"In my opinion, I think I did a good job," Marq said as Honor looked at herself in the mirror.

She turned to him, playfully furling her lip. "You're so arrogant, Mr. Haydn."

His lips quirked up, self-satisfied. "Well, what do you think? Am I wrong?"

She sniffed again, then she turned back to the mirror, looking at her sides, turning around to look over her shoulder at her backside, examining the new pattern on her skin. The new floral pattern with its thick lines and whorls was similar to what was there before, the same all black, but it was much simpler, she noted.

He had done a good job, she had to admit. Though, to be fair, he had used a matching set of stencils to literally paint it on her body, which explained the simplicity. It had not surprised her that the ink had been a special mixture from TemPTat.

But first, he had taken her in the shower to wash off her previous TemPTat, which had only barely started to fade. It had taken two separate special removal gels, again provided by TemPTat, one to loosen the ink from her skin, and the second to wash it off.

She smiled, feeling heat rush to her face; that had been fun.

It turned out that one of his new toys for her was waterproof, and he had been eager to experiment with it, pressing her against the shower stall, the device between her legs as the water fell on them. Afterwards, she had been more than ready for his cock, more than ready for him to do anything he wanted with her.

It had started in the shower, a series of copulations, joining and rejoining, grasping and fondling, sharp gasps and moans as they moved together, that finally ended in bed, both of them still wet from the shower as they rutted on the sheets. Honor had ridden him hard, clutching him to her breasts as he finally released inside her, growling her name in her ear.

They had stayed in the bed for a while, and she had sucked and cleaned him up before the next phase, enjoying his helpless gasping for a change.

He had painted her on the swing, still outside under the late morning sun, methodically applying each stencil to her skin, then laving his brush over the pattern. The ink dried and took hold immediately, the stencils working as designed and to take any extra paint with them as they are removed.

He had worn his pants as he'd led her outside, while she wore nothing at all, but she had learned to live with that unfairness.

"Is this another hobby?" Honor had asked, breathless, as he had started at her leg, layering the stencil on her calf and coiling it up around to her shin. He had left her hands free, but she was again open and vulnerable, and he had again taken full advantage, touching, licking, kissing and fondling again until she was visibly wet.

He had been wearing his glasses, and his eyes had been narrowed in concentration, her foot braced on his chest as he worked.

"Painting tattoos on breathtakingly beautiful women?"

"No." She smiled, blushing, even though the thought of him doing what he was doing then with another woman sent a disturbing pang through her. "Just painting."

He laughed. "I am an absolute novice."

"So, I'm your first?"

"Yes, Miss Banet." He looked at her. "In so many things."

She was silent after that, a warmth spreading through her chest that she determinedly chose to ignore. He'd placed stencils around her thigh, then from her hip to her sternum and then another from her shoulder to the valley between her breasts, crossing her body from one side to the other.

And then had come the paint, the sensation of his brush strokes on her skin making her giggle at first. Then it had become less ticklish, and her giggling had stopped as the painting progressed, her hands grasping the swing's straps, staring at him as he stood between her open legs, ever closer to the pointing tips of her breasts, ever closer to her lips. Heat blossomed through her, her body reacting to his closeness.

He was laving the brush over the stencil he'd placed above her belly, creating the pattern over her sternum, when she had reached for him, her hand going behind his head and pulling him to her, a hungry growl as she kissed him.

Her other hand reached down into his pants, finding his member at well past half mast. He had gasped as she grasped him, breaking free of her lips.

"I'm not done yet, Miss Banet." he had said, not moving away from her hand.

Her smile had been wicked. "You can continue, just with no pants."

He'd taken a deep breath, as if to object, but then he had nodded, his lips quirking up as he slid his pants down over his butt to fall to his feet, Honor grinning, not letting go of his rapidly growing dick.

Gamely, breathing harder, he continued painting, moving to the stencil over her cleavage as she held him, gently stroking, feeling him hardening in her hand.

"Ow ..."

She loosened her grip, smiling apologetically. "Sorry."

She needed liquid to handle him properly, and somewhat absurdly, the thought of spitting in her hand disgusted her. Then she realized where she could get lubrication.

Lots of it, in fact.

She let go of his member, and she smirked at him as she reached between her spread thighs, penetrating herself with multiple fingers, gasping as she fetched what she needed.

She heard his sharp intake of breath as she layered her liquid on his cock, and she had smiled as she reached again into herself to fetch some more, before she resumed stroking him, easily bringing him to full hardness, his breathing harsh, his painting paused, his eyes fixed on her.

She grinned at him, enjoying his dazed look as she firmly pulled him to her, flexing her hips in invitation as his cock touched her entrance. "Come in, Mr. Haydn."

He did, and she made a purring noise in her throat, eyes fluttering closed, lips widening in a smile of pure delight as she welcomed him into her body.

She opened her eyes after a long moment, and then she lifted her hands and grasped the swing's straps, leaning back on the swing. "Continue, Mr. Haydn."

"Yes, Miss Banet." he said, gazing at her in a way that had sent another rush of heat through her body, accompanying by a surge of emotion that she knew was too dangerous to process.

And that was how he had painted the last part of her tattoo, over the stencil crossing from her shoulder to her cleavage, sheathed inside her as she lay back, her hips gently undulating as she brought her hand down from the straps, touching herself, her eyes on his, a wicked smile on her lips.

His paint strokes had become more shaky, especially after she made herself come, throwing her head back as she keened and shook on the swing, making him halt his painting, watching her in hungry silence, his cock still inside her.

Afterwards she had decided it was an opportune time to exercise her kegel muscles, his gasping as she squeezed him and theatrically raised eyebrows making her giggle.

Despite all that, his control had held until he was done.

And then he had abandoned it all at once.

She had moved with him, matching his thrusts, desperate to feel him unload himself inside her, reveling in his roughness as he rode and grasped at her body, knowing her teasing had made her pleasure a distant concern for him as he sought his release. Finally she felt him stiffen, growling as he came inside her.

It was several minutes before he calmed, her arms around him, his member still sheathed inside her. Their lips met again for a while, and then he had straightened up, making her shake in reaction as he exited from her.

He released her from the swing and bade her to stand still as he applied one more stencil curling up from her hip and across her lower back, and picked up the brush and paint jar again. A few minutes later, he was done, and then he had ceremoniously peeled off the stencils from her skin.

He had been very clever, she noted to herself as she examined his handiwork on her body in the mirror; assembling a set of individual tattoos into one harmonious pattern, the gaps from one to the other looking natural, as if that were the original design.

She liked it, she thought. Though, she thought again, the application process may well be biasing her opinion. That, she decided, she loved.

"Well?" he asked again, coming up behind her, his pants on.

She relaxed back against him, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he wrapped his arms around her. "Not bad."

He nuzzled her neck, fingers stroking her belly. "Tough customer."

"You used stencils!" she protested, "Picasso, you're not."

He chuckled. "But they worked, did they not?"

She turned her head, smiling. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

He smiled back. "No."

She laughed, their lips meeting before she turned back to the mirror, looking again at herself, this time seeing her swollen lips and nipples, the faint marks of his customary bites on her skin. Her inner thighs were visibly wet in the mirror, and she could feel their combined fluids still coating them.

She furled her lip ... recognizing the bite marks for the territorial markings they were. As if he needed anything else to say she was his to use at any time and in any way he wanted, she thought.

"What do you think?" she asked instead. "Do you like it?"

"No fair." he said.

She gave him a quizzical look. "How?"

"You've never failed to take my breath away, Miss Banet," he said, eyes glinting.

The sudden surge of warmth and emotion was overwhelming, more than she could suppress, so she turned her head and kissed him again. For a long time.

"Let's go to the beach," he said afterwards.

She looked out to the sliding doors, toward the villa's private stretch of sand and ocean, questioning.

"No," Marq clarified "The main beach."

She smiled. "You want to show off your artwork?"

He tickled the undersides of her breasts. "Very much so."

She furled her lip at him again.

________________________

Honor noted the eyes following her as she carried her order from one of the refreshment stands and made her way through the sand, to where Marq had set up their spot, awning and lounger already opened, cooler of food already delivered. The black beaded wristband meant the men only looked, much to her relief.

The male attention had surprised her at first, considering many other women were topless and more than a handful were bottomless as well. But then again, the bikini covered only slightly more than the slingshot she had worn to the supermarket and she was very conscious of how the ridiculously elastic material of the bikini made the rounded bits and pieces of her jiggle as she walked.

Her nipples were more covered this time, barely, but the absent wrap meant all could see the ridiculously micro bottom only just covered her opening, leaving the triangular strip of hair Marq had left on her mound entirely exposed and visible.

Belatedly, she had realized what was also making her stand out; her new body art ... and jewellery. More than the uniqueness of it, the bikini did nothing to hide the chains going to her nipples.

She had worn the chain first, almost without thought, when he had released her to get ready for the beach. Then she had looked through the closet of barely-there strings and strips of material that Marq had stocked for her. She had found the bikini and tried it on to tease him, going out to model it for him as the suit that showed off his 'artwork' to the maximum without her being completely nude.

But then she had seen his eyes, his approval, and after a few minutes of being deliciously molested she had chosen not to change, instead tying a wrap around her waist as her sole concession to modesty. Her sunshades, sandals and sunhat were the only other things she added after that.

Nonetheless, she had been self-conscious when they had stepped out of the villa, fitfully readjusting the small sarong as they walked to the beach. Then they had come across the first nude woman strolling past, and Marq had solved the problem by casually reaching out and pulling it off her body.

She had gasped at her sudden exposure, glaring at him as he grinned behind his shades. But when he'd reached for her hand, she'd given it to him, albeit with an annoyed sniff. And then he'd pulled her in and kissed her, right there on the path where everyone could see, and in moments she had found herself significantly less concerned about her bush being visible, suddenly aware of the distinct possibility she might be returning to Villa 6 entirely nude if the whim struck him.

He did enjoy displaying her.

Which opened up the possibility that she just might end up getting fucked before they got to Villa 6.

It had disturbed her that the prospect excited her more than anything else, especially the knowledge that she would do little to nothing to stop him, but she had pushed that aside as they strolled on, hand in hand, seeing more than one celebrity along the way.

She paused when she got to the beach tent, reaching behind her to undo the knot of the bikini top behind her neck, freeing her breasts. 'I like seeing your breasts.' She remembered him honestly saying not too long ago. And looking around at all the nudity around her, she saw no reason why she was not letting him see them.

He was lying back on the double-lounger, reading from his rollable tablet when she ducked under the awning. She sat beside him, deliberately bumping him with her hip, and he looked up at her, lips quirking up.

"So ... this is for you. Passionfruit, mango, strawberry and lime," she said, handing him the smoothie.

She removed her shades, smiling as she saw his eyes go to her boobs. 'Men,' she sniffed, internally.

"What about you?"

"Grapefruit, pineapple, strawberry, kiwi and mango."

"Sounds ... interesting."

She got on the lounger, curling up against him. "'Interesting'?"

"Grapefruit and pineapple."

"Bitter and sweet. Wanna try?"

"Only if you'll try mine."

She giggled. "Already did ..."

He grasped her bum, his touch rough and arousing. "Naughty girl ..."

She let him have a sip of her smoothie, and she smiled and turned her lips up to him as she ran her hand down his body, retaliating as his hand found her breasts. The warmth between her legs flared up again as their lips met, and her exploring hand went under the waist band of his shorts, grinning as she found him at half mast.

"So ..." she nodded nonchalantly at the tablet, still somehow in his hand as she continued to play with him. "... what's happening with Ascent Kapital's new investment?"

He took a deep breath, voice admirably steady despite his balls in her hand. "Not bad. Helios and Nomi stock prices are up ..."

"That's good ..." she said, her hand moving rhythmically. "The tickers are still separate?"

He nodded, swallowing. "Yes."

"Mmmm ..." she hummed. "When are they merging ...?"

He dropped the tablet.

"Four more months ..." he answered after a long moment of silence, breathing hard.

"Mmmm ..." she said again as she expertly brought him to full hardness.

Abruptly, she removed her hand from his shorts, sitting up. Looking at him, she brought her fingers to her lips, sniffing and then licking the small coating of his liquid on them, predatory as she met his eyes.

She looked around, calculating, and then she moved, quickly clambering on top him. He obligingly lifted himself as she eased his shorts down. She scrambled up, setting herself over his freed member, and it was the easiest thing to slip the silly excuse for a thong to the side and guide him to her entrance. She grunted as she sank down on him, biting her lip as he filled her.

The wrap he had seized was beside him on the lounger, and she reached for it, tying it loosely around her waist as she sat on him, a minor nod to modesty despite the amount of nudity around them. She bent to kiss him afterward, tongue laving out as their lips met, her breasts melding against his chest as his arms went around her.

Their nearest neighbors would only see a woman in a sarong lying on her lover's body, kissing him, a far from uncommon sight on the beach. They would need to come closer to see the gentle motion of her hips as she moved him inside her body, to see that they were joined.

She broke the kiss, lifting herself up slightly, lips parting at the pleasure arching through her body as she continued her slow grinding against him, moving almost without thought, knowing right then that even if there had been anyone looking and close enough to see what she was doing, she would have done it anyway.

She met his eyes as his hand reached up to brush aside her hair from her face, and absurdly she felt herself flushing at his gaze, at the sudden intimacy that suddenly went far beyond the closeness she had been seeking.

Honor was immediately reminded of the scene in which 'Ramya's' mentor 'sat-still' on her beloved Emperor, the intimacy of the act perfectly captured as they stared into each other's eyes. She could feel it as she 'sat-still' on Marq Haydn's manhood, joined with him, their gazes locked on each other.

"Stop," she said.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

His eyes dared her. "Like what, Miss Banet?"

She stared at him, the words not coming, so she kissed him. His lips, and then all over his face, keeping him inside her as she laved her tongue over his chin, his neck, the well of his throat, deliberately trying to break the intimacy of the moment.

He answered her, his hands running all over her body, cupping her breasts, grasping her waist, squeezing and caressing her as her riding him became harder, more demanding.

She let out a squeal as he began to thrust up into her, matching her movements as she rode him, dimly aware that there was no more hiding what she, they, were doing now, wrap or no wrap. She ignored him when he tried to slow her down, when he started to go stiff in the tell-tale way that said he was losing control. Instead she reached down to touch herself, chasing her own pleasure, stroking and pressing until the surge of pleasure arched through her and she cried out, shaking on top of him as she came.

He yelled out seconds later, and she grinned and bore down, greedily sheathing him inside her, leaning in and kissing him hungrily as he gasped and released into her pussy, his body spasming as his hands desperately grasped at her.

She lay on top of him afterward, burying her face in his neck with a quiet moan of contentment, feeling his pulse start to slow under her lips as he wrapped his arms around her.

She lifted her head and grinned at him after their breathing had achieved some semblance of normal. She moved slowly, carefully keeping him inside her. "Four months is a bit quick, I think."

He looked gratifyingly confused for a moment before he recalled what they had been talking about before she had decided to mount him.

"Yes. It is," Marq breathed, sounding satisfyingly winded.

"What exchanges are you listing on? DAX? SIX? TSX?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Are you thinking of leaving baking to go into finance, Miss Banet?"

She gave him a look of mock horror.

He grinned. "Right now, I don't know whether to think you're a spy for our competitors, or to offer you a job."

Her smile widened, "Will it pay as well as ... this? Being your ... odalisque?"

He laughed. "Probably not."

She giggled. "Too bad. And it probably wouldn't be as much fun."

He smiled. "Fun?"

"Yes ..." She pumped her hips lewdly, still not letting him slip out. "Fun. You've spoiled me, Mr. Haydn."

"It would be a bad idea anyway." He brushed aside her hair again, looking into her eyes. "Because I don't think I'll be able to work anywhere near you."

She was lying naked on top of him, her naked breasts resting on his chest, a still fresh load of his semen and his penis still literally inside her, and he could still make her flush.

He stroked a finger down the side of her face. "Do you know how much I love the way your lip folds up when you smile?"

She had nothing to say to that, and so she once again kissed him, and she felt him getting aroused again, literally expanding and growing inside her body, only adding to the intensity of the onslaught of emotion flooding through her.

The rest of the day passed in a blur after that, what little was left of her inhibitions and modesty completely obliterated.

She had worn back her top as they left the awning, and then she had lost it not long afterward, this time permanently to the waves. She had learned it was entirely possible to ride his cock and drive a jet ski at the same time, though it had put some strain on her multitasking skills and she'd had to go slow.

Much to her frustration, he had not allowed her to make him come.

The bottom went when he decided to masturbate her back under the awning. Moving it to the side would have worked but he had removed it completely. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, sensible, disciplined Honor Banet noted with alarm that she had not even protested.

They had danced then, music playing from his roll-up tab, and she had laughed and giggled as he twirled and dipped her, even when the music did not call for it, unashamedly melding her nakedness against him as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Then she had spent a while lying back and writhing helplessly on the lounger as he sat in front of her spread legs, the wrap barely hiding the fact that he was once again sheathed inside her, somehow finding herself in yet another impossible 'sit-still' game, except she was lying on her back, staring breathlessly at him as he indulged his obsession with her breasts.

He had not let her make him come then either, though he had ordered her to do it for herself, removing the wrap so they could both watch her fingers worry herself to two gasping orgasms while seeing and feeling his hardness inside her. Her second come was accompanied by a gush of liquid, likely because he was playing with her chains and teasing her nipples, somehow managing to to keep her on the border of pain without crossing over.

Her earlier premonition turned out to be accurate, she returned to Villa 6 that evening nude, albeit after an extended stop off the path along the way to be thoroughly, deliciously, kissed and molested, not caring that they were visible to many passersby. She suspected that the stop would have happened even without her open and shameless teasing.

And as she lay back on their bed, gasping and keening, grasping his head as he hungrily, desperately, fed on her pussy and then arching and crying out as he finally entered her, moving with him as he finally let her make him come, she wouldn't have had it any other way.

________________________

Honor stopped at the bedroom door, consciously suppressing the surge of emotion that welled up inside her as she watched him sleep.

She had been doing that disturbingly more often in the last few days. Ignoring the growing weight in her chest as she considered the dwindling time she had left with him was proving a lot harder.

But instead of dwelling on it, she entered the room, hearing his light snoring as she came closer to his slumbering form, still as naked as when she had disentangled herself from him half an hour earlier.

He had grumbled in protest, still mostly asleep, but she had kissed him and whispered that she would be back.

She had peed and then carefully padded out to the kitchen, nude but for her odalisque chain, sitting quietly in the morning light streaming through the windows, warmed by more than the hot tea in her hands as memories of the last few days replayed themselves in her mind.

She felt herself flush deeper. For some reason, Marq had decided that he was only going to use his tongue and fingers, and then a vibrator on her the day before.

Nude, helpless, she had been left a shuddering wreck by the time night had fallen, patches of wetness left all over the villa, her own come running in rivulets down her legs. She only got to welcome his cock inside her after midnight, locking her arms and legs around him and sobbing as he rode her hard and released inside her.

She was ready for him when he woke her to unload himself in her body again. Both times.

She finished her tea and headed back to the bedroom after making sure she had prepared everything she needed, firmly decided on her plan for how Marquin Haydn's day was going to go.

She woke him with her breasts, dangling them on his face, smiling in amusement as she watched him shift and move his head away, before his eyes fluttered open in confusion. Then he realized that it was a pointing nipple stroking over his nose and, in an instant, his confusion vanished.

She had a 'Fresh Morning!' mint ball in her hand and she pressed it against his lips. Obligingly, he opened his mouth and she heard him crush it with his teeth. She waited patiently for him to swallow before kissing him until he was fully awake, his arms wrapping around her as she licked at his lips.

"I'm going to take care of you today, Mr. Haydn," she promised, whispering against his lips. "I'm going to bathe you, feed you, suck you, fuck you and make you come all day."

He made to say something but she shushed him. "No, Mr. Haydn. All you're going to say is 'Yes, Miss Banet.'"

He looked into her eyes, and again, she had to suppress another dangerous surge of emotion. Then his lips quirked up. "Yes, Miss Banet."

She sucked him, swiftly getting him erect, allowing him to move her so she could sit on his mouth, squealing as his tongue speared into her pussy, luxuriating in his touch, enjoying his own shuddering as she ministered to his member. She moved quickly off his face and down his body, taking him in her hand and setting herself before taking him inside her, bracing herself with her hands behind her on his chest. She rode him, avidly watching herself in the mirror at the foot of the bed, seeing the bouncing of her breasts on her chest, watching Marq Haydn's cock disappear in and out of her pussy, seeing the thick layer of white creamy lubrication she was leaving on his shaft as he grunted and grasped her waist.

She sat fully on him, grinding down as he finally yelled out his orgasm, shuddering as she hungrily took his cum into her body.

She hungrily sucked him into her mouth again when she got off him, cleaning him up, reveling in the taste of their combined fluids as he growled and shook under her.

Afterward, she led him into the bathroom, into the shower stall, kissing him under the warm falling water, telling him to be still as she lathered him up, using her hands, using her boobs, washing every inch of his body before kneeling to swallow him into her mouth again, making him hard but not taking him over the edge.

She toweled him dry and took him back to the bed after that, kissing him all over his body, taking him into her mouth, again, before telling him to wait for her while she made his breakfast.

He didn't obey. She frowned admonishingly at him when he entered the kitchen after her, but they both knew it was entirely insincere.

So she had to multitask, satisfying his need for her body, and her own need for him as she worked on what she was making, forced to pause every so often for their lips to meet and to let him touch and fondle her.

When she had a full minute to spare she knelt to take him into her mouth, timing herself as he gasped and groaned, breathing hard.

"Isn't this dangerous, Miss Banet?" he asked, whispered in her ear when she went back to the counter to continue her work, his hands grasping her waist, running up her belly.

It was: sensible, disciplined Honor Banet would be aghast at anyone doing what she was doing, what she was letting him do to her while working in a kitchen, but that Honor Banet was nowhere to be found.

"Yes," she moaned, feeling his hardness pressing at her entrance, moving back against him in invitation, body quivering. "Yes!"

He entered her, stroking into her pussy, her breasts cupped in his hands as she braced herself on the counter, mouth open in a silent scream. She turned her head, their lips meeting.

"Three minutes," she breathed, breaking the kiss, gesturing at the oven.

He understood, and she cried out as he immediately began to fuck her.

He lasted at least that long before he grunted again and unloaded himself inside her body. She squealed and spasmed in his arms, coming with him, her pussy grasping at his shaft as he buried his face in her neck.

Honor's hands shook as she checked the cook of the hash browns and Eggs Neptune after he let her go. She knew simply from looking, but she checked anyway.

She smiled despite the harshness of her breathing; perfect.

She turned around to look at him, catching him staring at her, his gaze still full of need, making her breath catch in her throat, forcing her to suppress another surge of emotion.

So she moved into his arms and kissed him again, and then, again, she knelt to take him into her mouth.

She was his odalisque.

Many hours later, she took him inside her pussy, moaning her pleasure as he lay in a near stupor on the cushioned plastic mat on the patio, surrounded by candles and burning sticks of incense.

His body gleamed in the moonlight from the jojoba and eucalyptus massage oil she had kneaded onto every inch of his skin.

She had used her entire body in the application, stroking herself over his supine form - appreciating the discovery of a new meaning for 'full body massage.' She was quickly as oil covered as he was, and her skin was gleaming and slick as she settled herself on his shaft, her nipples pointing down at him as she leaned over and took his lips again.

She sat still on him, for a long moment, just savoring his presence, closing her eyes as his hands roamed all over her body, feeling proud of herself for keeping her promise to feed, suck and fuck him all day.

Again, she suppressed another dangerous uprising of emotion even as she ached with the perfection of the moment, of him, hard and full inside her, her body tingling and tender from a day of catering to him.

She had cooked for him again; but sensible, disciplined Honor Banet had risen to the fore then - warning him off trying anything while she was working in the kitchen. Especially with knives in her hands.

Even with that, she had taken every opportunity to minister to his cock with her hands and mouth, not letting any appreciable amount of time pass without kissing and caressing him, without fellating him, without letting him touch and play with her body.

She found him staring up at her when she opened her eyes. She felt a surge of heat climb up her face, at once shy and proud of being tbe focus of so much open desire.

"Stop," she said.

"Stop what, Miss Banet?" Marq asked, challenging her.

"Stop ..." She halted, struck by deja vu. "Stop looking at me like that."

His hands tightened on her hips. "Like what, Miss Banet?"

'Like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world,' she thought. 'Like this could be more ...'

She felt tears gathering in her eyes, at the knowledge that this, her time with him would so soon end. It was an anvil in her chest, and again, she willed the surge of emotion down.

"Shut up," she said, as much to herself as to him.

Then she rode him until he came, kissing him as he cried out his pleasure, feeling that strange wonderful mix of joy and pride as he released inside her.

"So, Mr. Haydn," she said, after his breathing had calmed, keeping her voice light. "How did you like your day?"

He was silent for a long moment, running his hand down her back, and she arched into the caress.

Then he smiled, and again, her breath caught. "It was amazing, Honor Banet." He brought her head down and kissed her, soft and tender. "Thank you."

________________________

They were in one of the restaurant's trio of private balcony placements overlooking the beach. Alone, unless they tapped the button that called their waiter to the table.

Honor grasped the railings, gasping quietly, arms spread to either side of her body when he entered her, her lips parting in a smile of pure uncomplicated pleasure and no small amount of relief.

She had immediately known that she was going to be having sex on the balcony as soon as the host led them up to it. It was more than private enough, and, to be fair, she had been shaking with arousal, wetness literally leaking out of her by then.

Besides that, he had promised her that he was going to fuck her in the restaurant.

Thankfully, she had been pragmatic in her choice of outfit, which meant her skirt only needed to be repositioned and her breasts required no effort to uncover. After all, she had reasoned, when he had pointedly left her to her own devices on what to wear, being always ready and available for him was the deal.

Along with him 'displaying' her. Which meant she had dressed for easy access and exposure.

Even then, whether or not she would end up walking home nude was still an open question.

After being naked all day, getting fucked on a public beach and returning to the villa completely naked, among other preceding episodes of being paraded around in varying states of undress since he had come into her life, she had come to accept that her sense of modesty was on an extended hiatus where he was concerned.

The island was simply somewhere she could let it go without consequence.

The problem was that she found herself fantasizing about feeding his fetish off the island, and not just in Thailand, and what she had found most disturbing about that was how little her mind's frequent intrusive visions of being publicly nude, being publicly taken by him, actually disturbed her.

She had found a minimal fly-away strapless crop top, and she had worn her hair up to expose most of the tattoo he was so proud of. She matched it with a low-rise asymmetric maxi skirt, the slit going right up to the hip. Underwear was decidedly not a feature of her life with Marq Haydn; she only wore her bodychain underneath it all.

He had approved, as predicted, and he had immediately seen that her breasts were simply a lift of fabric away. Also as predicted, he had indulged himself as soon as she had stepped out of the room, stripper heels on her feet, making her hiss and quiver, arms locked to her sides as he licked and bit on the pointing brown tips, making them stiffen even more to attention, before taking her lips with a growl of hunger she had matched with her own.

Then he had added something new.

"Lift up your skirt, Miss Banet," he had ordered, after their lips had parted.

Pressed against the wall, she had grinned at him, and instead stretched the skirt's waistband and shifted the slit to the front.

"Is that satisfactory, Mr. Haydn?"

He smiled back, all predator. "Very much so, Miss Banet. Now, close your eyes."

Then he had kissed her again and she had kept her eyes obediently closed as she felt him kneel in front of her exposed mons, bracing herself for his touch.

She shook when his finger touched her, moaning and spreading herself wider as it stroked over the thin strip of hair he had left behind, then over her clit and pressing between the butterflied lips of her pussy before pushing in. When he withdrew it, she didn't need to look to know it had come away covered in her liquid.

She had expected his tongue at her cleft next, or his finger again, perhaps accompanied by another. But what pushed at her entrance instead was something else entirely, startling her, her eyes popping open as she sharply looked down to see, her instinctive attempt to move away blocked by the wall behind her.

She found him looking up at her, and he had let her see the three balls of ribbed and knobbed silicone connected into a single flexible wand before he pushed it into her pussy, her spread legs and lubrication allowing the sinfully black plug to easily slide all the way inside her.

She had spasmed and arched against the wall, hands closing into fists as her mouth opened in a silent scream. It was no more than four inches, but it was wide and heavy enough to make its presence impossible to ignore.

The largest ball was at the end, the retention chain at its base with its clasp now dangling out of her entrance, and as she watched, hyperventilating, still adjusting to its sudden presence inside her, he attached it to her body chain where it encircled her waist.

Done, he stood up to his feet and kissed her again, his hands distractingly stroking over her bared hips and belly, playing over her chain and pulling on her nipples as she helplessly kissed him back. He helped her shift the slit back over to the side again before taking her hand and leading her out of the villa.

Walking with the plug turned out to be a revelation, every step unpredictably reshaping and twisting it inside her, the striations and nodules adding random sparks of sensation to the feeling of fullness, making it difficult to concentrate on anything beyond simply placing one foot in front of the other.

Her steps started faltering before they had gone much past the villa's gate. Minutes later, she was letting out a quiet moan with each tottering step, and she was panting, squeezing his hand, not much longer after that.

"Stop ...!" she had finally gasped, planting her feet and stopping them.

The sheer absurdity of her situation hit her; in a top so thin and brief that a gust of wind would expose every inch of her breasts beyond just the undersides of them it had left uncovered, a skirt with a slit so wide and high that another gust could easily reveal that she not only was not wearing any panties, but that she was walking around with 'something' stuffed inside her.

That 'something', of course, being why she was standing stock-still in the middle of the pathway, body quivering as she bit her lip. Her nipples were so engorged that the nooses around them were making them sting.

The island guests sharing the path with them eyed them curiously as they passed, many clearly seeking experiences on offer that were far more exotic than dinner at a restaurant. A group of giggling young women walked by in nothing more than bodypaint and bikini bottoms, glow sticks in hand while a woman only wearing knee high boots and pasties over her nipples had eagerly hurried past them, hand in hand with a man wearing a matching leather mask and pants.

Even with the plug wreaking havoc with her mind, she had recognized the famous actor under the face covering.

"What is it, Miss Banet?" Marq disingenuously asked, an eyebrow raised behind his glasses.

She wanted to kiss and curse at him at the same time; he was the ultimate cause of her predicament, not the twisting and turning item in her pussy.

She had been preparing for her wedding just a few days ago, she had thought confusedly, looking at him. To someone else.

"I think I'm going to come ..." she whispered.

His smile was cruel. "Then, why not ... come?"

Honor gasped as he pulled her toward him, making her take multiple jerky stumbling steps forward. The 'something' inside her twisted one way, then another, adding to the sudden shock of her painfully erect nipples being abruptly pressed against him as he caught her in his arms, and she buried her face in his neck as it took her over the edge.

"You ... bastard!" she had gasped after her orgasm had, mostly, run its course. She was still shaking, the aftershocks of it still coursing through her as he ruthlessly seized her lips. She could feel the rivulets of liquid running down her inner thighs as she clutched at him, her heart pounding in her chest.

She felt his hardness pressing against her belly, adding to the inferno the plug was still stoking up between her legs.

"Take me home, Mr. Haydn," she bit out when the kiss broke, voice rough, lips only inches away from his. "Now."

He had laughed, darkly. "The restaurant is much closer, Miss Banet."

She fought back the urge to scream, instead asking, quietly, harshly. "Are you going to fuck me at the restaurant?"

"Yes," he had said.

Somehow, they had made it, the thing in her pussy turning and twisting torturously as she determinedly focused on keeping one foot in of the other in her unwisely chosen footwear, hyper-aware of him walking and climbing the stairs to their balcony in front of her.

She had stepped into his arms as he pulled her to him immediately after the host slid the tinted sliding door closed, finally leaving them alone. Moments later, she was pressed up against the railing and she had screamed, unable to help herself, when he had ungently yanked the plug out of her, a gush of her liquid splashing on the floor.

In the next moment, his head was between her legs, his tongue hungrily lapping at her dripping pussy as she held his head, nearly falling as she sobbed out his name. But it wasn't about her pleasure, and he was quickly standing up, his pants falling to his feet as he set himself in front of her, at full mast, her skirt slit once again shifted to expose her mound, her liquid covered inner thighs parting as he thrust his hand between her legs, roughly spreading her open.

Her heels meant he didn't need to do more than slightly lower himself, and there was no need for her to elevate herself on her toes for his member to find its way into her pussy as he entered her, only needing to stand to his full height to sheathe himself fully inside her shuddering body.

Her hands left the railings to settle on his shoulders, around his neck. His hands settled on her bared belly as he leaned forward, their foreheads touching as they both went still, or nearly so, listening to each other's harsh breathing, as if pausing to simply savor his presence inside her, like it was the first time.

She was preparing to get married to David Brenner not too long ago, she wonderingly reminded herself. And yet here she was, braced against her railing, on a restaurant's balcony, on an island she couldn't point to on a map, another man's cock comfortably sheathed inside her pussy.

Marq's hands tightened on her hips as he began to move.

No one else fucked her from the front while standing, just him. She just needed to wear the right shoes and he was just at the right height to fuck and kiss her and play with her breasts at the same time.

She almost laughed at the irony of it. David Brenner was a proud six foot three inches, and that had been something she had loved about him. What woman would not prefer a taller man? It was hardwired into the female of the species.

And yet, Marquin Haydn, standing just a shade under six feet, was rapidly undoing eons of evolution and changing her mind.

They both heard it at the same time, the door to the balcony sliding open, and she saw the waitress over Marq's shoulder as she peeked her head in, saw her eyes pop wide open at the sight of Marq uncaringly pistoning into her, and then watched the door quickly slide closed.

"How do you do this to me?" she had asked, moving with him.

His answer was to seize her lips again, one hand moving up to go under her top, grasping her boob and squeezing harshly, his cock stroking in and out of her pussy as she clutched at him.

She spoke when he released her lips, teeth gritted. "Fuck. Me."

He did, lifting her leg up, hooking an arm under one knee, opening her wider. She squealed as she matched him, kissing, touching, grasping, clutching, moaning and gasping against his lips as all thought, and everything else, faded from existence, until he began to stiffen in the way she had come to know so well.

Once, twice, and then he exited her, growling as he released. On her body. She felt the warmth of his semen landing on her skin as she collapsed to the balcony floor, her legs suddenly unable to hold her up.

It took a while for her breathing to calm, for awareness to return. She looked up at him, seeing him leaning and grasping at the balcony railing himself, getting his own breathing under control, his cock gleaming wetly with their combined fluids above her.

She took stock, looking down at herself as she hyperventilated, seeing the cum spattered from her belly button to the swell of her mound, the patches of wetness on her skirt. Her legs were splayed wide open, the skirt split around her bent knees as she leaned back against the railing; if the waitress peeked in again, her freshly used pussy would be on full display for her to see.

The plug lay gleaming between her thighs on the floor, chained to her waist, looking at once sinister and innocent. It would need to be sanitized before it would go back inside her again, sensible, disciplined Honor Banet automatically thought.

She looked up at him again as she brought her legs together, and found him smiling at her as he pulled his pants up, covering his manhood. For a moment, she considered stopping him so she could clean him up as she had done so many times before, almost surprising herself with her own shamelessness.

He raised an eyebrow at her attempt to glare at him. "Is there a problem, Miss Banet?"

She gestured at herself, at the cum on her body. "Do you have to make such a mess?"

He smiled. "Again, is that a problem?"

She gave him an arch look, furling her lip. "I didn't say there was a ... problem."

She placed her hand in his when he reached down to her, and let him lift her to her feet. The plug swung from its chain, hitting her liquid streaked inner thighs, as if to remind her of the havoc it could cause.

She stepped into his arms when he pulled her to him, clearly not minding that his own shirt would get wet and sticky too as she melded herself against him. Which was fair, she supposed, as she lifted her head up, offering her lips to him; after all, it was his cum.

He broke the kiss and took her hand to lead her to the table, pulling back the seat for her like a proper gentleman. Then he fondled and kissed her in a very ungentlemanly manner.

"Don't clean up, Miss Banet," he ordered her.

Breathless, she nodded.

He kissed her lips again, and then lifted her top to kiss her nipples, making her smile, before going to sit down and tapping the button, calling for their waiter.

Honor felt a surge of heat on her face when the same waitress peeked her head in again, feeling self-conscious about the spattering of semen on her exposed belly. A moment later, she forcefully dismissed the thought and boldly met her knowing eyes, smirking back. The woman had already seen her getting fucked; what more embarrassment could wearing the evidence of it add?

The name tag above her right breast said 'Lily', and, like the rest of the resort's customer facing staff, the waitress was beautiful, and her uniform of a tight bandeau top over a flirty knee length skirt showed off her body to its best advantage.

Her accent was slight and lilting, as she informed them that the cuisine of the day was a fusion of Italian and Indian, handing them both leather encased menus as she laid a large complementary fruit medley on the table.

From the first page, the gourmand in Honor rose to the fore, excited as she began to ask questions, which 'Lily' gamely answered, looking increasingly impressed.

Honor knew both cuisines, one as a matter of interest ironically aroused while living in France, and the other as a matter of her Southern Indian heritage.

Marq spoke when she paused for breath. "Would you like to order for the both of us, Miss Banet?"

She looked up at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Is the great Marquin Haydn really letting me pick his food for him?"

He grinned back. "First: I am glad you think I'm great."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. The waitress, Lily, smiled her amusement too.

"Second." He closed his menu. "Yes, I'm leaving myself in your beautiful and capable hands."

She felt a small thrill rush through her. Surrendering control was difficult for him. His inclination was to target, assess, learn, conquer and dominate.

Just like he had done with her and her body, systematically finding her limits, and then utterly shattering and taking her well past them, she realized.

So his letting her choose for him, even something as seemingly small as a new dish for him to try was actually no small thing.

"I'm honored, Mr. Haydn."

He winced.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't say it!"

"I think I have to."

"No, you don't!"

"Yes," His smile suddenly lost its levity, and she found herself gazing back at him, mouth drying, "I do." He reached out and took her hand. "Pun intended, unintended, and in every possible way, the Honor," he paused, meaningfully, no longer really smiling. "is mine."

The way he said 'mine' as he held her hand, tender and yet firmly possessive, was ominous, sending another, more disturbing thrill through her body. For a moment, she forgot the waitress standing beside them until he subtly gestured to remind her that they were not alone.

In the end, she had selected a Gosht Jalfrezi in Ravioli for him and a Murg Tikka Alfredo with Penne for herself. For appetizers she chose the mozzarella and truffle infused vegetable samosas, stuffed naan breadsticks and a seafood soup described as a marriage of paja and cioppino.

Lily dutifully tapped in the order on her tablet. But she was visibly surprised when Honor only ordered from the mocktail menu.

After what Lily had seen, Honor supposed it was only natural that she would think alcohol played a fairly large role in their relationship. It still shocked her that it played no role at all. She had not had a drop of alcohol since entering the plane to Bangkok. Since discovering David with Jillian Blake. Since Marquin Eduardo Haydn had come into her life.

She flushed, remembering everything she had done, that she had let him do, that she was even then in a top and skirt that left her more exposed than covered, semen gleaming wetly all over her bared belly after being soundly fucked against the railing just a few feet away and mere minutes before. That she was not under the influence of any substance: she didn't have the fig leaf of inebriation as an excuse.

It was all her.

And him. She looked across at Marq, who was looking at her, his lips slightly quirked up, his gaze hungry.

Always, she thought, him.

Lily took her leave, Honor noting the exaggerated hip swaying and the lingering look she had pointedly sent at Marq - making it obvious that witnessing him thrusting into his companion had left an impression.

"She's very pretty," Honor said, noting that Marq's eyes had followed Lily as she left.

Marq looked at her. "Yes, she is."

"I think she liked what she saw."

He lifted an eyebrow.

Honor remembered that the door had been behind him when she had peeked in. "She saw us ... saw you fucking me."

"Was she the one?"

Honor nodded.

Marq's smile was leonine. "Interesting."

Jealousy reared its head, and she knew it was dangerous even as she gave it free rein. Honor furled her lip. "I'm not sharing you, Mr. Haydn."

He shook his head, still smiling. "Perish the thought."

She sniffed. "Just making sure."

He eyed her, openly amused. "You're being jealous, Miss Banet."

The thought of another woman with him made her insides clench. "Yes," she said, unabashedly, honestly. "I am."

He laughed, but fell silent as Honor, seething, stood up.

When Lily came back with their appetizers and the first round of their mocktails, Honor was entirely nude but for her bodychain and seated on a fully clothed Marq's lap, carefully feeding him from the mango heavy medley Lily had delivered to the table.

She used her tongue to clean away any runaway trails of juice around his lips, some of which may have only existed in her imagination. But she made sure to get rid of them just the same.

She met the server's eyes when the woman had halted at the sight. "It's okay. Just bring the food."

Since she was picking his food, it made sense to Honor to feed him as well. Certainly, his being too occupied to be following another woman with his eyes, even if she had a well toned belly ... like the one left exposed by 'Lily's' bandeau top, was just an added benefit.

Honor was still naked an hour later, when Lily delivered the dessert, a pistachio and raisin lassi infused riccotta cheesecake with a side of gelato for them to share.

Honor enjoyed the meal immensely, but as he slid into her for the second time on that balcony, hearing her own gasp of delight as she braced herself on the table, she could barely remember the taste of anything.

She had only started feeding him the cheesecake when the way he was caressing and kissing her had changed, and she had known it was time; he needed to be inside her and she was at the point that she needed him too.

He tried to be slower, to take his time, but she had teased him for too long. She cried out, furiously stroking her clit as he stroked into her pussy, the plug still dangling off her bodychain swinging off her hip at his thrusts, all semblance of control rapidly lost.

This time he let go inside her, holding her on his cock, his arms crossed tight over her body. Honor exploded on feeling him spurt inside her, grinding back, desperate to take all of what he had to give her, squeezing and milking him with her vaginal walls.

She continued to feed him dessert afterward, still nude, even though she no longer felt any need to establish her territory, to make it clear Marq Haydn was taken.

Honor saw the younger woman's nostrils flare when Lily came back to the balcony, sniffing as she placed the bill on the table, knowing she could smell what had just happened; that Honor had just been fucked again.

They shared a look, and to her surprise, instead of being contemptuous, or judging, which she would not have cared about, Lily had smiled, and when she left them for the last time, her expression had been ... admiring.