Dark Needs (Tales of Dystopian Decadence Book 1) (4 page)

When I felt his cock at my entrance, I stilled and watched him. With slow movements, he ran the head up along my slit, then down again, teasing me. For the first time since he’d begun his ministrations, I let a soft moan of pleasure escape my lips.

“Shall I keep doing that?” he whispered, the friction of him rubbing against me escalating with each movement. I whimpered and lifted my hips to meet his. As if in response, his fingers tightened on my throat and he thrust against me a little faster. “You really want it now, don’t you?” He brushed his lips against mine, sending a shudder through me.

Despite myself, I reached up and pulled his hips down against me, demanding what I wanted with gestures instead of words. He smiled and pressed his erection forward, sliding into me until he could go no further. The feeling of him filling me up brought such relief, I gasped.

“You are so tight,” Icharus breathed, waiting a moment with himself seated deep inside my needy pussy. His cock pulsed and I let out a soft sob. With a low chuckle, he said, “I don’t think this is going to last long for either of us.”

Rather than answer, I just hooked my right leg around him and undulated my hips up against his once more. He looked surprised, but then his smile returned. The smug expression only made me close my eyes. I reminded myself I wasn’t supposed to want his attention, interest, or affection. I just wanted my orgasm, and I wanted it now. 

With a growl of annoyance, I curled my fingers against his taut buttocks.

“You want it, don’t you?” he repeated, still smirking at me. “Tell me you do.”

I moved my hips toward him and answered, “Fuck me.”

He ran his hand down along my breasts and thrust again. This time the sensation of his cock stretching me out took my breath away and I clutched at his arms. The teachers did away with any inconvenient instances of virginity at the school, but even with the sensual activities and teachings, they were very careful not to do anything that might make us
feel
less virginal to a patron. Especially one who could probably pay as well as DeVille would have to, if I agreed to the contract.

“We are going to have fun together, you and I,” he said as he found his rhythm, pulling out of me and then driving back in again and again. “You will have your revenge and I will have not just my father’s business, a loyal and beautiful courtesan who does my bidding.”

I didn’t bother to tell him he was wrong or that I didn’t care what he wanted. What mattered was the pleasure I felt building in my core with each thrust of his rigid member deep inside me. When my body tensed, Icharus hesitated for a moment. Unable to wait, I ground my hips against his and took what I wanted so badly, brushing my clit against his pelvis until my pussy clenched around his stiff rod as the orgasm shot through me.

Chapter 5

Society considered it bad form for a single woman to spend the night at the home of any man who was not a family member, chaperoned or not. Of course, this was a Regime rule, not the way it once was in the States. Still, I’d grown up with that rule and the thought crossed my mind when sunlight flickered over my closed eyelids. I groaned and turned away from the brilliance. After another moment, I pushed myself up and shook my hair out of my face. In a heartbeat, I remembered where and with whom I had spent my night.

When I turned my head, I saw him standing at the window, a dark form with sunlight radiating around him.

Wait.

Sunlight?

I sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to me and wondering how it was possible. The fallout that obscured our skies had appeared impenetrable for so many years, ever since the war.

“Not much manages to surprise you,” he said. “But something as simple as seeing the sun fills you with wonder, doesn’t it?”

I rose from the bed and the luxurious white sheets rustled as they slipped off my body. Being naked as I took a few steps toward him didn’t bother me. That warm light was far too enticing. “Why do you say that?” I asked.

“It’s very obvious the tragedy of your mother’s death jaded you with regard to society and our world. Why wouldn’t it? She was the one person you could count on – the one who was always there for you, as a mother should be.” He lifted his chin slightly as he stared out the window, and did not bother to look at me when he spoke. “The loss of someone who knows and loves you so well is the worst kind there is.”

Taken aback by his words, I stood frozen in place. He spoke like someone who knew the same kind of loss – bitterly, sadly, knowingly.

Another emotion-laden moment passed, and then Icharus turned and smiled at me. It was an endearing grin in its careless nonchalance, with no trace of malice or danger, and I found my own lips twitching in response.

“I’ve told you what I want from you,” he said, approaching me. He bent to scoop my dress and undergarments off the floor and set them on the bed. “I won’t force you to acquiesce to my wishes. All I ask is that when you go back to the school, you consider my request.”

Taking a deep breath, I answered, “You have a right to demand my companionship and cooperation, just as I have a right to refuse it. Why ask?”

“Because I may be a DeVille, but I am not my father. I want you to work with me because you see the mutual benefit of it, not because you feel threatened or compelled to do so. My father has wronged us both, not to mention hundreds of others in the city alone, and probably every citizen of this country. His power within the Regime grows every day, as does his avarice. I won’t let things as they are continue unchecked. If you decide to help me, I’ll make it worth your while. If not, all I ask is that you not say a word of this to anyone.”

“Make it worth my while?” I echoed, tossing my torn panties aside and then slipping into my dress.

“I will compensate you handsomely and you will be free to do as you choose with your life.”

His words gave me pause once more. As a courtesan, I was practically a slave, dependent upon a patron’s favor to make my living. Of course, I could leave St. Eden’s without a patron. The headmistress gave unpaired girls career opportunities. The girls who became dressmakers, tea-room proprietors, and even tinkerers made modest livings, but they were not beholden to any man. However, all of us remained obligated to Headmistress Eden no matter what path we chose. We were all part of whatever scheme compelled her to call upon graduates for information and favors. I started to wonder if this match was more beneficial to me or the headmistress, if the service Icharus was asking me to render was what
she
wanted of me.

There was only one way out of that web of societal intrigue, and that was accumulating enough money to take oneself far from Los Angeles to a place where even she could not find me again.

“If I do this, you won’t try to keep me here under contract?”

Icharus shook his head and I took a deep breath.

“Then I don’t need time to think about it.” I looked into Icharus’s eyes. “I accept.”

His fingers twitched at his side, then he brought his hand up to run those same fingers along my jaw. That gentle touch made me shudder with remembered pleasure.

“The headmistress will be pleased with your decision,” he said. “I will contact her to finalize our contract and your new living arrangements. When you have served your purpose, I will burn the contract and it will be as if this never happened.” With those words, he turned and left the room. I felt dismissed, but I did not let the lack of affection on his part bother me.

Icharus DeVille had just handed me the key to my freedom, if I was brave enough to take it.

~****~

At my third knock, an imperious female voice commanded, “Enter.”

I took a moment to smooth my skirts and my hair, then reached out and turned the doorknob. Headmistress Eden’s office was more familiar to me than it was to most girls, since I got in trouble more often than any other student in the school. Discipline for my antics usually came from Mr. Breckinridge, but he had also escalated matters to the headmistress on a number of occasions over the past few years. Her discipline usually involved long, torturous sessions and the application of the nefarious chastity device. I didn’t want to contemplate the possibility of that kind of punishment at that very moment.

For once, however, I was entering the office, not as a troublemaker, but as a graduate who had accepted a profitable match. Paperwork had already exchanged hands, sealing my fate. The choice I had made was quite a roll of the dice, but I had nothing to lose because I had lost it when I lost my mother.

I paused in the doorway and curtsied, even though the headmistress was not even looking at me. She sat behind her desk, her head bowed as she read the letter she held in her hands.

“Miss Johnstone, you finally decided to listen to me.” Though her head was lowered, her voice was clear, the syllables well-enunciated. No one knew Headmistress Eden’s past before the school, but it must have been a privileged one, since she spoke and carried herself with such self-assurance. “They say you should keep your friends close,” she said, folding the letter and setting it on the desk, “but keep your enemies closer.”

I stood there frozen in mid-curtsy on the threshold, and my eyes darted from side to side. “I’m sure I don’t know what you—”

She held her hand out and waved down toward the surface of her desk. “Sit.”

At her order, I stepped into the room, shut the door behind me, and sank down into one of the chairs in front of her desk. One of my worst habits was a propensity to touch things. I found certain tactile sensations irresistible and this included the burgundy velvet of the chair cushion. Even as the headmistress watched me and opened her mouth to speak, I was already stroking the fabric, comforting myself through this unconscious fixation.

“Miss Johnstone, while I should be furious with you for what you did to Mr. DeVille at your initial meeting, I am content that you saw the error of your ways. Your decision to accept his patronage is proof enough of that.” Headmistress Eden watched me intently with her green eyes and I couldn’t help but shudder under her assessing gaze. With her dark auburn hair cascading over her shoulders in glossy, perfect curls and her flawless alabaster skin, she looked like a goddess.

The patron goddess of submissives and girls willing to use their bodies to better their station in life. She who must be obeyed.

She cocked an eyebrow at me and said, “I know what a difficult time you have keeping silent when you have something on your mind. You may speak.”

“Headmistress,” I answered, “you must understand it grieved me to disappoint you, but you matched me with the one man I could not bear to touch, let alone breathe the same air as. I will always associate the DeVille name with my mother’s murder.”

“Miss Johnstone.” She rose to her feet in a graceful, fluid movement and began pacing behind her desk. Her vivid coloring only enhanced the opulent finery in her office, from the toile wallpaper to the brocade curtains. “Do you know why I started this academy?”

It seemed like an irrelevant topic, but I was starting to realize there was more going on behind the headmistress’s words than what seemed obvious. “I’m sure I don’t,” I answered.

“It was so all women could have a chance to make their way in the world with very little effort, a great deal of comfort and, if they are fortunate, pleasure as well. Furthermore, it gave me the chance to watch for an opportunity to make certain things in my own past…” She hesitated and her gaze lifted to a heavily-curtained window. “An opportunity to make certain things in my own past right once again. Like you, I have never gotten over the loss of your mother. Let me assure you, despite his father’s many crimes against humanity, I chose Mr. DeVille for you quite intentionally.”

“So you did not match me with someone who is interested in me for my…” I faltered, then concluded, “My training.”

“Are you saying Mr. DeVille is lacking in the bedroom? Every potential patron is expect to test the girl upon meeting. Did it not go well?” She arched an eyebrow and stepped around the desk to perch on the edge of it, her booted feet mere inches from mine. I couldn’t help but look up those leather-clad legs, up at her somewhat exposed crotch beneath the black frilled, open skirt, up at her barely-contained breasts resting in the full cups of her corset, before lowering my gaze modestly. Eden could get away with dressing like that. So could we after we graduated.

“No, it’s not that at all, Headmistress,” I finally answered. “However, he seems not to have any interest in a courtesan such as myself, except as an instrument of ambition.”

“Yes, I know it seems that way.”

I raised my eyes again and searched her face for a moment. “Do you know what he wants me to do for him?”

“Besides warm his cock?” She chuckled and then her smile disappeared. “Some of the people who come here seeking matches sometimes have… Let’s just call it political motivations, shall we? Most men want a lovely lady on their arm – the kind who will keep quiet and make him look good to his colleagues. They come to us because we have the best-trained submissives they will find anywhere in the entire west, someone who will adore them without question. Then we have some men, as well as women, whose proclivities are such that finding someone to satisfy them is tricky.”

The headmistress uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, her frilled black taffeta skirt rustling along her upper thighs as she did so. I resumed stroking the cushion, waiting to see if she would enlighten me or leave me as confused as I had been last night.

“That is why we have slaves such as yourself – girls with very few limits and very specific desires themselves,” she continued. “We have girls who can be tied to a post and whipped, if that is what a patron desires. It’s not too difficult to give them. Finally, we have special cases where pleasure and politics mix. I believe your match will be a pleasurable one, if you let it, but I will admit to you that it is primarily a political one.”

“Political? I think you mean revenge in this case.”

The headmistress dipped her head in a gesture of acknowledgment. “Call it what you will inside these walls, but outside the school your silence is what will keep you alive.”

Recoiling back against the chair, I looked at up at her and whispered, “Is that a threat?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t threaten the daughter of my beloved Delilah. Think of it as a friendly reminder from someone who is emotionally, financially, and morally vested in the outcome of Mr. DeVille’s little plan.”