Thread: Paradise Isle  (Fades & Good Girls)

Everything about this chick was bold, from her increasingly outgoing actions and words down to the simple, inescapable view of moon-kissed pale skin contrasting with her two sets of sun-kissed red hair. It was the former, though, the actions and words, braver and more honest and out there by the moment, that had his mind alight, his chest rising and falling as her diva moment with the crowd continued on. Jeffrey took notice of everything, from how Madelaine claimed control of everyone's attention irrelevant to the fact that it had been hers to begin with, as if it was not so much a matter of whose turn it was, but of an indirect competition with those who had come before, and one who was yet to come after. He watched her wrap everyone around her slender finger, himself perhaps not wholly exempt from such a claim either, and then proceed to keep them on edge, the dramatic tearing of her dress far from having been the culmination of her act. He watched as she bent, very, very clearly showing off a rear end to him that she must have been very, very proud of, for one such as it did not come without a very, very perfect combination of genetics and hard work both. His breath came in slow, though his nostrils as he watched and listened, chest rising, remaining a man of discipline, of control, and exiting his body the same way. He watched her snatch the still-glowing branding iron, the very tool which was to lay final claim to her, body and soul, and wave it about as if any other prop, this a stage production. Jeffrey's breathing remained in that forced, focused calm, while the crowd gasped here and there, while Miss Madelaine treated it like a cane, or a bat, or a fencer's foil. Somewhere in his mind he knew, with all certainty, that this was all that it would be, yet another means to rapt attention with. But somewhere in his mind, equally, he knew, he wasn't about to put it beyond this wild, untamed ginger to quite literally brand herself and collapse into his arms, or at his feet, in a moment so definitive it defied being topped. This time was hers, however she wished to spend it, and Jeffrey harbored no interest in refraining any of these ladies from presenting their truest selves publicly. If any needed to be molded to his liking, that would come later - the 'wedding night,' as opposed to the 'ceremony' or 'reception.' He just listened, and watched, utilizing the fullest amount of his concentration to concentrate entirely on nothing at all. Not her beautiful shoulders, and the way her red tresses danced down their middle with every movement. Not the small of her back, the curve of her hips, the shape of her ass or the thighs it all gave way to underneath. Not even her words were safe to fully focus on, lest her talk of being 'a rich man's happy little fucktoy' be the catalyst that left him engorged in a way that left a gentleman slim room for denial. It was not even the embarrassment of being fully aroused on stage that he wished to avoid - one of his little darlings had just publicly fingerfucked herself to completion, after all - but the power game of such. Much as each of these starlets was well aware of the games to be played in Hollywood, or the recording industry, the business world was no different. He was in charge. That was to be the public perception at all times, and would continue into their privacy later. If any of his new pretties were in charge for any period of time, it is because he allowed them to be, such as now, and even took joy in seeing them flourish warm, lively, bright. When her song and dance was done, Jeffrey met his newest addition to the family with a warm smile, blue eyes set upon her browns. The handle on offer was accepted, dark walnut that was becoming quite familiar to his touch, keeping eye contact with Madelaine as his fingers slowly wrapped around, then took hold of the handle. My dear, he spoke lightly. Not a whisper. But the microphone was not near enough to him, hot mic or no, so these were words only for them. Congratulations...you've gotten to me. But, not enough that I'm willing to let them see me sweat, he snickered. Jeffrey's free hand came up to cover the top of the microphone, just in case she were to get any sudden, funny ideas mid-sentence. You are full of life, and enrapturing, and there is a part of me that wants to bend you over right now, saving the Earth and riding a redhead right up her astounding ass. Eye contact, the entire time. Maybe more than one part. But, make no mistake... His hand left its place covering the microphone, moving to Madelaine's wrist. Miss Liberal Elite. It smoothed up, first her forearm, then gliding its touch to her bicep. Miss Hippie Girl. It came up to her shoulder. Then, quickly, his smile grew to a firm expression, and his touch grew to a grip, which evolved into a shove. In one fell movement the taller, stronger of the pair forced the more slender sex into a haphazard spin - handle that graciously, there on those heels - which he then recaptured her during with that same hand, fingers splayed, grasping roughly around her jaw and face as she faced outwardly now, toward the crowd. His chest was immediately to Madelaine's back. He bent a knee, if only to force her into an even more awkward position, bending backward, feet just barely touching the stage till while her gaze and her pair of aroused peaks pointed toward the bright lights above. And then it was the iron that kissed her next, just above her left breast. 'Still hot' wasn't a question it singed, it seared, it created smoke above the wicked curve of the redhead's body in a way that was both immediate and wholly visceral. One second. You. Two seconds. are. Three seconds. my happy little fucktoy, now. Four, just like the others. He dropped the branding iron to the stage. And I hope, sincerely, in time, we can add to that a giggle-filled love and a bright-eyed warmth whenever we're near, that becomes a river both bottomless and unending... His free arm wrapped around Madelaine's body, hugging tight. The hand on her face loosened its harsh hold, regressing to a tender caress now, a finger even stroking lightly at a cheek. In the meantime, with a several-seconds-long kiss to the side of her face. Be a good girl. Finish stripping and go join your sisters. The hug maintained, not about to drop the porcelain vase that was his newest acquisition at a time - and, frankly, an angle - where she likely wouldn't be able to maintain it on her own. Jeffrey held her to him as his one-legged kneel became two-legged, carefully guiding Madelaine till she was settled down on the stage with him, even if gracelessly. Arms loosened, and a gentle pet of her full-length hair ensued, several strokes that the flashing bulbs in attendance all managed to catch even if this moment of human tenderness was not necessarily for them. Jeffrey leaned over, on his hands and knees now, another kiss to Madelaine's head, and then sat up, where he patted her butt in a 'get on with it' manner. Then, simply, the iconic businessman who had made two Guinness World Records for gracing more magazine covers in 2017 than any other celebrity spanning the globe, ever, and then breaking it again in 2018, stood, brushed himself off, straightened his shirt, straightened his pants, and went for the microphone, ready and set to casually carry on. As if branding the flesh of three naked women after each had sworn lifelong loyalty and enslavement to him was just another smiling day at the office.