A Rage to Live (20 page)

She was different. In what way he didn’t know, but different. With her there was a kind of chemistry, something special that held his interest. It was her sexual hunger for him. No, even more than that. Could it be love? A young impressionable woman who thought she was in love, who didn’t know the difference between love and sexual attraction. And yet who was to know, or wanted to anyway? Certainly not him. He felt happy. She made him feel happier than he had been for a very long time. The roads were empty now and he had a straight run to the Château.

‘Wake up.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Wake up,’ he repeated.

Cressida opened her eyes and sat up. ‘I fell asleep.’

‘I know.’

‘Where are we?’

‘At the Château. A country castle owned by a remarkable woman who takes in paying guests. The baggage has been brought in, all your pretty things are in our rooms. You lucky girl, I let you miss all the mess of unpacking the car. Let’s go, our rooms are ready.’

‘Did I sleep long?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No, it’s just that I was so sure I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Almost all the way, and then some. I’ve been sitting here watching you for nearly half an hour.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not. I’ve enjoyed watching you sleep, and the peace and quiet of the place after the drive from Paris.’

The hundred-room Château with its turrets and moat had been lived in consistently by the same family for more than four hundred years. It looked like no other grand hotel that Cressida had ever seen or stayed at. At that hour, in the moonlight, the soft warm light from chandeliers and table lamps seen through the windows looked romantic, fairy tale-like, too unreal for a girl from New England to take seriously. But for a girl in love and there with her childhood idol, it was all her dreams come true.

Inside, the house was faded but still grand. It was quiet and dark except for the low lights in the corridors. The butler and a maid saw them to their rooms in a tower overlooking the lake.

In their large and elegant rooms Kane removed his jacket and placed it on a chair. ‘I have a surprise for you.’ Over his shoulder he thanked the servants and dismissed them, then led Cressida by the hand directly into the bedroom. The only sounds the tick of a Louis XIV clock, the rustling of her silk skirts. She was aware of the scent of bee’s wax and of fresh flowers: lilacs, white as snow, huge vases filled with them.

Another surprise. So many surprises. Kane was overwhelming her with them. Her heart yearned suddenly not for this place and its rich and marvellous splendour but for the cool elegance and beauty of her own Hollihocks. How great it would have been to be there for their first night together.

It suddenly dawned on Cressida that here was the moment of truth. She was with Kane and they were going to have sex together. The very thought sent shivers up and down her spine and caused self-doubt to take hold of her. What was he thinking, imagining? Cressida without the finery he had had her draped in, naked, ready and waiting for him? Would she be everything he wanted? Could she be everything he wanted? Would he be all she had always imagined he would be?

He stood still. They were standing just inside the bedroom. ‘Close your eyes,’ he told her.

She closed her eyes.

Now, taking both her hands in his, he led her further into the bedroom. He turned her round to face in another direction, then placing his arm round her waist, drew her tight up against him and kissed her on the lips. ‘Don’t you dare to open your eyes,’ he ordered.

He loosened her blouse. She felt him drawing it free from the confines of the emerald-coloured belt, undoing her cuffs. ‘Don’t open those eyes,’ he reminded her. ‘Ah, that’s better. Much better.’ She felt his lips on her breasts, her flesh being sucked into his mouth as her blouse fluttered to the floor. His hands … she shivered under their touch. While sucking on her already erect nipples, he slipped his hand under her voluminous skirts. He found her naked bottom, caressed it. He whispered delightful things to her: ‘Lovely, so firm your flesh, your skin as soft and smooth and fine as satin. You are a beauty,
my
beauty.’

For the first time a man was touching her between the cheeks of her bottom. Then his caresses were for her cunt. How clever he was with his fingers. Was nothing forbidden? She felt as if he were marking her his. She sensed his reluctance when he removed his hand and allowed her skirts to drop and cover her nakedness.

‘You can open your eyes now.’

She opened her eyes. They stood together looking at each other. He smiled, and placed an arm round her waist again. ‘Don’t look at me, look over there.’

‘Oh!’ Would he never cease to amaze her? There propped up against the wall on the Louis XV commode was the Picasso. And once again they were seduced by the great painting.

‘Am I not the luckiest man in the world to own it?’

Cressida tried to find her bearings, not wanting to be dragged into the lasciviousness of the painting. But she knew that was a vain hope. It was too late. ‘How did it get here?’ The question seemed so banal to her, she felt embarrassed for having asked it.

‘In the boot of the car.’

Cressida understood by the way he looked at her that it didn’t matter how foolish she sounded. Anything she might have said that was not erotic, that would not bring them into sexual relation, was superfluous, would have sounded ordinary. Sex for them was everything. Their own needs and desires had to be satisfied. They were in the arms of Eros, he was their god.

Kane pulled the jumper he was wearing up over his head and tossed it across the room where it landed on a chair. He removed his boots, pulled off his socks. He was undressing for Cressida, because he loved
her, because he wanted her, and because he wanted to make her happy. She actually licked her lips, bit into them. It was a way of giving herself some pain, trying to bring herself back to the reality of what was going on, a way of trying to sort out the jumble of emotions that had taken such a hold on her.

He tossed his trousers on to a chair. Cressida found herself unable to move or think when she saw the massively erect throbbing penis, the large and very beautiful sac containing his testes. Briefly, she broke her gaze to look at the Minotaur in the painting and then back to Kane. The painting was something to incite passion and sensuality. Kane was the man she loved, the man who would devour her with his sex. She imagined his penis throbbing inside her. She had her fears: such a force would tear her open, be impossible to accommodate. But they were overcome by the thought of being at last open to sex, cock, a man’s sexual hunger for her. Her own frustrated sexual desires set free.

His gaze was so intent, so purposeful. He drew her closer to him. ‘This is what you want, and this is real flesh and blood lust, and I’m a real man who can be as powerful and exciting as the beast in that painting. Here is the Minotaur you have been waiting your whole life to be taken by. Down on your knees, worship this cock as you were worshipping the Minotaur when I first saw you through that gallery window in St Germain. Make love to it. Show me that sexual fire of yours that rages within and wants to burn bright without.’

He pressed gently but firmly on her shoulders and Cressida went down on her knees. ‘You know what I want.’

She looked up at him. That look again, the hidden whore, the obvious angel. He placed his hands on her head and inched it forward until her lips brushed against his penis. Under his direction, her lips moved back and forth on his full and pulsating member. Then Cressida took over, removing his hands from her head without once breaking her rhythm. Her caressing lips were no longer satisfied with merely brushing across his penis. She moved up and down the length of it. Instinct took over. She placed her hands firmly on Kane’s hips and gripped him tightly. She opened her lips and covered the knob of his penis with her mouth and licked it. That first taste of him was sublime. It drove her on to be more bold. She sucked on the knob and felt him react to her mouth. It excited her own lust. He pushed, an inch, two, he was filling her mouth with cock. She kept licking and sucking. She gagged. She wanted to stop, frightened, but wanted to take him all in. Inexperience was her enemy, holding her back. He came to her rescue in a whisper honey-thick with desire. ‘Swallow, slowly. Move in and out on it while you hold it in a tight grip with the muscles of your mouth. Use your lips, girl. Use everything you’ve got – and enjoy it.’

Kane helped his protégée by pulling back, all the way free of her mouth, and quickly entering it again, pressing with each fuck deeper to the back of her throat. She tried to control her gagging, wanting to master this act for him. She worked with the pace he had set for her, but not for long. Cressida was enjoying oral sex. It was exciting erotic sensations in her, feelings that thrilled, that she had never experienced before. She took over, even ordered him, ‘Keep still, let me do the work. I adore you, it.’

‘It’s all right, you can say cock.’

‘Of course I can. I adore your cock, Kane, it’s mine now.’

Things had changed. Now it was Kane who was obeying. Kane who was enslaved by Cressida. ‘Stop,’ he told her, and slowly slid his penis from her mouth. His hands firmly on her waist, he lifted her up off her knees. ‘You’ve never sucked a cock before?’

‘No,’

‘Ah, that surprises me.’

He unbuckled the belt circling her waist, opened her skirt, and it and all her petticoats fell to the floor. He smiled. ‘You’re lovely. A great body, made for sex, all kinds of sex.’ Taking her hand, he pulled her along after him. She had to step gingerly over her ball skirt so as not to trip. He sat on the edge of the bed. Spreading his legs apart, he pulled her to stand in between them. He held her there, his hands clasping her bottom.

‘Don’t look so unhappy. That wasn’t a criticism, not a negative one anyway. Men like having their cocks sucked, their balls too. You have to be gentle, a tongue like a feather. I’ll teach you how to do that. You’ll get used to oral sex, and love it. You do already. It’s the old adage, “Practice makes perfect”. Dreadful cliché, but in this case it’s most apt. A great cock sucker? For a lady that can be a big advantage. It gives them sexual power over men. But I don’t suppose you know about that either. Have you never tasted come, a man’s come?’

Her silence answered him. ‘I thought not. It’s wonderful, a unique taste. When a man comes in your mouth, swallow every last drop. That turns a man crazy with lust and love, to see a woman enjoying his come. It’s an acquired taste that I’m certain you will develop. Don’t look so shocked. I promise you it’s something you shouldn’t miss. A man’s come, one of the special tastes. When a man comes in your mouth, gives himself up to you so completely, swallow it, Circe, gulp it down, then you will really know the taste of a man. It’s something that shouldn’t be missed.

‘Don’t be frightened of that, or any sexual act. It’s all great as long as you want it, and enter into the spirit of the act, and it harms no one. Sex between two people has to be a matter of mutual desire, but the
enjoyment, that can be selfishly yours. You don’t share that with anyone, Circe. Everyone fucks for themselves, no one else, even when you are with someone and happy to give them pleasure, and that’s the truth of it.’

He was silent now and waiting. A sexy girl, yes, one who wanted him and sex with him beyond all else, but for an eighteen-year-old girl who had never had a man, oral sex was not easy. She did however have powerful reasons to overcome her hesitation. Romance, love, sexual hunger, a kind of rage to live to the fullest. She lowered her lips to him once more.

To stop, retreat from Kane, was impossible once she saw the lust in his eyes, the tremendous pleasure he derived from her. When she was awkward he helped with words of praise and caresses to excite her. It was Kane who filled her mouth with his scrotum, the sac of loose skin, the balls within, and taught her how to be gentle with them, to lick them and take first one and then the other and to roll them round with her tongue, to suck them. It was he who confessed that that was a unique pleasure for him. Something that incited enormous lust in him, drove him to that state where sex takes over and the ego dies, the erotic is pure and exquisite. Kane was right. She enjoyed enormously making love to him, and the power and the passion. Sex took her over totally.

A few droplets of come on her lips. He licked them away, and kissed those lips that had given him so much pleasure. Gathering her into his arms, he carried her from the foot of the Louis XIV bed, lavishly draped in plum and red and aubergine silk taffeta, and hung with huge antique tassels, all the while kissing her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. It seemed as if he could not get enough of kissing Cressida, loving her. There they remained for some time, she still in his arms, he kissing her face, her breasts, before gently he laid her on the bed. Then he lay down next to her. Arms wrapped round her, he dozed off.

Chapter 16

There was no sleep for Cressida. She lay wrapped in his arms, luxuriating in the warmth of his body. Lust burned out, ego made its return. She began to think of herself, and wanting his love, wanting to keep it forever. What had she done wrong that he was no longer kissing her, telling her that he loved her? She wanted him to confess he knew who she was. That he was delighted she was Cressida and not a goddess of his imagination. Where were his lips? She touched her breasts. Her nipples ached for his mouth. Why was he not mounting her? Fucking her? She wanted to feel the power of his manhood pummelling her.

While he slept, Cressida’s sexual frustration took over and played with her emotions. It was only a cat nap, no more than half an hour. Kane opened his eyes. A kiss on her cheek. He gazed into her eyes, read them and told her, ‘You’ll get better at it. You already like it, want more of it.’ Not the words she wanted to hear. She felt her self-esteem slipping. But he knew how to stop the slide. Clever seducers do. His caresses and his kisses were now for her breasts. They were powerfully sexy kisses, those of a man who likes a woman’s body and knows how to show it.

Clearly Cressida did excite him. The sexual fire she possessed, her erotic frustration, and maybe not being very good at sex, all played their part not just in holding his interest but in triggering sexual fantasies he knew could be played out with her. Her pliability, subservience, passion to please, eagerness to experience … not bad raw material to work with. He did not for the moment mind playing teacher.

He sucked deeply on a nipple. She squirmed. He slapped the side of her breasts. ‘Stay still,’ he demanded. He assaulted her with his mouth. She bit into his arm in an attempt to hide how tremendously sexy she was feeling. ‘Do you like that?’ He knew very well how much she did, but wanted to hear her admit it.

‘Yes,’ she answered breathlessly.

‘Good. There’s more, much more, to wake you up.’

He slipped his hands beneath her and grasped at her bottom, found
that tight place and probed it none too gently. She jumped, tried to climb out of his arms. The surprise, the pain. He held her tighter. ‘Shush, relax. Trust me. It’s another sexual sensation, it can be. Don’t be a baby.’

How and from where he found it she had no idea, but there was the scent of jasmine and a soothing cream, and he returned to caress that place while sucking on her breasts. He continued, paying no attention to her protestations. Finally she gave up the struggle, relaxed in his arms and opened to him, and to all things sensual. It was incredibly sexy to be taken over like that. She wanted more, much more. To have his massive erect penis penetrate her cunt as he had probed with searching fingers. She began to beg, ‘Kane, please fuck me. I don’t think I can bear not having you fuck me, not for a minute longer.’

He liked her hunger, her desperation, corrupting her sexually. He parted her legs and then went on his knees between them. He covered her entire body with wet kisses, sucked on her flesh, and buried his face in her silky blonde pubic hair. He placed his hands under her knees and raised her legs and pushed them further apart. Under her he placed several pillows, wanting to raise her off the bed so he could look at her cunt.

How glorious it felt to have him kissing and licking it, and telling her how beautiful her cunt was. ‘You are very exciting. You taste sublime, and your scent, so sweet and clean, is like lilacs. You are an aphrodisiac.’

Cressida made a fist and placed it in her mouth, biting into her own flesh, trying to stifle the screams of pleasure about to burst from her. Kane parted her cunt lips and licked the inner lips, sucked them into his mouth and found her clitoris with the point of his tongue.

Cressida was on fire, she writhed, there were tears in her eyes. ‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘I love you, Kane.’ A sob, and a whimper. ‘Take me, please take me, I can’t bear it any more.’ Instinct, sexual lust, took possession of Cressida. She moved herself: slow and lazy pelvic gyrations, up and down on the pillows, as if he was already fucking her. He placed her hands around his penis and she moved them up and down it. ‘You guide me,’ he suggested.

Cressida placed the knob between her cunt lips. It seemed massive, an impossibility. When she guided it against her slit, the place of entry, he helped, pushed, and there was pain and again the sense of impossibility. ‘Stop,’ she pleaded. ‘This isn’t going to work. He persevered and she acquiesced. She had to, she wanted, and could take, anything that would allow her to achieve orgasm with Kane. And then, somehow, he
was
inside her and they began to fuck.

Cressida was tight with fear and apprehension, but she overcame fear with lust. At first Kane could not understand it. She was impossibly tense and then he realised why. He did not withdraw but gathered her into his arms and held her. ‘I can’t believe this. You’ve never had a man. Never had a cock inside you, never been riven before. A riggish girl like you? Incredible.’ He lowered her gently against the pillows, and slowly withdrew from her. He retreated from between her legs and sat down on the edge of the bed, but still close enough to her to take her hand in his and kiss it. She had one arm resting over her eyes.

‘Look at me, answer me. You have never had a man?’

‘No.’

‘You’re a goddamned virgin. A sexy, beautiful, intelligent girl like you. Your looks, your body. It’s not what’s expected of a girl like …’

‘Stop. Please, don’t go on about it,’ she begged. ‘It’s embarrassing enough.’

He paid no attention to what she asked but continued, ‘You must have had offers? Many?’

‘I wanted the right man.’

‘And I’m the right man?’

‘Yes, don’t be angry.’

Kane realised he
was
angry. He walked from the bed to a table and from a silver wine cooler poured champagne. A sip of the Bollinger and his anger was short-lived. He turned to look at her still lying on the bed, still tantalisingly sexy, and he still wanted her.

He returned to her. ‘Sit up,’ he ordered. Cressida pulled herself up against the pillows and he handed her a glass of champagne. He touched his glass to hers, and they drank. ‘Just don’t be a baby about this. Right?’

‘Right,’ she replied.

‘Nothing’s changed, right?’

‘Right,’ she replied.

‘I still want you, maybe more than ever as my sexual slave. You are that, aren’t you?’

Cressida drained her glass of champagne and nodded, answering him. ‘Willingly.’

‘Promise me you believe I will never harm you? If you do, then I can promise you you will have the best time of your life.’

‘You will never harm me,’ she repeated in a near whisper. She placed her empty glass on the table next to the bed, and her arms round his neck. ‘Thank you.’ Cressida kissed him, pulled herself tight into him, wrapped her nakedness round him like a cloak, her legs round his body.

This time Kane took over the kiss. His tenderness soon turned into
passion. She enchanted him with her naivété, her innocent, uncomplicated love. He had forgotten those things existed. She brought conflicting emotions out in him: tenderness and male lust, rampant macho egoism and animal sexuality.

‘First lesson.’ And he hoisted her off him to deposit her squarely in the centre of the bed against the pillows. ‘Don’t be afraid to watch sex. It’s a glorious thing to look at. Lust in your partner is a definite turn on for the observer.’

Kane left Cressida only long enough to fill their glasses with champagne. In his hand he had his cream-coloured silk scarf. He teased her body with the sensuous silk while they drank. He placed his glass on the table and climbed back on the bed to sit on his haunches between her legs again. They were now into caressing each other’s bodies, and still he used the silk as the softest of whips.

Cressida tried to distract herself from a sense of fear and anticipation of what was to come. She had given herself up to all things sexual and Kane Chandler and there was no turning back now. She looked away from Kane and his seduction of her to the painting opposite the bed. He followed her eyes and he too paused to turn round and look at the Picasso. He kissed Cressida. ‘There really isn’t anything you would object to, is there? Only to be ravaged by cock, that’s what this is all about, why you’re here. You really do want it that much?’

‘Yes.’ She could not lie to him. ‘And for love.’

He tied one wrist to the headboard with the white silk scarf, and then the other. Being bound by the silk, to be vulnerable, at his mercy, to be dominated by Kane, her heart raced. She was torn between fear and hunger for what was to come. Her mouth went dry, she licked her lips. He understood and filled her glass with wine and held its rim to her lips. Cressida drank and closed her eyes, savouring the taste, and him, and the excitement of sex. With every kiss, every caress, she relaxed that little bit more, and opened herself to Kane. She gave herself to him body and soul. Gone forever were her years of sexual frustration, inhibition, inexperience, unrequited love. No man could have taken a woman better for her first time. He showed her tenderness and patience, kindness.

‘Do you love me? Tell me you love me,’ she begged.

‘I love you,’ he told her. ‘Love you enough to want you to enjoy sex, every vestige of it, every nuance. The light and bright side, the dark and depraved. I want you to be free enough to wallow in your own lust, and never to be afraid to do that. To feel your own precious sexuality. And I want all of you and your sexuality, for me and for me alone.’

Words like that, what more could a woman in love want to hear? He made it easy for Cressida to give herself up to him and sex. She was
transported into an erotic land, a place of adventure where she found paradise.

They spent most of their time eating, breathing, living, and dying in lust. A little death with every orgasm. He was as good as the promises he had made to her in Paris. They dined on lovely food, drank fine wine, smoked dope and sniffed cocaine, and used it on their genitals. They popped poppers, and drifted with the sensation that their orgasms were longer, more intense. That was their life. That and walking through the parkland round the Château. He rowed them in a boat on the lake where they fed cake to the swans. And they listened to music.

They were on an erotic round that led them everywhere. And Cressida rose to every sexual occasion. That gave him enormous pleasure. An apt pupil, a sexy lady. Every sexual encounter was a new experience for her. For him it was another kind of ecstasy, having a woman who revelled in being his sexual slave. Kane created in Cressida a penchant for the erotic. Never once did she resist the dark side of his nature, his sexual depravity. She embraced it. She became nothing but an open vessel for him to fill as and when he wanted. She forgot that she was experiencing all this for sex, and assumed it was love, love for both of them.

Kane made her erotic promises for the future. Another man to join them, another woman. She believed he was teasing when he said he would like to see her with the Minotaur, but since that was impossible he outlined for her other sexual acts that were possible. Every suggestion, no matter how exciting or base or bizarre or frightening, he would always ask, ‘You will do that for me?’ And she said yes to everything. How can you say no to love?

Everything he taught her in those days when they were together became the natural, the norm for her. How to dress to excite a man’s sexual ardour, how to use it, play with it. She practised on Kane and it worked, and she gave him much more than he had expected she would.

On the fourth evening they had dressed for dinner, he in dinner jacket, she in the outfit she’d worn to the concert. Dinner was served by the butler at a table in the sitting-room. Kane seemed to Cressida to be more quiet, even a little remote from her. They had hardly had a conversation on anything but sex and the erotic since they had arrived at the Château; in fact, since they had met. For two people who had been so outrageously intimate with one another they had hardly communicated. That had not bothered Cressida until now. She felt Kane was drifting away from her and did not know what to do about it.

As delicious as it was, it seemed banal to keep commenting on the food.
Foie gras
, a clear soup with slivers of duck, poached sea bass on a bed of fried seaweed, potatoes baked in cream until they were crisp, carrots as sweet as sugar, the tiniest, most tender of French green beans. The pudding was a chocolate mousse draped in
crème fraiche
and surrounded by thin slices of poached pear. They drank Roederer Cristal Brut, Montrachet, and finally Château d’Yquem, the queen of dessert wines. Cressida remained nearly silent throughout the entire meal. It was not as if there was tension between them. There was not. No problem had arisen for Cressida to contemplate, just that terrible impression that Kane was not quite with her.

Dinner over, they moved to the settee to finish the excellent sweet wine. He smiled at her, reached over and took her hand in his and placed a kiss upon it. Then he rose from the settee to take his place at the piano and played. Schubert and Mozart, for a very long time. Cressida listened, enchanted by the music. Kane was apart from her. She wanted him, not apart but with her. After some time she quietly stole away from the sitting-room.

She dressed for him, slipped into one of the sexually provocative nightgowns he had bought her. Black Belgian lace moulded her body, her nipples clearly protruding. Its slender straps as thin as string held it up on her shoulders, and it was cut low, down to below the small of her back. Two long slits from its hem up the centre of each thigh, nearly to her waist, opened when she walked and showed her very long and shapely legs.

She had dressed to seduce him back to her. Black stockings that stopped high on her thighs were held in place by black lacy garters. With every step she took towards him in her high-heeled black satin slippers she knew that she looked sensuous, the naughty lady of the night he favoured. He had taught her, in so short a space of time, how to be a lady and act the whore. And that was exactly what she wanted to be for her lover.