The Madam Duchess

by Liliana Hart

  THE MADAM DUCHESS

  By Liliana Hart

  Copyright 2011 by Liliana Hart

  Smashwords Edition

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  Chapter One

  London, 1872

  Alexandra Whitworth, whom at the tender age of three and twenty became the Dowager Duchess of Hawthorne, was nothing more than a pauper.

  Her solicitor had broken the news to her just two weeks hence, but he had not left her without options. The estate was hers, but the debt she’d been left with would soon see that even that was taken from her. In desperation, she’d begged the solicitor, a Mr. James J. Randolph, to help her keep the wolves at bay. His counsel had been nothing like she’d imagined.

  He’d brushed the tips of his fingers over her knee in a most forward manner and suggested that he’d heard of a way many widows had paid off debts after their late husbands’ deaths. Alex had frozen at the feel of his foreign touch. She’d not felt a man’s caress in more than two years, not since her husband’s illness had taken control of his body.

  Mr. James J. Randolph wasn’t an unhandsome man, though he was rather short in stature. He had kind brown eyes and his face was more than pleasant to look upon. His hair was thick and ash in color and his body was stocky and well muscled, a physique more suited to a boxer than a solicitor.

  “I’m not sure I know what you speak of,” Alex stammered nervously.

  “Come now, surely the ways of married life are not forgotten to you.” His hand skimmed higher over her thigh, up her hip and over the rigid bodice of her black mourning dress until it skimmed just beneath her breast. She let out a moan and then gasped at her impropriety. Her husband had been buried in the cold ground for less than a month, but her body didn’t seem to care. It was betraying her to a man she’d only met on a handful of occasions.

  “You are a stunning woman. In your possession you hold youth, beauty and titles. The only thing you lack is money. Money is easily obtained if you know where to look.”

  Alex knew she needed to focus. Her situation was dire, and she had no family left to turn to, but James had pulled her bodice down until the plump mounds of flesh that had been bound burst free from their captivity. His fingers tweaked and pulled her nipples, and she could feel the moisture gathering at the juncture of her thighs.

  “God, you are lovely,” he said, taking a rosy nipple into his mouth and suckling.

  Alex moaned and grasped his thick sandy hair with her hands, pulling him closer, begging him for things she’d almost forgotten. Things her elderly husband had never felt comfortable doing to a woman at the peak of her sexuality—a woman too young to know what she was missing.

  “Please, I beg you,” she said, and for a moment she was able to forget her despair, her loneliness and her anguish.

  “Then you agree?” He asked, quickly undoing the buttons to his trousers. His cock sprang out, erect and full, the tip glistening and swollen with his desire.

  Alex couldn’t remember the question, such was the sight that was displayed before her. He was not overly long, but his thickness was more than enough to give her pause. She could only imagine what it would feel like to be stretched by such a magnificent tool.

  “W…what?” she stuttered. “What are you talking about?”

  He smiled at her. One filled with a combination of cunning and tenderness.

  “The look of lust in your eyes is a distraction, but you are my charge and it is my duty to look out for you. What I am speaking of is exclusive soirees, for the discreet and very rich. Members of society will only be permitted attendance by invitation, and once they receive the invitation a hefty fee must be paid to gain entry. Men and women alike will be welcome. This will be their refuge, a place they may indulge in anything carnal, acts that are shunned and never spoken of, even in the most bawdry houses of ill repute. Their identities will be kept secret, from you and everyone else in attendance. The price will protect their identities and indulge their fantasies.”

  He tweaked her nipple once again and moved closer, so that his straining cock was mere inches from her mouth. Alex licked her lips in anticipation of the feel of male flesh penetrating her body, the taste of it on her lips, the strength of it thrusting into her dripping cunt.

  “But how will people know what is to be expected of them?” She asked, flicking her tongue over the salty tip, savoring his unique flavor. She felt power fill her as he shuddered under the grip of her hand.

  “I know people who will discreetly pass the word. I predict you will be most popular, but it is imperative that the new Duke of Hawthorne not hear of your new enterprise, for he will be shamed by the scandal to the family name. He is but a distant relation to your husband, but I hear he is a most rigid man.”

  “How do I know who is supposed to attend if I can’t know of their identities? Who will collect the money and check invitations at the door?”

  “I am still your solicitor, Your Grace. I will continue to serve you in every way I know how.”

  With those reassuring words, Alex took his shaft in her mouth, cupping the taught sac beneath with her hand while stroking him with her fist. The girth of his rod made it difficult to pleasure him the way she wanted. He seemed to grow even thicker as she scraped her teeth along the underside of his cock, nipping at the foreskin that was stretched so tautly.

  “Stop or I will spend too quickly,” he said, voice strained and face flushed with the effort to hold back his release.

  Alex released him with the sound of a small, wet pop and grunted as he lifted her from the settee and flipped her over. She gripped the back of the small couch as he tossed her skirts up, urging him to fuck her until she was sure a servant would hear her arduous demands. He didn’t bother to remove her drawers. He parted the slit and exposed the dark curls of her nether lips, flicking his finger over the protruding nub.

  He buried his face in her curls, his lips swallowing her flowing juices and his tongue laving her swollen flesh. It only took a moment before the sensations spread from the tiny nubbin of pleasure hidden in her folds to course through her body and explode as she orgasmed.

  “Sweet heavens, your pussy is like ambrosia.”

  “I need to feel your cock inside me. Hurry,” she demanded, desperate for the male flesh that was quivering to mount her.

  “Yes, Your Grace.” He stabbed his cock into her drenched pussy with one thrust, fitting snugly against the walls of her womb. She grunted once with the force of his entry, his girth almost uncomfortable in fit, but the discomfort was soon forgotten as she began climaxing, milking his cock as he thrust rapidly in and out of her. She felt the slap of his balls against her behind, and her cunt clamped around him when his magical fingers once again found her nipples. The feel of her pussy throbbing around him must have been too much because he shuddered and moaned loudly as his release approached.

  He pulled out of her with a roar and spent his seed on the black velvet of her mourning skirt.

  Chapter Two

  Alex’s hand shook as she took a calming sip of champagne. James had been correct in his assumption that she’d become most popular among London’s elite. He’d had to reject a number of people—those whose pockets were not deep enough, whose looks were not stunning enough or whose desires were not unusual enough. He had kept his word and handled the financial details, not telling her who was coming
or how much they’d paid, but it must have been substantial because already she’d paid off most of her husband’s creditors.

  She could hear the arrival of carriages on the cobbled path that led to Hawthorne Cottage. It was her Dowager home, a twenty room estate with acres of rolling hills for her horses to roam. Even now, she knew James was stationed at the door, his face hidden as he inspected the guests and their invitations. This would be their first soiree of many, spaced so the guests would become impatient with anticipation as the days turned into weeks. Some of them would be invited back. Others wouldn’t.

  Alex tied a blue satin mask, studded with the diamonds she’d taken from her wedding necklace, over her eyes. With the mask positioned properly, she could see out of the two eyeholes, but the rest of her face was concealed with the exception of her mouth. Her black hair was arranged artfully around an oval face that no longer held a look of innocence, and her brown eyes had been darkened with kohl. Her dress was satin and lace, made from the same cobalt blue material of her mask, and it hung dangerously to her curves. She’d forgone wearing a corset and drawers, and her pussy throbbed as her bare thighs rubbed together.

  And when she stared at herself in the looking glass, she did so with dispassion and a critical eye. Her pride wondered how many men would vie to claim her body. Would she meet someone special? Someone to fulfill the fantasies that kept her tossing and turning with lust in the large bed she’d once shared with her husband? Would men see her as desirable? Her dead husband had not given her the choice to be anything but. Her beauty was her only commodity.

  The soiree had been the discreet talk of London for a fortnight. The withered ladies who whispered behind their hands when she passed them on the street didn’t know that their husbands and sons would come to her estate to seek freedom from proper society’s censure over all things pleasurable.

  The anticipation was building inside of her. Her nipples shone erect beneath the blue satin and moisture gathered between her legs. She could hear the swelling murmur of people below as the crowd grew. Bawdy laughter drifted up the stairs into her private rooms. Champagne and hard liquor would flow freely tonight—The food would be sparse.

  Alex wanted to make an entrance, after all it was her soiree. She opened the heavy doors to her suite of rooms into the wide expanse of hall that led to a loft that was open to the downstairs. People in various states of undress paid her no attention as she maneuvered through the writhing bodies. A man, naked except for the mask he wore, had a woman bent over the stair railing, plunging in and out of her hard enough to disturb the paintings on the walls behind them. As she passed by them the man took his hand that hand been rubbing the woman’s cunt and grazed his fingers across Alex’s turgid nipples. She felt the moisture from the woman’s passion seep into the thin satin of her dress. Alex smiled and acknowledged his caress and continued past them.

  A woman was on her knees at the base of the stairs, a rigid cock held in each hand, her mouth stretched around one of them as the men had their heads thrown back in ecstasy. Alex’s eyes roamed over the crowd, her curiosity allowing her to do nothing more than try to guess who was engaged in sordid acts. Was that the Earl of Westridge on her dining room table, preparing to take a cock up his arse? Was that the Lady Isabella Huffington, the wife of a Marquess, lounging on a chaise accepting cunnilingus from another woman while two men spurted their seed across her bountiful breasts?

  She recognized James, his pale, muscled body perfection as he rubbed his cock along the slit of an unknown woman. He raised his head as if he felt her stare and looked back at her. She could see his eyes glazed with unfulfilled desire, his body trembling. He winked at her just before he plunged his thick rod into the woman’s pussy. Alex shuddered as his erotic stare stimulated her sexually charged body even more.

  She didn’t know for whom or what she was searching for. Only that she’d know who was meant for her when she saw him. She glided out the French doors onto a large balcony that overlooked her estate. Even here, men and women were making use of every available space. Some held foreign objects in their hands, bulbous objects that were being inserted into the anus. Others held riding crops that were used to whip their partners. But no matter what their pleasure, they were all enjoying themselves.

  Alex walked the perimeter of the balcony until she was on the other side of the house. She smelled the sweet smoke of cheroot before she saw where it was coming from. There was a man dressed in black, from the simple mask that adorned his face, to his cravat, to his polished Hessians. He was darkness itself, and she wondered if she should run and hide from this fallen angel or beg for redemption.

  “Have you had your satisfaction then?” He asked, his voice as smooth as the liquid butterscotch she’d gotten for Christmas one year.

  Alex was sure she’d never met this man, never danced with him at a ball or passed him in her carriage at Hyde Park.

  “Not yet, no,” she told him boldly. “And have you had yours?” She took her time looking over his long body, the relaxed pose and confident air. “Or perhaps you are hiding for some other reason.”

  His teeth gleamed straight and white, a quick slash of seduction that sent shivers down her spine. “Or perhaps I was waiting for you.”

  “Why would you wait for me? Surely there are other women here that suit your particular tastes.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps you are the only one I wish to taste this evening. Perhaps I have heard of your charm and beauty and wanted to see if such things were true. Or perhaps I was told your sheath fits around a cock like a tight glove.”

  Alex gasped in surprise. James. Only he could have told this stranger such things, for surely her conservative, departed husband could have never imagined the words.

  “And what say you?” she asked, slipping the thin satin straps from her shoulders. The material slithered across her skin as it fell until it halted as it came across her nipples. The globes of flesh were tantalizing in their display. All it would take was a gentle tug for her to be bared to him completely.

  “I say you are a sorceress, practiced in the art of seduction.”

  Alex was vaguely disappointed by his words. Had she not been a virgin on her wedding night? Had she not been faithful to her husband until his death? And even then she had remained chaste in her bed every evening until James J. Randolph had given her no choice but to accept his proposal. But this man did not know her. All he saw was a body, ripe and lush with the glow of youth. A body to sate his desires until he hungered for someone else.

  It hurt that she couldn’t know this man outside of fantasy, for he was as compelling to her as cream was to a kitten. So she played the part as best as she knew how, afraid that her naivety might show. She tugged on the gown so her breasts were uncovered and the satin floated to the ground around her ankles.

  “It is you, my Lord, who has seemed to cast a spell over me,” she whispered seductively. She skimmed her hands up her body until the weight of her breasts were held in her palms. She closed her eyes, enjoying the light touch of her fingers upon her flesh. She tweaked her nipples gently and moaned, her head falling back in complete abandon.

  She heard the rustle of clothes and movement and opened her eyes, but her dark angel had vanished. Had her attempts at seduction been so poorly received? She gave a gasp of surprise and tears came to her eyes that he would abandon her. She covered her breasts with her arm and turned to flee back into the house and up to her room, but strong hands that were hot against her chilled skin halted her.

  “Are you so insecure as to the power you wield, Little One?” Her dark angel asked.

  Alex let out a slow, shuddering breath, relieved that he had not left her after all. She didn’t answer his question, for she didn’t have an honest answer.

  The night air was chilly and her flesh pebbled beneath his touch. He pushed her gently along the stone path the led away from the house, away from the sounds of sensual gratification—The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the mo
ans of release that echoed in the night. He led her to an open gazebo sitting atop a small hill. The moon was bright and full and she knew people from the main house would see their silhouettes if they chose to look. The thought of being watched only excited her more.

  Alex stood still once they climbed the steps to the gazebo. Her dark angel was still behind her, the rasp of his clothes tickling her back.

  “You seem to need direction, Little One. Maybe you aren’t as practiced as you’d like everyone to believe. Do those who have come here tonight know that they are paying such high prices to a novice in things of pleasure?”

  Alex turned around to face him, finally close enough to see more of the details of his face. His eyes were gray and looked at her with a teasing glint. Was he challenging her? What was his game?

  “I can be whatever a man desires. An innocent or a seductress. A sinner or a saint. What would you have of me, my Lord?”

  “Lady’s choice,” he whispered and leaned closer, nipping the lobe of her ear with his teeth.

  She couldn’t contain the gasp as pleasure shot to the heavy tips of her breasts and down to her wet core. Her hands pushed at his jacket until it fell to the ground. She wasted no time in removing his vest, cravat and shirt until he stood bare-chested before her. His chest was hard and defined and it was sprinkled lightly with dark hair. He was dark all over, as if he spent a great deal of time in the sun.

  “Remove your boots, my Lord,” Alex demanded. She left him to his task and went to sit on one of the many stone benches that lined the inside of the gazebo. She straddled the bench, the cold concrete another arousal against her primed pussy. She thrust her breasts out and felt the power rush through her as his nostrils flared and his throat worked as he tried to swallow.

  He bent over and made fast work of removing his boots, tossing them haphazardly to the side. He paused as he came to the buttons on his black trousers.