The Marquis' Book of Pleasure & Property of the Marquis

Chapter 5

Erik thumbed the pages absently for a few seconds, and then looked up as the others did, watching Archibald Devane shuffle away.

The silence following began to pound in all their ears. As had happened before—when the six were exploring the house together—a gentle rise in energy seemed to animate the room—all in a muted, pent-up, erotic fashion.

“Well, I guess we have our answer,” Erik broke through the quiet. “Simple enough. I think we could have guessed as much.”

“Simple! You think that is simple?” Laney seemed quite close to exploding. “It’s perverted.”

“Better not condemn yourself, Laney,” Jason said. “You heard what the old man said about fear and desire.”

“This has nothing to do with my fear and desire,” she said.

“Well then, you won’t have any problem hearing what it says in this book,” Erik said, snickering at her amusedly.

“I don’t see any reason why we have to pursue this,” she sniped. “Soon as the rain lets up, we’ll get the boat fixed and be on our way. Mr. Christian Barth and Archibald Devane really aren’t any concern of ours.”

“But they are an interesting diversion while we’re marooned here,” Jason interjected.

“Oh, I think so,” Elise agreed positively.

“And why would you think so?” Laney asked her.

“I don’t know. Some core root thing just joggles in me hearing about all this. You know I once did a paper in college about the Marquis de Sade.”

“You never told me that.”

“I was so titillated I was embarrassed,” Elise almost blushed now. “Matthew, hon,” she looked toward her husband as if remembering the night before and feeling that same sort of feral power right now. She looked for something s****l.

“Maybe,” he said, absently. “But maybe later.” Odd that he would put her off. “I’m more interested in hearing what’s in old Archie’s book.”

Erik stepped back, massaging the black leather cover of the old volume as though it were something precious, “The Marquis’s Book of Pleasure.”

“Wonder who the Marquis is?” Jason mused aloud.

“I’m sure the title belongs to Barth,” Erik replied without a second thought. He opened the cover of the book, paged through to the beginning, and began to read … “The Care and Training of Human Chattel.”

“What?” Laney interrupted.

Erik looked up. “If you’re going to interrupt every time I say a word, we’ll never hear any of this.”

“That book can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” Jason asked her with a laugh. “After what the old man said, I’d believe anything. Read on Priestly.”

Erik gave his friends a nod, and began again with a bit of haughtiness and disbelief in his tone. “The Care and Training of Human Chattel. Chapter One, the Slave Decision.”

He paused. Hearing no more comments from his audience, he continued. “Being that slavery has been banned in most modern countries, the practice of keeping s****l slaves is rarely an appropriate topic for consideration. Only in secret fraternities and free societies like the one on Marquis Island will proponents of these practices be allowed to appraise such curious ideas. It is my belief, however, that the rite of slavery is one deeply embedded in the psyche of humanity—one not easily eradicated by law. It is as well, particularly desirous as a means of s****l stimulation and satisfaction. For the obviously dominant male to subjugate, imprison, and use the female species as he desires is a deeply seated craving that cannot be turned aside without giving up some degree of personal liberty and truth. Conversely, for certain members of the fair s*x to deny their yearnings of submission and turn from them as though they did not exist is equally as damaging to the soul. However, to embrace the facts of our nature, and live within their dictates—ones that makes men masters above the feminine species—allows us all to thrive in a state of natural repose.”

“My god! The man is serious!” Laney suddenly blurted out.

“You thought he wasn’t?” Sandra turned on her, amazed by Laney now as much as she was by what she heard in Erik’s reading. The sumptuously delectable woman was clearly aroused, her flesh burning with heat, her face flushed, her eyes languidly sensuous with the look of s*x. She stood now by the statue of their bound Venus as if the goddess were her friend.

“Want to hear more?” Erik asked.

“Yes,” Elise jumped right in, while Laney—having moved to the couch—stewed uncomfortably in her seat, and Sandra appeared to lose herself in the world of her fantasy.

Erik continued, “For our purposes now, we don’t often force slavery on the unwilling, but rather make it a choice for women with the nature to understand it. However, unlike other choices women might make, this one is not one to be made as a flight of fancy, or some romantic whimsical notion. s****l slavery is serious business. It requires dedication from both master and slave, and most importantly an understanding that once the decision has been made, the future is sealed. There is no turning back, no denial. Even what might look like righteous rebellion in a female must be squashed. There is no room for error or argument, only a place for the slave to find within themselves their submissive need and dwell solely there…

“Beyond such a finding, the rest is the master’s business, to train and nurture that place of humility and service within their chattel.

“Those who have just made the decision and have come into the hands of their master—I refer to as raw livestock. I find it better to take away even the basics of human mindfulness and individuality while slaves are trained, lest they foster some wrong-headedness and resistance—or are tempted to protest the choice they have freely made.

“Regardless, however, of any name we give an initiate, the raw livestock—or slave —can be expected to rebel at one time or another. Rebellion, being anticipated, can be efficiently crushed. It is, therefore, the purpose of the remaining chapters of this book to deal with the training and discipline of the slave, as well as the proper means of punishment and reprimand for those times when it is necessary. Only as a final epilogue will the s****l arts associated with master/slave relationships be discussed. Though submission and eroticism go hand in hand, it is most important to set the ritual and mindset of subservience before a complete discussion of the s****l methods can be undertaken.

“Do not, however, misread my remarks here. A s****l slave can and should be expected to serve her master sexually at all times—from the first day of her slave life until the last. Compliance is expected. And a good master will demand it, while at the same time knowing that time and training increase the s****l benefit for both master and slave. The slave’s decision is just the beginning.”

Erik looked up, about to turn the page.

“I’ve heard enough,” Laney declared. “At least for now,” she added when all five stared at her noting the distinctive sharpness in her voice.

“It is extreme, Laney,” Erik said to soothe her obvious fear.

“Yes, it is.”

“But don’t you find it fascinating?” Matthew asked. His hands were spread wide holding the back of one sofa, while he stared quite intently at Erik’s rattled wife sitting on the opposite one.

“Perhaps. But you’re sounding as though you wish you were attending one of Barth’s parties.”

“Oh, I’d be in heaven,” Elise exclaimed.

“You would?”

“I find the fear exciting.”

Laney looked at the languid Sandra draped against the statue, thighs slightly parted as though she might wish to f**k the marble. “I think that kind of submission would be bliss,” the lusty blonde purred unthinkingly.

“Am I the only sane one here?” she asked, rising from the couch. She moved toward the windows and peered out at the grey rain.

Erik was at her back some seconds later, pressing himself gently to her ass. She could feel his stiff c**k in his pants. “This arouses you, doesn’t it?” Laney murmured.

“In a way.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you feel it, Laney? The whole room is so erotically charged, if I didn’t know better I’d think any second, we’ll be stripping off our clothes, leaping headlong into an orgy. Elise and Sandra are nearly orgasmic. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it.” He had his hand on her ass, massaging it gently. “You’re the one who always wants it rough. I slap your thighs and ass. I’ve even bound your hands… why are you revolting now?”

“I’m not revolting. I’m…” she sighed. “Just tired.”

“We’ll let it slide for now, darlin’. Just don’t let it upset you so much.”

She smiled, turned in his arms, “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” he said with a snicker.

The rain stopped near sunset. In the dusky shadows, the three men hiked to the boat and appraised the damage. Jason suspected they’d need a part to get the engine running. But since the radio wasn’t working either, they’d have to rely on Archibald Devane to find them a means of rescue. Knowing there was nothing they could do in the waning light, they decided to wait until morning to proceed.

In the mansion, the women made dinner—chili, hot dogs, typical camping fare that seemed out of place in the sensuous elegance of Barth’s finely furnished rooms. Even in this state of decadent shabbiness there was an air of refinement and grace that seeped inside the bones of those who lived there—as much as the erotic conversation and talk of s****l slavery seemed to quicken their s****l bodies. Yet, their feelings of lust remained behind a blanket of excited fear and a bit of dread, which even the more willing Sandra and Elise found kept them from racing toward their desires. While their body language begged for some satisfaction, the possibilities were diverted with small talk and frivolous activity.

After dinner, the six surrounded the fireplace again, looking as though they’d had a rough day working. Devane’s book sat on the table beckoningly, but no one mentioned it.

They played cards, drank wine, and ended up going to bed much earlier than they were used to—driven by their lust. Once the candles were doused inside each room, the black night hit them squarely in their blinded eyes and their bodies replied to the deadly dark as they snuggled close. In all three rooms, desire seemed to unleash as flesh touched flesh. In remembrance of their earlier s*x, Elise and Matthew, and Sandra and Jason, clashed anxiously until their swift f***s left them empty and ready to sleep. In the third room, at the top of the stairs, Laney and Erik Priestly began to make love fitfully, almost too scared to touch with so much electric energy passing between them.

“What’s happening to me, Erik?” Laney whispered, as her flesh jumped inside her prickly skin. She felt orgasmic the moment her husband’s fingers circled a n****e, and his breath expelled on her hardening bud. “I’m coming apart at the seams,” she thrashed worriedly, while desire on desire spilled through her mind and into the passion rushing through her hands. She was on him, grappling as hotly as he was wrestling with her, seeking his c**k with her hands so she could steer it to the entrance of her clenching cunt.

While Erik was as driven with desire, he held back enough to steady her—to keep her body from exploding too fast. He wondered if she were headed for madness the way she clawed his shoulders and spread wide her thighs demanding he take her cunt. He put her off twice, in the interest of pursuing his own desire to make her suffer, happy to have her discontent—until the tease became too maddening for her. He finally rammed his erection into the offered orifice, grateful for the way she milked the stalk. Her p***y was alive and grabbing, almost as though there were mysterious hands reaching inside to grab the thing and suck it inside her.

She came, thrashing back and forth beneath him, moaning like the wind was moaning in the restless night. “Gawd cuuuuummmmmmm!” she roared as she pumped his meaty flesh. Even when he would have stalled, the grasping muscle worked hard enough to bring on his orgasm and thereafter didn’t stop until she drained him dry.

Afterwards, neither one could speak as though something other than s*x had usurped their power of speech. Waiting to recover, they listened to the sounds of their winded breath and watched their heaving chests rise and fall. Even when they finally settled they couldn’t speak, so they didn’t bother. Laney drifted to sleep first, Erik followed closely after, thinking as his eyes closed, that something devilish was brewing on this island. They were caught in a web of riddles unaware of its powerful influence to control their behavior.