Lessons on Seduction (Unedited Sample)

3 Ménage à trois

Song for the mood: Smile by Winston Surfshirt. It's something a little sexy and laid back, like Julian. 😘

Julian

Saira's apartment, October.

I inhaled the scented candles that perfumed the air with an aroma of lotus and white tea.

My eyes were cloaked in darkness since the silk blindfold didn't give me an option to see what was going on.

I rested on a royal-blue, luxury Baroque divan, patiently waiting for one of Saira's surprises.

Aside from a studded leather collar around my neck, my body was naked and lathered in massage oil.

My cock was hard and needy, throbbing for a wet, juicy pussy.

I didn't want just any pussy—I craved for one that was personally hand-picked by my mistress. Yeah, she was my Domme, and I served as her sub.

It wasn't the first time I had been inside Saira's stylish penthouse city apartment, which reflected opulence and style, thanks to her interior designer from New York.

Saira was from old money, and she ran a family business with a tight fist, which, in turn, produced lucrative returns.

She and I had a 'business' relationship, which meant that I visited her on an 'as-needs' basis, on her terms.

Saira came into my life a little short of two years ago when I worked for a catering company, serving drinks and canapés to guests at a wedding party she attended.

I wasn't lucky enough to be born into wealth.

Plus, my old man died of cancer when I was eight, leaving Mom a young widow with two little kids to raise.

Regardless of the shitty cards life threw at us, my sister Vera and I got into college, intending to make our own successes. Still, I had bills and college fees to pay.

On the evening Saira and I met, the woman wowed me. She wore a tight, red, low-cut gown, revealing a pair of voluptuous breasts begging to be handled, and a high split that exposed her creamy thigh.

The woman appeared at least a decade younger than her actual age—she was in her late thirties at the time, a ripe fruit that I desired to devour.

Saira was a Norse goddess with her flaxen-blonde hair, light-gray eyes, long lashes, and red lips that I wanted wrapped around my dick.

Later that night, she made me an offer I couldn't refuse, to quote Marlon Brando in The Godfather.

Long story short, I was in her office a week later, where I signed a contract, witnessed by her lawyer. The deal, in a nutshell, meant that I was hers for two years.

In exchange, I would receive a considerable amount of payment transferred to my bank account in two installments—one for each contractual year, following the terms and conditions.

The payment went toward my and Vera's college fees, private health insurance, a car, and daily living expenses. I also invested in an apartment of my own, moving out of the place I called home for years.

Vera knew about the arrangement; we were close, so there weren't many secrets we kept from each other.

Back to Saira—our deal was quite simple to understand. If she called or texted me outside of my teaching hours and college schedule, I was at her beck and call.

It didn't matter if I was in the middle of a casual date or fucking some hottie. Saira came first.

She and I enjoyed the sex, and she handpicked my playmates to fuck when we had a party of three or more at her place.