5 comments/ 22694 views/ 7 favorites The Journey of Jezebel Ch. 01 By: RedHairedandFriendly Someone's definition of Jezebel: ... an impudent, shameless, or morally unrestrained woman This is my Jezebel...inspired by an SRP I am honored to write along side with Tseranc. Samuel watched the group of women laughing, their heads bent around the table in hopes to stifle their words and keep their secrets to themselves. Their laughter though, as much as they tried, could not be contained. One woman in particular had a laugh that drowned out the others. Most occupants in the room found her to be the most annoying, yet Samuel found her the most intriguing. He noticed the way her head would be thrown back as the hardy belly laugh was pulled from her. He couldn't help but be drawn to the ivory flesh of her neck. He imagined running his fingers down the slim column, wrapping his hand around it and bringing her closer to his lips. Samuel shifted in his seat, felt the growing arousal and knew without a doubt that the woman would be the only one who could satisfy the need. After all, she'd caused it, only fair he give her the joy of easing him of his burden. Samuel rose from his seat at the club's bar, left several bills by his empty glass and made his way to the women. His eyes never left the one that had caught his attention. He reached her side and waited for them to notice him. It didn't take long. Five pairs of eyes stared back at him, and then a sixth pair, the pair he had wanted focusing on him since he'd noticed her. Samuel smiled at all of the women, then looked into the eyes of the ocean. His pulse quickened as he watched one brow lift. Curiosity. He cataloged the emotion, locked away the hint of what she was thinking, knowing he'd use that lifting brow as well as other facial expressions to learn all about her. "Can we help you?" Her voice rippled over him. It was full of both wonder, humor, and a slight bit of annoyance. How many times had she been approached by strangers he wondered. How many ever made it past the ice that seemed to cover eyes now forced to acknowledge another male who showed interest. Samuel smiled, a charming smile that he knew often melted the hearts of single as well as attached women. Even men were susceptible to his charm, though he never ventured down that path, at least not too far. He would use his charm to further himself financially, but never would he use it in the bedroom...not for a man anyway. Samuel bent down and whispered into the woman's ear. His breath stirred her hair; he breathed in her scent and recognized it immediately. Lilacs. He would be sure to provide her with that scent for as many years as she'd allow him to. When he rose, he nodded his head to the other women and walked away. His body was stimulated as was his mind, and all she'd said was 'can I help you...' "Who was that?" Jezebel's gaze was drawn away from the stranger's back. "I don't know," she answered honestly. Her sex had tightened the moment he'd whispered against her ear; if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit it had tightened as soon as she saw him approaching out of her peripheral vision. "What did he say?" another friend asked. Jezebel chuckled softly. "He demanded I meet him for drinks." Light laughter trickled around the table, bouncing soundlessly off crystal and silver. "Demanded?" "Yes, demanded," Jezebel answered. Rita snickered. "No wonder you didn't say anything. No one demands Jezebel Saint Claire." Jezebel smirked, winked and lifted her glass. "Right you are." The girls clicked their glasses together and went back to discussing the antics of some of societies most known gossip mongers. Soon all but Jezebel had forgotten the stranger and his demand placed on her shoulders. The conversation ended on promises from each lady to return to the same table, and at the same time, with the exception of it being one month later. Jezebel slipped behind the wheel of her red Ferrari F430 after tipping the valet and being rewarded with his wide and grateful smile. She eased onto the road and then disappeared from the sight of envious eyes. Jezebel polished her lips with a light sheen of gloss, glanced at her reflection and tried to focus on the music that resonated throughout the car's interior. She couldn't concentrate though. She could still feel the stranger's breath on her skin, still feel the tingling sensation that his presence had poured over her. Even his scent had somehow lingered on her and had become a constant plague. His voice had been low, soft, seductive. It was as if he knew she would cave to his whim and she would too. She knew it as soon as she had seen him rise from the bar. A part of her wanted to rebel, a larger part however wanted to see who the man thought he was. What gave him the right to demand anything of her and how had he known she would do as he had told? What had he seen in her that others hadn't seen, including herself? Jezebel drove the short distance needed in order to reach her home. The security gates swung open once the password had been keyed into the control box. A computerized greeting of "Welcome home Miss Jezebel" greeted her upon entering the house. She pulled a silver hair comb from the soft bun that she'd twisted her crimson curls into earlier that morning, tossed it onto a nearby table, along with her car keys and her purse. The soft sound of her sandals sliding across the floor as she kicked them off was the only sound in the house. Jezebel liked the silence. She had grown up in a home full of servants, yelling siblings, fighting parents and had often found herself retreating to the closet of her room, a place where the noise was muffled and went partially unnoticed. All those sounds though had stopped when she moved away after graduating from high school. She'd cut herself off from her family, her past and began to live life the way she wanted. Jezebel used her looks to gain herself employment. First in the porn industry, but only then it was for a short spell, she had no desire to actually become a star. For one year she worked, earning her place in the credits and learning how to fake every emotion that the cameraman needed. She took her money, thousands and thousands of dollars, and disappeared again, this time entering college and though she didn't earn a degree, she took courses that aided her in understanding how to make her money work for her. A few more years passed and she became known to those in the business field as a women to be reckoned with. Someone that knew what she wanted and how to go about getting it. A mystery to most and that was how Jezebel liked it. The ladies she met each month were women that she had known since college. Women that she'd taken under her wing. Together they added zeros to their bank accounts and learned how to depend on no one but themselves, or each other. Jezebel walked past a mirror that hung just outside her bedroom door. She stared at her reflection, once more wondering what the stranger had seen in her. Her face was one that a former lover had called captivating, mesmerizing, alluring. Jezebel however saw the flaws that only she could see. Round cheeks, arched brows, a few crows feet around her lips and eyes. Freckles too... how she hated her freckles. She would spend a fortune on trying to rid herself of the soft brown dots. Her mother had scrubbed her face raw trying to erase the sun damaged flesh. Her mother was crazy... Jezebel knew this, but still the freckles were a reminder that she had been flawed. So were her eyes. They were the color of the sea, one man told her. Her father however had damned her to hell several times, because they were the color that reminded him of her mother's infidelity. Another flaw, another thing to dislike about herself. She pulled her way from the reflection she desperately hated and moved to her bedroom. The door remained opened as she peeled off her top and shimmed out of her shorts. The expensive Versace shorts were kicked away, as was the matching emerald blouse. Her fingers slipped along the edge of her lace thong and soon it too was nothing more than a piece of lace on a silver, gray carpet. Deftly she unsnapped her bra; it floated to the ground and Jezebel disappeared into her bathroom. Her eyes caste a quick glance at the clock on the shelf where her favorite bottles of lotion, soaps, and perfumes rested. She had a little over two hours to ready herself. She hadn't told her friends everything the man had whispered. Yes, he had demanded she meet him for drinks, but in the short amount of time that he had whispered in her ear, he'd also demanded she come clean of all but the scent of lilac and sex. That was the clincher for her. The demand had not been the usual come on line, but he had actually come right out and told her what he expected. He expected to fuck her and she'd do it his way. She would to. There was something in her that told her she would, but what? Jezebel started the bath water, poured in a generous helping of lilac oil and slid into the water. She pressed the controls that rested on the rim; immediately the water was rolling over her. She angled her leg so that the powerful streams bounced across her thighs. Her body slid deeper in the water and the jets hammered her lower back and shoulders. She closed her eyes, breathed deep and sighed, allowing her mind to go back to the intensity of the stranger's stare. A few minutes passed before she opened her lids, reached out with her foot and twisted the water's faucets to the off position. Once the final trickle was gone, she slipped her toes back under the water and returned to the man's haunting image. Samuel sat confidently at the bar. She would be there, there was no doubt in his mind and knew there was none in hers. Though she had not said anything to him nor called him back when he had walked away, he'd felt her body tremble after he ended his demand. Even her scent had changed. The evidence of her quickened state of arousal had wafted up to his nostrils and that was all the answer he needed, the only confirmation required that she would indeed come and be washed in the scents he'd told her to wear. Lilacs and sex. A soft mummer of appreciation reached Samuel's subconscious. He glanced briefly at the bartender, followed the older man's gaze, though he knew who had entered the room and who had garnered the entire room's interest. Jezebel. He smiled at her name and the meaning behind it. Was she what her namesake proclaimed? Was she shameless? Morally challenged? A hussy of first rate quality? Yes... she was. He knew it, but did she? Samuel had lined the pockets of several club employees to discover all he could surrounding Jezebel Saint Claire. It was an investment that would pay for itself. It was just a matter of time. He rose and made his way to Jezebel. She stood just inside the bar's entrance. Samuel stepped up, pressed a kiss to her lips, and breathed deep. "Good girl," he whispered against her mouth, "you smell divine." He felt her body stiffen; the heat of her blush warmed his own flesh. He smiled and stepped back, looping his arm around her waist. They turned together, fluidly as if they had always known how to move as one. Samuel couldn't help but notice how well she fit against him. Perfection. He'd searched for that perfect fit all his life and now he had it. He would not let her go. "I have a table reserved for us in the club's dining room," he told her as they moved out of the bar and across the expensively decorated lobby. Jezebel simply nodded her head. She didn't want to voice any words that would destroy the feeling of completeness that seemed to wash over her. They wove their way through the various tables that were full of guests. Eventually Samuel pulled out a chair for her and she slipped into it. Her hands rested demurely on her lap and she was struck with the oddity of the situation. When was the last time Jezebel had ever been demure? She watched the stranger sit down beside her. His chair had been strategically placed closer to hers, and not across the table where it would naturally have been placed. He reached under the table, and took one of her hands. She felt cold steel slide over her wrist. Jezebel looked down and grew slick with arousal as she took in the cuff. It was just one, a steel circle with a small link dangling down, like a charm. She lifted a brow when she looked up at him. Another emotion played across her face and she knew this man was reading it. He was reading her. Samuel's sex stiffened as he read acceptance in her eyes. Acceptance for how long, however he couldn't read, but he was willing to wait and relish every minute he had with her. "How did you do it?" he asked before signaling a passing waiter for service. The man approached, offered the wine list, which Samuel glanced at then quickly ordered from. The attendant left and he turned his face back to Jezebel's. "Do it?" she repeated the final words he's spoken. "Yes, how did you do it. The fragrant of sex is strong. Almost drowning out the lilacs. I am positive I know how you soaked in lilacs, but tell me Jezebel, how did you come? How did you make your own perfume rise up so it greets a man with every breath he takes." Her face grew red; Samuel grinned. His fingers caressed the edge of her skin that warmed the cool steel. "Did you use just your fingers? Did you come in the water? Or did you use a toy?" He leaned closer, pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "Whose face did you see when you fucked yourself?" Jezebel shivered. Samuel breathed deep and kissed her neck. "You're soaked. I could breath in that scent all day. I will too." He leaned back; the attendant arrived and soon a glass of wine rested in each one's hand. Samuel clicked his glass against Jezebel's. "A toast to the scent of man," he whispered. Jezebel lifted a brow. Samuel watched it's arc, noting again the difference in just how high it raised. "To the scent of a woman," she countered. He chuckled, clicked her glass again and drank the crimson fluid. The nectar of some fruit crossed his palette and he licked his lips in appreciation. Jezebel did the same; her eyes never left his mouth. "So...I am waiting," he told her after allowing another drink to pass between them. "I started in the water, my bath. But even with toys I never seem to find what I seek." "We'll work on that," Samuel promised. Another brow raise, another knowing expression. He had always been fascinated with the little details a woman gives with just a simple lifting of her eyebrows, or the furrowing of them. A high arch usually meant she was shocked, as did the telling widening of her eyes. Deeply furrowed meant in his opinion that she was confused about something. Arched deep, but not sternly usually showed concern. Jezebel's spoke of interest. She was definitely interested in how Samuel would provide for her a way to reach the place she sought when in the water. "Continue. You left the bath and then..." "I walked to my bed, pausing briefly to grab my black bag from the closet." Samuel smirked. "Ahh, a black bag. Now, you're not a doctor Jezebel, so what do you keep in that black bag?" "What is your name?" she suddenly asked, changing the topic. "Samuel Coughlin. Now... what is in the bag?" "Various toys, oils, lotions." "And your favorite?" Jezebel's face grew warm. She sipped her wine and glanced around, hoping the solitude of where Samuel had placed them was as secretive to voice as it seemed to for sight. "Two bullet vibes." "Two?" She chewed on her lower lip and nodded. "Yes, two." "What do you do with them?" he prodded her with both the question as well as the intense stare and the firm, gentle touch of his fingers caressing the cuff and flesh under it. "I put one in myself and one on my..." "Say it Jezebel. Don't act shy and innocent. Tell me where you put your toys." He felt her body tighten and knew her inner muscles were flexing. He breathed deep again and shook his head slightly, enjoying the scent of her growing state of arousal. "I put one in my pussy and the other I keep pressed against my clit." Samuel grinned. "See pet, that wasn't so hard." Jezebel's lips curled slightly at the name. Pet? Where had that come from, she wondered, then dismissed it as the server appeared and Samuel ordered for them both. She told herself that she was allowing him the liberty to order her meal. A part of her told herself that she was giving him that privilege, she didn't want to admit that she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the power he seemed to wield so easily over her. "Go on," Samuel told her after the server disappeared, "I want to hear every detail." Jezebel shifted in her seat, swallowed another gulp of her wine and licked her lips. Her hand moved to her lap and she wiped sweat from the palm of her hand. She felt Samuel's eyes on her and knew there was no getting out of telling him her story, unless she stood up and walked out. She was not going to do that. "I lay there, naked and wet. I pulled a sheet over myself and pushed one of the vibes into my pussy. The other I took and pushed against my clit. I used my other hand to turn on the first vibe, setting it at low. I then turned on the other, it too I kept at low." "Why the sheet?" The question threw Jezebel for a moment. She paused and thought a moment. Another expression for Samuel to file away. "I don't know," she told him. Samuel eyed her knowingly. "Yes, you do. Tell me." She blushed, something that was becoming a habit. "I don't..." "Jezebel, let's get one thing straight right now. You don't need to lie to me. You know why you cover yourself with a sheet when you fuck yourself. Now tell me." His voice had raised slightly, causing her to glance around and see if anyone had heard him. When she was assured that either the people had been oblivious of their conversation, or had simply chosen to be polite and ignore them, she answered, "I'm embarrassed." "See, that wasn't hard. We'll work on that too." A puff of air she'd been holding slipped free of her polished lips. She hadn't even been aware she had held it until her lungs were free of the tense pressure. "So you play under the covers," he said, hoping to coax her back into telling the story. "Yes. Always," she admitted. "That's why you can't find pleasure in the water. It's too open, there are no covers. The water is clear, bubbles disappear to fast and," he thought a moment, "a shower curtain holds back no sound. You don't cry out when you come do you Jezebel? You're afraid someone will hear you." She blinked her surprise, but shook her head in agreement. "We'll work on that," he told her, then winked. Their salads appeared and Jezebel devoured it with a hunger she didn't know she had. Samuel watched, chuckling inwardly. She was a gem. He knew it. A wounded gem, but also a highly charged sexual one. He wanted to possess her, more so now than when he had seen her in the club. As she tucked the last leaf of her salad into her mouth, he ran one finger over the edge of her dress's hem. She trembled. His finger slipped under the thin material and ran an inch up her thigh. "Open your legs," he told her. She did. He stroked small circles into her flesh. "Your story is not finished," he said, lifting his glass of refilled wine and sipping it, while still caressing her skin. She stuttered slightly and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I continued to vary the vibrations of the vibes. My pussy grew tighter and I pushed harder on my clit." "Did your hips rise and fall as you fucked the toys?" "Yes." "Did you bite your lip so you wouldn't shout or grunt or whimper?" "Yes." "Did you see my face when you came?" His finger had never stopped moving. It had inched its way closer and closer to the object of their discussion. Her fragrance blossomed further as his words moved over her. "Jezebel," he whispered, having moved his mouth to her ear once more, "did you see my face when you came?" The Journey of Jezebel Ch. 02 Someone's definition of Jezebel: ... an impudent, shameless, or morally unrestrained woman. * The LexusSC glided down the road, its driver taking the twists and turns like a professional skilled in handling fast machines. Samuel's eyes never left the blacktop unless it was to catch a quick glance at the woman by his side. He would normally take the jagged road with recklessness, but this night he refused to let the power of the machine rule over wisdom. He had precious cargo and she trusted him to get her to their destination in one piece. "A very nice ride," Jezebel whispered, her fingers caressed the leather seat. "Your's is just as nice," he replied, "I arranged to have it stored overnight at the club. You can collect it in the morning." Jezebel smiled and shook her head. "Sure of yourself aren't you?" her brow rose in a knowing look, "My car is one of the many luxuries I enjoy. I do like it." "I bet you like getting in and out of it." A smirk rose from her lips when she realized he would not comment on the first part of her statement. "Yeah, I do. I over exaggerate my entering and leaving of it. I like the way I feel when my legs slide out and then my body. Like I'm slinking out." Samuel smiled, picturing the long legged redhead climbing in and out of her car, much like she had his, when they left the club. She had poured herself into it. He loved every inch of skin that had been revealed as she slid in, lifted one leg, crossed it over the other, forcing her dress to hike higher and expose even more sinfully creamy flesh. The ivory complexion, littered with tiny freckles had not gone unnoticed by the valet attendant either. Samuel had to cough in order to gain the young man's attention. He didn't chastise him; how could he, Samuel had stared too and Jezebel had fully been aware of the attention, played it up even by sliding forward, licking her lips and then reapplying a sheen of lip gloss. Yes, she knew how attractive she was and she knew how to play it to the nines. "When does this come off?" Her question forced him to glance at her wrist. "Uncomfortable?" he asked, with a raised brow, before returning his focus to the drive. "No." "Then don't concern yourself with it." "When do I get the other half?" His shaft hardened slightly. The fact she wanted the other half of the restraint meant she was more than willing to take their play to a different level than the norm. He had known she would, but to have her verbally admit it made his desire grow. "In time Jezebel; in time." "What happened to pet?" Another inch of his cock stretched under the expensive material of his Armani slacks. "Do you feel pet's appropriate at this moment?" He let her think on that question as he turned off the highway and onto a side street. He could see her expression, one full of contemplation, as if she were trying to choose the words. "No," she told him, "it doesn't feel right. At the club, it did though, it felt..." He lifted a brow and waited. "It felt perfect." Her voice was soft, almost melodious. She licked her lips and he saw her cheeks grow pink. He reached over with one hand and placed it on her thigh, pushing her dress up higher. "Spread your legs," he told her. Jezebel's sex tightened. She could not help but notice the sudden change in his voice, or the change in the air around her. Both seemed to suddenly fill with some unknown electrical charge. She spread her legs and glanced at his hand, slowly traveling up her thigh. "Perfection is hard to reach if one is always fighting their own embarrassment," he admonished. "I'm not embarrassed," she whispered. "No, you're not now, but you would be if I were stroking your cunt in the club and making you come. You were embarrassed earlier, weren't you. Even though you'd come, you were still embarrassed," his thumb pressed against her clit, "Tell me why you came to dinner without panties." The change of topic surprised her. She blinked and chewed on her lip, shifted in her seat and angled her body in hopes to give him better access. "It felt...right," she hissed as his fingernail scrapped against the nub of her sex. "Does this feel right?" A soft mummer of "yes" left her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and her legs spread wider. "Good," he told her. His eyes shifted from his hand, now pressed fully against the soft mound of her pussy, and the road. His cock strained; his nostrils flared; his pulse raced. Samuel kept his hand against her as he finished the last few miles of terrain that separated them from his home; all the while his fingers massaged her pussy lips. Rubbing, stroking, pulling and slightly twisting them to the right and then the left. Her soft moans of pleasure filled the car, yet he knew she was still holding back her desire. He took his hand away, and wiped the juice that had slowly eased from her sex onto her inner thigh. "For later," he told her, before pressing the remote for his garage and driving his car into it's simple, yet secure structure. Jezebel's jaw ached from clenching it. She had wanted to scream for him to fuck her, to stop teasing her, to pull the car over and ram his cock deep into her. She'd wanted that since the first fantasy that had his image as the main star. Yet, she didn't beg, scream, or order him to do her bidding. She watched his hand, now free of her nectar, nectar that would quickly grow dry on her skin. She remembered how she'd devoured the come off his fingers, come that had exploded from her sex at the dinner table. A whimper slipped from her mouth as she felt a rush of desire. Samuel heard the sound, cataloged it and shut the engine of the car off. He exited, walked quickly around the front and opened the door for Jezebel. Again he was rewarded with the smoothness of her exiting a well-oiled machine. His cock strained. He closed the car door, pressed his palm against the small of her back and felt the heat of her flesh under the fabric. They walked together, again as if they were old pros at walking side by side. She neither lagged behind or rushed ahead, simply moved wherever he led. Simple pressure applied to the right points of her back had her turning to the right, or left, eventually walking up three steps, waiting for him to unlock a side door and then together moving like silk into a small room, where he took her shawl and placed it on a hook. His jacket joined the satin material. He pressed her onward, passing several rooms, eventually making their way to a den where chilled wine sat, nestled in ice, housed in a silver bucket. "A quaint home," she said, her gaze drifted from one piece of furniture to another. "Surprised?" Jezebel smiled. "Yes, I am. I expected something more...showy. A large house, full of servants to do your bidding. Minions to cater to your every whim." Samuel laughed. "I could afford it, that's certain, but I am also quite capable of washing dishes and folding laundry, though I will admit I don't like either," he winked, poured her a glass of wine and added, "I have a housekeeper who comes in twice a week." Jezebel grinned. "So do I." They both chuckled, clicked their glasses for no reason and sipped at their drinks. Samuel placed his glass on the table and took a seat on the leather sofa. He watched Jezebel take in her surroundings. Her drink remained in her hand as she moved about the room. He did not mind her curiosity; he encouraged it with a nod here or there when she indicated something of interest. He answered her questions concerning books she eyed, furniture she admired and even pictures of various friends and family members that were framed and hung in different places about the room. She stopped, stared out the window to the backyard and found herself looking at her reflection. She could see him behind her. Her gaze occasionally locked with his. Each time the intensity of his stare would make her pulse race. "Why me?" she suddenly asked, breaking the silence. He rose and walked forward. She continued to stare at his reflection, slowly merging with hers. "Why not?" he whispered against her ear. His hand moved around her; his fingers took her glass; he placed the partially filled goblet on an antique end table that held a set of crystal bird eggs, nestled in a hand woven nest. Jezebel couldn't answer for a moment. The feel of his lips still lingered on her skin. When she felt his mouth brush against her shoulder, she shivered. "Why not you?" he asked again. She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not anything special," she said breathlessly; his tongue pressed against the pulse beating under her ear. "Is that what you believe?" he asked, nipping at her skin, "You're quite special, pet, more special than any woman I have ever met before." The sound of 'pet' washed over her. She shivered, leaned back into him and felt her body sway. His fingers moved down her arms, softly caressing her flesh and bringing a shiver of goose bumps to the pale surface. He touched her gently, pausing when he found a place that brought a whimper or a small gasp from her lips. Jezebel stood there, if one could call her posture standing; it was more like reclining against a solid force. She sighed when his fingers moved back up her arms, then down again. Each trip they made brought another tingle to her already aroused sex. She turned toward him, only to be stopped in her pursuit. "Stay there," he whispered, making sure she remained facing the window, "watch." It took a moment for Jezebel to comprehend exactly what she was supposed to watch. When she did, a warm blush fell across her cheeks, spreading down her neck and further to hide under the material of her dress. She studied her reflection in the mirror as well as the reflection of the man behind her. His hands moved skillfully over her flesh and then across the fabric of the thin, short dress. Nails scrapped skin, never leaving a mark, but marking her just the same as if he had scratched his name into her flesh. She watched his mouth move from her neck, to her shoulder, then down one arm, nipping its way to her hand, which he held, lifted up and treated to small, delicate kisses. Tingles, throbs, and shivers of anticipation skated across every surface of her body. Goose bumps followed goose bumps and sighs followed whimpers. Her lids would flutter close on occasion, only to be open wide when his fingers found some new place to play. For the first time in her life Jezebel felt as if she were a prize, a token to be gazed upon and cherished. Her teeth came out to pull on her lower lip as she watched her dress being slowly lifted from her body. When the silky material lay in a puddle on the floor Samuel stood directly behind her, cupping her breasts and kneading them softly. "Look at yourself," he told her, whispering the command in her ear as if there were others that could hear him, "you are special." He played with the hard beads of her tits, rolling the pearls and then grazing his palms over them. She stared at his hand, mesmerized by the feel as well as the sight of what was happening to her. "You are more than just a rich socialite. You are unique." Jezebel fought the words that wanted to spill from her lips. She wanted to shrug off all he was saying with some witty and off-handed comment, but she didn't. She wanted to believe his words more than anything else and so she simply stood there transfixed by his voice and listened to him seduce her body with words and actions. Samuel left her breasts and ran his palms over her arms, then up again. He traced the shape of her spine with one finger, while allowing the digits of his other to slide to her hips and then up to her ribs. She jerked slightly when he discovered several spots on her torso that were prone to tickles. He grinned and she glanced at his reflection with a 'don't you dare' look on her face. Samuel winked, slipped down to his knees and sat behind the bare ass of the woman before him. He kissed the small of her back, then trailed his tongue down one rounded globe of muscle and flesh, then back up the other. He left no part of her backside untouched. He spread the cheeks of her ass, and licked slowly down the tight seam. She jerked when he pressed his tongue against the puckered hole. "Have you?" he asked, nipping her ivory thigh once, then twice as she tried to answer his question through her heavy breathing. "Yes," she whispered, shook again and then continued, "but it isn't something I enjoyed." "We'll work on that," he promised. A part of Jezebel knew that he would succeed in all that he said they would work on. From the position he was in Samuel made out the sweet juices of her sex. He moved one hand up her thigh, cupped the hot core of her womanhood and pressed his fingers against it. She shivered again. "You wax," he murmured against her hip, "I like that, though I like a bit of fluff to. So we'll vary your way of doing things. Spice it up so to speak." She swallowed, nodded her head in agreement and watched as he unfastened the buckles of her stilettos. Jezebel stepped free of them, watched him push them from harms way and then saw him move around to the front of her. He glanced at their reflection. So did she. In the window stood a woman, a naked goddess, save only for the jewelry she wore and the glimmering, solitary cuff that circled her wrist. Jezebel had never seen this woman before. In front of her, blocking the lower half of her body was a man. A smartly dressed man on his knees paying homage to some gift that was bestowed on him. That was how she felt. She was a gift, something to be treasured and enjoyed. Yet, to see him on his knees brought a small sense of oddity to her musings. She felt as if she should have been there, not him. He was gifting her with the realization that she was more than just a woman, she was [I]his[/I] woman. Jezebel's fingers rested on his shoulders. His mouth moved up her right leg. She felt his tongue sliding higher and higher; his teeth occasionally nipped at her flesh. When he paused in his ascent she gazed down at him. She watched him lap hungrily at one particular patch of flesh. He seemed to wash something from her skin and when she recalled his words 'for later' she grunted low. The juice of her sex slipped out and coated the outer lips of her pussy. Samuel's fingers danced across the sticky fluid and spread it across the mound of her sex. "Don't hold back," he told her. He traveled across her abdomen and toyed with her belly button. "I want to prove to you that you are special. I will show you the part of you that you've kept hidden, even from yourself. I want you to feel free...free to explore all aspects of pleasure and to voice it as loud as your body demands you do." Jezebel whimpered, bit down on her lower lip and shuddered. "What do you want?" he asked; his warm breath danced across her wet pussy. He swiped a quick, firm lick across the hardened tip of her clit. She shook again; hisses of pleasure escaped her clenched lips. "Do you want me to eat you out?" he asked, losing the sweetness in his voice, sweetness that she'd found captivating. Now his voice was full of something else, a hardness that made Jezebel's body throb with anticipation. "Tell me, pet... what do you want for your reward?" Reward? It took her a moment to remember that at dinner he had been pleased with her and he had promised a reward. Now he was asking her what she wanted. Jezebel looked down on his face, a mere hairbreadth away from her aching pussy. She wanted his face buried in her. She wanted to feel his tongue thrusting in and out of her cunt. She wanted to watch his eyes burn with desire and passion for her and her alone. She wanted much, but needed only one thing. "You," she whimpered, pushed her fingers into his hair and brought her hips closer, "please I want... I want to scream." Samuel needed no other words. He spoke no more as he opened his mouth and began to feast on the delicate petals coated in nature's honey. He opened her lips, pushed his tongue into the hot center and pumped in and out of the soft core. Nails dug into his scalp, but the pain was not enough to distract him from his intended course which was to make the goddess before him scream for mercy. He slipped his tongue out of her pussy, dragged it up to the clit and began to lick away at the pink hued skin. Her scent surrounded him. He drank it in, slurped at the liquid silk that flowed easily from her and marveled in the wetness that was Jezebel. He pushed one finger into her pussy, twirled the thick digit and then eased it out. He added a second, repeated the procedure and then added a third. Jezebel looked down at him, watched the beauty of the moment and knew this was worth more than anything she'd ever received from a lover. This was a gift beyond measure. She felt wanted for herself and not just her body. He had paid attention to her whole being, coaxing her into looking at her reflection, accepting the fact that she was a living breathing woman who had needs that had to be satisfied. She doubted anyone but Samuel could, but for now she had no desire to find out otherwise. A tug on her clit made her jerk back to reality. "Sam..." "Pet..." The tone of his voice brought a look of confusion. He had not asked her a question, nor really stopped his seduction of her sensitive place, but yet with his voice she knew she'd done something wrong. It took her a few seconds to realize what she was to say. She recalled the brief title in the restaurant and whispered, "Sir." Immediately she was rewarded with the smile that rose from his slippery lips. "Very good pet," he told her before going back to work on the swelling rose before him. He sucked, gnawed, pulled and massaged her coated skin. Jezebel's moans grew louder with every thrust of fingers and swipe of tongue. He bit gently at first, emitting a great hiss of delight from the redhead, then bit harder bringing a small shout of 'fuck yes' from her lips. Jezebel watched the couple in the reflection, barely aware that it was her own being she gazed upon. She saw a woman washed in passion. A woman that trembled and shook as her lover ate away at a favored dish. "Sir... oh fuck, Sir..." Samuel drove his fingers in faster, gave no mercy to her pussy and aided her in keeping her balance by holding her ass in his free hand. He massaged the globes, pushed her into his face and supped at the wet fruit. "Come pet; come for me. I want to hear your voice." She could barely comprehend his command. His voice was muffled, thick with lust and desire. Her head pounded with the beat of her pulse. Her jaw hurt from holding back the sounds of pleasure and yet when he gave her permission to speak, her whole soul felt free. She threw back her head, gripped his shoulders and let out a loud moan and grunt, followed by a squeal of release. Her fluids erupted from her sex, spilling onto the man's eager fingers and then she felt his mouth swallowing up the heated juice. She shuddered against his face, climaxed again as he gnawed on the freshly coated petals. Her nails curled into the fabric of his jacket; she gasped, moaned, whimpered while he licked her clean. Jezebel couldn't stand and feared she'd fall by the time he was done drinking his fill. She moaned as his fingers moved up her form and pressed against her, forcing her to return to him just long enough for him to ease her down onto the floor. He moved over her, kissed first her right nipple then her left, before gliding up to suck on her neck. "I need to fuck you now, pet. Right here; right now." A quick nod of her head told him she was willing. A part of her knew it wouldn't have mattered though. He possessed her. If he wanted to fuck her he would and she would have little to no say in the matter. How that knowledge thrilled her. She whimpered, spread her legs and felt his hand move between them. The Journey of Jezebel Ch. 03 Jezebel opened her eyes, quickly closed them again and rubbed her fingers against her temple. A soft, and yet threatening headache rested behind her closed lids; she tried to push it away, but failed as sunlight streamed into the room. She rolled over, again opened her eyes, this time looking into a less than brilliant display of light. The sun still lit up the room, but this time it shone on her back and not on her wakening features. The knowing dent in a pillow and tousled covers, that rested beside her, showed Jezebel that the bed she'd lay in was empty save but her. She sighed, a twinge of disappointment flickered over her, before she caught the scent of bacon in the air. The sigh was quickly replaced by a moan of pleasure. She pushed at the comforter that lay partially over her naked flesh. Her hands grazed her skin and she remembered how his hands had felt when taking the same path her fingers had just casually strolled. A rush of heat flowed through her; she licked her lips and slipped from the bed. Ten well pedicured toes rested on a thick rug. They curled into the material and then stretched out. She stared at the small digits, seemingly looking at them for the first time. He'd complimented her on her toes sometime during the night. It was an oddity for one to do during a moment of passion, but Samuel, she was discovering was very much an oddity...one she looked forward to discovering more of. The sound of cabinets opening and closing brought her back to the scent of breakfast. Jezebel moved from the bed, made her way to the connecting bathroom and quickly relieved herself, then took a chance to wash away the evidence of their nightly play. Her wrist, she noticed was free of the steel cuff, yet in it's place was a small white piece of rope. She fingered it, as the water temperature reached a point that she would find comfortable. The rope was silky to her touch; she recalled how as she drifted in and out of sleep, he'd chuckled at her willingness to lay with the metal scrapping her skin if she shifted in her sleep. He'd said he was not willing to let it bruise her or him as she tossed and turned in the night; she drowsily conceded. He'd slipped the cuff off and replaced it with the knotted rope, which she barely registered as being attached to his own wrist, before slumber claimed her. Samuel heard the sound of the shower running after the knowing flush of the commode. He thought of the beautiful woman, naked under a stream of hot water. He would have gone in there with her, washed her himself and then gotten her dirty again had it not been for the breakfast he was preparing. He found himself looking forward to seeing her stroll through the house and make her way toward him, in search for food, and perhaps more of their intimate play. As the bacon sizzled in one pan, he quickly scrambled eggs in another, while biscuits from a can cooked in the oven. His mind drifted from the image of Jezebel on her hands and knees, his cock sliding in and out of her slippery pussy, to her laying on her back, her hands raised over her head and curling around the iron bars that made up the headboard. His cock jerked at the memories and he found himself wanting nothing more than to burn breakfast and reintroduce his dick to the sultry flesh that Jezebel owned. Yet, he didn't. Samuel controlled himself, shaking his head at the amount of concentration it took in order to not do as his body demanded. He finished the meal, leaving it on a low setting while he set the table, moving quickly so as not to over cook the now simmering food. The idea of slaving over a stove and then presenting a cold meal or worse, a burnt one, to his lover was not something he wanted to do. So when Jezebel stepped into the room, wearing the discarded dress shirt he'd pulled off himself last night, it was to a hot meal and a ready man. "Good morning," she greeted him, pushing at a few strands of wet hair, "It looks delicious," she whispered, then claimed a seat at the table, after he'd pulled it out for her. "You certainly do," he answered back, tugging on her hair and pulling her head back slightly. Her neck was openly exposed; quickly he moved down to suck on the ivory skin. He tugged on her hair further, bringing a soft whimper from her throat, which he felt vibrate across his lips. Samuel grinned, made his way up the delicate column and then captured her mouth. Their tongues twisted and danced. He drank in the taste of mint and shared the coffee flavor of his own tongue with her. When he pulled away, his eyes feasted on her flushed cheeks and darkened eyes. "Breakfast, pet," he told her before releasing her hair and moving to sit across from her. Jezebel swallowed the lump in her throat and shuddered against the passion between her thighs. She watched in silence as he served them both. "Jez." His voice made her look up and she blushed again. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking." "I guessed that. What were you thinking about?" Samuel pushed her plate toward her, before digging into his own meal. She poked the eggs with her fork, then sampled it, smiled appreciatively and then shrugged. "I was just wondering how long this is going to last." Samuel stopped eating and looked back at her. "How long do you want it to last?" She licked her lips and thought a moment before answering. "Forever seems a bit childish to say, doesn't it. Seeing as we don't really know each other." A small smirk rose from Samuel's lips. "We know a lot about each other, just in a different way then some. I know you enjoyed yourself last night, as did I. I learned that I have a woman that could come for hours and may just wear me out. Something no other has done before." Jezebel blushed brighter. "I learned that though you are definitely a strong woman, you can blush like a school girl with just the tiniest compliment is aimed at you." Soft laughter bubbled out of her lips. "Your compliments are sincere. That is the only reason I blush. I can tell the difference." "I'm sure you can. I'm sure you've had your fair share of false bravado thrown at you, simply because you are beautiful, smart, and confident of yourself. All wonderful things that men enjoy, but may just compliment you in order to fuck you." "And you don't want to fuck me?" she asked boldly, before taking her juice and lifting the glass to her lips. Samuel chuckled. "I think I answered that question several times last night." Jezebel smiled wide. "Yes, you did." Samuel finished his coffee, spread butter on a roll and took a bite of the soft bread. Jezebel watched him chew, imagined his mouth gnawing on her and felt her breath come quick. She shook her head slightly and winced at the returning headache that had started to ease away during the shower. "You okay?" She glanced at Samuel and sighed. "Just a morning headache, nothing too serious. It'll go away." Samuel got up, disappeared for a short moment, then returned with two white pills, which he placed next to her. "Tylenol," he said, reclaiming his seat and motioning for her to take them. Jezebel slipped the pills between her lips and down them quickly with a gulp of juice. "Always looking out for me; aren't you?" she asked jokingly. "If you'll have me," he told her. The seriousness in his voice beckoned her to look at him more closely. She felt the tension in the air shift and knew that this morning would be a turning point in her life, more so than the activities from the night before. "Jezebel, I want you. I want you here in my home, in my bed, in my life. I know we just met, but this is how I operate. I see something I want and I want it now. I don't like to wait. I go in and conquer, immediately reaping the rewards." "And you're going to conquer me?" "Not fully. I don't want to stifle your personality, or your life, nor do I want to limit you in pursuing things that you enjoy. I do want to conquer you in other ways," he thought a moment, choosing his words carefully, "perhaps 'conquering you' isn't the right way of saying it. I want to help you conquer yourself. I want you to open up and experience the woman you truly are, the woman you've hidden away from not only the public, but yourself. You were loud last night, weren't you?" he asked suddenly. She blushed, bent her head down and stared at her hands. Her fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. "I guess so," she whispered. "You were louder than you ever have been with another?" "Well...no. I've been loud before, but that wasn't the same as last night." "Oh? What was different? Was it because you were with me?" Jezebel bit down on her lip, struggling with how much of her past to reveal to the man across from her. "Not exactly," she admitted, sheepishly looking up at him. Samuel's gaze spoke confusion. He had been sure she'd been quite surprised by her own vocal response, yet here she sat across from him confessing that she'd been louder with another lover. Samuel studied her, noting the way her eyes darted from him to the plate, the way her body seemed to go stiff as she relived some event in her past. He waited for her to speak, inwardly hoping he'd not misjudged the woman before him. "I faked it," she admitted. His eyes grew wide and for once he was left speechless. She looked at him, then blinked. "Oh god Sam, not last night! I meant before. I've been louder before, because I faked it... all the time." She sighed, shrugged her shoulders and let out a deep breath. "I was an actress... I did some small time adult films when I was younger and I learned how to fake it. When to make the right noises, what face to make, how to arch my back, when to..." "I get the picture," Samuel said in a voice that spoke of disbelief. He sat there stunned by the fact that Jezebel was not as innocent as he'd suspected, but very much aware of how to use her body in the art of seduction. He'd been blinded and a part of him was disgusted by himself. They sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. "I'll go," she whispered, then rose from the table. "Jez." His voice stopped her, she turned and looked back. He'd risen from his seat, moved toward her and stopped only when she had. "I don't want you to go. I just want you to tell me the truth. Last night..." She smiled softly. "Last night was real Samuel. Very real, more real than anything I have ever experienced before. From the first breath against my skin at the club, to waking up and watching you work on breakfast this morning. It was all real." Samuel reached out, gripped her neck and pulled her toward him. His lips mashed against hers; his tongue invaded her space and claimed what she offered with no kindness hidden behind. It spoke of need, a need to satisfy himself with her actions and not just take her at her words. He needed to hear her again, to see the passion she'd shown last night and know that he'd brought her to that breaking point. Samuel pushed her back to the table, shoving dishes away and for a moment he thought of all the cliché times to take a woman this had to be one of them. In the heat of the moment, dishes flying, silverware skating across wood, glasses shattering to the floor, but he didn't care about any of those things, he simply needed to possess the creature before him. He lifted her up and dropped her onto the now clean surface. His hand circled her neck, moved lower and gripped the top of the buttoned shirt. He pulled it hard, buttons flew and again he was reminded of how cliché it all seemed, yet it also seemed right. He needed to mark her in a way that told them both that all that had happened, was happening and would happen was real; that none of it was faked, or rehearsed for a director manipulating a scene. Jezebel lay on the table. Her breath coming in quick, short gasps. Her chest rose and fell. Her hair, still wet from the shower lay in tangles beneath her head and haphazardly across her shoulders. A few strands lay across her breasts, the slick tendrils wrapped seductively around one of her nipples, framing the rosy surface. She opened her legs, and watched as the robe Samuel wore was opened, drug off his body and dropped carelessly to the dirtied floor. Her hands reached for him. She gripped his cock and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him and pushing him all at the same time. He drove into her. Grunts of desire poured from them both simultaneously. Jezebel watched his face, noted how it strained to control the lust that had driven him to take her without care, to mindlessly fuck her. She wanted to lock in the features, burn them into her mind so she would know how far to push him the next time she wanted fucked in such a manner. She knew she'd want it again, perhaps more often than the slow love making he'd given her during one of their moments the night before. She gripped his cock, working her muscles, forcing him to drag himself from her with more effort every time. He pushed into her, she welcomed him, and soon her eyes were clenched tight. No longer did she care about the look on his face, her body demanded she give everything to the sensations that were pouring inside her. Samuel groaned. His fingers dug into her hips, dragged her against him, drew her back and then forced her down onto his stiff rod. Over and over he took her. He basked in the sound of their sexes smacking together. He lived off the fragrance of sex that mingled in the air with their discarded and ruined breakfast. His gaze locked on her breasts. They bounced as he plunged in and out of her, swaying with a natural rhythm. One hand released the grip on a hip and captured one soft globe; he squeezed it hard, then lowered himself, bending just enough to bite on the tender bead, while still burying himself within her velvety folds. "Jezebel," he grunted, released her tit and pulled the majority of his shaft free of it's sweltering home, "how long do you want this to continue?" She gazed at him through foggy eyes. "Forever," she hissed, biting down on her lip before opening her mouth and begging him to continue, "Fuck me forever...please!" Samuel reached up, grabbed her neck and held it in a firm grip. He watched the initial fear subside and acceptance sweep over. He controlled the pressure on her windpipe, never cutting off her air supply, but letting her know he could if he wished to. She trusted him, and as his come filled the center of her core, hers coated his dick with searing heat. Together they shouted, his fingers releasing the grip, so that her voice could be heard clearly throughout the house. Samuel basked in it. He shuddered violently as a second stream of his seed exploded from his dick, coating her further in the lust she drew from him. She held him to her. Her legs stiff, yet seemingly capable of keeping him captive for eternity, if she so desired. He lay on her. Stiff nipples of both sexes dug needly into flesh of the other. "Forever," he muttered before his lips returned to drink from hers.