Trinkets by Lizbeth Dusseau
He’d been watching her from an obscure corner of the cafe all night, obscure because that was the aura that Miles intended to convey when he was in a contemplative vein. Everything surrounding him took on a similar mysterious aspect. Looking at her dancing in the soft lights, smiling like sunshine, almost giddy with laughter, produced by the wine flowing through her veins, he was deep in his thoughts of having her … Perhaps, only he could see beneath the exuberant surface of her behavior to the darker woman residing there, the one who craved the control he could furnish. He was used to such women, but this one in particular was extraordinarily fascinating. He could devise a life for her that would be like no other, and there was no greater satisfaction for him than to possess such a creature.
Tessa Cotille becomes Miles’ lover, his model, his slave, his trinket, as he slowly takes her into the world of her darkest fantasies… adorned as a trinket, given away as a sex-toy, the object of his pornographic art, and the center of his affections. Miles keeps her guessing, even to the end as she becomes one of the trinkets at Damien’s Ball in the ultimate exhibition of her sexual training.
Includes wickedly delightful S/M, creative bondage, whipping, body piercing, female bisexuality, fisting, exhibitionism, multiple partners and semi-public sex.
Trinkets by Lizbeth Dusseau
Cover Art kondradbak – Fotolia
Revised Edition 2012
Miles, Martine and Vincent plopped down in the living room with an unabashed insouciance. Tessa had never seen Miles so exuberant.
“So, you’re ready to have yourself pierced again?” Miles asked her as he viewed her naked body—her robe had fallen open so he could view her loveliness.
“I guess so.” This must be the rod Damien had ordered for her.
Miles amusement didn’t cease, nor did Tessa’s worry over his strangeness. His eyes danced lightning hot, the more he stared at her, the more intense they became. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding in her temples. She looked down to see her breasts moving rhythmically, sexually as the excitement in her body increased. What had begun as a startling invasion of her morning was quickly becoming a rush so overwhelming that she could hardly stay on her feet.
The longer Miles stared at her, the more his eyes darkened. As always, the environment around him followed his mood, and this day was no different. The sun, though it did not hide behind clouds, nor was it swallowed up by some descending spaceship, suddenly seemed less shrill; the rays of light that bathed the room softened to make their surroundings as warm and succulent as her pussy was feeling, as mysterious as Miles’ aura.
The three: Miles, Martine and Vincent, moved in unison, rising to surround their waiting submissive. Martine, standing right in front of her, pulled the robe from her body with a gentle tug, and then leaned in and kissed her mouth, while Vincent from behind drew Tessa’s hands above her and fastened them securely in wrist cuffs.
The low, marble coffee table between the living room couches was quickly cleared, and Miles led her there. He gently eased her down to its glacial surface and laid her back as if it were an alter. Her hands were stretched over her head and tied by ropes to the legs of the table. Her legs were spread as wide as they would go, Vincent carefully adjusted them exactly were he wanted them. He bound her ankles with ropes and secured them in their awkward pose, so that her pussy was open wide. Once Miles buckled a leather strap around her waist, and tied it down tightly against the table, she was secured against any movement. Only her head was still free to roam from side to side, as she watched the silent ritual of her bondage.
Martine attached clamps and chains to Tessa’s gold nipple rings—the chains like reins for Martine to pull, each tug startling her immobile body.
“Humm, so juicy,” Martine murmured, as she knelt between Tessa’s bound legs and pushed her fingers into her cunt. “Squeeze,” she told Tessa and her submissive roommate squeezed the cock-like fullness inside her, moaning softly as she did.
Vincent knelt beside Martine and pushed a fat pillow under Tessa’s hips. Her cunt stood out prominently now, the jewels gleaming, dragging her inner lips and hood of her clit like weights. Often, they felt heavy, tugging at her as if they were to remind her where all her thoughts should remain.
“He wants her open,” Vincent stated in his typical cool reserve. He pulled a gold bar from his pocket and showed it to them. Like its predecessors, this piece of jewelry reflected back the shiny gold of its earthy color. It was three inches long, smooth and round on the ends, so that it would not cut her skin. Welded rigidly at either end of the rod there were posts that would soon pierce her pubic lips and be held fast with tiny screws.
“I worked it especially for her, I trust it fits, Vincent said. The fact that it might be too big for her labia to handle filled the next moment with rightful suspense. Four pairs of eyes stared at the simple decoration in baited anticipation.
For some moments, they all watched as Vincent pushed Tessa’s outer labia back, opening her cunt wide.
“Here?” he asked Miles.
“I should think that would do. How does it fit?”
“I’m not often wrong in my estimations, and I wasn’t wrong this time. It will be a little uncomfortable at first, but then, that is the point, isn’t it?” he stated coldly. “She’ll get used to it.”
Miles nodded. He had wanted this for her; he had imagined it many times. He knew Tessa would wear the bar not just because he wanted her to, but because it fit her unorthodox personality. He wasn’t completely happy that Damien had insisted on this so soon. He had other plans in mind for this addition to Tessa’s anatomy. But then, perhaps he was being too cautious with her. Looking down on her now, he was glad he hadn’t waited. His little lamb of a submissive was so deliciously spread out for them, he couldn’t keep his cock from responding, and he wouldn’t want to.
“It fits perfectly,” Vincent said, showing him how the bar would be wedged high between her labia and held with studs. Her cunt could not close unless the rod was removed.
“Do it,” Miles ordered, and standing back, he watched as Vincent worked, admiring the skill of the man’s fingers as they began their task.
Martine stroked Tessa face, her eyes looking into Tessa’s eyes.
“It’s going to hurt,” Tessa exclaimed, as her body tensed anxiously.
“Just let it turn you on,” Martine purred sweetly, tugging at the nipple rings, as if that pain would somehow ease the one down below. As Tessa cringed in reply, the heavy needle pierced her flesh.
“Noooooooooo,” she screamed as a searing sensation ripped her nerves. She tried to twist away, without success. “Gawwwwd, nooooo,” the woeful sound of Tessa’s voice smashed nastily into their ears, though it didn’t worry the others as much as it pleased them. They saw the effect, and that was remarkable.
Her cunt throbbed in ways it never had. If only she could release some of the terrible tension that made her so afraid. But she couldn’t move. “Nooooooo, please no more,” she pleaded.
“It’s done,” Vincent announced, to her surprise.
“Done?” She looked up to verify his words.
“It’s done. But perhaps you can’t see it from your position,” he noted, “there’s a little blood, but we’ll watch it carefully.” He dabbed at her sore cunt for some moments with a cool ointment that eased the immediate sting.
With the piercing over, the three in choreographed unison backed away, leaving Tessa on her alter without a hand to comfort her. They moved to the other side of the room where Tessa could not hear them speak. That was okay with her, she was getting used to the feelings in her pussy. The rod had been cold when she first felt it, though now, the metal was beginning to heat from the warmth of her own body. Still, that was little consolation. The foreign presence splaying her open was defilement far more sobering than any of the other studs and rings had been. They were sassy decorations, statements of submission perhaps, but this was equal to being bound, permanently.
With the rod in place, her splayed pubic lips exposed her clitoris and vagina to any sunshine or breath of air that crossed them; it made her whole cunt twitch and the opening between her lips spasm involuntarily.
“So, my love,” Miles voice brought her out of her reverie. He was looking down on her, moving closer, reaching low enough to pick up the chains. He tugged them as Martine had done. “How does it feel?”
He nodded, the answer acceptable.
“You’re ready then for Damien’s Ball. At least your body is ready. Match your mind to the state of your cunt and you’ll have a successful soiree. Otherwise, you’ll hate it.” The way he spoke to her sounded as if he doubted her fitness for the role. Though even more disturbing was the hint of mockery in his voice. It challenged her to remember the moments when his warmth embraced her, the times he’d said “I love you” clear out of the blue, the instants of pure bliss when it seemed that they were inextricably one in their crazed sexual desires. Now, the icy chill was so profound, she wondered if she’d misread him all these months.