Honor finally got to finish watching 'The Odalisque' later that night, after another disturbingly enjoyable dinner in the nude. There had been no dancing this time, but she had once again been on Marq Haydn's menu for dessert.

The title screen - with the slave girl's iconic tattooed back and spread legs, the odalisque's pose of greeting for her master - was on the wide screen, just waiting for Marq to click on the 'play' icon when she obediently crawled unto his lap on the bed and sat between his legs, leaning back on his chest. At first, she had been embarrassed to discover that he had known all along that she had been watching something so sexual - softcore pornography in truth - just a mere few hours after discovering herself in a stranger's hotel suite.

"Let's finish your movie," he had said.

But then, realizing that she was at that moment naked, and the fact that his penis had been in one orifice or the other all too recently, not to mention that it was her lot, by choice, to be at his sexual disposal for the next ten days - at least, her embarrassment had very swiftly disappeared.

It was well past midnight when Honor finally got to see the slave girl's body chain, the symbol of her bondage, removed at last. Largely because Marq had insisted on watching the movie with her from the beginning. Which meant that all in all, including interludes, watching all one hundred and forty-two minutes of 'The Odalisque' took two hundred and seventeen minutes.

She felt him start to get excited when the nudity began. Quite apart from the erection growing and pressing against the small of her back, his fondling of her body became noticeably different, less caressing, more insistent. She only hesitated a moment before she spread her legs over his own as his hand began questing lower down on her belly, shuddering against him when his fingers reached their destination and discovered what his touch was doing to her.

The scene where henna patterns were being expertly painted unto the slave girl's naked body by harem servants was on the screen when Marq made it clear that there was going to be an interlude as he quite unceremoniously manhandled her to her hands and knees, his member at her entrance in the next moment. Panting, she was as ready for him as he was for her, and his rough desperate entry into her pussy drew out a loud and quavering sob of delight as she clutched at the sheets, coming hard from overstimulation and his sudden invasion of her body.

He rode her hard, leaning forward to grasp her dangling breasts as he pistoned in and out of her pussy. He came quickly, grunting, answering her squeal as he unloaded his semen inside her yet again.

The tattooing scene was long past by the time they were ready to return to the movie, and Marq used the remote to rewind back to it. He stopped and pressed the 'Play' button on a flowery henna pattern being drawn around Ramya's navel. Honor had already settled herself back against him, arching as one hand settled on her belly and the other made its way back between her legs. Her legs were already spread for him, and she swallowed as his fingers reached their destination, instinctively knowing what he was going to do.

It was nasty - something sensible, decent, and disciplined Honor Banet would never do - would never even consider doing.

But then, she had licked his fingers clean of her liquid before - in the hallway, in the sitting room, in the parking lot, in the corridor outside. And the taste of his cum had become very familiar in the last few days. So she could think of no earthly reason why she shouldn't lick his fingers clean when he brought them, glistening with his cum and hers to her mouth.

She was his slut, his whore, fully bought and paid for, and she dutifully sucked and licked his fingers clean every time he brought them to her lips. She arched and writhed against him as he laved his tongue on her neck and fondled her breasts, feeling his cock gradually swelling again against the small of her back, an occasional cry escaping her as his fingers repeatedly returned to explore her folds and plumb her depths before going back up to her mouth. Then his hand made one last journey to her pussy ... and stayed, fingers getting covered in her liquid.

"Watch the movie," he'd growled, commanding, when she tried to turn around, tried to climb unto him.

Obediently, Honor kept her eyes fixed on the screen, breathing harsh and elevated, watching Ramya's story unfold again.

On the screen, the slave girl and her prince had finally met, and now, days after, an obsessed Armaan had stalked and cornered Ramya into one of the palace's numerous alcoves, mimicking the proximity the hiding place they had shared had forced on them. Unable to retreat, and even less able to deny to raw physical attraction between them, Ramya's attempt to resist did not survive his first touch. She began to kiss him back almost as soon as he captured her lips with his, and their first joining was a standing, desperate affair of clothing pulled down and shifted aside and frantically thrusting hips, the superbly trained slave girl raising one leg high to rest on her lover's shoulder in an awe inspiring demonstration of flexibility to allow him access. Ramya had to bite her lip to keep from screaming as the prince moved inside her, making her his in the tight space of the alcove.

Honor had no such need to keep from giving voice to her pleasure as Marq masturbated her to the montage of Armaan and Ramya copulating repeatedly playing on the screen. Her own fingers joined his - guiding him as he used her body's shudders and her labored and ragged breathing to pleasure her. Her hips began to move with him as he found what he was looking for, her eyes closing as his fingers settled into a steady stroking that paid attention to the erect nub of her clit and the swollen wet parting of her pussy. She gasped out loud when his fingers spread her open, unconsciously lifting her hips up to follow his hand as his fingers penetrated her, keening and jerking against him as another set of fingers cruelly molested her jutting brown nipples.

Her orgasm came with a clamping, sudden and alien in her abdomen, and Honor Banet did not hear Marq's satisfied growl over her shriek of ecstasy and the roaring in her ears as liquid spurted out of her in a sudden torrent, flooding out around his marauding fingers to soak the sheets beneath her. She screamed again, throwing her head back as his fingers pushed inside her again, eyes rolling back in her head, body going rigid as more liquid sprayed out of her pussy.

Her senses, and sensation, returned; Marq's fingers were still caressing her, still fondling her breasts, his tongue laving up the arch of her throat, the solidness of his body still behind her. She opened her eyes to another scene of Ramya being made love to by her prince, the slave girl's bare legs wrapped high around Armaan's rising and falling hips.

She turned her head, only for Marq to forcefully sieze her parted lips, panting when he released her lips at last.

He kissed her again, a growl at the back of his throat, making her squirm and moan against his lips as his fingers ran over her erect - and almost painfully sensitive - nipples.

"I really don't usually do that ..." Honor gasped out when he released her again, her gaze falling on the large wet patch on the sheets between her spread legs.

"Do what?" he teased.

Absurdly, she felt her face burning as she took a moment for the word to come to her. "I don't ... ejaculate ..."

"Oh," Marq said, lips at her ear. "Should I be flattered? Because I think you've managed to do it before. More than once, actually."

Her face continued to burn - of course he had noticed the gush of liquid leaving her pussy in the parking lot. "Maybe it's the air in Bangkok."

"Then I think all women should come and get a taste of the 'air' in Bangkok," Marq said, with a low chuckle. "After all, why should just us men have all the fun?"

"I don't think ..." Honor said, unable to keep her lips from spreading in a smile as he planted a trail of kisses along the line of her throat, shaking and inwardly marvelling at how extraordinarily sensitive her body had become. "... I'll be able to survive too much of that, Mr. Haydn."

He laughed, and her smile became wider, a happy warmth spreading through her body as their lips met again. She arched, eyes closing as his hands began a soft teasing fingertip only circuit of her body, stopping to cup her breasts and trace whorls around the slit of her belly button. Her capacity for lucid thought, much less speech, very swiftly degraded to near non-existence. He took his time exploring her, weighing her breasts in his hands, examining the unblemished expanse of her skin, his lips and tongue traversing the side of her neck, near the small dot of her birthmark, his nose breathing in the strawberry scent of her hair.

On the screen, Armaan and Ramya were at their oasis, frantically copulating in the water when his fingers finally made their way back between her legs, tracing the strip of her pubic hair on their journey south. His caresses had become rougher by then, the hand at her breasts squeezing, his teeth closing on the skin of her neck. She felt the full pulsating hardness of his member against her spine, and she heard the harshness of his breathing as she spread her legs wider for him, leaning back and crying out as she guided his questing fingers back inside her wet warmth, letting him know what he wanted was his for the taking.

She turned her head toward him at last. "Fuck me, Mr. Haydn," Honor demanded, voice rough, no longer smiling.

He growled in response and Honor was again shocked at the familiar upsurge of heat between her legs at the sudden assertiveness of his hands with her body. She growled back at him as she let him turn her around, scrambling up to straddle his erection, taking him in her hand as she positioned herself. She bent to capture his lips, her teeth closing on his lower lip, one hand on his chest for balance as she used the other to guide him to her opening. She felt him touch her, the head of his cock parting her open as his hands settled on her waist.

She broke the kiss then, letting go of his lip and meeting his eyes, a quiet gasp escaping her open mouth as she impaled herself on him.

She took her time to gather her senses, to savor his presence inside her as his hands continued their tireless exploration of her body. When she opened her eyes, she bent down to kiss him, her breasts making contact with his chest as she began to roll her hips, sliding him in out of her pussy. She gasped against his mouth, breaking the kiss as he began to move with her, matching her movements with his own thrusts, his hands settling on her hips.

She came so quickly that it was a shock, an effect of overstimulation and the exquisite sensitivity gifted by a squirting orgasm. She opened her mouth in a silent scream, collapsing on top of him as her body fitfully shook in his arms. He didn't wait for her to recover, and she was barely able to get her breathing under control before he began the process of changing their position, stopping repeatedly in between to take her lips with his own or swallow a pointing nipple into his mouth, carefully keeping himself inside her, until her back was on the pillows, her legs resting on the back of his thighs.

She smiled at him when he let go of her lips, running her hands over his back, one hand going lower still to cup his butt, comfortable, enjoying his weight on top of her.

His answering smile was only a mild quirk of his lips, but it reached all the way up to his eyes, and Honor felt heat blossom on her cheeks as those eyes simply looked at her. It was absurd, she thought; sheathed inside her, her hands on an exploratory tour of his body, another man and woman naked and coupling on the screen ... and he was making her feel shy.

So she said what seemed the most appropriate thing, given the circumstances, "Fuck me, Mr. Haydn."

His lips quirked up higher, and she couldn't resist licking up at his lips, laving her tongue over his smile. He followed her down, capturing her lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth as he began to piston in and out of her body.

He made her squirt again soon after that, and she screamed as her pussy released another gush of cum. He growled as he pulled out of her to allow the liquid to exit from her body before quickly sliding himself back inside her, making her arch and scream again at the abruptness of his entry. He paused, uncharacteristically allowing her to regain her senses before he continued to fuck her, neither rough nor gentle, disciplined, unhurried. Honor held on to him, remembering his cum spurting into her body only a short while before, realizing that his point of release would be a while coming.

She smiled up at him; spreading herself wider, she certainly had no complaints about that.

He took her lips again, and she let out a moan of delight as her arms tightened around his neck, moving with him, her hips repeatedly levering up to meet his thrusts. Again, it wasn't long before she was crying out and burying her face in his neck, clutching him to her breasts as another orgasm hit, gasping as tendrils of pleasure lit through her body with every determined full-length stroke of his cock into her body.

It was enough to send her to a near-fugue state, only aware of him, of his presence inside her body as he rode her. Her knees were drawn up high around him, heels on his lower back, her cries and whimpers repeatedly silenced by the meeting of their lips, his tongue dipping through to tease hers as she moaned against his mouth. He began to stop to pay his own special brand of attention to the arch of her neck and the line from her ears to her breasts, pacing himself, his tongue tracing intricate whorls around the swollen brown tips of her erect nipples and drawing sharp gasps out of her as he carefully and gently grazed them with his teeth.

She felt him stiffen on top of her when his self-control finally left him, his pistoning into her body becoming more frantic, more selfish. She cried out her encouragement, surrendering her body to his need, matching the frenzy of his movements until she felt his entire body shudder, heard him start to roar in pleasure, and she wrapped her legs around him, overwhelmed by the need to feel him cum inside her again. She found herself hungrily looking up at him as he released at last, a joyful pride at the pleasure her body had given him swelling through her chest as her pussy accepted his semen.

She wrapped her arms around him as he collapsed on top of her, listening to his breathing slowly calm and cooing gently in his ear as she planted kisses on his neck and shoulders. He lifted his head up at last, Honor following to press her lips on his, moaning her pleasure as he kissed her back.

How could she ever have said something as stupid as 'no kissing', she wondered as she traced her tongue over his lips. His spent penis was still nestled snugly in her pussy and she kept her legs crossed over his back to make sure it stayed there while she traced another line of kisses around his jaw line, with one or two detours to his smiling lips.

Armaan and Ramya's story had progressed well beyond where she had reached when they settled to continue their watching of the film. Honor found the remote first and pressed the rewind option, relaxing back on Marq's body and smiling in amusement as his hands settled on her breasts again.

"You're like a child with a new toy," she said.

Marq smiled. "Maybe Christmas has come early for me."

She made a disbelieving noise. "And I suppose you think you were a good boy?"

He squeezed lightly, "Who am I to question Santa Claus?"

"He obviously made a big mistake," she retorted, feeling her nipples tighten under his finger and the sudden rush of heat in her abdomen, marveling at her body's insatiability.

"Really?"

She furled her lip at him. "Because you're so obviously a very bad boy ..."

"Well," Marq said, "let's think about this logically ..."

She bursted out laughing.

"It's either Santa made a mistake," he continued, kissing her neck "or you've been a very very good girl."

"First of all, Christmas is months away ..." Honor began.

"He's getting an early start."

Honor giggled. "You're crazy."

"Eight point something billion people on the planet," Marq pointed out.

"Makes sense." Honor conceded. "So if I'm the good girl, then this, you, are my present?"

"It's the only other logical explanation," he said.

She laughed again, and then she indulgently spread her legs wider as a hand went between them, watching, breath bated, as his fingers rediscovered the mix of their fluids coating her pubic hair, her inner thighs. Her reply died on her lips.

"Either way," Marq continued, "I'm not complaining."

She turned her head so she could kiss him. "Neither am I, Mr. Haydn."

"I think that's where we stopped," he said, a moment later, gesturing at the screen.

It took her a moment to catch on, but then Honor quickly pressed the play button on the remote, and the slave girl and her prince were back in their moonlit garden.

They watched Crown Prince Khorshid finally succeed in killing his father, plunging a dagger into the Emperor's chest in front of a horrified Ramya, who had been summoned to pleasure the monarch, and her mentor, just moments before Armaan made his way into the Emperor's chambers to reveal his discovery of Khorshid's plot.

Too late to save his uncle, Armaan arrived in time to save Ramya, the only witness to Khorshid's act of regicide, as her severe mentor, driven mad with grief, had attacked Khorshid and had her throat slit for her troubles.

Emperor now, Khorshid had ordered Armaan's capture, naming him the assassin who had killed his father. The evidence presented included confirmation that he had been sleeping with one of the Emperor's harem favorites, a crime punishable by death. The harem girl had been Armaan's accomplice, Khorshid swore, together with whom he had escaped after being caught in the act by the late Emperor's eldest living son and Crown Prince, Khorshid himself.

With Armaan gravely injured in the fight with Khorshid's guards during their escape, it fell to Ramya to get them both out of the city to Armaan's small army unit of loyal men a long night's horse ride away.

An epic battle in the corridors of the palace between Armaan's men and Khorshid's palace guards soon followed after Armaan led his men back into the city, sneaking them into the palace via the secret door of the harem he and Ramya had used to meet for their numerous heated rendezvous.

But in the end, Khorshid stood over the bleeding form of his enemy, victorious - Armaan had not fully recovered before sneaking his men into the capital all the way to the palace before the coronation, and Khorshid had taken full advantage of this weakness during their sword fight.

Flushed with his victory, Khorshid openly confessed the murder of his father and his three brothers, and his intention to secure the throne further by killing his remaining siblings, taunting and kicking Armaan as he struggled to rise, drawing out the punishment as he reveled in his inevitable victory. Finally, just as he was raising his sword to separate Armaan's head from his neck, an arrow suddenly exploded out of his chest in a shower of blood.

Shocked, Khorshid turned to see a young man, a teenager in truth, standing on the balcony above him, grimly holding the bow that had sent the arrow through his chest. As he stared in agonized disbelief, the boy sent another arrow through Khorshid's throat. The boy's earlier appearances at the side of the murdered Emperor, serving as a silent page and cupbearer, and an earlier scene where Armaan was instructing the boy on his archery were abruptly given significance.

Finally, Khorshid collapsed, dead.

The boy suddenly found himself surrounded by dozens of armed men, Armaan's men and the palace guards, all quiet as the bow fell from the boy's hand.

Then Armaan, who had gotten to his feet, still bleeding and panting, went to his knee, announcing the beginning of the reign of Emperor Khorshan, son of the murdered Khosros ... and of his favorite odalisque, Ramya's mentor. A scene where Ramya encounters her mentor and the boy secretly meeting, that hinted at a deeper, perhaps illicit, relationship was revealed to be that of a mother simply holding her son's hand.

One by one, more men followed Armaan to their knees, saluting the new Emperor as Armaan reveals a proclamation by Khosros' own hand, that Khorshan has become legitimized, and thus the heir to the throne by the death of his fourth son, Khorshid.

Ramya was brought before her new master that same night, and she gracefully disrobed and sank to the ground to greet him, her legs spread wide and her hands behind her back, breasts thrust out, proudly displaying herself for his pleasure. He had made camp by their oasis, three horses carrying provisions for a long journey. Armaan lost no time getting reaquainted with her body, his bandaged injuries no barrier to his desire. A montage of scenes showed that they made love regularly, including Ramya performing a 'sit-still' on her prince, as they traveled across desert and green lands, out in the open in the day and in their tent or by their camp fire at night. Where they were going was a mystery, Ramya narrated - Armaan did not tell her; and she did not think to ask; simply content to be with the man she loved.

Finally, as they descended into a valley at sunset, riding on the same horse, a village came into sight, and Ramya's surprise was evident as she realized where they had come to. As she stared down at the village, Armaan began to undress her, revealing her chain, until she was nude to her waist in front of him. She said nothing as he brought out a small implement and cut the chain that had been the symbol of her bondage off her body.

"I have brought you home," he said at last as she looked at him, eyes searching.

Ramya said nothing for a long moment, then she turned to look down at the village beneath them. "That is no longer my home, my lord." She looked up at her prince, "My home is you." And, as Armaan watched, she knelt and picked up the chain and placed it into his hand.

Armaan kissed her hungrily in response, his hand closing around the chain, acknowledging and accepting the gift she had just given him - herself, the scene done in silhouette against the sunset. He secured the chain on her himself, now with a clasp that she could undo, the film revealing in a quick montage that Ramya's mentor's chain had also been clasped, not forged shut.

And then, he turned the horse around, and they rode away, followed by their pack horses turning after them. The last image was of the slave girl, still naked to her waist but for her new chain. Armaan's hand went to her belly as the horse broke into a gentle canter, possessively holding her, and as the screen faded, Ramya smiled at something her prince whispered in her ear, and turned her head, her uncovered breasts bouncing as their lips met in a final film-ending kiss.

"It will not win an Oscar," Marq remarked as the credits began to roll, his hands leaving her belly, finding her nipples again.

Honor giggled and leaned back, squirming as her nipples swiftly went taut again. "I don't think the producers had the Oscars in mind."

He feigned a moment of thought. "You just might be right, Miss Banet."

"Besides," she added, images of David Brenner and Jillian Blake dancing together and then naked and grunting against each other in a hotel room across the street, "it's total nonsense. No man would give up a harem just for one woman."

He was quiet for a long enough moment that Honor turned her head to look at him.

He met her eyes as he caressed her, a hand going down between her legs and a finger just dipping inside her wetness. "I happen to believe that one woman can be harem enough."

Honor felt herself blush at his gaze, warmth spreading through her body as she enjoyed his touch, and she turned away. "It's just a movie."

Luckily, Marq decided to respect her need to change the subject. "True."

"Soft porn," Honor said.

"Indeed," Marq agreed. "And you enjoyed it."

Honor furled her lip, letting him fondle and touch her, allowing him to see for himself; the liquid coating his fingers as they played between her legs was more than evidence enough. Then she sat up off him, his hands leaving her as she turned around to face him. She smiled at his questioning look as she saw his cock already standing at half-mast. She reached out and held him for a moment, feeling him swell in her hand in response before she looked up. "I think I like your Santa theory."

He grinned. "I'm glad."

She stroked him, inwardly marvelling at his stamina as he hardened in her hand, marvelling at her own answering hunger. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to play with my present."

He shrugged, very much the predator as he looked at her, boobs dangling and full nipples pointing as she went on all fours in front of him, one hand surrounding his erection. "Be my guest."

"Good."

She smiled brightly and leaned forward to press her lips on his, darting her tongue out, then she broke the kiss and went lower, kissing down his chest and stomach, keeping her hand possessively wrapped around his cock, carefully stroking him as she trailed her lips and tongue down his abdomen. His gasp and the sudden jerking of his body as her mouth closed around him sent a gratifying thrill through her body, a flush of heat spreading across her chest as she tasted herself on his member. Marq jerked again as she settled in to the task of pleasuring him, running her tongue along his length, feeling him swell and expand under her lips. She heard him gasp again when she took his scrotum into her mouth, one ball after another, the violent shuddering of his body confirming his letting go of his iron discipline, that she was in control.

Honor closed her eyes as she let him entangle his fingers in her hair, his body jerking as she swallowed him into her mouth again, getting a taste of pre-cum on her tongue. She alternated her hands and her mouth on him, careful, slow and deliberate. She realized from the way his body was writhing and shuddering underneath her that he was not so far away from the edge. She wondered how long she could keep him on the brink before ...

She felt him jerk again, heard him let out a tell-tale gasp, and she quickly moved to close her lips around him, caressing his saliva coated scrotum in her hand as he released into her mouth. He held her head, arching and crying out loudly as she sucked and swallowed his cum, understandably less in volume than usual. And then she carefully licked him clean, taking her time, fastidiously neat and thorough as always before she finally lifted her mouth off his cock.

She looked up at him, eyes searching for his approval.

"Merry Christmas," he deadpanned.

She laughed, warmth spreading through her chest again as she found what she was looking for. She scrambled up to kiss him, roughly pushing her tongue past his lips. Then she made herself comfortable, straddling his body and resting her breasts and belly on his body, the light dusting of hair on his chest deliciously abrading her nipples as she planted a series of kisses along the line of his jaw before going back to his smiling lips.

Maybe Saint Nick's timing was off by a few months - but Honor decided right then and there that there was nothing wrong with him getting an early start.

Another thought occurred to her as she went to sleep, her body entangled and enwrapped by his much broader form. She had another word for what she was to Marquin Haydn.

'Whore' instinctively made her jaw clench. Being Marquin Haydn's 'slut' was somehow less offensive. But 'odalisque' ... she didn't dislike at all.

________________________

"... sources familiar with the status of the negotiations say they are confident that a deal would be struck and signed today." The IBN - International Business News - anchorwoman's smile never left her face as she spoke. "Our correspondent, Anna Nantakarn, is in Bangkok with more."

The screen flashed away from the anchor to a young Thai woman standing in front of a gleaming skyscraper with a tiny wireless microphone on her lapel. "Thank you Susan. Today could see the birth of a new multi-billion dollar conglomerate with the imminent merger of Nomi Electronics and Helios Auto Electric. Both companies were considered to be in serious trouble in the financial markets last year but ..."

The scene cut to two men - an Asian man in early middle age and a younger Caucasian man - standing up and shaking hands across a conference table amid flashing camera lights and smiling, applauding subordinates.

"The negotiations are being chaired by Marq Haydn, a founder and senior partner of the Switzerland based venture capital firm, Ascent Kapital ..."

Honor paused in mid-sip as the camera panned slightly to show an also standing Marq, leaning forward to shake hands with each of the two company leaders from his place at the head of the table. He was wearing his glasses, a familiar black suit over a familiar blue shirt and tie, and a controlled smile on his face as he and the other two principals posed for a final photograph before taking their seats. It was exactly what he was wearing when he found her in his taxi and it was obvious the scene was recorded just hours before their fateful meeting.

She was not entirely surprised at the coil of heat that flared up between her legs at the sight of him, her nipples going stiff and taut on her breasts. She finished sipping her tea, pouting her lips and sniffing as she silently chided her traitorous body. But then, she considered, turning analytical - he had been inside her for a large part of the morning, the evidence of it was still on her skin; it was only natural that her body would react.

It had been the same with David, she thought, trying to convince herself, a part of her marveling that she could think of him with so little pain, remembering the sweet melting feeling that overcame her every time their eyes met in those first few weeks. Yes, her body had definitely reacted very strongly to David Brenner ... but the intensity of her body's reaction to Marq Haydn, she finally had to confess, the way her nipples leapt to attention, the heavy liquid heat that came to life between her legs at the mere thought of him, was like nothing she had ever experienced.

But then, she had never experienced being bought, paid for and used - so vigorously - by a man before.

And she certainly had never experienced having to consider and agree to the terms of a contract in such ... unique circumstances.

"It is time we discussed the terms of our arrangement," he had said.

At that moment, she had been balanced on the edge of a dining table that still bore the remains of a large continental breakfast. After a decidedly busy night and morning, she had been hungry, her nakedness barely registering on her consciousness as she sat across from him to wolf down a healthy heaping of food. He had been hungry as well, but by the time he'd had his second cup of coffee, it became very clear that there was another hunger he meant to satisfy.

He was already hard as he lifted her unto the table, her own cup of coffee forgotten as soon as he had touched her, his questing fingers easily discovering her heated readiness for him.

She leaned back on her hands, spreading herself open as he entered her pussy, her full breasts heaving on her chest from her elevated breathing, her nipples hardening and pointing rudely at him as he ran his hands over them, his touch as he fondled her nude body confident and possessive. He withdrew and slid himself inside her again, his every movement measured and in control - easily explained by the fact that he had expended himself and much of his urgency inside her in the shower just over twenty minutes earlier.

The fact that he could want her so soon had delighted, flattered and aroused her all at once.

It took her a moment to comprehend what he had said, and she could only look at him in confusion when she did. "Really?" she asked, incredulous, before looking down between her spread legs and shuddering in pleasure as she watched, and felt, his member disappear into her body. "Now?"

He leaned in and kissed her again. She kissed him back, automatically, gasping against his lips as he grasped at her body, his tongue touching hers as she parted her lips for him.

"Why not?" he asked when he broke the kiss. "Considering the nature of our agreement, I think this is the perfect time."

She couldn't think of a counterargument—she couldn't think much of anything at all, really.

He withdrew, almost entirely out of her, only the tip of his member at her entrance. "Or do you want me to stop?"

She definitely did not want that. "No!"

He entered her again and she let out a sob of delight and relief, her vaginal walls squeezing possessively around him. She felt his reaction, the sharp catch in his breathing, the way he paused inside her pussy - his control threatening to slip from his grasp.

"Good," he said at last, locking eyes with her.

He leaned forward and kissed her again, hard, and there was no talking for a while after that as he held her waist and pistoned hard into her body, making her cry out as he reasserted his control.

"First," he said, slowing down and cupping her breasts "you will be available to me at anytime of day or night." He paused. "Would that be a problem?"

Honor arched into his touch, shaking her head. "No."

"To be clear, you will be entirely dedicated to meeting my every sexual need. No matter when and where. Yes?"

She was aware that it was a dangerous condition, and that it would be insane for her to agree to it. But it was awareness from a distance, as if it were happening to someone else. Honor nodded, breathing through parted lips as she watched and felt him tease each turgid nipple, his cock sliding back inside her pussy.

"Say it."

"Yes!" she gasped out.

"Good," His hands went to her belly, touching, feeling. "Now, what are your conditions, Miss Banet?"

She found that was moving her hips, moving his hardness inside her on her own.

The absurdity of the situation came home then; she was on the other side of the world, naked on a dining table in a hotel suite, having sex for the umpteenth time with a man who was most assuredly not her fiancee, while simultaneously negotiating the terms of an agreement that would make her his sexual plaything, his 'odalisque', for the next ten days of her life.

It somehow helped her concentrate. She levered up, keeping her feet braced on the chairbacks on either side of him as she brought his lips down on hers, grunting with exertion as she kissed him, hard.

"I don't like pain," she said, breaking the kiss, their lips touching. "You won't ... whip me, or anything like that."

"Agreed," he said easily.

That was no surprise - he had already demonstrated that he didn't need to employ pain to take control of her.

"I don't want you to share me with anyone," she added after another moment, automatically arching into his caress as he fondled her breasts again. "I'm only having sex with you."

"Good," he said, again. "I don't like to share." He locked his eyes on hers, his hands continuing their circuit of her body. "But I do intend to display you to the fullest extent possible. And that is not negotiable."

The scandalous evening gown, his making her take off her bra in the car, his mounting her - twice - in the parking lot, his stripping her naked - twice again - in the corridor outside the suite, his leading her through the lobby in nothing but a shirt over her nakedness - his semen making it stick to her body for all to see and speculate, suddenly all made sense - he had a public nudity fetish. And, as she remembered, she realized that she had not particularly objected or discouraged him in any way that would have mattered - she had been an active participant in every mortifying and apprehension filled episode ... and she had thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

"Yes?" He started to move inside her again, his hands settling on her belly, and Honor leaned back again, giving him access, moving with him.

"You're going to get me arrested ..." she breathed, staring back into his eyes, trying not to be overwhelmed by how good he felt, knowing he could tell by the thick coating of lubrication on his member as he stroked into her.

Trying not to be so ... intrigued at the thought of being 'displayed' by him.

"You won't," Marq interrupted, firmly. "Not when you're with me."

She believed him - against any semblance of logic or reason, she knew that nothing untoward would happen to her, nothing would harm her, while she was with him.

Again, the utter absurdity of her situation returned to her; being fucked on a dining table and about to agree to an arrangement that could possibly see her paraded naked through the streets of Bangkok by a man she had known for less than a week, a man who was most definitely not her fiancee. It was absurd, and disturbing, that the thought of it, of being so under a man's control, so thoroughly excited her. And it was beyond absurd that she was even considering surrendering to the sudden overwhelming urge to say yes...

"Yes?" Marq asked again, touching her, fucking her.

She knew she was being manipulated - so very wonderfully and thoroughly manipulated. "Yes!" Honor gasped. "Yes!"

"Good," he said.

And like that, the negotiation was over.

He came on her belly a few minutes later with a loud grunt of satisfaction.

"I'll be gone till evening," he said, kissing her again after helping her off the table. "Would you like to continue your tour of Bangkok?"

She was still breathless as she leaned against him, enjoying his hands on her body. "With Chailai?"

"If you want."

"I'd like that," she said.

"Good." He kissed her again. "Go and get dressed. We'll leave together."

She nodded again, still breathing hard, and obediently padded away from him on still unsteady feet. She was at the hallway when he spoke again.

"Miss Banet?"

She paused, and turned to look at him. "Yes, Mr. Haydn?"

"Get dressed," he said, "but don't clean up."

She stared at him for a moment, before looking down at the spattering of male liquid on her stomach and abdomen, noting another thing he liked, his cum on her body - it was positively canine, she thought, marking his territory. What was even more disturbing was discovering that she wasn't disturbed by it - quite the opposite, in fact. Then she looked up at him, took a deep breath and nodded again. "Yes, Mr. Haydn."

Which was how she ended up watching him on the International Business News channel, a freshly made cup of tea in her hands, a layer of semen under her free flowing top, the akwardness of moisturizing around it fresh in her mind.

" ... shares in both Nomi and Helios closed on a high yesterday ..."

Against her better judgement, despite repeatedly telling herself to avoid getting any further involved in Marquin Haydn's life, she had opened up a browser, and read through more than a dozen articles on the troubled Nomi and Helios, and Ascent Kapital, the venture capital firm that had ridden to their rescue.

She had spent a disturbing amount time on his webpage on Ascent Kapital's corporate website, looking at his headshot, finding herself reading through his short professional biography multiple times.

"Good," Marq said. "You're ready."

She turned and saw him come in to the suite living room from the hallway, briefcase in hand. His glasses were back on, as well as an immaculately tailored black suit, pin-striped white shirt and silver patterned tie. Again, the heavy coil of heat reignited between her legs, and she couldn't take her eyes of him as he came over and held out his hand to her, helping her up to her feet.

He regarded her for a moment, noting the white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up, and loose capris cinched with ties at calf-length. "Are you wearing underwear?"

She nodded, confused - she was wearing a matching bra and tie-side panty set, not the most provocative of her airport purchases, but uplifting and sheer enough to make a man pay attention.

"Take them off please, Miss Banet."

She looked at him. "Just my underwear?"

"Yes. Just your underwear."

Absurdly, she felt shy undressing in front of him, especially considering the fact he had seen her more naked than clothed in the last two days, but she gamely unbuttoned the shirt and slipped out of it, revealing the splattering of semen on her stomach, the realization drawing another surge of heat to her face. Which was also absurd, since he had put it there, and not for the first time. Then she went between her breasts and unclasped the bra, releasing them from their confines.

He watched wordlessly.

She pushed the capris - suddenly aware of how low they rode on her hips - down below her butt and undid her panties' elastic ties at her hips, removing them from between her thighs and dropping them to join her discarded brassiere and shirt on the sofa. She met his eyes then, nude to mid-thigh; no longer blushing as she paused to let him see her, his cum on her belly, her nipples swollen and pointing at him.

To her disappointment, he only watched, silent, and after a long moment she pulled the capris back up to her hips, a small smile of satisfaction blossoming on her lips as she noticed the unmistakable bulging at his crotch, his eyes narrowing predatorily behind his glasses.

He finally spoke when she was done buttoning up the shirt.

"Good," he said, looking her over. Then he held out his hand to her. "Let's go."

She picked up her bag and took his offered hand, and obediently followed after him. She saw herself in the mirrored walls suite's entrance and felt another wash of heat rise to her face as she saw the brown points of her nipples poking faintly through the thin linen ...

Then his hand was on the bared small of her back, under her shirt, warm and possessive. Then he leaned in to kiss her, right there with the door open, his mouth soft and teasing as she automatically kissed him back, moaning against his lips as he very effectively drove any particular concern for modesty out of her mind.