MASQUE - PROLOGUE

Please enjoy the prologue from my new novel series "MASQUE" which will be published this year. I will post the 1st chapter later. It's similar to 50 Shades but in its own right, different. (For Neusa Reis & 50 Tons de Amizade Eu amo todos vocês)

PROLOGUE

Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge are all founded on lust.

Marquis De Sade

Los Angeles. This is a town where many relationships don’t last longer than your lunch. You either wade through them expertly or you sink and become someone’s next meal. It was Los Angeles that beat me down, ripped my family apart, tossed me so far out that my sore ass ended up in France as a 14 year old in a fucking boarding school. Yet, despite all this, I fucking love this town! It is home. Because of her, I learned not only to survive, but to thrive. You know the saying: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

A big part of my success is that I can read most everyone as clear as if I could hear their thoughts; I know what they want of me before they utter a single word. In fact, most of them are tiresomely predictable. I don’t have to hear their dull thoughts to know what they are thinking, wanting, desiring, craving, lusting after. It’s always the same: Money, privilege, sex, power. But most of all, I know what I want out of them and how to get it… that is if I want anything.

I’m in my hideaway, at the Sailor’s Knot, located in a very exclusive neighborhood, atop the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I have learned to harness my physical strength and my proclivity to be the alpha among alphas through extreme sports and extreme fucking: both providing release, control and a euphoric high. This is not just my fuckpad; it’s the place where I can completely be myself. The control it gives me, curbs and conceals my primal strength, keeping it just beneath the surface. The Sailor’s Knot in a way binds and satiates the unrelenting beast within me, so that only the steely control is displayed to the world. The room that the villa is named after is on the top floor. I’m here for the fifth day in a row this week to cage this inexplicable restless energy. This insatiable longing and the rabid emptiness have created this burst of helpless anger, an edginess I can’t shake off.

I have a way to nurse this mood, a way to distract it, tied up in the other room with her favorite leather handcuffs, panting, and hungry for my cock, soaking wet for me to fuck her seven ways into next week. I toss my jacket onto a chair, loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt. They join my jacket on the chair. I remove my shoes then socks and finally my pants and boxers come off. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I turn to look at myself, my own blue eyes look back at me. I’m here to give and receive pleasures only a few can even perceive. I’m neither deaf nor blind to what gossip magazines and online media outlets call me: sex god, carnal legend, concupiscent dream. It’s enough to crook my little finger to have any woman at my feet. What do they see when they look at me?

I try to look at myself through the eyes of a stranger. The dark waves of my hair have gotten a little overlong, but it’s not quite a mane yet. My jaw is square, cheekbones are high, and the blue of my eyes are of my mother’s. My body is thickly muscled reflecting the hard workout regimen I put myself through daily. My arms lay on my side, my palms open. The few faint raised scars left by the welt of the cat-o-nine-tails on my left side from years ago looks like battle scars. I know there are matching lines on my back as well. I circle my neck around to stretch and get my mind focused on the night ahead with one of my submissives in the Sailor’s Knot waiting to please me and to be pleased.

 I like them waiting. Their anticipation of sexual pleasures to come is a turn on for both of us. I put on my black leather pants, form fitting black shirt and make my way towards the Sailor’s Knot walking bare footed. When I walk into the very large room, she’s harnessed on the bed, leather handcuffs securing her arms to her knees. Her ass is lifted up in air. She is wearing black thigh high silk stockings clipped onto a black lace garter belt only as per my usual requirement. My move into the room gets her breathing hard with excitement.

“May I request the riding crop Master Maverick?” she asks. She belongs to The Mask, a branch of a Parisian sex club right here in Los Angeles. All of the five submissives I prefer to be with, whom my ex Lei calls Sirens Five are members in this club. Being men and women of power, prestige and high profiles, none of the members of the club uses their real name. Just like the club’s name suggests, they utilize aliases to mask their real identities. My father used to call me Maverick when I was little, maybe because I got in a little too much trouble at school and with friends. When I joined the Parisian sex club Le Masque, it was the nickname I decided to use, Melville “Maverick” Pequod.

“No. Not today. I have other plans with that delectable ass of yours,” I say and caress her inner thigs and buttocks. I want her on the sex swing today. I walk towards the western side of the room facing towards the glass wall made of tempered, bullet proof, and opaque glass for privacy overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Then gaze at the infinity pool right outside the glass and somehow thoughts of the past flow with the waters.

What would have happened to me if Lei didn’t teach me how to master this beast? She had been a great teacher as a Dom. In any Dom-sub relationship, the Dom must be able to read the body language since the sub doesn’t do much talking. Nine years older than I am, she was more experienced in the scene because she was her husband’s submissive. She in return took me under her wing and taught me how to control each urge instead of letting one or the other need consume me in a destructive manner. She helped me channel them. But we were not a couple until eight years ago. That only lasted for three years. I broke things off with her after she forced me to be shared with another Mistress to push my limits. Some people are a switch. They can fit the roles of being a Dominant as well as a submissive. Always looking for ways to have the ultimate control, I’m not cut out to submit to anyone. It was however what I needed when I was in my teens. I know she was attempting to control my reins. It’s a game I have mastered well.

Lei, shortened from Leira, is a shrewd business woman. She is hardly the Virgin Mary her name references. In fact, at almost forty, there isn’t a virginal bone in her well-chiseled body. She recreated herself as Lei, She, and in doing so, she personified everything feminine, just like her name Lei suggests in Italian. Classy, wealthy, beautiful and she has impeccable taste. The fashion industry can’t seem to get enough of her elegance. Had she lived during the Renaissance times, she would have definitely been the king’s courtesan, influencing the entire court with her sexual abilities she had acquired in the underground sex clubs. But that is a desirable skill in any period of time. Aside from her sexual prowess in Dom-sub relationships, Lei also inherited a valuable title as Baronessa, style, and beautiful genes through her family which opened doors that would have otherwise been closed. And what God didn’t give her, she acquired the rest through the talented hands of the world renowned plastic surgeons, carefully selecting her favorite breasts, buttocks, cheekbones, ears, tummy, arms and legs from the catalogs and becoming a collage of a perfected version of herself like the countless others.

Seven years ago, she had seen an old, established brand going bankrupt, bought it out with the help of my investment, restructured it, and rebranded it as Lei. After she added her modern yet classy and sophisticated clothing designs, Lei became the hottest fashion brand for elite women around the world. She and I parted ways in sex, but remained friends in business.

 The edge of the room flows flawlessly outward that all you can see is the ocean, and it gives you the feeling as if you’re at the edge of a cliff or on a ship. But the rest of the room is anything but ship-like. The rest of the room doesn’t have four straight walls. Dark matte silver and gold colors accented with red are dominant in the room keeping the lighting to a soft minimum.

I eye the bondage table, Berkley Horse, X cross, rope-play suspension frame, four poster leather bed and suspensions spread systematically throughout the ceiling along with restraints, paddles, flogs and canes. Yes, I know exactly how I want to start. I turn the stereo on and let the music echo around the room. Then I close the door to the Sailor’s Knot to satiate those Undisclosed Desires that Muse started singing about. Let the fun and games begin.