“But you spent tonight—more than once.”
She looked up at him. “It was forced upon me.”
He returned a wry smile. “Not entirely, madam.”
She looked down once more. She must know she had played no small part in what had transpired.
“Do you mean to tell me that you had never spent till now?” he inquired.
She nodded without meeting his gaze. He was silent in disbelief. He knew his wife to be uncomfortable with him in bed, but he had assumed she at least knew how to pleasure herself.
“Then this is an occasion worth celebrating,” he said at last.
“Celebrate a sin?” she replied with dismay.
“You enjoyed spending, did you not?” he asked, approaching her.
At his nearness, she sat at attention.
Hoping to jolt her out of her guilt and remorse, he said in a stern tone, “Answer me.”
She gave a tentative nod.
“With words.”
“I did.”
“And do you wish to spend again?”
“No…or, perhaps…”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then touch yourself.”
She hesitated.
“There will be a price to pay if you do not follow my directions promptly.”
At that, she placed her hand between her thighs.
“Now stroke yourself.”
Timidly, she grazed her middle finger along her folds.
Crossing his arms, he stood directly in front of her. “Spread your legs wider.”
She followed his directive less tentatively this time. The area of his groin tightened to see the supple lips of her cunnie.
“Do you feel that nub in the center?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what it is called?”
“No, sir.”
“The clitoris. Do you know it has no bodily function but that of generating pleasure? Its nature is purely carnal. It enjoys being touched, does it not?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? Then you must attend it more properly.”
Stepping toward her, he pushed her hand more forcefully into her flesh. She gasped.
“Stroke yourself in earnest,” he directed.
“But… this – this ought to be a private act.”
“This what?”
“This touching of oneself.”
“There is a name for such an act. Do you know what it is?”
She flushed.
“You know the word. Say it.”
She blushed even deeper, and he could not resist triumphing a little in her discomfort.
“You make me wait too often, my dear,” he warned.
“M—Masturbation,” she mumbled.
“You allowed me to touch you there earlier. How is this different?”
“Because it is. Because you're standing there, doing nothing but watching.”
He grinned. “It distresses you?”
“To say the least!”
He chuckled. “Then let us do it together. If it will ease your distress to know that I too have employment.”
He unbuttoned his fall and pulled out his stiff erection. She glanced away in modesty at first but then stole several glances at his cock. He rubbed himself until his shaft was at full length. She was now staring at it, taking in the flare of the head and the ridges of the shaft.
“You will fondle yourself, and I will do the same,” he said. “Now, my dear.”
Her lashes fluttered but she resumed stroking herself.
“That is not so hard, is it?” he inquired. “Does your clitoris not enjoy your petting?”
Her brow furrowed. Her caresses had become more purposeful.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Address me properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Have you noticed how swollen it is? It wants more of your touch. It is a greedy, wanton little bud. We must attend its need, its purpose. For our efforts, it will return that most divine of carnal bliss.”
“I could not—I have never—”
“But you shall. We shall not stop until you do.”
She frowned in worry.
“Lie back and close your eyes,” he advised, “but continue your caresses.”
She did as he bid.
“Now with your other hand, you will take a breast and squeeze it, caress it, exalt in the lushness of your flesh.”
His cock was hard as flint as he watched her naked form displayed upon the bed, one hand of hers upon the breast, the other between her legs.
“But how naughty of you to be touching yourself in such fashion.”
Her eyes flew open. “But you told me—”
He smiled. “And how naughty of you to enjoy it. But you are a naughty little wench are you not, Tru—truly?”
He had nearly spoken her name.
“For only the naughtiest of wenches would come to a place like the Château Follett,” he continued. “Only sluts would spend for a man not their husband.”
She whimpered. He should have refrained from making such a statement. He had to be careful for he did not want her guilt to interfere with her arousal.
“Tell me you are a naughty wench.”
“I am a naughty wench.”
“Louder.”
“I am a naughty wench!”
Her fingers quickened against herself.
“Tell me you are a wanton.”
“I am a wanton.”
“Now make yourself spend.”
She agitated her fingers fiercely against her clitoris.
“Are you close to spending, my dear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then look at me. I want to see into your eyes when you spend.”
She gazed at him but soon lost focus as her arousal climbed toward its peak. Her mouth fell open. Her brows knit. Her back arched. Then came the spasms, the trembles of her body falling over the precipice. A soft cry accompanied the paroxysm.
“That, my dear, was a beautiful sight,” he said after the last of the quivering had left her body and she had relaxed into the bed. He stroked his hardened desire. “And now you will attend my arousal.”
* * * *
“You should appear more eager, my dear,” he said of her slight frown. “For our sex, seeing a woman desirous of our member does much to inflate our pride.”
“What is it you wish me to do?” she asked, a touch nervous.
He gestured to the floor before him. “Come here.”
She climbed off the bed.
“On your knees.”
Thus situated, her mouth was at the perfect height. He stroked himself as he took a step toward her. His member was stiff and inches from her face. She kept her eyes demurely downcast.
“Look at it. Is it not a beautiful instrument?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Admire it.”
She fixed her gaze, slightly cross eyed, at the pole pointed at her.
“With words,” he clarified.
“It is a beautiful instrument.”
“Did you enjoy having it inside of you?”
When she hesitated and looked away, he jolted her to attention by tugging her chin up.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me you enjoyed having me inside you.”
“I enjoyed having you inside me.”
“Did you spend upon my member?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
She returned a puzzled look.
“Why did you enjoy having me inside you? Why did you spend?”
After a moment of thought, she answered, “Because I am a wanton?”
“Well said. Your intelligence pleases me. Since you enjoy a man’s member, I shall grant you more of it. You will take me into your mouth.”
She balked. “Again?”
�
��You will learn to take it properly. Your husband will thank me for it. Do you not wish to please your husband?”
“I do, but…what you ask…”
“Is what? Wrong? Wanton? Devilish? It is all that, but trust me, your husband will have a newfound appreciation for you if you acquire this skill.”
She did not appear convinced.
“The swallowing of a man’s member is one of the greatest gifts you can give your husband in the bedchamber.”
A drop of seed had leaked from the tip of his erection. He rubbed it over the head.
“Now open your mouth.”
Still dubious, she stared at his shaft. He pinched her nose shut, forcing her to take in air through her mouth. When her lips parted, he shoved himself between them. She started gagging immediately.
He gripped the back of her head. “It would have gone more smoothly had you obeyed me with promptness.”
While holding her head in place, he gave her a reprieve and withdrew himself from her mouth. “Now if you wish me to go slowly and gently, you will do a better job of obeying. Do you understand?”
“Yes… sir.”
“Now let us try that again. Open your mouth.”
She opened her mouth, and he placed the crown of his cock inside her orifice.
“Now close your lips, not your teeth, about the tip.”
He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath when her moist heat encased him. He had not fully expected she would comply but was thrilled with her present acquiescence, even if she did not know that it was her own husband's cock she took.
“Now a little more,” he said, pushing another inch into her. “You will find it easier if you stay relaxed.”
He slid the second inch into her. The rubbing of his cock upon her tongue was heavenly. But she started to gag. He pulled out of her and waited for her to collect herself.
“I cannot do it,” she protested.
“You can and you will. If you have the patience to learn how to play the Concerto in C Major by Mozart, you have the ability to learn to swallow a man’s member. Let us try again.”
She parted her lips. He replaced his cock and attempted three inches this time. She gagged once more.
“Relax,” he reminded her.
But their next attempt led to more gagging and coughing.
“Stand up,” he decided.
With relief, she scrambled to her feet. He reached a hand between her thighs and caressed the moist flesh there. She gave a soft moan. He fondled her clitoris, slick with the nectar of her arousal, till she panted and whimpered. He slid a digit into her quim. She was a furnace of desire.
“My God,” he breathed. “Do you know how hot and wet you are?”
“No, sir,” she replied weakly.
When he curled his finger and stroked, she gasped. He fit a second digit in while his thumb took over the ministrations upon her clitoris. Her body began to tremble.
“It would seem you wish to spend again, my slut,” he noted after several minutes. “Do you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you must earn the privilege.”
He pushed her back down onto her knees and pointed his cock at her mouth. “Open.”
Like a hatchling waiting for nourishment, she opened her mouth. He placed himself inside her. She stifled her gag and closed her lips about his shaft. She had but half his length, but it felt wondrous. He fisted his hand into her hair and pushed more of himself in. He could see her fighting the urge to choke.
“Relax,” he urged in a soothing tone, “and keep your mouth closed. Yes, like that. Good.”
Slowly, he withdrew, relishing the tug of her lips upon his girth. As gently as he could, he eased himself back in. For a moment, he savored the sensation of being cradled upon her tongue before repeating the motion, making sure he did not push too far. When she became more accustomed to having him in her mouth, he attempted more. His cods were boiling, and he had to clench the muscles of his arse to keep from shoving into her. Pulling out, he saw his shaft glisten with her saliva.
He replaced his erection in her mouth. When she wrapped her lips about him and sucked, shivers went down his legs. He did his best to take her mouth gently, but she felt too delightful. His ardor had waited long enough. He began thrusting more vigorously, more deeply. She gagged when his tip hit the back of her throat. He tried his best to more gently, though it was no easy feat when he was but a hair’s length from rapture.
He erupted. With a roar, he bucked his hips. Unable to keep pace, she pushed herself away. He released her and stumbled back, quakes ravaging his body. As this was her first time taking cock, she could not best his mistress, but the fact that it was Trudie and the wicked satisfaction he received from compelling his unfaithful wife into an act of such wantonness was surprisingly titillating.
Letting out a haggard breath, he knelt before her. With his seed glistening upon her lips and chin, she was a lovely sight. He kissed the top of her brow. “Well done, my dear. You have a fortunate husband.”
She surprised him with a small smile. He returned it with his own. He was not finished with her. She had shown great promise, and there was much he had in store for her. Hers was going to be a long night, but one that would be worth her while.
CHAPTER NINE
NEVER BEFORE COULD TRUDIE have imagined finding herself in such degradation. She half knelt, half lay with her face down upon the bed and her derrière propped in the air. Her ankles were spread and tied to opposing bedposts, and her arms were pinned beneath her body. A stocking of hers had been used to tie her wrists between her knees. In this position, with not a shred of clothing upon her, she was exposed in a most lewd and wanton fashion. As if to call attention to this, he blew upon her there. She felt his warm breath between her buttocks, upon the intimate folds and hairs just below her rump.
She shut her eyes, as if doing so could transport her to a different actuality. Had she truly agreed to this? Half of her wished her friend, Diana, would return and rescue her from this lewd position. The other half would be mortified for anyone to find her so displayed.
A warm and firm hand palmed her buttock. Her body nearly catapulted off the bed. Till tonight, no one had ever purposefully lain a hand upon her backside. Not even Leopold.
“Such a lovely arse,” he murmured. “There is much more we can do with its potential.”
Her face flushed to recall the spanking she had received at his hand. It was folly. Every bit of it. And yet, she found herself acquiescing.
Gently, he caressed the curve of a cheek before giving it a light slap. Her mind raced at what she ought to expect next from him. At times he had seemed vexed with her, and this unsettled her for she knew not why. He had seduced her with seeming deliberation. But perhaps he had hoped to find a better partner for his time here at Château Follet and was disgruntled that she was all that remained.
“Dear God,” she cried, shuddering, for he had touched the flesh between her thighs.
“The sensitivity of your body is unparalleled,” he remarked.
Her breath caught, and she could not speak, not even to plead that he be gentle with her.
She felt the bed lift with the removal of his weight. With the side of her head pressed into the bed, she could not see the part of the room he roamed.
Dread filled her as a giggle escaped her lips. Softness, perhaps that of a feather, brushed the bottom of her right foot.
“I had forgotten how ticklish you can be,” he murmured to himself.
She found the statement odd for they had not been in each other’s company for long, but she did not dwell upon for it for she was far too anxious at what he might do.
“This should prove amusing sport,” he said before grazing the plume against the bottom of her other foot.
She could not suppress the giggling and squirmed against her bonds. There was a reprieve. She curled her toes.
“The arch of the foot is among the most sensitive of body parts,” he explained a
nd demonstrated with more tickling.
“Oh! G—!”
Her words were swallowed by her own laughs. She could not contain herself. It was not possible to brace her feet against the onslaught. She wriggled and strained to get away. Just when she thought she could take no more, he withdrew. She took in several ragged breaths.
“Did you know a mere ostrich plume could prove so lethal a weapon?” he asked.
When she did not respond, he brushed the plume along a buttock. Though it was not as awful as the bottoms of her feet, she cried out.
“Yes! No!” she replied. “No, I did not.”
“I thank your bonnet for providing the implement, but worry not, I shall return the plume to the headdress when we are finished.”
She would have preferred that he did not. She needed no reminders of her time here and certainly no reminders of how he had used the plume upon her. He brushed the feather next over the curve of her back, making her gasp for breath. When he returned to stroking the plume across the arch of her foot, tears pressed against her eyes.
“Pl—Please!” she cried. “Enough!”
Pausing, he allowed her space to draw in much needed air. “Do you require your safety word?”
Her breath haggard, she considered the option.
“Perhaps we should stop altogether,” he said. “I had not intended a feather to prove such a punishment more exquisite lessons.”
Not wanting to appear ridiculous if tickling should prove too much abuse for her to take, she replied, “No. Please continue.”
The plume moved up her inner thigh, and she bore this better than upon the soles of her feet. Slowly, the plume neared her quim, teasingly close. She whimpered, remembering how it had felt to be pleasured by him there. She was mindful once more of how exposed she felt, her most intimate parts accessible by view and touch.
As if reading her thoughts, he followed the plume with his hand, grazing her thigh lightly. She quivered. Would he touch her intimately? As he had done in the piano room and several times after? She hoped not. Or did she?
His hand was warm and gentle upon her, but she was still unaccustomed to his caresses. Moreover, it was wrong. Despite having the word of safety, her bonds made her feel helpless. What if he chose not to honor the word of safety? He could do to her whatever he wished. It was foolish of her to have exposed herself thusly. He might discover her true identity.
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