Satan Wears Satin

Chapter One-2

Outside, clouds darkened the sky. Raindrops gave Vance an excuse to gallop toward the gazebo, and thunder drowned out the crunches his strides made on the gravel walkway. The air cooled quickly. When he reached the gazebo, the warm humidity inside clashed with cool outside air to steam the glass panes, already frosted by design, and provide great cover from prying eyes.

Sable greeted him inside the entrance to the gazebo, a structure about twelve feet high and twenty feet in diameter with five concrete benches along the inside edges. Her pocketbook rested against the wall by the door. She showed him her cell phone. “See? Just like yours. With a camera and all the other gadgets.” She placed her cell phone on top of her pocketbook, showing off her glorious rump to tantalize Vance again.

Standing, she boldly took him in her arms and maneuvered his back toward the door. She pushed the door to the frame but did not close it.

Sable’s firmness, under a seductive fleshy veneer, startled Vance, and the abrupt onslaught of her lips steamed his mind more completely than the elements outside clouded the glass panes of the gazebo. She pressed hard. Her pelvis swiveled, pushing her loins against his. He took her buttocks in his hands, squeezed hard, and ricocheted her passionate kiss off his lips back to hers. Stepping away, Vance exclaimed, “Thank you!”

“No,” she smiled. “Thank you, darling!” Her three deft moves stripped his jacket off. She took his camera phone from his inside coat pocket, walked back, and put his phone inside her pocketbook—treating him to a gaze at her shapely ass. She neatly folded his jacket and placed it on the ground beside her pocketbook—baiting him with yet another vision of her divine derriere.

“Your investment advice has turned me from rich to filthy rich,” she said in a throaty voice, closing the distance between them with surprising speed. She rubbed her hips sensuously. “Rich enough to buy you and filthy enough to use you.”

Her perfume intoxicated him. After her hands slid down her hips and away from her body, his hands replaced hers on her hips, and he caressed her reverently. He managed a grin. “Me too! Not filthy rich, but wealthy. I made the same investments and profits. Plus my commissions.”

She undid his tie and slipped it off, tossing it aside. “Multiply your profit times my investment volume. My gains dwarf yours. Leverage, darling! Take your shirt off.”

“Whatever you say,” he grinned, removing his shirt quickly.

“Exactly. Now I’ll leverage you, dear. Snatch all of your profits for myself.” She kissed him deeply again and backed away from the door. The suction of her lips led him on, psychologically if not physically. When her calves touched the farthest bench from the door, she stopped. “Take my panties off and put them on the bench behind me.”

Kneeling, he lifted her dress and slid her panties down. Her firm, creamy legs reprised his earlier shock at her subtle muscles. The tone and shape of her thighs and calves belied the indoor idleness he associated with a pale complexion. Her thighs and calves curved more markedly than the legs of a thinner woman and heightened his desire for her. After she stepped out of her panties, Vance put them on the bench. “What if I don’t want to eat you?”

His spark of rebellion aroused her. “Who says I’d let you? Perhaps I’ll just give you a glimpse of heaven. You may rise,” she said, condescendingly. “Now, drop your pants and shorts to your ankles and sit on the bench behind me.”

Instead, Vance moved around to Sable’s side so that his back was to the bench. “You didn’t close the door!”

Lightning flashed, thunder pealed, and heavy rain pelted the gazebo. “I have everything under control. Even the weather is my ally.”

Despite his reservations, Vance obediently lowered his pants and boxers to his ankles. He needed to sit down and remove his shoes before he could get his feet through his tailored trousers. He plopped down beside Sable’s panties on the bench. “What are your plans?” He started to reach for his shoestrings.

“Leave your shoes on. And trust me. Your future is in my hands.” Sable glanced at the door and at Vance. “Turn sideways,” she said. “That’s good. Now, close your eyes. Let’s shake hands on your role in my future, and I’ll give you another kiss.”

Vance closed his eyes and extended his arm to shake hands with Sable.

She grasped his arm above the elbow with both hands, swung her right leg over his arm—putting her ass in his face—clamped her thighs to prevent him from withdrawing his arm, and leaned forward to press her ass back into Vance’s face. Just before Sable blindfolded Vance with her rump, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the plush, dark hair covering her v****a. Assuming that was the natural color of the hair on her head, too, her parents must have named her Sable after the animal.

Matt rushed in, soaking wet, and picked up Sable’s camera. Snapping shot after shot, he exclaimed, “Great views of his face! Sorry, man, but Ms. Brandenburg said she’ll treat me if she rejects you.” He continued clicking away. “You’re out of luck. And five hundred dollars.”

“The day isn’t over,” Sable said. She released Vance’s arm and noticed he was still too unnerved to step away to freedom from her. Or he wanted her to humiliate him.

Matt’s face turned ugly with damaged pride and frustrated desire. His eyes watered. “You promised!”

“I promised you I’d have my way. With or without you.”

“Well, I’ve got the cell phone and the pictures!”

“Not for long,” a voice behind Matt said. He recognized the voice, and his body slumped. Nastassia Ryder entered, locked the gazebo door, and whisked the cell phone from Matt’s hand into her shirt pocket. “Drop your pants.”

When Matt lowered his trousers, he revealed his rigid hard-on. Nastassia’s intimidation frightened him and aroused him, too. She produced a pair of handcuffs from her large pocketbook and deftly cuffed Matt’s left hand to the door so easily that even Vance knew they were performing a ritual, not a coincidental bust.

“I’ve been set up!” Vance blurted out.

“Your acuity amazes me,” Sable said drolly. She stepped away from Vance. “Sigourney Weaver did this in a movie,” she boasted. Picking up her panties, she rudely stuffed them into Vance’s mouth. “They go so well with your red face.”

Vance started to rise, but Sable slapped him sharply. The shock of her surprising strength jolted his c**k to maximum erection, and drops of pre-c*m oozed out. Vance caught a brief glimpse of Matt and was disgusted to see his friend—former friend—m**********g with his free hand.

Sable turned to face Matt. “You’ll pay for that. Get him, Nastia.”

Nastassia gleefully advanced on Matt and started b***h-slapping him. Vance couldn’t decide who was happier: the beautiful sadist or her glutton-for-punishment masochist, ecstatically gobbling up her abuse. When Vance saw Sable’s flushed cheeks and hurried breath, he knew the Great Manipulatrix triumphed over all of them.

She turned to him. “You asked about my plans. Nastia and I caught you and Door Matt exposing yourselves. God knows what else you had in mind.”

Vance reached for the panties in his mouth.

Sable pushed each hand down and slapped him around a few times—very hard, each blow adding as much color to her cheeks as to his. “Whatever I say is true, even if it’s a lie. Take care of him, Nastia.”

Nastassia leered while she moved in on Vance. Producing another pair of handcuffs, she crowed, “I’ve been waiting for this, you smug bitch.”

Vance figured Nastassia was stronger than Sable—possibly stronger than he was. In contrast to Sable’s cushiony, curvy classic sexpot figure, Nastassia looked as lean and agile as a Victoria’s Secret model. Besides, she was armed. Vance meekly put his hands behind his back to let her cuff him. His eyes pleaded, Why?

Nastassia read his mind. “I do anything Ms. Brandenburg wants me to do. Hold that pose,” she tormented him, and then whacked him on the butt with her nightstick. Noticing more pre-c*m oozing from his c**k, she laughed and whacked him again. “This is fun! After Ms. Brandenburg explains how thoroughly f****d you two bitches are, I’ll thoroughly f**k you.”

Sable stood before Vance, practically thrusting her breasts into his face. “Now that Nastia and I have caught you two red-handed—Quit m**********g, Matt! We could turn you over to the police and thoroughly ruin you. But we’d rather ruin you ourselves. And collect the spoils of your destruction.”

Nastassia took the phone from her pocket and handed it to Sable. Pacing over to Matt, she administered the hard slaps they both richly cherished. She said, loud enough for all to hear, “I brought my dildo.”

Vance stirred violently.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sable stroked his chin with her gloved hand.

“No,” Nastassia said. “I have a special treat for you. To teach you to love Ms. Brandenburg when she screws you financially, so you’ll beg her to take more of your money.”

“I’ll use Nastia’s s****l expertise to increase my leverage over you until I clean you out financially,” Sable said. “You haven’t earned Brandy Heaven yet—not even a whiff of me. Nastia, do your number on him. Play Magic Gloves.”

Returning to Vance, Nastassia produced a pair of elbow-length black latex gloves from her pocketbook and laid them on the bench. Taking out a can of baby powder, she sprinkled some inside each glove to lessen the friction in sliding them on. When each hand and arm wriggled into its glove, Vance felt an erotic rush racing through him. Nastassia took out a special lubricant and glazed her gloves with the liquid. Vance thought he’d explode.

Matt started whacking off again. “I can’t help it,” he whined.

“I’ll tell you when,” Sable said, almost soothingly.

“Stand up!” Nastassia commanded Vance. As soon as he was on his feet, she rammed her left hand into his ass and grabbed his c**k with her right hand. She shoved her left hand in deeply, but teased his c**k with her right hand, slowly building on his frenzy of anticipation, instigating his urgency for relief. Nastassia adroitly increased the tempo of her right hand until Vance felt himself verging on a climax.

Glancing up, he saw Sable, taking pictures of him—and felt totally defenseless and thoroughly victimized. His nudity and unguarded, reckless surrender to ecstasy made him an easy target for blackmail. The graphic photographs of his collapse in morals and characters would be priceless—but lucrative to Sable—in the hands of his enemies.

Despite the swift pangs of degradation and despair, Nastassia’s dexterous hands quickly lured Vance back to capitulating to her touch. She compressed her punishing attack into his ass with the teasing, tantalizing ecstasy she whipped into his c**k to heighten the tension, like putting a firecracker under a brick to maximize the impact of the explosion. Nastassia deftly eased off with her right hand when Vance approached ejaculation. Then, abruptly, cruelly, she put her index and middle fingers on the sides of his p***s, just behind its head, and pressed up, hard, with her thumb.

His c**k deflated like a balloon with all the air let out.

“Now that I have these lovely pictures of you,” Sable explained, “I’ll tell you what you must do to prevent me from downloading them to my computer and printing out copies. Would you like to hear?”

Vance nodded his head frantically.

“Good. Tonight, promptly at six o’clock, bring two checks for twelve thousand dollars each.”

Vance nodded in agreement.

“One will be signed by you. The other will be signed by Elise.”

Vance shook his head in protest.

“If not, I’ll print copies of these pictures to send wherever they’ll ruin you, starting with your boss, then Elise, then all the stock brokerages. Besides,” she slinked up and stroked his cheeks with her gloved hands, “this is your big break, Vance. Obey me, and I’ll sponsor you for membership in Brandyhaven.”

“Great! What an unbelievable source of contacts!”

“You’ll still have to pay your dues—literally, to the club. Figuratively, to me. But at least I’ll let you in.”

“Let me in? Do you mean…?”

“More important,” she changed the subject. “I’ll let you join my Century Club.”

“What’s that?”

“Sable’s Centurions.” She caressed his c**k lightly. “Vain, perhaps,” she conceded. “But, as the commercials for my favorite hair color point out, ‘I’m worth it.’ Is it a deal?”

Vance’s c**k rose halfway back to life. But he knew Sable’s “offer” was a swindle. He shook his head, No.

Nastassia rammed her hand into his anus again and resumed stroking his c**k with her right hand. When Vance looked down at Nastassia’s glistening black glove, he nearly shot off at the sexuality of the vision—sleek, nasty efficiency.

“Don’t look at her,” Sable admonished. “Look at me. You, too, Matt.” Holding a cigarette between her lips, she walked over to Vance’s trousers, stooped, and removed his wallet. When she stopped to snare Matt’s wallet, his c**k quivered. Sitting on a bench facing Vance, she counted out all of the money from their wallets, stacked it neatly, and started stuffing the bills in her stockings. She fondled the pearls of her necklace—a promise to play with their family jewels? Her decadent expression, enhanced by the cigarette, and the crass way she packed the money near her own treasure sent Vance over the top.