by EM BROWN
When she opened her eyes, morning had entered the chambers. Jonathan brought coffee and a bowl of porridge. He undid her chastity belt that she might make use of the chamber pot. She considered notifying the valet of her newfound knowledge, but he might warn his master. Curious to see what else Edwards had in store for her, she decided to save her trump card.
Chapter Sixteen
JONATHAN HAD TIED THE Baroness back onto the large wooden board and covered her eyes with a kerchief. With her vision denied, Montague was free to discard his mask and powder. The mere sight of her naked body generated a fever in him, and the mask was damnably warm. Walking into the chamber, his cock stiffened instantly upon seeing Lady Debarlow bound and exposed once more. He hoped that she would prove more obedient that he could grant her permission to spend. It was a lovely thing to see a woman in the throes of ecstasy.
“Good morning, Baroness,” he greeted. “I pray that you had a peaceful night.”
“You speak with irony, Sir,” she accused.
“I own the thought of you struggling to satiate your arousal is titillating. Are you not now more eager to spend?”
“I should be most grateful to spend, Sir.”
Stepping towards her, he ran the end of the flogger between her breasts. “Then let us begin.”
He unfurled the tails and lashed it across her body.
She gasped. “Thank you, Sir.”
He laid the straps between her thighs. She cried out and trembled.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He rewarded her appreciation with a stroke of the rosebud at her quim. She groaned. He stepped back and aimed the whip at her breast.
She ground her teeth together. “Thank you, Sir.”
He put the whip to her other breast. She screamed when one of the belts struck her square on the nipple. He applied the tails to her inner thigh, then once more upon her cunnie. Moisture glistened upon her folds. He touched his finger to her wetness and then to her mouth. She closed her lips about his finger and sucked the juices of her own desire.
“Jonathan, the nipple clamps,” he requested.
Her nipples were already deliciously erect and looked absolutely mouthwatering adorned by the clamps. He tugged lightly at the chain connecting the two nipple clamps.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said between difficult breaths.
“Apply the weights.”
She groaned an oath.
“Pardon?”
She bit her lower lip, then replied, “In truth, I abhor the weights upon my nipples, Sir.”
“Your honesty is appreciated.” He turned to Jonathan. “Apply the weights.”
She threw her head back against the board in resignation. As Jonathan affixed the weights, Montague stroked her clitoris. At first she grunted from the pain of the load upon her nipples, but as he fondled her more vigorously, she squirmed in delight. He replaced his fingers with the whip and rubbed the honey from her cunnie about her nether lips. The scent of her arousal drifted into his nostrils, heating his blood. Desperately he wanted to feel her about his cock once more, but he wanted to wrest from her body climax after climax. He rubbed her between the legs until, trembling, she begged to spend.
“You may,” he granted and watched with satisfaction as her body jerked against the restraints, her pelvis thrusting against him.
A shudder went through her before she relaxed with a relieved sigh. The flush in her cheeks was pure beauty, one that rouge could not replicate. Invigorated, he could spend the entire day pleasuring her.
“Release her from her bonds,” he instructed Jonathan, “and stand her up.”
He bound her wrists together behind her back, then wrapped a rope above her breasts, around her arms, and under her breasts, capturing the two orbs between the cords. His valet had been most compliant, and Montague decided to reward Jonathan for his service.
“Take her over the chair.”
Jonathan pulled the chair over, bent the Baroness over the back of it, and shed his breeches. Montague watched with mixed feelings as the other man’s cock disappeared into her. Holding onto her waist, Jonathan pounded into her cunnie.
“May I also pleasure you, Sir?” she asked.
“In due time,” he replied though his body roared at him to accept the temptation. “First, you will spend once more for me.”
She readily obliged, groaning with each stab. Closing her eyes, she moved in concert to Jonathan. Praising the heavens, Jonathan shoved himself deep into her. A paroxysm raked his body as he bucked against her rump, then staggered backwards as his seed shot from his cock. He rubbed his own length to coax the last of the cum, shuddered, and looked to Montague with appreciation.
“Place her on the bed, then leave us,” Montague instructed his valet.
That would be the last time he allowed Jonathan to fuck Lady Debarlow. The Baroness would be his and his alone from now on.
He parted her thighs and stared at the wetness shining upon her quim.
“We are quite the wanton, Baroness,” he noted.
“As are you, Sir,” she returned.
He slid a finger along her folds. She shivered.
“I freely admit my depravity,” he acknowledged as he positioned himself between her legs, “but you, Baroness, have inspired me to new heights.”
“You flatter me, Sir.”
Lowering himself, he inhaled her sweet musk and licked her folds.
“Have you done with punishing me, Sir?”
“Why do you ask?”
He flicked at her clitoris, making her gasp.
“I hesitate to relinquish myself if you are to forbid me to spend, Sir.”
He smiled at her. “You cannot prevent your body from reacting to my caresses, my dear.”
To prove his point, he tongued the length of her womanhood. She moaned. Applying himself fervently, he elicited a chorus of groans, gasps, whimpers, and cries. Her toes curled. Her back arched. Her climax exploded in shudders throughout her body. She coiled and thrashed. He slowed his tongue until her tremors dissipated.
“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured.
He wanted to begin anew and see her spend once again. Sitting up, he circled his thumb about her clitoris. It was as if he could not desist from touching her. She lay quietly as if in slumber. Rising to his feet, he resisted the ache in his loins and the fire in his blood and went in search of Jonathan.
ABBEY HEARD EDWARDS leave but was halfway asleep. Jonathan returned to undo the ropes about her and to remove her blindfold. He held out a robe for her.
“Come,” he said.
Slipping on the silk robe, she followed him, surprised when he led her out of the chambers and up a stairwell. What did Edwards have in store?
Jonathan led her to a second floor and into a bed chamber sumptuous in comparison to her previous quarters. In an anteroom, she saw that a bath was prepared for her. She dared to hope that it was meant for her. In addition to the various fluids upon her body, she was still covered with the slick salve that he had applied.
“Will you require assistance with your bath, my lady?” he asked.
The thought of solitude was inviting at the moment, so she shook her head. He poured a glass of wine for her and left it near the bath. With a bow, he left the room.
Taking the glass, she settled herself into the warm, soapy water. It had been scented with...orange blossom? The bath felt divine. It cradled her sore limbs. She was unsure that she wished to ever move from it. She sipped the burgundy. A fine wine, she mused as the flavor of berries and a hint of pepper cascaded over her tongue. Without doubt, Edwards seemed to know how to please and satisfy her – especially her carnal senses. Never had her body been so delightfully tormented. Never had she known such greed. Seconds after spending, she yearned for his touch more once more. She wanted to submit to him. He was everything that Tremayne was not.
Could she contemplate returning to Charles after this experience? The thought, not unlike the prospect of having to study Latin after
a night of carousing and merrymaking, wearied her. Every touch of his would only remind her of Edwards. She would not be able to hide her resentment of Charles. Which only made it more imperative that she wed him as quickly as possible before her disdain for him became too obvious. Then she might return to Edwards, if he would consider being her paramour – a prospect much more inviting than Latin...
After finishing the wine and soaking until her skin pruned, she scrubbed herself with the sponge and washed her hair. Feeling refreshed, she would never take for granted a good bath. After drying herself, she ventured into the bedroom. It was an elegantly appointed room without being ornate. The curtains of the Palladian windows were pulled aside to allow in the warm glow of dusk. Tapestries hung from the walls and a large rug covered the floor. On the four post bed lay a fresh pair of stockings, petticoats, and chemise. A man’s banyan hung from an armoire. She opted to wrap herself in the banyan. Beside the bed, supper had been spread upon a small table: meat pastries, beef, asparagus, potted cheese, sweetmeats candied orange peels, and a decanter of wine. Next to the supper was a small silver snuffbox. Abbey smiled, recalling their first encounter. She took a pinch of snuff before sitting down to partake in the meal.
“How does my lady find her supper?”
She looked up from her plate at Edwards, standing upon the threshold, masked and wearing a shirt this time with his breeches. His hair was powdered once more.
“Very well, Sir. Have you come to return me to my cell?”
“No. We have done with the dungeons. You will sleep here tonight.”
“Why the superior treatment?”
“Because you have pleased me.”
She thought a moment. “But you have not spent today, Sir.”
“Your pleasure was enjoyment enough for me.”
“You have an admirable forbearance, Sir.”
He chuckled – a rare sound that warmed and thrilled her.
“I surprised myself,” he admitted.
She took a bite of pastry. “What lies ahead for me, Sir?”
He fell silent.
“Home,” he said at last.
Surprised, she echoed, “Home?”
“Yes. You will be returned home.”
She could not help but be disappointed. “Have I displeased you, Sir?”
“On the contrary. I had stated that you pleased me. I would add ‘immensely.’”
She should be pleased that she was being released, but she could not help asking, “Then why send me home?”
His voice seemed to crack a little. “Have you a wish to stay?”
Her heart pounded at the answer. She should return to London and marry Charles. That had been her aim. One that she had carefully planned that she might have the ultimate revenge upon the Earl of Frotham. Now she intended to risk that by extending her stay with Montague Edwards?
“I would own that my experience here rivals any that I have had at Madame Botreaux’s,” she replied.
He took a tempting step toward her, then retreated. “I am glad of it, Lady Debarlow.”
She knit her brows. Was he done with her? Was this the common length of stay for most of his conquests?
“I have seen you before at Madame Botreaux’s, Sir. Why did you not seek me then?”
“I was waiting for the proper opportunity. And I preferred to have you alone, away from prying eyes.”
“Are you the proprietor here, Sir?”
“At present.”
Why did he not answer simply in the affirmative? But she did not pursue the matter.
“From what I have seen, it is quite exceptional.”
“It was once a Norse castle.”
She heard the emotion in his voice. She wanted to know more about this place and about him, but that were not possible if she were sent home. But the longer she left Charles to his own, the more likely he was to be persuaded by his father.
“It appears quite the special place. Tell me more, Sir.”
He hesitated but then proceeded to describe some of the history, at least what he was able to discern from years of research. As he spoke, she sensed his demeanor relaxing. It was clear he held the place with affectionate regard.
“Has this property been with your family long then?” she inquired.
“It would be three generations if...”
“If?”
“Your clothes have been washed. If they are dry, you can depart in the morning.”
But she had no wish to leave. She decided she would take a chance and delay her return if she could.
“And if I wish to stay, Sir?”
“We are done, Baroness.”
Pushing aside her dinner, she rose to her feet. “How might I persuade you to extend my stay, Sir?”
He crossed his arm. “You cannot.”
“Indeed?”
She walked to him. Standing before him, she untied the sash of the banyan and let the robe fall from her shoulders.
Chapter Seventeen
THE GLORY OF HER NAKEDNESS struck him with more force than sunbeam in darkness. Montague had to shut his eyes to gather himself. He had decided to conclude her stay at Chelton more for his sake than hers. She was proving too much a temptation. He wanted to fuck her all day and all night. His sense of control was slipping away. He needed time away from her, but the Caprice of Fate would not make his decision easy. That Lady Debarlow expressed a desire to stay ought to have been music to his ears. Indeed, he fair quivered at the thought of having her longer, of the many ways he could indulge her body. He shook away the thoughts. He had made his decision and ought not to waver.
“I would submit to your every desire, Sir,” she offered.
He felt a growl in the back of his throat, but replied instead, “Your temperament does not befit a pure submissive.”
“Are you not master enough, Sir?” she challenged.
With a silent curse, he suppressed the urge to grab her and show her the extent of his mastery.
“Such impudence will merit you a sound punishment.”
“Then punish me, Sir.”
The mischievous shimmer in her eyes had his cock at instant attention.
She took the distance between them and stood with her nipples nearly grazing his shirt. The blood churned in his groin. When she brushed against his erection with her thigh, he nearly lost his mind. Damn this woman. How could his body respond so eagerly to her? He was about to speak, but the words caught in his throat when she cupped his bulge with her hand.
Gathering his resolve, he removed her hand. “You will desist, Baroness.”
But she defied him and sank to her knees. She eyed his crotch. With her other hand she sought his buttons.
“Cease!” he barked. If she were to touch his cock – or, God help him, take him into her mouth – all resolve would be lost.
She paid him no heed and licked at his cock through his breeches. Quickly, he pulled her away from him. Grabbing the banyan off the floor with his other hand, he dragged her towards the bed.
“Clothe yourself,” he ordered as he deposited her on the bed and pushed the robe at her.
She frowned. “Are you afraid of what I might do, Sir?”
“If you wish to believe it.”
“But why? You cannot deny that you are aroused.” She gave a pointed glance at his crotch, then added tauntingly, “Sir.”
“I am man. As such, little provocation is required.”
His response angered her. “But you have yet to experience the extent of my skills, Sir.”
“The charade is over.”
He turned to leave.
“Indeed,” she declared. “For I know who you are. Montague Edwards.”
He stopped at his name. How the devil did she know? Had she known all this time?
“You need not gone through such extravagance, Mr. Edwards. You could have approached me in The Cavern.”
Jonathan would not have revealed him, he was convinced. He turned around with surprising calm despite the raci
ng of his heart. He removed his mask – with relief.
“Your perception, Baroness, is quite impressive.”
“Were it not more appropriate to address me by my given name? As you know me in the most intimate terms. Sir.”
“You need not address me such. Montague will suffice.”
She deliberated. “Montague.”
He gave a low grunt, liking the sound of his name upon her lips.
“Why did you not approach me in The Cavern?” she asked.
“Would you have accepted my advances?” he returned. “You seem quite committed to the Viscount.”
She acknowledged the truth of his statement with a nod.
“And it were far more exciting to abduct you,” he added.
She smiled, the lust returning to her eyes. “Do you still wish me to leave, Sir?”
He groaned. Hell and damnation. The fact that she knew his identity and still wished to stay was too much for him.
He stepped to her and, gripping her chin, tilted her mouth up to him. He brushed his lips to hers and felt her shiver. How sweet she tasted. He pressed his mouth more fully upon her. She responded and tasted equally of him. Her tongue slipped passed his lips, impudently darting into his mouth at first, then seeking his tongue with increasing aggression. She grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him closer. He worked his mouth over her, and she him.
Her hands undid his breeches, and this time he did not stop her. She ran her hand along his length. Lowering her head, she licked at his cock, causing the blood to roil in his sac. She took his shaft into her mouth.
The Lord have mercy. Little wonder it had not taken Jonathan long to spend. Her hot, wet mouth felt wondrous. He threaded his fingers into her damp hair. She moved up and down his cock, taking him in so deep her lips touched the hair at his pelvis. He looked heavenward, glorying in her skills. She kept a steady pace, never once relinquishing the suction she had upon him. The head of his cock grazed the back of her throat over and over and over.