Killing Time (11 page)

It was important for him to convince himself of this because it had been Severin and not Rory who had dealt out Trésor’s punishment five days before her untimely death. His brother had recorded the incident and sent it to him while he was still in Germany. He had gone so far to actually fly to Germany just to give Rory an alibi of having flown when he said he had and turning right back around at the airport before flying home. Severin had been home in Los Angeles for less than twelve hours before he’d made the trip back to New York.

Rory hadn’t been in Manhattan at the time. His manservant, cook and housekeeper all attested to this. No one had been there except Astrid Schmidt and she had only come by briefly the day before Trésor’s untimely death to drop off some information she wanted Rory to have. He still hadn’t looked at it what ever the paperwork was she had dropped off but if he had to guess, she was probably making a bid for his apartment then. She knew how much city life was starting to bother him and he felt it a waste to have the apartment when he could stay at the permanent suite his parents owned at the Waldorf Astoria.

Rory barely went into the city more than a couple times per week and there truly was no reason why his home in Southampton couldn’t take care of his needs full time when he was in New York. He didn’t spend much time there but he had no wish to spend all his time in the oppressiveness that was Manhattan either.

He needed open spaces; beaches, oceans, lakes, mountains and nothing but the beauty of nature as far as they eye could see. He craved it as it soothed his soul and gave him serenity. It also gave him the peace he needed to approach life with cautiousness and expedience but never miss an opportunity that might be presented to him.

RORY SAW AURÉLIE FOR THE
first time since they were eight-years-old at a Pediatric HIV/AIDS charity event in Manhattan. He and Grayson went way back; Severin had introduced the two men due to his relationship with Gray’s older brother in the BDSM community. Seven and Jason were quite close, mostly because one of Seven’s prized slaves had fallen for Jason and he offered her marriage after confessing his undying love and loyalty to her.

Not that Seven minded much; Rory knew his brother his brother went through slaves at a remarkable rate.

“I was sick of that whiny little cunt anyway,” his brother had replied as he eyed them at the party.

“Are you sure you’re not just a little sore over losing a beauty like her?” Rory had teased in a low voice.

Trésor, stood beside him in a twenty-five thousand dollar, pale pink gown and over one hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry, merely laughed. “I highly doubt Severin has to beat down any woman’s door to get one to sleep with him.”

“Is that an invite?” Seven inquired with icy aquamarine eyes.

“Only with my Master’s permission would I share my body with another,” she’d responded lightening-quick.

“Why don’t you go refresh my drink?” Rory had suggested and she nodded slightly before she walked off with his empty champagne flute.

“Wow. You have her trained although…don’t you get tired of treating her like an equal?”

“She isn’t my equal. Just because I don’t have her with a dog collar around her neck and a leash attached doesn’t mean she misunderstands the place she has in my life. True, she isn’t crawling on her hands and knees but that doesn’t negate the status of our relationship. She is here to serve me and fulfill the duties I instruct her to do. I don’t cane her or humiliate her because I don’t get anything out of it and neither does she. We have tried a various number of games and we have established the particular ones where she excels. She’s an anal slut and loves it up her shit hole after I spank her ass but not too hard. We both love the arrangement and I am . . . content. That is the ultimate goal after all, isn’t it? Happiness? I don’t feel like she is overly dependent on me but she will do what she is told. How much more perfect could I hope for an arrangement to be?”

“It depends what you consider a perfect arrangement but alas, if you are satisfied then enjoy the way you are feeling.” Severin sipped from his cognac as he cocked his head to the side. “Wow, would you look at that juicy piece of ass? I wouldn’t mind having those two as a sandwich.”

Rory could feel a migraine approaching and tried to focus on what his brother blathered on about. He’d written his atonement check and felt better about himself for donating to such a worthy charity but he still looked in the direction Severin observed with obvious interest. Trésor looked and acted extremely uncomfortable in her present situation with a woman who could easily be her sister or perhaps it
was
her sister.

The older woman held her arms loosely as she spoke quietly to Trésor. His submissive kept looking around and rarely met the other woman’s gaze. Although the conversation seemed casual, both women held an expression of tension in their faces.

“I know her—well, not personally but I recognize her from television. That’s Aurélie Segler-DeMarche, the news reporter from one of the cable news networks. How do you think she knows your sub?” Severin had wondered out loud.

“Aurélie is her sister. She doesn’t speak to her family very often but obviously she isn’t overjoyed to see her either.”

“Do you think she’ll bring her over for an introduction?”

“Not a chance,” he whispered.

“Did you know who she was before I pointed her out to you?” His brother was a master manipulator and knew he’d had no idea who she was or what she did for a living. He didn’t exactly keep up with current affairs the way his brother did, at least not the frivolous kind.

They both knew Rory was the more serious type who actually read in detail what was happening in countries like Darfur, gave money to the enslaved Mexican workers who were kept in border factories and supported street children in Brazil. He cared nothing for models—though as irony would have it he was in an intense and exciting relationship with one—news reporters or superstars. He just wasn’t wired that way, not there was anything wrong with his attitude.

Severin stepped behind him and whispered in his ear, “She is beautiful, isn’t she? Not that she is more gorgeous than Trésor but they are truly both lovely in their own way and that is what makes them such unique pieces and so complimentary to one another, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely, she’s completely riveting and breathtaking. Did you say she was a journalist?”

“Yeah, for CNW if I’m not mistaken. Oh, Christ,” Severin cursed under his breath. “Here comes the ‘god of fuck’ and his ‘fuck slave’—my
former
slave, mind you.”

Rory couldn’t help but chuckle. No matter how many of these charities they attended together, Severin still hated to run into Jason if Kaysa accompanied him. The poor woman never seemed to get over Seven and that was an unfortunate embarrassment for him. He was never able to completely rid his life of her annoying and hovering presence.

“Rory. Severin. It is a pleasure to see you both as always.” Jason looked around like he was slightly bored and wished to be anywhere than where he was at the moment.

His golden blond hair was cut short but still long enough to signal he was a man of wealth and his ice blue eyes appraised people like they were pieces of property. As he viewed his wife this way, Rory was scarcely surprised with the man’s attitude. He, too, wished to leave this fake and phony party as soon as possible at a socially acceptable hour.

“Do you know that woman over there?” Rory inquired to Jason, pointing in the general direction of Aurélie and Trésor.

Jason looked briefly before their eyes met. “I’m assuming you are talking about Aurélie? She is brilliant and smart but my brother has his eye on her in the worst way. It makes no difference she is completely wrong for our family, Gray is destined to have her.”

He placed his hands together and studied the blond man. “What do you mean?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Their parents are awful—the usual middle-class bourgeoisie type if you catch my drift. Aurélie and Trésor’s mother is a prima ballerina—at least she
was
. . . now she teaches spoiled, anorexic rich girls with bad feet and the wrong body type for dance but apparently it pays well—and their father was in the orchestra. They used to tell people they were looking after her sister’s children since she was a crack head in America and couldn’t be bothered to look after them herself. Can you imagine referring to your own parents as your aunt and uncle in front of strangers?

“Anyway, I always wondered how you got Trésor but now I think I understand. With dysfunctional parents like that, who needs normal ones, right?”

Rory said nothing though he did smile in return.

NOW THIS BEAUTIFUL DISASTER WAS
before him with her ass in the air and her lovely body bared to him to do as he pleased. The globes of her ass were perfect—olive-toned and round. She didn’t possess an ounce of cellulite anywhere on her ass cheeks or her thighs. They were completely toned and nicely proportioned to her slim body.

“Tell me, when you were a child, did your mother ever try to convince you and your sister to become dancers?” he inquired as he allowed his hands to wander over her firm ass.

“Yes, she did but neither of us had the right body types. I was a bit too ‘fleshy’ as a child and didn’t have a dancer’s naturally lithe form. My sister was too tall and would have made an awkward counterpart. Most male dancers are never more than five feet, ten inches. My sister almost managed that height on her own,” she explained.

Rory no longer detected any panic attacks or crying, which was a good thing. He had purposely brought up her childhood to calm her down. He didn’t want her feeling out of sorts or coerced into doing something she didn’t really care to be involved with as that was akin to rape. He wasn’t a fan of dubious consent in the least hence his mastery of manipulation tactics and technique. What he craved most from her was her trust; the ultimate feeling she would give herself to him because it was what
she
desired.

He continued to run his hands up and down her thighs in slow, rhythmic motions. He liked to watch as her moist pussy seemed to get wetter and hotter. She had no idea where he would touch her next and the thought made him so hard, his erection was painful against the strain of his pants but it was worth it just to observe her in this position of submission.

“What if I told you Severin slept with Trésor?”

“What if I told you I’m not the least bit surprised? I don’t think you were in the country when she was supposedly punished or killed for the matter.”

“Are you actually accusing my brother of murdering your sister? The only woman I have ever given a damn about in
years
?”

“I didn’t say that.” Her voice was muffled but she pulled her head away from the cushion of the liberator ramp. “I don’t think either one of you was involved in the murder but I don’t think that absolves you either. If you suspect someone in your…circle…and you don’t tell the police, you are just as guilty as
them
.”

Rory laughed before he allowed his fingers to drop to her juicy pussy. His index finger toyed and caressed her hard clit as she began to writhe beneath his touch. “It must be nice to have such strong moral convictions.”

“Why are we having this conversation? I thought you didn’t want me to say a word.”

“Ordinarily, I do prefer women to be silent but under the current circumstances, I enjoy talking to you.”

She didn’t say anything further as he played with the zipper on the back of her strapless dress. She’d done him a favor because he desperately wanted her naked and had no intention of letting her out of the handcuffs. He would have ripped the dress and bought her a new one if she had worn anything harder for him to slip off her body.

Slowly and with deliberate movements, he unzipped the dress all the way down to the deep cleft of her buttocks that were exposed at the moment. He peeled the dress from her body and threw it on the comfortable black leather sofa in the corner.

Aurélie shivered a bit but he knew it was from pure nerves rather than her being chilly. The basement was overly warm and with good reason. Not many clothes were ever worn in the room.