Submitting to the Marquess

by Brown, Em Browint writing as Georgette

  “Remember you can speak the safety word at any time,” Halsten reminded Miss Herwood. “I will ensure its proper execution.”

  She nodded and slipped out of her shoes. “I trust your lordship.”

  He inhaled sharply. The statement meant more to him than he expected. He undid the pins of her dress. He waited, but she said nothing. Across the room, Isabella giggled as Devon tossed her garments away with flourish.

  Slowly, Halsten slid the garment from Miss Herwood’s shoulders. She kept her eyes downcast. He untied her petticoat next. It fell to the floor, leaving her in her chemise, stays, stockings and garters. Against the light of the fire, he could see the silhouette of her legs and the darkness of her garter through the thin chemise. Having engaged in a ménage-a-trois both in India and Chateau Follet, he was no stranger to sharing a woman. But he had no desire to share Miss Herwood—with anyone, let alone Lord Devon. Looking across the room, he found Devon eyeing Miss Herwood. Halsten would have done almost anything to bring pleasure to Miss Herwood, but at the moment he wanted nothing more than for her to utter the safety word and put an end to their situation.

  Isabella, in similar state of undress, glanced over to them. A small smile graced her colored lips, perhaps from espying that her own garments were visibly superior in quality or that her form had more classic feminine lines that that of Miss Herwood. Isabella’s stays supported pert alabaster breasts, and her chemise fell over youthful narrow hips. Seeing Halsten’s gaze, Devon smirked and ran both hands down Isabella’s pale, bare arms.

  Halsten returned his attention to Miss Herwood. Devon could believe whatever he wished, Halsten knew he had the better woman. He waited until Devon began unlacing Isabella’s stays before doing the same. Miss Herwood trembled slightly as he pulled at the ribbons.

  “Do you require the safety word?” he whispered into her ear.

  She shook her head.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  With a deep breath, he removed her stays. Any moment now she would be completely naked. Naked before that damnable Devon.

  But despite his loathing of their predicament, the ability of her beautiful body to arouse Halsten persevered. His groin tightened.

  Isabella cried out and giggled as Devon, aroused and impatient, stripped her shift away in awkward haste.

  “A feast for the eyes, eh, Rockwell?” Devon declared.

  Isabella attempted some modesty and covered her bosom with her arms, but Devon tore her arms away. Her shapely breasts, vaguely marked on the sides by the boning of the stays, stood at smart attention. Her rosy areolas constricted as her nipples hardened.

  “Your turn, Rockwell.”

  Miss Herwood stiffened and he wondered if perhaps his own discomfort was contagious. Perhaps she would fare better if he took a different approach and helped put her more at ease through arousal. He might be able to teach Devon, through demonstration, how better to handle a woman, how to attend to her pleasure.

  Halsten slid the shift down her shoulders and planted a soft kiss on her left shoulder. He ran a hand across her collarbone, then gripped the back of her neck, and tried to massage away the tension. Her head dropped lower, and he could feel her tightness loosen a little. Gently he pulled the shift down her breasts, exposing large brown areolas, down her ribs, and past her belly till it fell down her legs to the floor.

  Devon drank in the sight. “Are we not two of the luckiest chaps?”

  Halsten shot him a look to indicate he had no desire to converse with the man.

  Devon reached both hands around Isabella and tweaked her nipples. Isabella squealed.

  Halsten held each of Miss Herwood’s breasts in his hands and planted a reverential kiss upon one, then the other. He ran his thumbs over the nipples. They peaked in response to his touch.

  “These are quite a lovely sight,” he murmured. “Finer than a Titian or a Reuben.”

  He lifted one breast and tugged on the nipple with his mouth. He sensed her breathing become uneven. Her pupils had dilated, and the whites of her eyes had a shimmer.

  Good. She was adjusting.

  He pulled her naked body to him and took her mouth. One hand slid to cup her buttocks. She felt divine even through his clothes. From the corner of his gaze, he saw Devon do the same with Isabella. But instead of a choreographed dance of the lips and tongue, Devon mauled Isabella’s mouth, smearing her rouge and causing the flesh about her mouth to flush as if she had a rash.

  Halsten pushed his fingers through Miss Herwood’s hair and manipulated her head to taste her mouth from different angles. He had wondered how aroused he could be while occupying a room with a man he detested, but he could easily be consumed by Miss Herwood, his awareness of Devon repressed by his own growing ardor.

  “Let us free them of their final constraints,” Devon said.

  Garters were untied and stockings joined the other garments on the floor. Devon walked around Isabella.

  “Should you men not accompany us?” Isabella asked. “It is hardly fair that we are stripped to the buff and you not shed a single article of clothing.”

  Devon slapped her across the face. Isabella looked shocked, and Miss Herwood, who had hitherto avoided looking toward the other side of the room, glanced over sharply. Halsten clenched a first.

  “I did not give you permission to speak.”

  A contrite Isabella looked down at her feet.

  “Your safety word can be used at any moment,” Halsten told her, earning a glare from Devon.

  “Have you reviewed with her the rules you intend to employ?” Halsten asked Devon through clenched teeth.

  Devon waved a hand dismissively. “She shall learn in due time. The element of surprise will aid in their retention of the rules.”

  Devon looked over at Miss Herwood, who quickly glanced away. Her reaction incited the man to walk over to her. He circled her like a vulture over a carcass. Halsten felt every muscle in his body tense. If the varlet touched her in the slightest, he would cuff the man.

  “Lovely,” Devon smirked before returning to his side of the room. He pinched at Isabella’s nipples. “I think these require adornment.”

  He went over to a drawer and retrieved a pair of small clamps with weights dangling by small metal chains.

  “Has she worn them before?” Halsten interrupted. “If not, she should not start with the weighted clamps.”

  Both the women had eyes wide.

  “Are you their nanny?” Devon returned.

  “Do you remember the safety word?” Halsten demanded of the women.

  They both nodded.

  “Are you proposing that you and Miss Sherwood beg off on our arrangement? I would presume Miss Sherwood to be of possessed of too much honor to renege. And you as well, Rockwell.”

  With a silent oath, Halsten grabbed Miss Herwood from behind, pressed her to him, and reached for her clitoris. To apply the nipple clamps so soon to a novice without arousing them first was cruel. He rubbed her between the legs. It took longer as Miss Herwood was not completely at ease still with the lack of privacy, but she eventually began to pant softly and squirm against him. Devon watched with amusement. Halsten weighed the prospect of drawing pistols at dawn with the man, but his responsibility to Lucy stayed him. He could not leave her without a guardian.

  “Since you have done such a fine job stimulating her, I think the lovely Miss Sherwood should be the first to try these,” Devon said, offering the pair of clamps to Halsten.

  Seeing Miss Herwood balk, Halsten said to Devon, “I think not.”

  “Wouldn’t want your ladybird to miss out on the fun,” Devon replied.

  “Pray mind your own guest,” Halsten said through clenched teeth. “Miss Sherwood is mine.”

  With a frown, Devon moved back to Isabella. He affixed a clamp to her nipple. She screamed and choked back a sob. Halsten noted her eyes watering. But she appeared determined to bear it. Devon applied the other clamp and stepped back to admire the result
.

  “Stand straight, my dear,” Devon told Isabella.

  Isabella bit down on her lower lip and attempted to do as he bid.

  “The clamps should not stay overlong,” Halsten recommended. “They require proper training.”

  “And ought be applied often to encourage the growth of their nipples.”

  Devon poked at one of the weights to make it sway.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” worried Isabella.

  “Imagine how they would swing if we applied a flogger at the same time!”

  Ignoring Devon, Halsten cupped Miss Herwood’s chin and kissed her to distract her.

  “My God, you are lovely,” he murmured against her lips.

  His hand went between her legs to fondle her there, and he was relieved to feel her wetness coating his fingers.

  “Take these off, please,” Isabella begged. “Please!”

  “Enjoy them a while longer,” Devon replied.

  “Let us proceed with another amusement,” Halsten suggested.

  “Quite right,” Devon acquiesced. He removed the nipple clamps to Isabella’s immense relief. “Now on your knees, my lovely wenches!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THANK HEAVEN, DEANA THOUGHT to herself when Devon removed the clamps from Isabella. Her poor nipples would probably be tender for some time, and Deana shuddered in sympathy. She was grateful to be with Lord Rockwell and not with Lord Devon.

  “On your knees!” Devon reiterated.

  Lady Isabella and Deana exchanged glances before complying. For the first time, Deana felt kindred to her ladyship.

  Devon situated his pelvis before Lady Isabella and rubbed his crotch. “I think it time we receive a little tending to.”

  He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his hardened desire. Isabella gaped at the length of the curved erection.

  “Open your mouth.”

  “Are you wanting me to—” she began until he slapped her once more.

  “You will take my rod into your mouth. I vow you will find no meat more delicious.”

  She opened her mouth a little. He shoved himself into the opening. She recoiled, but he had his hand at the back of her head. She gagged and flayed.

  “The trick is to relax,” Rockwell said.

  After struggling with the awkward intrusion into her mouth, Isabella managed to calm her reflexes. Devon pulled her head to and fro so that her mouth moved up and down his shaft. Occasionally she appeared to choke when he pushed himself too far into her mouth.

  “Is there a reason for your hesitation?” Devon asked Rockwell with a pointed look at the baron’s crotch.

  Rockwell frowned for the hundredth time at Lord Devon before unbuttoning his own pants. Deana had seen the Baron’s member before but not at such an intimate distance. Like Isabella, she stared at the appendage with its bulbous head and rigid veins. She had never taken that part of a man into her mouth before. She looked into his eyes. His pupils seemed to have melted.

  She parted her lips. He took the invitation and inserted the top of his rod. She tasted a drop of saltiness upon her tongue. He eased more of himself into her mouth. She wondered how this member had become so hard. She wrapped her lips closely about him and thought she heard him groan. He closed his eyes. Reveling in her ability to have such an effect upon him, she attempted to take more of him. But when it reached her throat, she, too, could not refrain from gagging. He retracted himself. Wanting to try again, she grabbed his shaft and guided it into her mouth once more. Surprised, he allowed her. She was unsure if taking a member into her mouth was demeaning or empowering, but it was clearly something that the men enjoyed.

  “Yes, yes!” Devon cried as he bucked his hips at Lady Isabella. “Eat it as if it were your last meal!”

  Deana attempted to glide her mouth in a similar manner up and down Lord Rockwell’s erection. Eventually she found a rhythm, cradling him upon her tongue. She liked the sound of him groaning as he eased himself further into her.

  “You’ve a natural ability, Miss Sherwood,” he grunted, fisting his hand into her hair.

  On the other side of the room, Devon growled as he began to spend. Isabella appeared to retch. Halfway through, he pulled out his rod and sprayed the remainder of his seed about her face. A bit found its way into her hair. Devon stumbled backwards, shaking his head.

  Deana looked at Rockwell, wondering if the same end would come to her. But Rockwell pulled himself out completely. She could not help her disappointment. She wanted to bring him to spend.

  “That was delightful, my dear,” Devon said to her ladyship. After collecting himself, he looked over at Rockwell. “Problem?”

  “I can wait,” Rockwell responded evenly.

  “Why wait? Or is it you cannot run more than one race?”

  Rockwell made no reply.

  “See there? Mine is hardening again already,” Devon said as he fondled himself.

  “You have a need to impress me?” Rockwell inquired.

  Devon rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to the bed. He patted the mattress. “Up here, my dear.”

  Wiping at her face, Lady Isabella made her way to the bed. Devon had her face the footboard and applied a pair of short shackles to her wrists. They pulled her down and made her look as if she were embracing the mattress. He lifted her hips so that she was on her knees, her derriere high in the air. Devon began to shed his clothes.

  While Halsten unlaced his cravat, Deana went to assume the same position on the bed. Earlier she had avoided gazing at the other couple, but now she felt a little transfixed at seeing them. There was undoubtedly a wanton quality at witnessing others, a quality that was both uncomfortable and titillating. Rockwell certainly looked over frequently, but was it because he found stimulation from being a spectator or was it Lady Isabella that drew his gaze? Sans her beautiful attire, her ladyship was no less attractive.

  Deana was able to glimpse and admire the naked form of Lord Rockwell before he applied similar shackles to her wrists. Pinned to the bed, she could do little more than shift her head from side to side. He lifted her hips, and she tingled in anticipation.

  Isabella began to whimper.

  Deana twisted her head and could barely make out Lord Devon and Lady Isabella from the corners of her eyes. She felt the bed sink with Rockwell’s weight. He was kneeling behind her. Once more she felt his hand between her legs. With a delighted moan, she parted her legs further to allow him full access. He fondled the nub of flesh at the gates of her womanhood, coaxing from her that clear honey of desire. With his other hand, he caressed the curve of her rump. He strummed her clitoris while pressing his thumb upon a raised and sensitive area inside of her. Wonderful, agonizing tension flared deep and hot inside of her.

  Whap!

  Devon was spanking Lady Isabella with no care to how hard . Both Rockwell and Deana stilled at hearing her ladyship scream.

  Whap!

  Another scream.

  Rockwell resumed his fondling, melting her concerns. Would he let her spend? Could she spend before witnesses?

  Yes, oh yes, she answered herself when his ministrations intensified.

  “Stop! Please stop!” Isabella cried. “Ah!”

  Deana hoped her ladyship screamed for effect. She hoped Lady Isabella remembered the safety word.

  Rockwell attended to her between the thighs once more. Moaning, she reveled in his skills as he took her body through that blissful craving. The sounds from the other side of the room blurred with her increased desire, her increased need for release. He rubbed her more intensely, making her toes curl. She prayed he would not stop. Her cries became ones of urgency and anticipation.

  []But just as she approached the precipice, he withdrew his hand and swatted her arse, she supposed to still honor their agreement with Lord Devon. It smarted a little, but she was more intent on her release. She pushed herself at him, wanting him to finish the job. He spanked her once more. She groaned.

  On the other side of the room, Lord Dev
on stopped and lay upon his back, his head between Lady Isabella’s thighs. He pulled her down to his face.

  Lady Isabella looked as if her eyes might pop from their sockets, but then her eyelids lowered as she realized the pleasure from Lord Devon’s efforts. Deana and Rockwell both paused to observe her.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Isabella cried, then shuddered as paroxysms of ecstasy overcame her.

  Filled with envy, Deana implored Rockwell to continue, arching her back and pushing her backside toward him.

  “Please finish the deed,” she murmured.

  He caressed her sodden flesh, then buried himself inside of her.

  Glory! Her body took him in hungrily. He sank the full length of his shaft into her. She closed her eyes and marveled at the fullness between her legs. Circling an arm around her hip, he played with her clitoris. It did not take long for her to become undone. His thick, hard rod filling her combined with the stimulation of her clitoris shot her over the precipice. She shattered into spasms, losing all control of her limbs.

  She had yet to recover when he began his next assault. He bucked against her, holding her up by the waist. At first there was some discomfort as her first wave receded, blocked in part by another coming wave. As the second grew in size, she felt herself awash once more. He delved deeper and deeper into her.

  “My God! My God!” she screamed.

  Her body crashed into the heavens. All else became nothing.

  * * * * *

  When Deana settled back down, she became vaguely aware that Rockwell had pulled out of her. Her legs had buckled beneath her and she lay prone upon the bed. She heard panting and grunting from the other side of the room. Prying open her eyes, she saw Devon buried inside Isabella, pounding her into the mattress. With a howl, Devon found his release and collapsed onto the bed.

  Rockwell got off the bed, and Deana saw his arousal was still stiff. Why had he not pushed himself to spend? Did he find her unsatisfactory somehow? Did he not wish to impose upon her now that she had finished? Or was he somehow saving himself for Lady Isabella? She watched Rockwell approach Lady Isabella and release the shackles from her wrists. She turned onto her side and lay beside Lord Devon.