My Lady Captive by Shirl Anders Page A

Orèlan’s waist with his
forearm, steadying her on his lap, as he murmured, “Be careful what
you threaten, my beautiful Orèlan. I already have your marks on my
back, and I look forward to more.”
    “You are so arrogant,” she hissed,
taking another sip of champagne, then smiling to the crowd.
    As uncomfortable as Wyndham was with Orèlan
being forced to sit bare-breasted on his lap beneath Alexei’s
imprudent gaze, he was equally, or more, disturbed by the steady
disrobing of Angelo. Just as Alexei knew he would be. The fact that
Angelo was clearly an embarrassed and unwilling partner in the game
he and Alexei played. This disturbed him profoundly. Yet, he let
none of this show behind his clenched jaw and hooded eyelids. The
effect of masking his emotions from Alexei was satisfying, because
Alexei was not receiving the reaction from him that he desired and
ultimately played the entire game for. Yet, Angelo suffered. Angelo
was completely denuded now with his limp dick exposed and only his
calf-high stockings left to forfeit, while Alexei groped his tight
youthful ass for the hedonistic pleasure of the crowd.
    Orèlan, still perched gracefully on his lap,
was becoming more tense and edgy with each increasing momentum of
Angelo’s humiliation. When she reached for her fourth glass of
champagne, he stopped her hand with his hand, instead bringing her
knuckles to his lips. It was time to finish the distasteful game
they played and ultimately he could not allow Angelo’s future fate
to disturb him.
    “Last hand,” he uttered, as he forcefully
willed his hand not to reach downward to rub his cramping leg. It
was time to pay for the continued ill use of his injured limb
today. He would not be walking gracefully away from the table this
evening. Alexei would finally realize his weakness, and one could
only guess as to how Alexei would exploit it. He silently cursed
his damnable masculine pride for not bringing his cane along this
evening, because he realized suddenly, that the only way he could
manage to leave the ballroom at all now, was with Orèlan’s
help.
    As the last cards were dealt, Wyndham watched
disgustedly as Alexei moved his hand from fondling Angelo’s tanned
buttocks to lewdly grabbing the young man’s flaccid cock. The
entire time, Alexei’s icy blue irises never left Wyndham's. Even as
Alexei began to stroke Angelo’s limp member, while Angelo,
appearing shamefully humiliated, dropped his head. Wyndham wanted
to shout at Angelo not to play the submissive enslaved captive.
Alexei could only use and abuse him that way, whereas Alexei was
stymied and receiving no satisfaction from Orèlan, masquerading so
boldly and unconcerned.
    Yet, what grated on him the most, and sent an
irritating tremor through his tall frame, was the unspeakable
message Alexei was really sending to him. Alexei stroked Angelo’s
cock for his eyes and his eyes alone. What price would he
pay, Wyndham wondered? What price would he eventually be forced
to pay for Orèlan’s release? He had baited the serpent in his den
once before, and he had not won his freedom completely
unscathed.
    “My hand!” Alexei quipped snidely and
suddenly . . . and directly to Wyndham beneath the loudness of the
crowd. Wyndham’s tall body jerked. He was shocked! Somehow he had
lost his concentration and . . . “My hand!” Alexei shouted to the
crowd around them.
    At the same instant Orèlan cried, “No!” With
an agileness belaying his astonishment, Wyndham grabbed the end of
her gilded leash, halting her attempt to flee. It left her
straining against the collar as she clutched the front of her loose
bodice barely over her breasts. Her lovely delicate features
completely belayed the wildness in her golden irises.
    “Cunt’s and asses!” Alexei shouted.
    Orèlan cried out, still straining against the
collar and leash as Wyndham tried to catch her wild gaze. “I cannot
do this! I will not,” she careened rapidly and frantically in
Spanish, and