Sips of Blood Part 31

"Isn't he beautiful?" She noted how Wil flinched when she had spoken. "You are beautiful, you know."

Sade began to laugh. He turned his back on the guests and settled in a distant chair and spread his legs.

"A charming pose, Louis. I believe I can see the outline of your privates very clearly under those tight silk pants."

"Enjoy, Marie, for this is the closest you'll ever come to seeing them."

"Maybe I should go back home and take care of my father," Wil said.

"You can't. I drove." Marie reached out and patted the cushion next to her. "Sit down."

Wil continued to stand.

"Not very well trained, ma Marie."

"That's why I'm here, Louis."

"Ah! You've come to the maitre for a.s.sistance."

"Yes, the master. You've proven that."

"You want this one broken like the other?"

"I'd rather you not be so enthusiastic."

She watched Sade's sly blue eyes study Wil. Sade had left his silk shirt unb.u.t.toned. The white hair on his chest blended almost perfectly with the color of his flesh.

"I don't want scars," she said.

"Wait a second, I feel like I'm up for sale," Wil said.

"Certainly not." She turned to Sade. "He's a gift."

Immediately Wil spun around and headed for the front door.

"It is locked, monsieur. I am very careful about that."

Wil walked back to the doorway of the living room.

"Open the d.a.m.n door!"

"You see what I have had to put up with."

Sade's lean, hungry face seemed tense. He could barely contain himself, she thought. His c.o.c.k strained against the black silk. Oooh, that must be uncomfortable.

"I'm not submitting to anything."

"Once he does, he thoroughly enjoys it. Isn't that true, Wil?"

"I'll break the d.a.m.n door down if I have to."

"Monsieur, the door is metal. I had it specially made. The windows are one-inch-thick polycarbonate. And the keys, monsieur, are in the pocket of my slacks." Sade stood and offered a hip to Will.

Wil's expression remained fearless. Marie knew that Louis' height and slight build would make Wil feel brave.

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Oh, mais, monsieur, I do."

"Who the h.e.l.l is this guy?" Wil asked Marie.

"My son-in-law." Now he would understand, she thought. Yes, this is the man I want you to kill. He turned toward Sade.

"Sir, I have no argument with you. She's just causing trouble. She wants you dead."

"I already am mort."

"I told you," Marie's voice rang out as a soft bell.

"I'm not staying here with two nut jobs."

"Then come, monsieur, take the key."

Wil shook his head and walked over to Sade, hand extended to reach inside the pocket.

"I have deep pockets, monsieur; you may have to reach down deep."

"I'm not in the mood to play." Wil touched the silk and slipped his hand inside the pocket and found no key. When he tried to withdraw, Sade took hold of his wrist and forced Wil's hand deeper into the pocket, deep enough so that Wil's fingertips brushed against Sade's b.a.l.l.s.

"I've heard rumors that he is rather large. Is that true, Wil?" Marie asked.

A light sweat had beaded on Wil's forehead.

"And very firm, monsieur."

Marie approached Wil, slowly undoing the b.u.t.tons running down the front of her dress.

Wil's Adams's apple bobbed several times.

She allowed the dress to fall to the floor. She had purposely put on a leather corset with thigh-high silk stockings.

"I need a taste of you, Wil," she said.

"What the h.e.l.l does he have to do with this?" Wil's eyes remained fixed on Sade's hand.

"You're a peace offering. The best of my slaves. I demand you satisfy the whims of my enemy."

"It is difficult to satisfy me, monsieur, but we can spend hours trying.

"I did not think myself in a position to hesitate; by accepting this cruel condition I exposed myself to further dangers, to be sure...."

Justine.

by the Marquis de Sade.

Chapter 52.

"A tattoo right about here." Marie grabbed the inside of Wil's naked thigh far enough up to brush the back of her hand against his p.e.n.i.s. "That would be nice, wouldn't it, Wil?"

Drenched in sweat, Wil gave a low groan.

The small room had a very different decor from Marie's dungeon. Here Wil experienced not only a sense of claustrophobia, but the dizzily weird sensation of being in a wonderland of torture that needed only a few instruments to bring a profusion of pain.

The room went beyond spa.r.s.e: the blank walls, the barren floor, the simple wood board on which he knelt, supported only by three wooden sawhorses that were tied together so that they would not move.

Sade and Marie had played his unfettered body for some time. He didn't know how long. He had accepted the probing and lashings as a penance. Forever he would be pleading for forgiveness; and with his father now mute and dumb, grace would never be granted.

Marie had stripped naked in order to feel his damp sticky flesh against her own. Once or twice she had reached out to touch Sades' privates, which were still tucked away inside the silk pants. However, Sade rebuked her silently each time with a swat or simply a stare. She did not dare disobey him. Was this man her master?

Sade's untucked shirt slipped off his left shoulder, the silk immediately creased because of the fall. The white skin made the shoulder blade look like bone. Sade's breathing never seemed labored, no matter how hard he struck a blow.

The only sweat stinking the room seemed to be Wil's own. The other two remained dry, although their pa.s.sion ran hot. Sade and Marie moved with great speed and agility. Sade seemed almost to forget Marie's presence, but Marie remained quite aware of him. Instead of working in unison, Marie a.s.sisted Sade as a nurse would in an operating room, attempting to think one step ahead in order to have the appropriate utensil available.

"Sit,' Marie commanded.

Wil turned and painfully lifted each knee off the board.

"Hurry, fool." She lashed out cruelly with her tongue, using words that stung by their own torrid heat, but she did not lay a whip on him. "Shall we tie him for the tattoo?"

"Tattoos. I am bored with monsieur's tattoos. He already looks ridiculous with the cartoons decorating his legs. Besides, he's used to that kind of pain and probably would like something far more stimulating.

"What is it, monsieur, that would spark a fire that could combust you into flying free far from this earth?" Sade leaned against a drab pale wall. "You no longer scream in true pain. The piercings, the scars have numbed you." He smiled. "Certain scars are missing, monsieur. Ones that tingle the skin even when at peace. A smile, a laugh, a brooding sigh, or a touch of anger can cause a raging train of pain up and down the nerves.

"Marie, there is rope on the back porch. Fetch it pour moi."

"Shouldn't we gag him?" Marie asked.

"Why? The room is soundproofed, and I shall not indulge myself until you return."

Marie hesitated a moment before leaving the room.

A throaty chuckle followed the closing of the door.

"Ah, monsieur, it is not only you that I torture, but my despicable mother-in-law also." Sade leaned in close to Wil's face. "Pourquoi did she bring you to me? Why?"

"Just as she said, I guess," Wil answered. "I didn't expect to come here."

"Non, monsieur, nothing is as she says. She has taken your blood, n'est-ce pas?"

Wil swallowed. Did this strange man want blood also? So far they hadn't broken his skin, hadn't attempted to mar his skin. The pain had been subtle. Pin p.r.i.c.ks, twisting of piercings, penetration. Nothing that drew his blood. Carefully it seemed that had been avoided.

"Monsieur, it will take her a while to find the rope, but not forever. Tell me, have you shared blood with her?"

"What do you care?"

"She needs to feed, but I have forbidden her to share."

"What the h.e.l.l are you to her?"

"Her master."

"You taught her all the tricks of the trade."

"Not all. Besides, she can be very imaginative." Sade took hold of Wil's hair and pulled his head back. "Answer me, monsieur, has she shared?"

The door opened.

"The rope wasn't on the porch. I found it in the garage, awfully greasy and frayed, though. Must get used a lot."

A powerful pull and Will's head hit the board. His body lay p.r.o.ne and vulnerable.

"Raise your arms, monsieur."

"Marie..." Wil's voice faltered slightly.

"Do as he says, pet. Do not embarra.s.s me."

Wil raised his arms, and Marie quickly circled his wrists with the filthy rope. She pulled tight, making the frayed rope dig into Wil's flesh, pulling even tighter when she looped the rope through the fastener under the board.

"Ici," Sade said.

Marie threw the long end of the rope to Sade, who stood at the foot of the board. He then attached Wil's ankles to the board. The rope running across the front of his body scratched the skin and put enough pressure on recent bruises to cause constant pain.

"I left a tin of lighter fluid on the kitchen counter. Retrieve it, Marie."

Wil watched Marie's chest heave. This definitely was torture for her. Why the h.e.l.l was she doing this? This man she wanted destroyed. Why feign respect for him and scurry as a trained pet for him?

Again she left the room.

"This time she will return faster, monsieur. I really did leave the lighter fluid on the kitchen counter. You always look so pained when she leaves. Can you be that dependent on her?" Sade leaned over and whispered in Wil's ear. "Has she shared her blood with you?"