Thread: Paradise Isle  (Fades & Good Girls)

It was such a unique, endlessly interesting situation, this. This knowing nothing of a person other than her public persona, then 'meeting' her on stage in what was still very much a show, lights, cameras and a live audience to boot, and having to read between the lines of her demeanor to glimpse at the true her. Then, moments later, she was stripped naked in front of that public audience and pledging herself to him, mind, heart and body. If he was lucky, maybe even soul. Twice now. The only thing that had been tighter than Ariana's white-knuckled grip in those intense, four forever-long seconds, was Jeffrey's grip around her, and the carefulness in which the searing brand had been held against her naked chest. Her body would react, he knew, in the most basic ways a human could, but if even the slightest mar would be allowed to happen, it would not be her fault, but his. So he held her. Tight. Close. Furiously firm, in wordless appreciation of the one-time-only canvas she was giving him right then. His blue eyes had been closed the whole time he held her, from right before hot iron kissed upon perfectly tanned Sicilian-American flesh, to all throughout, to the end, where the walnut-handled branding iron was dropped to the stage in just a haphazard manner as before, rolling away whilst she whimpered, hiccuped and cried in a manner more befitting little girls than big ones. But she had every right to be so, in that moment, and just as he'd done with Emilia before her, he held Ariana in his arms, both loving and protective. After those first few seconds of just holding her close, Jeffrey opened his eyes. And the world...was cracked? He blinked. There were lines going across the crowd, horizontal and diagonal and- oh. Oh! He blinked a few times. He smirked. His smirk grew into a smile, and even as she melted back into his hug, pathetically sobbing out an intimate apology, Jeffrey's face beamed with pride. For during her branding, it seemed as if his little Ariana had, with no exaggeration, cracked his glasses with the immense pitch of her musical, siren-like shriek. But before he could say anything, even as he'd parted his lips to tell her the words, it was her mouth he'd heard a single, soft, very vulnerable word slip out. Daddy. And it was then that he noticed the rest, that his little Ariana was knuckles-deep in her pretty vagina, unabashedly masturbating for the world to see as pain like she'd never known surely throbbed upon her breast. He said nothing, initially. He let it happen. Right to the end of her 'performance,' it was clear this whole time that it had been Ariana's stage and she wouldn't be one-upped on it, so like a good roadie, Jeffrey set about his next task in a way that would hopefully draw the eyes of none to him, and allow them to all be on her. The hand freed by having discarded the iron went down the smooth, beautifully-hued skin of her thigh, guiding her legs further apart at the knees as best he could, putting the former princess' lewd act on display to the fullest. His other, having been in a hug around her waist, no longer needed to hold so tight. As she laid into his embrace he brought that hand up, up over her ribs, over that always bellissima , fingers spreading enough to loosely cup around her perky breast, and one reaching further than the others, teasing at the softness of her nipple. Again, all eyes were on her. All lenses were on her. His touches, simple as they were, were wordless means of encouragement. This moment had been unexpected, yet thoroughly interesting, and something he would bank away for later. For now, he held his newest pretty thing, even as the climax of her self-teasings saw her buck and whimper in a way that highlighted her vulnerability all over again. He held her, letting her ride it out. Caressing her nipple. Not allowing her knees to close in a bout of last-minute modesty. Cyclops-eyed cameras were everywhere, feasting on her lewd display. One woman had even come right up against the stage, holding the microphone right at its edge, not more than a foot from Ariana's slippery digits, allowing their schlick schlick schlick to be captured for posterity. When it was over, it was over. His touch on her breast went back to a hug around her waist, letting her tired body lay against him as it wished. His touch on her knee closed her legs up, took her by the wrist, and brought that more slender hand out from her perfectly-kept crotch, glistening lewdly with a sticky spider web of her own shiny lust dangling between its digits. We'll have to talk about this later, with a husky chuckle. The one arm left her waist again, letting her lay against him, and reached up past her, to his own face. For now, though, bringing his hand back forth. Daddy's girl has earned herself a trophy. He took off the earth-tone brown Armani designer glasses, the lenses still held together but notably cracked in several ways, and set them upon the bridge of Ariana's nose, sliding the arms back atop her ears, disappearing in her hair. Do try to not make a habit of it, though, my dear? Another chuckle. The Ariana Show wasn't quite, quite quite over just yet, though. Jeffrey still held a very lewd, slender hand at the wrist, and he hadn't gotten so far in life through being wasteful. He lifted her touch just past her head, to his, to his mouth, where he wrapped his lips around one of those perfectly-manicured fingers, slipping them, his lips, his tongue, his warm breath, down all the way to her knuckle. Then back up. Then back down. Then up again, and he sucked at it briefly from the side, and licked at the little crevice of space between two fingers, enjoying every drop of Ariana's cum-covered hand that he'd determined was 'his.' Not all of it was, though, and no sooner was he done than he was 'offering' it to her, bringing that second slick, slimy finger to the brunette's own lips. You did wonderful, honey. He kissed at the back of her head. But you're not done, explained in a voice that was almost apologetic. You're almost almost, okay? You have one last thing. Just one more. I know it hurts right now, but you've got one more thing to do. Just like Emilia. See how she is? Knelt, showing off her new mark? ...You're a slave now, and I want you to show off that choice you made proudly. Carefully, but purposefully, he placed both hands on the back of Ariana's shoulders and held her up enough that he could slip out from beneath her, before either laying her down or letting her prop herself up. He slid back, a bit gracelessly, shifted to a kneel, and stood back up straight, straightening his deep burgundy silk button-down shirt as he smiled to the crowd. Jeffrey kept his smiling gaze out toward their audience as he backstepped, and sidestepped, until he could lean over the podium and exclaim, Miss Ariana, everyone! ...In case anyone didn't catch it with the unannounced performance going on, that little banshee cracked my glasses when she screamed! This brought out a round of laughter from all in attendance. But akin to perfect clockwork, as the laughter settled and he kept adjusting his shirt, fixing his collar now, an aide stepped out from backstage, holding out a black case with its top flipped up, which Jeffrey reached in to pluck up a spare pair. But ah, two can play at that game - I was an Eagle Scout in my youth, and we always come prepared! Another chuckle from the gallery as he set the new pair upon his features, the aide stepping to the side, back to backstage. ...And can you believe we're only halfway in?! Having finished adjusting the glasses, his arm shot out in a flourish. Introducing the next that yearned to be here this day - to promise something to me, and proclaim it to all of you - Miss Madelaine Petsch!