(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/75/Matigroves125square.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Mati Groves</span></span><br/><strong>Location</strong>: The Fairmont, Mati's room<br/><strong>With</strong>: Paulette Lisette Saint-Simon<br/><br/><br/>Mati had been hardened by life.  Toughened by years in bars, and back streets, and then under lights and being never alone in a dressing room, toughened to the delights of pretty women and the seductions of a pretty melody.<br/><br/>Yet she moved him.  Nude, drugged, bound, after goodness knows what treatment, something of all her life and her ordeals lived in her, in her singing, and moved him.<br/><br/>The drugginess bothered him though.  Perhaps they needed to do that to their slaves here, to make them desirous and compliant.<br/><br/>'D'you know what, Paulette,  I think we'll begin again with you?'  He wiped the last of his breakfast from his lips and went to begin to untie her bonds.  'I daresay I have a supply of your drugs with your delivery...but it does show in your singing.'  His fingers couldn't resist tracing the deep marks the ropes had made in her flesh: at her ankles, and the tops of her thighs.  'Don't get me wrong,' caressing her face, touching her cheek, expecting to see anxiety there, but meeting only the blank stare of the Venus or whatever it was, ' I liked your singing.  But, see, what I liked in it were the profound traces of you in there.  You yourself.  We need to burrow down into that, if you're going to be of use to me.'<br/><br/>He unfolded her, his gift to himself.  There she was, naked, glistening, marked by rope and the sad shadows of old bruises.<br/><br/>He took her hand, and helped her up.  She was weak on her feet.  'Come with me.  I need to wash away the traces of your old master on you.'<br/><br/>He led her to the bathroom, shedding his own gown on the way.  They squeezed into the shower together.  He saw his body, in the glass panels, he saw himself, old, against her youth.  He didn't feel regret: he gloried in it.  She was his.<br/><br/>He showered her clean.  From hair to toe, from breasts to buttocks, from back to belly, from cunt to crown of head he washed her clean – 'No, let me' – stopping her washing herself, taking possession of every delectable millimetre of her.<br/><br/>And only when she was soaked, soaped, rinsed, and dried, and they stood together both naked, only then he took hold of her hair and said, 'Sing to me.  Sing to my prick.'  He lowered her in front of him, to her knees.  'Sing my name, Mati, to my prick, which you lick and suck while you sing, just my name, Ma-ti...' - and as she began he said, 'At least a thousand times, Paulette, I shall count, you will temper your licking and sucking and singing accordingly, if it's less than a thousand before you make me cum in your mouth I shall whip you with the towel directly on your cunt and if it's a thousand or more before you make me cum I shall take you out into the streets of Monte Carlo and buy you a body harness made of silver chain, and any treat you desire,' his desire already rising in him, oh, did he want to whip her or treat her like a queen?  He hardly knew already...