A Willingly Kept Woman, Ch. 01

For the duration of this story, each participant in this story is a consistently consenting adult over 18 years old.

When Maxim had said he was buying property on the Palm Jumeirah, I didn't know he meant an entire building. We're sipping afternoon tea outdoors at the Taj when he stands up, slips behind me, and wraps his arms around me. He points me toward the skyline.

'What do you think?' he murmurs, his stubble ticking against my ear and sending a ripple up my neck.

'What do I think about what,' I whisper back, reaching behind me to touch his face and leaning to let my lips rest against his. The warmth of his skin floods me with desire.

He nods at a beautiful art deco-style building in a soft cream and green color scheme. I had had my eye on it as an investment for days.

'What do you think about that?'

I let my eyes rest on it for a second before it sinks in.

'Maxim!' I shriek and whirl around, leaping up into his arms. 'You bought it? For me?'

He chuckles.

'Happy anniversary, baby,' he whispers against my lips. He kisses me, softly and then with increasing pressure. I forget that we're in a restaurant - mostly empty, but with the occasional waiter appearing nearly silently next to the widely spaced tables (for privacy, of course). Maxim's tongue slips into my mouth and I feel my pussy start to grow warm.

'I want to fuck you,' he breaks away to say into my ear, so softly yet with such steel behind it. I feel a deep thrum low in my belly and drop an eyelid in a slow wink. Time to go.

An hour later we're back at my penthouse. Maxim's the only one with keys besides me, my security team, and the staff. Not even his wife back in Russia has the square footage I do, and the original Matisse in the foyer is valued at 60.4 million. He's equipped me with everything at my fingertips, including a daily manicurist (and pedicure). He likes to look at the receipts that I collect when he's not around - back visiting Maria, or on a business trip - and laugh at how outrageous I try to be. Every time he leaves me for more than three days, I see how high a credit card bill I can rack up. I treat my girlfriends to lunches and spa treatments; I buy properties and sell others, all sight unseen; I indulge in every imaginable pampering activity; I snap up gems like a magpie at the jewelers (Charles and I at Harry Winston are on a first-name basis). Maxim likes it best when I spend his money on clothing; some of the more ridiculous pieces I've paraded in front of him barely made it into the bedroom intact. I think it makes him hard to see me spend his money.

In my penthouse, I instruct him to wait in the master bedroom while I located one of my more recent purchases. A thank you for buying me the hotel, I add. Maxim likes layers, so when I buy lingerie I always get sets with as many components as possible. A hundred luscious silk robes hang in one singular closet, each with a complementary corset or brassier, thong, garter belt, stockings, lace chokers, and other accessories. This newest set is a lush raspberry color, with cream and rose gold accents. I deck myself out in the full set, slide on my new Manolo mules and spritz myself with my custom perfume. I tousle my long coppery blond curls to give them a wild look and pinch my cheeks for a flush of color.

Maxim's eyes glitter when he sees me in the doorway. He sets his phones - one personal, one work - on my bedside table and leans back on his elbows. I let my hips sway as I enter the room, my hands sliding all over my torso, over my hips and breasts. My heels sink into the deep rose and cream-colored Turkish carpets that cover the floors. I hold his gaze as I settle between his knees, reach for his belt, unfasten his buttons. His cock swells almost immediately against the fabric of his boxers, and I feel a surge in my pussy.

'Yeah, do it like I like, baby,' Maxim whispers as I caress his cock. I slide it out of his boxers and rub my thumb over the tip, lubricating the head with his precum. I hold the shaft firm as I lean down and glide my tongue up and down the veiny length of his cock, hearing him lean his head back and moaning.

'Fuck, yeah, that's it baby... kiss it,' he breathes, his breath stirring the hair on the top of my head. 'Kiss my cock, baby.'

I press my lips against his shaft, sloppily kissing it up and down, stopping at the head to dip it lightly in my mouth, then out again to kiss down the shaft to the balls.

'Yeah, yeah, yeah, I like that... ooh, I like that, baby,' he moans. I slip my lips over the head again and start to slide his cock more fully into my mouth.

'OH, fuck, yeah - oh, yeah - oh, yeah -' he pants. I taunt him, withdrawing from his cock almost completely and tracing the tip of my tongue around the slit, before plunging my mouth and throat back down. He groans loudly as I repeat the motion, the messy slurping sounds making me wetter and wetter. He grabs my hair and lightly uses it to bob my head up and down on his penis, hissing through his teeth.

'Yessssssss, baby, yes - that's fucking in, that's fucking it - take my fucking cock, you filthy little slut,' he moans, and I can't help but moan in response, muffled around his cock. He slows me down and pulls me up onto the bed.

'Good girl, sucking my cock like that,' he says, slapping my ass. I smirk and lift one leg up to rest on his shoulder. I'm so wet I'm almost dripping.

'How about you return the favor,' I say. His eyes go dark with lust and he lunges for me like a wolf, tonguing me passionately before kissing his way down my breasts, stomach, before planting lighter, small kiss around the small, neat triangle of reddish blond hair. He kisses closer and closer, slowly, so slowly, spreading my legs wider and wider. After an eternity of inching closer and closer, with me splayed out obscenely in front of him, he runs the very tip of his tongue up the slit of my pussy, just barely touching the edge of my clit. It's so light that if I hadn't been so sprung I wouldn't have felt it. As it was, I'm wound tight enough that just this first pass of his tongue is enough to send me into orgasm.

'FUCK, baby, I'm gonna cum - I'm gonna -' I cry out, as the heat starts to flood my body and my back arches. My eyes roll back into my head and all that comes out is a strangled moan.

Maxim exclaims something like 'oh, shit, baby -' before the roar fills my ears and I'm lost to the orgasm.

'I'm - fucking - cumming -' I manage to get out as the waves roll through me. Maxim pants into my thigh as he pulls at his cock, full to bursting at the sight of me cumming.

As I come down, he rolls the garter belt down my thighs, squeezing and kneading my flesh. That first orgasm was only the beginning. It's been four days since we've seen each other and I am in, I know, for a long reunion.

A few days later, I'm lounging at my penthouse after my daily workout session and spa treatments. I was going to get my hair trimmed, like I do every four days, but I decide to push it off to tomorrow. I'm sprawled on the couch in what I call the Royal Room, decorated as it is in tasteful shades of purple and soft cream and gold. It's here that I like to watch tv on the enormous screen, lounge in my silk pajamas, and occasionally fuck Maxim.

Maxim calls me like he does every afternoon (one of my conditions for our arrangement).

'You're going to look so bedraggled,' he teases me when I pick up. He has access to my schedule of various self-care and pampering treatments (one of his conditions). I giggle.

'Maybe you'll like me better a little messy and unkempt,' I tease back. Maxim is so fastidious about his own appearance that it's hard to imagine him with anyone who doesn't pay attention to that level of detail. He snorts into the phone, clearly also amused at the idea.

'Darling, I know we said we'd do dinner tonight at the new place in the mall, but I'm being fucked by these Americans. They're holding out for everything I've got, and I need to keep them entertained.'

I can tell he's in the car, likely in the middle of downtown.

'It's alright, Maxim,' I say. 'I understand. Actually... why not bring them here? I can call Eloise, get catering from that place you like... Dionysis? Maybe they'll like having another American around.'

'My brilliant girl. I'll do that. Tell Eloise she'll get triple overtime if she can pull it off by 8 pm.'

'Yay!' I bounce up and down on the couch. I relish any chance to show off my penthouse, and Maxim relishes any chance to show off me.

The house is readied, the catering is set to serve at 8 PM sharp, and the Americans arrive any minute. Maxim has dashed over to freshen up and to be there when they arrive. He's in his private dressing room - complete with temperature-controlled cases for his shoes and ties - fastening the cuff links I gave him for his birthday. He sees me in the mirror behind him, leaning against the door. My Schiaperelli dress is modest at first glance, but is deceptively seductive. It's very close to my skin color, just one shade darker, and fits like a second skin. It hits me high on the thigh. The fabric is draped in such a way that it looks like the dress could fall away at the slightest touch and reveal my bare flesh, like I'm clutching a bedsheet to my naked body. The shoes elongate my legs and bring attention to my sharp calves, the nicely formed arches of my feet. My hair cascades down my hair back in soft natural copper waves, lending an air of slight wildness to my appearance.

Maxim claps his hands in approval. 'Beautiful,' he says. 'And I have something to... elevate things.'

'What do you have in mind?' I strut into his dressing room. He just smiles and pulls a decadent leather case from one of the many drawers.

'Open it,' he says, 'before our guests arrive.'

I lift the heavy lid. Nestled in velvet is a top-of-the-line, ultra-quiet vibrator. It's meant to sit in the panties and be worn around.

A smirk breaks out on my face.

'Do you think they'll try anything? With either of us?' I ask Maxim, testing the remote. 'Do they know that's kind of our thing?'

Maxim slides his hands around my waist and pulls me closer to him. He nuzzles my neck under my hair.

'Oh, they know,' he murmurs. My eyes instinctively roll back into my head. He takes the toy and, gazing into my eyes, slides it up my dress and into my panties. He maneuvers it slowly, our breath increasing, until the suction is placed right over my clit. He's breathing heavily and I'm clutching his lapels when my doorman's voice bleats over the intercom that the guests have arrived.

Maxim pulls back, waggles the remote at me.

'Guess we'll have to test it on the fly,' he says. My pussy pulses with desire as I adjust my dress and sweep my hair back over my shoulders.

The businessmen - Eric, Neil, and Austin - are all relatively inexperienced at navigating Dubai nightlife, so after our late dinner Maxim and I take the three of them to Verdi, the turn-of-the-century Bohemian-inspired club that has a burlesque section in the back room for those who can partake and wish to. Maxim keeps his hand on my thigh the whole night, his fingers hypnotically stroking my skin. He didn't use the toy during dinner, but as the show is gearing up and the orchestra is playing, I see him reach into his suit coat pocket. He winks at me and immediately I feel a deep buzzing in my panties, against my clit. The music is loud enough that it can't be heard, but the suction is still powerful enough to make me close my eyes and squeeze Maxim's thigh. I flex my inner muscles, inviting the pleasure in in waves. I want to make this last as long as I can. As slowly and sneakily as I can, I start to move my hips slowly back and forth, grinding on the vibrator. Slowly, slowly, grinding my clit against that vibration.

On stage the burlesque dancers are miming a threesome. A fourth dancer joins, then a fifth. They're writhing in a full-on simulated orgy when I notice that Eric, on the other side, is stroking Maxim's thigh. He catches me looking, and I wink at him. He turns pink and grins, a little shy. Well, I think, he won't be shy for long.