Guilty Pleasures

by Bertrice Small

  He reached out and pulled her into his arms. His mouth came down on hers as one hand plunged into her low-cut bodice to fondle a breast.

  Jane kissed him back, for while his actions had taken her by surprise, his kiss was exciting and delicious. As for the hand on her breasts, it was well skilled. Finally she drew away from him. “There will be time for this afterward if you decide to remain,” she told him breathlessly.

  “Will you train me, madam?” he inquired of her.

  “I do not believe you will need any training at all, my lord,” she told him.

  Ping! Ping! Ping! The Channel is now closing. And it did with its usual efficiency, just as the fantasy was becoming quite interesting. J.P. wished, as she often did, and suspected other women did, that the Channel could be accessed twenty-four-seven. But she knew if that were to come to pass, the secret would most likely get out, and the Channel would disappear from their lives.

  She spent her Saturday, another dull rainy day, indoors. She read a manuscript that one of her younger editors was very enthusiastic about: a paranormal romance, which she was surprised to find actually engaged her interest. The editor had told her it was the first book in what could be a long series if it was successful. Paranormal and urban fantasy were hot right now, and Stratford was in business to turn a profit. She decided to give the young editor an opportunity.

  She took a Post-it note and wrote on it: One book with an option to check out the next book. If it works out, we can sign her to multiple books later. Then she signed her name and returned the manuscript to her briefcase. Michael Devlin, her editor in chief, had already seen this manuscript and approved it based on her decision. It was a new author, after all, even if the genre was hot. She was more comfortable with Devlin now than she had ever been. To her surprise, he had been totally honest with her when he said he didn’t want her job—he just wanted to edit. And while he would argue with her privately, once she had taken Martin Stratford’s place, he never challenged her publically.

  The sky was darkening over the park again. Lights were coming on in the buildings on the other side of it. J.P. stood, briefly looking out and wondering if someone over on Central Park West was doing the same thing. She had hardly eaten all day. Only yogurt, a pear, and a piece of dark chocolate. Now she broiled herself a small fillet of beef and fixed herself a salad with fresh spinach, red onion, and orange slices. She hadn’t gotten into the Channel until almost ten o’clock last night. Tonight she wanted to be ready to enter it at eight p.m. sharp.

  She wasn’t quite certain where in her imagination Charles Pell, the Earl of Pelton, had sprung from, because she didn’t usually create powerful men with whom she would interact. She wanted lovers of her choosing, who felt honored that the Dowager Duchess of Manley had selected them. Lovers who could be easily discarded. From that terrible night when she was sixteen and Ed Gary had tried and failed to rape her, she had avoided men who oozed sexual power. Not that her attacker had. He had been a drunken bully. But J. P. Woods had always suspected that that variety of bully lay deep in all males of the species. Better safe than sorry. Better to be the one in control. So from where had this fascinating and obviously dangerous man sprung?

  She ate her supper while watching the news in her small den. Nothing vital. No terrorist attacks anywhere in the world today. No war casualties to report. The former Bachelorette had caught her fiancé, who was purportedly the man of her dreams, banging her best friend, who then announced she was pregnant by the guy, and the engagement was off. What a moron, J.P. thought. Who finds love in six weeks, let alone in a lifetime? But hope always sprang eternal, didn’t it?

  She showered, got into her bed naked, opened the doors of the entertainment center, and, at the stroke of eight, pressed the A button on her Channel remote. She and the earl were walking up the stairs of her house. “I usually change into something more comfortable when I work,” she told him. “And I have never invited a spectator to observe my methods, so you might perhaps want to wear a masque so you are not recognized. It might make it more difficult for my pupil.”

  “Who do you have as your prisoner tonight?” he asked her.

  “Reggie Bowie,” she told him.

  “My God! He’s a notorious womanizer,” Charles Pell exclaimed.

  “Shopgirls, servants, dancers,” Jane told him. “But he is unable to get it up for his poor wife, and Penelope is being blamed by his family for the lack of an heir. Before she goes to the extreme of being impregnated by a lover, she wanted to see if I could do anything with him. It is a typical case, I assure you, my lord. He is a man who enjoys the feeling of power that he gets with a woman of lower station. He cannot, however, bring himself to the same state with his wife, who is a very pretty and delightful young woman.”

  “But what can you do?” the earl asked her.

  “You will see,” she told him as she entered her bedchamber, the earl behind her. “Smithers, this is the Earl of Pelton. He will be joining me this evening. Help me undress so I may get back to my pupil.” She stepped behind a painted screen, and when she emerged, she was in her black satin corset with the white rosettes, and white stockings held up by black-and-white garters. She wore no drawers now, since they would interfere with her mission. “Come along now, my lord,” Lady Jane said briskly, and she handed him a black masque that would cover the area around his eyes and nose.

  He put it on, then followed her up a flight of stairs to enter another bedchamber, where two footmen were waiting.

  “How has he done, Flint?” Lady Jane asked her servant.

  “Back to his old self, my lady. The first time we moved the dildo he came,” Flint said in disgusted tones. “No control at all, I’m afraid. Then he fell asleep.”

  “Lower his head, then, and we shall begin anew,” Lady Jane said. “My friend wishes to watch my work.” She did not introduce Charles Pell.

  The earl looked about him. The room contained a large canopied bed. There was also a table with several baskets on it, and the rather odd contraption to which the lady’s victim was fastened. He watched as his hostess ordered the dildo removed from the man’s asshole. “What is the tawse for?” he inquired.

  “For smacking his bottom until his cock rises, but he needs my riding crop for that. Most of my pupils take to the tawse, but some do not, and so I use either the crop or a dog whip. He needed the stronger urging of the crop. Wake him, Flint. The drunken sot must be awake for this.”

  “When his cock is at a stand, what will you do with him then?” the earl asked.

  “I’ll want to see how he wields his weapon, and I will make corrections to his technique so that when he goes back home in a few days, he’ll give Lady Penelope some real pleasure.”

  “Will she have to whip him?” the earl wondered, curious.

  “Oh, yes. Men like this are rarely able to perform without a little bit of encouragement. He’ll behave as always with his lower-class mistresses, but to satisfy his wife, and get an heir on her, he will require punishment.”

  “Fascinating,” the earl remarked. “I have heard of men like that, women too, for whom pain must precede pleasure.”

  “Bertie, go and fetch Miss Montague. We will need her services shortly.” Jane turned back to the earl. “Montague is my companion,” she explained.

  “And she is willing to help you in these endeavors?” He was surprised not just by the two footmen, but by a lady’s companion who would partake in such undertakings.

  Miss Montague arrived. She was an elegant young woman with proud and definitely aristocratic features. She had skin like a gardenia and mahogany-colored hair. “Who is it this time, my lady?” she asked, putting aside her Circassian wrapper, beneath which she wore a white silk corset trimmed with pink ribbons. Her white stockings were held up by garters of pink rosettes. She looked every inch the innocent lady.

  “Lord Reginald Bowie, Monty,” Jane answered. “Flint, is he awake?”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  “Reggie dea
r, we will continue what we began earlier,” Lady Jane said. “The Worthington ball was quite nice, by the way. I saw Lady Penelope dancing with that Austrian baron—I believe his name is Von Falken. He spent most of the evening paying a great deal of attention to her.”

  “Dirty bugger trying to seduce a man’s wife,” her prisoner muttered. “Let me go! I need to challenge the fellow to a duel. Must protect the family honor.”

  Lady Jane sighed. “Reggie dear, you will not be released until you have been trained to my specifications, and we have only just begun.” She smacked his bottom with three swift blows of her riding crop.

  He yelped, surprised. “Bitch!”

  Lady Jane began now to wield the crop in a steady cadence. “Count for me, Flint. I need to see how many whacks it will take to bring his cock up.” She turned to the earl. “Once we have determined that, we can work on making him come on quicker. A half dozen smacks to his arse should be more than enough.”

  “He’s good now, my lady,” Flint called out. “It took fourteen blows.”

  Lady Jane ran her hand over Lord Bowie’s scarlet bottom soothingly. “Now, then, Reggie, you are going to fuck this nice young lady, and we will see how well you do.”

  Bertie undid the manacles, and the two footmen raised the man up, allowing him to regain his balance. Lady Jane took the lordling by his very stiff penis and led him over to the bed, where Miss Montague now lay facedown, her bottom elevated and ready.

  Lord Bowie’s eyes bugged, and then he licked his lips. “Who is she?” His cock twitched in Jane’s hand.

  “It doesn’t matter,” the dowager duchess responded. “Now, fuck her, Reggie.”

  Grabbing the girl’s hips, he pushed eagerly into her wet vagina, thrust two or three times, and came with a groan.

  “Oh, dear,” Lady Jane said, shaking her head. “That is not at all the way to fuck a woman, Reggie. Did you gain pleasure?”

  “Aye, I did,” came the answer.

  “But your partner did not, and you will find that you will gain even more pleasure when you give pleasure.” Jane turned to the earl. “My lord, would you like to show him exactly how it should be done?”

  “With pleasure, madam,” the Earl of Pelton said. He walked over to Miss Montague and ran his hand up and down her beautiful back several times, caressing her buttocks with one hand as he unbuttoned the fly on his satin breeches to pull out a fine-looking cock. Then, holding her steady, he entered her slowly, eliciting a small moan of pleasure from the girl. “What a lovely tight cunt you have, my dear,” he complimented her.

  “Thank you,” the young woman replied politely.

  The earl began to move on her, first with slow, deep strokes of his penis, and then he began to increase the tempo of the movement. Miss Montague murmured a sound of decided pleasure and wiggled her bottom into him.

  “Observe, Reggie, how the gentleman has taken the time to gentle her first before beginning to fuck her. He is not in any hurry, and listen to her little cries of appreciation. He begins slowly, gradually increasing the friction of his cock in her cunt.”

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Miss Montague exclaimed. “I am coming! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

  The earl stiffened and gave a mighty groan as he released his juices.

  “Now you see how they have both enjoyed the interlude. That is the way it ought to be when a man and his wife couple. But you! You have not fucked your wife since your wedding night a year ago. You have let her take the blame for your lack of an heir. You have really behaved in a dastardly fashion, but when I am through, you will fuck your wife with great regularity until you have that heir your family requires. Now it is late. Put him to bed, Flint. Monty will attend to him for an hour or two.”

  She swept from the chamber, the earl behind her as she returned downstairs to her own chambers. “Smithers, go to bed,” she instructed her maid, who curtsied and hurried off. Lady Jane turned to the earl. “Are you staying?” she asked him.

  “How could I refuse such a gracious invitation?” he asked, amused.

  “Unfasten my corset for me, then,” she instructed him. He came behind her and began unlacing the elegant little garment. When he had finished, he let the corset drop to the floor and, reaching around, gathered her breasts into his hands.

  “These are quite the finest tits I believe I have ever seen, madam,” he told her. He cradled them in his palms as if weighing them. Then, bending over her, he first kissed her shoulder, and then nipped at her ear. “You are going to be fucked, madam, as you never before have. I am a master at the arts of Venus, and know how to prolong pleasure. You have never had a lover like me, Jane. You will not so easily discard me. You will be mine until I decide you will not,” he told her.

  “I cannot be owned. The late duke thought he was buying a new toy when he married me. It was my second season, and I was only seventeen. Like everyone else, I thought it was an honor to be married to a man like Manley. But I was wrong. He had heirs. He only wanted an ornament, a plaything. Everything I do to train these thoughtless men who think only of their own pleasure I learned from my husband, whose interest was in himself only. Fortunately I was wise enough to comply with his every wish, and eventually he learned I had an intelligent mind. I despised him. I probably even hated him. But I was the wife he demanded. He left me a very wealthy woman for those nine years I spent as his possession. Of course, part of the reason he did so was to annoy his weakling heir.” Lady Jane laughed. “I have helped myself to the best of the jewels, and no one dares say nay to me. However, I do not go to Manley Hall. I am happy in my London house, and I have a cottage by the sea near Bath. But do not think to own or control me, my lord.”

  “It is your fantasy, madam,” he surprised her by saying. “I am only here because you want me here. Like everything else around you, I am a figment of your imagination. I suspect, however, the reason you brought me into your life is that you are ready to share your passion with a strong man, not one of these London dandies whom you have had as your previous lovers. You said yourself that pleasure can be gained only by both parties not just taking, but giving.” His thumbs began to circle her nipples. “I can be gone anytime you choose to banish me, Jane.” His lips found the crook of her neck and pressed a deep kiss into it.

  It was her fantasy. Jane could banish him when and if she wanted to do so. But not just yet. She leaned back against him briefly and felt the hard ridge in his breeches pressing against her arse. She had seen that lovely cock of his earlier, and Monty should not be the only one to enjoy it. Jane had never seen her companion respond to a man’s cock with such enthusiasm. Nor had she ever seen Monty’s face light up as it had when he was fucking her and when she came. “Take off your clothes,” she said.

  Releasing her, he laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to do it?” he asked her teasingly.

  She was going to refuse, but then she decided otherwise. Undressing him could prove to be a great deal of fun. “I think I would,” she answered him, turning about to face him. She undid his fine linen shirt, which she noted was embroidered with his crest, and removed it. He had no plainer shirt beneath it, as was the custom. Her hands smoothed over his bare chest, which was devoid of hair. The skin was firm and taut. Bending her head, she licked first one of his nipples and then the other. She unbuttoned his satin breeches and pushed them down. “You have no drawers on,” she exclaimed, half shocked.

  “No, I don’t,” he replied. “I find drawers spoil the line of the garment.”

  “And the lack thereof makes it far simpler for a man gone seducing,” Jane said.

  “Ah, madam, you have found me out.” He chuckled as he stepped from the cream-colored satin breeches.

  He was magnificent in his nudity. Strong broad shoulders and chest. A narrow waist and hips, a tight firm arse, long legs, and a fine penis that she intended to put to good use several times before the Channel closed tonight. Looking up into his startlingly bright blue eyes, she ran her hands over his body. The flesh beneath her hands was smoot
h, and it was firm. He was a man who cared about his appearance, like all of these London dandies. Yet he was not one of them. She stepped close enough to him so that the tips of her nipples just touched his chest.

  He smiled down into her face. “You are pleased with what you see, madam?”

  “How can I not be?” Lady Jane responded.

  His arm went about her waist, pulling her closer. He tipped her face up. Then his lips met hers in a deep and passionate kiss that seemed to go on and on and on. Jane felt every bit of antagonism she had ever felt for men drain instantly away. The kiss was magic, as was the man now holding her in his arms. How had this happened?

  He broke the kiss off, caressing her face with gentle fingers. “The need to control began that terrible night when you were but a girl. Never had you felt more helpless and frightened than when that man straddled you, attempting rape. You vowed then you would never be weak, be in a position to be controlled ever again.”

  “How . . . ?” she began, startled by his words, but he gently pressed two fingers to her lips, smiling.

  “I am your creation, my love,” he reminded her. “You have no secrets from me, Jane. But by building such a strong fortress about yourself, you have also denied yourself what most women want. Love. Marriage. Children.”

  “I have my career,” she responded. “I am exactly where I’ve always wanted to be.”

  “But you are lonely,” Charles Pell said. “And you reinforce your need to be powerful by training these foolish men whom their foolish wives send to you. You have taken lovers, but only those whom you could bend to your will. You have never really shared yourself with any man, fantasy or real, for fear of losing control. But with me, that will change. You are finally ready to be loved, Jane. And I will love you, but not as a supplicant at your whim. As an equal partner in the relationship that we will begin to form this night.” He smoothed his hand down her unfashionably long hair. “Do not look so surprised, my love. I am your creation. If you were not ready, I should not be here.”