Mirror of My Soul

“Hold still, angel. One more piece, the top. You’ll find you can sit and stand in the pants relatively easily. They have enough stretch built into them so they fit like a second skin, but give you freedom of movement. Raise your arms for me.” Marguerite complied. Something like slender chains drifted down her arms, fell lightly against her breasts and back. He had her lower her arms and moved around her, again making the garment fit to her upper torso. Only it didn’t feel like fabric. It felt like…jewelry. Jewelry that snugged under her breasts, crisscrossed between them, lapped around her neck erotically to dangle down her back like the ends of a scarf. He pulled her hair back in gentle hands, secured it up, surprising her. Small beads brushed the rounded part of her shoulders.



Then his hands moved to her eyes and he took the blindfold off, letting her open her eyes to see herself in the full-length mirror toward which he turned her.



The pants did fit her like a second skin. They rode low on her hips and laced down either side, showing an inch of her bare body from waist to ankle. The garment he placed on her upper body was a creation of sapphires, pearls and onyx that fastened around her upper body beneath her breasts, then crossed between them and doubled around her throat. The two ends, ropes of the precious gems, made a delicate double strand down the column of her spine, explaining why he’d deviated from his usual preference of leaving her hair down. There was a separate scalloped piece that he’d draped from the points of her shoulders so the crescents of the sparkling gems hung low along the top of the breasts and fastened in the back.



She looked like a primitive tribal queen, her breasts bare but adorned opulently. A Mistress who would make a sub froth at the mouth to touch her. And yet it was more than that. It was a harness, a collar of sorts he’d given her, the snug fastening of it reminding her when she moved that she belonged to another.



Tyler stood behind her, and his hands came up, cupped her breasts, teased her nipples as she arched, rubbing her snugly held backside against his crotch. He suppressed a groan, dipped his head and nuzzled her bare shoulder, biting. “They had another pair of pants. Instead of opening at the legs, it laced up over the ass, and you leave the lacings loose enough so you can see the crease between the buttocks, can reach your fingers through the crisscross of the ties to play, bury them deep. Rip them open and fuck your lover’s ass when she needs it. But I thought these would do for a Mistress.”



“So you didn’t get the other pair?”



“One in white and one in pale blue. You got a better discount if you bought three.” She almost smiled, but looking in the mirror, she lifted her hand, fingered the scar at her collarbone, a frown crossing her face as she thought about how the beautiful garment bared her upper body.



“Hey.” Tyler bent his head, kissed the top of her hand, nudged it aside and laid his lip on the scar itself. “Don’t worry about that. They’re not going to ask. All right? I already took care of that.”



Before she could respond, he caught her nipple, pinched as she gasped. “I need to get you out of this room,” he rasped. “I’m going to explode if I can’t have you. My plan to torment you all night will be for naught.”



She leaned back into him, sliding her buttocks this time deliberately against him, reaching up her arms to wind them around his neck. “We have at least another five minutes before Roland is in true agony.”



She was in agony right now, her body screaming for his, intensified by his anticipation of her fears, her needs. I already took care of that.



Catching her by the throat, he drew her to her toes, pinning her against him to cup his other hand over her mound. She made a sound of desperate pleasure, but he held her still with his greater strength.



“No, angel.” He breathed hoarsely into her ear. Let her feel the rock-hard presence of him. “When I take you tonight, it will be when you’re screaming for my cock, wherever I want to put it. When you don’t care who hears you call me Master.” He’d never been this demanding with her. Something had shifted between them.



She realized the significance of that, wondered if it had to do with their current situation, the fact he’d likely never had a woman who was submissive to him but Mistress to others. He was making his territorial claims clear. Or perhaps it was all that they had experienced in the past few days together. It should have offended or even frightened her, but some odd shifting of her own had happened over the past couple of days. Her mind was still exploring all the meanings, not judging so much as experiencing the way that felt to her. And it was not unpleasant, especially with him now nibbling his way down the line of her shoulder.



“I can’t keep up with your shifts between charm and testosterone,” she managed.



Closed her eyes as his hands kept up their kneading at her breasts. Testing him, she reopened them, lowered her hands to her pussy, watched him watch as she rubbed herself there, building her sensation under his intense golden gaze.



“You get the whole package, angel.” He caught her hand, pulled it back behind her while he anchored her against him by maintaining his hold on her throat, jutting out her breasts in their beautiful jewels. He laid her hand on him, on his enormous need. “All of it.”



Marguerite kept the outfit on. When she came back to the pool Tyler left her side, but with a lingering kiss to the sensitive inside of her wrist and a thorough look over her body, the breasts only adorned in jewels. It was a look that made the nipples tighten again, showing her arousal to the others.



Fortunately, it was difficult to be self-conscious given what else was going on around the pool.



Mac was supine in a lounge chair as Violet sat upon him backwards, straddling his upper abdomen, her fingers playing up and down his fully erect cock while she watched Roland and Leila. Mac’s fingers were locked to the top slat of the chair, his wrists held there by straps. His feet were on the ground just on either side of the end of the chair due to his height, his ankles attached to the legs with the same type of straps, keeping his thighs open to everyone’s view, the sizeable testicles, thick cock. The upper part of the chair was raised to a shallow angle so he could clearly see and be stimulated by Leila and Roland as well.



Leila was where Marguerite had left her, on her back, her head on a pillow, straddled by Roland’s knees and spread thighs. She had her chin tilted up to give her better ability to take him more deeply down her throat and was currently doing so with enthusiasm. Her clit and labia were slick with excitement, her legs spread, obviously at Joseph’s behest, since he reclined on a chair just between her feet, one hand dangled off the chair to caress her ankle. Roland’s thighs were trembling, his body gleaming with sweat, suggesting Leila had followed Marguerite’s direction faithfully.



“She’s very well trained,” Marguerite complimented Tyler. He inclined his head.



He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and sat down several yards away from the tableau.



Something about the way he looked, the sensual mouth still, the jawline emphasized by the concealment of his eyes, made her own state of arousal in the moment more intense.



“How many times has she had to stop?” she asked Joseph.



The man glanced up, his eyes moving from her face down her body and back up.



He had to forcibly snap his jaw closed, but did so quickly when Tyler made a quiet noise and shifted to cross his ankle over his opposite knee. “Three times.” Marguerite tilted her head, taking Tyler into her peripheral vision. Another strange situation. As a Mistress at The Zone, she was used to the admiring but respectful glances of other Masters, the line clearly drawn in the sand, enforced by their known preferences. In this situation, Tyler’s obvious claim on her as a Master had blurred those lines. Joseph had stepped over it with his more thorough regard. He had looked at her as he might a submissive. Tyler’s subtle though clear message had redrawn the line firmly. His submissive she might be, but to all other men she was to be treated as a Mistress. She stood a moment, absorbing that interesting change in her status, wondering if she should feel insulted by his championing. But then she drew in her breath, inhaling the environment of sex and power, control and trust and knew that in their world, lines had to be made clear. They walked close to the primitive line of conquering, taking, the civilized posturings of consent just shadows at their backs, easily forgotten if those lines got confusing.



“Good. He’s well aroused then. Master Joseph, would you please ask Leila to keep Roland in her mouth, but she should no longer suck or lick him. I want her to hold him without moving.”



He gave the order and Leila stopped while Roland’s breath rasped erratically.



“I would like to reward your slave by making her come. May I have the pleasure?” Whatever the assembled had been expecting, it was not that. She could tell by the surprise on Joseph’s face, the slight lifting of Tyler’s brow, the interest in Mac’s expression. Only Violet’s unwavering attention was unaffected, but with respect to that one, Marguerite knew she was being judged and measured. From Mac’s occasional concerned glance in his Mistress’s direction, she knew she wasn’t the only one noticing it.



“It will be our pleasure to watch. A gift to us all.” Joseph nodded.



Because of her request, all the men in the room were now riveted by the tableau, even Roland putting his head at an angle where he could try his best to see as much as possible. She felt the male power wash over her like magical energy, an energy increased by the connection she felt with Violet in this moment despite their differences.



Two Mistresses in full command of the subs there. And, in a peculiar way, in command of the two Masters, with the power a woman fully encompassed in her sexual self could hold over anything male within distance. After all, there were not many myths about powerful Queens being brought to their knees by the sexual charisma of an island sorcerer, or male sirens singing a female captain to her doom.



Marguerite squatted next to Leila’s thigh and Roland’s hips. When she spread out her knees to balance herself, she knew the position would tighten the fabric over her ass in a seductive way. Tyler’s angle of vision was behind her though she’d settled far enough to the right he could easily see Leila’s wet pussy between her body and Joseph.