Read Online Alison's Wonderland by Alison Tyler - Free Book Online Page B

with the muscles of his arms and thighs and ass. She could see his chest rising as the scent of her intoxicated him and the effort to maintain the posture grew.
    His cock was quite evident in his pants.
    “May I help you off with your boots, Madame Belle?” asked Andrew suddenly. In the culture that had born both Andrew and Belle, such a suggestion was a colloquial way of suggesting intimate relations, the implication being, of course, that people fucked with their boots off—something that was very rarely true in Belle’s experience.
    Belle realized that upon uttering this rude innuendo, Andrew had inclined his head slightly, as if to present his face to her, all but begging for her to slap him.
    Belle was unfamiliar with having the power to slap someone. She was surprised to find that it excited her immensely to see Andrew on his knees, offering his face to be slapped. And such a pretty face it was.
    This was exactly what made Belle go wet and hot inside when she was the one on her knees, in Andrew’s position. But she was really more interested in other pleasures at that particular moment, and in fact was quite eager to have Andrew “remove her boots.”
    Instead of slapping him, Belle caressed his beautiful pink cheeks with her fingers and said, “What did you ask me?”
    “I asked if I could remove your boots,” Andrew said brashly, all but daring her to slap him. “Madame Belle, may I please remove your boots? I would love to remove them and…take them all the way off.”
    “Hold that thought,” she said. “And don’t move.”
    Belle stalked to the table, where cold turkey and wine awaited her. She sat at the table nude except for her boots and, at her leisure, she took slim savory morsels of turkey and poured herself a glass of wine.
    “May I serve you?” asked Andrew.
    “No, you may not,” she said absently, without looking back at him. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in a dozen years of sleeping with men—” she laughed “—it’s how to serve myself.”
    She could not see him, but she could feel the sting of her words.
    “As you wish, Madame.”
    Belle could also hear the strain in Andrew’s voice; it was becoming hard for him to hold that position, resting with his hands back on his ankles and his cock bulging forth. She did not glance behind her to see the stress in his body; just knowing it was there made her meal that much sweeter.
    Belle took her time eating. The turkey was delicious and the wine was excellent. She had several pieces of fruit, including a few varieties she’d never tasted before—they did not have them in her region.
    Belle rose and walked back to Andrew, who was biting his lower lip quite fetchingly, struggling to maintain his posture.
    Belle stood before him, taking a long minute to lick her fingers—which were greasy with turkey and sugary with fruit—and her lips, red with wine. Her order not to move, which by now had caused intense pain to the muscles of Andrew’s arms and thighs and ass, had not diminished his erection. Belle could relate.
    She licked her fruit-sweet fingers as she spoke. “Andrew, I think you asked me something,” she said innocently.
    Andrew spoke with great effort, his brow moist with the tension in his muscles.
    “I asked if I could remove your boots, Mistress,” he said, his voice conveying a great humility. “It was impolite for me to ask. I apologize.”
    Belle reached out and ran her slick fingers across Andrew’s throat, teasing him. She leaned close.
    “They’re the most beautiful boots I’ve ever seen,” he blurted.
    He looked up at her, his eyes succulent with adoration of her for the ordeal she’d just put him through, and particularly for the obvious pleasure she’d taken in it. Belle looked down into those gorgeous eyes and laughed.
    “My boots are filthy from the ride. I wouldn’t wish you to remove them until you’ve cleaned them— very well.”
    Belle turned and stalked the few feet to a large