that a reality?”

“Raoul would twirl the world if only I asked him nicely enough,” I said with a smirk.

Erik matched my smirk.

We only had enough time to finish our meal and go into the parlor before the knocking came. Erik opened the door. Raoul and Christine came in. From Christine’s wary, gauging look toward my lover I knew Raoul had informed her of what he’d seen, or at least part of it. Erik offered them both tea. In a few minutes we were all seated comfortably and looking at one another covertly. I caught Christine’s eye and winked. Her eyes widened. Swiftly, she suppressed a smile and looked down at her feet.

I took the initiative. Getting to my feet, I glanced at Erik and Raoul. “I want Christine’s opinion on a new dress,” I said, holding out my hand to the diva. She jumped on the excuse.

“The green velvet?” She murmured, as if she knew what I was talking about. Both men fell for it. Erik could not remember if I’d ever mentioned anything about a green velvet dress, nor could he recall if he’d ever had one made for Christine. I saw him process this and decide he wasn’t up for women’s talk. Raoul merely assumed all was as it should be and quickly moved his mind to other matters.

Christine practically attacked me the second my door was shut. “What happened?” She leaned toward me, her face alit with excitement. “You seduced him, didn’t you?”

“A few times,” I replied, smiling broadly. “Oh Christine, far be if for me to shortchange my own brother, but I’m sure you chose wrongly; I will reap the benefits from your poor choice.”

Christine’s lips slanted into a peculiar, winsome smile. “Oh, I knew he’d be a magnificent lover, any woman could intuit that. I was just unsuited for him and I knew it.” She opened my closet and began rummaging around with energy. “There is a green velvet dress in here. We’ll need to show them the thing we’re so determined to discuss.”

I watched her a moment. She looked tense.

“Are you sure this doesn’t bother you?” I asked suddenly. “You don’t- you don’t still have feelings for Erik, do you?”

“Not in that way,” Christine murmured. “I dearly love your brother and nothing will ever change that.” She sighed. “No, it isn’t that I wish I was in your place, I’m very glad I’m not. Erik is intense.” She pulled out a suitable dress and threw it on the bed. “I’m also glad that he’s met a woman who is enough like him to deal with his…uniqueness. I’ve always been in favor of the two of you becoming a pair.”

“Then why are you so nervous?” I moved closer to her. “Are you afraid of me?”

“A little,” she confessed, daring to look at me. “You’re like him. You have that same cold ruthlessness. It is like a halo around you tonight. I knew you’d mated to him the second I looked at you.” She twisted the hem of her dress like a little girl. For a brief second I saw her only with the clarity of a stranger, and I almost found her repugnant. She was childish, like Raoul.

But, Christine was still Christine. She was no less a valuable being for her shortcomings than I was, or Erik for that matter. If she could reach out to me despite her fear, she was worth swallowing a bit of distaste. I moved away, retreated to the old writing desk in the corner. She needed space.

“I could fuck Erik until my uterus fell out,” I said.

Christine pinched her lips together. Suddenly, she burst out into giggles. They were infectious. I joined her in the hilarity only a moment later.

“Oh Celeste,” Christine gasped, “how very rude!"

“It’s true,” I protested. “He’s magnificent. I’ve had two orgasms to his every one.”

“Really?” Christine stopped laughing, her face assuming a thoughtful mien. “Raoul tries to match ours but he isn’t always successful. Sometimes I’d really rather not have him sweating and grunting overtop me.”

I thought that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard and strived not to show it. “Perhaps it becomes routine after a time,” I suggested, keeping my face straight.

“Maybe, but I think it’s more like I’m just not very interested in it,” Christine said slowly. “I never was, you see. But I always satisfy Raoul, which is my duty.”

I felt glad she saw to my brother’s needs but I wondered how on earth anyone could find intercourse with the right man a mere duty. I went to the bed and looked down at the green dress. “He wants to marry me,” I said.

“Of course he does,” Christine replied. “He loves you.”

“I know.” I looked up at her. “And I love him.”

“It shows.” Christine held up the dress. “Put it on. Our excuse will hold water if they see it.”

I stripped off my morning dress and donned the green one. Christine grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser and frowned at the empty glass frame. “You can’t even see yourself,” she scolded.

“I see myself through someone else’s eyes,” I answered. “I don’t need a mirror.”

*************************************************************************************

“I don’t need to ask if he’s dead, do I?”

DeChagney’s words lifted me out of a momentary lull, a lull in which I called to mind the feel of Celeste’s lips upon my own. I glanced at the vicomte, feeling drained. “He’s dead.” I almost set my tea aside, but then I simply surrendered to my inner demon and took off my mask to drink. To the vicomte’s credit, he didn’t bat an eye.

“And his body, or what is left of it?”

“Still on the lakeshore.”

“Aren’t you afraid to leave it there?” DeChagney grimaced into his cup.

“The rats will eat it.” I added a lump of sugar to my tea. “My house is well protected; no one will get in here that doesn’t have my permission.”

“How well I know it,” DeChagney murmured.

“I want to marry your sister,” I blurted out.

“I know that too,” the man smiled tightly. “And she wants you.”

“Apparently.”

“So what will you do about it?” Raoul shifted in his seat, eyeing me as if he expected me to bolt out of the room. “I can hardly approve of the two of your marrying, given what I know of you and what I’ve seen of Celeste’s history, yet I am in no position to stand in your way. Celeste and Christine have both expressed to me what I can expect if I become a hindrance to this situation. My own marital bliss will evaporate like morning fog and my sister will disown me.”

“We are prepared to live in sin, nevertheless,” I pointed out.

“I couldn’t stop that either,” Raoul replied grimly. “However, if you think you’ve seen the worst of the kind of interference I am capable, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“Yes, you’re good at bothering, aren’t you?” I coolly sipped my tea.

“Almost as good at bothering as you are at killing,” Raoul answered. “But I’d rather not reduce our interactions to aggressive one-upmanship, not this time.”

“Good, because not only is it useless, I have more important things to think about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as how to make sure Celeste never has an unhappy moment ever again.”

Raoul laughed out loud. “Monsieur Ghost, that is very naïve of you,” he chuckled. “No woman is happy all of the time. You might as well make it your goal to curtail your violent temper, or to join Canute in his quest to hold back the tide.”

“It is a noble goal,” I reply, unamused.

Raoul gave me a solemn look. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions, says Christine.”

“Then shall damnation prove the path to salvation?” I asked bitterly.

Raoul leveled his eyes. “In your case, and even Celeste’s, it might,” he replied softly. “Make no mistake. I see how she is. I am uncomfortable with how very alike the two of you are proving to be. I used to think you were making her into your image. Now I wonder if she is not making you into hers.”

“I do not seek to change your sister,” I argued, tearing at a loose bit of thread in my chair. The boy seemed full of ambiguity tonight, of aimless, verbose wandering.

“You are naïve, aren’t you?” Raoul smiled hatefully. “After a time you will not know where you end and she begins. It’s started already; you just don’t know it.”

I outright stared at him. His schadenfreude slowly drained away to uneasiness. The temptation to really frighten him came unbidden. I swallowed the touch of evil back, pushed it into my gut where it belonged. Wouldn’t do to make my future brother in law shit himself on my leather ottoman. However, he had committed a transgression. I brooked no familiarity between myself and this popinjay. “You forget who you’re talking to,” I said softly, lining my gentle tone with warning. “It is not beyond me to forget my manners.”

Raoul’s eyes hardened with the insult of being reprimanded. “I forget nothing, monsieur, for it is when you are most courteous that you are the most destructive.”

“I didn’t know that about myself, I beg your pardon,” I said. “I do hope I can count on your indulgence on the matter.”

My polite response went over as well as if I’d brandished a wet box of gelignite under his nose. The vicomte’s body went still except for his eyes. Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Don’t make me shoot you in your own house,” he answered. “I came here under the idea we could come to some sort of understanding. If you are determined to revert to the state I saw you in yesterday I’ll have no qualms about putting a bullet into you. From this distance I can hardly miss.” He pulled a wad of waxy cotton out of his front pocket and divided it in half, stuffing a piece in each ear. “And,” he continued in the voice of someone long deaf and unable to know how loud they were, “I came prepared for your insidious voice.”

I smiled. He’d prepared for little, truth be told. How did he think he’d further negotiate if he couldn’t hear me? Additionally, I could strangle him before he even drew his gun. I stood up and walked toward him. He stared at me in disbelief, hypnotized by my audacity. Before he could draw his pistol I had plucked the cotton out of his ears. “You stupid boy,” I said, not entirely in an unpleasant tone. “Is there something in the hero’s rulebook that states one must act unwisely to act with bravery?” I took his gun and opened the chamber.

There were no slugs in it.

I gave it back to him. His face shone a startling shade of pink.

“I never intended to shoot you,” he confessed. “I should have known you’d call my bluff.”

“I never intended to kill you,” I countered. “I anticipated you’d bluster your way through this discussion.”

“That isn’t fair monsieur; I am not versed in the villain’s rulebook.” Raoul snapped. “And I forever deal with you in your own lair. I don’t have much of a chance to assert myself or my concerns without you falling back on the threatening, criminal persona you love so much.”

“It isn’t so much a falling-back-on as a giving-in-to,” I shot back. “I treat you with kid gloves; don’t be a snot-nosed brat.”

My growing tirade against his stupidity faltered and dies as Celeste floated into the room in a dark green velvet dress. Her beauty, her poise, her careful glance to me all served to dry the words in my throat. She came to rest before me, holding her hands out for me to take. I obeyed her instantly. She smiled up into my naked face, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Has Raoul promised yet?”

“Promised what?” Raoul said in a suspicious tone. Celeste spared him a benevolent look.

“To find a priest for us, of course,” Celeste replied. “Erik and I want to marry.”

“That might prove difficult to arrange,” Raoul growled. “Where is Christine?”

“Freshening up.” Celeste gave my hands a squeeze before letting go. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she added. “I don’t need a piece of paper to love Erik.”

Raoul blanched. “Celeste, first of all, we have to prove you’re a widow if you want to remarry. How can we do that without revealing your intended as his killer?”

Celeste turned her impossibly vibrant eyes upon her brother. “Erik didn’t kill Pierre.”

“He’s still alive?” Raoul jumped to his feet. “I can’t believe you,” he said, practically spitting in his anger. “That is inhuman, even for you, to keep a man alive in that-.” He broke off suddenly, eyes darting to his sister. He didn’t know how much she knew and he wasn’t going to enlighten her by accident.

“Calm down.” Celeste put her hand on Raoul’s shoulder, gently pushing him down to the sofa. “Pierre is dead.”

“But you said he didn’t kill him.” Raoul narrowed his eyes at me. “Another torture chamber to do your dirty work for you?”

“You think quite a lot of me if you think I could devise a torture chamber any worse than what I was personally doing to him, at least on such short notice,” I answered.

“I killed him,” Celeste interrupted quietly. “I followed Erik and I killed Pierre.”

Raoul stared at Celeste as if he didn’t know her. I supposed he didn’t. He had only just come to grips with the idea his sister could be a sexual being, having first passed the hurdle of understanding she wasn’t going to do as he pleased anymore. He looked between us before allowing his head to fall into his hands. “Oh God,” he murmured.

Celeste frowned. “I can’t deal death because I’m female, because I’m your sister, or because it’s a sin, which is it? And address the matter in order of importance, please, to avoid confusion.” Her sharp tone cut the air. “And no dissembling. Tell me what has you acting like a prima dona.”

“He only just told me,” I said, “that I would eventually not know where you end and I begin, and vice versa. I can only assume he knows from personal experience and is using Christine’s personality at this moment.”

“I heard that, Erik,” Christine said sourly, walking in to come between me and the vicomte. “And I’m not going to even try to defend myself to you over it. I will say that I didn’t expect such a low blow.”

I tried to summon up some shame but none would answer my call. Christine and her boy were both quite melodramatic people at times. I preferred to think of my own drama as sheer passion.

“I’ll have a priest here tomorrow,” Raoul said, lifting his head. “Come Christine; I have to visit the parishioner.”

Celeste and I watched them leave. When the door shut, she turned to me. “Is there any tea left?”

**************************************************************************************

Erik tossed his long body down on the settee, tore off his mask, which he promptly threw in the floor, and sighed. “He couldn’t find a priest,” he said simply. I nodded at him. I’d expected that. Erik swiveled his head around to look at me. “We could handfast like gypsies,” he ventured.

“Are you a gypsy?” I asked, smiling.

“No,” he said, smiling back.

I delighted in seeing his smile, ruined as it was. In fact, I delighted in his face no matter when he showed it to me. “Oh well,” I said. “I truly don’t need a marriage paper to consider you my husband. I’ll never want anyone else and you aren’t the cheating sort, are you?”

Erik spared me a look of pure effrontery. “I don’t know, Celeste, I have all these women who will be so sad to see me go,” he mocked lightly.

“If they knew you had a battering ram between your legs you’d never even get to the vocal seduction technique,” I answered smartly. My reward for such cheek came in the form of a genuine blush on Erik’s face.

“Celeste,” he murmured, his tone dropping to faint censure. “You have such a mouth on you when it pleases.”

“You have no idea,” I whispered, thinking of what I planned to do to him later.

“What was that?” Erik’s ears rarely missed anything.

“Nothing, dear,” I answered, marking my place in my book. “You spent all day trying to repair the alarm system on the fifth level; why don’t you take a nice hot bath? I’ll make something appetizing for us while you get cleaned up.”

Erik obediently got to his feet, scooping up his mask as he did so. His eyes met mine. “It doesn’t bother you at all, does it?” He said softly. “You don’t care that you have to live in sin with me.”

“I’d hardly call it sin,” I answered. “You and I don’t believe in God anyway; what difference does it make if someone approves of us or not?”

“It bothers your brother,” Erik replied. “It bothers me that I can’t honor you in that way.”

“Then it bothers me too,” I said. “It troubles me that it troubles you. What can we do to make it right?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” he said, moving past me toward the bedroom.

“Well don’t let it damper your enjoyment of me,” I called after him. “It certainly won’t make me hesitate.”

Erik stopped in the doorway. Cocking his head to the side, he favored me with a little smile of wicked pleasure. “You’re an evil little thing, you know that?” His tone reeked of his pleasure in me.

“Call it unrestrained,” I corrected him.

He sailed off without another contrary statement, but I heard him start to sing as he coaxed the taps.

“My Celeste, she is a huntress,
My Celeste, she is the night-
I pin her to my mattress
She gives up without a fight.”

“My Celeste, she is a wanton,
My Celeste, she is a tease-
She gives me such a hard on
And puts me on my knees.”

I could not stop giggling as he sang. Nevertheless, I sobered up rather quickly when I thought of all I had to accomplish while he bathed. Unless I bathed with him he never tarried long in the tub.

As silently as I could manage, I tip-toed into the bedroom. Good, he’d shut the bathroom door to keep the heat in. Smiling to myself, I placed one of the kitchen chairs in the center of the room. On the floor in front of it I placed the cushion from his piano bench. Now came the part I wondered about. From a small box I produced a set of iron manacles complete with chain. It had taken me the better part of a day to sew padding inside the wrist restraints, but I felt satisfied they would withstand the kind of force Erik could create. My main cause of concern was the iron chain that strung the hoops together. No ordinary man could ever hope to break the ensemble, but Erik was far from ordinary. Christine had been a dear about getting the things for me. She too had expressed doubt that I could restrain Erik with them. Her blush had put an Irishman’s hair to shame.

Oh well. If it failed, it failed. I hardly had to worry about him actually hurting me.

Lighting a goodly amount of candles and placing them here and there, I stepped back to view the angles. Perfect. Now all I had to do was retrieve the one object Erik might really have difficulty with.

The mirror was so heavy I felt tempted to drag it, but I couldn’t. I’d had to lug it all the way from his storage room earlier, while he worked, and my muscles complained when I started wrangling with it again. I placed it before the chair, propped it up with the corner of the bureau. It intensified the light in the room, but not in a glaring way.

From my apron pocket I took the bottle of oil I’d spent my remaining free time creating. It was olive oil based, flavored with a small bit of mint oil. It would stimulate and tingle, but not burn. I placed it on the top of the bureau.

I stripped down to nothing, feeling my flesh for any sign of hair re-growth. No, I remained smooth. I’d had my doubts, but Erik’s straight razor apparently was as sharp and competent as him.

The water began to drain from the tub. I perched on the edge of Erik’s large bed and waited, hoping he’d come out nude.

My hopes were answered. Erik prowled out of the bathroom, a towel over his head. He scrubbed furiously before balling up the terrycloth and tossing it in the corner. His movements stilled as he took in the interesting tableau. From his position he could not see the mirror or the oil. “Celeste,” he said carefully, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “I see you’ve been busy; but with what?”

“A present for you,” I purred, sliding off the bed. “Do you trust me?”

“With my heart,” he answered.

A simple sentiment that could be so weak if not coming from Erik’s lips, I thought. I reached out and took his hand. I slid a silk kerchief between his fingers, pleased when he grabbed it reflexively. “Then put this on,” I bade him. “I won’t keep it on you long, I promise.”

Erik did as I asked without any hesitation. My heart constricted. When Erik gave his trust he gave it all the way. I would do anything to avoid breaking that belief in me.

“What have you planned for me?” Erik murmured, sounding a bit apprehensive, but in an excited way.

“I want to show you how beautiful we are together,” I murmured, taking his hand and leading him to the chair. “There is a chair behind you,” I said. “Can you find it?”

Erik grasped the back of the chair and sat down. He’d seen it, divined it would be important, and memorized its position. He was a marvel. He was also getting aroused. His large, impressive manhood swelled slightly as I stared at it.

“Erik,” I said softly. “You know I would never restrain you with ill intent, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered in a tone to measure mine.

“Well, then, I would like to put a pair of manacles on you for a little while. Is that acceptable?” I clinked the chain a bit to let him hear where the set was. He stiffened slightly.

“Celeste,” he began quietly. “I don’t know. I have memories of being…held down.”

I pressed the key into his palm. “This opens them,” I assured him. “You can take them off any time you wish.”

Erik relaxed measurably. “I suppose that will help,” he gave in. “Go ahead and do what you will.”

I kissed his pale forehead. “You’re so sweet, Erik,” I crooned. “I vow you won’t be sorry you let me do this.” So saying I threaded the chains between the slats of the chair back. As I drew one pale, slender wrist after the other into the iron bands I continued to talk. “It may surprise you to know,” I murmured, “that I have not lost my virginity completely.”

Erik tilted his head to one side, his uneasiness forgotten as he tried to work his way around my mysterious statement. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he confessed.

“Well, I mean that I have more than one place to lose my virginity; so far I have been taken only between my legs.” I secured him and pulled on the chain. It held firm. We would see if it remained firm after a few minutes of Erik’s strength. “No one could claim my mouth; I so badly bit the first man who tried that he died later.”

Erik chuckled, as I knew he would.

“Served him right,” he observed.

“Just so,” I agreed. “But tonight I want to give you that virginity. I also want to show you that being restrained isn’t always a bad thing.” I leaned over him, brushing his arm with my bare breasts. He shivered as I placed my mouth at his ear. “You are always, always so in control. Wouldn’t it be nice to let go of that even if just for one night? Wouldn’t it feel good to take your pleasure without any responsibility?”

“Celeste,” he growled. “You know how to make me hard, don’t you? You little, absolute tease.”

“It’s only teasing if I don’t deliver,” I answered, stepping back to look at him. “And believe me, Erik, I intend to deliver.”

He was beautiful, like an alabaster Michelangelo. The candlelight worshipped his cords and veins, caressed his cock, cast shadows over his cut musculature and sculpted throat. Down to his high arched feet he seemed a creature that could show no ugliness. How I loved his body. “I’m looking at you,” I informed him gently. “Oh Erik, you are so lovely I can scarcely believe it.”

A tremor tore through him at my words. I pressed on.

“I feel like I’ve captured an angel,” I said. “Angel of music, angel of vengeance, angel of death, you fit all of those; any title will do. But you are my angel, regardless.” I knelt at his feet, placing my hands upon his knees so he would know exactly where I was. “And you have the most divine tool, here, at your junction. I’ve seen quite a few in my time and none compare to yours, believe me. You have been well blessed.” I stroked a fingertip down him, listening to him hiss at the contact. He jerked at his chains a bit.

“Am I blessed?” Erik replied in a ragged breath. “I wouldn’t know, my dear.”

“Oh yes, you are,” I assured him. “Any man would be envious of you.” I blew across him, pleased when he moaned his appreciation. “And any woman would be pleased to welcome you between her legs, too, but I’ll kill any bitch who might try.”

Erik’s breathy laugh strangled in his throat as I drew him into my mouth. He stretched my lips unbelievably. I felt myself release a burst of fluid at the taste of him. This close to his scrotum I could smell his maleness very well. So conditioned was I to respond to his scent that he nearly overwhelmed me.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, pulling on his bonds. His fists clenched hard. Even in the grasp of such sudden pleasure his voice remained an untaxed instrument. The sound of him made me groan around him. This vibration made his dark, sleek head whip backward. “Oh Celeste,” he whimpered.

The slide of him in and out of my mouth was both the most pleasurable and most torturous sensation I’d ever felt. I wanted to please him; wanted it so much it hurt. I loved his musky taste, the salt of his pre-come on my tongue, yet he was so large I could barely keep my lips over my teeth. To compensate, I fisted him, wrapped him in both my hands. He jerked mightily. I heard the first sign that my little prison would fail; the tell-tale creak of highly stressed wood.

In and out, I licked him, sucked him, cradled his balls in between long strokes. His hard thighs trembled. He strained at his bonds, dug his heels into the unforgiving floor. “Oh yes,” he hissed. “Your little mouth is heaven! Fuck me with your pretty lips!”

The Phantom had returned.

I nearly came at the knowledge. Erik, the Phantom, chained before me, but for how long?

I sucked him hard, steeling a glance at his flexing muscles, his taut, washboard stomach. My tongue stroked, coasted over the veins that throbbed in his cock. His magnificent, slender body tightened like the wire that stretched over his kingdom. All that power trembling for release…

Focusing, I concentrated only on his pleasure. His strangled sighs and cries of delight spurred my own enjoyment, made me so hot that keeping rhythm seemed impossible. I had a beast on a leash that could only take so much tormenting.

“Do you want to come down my throat, Erik?” I released him long enough to whisper, but my hands still made a shifting sleeve for his manhood. My lips closed again over what flesh I could manage.

Erik’s clenched fists became white-knuckled tight. “Down your throat,” he panted.

Working him with one hand and my mouth, I reached up with the other hand to grasp his blindfold. It came off with a quick jerk. His startled yellow eyes burned into me. I swirled my tongue around his massive head, lapping up the moisture pearling at the tip.

Then, he caught sight of us in the mirror.

Erik’s body bucked as he watched me devour him. For one brief moment his stunned eyes and mine mated in the glass.

The chair splintered. Erik twisted, breaking his chains like a freed Prometheus. With a growl of triumph, he swept down upon me. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, his tone so low and lustful and rumbling that I nearly wept with the beauty of it. He picked me up, throwing me to the bed. “I want to come into your womb.” Climbing atop me, he opened my unresisting legs, bent over me with the golden light of possession burning in his eyes. “And when I come I’m going to come hard enough to fill you. Does that please you, my little wanton?”

Before I could draw breath he impaled me. He stretched me so tight I could feel every glorious inch of him.

“I’m going to fill you so full of me you’ll leak for days,” he swore. “But you’re going to come for me now.” He thrust hard, banging into my cervix.
“Now, Celeste,” he demanded, “Come for me!”

I did. My world shattered and blew apart at his command, throwing me into a burning, wringing abyss that opened my legs and mouth wide. Erik gripped me, tore into me, giving me his full length. “Ah, yes,” he gasped. “Milk me with your tight little pussy. Take me all the way.”

My body felt like it would fly apart if he let go of me. I spasmed, feeling his cock opening me wider than ever before. Boneless, I surrendered entirely to his strength, awed at the feel of him pounding into me. I belonged to him.

“So sweet,” he gasped.

His thrusts became violent and I loved it. He fucked me for all he was worth, pushing me across the bed, hoisting my legs to his shoulders.

“So fucking tight, so hot and wet,” he swore. “You beautiful little bitch!” Grinding down, he spread me open even further, pushing against my clit.
“Come for me again, now!”

I could no sooner ignore his commands than quit drawing air. The clenching in my belly became a cramp that burst into unimaginable ecstasy. “Erik!” I shouted his name, clutched at his rock hard arms. “Oh my God, yes!” My womb was bruising, tearing with the force of him. It hurt so much and yet it felt like paradise.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, moving me at his will. "Is it?" He hammered me, plundered me with a tireless rhythm. Pressing my legs back together, he pushed them up until they rested on my breasts. I was completely open to him, a sacrifice to his need. The wet heat pouring out of me coated us both. "Answer me," he growled. "Answer me or I'll stop."

“Yes, Erik, yes,” I cried brokenly. “I want this!”

"Correction," he hissed, reaching a brutal apex of plunging thrusts. " You want me."

This time we came together. Erik shuddered, his head snapping back. I dragged my nails through his flesh, attempting to hold on. My body rocked in time with his as he filled me, bathed my insides in scorching ejaculate. Wave after wave after wave struck me. He grunted, pulled out of me while still coming. He painted me, covered my belly, my breasts, my face in stinging heat.

Erik collapsed on top of me. I threw my shaking arms around him, feeling the chain links pool at my sides as he attempted to spare me his weight. “Stay,” I begged him. “Please, please stay.”

For long minutes of stunned silence we panted in the semi-dark. Erik gathered me in his arms, pressed his thin lips to my throat. His tongue came out to taste me, licked the salt from my skin.

“Erik,” I whispered. “You are so good.”

He shuddered. “I must have hurt you,” he countered. “I can smell blood.”

We untangled so I could check myself. No, I wasn’t bleeding. I’d hardly expected that anyway. But he was right; I could smell blood too. A dark smear of it stained the sheets beside me. I tracked it to his right hand. For a moment I thought the padding on his manacles had failed and it sickened me. I didn’t want to add to his mapwork of scars. But my fears were unfounded; the padding held.

Slowly, Erik unclenched his fist, discovered for both of us the source of the blood. He’d held the key so tightly it had cut into him. A near perfect outline of the little piece of iron decorated the inside of his palm. I couldn’t help it; I snickered. He hadn’t even felt that pain, his nerve endings so caught up in his pleasure.

Erik favored me with a look of mock condemnation before prying the key out. Brandishing the bloody thing before my eyes, he made it clear I should take it from him. I bit my lip as I relieved him of it, still amused and a bit awed.

“I’ve never enjoyed being restrained so much,” Erik murmured as I made to unlock his bonds. “But I’ve ruined a very good chair.”

I kissed his neck as I twisted the key into each separate lock. “There are three more,” I consoled him. “We only need two; we can ruin another one without guilt.”

“I don’t think we should,” he argued softly. “I really could have hurt you, Celeste. I’m not convinced yet that I didn’t.”

“Oh, you hurt me,” I replied, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “But you hurt me exactly how I wanted you to. I loved it. Make no mistake.”

His hesitant smile spoke of his uncertainty. He wanted to please me but he knew only too well his own strength.

I slithered off the mattress, stalked to the bureau to retrieve the bottle of oil. He watched me closely, eyes following my every movement.

“What is the bottle for?” He questioned.

“It’s for us,” I answered, waving the lip under his nose so he could smell it. “I still have one virginity left.”
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Rossignol