Odalisque (3 page)

A valet took his rental car and luggage and directed him politely up the stairs to the massive front door. He undoubtedly knew why Kai was here, but his expression gave away no opinion. He had the deferent manner of someone accustomed to serving the rich. It was something Kai was only starting to get used to in the years since he’d started his digital technology firm as a poor, ambitious twenty-something with visionary dreams.

But none of those dreams had ever involved French manors and odalisques.

As soon as Kai dropped the ornate brass knocker onto its base, the door swung open. He was guided into a soaring foyer by another impeccably proper employee. The third one now, and all three were nearly as wide as they were tall. Their strength was emphasized by the fitted, understated suits they wore. It occurred to him that a country house full of sex slaves would require some pretty heavy security.

As polite as the man was, Kai had no doubt the giant could have him in a headlock on the floor at the first threatening word or gesture. That didn’t worry him at all. It was one more sign that this Monsieur Gaudet had his shit together. One more sign that this crazy stuff was for real.

As if on cue, a well-dressed man strode around the corner, his hand already extended in a gesture of greeting. “Mr. Kaivalyan Chandler, I presume? I am Sebastien Gaudet.”

Kai sized up the man. He was impressed that he’d pronounced his full Indian name without tripping over the syllables. That Gaudet was Indian himself was not remotely possible. Kai had never seen such a pale, white-blond man. His short hair framed an aristocratically angular face, and his eyes were a piercing blue. His smile was warmly disarming as he shook Kai’s hand. Kai immediately felt at ease in his company. “Hello. My friends call me Kai.”

“Well, let’s not stand on formalities. My friends call me Bastien. It’s very nice to meet you. I trust your trip went well?” Mr. Gaudet’s--Bastien’s--English was flawless. Kai nodded in response.

“It’s gone smoothly thus far.”

“And hopefully will continue on so. Would you like to take some time upstairs to rest before dinner? Or perhaps there are some questions you would like answered first?”

Kai looked around the foyer, to the winding marble staircase, to the gleaming tile floor. More chateau than dungeon, really. The building was welcoming and cheerfully lit. Artwork and sculpture covered many of the surfaces. He smiled at his host.

“I’m kind of relieved you aren’t in black leather, holding a whip.”

Bastien laughed. “I assure you, the feeling is mutual. Fortunately, we manage to head off most of those types before they make the trip.”

“Am I the only, uh, gentleman here at the moment?”

“The only one seeking, yes. A few friends may come and go during your stay, but only because I deem them utterly discreet and trustworthy. On that count, you must feel at ease. We are a respectful society here, and we value discretion above all.”

Kai got the message loud and clear, although Bastien never lost his easy, genial tone. It was the same easy tone he remembered from chatting on the phone, the same easy tone that convinced him to fly over just to chat, just to have a tour and ask some questions about the
Code d’Odalisque
. Kai looked around once more, as if he might glimpse one of the mysterious odalisques he’d come to see. But no, they were kept in
occlusion
, Bastien had explained. Odalisques were trained to live in confinement, wet and waiting for Master and whomever Master chose to share them with.

“I think I will take a few minutes to rest before dinner,” said Kai, clasping his hands in front of his pants to hide his burgeoning arousal.
A few minutes to rest, or masturbate furiously. Probably the latter.

“As you wish.” Sebastien Gaudet inclined his head with a smile.

Kai was shown to his second-floor room by the same gentleman who’d let him in the door. He found his luggage neatly arranged beside the bed. Kai reached in his pocket for a tip and was waved off with a low, obsequious bow. “I am at your service, monsieur,” said the servant with a pronounced French accent. “If you need anything, simply call.” He indicated a red button beside the light switch, and then melted out the door.

Kai lay back on the full size bed. The ivory padded headboard was silk and absolutely pristine. The whole room oozed propriety, from the crisply pleated drapes to the dark, heavy, polished wood furniture. There was no way in hell he could possibly jack off in this stately space.

If not for Bastien’s easy, relaxed manner, Kai might have felt threatened by the strangeness of the whole situation, but instead he was able to lay back and close his eyes. His mind drifted to thoughts of undulating sex goddesses and willing, wanton women. Was there one in the room above him? One on either side?

Next thing he knew, a sharp knock awakened him. The manservant had brought a dinner jacket in the event he needed one, but Kai had his own after being told it was customary at the Maison to dress for dinner. Less than an hour later, Kai was escorted downstairs to a cavernous dining room.

Even with Bastien’s considerable social skills, Kai found the formal dinner uncomfortable. As wealthy as he was, he didn’t usually dine on bone china with real silver utensils, at a twenty-foot table lit by shimmering candelabra. Each course was brought in by yet another grimly respectable and all-too-masculine servant. For a house that boasted scores of submissive slave women, men did a lot of the work around here. Bastien caught him looking around the dining room after the third course, and grinned at him.

“You are wondering when you will see one of the lovely ladies of our house.”

Kai raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps they’ll bring the dessert course...”

His host chuckled. “I’m afraid not. Odalisques are not servants, not in a household sense. This is what separates them from their BDSM-lifestyle sisters. A slave in a Master and slave relationship might be expected to perform any manner of drudge tasks or chores in the name of ‘service.’ The Master perhaps sees this as a way to test her devotion and submission, or exert power over her. With an odalisque no such tests are needed. A lifestyle slave might endure humiliation, degradation, even contempt at the foot of her Master, but an odalisque is treasured, never tested. She is a slave of sensuality, not drudgery.”

“So I understand. But what if they enjoy being degraded or set to unpleasant tasks? None of them are masochists?”

“That surprises you?”

“I just thought a woman willing to give up everything to live for the pleasure of a man--”

“Would have masochistic tendencies? Many do. But they are trained to pair self-respect with submission. The owner of an odalisque desires a beautiful, admirable woman, not a cringing vessel to be defiled and abused. When a masochistic woman wants to live as an odalisque, we encourage those tendencies to be satisfied in the course of sexual interactions. For instance, a woman may like to be whipped as foreplay, or have her nipples tortured to reach orgasm. This type of masochism relates directly to sensuality and sexual craving, and excites both Master and odalisque. But if a woman wishes to live as an abject creature, humiliated and hurt and denied pleasure, she does not really have the air of erotic majesty we seek.”

“
Erotic majesty.
I like that. But doesn’t that make the slave pretty much an equal to her Master? Or perhaps even more powerful?”

“Not at all. The odalisque submits--always. But only sexually. She submits her body to her Master’s use. Her mind, her self-respect, her personality remain her own. I assure you, many men find it more alluring than the self-effacement of the typical BDSM slave. You get all of the sexual submission you desire, with none of the need to micromanage your slave or develop tedious protocols. You may enact all the
sexual
protocols you wish, but afterward, you can walk away knowing your slave is self-possessed enough to manage herself until you wish to make use of her again.”

“And you can take her out, right? You don’t have to keep an odalisque hidden?”

“Yes, you can take her out as a companion, or share her favors with discreet friends. You can take her to work if you might have sexual need of her there.”

Kai grinned. “Time to tint the office windows.”

“Precisely,” said Bastien. “But of course, an odalisque must never be compelled to make money in the outside world. When you acquire an odalisque, you sign an agreement to keep her in comfort, and to not require any work above and beyond that of sexual service. It goes without saying you would not accept money from others for her use.”

“That would make her a whore.”

Bastien nodded curtly. “Exactly so. That is not a word we like here. People often misunderstand. We are not in the business of exploiting or degrading women. If that is your desire, I hope you will choose not to take an odalisque into your care.”

“I don’t want a woman to abuse, I can assure you of that. I just want a woman who can give me sex without all the extra baggage. I don’t have time to deal with the baggage.”

Bastien smiled, then gestured to the servant at the door to bring the final course. His gaze returned to Kai. “You have no idea how common that is among those of your set. Some rich, powerful men enjoy lives of leisure, but most work remarkably long and grueling hours, hours that preclude deep interpersonal relationships. At the same time, they do not wish to forego the pleasures of the flesh. If anyone is deserving of endless pleasure, it is a man who works as hard as you.”

“Ah, endless pleasure.” Kai accepted a sinful-looking torte from the servant’s tray and grinned at his host. “You know all the right words to say.”

“Let’s be honest. The modern woman is expected to be strong and fiercely independent. The modern male, by contrast, is expected to be much more submissive than men in eras past. Dominant male sexuality is criticized as inappropriate and exploitative.
Code d’Odalisque
rejects these modern values and celebrates, rather than despises, the intensity of male sexuality. The code invites a woman--without shame or coercion--to live as a submissive servant to a man’s voracious sexual desire. Of course, the man she serves must be deemed worthy of this submission.”

Bastien paused for a sip of his after-dinner coffee, then continued in a franker tone. “The odalisques understand their fortune in fulfilling that need for gentlemen such as you. Most of these women could not afford the luxuries their owners provide them. It is pleasure given for pleasure. In fact, many develop almost worshipful feelings for their Master.”

Kai frowned. “But then...what happens when the year is up?”

“Odalisques can be in service to the same man for up to six years, if both parties wish it.”

“No, what I mean is, what happens at the end of the term, if the odalisque has become emotionally attached?”

“I never said anything about emotion,” Bastien corrected him. “I meant worshipful in a sense of sexual worship. Craving, desire. We have a word for it, a coarse word perhaps: cockslavery. It is a state to which all odalisques aspire. But for an odalisque to make emotional demands on her Master--this would be an utter desecration of the code. They are trained to sublimate such feelings, funnel them into a more heightened sexuality, for the fulfillment of Master, of course. But I go on and on. Perhaps it would be best if we paid a visit to the odalisques’ quarters. I’m sure you will find that much more illuminating than my words.”

Kai pushed his plate away. “I would very much love to visit the odalisques’ quarters.” God, he hoped he hadn’t sounded as horny and eager as he felt.

Bastien led Kai down a long, silent corridor. On either side, erotic sculptures graced Italianate grottos. Kai looked down at the black and gold diamond-patterned tile beneath his feet and imagined a girl writhing beneath him as he took her there on the spotless floor. He was feeling ridiculously worked up. Perhaps that was Bastien’s aim--to have him whipping out the checkbook before he even retired for the night.

His own home was nearly as large as the Maison, but decorated in a modern style. If he acquired an odalisque--which seemed more and more likely by the moment--he would be expected to provide her with “quarters.” He’d read that online, in the code, and had immediately started imagining the love nest he would create. He would buy all the velvet pillows in L.A., all the filmy curtains and overstuffed sofas that could be had. Endless pleasure.
Cockslavery.
He barely suppressed the groan that rose in his throat. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a woman without anxiety? Without guilt? Just sunk between a woman’s legs and lost himself? He couldn’t remember.

“This way.” Bastien’s hushed voice drew him back from his thoughts.

They turned left at the end of the corridor to find a winding set of carpeted backstairs. As they passed to the second floor, the comfortable warmth of the house became even cozier. Bastien took off his dinner jacket and invited Kai to do the same, leaving them with an attendant stationed at the top of the stairs.

“Serge will return it to your room. We keep the upper floors warmer year round,” Bastien explained. “The odalisques are kept naked. A great part of their training is teaching them to feel natural without clothes. You’ll find they are charmingly uncomfortable when they’re dressed and taken out amongst humanity. And charmingly eager to shed their clothes when you bring them home again.”

Bastien stopped in front of the first room on the right. “None of the doors are locked. Ever. It will be the same in your house. An odalisque has no need for privacy.” He pushed open the door, revealing a mid-sized, neat, uncluttered room. In the center of the room, a girl with short chestnut hair was reading on her bed. She was, as Bastien had led him to expect, quite naked. Still, it was a shock. She made no movement to cover herself, nor did she look the least bit embarrassed. She simply regarded both men through assessing, trusting eyes over the top of her book.

“Good evening, Fiona,” Bastien said, nodding to her. “I am showing Monsieur Chandler around.”