Celeste's Story

by Robin Gideon

  She felt Laine’s slender, muscular legs surrounding her own, his naked thighs gliding against her own silk-clad ones. She felt his hand at the small of her back, close to her bound wrists, as he steadied himself. She felt him bend his knees, though he remained standing.

  And then the crown of his erection slipped between the plump cheeks of her bottom and pressed tightly against the lotion-slickened entrance to her anus.

  There was very little time to mentally prepare herself. One second she had Heath’s thumb in her ass, and though it had hurt the first time he entered her, she had very quickly learned to take pleasure in the thumb’s undulating course. Laine’s cock, however, was much thicker than Heath’s thumb. He was rigid as steel when he pushed down into her. She flinched at the sharp stab of pain as he forced delicate tissue to stretch farther than ever before. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

  The words “he’s too big!” screamed silently in her brain. That was followed by “tell him to stop!”

  Perhaps she would have said the words had Laine not, at that exact, fateful moment, straightened his legs slightly, withdrawing his hard flesh from her throbbing embrace. A great sense of relief flowed through her when she felt the rigid cock withdrawing. But when she was completely empty, she already anticipated the next invasion. Would the second be as bad as the first? Or would it, like his thumb, cause pain to begin with, and then pleasure?

  “Oh, God!” she cried some moments later when Laine slipped his bone-hard erection between her cheeks again. It still hurt to have the cock sliding into her ass, but pain mingled with quite another sensation which was not displeasing. And there were Heath’s two fingers to think about as they rubbed against her clitoris with a skilled pressure suggesting he’d done this many times before.

  “Not yet, boy.” He delivered the words coldly, dictatorially. “She’s first. After she’s satisfied, you can have your pleasure.”

  Celeste knew it then. This was all for her. The pleasure. The pain. Without any foreknowledge that she was going to come to him that evening, Heath had set it all up for her. Laine couldn’t allow himself to come until she’d had her orgasm.

  The awareness that she was the absolute center of this particularly sensual universe was more than she could take. Indelicately, she whispered, “Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” and then shivered and shuddered through the most wrenching orgasm of her life, her bound body squirming on Heath’s lap as Laine, standing with his legs wide apart, unleashed his seed deep in her body.

  Some seconds later, with her forehead now nearly touching the floor, and one breast completely free of her bodice, she blinked her eyes and whispered, “What have I just done?”

  She didn’t want an answer. Her whole body twitched, and the afterglow of a shockingly powerful orgasm was like a narcotic that smoothed out all the jagged nerves in her sense of propriety.

  Her bottom hurt. In the throes of climactic passion, Laine had thrust into her a bit too deeply, too aggressively, but it seemed to her a very minor transgression now. She already knew it wouldn’t be the last time she’d feel his hard cock pumping in her ass. She knew that with certainty. As she had sensed earlier, doors were opening to her that would never again be closed.

  “Should I help you to your feet?” Heath asked.

  Celeste shook her head, and her hair—her coiffure now destroyed—swirled around her face. “Can’t…can’t stand. Pull me up though.”

  When Heath took her by the shoulder and moved her so she was more centered on his lap, she was once again aware of his solid cock pressing against her stomach.

  Without giving herself time for second-guesses, she bent her knees, letting herself slide against Heath’s erection, feeling it rub along her exposed breast and then tap the underside of her chin when she was on the floor at his side. With her wrists and ankles still bound, and for the most part fully clothed, her body was moist with perspiration from her intense exertions.

  She looked at Heath and said, for the first time in her life to anyone, “Come for me. I always hated it whenever”—she balked at the use of her husband’s name—“he made me take his thing into my mouth.” She glanced at his enormous arousal then back into his eyes. “I want to suck your cock. I want to suck you until you come.” For a moment, she closed her eyes as though stunned at hearing her own bold declaration. “Yes, yes…I want to swallow your cum.” A faint smile curled her lips. “Am I the first lady to swallow your cum?” The instant the question was out of her mouth she regretted it, because what she saw in Heath’s eyes suggested she wasn’t the first titled woman to pleasure him to climax with her mouth. “Don’t tell me,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to know the answer.” She leaned forward, opened her mouth wide, and pushed her lips over the plump crown of his cock. He was big enough that while holding just the crest in her mouth, she couldn’t push her lips much further down the shaft. When she released his arousal from her oral embrace, she looked into his eyes and said, “It doesn’t matter if I’m not the first lady to drink your passion. What’s really important is that I be the last.”

  She bobbed slowly, in no particular hurry to put an end to what she was doing, faintly curious as to why she should take so much delight in giving fellatio to Heath when she had never before felt anything other than annoyance or disgust at having to perform the act for her husband. Having Laine as an audience heightened her sense of lavish self-indulgence, as did the leather bindings surrounding her wrists and ankles.

  Chapter Seven

  Heath’s bed in the loft was the largest in the servants’ living quarters, though not the closest. Though Celeste wasn’t at all certain there was enough strength in her legs to climb the ladder—she’d never known such vigorous, wild-animal loving in her life—she decided it was worth the try. If she settled for Laine’s bed, which was big enough only for his lean body, they would have practically had to lay atop each other which, all things considering, might not have been much of a burden.

  The bed was big enough for two and pushed against the wall. Heath sat with his back to the headboard, his shoulder to the wall. Celeste slid in next to him, her cheek against his naked chest. Laine got in last. Heath’s bearish arm was long enough to go over Celeste’s shoulders so his big palm could rest lightly on the nape of Laine’s neck, beneath the silky fall of his chestnut hair.

  They lounged for hours, talking quietly, laughing softly. It was the greatest contentment Celeste had ever experienced. Her body, naked and warm beneath a light cotton sheet, her cheek on Heath’s chest so she could hear his strong heartbeat, her left hand on his thigh, her right hand resting lightly on Laine’s hip.

  “The sun’s going to be up soon, m’lady,” Heath said. He took a sip of whiskey from the glass in his left hand. He turned his head just enough to plant a light kiss on the top of her head. “Much as I would love nothing more than to have you stay here, you’ve got to get on back to where you belong.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said, sounding young and petulant and thoroughly spoiled. For hours, she had been the absolute center of all attention, and she had no wish whatsoever to go back to her extravagant home where her life was so much different. “I want to stay here with you two.”

  “You can’t.” Heath’s tone was a bit firmer this time. “A scandal isn’t what you need, m’lady. And if I let you stay here, I’d be partially responsible for the gossip.” He took another sip of whiskey and shook his head. “I can’t let it happen to you.”

  She turned her head just enough to kiss his chest then flicked her tongue over his nipple before sucking lightly on it. He flinched and chuckled softly.

  “Stop now, Lady Celeste, or I’ll have to give you another spanking right and proper.”

  “You’re supposed to threaten people with something they don’t want to have happen.”

  Heated memories of the forbidden ecstasy she’d experienced at being tied up and tossed over Heath’s lap, her buns hot and stinging from the nasty spanking, her clitoris and a
nus on fire from his wickedly penetrating fingers and thumb. A shiver went through her body as she remembered just how powerful the climax had been. And later, when she took Laine’s cock into her ass for the very first time and felt his unyielding flesh thrusting, penetrating deeply…

  She shuddered again and forced such thoughts from her consciousness.

  “If you’re very good, or maybe if you’re very bad, I’ll take you over my knee again.” Heath chuckled. “And Laine will have you over my knee again.”

  Celeste sighed theatrically. It had hurt to take a cock in her ass, but what she had experienced was much more than just pain. The sensation of feeling Laine, young and strong, pumping between her cheeks, thrusting deeply into her taboo passage, was unlike anything she’d ever before experienced. It had created a pleasure/pain that made her climax extraordinarily powerful.

  “I can be thankful he was the one who wanted to take me there and not you.” Beneath the sheet, she moved her hand from Heath’s hip until her palm rested lightly on the thick shaft of his slumbering penis. In a tone colored slightly with apology, she whispered, “You’re just so big.” She licked his nipple again. “I’ll do anything you want me to do. Even that…if it’s what you really want from me.”

  “Enough of this talk.” Heath growled, obviously uncomfortable with so much flattery. “Laine, make yourself useful and go get Lady Celeste’s clothes. If we don’t dress her ourselves, she’ll be here ’til the snow flies.”

  Lithe and agile, Laine was out of bed in an instant, hurrying down the loft’s ladder with the dexterity of a monkey.

  “I adore the young man,” Celeste said.

  “So do I. It was so good of you to take him in. Those other bastards would have killed him if—”

  “Let’s not talk about it,” Celeste said sharply. She didn’t want any negative feelings marring these golden, halcyon moments. “Not now. I feel too good about everything. And besides, Laine’s here now. He’s with us, he’s safe, and that’s what’s important.”

  Heath kissed the top of her head again and said, “So much wisdom in such a pretty head.”

  She was about to chide him for subtly accusing women of being empty headed, but she decided to let it pass. If she got angry every time a man made an insensitive comment or belittled women in her presence, she would be in a state of perpetual fury.

  Laine was back up to the bedroom loft a moment later, apparently unmindful of his own nakedness, all of Celeste’s clothes looped over his left forearm.

  With a groan, Celeste rose to her feet, followed by Heath. She was a little sore in a number of different places, though she wasn’t going to say a word of complaint about it.

  “Dress the lady,” Heath said, carrying his glass over to where the whiskey bottle rested on the widow ledge. “I’ll just stand here and make sure you’re doing it all right and proper.”

  Laine knelt on the polished wooden floor in front of her and picked up a stocking. He looked at Heath and asked, “Aren’t you going to help?”

  Heath grinned and shook his head. “My specialty is taking clothes off, not putting them on. Besides, it’s a task you should learn, I think. Lady Celeste has Margaret to dress her in the mornings and evenings, but you never know when Margaret may need to go see to an ailing aunt, or some such thing.”

  “How very thoughtful of you, Heath,” Celeste said, every feminine nerve in her body adoring this kind of pampering.

  At Laine’s urging, she raised her knee and pointed her toe. She watched, thoroughly fascinated, as Laine, completely naked and on his knees, slowly worked the silk stocking up her leg until it stopped at her thigh. Though she had been dressed virtually every day of her life by an attendant—usually Margaret—her body tingled now because the person dressing her wasn’t an old woman, he was a young man of twenty-one who possessed the face of an angel and the sleek body of a powerful cat. And he was just the way Celeste liked him best—naked.

  Her breath caught in her throat when Laine tied the first garter in place around her thigh, making sure to properly position the bow in back. By the time he had worked the second silk stocking up her leg, her clitoris pulsed softly, and the first dewdrops of desire had formed on the lips of her pussy.

  Haven’t you had enough sex in the last four hours? The voice in her head had been angry and maternal.

  But the angry, silent voice couldn’t stop Celeste from sighing softly when Laine’s slender, deft fingers tied the second garter in place. She watched as his fingers moved slowly and precisely, just inches from her tingling labia and throbbing clitoris.

  Fortunately for her, he picked up her camisole next, or she quite likely would have been on her knees on the floor with Laine. But the camisole went over her head and came down to her hips, the process requiring only a few seconds and lacking any of the subtle sensuality putting the stockings on had prompted.

  So Laine dressed her, and as he busied himself with her every comfort in mind, she watched him and Heath, marveling at how both could feel so comfortable while being completely and gloriously naked.

  Stepping into her gown wasn’t a problem, though when she adjusted her breasts in the décolletage, her nipples—always ready for pleasure it seemed, especially if Heath and Laine were nearby—instantly hardened. Celeste saw that Heath noticed her favorable reaction to Laine, and he smiled knowingly. She was pleased with him for not making any comments, and the look she gave him said without words that she’d give him a proper thanking the next time they were together.

  “I’ll say good night, Lady Celeste,” Heath said with a touch of formality, as though he was properly dressed in his livery and at a lavish ball instead of completely naked and standing in a Spartan loft made to house the hired help as inexpensively and efficiently as possible. “Be on your way now. And should there be anything else you need, simply ask and I shall make it so.”

  Celeste tried to look only at Heath’s face. She really tried. But he was so magnificently endowed, and even though she’d satisfied his desires a number of times, as he walked toward her, she noticed there was once again undeniable stiffening and lengthening of his shaft. An urge to sink to her knees and pleasure him right then and there, with Laine watching her lewd behavior, flamed to life and became a desire almost impossible to resist.

  “You must leave now,” Heath said, seemingly able to read her most intimate thoughts.

  “You’re right, of course. You’re always right, aren’t you?” She touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips. She felt the harsh stubble of his beard, grown since his previous morning’s shave. The sensation seemed masculine and erotic. Everything about the man was a little rough, in one way or another. “You were right about me, and you were right about Laine.”

  Heath’s grin was crooked. “Enough flattery. I’m just the bloke who tends to the horses and drives your carriage.”

  But he was more. A thousand times more. She kissed him on the lips, far more lightly than she would have liked, and then did the same to Laine. She couldn’t hesitate. A moment of hesitation would stop her in her tracks. Feeling a nebulous sense of desperation, knowing she had just experienced a night of passion that might never again be repeated in all its perfection, she hurried back to her palatial home. She had to force each step, knowing she was going back to her empty bedroom, back to her marriage to a man who despised her for no rational reason, back to a life holding little joy and no ecstasy.

  * * * *

  “Promise me you won’t do anything without asking me first.” Celeste’s tone was hard and cold as she stood on Cromwell Road in the early morning. Her uncle, Sir Garrick Ashe, had given assurances that no violence would befall Ralph Fallon—but she knew her uncle, and he was as protective of the family as he was rash.

  “I promise I will not commit an act of violence against that foul swine you have for a husband.” Garrick folded his arms over his chest. As a member of one of London’s wealthier families, and a member of an exclusive gentleman’s club, the tentacles of
his influence reached far and wide. “But Lord knows, if you’d just give me a little hint that perhaps you wouldn’t mind if something untoward should happen to him, the sun wouldn’t set another day on a healthy Ralph Fallon.”

  “Do you think there’s anything you can do to protect me?” She had already told him about Gregg Fallon’s plan to sue to take custody of his son’s finances.

  “I know the barrister. He’s a nasty fellow. Top rate, he is. But I have some nasty barristers of my own.”

  Garrick nibbled on his lower lip for a moment, obviously thinking over possible ways to defend Celeste’s fortune. Celeste watched as two women, one in her late teens, the other late thirties, perhaps mother and daughter, looked at Garrick covetously as they passed him. When the elder of the two met eyes with her, the scowl Celeste received was spontaneous and venomous. She knew of her uncle’s reputation as a rake and a womanizer, and everyone knew whoever finally convinced him to walk down the aisle would marry into an enormously wealthy and titled family.

  “Let me talk this one over with the boys at the Club,” Garrick said after a lengthy silence.

  “No, you mustn’t!” Celeste said quickly. “I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

  Garrick shook his head slowly and took her hand in his. “Listen to me carefully, because this is important. It is the most exclusive gentleman’s club in England. For literally hundreds of years, the leaders of this country have been its members. And do you want to know something? In all the years of its existence, not one member has ever divulged a secret, has discussed what was said in the Club, has in any way betrayed another member of the Club. The other members trust me, and I trust them.” He bent low to kiss Celeste on the forehead beneath her bonnet. “Go on now and let me think about your problem. Trust me, your father-in-law isn’t going to get his hands on your money. I’ll see to it.”

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Her voice was so soft it hardly reached Garrick’s ears.