Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

I didn't even know they had this kind of shop in Breckenridge, although we had to go down a narrow lane to find it.

He bought me a cock ring. The top of the line, the man said. An Esculpta, the greasy-looking man behind the counter said, as he leered at me, looking back and forth between me and the gray-eyed man, knowing exactly who was doing what to the other. I picked out a black overlapping tube with silver lions' heads at each end.

The man said he was sorry that he didn't have it in gold—that gold would suit my golden blond looks so well, he said, leer permanently in place. I knew he was imagining me in it and what he'd like to do with me when I was wearing it. But he didn't look like a big-cock man to me.

"And you, sir?" the greasy one, turning knowing eyes on my companion. "Perhaps some cock jewelry to add a certain . . . sensuality?"

"Already covered," came the terse answer, and I saw the man's eyebrows go up and his hand steal down his belly and below the top of the counter.

So, the man with the gray eyes—he still wouldn't tell me his name—bought me a gold lamé G string. And also lacy black bikini briefs. And, I gasped at this, a rope of graduated silver balls.

Before we left the shop, Mr. Gray Eyes exercised his control over me. When the greasy-looking clerk had his back turned to us and was working the cash register, my man came up close behind me, palmed my belly and whispered in my ear, "I want you to climb up on that counter, open your legs for the clerk, and let me watch him fuck you. He obviously wants to fuck you, and I'd like to get a discount."

I had a knee up on the counter, because he pulled me back, gave a low laugh, and told me he was just kidding.

I passed Tony in the lobby of the lodge when we returned. The man had said he would go in first and I should follow in ten minutes. It turned out to be a good decision. It's not one I would have thought to make, but it was a good one. I didn't mind that he had made it.

Tony gave me a worried look. "You missed the date at the lift. I haven't seen you on the slopes today."

"No you haven't," I said, not saying anything further because I didn't know what to say. I knew that Tony had been speaking with Rupert, trying to clear up our spat. I didn't want him to get any further into this subject. Tony didn't know the half of what Rupert's beef with me was.

"You haven't been giving yourself to some stud here just because he crooked his finger at you, have you?"

How did he know? How did all of them know? And, no, he hadn't crooked his finger. He'd nodded his head and looked at me with interesting eyes. And he'd palmed my belly and shown me that he was horse hung. And, no, I don't know why I was giving in to him so easily—on all of his wild ideas. All I knew is that he understood me, knew my erogenous buttons, and had a big dick and knew how to use it to make me melt.

"See you at happy hour at least?" Tony asked, with a sigh.

"Sure," I said, wondering if my happy hour was going to start before his did.

It was and it did. I wore the gray-eyed man's purchases. He took photos of me doing so. Then he fucked them off me, taking photos during that process too.

I probably should have called a halt to the photo of me on my belly and the half of the rope of graduated silver balls inside my ass. But I didn't.

I made no decisions the entire afternoon . . . or evening . . . or night. I was putty in his hands. And he had me six ways from Sunday. And he photographed most of it.

In the morning, he told me I should go ahead and get in some skiing—that he had other plans for the day.

I did ski, but I came back to the lodge early, early enough to see one of the lodge's SUVs drive up and the gray-eyed man descend from the passenger seat. And then a blonde woman, probably in her late thirties, but very well preserved, come out of the backseat, followed by two young children, both auburn-haired, just as the gray-eyed man once had been, both beautiful, smiling children. Both with the man's smile—and also with his gray eyes.

He looked at me and smiled before turning and shepherding his family into the lodge. No surprise that I saw him; no apologetic look.

That was that, I decided. It was over. I don't know if he decided it was over or I did. It didn't matter, I would decide it was over even if he didn't.

Later in the afternoon, I saw the family out on the terrace of the lodge. They were strapping on skis. Or, rather, most of them were—the wife and the two children. The gray-eyed man was helping them on with the skis, but he wasn't dressed for skiing as they were. And he stood there and waved them away toward the bunny slope.

And I stood there and watched him, waiting, but not knowing that I was waiting. Certainly not deciding to wait. If I'd even thought about it, I probably wouldn't know why I was waiting. For an explanation? For an apology? To ask if he really was Jacques LeGrand and would be putting my nude sex photos in a book? To ask him if he wanted the Esculpta cock ring back so he could wear it himself when he fucked his young, submissive wife?

Whatever, the decision had been made. It was finished. His fun was over.

He must have seen me, because when the family was out of sight, he turned and entered the lobby and walked right to me.

"Now. Your room or mine? I say your room. It would be safer."

Still making the decisions.

He fucked me in my room. Then and later and the next day too.