This the staff would have done.
What was happening between his legs, he’d have been ordered to do before he was bound because no one touched her toy’s privates but her.
His cock was ringed, the gold of it gleaming in the hairs at the root. His balls were harnessed, stretched apart by their strap, stretched from his body by another at the base. There was a long strap leading from the back of the ball harness that an employee would have had to deal with and would have been able to do so without touching what was only Amélie’s.
This was tied tight, tethering him by his sac to the ring in the floor.
This meant he was strung back and tethered only at one point in his body, but still unable to move an inch.
He was being very good, his legs spread wide as she’d commanded.
The distress came from the cock ring. She’d worried it wouldn’t fit without more than the pain she’d wish. She’d worried the same about the collar, which she didn’t wish to add even a single twinge.
She wanted his attention between his legs.
It appeared the collar fit.
The ring, although the fit was not dangerous, visibly did not.
And his enormous cock was hard, weighted heavy. Regardless of the slight arch of his body forced with his bindings, it was so large, it was brushing the strap and the tip even hit the floor, the tight fit of the ring meaning in all likelihood he could think of nothing but his dick.
There was a sheen of sweat all over his body, including his thighs, as he struggled to control the pain and as he battled his reaction to his obvious pleasure.
He was beautiful.
She bent over him.
“How are you, my chevalier?” she asked.
Eyes flashed with ire and something else.
Both she liked.
“Peachy,” he gritted.
Oh, how she liked his cheek. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t allow it. Most Mistresses wouldn’t.
But she liked it and she absolutely was not most Mistresses.
So she did.
And furthermore, she could play with it.
She tipped her head to the side. “I may be wrong, but you seem impatient with me.”
“Impatient is a good word,” he agreed.
“My poor steed,” she whispered, letting her gaze trail down his sweat-slickened chest to the spectacular bound meat between his legs. She looked back at his face. “He needs to come.”
“Yeah.” It came as an exhalation. “That’d be good.”
“First,” she began.
Impatient frustration at the obvious delay her word conveyed saturating his hard features, she didn’t fight the curve of her mouth.
When he spotted her smile, that brought more ire.
She smiled bigger and went on, “I think it important to share with you that I came three times after I left you Tuesday night.”
His body suddenly surged up, yanked down by his rein, a suppressed rumble sounded like it came from trapped in his chest rather than forced between his tight lips.
She watched as he slid his knees farther out to give as much slack to the ball tether as he could while his chest expanded and contracted as he pulled in deep breaths through his teeth.
God, could he get any more beautiful?
She shifted closer.
His lips tightened so much, his body beginning to quiver with the effort to remain in place, those lips nearly bared his lovely, strong white teeth.
“Three times hard, chevalier. Very hard,” she said softly, dipping even closer, coming toward his face, veering to his left at the last moment to say in his ear, “I haven’t come that often that quickly in such a swift succession and so hard in years, my beast. Even during sessions, I have not received such pleasure. Just thinking of you, it seemed I couldn’t stop.”
“Amélie.”
That was also forced out, but the grit of it wasn’t anger or frustration.
It was need.
She lifted her head and looked at him.
Oh yes. Stark. Amazing.
Need.
“Yes, Olivier?” she asked.
“Jack my dick, Mistress, fuckin’ please.”
She held his eyes. “Since you asked so sweetly, once I get you in position to perform for me, we’ll begin. Now, if you would, rest into your bounds, chevalier. Your palms against the ties at your ankles.”
He didn’t delay. He leaned back, which arched his torso even farther. The flinch at the pull at his cock was such she reached out and quickly untied it from the ring.
He blew out an audible puff of breath, his thighs visibly trembling.
She watched and commanded, “Now arch more for me, please. Up on your knees. Round your back and push out your hips. Keep your hands to your ankles. Offer that big brute to your Mistress.”
There came hesitation and she moved her avid contemplation of his body to his face.
As she did, Amélie was worried he’d indicate he was aware of, and was uncomfortable with, the onlookers.
He wasn’t.
He was with her and his battle was within. He knew what she wanted. Hands to ankles, if he lifted to his knees, those knees wide, the position would be one of vulnerability, some discomfort, strain … and full-on display.
“Olivier,” she said gently but warningly.
As he regarded her, she noted a wild to his eyes so early in their acquaintance that she had not yet seen.
It answered her earlier question.
He could get more beautiful.
Before she could open her mouth to reproach his lack of movement, he did as commanded.
It took a good deal to give him the comfort of her close proximity rather than step back and take in the fullness of the spectacle of Olivier lifting, arching, and offering his Mistress his big, hard cock.