Note: Although this is a prequel to "WEDNESDAYS AT THE TROQUEDERO," each story stands on its own.
Disclaimers: The characters are all mine, and the story is all mine. Any similarity to persons fictional, living, dead, or part of your X/G or other fantasies are purely coincidental.
Warning: This is a B/D tale of F/F variety. It contains explicit sex between consenting adult women. If you're underage, live in a place that this isn't allowed, or any of that offends or upsets you, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.
Violence: Since this is B/D, there is some "violence." However - no one is injured. (Well, maybe a little nick.)
Language: Mild profanity where needed.
Feedback: Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome; spam and vitriol are
not. Encouraging words and a pat on the back are more than welcome. That having been said read on and let me know what you think. email@example.com
Copyright © Saggio Amante 2004.
All rights reserved.
She smelled the smoke before she saw it billowing from the hood of her fire engine red Corvette convertible.
'Shit!' Marquetta groaned to herself.
'Miles from town and you give up on me now!' She rolled to a stop on the side of the road and hurled her long, lean body from the car catching her skirt on the door handle as she did so, almost tearing it from her waist. 'What else could happen!' she thought dejectedly.
Marquetta lifted the hood of the car and peered in. A broken hose. 'Well, at least you won't burn up on me. I guess that's one consolation.'
She grabbed her purse from the car, removed her high-heeled shoes, and began walking in the tall grass at the side of the road, following a long white fence that seemed to disappear into eternity in front of her.
She covered almost a mile without seeing another soul or a house. She felt the heat of the day burning her body as she walked. Beads of perspiration rose on her forehead and rolled down across her eyelids, the salt of it burning her eyes. She felt the sweat rolling between her breasts. She tore a piece of cloth from her mangled skirt, wiped her brow and damp chest with it, then sat down beneath a large oak tree to rest.
'I'd give my kingdom for a glass of water,' she mused. 'If I had a kingdom.' She pulled another piece of cloth from her skirt and tied her long black hair off her neck, then leaned against the tall oak and closed her eyes.
The tall blonde man on the stallion stopped by the white fence and gazed down at the black-haired beauty asleep at the base of the old oak tree. He sat there staring at the rise and fall of her perfect breasts.
'Jesus,' where did you come from,' he thought. He felt his steed strain between his legs. 'Whoa, Aries,' he said, tightening his knees against the horse's sides and pulling back on the reins. The horse steadied, and he slipped from the saddle then dropped the reins to the ground. The great horse stood quietly and began to graze as the man climbed over the white fence and headed toward the sleeping woman.
The man knelt beside the woman and reached out tentatively to touch her cheek. The woman jumped at the touch and opened her eyes, looking fearfully at the blonde-haired, mustachioed stranger kneeling before her.
"It's all right, Miss, I won't hurt you," the stranger said kindly.
Marquetta shook the sleep from her head. "I'm afraid I've had a bit of trouble with my car," she said. "I was hoping to find a house where I could call for help, but it seems no one lives out here."
'I've never seen such emerald eyes before,' Marquetta thought
The stranger laughed, reaching out a strong hand. "I live just over the ridge. Come, I'll take you there, and you can call for help."
'I've never seen such deep blue eyes before,' the stranger thought.
Marquetta looked at the stranger, then at the large horse. "On that?"
"Well 'that' seems to be the only mode of transpiration at the moment," the stranger laughed. "Don't worry, he won't bite."
"I've never ridden a horse before," Marquetta said.
"Ah, then you're in for a rare treat," the stranger replied glancing at his horse fondly. "Aries is wonderful. No need to be afraid."
"I'm Marquetta Marchand," Marquetta said, allowing the stranger's hand to take her own and help her up.
"Welles Charbonneau, at your service," the stranger replied. "Shall we?"
Welles hopped the fence and looked back at Marquetta. "You won't get very far standing there," Welles called with amusement.
Marquetta stepped on the lower rung of the fence, then climbed to the other side slowly, her long legs peaking out from beneath her tattered skirt. She felt Welles staring at her and blushed.
'I can't believe I'm having this reaction to a man,' Marquetta thought as she looked at Welles' well-toned body. 'Actually, I can't believe I'm having this reaction at all. I feel like a damned school girl.'
Welles pulled himself up and sat astride the stallion. He reached down to Marquetta.
"Take my arm, put your left foot in the stirrup, and I'll help you up," he said.
Marquetta felt the strength in the stranger's forearm as he reached down and pulled her up behind him on the horse.
"Put your arms around my waist," he ordered. "Since this is your first time, we'll take it slow."
Marquetta did not miss the double entendre or the amused tone in his voice. She slid her arms around his waist and felt his large hand cover hers as he lifted the reins in his other hand and lightly kicked his horse's sides, holding the horse to a steady walk. Marquetta felt the horse rolling between her legs and her breasts moving Welles' back. Her nipples hardened at the contact and there was a stirring in her clitoris as it rubbed against the steed's back. 'Christ, I'm going to come on this damned horse before we get there,' she thought.
Marquetta's breath caught in her throat as she saw the huge fieldstone home looming before her. 'This is where you live? Who are you, Welles Charbonneau?' She wondered.
Welles slowed the horse at a stable behind the house and helped Marquetta dismount. When she was safely on the ground, he dismounted and stood beside her. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He queried, handing the reins to a groom who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Cool him down well," he said to the groom.
"Yes, Master Welles."
Welles turned to Marquetta. "Come, now, let's go in the house and see if we can get you taken care of."
Marquetta followed behind as Welles headed towards the house, her eyes fastening on the tight butt in front of her. She felt the heat rise in her loins, and longed to reach out and touch him.
'Where is your head?' She thought. 'This can't be happening. He's a man for Christs sake.' He was so androgynous and beautiful that Marquetta's body reacted out of pure animal instinct.
They entered the house through the kitchen. An ample woman was standing at the stove stirring a large pot. The aromas in the kitchen were tantalizing, teasing the emptiness Marquetta felt in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't had breakfast, and it was well past lunch.
"Grace," Welles said, "we have a guest. Please see if you can help Miss Marchand while I go freshen up."
"Of course, Master Welles. Would you like a cuppa tea, Miss," Grace asked pleasantly.
"That would be wonderful," Marquetta replied.
"Come then, let me take you to the study. You can rest while I prepare your tea."
Marquetta followed the bulky form down a long hallway and into a magnificent room, oak paneled, with a marble-mantled fireplace. A large painting of a beautiful woman hung over the fireplace. The emerald eyes in the painting were a perfect match for the eyes of the man who had just rescued her.
'It must be his mother,' Marquette thought. 'Or his sister. Please let it be his sister. And by the goddesses, let her be gay!' She jumped slightly as an unexpected voice behind her spoke.
"Here we go, Miss," Grace said. "I've brought you a nice cuppa and some scones with lemon curd. I thought you might be a bit hungry. I don't know how you like your tea so there's sugar, and lemon, and a bit of cream on the tray. I've brought an extra cup for Master Welles."
Marquetta nodded at Grace. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Miss," Grace replied as she left the room, sliding the large French doors closed behind her.
Marquetta heard the French doors sliding open. She turned, expecting to see Grace or Welles there. Instead, she saw a tall, blonde-haired woman with deep emerald eyes. The woman was dressed in brown suede that hugged her body like a second skin. She walked toward Marquetta with the ease of a large cat. Marquetta's breath caught in her throat. 'They must be twins.' She thought. 'Sweet Jesus, tell me she's gay!'
"Hello," the apparition said in a deep voice that matched the voice of Marquetta's rescuer. "Did Grace bring you everything you needed?"
The woman's voice sent currents of electricity through Marquetta. "Welles will be right back," she managed to croak, wondering if the blonde woman could sense her heat. She felt her own wetness filling her center and prayed she wouldn't leave evidence of her desire on the beautiful brocade couch.
The woman laughed. "I don't think so," she said with amusement, her emerald green eyes locking on Marquetta's dark blue and holding them captive.
"Welles?" Marquetta whispered, hoping against hope that it was true.
The blonde woman bowed slightly at the waist. "At your service, Madam," she replied. "Though you may call me Monique if you wish."
Monique sat down next to Marquetta and poured herself a cup of tea.
"I think I have surprised you," she said, lifting the cup to her lips.
"Yes," Marquetta replied, her voice shaking.
"And have I disappointed you?"
"No," Marquetta responded sincerely. "It is a pleasant surprise."
"So, you find me attractive, then?" Monique asked boldly.
Marquetta looked at her lap. "I find you intoxicating," she whispered as she raised her eyes to once again capture Monique's.
"Then perhaps we should do something about that," Monique challenged.
"Perhaps we should," Marquetta challenged back.
The heat in the room was palpable. Monique stood and held her hand out to Marquetta. "Come," she said.
Marquetta followed Monique up a long, winding stairway to the second floor. She gasped when Monique opened a door to reveal a large room whose walls were covered with medieval weaponry. Padded leather shackles were attached to the head and base of the bed.
"Do you like it?" Monique asked, closing the door behind them.
"Yes," Marquetta whispered.
"Do you want to play?" Monique said.
"Yes," Marquetta replied, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"I am the master, here," Monique began. "In this room, my name is Master Welles. Do you understand?"
"I understand perfectly, Master Welles," Marquetta said docilely and stood there waiting.
Welles reached out and began unbuttoning Marquetta's blouse, button by button, taking care not to touch her skin. She removed the blouse and threw it on the floor, then reached behind to unhook and remove Marquetta's bra.
"Your skirt and underwear," Welles said, directing Marquetta to remove the rest of the garments herself while she watched.
Marquetta dropped her tattered skirt to the floor and stepped out of her panties.
Welles reached out and traced a line from Marquetta's neck down across her breasts. She placed both hands flat against Marquetta's waist then moved them sensuously across her abdomen and around her hips to grasp the muscles of her buttocks.
Marquetta felt herself swell in response. She stood there, wet with desire, willing herself to be still waiting for Welles' next order.
"You've done this before," Welles said.
"Yes," Marquetta replied. "But I've ... I've never been ... topped," she whispered hoarsely.
Marquetta's words burned in Welles' belly, lighting a fire between her legs. She looked at Marquetta in astonishment, her green eyes locking onto Marquetta's blue. Welles saw the lust burning in the taller woman's eyes, matched only by the lust she knew was burning in her own.
"Lie down on the bed," Welles ordered coolly. "On your back."
Marquetta backed to the bed, never taking her eyes off Welles. She felt the bed at the back of her knees and let herself fall gently on the mattress. She moved to the center of the bed and lay, still holding Welles' eyes with her own, inviting Welles to ravish her.
"This is the last time you can talk to me until it's over. Do you understand?" Welles asked. Marquetta nodded.
"I won't hurt you, but there is no safe word. Once we start, I will continue
until I'm finished. Do you want to stop now?"
"No," Marquetta gasped. "I'll be fine." She knew the chance she took; she knew there should be a safe word; she knew she didnt care.
Welles reached up, pulled the padded shackles from the head of the bed, and secured Marquetta's wrists. She then moved to the foot of the bed and secured Marquetta's ankles. Marquetta lay, spread-eagled, her naked body exposed and vulnerable, waiting.
Welles removed her own top; her small breasts stood upright on her chest, and her nipples hardened as the cool air hit them.
Marquetta lay staring at the well-toned form standing before her. She was even more beautiful without the mustache and masculine clothes she had worn while riding. Marquetta ached to feel Welles' muscular body and small firm breasts pressing against her. Marquetta found her imprisonment intoxicating and wondered if this was what other women felt then she shackled them. She strained against her own silence, her mind demanding that the tall blonde woman kiss her, touch her, enter her. Her body ached with anticipation; her clitoris swelled, threatening to explode. Still Marquetta remained silent.
Welles circled her large hand around Marquetta's throat and bent to kiss her hard, almost bruising her lips. Her hand tightened as she did so, and she heard Marquetta gasp.
"Relax," Welles whispered as she loosened her grip around the dark-haired woman's neck. Marquetta breathed deeply and willed her body to relax, to trust this woman she had met only hours before. She felt a padded collar being wrapped loosely around her neck and heard the click of a snap as Welles fastened it to the headboard.
"Close your eyes," Welles commanded and smiled as Marquetta complied.
'I could die here and no one would know,' Marquetta thought, surprised that she felt not fear but pure carnal desire.
She felt Welles move onto the bed and lie next to her. She could sense the heat of Welles' body burning into her side. She gasped as she felt something clamp on her nipples and groaned with pleasure as she realized it was the pinch of Welles' teeth. Keeping her eyes closed heightened all of her senses. Her body responded to the pleasure/pain of Welles' bite and arched involuntarily against the air, trying to push her breast further into Welles' mouth. The motion caused her to be pulled back by the collar around her neck. She was powerless and wet and hot.
Marquetta felt Welles' hands move on her body, and she focused all her sexual energy on those hands, willing them to move between her legs. The dark curly hair at her center glistened with the pearls of her cum, and she wondered if Welles could see it there.
As suddenly as they had touched her, Welles' hands left.
The nerve endings covering the surface of Marquetta's body screamed for those hands to touch her again. Instead, she felt Welles leave the bed.
Welles stared at the dark-haired woman lying on the bed before her. She could feel the other woman's need and see the wetness of her desire flowing between her legs. It was all Welles could do to keep from taking her right there, right then. She wanted so much to place her mouth on her, taste her essence, penetrate her to the core. Still she waited, knowing it wasn't time.
Welles removed the rest of her own clothing and reached into the bedside stand. She removed a double-holed strap and inserted a double-headed dildo, pushing one side deep within herself. She adjusted the strap on her body and returned to the bed, sliding her face between Marquetta's legs, slipping her tongue into the soft folds. She felt Marquetta strain against the shackles and removed her mouth, refusing to give the dark-haired woman the release she knew she craved.
"Oh, god, please let me come," Marquetta cried, her eyes still closed, her body throbbing with desire.
"Silence! I'll tell you when!" Welles replied harshly, sliding back up the bed to capture Marquetta's blood red lips with her own.
Marquetta could feel the soft leather of the strap against her hip and the pressure of the dildo against her skin. 'Oh, god,' she thought, 'fuck me. I need you to fuck me.'
"Open your eyes!" Welles commanded.
Marquetta opened her eyes and watched as Welles rose to kneel between her
legs. She saw Welles take the dildo in her hand and lean to rub it against her
throbbing clitoris. Marquetta stifled a strangled cry as she felt the tip brush
against her then move up and down, lubricating the whole of her center with her
own sticky wetness.
Marquetta felt Welles' body cover her and shuddered with pleasure as she felt Welles' hand move down to push the dildo deep inside her.
Welles began moving her hips with unrestrained passion. She felt the dildo press against her own clitoris as she plumbed harder and harder into Marquetta's depths.
Marquetta's rapid breathing stoked the fires of Welle's desire, and she pressed her mouth against the dark-haired woman's mouth, then bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. Marquetta pulled against the restraints, pressing her body as hard as she could against Welles, then screamed as a tidal wave of an unstoppable orgasm stormed within her.
The two women lay there, their bodies breathing in throbbing rasps against each other.
Marquetta felt Welles reach up and release the restraints from her wrists and neck. She felt the blonde-haired woman rub her wrists gently and softly kiss her neck where the collar had been, then reach down to grasp her buttocks in her hands. The movement caused the dildo to penetrate deeper inside and Marquetta could once again feel the stirrings of desire. She slid her arms down Welles' back and grasped her buttocks, pulling Welles closer. She felt the blonde woman's hips thrusting against her and knew Welles was close to her own release.
"Fuck me, Welles, fuck me!" She screamed as she began to undulate and press harder and harder against Welles, focusing her energies on Welles' core hoping to bring Welles the same release as she had just experienced.
Welles moaned; her body trembled erratically against Marquetta, then stiffened in a paroxysm of her own orgasm.
Marquetta smiled triumphantly into the silence as she stroked the heaving back of her lover.
Monique awoke in the early morning with Marquetta naked beside her. The woman's dark hair flared out against the pillow. Her mouth was slightly open, and the deep breath of sleep rolled past her lips in soft whispers. Her breasts rose and fell rhythmically inviting Monique to taste them as she slept.
Although they had been strangers only twenty-four hours before, Monique felt as if they had known each other forever. It seemed so natural and right to have this woman lying next to her in her bed. She moved closer to the sleeping woman and caressed her breasts softly with her fingertips. She heard Marquetta groan and leaned to kiss the pulse point of her neck.
Memories of the night before flooded Monique's mind. They made Monique's clitoris swell and pulse, and she felt the heat of her need burning once again. She wanted the dark-haired woman; she wanted to hear her lose control, hear her scream, feel her throb with pleasure. She wanted to feel her own body respond with unrestrained passion.
Monique lay on her side and continued watching Marquetta. She smiled as Marquetta turned on her side slid back against her. She knew that even in sleep the taller woman could feel the intensity of her heat. She pulled Marquetta closer, reveling in the feel of her breasts against Marquetta's back and Marquetta's butt against her own venus mound.
"I like the feel of you here," Monique said. "It seems so right."
"I like the feel of me here, too," Marquetta replied sleepily, reaching to pull Monique's hand against her breast.
"So, what must you do today?" Monique asked, as she moved her thumb back and forth against Marquetta's breast.
"Nothing today," Marquetta replied, gasping as she felt Monique pinch her nipple. "But tonight I work."
Monique was surprised. Somehow, she hadn't thought of Marquetta working. "What do you do?" She asked as she moved her hand down Marquetta's body and across her stomach.
Marquetta hesitated. "I own a club in town called the Troquedero. Have you heard of it?"
Monique stiffened and stopped her movements. She lay there, momentarily silent, then she answered quietly. "Yes, I have heard of it."
"And none of it pleasant, I suppose," Marquetta said.
"No. None of it pleasant," Monique acknowledged.
"Would you believe me if I said that it is not like the rumors of it?"
"I don't know, should I?"
"Come Wednesday night and see," Marquetta invited. "It's all a show. Nobody gets hurt. You might like it."
"I prefer to keep such things private." Monique responded.
She felt the disappointment flow through Marquetta though Marquetta did not say a word.
"But, perhaps ... we'll see. I may visit just once." Monique said and smiled inwardly as she felt Marquetta relax against her.
Marquetta drove to the club in her Corvette. Magically, it was repaired and sitting in Monique's driveway when she left the house on Monday morning. Marquetta wondered it Monique would show at the club. It had been two days since their encounter, and she could not get the blonde-haired woman out of her mind.
She parked her Corvette and used her key to enter the back door of the club. It was quiet and dark as she entered, but she knew it would not be long before it would be teeming with activity. She walked to her office, entered, and locked the door behind her. She opened a closet door and removed a black leather outfit, cloak, hat, and whip. She changed her clothes, then glanced at herself in the mirror. Satisfied with what she saw, she turned and walked out into the main room.
Her personnel were waiting for her when she arrived. They had all been with her for quite a while, and she was able to keep her instructions to a minimum. As the staff went off to perform their pre-opening duties, she directed the bouncer to meet her in her office. Sam was a large, muscular woman. A former army officer, she had been bouncer at the Troquedero for six years. Although there was never anything personal between them, she and Marquetta had become good friends, and Marquetta trusted her completely.
"I may be having a visitor this evening," Marquetta said. "If she shows, I want you to let her in and seat her at my table."
Sam was surprised. Marquetta always kept her personal and business life separate. "Who is it?" Sam asked.
"I don't know how she'll introduce herself," Marquetta said. "She is about an inch shorter than I am, very short blonde hair, green eyes." Marquetta realized how little she knew about the woman in whose arms she had spent an entire night and day. "Uh, she will probably call herself Monique or Welles."
Sam choked with laughter. "Charbonneau?" She queried. "Charbonneau is coming here?"
Marquetta looked confused. "You know her?"
"Well, apparently except for you, there are very few bottoms around or tops for that matter who do not know Master Charbonneau. He is a legend."
"Then you will know who to look for," Marquetta said icily.
"Indeed I do," Sam replied with a knowing grin. "You'd better watch yourself with that one, my friend."
"Go. Do your job," Marquetta commanded, shooing Sam out of her office with the wave of her hand.
The night moved slowly. It was 9 P.M., showtime, and Monique had not arrived. 'Just as well,' Marquetta thought as she got ready to perform.
The house lights darkened, the music stopped, and the audience was hushed. The M.C. stepped out as the spotlight hit center stage.
"Ladies and ladies," she intoned, "Marq is here!"
The audience erupted in shouts and whistles. The spotlight shut down, the curtain opened, and stage lights of rotating colors painted rainbows on the stage. Steam rose from the floor swirling like a foggy London night. A red-haired woman hung from the ceiling on leather straps, her feet just touching the ground, her ankles chained to the floor. A tall, dark form strode from the side of the stage, snapping a bullwhip. Marq had arrived, and the audience roared its approval.
The show seemed to drag on but Marq finished it on cue. The stage lights went out and the house lights went up as Marq bowed to the audience. Her eyes glanced over the audience, coming to rest on the figure sitting at her table, a tall short-haired blonde with a small mustache, dressed in a suit and tie. Their eyes locked. Marq held her breath, then sighed in relief as she saw a small smile grace the corner of Welles' mouth and felt Welles' eyes telegraphing her burning need to have her again.
Marq went to her office and changed, then joined Welles at her table. They shared a bottle of champagne and sat quietly, their hands and thighs brushing against each other, their eyes telegraphing their mutual desire.
Welles smiled at her. "So, you are a top after all," he said.
"But not with you," Marquetta answered seriously.
"Will you come home with me tonight?" Welles asked.
"Yes," Marquetta replied.
"Yes, what," Welles responded, waiting.
"Yes, Master Welles," Marquetta whispered with a glint in her eyes.
"And will you come back here?" Marquetta asked.
"I think I will be spending my Wednesdays at the Troquedero for some time to come," Welles smiled. "That is if you don't mind."
"It would be my pleasure," Marquetta said. "But in this place, I am called Marq."
"Well, then, Marq," Welles responded, "it is time to leave this place for I have need of my Marquetta tonight."
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