The barge was sailing into Bangkok as the sun rose, the sights of the city docks on the Chao Phraya coming to life streaming in through the stateroom's windows on both sides.

Honor felt Marq buck underneath her again. This time he called out her name, his voice harsh and demanding, his fingers entangled in her hair.

He was hard enough, so she obeyed him this time; she took her mouth off him and scooted up his body, meeting his eyes as he gripped her waist, breathing harsh and elevated as she positioned herself on top of him. Her hand went between her legs to guide him to her entrance, her eyes closing as she smoothly sank herself down on his shaft, a sharp exhalation of breath escaping her lips.

Being his odalisque; it disturbed her how remarkably easy it was for her to come to terms with it.

She felt his hands stroke up the skin of her belly and her lips parted in a smile before she finally opened her eyes. She found him staring up at her, his expression a heady combination of fascination and hunger that made her nipples firm up even more on her breasts, which brought another rush of unfamiliar sensation. Sitting up as he was against the headboard, he was within easy kissing distance, and she could easily lean forward to lave her tongue over his lips and still keep him completely sheathed inside her.

So she did, quivering at the abrading of her nipples, proudly erect and extra-sensitive, against his chest as he began to move inside her. She grinded back against him, moaning against his mouth as she flickered her tongue between his lips.

Her breathing was out of place with the slow rhythm of their movements when she finally broke off from kissing him. She met his gaze, lips parted for the small sharp intakes of breath he was teasing out of her, reacting to the still novel surges of sensation from her nipples as he stroked his hands over their hardened and jutting brown tips.

They had showered together as they sailed into Bangkok, fondling, groping, biting, sucking and kissing through the layers of soap lather as the sun lit up the Wat Arun. Marq found the tell-tale swelling of her clitoris, pressing her against the wall and making her come as the water fell on them. Retaliating, still breathing hard, Honor had knelt in the shower, trapping him against a shower stall corner to take him into her mouth, until he let out a gasp, grunting as he came.

She didn't hesitate. She swallowed his cum, remaining on her knees as he growled and grasped her head, licking and sucking until every last trace was gone. Then she had stood up, smiling brightly as she took his hand and led him to the bed. Without much ado, she had straddled him, not caring that they were both still covered in water and soaking the sheets. She leaned over him, breasts and hardened nipples falling against his chest, to softly capture his lips.

She smiled, wickedly, "I'm going to have my wicked way with you, Mr. Haydn."

He raised his eyebrows, grinning back. "Should I be afraid?"

"Oh, yes." She kissed him, biting, not entirely gently, on his lip. "Be very afraid."

And then she had spent the next three quarters of an hour torturing him with her mouth again, kissing and licking off the droplets of water dotting his body. To his credit, he did not interfere until she was laving her tongue over his penis, before his hands reached for her, cupping, kneading and fondling ... pulling.

He easily moved her until her pussy was over his mouth and then he pulled her down to his lips, making her cry out as he began to feed on her, lapping at her opening as she shook on top of him.

She arched herself fully into his grasp, unto his mouth, a keening noise escaping her, before she took him into her own mouth again. His fingers joined his lips and tongue, making her whimper even as she determinedly, desperately, brought him to full mast.

They were both breathing hard as she got off his face, ignoring his growl of protest as she feverishly repositioned herself to take him into her body. She whimpered again as she settled herself on his hardness, distantly hearing his quiet growl of pleasure as she flexed and tightened herself around him. She laved her tongue over his lips again, tasting herself, savoring his presence inside her, before she sat back and began to rhythmically ride his cock, smiling down indulgently as he cupped her breasts, fingers playing with the chains affixed to her nipples. She leaned forward to capture his mouth with hers again, the repeated invasions of his member into her pussy as they moved together making her gasp her pleasure against his lips.

Honor let out a final loud squeal, burying her face in his neck as she came. He wasn't long after her, and she gasped again, finding his lips and kissing him as she felt his cum spurting into her body.

Minutes later, the barge made a final wide turn, giving its passengers the opportunity to take in the Bangkok skyline under the orange and purple colors of the dawn sky before sailing on, expertly making its way into the docks and dropping anchor at the designated pier with minimal fuss. Dock workers in the company livery hurriedly ran out and secured the mechanically extended mooring lines to the anchors and departed as the barge shut down its engines.

Honor was barely aware of it all, only realizing that they had reached their destination after her breathing had calmed. She was lying on top of him, his spent member still inside her sweat-sheened body as full awareness returned. She levered herself up and looked into his eyes.

"Thank you," she said, after a long moment.

"For what, Miss Banet?"

"For ..." Honor paused, then she leaned down and kissed him, melding her body against him, communicating without words.

"You're welcome," Marq said, at last, when she was done.

________________________

Honor felt a pang as she stepped off the gangplank unto the pier, regretfully leaving the barge behind.

Marq had gotten off first, and he had reached out a hand to her as she came off. She smiled at him, genuinely grateful as she took his hand, feeling less self-conscious. The heat of the ascendant sun and the coolness of the breeze off the river was pleasant on her exposed skin and she could ignore the mercifully few stares as she held her purse and he walked with her, jacket off and over his arm, to the long black car waiting for them at the end of the pier.

She had come out of the shower to find Marq in a dress shirt and tie, and two lengths of cloth, and another body chain, waiting for her on the bed. Marq had put the new zanjir chain on her himself again as she stood in breathless silence, willingly turning and finally offering her breasts to him as he affixed each piece in what felt like a ceremonious ritual.

Which it was, she understood.

It was disturbing; how easily she had accepted the contraptions of chains connecting nipples to neck to belly all the way down to her foot ... after, she noted to herself, spreading her legs and letting him shave her pussy.

But only for a little more than a week, she firmly told herself.

She had thought to make a pointed note about his idea of what constituted clothing after the inevitable episode of molestation that followed, but realized it was pointless. Modesty was explicitly not part of their deal. So she took the smaller piece and cross wrapped it over her chest, knotting it into a halter behind her neck. The other piece she knotted into a skirt that fell to a hand span above her knees, leaving her chain visible down her mid-riff and from her thigh to her ankle.

He liked that, she saw, a warmth igniting in her abdomen despite herself. And she was also sure that he liked the fact that a tug at only two knots and she would be completely nude except for a chain lewdly attached from her neck to her breasts down to an ankle. Her nipples tingled as she imagined him doing just that, tugging at the knots and rendering her naked before a scandalized crowd, and she was not surprised to see them poking through the material of her makeshift top.

The chauffeur was Mongkhut once again, and he wished them a good morning as he opened the door, and she gave him a shy friendly smile as she returned his greeting and slid into the back seat, followed by Marq, who stopped as Monghkhut reached into his jacket and handed a small metallic case to him with a respectful bow of the head.

Marq entered and settled in beside her, withdrawing his glasses from his jacket pocket and placing it on his nose. He hung the jacket on a convenient hook beside him and then he pressed some buttons on the case, smoothly unfolding and unrolling it into a remarkably thin tablet and tapping a sequence of characters on the revealed onscreen keyboard. A small tinny note played as the password was accepted.

"That's impressive," Honor said, genuinely appreciative.

"It's a prototype," he responded, tapping on a set of icons. The tablet was easily the size of a tabloid newspaper and with his selection of icons, the screen became filled with columns and rows of figures and paragraphs of text with notes scribbled around the edges - and he began to skim through.

She heard, and felt, Mongkhut get into the driver's seat; the compartment window separating the front from the rear cabin was up. Seconds later, the car began to move.

"Where are we going?" she asked. It dimly surprised her that she only thought to ask the question now, and it was disturbing to realize just how easy it was for sensible, disciplined Honor Banet to so totally give up control of her life to a man - to him.

He reached out and took her hand. "Give me five minutes to finish this, Miss Banet ..." Marq said quietly, his gaze on the tablet.

Honor fell silent, meekly obedient, and wondering why she wasn't more bothered about her newfound submissiveness even as she automatically locked her fingers with his, suddenly all too aware of the chain she was wearing from her neck to her ankle. She was even more aware of her nakedness under her makeshift skirt, of how vulnerable it made her feel, even as she knew that was the point. His keeping her a hair's breath from nakedness was a power play, she knew, and utterly in keeping with the deal she had made with him.

It was disturbingly arousing; knowing that he could undress her at any moment, and that she would do nothing to stop him.

Honor decided to distract herself from the sudden rush of warmth to her abdomen by focusing on the city outside the window as they were driven through Bangkok, finding the Grand Imperial in the distance, and across from it, the Excelsior - where the course of her life had taken such a dramatic turn. At no point was she any less aware of him though: their interlocked hands, the intimacy of it, made sure of that, and she repeatedly glanced at him as his eyes danced over the tablet screen.

She realized just how impressive the tablet's technology was as she saw that it was scrolling based on his eye movements.

Marq finally tapped out some notes, swift despite being one handed, and, true to his word, in somewhat less than five minutes, he was rolling and folding the tablet back into the nondescript metal case that Mongkhut had handed to him.

"Come here, Miss Banet," he said.

Honor gave him a considering look, and then she obediently scooted over, and climbed unto his lap.

She may not be entirely conversant with the rules of being an odalisque, but she was certain taking every opportunity for physical contact was one of them.

"You were saying?" he asked, placing a hand on her thigh, under her skirt, unsubtle.

She kissed him in response, spreading herself open as his hand went up, lightly touching her newly shaven mound. "Where are we going?" she repeated, after breaking the kiss, leaning her head against him, breathing elevated.

Being accessible ... that should be in the rules as well.

She kissed him again, and as she did, she pointedly undid the knot of her makeshift skirt. Marq obligingly pulled the skirt off her, and she was swiftly nude from just under her breasts to her feet. She had already resigned herself to wearing no underwear for the foreseeable future.

She shivered as a finger gently ran over her slit, and felt a surge of heat as she saw it come away coated with the white creaminess of her lubrication.

Being wet for him, always ... that should be in the rules.

He kept his eyes on hers as he ran his hand over her belly, lightly playing with her chain, "I have a final couple of meetings scheduled."

She squirmed in his lap, partly at the tugging on her nipples, partly because she was still not quite so used to having a man so openly and matter-of-factly enjoy her body. In a moving car, no less. "Okay."

"Then," he continued, "we'll be going out to dinner."

She furled her lip, pouting. "I'd rather stay at the hotel. With you."

He kissed her. "That sounds nice. But it's not avoidable; it's a gala to celebrate the deal."

"Okay," she repeated, breathing deep, lips parted. "What do I do till then?"

"Anything you want. Mongkhut will take you anywhere you want to go." He looked into her eyes again. "Even the airport, if you want. You can end this at any time, Miss Banet."

She looked down at her bared belly, at his caressing hand, and she reached behind her neck and undid the knot there. She met his eyes, quivering slightly as the cloth fell away from her breasts. She watched his eyes hungrily fix themselves on her nipples, encircled by the chain's rings, aroused to full swollen attention and pointing at him, "I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Haydn."

'I like seeing your breasts.', she remembered him saying. Which was fine, she thought, because she liked showing them to him.

As his tongue laved over one nipple and then the other, and one finger, then another, penetrated her, she was forced to conclude that nudity, or being very close to it, was certainly in the odalisque's list of rules.

His mouth left her breasts and their lips met again. She grunted, bucking against his fingers as he withdrew them from her pussy.

"No ..." she gasped, breaking the kiss, grabbing his hand, dragging it back to her opening, "don't stop!"

Marq smiled indulgently, letting her pull his hand down and pushing his fingers back inside her. "Let's do it together, Ms. Banet," he said, whispering in her ear, as Honor gasped and shuddered in reaction. "Touch yourself for me."

Honor nodded wordlessly, her hand moving down to her pussy, finding the swollen erect nub of her clitoris above the soaked and slimy folds of her pussy, comprehending despite the overwhelming distraction of being naked and fingered in a moving car.

She tried to be quiet as they both worked her pussy, and she mostly succeeded, her gasps and moans suppressed and swallowed by the repeated meeting of their lips. But when she came, she couldn't help the squeal that erupted from her mouth, or the small gush of fluid that came out of her. Marq's hand, covered in her liquid, left her vagina and went to cup her breasts, kneading over them before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard as she spasmed in his arms.

She could smell herself when she came to, and when he took his still cum covered hand to her mouth, she hungrily licked each finger clean, eyes closed, abandoning herself to being what she was right there and then, his odalisque, only wanting to please him.

Her eyes dazedly opened to find him looking at her with a hunger that caused a surge of heat to her face. It was absurd, she thought; she was in a car, naked, wearing nothing but a body chain, her legs spread wide apart around a completely shaven pussy, his fingers were still wet from being inside both major orifices, and she was still abashed at his look of desire for her.

She looked down, away from his eyes, and felt herself flush even hotter. "Oh!" she gasped, looking at him, "I'm so sorry!"

"For what?" Marq asked, looking genuinely confused.

She gestured at the large wet patch her orgasm had made on his trousers.

He shook his head dismissively, looking amused. "Don't be ridiculous, Miss Banet."

As if to prove his point, she spent the rest of the ride straddled on top of him, face to face, still completely nude save her odalisque chain, getting kissed, sucked and fondled, her wetness making an even bigger spot on the crotch of his dress pants. He played with her chain, tugging on her nipples until even his breath on them made her quiver.

She only realized that they had slowed, joining a line of cars entering the massive conference centre compound when Marq let go of her nipple and broke her attempt to kiss him again. "Almost time." Aroused, naked, and feeling his erection through his pants against her mons, she noticed their arrival at the venue, and then she looked at him in confusion as he reached into his hanging jacket and removed a cardholder, from which he slid out a card. "Take this."

She frowned, her thoughts of convincing him to let her take care of his erection fading into the background. "I don't need your money."

He met her eyes, uncompromising. "You're here for me, Miss Banet, which means I take care of all expenses." He raised an eyebrow.

Honor frowned even more, the hundred thousand dollars that had earned him ten days of her absolute devotion to meeting his every sexual need at the forefront of her mind, "But ..."

"I take care of everything Miss Banet. Even your pasta on that first day, I had it refunded to your card. And I have already gotten you a dress for dinner tonight. Use this and get anything else you need or want till we're done." He looked at her, his voice rougher, commanding. "And saying no to me on this means we're done."

Mongkhut moved the car to the ramp, the entrance metres away.

Honor stared at him. "That's not fair."

"That's how it works, Miss Banet," Marq said, running his hand up her naked side. "Yes?"

They were inching closer to the entrance, and she was still hyperventilating as she arched into his touch. "Fuck you," she said as she took the card from his hand. She leaned down and this time he didn't stop her kiss, and he only grunted when she bit him.

She slid off him and quickly picked up her two pieces of clothing as Mongkhut moved the car forward, the next to drop his important passenger. She swiftly wrapped a bandeau around her breasts with one, tying a knot in the front, and simply lay the second piece over her lap as a moment later, the car stopped and a man in the venue's livery stepped forward to open the door.

"See you later, Miss Banet," Marquin Haydn said, shrugging into his jacket.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He grinned and stepped out of the car.

The liveried man held the door open as he welcomed another august visitor, and then he neatly closed it.

But the few seconds before the door closed had been enough; she had seen David, briefcase in hand, walking into the conference centre, hand casually resting on the small of a female companion's back, just yards ahead of Marq, who was being met by no less than four other men and a woman.

Her heart was making its way back from her throat when she pressed the button to temporarily lower the partition so she could tell Mongkhut where she wanted to go, smiling at him as he politely acknowledged her request.

________________________

The dress had been waiting for her in the suite when Mongkhut had dropped her off the hotel that morning, more than four hours after leaving Marq at the conference center. She had immediately kicked off her shoes and undone the two knots holding the two pieces of cloth to her body as soon as she entered Suite 1615 with her shopping bags, all too aware of the attention drawing jiggle of her unbound breasts and the male eyes she had drawn as she had made her way through the lobby.

She had gone to one of the suite's full length mirrors, twirling slowly as she examined her naked body, at the extensive TempTat drawn on her skin. It was a coiling pattern all in black and made out of a combination of orientally stylized flowers and tongues of flame. It curled around her, starting at one ankle and coiling up and around her thigh before going up to her hip, winding itself behind her and over her butt before curling forward to cross her body just under her breasts, and then it coiled once again behind her, crawling up along her spine to stop just below her nape. It was serendipitous that her clothes, such as they were, had been so easy to remove for the artist to do his work.

Her eyes had alighted on the high end salon after the tattoo parlor, an establishment unimaginatively named 'Patterns', and she had asked Mongkhut to stop the car. She had taken a deep breath before pointing out her choice on the screen to the smiling stylist. It had meant cutting her hair, a lot of her hair. Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet would have balked at the prospect just days earlier; what if she didn't like it? How long will it take to grow back if she came to regret it?

In the end, she had liked it a lot more than she had thought she would; the cut voluminously framed her face and was unmistakably feminine despite its length. It was also practical, she thought. For one, shorter hair allowed her to show off all of her new body art in all its glory without her hair getting in the way. Given that she had no illusions that she would be wearing much in the way of clothing for most of the coming few days, it was as good a reason as any.

She looked at herself again, noting the way the whorls of ink emphasized her breasts and hips, nodding to herself before padding into the bathroom and taking a shower.

She had tried the dress on then, eyes widening at how much it revealed, and also at the realization that she was still going to wear it. For him. An odalisque didn't care about modesty.

Afterward, she had crawled into the immaculately made bed in the main bedroom, grimacing at the body chain's grip and tugs on her nipples as she settled in to sleep, trying to ignore the warmth between her legs that the shower, even the cold blast of water she had directed at herself at the end, had failed to alleviate.

It was another ten minutes before she gave in to the repeated replay of their last encounter in the limousine in her mind, the mind blowing pleasure of her gushing orgasm from their combined fingers. She came with only her fingers this time, burying her squeal in a pillow before finally going to sleep.

The sun was still high when she had woken up, hungry ... and not just for food. Her nipples were hard and pointing on her breasts, the noose around each achingly sensitive and swollen brown tip punishingly tight, the wet warmth between her legs back with a vengeance. After a minute, she had matter-of-factly laid back and spread her legs, touching and caressing herself again, experimentally pulling on the nipple chains and shuddering at the onrush of sensation until she cried out in release.

She ordered room service from the TV after she had calmed, aware of the wet patches on the bed, the scent of her self-administered come filling the room as she stood up from the bed and went to the suite's sitting room. She curled her legs underneath her on the couch as she picked up the tablet and the notepad, intending to continue her reading on opening a pattiserie and jotting down of insights.

But when the room bell rang with her ordered food, she had just made another wet patch on the couch, whimpering, nude body spasming as she came again from her own fingers' frenzied movements, her tugs on the chains to her nipples not quite as gentle as before. Thoughts of a certain dark complected man taking and riding her every which way continued to invade her thoughts even then.

Shakily, she had gotten up and shrugged into a robe before answering the door. The smartly suited young man who delivered her food made a masterful attempt at ignoring the expanse of skin that the loosely tied robe left exposed, not to mention the strange chains going down past her navel, but he didn't hide his smile of appreciation at the size of the tip.

Honor took off the robe when he left, eating naked at the table.

She masturbated again after that, spreading her legs on the chair, squealing and grasping at herself, tugging at the chains.

Afterward, she called Sarah and left her a voice mail, letting her know she was safe and back in Bangkok, keeping the call under one minute.

She was able to concentrate enough to fill another page with notes before her fingers returned to her slit, her other hand pulling on her chains, wringing another orgasm out of her body. She collapsed back on the couch, breathless and gasping, realizing with no small amount of disquiet that her self-pleasuring was failing to blunt her cravings as she gazed dazedly at another wet spot.

She needed him.

She went to stand in front of the mirror again, looking at herself, noting her shaven mons over the darker brown skin of her cleft, the swollen hood of her clit standing proud and visible as she took in the even more swollen and distended state of her nipples.

It suddenly struck her that she had never even considered taking off the body chain, or simply freeing her nipples from its grasp.

She ran exploring hands over herself, noticing the number of darkened patches on her body in the mirror. She couldn't remember when or where he had given her most of them; hickeys were simply part and parcel of having sex with Marq Haydn, and she suddenly felt the same rush of pride and joy she felt when she made him come as she surveyed the patches on her belly.

She felt herself flush, flattered and abashed at his desire for her, a tell-tale surge of heat invading her abdomen at seeing the evidence of it on her body. His hunger for her was open and unsubtle, and being the target of it had made her helpless against him since he had ridden her that first time in the living room, and then carried her to the bedroom to fuck her again over her insincere protests. It was why she had not offered him anything but token resistance in the days after that, surrendering her modesty as well as her body to him as he relentlessly took her over and over again, breaking her to his desire until ... until pleasing him was all that mattered.

She fingered the chain encircling her body from neck to ankle, knowing that she could take it off ... and knowing that she wouldn't.

She knew enough of her own psychology to know that cutting her hair was tied to the jewelry gripping her body, what it had signified when she had let him put it on her, and even though she had been worried about Marq's possible disapproval, she had deliberately held her tongue until it was too late to change her mind as the scissors snipped behind her. And that was after she had gotten vast swathes of her skin marked with a chemical composition she had barely researched, throwing herself even deeper into being Marq Haydn's plaything.

Seeing her fiancee just yards away when moments earlier she had been naked and squirming on another man's lap had brought it home to her that there was no room for sensible Honor Banet until whatever her relationship was with Marq Haydn, was over.

And it would be over, she reminded herself firmly, in a few days.

As for David, after her initial shock at seeing him, and wondering how it never occurred to her that both he and Marq's business in Bangkok could bring them together, she had felt nothing; no anger, no betrayal, no remorse. No curiosity about the woman he was with, a woman who was clearly not Jillian Blake, as they strode into the conference centre.

She stared at herself for a few more moments, then she went back to the couch and masturbated again, taking her time, pulling on the chains, tugging on her nipples, shuddering as she gushed out another stream of liquid.

The sun was well on its way below the horizon when Marq called.

"Good evening, Miss Banet."

"Good evening, Mr. Haydn," she answered, lips parting at the sudden surge of warmth in her abdomen.

"How was your day?"

She took a moment, consciously embracing who she had chosen to be, before she answered, honestly. "I spent it naked, masturbating, thinking about you." She tugged on a chain as she spoke, quivering at the pull on her nipple. "I'm still naked now. Touching myself."

He was silent for a moment. "That's a very distracting image you just put in my head, Miss Banet."

"Good." She smiled. "I want you distracted, Mr. Haydn."

There was a pause, and then, "Do you know David Brenner of Salford Carlisle Rowe?"

She paused, hand stilling on her chain. "Yes."

"He will be at the dinner, tonight."

"Yes. I saw him this morning," she confessed.

"I see," Marq said after a moment. "You don't have to come if you'd rather not ..."

"No," Honor answered, quickly. "I want to be there with you."

"Are you sure, Miss Banet?" Marq asked.

"Yes," she answered, hoping he'd ask no more questions, watching the Bangkok evening scene pass through the limousine windows.

There was another pregnant pause before he responded with exactly the answer she was hoping for. "Okay." He did have one more question, though. "Have you seen your dress?"

She pulled on the chain, an intake of breath from the sensation accompanying her smile. "Yes."

________________________

She had been disappointed to learn that he wouldn't be coming back to the hotel to pick her up. But then, given the wet and heavy warmth between her legs, she suspected that neither of them would be doing anything like getting dressed if they ever ended up in the same room.

She wouldn't have allowed it.

The silver lining was that she got to see his reaction to the dress. His look when he first beheld her as she stepped out of Mongkhut's car made her smile, the predatory glint in his eyes sending a familiar surge of heat through her body. She was profoundly aware of her breasts shaking and their rude pointing as she climbed up the staircase to him, an extra sway in her step as she walked the last few steps and took his proffered hand, gazing back at him from behind the Venetian mask that matched the dress as perfectly as it covered the upper half of her face.

It was another quintessential Marq Haydn selection; backless, sideless and almost frontless, and keeping it on her body in apparent defiance of gravity required it to be invisibly clasped at certain points to a harness; which was nothing more than a matching pair of loops for the join of her thighs and stretchy bands crossing her belly to connect the loops to the silver ring between her breasts, which was in turn held on by another pair of stretchy bands clasped behind her neck. The dress' slit stopped a mere hand span from her hip, and the open cowled back dipped just past the upper swell of her bum. It had been left entirely up to the wearer whether or not to cover her breasts; the matching cover was a separate bikini style bandeau with clasps at both ends to secure on the ring.

'I like seeing your breasts.' he had said so memorably before, and Honor had given a disturbing amount of thought to giving in to his wish and simply going with her breasts bared for him to see as much as he wanted. But what sliver was left of her modesty had objected, so she had worn the bandeau, which was obviously made for a much smaller cupped woman. Her nipples were covered, but only just.

She considered it serendipitous that not only did the dress leave much of her body encircling tattoo visible, but also that the zanjir chain's nipple rings ensured that the tips of her breasts in its grip stood out so proudly through the material.

"Hello, Miss Banet." he said, roving his eyes over her.

"Hello, Mr. Haydn," she breathed, returning his look, heat coiling through her abdomen and lower as she saw the predatory glint in his eyes. She produced a quick all-body shimmy as he stared at her, making herself jiggle and reveling in the sharp breath he took as a result. "How do I look?" she asked.

"You look absolutely beautiful."

She smiled back at him, her eyes equally as predatory as she took in the perfect fit of the dark suit on his broad frame, closing the tiny distance between them to nothing. "Thank you. You look very nice too, Mr. Haydn." Then, because the impractical seven inch heels she had bought on her trip to Pécheressa's that morning allowed her to do so, she merely tilted her lips up and kissed him, flickering her tongue over his mouth, grinning wider as he kissed her back.

They walked into the banquet hall together, her hand on his arm, grateful for the short period in time when ridiculously high stripper heels had trended and she had, despite herself, followed along and managed to figure out how to walk, and even dance, in them. Sensible disciplined Honor Banet had abandoned the trend soon after she had entered her first kitchen as a professional; after hours on her feet every week, they were the last things she had wanted to wear.

They were stopped multiple times on their way to his table by other men in tuxedos and suits and women in evening gowns, all congratulating Marq and his team for the success of the merger. The men were clearly as distracted by his companion as the deal he had brokered; the ladies were much less enamored, and she found herself faintly amused at the sea of feminine glares surrounding her.

"Hallo there. I am Rudolf Gertner." The man reached out a hand to her, middle-aged with a German accent. "You are?"

Honor replied before Marq could respond, placing her hand in Gertner's. "Ramya Armaan."

He smiled, a lecherous quirk to his lips. "And what do you think about the merger, Miss Armaan?"

Honor noted the expectant silence, and realized that she was being tested as she waggled her fingers loose of his grip, acutely aware of Marq beside her. "It was a good choice for both companies. In fact, it was the only choice."

"Indeed?" Gertner said, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

"They both get to survive," Honor answered, raising an eyebrow. The irony wasn't lost on her that her only real concession to modesty, the mask, only made her feel more daring. "Nomi hasn't been able to reverse its decline in the consumer electronics market, and its share price has dropped more than forty percent in the last four years. And we all know what happened with Helios ..."

Everyone nodded, some wincing. The former CEO, CFO and COO of Helios were all serving very long prison terms for embezzling investor funds. The market had reacted badly to the development, leading to a run on the company's stock, the share price dropping by over ninety percent in under a week. The engineering triumph that was supposed to be the automotive start-up's electric drive train and fast metal air battery reloading system was quickly dismissed as untrustworthy before its debut.

Helios Auto Electric was effectively dead, all creditors calling in their debts, their research facility, factory and equipment seized. The company's hapless founder and engineering mastermind behind the car company's meteoric rise was hospitalized with depression and personally owing millions of dollars from a prematurely profligate lifestyle.

Until Ascent Kapital, led by Marquin Haydn, stepped in.

"So Helios gets access to Nomi's resources, especially the factory they were going to shut down, and Nomi gets to be reborn as a car company," Honor finished.

"Partly," Marq interjected. "They're still going to continue in the electronics market."

"They'll still have their market share problem," Honor pointed out.

"They will be leveraging their new place in the automotive market to address that," Marq responded.

Honor thought for a moment. "A matching product line?"

Marq nodded, lips quirking up. "Yes."

"So they will also be repositioning as a lifestyle brand," Honor concluded.

Marq nodded again.

She nodded back, impressed. "Smart."

Gertner smiled at her. "I see you're just as insightful as you are beautiful, mein Fräulein."

"I appreciate your saying so, Herr Gertner."

"Why would you ever assume otherwise, Rudy?" Marq asked.

Gertner paused, looking mildly amused, and Honor saw that she was not the only who noticed the subtle loss of warmth in Marq's voice. "Of course, I apologize if I gave such an impression, Marquin. Most especially to you, Miss Armaan."

"No apology necessary. You did not," Honor lied, smiling at him, discreetly squeezing Marq's hand.

Thankfully, Marq did not pursue it any further, and in a moment, he and Gertner laughed as they shared a joke in German, before he extricated them from the press of admirers, his hand distractingly on the bared small of her back as they crossed the hall.

"There you are." The voice came with a strongly British accent.

The bearded man that came up to place a hand on Marq's shoulder was of African descent, the easy familiarity and Marq's fond answering smile enough for Honor to guess who he was.

"Deji, this is Hon ..."

"Ramya ..." Honor corrected.

Marq's lips quirked up. "This is Ramya Armaan."

"Hello there, Miss Armaan," Deji said, reaching out a hand. "I am Deji Akinwole. I work with this wunderkind."

Honor placed her hand in his offered one, liking him immediately.

"Kind," Marq noted the German word drily. "We're the same age."

Deji pointedly ignored him. "I see why Marq has been so distracted and quick to get off work these past few days," Deji continued, widening his eyes comically. "You are exceptionally beautiful, Ramya."

She blushed, flustered. "Thank you, Deji."

"And I understand you just impressed the hell out of Rudy Gertner."

"Yes, she did," Marq confirmed.

"Marq is exaggerating," she protested.

"I don't think so." Deji chuckled. "Gertner's a good man. He just needs to be put in his place every once in a while. You did us all in Zurich a service."

Honor couldn't help smiling as Marq took her hand.

"Well," Deji said, "Clearly Marq wants you all to himself. So I'm leaving you two now." He winked.

Honor laughed despite the rush of embarrassed heat.

Deji looked at Marq, meaningfully, gesturing at the stage. "Ready for this?"

Marq nodded. "Yes."

Deji nodded a cheeky farewell to her before sauntering off, and Marq led her to a booth with his name under a 'Reserved' card.

"Where is Walter?" she asked.

"He's back in Zurich," Marq said. "He does not like social events."

Honor didn't let go of Marq's hand when she sat. Instead she placed it on her slit-bared thigh, smiling at him as he confirmed that she was indeed wearing no panties. She leaned to whisper in his ear as the tip of his finger played over her opening, coming away coated in liquid. "We'll need to find a room soon, Mr. Haydn."

He grinned evilly as his finger inserted and she let out a quiet gasp, discreetly biting her lip as she saw her fiancee walk by, hand again on the small of his companion's now bared back, the same woman as before.

This time, she felt nothing. Nothing except the sparks of pleasure from being masturbated, quite expertly, by the man sitting beside her. She tried to retaliate, putting her hand on his crotch, feeling his increasing hardness until he placed a halting hand on hers.

"No." he said, voice rough and commanding.

She found herself pouting at the unfairness of it all, earning herself a kiss, strong and demanding despite its briefness. She realized then that she was going to be teased and fingered all night, and there was nothing she could, or would, do about it.

It was grossly, achingly, unfair, but she kept her legs parted for his exploring all the same.

Somehow, she lasted through the opening speeches, one of which was delivered by Marquin Haydn of Ascent Kapital. It was a temporary pause from the constant touching and caressing of her pussy. She had squirmed in her seat as she watched him speak, nipples pointing at him.

His fingers found their way back to her pussy when he returned.

She somehow lasted through the serving of all five courses of the meal and afterwards when Marq, Deji and the rest of the Ascent team, along with the incoming executive suite of the newly merged company, and the inventor-founder of Helios, now with the title of Chief Technology Architect, climbed unto the stage and unveiled the new logo.

Helios and Nomi were now Phoenyx Electronik, offering a line of electronic devices from their flagship cars, to computers and smartphones, riding on the battery technology birthed by the now defunct Helios. A technical presentation on the massive stagewide screen followed of the company's next steps and the upcoming launch of a hatchback and sedan as Phoenyx's first product offerings in the automotive market.

Waves of applause followed each new revelation, and at any other time, Honor would have been captivated at the presentation, at the casual display of business acumen and wide breadth of knowledge demonstrated on the stage.

But, by then, she only had room for one thing on her mind.

When Marq returned to their booth from the last panel discussion and question and answer session, she had pointedly stood up and walked out of the banquet hall.

Along the way, she had passed by David's table, taking in how closely he sat next to his dinner companion, how the beautiful Asian woman leaned possessively into David as she spoke to another man at their table.

So she didn't see David's eyes openly travel over Honor's body as she strode past.

Honor did, and for a moment, their eyes met. He smiled predatorily and inclined his head, but there was no recognition in his eyes.

And why would he recognize her, she thought, as she walked out of the hall. With her mask on, she looked nothing like the fiancee he left at home, especially since she had thought of concealing the birthmark on her neck, the distinctive dot that was just above her left collar bone. Even more importantly, as far as he was concerned, his sensible, disciplined Honor Banet was halfway across the world, oblivious and pining for him.

The cloakroom belonged to another, smaller, banquet hall, dark and as empty and event free as the space it served.

Marq found her less than a minute later.

________________________

Honor had cried out as Marq's member made its way inside her, clutching at him as he gasped in her ear. They were still for several heartbeats, quietly enjoying their joining, adjusting to his presence inside her in the darkness, the only light coming from the hallway outside through the open upper half of the cloakroom's split door. She sought his lips, hungrily, making a mewling noise as their lips met and he pressed her against the wall, bracing herself as she balanced on one foot, her other leg bent and hanging over the crook of his arm, dimly thankful for the flexibility granted by years of ballet, yoga and tango lessons.

And her newly acquired seven extra inches in height.

They both realized at the same time that she could have both feet on the floor. He released her leg, and she brought her foot and the second seven inch platform heel it was in down to the floor, quivering and gasping as he laved his tongue along the arch of her neck, pressing her even harder against the wall, all without uncoupling from each other. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming out loud as he abruptly gripped her waist and began to slide in and out of her pussy for the next few delight filled moments, as if to test that he could indeed fuck her while they both stood face to face.

He could.

She grinned at him from behind her Venetian mask when he stopped just as abruptly as he started, breathing hard as she placed her hands on his chest and arched her breasts into his hands. He saw her smile as he pulled down the strip of stretchy fabric across her chest, revealing each ring surrounded nipple and the trio of thin chains connecting each ring to the circle pendant on her neck.

"What's so funny, Ms. Banet?" he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

She shuddered again as he played with her rudely pointing nipples, the chains jingling as he fondled each heavy mass of soft flesh, her senses struggling to deal with the combination of his hands on caressing her body and his member inside her.

She still managed to answer him. "I think I know why they call them 'fuck me heels.'"

He grunted his amusement, his hands leaving her breasts to grasp at the mess of fabric bunched around her belly. She raised her arms obligingly as he pulled the gown off her body. And just like that, she was nude again but for her chain and heels. Her mask was still on, but she was sure it didn't count.

A week earlier, sensible, disciplined Honor Banet would have been mortified at the very idea of being naked in a hotel cloakroom, being fucked like some cheap whore. But being naked for him, being fondled and taken by him; it felt natural, like breathing. It should have disturbed her, how little her modesty had come to matter when it came to Marq Haydn, how shameless and wanton she had become simply because he desired it, but it simply did not.

Not anymore; she was his odalisque.

She could hear the sounds of the dinner party outside the cloakroom as Marq fucked her, her back arched against the wall, her hips thrusting forward to meet his stroking into her body, enjoying her introduction to this new position, the sheer wickedness of it.

Afterwards, she knelt to take his cock into her mouth, tasting herself on the swollen rod of flesh as she sucked and covered every inch of it with her saliva. She struggled to keep her moans as quiet as she could when he lifted her up and sat her on the counter, grasping his head as he lavished his tongue on her pussy and afterward when he brought her down and bent her over it to take her from behind. Honor bit her lip as he rode her, feeling him thrusting harder into her pussy and arching as he grasped her breasts, and then he abruptly slid out of her, her knees buckling as she gasped in shock at his sudden exit.

He gathered her in his arms in the next moment and slid them both to the ground just as a head peaked into the clockroom, pushing the upper half of the split door fully open and calling out in Thai.

"Shhh ..." he breathed in her ear, one of his hands distractingly resting on her ribcage just under her heaving breasts as the other lay on her belly.

Realizing she might not have been as quiet as she thought, naked, struggling to control her breathing and hiding behind a counter in a coatroom, lubrication leaking out of her, she marveled at herself, at her complete abandonment of any sense of propriety and modesty, realizing without shame that she didn't really care if she was seen right then. She quietly nestled more into his lap, feeling his lips press on her neck, and she smiled as she felt his shudder as she wrapped her hand around his still erect member, enjoying the wickedness of finding it still wet and slimy from so recently being inside her pussy.

"Shhh ..." she whispered back, grinning wickedly in the darkness as she stroked him, listening to his breathing change tempo in her ear.

He shuddered again before he retaliated, and she stiffened, stifling a cry as his fingers found their way over her clit, touching her, entering her.

The man called out again as they cruelly masturbated each other under the counter, this time in heavily accented English. "Is any ... people ... in here?"

Just as she thought the annoyingly curious man must have spied her dress, or Marq's discarded jacket and pants on the counter, he left, closing the upper door, leaving them in complete darkness.

She won the ensuing struggle in the dark, likely because she took him by surprise, and also because he surrendered fairly quickly, making an amused sound as she climbed on top of him. She claimed her prize, setting his cock at her entrance, her gasp of delight as she sank down on his member answered by his own, his fingers digging into her flesh as he grasped her hips.

"You're terrible!" she said, leaning over him and laving her tongue over his lips.

"You started it." he retorted, their lips touching, breathing hard with her.

"Bastard!" she cursed at him again, and then she began to move, bouncing on him, taking him in and out of her pussy as he writhed under her.

Already on the verge, she came in seconds, stiffening with a cry as she grinded down on him, clutching at him as his hands feverishly roamed her body. Marq brought her head down and kissed her, and she kissed him back, moaning against his lips, bodies melding together as he caressed and fondled her through the throes of her orgasm.

She sat up afterward in the darkness, still impaled on his cock. She renewed her bouncing on his member, listening to his grunts and gasps of pleasure as she rode him, her own gasps of enjoyment mixing with the slapping of their bodies. It didn't take long, and she cooed at him encouragingly as she felt him grip her waist and stiffen against her. She continued bouncing on him, focusing, determined, until his entire body shook and he let out a rough guttural gasp, all control lost, and she arched back as she felt his cum spurting into her pussy, the familiar mix of joy and pride surging through her at the pleasure she gave him with her body.

She rolled her hips like a belly dancer, patient and smiling as he emptied himself inside her body, reveling in his growls of pleasure as he spasmed and gasped under her. She lowered herself on him when he was done, spent, her breasts pillowed against his chest. She was breathing as hard as he was as she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, slow and lingering, smiling against his lips as he hungrily returned the kiss, his hands stroking over her back, playing with her chain.

"Do we have to go back out there again?" she asked, his deflated member still inside her.

"I think we may have to, Miss Banet."

"That's going to be a problem." She kissed him again, flickering her tongue over his lips, pressing down on him. "Because I'm not done with you yet, Mr. Haydn."