My name is Julian Delacourt. I am, by my own admission, a sexual adventurer, provocateur and goddess-in-training. You know what they say about sheriffs’ and preachers’ daughters, we tend to be a bit wild, a touch rebellious. I use sexuality to escape a tedious life. My eyes are brown, as well as my hair, which I consider boring but men have described as warm and sexy. It’s my California happy-go-lucky ways mixed with my dad’s swagger and mom’s southern charm which has served me well through life. I don’t consider myself pretty though I turn men’s heads when walking down the street. But it wasn’t my head which caught my love’s attention. It was my “marvelous ass”, gym toned and packaged in a designer gown perched over a craps table as I tossed a winning throw, which caught his eye. At least that’s what Roman tells me. That night, I fell into a honey pot of luxury and became the mistress of a well-connected man who charms everyone he meets. But I pay for my lady-of-the-manor lifestyle. Only those in Roman’s inner circle know what I know; that he is a disciplinarian who enjoys the sound of a bare bottom being smacked. Though my actions aren’t always intentional, I seem to give him ample reason to discipline me. And I’m so twisted, I enjoy it. I accept my perversities as a noted quirk of highly intelligent people while Roman is happy to find a spirited woman who doesn’t question his dark passions. I wrote about our relationship in my thinly disguised piece of erotica entitled, ‘Roman’. Let me tell you about my initiation into his world. I’d accepted his invitation to stay in his home for the summer and on a sweet June night, we agreed to consummate our arrangement. We had enjoyed sex with each other once before, but he’d been away on business for several days. He was fresh from his return home and we were hungry for each other. I waited for him in my room, itching for what was to come. Roman walked into my room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I remained seated on the bed as he set them down to cross my vast guest room to a dresser. It’s not his rugged good looks or nice body that attracts me to him, but rather his green eyes and utter confidence which enthralls me. He opened a drawer and rummaged amongst my lingerie until he found what he wanted; a pair of black satin panties and matching bra. “Put these on with the black pumps.” I walked behind a silk screen to change out of my white jeans and peasant top to emerge in lingerie and pumps. Pleased with what he saw, he picked up the wine and glasses, and took my hand with his free hand to lead me out my guest room. We walked up a flight of stairs and down the hall to a room he named ‘the Venetian room.’ He opened the doors and ushered me into glossy eggplant walls before setting down the wine to light candles in a gold candelabra. They flickered as he shut the door behind him. Their growing light revealed a large, plush canopy bed covered in purple and gold brocade. I stepped forward to touch the teeth marks imbedded in one of its spiraling wooden posts. I looked up to see the glint of a metal ‘S’ hook partially hidden in the canopy’s fabric. Roman approached me from behind. I turned to meet his eyes. I could see it the feral green of his gaze; the sight of me was igniting him. He said, “This bed was owned by a notorious 15th century Venetian courtesan.” And here I am, following in her footsteps, now a rich man’s toy, lost and kept, pampered and desired. Seems fitting. “It’s rumored that Casanova romped in this bed.” I asked, “So what shall we do tonight?” “Anything?” he asked, sitting on the bed. I sat beside him and asked, “What cha got?” He took something out of his pocket. They were nipple clamps linked together with a silver chain. “Nothing new,” I said, sipping my wine. He said, “So you’re no stranger to this.” “I like to explore the boundary where pain turns to pleasure. It’s all in the head and a matter of trust.” “And you trust me now?” “I trust the gentleman who I had dinner with, the man who stopped that night. I give myself to that man.” He leaned in to kiss my neck. “Though I do have rules.” He stopped, his breath hot on my neck until he straightened to look at me with bored eyes. “Nothing around my neck. No face slapping, spitting, or degrading abusive language.” “All right.” “No cutting or burning or anything that leaves a permanent scar.” “I can live with that.” “And I have a safe word. Mustard.” “Mustard,” he chuckled. He gently kissed my lips before kissing me fully. His tongue tasted of peppermint. I felt like I was melting. He stood, helping me up with him. “You really are a lovely woman.” I began to step out of my shoes. “No,” he said. “Keep them on.” He walked over to a dresser and opened the top drawer. It was full of bondage gear. He pulled out a golden cord before returning to the bed. I had been bound before him, hands in front, so I instinctively held out my wrists. He bound them firmly before spinning me around then jerked my arms up to hook them to the ‘S’ hook I’d spotted before. He walked around the bed and pulled on a hidden rope which drew my arms taut and secured it, causing me to teeter in my heels. My chest settled against the heavy wooden bedpost for balance. I stared at the headboard in front of me, hooked to this post, waiting for what he was about to do. I heard him pop open the bottle of wine and pour some into a glass. “Now that you’re going to stay the summer, there are some rules of the house.” I know when to be a good sub and stayed quiet. He was in control. I could feel him staring at me, imagined him drinking his wine watching me shift on my tip toes trying to find a more comfortable balance. I stopped when I heard the floor boards creak under his soles. His hands lingered on my hips, his trousers rubbed against the back of my thighs and the heat of his breath warmed my ear. With my other cheek mashed against the cold wooden post, his lips grazed against my ear. I closed my eyes lost in sensations. His voice was deep and precise. “I am Master of this house. This is my domain. I expect loyalty and respect from those around me.” I gasped when he yanked down my panties then smacked my ass with his broad open hand. “Do you understand me?” “Yes.” He smacked my ass harder, sending me off balance in my heels. I hung from my wrists until I steadied myself on my heels, my bottom still smarting. He backed away and picked up something else from the table. I squirmed against the post, resting my cheek against the warming wood before I heard him walk up behind me. He said, “I have passions but will endeavor for mutual pleasure.” I felt his oil filled hands cup my bottom. He rubbed oil on my ass and high between my thighs. “Do you accept these terms?” Breathily, I said, “Yes.” He kissed my neck, sucking so hard it hurt. I felt his hand tug at his belt against my panty covered ass and heard his pants hit the ground before he kicked them away. Roman’s arm wound around my waist as his hand latched onto my breast. He thrust so high and hard, my toes left the ground. It never takes me long after penetration for me to climax. This one was hard and intense. My knees collapsed from under me and my restraints plus his firm arm kept me from falling. I let him do whatever he wanted, his hands moving over my oily skin as he took me from behind. He stopped and pulled out. What? Why? He tugged my panties back up over my bottom. We were breathing so hard. How could he stop? Oh no, tantric sex. This could go on all night. He unhooked me from the post and I collapsed forward onto the bed. He righted himself before rounding the bed. He turned me over and dragged me up over the covers towards the headboard. My heels dug into the covers as I pushed forward into place. His shirt grazed my face as he leaned over me to hook my bound hands over my head to the head board. He smelled so good. His arms wrapped around my waist to lengthen my body until my arms stretched taut against the golden rope. His adoring kisses tickled my belly. My shoes hit the wall as he flicked them off my feet. He said, “My little minx.” He still had an impressive hard-on as he got up to retrieve his glass wine. What marvelous control he had. He drank some wine before offering me some. It dribbled from my mouth as I swallowed. Those green eyes of his locked onto mine in a misty lusty way. He stood to look at his work. “You okay?” “Yes,” escaped with my breath. He said, “I know you think I get off inflicting pain but it’s not about pain, either delivering or receiving. It’s about the flesh and muscles responds. And yours is so very captivating.”
I have the power to excite a very powerful man. What an aphrodisiac. The bed depressed near my hips as he sat to play with my body. His finger slid under the elastic of my satin panties, drifting along the elastic before he licked its satiny triangle. With a quick tug, he ripped one side of the delicate lingerie and his mouth ground on my naked hip. He stripped off his shirt. Not being able to run my bound hands over his wonderfully athletic body was a torture beyond belief. He crawled atop my legs until they opened from wanting. I was moaning for release, for him to enter me and end it with part two of a mind blowing orgasm. I writhed against my bonds. He held my face between his hands. His facial scruff scratched my cheek. “You are so goddamn beautiful,” he said. The ropes tightened against my wrists as he entered me. He was grindingly slow and deliberate in his actions. I panted out, “I’m going to come.” An intense orgasm made me arch under him while colors exploded in my head. This sent him over the edge as he pounded into me. His orgasm followed as drove deep while clutching my hair. He rolled off me, breathing hard for a minute before unhooking my arms from the headboard. He spooned me, kissing my neck. I was falling asleep, watching the candlelight dance. With my wrists bound before me, I blissfully sinking in soft, fuzzy, gooey love, safe in his arms. We slept soundly in that bed of ill-repute set on a dangerous course neither one of us could envision. Our relationship is complex. Darkness seems to haunt us. Passion stokes our fire. I hope you read my confessions told as Olivia Pomroy. Join me in my world. ROMAN by Julian Delacourt.