by Wild, Lucy
Chapter 3
The next hour passed in a blur. Lord Rutherford weaved his way through the crowd, collecting two glasses of wine on the way. “This will assist with that tremor in your hands and in your heart,” he said as he passed one of the glasses to me. I stood with my back to the wall sipping it, a warmth spreading through me the more I drank.
“I must make the rounds. Do not move,” he ordered, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stared around me at the crowd, dancing, talking, drinking, all of them seemingly glancing in my direction every few seconds. I could not help but think it must be my lack of underwear drawing their attention. The ladies wore the most beautiful dresses and yet the men stared at me, cigars in their hands, lust in their eyes. There was so much sin in this room it was overwhelming.
“Care to dance?” a man said, stopping before me and holding out his hand.
I glanced across to Lord Rutherford and he nodded in my direction.
“I am afraid I know very few dances,” I whispered as the man took my hand and pulled me into the middle of the room.
“Follow my lead,” he replied, bowing slightly to me.
The wine began to take effect as we swirled around the room, my inhibitions felt smaller, less important somehow. I was swept from one partner to another as the musicians played, each partner staring down at my dress as I did my best to avoid standing on their feet.
Having never attended a formal ball or been introduced into such society, I had never known how thrilling it could be to be the centre of attention in such a way. I drank glass after glass of wine, each more delicious than the last until all of a sudden my head began to throb and a dizzy spell took over. I stumbled backwards mid dance and fell into a white haired old woman by the piano. As she exclaimed loudly and I attempted to right myself, my balance vanished completely and I fell onto my back, my legs flying up into the air. My dress rode up to my waist and there was a collective gasp around me as I frantically pushed it back into place. The entire room seemed to be staring at me as I staggered up right and mumbled an apology, my cheeks burning bright red as I pushed my way through the crowd. I darted through the nearest door, ignoring the voices of those I passed. “No knickers…how depraved…totally uncouth…do not know what he would see in a slut like that.”
As the door closed behind me the noise faded and I Was alone on a sun terrace. A cool breeze blew past me, helping to extinguish some of the burning heat of shame that overpowered me. I leaned over the terrace and looked down at the dark grounds below, a groan escaping my lips.
The sounds of the party grew momentarily louder before fading again, the door had opened and closed behind me. I turned and saw a shadowy figure moving towards me. As he came closer I realised it was Lord Rutherford. He did not address me at first, coming to join me by the stonework, leaning back and sighing loudly.
“How are you feeling?” he asked after a minute of silence. His voice was far softer than it had been up until now.
“I do not think wine agrees with me,” I replied, my head still throbbing.
“I concur.” He nodded sagely. “You should go to bed.”
“I cannot go back in there whilst people remain. They saw…they saw…” I lapsed into silence. He knew as well as I did what they had seen. “Could I perhaps stay out here until they leave?”
“That will be many hours and you would catch a chill. Make use of that door to your right, it will lead straight to your bedroom.”
I took a step in that direction and swooned forwards. He grabbed my arm to stop me from falling.
“I am sorry,” I muttered. “I feel somewhat lightheaded.”
“Hmm,” he replied. “It may be best if I accompany you.” He linked his arm with mine and walked me over to the door. Pulling it open, there was nothing but solid wood beyond.
“Is this a trick?” I asked, pressing my hand to the solid wall that blocked our way.
“I am not known for trickery,” he replied, leaning past me and pressing something which clicked quietly at the edge of the door jamb. The wooden panel immediately swung to one side to reveal my bedroom.
“A secret passage?” I asked, stepping into the candlelit room and looking back at the bookcase which had hidden the door from view.
“No longer a secret,” he replied, looking down at me. As he brushed a lock of hair from my eyes, he seemed somehow gentler, less brutish. By the yellow glow of the candles he looked almost desirable. “I will keep no secrets from you.” He leaned down as he spoke and a moment later his lips brushed over mine.
I had seen my parents kiss many times but I saw no appeal in such a thing. That was, until this instant. I found my arms moving to wrap round him as he pressed himself to me, holding me tight. I felt so safe at that moment, the waves of dizziness subsiding as he kissed me a second time.
A stiffness began to press into my stomach from between his hips. My hand slid down, seeking it out, unsure what it was. As I did so he tore himself away from me. “Not until we are wed,” he said bluntly, turning and rushing outside, the bookcase swinging shut after him. I was left alone, the smell of him still on my skin, the feel of him still on my body. I turned to my bed and groaned as nausea took over me. Within seconds I had fallen onto the sheets and then I knew nothing at all.
I awoke to the sound of the key turning in the bedroom door. Opening my eyes, I saw Lord Rutherford step inside, a silver tray in one hand, the contents hidden from view by a square of white cloth.
I sat up and my head began to pound. “Your head is hurting I presume?” he said, pulling away the cloth to reveal a slim glass bottle filled with white fluid.
“It is,” I whispered, my throat as dry as the deserts of Arabia.
“This will ease the pain,” he continued, screwing an India rubber teat onto the top of the bottle before shaking the contents.
“Is that a baby bottle?” I asked, wincing at the sound of my own voice. I felt like a mirror, as if noise were like a force that might cause me to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.
“The best thing for a child who cannot handle her wine,” he replied. “Here, drink.”
I shook my head but he insisted, sitting beside me on the bed and pulling me onto his lap. I did not resist, the touch of his hands upon my person reminding me of how I had felt last night, protected, safe, loved.
He leaned me slowly backwards until I was reclined across him, my head in the cruck of his arm. As I stared up at that stern expression of his, I found myself wondering how I had ever found it attractive enough to kiss.
One and gently prised my lips open whilst the other tilted the teat into my mouth. “Drink,” he said. “I assure you it will help.”
I shook my head, clamping my mouth closed. Enough of this nonsense, I thought, anger rising up in me. I am not a little girl to be treated as such, I am a woman.
He frowned, grabbing my nose and pinching my nostrils closed. I held my breath for as long as I could but at last I had to open my mouth to gasp for air and at that moment the bottle was pushed inside. He let go of my nose I was once more able to breathe. Drops of the liquid fell onto my tongue. It tasted warm and of many flavours I could not place. As the fluid ran down the back of my throat, the dryness vanished and within seconds my headache had begun to fade. I began to suck at the contents of the bottle, surprised by the efficacy.
“Good girl,” he smiled as I slowly drained the contents. “Very good girl.”
Once the bottle was empty he helped me sit up. “How do you feel?”
“Much better thank you. What on earth was in that?”
“A mixture of herbs from the garden, a secret recipe I cannot share. And now your headache is gone I must insist you bend over the bed.”
“What? But why?”
“So you can be disciplined of course.”
“But what have I done?”
“You showed me up in front of my guests. Getting helplessly inebriated in such a manner is unseemly. No wife of mine will lack decorum
. I cannot let such a thing go unpunished.”
“But I was not to know the effect wine would have on me.”
“Hmm, you continue to argue. Yet did you not promise to obey me? Bend over now or I will force you into the position.”
The firmness in his voice sparked something inside me that I could not explain and I found myself helpless to refuse his command. Bending over the bed, I pressed my hands into the sheets, looking back over my shoulder as he knelt behind me and slid my dress up to my waist.
“You do have an exquisite bottom,” he muttered before clearing his throat as if surprised to have spoken out loud. He stood up, his hand pulled back. I tensed up as it flew forwards and landed on my right buttock, the sound of the smack reaching my ear before the sting of the blow. Although it hurt it was nowhere near as painful as the spanking I had undergone the day before. I soon realised why. He was starting gently.
As he found a rhythm, I sank into the sheets. My pleas and cries faded away as I began to appreciate the subtle pause between each stroke of his hand. The wetness I had felt before returned and I found myself gasping not in pain, but in need. Whether it was for him to stop or to continue, I was not sure.
The blows fell on me again and again, each time harder than the last until it passed a threshold and I began to moan in pain, my nerve endings on fire. A final solid whack landed and then there was nothing.
I was about to push myself upright when his fingers suddenly began tracing their way across my stinging buttocks. His touch made me shudder and as he brushed over my inner thighs I felt more wetness spreading there alongside an ache that moved from his touch into me, as if he were entering me that moment. I felt an overwhelming need for him to move his hand higher, to slide a finger into me. The thought had come from nowhere but it refused to leave my mind. My legs shuffled apart of their own accord as my hips pushed backwards a little.
“I cannot resist you,” he muttered.
I looked back over my shoulder to find him standing up and tearing at his clothes, tossing one item after another aside until his broad naked chest came into view. Without clothes hiding them, I could see the sheer size of the muscles in his arms and I realised how he had so easily held me in place before. He undid his trousers as doubt entered my mind.
I had never imagined being in a dilemma such as this. I had been so certain that I needed no man in my life and I had been equally certain Lord Rutherford was a depraved brute who would never gain my affection. And yet here I was, wantonly exposed to him, my body yearning for him to enter as my mind churned endlessly.
As he pushed his trousers to the floor a sight sprung from them that I shall never forget. His member looked as powerful as him. It seemed as unforgiving and as firm. I had no more than a glance of it though as he took a step towards me but it was enough time to know it would be the only thing that would ease the ache deep within me.
“I swore I would never do this,” I said as his hands fell on my bottom, his rough fingers groping between my legs, feeling the wetness there. “Why does it feel so right?”
“Because you are learning,” he replied as he found a spot above my core that made my chest heave and my heart pound. The nub he toyed with was more sensitive than any part of me and he knew exactly how to touch it, circling it, brushing over it, watching my reaction at each motion he made.
A minute later he replaced his fingers with the head of his member, rubbing back and forth across that sensitive spot until my entire body was on fire with wanton lust. This, I felt certain, was the hysteria mother had warned me against, had taught me to overcome. I was overtaken by memories of the times my body had called out to me before, the times I had run crying to mother, the trips to the doctor, the meetings with the vicar. I had learned well how to ignore this feeling, so well in fact that I had almost forgotten it was possible to feel this way.
As he slid himself to the spot where my ache was located, I remained frozen in place, certain that if he entered me, it would mean crossing a line into sin from which I might never return. There would be no innocence within me anymore, no purity. This was my last chance to refuse, to insist he stop. Hysteria would no doubt result if he did not.
I did not move. I did not speak. He pushed the tip of himself into me, the walls of my entrance stretching to allow him access. I almost passed out at the sensation, my mind racing, my body burning with both shame and desire in equal measure. He moved an inch deeper and began rocking slowly back and forth, waiting until he was sure I could accommodate him without too much pain. His hand grabbed the back of my neck and I moaned at the touch, my back arching to meet his as he leaned over me.
“Will you give me the heir I desire?” he asked, slowly moving deeper into me.
“I will sir,” I gasped. “I will do anything you ask. Just please go deeper.”
He slid himself all the way into me in a single movement, stopping only when his hips were pressed against my buttocks. The feeling of his fleshy pulsing hardness filling me to capacity was overwhelming beyond any comprehension. If this was hysteria, let it take me. My body began to tense up as he reached under me and stroked that sensitive spot again. He had not even kissed me and yet I was completely in his power.
His fingers expertly teased me as he pulled back, almost leaving me. I nearly yelped with frustration but then he thrust all the way inside, this time harder than before, leaving me breathless. A feeling I had never felt before welled up in the pit of my stomach and all thoughts of hellfire and innocence and convents vanished. All I cared for was that he might do that again.
Burying my face in the blankets, I let out a long low moan of satisfaction whilst pushing my hips back onto him. He thrust into me again and again, each time the walls of my insides almost sighing with relief, the ache I had felt eased at last.
My toes began to curl under me and I found my breath harder to come by, my entire body growing rigid, each muscle hardening until I felt as if I were a part of him, connected in a way I had never thought possible. He pushed himself all the way into me at the same moment as rubbing my nub with his finger and then it happened. Hysteria.
An intense wave of sheer bliss washed over me. A wave that seemed to go on and on, my limbs shaking, my insides contracting around him. I screamed with pleasure into the bed as he paused within me, waiting for me to become calm. It took some time and as I thought I might collapse onto the bed with fatigue, he picked up speed once more.
The time he moved faster and faster until his breath was ragged, the only other sound that of his body slamming into mine. “I am going to come in you,” he gasped a minute later. “Do you know what means?”
“No sir,” I moaned back, panting hard as I gripped the blankets tightly.
“You will give me the heir I desire. Tell me you will bear me a child.”
“I will sir,” I replied as another wave of hysteria spread through me. “Fill me with your seed sir, make me pregnant. I want to feel it in me, please sir. I beg you.”
“As you wish,” he growled, sliding out of me and grabbing my hips. He twisted me round as I protested at him leaving my body. A moment later I was on my back and he was on top of me, his lips pressing against mine, his hand moving up underneath my dress until he found my breasts. His tongue entered my mouth as he slid back into me, his pelvis now hitting the spot on me that seemed to be the source of all pleasure. I ran my hands over his back as he kissed me before he pulled his head up, looking down at my pliant body, observing himself entering me, his member glistening with my wetness.
“I am going to come,” he gasped, pushing himself as far into me as was possible. I felt him twitch and convulse inside me and a moment later his seed filled me, gushing out of him and pouring into me. The feel of it flooding into me sent a final bout of hysteria through my body.
I was crushed under him as he fell still, the last of my convulsions matching those of his member. He withdrew slowly, rolling onto his back next to me, his breath slowly returning to normal. His body was
warm and large besides mine, but now it felt comforting, not intimidating. I rolled into the cruck of his relaxed arms.
“Thank you sir,” I whispered, kissing him on the cheek.
He let out an almost nervous laugh. “I vowed not to do that until we were wed. It is a sin to indulge in matters of carnality whilst unmarried after all.”
“If it is, I am certain of only one thing.”
“Which is?”
“That you are the perfect man to punish me for my sins.”
You can read on in Taught, out now.
Lucy Wild Newsletter
Join hundreds of others on Lucy’s spam free private mailing list at the link below and in return you’ll receive regular special offers, free stories, previews and on top of that, we’ll also send you a rip roaring erotic novel that’s not available anywhere else.
Sign up here