“How many are there?”
“I’d say it’s in the realm of thirty-six or thirty-eight at the moment. Forty is our cap, but throughout the year, that number fluctuates. Spring is by far our busiest time, so we try to have a full house of women trained and available. By fall, we might be down to fifteen or twenty, and then there is the pre-holiday rush. We are always canvassing for new candidates to keep our numbers at a sustainable level.”
“Where do you find them? How do you know which women to approach?”
Bastien looked coy. “That’s an industry secret, but suffice it to say, we have our proven strategies. And a surprising number of women find us, through lore or word of mouth. The Internet has been a great help in distributing the Code d’Odalisque along certain receptive channels. You’ll often find ‘Code d’Ode’ groups on mainstream sex and fetish sites.”
“You don’t advertise, do you?”
“There is no need. Word of mouth seems sufficient in bringing us both the candidates and prospective owners we need.”
“Are there ever girls who don’t find an owner?”
“Of course, although it happens rarely. After six years, an odalisque leaves service whether she’s found an owner or not. At that time, if she has never been acquired by a Master, she receives a sum equal to the amount she would have earned during two years of ownership. One million dollars. Hopefully it soothes any sting.”
“I imagine it does.” They were outside Kai’s room now. Bastien extended his hand.
“Here I will wish you good night. In your room, you should find the portfolio of profiles, as well as a tray with some snacks and a nightcap. If there is anything further you require, do not hesitate to summon the staff. As far as discussing the available women, we will plan to do that on the morrow if you would be so kind as to take notes on the ones that most interest you. We rise late here. If I do not see you at breakfast, I shall expect you at lunch.”
Again Kai found himself alone in his opulent ivory guest room. At the desk was a leather binder about two inches thick, along with a silver tray of shortbread, fresh fruit, and excellent brandy. He was tired, but not too tired to settle down with the book. He would keep odalisque hours; stay up late and laze around in the morning.
He leafed through the profiles, which were alphabetized by first name. Wonderful for Abby and Artemis, not so great for Yolanda and Zenaida. The profiles contained all the applicable data. Height, weight, age, nationality, languages spoken, even allergies and religious preferences in some cases. It listed each woman’s interests, favorites and turnoffs. It was noted whether a woman had been an odalisque before, or whether she was a “novice.” Some of the women were listed as fellatrices, or oral sex specialists, or sodomellas, anal sex enthusiasts. Some categorized themselves as orgophons, odalisques who were skilled at orgies. Some specialized in Tantra, others in sado-masochistic play. All offered the full slate of services, no matter their specialty.
Kai hovered over Constance’s page longer than any of the others. Something about her had drawn him in, more so than the other girls they’d visited. But he couldn’t remember if he’d felt that strong reaction before the blowjob, or after. When you find the one, you’ll know. Constance listed yoga, writing poetry, and etymology as interests above and beyond sexual slavery. She didn’t list a hometown. Interesting.
As far as sexual specialties, he was happy to find her in the sado-masochism camp. He thought again of the wooden hairbrush and her spectacular ass cheeks. So what if she was into the study of insects? He could deal with that.
Was she the one? He would probably know by tomorrow. He forced himself to leaf through the book and pick out a few alternates. After he ruthlessly eliminated various women for being too tall or too short, having fake boobs, not speaking English, and just generally not being attractive to him, he further eliminated those who were not interested in sado-masochistic play, those whose interests seemed boring, or who didn’t have any creative endeavors listed on their hobby sheet. After that, he was left with a pretty manageable pool of five candidates, including Constance.
So what did this mean? Was he really, really going to do this? He tried to picture himself at home with Constance, using her whenever it pleased him, in whatever ways pleased him. Having her walk around nude, a sexual creature at his beck and call, relaxed and content in the opulent nest he’d build for her. Writing poetry in her notebook with her legs pulled up under her, then putting it away so he could cover her with his body and empty himself in her again and again...
Oh, yes, he would do this. If any part of his mind still questioned, his body was absolutely certain. In fact, his body was far too excited again. This time he couldn’t restrain himself, pristine bed sheets or not. If anyone watched via hidden camera, they got an eyeful. He sprawled naked on top of the covers and masturbated to orgasm three times before he could manage to fall asleep.
Chapter Four: The Training
Kai woke up as conflicted as he’d been horny the night before. This was all so casual, so perverse. A woman he didn’t even know had dropped to her knees the night before and given him a blowjob. Another had masturbated in front of him while he’d stared at her like some visitor at the zoo.
How could he even consider buying a woman for the sole purpose of using her body? Well, he wouldn’t be buying her, he reminded himself. This was not human trafficking, that ugly world. This was anti-human trafficking, where the women actually became richer and more powerful than before. What could Constance do for herself with five hundred thousand dollars of his money? And a quarter million would also be donated to anti-trafficking charities.
So why did he feel so horribly guilty about it all?
Because you’re buying a woman. You’re paying for sex.
But it wasn’t so different from a man throwing money and apartments and jewels at a mistress or a girl-on-the-side. Was it? He went back and forth over the moral conundrum of the situation until his head hurt so badly he couldn’t fall back to sleep. He got up instead and went for a run, directed by a new, fresh-faced young butler to a lake behind the house surrounded by a trail. The familiar thump thump of his gait along the shaded path dispelled both his headache and his dithering. Life was short, and frustrating and complicated. This thing, for one year, could be simple. Simple pleasure, simple enjoyment. The worst that would happen is that it wouldn’t work out, and then he’d just release her. He’d be out a million, but so what?
With this refreshed and calm mindset, he returned to the house to shower, shave, and sift through a mountain of emails as he ate an early lunch in his room. Afterward, Bastien took him to visit the “training facilities” as promised. These facilities turned out to be a series of similarly opulent rooms on the opposite side of the house. But unlike the tasteful parlors, dining rooms, and bedrooms, these rooms were designed and decorated for the business of sex.
The first room Bastien showed him was, predictably, a gym. It was empty at the moment. “This is usually the ladies’ last stop of the day,” his host explained. “After they complete their schedule of sexual training, many of them can be found here, winding down with a short workout before they head out to the grotto.”
“The grotto?”
“Follow me.”
Bastien led him through a side door and into a garden that was green even in winter. A low stone building sprawled at the end of a path. They ducked beneath the lintel into a dimly lit, humid and fragrant space. It was a swimming pool, manmade but cleverly designed to look like some kind of ancient spring with boulders, flowers, and overgrown shrubs.
“I bet the water is warm as a bath tub, even when it’s snowing outside,” guessed Kai.
Bastien grinned. “You can test that hypothesis later when you take a dip with the women. I’ve been known to do so myself after an especially stressful day. For now, let’s continue on our tour. There are many provocative sights to see.”
They made their way from the grotto back to the building. The next ro
om was large and airy, brightly lit from picture windows on the side wall. The room was equipped with three wide, white padded tables, although only two were in use. A man attended to the two women tied face up to the tables, arms over their heads and legs spread wide. The man had no air of menace or even sexuality, aside from the toned, muscular body under his pristine lab coat.
“Is he a doctor?” Kai asked.
“He’s what we call a trainer. All these women are on a personal voyage of sensual development. What we seek from them can’t be taught, only teased from inside with encouragement and reassurance. And of course, our trainers are all male, since our ultimate goal is for an odalisque to be at ease and sexually open around men.”
“So the men--the trainers--all have sex with the women?”
“Occasionally they do. Not in a sordid, abuse-of-power type way. There are some things that are just better understood when a trainee is interacting with a real flesh-and-blood man. But the majority of the training is related to sexual sensitivity, and loss of inhibition and self-protectiveness. A little touch goes a long way.”
Bastien nodded at the tables, where the man was fingering one of the restrained women. She moaned and pulled at her bonds, her legs clenching. The trainer murmured to her quietly, seeming to urge her along. Kai wished he could walk closer to hear what he was saying--and get a closer look at the enraptured face of his pupil. Her cries rose in volume and Kai was looking forward to witnessing her climax when the lab-coated man drew away. He ignored her disappointed groans and turned to touch and stroke the other woman’s smooth pussy lips.
“Why did he only tease her?” Kai asked. “Aren’t odalisques allowed to come?”
“Actually, we hope for them to become quite orgasmic. This is only a technique in acquainting them with their hot spots. Each woman has a different physical makeup, different nerve bundles here and there. Gerard is helping them identify what feels best to them, and how to seek it from their partner’s touch. They’ll be allowed to come.” Bastien smiled as the other woman’s cries rose in volume and intensity. “Eventually.”
“Why are they tied down?” Kai chuckled softly. “Neither one looks like she wants to get away.”
“Bondage is part of the odalisque experience. We recommend that new owners restrain their odalisques often. It is all very tied up in the idea of surrender. Pardon the pun.”
Bastien led Kai from that room into another room, this one dark rather than light. The sensual cries of the two women were replaced by absolute silence and stillness. Kai looked around the peaceful space furnished with tufted sofas, upholstered chairs, and floor pillows. Three women were “training” here, each arranged in erotic positions with varying degrees of bondage. One was bent forward over a sofa with her legs in a spreader bar and her hands cinched behind her in leather cuffs. Another was lounging back on a pillow with her legs drawn up and held open by some creative rope work. Another was bound into a kneeling position, her head bowed. She might have been sleeping, she seemed so relaxed. Another white-coated male attendant sat at a desk, ostensibly monitoring the bound odalisques while going over paperwork of some kind.
When Bastien spoke, it was in hushed tones. “You see, they are most at ease this way. Bound, subjugated, waiting. You could blindfold or hood them and their state of relaxation would remain the same. We do sometimes blindfold or hood them as part of their training. They enjoy it, for the most part.”
Kai stared at the immobilized women. “What if I’m not into hoods? What if I don’t know how to do all those intricate rope ties?”
“You are certainly not obligated to use rope or hood your odalisque if it doesn’t please you to do so. The type and flavor of restraint is up to you, but most owners find bondage improves the submission of their slave.”
Kai looked around at the women. Although two of them were not his preferred physical type, they were all truly beautiful. Their silent acquiescence, the peaceful, trusting way they waited for...what? Whatever. A man’s voracious sexuality.
Bastien led him down the hall to the next room. This one had no furniture of any kind aside from several bolsters and beanbags. “We call this the penetration room.”
“I can see why.” Kai couldn’t help but gawk at the nude, moaning women reclining in various positions around the room. Each of the women had one or more dildos protruding from her orifices. “That looks like an effective means of training.”
“It sounds strange, but it really does require training to take any manner of cock with grace and ease. Pardon me for noticing last night, but you are above average in size. It is for men such as you that this training takes place. The odalisques learn their limits, and in some cases, how to stretch those limits. We also work with them on developing the elusive ‘penetrative orgasm.’ It is untrue that women can only orgasm from clitoral stimulation. With proper conditioning, many learn to climax solely from penetration and thrusting. Bigger, more functional orgasms are the ultimate reward.”
“Certainly a worthy goal, and thanks for the flattery about my size. Although it made me slightly uncomfortable.”
Bastien laughed. “We harbor no uneasiness about sexual openness here. But perhaps we’ll skip the fellatio room and head right to the sado-masochism space. I seem to remember Constance and Sandra being on the schedule with Stephen.”
Before Bastien even opened the door, Kai heard the repetitive crack of disciplinary impact. Once inside, Kai took in the fetish equipment--spanking benches, crosses, racks--before his gaze fell on the restrained victim on the far side of the room.
Constance. He had already developed an avid fascination with her.
She was kneeling on a padded platform. A white-coated trainer was spanking her ass and spread inner thighs with a leather paddle. She cried out with each blow, but at the same time ground her pubis against an upstanding dildo strapped to the table beneath her. Her reactions were gorgeous, purely wanton and needful. Her bottom was scarlet and absolutely perfect in shape. Kai felt an intense urge to grab the paddle from the trainer and take over himself.
She was clearly aroused, wildly aroused, which aroused Kai almost painfully. When she tried to sink down and penetrate herself with the toy, she received an especially sharp crack from the trainer--a warning to obey. Kai watched as this teasing sequence played itself out again and again. He wanted nothing more than to grasp her weaving hips and bury his cock inside her to the hilt.
“You see,” said Bastien, “the goal is for them to learn to equate pleasure and pain. For someone like Constance, the wiring is already there. There is only a refinement of the connection. A little more pain eventually triggers a little more pleasure. It’s a wonderful process.” Some of the strain Kai was feeling must have shown on his face, because Bastien said, “Perhaps you would like to test the method out yourself.”
Kai’s erection was throbbing. He looked at Constance, his hands opening and closing, craving to touch her. “I’d love to test it out. Yeah.”
Bastien approached the table and ran a hand down Constance’s back. She lifted her head to look at her caretaker, her eyes hazy with pleasure. “Stephen, give Mr. Chandler an appropriate pair of nipple clamps for the girl.”
The sober-faced trainer walked to the wall and returned with a pair of clamps connected by a chain. “Put them on her,” Bastien said to Kai, “and then please avail yourself of her pussy if you wish. Or have her ride the dildo for you. Whatever you would most enjoy.”
Constance looked over at him, her gaze alert and yet deliciously sultry. Her expression communicated what Bastien said--that anything Kai chose to do to her would be perfectly acceptable. And God, of course he was going to fuck her. Stephen removed the dildo from the table and rearranged his charge, having her brace herself on her arms. She spread her thighs a little wider until she was at the perfect level for him to fuck. Intercourse logistics. Was that another class taught here?
It occurred to him that in this house of forty or so odalisques, he was putting his dick in
the same one for a second time, and happy to do so. He walked around the front of her with the clamps and pinched her dark pink nipples. She was cock-twitchingly responsive, throwing her head back and staring up at him with striking light green eyes. She was a stranger to him, and yet familiar. She was the girl he’d always fantasized about but had never had: the girl who would do anything he asked and seek nothing in return, only more and more pleasure.
As horny as he was to get to the fucking, he took his time applying the clamps, teasing and playing with her nipples, enjoying her quick hissing intakes of breath. He didn’t feel any need or pressure to talk to her, to reassure her. To procure her consent. By now, he knew that wasn’t the way things were done at Maison Odalisque.
Bastien handed him a condom, and then faded back into the corner of the room along with the trainer. With one last tweak of the clamps--beautiful moan--Kai returned to stand behind Constance, unfastening his pants. He unbuttoned but didn’t remove his shirt. It was kind of thrilling, undressing just enough to make use of her. Kai rolled on the condom and positioned himself. She threw another hot, hungry look over her shoulder, causing his cock to buck in his hand. He felt desire and lust like a fire building in his groin, his shoulders, his thighs, his face. He was burning.
Jesus, what was it about her? He ran his hands over her body, caressing and exploring her. Her skin was smooth and warm, and her hips had the perfect proportion of roundness for his taste. He curled his fingers around her waist, then slid a hand up her back. She arched her spine and made a needful sound that hit him in his tightening balls. God, it wasn’t a fake porno sound, or anything forced. It was the sound of honest, excited feminine arousal. At any other time, that would have been his signal to drive deep, but somehow he wanted to draw out this moment, to really bask in this possession of her.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said. Not his fanciest line ever, but there wasn’t much blood left in his brain for composing sonnets. He was aching to be inside her, to feel her from within. She gave another low moan as he teased her pussy lips with the head of his cock. He could see the glistening proof of her excitement and smell her scent. He drove his fingers through the slickness, pressing his thumb against her clit. Her whole body seemed to tense; she looked back at him again. Her lips were parted, the extent of her need for him clearly written on her face.