To Please a Lady
Page 3
Mongrels! She would bet her pin money that they were even now enjoying the delights of the other, lapping up caresses, stoking the fires that burned within them. Neither had made any denial of their continuing interest of each other, as well as her. Indeed that was what the morrow’s meeting was to discuss. Or was to have been. She wanted to understand why, when all their current activities were so suited to their needs, they wished to change the curriculum. And in doing so, upset her carefully crafted plans.
Now, while she was alone and throbbing with need, her inclination was to cry off. Tell them she was no longer interested in anything they wished to share with her. An expression her old nanny often told her when she was a girl came to mind. Something about cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face. It seemed suitable to describe her recent actions. Hermione laughed softly at her folly. Foolish she may have been, but righteous indignation held sway then and still did. Better to be clear from the start what she deemed acceptable.
If indeed she chose to meet and talk on the morrow, all cards would need to be laid on the table for each of them to see the score. There would be no subterfuge.
Now she had to attend to the matter at hand, to whit her clit. It was begging for attention, her juices indicating how great her need. So be it. Hermione knew many ways to pleasure herself. Indeed more than one of those ways had been introduced to her by her lovers.
This night she would experiment, she decided as she languorously undid the ties that bound her robe together. She rubbed her palms from erect nipples to aching clit, as ‘twas all for her and her alone with no onlooker to increase her ardor. The thought gave her great satisfaction.
Dropping the robe onto a chair, she opened a cupboard, cunningly concealed in the heavily carved wooden panels covering one wall, and took out several items designed for her pleasure. Laughing softly, Hermione decided if she allowed those incorrigible males access on the morrow, they would see what they had missed.
Her softly padded armchair was, to all intents and purposes, innocently positioned. At first glance, no one would contemplate differently; however, only one with a certain knowledge would see things in another light. A small dent, wide and deep enough to hold something in place, perfectly centered near the edge of the soft, cushioned seat, its angle a curiosity. The bank of pillows sloping down toward the front from the rather low back, the even lower arms, and other still more interesting additions to an apparently innocent armchair.
Hermione positioned the candles to her satisfaction, knowing exactly where she wished them in order to allow the light fall, as she so deemed suitable for her requirements. Content, she picked up her toys and accoutrements and placed them on a table for easy access from her chair. On each chair leg was a leather strap, velvet covered to ensure comfort within restraint. Smiling softly to herself, she attached one around each slender ankle. The resulting restraint pulled her arse to the edge of the seat, exactly where she required it to be. Spread-open legs were positioned perfectly for the ultimate view in the gilded mirror. Her pussy the star of the show, centered perfectly in the reflective surface, her lips and clit pouting their invitation, “feel me, touch me.” Finally she sat and spread her waist-long hair over the chair back so it would hang out the way of her body and not block her view in the mirror.
She intended to take up the invitation. First, her rouge pot. One petite finger dipped into the pretty pot, and the rosy glow was transferred from finger to areola, increasing its blush, drawing attention to its inner prize—a pert, tight nipple. Both stiff nubs were treated similarly before a second finger dipped into the container, and its content was transferred to lush lips, enhancing the succulent red color.
A third finger delved into a separate pot, its contents soft and sweet smelling, enticing and exotic, before moving to circle her clit, the motion increasing its dewy wetness and its sensitivity. Her body—hot, restless, and pulsing with desire—was ready and waiting for whatever she chose to do. Her legs, secured and spread, only increased her pleasure.
Hermione sighed with anticipation as she slid one, then two, and then three fingers into herself to mesh and dance together, using her other hand to pinch and caress each nipple. Oh, she was so ready.
Almost reluctantly she moved her hands from her clit and nipples to pick up a carved, wooden object. Silky smooth, no chance of any slither of wood becoming detached, it was her prize possession, one not even Ran or Berry knew about. It had been her intention to introduce it to them when she gave them her decision, as either a celebratory or commiserating move. Now, hmm, she would see. First it was for her to enjoy, and she fully intended to.
Slowly, deliberately, and with much pleasure, the round end of her perfectly sculpted dildo slipped easily into her pussy. Ah, heaven! She watched in the mirror as her hand helped it in and out, mimicking the action of a rock-hard, erect cock. Why are their sexual parts called after animals? Although on reflection…
She laughed softly and then gasped as she slid the thick toy inside herself up to the hilt. Perhaps some of their acts were animalistic. Beautifully so. The memory of some of the things she had seen performed as she watched herself and her lover in the mirror caused her hand to move to her clit. It blossomed under her ministrations. Time for more.
Moving her rear she used one hand to slot her dildo into the indentation of the chair, designed for the express purpose of holding it in place as she moved it inside her, unaided by her hands. Indeed the chair had taken many hours of thought before she had approached Mr. George Hope with a commission. One he had undertaken without requiring explanation for its curiosity of design. She applauded her forethought in choosing such an exemplary furniture maker.
Now her hands were free to tease her clit, pinch her nipples, and fondle her breasts. Her movements were slow, languid, and provocative, increasing the friction building within. Looking at her glazed eyes in the mirror, noting the flush making her skin almost as rosy as her rouged nipples and lips, Hermione judged it was time. The low chair arm made it easy for her to take another wooded toy from the table and anoint it with some of the contents of the sweet-scented pot. Her left hand gradually circled it behind her back, and she leaned forward in eager anticipation as far as her bound legs allowed.
The smaller, equally smooth wooden toy slid inside her anus with the usual pleasure-pain sensation, but was quickly replaced by pure, deep pleasure as she moved to bring it deep inside her. Tonight there was no need for the silken ties that could bind it tight within her. She sat hard onto it, feeling it graze the side of her passage and increase the sensations it brought. Surely the skin between both plugs was stretched taut. This is how she envisioned she would feel, only a myriad of sensations better, when it was two warm, throbbing cocks filling her.
Her pussy tensed and loosened around her dildo, moving it in and out, her arse snug around its plug mimicking the movement. Hermione pinched her nipples almost savagely, feeling the surge that ran from them into her pussy and back. Her legs held captive, she could only watch helplessly as she writhed, the need to clench them overwhelming. With her climax fast approaching, her movements became all the more frenzied. The tension was building, rising as a river in spate, fast and furious, wild and uncontrollable. She began to shudder, to shake, to feel the pulsation inside her overwhelm, fill her, surround her. She came in a rush of emotion, calling out, moving ever faster, determined to feel every last individual sensation.
Sated, she slowly let her breath return to normal, experienced the throbbing in her pussy slowly fade, and was replete.
Eventually she stirred herself, withdrew her plugs, enjoying the sharp sting and momentary pang of emptiness, as all toys removed, she slowly undid the cuffs at her ankles. Only then was she able to wash her toys and herself in a manner of one at peace with the world.
With the room restored and toys hidden, her last thought as she slid under her covers was of Berry and Ran.
Better me in this manner if you can, my lords!
***
He watched the slow, sensual smile that appeared on Berry’s face.
“How? She is but one. We are two and have two cocks to her none. Two arses to enclose said cocks, against one cunt, which has but a hand to play with.”
“Two hands,” Ran corrected as he saw Berry’s cock spring from its confines, primed and ready to be used. “But we have four. It could have been six hands had all gone to plan. Our loss, as well as hers.” He sighed, then with an impish grin, leaned into Berry, letting their cocks rub harshly against each other. “So, we endeavor to find other ways of ascertaining our release. What delights shall we come up with?”
“Your deal. I am but a mere player.”
Ran bit one hard nub and soothed it slowly with his tongue.
“I have another nipple also desirous of your attention.”
Ran dipped his head. “I thought I held the deck?” he inquired mildly. “And therefore call the shots?”
“Your pardon. This time.”
“My love. Of course.” He laved the second nipple. “Then since I am in charge, turn around, place your hands as near to the bed knobs as possible, and bend. Let your cock show.”
He watched, his own cock twitching in appreciation, as Berry presented his arse for inspection, his thick cock angled downward at to what most people would be an impossible angle. How they were each so blessed to find a partner who was equally desirous of giving and receiving, here in England, was almost a miracle, virtually nigh on impossible. Such proclivities were punishable by death, only spoken of in very select circles, and then in hushed tones. For the umpteenth time he gave thanks for their chance meeting when on His Majesty’s service many miles away.
Taking his discarded cravat, Ran tied it firmly around the top of his lover’s cock, pushing his balls one way, the rest of his cock held firmly in its starched depth. He heard Berry groan his appreciation. Ran felt under the mattress for the cords he knew were secreted there.
Swiftly, outstretched arms were firmly secured to a bed knob, leaving Berry exposed and vulnerable. Each knew the cords as merely a symbolic gesture. Neither would have completed any mission required of them without the ability to loose such shackles, the same with the tie around the cock.
“Spread your legs wider; let me fit in between them. My cock is ready, willing, and wishful of entering you. The view of your arse, open and spread for me, is a sight I wish all could see and admire. Notwithstanding, I beg only one other to be voyeur.” Ran tugged on the cravat, causing Berry’s cock to jerk and sway. “Such a glorious sight. The knowledge that this night ‘tis all for me makes it even more so. Are you ready?” He waited to see Berry’s nod, then lubricated his twitching cock with his juices and pushed steadily in through the ring of muscles until he was snuggly embraced by his lover’s arse.
Berry pushed back into him, seemingly unaffected by the sting of pain Ran knew he would have experienced as he pushed into that dark, welcoming depth. Both knew how to embrace and rejoice in its fleeting presence before succumbing to the hidden pleasure found beyond.
“More. I need more.”
Ran tugged sharply on the cravat. “My deal, my speed, my coming. Your patience.”
He leaned forward and pressed nipping kisses along his lover’s spine before pulling out almost to his tip and then plunging back in, hard and sharp. Berry’s gasp sounded of pleasure and pain, those two inexplicably entwined emotions so perceived at such a time.
Ran kept up a steady rhythm, in and out, a tug to Berry’s cock to keep it hard and ready. He knew Berry had such control that he would not come unless Ran so dictated. He who called the shots determined the pace and the result, something honed and perfected by them as a couple to increase anticipation and pleasure. Their aspiration for mutual gratification was absolute.
He felt his cock swell, become harder, and pushed firmly, faster into his love.
“Ah, I’m ready to come.” He asked urgently, “Your acceptance for me to come? For you to hold back until you come inside me?”
“Damn, yes, fuck me to your completion. Let me feel your seed spill into me, run out of me, and coat us both. Now, Ran, come for me now.” Berry’s voice was a roar. Ran needed no more urging. He fucked, filled, and spilled with a bellow to rival and overcome Berry’s encouragement. Continuing to move, not willing to stop until he had but no alternative, he felt Berry pull his muscles ever tighter around him, milking every last drop of cum out of his still-pulsing cock.
His breath was harsh and choppy, his heartbeat irregular as he slowly ceased movement and held himself in place. His knees were trembling with the violence of his coming, and he could feel the tremors running through Berry as he denied himself his climax. Pulling back unhurriedly, he still felt the involuntary clench of Berry’s muscles as he passed his semi-erect cock through them.
Spent, he laid briefly across Berry’s back before flicking open the cords on his wrists and turning him for a passionate kiss on the lips.
“As ever, my love, your generosity in giving holds no bounds.”
Berry laughed and held him tight, his bound cock nudging him gently. “To give is to receive.” He spoke in a tone designed to make Ran laugh.
“As you will, when my breathing is normal, and I am able to move. My stamina is failing. I am getting old. Perchance I should lie down and let you have your way with me?”
“The twinkle in your eyes belies that statement,” Berry retorted. “So perchance not. Your active participation is requested. Need you a rest? A glass of ratafia or orgeat? Need I wave the salts under your nose?”
Ran laughed. “I feel my strength returning by the moment.” So saying he stood up, pulling Berry with him. “I am ready for you to show me your pleasure.”
Berry looked him up and down.
“I beg of you, allow me to look at your face when we come together. Lie back on the bed and let me slip between your legs.” Ran did so, his eyes already hot with desire.
“And perhaps you would tongue my cock, wet it with your mouth? Ah yes, so good, my love. The way you lap at me hints at things forbidden to all but a few, and is sure to enrapture me. Now, you are ready?” He slipped one damp finger into that welcoming hole and heard Ran’s pleasure-pain hiss, the one he himself so recently experienced.
“’Twill be my pleasure…and yours. For you will roar out your completion again, that I promise. As I fill your arse with my seed, you will spill into your hands.”
He saw the expectation of those pleasures reflected in Ran’s eyes and rejoiced as he replaced his fingers with his cock and pushed into paradise. Could any man be so lucky as to have such a receptive partner? Moreover one who wished to complete their love with a female? He thought not and spared a passing thought in wonder of what the said female was experiencing at that moment.
***
The said female was frustrated and feeling somewhat disillusioned with her mite.
Hermione stirred, twisted, and turned under her bedclothes and wondered, for the one-hundredth time, why she had sent the men away. For surely she had wanted—nay, needed—their ministrations. Therefore, why in Hades deny herself? Admit it, you want the upper hand, to be in control at all moments. Therefore, you so denied yourself the chance to feel a hot, hard, pulsating cock in your cunt, perchance another in your arse. Your loss. Truly your loss.
She gave up on her dignity and moved her hands under the sheets to touch her clit. Oh goodness, she admonished herself, admit what it is you want and take charge. Nodding at her audacious plan, she decided to do as she wished. Swinging out of bed, she lit a candle and found her diaphanous over gown, scorning a night rail which would typically go underneath. She slipped it on and covered it with a warm pelisse. Dare she? Yes, she dare. The mews wou
ld be deserted, the necessary entrances available.
A swift perusal of the corridor and a decision to use her private, hidden staircase brought her into an unused, ground-floor cupboard in a mere minute. Giving thanks to her long-dead ancestor for his forethought, she exited alongside the garden wall, her presence concealed in the shadows it cast over the garden, before opening the gate and moving stealthily into the mews. In the nearby stables, a horse whinnied, answered by another, and yet another. Damned cattle, could they not keep their greetings to themselves? She would be undone, a social pariah, if her antics were discovered.
Hermione shrugged and laughed to herself. So be it; she was ready to be outrageous, to do as she desired, not as others dictated; therefore, time to walk along the mews, shielding her candle flame and counting the gates. At the fourth gate she stopped and tried the handle. There! It turned. She let her hand flow over the slippery surface and opened the door, moving swiftly into an enclosed courtyard, redolent of the scent of roses. Always this scent would remind her of Berry and Ran.
Berry had said, many times, his door would never be locked against her. Never had she believed him until now. However, true to his word, the door opened noiselessly at her touch. Pinned on the inside was a note. She laughed. Its simple message instructed, “Alight the stairs, turn to your right, enter the first chamber on your left. You will not be accosted. Your route is lit.” How lucky she had chosen Berry’s house and not that of Ran. Although, she mused judiciously, it was almost a certainty, if that had been the residence in use, a similar note would be found at that abode also. Her lovers would not leave anything to chance. Fleetingly she wondered what would have awaited her if she had chosen the wrong mansion—”Sorry, out of luck. Try again”?
The note was true to its word. As she climbed the tight, narrow staircase, sconces lit her way, their flickering light illuminating her silhouette on the walls, the shadows dancing as she moved, and the flames flared and fell. Finding she had reached the uppermost stair she looked to her right to see a door positioned there. Opening it, a corridor stretched ahead of her, and as promised, there was the door on the left. She let the door from the stair close seamlessly behind her and wiped suddenly damp palms on her skirt. So, this was it. Dare she? Could she? Was she prepared to release her indomitable control? She rather thought she was.